#i only know about strippers from the fics i occasionally read
Text
I Need You
Masterlist
Part 4 of Room 405
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word Count: 4838
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Warnings: Angst, crying, rough oral sex, rough penetrative sex, name calling, slapping, clit slapping, intense orgasms, multiple orgasms, bit of a breeding kink
Warnings that are not sexual: Reader's married, has kids, just a forewarning... I know some people don't care about it, but it was my original idea for this fic and it's just a side plot. She's also the owner of a burlesque club and a former stripper... and one day we'll find out even more
***If you choose to read, you're responsible for the content you consume. Don't come at me about it and minors DNI***
Notes from Smurph: Okay, I wanted to wait until tomorrow to post this but I was SOOOO EXCITED.
Summary: The Reader has a terrible week dealing with her work and family, and she convinces Spencer to help her empty her poor, overstimulated mind... but Reader's husband calls after they fall asleep and Spencer confronts her.
Spending all week putting out fires, taking care of your employees, your daughters, your husband… it all left you feeling overwhelmed and pissed off by the time Friday came around.
You sat in your office, glaring at the roster for next week’s dancers and tapping your pen irritably on the desk. Occasionally your fingers ghosted over the strand of pearls settled at your throat, looking forward to your night with Spencer.
“Hey,” Charlie said, leaning against the door frame and pulling you out of your trance. He had his arms crossed as he watched you, his rough features soft only toward you and your daughters. “You look tired.”
“I am tired,” you murmur, tossing your pen onto the desk and sighing. Charlie made his way over to you as you rubbed your hands over your face, desperately trying to obliterate your troubles and failing.
Charlie went to his knees in front of you as you turned your desk chair to face him. His hands trailed lightly up your legs, settling his chin on your knee and smiling up at you.
“I know the boyfriend wouldn’t like it,” he smirked, and you glowered at him, “but I can help ease some of that tension.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you told him, reaching out and lightly flicking his nose. His face scrunched up but he still smiled.
“An even better reason to let your husband fuck your brains out.”
“That’s funny.”
Charlie kissed the tops of your thighs, moving up until his arms wrapped around your waist. You spread your legs so he could lay between them easier, still doing your best to glare at him and failing. He leaned forward and kissed your stomach, and you closed your eyes and sighed.
“Charlie…”
“Stay home with me and the girls tonight.” He grazed his teeth along the top of your thigh, grinning when your legs spread a little further. “We can have some wine, put the girls to sleep… catch up.”
“Every time you and I ‘have a glass of wine,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers, “we end up with another kid.”
It was true. You met Charlie ten years ago when you were twenty five. You had a five year old daughter, raising Tulip all alone when he came into your life. You had just bought The Nocturne, your burlesque club, and you met him when he came in to watch the girls dance.
A few glasses of wine later, you ended up in bed, and that was how you got pregnant with Daisy. He proposed, you said yes, and a year later you separated. You were better off as friends, but stayed married in an effort to maintain a strong relationship for your kids as he had adopted and bonded with Tulip.
Two years after you had Daisy, a few more glasses of wine with Charlie, and you were pregnant again with the twins, Ivy and Willow. Five years ago came Poppy, and you hadn’t slept with Charlie since without being sober so you could remember a condom. You’d finally taken a chance on an IUD two years ago and hadn’t looked back.
It had come in handy with Spencer, since there was nothing you loved more than him cumming inside you, holding onto your hips, and whispering in your ear…
“Okay,” he said, still grinning at you. Charlie loved you, and you loved him, and you both still wore your wedding rings. Of course, you always slipped it into your purse as you walked up to Room 405… you didn’t want Spencer to know about him, or the girls, or what you did for a living.
Following a truly terrible childhood and young adulthood, you had spent the last ten years building a life for yourself. Using the tools from your past, you built The Nocturne, a strip-tease burlesque club that specialized in live shows and live music.
You hadn’t stripped in a long time, giving it up as soon as you had the money to, but you still performed once and while in the safety of your own club. Unlike back then, when you were young and helpless, you only did it because you wanted to.
It was how you met Charlie, back when he was just some rich kid looking for a good time. Now he was your partner in business, in parenthood, in life. You were proud of yourself. You were happy.
The problem was you were always in charge. You made every decision and sometimes it killed you. You had all the control you longed for as a girl trapped in an awful situation, and sometimes you hated it, you resented being the one everyone turned to.
That was where Spencer came in.
Each time you walked into Room 405, your troubles faded away. The squabbles between the dancers, the problems with clients who thought they were owed something for splashing money at the club, dealing with the girls and their activities as much as you loved them, dealing with Charlie and his bouncers, always ready to kick someone’s ass for bothering the dancers.
It was just a lot, and Spencer took it all away from you, at least for a few hours.
“I’m going out tonight,” you told Charlie, and he nodded, moving to stand and sit on the edge of your desk. “I need it.”
“Tell me it’s all consensual,” he asked, crossing his arms. He was always worried about you, especially if he saw bruises from your time with Spencer. He was fiercely protective of you and all the girls in your care, and you loved him for it.
“Every second of it, honey,” you smirked up at him. He shook his head and chuckled at you.
“Right, I believe you.” He stood and walked to the door of your office, but you stopped him.
“Chuck?”
“Yeah, kid?”
You smiled at him softly, “I love you.”
“I love you.”
A few hours later you headed up to Room 405, your chest aching with anticipation.
You had wriggled your way into a black lace bodysuit that covered your arms and legs and feet like stockings. The crotch was cut out, and you had slipped on a pair of thigh high boots to cover as much of it as you could under your coat before heading out.
It had been a gift from Spencer, and you were so excited for him to see you in it.
Slipping your wedding ring off your finger, you dropped it in the little bag you kept in your purse to protect it.
You knew you were supposed to have a check-in this week, but you'd had such a shitty time you were hoping to push it off until later. Slipping your keycard into the lock, you waited for the familiar chime and opened the door.
Spencer turned from where he stood at the drink cart, pouring a glass of wine and smiling at you.
"Y/N," he said happily, but he eyed you suspiciously, "What have you got on under that coat?"
"A surprise," you purred, dropping your purse on a table and heading over to him. Taking the glass he handed you, you stepped up to your tiptoes and kissed him.
"I thought we were talking tonight," Spencer said breathlessly as you pulled away, waiting a moment before opening his eyes.
"I had such a terrible week, Spencer," you whispered, eyes flicking between those beautiful pink lips of his and his gaze. "I need you."
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, reaching out with his free hand and cupping your jaw.
You put your hand over his, biting down on your lip. He was so concerned, so sweet, so you kissed him again. When you pulled away you gripped his wrist and led him over to one of the armchairs, coaxing him to sit down.
"I am now," you told him, taking his wine glass and setting them both on the side table.
You slipped off your coat and your boots, eyeing him all the while, then dropped to your knees in front of him.
His eyes lit up as he saw your outfit, and his legs spread on instinct as he adjusted in his seat, watching you with his lips parted. His gaze lingered on your necklace, smiling to himself.
"Sweetheart…"
"Please, daddy," you moaned lightly, scooting closer. You arched your back and palmed his thighs, dragging your nails down and biting your lip. "I need you so bad… do you know how long it took me to put this on? I wore it just for you."
Spencer palmed himself through his pants, watching you with glassy eyes. You placed a kiss on the inside of his thigh, kissing up to his crotch and brushing your nose against his growing bulge.
"I just… I've been thinking about you all week," you groaned, relishing in the scent of him as you pressed your lips to his hardening length. "My head is so full… too many thoughts. I need it to be empty, I need to be filled somewhere else."
Spencer brushed back your hair and sighed heavily, pushing his dick up closer to your face.
"Will it make you feel better, baby? To be fucked and stuffed?" he asked gently, "You want daddy to fill you up with his cum?"
"Yes," you nodded as his hand threaded into your hair at the base of your neck. "Please, daddy, I wanna be covered in you."
Spencer's other hand shot out, slapping you lightly on the cheek as he held you still by your hair.
"Suck my cock, then," he growled darkly, his eyes covering in shadow. "Whore."
He released you, threading his fingers behind his head and leaning back, watching you expectantly.
You dove forward with a grin, making quick work of his belt and his zipper. He didn't lift his hips for you, so you eased his cock out of his boxers as your mouth watered.
Your hand hardly wrapped all the way around it, and it stood large, thick and wonderfully pink and at attention as you threatened to drool just looking at it.
Reaching your other hand into his boxers, you cupped his balls. Spencer's eyes closed as he groaned softly, leaning back further into the chair.
You lightly licked a stripe up his dick, following the vein you were all too familiar with with the tip of your tongue, keeping eye contact with him.
Swirling your tongue around his tip, you lightly squeezed his balls and watched him.
"Don't tease me," he warned you, his face dark and heated, "get to work."
His precum beaded under your tongue as you smiled, and his hand shot out and grabbed you by your hair. He shoved you roughly down onto his cock, making you gag as it hit the back of your throat.
He held you down, thrusting lightly into your throat and groaning. You did your best to relax your muscles, taking as much of him as you could as your hands moved to brace yourself on his thighs.
"That's right, you pathetic slut," Spencer grunted, thrusting once sharply, grinding his hips upward as tears sprung to your eyes. "Take all of it, you desperate cockwhore."
He pulled you off his dick, drool connecting your mouth to his tip as he watched you pant. Your chest heaved under the lace, your nipples poking through.
Spencer's free hand slapped one of your tits, making your body jiggle in his grasp. You gasped, your thighs wet as your pussy already dripped juices down your thighs.
Spencer stood suddenly, dragging you by your hair and bending you over the couch.
"Stay," he ordered you as he shoved your face into the cushions.
His hands wandered up your backside, fingers pressing into your soaking cunt and pulling right back out. You groaned, arching your back to prepare to take more of him.
Spencers fingers slipped under the opening in the lace around your vagina, then he leaned forward and asked gently, "Can I buy you a new one?"
You preened happily, arched your back further and pushed your pussy back toward him, "Destroy it."
You heard him chuckle, and then a ripping sound as the lace shredded in his hands, exposing your back and your ass to the open air.
Spencer slapped one of your ass cheeks, and you knew he was leaning back to watch it jiggle.
You heard the jingling sound of his belt as his hands left you, then heard them hit the floor. There was another rushing sound of fabric landing on the carpet, and Spencer sighed behind you.
His hot palms skimmed up your hips and squeezed as his cock pressed against your ass. You moaned and pushed back against him, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of him against both your aching holes.
