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depravitycentral · 4 months

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Yandere! Shouta Aizawa NSFW Profile

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of dub-con, masturbation, stalking, kidnapping, voyeurism, toys, clothed sex, hair-pulling, this one is actually kind of soft and feels less yandere-y to me so sorry that this one is a little less creepy than normal, Shouta is a pleaser and lives for your praise, he gets off with a blanket you gifted him, very mild somnophilia, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS

In general, Shouta isn’t that perpetually horny. He’s a busy man with constant stress weighing on his shoulders; working as a pro while being a full-time teacher leaves him drained during the few times he gets to relax, and it’s a lot of work to get himself hard, to get off, and to clean up afterwards.

It’s just not worth it to him – especially because it’s a bit sad to be left with just his fist and some low-grade, unrealistic porn as a man in his thirties, isn’t it?

He doesn’t have a partner, and hasn’t had one for quite some time – there was a girl a decade or so ago, but she didn’t last long, and the sex was subpar at best. And so, Shouta finds himself neglecting any sort of sexual activity most nights that he’s off work, not bothering to get himself all worked up and fuck away some of that pent up stress.

Except, then you show up.

His feelings for you form, and although it takes a long time for them to solidify, it takes an even longer time for them to turn lewd, any sort of sexual thought involving you not really taking root into he’s much further into his obsession.

This is for a few reasons – firstly, he just doesn’t have that high of a libido, and while seeing you naked when he’s watching from outside your window certainly gets him hot and bothered, he isn’t constantly fantasizing about bending you over and fucking you until you’re screaming his name.

(Not never, just not constantly – and at inopportune moments, sometimes. Moments where he really should be focused on the mountains of paperwork on his desk, not focused on how the desk is the perfect height for you to be standing on your tiptoes, ass poised out and your chest pressed against the hard wooden lacquer, your soft skin glistening in the dim light and your pretty thighs twitching and quivering as his fingers press deeper and deeper and deeper -)

Secondly, Shouta’s already feeling such crippling guilt regarding his infatuation with you that adding on overt sexual fantasies for you would push him too far. He already hates that he thinks of you constantly, that he’s always idly worrying about your safety, wanting to know your location and who you’re with and what you’re doing.

He already dislikes that he can’t stop himself from swinging by your apartment at the end of his patrols, making sure that you’re in your bed asleep, safe and sound and looking so fucking pretty in the moonlight. He doesn’t like how wrapped around your finger you have him, so how could he justify wringing himself dry to you, depraved fantasies running through his mind as he imagines the way you’d cream on his fingers, how you’d clench down on him so, so tightly when he fucks you just right?

Shouta can’t – it would breach too many protocols of trust, the friendship formed between the two of you precarious enough as it is with Shouta’s obsessive, disturbing feelings. He doesn’t think of you sexually, banishing every thought from his mind the moment it appears.

Or, at least, that’s what he wishes could be true – unfortunately, his hormones get the better of him sometimes, leaving him rolling around in his bed, cock painfully hard and his mind insistently flashing images of you changing behind his eyelids.

He’s embarrassed, more than anything, that he doesn’t have enough self control to successfully halt any lewd thoughts of you – it’s pathetic, really, because is he so desperate to touch you that he literally can’t stop himself?

Is he really so painfully, pitifully aroused by you that just the mere idea of you licking your lips or smiling at him can get him breathing hard, thankful for the bagginess of his pants?

He hates that the answer is yes, that his body is really that pent up and eager to get you under him, naked and soft and pretty, all for him and only him. It’s demoralizing, but Shouta only has so much restraint – he tries to hold out for as long as he can, really. He swears.

It’s torture at first, popping melatonin and chugging Nyquil, hoping he’ll be able to pass out and sleep off the horniness, but it never quite works. Instead, his dreams are full of you – on your knees, sucking him off so well that your cheeks are literally hollowing, drool spilling down your chin, a string of saliva and precum connecting your puffy lips to his swollen tip when you pull off for air.

He’ll dream of you on your hands and knees, peeking back at him with glassy eyes and biting your lip, clearly embarrassed as you ask him to touch me, please Shouta, I need you…

He always wakes up with soiled sheets, his entire pelvis sticky with now cold cum, and it becomes very, very difficult to look you in the eye that day, only able to conjure up the image of you all tied up in his scarf, your breasts perfectly framed and your thighs spread, slick covering them as you whine his name, desperate for him.

And though he tries to stave off, not letting himself actively fantasize about you sexually while he’s conscious, a particularly rough day of teaching and patrol have him giving up, throwing caution to the wind as he decides that he needs this, that a release is the only way he’ll be able to stay sane.

In the past, the few times he’s masturbated he’s always just fucked his fist, not needing anything too fancy. But for you, something about that feels disrespectful – it’s stupid and he knows it, but the idea of just thrusting into his hand over and over until he eventually spills all over his knuckles seems tacky, low-class, almost offensive to your image, like he’s tarnishing you and the way he idolizes you.

So, he relies on the next best thing he can scrounge up – you’d given him a blanket a few months ago, a birthday present that he’d tried desperately to cover his blush at receiving.

(Hizashi had pitched in, helping you decide which color and texture, having an expert’s opinion so that it would be perfect for the dark-haired man – a level of detail and attention to his desires that still, to this day, makes his heart flutter to think about. You cared, wanting him to be happy, and just that thought leaves his chest swelling with pride, his palms getting a bit clammy and his cheeks feeling too hot.)

He’s kept the blanket on his bed, using it every single night for the limited sleep he manages to get, making sure the material is always, always touching his body. It’s the only way he really feels close to you – the blanket was for him, sure, but you’d touched it, picked it out, held it in your arms while Shouta was dumbly gaping at you and struggling to utter out a strained thank you.

(If he tries hard enough, he thinks he can even smell you on the fabric – it’s not as good as if you were actually here with him, laying in his arms, touching him, but if he strains enough and pretends hard enough, there’s the faintest whiff of you.)

He’s gulping, throwing his uniform off and leaving it crumped up in the corner, before gently, daintily grabbing the edges of the neatly folded blanket (a stark contrast to the harsh pulling and tugging at his costume he’d thrown off moments earlier) and laying it out on the bed.

He lets out a shaky breath, gulping, before tying his hair back into a messy, low ponytail, excitement flitting through him because he’s really about to do it. He’s really about to touch himself to the thought of you, allowing himself to fully indulge in the fantasy that is you, the fantasy that is imagining the way you’d feel against his body, your lips against his own, your hands in his hair and your thighs around his waist.

He’s moving slow as he settles onto his knees on the bed, staring down at the blanket with furrowed brows. This isn’t quite right – the image of you laying before him, body nude and your legs clenched together in anticipation feels very, very right, but there’s something missing.

A thumb comes down to idly rub at the blanket, tracing small circles against the material as he wracks his brain. What’s missing? How can he make this feel like you, like it’s your body he’s touching, like it’s your perfect little cunt he’s fucking?

He’s not sure, but suddenly it hits him – your body, just as he’d been dreaming about.

The blanket doesn’t look enough like you – it’s two dimensional, flat and having no surface area to grip onto, nothing for him to fondle and touch and squeeze.

It needs to have more of your shape – quickly, methodically, he’s reaching down, grabbing handfuls of the blanket and bunching it up, forming a shape that vaguely resembles your torso. He’s careful to get the exact shape of your waist and hips, making sure to leave mounds of crumpled blanket to represent your breasts, even creating a little space between your thighs that represents something soft, something warm and wet and tight – your precious little pussy, something Shouta would literally kill to feel.

He gulps as he looks down at his work, the atmosphere suddenly seeming much thicker, heavier, hotter, because now, the solid colored blanket seems like you, at least having your body shape and your vague proportions. Aizawa lets his hand run down what would be your side, pausing right over your pretend hip.

Fuck, he mutters under his breath, before shifting forward slightly, letting his weight rest on his knees and one hand as he carefully guides his cock to the space between your crafted thighs.

He’d been careful to leave a fold in the fabric, a pouch of sorts – a place for him to push into, slowly spreading the two layers, trying to mimic the way your pretty lips would part for him, your walls sucking him and clenching him nice and tight, wanting to keep him inside and never let him pull out.

Shouta curses as he rubs his tip against the fabric, noting with a small, far-away sense of disdain that there’s precum smearing all along the fabric, certainly leaving a stain that he’ll have to scrub out later. His thumb comes up to gently swipe along where he imagines your cheek to be, even feeling phantom sensations of warmth, of softness, just as you’d be.

He leans down slowly, throat bobbing, before letting his eyes flutter closed, his lips pressing against the blanket – right where he imagines your own to be. The kiss is soft, gentle, heartfelt, his tongue flicking out to lick against the blanket material, groaning and wishing it was your own tongue meeting his, your own spit coating his lips.

As he gets closer, body inching further down until his chest pressed up against what’s supposed to be your breasts, he shuffles his hips forward, pushing past the fabric fold and into you. He groans, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against where he imagines yours to be, letting his eyes shut tight, nearly squeezing them closed as he slowly rocks his hips.

The friction of the blanket feels a bit strange, not how you’d feel, but it’s better than nothing – and it’s so, so very easy to imagine you instead; your warm, slick walls, the way you’d squeeze at him when he brushes up against your spot, the way your legs would wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles and pulling him in closer, begging him to go deeper. He sighs out, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, the pleasure slowly beginning to mount.

He imagines the way you’d moan his name – he bets you’d be airy, a soft sound that gets his hips stuttering ever so slightly because he knows the way his name would sound spilling from your lips would be heaven, the sultry Shouta upturned at the end as he fucks into you just the slightest bit faster.

His hips pick up their pace at the thought of you crying his name, back muscles flexing as he slowly gets faster and faster, the slow, sweet, intimate pace he’d set blown to dust in the wake of his thighs propelling him forward, hips flying and smacking into the blanket so quickly and harshly that the mattress is shaking, bedframe slightly pounding against the wall.

Shouta groans, low and deep, imagining the way you’d beg him to go faster Shouta please, please please please you feel s’good, wanna come for you! Memories of seeing you touch yourself flash behind his closed eyes, seeing the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how you gripped at your pillows and bucked your hips and trembled and arched your back and gasped and came –

Shouta’s chanting your name, his hips sinking into the fold of the blanket over and over, and quickly he’s bringing a thumb down to rub frantic, uneven circles where he imagines your clit to be, desperate to get you coming, wanting to time your orgasm with his.

Fuck, come for me baby, give it to me, god you’re s’damn tight fuuuck - !

His eyes fly open as spurts of warm, milky cum spray from his tip, getting all over the blanket and making his hips stutter and jerk, the sensation of coming in something leaving his arms feeling weak.

He’s panting, still saying your name under his breath, dark hair falling around his face as his thighs flex and clench, the last bits of cum dribbling from his tip and leaving him feeling spent. He can’t help but imagine the way you’d take him, if you’d thank him for giving him everything he has to offer, if you’d hold onto him until you both caught your breath, if your walls would still flutter and clench sporadically even after you’d come down from your high.

He closes his eyes again, heart practically in his throat as he leans down once more to kiss the blanket, tongue sneaking out and wet noises filling the room as spit and drool get slobbered all over the fabric.

He’s still out of breath, panting when he pulls back, but it’s not until he leans back onto his knees and takes a good look at the blanket that his high begins to fade, the reminder that you’re not really there making a sharp feeling dig into his gut.

He stares for a moment, before sighing, slowly pulling out of the blanket and grimacing when he feels cooling cum sliding across his cock, the white mess all over the material and smeared across his skin.

He brings a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes and sighing. What was he doing?

He’d just fucked a blanket – a gift, from you no less – while pretending it was you, his desperation to get you naked and in his grasp strong enough to make him lose him mind.

Pathetic, he was truly pathetic.

He’s ashamed as he throws the blanket into the laundry, hoping the cum stains will come out with all the bleach he’d thrown in alongside it, and as he chugs his coffee, deciding to get to school early and try to collect himself, Shouta can only sigh.

You make him such a fucking fool – a freak, perverted and creepy and gross, and as soon as he catches sight of you in the staff loungeroom, looking all pretty in your simple blouse and slacks, he knows he’s a lost cause, every bit of self-respect falling by the wayside.

Because as soon as he looks at you, all he can think of is how you’d look underneath him, stuffed full of his cum and a dazed, fucked-out expression scrawled across your face. All he can think of is how you’d be absolutely perfect to sink his cock into – and as he darts off to the nearest restroom, desperately trying to get rid of the insistent, raging erection in his pants, he can only sigh, letting his head hang.

He really is a fucking creep.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS

Your thighs

Shouta isn’t one to sexualize women’s bodies. He’s a man with urges, sure, but he’s never had trouble separating sexual attraction from respect for his female friends, even for strangers in the streets. A body is a body, and they aren’t made to be stared at and ogled.

Except where you’re concerned, of course, because while Shouta tries his hardest to not sexualize every thought of you, it’s difficult to hold himself back when he’s so utterly attracted to every single part of you.

It’s hard to not fixate and stare and want when he looks at you, and so while he gives a valiant effort to not obsess over your figure in a less than innocent way, eventually he can’t help himself.

And Shouta discovers that while he loves every inch of you, there’s something about your thighs that drive him absolutely fucking crazy.

Maybe it’s their shape – pretty expanses of your skin that look perfect to grope and squeeze, the soft curves making him salivate in a way that feels almost predatory.

Maybe it’s the way they feel – your skin is so soft, especially if he moves his hands further up, between them, nearing somewhere warm and wet and throbbing.

Maybe it’s the way they feel when they’re around his waist, caging him in and keeping him right where he wants to be, and when they’re around his head?

(Don’t mention the instances where he’s orgasmed just from simply eating you out – it’s embarrassing, and while he won’t deny it, he will change the conversation and pray you don’t see the soft, barely-there pink blooming on his cheeks.)

Maybe it’s even the way you respond when he touches them – how you jump a little bit, his calloused hands feeling a bit cold as they skim along the sides, thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, a comforting finger brushing along the juncture of your legs and pelvic bone.

He’s not entirely sure, but one thing he does know is that just seeing your bare thighs is enough to get him gulping, his dark gaze struggling to move away as he watches the area jiggle and flex while you walk, every step you take only making him want you more and more.

Even before he’s stolen you away, he’s fantasizing about your thighs – he’s bought more pairs of stockings and thigh-highs than he’d care to admit, keeping them neatly organized in a specific drawer in his closet, often fingering the material and biting his lip.

(The image of you wearing them makes him drool, the idea of the top hem squeezing your thigh and making a little bulge appear right above the socks getting his hand wandering down his torso, his fingers making quick word of his belt buckle because fuuuck, would you keep them on while he throws your legs over his shoulders and absolutely destroys you?)

He’s always taking extra time and care to properly worship them when he’s got his head between your legs, letting his lips and tongue trail all along the soft skin, leaving teasing bite marks and hickeys and feeling the way you tremble under his touch because he’s so close yet so far from where you need him.

He’s always got a hand on your thighs when he’s fucking you, his fingers clutching and digging into the skin while he shuts his eyes tight and wills himself to last longer, to prolong the moment, to give you more more more, just like you deserve.

He just really, really likes your thighs, so don’t be surprised when he’s got his hand casually placed on one when you’re watching a movie together, his gaze purposefully not looking at you because you can’t see how flustered he is from touching your clothed thigh in a non-sexual context.

You can’t.

His hands

In general, Shouta lives to please you in bed. He’s by no means submissive (though he could be persuaded if you really, really wanted to be in charge for a night), but he’s a caring partner in every possible sense of the word – sex is about you, and any pleasure he gets from it is just a fun bonus.

And because of this, he takes every opportunity to learn new ways to please you, trying everything from teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, buying a collection of vibrators, even letting you grind against the expanse of his thigh.

But his favorite method by far is using his fingers on you. They’re thick, with scars and callouses dotting the rough skin, but they’re so gentle with you, always touching you like you’re something fragile and delicate and breakable. He's careful with you when he’s rubbing circles over your clit, the pressure consistent enough to feel good but not too hard, sometimes even teasing you. He’s gentle when he’s running his fingertips over your folds, occasionally dipping in just a hair to feel the warm wetness he wants so very badly to sink into.

(He often sucks in a short, nearly inaudible gasp when he does this, his Adam’s apple bobbing because god you’re wet, and he’ll pull back to lick off his fingers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tastes you.)

He particularly enjoys fingering you – he’s dexterous, and he always goes slow and purposefully, learning quickly exactly where you like to be touched. He’ll angle the pads of his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl, his lip caught between his teeth as he watches your face twist up, hearing your pretty sighs and moans, feeling the way you clench around him, your hips twitching a bit as if to get him deeper, to get more of him. He keeps his pace sensual, the come-hither motion slow and controlled, all the while keeping his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, drawing shapes that stay just consistent enough to get you closer and closer.

All the while, the other hand is gently working at your clit, his fingers expertly getting the exact pressure and pattern you like, making your thighs twitch and your little gasps and mewls louder and more insistent.

And when he’s not actively working between your legs, Shouta’s always got his fingers pleasuring you in other ways – gently kneading at your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between a thumb and index finger, groping and squeezing at you like a man starved as his tongue flicks and sucks at your clit.

They’re grasping a handful of your thigh and squeezing reassuringly as he’s fucking you, his pace slow and deep, making sure you feel every possible inch of him as he folds you in half.

He’s even slipping a thumb against your tongue when you take a break to breath, your chest heaving and your fingers wrapped around his girth, a groan slipping from his lips because god, the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin is enough to get his cock twitching on its own. He’ll press down on your tongue, his lip caught between his teeth as you stare up at him, the sight indescribably erotic, a few praises falling from his mouth about how good you look, how pretty you are, how well you take care of him.

(All the while, he’s feeling you suck on his thumb, eagerly running your tongue along the skin and even swallowing around it to give the extra suction. Shouta curses under his breath, and suddenly stands, grabbing you by the hips and forcing you to bend over the chair he’d previously been sitting on, roughly spreading your legs and immediately diving in to lick and suck against your clit, a finger slipping inside of you because he just can’t not touch you after watching you drool all over him.)

He just likes to make you feel good, and while he enjoys pleasuring you with his mouth, nothing can beat the way you moan and shake when he’s working his fingers on you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re incoherent, your poor body trembling, the only thing you can think of him him him.

DRIVE

Though you inspire more sexual desire and drive within him than he’s experienced for the last twenty years, Shouta is still not absolutely desperate to fuck you at all times.

Sure, the idea is nice – being intimate with you is something he craves, but nine times out of ten this intimacy takes the form of simply holding you. Sitting beside you with your head resting on his shoulder, a blanket covering the both of your bodies as you snore softly and cling to him in your sleep, showing that you feel safe with him, that you trust him to protect you.

(Shouta is normally able to keep his staring in check and not be too terribly overt with it, but in times like these he allows himself to openly gape at you, those dark eyes of his examining every detail of your face. Every small wrinkle, every hair and mole, even every lash and baby hair that frames your cheeks. You’re just too damn pretty, and like this he can commit every last detail to memory – as if he hadn’t already, as if he doesn’t sleep at night with your face dancing through his dreams, as if he sees flashes of you in everything he does. As if he isn’t thinking of you as unconsciously as he breaths.)

He generally imagines sleeping with you (and genuinely just sleeping – curling up with you in his arms and his face buried next to your neck, the scent of your body and shampoo filling his senses and making him breathe out something that walks the fine line between a sigh and a moan), the peacefulness and tranquility of just having you close to him in the safety of his protection and home.

It’s a type of intimacy that gets Shouta red in the face, the idea so domestic and taboo and foreign that he comes to crave this on a near constant basis, serving as motivation and a way to calm himself when his students are out of control or a villain is being particularly difficult.

But of course, Shouta is only a man, and men have needs – no matter how he tries to keep his obsession with you as innocent as it possibly can be, sexual thoughts trickle in through the cracks of his mental fortitude and leave him with a phantom wonder of how you’d taste – would you be sweet, like the jellies Hizashi had gotten him? Would you be rich and savory? He hopes you’d have a strong musk to you, a smell that he can breathe in and think of you, something that gets his salivating and his body growing hot and his fingers restless and his breath heavy and labored and god –

He’s hard before he knows it, immediately covering his face with his hands because it’s equal parts embarrassing and terrifying how easily you manage to affect him, just the simple thought of you getting his entire body on edge.

And so he eventually takes up masturbation with you in mind, feeling dirty and disgusting each time he recovers from his orgasmic high, making it more and more difficult to look you in the eye without thinking of all the depraved things he’d imagined doing with you mere hours before.

But Shouta thinks he can survive – sure, he wants to fuck you, needs to kiss you, has to see the face you make when you’re coming, but he can control himself. He won’t succumb to the urge to break into your (frustratingly poorly protected) apartment to run his fingers along your pretty skin and fuck his fist mere inches from your face, no matter how badly his body yells and begs him to. He won’t cross this boundary – it’s hypocritical to think of himself not as a pervert at this point, but it’s the only way he confidently resists you.

Except, then you go and force him into kidnapping you – and now you’re with him nearly all moments of the day, your scent in his bedroom (though he knows you never willingly enter there, and he doesn’t force you to), your body always just a heartbeat away, the idea of holding you and kissing much, much closer now.

And even with the constant temptation, Shouta manages to hold out – it’s torture, really, forcing himself to be a good man and giving you privacy, to not touch you, to not press himself against you and feel the contours of your body against his own, but it’s worth it to him. He can’t force anything – he doesn’t want to scare you, and he has this horrible, sneaking suspicion that if he propositioned you, you’d feel too afraid to say no.

And just the thought is enough motivation to keep him from touching you, to keep him celibate from you purely by his choice – even if it starts affecting him physically.

(He’d never, ever admit it to you, but his lust for you becomes so extreme that if he’s gone more than a week or so without having touched himself to the thought of you while you’re under his care, his cock starts physically hurting when he sees you, his hips involuntarily twitching when he hears your voice, his throat feeling dry and his cheeks blooming bright red because god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad.)

And so, Shouta forces himself to be an outstanding man – but no one can be alert every moment of every day, and it’s only a matter of time before you catch him in a moment of weakness. Because really, while Shouta was suffering, you were certainly undergoing a struggle of your own – you’ve been stuck with him for a few months at this point, trapped in his modest apartment with everything you could ever need with one glaring, important exception: human touch.

You don’t necessarily want to be physical with your kidnapper, but as the days pass and you slowly come to accept the fact that you won’t be escaping Eraserhead, things start changing. You’re still understandably frightened of him, worried that although he’s not harmed you in any way and hasn’t forced you into much aside from your captivity, he’ll show his true colors and make your life even more of a living hell.

But that doesn’t happen, Shouta staying that familiar presence you’ve become accustomed to; steady, quiet, consistent. Except the more days that pass, the more you start noticing other things about him – he’s strong, isn’t he? You see it when he walks from the bathroom to his bedroom with the towel tightly fastened at his waist, showing off the lean muscle of his arms and torso.