"I'm gonna break you tonight," Spencer whispered darkly, leaning over you and nuzzling his nose against the shell of your ear. "Color?"
"Green," you panted, pressing your forehead into the cushion, bracing yourself on them. "Oh my god, daddy please break me! I need to be put in my place."
One of Spencer's hands wrapped around your hip, digging into the soft flesh like a handle. His fingers spread you open, and he shoved into you with a sharp thrust.
"Oh, fuck," you gasped as he gripped your hips and pounded into you. The back of the couch bruised your stomach as he fucked you hard.
"Filthy little cocksleeve," he snarled as he pulled your head back by your hair. "Just begging to be used and abused. You just go around begging to be filled by anyone?"
"Oh, God, only you," you gasped as he released your hip to slap your ass harshly. "Only wanna be fucked by you, daddy!"
"But this little hole is always open, every time I see you," he laughed, smacking you again. "Always dripping, always ready to whore yourself out for a quick fuck."
"No, daddy, only for you. I only get wet when I come here," you moaned, grunting in time with his rough thrusts, "only when I think about you!"
"Because I own you, you pathetic little cumdump." Spencer's hand flattened as he brought his hand down again, laughing at you so mean that tears formed in your eyes. "Nobody fucks you like this, not like me. I own this tight little pussy."
He leaned over you and wrapped his hand around your throat, still slapping you over and over with his other hand. "I've cum inside you so many times, I've painted your walls, I've taken you in almost every hole you have, and you come back begging for more. Tell me why."
"Mmm, because you own me daddy!" you huffed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as his cock twitched inside you. "I can't think of anybody else, I can't cum to anything but the thought of you!"
"Oh, fuck," Spencer moaned primally. His teeth sunk into your shoulder as he spilled deep inside you, coating your guts with his seed and leaving you gasping.
You panted as his hands dug bruises into your skin while he came down, your legs turning to rubber and leaving you draped over the couch like a used coat.
"Baby," he whimpered, clinging to your back and kissing your spine. "I'm not done with you."
"Good," you whined, your body going limp.
Spencer dragged himself off you, both of you groaning as he pulled out. His cum dripped from your hole as his hands dragged down your sides, cupping your ass in his palms and spreading your cheeks.
You were just about to try standing up to see what he was doing when the flat of his tongue dragged up your sopping vulva.
"H-uhn." Your breath came from deep in your chest, and your fingers dug into the couch cushions as Spencer's tongue probed your hole.
He groaned as he fucked you with his tongue, slurping and sucking the mixture of your juices and his cum. You moaned as your eyes rolled back, your tummy twitching from the wet sounds of him sucking out your soul through your cunt.
Pulling away, he bit your cheek and slipped two fingers inside you. You cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he bit down harder and pumped in and out of you, curling his fingers and pressing up into your cunt.
"Daddy…" you groaned, your legs trembling as his hand thrust you so far into the cushions your feet left the ground. Your body went limp as you took what he gave you, moaning wantonly as your chest began to tighten.
"You gonna cum?" he asked darkly, kissing the back of your thighs and then smacking the side of your ass lightly. "You gonna cum from daddy's fingers?"
"Can I? Can I please, daddy?" you begged, beginning to sob into the fabric as it pressed against your face.
"You don't want my cock? It's been weeks…" he cooed. His free hand rubbed your leg as he added a third finger, pulling them apart and stretching you out even more. "I haven't felt that little cunt tighten around me in so long…"
"God, please, fuck me again," you cried, tears flowing down your face. "I need it, I'm a pathetic whore, daddy. I need you, please!"
"Oh, okay," Spencer clicked his teeth and pulled his fingers out of you. His hand tangled in your hair and dragged you from the couch. Your legs turned to jelly as he stood you up, and you collapsed in a tangle of limbs onto the carpet, gasping and crying.
"C'mon, baby," Spencer hushed you, looping his hands under your armpits and hauling you up.
He all but carried you to the bed, tossing you down on your stomach and then turning you over. He wiped the tears from your face and kissed you.
"Color?" he asked gently, running his fingers through your hair.
"G-green," you hiccupped, smiling shakily back at him. Spencer kissed you again, and as he pulled away shoved his cum and pussy soaked fingers into your mouth.
He pulled the rest of the body suit off you with his other hand, taking care to gently tug it the rest of the way off before descending on you again.
You began to suck on them, swirling your tongue around them as he kissed his way down your chest.
His mouth latched onto your nipple, swirling around the bud in time with your own tongue, and your hips began to twitch as his teeth grazed you.
Spencer eased his fingers from your mouth, chuckling darkly when you whined from the loss. He tweaked your nipples and kissed your lower belly as your back arched.
"Want daddy to fill you up?" he asked, laving his tongue from your pubic area, up your belly and between your breasts as he pinched them. "Make this belly bulge with my cum?"
"Yes," you gasped, your chest heaving and your pussy clenching around nothing. Stars danced across your vision as he tugged harshly on your tits and bit down on your collarbone. "Please, daddy use me, breed me."
Spencer's hips jerked forward against your lips as he moaned. He covered your body with his, his strong naked form holding you down.
He kissed your neck and sighed heavily, "You want daddy to breed you? Oh, you little bitch in heat… I always knew it'd come to this."
Spencer shoved his cock into you roughly, biting your neck and clamping his hands down on your hips. You let out a cry of relief and pain as he started thrusting into you.
"You wanna be bred?" he snarled as he fucked you further into the bed with each thrust, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life. "You spent last week getting clit slapped for not listening and you think you're good enough to be bred by me?"
"No daddy," you gasped, your eyes rolling back in your head as he slapped your face. "I just want it!"
Spencer slapped you again, his hips jerking forcefully as your head rocked to the side. The stinging spread up your cheekbone and through your ear as you moaned along with him.
"You want it so bad, you little cockslut, tell daddy how much you want it."
"I want it more than anything, daddy! I want to be filled with your cum, I want my belly big and swollen," you moaned as your pussy clamped down on his cock as it slid in and out of you, your sopping cunt leaking between your ass and onto the sheets "Oh, God, please daddy fill me up!"
Spencer slapped your clit sharply, and your back arched violently as your orgasm ripped through you. Your vision blacked out as you shook and blood rushed to your ears, vaguely registering the feeling of Spencer cumming inside you as he groaned against your neck.
He collapsed on top of you, moaning breathily. His voice was high and reedy, his sweat pouring onto your cooling skin. Your heart pounded in your chest as you came down, gasping and clutching him close.
“Good fuck,” Spencer panted in your ear, sliding his arms underneath you and holding you flush against him. “Oh, you good little fuck, Jesus Christ.”
“I think I just passed out,” you huffed, your hands threading into his hair and rubbing his scalp. “I think I died and came back to life.”
Spencer laughed against your neck, his chest rumbling and reverberating against yours. You both burst into laughter, clutching one another in a sex-soaked hotel room and giggling ridiculously as you laid covered in sweat and cum.
Spencer’s arm wrapped underneath your hips and held you so his cock would stay inside you. He tugged both your bodies upward to the head of the bed, reached out with a shaky hand and covered you both with the covers even though you laid on top of the other half of the blanket.
You caught your breath as he laid on top of you, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours. A pulsing warmth spread through you as you held him, and you breathed in the scent of you both mingled together. You were warm, you were safe.
You were happy.
“I’m so lucky, Y/N, you have no idea.” Kissing your neck, Spencer sighed, letting his body mold around yours. “You’ve made me a lucky man.”
“I mean it, Spencer,” you sighed dreamily, your head rocking back as sleep began to pull you under. “You’re the only one I want…”
You woke up a few hours later to your hip shaking. You laid on your side, Spencer’s cock pressed against your ass as he kissed your neck to wake you. A shrill ringing sounded through the suite, and you scrunched up your face.
“Your phone…” he grumbled, pressing his forehead against your shoulder and shaking you again. “Make it stop.”
You twisted on your stomach, wrapping the pillow around your face and groaning. Spencer slapped your ass sharply, making you jump up onto your knees.
“Don’t make me push you out of this bed,” he hissed, pushing weakly at your arms to make you go away.
It was pitch black in the hotel room, the only light coming from the bright red numbers on the alarm clock, reading 4:38 am.
You drug yourself off the bed, stumbling through the suite to the table your purse was on. Your phone screamed through the leather, and you told it to shush as you pulled it out.
Charlie’s name flashed across the screen, a picture of him and your five daughters smiling back at you. You swiped the phone to answer and held it up to your ear.
“Chuck, this better be good,” you growled into the receiver, expecting to be met with his snarky laugh, but you only heard his breathy sigh.
“Tulip snuck out,” he said, obviously seething with rage. You could hear Ivy talking in the background, the familiar echo of your voice on his car’s speaker vibrating in your ear. “She got arrested.”
“She what?!” you exclaimed, slapping a hand over your mouth. You heard a rustling sound from the other room, then the light flicked on as Spencer came into the living room of the suite, naked as the day he was born and frowning.
“She and her friends snuck into the club after hours. Phil went to check it out but the cops showed up first. I don’t know, some Agent called me, Ivy, I’m talking to mommy, let me talk-” You could hear Charlie turn to talk to Ivy, who mumbled something back. “I’ve got the kids, I’m on my way to the precinct. I know Friday’s your night… but I need you right now.”
“No, it’s fine.” You swiped a hand down your face and sighed. Spencer cocked his head at you and crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay, be careful. I love you, kid.”
You glanced up at Spencer before you turned back to the wall to avoid his gaze, “I love you, too.”
You hung up and tossed your phone back in your purse. You scrubbed your face, trying to hold back tears of frustration as Spencer’s hands landed on your shoulders. Turning in his arms, you wrapped yours around his waist, breathing him in as the tears began to flow.
Oh, Tulip, you thought bitterly, please don’t start making the same mistakes I did.
“Hey,” Spencer shushed, rubbing his palms up and down your back. “What’s going on?”
“It’s-, my dau-,” you started, but you held yourself back. “I have to go, I’m sorry.”
“Was that your husband?” he asked quietly, and you pulled away from him immediately. His concern was still etched across his features, but it was guarded and your chin wobbled as you glared up at him.
“How do you know-?” you tried to start again, but he cut you off.
“You have a tan line around your ring finger. It’s small, so I’m assuming the band is thin, but it’s there.”
“That’s none of your business…” you seethed, suddenly noticing how naked and vulnerable you were in front of him, and he stood the same.
“Does he know?” Spencer asked, his voice shaking. “I keep trying to tell myself I shouldn’t care, but I do… so, does he know you’re cheating on him?”
“I-, I don’t,” you shook your head, scrubbing your face with your hands again. “It’s complicated.”
“Right.” He looked down at his hands, looked up at you, his gaze lingering on your bruises. “He doesn’t wonder why you come home looking like that?”
“It’s not cheating,” you sighed, suddenly unable to bear the grief-stricken look on his face. “It’s not.”
You stepped forward to him, pressing your palms against his chest and looking up at him, pleading with your eyes. Don’t make me tell you too much… don’t make this end. Spencer’s hands wrapped around yours as he watched you carefully.
“Nobody’s getting hurt, I swear,” you promised. Spencer groaned softly and pulled away from you, turning back toward the bedroom. “I swear, Spencer! I’m not cheating, and you’re not… complicit in something bad!”
“You said you didn’t want to talk about your life,” he muttered, still looking away from you. “I tried to convince myself it was because you just wanted sex, but that’s not what this has turned into and you know it.”
“It’s not… you’re right. It’s not just sex, it’s sex with you.” You reached your arms around his waist, pressing your forehead between his shoulder blades as tears streamed down your face. “I come here and I forget everything else, Spencer. Nothing matters but you and me in this room.”
“You need this,” he whispered bitterly, and you nodded. “You need me, and God help me, I need you.”
“I swear, Spencer, nobody’s getting hurt. He… we’re not what you think. It’s complicated, that’s all.” You squeezed him once and pulled away, picking up your coat off the floor and slipping it over your shoulders.
“You have to go?” Spencer asked, turning to watch you as you sat down on the couch he’d fucked you on earlier and zipped up your boots. “We need to talk.”
“It’s…” you began, standing and grabbing your purse. “I have to leave, I’m sorry. It’s important.”
You headed for the door, and as your hand landed on the handle, he spoke again, so you turned to face him.
“You always leave first, you know?” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Why do you do that?”
“Because I have to,” you smiled bitterly through your tears. “I have to leave you before you leave me, Spencer. It’s as simple as that.”
With that you opened the door and walked out, leaving Spencer Reid and Room 405 behind.
Notes: *singsongs*
I wanna know your thougggggghttttttttssssssssss
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Taglist: @rexorangecouny @nomajdetective @halloween-is-my-nationality
#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#criminal minds#smurphyse#criminal minds fanfic#spencer x oc#criminal minds fanfiction#mgg#cm fandom#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid/you#spencer reid/reader#criminalminds#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x reader#spencer x reader#criminal minds smut#spencer reid smut#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid/y/n#smurph writes#smut#sugar daddy Spencer reid#room 405
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Here lives my favorite fics! These are the stories that I find myself returning to over and over again. I hope you all get as much enjoyment out of them as I do. Thank you to the authors of these fics for bringing them to the world. As always mind the warnings and respect the boundaries that the authors have set! Ok, on to the list!
@avintagekiss24:
magic city
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with the weight of the world as the tips of my fingers
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california king
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the forest
Ahhhh! The worldbuilding! The Worldbuilding!!!
leave out all the rest
Ok so funny story. When I first read this, I had never seen The Martian. But the relationship between the reader and Chris caught me. I might return to read this like....once a week.
@angrythingstarlight:
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No seriously, I really suggest that you follow Star (and all the other authors on this list) so you don’t miss her wonderful drabbles and one-shots! You’re not gonna want to miss any of her news reports.
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The Beefy Biker Verse
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My absolute fave is Coming Home to You!
@syntheticavenger:
Pace is the Trick
This was the fic that made me get a tumblr. Now, I have an attachment to A/B/O and combined with the beautifully written angst in this fic. *Muah* Chefs kiss! Also multiple endings? Synth truly does spoil us, y’all.
Time to Run
I love mob bosses who will burn down the world for their girl, ok? Sue me!
New Rules
Fun fact about me, I love learning about monarchies. I spend my free time learning about them all over the world. So when I heard Synth was writing a modern royalty au? Chile, I put the fic into my faves, sight unseen. Love it!
Honorable mention to Mr. July! Because remember when I said I had an...attachment to A/B/O? Yeah...
@sapphirescrolls:
Sunset
Not only is Jen our Black Author Masterlist Queen, she is also a phenomenal writer. I never knew that I needed Sam Wilson loving on Okoye in my life until I read this. Anytime I need a pick me up, this is my go-to.
For the World
Guys. I don’t know what it is about this fic. It’s dark, which isn’t something that I'm normally drawn to, but the premise of this is amazing and it will hook you!
Ao3:
And here is one of my fave fics that I read off Tumblr. Though it might be on here too, I just haven't checked. It’s a Thor Dothroki!AU which honestly means nothing to me since I’ve never seen Game of Thrones... But it’s beautifully written and I’ve read it like once a month!
*There is some white coding in this fic, so be aware*
all there's left to do is run
Non Marvel:
And this is just a @charnelhouse fan girl right quick.
Mando/ Din Djarin
I occasionally indulge in some Mando fics and these are some of the best. What can I say I love domestic Din!
Bloom Universe/ TF Poly Vibes
Again, I have never seen Triple Frontier and I honestly can’t say that I plan to. But these boys have me wide open for them, and I’m perfectly content with that, thank you.
#fic rec#author recs#comfort fics#sessi recs#sessi reads#all of the above are my favorites#I re-read them regularly#black! reader fic recs#x black reader
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Neon Red
Summary: Feeling the failure of not being able to defeat Thanos, Steve longs to feel something else, anything else, and so he finds himself as a patron at The Golden Circle where our reader (known as Kitty by customers) is a dancer.
Warnings: Dark!Steve, Stripper!Reader, stalking, male masturbation, dubcon/noncon.
Word Count: 4.5k
AN: I’m so sorry there isn’t a Say Thank You update this weekend but please enjoy a slutty oneshot, it’s also a little spin off from the Project Legacy fic (you don’t have to read it to read this.) I would also love to thank @castedcaricaturesfor betaing this fic for me and @iwantutobehapppier and @omega-nicole for giving me their opinions about an issue I had.
My Masterlist
The neon red sign above the door reflected in Steve’s blue eyes as he stood, staring up at it, hesitating as he stood out on the street. He knew if his ma were still here that she would kill him if she ever found out he was about to enter an establishment like the ‘Golden Circle’ but that was exactly why he was doing it. She wasn’t here. No one was anymore.
For once in his life Steve Rogers wanted to feel something, wanted to give into his more carnal instincts. And so here he was, wondering if he had gotten enough cash out of the ATM across the street, wearing a dark blue baseball cap pulled low over his brow, praying that no one would recognise him.
Yet as he pushed open the heavy door and was greeted by the sickly sweet scent of the club, he realised his fears had been for nothing, hardly anyone spared him a glance, too enraptured with the dancer who was up on the podium. Even though it was a bit of a darker atmosphere than what he was used to, Steve liked it. He liked the dim red lighting - from where it originated he couldn’t tell - the plush brown leather booths, the mahogany bar behind which there was an alcohol cabinet that could rival Tony’s. It was modernised sure, but it reminded him of something that he might have seen back in his own time if he had dared do something so salacious and he knew that he had made the right call by coming here.
Straying a little further from the stage, he sat in one of the lone leather high backed chairs, hands running down his thighs, a little unsure of what to do as he surveyed his surroundings, barely even glancing at the woman on the stage. A server came over, holding a tray with one hand as she lent down, practically pushing her chest into Steve’s bearded face and while he appreciated the view of her scantily clad nipples, he wasn’t all that invested.
‘What can I get you handsome?’ Her voice was wrong, it was too much, too overt in its sexuality.
‘Just a scotch thanks.’ Even though he wasn’t interested he still slipped a twenty from his wallet, tucking it into the scrap of material that were her panties. ‘Keep the change.’ She smiled, her eyes seeming to eat him up before she turned and walked away, swaying her hips intoxicatingly.
The dancer on the stage finished her set, a raucous applause following as she made her way around the crowd, collecting tips from greedy hands. Steve’s scotch was set down next to him and he thanked the waitress as a voice cut through the applause.
‘Once again that was the gorgeous Glitter! Isn’t she just stunning? For those interested she does private shows too, just her and whatever lucky bugger in our lounges. Send an inquiry if interested.’ There was a pause in which Steve considered what the MC had said. Private shows, maybe that’s where he should be. But not with her, no. She wasn’t quite right.
‘Next up, is the sensational Kitty! Gentlemen please give her a very warm welcome.’ Steve's gaze was at once pulled back to the stage as the deep red velvet curtain parted, revealing her.
Immediately he knew. He knew she was the one. He watched enticed as she performed, her body twisting and twirling through the air with a sense of grace - of elegance - that the others just hadn’t held. For the first time since it had happened, he felt himself get hard, achingly hard. The desire to reach into his pants growing with every second that his eyes drank up her form.
He could almost pretend that it was only him, that he was the only one in the room with her, that she was dancing just for him. He didn’t necessarily care about the other men watching her because he knew, deep down, that she was his. It didn’t matter that she didn’t even know him or that he had only just seen her, she was his for now and forever more.
He waited until her dance was over, pulling a handful of twenties from his wallet and this time when she sashayed across the crowd for tips, his greedy hands joined the others. Swiftly tucking the money into the black silk, just above her vee. He relished in the way her eyes grew larger as she caught sight of the amount he had given, the way they had followed his deft fingers from her panties and up his arm before coming to rest on his face.
‘Thank you.’ Just those two words had Steve ready to cum right then and there. Her voice was so soft and delicate, just what he had been looking for all this time.
‘You’re welcome Doll.’ He fell in love with her smile, not that fake one she had worn when she was dancing, but the real one she wore now, her teeth gleaming in the dim lighting.
‘I-’
She was interrupted by a portly man calling her name, taking her attention away from him as the man gestured to her to come to him. Pausing slightly, she turned back to Steve but he raised his hands, a smile on his face.
‘Go. I need to head off anyway.’ He tried to make his voice as easygoing as he could, not wanting to let her know the dark thoughts plaguing his mind. She smiled at him once more before turning on her heel and crossing the room to who Steve could only assume was the manager of the establishment, his eyes following every sway of her hips until she led from the room and out of sight.