(He can feel your eyes sometimes, but tries not to dwell on what your staring at his naked chest could mean because getting his hopes up means getting them inevitably crushed.)

He’s awfully attentive, isn’t he? He listens when you speak, those dark eyes boring into you and your every wish – aside from escape – granted without so much as a complaint.

And sometimes, he’s a little attractive, isn’t he? In a rugged, man-ish way – a way that makes you gulp and press your thighs together a bit, because something about the stubble that coats his chin and the veins that litter his hands and forearms makes it difficult to breath correctly.

And then the daydreams start – little thoughts about how it would feel for those hands to touch you, for those lips to brush against your own, for his hair to tickle your neck as he hovers over you, his hips moving slowly and rhythmically against you, gruff grunts of your name filling the air between you.

They scare you at first, really, but soon you can’t stop yourself – you know it’s the lack of human contact that’s influencing you, but as time passes and you grow more desperate to know if he’s as attentive in bed as he is everywhere else, you’ll stop caring.

And Shouta can sense that something’s changing – he feels you watching him, notices the way your eyes follow him through a room, how you suck in the sharpest, smallest breath when he nears you, how you grow stiff when he has to flex a muscle in front of you to lift something heavy. Shouta knows that something is different – but it’s not until you grow brave one day that everything is confirmed.

It’d been a long, tiresome day for Shouta – his class had been especially rowdy today, with a simulation villain attack that the teachers participated in, and of course he’d ended up assigned to spar with Todoroki – meaning he’d been moving about, his muscles tired and sore from multiple hours of repetitive fighting. Then he’d had an extra patrol directly after, the villains particularly restless and causing more trouble than normal. Coupled with a nasty rainstorm that had him half freezing to death, Shouta wanted nothing more than to melt into bed, ideally with you beside him but knowing better than to wish for foolish things.

And when he’d stepped in the front door, you’d been waiting for him, sitting nervously on the couch. You’d stood up, but Shouta – despite feeling slightly more awake and alive at the sight of you, like normal – was still exhausted, already on the brink of unconsciousness as he gruffly greeted you. You looked nervous, twiddling your thumbs and biting your lip, but Shouta was too tired to properly ask about it, only mentally noting to check on you tomorrow.

Slumping towards his bedroom, he was abruptly stopped with you grabbed his hand, his entire body going rigid. Your voice was quiet when you asked him why he always seems to avoid touching you, asking if he didn’t want to, if he was repulsed by the idea of touching, if he was repulsed by you.

And Shouta, still half delirious with exhaustion, let the truth slip from his lips before he could help himself – explaining just how badly he craves to feel you, imagining you in every lewd position he can think of, noticing the way your pajama shirts sometimes grow tight when you sleep and roll over, exposing the outline of your breast and nipple and making him physically stop in his tracks and nearly drool like some horny teenager.

Every secret was spilling out of him, his voice still tired and coarse but making your jaw drop, the admission that he’s been fantasizing about making you a mess on his fingers and tongue and cock stunning you. You’d known Shouta harbored some sort of feelings for you, but this?

When he finishes detailing the fact that he regularly fucks his fist to the thought of you at least twice a week after you’ve fallen asleep, you release his hand, immediately missing the warmth of his skin.

Shouta rubs at his eyes, still not facing you, but muttering a small goodnight and retreating to his room, only realizing what’s happened the next morning. His hands shake and he bolts from his bed, his eyes wide and his heart racing, something horrible and feeling like shame and dread sitting in his chest because why the fuck had he told you that?

Facing you the next day has anxiety sitting in his every nerve, his actions jerky and on-edge, an he’d nearly bolted back to the safety of his room when he sawy you sitting at the kitchen table, but then you’d done something unexpected – you’d walked up to him, stood in silence for a moment, then grabbed his hand. Shouta had been confused, unable to ignore the way your hand fit into his own and the softness of your skin against his, but you’d not given him a chance to even ask questions – soon your lips were on his, and your hand had placed his on something warm and soft and squishy –

Shouta gasped against your lips, the feeling of your breast in his hand and your tongue swiping at his lips nearly making his knees buckle. He didn’t respond to your kiss for a few moments, forcing you to pull back and stare at him, something like worry and rejection reflected in your eyes, but it’s not until you whisper in a very small voice that he snaps out of his stupor.

I want you Shouta, and I know you want me.

You were in his bed moments later, his hands frantic and eager and shaking as he practically ripped off your borrowed pajamas, fingers moving fast and settling over every part of your body, seemingly unable to decide on where to stay.

It was rushed, desperation clouding both of your senses, but as Shouta threw your leg over his shoulder and pressed wet kisses against the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his whispered affirmations of his love for you only had you pulling him closer, adoration and shock and something so happy it nearly hurt filling his chest.

Perhaps, just perhaps, something in you loved him as he loved you.

MAIN THREE KINKS

Clothed Sex

It’s about convenience for Shouta – he’s not lazy in the bedroom, but although he finds you irresistible and is normally willing to expend what very little energy he has on sex with you, he’s willing to take any shortcut he can.

Of course, sex with you in an ideal world sees the both of you completely nude, your bodies pressed as close together as physically possible so that not a breath of space lays between them. He likes being close to you, feeling every inch of you, the intimacy of it unmatched and making Shouta revel in the fact that you’re really there with him, that he’s really getting to touch you, that he’s really getting to kiss you and touch you and fuck you, just as he’s been fantasizing of for months.

But that said, there’s a strange allure to clothed sex – it’s taboo and a little dirty, something that makes him feel a little warm, his palms growing a bit sweaty because it could happen at any time. Whenever the mood strikes him or strikes you, he could simply unzip his pants, shuffle them down a bit and fish out his cock, and he'd be ready to go – already half-hard, the eager anticipation of your touch exciting him from nearly the moment you entered the room.

And it’s easy access to you, too – not that he’d ever take advantage of that fact, your consent still something he asks for every time he touches you. It’s easy to slip your panties to the side, sinking you down onto his lap as he groans and his head lolls back, the feeling of your warmth making his toes curl. He just likes how easy it all is – no time is wasted with struggling to get off your shirt or his pants, and the desperation to be inside you that always seems to overwhelm him at the most inconvenient of times can be attended to that much faster.

He just thinks there’s something so hot about it – he’ll specifically stock you with clothing to wear that makes this easy – flouncy skirts and shorts that make shoving everything to the side and bunching his fist into the cloth to get better leverage while he pounds into you.

He’ll get you tank tops and things that make fishing your breasts out of your top easy, so that they can freely hang and jiggle as he bounces you up and down on his lap, your nipples hardening and shivers racing down your spine as he flicks his tongue at one.

He’ll buy underwear that doesn’t chafe when he shoves it to the side, the pretty sight of lace against your skin making him feral, making him fuck into you harder and more frantically because you almost look like some sort of lewd present when you’re wearing that lingerie – like his very own present, the one thing in the world he wants more than anything else.

And he’ll wear clothing that makes this easy, too – pants that can be unzipped and boxers he can tuck underneath his balls, making sure that nothing gets in the way. And although having sex without clothes is much more common than with clothes, Shouta will surprise you and suddenly press up behind you in the kitchen, telling you that you look too good, that he can’t help himself, that he needs you, and has to fuck you right here, right now, I can’t wait.

And so when you nod, he’ll flip up that skirt of yours – the main culprit for the throbbing between his legs, of course, because the clear view of your legs and thighs makes his mouth water – and slip aside those panties, his cock already out and hard and dripping for you.

It’s spontaneous, more than anything, and it’s one of the only ways in which Shouta is a little carefree with sex – one of the only times that he isn’t serious, or at least as serious.

The main way Shouta likes to engage in clothed sex, though, is through cockwarming. He just likes being close to you – he’s touch-starved, and although he doesn’t have the energy to actually fuck you, he still wants to be inside you, to have your body against his, to have you near and be smelling your scent and hearing your voice.

And so, it’s not a rare occurrence to have him pull you into his arms on his modest leather couch, your frumpy sweatpants and t-shirt (both his, of course, a fact that isn’t lost on him – he will not be washing either of those items when they eventually are off your body) covering your form and his own loungewear covering his.

He’ll shuffle up behind you, pulling you against him so that he’s spooning you, and before long you’ll feel something poking at your ass – something hard and insistent, something that seems to be bobbing and moving every few moments.

Truthfully, Shouta couldn’t say what got him hard – perhaps it was just being with you, or maybe smelling you, or the sight of you in his clothes. It could be any number of things – but his breath hitches as you swallow and carefully tug down the hem of your sweatpants, pressing your exposed ass back against him.

He makes a sound like a low whistle, and then he’s fishing his cock out of his own pants, the tip already wet with precum as he shifts his hips to slip between your legs, propping your leg up over his so that he can push inside. He does so with a small groan, resting his forehead against your back, and he feels you clench down on him.

He’s content to lay there – the warmth of his clothing and from you almost too much, but seeing the way you snuggle deeper into the shirt sending something warm and hot and possessive through his chest. He’ll just pull you against him tighter, the slight shift making the both of you hiss at the small burst of pleasure. He’s content to fall asleep that way – relaxed, his cock still nestled inside of you and hard as a rock, the feeling of your cunt lulling him into dreams filled with you naked and moaning his name, all bouncing breasts and desperate hands and begs for more.

(Don’t be surprised, when this happens, to wake up feeling something dripping out of you – yes, it’s cum and yes, that wet dream was enough to get him there. Don’t mention it, either, because Shouta’s always disappointed that he wasn’t awake for it - after all, call him old-fashioned but finishing inside of you is arguably his favorite selfish part of sex.)

Overstimulation

Shouta is not a stingy lover. In the bedroom, he lives to see you enjoying yourself – it soothes this primal, horrible ache in his chest that yearns or your approval and happiness. A lot of his obsession is born out of a desire to please you and keep you happy and safe, and this translates into making absolutely sure you’re satisfied in every possible way between the sheets.

Sex isn’t really sex until you’ve had at least two orgasms, whether that be because of his fingers or tongue, and only then will he throw your pretty legs up over his shoulders, sinking into you with a sharp exhale and letting his face rest against your sternum as he wills himself to not get too excited, to keep his cool and not rut into you like wild animal. He wants you to enjoy sex with him – he craves intimacy with you and he needs you to crave it too, and he’s hopeful that by giving you the best attention and care in bed, you’ll be more inclined to kiss and hold him, to touch him and whisper those three little words in his ear.

(The three little words that make him gasp and shudder, cum immediately spurting out of his red, swollen tip, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto your thigh and the bedsheets tightly enough to keep himself grounded through the pleasure.)

And so, Shouta finds that there’s something darkly pleasing about being the one to get you orgasming, being the source of your pleasure – seeing your face twist up, your mouth forming that pretty ‘o’ and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Shouta develops a bit of a sick fascination with seeing just how often he can make you come for him, and from what. It stems from a good place; a genuine desire to make you happy and get you shaking with pleasure and incoherent enough that all you can say is his name.

He likes to choose how you come – will it be his fingers? Will he draw pretty circles on the inside of your thighs, teasing you and feeling the way your breathing picks up a bit, a whine of his name telling him that you’re growing impatient, that you need more, that you need him?

He’ll get closer and closer to your folds, pressing a thumb against them and dipping in ever so slightly, the dull pleasure making you bite your lip, embarrassment eating you alive because it feels so dirty to be teased like this, to keep your legs so wide open for him, to feel the way his eyes are staring at you so fully and intensely, the adoration and lust swimming in those dark depths nearly too much for you handle.

He’ll press two fingers against your clit and get to work, rubbing with light pressure and slowly increasing it, feeling the way the nub gets harder and more swollen, fingers swiping down to collect a bit of your slick to make things easier, the pads of his fingers gliding along your sensitive skin and making your hips jump and twist.

He’ll use his other hand to finger you, rough calloused skin dragging against your walls and pressing right into the spot he knows you love – the one that makes your back arch up, your head pushing back against the pillow, your nails digging into the bedsheets and tangling through his hair. Working you through an orgasm with his fingers is his favorite and what you’ll most likely get – he gets a front row seat, watching with rapt attention as you fall apart for him, feeling the way your thighs tremble and close in around him when you’re right on the edge.

There’s this feeling of power, pride and desire making him light headed and only work harder at his ministrations, ignoring your yelps and gasps of overstimulation because he needs to see that again, to feel the way you clench down onto his fingers so tightly that he has to work to pull them out to thrust back in. You’re just so damn sexy, the sight of you laying before him with your pretty legs spread wide open making him swallow so hard you can hear it.

But of course, Shouta also loves using his mouth to get you off – pink lips attaching to your nipple, sucking and running his tongue over your areola to make you squirm, your little keens making his cock twitch against your thigh.

He’ll kiss at your hips, making a trail down to your clit, giving you little kitten licks while his eyes flick up to look at you, seeing the way you sigh and bite your lip, the rising and falling of your chest making him near feral.

He wants to see you moan and writhe, to feel you grasping at him and needing him, and so his patience wears out and he dives between your legs, slick coating his nose and chin as he licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue against you, eyes closed in concentration and hair getting in his face but he doesn’t care – how can he, when you sound so pretty moaning his name like that?

How can he, when your thighs are clenching around his head and you’re just so fucking wet for him, showing him exactly how much he’s affecting you?

It's euphoric, and soon you’ll be crying out his name and creaming all over his lips, shaking in his grasp so hard that he has to hold you down by the hips to help you ride out the pleasure, the taste of you making him so hard that it hurts.

And god, there’s something about the way you respond to voice and his commands in bed that makes Shouta curse under his breath. You look up at him all wide-eyed, pleasure written across your face as you look to him for guidance, his voice gruff and thick with lust as he tells you to let go, come for me, want to see you come for me.

You immediately furrow your brows and bite your lip, grinding yourself harder against his fingers, feeling the pads of them brush against the spot that has you seeing stars, his name a prayer as you chant it over and over, only stopping to moan or gasp.

The sight is intoxicating, leaving Shouta gaping like a fish with parted lips and heavy breaths, staring at you like you’re something heavenly, divine, unable to tear his gaze away because he still can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re moaning his name, that you’re letting him touch you and oh, he knows what that change in your facial expression means, how you’re blinding grasping at him, how you’re stuttering out a rushed ‘m coming, Shouta ‘m coming fuck-!

Watching you come undone right before his eyes has Shouta’s cock throbbing, his hips subtly moving against your thigh because he needs friction, the sight of you and the knowledge that he made you this way nearly too much for him to bear.

And when you finally calm down, your breathing wild and your eyes a little glazed over, he’ll just swallow and quickly situate him hips between your legs, gripping himself at the base and impatiently prodding at your entrance, his words dark as he tells you that you’ve got another one in you, give it to me.

When he pushes in – slowly, so as not to hurt you – he lets out a groan, only muffled by the way he leans down to kiss you, feeling the way you tense up and eagerly return the gesture, wrapping your ankles around his waist and pulling him deeper, showing him that you need more more more if you’re going to finish like he wants you to.

And Shouta’s happy to oblige – snapping his hips into you until his muscles are sore and screaming, a thumb relentlessly toying with your clit, his lips against your neck and whispering praise tainted with curses.

He’s encouraging you to feel good, telling you to tell me how it – fuck, how it feels, you’re so goddamn tight, tell me how to fuck you – o-oh…

Because really, while he loves to get you coming and falling apart on his terms, Shouta’s pride flies out the window where you’re concerned – he’d do anything to get you clenching down on him and begging him to finish inside you.

Anything.

Voyeurism

Honestly, it’s a byproduct of having stalked you for such an extended period of time. Watching you was the only way to feel close to you – he wasn’t able to hold you and kiss you, to feel you and lay with you and make you whine his name, and becoming your shadow was the only possible substitution.

And even then, it wasn’t enough – all the guilt he harbors from watching you in your more intimate moments never fades, not even after years of having stolen you away, your pretty body and mind fully his to do as he pleases. He’s still ashamed, but some things he just simply can’t unlearn – and so, even once your sexual relationship begins, Shouta finds himself still utterly excited by the prospect of watching you pleasure yourself.

It’s dirty, horrible, something that makes him feel so guilty he can hardly stand it, but he can’t not stop and watch through the crack in your door when he hears what sounds suspiciously close to muffled whimpers.

He can’t not press his ear against the wooden door, closing his eyes and imagining what you’re doing to yourself – maybe you’re playing with that cute little clit, rubbing it in circles and biting your lip because it just feels so damn good, mimicking the way that Shouta works you up slowly and steadily, getting you so sensitive that your hips jump and twitch at just the slightest bit of pressure against your sensitive nerves.

(He’s had dreams about the way you taste – he thinks you’d be musky, something natural and strong and savory, a taste he wants in his mouth at all hours of the day. And the way you’d tremble and gush for him if it was his fingers and mouth toying with the nub, how you’d tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer and closer to you, needing as much of him as possible, needing him him him…)

Maybe you’re sinking your fingers inside of you, working up from one to three, stretching yourself out and imagining it’s him instead, that he’s the one filling you up and making your toes curl, that he’s the one causing all those pretty noises to fall from your lips.

(He knows just how much bigger his own fingers are – he’ll imagine the size difference, his eyes shutting tight when he thinks of how much more he can stretch you out, how much better he can make you feel, how the texture of his fingers must send pleasure up your spine in a way that your soft, comparatively dainty fingers can’t.)

Maybe you’re perched up on a pillow, straddling it with your cunt pressed snugly against the fabric, slick smearing across the cotton as you grind your hips back and forth, hunched over so that the angle is just right, imagining it’s him underneath you and it’s his thigh or cock you’re rubbing against.

(He’s had wet dreams about this sight, always hoping and fantasizing that you’re just so desperate for him that you’re imagining it’s his face you’re riding, his mind conjuring up the sound of your voice moaning out his name and telling him yes yes o-oh fuck yes, Shouta ‘s so good, you feel so good! He’d never seen you riding a pillow during all those months of stalking, but the idea’s just too graphic and wanton and lewd for him to not fantasize about, the idea satisfying the part of him that’s embarrassed and ashamed of just how badly he craves you – because surely if you’re humping some piece of cotton and pretending it’s him, then what does he have to be embarrassed about? Lots, really, but it makes him feel slightly better.)

Or maybe you’ve decided that you want something a little more physical, something to really mimic him – he’d seen you using your vibrator many, many times before he stole you away. His face always turned pink at the sight, his throat going dry and his grip on his capture weapon a little loose as he simply stared, the sight of your pretty body contorting and the plastic held against the crest of your pelvic bone making everything else fade away.

You’re so damn pretty – the way you moan and sigh, how your legs twitch, how your breasts sway and jiggle with every motion, making his fingers ache to reach out and squeeze, to knead and touch and grope, like some sort of pervert.

And this fantasy and mental image has stayed with him long after kidnapping you – once your physical relationship begins and Shouta no longer feels it would make you even more uncomfortable and scared of him, he’s buying you a replacement for that trusty vibrator you used to use to death. He’d left it on your nightstand one morning with a hasty note simply saying I’m gone a lot, I don’t want you to get lonely.

Of course, this is only half the truth – he does want you to be happy, and he doesn’t want you to grow resentful of the times when he’s too exhausted to give you proper sex. But of course, the unspoken portion of this gift is that he wants to watch you use said vibrator – and badly.

He wants to sit in a chair at the side of the bed, legs spread wide as he grips the base of his cock, absentmindedly squeezing at his balls while his dark eyes stay trained on your figure. He wants you to be spread out for him, perhaps a skimpy set of lingerie covering your pretty body (or perhaps none at all, if you’re comfortable with it) with your legs spread wide, the vibrator in your hand hovering against your clit. He wants to hear the steady, dull buzzing sound mixing with your whimpers, to see the way your body tenses up and you whine, feet flexing and shaky breaths slipping past your lips as you slowly work towards your high.

He wants to see the way you eventually grow impatient, changing the vibrator’s setting and immediately crying out, the feeling much more intense and making your orgasm hurtle towards you, getting slick all over the bedspread as you cry out his name and writhe.

And Shouta doesn’t want you to look at him – he doesn’t want you to acknowledge that he’s there. Ignore him, just as you would have back when he was simply watching from outside your window – he wants to watch you, not have a show be put on for him.

You’re just too pretty, and there’s something about watching you that gets him hard as rock, his fist twisting and flicking so quickly it’s nearly a blur as he watches you transition to fucking yourself with the toy, your cries loud and wanton as Shouta grunts and curses under his breath. He wants to finish with you this time, his hips thrusting against his hand in an effort to match the pace you’ve set for yourself. It’s a dirty secret of his, and while Shouta won’t force you into it, just know that he would love to catch you masturbating – just the sight of you pleasuring yourself is enough to get him hot under the collar immediately, hand rushing into his trousers to cup himself because god.

He just likes to watch you, and even during regular sex when he’s folded you in half, those eyes are alternating between watching your face, your bouncing breasts, and your cunt swallowing his cock again and again and again, his cheeks a rosy pink and a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

You’re just too pretty, he can’t take it – how can he not immediately want to get something of his on you, staining your lovely skin and gorgeous face with his cum?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE

Hair Pulling

But not on you – unless you like it, in which case he might consider but will only ever do it lightly. He doesn’t like causing pain in general, and would only be willing to do it in very specific scenarios – and even then, it will be as gently as he possibly can.

Rather, Shouta likes when you pull his hair – he doesn’t let most people touch it, and it’s a rare day that he actually runs a comb through it, so as a result his scalp is extremely sensitive. And so, when you tunnel your fingers through his dark locks and pull, Shouta audibly groans, the tingling pain sending pleasure racing down his spine.

There’s just something naughty about it – only you get to touch him like this, so only you get to run your fingers through his hair and tug at it.

He particularly likes when you pull it while he’s got his face between your legs. He likes how your fingers tunnel through it and scrape against his scalp, and he’ll often use it as an indicator of whether he’s doing a good job or not. If you pull often and hard, he knows he’s doing what he needs to do – he’ll keep the pace up and stay in that same spot, doing everything and anything in his power to keep you pulling at it, working through any pain in his jaw or tongue because he needs to make sure you’re feeling good even at his own expense.

When he’s got you perched on his face, your pretty thighs framing his head so that all he can smell and taste and feel is you, he likes to have you reach down and still pull lightly at the roots, your breasts squished together and nipples taut, the visual alongside your taste and the slight pain from his scalp making his eyes roll to the back of his head and precum dribble down his length.

When he’s hovering over you and thrusting into you, balls clapping against your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist, he likes to have you tug at his hair, moaning out and crying his name with each tug and letting his ego swell, each burst of light pain making his hips go harder, faster, deeper, anything to get you louder and clenching around him tighter.

Even when you’re just kissing – simple, innocent kisses full of smiles and his hands gripping you just ever so slightly, Shouta likes to have you running your hands through his hair and tugging lightly, keeping him on his toes and forcing his cock to life.

He just really, really likes to have you touch his hair – it’s something intimate and something he’ll only ever let you do, so really, you should count yourself lucky. Shouta sure does when he’s buried deep inside you, watching your face and feeling your hands in his hair as he gives you every last drop he has to offer.