Stretching out his muscles, he stood from the leather chair, leaving a twenty underneath his now empty glass before pulling his cap further down his brow and heading out of the building, his phone in his hand as he searched Stark’s database for just who this angelic Kitty really was.
+
It really hadn’t been that hard to find her, the real Kitty. Ten minutes of searching had given him her real name, her address, her credit history, her family backstory. Camped out on the roof across from her apartment Steve chided Stark’s technology. In the wrong hands it could be quite dangerous, having such easy access to anyone’s personal details.
But it was fine, he was here to protect her now.
He waited up on that cold roof for nearly two hours until a cab came by, stopping just outside the crummy apartment complex. Even in the dim light emanating from the streetlights, his Kitty seemed to glow, shining bright and beautiful like an angel. He watched as she let herself in, a few minutes passing before the light to her apartment flickered on. He blessed the fact that she hadn’t drawn the blinds, thinking herself safe, tucked away on the twelfth floor. She gave him an uninterrupted view of her apartment, of how she wandered from the cramped kitchen/living room into her even smaller bedroom, disappearing briefly into the bathroom before emerging in only a towel, her wet hair cascading down her back, sticking to her smooth skin.
For the second time since the snap had happened, Steve felt his pants grow tight, the need to feel something, anything, overtaking him. He adjusted his perch on the roof, making sure he still had a good visual of the bedroom as his hand dipped down, briskly undoing his belt and pulling himself from his jeans.
He watched as her towel dropped to the floor, the fluffy white cotton kicked aside, revealing her body to him. Despite the fact that he had practically already seen it in the club, he couldn’t hold in the groan it caused, his hand wrapping around himself and pumping furiously as the pretty girl in the window got ready for bed.
+
‘Hey Kitty, he’s back. Again.’ You tried to hold in the smile Glitter’s words caused, the jealousy barely concealed, but you couldn’t blame her. Whoever he was, he wasn’t like the other men who frequented the ‘Golden Circle’ in a lot of ways. He wasn’t sleazy like the others, his hands - while they did occasionally linger - never groped bits of flesh as they slipped twenty dollar bills into the thin straps of your outfits and although he never took off the dark blue baseball cap, making it near impossible to see his face, you could tell he was attractive, his biceps bulged and his thick thighs looked like the most comfortable seat in the world.
While his continual presence did make you slightly uneasy, it also gave you butterflies, seeing his eyes always fixated on you, even when you weren’t the one on stage. He barely spared a glance at the other girls despite them trying their best efforts to draw his attention. He only wanted you. His presence made you not care about never booking a session in the Lounge because while the increased pay of a private show would have been nice, he was always by the mainstage, plus his tips were always far too generous.
Your heart raced with the typical pre-show jitters, incensed by the fact you knew he was out there, waiting for you and when your music started you took a deep breath, fully transitioning into Kitty, the cheeky dancer, before stepping out on stage. Like usual, your eyes flitted around the club, searching for him and when you finally found him, sitting towards the back, you made sure to give him your cheekiest smile.
‘Let’s give it up for our resident cheeky little Kitty Cat!’ You barely heard the obnoxious voice of Mike the club’s MC, opting instead to go to your happy place. When you had first started at the ‘Golden Circle’ it had been hard to zone out from the leering and drunken men but reflecting back to your days as a ballerina had helped. Although it was now a completely different style of dance, pretending that you were on stage in your pretty pink pointe shoes performing for your family had given you the peace of mind you needed to get up on stage every night.
Now however, your happy place had a much different setting. You were still up on stage, yet it was a smaller stage, a plush leather couch at the base of it, the walls lined with a deep red velvet, casting a sensual appearance over the room. Instead of a crowd full of strangers, you only performed for one man, a glass of whisky in his hand and a blue baseball cap pulled low over his brow as he watched you.
You knew it was wrong, dangerous even, to fantasise about a client like that, but it was what helped get you through the grueling shifts and with the way he watched your every move, you didn’t think he would mind.
As your dance came to an end, you did your usual rounds, sitting in a few laps, having your flesh groped as tips were slid into your red bodysuit. As always, you saved him for last, finally wandering over to his couch, your smile not as fake as it had been.
‘Well hi-ya stranger.’ You joked as you neared, and you thought that you just might’ve died when you heard his responding chuckle, one of his rare smiles gracing his lips.
‘Doll, I don’t think we’re strangers at this point.’ You smiled as he leaned forward, his hand slipped down between your breasts to place a couple of bills there. You were surprised when his other hand crept up behind you, gingerly wrapping itself around your waist. ‘So, I was thinking… How about a dance sugar?’ Your eyebrows raised on their own accord, your surprise evident. Despite how often he came into the club, he had never asked for a dance. The only time that he had come close was when he had asked you offhandedly, if you minded being the one to serve him his drinks when you were on duty. Although you had felt guilty about keeping him to yourself you had gladly agreed, how could you not?
When you realised that he was still waiting, you snapped out of your reverie. ‘Of course Darling, anything for you.’ Despite how full your body suit was, you didn’t want to keep him waiting, so you stalked around behind him, beginning your routine as you slid your hands down his chest, your lips coming to his ear.
Most of the time doing by-stage dances you found yourself having to grit your teeth, barely able to keep down the bile yet as you danced for your stranger the smile on your face was a hundred percent genuine.
‘You know, I feel kind of bad. We spend all this time together, yet I don’t even know your name.’ He shuddered as you whispered into the shell of his ear, being sure to brush your lips against the soft, supple skin.
‘I’m Steve.’ His voice was rough as he spoke, his adam’s apple bobbing, drawing your attention.Your hands danced back up his chest, smoothing out his shirt as you walked back around, being sure to keep one hand on him.
‘Well it’s nice to have a name to put to my favourite patron.’ Your hand wrapped around his neck, gripping onto the dark blonde locks as you nudged his feet further apart with your heels, sliding into the new space between them.
‘Your favourite patron huh?’ You loved the prideful tone that rang through his voice as you leaned down, pushing your chest towards him.
‘Of course Sweetheart, how could you not be?’ Your hands trailed down his chest once more, dancing below his belt line, skirting the growing bulge to trace the tracks of the rough denim coating his thighs. From here your arms could squeeze your breasts together as you leaned over them, the stray hairs of his beard nearly touching the red satin cups and just as you thought he would lose control and lean into the soft skin, you whipped around. You swiveled your hips as you moved your hands up your body, raising one leg first and setting it down outside of his knee and then doing the same with the other before squatting, just above his lap.
Your hips moved in a figure eight motion, slowly getting closer and closer to where he clearly wanted you to be. Looking back over your shoulder at him you spoke. ‘Tell me Steve, tell me how badly you want it.’
His groan was audible as you continued to tease, never quite touching him where he needed. ‘So badly baby girl. You have no fucking clue. I need you so badly.’ With his groaned words, you finally lowered yourself down onto him sending him a cheeky wink as you did so.
Despite the clubs firm no touching rule, you allowed his hands to rest on your hips as you moved them, your own reaching back and hooking around his neck, giving yourself some leverage. ‘Do you like that Stevie? Does that feel good?’
He didn’t answer your questions verbally, but the way he thrusted his hips up against yours was a clear enough response. You continued moving against him, letting his hands force you down harder on his crotch, letting him use you as he chased his orgasm. ‘God… Fuck Doll. You make me feel so fucking good. Yes…’ His words were a jumbled mess as he came closer and closer and you felt his hands dance up your body to squeeze your tits.
You knew you should pull away, knew it was wrong to let a customer touch you like that, but the way his groans were ringing through your ears was addictive. In that one moment, the only thing you wanted to achieve was getting this man off, whatever that meant doing.
He rolled your pert nipples between his fingers, rubbing you through the smooth satin as he moaned. ‘Yes, that’s it Doll, I’m so fucking close. Oh god, fuck, Doll. Make me cum baby, make me fucking cum.’ You moaned with him as you moved your hips up and down his crotch and you smiled as you felt his thighs tense beneath you, a long loud moan coming from him that almost covered the sound of satin tearing.
Your hips stopped moving as you looked down, barely registering through your shock the gaping rip down your body suit. You jumped out of his lap, trying to keep the material against your chest as you stared down at him, wanting to scream.
‘Fuck, I’m so sorry Doll. I didn’t mean to. I was just holding it and then when I - it just ripped. I’m so sorry, here. Take my jacket back to the changing room.’ You pursed your lips, trying to refrain from showing your anger, knowing the tips would be better if you could make it back to the dressing rooms before the curses started spilling from your lips. He held out a smooth brown leather jacket and you murmured a thanks as you slipped it on, barely registering the obscene amount of money he slipped into your hand before you turned on your heel, disappearing down the corridor, and edgy feeling creeping its way inside you.
+
Steve didn’t need to return to the club the next night to know he had messed up. There was a clear no touching policy and he had not only done that but he’d ruined your suit and your trust. He had seen it in the way you had barely smiled as he gave your jacket and then later how you had given it to one of the other girls to give back to him.
By the time he had realised you weren’t coming out for your floor shift, you had already left and when he finally got to your apartment, he was disappointed to see your blinds drawn shut. He had taken his frustrations out on a nearby trash can, cursing himself for losing your trust. You were the one thing in this fucked up world that made him actually feel something and just like with Thanos, he had fucked up and just like with Sam and Bucky, he had lost you too.
But he hadn’t… not really. You were still here, you could still be his. He just might have to change his approach a little. It could still work.
The next night Steve waited anxiously on the plush leather couch, admiring the velvet walls as the minutes ticked by. It hadn’t been long enough that he was worried you weren’t going to show, but he was impatient. He wanted, no, needed to see you again, to feel you rub against him as you drew him to his orgasm. Despite the terrible way the night had ended, the orgasm you had brought out had felt so good, it had been his best ever and he had cursed himself for those few seconds before he realised what had happened for not requesting a dance earlier.
When he had first discovered your apartment and your tendency to leave your blinds open he had thought that would be enough, that sitting up on that cold and lonely roof with his fist wrapped around his cock would be enough. But it wasn’t, and now, he had a taste for more.
He heard the click of heels through the thick mahogany door and anxiously wiped his hands along his thighs as the wood was pushed open, revealing your silhouette on the other side. He watched as you walked towards the stage, the door closing behind you, stopping just before you got to the platform.
‘Why did you book the Lounge?’ In the silence of the room, your whisper sounded like a scream.
‘I wanted to apologise, plus, I need to see you again. And I figured this way, we could talk.’ You scoffed at his words.
‘Talk?’ You mocked, laughing as you spoke. ‘You men never want to just talk. I thought… I don’t know what I thought but I know that I’m sick of it. So now you have two options, you can either leave or I can call security and have you escorted out. It’s your choice.’
Steve felt his mouth go dry, he couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t allow it. ‘Doll please… you don’t want to do that. Please don’t do that to me.’ You ignored his warning, reeking of his desperation, but before you could open your mouth to scream, he had lunged from the couch, his arms wrapping around you, one securing your back to his chest, the other clamped over your mouth.
‘I told you not to do that Doll.’ You writhed in his arms trying to twist away from him to no avail. The small groan that escaped his lips disgusted you as he sat down on the stage, pulling your hips against his. ‘Be a good girl for me, please Doll. You have no idea how much I need this.’ Your scathing response was made unintelligible by his hand as his other dipped into the sparkling blue skirt you had on, pushing the matching panties to the side as he swiped a finger along your slit.
His breathing was heavy in your ear as his fingers swirled around your lips, gathering the slick that was beginning to pool. ‘See Doll, you want this too. I know you do. Fuck, I’ve seen it with my own eyes how you would dance just for me, even in that crowd of men.’ Your muffled protests turned into hesitant moans as he entered you with two fingers, his thumb pressing down on your clit. ‘That’s it, that’s a good girl. Just sit back and enjoy it, doesn’t it feel good?’
Your hands clutched at his thighs, your head resting on his shoulder as you gave in, your hips twisting against his hand, riding it on their own accord. His fingers scissored inside of you, curling themselves against your walls as his thumb rubbed your pearl frantically. You didn’t miss the growing bulge beneath you but you could barely form a coherent thought as he pulled you to the edge.
‘That’s it Doll. Just let go for me, I know you’re close.’ You hadn’t realised when his hand had drifted down from your mouth to rest on your throat, but the gentle restriction had you seeing stars, screaming silently as you convulsed in his arms, letting go for him.
You watched in silent horror as he lifted his hand from your mini-skirt and raised it to his lips, moaning around the thick digits. ‘You taste better than I ever could have imagined, I can’t wait to feel you.’ You shuddered against his thick chest and gasped as he flipped you around, your chest pressing against the cold hard wood of the stage.
You yipped as he pulled down the skirt and panties, exposing your heated centre to the cool air, a moan coming from him along with the clink of a belt buckle. You tried to worm your way out of his arms even though you knew it was worthless trying, he was far stronger than you.
Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt him, sliding along the slick that he had caused, coating himself in it before coming to your entrance and pausing for a brief moment. You barely dared to hope that he would pull away and yet when you felt him slowly sinking into your heat, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Of course he would just do what he wants.
‘Oh god… Doll… Fuck.’ You felt the stretch of your walls as he eased in, pain shooting through you from just how big he was. You lay helpless on the stage’s edge as he began pushing in and out of your cunt, groaning obscenities as he did so. One of his hands dipped down, between you and the stage to swipe over your pearl teasingly.
‘That’s it baby, you feel so fucking good, taking my cock so well.’ Your heavy breaths filled the air as you tried, and failed, to maintain your composure. Sweat was coating your skin as he thrusted, your knees rubbing themselves raw against the plush carpet. The familiar tightening ricocheted through your body you came close, your toes curling in apprehension, only to uncurl moments later when he pulled you from the stage, flipping you over and pushing your legs up, above your head.
The carpet was rough against your bare back but the new angle was worth the pain, being able to feel him fill you so completely was worth it. His full lips covered yours, his tongue meeting yours halfway as moans tumbled from your mouth into his and vice versa.
His hips were unforgiving as they pounded into you, filling you to the brim and hitting that special spot with every thrust. It wasn’t long before he brought you back to the edge, clearly reading the desperation for release written all over your body.
‘Cum for me baby, cum on my cock.’ Your responding scream was lost into his hand, clasping over your mouth once more as your walls fluttered, clenching around him. His hips stuttered, his thighs tensed and he thrusted as deeply as he could as he came inside you, hot white ribbons coating your walls and groans filling the room.
He rode out his orgasm, the obscene sounds emanating from your pussy echoing through the room as your breaths mingled with one another as they slowly calmed down.
You lay, staring up at the man above you, his cap probably having fallen off during your struggle, and you finally recognised him. His beard was full and thick and his hair was much longer than you were used to seeing it but the amount of times your History classes at school had been forced to study him, you would never forget his face.
The recognition must have been clear in your face as he hastily pulled out, his cum seeping down your thighs as he pulled his pants back up, handing you your skirt.
‘St-Steve?’ You couldn’t even be sure the words had left your lips but the way he tensed at the sound told you they had.
‘C’mon Doll, let’s have the conversation somewhere private.’
‘We are somewhere private.’ You argued with the man standing before you, the red light casting a strange aura around him.
‘Yeah, but I’m nowhere near done with you.’ His hand was held out before you and you knew he wasn’t giving you much of a choice so you nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead you from ‘the lounge’, pausing to pass you his jacket as you approached the door of the club.
The air outside was cold, unforgiving, as he led you outside, the harsh neon red light of the club slowly being swallowed by the dark night as you walked, hand in hand. To where, you weren’t sure, but you knew it would be wherever Steve needed you to be.
+
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My Masterlist
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve x reader#dark!steve rogers#dark!steve#dark steve rogers#dark steve x reader#stripper!reader#captain america#dark!captain america#dark!captain america x reader#marvel#mcu#dark!marvel#dark!mcu#dark!verse#honeyhan writes#q it up
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Girls’ Night Out
So - I have a confession to make - I think I didn’t post the ‘final’ chapter. Here it is. If you haven’t read the previous chapters (which won’t make a whole heap of sense if you haven’t read my other fics) or if you need your memory refreshed, here’s the link to the Masterlist.
Word Count 1502
No warnings, but my blog is generally Not suitable for under 18s The ending leaves things open for each of the gals to have their own celebration - who knows when I will write them but hey...
7 All Together Now
When Bas and I arrived at the club where the four men had been performing as strippers, things had calmed down a little. They had morphed back into being fully clothed, though it was plain Lucy was disappointed. She was the first to spot me, and had the decency to look embarrassed.
‘Uh hi, Les’ she said brightly ‘Thanks for helping us with the mock up – this place rocks. We’ll have to visit more often.’ I folded my arms and stood in front of her.
‘None of that now, I hear you dragged a certain Elizabeth Dalgliesh around the clubs and bars.’ I scolded. ‘She’s only accustomed to genteel regency balls at the Assembly rooms and the occasional glass of wine with dinner.’
‘She had a great time!’ She protested ‘She loved the cocktail I got her, and I made sure it wasn’t too strong.’
‘Bas here tells me she passed out when the strippers came on’ I went on, determined she wasn’t going to pull the wool over my eyes. She looked at the floor
‘Well she was doing fine up until then’ she mumbled. I sighed
‘Well I guess you had good intentions. I’m going to go and check up with her now.’ Bastien patted my arm.
‘Hold on, we need to look the part’ he suggested.
‘Good thinking’ I closed my eyes, and before we left to join Elizabeth and John, we were dressed fit for a regency ball, I in an empire cut gown in sapphire blue, he in navy breeches and white stockings, polished black leather dancing shoes, a crisp white shirt and military coat tails resplendent with brass buttons and a high collar.
‘My lady’ he intoned, holding out his arm for me to take by the elbow.
‘Very handsome’ I smiled, and in the blink of an eye we were outside the assembly rooms waiting in line to enter ‘I thought we could be announced properly’ I said aside to him ‘If you’re agreeable, I’d like you to divert Morag’ He raised his eyebrows
‘How would you like me to do that?’ he asked.
‘I think you should ask her to dance’ I smiled up at him ‘How could she resist such a handsome partner?’
‘I need a back story’ he mused ‘To start with, should I use my name? Perhaps a cousin of John’s? Who am I to you?’ I thought fast.
‘If we go along that line, we can also turn up at their wedding.’ I murmured ‘I’ll be your sister. I’d thought perhaps Morag had a husband back at her father’s estate, but if she’s a spinster that would probably be more believable. She’s sacrificed her personal life to look after Lizzy and Amelia. Perhaps she had a sweetheart that died young, or went away to sea and never returned.’
‘I could make out that I knew her sweetheart’ Bastien replied
‘Oh that could work, it would keep her busy. We’d better not make it too tragic though, I don’t want to upset her’
‘So – I’m an officer in the Navy, and her sweetheart served under me. He was tragically lost overboard in a storm – which she’s already aware of. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news’
‘Sounds like a plan. Lesley is a Scottish place name and surname, so I’ll use that – Lesley Lykel has ring to it.’ I pondered for a moment ‘Gordon sounds like a suitable name for you, don’t you think?’
‘Very well – Lieutenant Gordon Lykel it is, and his sister Miss Lesley’
‘Wait, how will John and Elizabeth know us? Will they realise who you are?’
‘She knows my name, and I’ll drop some heavy hints. John will recognise you, don’t forget – he’s met Sophia’s Bastien’ By now we were at the front of the line and the footman tasked with announcing those who attended turned to Bastien.
‘Name please’
‘Lieutenant Gordon Lykel and Miss Lesley Lykel’ We were announced to the crowd of people, not attracting a second glance save for one or two women whose gaze alighted on him, for them to raise or flick their fans coquettishly. The room was high ceilinged, lit largely by natural light from a glass dome above and refracted through crystal chandeliers. Gilded friezes cast a golden light down on the assembly of finely dressed people. With a practised eye, Bastien scanned the room.
‘There they are’ he said, and we made our way around the edge of the room to them to the strains of a string quartet. Some folk were already dancing, with lines forming and moving back and forth, the dancers circling and swapping partners. Lizzy looked pale and sat fanning herself while John stood by her side, and Morag nearby. John looked up when he saw Bastien, who approached him, hand outstretched, and Lizzy’s face coloured a little, no doubt remembering the strip routine she had only recently witnessed.
‘Cousin John, how good to see you’ he said, loud enough for Morag to hear. Her eyes narrowed as he bowed to Lizzy, taking her hand and barely touching it with his lips ‘Charmed to meet you Miss Dalgliesh, I’ve heard all about you. Lieutenant Lykel at your service – and my sister, Miss Lesley’ I dropped a curtsey, and heard Morag let out a small gasp as John shook his hand firmly. Before Lizzy had a chance to acknowledge me, Morag came forward hesitantly.