Mirror Sex

In general, Shouta absolutely loves watching you in bed. He thinks you’re genuinely the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and when you’re gasping on his cock and moaning his name, you’re even prettier, even more breathtaking and lovely and perfect.

And while he prefers positions where he can see your face, he wants to be able to see your expressions always, even if he’s got you bent over while he presses his back to your chest and mounts you like some sort of wild animal.

And so, to solve this problem, Shouta invests in a modest, simple mirror that he keeps facing the end of your ‘shared’ bed – it’s roughly four feet tall and two feet wide, the perfect size so that when he’s got you on your hands and knees for him, your back arching and your arms threatening to give out, he can watch your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He’ll experiment with the pacing of his thrusts, going deeper and harder to see the way your brows scrunch up, how your jaw drops and the most depraved whine slips out of you, pride and arousal swelling in his chest because he made you make that noise.

He’ll go slower and keep his thrusts brushing against the spots that make you gasp just so that he can see the way your lips twitch.

He’ll speed up, fucking into you so fast that his balls slap lewdly against your ass, the noise filling the room alongside your pants and his groans, watching all the while how your eyes flutter and your back arches. He’ll sit you in his lap facing the mirror, spreading your legs and getting to work with his fingers curling and rubbing inside of you, a thumb circling your clit and his lips at your ear as he tells you to watch, pretty, see how good you look?

He’ll kiss a line from behind your ear, down your neck and over your shoulder, occasionally glancing up to the mirror to make sure you’re actively looking, whispering praises against your skin each time.

And he’ll bring you close to the mirror, too – sitting you only a foot away from the reflective surface, letting you get a nice view of Shouta’s favorite sight – your cunt, all spread out and wet, practically begging for something big, heavy, and throbbing to fill it, to stretch it out and make you see stars.

He’ll spread your lips, exposing your clenching hole, smiling at your reflection and making you tell him that you’re pretty, forcing you to grow comfortable with your body because he knows that it makes you insecure to see so much of yourself, and it drives him crazy.

He’ll even fuck you against the mirror – forcing you to watch your face from mere inches away, your hot breaths fogging up the glass, and he’ll make you come like that – holding your chin straight ahead and telling you to watch, sh-shit, watch, don’t take those fucking eyes off your face in a strained voice.

He just likes getting a good view of you during sex – you’re too pretty not to be seen, after all.

BIGGEST FANTASY

In general, Shouta absolutely loves being intimate with you. While he’s no virgin, he doesn’t have an extensive amount of experience, and frankly he’s never been the biggest fan of sex – it’s too messy, too energy draining, and just a massive hassle.

However, when it’s with you, and when you moan his name just right and leave your nail marks down his back, Shouta will gladly strip his clothing at your beck and call, his lips already on yours before you can even finish your sentence.

And while he loves good, rough, passionate sex that’s full of smacking hips, gasps, moans and growls, there’s something to be said for slower, gentler sex, the kind that’s full of airy breaths and slow, meaningful kisses.

It’s the kind of sex where you can really feel him; every inch of him, the way his body covers yours as he hovers over you, the tickle of his hair against your jaw and neck as he buries his face in the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone, his hips rocking into yours and managing to grind against that one perfect spot that gets you sighing out a moan. It’s just more intimate this way, less of a wild, frantic race to get inside of you and more a slow, controlled love making, as embarrassed as he is to use to term.

Regardless, you’re most likely to get this type of sex from Shouta in two specific scenarios – the first of which being after a very long day, filled with a harrowing patrol where he maybe wasn’t able to save everyone, or things didn’t go according to plan. When this happens, he needs to just hold you, to feel you, to hear you whisper his name under your breath and tell him how good he feels, how he’s the best you’ve ever had, how he’s the only one you’ll ever want…

The second – and far more likely – scenario is in the early hours of the morning, when the sunlight is streaming into the modest apartment he keeps you in, your shared bed feeling warm with your bodies pressed against one another. Soft, sleepy morning sex is Shouta’s favorite, and something that he tries to incite as often as he possibly can.

There’s just something about it that gets him hot under the collar; maybe it’s the casualness of it all, the way it feels so natural, so human and so right, as if your bodies were made for each other. Maybe it’s the way it feels so intimate, like you’re both raw, yourselves in the most wonderful way.

Or maybe it’s the way you’re still just slightly sleepy, and you’re much more likely to be clingy at this time, touching him more and letting your real noises come out, not hindered by any shame or hate or embarrassment.

Regardless, Shouta loves it – so on the rare weekends where he’s off, expect to be woken up on the brink of an orgasm just as you deserve.

A yawn slips past Shouta’s lips, eyes peeling open and seeing the gray of his bedsheets. Everything is warm and soft, and as he shifts slightly, something moves next to him.

Nothing seems real for a few moments as he gazes down at you, your body curled up next to his own. It doesn’t feel real that you’re really here – in his bed without any clothing, happily sleeping without a care in the world. He swallows, something coming over him and moving him slowly – carefully – peel off the covers, moving down to where your legs slightly part.

He leans down, face mere inches away from the tufts of your pubic hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhales. You’re perfect – and as he gently pries your legs open further, Shouta can’t help but think of how often he’s fantasized about this very moment – how often he’s dreamt of what’s between your thighs, how he’d lay awake at night and press his fingers between two pillows, grinding his fingers against the cotton and pretending it was you, imagining how warm and wet you’d be for him.

He swallows, determination setting his brow as he lays onto his stomach, shuffling so that he can lightly lick at your inner thighs, eyes closing at the familiar taste of you. He takes his time, going slowly and softly, licking closer and closer to your pretty folds, eventually reaching them and licking his lips at the taste.

A thumb comes up to slowly press against your clit, knowing too much pressure would hurt and not warm your body up the way it needed. He continues his licks, before switching roles and starting to suckle at your clit as a finger dips between your folds, collecting the slick and rubbing it between his fingers.

Soon he’s pressing one inside, feeling the way your thighs twitch slightly, a small, sleepy moan ringing in his ears. God, you’re so damn perfect – even unconscious you’re enough to get his cock throbbing against the cotton sheets.

He keeps his pace slow, but as time passes you stir a bit, and when he hears your sleepy voice mumble out his name, Shouta curses, his fingers speeding up a bit.

That gets you more awake – soon your fingers are carding through his hair, sighs and murmurs of his name sounding like heaven.

“Mm, Shouta, that feels good…” You mumble, still dazed from waking up. Your hips are twitching now, a sign that the pleasure is slowly beginning to build.

Shouta groans against your cunt, the sound muffled.

Soon his fingers are picking up the pace again, his circles and licks at your clit growing more insistent, and the hands weaving through his hair start to tug – the sensation gets him humping at the bed for a moment, the morning glow still shining on you as he glances up at your face. You look like an angel – shining in the sunlight, your lips parted in a moan, head thrown back in pleasure.

Shouta pulls back for a moment, sending a kiss to your clit that makes your hips buck. He chuckles a bit, licking his lips.

“You’re so beautiful..” He whispers against your thigh, pressing open mouthed kisses against the skin. You hum at his compliment, and he watches as you smile, his breath practically punched out of his lungs.

“Shouta, you’re too good to me…” Your voice is soft, too, and soon he’s back to sucking at your clit, feeling the way your body jolts slightly, the pleasure making you sigh and swallow. He watches the movement of your throat.

“Feels good, mm yes, oh Shouta - just like that,” You start, eyes closed again, and Shouta finds himself abandoning the gentle pace he’d adopted, instead being more insistent, more pushy – suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get you coming on his fingers.

You gasp lightly at the new change in pace, grinding your hips to match the new stimulation, and it makes Shouta dizzy. How can you be so attractive? How can you look so perfect in this moment; in his bed, moaning his name, looking and tasting and smelling like his own personal slice of heaven?

It’s cheesy and he’s almost embarrassed, but tears prick at the corners of his eye.

Soon your gasps have turned to moans, and all too soon you warn him in a slurred voice that you’re coming, your back arching up off the mattress and your moans light and airy as you gush against his fingers, white coating all the way down his knuckles and onto his palms. It makes him choke a bit, the feeling of your cunt rhythmically clenching down on him and your chest heaving, and with a final lick to your clit that makes you jerk, he’s moving up to kiss you.

The kiss is slow, his tongue brushing against yours and wet sound filling the room, but Shouta doesn’t mind. How could he, when he’s never felt this relaxed before?

His eyes slowly open as he feels your fingers wrap around him, a thumb brushing along his tip to collect a bit of the wetness there.

“Shouta, let me make you feel good.” You tell him, your voice just a whisper.

He looks at you, his lips parted for a brief moment, before a small smile quirks up the corners of his mouth. “Why would you do that?”

You trace the line of his jaw with your free thumb. The slow strokes of his cock have him a bit distracted, but he hears every word you speak to him. “Because I love you.”

He swallows, the words making something feel tight in his throat.

You laugh a bit at his silence and the dumbstruck look on his face. “What? Do you not love me too?”

And to answer that, Shouta scoffs, leaning down to kiss you again as he grasps himself around the base, pulling himself away from you and pushing into you, feeling your sharp intake of breath against his lips.

His pace is slow, soft, like he’s trying to tell you something – hips moving slowly and deeply, letting you feel every inch of him. He kisses your neck as your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed.

Pressing a kiss against your collarbone, Shouta smiles against your skin, a groan falling from his lips.

“I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

And he means it – you’ll don’t know half of the things he’s done for you, and as he squeezes at your breast and hears your soft moan, he knows he’ll never tell you.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere aizawa #yandere eraserhead #bnha smut #mha smut #_bnha #_shouta aizawa #_lee's profiles

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wonijinjin · 5 months

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can’t get enough

author’s note: this fic is part of the 200 followers event, go check it out!:)

synopsis: you might think you are too clingy, but jeonghan can’t get enough of you.

word count: 0.7k | genre: fluff, bit of comfort | pairing: jeonghan x gn! reader | warnings: none

“hello angel. what’s up?” jeonghan’s voice echoed in the phone, shushing the boys in the background while waiting for your answer. “hello, are you here?” he questioned again, not hearing your voice, only silence. “actually, nevermind. have fun!” you whispered into the device, hoping to mask the sadness hidden in your words. “i know something is wrong. please tell me?” he stated in a serious tone, knowing how you were not telling him something you wanted to. “i miss you.” you admitted. he could hear the sleep in your voice, waiting for him to come home; they were on their monthly outing with the boys, the time already pressing 2am. “i know angel, i miss you too.” he answered with a sad tone. “but don’t get me wrong i love how you spend time with the boys baby. you should.” you quickly added, scared that he might think you were chaining him to yourself. “don’t lie. you hate it. you love it more when you are here too, don’t you, angel?” he giggled, knowing how much you adored his best friends. “i will come home soon, we are just finishing up.” you smiled softly at his reply, he always listened to your worries so well, dealing with you being clingy on a daily basis. you felt kind of bad about your constant nagging, but you couldn’t help it; you missed him the moment he stepped out of the apartment. “i’m gonna go guys!” he shouted to whom you believed were the other members as you could hear the creaking of his chair. “see you soon angel.” he hung with that, leaving you in silence again.

“i’m home!” jeonghan shouted into the distance, hoping you didn’t fall asleep and he didn’t wake you up if you did. he walked to the kitchen, seeing you baking something; it was common for you to bake when bored or stressed, he knew you were anxious about him getting home safely at this hour in the night. “hmmm, what are you baking this time, pretty?” he questioned while letting out a soft hum of approval upon smelling the sweet aroma in the air. “take a guess. it is one of your favourites.” you said while turning around to smear some of the frosting on his nose. “hey! i rush home to you and you put frosting on me?” he raised a brow, but you could see the grin hiding in the corner of his mouth. however your smile disappeared; the feeling of guilt not dying down even after making his favourite cookies. “im sorry i pushed you to come home sooner. i shouldn’t have.” you whispered with a frown. he quickly took on a serious and worried expression. “no no angel i would’ve left them not long after anyways. please don’t apologise. i get it, you worry about me.” he replied while tasting the cream on his nose. “by the way this is delicious as always.” he chuckled, seeing how your face lit up at his compliment. “are you sure you didn’t mind? i don’t want to be pushy or anything, i just love you too much, hannie.” he pulled you into his embrace, slotting your lips into a slow kiss. “of course i didn’t baby. i missed you too actually, these are so much more fun when you are there.” he said while hugging you tightly. you still looked puzzled so he asked you; “what is going on in your pretty little head?” you sighed. “i don’t know, i feel like i’m too much, like too clingy, you know? am i? answer honestly yoon jeonghan!” you threatened with the spoon in your hand, to which a giggle bubbled in his throat. “you are not. baby you are too little even. i cannot get enough of you, if i could i would carry you around in a backpack all the time like a little kitten.” he grinned, kissing your now red cheeks. “okay then, i believe you.” you smiled “but hey, i’m not a pet though!” he picked you up and spun you around in the kitchen, putting you on the countertop, looking right into your eyes, his own sparkling maybe from the wine he had earlier, maybe from being so in love with you. “of course you are not a pet. you are my angel, my princess my everything.”

#wonijinjin #caratsland #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen fluff #fluff #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x you #svt jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #hannie #jeonghan #seventeen jeonghan

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haunted-xander · 3 months

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Sometimes I think about Urianger's role in and feelings on the Thancred-Ryne dynamic and I think watching it kills him a bit inside. For several reasons.

Like, to begin with there's the guilt he's been carrying with him since he ushered Minfilia to the first, how he effectively killed the person Thancred cared about the most in the world and who's "death" ended up causing Ryne's entire Situation. He looks at what's happening between them and can only think "I caused this" even though that's not really true. No one person is responsible for this outcome, it's a culmination of several circumstances and the consequences of them. Logically, Urianger knows this. But it doesn't matter, because his guilt is overpowering his logic.

And also, like. What Thancred is doing here, the way he's knowingly letting Ryne be and stay hurt because he literally cannot bring himself to tell her his feelings, is the exact same mistake Urianger made with Moenbryda. Of course, the circumstances are vastly different, and the potential consequences to Thancred telling Ryne the wrong things or her misinterperating it is far greater (being a matter of literal life or death), it's still the same sort of paralysis they are trapped in.

And he knows it. He sees it. But he can't say or do anything about it, he doesn't have the right to. He acknowledges the mistake, but he hasn't really improved upon it yet. He still doesn't voice his thoughts and feelings as he should. He's also non-confrontational by nature, he doesn't argue or try to change peoples minds, he probably doesn't think he has any place to.

So, he tries to help in what little ways he can. Because he doesn't want it to become Monebryda again, he doesn't want to know he stole not one but two people from Thancred. So he does what he can. He tells Ryne little tidbits about Thancred, things that help her understand him but are safe to share. Nothing too deep, nothing too personal. Just small things, things that are purely factual, because he can't afford to give her a false image of who Thancred is. He teacher her fun and interesting things, because Thancred isn't in the mindset to provide her with non-essential skills.

I like to think Urianger has brought it up with Thancred at least once, during one of his stays. But nothing would've come of it. Not really. Unlike Y'shtola, Urianger isn't pushy, he'll bring it up once or twice and when he sees this won't go anywhere, he gives up. He wants to help, but he knows that persistance only does do much, and he is not the person who has the resiliance needed to push and push until Thancred finally budges (because he won't budge, it won't help anything but to sour things further by adding aditional stress to an already strained dynamic).

And like. Urianger gets it. He gets it because he's been the same way- not saying what he should to someone he loves more than anything else because she was meant to figure her life out herself, and 'steering' her in any direction by telling her his feelings (regardless of if the 'steering' is intention or not) will go against that. He gets it. He gets it and it's all the more painful for it. He knows it can't just be fixed by acknowledging it or with encouragement, something needs to happen to break the stasis.

I think this is probably why he stayed behind while they went off to Nabaath Areng. This is the very last chance they have to say what they want to, and he can't afford to be the anchor anymore. This is about them, not him, he can't let their resolution be buffed by his presence, so he stays behind. Which was probably for the best. Ryne got nervous when Urianger said he's staying behind, probably not too excited about being alone with Thancred (well, not alone, but WoL doesn't count) so soon after she had ran away crying. But she needs to be nervous. For anything positive to come out of this Thancred and Ryne both can't afford to be too relaxed. As sad as it is, the stress is necessary for anything to happen. He knows it. Does he like it? Absolutely not, but nor does he like his other plots. At least no one dies this time if it goes right.

#urianger had an integral part in the thancred-ryne situation and i think its very important to remember that #like i think he served as a very important buffer that prevented the dynamic from becoming even more strained than it already was #but also like. ryne NEEDED to have at least someone she can be comfortable around without the stress of her circumstances souring it #urianger is uniquely suited to play that role. even with his guilt regarding minfilia he never showed anything but genuine kindness for her #it helps that she didnt know about his hand in the situation existing to begin with (as shes surprised when he tells her in ahm areang)#THATS ALSO IMPORTANT BTW. like this man had a DIRECT hand in making this happen (even if it isnt fully his fault. minfilia made her choice)#AND LIKE. the parallels between uri-moen and thancred-ryne. they both love these girls so so much but cant bring themselves to say anything #urianger has been through the pain before. he knows. but he hasnt improved much himself. what right does he have to scold thancred?#silent support is all he can give. pushing thancred would make him a hypocrite and risk making it worse. hes not suited for confrontation #y'shtola and uriangers approaches to helping both have their merits but it needs a balance #too much pushing and the dynamic just gets worse but too forgiving and nothing will ever change #and yes i know im just repeating myself but ITS IMPORTANT OK #GOD #urianger augurelt #thancred waters #ryne waters #final fantasy #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #ffxiv #xander rambles #xander being insane about ryne #urianger actually this time but. its related to ryne so. it gets the tag

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thebibliosphere · 9 months

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Hi there, ive come from your post about ADHD and emotional disregulation, firstly thank you so much for putting it into words, its such a complicated part of how i deal with emotions and i havent ever been able to articulate how to why.

Secondly, in that post you mentioned how you've used stress as a motivator and how eventually your stress regualtion broke, i was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about that? (If not, its not a problem)

I feel like the same thing has happened to me but until i read your post i had no idea that something had... snapped? I suppose? I struggle with motivation all the time and in the past id have a week or a few days left and id be able to suddently push myself very hard to complete whatever it is before the deadline, just barely making it in most cases. However now it seems that i can't find that motivation anymore, deadlines come and pass and i can't being myself to work on anything, and i just end up spiralling into shame and guilt. That motivation was the only thing that I was able to rely on sometimes for things like uni, and i conviced myself that it was just me growing lazy or trying to get out of responsibility as to why the "last minute panic-mode" doesnt work anymore.

Again, if you don't wanna tackle this can of worms or if it's something youd rather not post online i totally get it, its no biggie! thanks so much for making the original post as well, it means a lot

Hello friend, thanks for the message. I'm sorry you're also dealing with this.

The good news here is that I've already talked about this using the rubber band analogy my therapist gave me. (Stress is like a Rubber Band)

If you don't have the mental bandwidth to read all of it now, the tl;dr is "stress is like a rubber band; it can stretch to hold numerous things in place when you need to, but if you do it too often or keep adding more and more strain under the band, the elastic eventually becomes brittle and snaps, taking your mental and sometimes physical health with it too."

I've been in intensive therapy for this for roughly three years now, and trying to piece my brain back together after my last bout of stress-induced productivity gave me a total mental breakdown.

It's... odd not being able to use stress and having to actively avoid it to avoid a relapse. But it is doable. Medication would help, but alas, I've got weird health issues and am unmedicated at the minute.

(And just in case that sparks anyone to go, "Oh, you do all this unmedicated! Wow, that's so inspiring!" as sometimes parents do to me on here as they then tell me they don't want to medicate their kids, I've unfortunately also written a post about what that kind of success looks like from an unmedicated perspective and the kind of suicidal ideation I deal with on the regular because I cannot take meds. It is not pleasant reading, but it is necessary for some folks, specifically anti-med, "if you just tried harder" people.)

A book you may find helpful is Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. It was very validating for me to read about other people going through the same things, and made me feel less of a "this is a personal failing on my part" and more of a "Oh okay yeah, no stress literally breaks people."

It helped soothe some of my own internalized "I just need to try harder" and helped cement me on the path I was already going down with my ADHD therapist toward changing how I view myself and how I manage my ADHD.

I hope that helps! If you've got more specific questions or I didn't touch on something in my old post, I can try to answer them :)

#chronic health tag #adult adhd #adhd

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frvnkcastles · 4 months

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hello my love!!! i was wondering if i could request a fic with a reader who finds it hard to accept affection (even though she loves and craves it), especially in public getting super embarrassed and thinking everyone is staring and judging because why would someone like FRANK be with someone like them??? but frank is just determined at all times to show how much he cares and knows to respect boundaries but also how to push back a little and open the reader up to accepting open affection more. idk if that makes sense? i'm sorry if it doesn't

WITH MY TUNNEL VISION ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You struggle with affection, but Frank is determined to give it to you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, anxiety, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: I loved this request so much and I was so worried about not doing it justice, but I tried my best!! I hope you like it :)

Even months after you and Frank had more or less officially started dating, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. He saw himself as someone damaged and broken, but you thought he was the greatest man you had ever gotten to know, and admired him from inside out. He was caring and protective and no doubt easy on the eyes — and most days, you appreciated that wholeheartedly. Some days, you felt insecure. Full of doubt and wonder that he would choose to be with you, and that only heightened whenever you were out in public together.

So, when Curtis and his girlfriend invited you and Frank to a bar for a night out, you were stressed to say the least. You felt completely out of place, like you had no business being by Frank’s side, his arm casually over your shoulders as he laughed at whatever Curtis had just said.

”You okay?” Frank’s deep voice cut through the buzz in your head, and when he ducked down to brush his lips against your forehead, you instinctively dodged — and in an instant, guilt rushed into your system and you could physically feel the air getting awkward. ”Hey, what’s wrong?” Frank added with a frown, unsure where the hesitation was coming from. You had been fine before going out, not a single sign of being mad at him to be seen, and his kisses well-received.

”I’m gonna get another drink”, you evaded the question, and as you turned for the bar, you could feel their eyes on you. That was the feeling you had wanted to avoid — like you were being watched and judged, and here it was, anyway.

You weren’t by yourself for very long. As soon as you were seated by the bar, Frank was following and leaning against the counter to catch your wandering eyes. ”Sweetheart”, he grunted, tilting his head to meet your gaze, ”talk to me.”

Inhaling sharply, you glanced at him before returning your eyes to the bartender mixing your drink. ”You know what’s wrong”, you insisted, but when Frank just stared back at you, you sighed. ”It’s the… affection. Feels weird in public”, you explained further, and with realization dawning on his face, he slowly nodded.

Hell, he hadn’t been the most touchy person, either. But something about you had made it feel safe and secure again, like it was okay for him to be happy and show that to everyone else.