‘Lieutenant Lykel’ she said ‘My sweetheart Hamish served under you at sea’. Bastien straightened up and turned to her, taking her hand, putting his other palm to his chest.
‘My dear lady’ he said ‘You must be Morag. He spoke of you often. Please, come with me and we can talk’ He took her elbow and led her some distance away.
‘Are you Les? Do we owe our existence to you?’ Lizzy asked, wide eyed
‘After a fashion’ I replied ‘Gordon here is another version of Bastien – or Sebastien, who you just met. I hope that’s not too confusing’ She smiled faintly.
‘I have seen many strange things in the past few hours’ she said ‘It was very stimulating, but I’m happy to be back somewhere more familiar.’
‘Well, you two can have a little time together now that Bastien has distracted Morag’ I smiled.
‘But what about you?’ Elizabeth asked ‘You can’t stand alone, it wouldn’t be proper, it would be sure to bring Morag back’ There was a commotion by the door and I looked over.
‘I don’t think I’ll be alone for long’ I said wryly.
‘Coo ee! Les, it’s us!’ a familiar voice sounded from across the other side of the hall. John snorted with laughter.
‘You’re right – our friends have followed you’ He waved back at Lucy, who moved straight across the room, scattering dancers as she did so. Charlotte glared at her and steered ‘her’ Drake around the edge of the room, along with Sophia and Bastien. Lucy’s partners scurried after her, apologising as they went. All seven of them were dressed appropriately but Lucy’s behaviour turned heads as she made for John, Elizabeth and myself in a straight line.
‘Hey, we thought we’d gatecrash before we make ourselves available for read throughs’ Lucy explained ‘You don’t mind, do you, Lizzy? I’ve always wanted to dress up like…’ she paused and looked thoughtful ‘You know, like a Jane Austen novel’ Lizzy looked confused
‘Jane who?’ she asked. By this time Brad and ‘Lake’ had reached us as well
‘Sorry Les, Luce got away from us’ Brad apologised. I shook my head.
‘Well never mind, you’re all here now, which is kind of what I had in mind anyway – you dragged Lizzy into your world, so it’s only fair you get to experience hers.’ I replied as the others reached us.
‘Lizzy, this is amazing’ said Sophia ‘So grand – I’m impressed’
‘Are you alright, Lizzy?’ asked Charlotte ‘You passed out when John appeared’
‘I’m fine now’ she smiled, ‘Welcome to my world’ John smiled and shook hands with Brad, Drake and Bastien.
‘Welcome, gentlemen’ he said ‘You’re dressed impeccably’
‘We can all dance now’ cried Lucy, watching the assembled men and women weaving and spinning their way through a cotillion. ‘We did a little research before you turned up, Les. It’s a doddle - you can borrow Brad, he’ll see you through the steps’
‘What?’ I asked ‘You want me to dance too?’
‘Of course darling’ she said, linking arms with me ‘Without you none of us would be here at all.’ She gave me a squeeze. ‘Next time you can come round the clubs with us’ she said. I raised my eyebrows.
‘Next time?’ I asked incredulously
‘Yes, next time’ she beamed, and counted on her fingers ‘You’ve got Charlotte’s State wedding, and Sophia and Bastien are engaged. When are you going to write them up? For that matter, how about a belated one for me?’ I passed my hand over my face.
‘What have I started?’ I groaned…
To be continued?
@ravenpuff02 @trappedinfandoms @rusticsupplies63k @katedrakeohd @sirbeepsalot @burnsoslow @texaskitten30 @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @kimmiedoo5 @kingliam2019
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ask answering pt. 1: general asks
ok @grlflesh you have to stop because this is lowkey the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said about my writing and omg. I’m so fucking soft I—
💖💘💝 THANK YOU!!!! 💝💘💖
idk what to say, ily ily ily, thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing 💕💕 also if you have a playlist you listen to while reading my stuff, you should send it to me! I would love to give it a listen!!!!!!
general ask answering
not too personal at all! I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned my school on my main a few times so it’s out there. I live in NorCal and I go to a UC!!
three (super obvious) hints in case anyone wants to guess, in which case I might confirm or deny: my school is big on...
boba
riots
grade deflation
also anon you should message me as a fellow California dweller 👀 let’s commiserate about wildfires and housing prices <3
tell me why this pulled on my heartstrings a bit omg....sorry but I love you now
you, my tinder matches, and my long-distance friends should form a support group for people who never hear from me haha
hi there, I’m doing well! how are you? I hope you’re good :D
my favorite character to write is probably Dabi 🔥 he is a bastard and I love it. all the fucked up shit in his childhood and throughout his life makes him extremely fun to write, all his neuroticisms and pathologies and skewed patterns of development that inform who he is as a person (oops the psychology major jumped out). also he’s sexy in a bad way which I’m weak to
close runner up is probably Kamui from Gintama 🐇 which I know is kind of dirty bc I haven’t written anything for him on this blog (yet!!!) but I’ve written a ton of fanfic for him in the past. I like writing him for a lot of the same reasons I like writing Dabi actually...lots of similarities there. why are evil older siblings of main characters so sexy ugh
aww thank you!!! you should make one and tag me in it if you want anon 👀
also I RELATE TO THIS SO MUCH HOLY FUCK every time I read a fic about a character who’s like 5′9 and it’s like “he towered over you~~~~” I’m like,,,,, ok is he wearing stripper heels or stilts (to be fair I do this occasionally but pretty much only with characters who are over 6′).
honestly it is SUCH a struggle to have a size kink and be tall. but I feel like I can make up for it by being super physically weak lol if that makes sense??? like sure I’m the same height as Daichi from hq BUT an 11-year old girl could beat me arm-wrestling, so I could easily get tossed around and manhandled and that’s what’s important 😌 the size kink becomes a physical inferiority kink :P
thank you ahhhh i’m so in love with this ask (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) it’s my job to get you invested so I’m glad it’s working!!
regarding commissions: holy fuck I’m so flattered you would want to spend money on my writing??? I wish I could say yes but unfortunately my inspiration is really flaky and unreliable, and until I can be confident that I’m responsible enough to deliver what was paid for, I don’t think I’ll be doing commissions 😔 regardless, thanks for asking!! I might set up a ko-fi at some point but I’m not sure if that’s the right move or how it works really so who knows.
oh my god @study-milk I love you. wow.
rn I have a bunch of half-written fics that I’m trying to finish. currently I’m about 4k words into a Haikyuu fic with Kageyama x reader x Oikawa where [spoilers for my own writing] reader is dating Oikawa but she dated Kageyama in the past and Oikawa is like, ‘wouldn’t it be crazy if I let Tobio-chan fuck my girlfriend...haha jk.......unless?’
other WIPs I have that I haven’t mentioned before: a fluff/hurt-comfort piece about showering with Todoroki 🛁, some A/B/O smut about getting stuck in an elevator with alpha!Hawks while you’re an omega going into heat 🔥, and some poly relationship fluff with Iwaizumi and Oikawa 🌓. no promises tho!!
as always, I’m also working on my multi-part fics that are unfinished (Fanatic and it will come back). ahhhh I really hate going so long without updating, but it’s been difficult to get back into the flow of both of these and I feel like I’m putting too much pressure on myself about them so I’m going to try not to force it for now 😢
dw about it, I’m pretty sure no one’s asked before 😇
I put titles of full-length fics in bold (and include summaries/wordcount) on my masterlist, whereas I leave ficlets and headcanons in regular text. I don’t have a strict differentiation between full-length fics and ficlets, but I consider the cutoff around 1.5k words. hope this answers your question!
hmm I mostly focus on canon characters and reader insert? some of my writer bros have OCs that I love hearing about but I don’t have any of my own. they are definitely interesting tho, and if you’re considering making an OC, I would encourage you to do it!!!!! be creative buddy!!
ahh @nimandu my cute kouhai!!!!! I really love you so much 🥺👉👈 thank you for this wonderful message and for everything you write in the tags 💘 legit whenever I see that you reblogged one of my posts I’m like !!!! and I’m so excited to see what you think <33333 please have a good day as well
hi i just read this ask. I love you. the end.
jk don’t let this be the end, send me more asks like this pls, feed my praise kink omg 😂😂
#bunny talks#long post#about me#it's been a long ass time since I did one of these#wasn't able to answer everything but thank you everyone who sent me asks!!!!
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Before This Dance Is Through XII
Chapter: 12/16
Rating: T
Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.
Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn
Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here
The following morning, Ringo made the snap decision of deleting the app and cancelling his subscription. He was surprised at how easily he was able to do it, staring at the blank space of where the app used to be. Whether it looked strange or not he didn't truly care, at least that's what he told himself, because whatever George thought of him didn't matter. It never mattered, even right from the beginning. The conversation last night, if it could even be called that, just proved to him that George just wanted to mess around with him because he knew that he could; and he really could, even Ringo didn't know how much he'd be willing to put up with just for George's enjoyment. But he wasn't going to do that anymore, he wanted to believe that it was a matter of pride, that he didn't want someone to know that they had that much of a hold on him, but he knew that wasn't the case.
The true reason he had to distance himself now, before things got much further, was because it would just hurt too much. He couldn't sit around hoping that George liked him, reading between the lines of everything he did or said and trying to piece together what it all meant. He couldn't really afford it either.
Of course George didn't like him. How could he? After how pathetic Ringo had been: almost losing his mind just because George touched him, trying to hide behind a fake profile and failing miserably. This wasn't like him, he'd never acted like this about a guy before, and that had to be a bad sign.
As he got ready for the day he swore to himself he would never set foot in that club again, no matter how much John might beg. It was just too degrading, and far too painful. Behind all this shame and anger was the stinging realisation that he truly liked George, someone he would never be able to have. Even if George didn't have his rule, there was no way he could be truly interested. Ringo was nothing but a game, easy prey to be played with. Part of him wanted to just give in, to allow himself to suffer as long as it meant he could look at George, to merely be in his presence. But it would kill him, because soon enough George would get tired of him and he'd be left right back where he started: utterly alone.
Luckily Ringo had work to distract him, the activity days he'd been participating in had resulted in a few more students and even though Ringo knew most of them weren't going to last, it would at least get his mind off things. Ringo had been particularly taken with a young boy who had expressed big dreams of becoming a famous drummer; he reminded Ringo very much of his younger self in many ways. It was a little bittersweet, to see a child so happy, remembering how happy he'd been at that same age then to compare it to all the issues he was battling all these years later. Maybe it wasn't the best distraction after all, but it was a sure sight better than being stuck at home on his own.