”Baby… ’m sorry, I… shit, yeah, I do remember you mentionin’ that”, he cleared his throat, watching you closely and aching to touch you. ”How come you don’t like it?” Frank wondered with a tone of sincerity, not trying to push your buttons but to understand you better — and as much as you wanted to be frustrated, you understood that.

”I dunno”, you shrugged, but you already knew he wasn’t going to take that for an answer. ”I guess I just feel like people will stare. And—and judge me”, you went on, and with an incredulous chuckle, Frank knitted his eyebrows together.

”Judge you?” he repeated with confusion, and nodding, you drew a generous sip from your drink.

”Yeah, you know, just… you’re… you. And I’m just me. And why would you choose to be with me, right? Everyone can see it. You could do so much better and I swear, if people see you kissing me, they’ll just wonder what you’re doing with me, wasting your time on me”, you rambled, and by the end of your rant, you were flustered and looking around to make sure you hadn’t been too loud. Even now, with Frank only inches away from you, you were sure eyes were on you.

Frank processed your words for a moment. ”Hey, you know that’s total bullshit, right?” he spoke finally, giving you a grave look, his curious smile long gone. ”If anything, people will wonder what a stunner like you is doing with an ugly mug like mine. And even if that were the case, I don’t really fuckin’ care what other people think. You’re my girl, and no one else matters”, he defended you, seething at the mere idea of someone looking at you wrong.

”Did ya see someone starin’? ’Cause you know I’ll fight ’em”, he changed his tone suddenly, glancing around to pinpoint any lurkers, but you quickly placed a calming hand on his forearm.

”I didn’t. It’s just my anxieties, that’s all”, you sighed in defeat, and taking in a breath, Frank turned back to you and nodded.

”And you know it’s all lies, right? Just your head tryna mess with my girl”, he pointed out, and as much as you wanted to justify your fears somehow, you couldn’t help but admit he was right.

”So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna agree on a safeword that you can use if it gets too much. Until you say it, I’mma dote on you ’til you’re spoiled rotten, ’cause I wanna show you how much I goddamn admire you and I don’t really care who’s around to see”, he proposed, and with a smile curving your lips back up, you stared at him in disbelief — here he was proving yet again that he was everything.

”Deal.”

You tried your very best to tolerate the public displays of affection, because truthfully, you wanted them. You craved his touch and his attention, and behind closed doors, you were hungry for it. So you tried to extend the same courtesy out and about, pushing your own limits because deep down you knew he was right about other people not mattering.

And the greatest part was seeing how happy Frank was. You were the first serious relationship he had found himself in since Maria and it had taken him a long time to relearn how to be in one. But slowly, he had unraveled what worked for him and you, and discovered that he really, really wanted to show his girl off.

So whenever you were out, he made sure to hold your hand or have his arm around your shoulders. Every now and then he would lean in to kiss your forehead or cheek, sometimes even lips, and you were learning how to lean in instead of pull away.

A month later you were back at the same bar with Curt and his girlfriend, on a night when it was especially busy. Frank could tell you were nervous, but trusting in the progress you had made together, he kept you close to him.

”So, things are good?” Curtis queried while Frank was getting you a new drink, and with a beaming smile, you nodded.

”Things are great. He makes me really happy”, you chuckled sheepishly, and just in time, Frank appeared from behind you, handing over your drink.

”Who’s the lucky guy?” he grinned, and softly nudging him, you snorted.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing, you thanked him for the drink by giving him a kiss, and as soon as your lips left his, you could see the amazed stare in his eyes. Immediately, you realized what you had done, and you opened your mouth to say something, but panic washed over you and you were rendered speechless.

”No, no, baby, it’s okay. You did good. You did perfectly”, Frank breathed out, his eyes full of love as he leaned down to cup your cheeks and kiss your nose and jaw and forehead. ”No one’s lookin’, I promise. It’s just you and me, right?” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

You caught your breathing and managed a nod, and when you glanced at Curtis and found him preoccupied with his girlfriend, relief washed over you. ”Yeah, it’s okay”, you swallowed when you looked around, confirming that truly, no one cared. No one was judging.

”Love you”, Frank spoke quietly before leaving a kiss right next to your ear, and squeezing his hand, you dropped your head on his shoulder.

”Love you.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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babyspiderling · 23 days

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We Can't be Friends Part 1

Pairing: S1!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: Angst, Fem Reader, BAU Reader

I was never good at giving space when someone was upset. I had this almost detrimental need to fix whatever was creating the problem. To poke and prod until a solution was reached or the tension reached its breaking point, forcing a cool down by the sheer concrete logic of Newton's third law of motion. Triggering such a reaction usually caused much worse consequences in terms of bonds and relationships, but almost selfishly, it brought an end to the guessing and desperation to fix what was “wrong”. Even if the cause and the effective solution were far from my own control.

On the mirrored side, the anxiety that came from the tension and the restlessness that followed made me meek and almost overly cautious, tip toeing on the eggshells. To bite my tongue, to make myself invisible in an attempt to escape the feeling. The urge to cower and hide from the heavy emotional pressure was almost as strong as the compulsion to push and dig in my heels until everything reached climaxing peak, to allow the hurt if it meant the claustrophobic feeling to subside.

I can’t tear my eyes from her. From her long, perfectly conditioned and styled blond hair. From her perfect figure. She disappears around the corner, so blase, almost flippant in her denial. She wasn’t the first reluctant victim and I consciously knew she wouldn’t be the last. I heave a large sigh and turn back to the cork board, room temperature coffee bitter on my tongue no matter how much sugar and creamer I added to the styrofoam. I open my mouth to ask Spencer his own thoughts only to find his gaze glued after Lila. I frown, pursing my lips as I cross my arms over myself, as if to hold myself against the stirring feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. “Ahem, Ground Control to Spencer. Are you listening?”

My frown deepens as his almost criminally prominent jaw line tilts in an attempt to give the illusion his attention had turned to me. His refusal to let her leave his eyeline until he is physically unable to see her through the walls of the precinct sends a pang through my chest. My lips part to grumble a snide comment, to inflict the same prickling feeling he forced upon me but I bite my tongue. It’s almost comical, the conspicuous real time buffer as his mental capacities finally catch up to their normal levels. As if Lila’s mere proximity caused his boasted IQ to slash itself in two, only recovering when she was no longer in visual range. My teeth pierce painfully into the flesh of my cheek, echoes of Elle’s teasing ringing in my ears, how Spencer would only lose his extensive articulation around pretty girls, and the glaringly painful reminder that he never tripped over anything due to my presence.

“Never pegged you to be the type to be stunned by Hollywood.” I purse my lips after the rebellious jab that had escaped from the tip of my tongue and through my clenched teeth. I sigh to myself seeing his puppy eyes and his little pout, the one that always made an appearance when the team cut his little rants off. Guilt smothers the sparks of jealousy swirling in my stomach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just… stressed about this case. Something just doesn’t sit right.”

A pair of dark glasses cover my tired eyes. I hadn’t slept much the night before, restless and yet unable to do much more than stare up at the dull hotel ceiling. We had finally given the profile the night prior. I lean against the set wall, watching every interaction. I watch as Lila’s manager spoke to her. I glance up out of the corner of my eye, coming face to face with Morgans bicep as he joins me against the wall. He looked much more in place than I did. He looked like the rest of the muscled security milling about the set.

“Tell me I’m not crazy.” I find myself mumbling. “Tell me I’m not the only one who finds something wrong with the profile. It makes sense, I guess. But it’s like walking into the room with everything moved an inch. It’s close but not quite. I just can’t… I can’t pick it out.” I sigh, forced to watch as she struts to Spencer, perfect expanses of skin on full display, only scraps of sequined fabric keeping me from having to arrest her for public indecency. I bite my cheek, crossing my arms over my ribs. I watch as he fawns over her. I watch as he stumbles over his words, losing any semblance of articulation. The back of my mind chimes cruelly that he had never so much as broke stride with me.

I physically feel my jaw drop from its clenched position as he allows her to share his drink. On the occasions I was the subject of his sharing, things were put in separate glasses, foods cut in half and separately plated. He couldn’t stand the possibility of me contaminating his food, the person who’s been his assigned partner for the better part of a year, but the beauty he had known for mere hours had earned the almost casual intimacy that I had spent sleepless nights scheming for the mere chance of. It wasn’t fair.

Morgan leaves me, pushing off the set wall to sneak behind the genius. My heart squeezes in my chest as even he acknowledges the break in Spencers rigid habits when it comes to sharing. Spencer grimaces as Morgan ruffles his hair. My breath catches in my throat as his eyes reach mine. I do my best to blink away any evidence of anything other than pure focus and analytics. I purse my lips despite my efforts, turning to walk away from it all, letting cowardice win.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #we can't be friends

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hyprfixate · 6 months

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soul vine ↝ [L.M.] :: part four

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: when you decide to get an ear piercing as part of your transition to adulthood, you expect a lot of things, like the pain and the high price tag. what you don’t expect, however, is finding out you’re soul-bound to the angry blonde from the parlor. or that you’re technically not human.

but hey. adulthood, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee minho x she/her reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter word count: 5.7k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: magic au, grumpy minho, fantasy, medium burn, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers, soulmate au, gang au, minho has some issues to work out

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: I had to cut this chapter in half and then do some plucking cause... I got a bit out of hand. Please enjoy this longer than usual chapter to make up for my constant disappearances.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tag list: @mal-lunar-28 @dutchessskarma @weakforskz @liknws @goddessraven2371 @beaann @deadpoetsandhoney @poody1608 @soobs-things @3nch1i @babyphotos0325 @skz1-4-3 @justcallmemitchie96 (comment on this post to be added!)

part one - part two - part three - part four

It was so silent in the room, you could hear your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You weren’t entirely sure what being soul ties meant, but with the way the atmosphere changed, you could tell everyone was now on edge.

Chan spoke, his voice heavy with trepidation. “Min…”

Minho shook his head and stood up from his place on the floor. “No,” he said. “I’m not doing this. Fuck this.”

And before anyone could stop him, Minho pushed past Chan and all but ran down the stairs.

You stared after him, your body almost frozen in shock. You certainly weren’t the only one either; behind you, Hyunjin had his hand slapped over his mouth, and you were almost sure Chan hadn’t blinked in the last 30 seconds.

After a beat of heavy silence, the three of you turned to look at each other, and despite your overwhelming ignorance, you spoke first.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Chan sighed as you spoke, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “He always does this,” he muttered. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “I’m so sorry to leave, but I’m gonna have to go after him. Stay here with Hyunjin, and I’ll send Jisung up when I leave.”

He paused on the top step, stopping to look at you with an apologetic yet firm look. “We’ll explain everything when we can. But you have to stay here.”

And with that, he was gone.

You turned your attention back to Hyunjin, whose wide eyes were fixed on the staircase. He glanced at you for a second, an untraceable emotion shading his face, before fixing his eyes on the floor.

Your stomach twisted, almost feeling ashamed of yourself. What have I done? you thought. And what the fuck do I do now?

“Did…” your voice was tentative in the silence. “Did I just ruin Minho’s life?”

“No,” Hyunjin whispered. “I’m just… I never thought– we never thought we would… his soul tie?”

For some reason, guilt clouded your mind. Not for Minho, though you weren’t feeling particularly negative toward him anymore, but for Hyunjin and Chan. They both looked genuinely stressed at the revelation, which made you think that the deeper, underlying meaning behind this was not good. The only question in your mind now was whether or not you wanted to be a part of the deeper meaning.

Whatever it was, you could tell the workers at the piercing parlor were into some kind of trouble. If their magic story was true, it was something that was completely over your head. You’d lived a normal life up until now, and you were certain that you wanted to continue having a normal life. Magic bloodline be damned, you were not about to get caught up in a battle that wasn’t yours.

At that moment, you decided to ignore Chan’s warning, and go home.

However, you weren’t entirely sure how to do that at this moment. Chan had asked, or nearly begged, that you stay put so he could explain things when he came back. However, he had left you there. With Hyunjin of all people. Now, you’d only known the redhead for a week, and only saw him in person one and a half times, but you had the feeling that he would not– could not– stop you if you decided to run. At least, not with violence.

You eyed Hyunjin’s frame, taking note that he was more gifted in height than thickness– if you ran, he would catch up quickly because of his long legs, but if needed, you could take him.

You watched him sit up and rub his hands along his jeans anxiously.

You nodded to yourself. Yeah. You could definitely take him.

You began calculating the amount of footsteps from where you were to the staircase. If you walked quickly, it would take about 5 individual steps from where you were standing to the first stair. There were at least 10 stairs in the staircase, then maybe 10 more steps out the front door. With a quick estimate, you realized two of your steps were probably equivalent to one of his. If you could get to the stairs without being noticed, you would have enough of a head start that you’d be just out of reach for him, and could probably make it home.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that this could actually work. However, as you took your first scoot, Hyunjin let out a soft sigh.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Please. Don’t try to go anywhere. I can’t let you leave.”

A cold chill ran through your body. What was with the telepathy? How did they always seem to know something before it was said aloud?

You turned around with your arms crossed over your chest defiantly. “Why not?”

You hoped your glare would shrivel Hyunjin into a pliant little wrinkle that you could convince to let you free, but upon meeting his eyes you realized that he was entirely unaffected. Besides the still-present air of surprise and confusion, he looked at you like nothing happened– the same way he looked when he met you.

For some reason, this made you angrier. You’d just been attacked, sort of kidnapped, learned that you weren’t technically a regular human, and found out you’re soul bound to the angry blonde in the parlor. Yet he seemed to talk to you like it was just a normal Tuesday. You stared daggers into his eyes, hoping you could melt his brain into soup with your glare.

He patted the space next to him on the couch, breaking you from your trance. “I’ll explain, just, please come sit down.”

You thought it over for a moment. While Hyunjin seemed nice enough, fundamentally you were still being held hostage by a group of men. As curious as you were about the situation, you were angrier, and you didn’t want to give the impression that you were comfortable being mindless and obedient. For all you know, this could be some elaborate scheme.

So, instead of walking toward the couch, you turned around and made your way to the staircase and started walking down the stairs.

Hyunjin called after you, his tone sounding almost like a warning. You flipped him off and continued your descent, laughing to yourself about how easy this was.

Your laugh proved premature when you heard Hyunjin sigh again, and then within a second, his fingers closed around your wrist.

You gasped and tried to jerk your hand away, but his grip was strong, almost inhumanely so. You spun around and tugged your arm away from him again, using your other hand to attempt to pry his fingers off of you. Even though you knew you were using all of your strength, his grip would not budge. After a moment of pulling, you glared up at him and noticed something looked… different… in his eyes. They were dark, almost like his pupils had dilated so much that they swallowed every millimeter of the soft brown in his eyes. His gaze was unwavering, and though you wanted to say something rude, you noticed you felt… off.

Your entire body felt like it was slowing down. Every thought seemed to go one mile an hour through your head, and you could feel every muscle you used to blink. It felt like you were being dragged through molasses or wet cement.You were terrified, and you looked up at Hyunjin with what you hoped were pleading eyes.

He parted his lips and said your name sternly. Still stuck like a deer in headlights, all you could do was stare at him and hang on to his words.

“You cannot leave.” His voice was serious and deep. “I understand that you’re skeptical and frightened, but I can’t help with that until you sit down and let me explain.”

You felt so pliant and relaxed that it made you dizzy. Swaying a bit, you gripped the arm holding you to keep yourself from falling over.

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin mumbled. “I’m not going to let you fall. But squeeze my arm if you understand what I just said.”

Upon your gentle squeeze, the redhead nodded and guided you back to the safety of the couch, still holding onto your wrist. He gently eased you into the cushions, watching to make sure you wouldn’t fall over. As his hand slid away from your wrist, rational thought came back to you, and the dizzy feeling began to clear like ember dwindling from a campfire. You felt a bit breathless and pressed your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm your breathing.

Hyunjin looked sheepish as he stood near you. “I’m sorry,” He sighed, sitting down in his spot next to you. “I didn’t want to use my powers like that, but I was scared you would leave.”

You stared at him blankly as he spoke. The brown was back in his eyes, shining like fresh coins in the summer sun. “Why shouldn’t I leave,” you said between breaths. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on and I’m starting to feel like a hostage.”

Hyunjin sighed, glancing up at the ceiling as tho he was pleading for the strength to deal with you. “Can I explain now?”

“Please do.”

“The reason you can’t leave,” he started. He opened his mouth to say more, but you could see the words get stuck in his throat. His annoyed aura was quickly replaced with one of anxiety. He began to chew on his nails, staring at the floor as though the answer would rise from the floorboards. Finally, he let out a huff of air and shifted in his seat. “You can’t leave, because if you do, you’re going to die.”

Lead dropped into your stomach as you stared at him. He couldn’t have just said that. Your mind was playing tricks on you. “I’m sorry…What?”

He shifted again and brought his hand back up to his mouth. You noticed his fingernails were down to the stubs, and he was now just gnawing on his skin nervously.

“You didn’t mishear me. If you leave, you’re going to die.”

Your eyes were blank as you nodded. “Okay. That’s what I thought you said. Are you going to elaborate or am I just going to have to trust you blindly.”

“No,” he mumbled. “I’ll explain. Just– give me a second.”

Watching him, you realized that this was really hard for him to talk about. He was nearly shaking at this point, his breath coming out ragged and labored. After a moment, he let out a deep breath and turned to you.

“When you’re soul tied to someone, it’s more than just an emotional connection. It’s a connection in every conceivable way: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Your lives will be intertwined forever, and you don’t have a choice about it. The bond is eternal.”

Your anger had now subsided, and you hung onto Hyunjin’s every word like it was the gospel.

“The thing is, you won’t know you’re soul tied to someone until you meet them.” He was staring ahead now, his eyes dull and almost lifeless. “And sometimes, you don’t figure out who it is until it’s too late.”

You shook your head. “I don’t understand, Hyunjin.”

He focused his eyes back on you, and you could see they were beginning to get red. His face was flushed, and he chewed on his bottom lip before continuing. “You can’t fall in love with anyone else. The magic of the bond won’t allow it. Even if you begin to think you are falling for someone else, you’ll get sick. So many people have lost their lives because they met their soul tie after they were already married or in a relationship. Not many people are fond on the idea of giving up their families for a total stranger.”

You nodded slowly. “So… I can’t leave because I’ll go live my life and possibly fall in love with someone and die?”

Hyunjin shook his head, and his expression was grim. “The magic of the bond thrives on physical connection, like being in close proximity. Once you know who your soul tie is, that’s when the power of the bond is activate, and the need to be physically close begins. When you’re with your soul tie, your powers get stronger, you get healthier– all the things like that. But if you’re not around your soul tie…”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “If you’re not around your soul tie, both of you will die. If something happens to you, your soul tie will feel it. And if you die, they die too.”

“So… by coming here and getting my piercing…”

He nodded. “You’ve sentenced yourself and Minho to death.”

Before you could even begin to process what you just learned, you heard a quiet voice coming from the staircase. Whoever it was seemed to be singing to themself under their breath. You stared at their shadow as they inched closer and closer to the top, your stomach twisting and turning with anxiety.

Jisung peered over the banister and caught sight of you and Hyunjin. “Oh!” His smile was bright. “It’s you again!”

You couldn’t find the strength to match his excitement. You waved weakly at him and went back to staring at the ground intently.

Noticing the somber atmosphere in the room, Jisung cautiously made his way over to one of the lounge chairs and paused. “I’m sorry… is this a bad time? It’s just that.. Chan told me to come up here when I was done with my last customer, so I thought….”

“You’re fine, Ji,” Hyunjin mumbled. He motioned for him to sit down. “There’s something you need to know anyway.”

You could see the anxiety begin to settle on Jisung’s face as he gently lowered himself into the chair. “What’s going on?”

Hyunjin took a deep breath before gesturing towards you and introducing you. “You remember her, right?”

Jisung nodded slowly.

“Well. She’s Minho’s soul tie.”

Eyes wide and mouth agape, he glanced between you and Hyunjin as though he believed it was an elaborate prank, and one of you would crack. Taking in your already anxious and disheveled figure, he closed his mouth and proceeded to blink repeatedly.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Oh my G… I–what?”

“It seems like I’m a Sirid,” you offered weakly.

Jisung glanced at Hyunjin, who offered him a very weak shrug in return. The grey haired boy attempted to regain his composure quickly.

“Oh wow. That’s… that’s, um…. So, which clan are you?”

“That we don’t know yet,” Hyunjin cut in He seemed grateful for the change of topic. “She never knew she was a Sirid, so she never used her powers.”

“Wait, so, how did you end up here? In the human realm?” Jisung tilted his head in confusion. “Making a portal takes–” He cut himself off, biting his tongue. “Well, it takes a lot of energy.”

You shrugged, completely clueless. “I’ve just… always been here I guess.”

Hyunjin paused for a second. “What year were you born?”

“I’m 21 so… 2002.”

Jisung scratched his chin. “Oh, well that’s way before everything happened with Ardor,” he mumbled.

You peered at him, confused. “What’s Ardor?”

Jisung’s eyes widened and his face flushed. “Ah– no one–i mean, nothing! It’s not important. I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.”

You turned to Hyunjin for answers, but his eyes seemed glazed over with some unreadable emotion. It was almost like he was having a flashback of some kind. Once again, you could tell that whatever backstory came from this was not good.

Eventually, the red head sighed, and looked at you. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll tell you. Iphorus is… not like here. There’s a ruler appointed every 15 years, called the Templar. It’s like… a monarchy, but worse. Everyone is expected to obey and praise the Templar and anyone who steps out of line is considered unworthy, and can be banished or… killed.”

“Ardor was the Templar four years ago,” Jisung added. “He wasn’t bad, not at first, but then his wife met her soul tie and chose to be with them, not him. Things were.. Not great after that.”

“Things went to shit,” Hyunjin corrected. “He went absolutely crazy. He hired the best minds in the entire realm to come up with a magic stronger than the magic of the soul tie. He burned all of the text on soul ties and made a law that anyone who meets their soul tie while already in a relationship had to stay in that relationship and wither away slowly. If not, they’d be caught and publicly punished.”

“And by punished, I assume you mean…?”

“Yeah,” Jisung confirmed. “More death and stuff.”

“Then the war started,” Hyunjin breathed. “It was.. Nasty to say the least. The population dwindled by 20%.”

You rubbed your hands over your arms, trying to beat the chill that just surrounded you. “That sounds horrible,” you mumbled. “How did you guys end up escaping?”

The two boys shared a look over your head before Hyunjin continued. “It was a hard decision,” he said gently. “But, ultimately, we knew didn’t want to be in that society anymore. So Minho rounded us up and.. We left through a portal. It’s been, what, 3 years now?”

Jisung nodded. “We can’t go back. Even if we wanted to.”

Your voice came out softer than you expected. “Why not? Can’t you just open another portal?”

Jisung paused, taking a breath before he continued. “No, we can’t. There’s no way to make a portal here– not unless you bring the materials from Iphorus. Even then it’s iffy because our magic is weaker here.”

“So.. you’re stuck here, essentially.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin nodded. “But it’s not bad. It’s probably for the greater good of everyone that we stay here.”

You let out a shaky breath. “But.. what about your families? Don’t you miss them? Do they–”

Hyunjin gripped your hand quickly and shook his head, panic on his face. He had a finger over his lips, and told you with his eyes to stop speaking. You nodded at him, albeit very confused, before he looked away. You followed his gaze to see that he was staring at Jisung, who had that glazed over, flashback look in his eyes– the same one Hyunjin had earlier.

Jisung was trembling. He started digging his nails into his pants, scratching so frantically you thought he’s rip right through the fabric. You could hear him whispering under his breath, but his voice was so soft that you had no idea what he was saying.

“Ji,” Hyunjin whispered. He reached over you and touched Jisung’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re here with me. We’re okay.”

Jisung put one of his hands over Hyunjins, repeating the comforting words under his breath. Though you were in the middle of things, literally, you felt so far away and helpless.All you could do was watch, and hope that Jisung would be alright.

After a second, you watched him squeeze Hyunjin’s hand and nod. “I’m okay,” he whispered. He looked up at you, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t… hearing about family is… not great.”

“I’m sorry–”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. You couldn’t have known.”

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I have a… complicated family history. So hearing about it can make me a bit uncomfortable. But I’m okay now. I promise.”

You nodded and let silence wash over the three of you as you stared at your lap. Iphorus sounded like an awful place, and though you were now technically a hostage of some kind, it sounded much better than being sent somewhere like that. It was a wonder how the boys seemed to get out mostly unscathed.

A million thoughts raced through your head at once. It was so overwhelming, all of it. You could feel the beginnings of an anxiety attach cresting it’s head over your conscious.

Hyunjin’s hand found it’s way to you, rubbing slow, calming circles on your arm. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah,” Jisung added sheepishly. “We’re here now, we’re safe from all of that.”

Your voice began to quiver as you tried to speak. “So… going back to the whole Ardor thing, is that… is all of that why Minho made the earring? So that people could find their soul ties and avoid death?”

“Something like that,” Hyunjin mumbled. “I don’t really know– it’s not my story to tell.”

“His invention did a lot of good during Ardor’s reign.” Jisung piped up. “But… I don't really know his intention for making it. Unless it was–”

“Either way.” Hyunjin cut him off, shooting him a look that you couldn’t decipher. His hand was still rubbing circles on your arm, and that cloudy, pliant feeling as beginning to return to your head. As long as you weren’t panicking, you didn’t really care.

“Either way, that’s our history now. We’re trying to stay focused on what our future is gonna look like.”

“I guess it’ll be the nine of us from now on,” Jisung said. “I wonder who’s gonna be your roommate while we clean up the guest room.”

“Wait, nine? There’s more of you?”

Jisung blinked. “Oh, I guess you didn’t meet everyone else yet. Well, you know me, Hyunjin, Chan, and Minho of course.” He held up fingers with each name. “That leaves Changbin, Seungmin, Felix, and Jeongin.”

Noticing your anxious gaze, he continued. “But they’re good guys! I promise, it’ll be okay.”

As you opened your mouth to reply, a banging sound came from downstairs. The three of you shot up out of your comfortable slouches, eyes glued to the staircase. You could hear feet pounding up the stairs and the pants of breath from two people. Your anxiety settled for a moment when you saw it was Minho and Chan, but when you noticed their intense demeanor, it quickly returned.

Chan raced over to the three of you, hustling you out of your seats with urgency. “Get up,” he ordered. “Now. We need to leave.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” he breathed. “Just– please. We need to get out of here right now.”

You allowed yourself to get pulled off of the couch and nearly shoved into the corner of the room farthest from the staircase. Minho and Chan moved around the room in a way that nearly seemed choreographed, despite the air of seriousness looming over them. Chan shoved everyone’s belongings into a duffel bag which he tossed to Jisung. Minho, on the other hand, slipped on a black sweatshirt and beanie before standing by the top of the stairs.

Chan stepped in front of the three of you, pressing his hand against the wall until it seemed to disappear right before your eyes. A large black door replaced what was there before, and Hyunjin opened it to reveal a long, dark staircase.

“Get downstairs to the car,” Chan spoke. “Felix and Seungmin are already in there. Changbin is driving, do not leave without him. Understood?”

The two boys behind you nodded. As Hyunjin began making his way down the stairs, Jisung slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and reached his hand out to you. “I know you still don’t trust us that much, but please, you have to keep holding my hand.”

As you stepped forward to grab Jisung’s hand, a feeling of dread washed over you. It felt like you would throw up any second. You could feel your mind begin to get rid of all rational thought and go right into panic mode.

No no no, your consciousness chanted. We can’t leave. Stop. Stop!

“Wait,” you cried. Your sudden outburst had both Chan and Jisung surprised, but you couldn’t calm your voice down even if you tried. “W-What about Chan and Minho? Are we just leaving them here?”

“It’s for the best, they’re gonna be okay, but I need to get you out of here now.”

Jisung reached for you, but you stepped back, trembling like a wounded animal. For some reason you were terrified. Your entire body felt cold and your mouth felt like cotton.

You shook your head at him, and felt the words coming out of your mouth before you could process them. “No! I’m not… I’m not going anywhere!”

From the bottom of the staircase, Hyunjin called your name with urgency. “Please,” he shouted. “Come on, we need to go!”

“We’ll catch up, Jin,” Jisung called. He turned his attention back to you, his big doe eyes pleading with you. “I know you’re scared, but it’s an emergency and we need to go. I need to get you out of here, you’re not safe.”

You felt crazy. The dwindling embers of your rational brain begged you to go with Jisung, to run into the arms of safety and protection. But a louder, roaring fire spoke over it, and against all of your instincts you were desperate to stay.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Jisung grabbed your hand tightly, no longer waiting for you to make the first move, and he began to drag you towards the stairs. You dug your heels into the ground to stop him, but he just began to pull harder. He was adamant about leaving, and you were adamant about staying. You writhed in his grasp with such desperation and vigor, you felt as though your body would explode.

You couldn’t leave. It felt like your body would tear in half if you left the two of them there. It felt like you were being sucked into a whirlpool, water splashing around you and knocking the wind out of your chest. You couldn’t stand it. Though you knew Jisung was strong, you felt an unnatural strength take over you as you ripped your hand out of his and stumbled back into the room.

“No, we can’t… we can’t leave them here.” Your words came out breathless, as though you were having a panic attack. “I won’t go.”

A hand grasped your shoulder, and you whipped around to see Minho standing right behind you. He gripped your shoulder tightly– not tight enough that it would hurt, but firm enough that it would ground you. Your breath continued to rake its way out of your chest as you stared at him, eyes darting frantically around his face.

“Calm down,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Breathe with me.”

You let you eyes close, and without effort, your breathing began to match his rhythm. It was almost scary how easy it was to follow him. With every deep, dramatic breath he took, your body was able to copy him without a single thought.

The breathing was beginning to help clear the thick smog that covered your brain, and though you knew you weren’t thinking completely rationally, you felt clear enough to slow down and listen to what he was saying.

You let your eyes open, and found that he was staring at you intently. The expression on his face was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You were used to his scowl and glare, but now he was looking at you with a type of gentleness you didn’t recognize. Goosebumps raced across your flesh as you waited for him to speak.

“Look at me,” he said softly. “Look. I’m going to be okay. Okay? You can go. They’re taking you somewhere safe, and I’ll come join you when I’m all done here.”

“But–”

He shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Emotions overwhelmed you the more you stared into his eyes. It seemed like everything around you had faded into nothingness, and you and Minho were alone in an entirely white room. Your senses were filled with nothing but him– his cinnamon scent, the softness of his hands, the sound of his heartbeat. You were entirely engulfed in him, even your brain seemed to be chanting his name over and over like a mantra, but something in you wasn’t satisfied. You needed skin to skin contact.

You lifted your hand and put it on his, and you felt your entire body come to life, almost like you’d been shocked with enough voltage to power a small town. Minho closed his eyes and grunted softly under his breath, and you knew he felt the sensation too.

He opened his eyes after a moment, forcing them into focus before he continued to stare at you. His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand, and you felt yourself begin to tremble.

“You can go,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You found yourself whispering back to him. “Okay”

Jisung took the opportunity to slip his hand into yours again, and gently drag you away from Minho and into the staircase. The two of you held eye contact the entire time. It was unwavering, intense eye contact that made the line of sight feel sacred. You couldn’t pull your eyes away until Chan closed to staircase door.

Though you were no longer in that weird trance, your mind was still fuzzy and your senses were still full of nothing but Minho, so much so that you were barely aware of anything happening around you. You knew that Jisung was running, and obviously you had to be running too if you were still holding his hand, but it felt like you were floating above the ground, completely untouchable.

After a moment, you found yourself in the alley behind the parlor. The air was thick with the stench of garbage and rotten food, and the ground beneath your feet was sticky. You look up to see that there was a large SUV parked with the back door open. You let Jisung guide you toward it, before he stuck his head in and said God-knows-what to God-knows-who. Upon getting a response, he turned around and offered you his hand once again. The fog of your mind was beginning to clear, and you stepped towards him and took his hand, climbing into the third row of seats in the car.

You were met with many unfamiliar faces. There were two people in the row ahead of you, one in the driver’s seat, and another sitting next to you. You saw Hyunjin’s red hair cresting over the passenger’s seat, and your anxiety began to dissipate. At least there were two people you knew. After a quick count you realized that the unfamiliar faces were all four people you hadn’t met yet.

You turned back to Jisung, who was sliding into the row next to you. Once he was situated and the seat was back in place, you felt the car vibrate as the engine started, then it peeled off into the street at what felt like a dangerous speed. You’d almost forgotten the dire situation you were in after… whatever that was, happened with Minho. Thinking about him being back in the parlor without you, your anxiety began to come back, and you began picking at the fabric of your jeans.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” Jisung whispered. He gently reached over and laid your hand flat on your leg. “Are you anxious about the unfamiliar people? I told you they’re all nice guys.”

Deciding to keep your thoughts on Minho to yourself, you nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know them,” You whispered back. “And so much is happening right now. Do they even know who I am? Do they know about… you know?”

A sweet sounding giggle came from next to you. You glanced over your shoulder to see the most angelic looking man you’d ever seen in your life. His hair was bleached white and fluffed around his face, perfectly accentuating his symmetrical face. Freckles were dotted all across his rosy red cheeks, from over the bridge of his nose to around his eyes– which were nearly closed as his smile took up his entire face.

“I know who you are,” he giggled. “You’re Minho’s soul tie. I’m Felix! Nice to meet you.”

You stared at him nearly in awe of his features. He looked like the picture of innocence and joy– almost out of place in the somber space within the car.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he continued. “I’m nice, so is Changbin and Innie.”

He leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Seungmin’s kind of annoying, but it’ll grow on you, I promise.”

“I heard that.”

“Stop bickering back there,” the driver, who, if you remembered correctly, was named Changbin. He adjusted his rear view mirror and peered at everyone. Your eyes met, and he lifted his eyebrow curiously, almost like there was a question brewing in his brain. He dismissed it quickly by shaking his head.

Despite his extreme speed, he maneuvered through traffic so smoothly you questioned if the other cars were even real. He spoke up again, “You all buckle up, I’m speeding.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Felix sit up in his seat and put on his seat belt. When he noticed you staring, he gave you another smile before reaching up and buckling your seat belt too.

“Oh– uh… thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned.

He peered at you curiously through his long lashes. He seemed to be searching your face, or trying to read your expression. You held eye contact and, for a moment, his cheerful expression dropped and was replaced with something untraceable. But just as quickly as it fell, it was back. You thought your mind must have been playing tricks on you.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Felix said as he leaned back. “Everything is going to be fine. We’ll treat you like family.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t even process what he said. Your brain was almost too full of thoughts, and it felt like it was going to explode. You were terrified, and rightfully so. Not because Changbin was speeding, though you were watching the speedometer intently, but because you were fleeing some unknown threat. Something that was bad enough that you need to leave immediately, and yet, Chan and Minho were staying back, preparing to face the threat head on.

What terrified you most, though, was the fact the the very fabric of your being felt like it was being torn apart the farther you were from the parlor, and as you stared at the setting sun, you gripped your knees and shuddered.

Please be okay, Minho you thought. Please please please.

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little-emerald-snake · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 1

Marking - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.1k words

It was a lovely day, the air was cool but the sun was out. Sebastian had insisted on taking advantage of the weather and the free afternoon they had away from the 7th year stresses of studying for N.E.W.T. exams. He took her for a small picnic by the lake, with a basket of little sandwiches and some summery tasting punch the kitchen elves had put together for the two of them upon Sebastian’s request.

After finding a comfy spot, hidden away from a path where students may be walking and spreading out the blanket that she’d brought, the two of them crawled onto it and laid down facing the lake. She’d eaten a few sandwiches and was on her second glass of punch when she looked over and noticed the bright smile on Sebastian's face as he watched her enjoy the view.

He inched closer to her and before she knew it, he had a hand behind her neck, pulling her into his soft yet searing kisses. His kisses started gentle but soon he was crowded over her, his gentle kisses turned to passionate nips on her lips and a clash of teeth and tongues.

His lips left hers, ghosting down past her jaw and over the soft sensitive spot on her neck that made her whimper softly as he nipped and licked at it. Her hands came up to clutch at the white linen shirt he wore, his wandering lips upturned into a smirk as he recognized she was getting worked up for him now.

His hand that had previously pulled her face closer to his now ghosted down until he reached the hem of her skirt, gently easing it up to bunch loosely at her waist. She whimpered again as his fingers dug mercilessly into her hip that laid under the bunched fabric of her skirt. He could tell by the way her breath had picked up that she was getting closer and closer to where he wanted her, where he craved her.

Laid back with her feet planted firmly on the blanket, she pressed her hips upwards into his, clearly seeking out the friction that would sate the need that pulsed through her veins like a wildfire in a forest. He pulled himself away to deny her the friction she craved which only brought a needy whine from her throat.

His lips bite gently into her neck and she knew then that he wasn't going to give in until he received permission to do what he wanted. For the past week Sebastian had been practically begging her to let him leave marks on her delicate skin. He’d gotten the idea from a romance book she’d been reading to him on the couch of the common room. Ever since he’d been bringing up the idea every time things had heated up between them.

She rolled her hips up again and he chuckled against her neck as he pulled away which left another urgent whine falling from her puffy kiss-swollen lips. Sebastian pushed up on one of his arms so he could look down at her, his other hand groping at the warm flesh of her thigh which only added to the maddening need inside of her.

His eyes were mischievous as she used her own puppy-dog look to try and guilt him into pleasing her and letting go of his mission to mark her skin. He chuckled at her look and moved himself down between her thighs which parted eagerly. She’d laid her head back on the blanket, having thought he had finally given in but she was sadly mistaken as he teasingly skirted his fingers over the outline of her panties.

Her head shot up from the blanket to glare daggers at him. He gave an innocent smile and continued his teasing. She was so worked up and eager to feel more, already knowing what it felt like when he made her legs shake from pure orgasmic bliss, never stopping until she was a shivering, soaking wet mess under him.

Sebastian chuckled as she moved her hips, trying to get his fingers to brush against her heat. “Come on pretty girl, you know what I want. Just give in…I promise I won’t leave anywhere anyone but you and me can see. I’ll put them all right here on these pretty thighs of yours while I make you come undone on my fingers just like you want.”

She whimpered, swallowing hard hard as he leaned down and gave a teasing nip to her thigh before flattening his tongue and licking over where he’d bitten her. All her resolve went out the window as she let her head fall back and finally agreed. “Fine…i-if it’ll get you to touch me then you can leave a few…just please…no more teasing.”

He grinned, leaning down and wrapping an arm under one of her legs and placing it over his shoulder. With his other hand he carefully slid the dampened fabric of her panties to the side and licked his lips as he admired how wet she was for him. He gave her pussy a long languid lick that had her shuddering and leaning down to watch as his mouth turned to her thigh that was draped over his shoulder.

She lifted her head to watch as two of his fingers slid into her and his mouth closed around her thigh. He sucked at her sensitive flesh which sent pleasure bolting straight to her core. His fingers eased in and out of her slowly, a light curl in his fingers when he felt that spot inside of her, as well as his thumb gently brushing over her sensitive clit.

She cried out as he worked her perfectly, only moving his mouth to add more darkening spots to her sensitive skin. The sight of it drove her wild, her hips coming to meet his fingers thrusts, him looking up to watch the pleasure written on her face as he left a plethora of bruises over her thighs.

Once he was finally satisfied with his work he pulled her other leg over his shoulder and removed his thumb so he could place his lips around her sensitive clit and suck while he fingered her. The sound of her wetness reached her ears and she couldn’t help but toss her head back with a moan as he brought her over the edge, one set of fingers expertly working her g spot and the other pressing into the bruises on her thighs.

Once she came down from the high he licked her juices up and righted her panties and skirt before sliding up to give her loving kisses. “See? You’re so fucking pretty with my marks on you like that. So hot to make you cum while I mark up your delicate skin.”

Kinktober Prompt List

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #hogwarts legacy smut #writing challenge #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #Sebastian Sallow smut

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dumbstupidlameo · 7 days

Text

AFTER HOURS

NSFW 18+ MDNI

ft Carlos Oliveira x Female Reader

content: [ 2.5K words, spit kink, spanking, finger sucking, pet names (babygirl, sweetheart, good girl, etc), mouth spitting, manhandling, crying, subtle humiliation, mating press, vaginal sex, semi public sex (there’s no one around) ]

The locker room was dimly lit, which created an uneasy atmosphere, and an unnatural stillness bleeding into the air, which was hard to ignore as you changed out of your UBCS uniform. You stood yourself into the soothing stream of the shower. You could feel the warm water gently caressing your skin. The sensation of the water cascading down your body washing away any lingering stress, leaving you with a sense of relief and renewal.

Facing the shower head with your eyes closed, letting the warmth splash your face, and running your fingers through your hair, you allowed your nails to run down your skin, grazing it lightly, turning around to let the water soothe your back. The shower room was steamy and damp, and the air was humid and thick, Your thoughts drifted away, leaving you with the vivid sensations of him. You've fantasized about him countless times. This was almost no different...

Your thoughts were plagued by images of him. You were attracted to his commanding, confident persona, the playful mockery he directed toward you, his big strong arms, the way the veins in his biceps pulsated. You daydreamed about what it'd be like for him to manhandle you, being pushed and thrown around like you were nothing, being held firmly into place wherever he’d want you.

Fuck, the thought of him making you cry sent thrills down your spine, you wanted him you hold you by your jawline and let his thumb smear your lipstick across your face and watch as your mascara would run down your cheeks. You imagined the pride he'd have in himself for the mess he'd make of you.

You stepped out of the shower, cool air hitting your body, sending chills down your spine as you reached for a towel and wrapped it around your still-damp physique. You walked towards the foggy mirror and wiped your palm across its surface, revealing your reflection. You gazed at yourself longingly.

You had plans tonight.

You were convinced that you and Carlos were the only ones in the building. The sound of footsteps echoing through the hallway added to the sense of anticipation and excitement that filled you. You anxiously made your way to the break room, hoping that Carlos was already there waiting for you. Taking a deep breath, you reached for the door knob, your pulse quickened with excitement and anticipation. Pushing the door open, you take a deep breath before taking that first step into the break room

The break room was illuminated only to a minimal degree, adding to its tense and brooding atmosphere.

There he sat on the sofa, hands resting on either side of his lap, and his thighs were parted in a man-spread. Playfully, he teased, "I almost thought you were a no-show." This only added to the nervousness that was sitting deep in your lower stomach, now washing over your entire body and making you feel exceptionally hot inside and out.

Sure, you were anxious, but you couldn't let him know that. Instead, you exhaled out your nose and brought a flirtatious smile to your lips that was involuntarily and nervously quivering with the anticipation that inundated you from the inside.

You watched as his gaze wandered over your physique before settling back to your eyes

Fuck, the way he looked at you made your stomach flip — if only you could see into his mind to unveil his messy entanglement of thoughts he kept of you.

It was wrong, and you really should've known better than to have a work affair, let alone to have an at work, work affair, but you needed something to captivate him, something to reel him in something risky to capture his interest in you like you had captured for him already,

You were pretty proud of yourself, to say the least.

There was a distinct feeling of guilt and remorse creeping in as well in your gut, both because it was improper and because of the potential consequences — but alas, you quickly decided this was something worth losing your job over.

Your senses are apprehended by the adrenaline rush of sneaking around with your counterpart, watching him lay back on the sofa, thighs parted and eyes gradually roaming your body —

He lightly patted his thigh; that was an invitation you thought, and you so willingly accepted.

Taking another step forward, you were stopped in your tracks by an authoritative-sounding voice -- him. "Wait," he said, stopping you cold. You looked up at him in fear, his words causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "I want you to get down and crawl to me.” He said in almost a commanding tone “How does that sound, baby?" He spoke a bit softer that time and your heart skipped a beat at the thought of complying.

Your body was trembling as you got down on your hands and knees, and you reluctantly began to crawl towards him as he demanded. Your stomach was in knots as you tried to ignore the humiliation of his order and gradually moved towards him every step reminding you of who was in control.

Inching forward towards Carlos, you found yourself looking up at him from between his legs with your head tilting slightly back. You placed one of your hands playfully upon one of his knees, letting the heat transfer through the fabric of his pants through the touch. You begin to gradually inch your hands closer to his thighs, causing him to forcefully grab you by the jaw and bring your face closer to his “Not yet sweetheart” he whispered into your ear; his breath against your neck, you couldn’t see his face but you could hear the smirk in his voice.

Instead, he took a more active approach as he guided your body up where you straddled him in his lap. Both his hands rested firmly on your hips and fuck, you could feel your heartbeat pulsating in your pussy.

He took your jaw once again in his hand, this time with a sweeter touch, his thumb rubbing against your cheek until it made its way to rub over your bottom lip where it made an almost circling motion, you parted your lips just slightly enough for him to sink his thumb inside — you wrapped your lips around his thumb sucking him in slowly and tantalizingly. Your eyes fluttered shut. It all felt like slow motion with the pressure of him holding you so firm against him while he started to grind the tint in his pants up against your now throbbing pussy.

Carlos tilted your head back gently, his thumb now wet from your saliva, barely escaping as he ran it across your now plump bottom lip. Parting them a bit. He leaned closer. You could feel his breath against your lips, which were slightly ajar. He hesitated for a moment, his breath quickened with the desire of you. Finally, leaning over, he hastily spat directly between your lips and into your mouth. The feeling of his salvia dripping down your bottom lip, sliding gradually down your chin, made your pussy clench around nothing, Carlos noticing this gave him a proudful look that plastered across his face “Like that baby girl?” he asked you with that same look on his face,

“God yes” you whined to him while nodding

“That's a good girl” he smiled like he was genuinely proud of you. “Now bend over my lap? Yeah?”