He'd seen John a few times but he was being strangely reclusive, which usually happened when he was going through a 'creative period' so Ringo was careful not to pester him too much. Even if he was able to get John's undivided attention, he wasn't sure he'd completely want it. After all John had the ability to read Ringo better than anyone, and he'd no doubt realise something was up before Ringo even opened his mouth. He didn't want to tell John about everything that had happened, not yet, but there was no chance he'd be able to look John in the eye and tell him that everything was alright.
Ringo ended up having the entire week booked with lessons, which was pretty uncommon for him, but with the summer holidays beginning a lot of children or younger students felt like picking up a new hobby to fill their spare time. In an hour one of his new students would be arriving at his place for their first lesson; occasionally a student wouldn't have a drum kit of their own, so Ringo offered his own up for the first few lessons to allow his students to get a feel for whether they really wanted to commit to drumming or not. After all, Ringo was one of the more affordable drum teachers in the area, and kits could be ridiculously expensive so he was very sympathetic to people who might not be able to afford their own.
He'd tidied up the place in the morning, throwing away all takeaway containers and rushing about with the hoover. First impressions were important, and he couldn't imagine this student being very likely to return for a second lesson if the makeshift classroom was an absolute pigsty. It was a hot day but he still tried to dress professionally, wearing a burgundy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and loose black jeans.
The doorbell rang out through the flat and Ringo hurried over to the door, taking a deep breath and putting on the warmest smile he could manage before opening it. The smile died almost immediately, his heart sinking in his chest.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ringo blurted out without thinking, louder than he'd intended.
"Is that how you talk to all of your students?" George grinned, he was leaning on the doorframe like a jock in a teen movie.
Of course it was George. Why wouldn't it be? As if traumatising him several nights ago wasn't enough, he just had to turn up at his house too. Ringo supposed he must've been someone truly rotten in a past life if God was going to treat him like this. What part of 'I don't want to see George again' didn't he understand? Maybe he should start wishing he'd never see a winning lottery ticket, or a brand new car.
Ringo didn't say anything, just stood there gripping the door. Could he slam it in his face? Because that's what he felt like doing. It wasn't anger at George, not really, after all he hadn't necessarily done anything wrong. It was just rage at the entire situation, that seeing George had smacked him in the face with the realisation that he couldn't just ignore these feelings in hopes that they'd vanish.
"I just figured I'd switch things around a bit. You're always visiting me at work, so why don't I come and see you?" George cocked his eyebrow.
"But this is my house." Ringo responded dumbfounded.
"Well if you had an office or a studio that's where I'd be, but since you don't..." George let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, he looked at Ringo expectantly as though he wanted to be invited in.
Ringo was almost certain he hadn't blinked since he'd opened the door, he'd just been staring at George as though he'd vanish if he looked long enough. He was wearing sunglasses which were resting on the end of his nose, allowing Ringo to see into his glittering eyes; they were small and rectangular, Ringo thought they would've looked ridiculous on anyone else. He was wearing the fur coat he'd worn on the night they'd gotten a drink, a night Ringo had fruitlessly attempted to forget.
This was the real decision: was he going to let him in? He had paid for a lesson, but Ringo had a sneaking suspicion that George had an alterior motive for being here. Allowing him into his house would really be admitting defeat, accepting that he couldn't fight these feelings. Was George really here just to mess him around? It seemed a little extreme, even by George's standards.
It had been very easy for Ringo to tell himself that he was going to get over George - why he needed to get over someone he'd never actually dated was a problem for a different time - but being confronted with the sight of him now made it abundant that it'd been a lie. Just seeing George made him happy, made his stomach flutter and his heart stutter, and that was never going away.
"Come in, I guess." Ringo tried to maintain his cool as he stepped aside and George sauntered past him.
George scoped around the living room, Ringo wasn't quite sure what he'd been looking for. Seeing him here was very strange, something he'd only seen in his late night fantasies.
"Nice place." George said simply, moving around the small space.
"Thanks." Ringo took a few steps into the room "How did you find me?"
"Believe it or not there's not many drum teachers called Ringo around here." George moved over to inspect the drum kit.
"Are you seriously here to drum? I don't want to seem rude but-" Ringo was getting a little exasperated.
"Is that so hard to believe?" George grinned once again and Ringo felt weak in the knees "Maybe I just wanted to see you. Could be either one."
"George, please... Don't." Ringo sighed, he couldn't look at him.
"Don't what?" George took a step towards him "I can leave if you like." He paused "Is that what you want?"
"I-I don't know." Ringo stammered, he felt his face hearing up "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what? I just thought it'd be fun to come and see you." George paused again, for a moment he dropped his typical demeanour "I thought I'd scared you off."
"What do you mean?" Ringo found the strength to look at him, the grin was gone and he almost looked scared.
"Nevermind, this was a bad idea. I should just go." George shook his head and began making his way to the door.
Ringo moved instinctively, grabbing George's wrist as he tried to push past. It wasn't a tight grip, far from it, but it was enough to make George stop in his tracks. This was the first time Ringo had touched him like this, intentionally and without any encouragement, and it felt a little strange. He could feel the heat and softness of his skin, pulling that soft hiss from George that came with the sudden coldness of his rings.
"Don't... Don't leave." Ringo spoke in a quiet voice.
"Okay." George responded in kind, almost shakily.
Ringo gingerly let go off his wrist, George slowly turned around so that they were facing one another. The hallway was small, there was only a little distance between them, yet none of them moved. The silence was thick, clouding Ringo's mind as he looked up at George who returned the gaze intensely.
"How did you know it was me?" Ringo was desperate to break the silence, he couldn't bear George looking at him like that any longer, but he didn't dare say what he really wanted to.
George laughed, it was quiet and a little husky "You really wanna know?"
"Yes." Ringo let out a small chuckle.
"Well I had my suspicions as soon as you asked me how I was." George explained with a smile "Most people who message me don't bother with the formalities."
"Oh, I see." Ringo felt a little embarrassed "What else?"
George let out a sigh, breaking their eye contact and placing his hands on his hips, a little frustrated "Ringo, you know when we're at the strip club, it's not just you checking me out. You do realise that, don't you?" George began "I know you're probably too freaked out to notice, but I'm looking at you too."
"But... You never saw me naked." Ringo tried to look back on their conversation in his head, desperate to make sense of it all.
"In real life, sure." George turned his face to look at Ringo directly again, his eyes were serious but his lips were curled playfully "I noticed things about you, Ringo. Small things."
George took a large step forward, closing the space between them completely. Ringo let out a quiet gasp, pressing himself against the wall in an attempt to get away, but there was nowhere to go. George lifted his finger to push gently at Ringo's shirt collar, tracing over his neck and top of his chest lightly.
"When I'm this close, I can see the shape of your collar bones, how smooth your chest is." George pressed his other hand flat against Ringo's thigh "I'll notice the shape of your legs, your hips, your waist. Do you understand?"
Ringo nodded, he knew if he opened his mouth all he'd be able to let out would be a pathetic gasp or moan. George was proving his point a little too well, Ringo felt even more panicked than he did whenever George would be this close to him at the club. But wasn't this what he'd wanted all this time? The two of them finally alone, far away from that place.
"If that answers your question, I've got one of my own." George only needed to whisper for Ringo to hear him, his breath was hot against Ringo's cheek "All those things you said, did you mean them?"
Ringo gulped, this was all too much. George's finger tracing along the outline of his collarbone, his thumb rubbing the inside of his thigh. The hands were bad enough but even worse was George's stare, his dark eyes saying so much and yet still unreadable. Ringo had never been this close to his face for so long, it was usually his arse or crotch or something equally as explicit, and he felt like he was truly seeing him now. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Ringo doubted he'd put up with this much stress for anyone else, in fact he knew he wouldn't.
"Yes." Ringo breathed out, he felt his body tencing in anticipation - he expected George to pull away, that wolfish grin on his face, only to leave without a further word.
"Really?" George's voice faltered a little and Ringo looked at him worriedly "You think I'm beautiful?"
It wasn't the direction Ringo had been expecting, he let out an exasperated laugh in shock "Seriously? You're seriously asking me that?"
"What?" George moved his head away sightly but his hands remained in place "It's not something you hear a lot in my line of work." His attitude was quickly returning, but Ringo couldn't forget that slipping of the mask.
"You're beautiful, George." Ringo admitted, he moved his own hand from where it'd been glued to his side and lifted it to brush against the softness of George's face, he flinched very briefly "I thought that the moment I saw you."
George laughed, his eyes darting away quickly, it was something Ringo had seen a million times with John whenever he tried to genuinely compliment him about something John was insecure about - which was most things.
"You're not making this easy for me, are you?" George asked with a little sadness in his voice.
"Me!?" Ringo exclaimed with a hearty chuckle, letting his hand fall from George's face "Do you know the amount of agony you've put me through?"
George began to laugh too "Couldn't help myself."
They stayed stood like that for a while, both laughing with almost no space between them. George still hadn't moved his hands and Ringo was very grateful for it, he'd gotten so used the the feeling.
"So I take it you don't actually want to learn to drum?" Ringo asked, he felt surprisingly calm.
"Well that's not strictly true." George began but broke his sentence off with a laugh when he saw Ringo raising his eyebrow "Fine, fine... I just wanted to see you. Happy now?"
"As long as you're still gonna pay me." Ringo responded with a smile.
"Oh, is that how it is?" George began rubbing his thumb over Ringo's clothed thigh again.
"I don't see you dancing for free." Ringo retorted.
"In your dreams." George let his sharp teeth poke through as his grin widened.
"And what about your dreams?" Ringo asked almost in a whisper.
"I think you know what I want." George moved his face even closer, breathing against the exposed skin of Ringo's neck.
"What about your rule?" Ringo felt himself warming up a little.
"You're not my customer. You're my teacher." George chuckled, his mouth mere inches away from Ringo and he had to stop himself from holding his breath.
"What if I don't sleep with my students?" Ringo asked, his voice was higher pitched than usual.
"Then I'll just have to convince you to change your mind." George punctuated his sentence by finally closing that small space, pressing his wet lips against Ringo's neck and kissing it roughly.
Ringo felt like he was in a dream, in fact this was one of his dreams, but it was really happening. George moved his hand up to Ringo's waist and scraped his teeth lightly against the sensitive skin on his neck. He pressed two more kisses as he gradually moved upwards, then removed his mouth entirely and brought his head to rest against Ringo's. He'd seen George's glare countless times before, but never quite like this, knowing it was purely for him and him alone.