Your body tensed at his words as you opened your mouth to speak, your eyes widened, your pupils dilating in anticipation of what was to come. Your breath hitched, and you choked out a broken “yes” to accept his request, bending over Carlos’ lap, arching your back just right so your ass was proudly up in the air for him. Using one hand, he grabbed along the waistband of your pants, slightly tugging on them “This good for you, sweetheart?”

“Please” you pathetically whimpered out, embarrassed by your own response. You turned your head away from him.

Carlos is practically ripping your pants off you now,

You felt every nerve in your body screaming as he took advantage of your vulnerable position by delivering a hard, sharp, sharp slap to your bare ass causing you to nearly scream out. Your breath came out in a gasp from

The sudden impact and the sensation left you numb, your body tensing as you arched your back instinctively.

Without hesitation, he immediately brought another much more harsh smack to your ass this time you felt the slap on your pussy, it stung so fucking good you felt tears welling up in your eyes and you were pretty sure the wetness from your soaked cunt was all over Carlos’ hand now.

“Please! Please, please, Carlos!” You desperately begged for him pitifully in a whining mutter. Carlos, being the gentleman he is, roughly throws you over his shoulder before practically slamming you onto the sofa he was once sitting on. Your back collided harshly with the leather material, the fall knocking the breath out of you— you felt so powerless compared to him, and it made your whole body tingle and your pussy fucking ache.

You panted desperate to get your breath back. He kneeled in between your thighs on the sofa fondling with his belt. You bit your lip, hard, your lips still tasting like Carlos’ spit. You looked up at him, pulling his belt off and tossing it to the side. As you watched him start to unbutton his pants, you felt your own hands wander down to your chest as you squeezed and played with your tits— Carlos - loving the performance you were putting on slid up your shirt using his other hand while you unclasped your bra for him pulling it off and tossing it to the side along with his belt.

Carlos’ breath hitched, looking down at your tits. Your gaze slid down his body, seeing the tint in his pants twitch, Fuck, you needed him.

With one hand he pulled his cock out, it leaked precum; the wetness glistening off of it made your insides twist and turn, with the other hand he slid up your body to play with your tits “So fucking pretty aren't you?” he uttered while stroking himself above you.

You chuckled breathlessly, smiling up at him.

Carlos, with his hands on your tits squeezing and kneading them, admiring how good they look with the way your chest is rising and falling with your quick frantic breaths.

He stroked himself, twisting his wrist as he slid his palm up and down his stiffened cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip collecting his precum to lubricate his dick as he does so.

Leaning over you, he hastily spits directly on your tits using the thumb of his other hand to rub his saliva all over your hard nipples. Using his thumb and middle finger, he flicks your nipple harshly, sending what feels like electricity through your veins, stimulating nerves you didn't know you had. You arched your hips and desperately grabbed onto the sofa.

Lightly chuckling to himself at your reaction and now possessively and firmly grabbing your hips with the hand he's not stroking himself with, he brings you close and lines your hips together “Fuck” he grunts out “I can't resist you” he mutters, his voice low and husky before taking his cock that's in his hand and rubbing the tip deliberately against your puffy clit causing you involuntarily thrust your hips towards him even more.

“Shh,” Carlos whispers gently leaning down over you, you can feel his breath against your exposed body, he presses open-mouth kisses on your neck and chest as a way to comfort you, the gesture is comforting yet undeniably intimate as he finally starts sliding himself inside between your wet folds, filling in your greedy pussy with his hard twitching with excitement cock.

“Fuck, Fuck” you pant out excitedly up at him, he returns the excitement chuckling playfully down at you smiling “Mm..” he murmurs delighted by your reactions as he begins to pump his cock in and out of your pussy that's clenching onto him for dear life,

enjoying the intimacy of being close to you, he grabs you by your legs that are on either side of him pushing them forward almost above your head, pinning you firmly into place. He leans closer to you, his chest against yours trapping you into a mating press. His face rests against your neck, and you can feel his rapid breathing against your skin as he rambles praises to you, telling you how fucking good you feel taking his cock inside your pretty pussy, “So fucking..” he strugglingly grunts out “Taking it so fucking well aren’t you baby girl?”

“Yes! god, yes, I am” you cry to him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you desperately cling your arms around Carlos’ neck.

He moves his face more forward towards you, resting his forehead against yours.

You can feel each other's hot breaths against one another. The whole scene is so intimate and affectionate, and you can feel warmness pooling in the pits of your stomach, your nerves becoming more erratic and euphoric, and you can tell by the way his hips are stuttering against yours that he's becoming closer and closer.

You can feel the sensation coursing through your veins as you involuntarily start thrusting your hips toward him, matching his rhythm as you both fuck yourselves together.

You felt your eyes fluttering shut, fuck you can't keep it up much longer, it felt as if every nerve in your body was on fire.

His hand affectionately caresses your cheek, triggering a response in you as you open your eyes to look up at him. The tension is rising between you both, dangerously close to reaching a breaking point. He leans in slowly toward you, his body pressing tightly into yours. As your faces come close together, inches from each other, he kisses you softly on your lips.

Your pussy clenched around his cock swallowing him so right sending you over the edge as you gripped your nails into his back scratching down and crying to him “Oh, Carlos, oh baby” you whimpered out pitifully as he used his free hand to rub circles around your puffy clit, you arched and practically screamed as you came hard all over his dick — he pulled out still frantically rubbing circles around your clit that was crying from the overestimation, with his cock in his hand wet from your cum he uses it to stroke himself hastily above you until he's come to his release, his cock shooting out white streaks of warm cum all over your stomach, some even shooting up to your tits — he collapses next to you, the two of you in a desperate attempt to catch your breaths.

The after moment is tinged with an atmosphere of intimacy. Laying next to you, he softly caresses your cheek, prompting you to look his way. He's still out of breath, his breathing heavily panting. "You were so beautiful," he breathes out to you, his gaze intent. It's a moment of pure intimacy, the two of you smiling and chuckling to each other as the intensity of everything finally subsides.

#carlos oliveira #carlos oliveria x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #carlos oliveria smut #leon kennedy #chris redfield

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lovergiirlsblog · 1 year

Text

Heart pizza date night

In which Mason and Y/N make pizza together for dinner.

Warnings: none just fluff (domestic Mason)

This one is so rushed and short 😭 but I had to post since I’m finally unbanned. It would be great if you sent me your feedback xx

« Y/N! Honey I’m home » Mason dropped his training bag on the floor and put his keys on the counter. « Y/N! » he called again and walked to the kitchen where he found her, eyes focused on the screen before her while trying to follow the steps of making a pizza dough.

« Oh hello there chef! » he hugged her from behind and kissed her neck. She smiled when she heard his voice and turned to face him. « Hello love! Have you been home for so long ? » she hugged him without wrapping her flour covered hands around him. «Nope. I called out your name but apparently you were too focused to hear me. What are you making ? » she pointed at the ingredients and smiled. « I thought you’d come home late,so i wanted to surprise you with heart shaped pizza. » she kissed the tip of his nose « But since you’re home now. Come and help me with this mess » she put her index finger on the same place that she just kissed after handling Mason an apron. “Yes sir” he saluted.

After letting the dough rest for an hour she squeezed it in half and gave Mason his portion. The man started humming dramatic melodies and stated « May the competition of the best pizza begin! » He held out his hand for her to shake it and they both bowed. There’s one thing about Mason and Y/N: they always match each others’ energy , and it’s the reason behind their strong bond. They literally have the same childish and dramatic behaviour.Immediately Mason started copying Y/N’s actions and rolling the dough. He was clearly struggling to make it look perfect, tongue on the edge of his mouth,while Y/N was singing along with Mariah Carey on the background.She was too focused on rolling the edges to notice his struggle. The girl lifted her head to find a very stressed Mason still fighting with his dough. « I don’t know what’s wrong with mine! Yours looks so much better » She giggled and brushed the edges with milted butter.When she finished she shrugged her shoulders « I guess we know who the winner is from the start » . The guy next to her sighed and went back to his task. She glanced at him and his stress amused her « Oh relax darling you’re just flattening it too much. I can’t help you more. » He froze and gave her a confused look then added more flour « Okay I’m rolling it back up » he didn’t give her a second to stop him. The vue of him putting the dough back together made her gasp « Mason noo oh my god you can’t do that ! You just deactivated gluten dumbass! You know what ? Here let me help you. You just focus on football!» She took it from him and started rolling it again while he stood there watching her with guilt. « Here,now I will give you instructions for the sake of the competition » He grinned and squeezed her then rubbed his hands together « Thank you baby. I’m listening » she rolled her eyes and smiled «Okay first you need to pinch and pull the bottom of the circle to form a point. Good ! Now, take a finger to the top middle and push down toward the center. And finally roll the edges for extra crunch. » A proud smile formed on his lips as he followed her instructions perfectly “ We’re back into competition,baby”

They had the toppings set in front of them, Y/N added some sauce, a lot of cheese and pepperoni while Mason wanted his with crème fraîche and cheese. Then they put it in the oven.

« So how was your day ? » Y/N asked once they cuddled on the couch after cleaning the kitchen. « It was good we had fun at training. Have I told you that Chilly and Reece are back ? It feels good to have them back but they won’t be playing in the next few games» He smiled wholeheartedly,pulled her impossibly close and rested his head on her chest. She immediately started stroking his hair. « Yes you have baby. This is the 3rd time » she giggled and kissed his forehead. « I’m just so happy” he chuckled and buried his head in her neck “I can’t wait for the next game. I missed premier league’s matches.» The way that he starts acting like a kid when he gets excited made her heart melt and she wanted them to stay that close forever. « I will come and cheer for you then but you need to draw a heart shaped pizza as a celebration if you score» she pressed her lips on his temple and wrapped her free arm on his neck.

« Deal » he let out a laugh.

« Oh I think our pizzas are ready » She ran towards the kitchen after pushing Mason who followed her seconds later. She pulled the pizza out of the oven and grabbed her phone to take a picture. Mason added some fresh arugula and a ball of Burrata on top of his. Y/N on the other hand was staring admiringly at hers « Look at her. She’s perfect » she faked a cry and took another picture of the pizza. « Are you kidding me ? Mine is definitely the best » she looked at him up and down « Do you mean the one that could’ve been still a dough if I didn’t help you ? Yeah sure it is » He let out a gasp and covered his mouth with his hands « I did it myself you just showed me the way to do it but the creativity was all mine. Come on I’m starving let’s pick a movie » She rolled her eyes and followed him to the living room « Ungrateful ! »

They picked ”Little women” and grabbed their plates. Y/N focused on the TV and forgot about her food meanwhile Mason,who had zero patience,took his first bite and his face changed confusing the girl next to him. She waited for him to say something but he stayed silent and continued eating. « What’s wrong ? » he gave her a reassuring smile and shook his head « Oh nothing. It’s good » he swallowed hard . Y/N frowned her eyebrows, she wasn’t buying it so she took a bite of her own. Mason stopped eating and waited for her reaction. When she wrinkled her nose and shook her head, he put his plate down.« Oh my god Mason! How’s this good ? » she rushed towards the trash can and spited it out. Following her, he muttered shyly not wanting to her hurt her « It’s not that bad but it’s a bit … sweet » She scratched her head and murmured « I think ,um, i might have added sugar instead of salt ?» she looked down at her feet. Mason was trying so hard not to laugh but when she raised her head and their eyes met they both bursted into laughter « Why didn’t you tell me though ? » He put his plate in the sink after throwing the rest of his pizza in the bin and leaned on the counter. « You spent a lot of time making it and you made a lot of effort. It would be evil to tell you that. Plus it’s not a big deal it’s just pizza… sweet pizza » he chuckled.

« Aw my golden retriever is back » she hugged him tight burying her head in his chest « If I didn’t find out would you still eat it ? ». He looked down at her and caressed her cheek. « Of course. I mean I was gonna eat it if you didn’t start eating » His words made her feel bad. He soon noticed the pout on her lips and lifted her chin « Hey let’s look at the positive side, we had fun and now I can make heart shaped dough thanks to you » Mason wasn’t the judgemental type of partners, he would do anything in order to not make her feel guilty.She chuckled and stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. « But unfortunately, I did find out so we need to order some pizza now »

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skyward-floored · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 12: “I haven’t slept in days, but who’s counting?” (Insomnia)

Amazing how when I write something short, I can finish it sooner. Who would have guessed...

Read on ao3

Warnings: mentions of injuries

————————————————————

Wind pulled his knees up to his chest as he sat in the grass, drawing aimlessly in the dirt in front of him. A voice sighed, but Wind ignored it, same as he’d been doing for the past ten minutes.

He didn’t want to hear it.

“Sailor please, be reasonable,” Warriors said with a firm bent to his voice.

“I am being reasonable,” Wind replied, adding sails to his dirt drawing. “You’re the one arguing your head off with a thirteen year-old.”

Warriors crossed his arms.

“Look Sailor, you’ve got to sleep. It’s been nearly three days,” he said, voice more pleading than before, but Wind shook his head, crossing his own arms as he looked up at the captain.

“Time hasn’t slept either, and you’re not yelling at him,” he pointed out, and Warriors massaged the bridge of his nose.

“...he won’t listen to me.”

“Well I’m not listening either,” Wind snarked back, and Warriors let out another heavy sigh.

Wind felt a small prickle of guilt, but he shoved it aside, scrunching up his shoulders. He knew he was being obnoxious, and that Warriors didn’t need one more thing to stress about, but he was being so annoying!

“Look, Wind... not sleeping isn’t going to wake Twilight up any faster,” the captain said more softly, and Wind’s shoulders went up even more. “Please come to bed. One of us can wake you if anything changes.”

Wind closed his eyes. “I’m staying here.”

Warriors shifted where he stood like he wanted to continue, but he merely sighed again. Then his footsteps trailed away, and Wind lowered his shoulders.

As glad as he was to finally have gotten him to leave, Wind couldn’t help but feel guilty as he raised his head and watched Warriors walk off. But he shook it off, and looked back over at where Twilight lay in his bedroll, still and silent.

His hair was pushed out of his face, making room for the bandages that wound around his head and covered the gash Wind knew was right above his ear. The bandages were clean still, but there was a considerable bump swelling where Twilight had been hit, and Wind felt another surge of anger and worry all bundled up together crash over him.

Why did you have to take that hit for me, Twi? Wind thought miserably. You only just recovered, and now...

The cloth that they’d used to wipe the blood off of Twilight’s face caught his eye, and Wind swallowed.

I thought we were past this.

He sighed, and pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to alleviate the heavy feeling in them. He did feel tired, was the thing. Really tired. But having everybody constantly tell him he needed to go to bed was mushing with the frustration he was already feeling, and the stubborn part of him refused to do what they wanted.

They never listen to what I say, why should I listen to them?

Footsteps rustled behind him, and Wind growled, words to chase Warriors away again already on his tongue. But when he turned, he realized it was only Time returning from checking on the others.

“Oh. Hi,” he mumbled, and Time nodded in reply, settling himself on the grass next to Twilight again.

The silence stretched between them, and Wind carefully added a tiny head to his boat drawing, turned to talk to the stick figure riding it.

“How are you doing, sailor?” Time asked finally, and Wind shrugged, still poking at the dirt. “...the Captain’s worried about you.”

“I’m not who he should be worried about,” Wind muttered, and the silence came back.

He finished his tiny dirt portrait, the King of Red Lions smiling back at a tiny stick figure of himself. He hadn’t gotten all the details right, but it wasn’t bad really, and if you knew what you were looking at you could tell what it was for sure. Wind stared at it for a second, then scuffed the dirt away, erasing the image.

Then he looked over at Twilight, and swallowed.

“I just wish he would wake up already,” Wind whispered. “I still can’t believe he did that.”

“He didn’t want you to get hurt,” Time replied quietly. Another sigh escaped him. “He saw that club coming when you did not, and made a decision in the heat of battle.”

“I know! But I’m not the one who nearly died a week ago!” Wind suddenly yelled, feeling frustrated tears start to well in his eyes. “Why couldn’t he have just let me take that hit?! I could have taken it!”

He swiped an angry hand across his eyes, and felt Time’s hand gently rest on his shoulder, warming his back.

“Because it’s in his nature to protect those he cares for,” Time said quietly, “and you in particular, Sailor, remind him of his brother. Whom he once failed to save.”

Wind swallowed, and swiped away the tears trying to escape his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the Hero of Time. He wasn’t.

“You have a younger sister, yes?” Time said after a moment, and Wind nodded, not trusting his voice. “Then you know what it’s like to care for a younger sibling. Twilight... I believe has unconsciously placed you in that role.”

“Well that’s great,” Wind muttered, though a part of him warmed at the thought. “But how do I get him to stop doing things like... this?”

Time actually smiled, just a little. “You can’t.”

“What?!”

Time chuckled, then met Wind’s eyes. “You can’t make him do anything, Sailor. He’s stubborn as a mule. And truth be told, he would have jumped in front of that club if it had been any one of us— you or me, or our Veteran, or even the Captain.”

“So... so it wasn’t because he thinks I can’t handle myself?” Wind asked confusedly.

“...I believe he just has trouble separating you from his brother in his mind,” Time replied, smile fading as he looked back at Twilight again. “I can’t say for sure, of course. But his actions seem to point to it.”

He looked down at Wind again, and squeezed his shoulder.

“I understand it is frustrating to be underestimated. But try to give Twilight some grace. He only wants to keep you safe, just like you would do for your sister. It’s in his nature to protect.”

“I don’t need protecting though,” Wind said quietly, and Time hummed, looking up at the sky.

“Indeed. But Twilight protects regardless of ability. He does it out of love.”

Wind stared at Time for a moment, then looked over at Twilight again, watching his chest go up and down, his eyes remaining closed.

“...I wish he would save some of that love for himself,” Wind murmured.

Time sighed. “As do I.”

They both stayed silent as they watched Twilight breathe, and Wind blinked heavily, his eyes drooping against his will. Time gently steered him so he was resting against his shoulder, and Wind let him, not bothering to fight against it.

“...I’m not tired,” he murmured, biting back a yawn, and Time put an arm around him.

“Whether or not that’s true, you may as well be comfortable while we wait,” Time replied softly.

Wind squinted at him suspiciously, but he didn’t bother to muster up the energy to argue. Time’s shoulder was pretty comfortable after all... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he took a short nap.

He looked back at Twilight, still pale, still unmoving, and felt the lump come back in his throat.

Please wake up, Twilight. Don’t scare us again.

He rested his head on Time’s arm, closing his eyes against the tears that were trying to come back, and let out a shaky sigh.

“Wake me up if anything changes,” Wind whispered, and he felt Time nod, the older hero holding him a little tighter.

“You’ll be the first to know.”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wind #lu time #and wars and twi but they don’t do too much #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #day 12 #insomnia #I haven’t slept in days but who’s counting?#writing from the floor #all the links are self sacrificing but I think twi is one of the worst #and when he looks at Wind and sees Colin... well #he does dumb things #despite having just recovered from nearly dying from Dink but when did a pesky little mortal injury ever stop him?

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chickensarentcheap · 2 months

Text

Lost and Found- Chapter 29

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. You do not have to read the original series to understand this fic)

Warnings: slight profanity

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @munstysmind @themaradwrites @thebejeweledwatercat @youflickedtooharddamnit @asirensrage @residentdormouse @secretaryunpaid @alisbackalleybbq @kmc1989 @karimac @ninjasawakenedmystar @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @occommunity @theesirenteller @fanficanatic-tw

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/138016519

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you'd lke to be added :D

****

It’s exactly how she remembers it. A quaint, three-bedroom home perfect for a young, growing family; antique blue board and batten with a vibrant, mustard yellow front door and a deep, wide porch that wraps around one side of the structure and connects with the deck in back. A fenced-in rear yard ideal for pets and children; enough open land for gardens and play structures and even a pool. Mere blocks from the small downtown core and open-air market; located close to schools and parks and only a ten-minute drive to the beach. The latter had been the ultimate selling point; as close to the ocean as they could get within their price range. Things had been different then; both financially struggling after never receiving full payment from Mahajan, but still having to worry about a stack of hospital bills and various debts.

There’d been no reason to live above their means; content with something small that they could personalize and make all of their own. Add onto if a bigger family was in the cards; firmly settling on having at least one baby, but not fully sold on anything more than that. Being a father again scared him; the guilt and the regret surrounding the death of his son and the decision he’d made in the final weeks still weighed heavily on his mind and soul. And she’d known not to push the subject no matter how much she desired something more; needing to give him the space to not only wrestle with and defeat his demons but build up his confidence when it came to raising another child.

Wick had picked them up at the airport. Twelve days following their desperate escape from New York, and ten since he’d flown to Broome to keep his eyes open and an ear to the ground. After assisting Alcott in identifying -and quickly eliminating- any possible threat, he’s confident that things are secure and no dangers lie in wait; free to return to the States and his commitment to helping Nik destroy any remaining threat on the front line. He looks healthier and more well-rested than Esme can previously remember; casually dressed in a pair of olive green cargo shorts and a simple white t-shirt. His eyes are more vibrant, the bridge of his nose and his cheeks sunkissed. And it's a welcome departure from the usual; the sullenness replaced by a genuine smile and unmistakable glow.

She glances at Millie; fastened in her car seat in the back of the SUV, safe and secure between her mom and dad. Father and daughter both asleep and in the same positions; heads tilted back and to the right, their arms folded across their chests, mouths slightly open as they quietly snore. Their cheeks flushed; sweat glistening at their temples and napes of their necks, wayward strands stuck to their brows. The last two weeks finally catching up to them; the hours spent travelling, the stress, fear, and worry that had weighed heavily upon them, the shared shock and surprise of finding out about one another’s identities and roles in the other’s life. And the dangerous and unpredictable flight from New York City and the two weeks spent at Nik’s while longing for home.

As Wick kills the engine, she tends to Millie, gently cradling her face in her palms and peppering her brow and cheeks with feathery kisses. Repeatedly brushing the tip of her nose against Millie’s until the four-year-old gives a sleepy giggle and a breathy, ‘Momma’; eyes flickering open as she plants a noisy kiss on Esme’s lips.

“Time to get up, little bug. We’re finally here.”

“Home?”

Esme nods.

“Our forever home?”

“Our forever home. Well, unless we one day need a bigger one. Come on…” Unbuckling the car seat’s harness, she lifts Millie onto her lap. “You’re getting big, lovey. Soon I won’t be able to pick you up at all.”

“I’m big like daddy!”

“You definitely are. I always knew you would be; even when you were in my belly and I used to get sneak peeks of you at the doctor. You were long and lanky even then. Now…” She clears sweaty hair away from Millie’s cheeks and out of her eyes.. “...wake daddy up. Tell him we’re here.”

She scrambles off her mother’s lap and onto Tyler’s; her stomach pressed against his chest, a knee beside either hip. And taking his face in both hands, gently shakes his head from side to side. “Daddy! It’s time to get up! We’re here now! No more sleep!” Upon receiving no response, she aggressively taps her palms against his cheeks, then scowls at her mother. “I think he’s dead.”

“He’s not dead. You can see that he’s breathing. Sometimes, he’s a really heavy sleeper. Or maybe he’s ignoring you.”

“You might ignore you, but not me. Never me.”

“Excuse you?”

“Daddy!” Millie bellows into his ear, then tugs at his beard, followed by his ears. “You have to get up! No more sleep! It’s time to wake up and…” She shrieks when his fingers lightly dig into her sides and he begins gently tickling her, dissolving into giggles when he tips her sideways across his lap and repeatedly brushes his beard against her cheeks. And she’s breathless and hiccuping when he once more settles her upright on his thighs, her tiny hands cradling his cheeks in their palms. “It’s time to get up!”

“Says who?”

“Me! And momma!”

You guys aren’t the boss of me.”

“Yeah, right!”

“Why do I need to get up? Can’t a guy get his beauty sleep?””

“You can go back to sleep later! We’re finally here, daddy! We’re home! It’s time to wakey-wakey, shakey-shakey!”

“What if I don’t want to wakey-wakey, shaky-shakey?”

“Too bad! When momma says it’s time to get up, it’s time to get up! Remember, she’s the boss, applesauce!”

“Sure she is.” Placing a kiss on Millie’s temple, he settles her sideways on his lap; palm smoothing over her messy hair as she presses her face against the window and studies her surroundings. “What do you think of it so far?”

“I love it! I love the colour! Especially the front door! I LOVE yellow. It’s a great use of colour, dad. You know what they say? That EVERY house deserves a pop of colour.”

Tyler arches a quizzical brow at Esme. “Whose they?”

She gives a sheepish grin. “People on television. We watch a lot of Home and Garden Network.”

“Especially in the winter,” Millie adds. “When it’s too cold to go outside. Or there’s a snowstorm and we’re stuck in the house.”

“So you think it’s an alright place? That you’ll be happy here?”

“Of course, I’m going to be happy! It’s home. It’s where mommy and daddy are. It can’t get any better than that. But…”

“Uh oh…”

“You know what it needs? More colour. It needs flowers. To up the curb appeal.”

“Are you going to be a real estate agent when you grow up?”

“Nope.”

“Interior decorator?”

“Hell no! I’m going to be the person who builds the house. With my own hands!”

“That’s my girl.”

Esme winces in discomfort as she reaches across her body to unbuckle her seat belt. “Funny thing is, that’s what your daddy does. That’s one of his REAL jobs. He even owns his own business. He might not build houses from the ground up, but he helps make people's places bigger and better.”

“But I thought your job was kicking ass.”

“It is. Just not all the time. Only when Auntie Nik really needs my help.”

“So you have two lives. Two ‘yous’.”

“Yeah. I guess you could put it that way. The ‘me’ that was in New York City? Taking care of business? That’s the me that I don’t have to be very often anymore. The ‘all the time’ me? I help people in a different way. I make their houses bigger and nicer, I put up fences and decks, I build garages and sheds and even furniture sometimes.”

“Can you build a treehouse? I always wanted a treehouse.”

“Millie, I can build you whatever you want. Or at least I can try.”

“You know what his other job is? He’s a fireman.”

Her eyes widen. “Shut the front door!”

“It is. That’s the job I do the most. I won’t be going back for a while though; I’ve got a lot of time off to spend with you and your mom. That’s all that’s important right now. That you guys are safe and taken care of. And that the three of us get to be together. Get used to being a family.”

“Being a firefighter is crazy dangerous! And scary!”

“It can be.”

“Momma’s right! You ARE super brave!”

“I like to think I am. Sometimes, anyways.”

“She told me you’re the bravest person she’s ever known. And the strongest.”

Reaching behind Millie, he gently and lovingly tugs on Esme’s hair. “Yeah, well your mum is biassed.”

“Her mum tells the truth.”

“You’re our hero, Daddy. You’re brave and you’re strong and you keep us safe from the bad guys. We don’t have to worry about them when you’re around. ‘Cause you’ll do anything to stop them from even coming near us, never mind hurting us.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you or your mumma. You’re my girls. All that matters to me is the two of you.”

“And Lucy.”

“DEFINITELY Lucy. She’s one of my girls, too. Actually, she’s the ORIGINAL girl; I had her before I even met your mumma.”

“Mumma says she’s a really good doggo. A super smart one. I can’t wait to meet her. I hope she’ll like the toys and treats I picked out for her. And I hope she LOVES me.”

“I know she will. And she’s going like having a little sister; someone to play with and chase around and sneak her food under the table. She’ll be like a puppy again, just you watch.”

“I just hope she loves me. ‘Cause I already know I love her. So if she doesn’t feel the same about me, I’m going to be crazy sad. I’m going to…”

Her voice trails off as begins bouncing up and down on his lap; banging her palm against the window when Alcott steps out onto the front porch; flashing that dazzling and waving enthusiastically at her. And she squeals “Uncle Duey!” before Tyler pops open the door; not waiting for it to fully open before she’s slipping out of the vehicle and scurrying up the front walk.

Alcott is on the middle step when she launches herself towards him; his deep, rich chuckle and her piercing, musical giggle floating on the air as he effortlessly catches her and tosses her above his head. Once, twice. Before tucking her into his chest and showering her temples, forehead and cheek with kisses.

Esme pauses with her hand on the door handle. “I know it’s hard for you; seeing how close she is to everyone. The fact they got to be part of her life long before you did. And I’m sorry that it hurts you so much. I’m sorry for so MANY things.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry. We’ve moved past that. I don’t need constant apologies.”

“But…”

“I don’t need them,” he forcibly repeats, then lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; lips meeting her brow. “And it’s not as bad now. It doesn’t hurt as much. I’m starting to look at it differently. How I’m actually very lucky. You and Millie had these people around; watching out for you, loving on you and keeping you safe. Until I finally got the chance to do it.”

“I just wish I’d given you that chance sooner. I’m sorry I…”

“No more of that word, okay? There’s no need for it.” He’s mindful of the still tender line of stitches embedded in her scalp as he pushes his finger through her hair; hand cupping the back of her head when he kisses her. pushes his fingers through her hair, mindful of the still tender line of stitches embedded in her scalp. “Not anymore.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“So good to me? After everything I’ve done. After hurting you like I did…”

“I love you.” The answer is short and sweet. Honest. “I always have. I always will.”

Her lower lip and chin tremble as she struggles to hold back her emotions.

“None of that, okay? No crying. There’s no reason to cry. There’s been enough of that. And I don’t want this; you holding onto all of this…stuff. I forgive you. Now it’s time for you to forgive yourself. Or at least work on it.”

“How the tables have turned, huh? I remember saying almost those same words to you. About Austin. About how he forgave you. For what you did. And that it was your turn. To forgive yourself.”

“And I got there. Eventually. You will too. You’re not alone in this. You’ve got me. Millie. We’ll help you through it. Now…” Turning and reaching for the door handle, he’s stopped when she snags him by the back of his t-shirt and pulls him towards her. A hand on his cheek as she kisses him; long and soft and slow. A grin tugging at the corners of his mouth when he pulls away. “What was that for?”

“I need a reason to kiss you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Have you ever considered that I enjoy kissing you?”

“Have you ever considered you have crappy taste in men?”

“My taste in men is impeccable, thank you very much. Or at least it became impeccable when I met you.”

Smirking, he presses a kiss on her brow. “Sweet talker. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Yeah, you’re always up for a good, old-fashioned, ego-stroking.”

“And a good stroking of something else,” he teases, giving her a playful wink and then opening the car door and stepping out. Offering Alcott a nod in greeting before heading to the opposite side of the vehicle and assisting Esme; a protective hand on the small of her back as he leads her up the front walk. “You gonna be alright the rest of the way? While I give Wick a hand with all the stuff?”

“I’ll be fine,” she assures him, standing on her tips with a hand upon his chest as he leans down to kiss her.

“I worry.”

“I know you do. And in a strange little way, it makes you a million times sexier. Which is hard to grasp considering you’re already the sexiest man alive.”

“You and your shit taste in guys.”

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, my taste has become impeccable.” Smoothing her palms down the front of his t-shirt, her hand settling on his hips; eyes closing as she rests her forehead upon his chest. “I love you, you know.”

Smiling, he cups the back of her head in his palm and leans down to kiss her temple. “I know.”

****

Alcott greets her with a smile as he holds a squealing and giggling Millie upside down by her ankles. “Well there’s a sight for sore eyes.”

“Emphasis on the word ‘sore’.”

“You’re going to be feeling it for a while. To be honest, I’m surprised you’re doing as well as you are. That you’re even up and at ‘em.”

“It was now or never, I guess. Nik was getting tired of me; I was only a couple of days away from being evicted.”

“Look at mommy’s toe nails!” Millie calls out, as her fingertips swipe at her mother’s feet. “I did those! Watermelon pink! Mine match!”

“You’re going to make her throw up,” Esme warns. “Or pee her pants. She had a huge drink in the car before falling asleep.”

“I might do both!” The four-year-old announces. “I had a cherry and vanilla Coke slurpee! Daddy and I shared it, but I drank the most! Now I got the burps!”

“Guess your mum will be cleaning a hell of a mess off the steps, won’t she.”

“More like her father would have to clean it up. So let’s spare him the horror, okay? Blood and guts he can handle. THAT? He’ll likely toss his cookies too.”

(Millie hiccups as Alcott returns her to an upright position and settles her on his hip. “Daddy doesn’t like barf. I almost hurled on the plane and he nearly had a panic attack.”

Standing on her tiptoes, Esme straightens and tightens her daughter’s pigtails. “We don’t need to give away all of his secrets. Why don’t you run over and help daddy and Uncle John with some stuff? Grab your backpack and Lucy’s toys and treats. I’ll take you to meet her in a few minutes.”

“You just want to talk to Uncle Duey in private. I know your tricks, mom.”

“Well, there’s some things we need to discuss that little ears don’t need to hear.”

“What kind of things?”

“Adult things. That you…young miss…don’t need to be part of.”

“Are you going to hang out for a bit, Uncle Duey? Are you going to stay for supper? We haven’t eaten yet and I’m getting really hungry and I really want you to stay. Will you?”

“If your mum and dad don’t mind having an extra mouth to feed.”

“Are you going to sleep over? Visit for a bit? ‘Cause that would be really cool! Maybe we could even make a tent in my new room!”

“Tell you what, I’ll stay for a few days. So we can hang out. BUT, I’m going to stay at a hotel; so you and your folks can have privacy. You’re a family now; you need to concentrate on THAT.”

“I finally have a daddy. And not just ANY daddy, but my REAL daddy! The daddy that helped make me. Who put me in mom’s tum! How cool is that?! That I’d get my actual daddy in the end?!

Alcott presses a noisy kiss on Millie’s cheek before setting her on the ground, a hand resting on the top of her head. “You know, I think you’re a very lucky little girl. That you have the dad AND mum that you do. Because no one…in this world…could love you more than they do. You’re going to have a long and happy life, my little Amelia. With BOTH of them.”

“Daddy said that when something is meant to be, it always finds a way. He said that’s why mummy needed his help; because they were meant to be together. Do you think that’s true?”

“I think when two people love each other…REALLY love each other…they’ll find their way back to one another. Doesn’t matter how long it takes or how many obstacles are in the way, if they’re meant to be together, they will be. That’s what happened with your mum and dad. Although I do question her standards and her taste in men. Because if you ask me…”

“You know, you can be super duper cute, Uncle Duey. And really romantic.”

“You know, I have my moments. But let’s keep that between us. Our little secret. I have a reputation to keep.”

“Of being a big-time ass kicker!”

“Exactly.” Offering a closed fist, Millie bumps it with her own. “Now, you go.” Laying a hand on the top of her head, he gently steers her towards the stairs. “Listen to your mumma. Go and grab your things. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“A very nice one.”

“What is it?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. And you can’t have it until you do what you're told; go and lend a hand and grab your stuff. Then you can meet Lucy and…”

“And then I get my surprise!”

“Exactly!”

“This is the best day ever!” Giving his leg a tight squeeze, she hurries for the stairs and then jumps from the landing; landing effortlessly on her feet and rushing off towards the car. Calling out for her dad and her uncle John; giggling when she’s teased and Wick playfully pulls on one of her pigtails; her high-pitched, exuberant voice floating on the breeze as she busies herself with helping pull bags from the trunk.

Grinning, Alcott shakes his head. “She’s…”

“A handful? Believe me, I know.”

“She seems to be adjusting alright. To this new life of hers. Seems excited to be here, that’s for sure.”

“The last forty-eight hours, she’s done nothing but go on and on about Australia. About how she can’t wait to live here. About taking beach trips and going fishing; learning how to ride a bike, going to school and making friends. It’s ALL she’s talked about.”

“She’s been through a lot. It hasn’t been the easiest of three weeks, that’s for sure. Bad enough on all of us, never mind a wee one. How have things been? Since she found out? About her dad?”

“Everything’s been great. Better than I thought it would be; I thought it would take her a lot longer to adjust to the whole thing and to forgive me for keeping him a secret. But it’s like he’s been part of her life forever. Like she’s never known anything different. She adores him. Wants to be around him constantly.”

“The best part of that is that she loved him before she even knew that he WAS her dad. How’s he been? With her?”

“Amazing. He really had to step it up after New York City; I sort of just threw him to the wolves. But he did it; despite all the pain he was in and constantly worrying about me and trying to take care of me. He just did what he had to do. Spent nearly every waking moment with her.”

“As much as what happened sucks for you, it was probably what was best for them. It gave them that time; to be completely alone and invested with one another. Gave them a chance to learn about one another. Without anyone else interfering.”

“As much as my body wishes it could get on board with that, it’s just not having it. How have things been here?”

“Quiet. For the most part.”

“For the most part, huh? I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Just a couple of people snooping. Coming around where they had no reason to be. Wick and I took care of them.”

“Took care of them as in…”

“As in they won’t bother you…or anyone else…ever again.”

Sighing heavily, Esme crosses her arms over her chest, hands rubbing at her biceps.

“Hey…” Hooking a finger under her chin, Alcott tilts her face up towards him. “...everything is fine. You’re safe here. Wick and I took care of things on our end, now all Nik has to do is handle things on hers. It’ll be over soon. For good.”

“God, I hope so.”

She glances over her shoulder as Millie and Tyler make their way towards the house. The latter gently suggesting that their offspring make multiple trips to and from the car, while Millie insists -despite the knapsack on her shoulders, gift bag over her wrist, and the top of a pile of small boxes cradled in her arms reaching her eyebrows- that she’s stronger than she looks and can see ‘just fine’.

“You know….” Esme turns back to Alcott, body leaning into his when he drapes an arm across her shoulders. “...I’ve waited five years for this. To be with him again. I have missed him; every second of every day. I spent four wondering what it would be like; to have him in her life and see them together and hear her call him ‘daddy’. Now it’s happening; it’s all RIGHT HERE. And I am so overwhelmed. With everything I’m feeling.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

“In a very good way. This is all I ever wanted. HE’S all I ever wanted. Everything we talked about…everything we planned together…it’s all finally happening. In this place. That we bought together. And that I never spent a single night inside. It’s a lot, you know? To unpack. And I’m so scared that something…someone…is going to take this all away from me.”

“That’s why you…BOTH OF YOU…need to get out of this life. And stay out of it. Once this is all over, you need to walk away for good. Or something bad WILL happen.”

“I’m ready for that. More than ready. I finally have everything I want. WHO I want. I want to be a wife and a mother. I want to share my bed with the same man every night for the rest of my life. Kiss the same man good morning EVERY morning. I want to make cookies for school bake sales and cheer Millie on while she plays soccer and watch her learn to surf. I want to have another baby. Or two. Or three. I am so ready. For ALL of that.”

“But?”

“I’m worried that he won’t be able to walk away. Or stay away. Not for good. I’m worried he’s always going to be tied to that life somehow. That it will somehow find a way back into our lives. Take him away from us.”

“Have you mentioned all this? Talked to him about it?”

“I haven’t exactly had the chance. I spent a week in and out of consciousness, and another five days trying to build up enough strength just to do shit like feed myself and get myself to the bathroom. There was never a good time to bring up something like THAT.”

“You need to. Just get it all out in the open. Let him know what you’re worried about, what you’re afraid of, all of that. Because it won’t do any good keeping that in. You need to say it. And he needs to hear it.”

“You know what my fear is? My worst nightmare? That he’ll take a job and go somewhere thousands of miles away and something horrible will happen to him. That I’ll lose him. Permanently. And he’ll be stuck there; I won’t have any way of getting him out there and bringing him home.”

“Esme…”

“I couldn’t deal with that. I just couldn’t. I’d never survive it.”

*****

Esme slowly approaches the couch; a sprawled-out Lucy regarding her with wide eyes and her head tilted to the side. While Millie trails a few steps behind, she crouches down in front of the sofa and offers a soft, calm smile.

“Hey girl…hey Lucy…” She holds out the back of her hand to sniff, the dog’s nose wet against her skin. And as recollection of a long lost and missed scent begins to creep in, Lucy’s tail begins to thumb energetically against the cushions. “...do you remember me? It’s been a long time, huh? I missed you. So much.”

The thumping of the tail continues, now accompanied by a butt wiggle and a soft yet happy whimper as Lucy wriggles closer. “Yeah…you remember. We were besties. We did so much together. I’m so sorry…” Ruffling the fur at the nape of Lucy’s neck, Esme then strokes the dog’s ears and scratches under her chin “...that I just up and left like that. I never meant to abandon you.” She leans in to press a kiss to Lucy’s nose. “Thank you, sweet girl. For keeping him company. And keeping an eye on him. Until I could get back to doing it.”

Swiping at loose tears with the back of her hand, she reaches for Millie.“I have someone I want you to meet. Someone I love very much. I had a baby while I was gone. And this is her…” Drawing her daughter to her side, she lays a hand on the top of the little one’s head and presses a kiss to her temple. “...isn’t she beautiful?”

“Hi Lucy…” Millie offers her hand for a sniff. “...I’m Millie. Well, my name is really Amelia, but I like Millie better. Everyone calls me that. I’m going to live here now; with you and my momma and my daddy. That makes us sisters. ‘Cause we have the same mom and dad. Just they adopted you and I was in momma’s tummy.” She giggles when Lucy licks her hand, then slides forward and swipes at her chin with her tongue. “I think she likes me!”

“Why don’t you show her what you got for her? I’m sure she’d love to see.”

“I got you some goodies.” Millie holds aloft a neon pink gift bag, filled with white tissue paper. “Some toys and some treaties. See…” Dumping the contents out onto the couch, she arranges them neatly in their respective groups; food in one pile, play objects in the other). “...I got you all different kinds of stuff. Squeaky balls, rope toys, ones you can chew on, a cool tug of war one that we can play with together! I’ll let you pick which one you want to play with first.”

“I think she’s more interested in learning about you right now.”

“Can I give her some treats? Do you think that’s okay? That daddy won’t mind?”

“He won’t mind at all, believe me. Here…” Selecting one of the bag of treats -duck flavoured- she tears it open; dumping a handful of the small ‘cookies’ into Millie’s palm. “...these are her favourites. Hold your hand out and let her take a sniff. She’ll decide if she wants them or not.”

“She won’t eat my hand, will she?”

“Lucy’s the last dog on earth that would do something like that. She might kiss you to death or you might pass out from her stinky doggy breath, but she’s a lover, not a fighter. The goodest good girl. Aren’t you, Luce?” She smoothes a hand over each of Lucy’s ears and the scruff of her neck, kneading lightly at the fur as Millie offers the treats in her palm. The dog briefly sniffing before hurriedly -and exuberantly- gobbling them up. Causing the four-year-old to dissolve into giggles when the nibbling at her palm turns into enthusiastic lapping at her chin and cheeks. “I knew she’d like you. What’s not to like?”

“We’re going to be besties!” Millie declares, and tosses both arms around Lucy’s wriggling body. “Aren’t we Lucy?!

Tyler’s hand falls on Esme’s shoulder as he joins them. “How’s things down here?”

“Good,” she smiles up at him. “Very good. I think it’s safe to say that Lucy and Millie like each other.”

“We don’t just like each other!” Millie declares, as she lies on her back on the couch; Lucy between her splayed legs, the dog’s stomach pressed against hers. Lucy panting and her tongue lolling out of her mouth as her new friend enthusiastically scratches at the ‘sweet spots’ behind her ears. “We LOVE each other!”

“That’s ‘cause Lucy has great taste. Don’tcha girl.” Tyler reaches down to knead the back of the dog’s neck. “Now I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to have to share me now. We’ve got extra people in the house. Extra b…”

Esme scowls up at him.

“Ladies. I was going to say LADIES.”

“The hell you were.”

“You know I’m just joking. Trying to get a rise out of ya. Although after the past ten days, I wouldn’t mind if YOU were trying to get a rise out of ME.”

She gives a derisive snort and a roll of the eyes. “You are too much.”

His fingers curl around her bicep when she starts to stand; helping her to her feet before his palm moving to the small of her back as she leans into him. Her body leaning into his as his lips meet the top of her head.

“You guys finished? Get everything inside?”

“Just put everything upstairs for now. We can tackle it later. Or tomorrow. Or whenever. There’s no rush.”

“So…” Alcott takes the stairs two at a time. Enthusiastically clapping and rubbing his hands together as he addresses Millie from the bottom landing. “...who’s ready for their surprise!”

“I am! I’ve been ready since you told me! But…” She nuzzles the top of Lucy’s head with her nose. “...can Lucy come and see it too?”

“The more the merrier. This is definitely a family thing.”

Sliding out from under the dog’s body, Millie jumps to her feet; patting the side of her leg and calling for the dog to follow as Alcott leads the way out of the living room and down the hall. Pausing at the door that belongs to the small three-piece bath just off the kitchen.

“Right in here,” he says, and nods towards the door. “It’s waiting for ya.”

“In here?”

“In there. Go on.”

She reaches for the handle, then pauses. “What is it? What’s in there?”

“It’s a bathroom.”

“But what’s IN the bathroom?”

“Your surprise.”

“But what IS my surprise?”

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it? Go on. Go see what’s in there.”

Esme’s brows arch quizzically as she glances between Tyler and Alcott. “What are you two up?”

The latter grins. “Just a little something. That we thought would cheer her up, especially after the last couple of weeks she’s had. And we thought it’d help make this new life of hers even better.”

“And just what would make it better? What…?”

“Bea!” Millie’s scream is ear-piercing; bouncing off the ceiling and walls and echoing through the lower level of the house. “Oh…my Bea!” She drops onto her butt in the middle of the floor and scoops the cat into her arms, cuddling her tight to her chest as she sobs into the glistening black fur. A concerned Lucy hurriedly padding into the room; settling herself in a sobbing Millie’s lap as she licks at the tears that stream down the little one’s face. “...I missed you!”

“How?” Esme struggles to hold back her own tears. “How did you…?”

“I had someone bring her to me. Someone I could trust. To get her safely. And here she is. I couldn’t keep a little girl and her best friend apart, could I? It’d already been long enough.”

“This was all you wasn’t it?” Esme glances up at Tyler. “You made this happen.”

“It was my idea. But I had help. Getting it done.”

“I thought you weren’t a cat guy.”

“I’m not.” Smiling, he wraps around her and gatherers into his side. Leaning down to press his lips against her temple. “But I have a feeling this one will grow on me.”

****

It’s before eleven when Esme steps out onto the front porch with Wick, the wood smooth and cool under her bare feet; the light in the front room and a small battery-powered lantern on a small nearby table providing the only illumination. Alcott departed an hour before; needing to get back to his hotel to handle some ‘important business’ before retiring for the night, but not before promising Millie he’d be back to see her in the latter part of the morning. With exhaustion and calm quickly settling in, Tyler tends to tucking Millie into -at her insistence- the confines of her brand new, four-poster bed. A simple piece of furniture that signifies the start of the second bedroom’s transformation; pink and grey camo bedding, the rest of the space a blank canvas for her -with some guidance and help- to turn into her own little sanctuary.

As Wick lingers on the bottom landing, Esme remains at the top of the steps; gathering the sides of the oversized hoodie she sports and wrapping them around her petite frame. “You gonna stick around for a bit? Couple of days at least? Millie would love to spend some time with you. Now that we’re away from all that craziness. And who knows when she’ll see you again.”

“I already said my goodbyes. Or should I say my ‘see you laters’. She knows it won’t be long. Until we see each other.”

“Still, a couple of days would have been nice. Just to sit back and relax. Chat.”

“As much as I wish I could just take it easy, I really need to get back. To New York City. I told Nik I’d help tie up all the loose ends. And I need to meet Charon. We have some…business…to tend to.”

“Business as in Winston.”

He smiles coyly. “The less you know, the better.”

“Do you think the High Table will do anything? That they’ll handle him anyway? For what he did to Tyler? To Millie?”

“They’d be hypocrites if they didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“He broke their most important rule. The biggest one. They’ll forgive some things. Some missteps. But THAT?”

“He deserves to pay for what he did. He could have killed both of them. Taken everything away from me. Everything I had just gotten back. That I spent five years missing and longing for. Winston tried to take that from me. HIM from me. And for what? Some weird, sick ass obsession?”

“He had it in his mind that you were his to have. And to lose. Winston isn’t used to losing.”

“I was never his. I was never going to be. And I certainly never let him think it was a possibility.”

“I think he felt as if he could guilt into it. Being with him. Hold everything he’s done for you over your head. Manipulate you. Until you not only gave in, but gave him what he wanted. EVERYTHING he wanted.”

“Never would have happened. I’d already lived through one asshole gaslighting me for years. I wasn’t falling for it again. And if he had managed to take Tyler and Millie from me, I would have killed myself before it happened. Before EVER being with him.”

“How about we concentrate on the fact he DIDN’T manage to do it. That Millie and Tyler are safe.”

“I think about it every day, believe me. But I also think about how he can’t get away with this. As if it isn’t bad enough that he was so ready, willing, and able to kill Tyler, he was more than okay with taking Millie out in the process. A little girl girl. MY little girl. My baby. And I’m sorry, but he can’t get away with it. He just can’t.”

“And he won’t. I promise you. Winston will be taken care of. You don’t need to know how or at whose hand, but he will be. You just need to trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you. You know I do. I trust you with my life. With Millie’s life.”

“Your part in all of this is over now. This life? The job? It’s time, Esme. For you to let it go. To just walk away. Not many people in this world get that chance. So you need to take it when you can. Because if you keep even on toe in this pound, you are going to get sucked back in. And this life will swallow you whole. You know it will.”

“It’s hard to walk away when there’s still unfinished business. When it’s so personal.”

“That business will be taken care of. You need to let other people handle it now. What you need to do is go inside and start over again. Start a new life. The one you always wanted. You’ve been given a second chance with Tyler. To be with him. Have a life with him. Make a family together. Do you know how many people wish they could get that? Who's lost someone and will never get them back? Who would love to be in your shoes right now?”

“I know it’s hard for you. To see it. Everything just playing out right in front of you. You can’t get Helen back. And believe me, if there was a way I could change that, I would.”

“I know you would. But you can’t. You can’t do that for me. But what you CAN do? You can make a life for yourself. A REAL life. You can make that man your husband and you can make more babies together and your little girl can have both her mother AND her father. You never wanted all of this. To be in this world. You were never planning on sticking with it for the long haul. Dying some god awful, bloody death like the rest of us.”

“You’re right,” she admits, leaning against the bannister with her arms crossed over her chest. “I didn’t want that. I didn’t plan on doing this forever. And I tried to get out. I DID get out. And then that adjudicator showed up and turned my entire world upside down. Ruined EVERYTHING. I didn’t want to get sucked back in. I was done. I had met someone. I was going to get married. I bought a house. We were planning on always and forever. But it didn’t work out that way, did it.”

“No. It didn’t. You had to wait longer for it. But at least it’s happening. At least you’re getting it.”

Sighing, she reaches up to tuck wayward strands of hair behind her ears.

Climbing the stairs, Wick takes her by the shoulders and turns her towards him. “You can’t bring Helen back. I wish you could. But you know what you can do? For me? You can get the fuck out of this life. And STAY out of it.”

“I’m trying. But knowing that Winston is still out there after what he did…”

“Winston will be handled. Whether it’s by me or Nik or someone else. It’s not your fight anymore. It’s time to let someone else do the heavy carrying. You’ve done enough.”

“It’s my family. That he tried to hurt. It’s my little girl and the love of my life and…”

“And both of them need you. Not the you that’s connected to the job. The you that’s connected to them. You have to let that Esme go. It’s time. You need to be the Esme that they want you to be. That they NEED you to be. They don’t need ‘job Esme’. They need wife Esme. Mom Esme. And you can’t tell me you don’t need that, too.”

“Of course I need it. I WANT it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“It’s done. Your old life. Whatever battles are left, it’s up to other people to finish. And it’s up to you to trust them to do it.”

“That’s a little easier said than done.”

“You’ve trusted me before. Many times. Trust me now.”

“I’ll try. And me saying that is no slight on you. It’s just that this is close to home. So personal. To just hand it over, you know?”

“I know it is. But you have to do it. If not for yourself, for Tyler and Millie.” (lightly squeezes her shoulders and pulls her closer to him, lips meeting and lingering on her brow) “You’re going to be alright, kiddo. You’re safe. And we’re all going to keep it that way.”

“You’ll let me know how things go? In New York?”

“Once things are taken care of, I’ll call you. Like I said, the less you know, the better.”

“And call me when you get there? So I know you arrived safe and sound?”

Wick grins “Yes, mom.”

“Well, I AM a mom. Which technically makes me your ‘mom friend’, so…”

“Speaking of being a mom, you should go and do just that. Tuck your little one in. Give her a hug and a kiss. And a squeeze. From me.”

Smiling, she reaches up to sweep long strands of hair off his forehead and away from his eyes.

“Take care of each other. LOVE each other. And be happy. If anyone deserves that, it’s you.”

Swallowing around a lump of emotion, she stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around his neck) “Thank you. For everything. Millie’s alive because of you. If you hadn’t helped that night…”

“I owed you one. Had you not helped me, this whole mess never would have happened. Starting with that adjudicator.”

“One had nothing to do with the other. The adjudicator, Alessio and his family. It’s not connected.”

“One led to the other. Had you not helped me that night…gone against the High Table…the adjudicator would have never had a reason to track you down.”

“How about we just call it even? Because I can tell this isn’t an argument I’m going to get the high ground on.”

“You can’t win them all, kiddo. But you’ve won plenty, that’s for sure.”

“You will be back, right? Some day?”

“Some day.”

“Because you know you’re welcome here. That our door is always open. So don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Alright.” He gives her a final squeeze, then a kiss on the cheek. “You be good, Esme Drummond.”

“I will,” she promises, and then pulls away, using her fingertips to clear away the tears that manage to escape. Once more leaning against the bannister with her arms crossed over her chest, she watches him descend the steps and limp down the walk, heading for his car.“Hey!” She calls to him after he opens the door, causing him to pause before sliding behind the wheel. “I’ll see you soon, John Wick!”

He grins over the roof of the car. “Not unless I see you first.”

*****

She finds him in the master bedroom, standing at the side of the bed in nothing more than a pair of sweats that sit low on his hips. A duffle bag, one of Esme’s suitcases, and Millie’s wheeled Transformer case open in front of him; rummaging through them and throwing any dirty laundry into a pile near the closet. Clean clothing stacked on the bedside chair)

“Millie asleep?”

“Out like a light. Both Bea and Lucy are in there with her. All three are snoring.”

Sidling up beside him, she reaches into Millie’s suitcase. Closely inspecting a t-shirt to determine if it's clean or dirty. “She gets it from you, you know.”

“Her amazing good looks?”

“Her snoring.”

“So you’re saying she’s ugly? Which she also gets from me?”

“You damn well know that isn’t what I’m saying. She gets both her amazing good looks and her snoring from you. There. Are you happy?”

“I don’t snore.”

“Like hell you don’t.”

“I’m not taking criticism from someone who talks in their sleep. Who I can have full conversations with.”

“I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“You just did it last night.”

“What was I talking about?”

“I don’t know some guy. Tall, handsome, built like a brick house, had a huge dick. Apparently gave you the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your entire life.”

“Mmm.” She throws a sweater of Millie’s onto the dirty pile. “Must have been some random hook up in college.”

Tyler scowls.

“Baby, IF I was saying all that, it was obviously you I was talking about. Haven’t we had this conversation before? While I’ve been awake? About how you’re the first guy to achieve the previously impossible? It’s nice not having to rely on myself to get to the finish line.”

“You have dated some real losers, you know that?”

“Not that the list is lengthy by any stretch of the imagination, but yes, yes I have. And I married the biggest one of them all.”

“Maybe your second husband will be a step up.”

“I have a feeling he will be,” she chides and playfully smacks him in the stomach with a dirty sweater. “With some room left over for a little improvement.”

“A little? That’s an understatement.”

“I don’t know. I think he’s pretty perfect already. As is.”

Smiling, he leans down to drop a gentle kiss on the top of their head. “And you have the nerve to call me biassed.”

They work quietly and companionably side by side, and when Millie’s suitcase is finally empty, she moves it from the bed and sets it on the floor. Then takes a seat on the edge of the mattress; watching Tyler, as he continues to work.

“Wick get away alright?”

Esme nods. “Do you think he’s going to be okay? When he gets back to New York?”

“I don’t know. He’s gonna have a lot of big guns after him. Bigger and heavier than the ones that are going to be after me, that’s for sure. But, he’s been in that world a long time. Gone up against a lot of horrible people. And he’s still around to tell about it.”

“I’m worried. About him and Charon. When it comes to the whole dealing with Winston thing.”

“One thing they have on their side is that the High Table is after his ass, too. He broke their number one golden rule, yeah? Drew blood on Continental grounds. If they came after you for a lot less, I like to think they’d fuck him right up.”

“But he sits on the High Table. How willing are they going to be to punish one of their own?”

“You know more about them than I do. I was never caught up on that side of things. Not that I didn’t have a chance to be. It was offered to me. Working under them. More than once.”

“Not many people say ‘no’ to the High Table and get away with it. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

“Didn’t really save me, though. did it? They still found a way to ruin my fucking life.”

“Why didn’t you want to work under them? You could have taken jobs anywhere in the world. You didn’t have to focus on North America. You didn’t even need to step foot inside it at all. Why…?”

“Wasn’t my thing. All the rules, the politics, the bullshit. Less drama working for Nik. Only have one person telling me what to do and when to do it. Not a whole shit load.”

“You are kind of a lone wolf. You do prefer working alone.”

“I don’t know…” He over her, palms flat against the mattress for balance. “... I seem to remember a time I didn’t mind sharing the workload with a hot little brunette.”

“Just the one, huh? No others?”

“Just the one.” His lips briefly brush against hers. “The rest were blondes and redheads..”

Scowling, she places her hands on his chest and attempts to push him away.. “Oh fuck you, Tyler!”

Chuckling, he presses a kiss to her cheek and the side of her neck before returning to the task in front of him. She watches his hands as he works; strong enough to break bones and take a life, but capable of breathtaking tenderness. Long fingers and misshapen knuckles; various scars and imperfections that mar his skin. And his forearms; one of the features she’d immediately noticed when they first met. And she’s about to offer a cheeky comment when she notices the expression on his face; the darkened eyes and the furrowed brow.

“Part of you wishes you were there, doesn’t it.”

“Where?”

“New York City. Taking care of Winston yourself. Or at least helping.”

“I won’t lie, revenge is at the top of my list of wants.”

“Mine too. He can’t get away with it; trying to kill you, putting Millie in danger. It doesn’t seem fair that he could just walk away from it at all.”

“He won’t. There’s enough people out there making sure that won’t happen.”

“You’re not going to be one of them, are you? I’m not going to wake up in the morning and find out you took off in the middle of the night? Went back to the states to handle things yourself?”

“You’re not honestly asking me that are you? You can’t be serious.”

“I know how powerful revenge can be. And I know the lines that Winston crossed. Putting Millie in danger, the things he said about me in that basement, the…”

“I’m exactly where I need to be. Where I WANT to be. All that matters to me is keeping you and Millie safe. And if someone DOES decide to try something stupid and I’m not here…”

“You don’t think that’ll happen, do you? That Alessio will send someone? Or that Winston will track us down? You don’t…”

“I think you’re safe with me. You BOTH are.”

“I don’t doubt that. I know what you’re capable of. And I know you’d stop at nothing to protect us. But…”

“You and Millie are safe here. And I’m going to keep it that way. Do I know for sure they’ll send people? No. Would I put it past them? Also no. But I’m not worried. They can send all the people they want. They can send a goddamn army. I will destroy each and every one of them.”

She blinks at the brutal honesty and the anger in his voice; watching as he gathers up the empty suitcases and stashes them in the far corner of the room. Once more joining her, he drops heavily onto his back in the middle of the bed; a forearm over his eyes, his free hand reaching out to slip under both the hoodie and the tank she wears underneath. Calloused fingertips repeatedly skimming across the small of her back, travelling slowly from hip to hip.

Esme stretches out alongside him. On her side with a leg draped over one of his; her mouth placing a series of kisses along the line of his jaw and at the corner of his mouth before resting her head on his chest. Her eyes closed as her fingertips trace the various scars and tattoos that inhabit the right side of his torso. Unsure of how much time passes as they lay there; breathing in each other’s familiar scents, enjoying the warmth that radiates from one another’s bodies, relaxed by the sounds of their soft, rhythmic breathing.

He stirs against her; removing the forearm over his eyes and his palm moving to cup the back of her head. Thumb and fingers pushing through her hair to gently knead her skin, his lips meeting her brow.

“I thought we could just stay in the guest room. For now anyway.”

Esme frowns. “What’s wrong with in here?.”

“Delaney was in here. Right before I left for New York City.”

Reaching up, her hand briefly rests on the top of his head before her fingers push through the longer strands of hair.. “For what it’s worth, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, well it bothers me.”

Opening her eyes, she raises her head and places her chin on his chest, smiling up at him.

“In a couple of days we can head into town. Buy new stuff. Just start right from scratch. Make the room ours. No one else. Just you and me.”

“You know, oddly enough, I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Come on, give me some credit. I’ve had better moments than THAT.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like much to you, but for THAT to bother you? To not want to share what goes on in here with someone else? Just keep it between us? That’s pretty intense, babe. No one would expect that from a guy like you.”

“A guy like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, the strong, silent type that’s capable of killing a man a thousand ways with his bare hands.”

“For your information, my hands can do a lot more than that.”

“Oh believe me…” She nuzzles the long-healed bullet wound on his neck with her nose, then runs the tip of her tongue along the lines of his tattoo. “...I know what those hands are capable of.”

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“You should know by now that you don’t have to put that much effort into it. If any.”

She giggles against his cheek, her hands shoving their way into his hair when he kisses her; the long, languid, and delicious movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth. A rough, calloused palm begins a slow exploration of her clothed body; travelling over dips and curves, lightly squeezing, softly cupping. And he both hears and feels her sigh into his mouth when he intensifies the moment; pulling away briefly to glide the tip of his tongue over her top lip before aggressively pushing its way way inside of her mouth. Eyes closing and a shiver passing through her when his mouth abandons hers in favour of finding her neck; gently suckling and nibbling at the skin as his free hand pulls open her hoodie and exposes his collarbone.

Her entire body arches off the bed when teeth, lips, and tongue slowly make their way from one shoulder to the other; violently shuddering when the scruff of his beard brushes against the skin just above the neckline of her tank top. Keeping one hand buried in his hair, the other explores the bulging and rippling muscles in his neck and shoulders; tracing scars and tattoos by memories until he moves further down the bed and she loses all contact. Body tension in anticipation when a lone finger slides up the hem of her shirt; the calloused tip gliding across her stomach and drawing a perfect circle around her navel. Toes curling and goosebumps invading her flesh when he aggressively pushes the fabric of her shirt up to the hollow of her throat; his mouth placing a trail of warm, moist kisses from the top of her belly button to the valley between her breasts. And he groans in annoyance and disappointment when she suddenly yanks at his hair, forcing him to look up at her.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Right now? Can’t it wait? I’m kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Right now,” she confirms, and he gives a sigh and rolls onto his side, hand pulling down her tank top, then settling on her stomach.

“We gotta do this fully clothed. Or I won’t hear a damn word you’re saying.”

“You’re half naked,” she points out. “How’s that fair?”

“I’m not as distracting as you are.” Pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, he uses a fingertip to clear strands of hair away from the sides of her face. “You okay? Is this something I need to worry about?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean…” She chews on her bottom lip. “No. You don’t need to worry. And yes, I’m alright.”

“What do you want to tell me?”

Rolling onto her stomach, Esme places her chin on his chest. “You have to promise you won’t laugh at me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s kind of weird. Silly. Well, at least to me, it is.”

“I would never laugh at you. Or make fun of you. Unless it was about your height.”

Giving a small chuckle, she uses the pad of her thumb to trace the scars on his left shoulder. One a military injury he’d suffered years before he’d met her, the other left from the surgery he’d endured after the nightmare in Dhaka. “It IS kind of embarrassing.”

“How short you are?”

“No.” She playfully tugs at the hair on the underside of his chin. “What I’m going to tell you.”

“I thought we got over that a long time ago; being worried about telling each other things. I’m the last person you should feel embarrassed around. I mean, you’ve seen me with a tube up my dick so I could take a piss. You used to help me to the bathroom when I was in the hospital. It doesn’t get much more embarrassing than that.”

“You might change your mind after you hear this.”

“It can’t be that bad.” Combing his fingers through her hair, his hand briefly settles on the nape of her neck, gently squeezing before sliding under the hem of her shirt and resting in the space between her shoulders. Fingertips tracing slow, repetitive circles over bare, smooth skin. Just tell me.”

Sighing, she scrapes a nail along his beard. “I’m nervous.”

“About what?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. And it makes no sense. I have no reason to be. But I feel shy and awkward; like we’re some couple just fresh into a relationship. We spent a year together. We shared a life. A bed. We were planning to get married. We wanted to have babies. We bought a house.”

“Five years was a long time. To spend apart.”

“But it came so easily to us. When we were back together. We still had that vibe, you know? We still fit together. Like we were never even apart. At least that’s how it felt to me. There was no hesitation. Not anxiety. We just went back to the way we were. Or close to it, anyway. That’s how it was for me. It wasn’t for you?”

“It was. Which is kind of scary in its own way. It should have been awkward. Considering how things ended.”

“But it wasn’t. And DID things end? For either of us? I may have walked away and a lot of time may have passed, but was it ever REALLY over?”

“No,” he admits. “It wasn’t.”

“Look how easy it came back to us. In New York City. Yeah, there was a lot of hurt and anger and I dropped a whole load of shit into your lap, but..”

“There was nothing shit about it. You showing back, finding out about Millie…”

“...things were still there. Between us. We still loved each other. And it was like we went back to how we were. We were always comfortable with each other; we always talked about anything and everything and nothing ever felt complicated or strange. Not even those first days in Dhaka. Am I making any sense at all?”

Tyler nods.

“So why am I nervous now? Why do I feel like this awkward little schoolgirl who’s getting ready for her first hook-up? It’s silly, right? For me to feel this way?”

“I don’t know. I feel a little nervous, too.”

“Really?”

“It was different in New York City. A lot was going on; between us and with the job and Winston and his bullshit. We didn’t really have time to sit down and think about things. We barely had time to catch our breath, some days.”

“I don’t want you to think it’s a bad thing. How I’m feeling. Because it’s not. There could never be anything bad with us. It’s just overwhelming. Being here…in this place…with you.”

“Do you want to maybe get something else?” Looping hair behind her ears, he skims his knuckles over her cheek. The cuts and bruises nearly fully healed. “Put this place up for sale and…?”

“No. That’s the last thing I want. It’s not about you or this place. Not in a negative way, anyway. It’s just so surreal. That we’re actually here. I spent five years wanting this; missing you and wishing things could be different. And now they are. Somehow we found our way back here. To each other.”

“You’re not the only one that spent five years wanting that.”

“You feel it too, don’t you? How overwhelming it is? In this chaotic, beautiful way? I KNOW you feel it. Because I KNOW you. I know your heart, Tyler. I know how deeply you feel things. How POWERFULLY you feel them. So I know I’m not alone in this.”

“It is a little…” He chooses his words wisely. “...scary.”

“I don’t want to screw this up. I did that once. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“It won’t.” Fingertips glide up her back and over the nape of her neck, hand cupping the back of her head and pulling her towards him; lips meeting hers in a long, soft kiss. His eyes riveted on hers as he brushes the knuckles off his free hand over the swell of her cheek; following the line of her jaw before cupping her chin in his palm, his thumb grazing over her lips.

“I can’t lose you. Not when I just got you back. I can’t lose THIS. We’re finally getting what we wanted. What we planned. We get to raise Millie together. Make an amazing life. Have more babies. Grow old and gray together. And if something takes you out of the equation…”

“I’m not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to happen to me. This is it. Once the mess in New York has been cleaned up and things are finished for good, we don’t have to worry about that life ever again.”

“Promise? Promise me you won’t go back to that.”

“I won’t go back,” he vows and pulls her into another kiss. Longer and deeper, tinged with urgency and desperation. Hunger.

Instead of pursuing it, he wraps her in his arms and rolls onto his back. Lips meeting her forehead before she tucks her face into that safe, warm place between his neck and shoulder.

“You’re home now, Esme.” His hand once more slips up the back of her sweater and tank top, fingertips ghosting along the length of her spine. “Where you belong. Where you’ve ALWAYS belonged.”

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