"You said you'd do anything to have me. Well, here I am." George practically purred the words and Ringo didn't waste another second, locking their lips together so roughly that it knocked George backwards until he was pushed up against the opposite wall.
George didn't respond at first, no doubt in shock, but as soon as he registered what was happening he was reciprocating Ringo's vigour with ease. Ringo cupped his face desperately, soaking in the joy of finally being able to hold him like this. George's hand cupped Ringo's hip, the other lightly grabbing his arse. George tasted like tea and smoke, completely ordinary things, yet it was almost transformed into ambrosia for Ringo, he couldn't get enough.
This was really happening. Maybe God had been kinder than Ringo had first anticipated, he only prayed this wouldn't be snatched away from him just as he got used to it. If that was going to be the case, Ringo was going to make sure he used every single second to his advantage, he was going to fight for it. He wanted this, he needed it. He was even beginning to believe that he deserved it.
#the beatles#beatles#beatles fanfic#the beatles fanfic#beatles fanfiction#george harrison/ringo starr#ringo starr/george harrison#ringo starrxgeorge harrison#george harrisonxringo starr#starrison
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♡ bts fic recs masterlist ♡
Note: If you are unable to view the formatting on the mobile app, switch to reading on your mobile browser
(Last update 4/27/20)
Key: Fluff (❀) Angst (☆) Smut (☾) Personal Favorite (♡) Completed Series (✓) Incomplete Series (✗)
✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿
Kim Namjoon
↳ One Shots
Stories by dreamscript II ❀
Summary: Writer’s blocks are never fun (Writer!AU).
Length of story: 3.2k words
Warnings: None
Roast by dreamscript II ❀
Summary: You’re single, studious and savage (College!AU).
Length of story: 3.5k words
Warnings: None
✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿
Kim Seokjin
↳ Series
Vampires Will Never Hurt You by ibangtanthings II (+ Jungkook) ☆ ☾ ✓
Summary: You get caught between Jin, the vampire carrying a dark past, and Jungkook, his childhood friend that ran away from it all. Both of them try their best to protect you from each other…and themselves.
Length of story: 5 parts/27.2k words
Warnings: Blood, violence, death
↳ One Shots
My Type by floralseokjin II ☾
Summary: You take the college nerd’s virginity.
Length of story: 6.1k words
Warnings: Unprotected sex
Made Just For You by mortaljin II ❀ ☆
Summary: You are fairly new to the world of being a genetics researcher, and you’ve only held this position for six months before your boss entrusts a serious case upon you. Jin is a lab-made hybrid, and they made him wrong. Is it possible though, that even with his wrongly coded DNA, that he was made just for you?
Length of story: 7.8k words
Warnings: Illness, hospitals, near death experiences
✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿
Min Yoongi
↳ One Shots
Chocolate Confessions by jimlingss II ❀
Summary: “You better watch out Min…” You started picking up your pace. “Next time it’s Valentine's Day, expect a letter and a chocolate box.” (Valentines!AU)
Length of story: 1.9k words
Warnings: None
Baby, Can I? By btssmutgalore II ☆ ☾
Summary: Yoongi is your friend, but all it takes is one wrong move of his hand for you to start thinking of him as something more than that. (FWB!AU)
Length of story: 5.5k words
Warnings: Drinking
Princess ‘n the Knight by jimlingss II ❀
Summary: Yoongi, a commoner, and the princess of their kingdom, fall in love. (Modern Fairytale!AU, Royalty!AU).
Length of story: 6.1k words
Warnings: None
Anonymous Love by mortaljin II ❀
Summary: One sticky note turns into two, two into four, four into dozens. Who in their right mind would confess their love for you, anonymously, via sticky-notes? Why do your seven best friends have shit-eating grins on their faces? (High School!AU)
Length of story: 6.6k words
Warnings: None
The Third & Sixth by jimlingss II ❀
Summary: One. Two. Three. Fantastic things come in threes, that includes you and your two best friends. But when they start dating each other, you quickly come to realize that you’ve become the infamous third wheel. Left out — invading their date — forced to watch them canoodle — an unnecessary extension to the group. It only worsens when you upgrade into the fifth wheel…..until a special sixth comes along.
Length of story: 7.9k words
Warnings: Drinking
Dreamcatcher by jimlingss II ❀ ☆
Summary: When your dreams are more or less nightmares, monsters inside your head that eat you alive, it seems like the only person who can help you is Min Yoongi, professional dream chaser.
Length of story: 13k words
Warnings: None
Push and Pull by hobibliophile II (+ Hoseok) ❀ ☾
Summary: Your roommate Yoongi’s been going through a bit of a rough patch, so you suggest taking in another roommate to make paying rent easier. Hoseok turns out to be more than either of you expect, but neither of you are complaining. (Roommate!AU)
Length of story: 14k words
Warnings: Threesome
Yeuk by dreamhimcloser II ❀
Summary: The reasons why he saved your life all those times were selfish; he just wanted peace of mind for himself. You were completely oblivious to this part, and with the innocence Yoongi was amazed to find you possess, you believed with your whole heart that all those times he helped you made him your guardian angel. Yoongi almost choked on air when he heard you say that to your friend over the phone the first time you voiced your feelings, feeling like a total idiot for going those lengths for you. (Demon!AU)
Length of story: 15.5k words
Warnings: Death (sort of)
✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿
Jung Hoseok
↳ Series
Meadows by mortaljin II ❀ ☆ ☾ ♡ ✓
Summary: You plant flowers because there is no consequence to accidentally killing one, that’s why you don’t have a pet. Your life becomes a lot more stressful one day, however, when you barter for an exotic flower seed at your local market place. No matter what you do, it won’t grow. The old woman who gave it to you gave you no instructions, other than adequate water and sunlight, on how to care for the flower. You were about to give up, ready to smash the flower pot to smithereens, when the softest, faintest voice begs you not to. You were just hearing things, right? It’s not like the voice came from the seed, right? (Fairy!AU)
Length of story: 11 parts/75.9k words
Warnings: Blood, violence, death (sort of), mentions of emotional/physical abuse, slight degradation, bondage, drinking, implied “miscarriage”
Sleep by ibangtanthings II (+ Jimin) ☆ ☾ ♡ ✓
Summary: After a failed suicide attempt, you find yourself trying to live again with the man who saved you and his best friend.
Length of story: 24 parts/86.5k words
Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, suicide, alcohol abuse, violence, blood, drinking
↳ One Shots
Distractions by dreamscript II ☾
Summary: Hoseok is…hot. And happens to be your classmate. (High School!AU)
Length of story: 2.2k words
Warnings: None
Sunshine by dreamscript II ❀
Summary: “And no, he doesn’t wash off the ink, even when you draw a huge dick on his forehead and the teachers give him dirty looks.” (High School!AU)
Length of story: 2.4k words
Warnings: None
Sunshower by jimlingss II ❀ ☆ ☾
Summary: Hoseok is the sun, but you are the rain.
Length of story: 4k words
Warnings: Depression, mentions of drinking
Cupid’s Blind by jimlingss II ❀ ☆ ♡
Summary: One - lovers are tied by red strings. Two - you hate love. Three - a certain angel literally cannot say ‘no’ to ‘please.’ (Angel!AU)
Length of story: 7.3k words
Warnings: pretty sad ending?
Push and Pull by hobibliophile II (+ Yoongi) ❀ ☾
Summary: Your roommate Yoongi’s been going through a bit of a rough patch, so you suggest taking in another roommate to make paying rent easier. Hoseok turns out to be more than either of you expect, but neither of you are complaining. (Roommate!AU)
Length of story: 14k words
Warnings: Threesome
✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿
Park Jimin
↳ Series
Best Friend of My Friend with Benefits by xiutingmyself II (+ Jungkook) ☾ ✗
Summary: You and Jimin have been friends with benefits for a while. Because of that, you’ve met his best friend Jungkook on several occasions. Some of those moments were not so appropriate. But your not-so-existent relationship with Jungkook changes when you work at the same place as him and have to pretend to be his girlfriend.
Length of story: 3+ parts/10.6k+ words
Warnings: Violence
Polar Opposites by jimlingss II ❀ ☾ ✓
Summary: You and Jimin are the two top students in your contemporary dance department, but one night Jimin finds out about your job on the side. (Stripper!AU)
Length of story: 2 parts/11.9k words
Warnings: Stripping/pole dancing, implied smut
Retribution by fightmejeonkook II ☾ ♡ ✓
Summary: You run into a really rude doctor while taking your friend to the hospital, and later discover that he lives in the apartment across from yours.
Length of story: 4 parts/17.3k words
Warnings: Blood
Syndromes by taegonia II ❀ ☆ ☾ ✓
Summary: Lima syndrome is the result of the abductor/kidnapper sympathizing with his hostages. And Park Jimin had never heard of it before, when he took you as his hostage.
Length of story: 14 parts/58.2k words
Warnings: Kidnapping, violence
Sleep by ibangtanthings II (+ Hoseok) ☆ ☾ ♡ ✓
Summary: After a failed suicide attempt, you find yourself trying to live again with the man who saved you and his best friend.
Length of story: 24 parts/86.5k words
Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, suicide, alcohol abuse, violence, blood, drinking
↳ One Shots
Till Death Due Us Part by jimlingss II ❀ ☆
Summary: You get cancer and your husband Jimin doesn't find out until it's too late.
Length of story: 2.1k words
Warnings: Major character death, illness
Metanoia by taesthetes II ❀ ☆
Summary: Things get interesting when the good girl falls for the bad boy. (Harry Potter!AU, Fuckboy!AU)
Length of story: 5.3k words
Warnings: None
Soliloquy by kinktae II ❀
Summary: Jimin was a boy who had an affinity for flowers. You were a girl who liked to talk to them. When you both end up in the same place at the same time, it only made sense that you both would have a lot to talk about. It all should have been very simple. Except for the incredibly complex fact that Jimin was an angel and you were painfully human, completely oblivious to his existence and how he had somehow fallen deeply and foolishly in love with you. (Angel!AU)
Length of story: 7k words
Warnings: Mentions of death
little monster by floralseokjin II ☾
Summary: You’ve been good friends with your roommate Jimin for a while, occasionally flirting with each other, especially when you’ve had a drink, but nothing has ever happened between the two of you…until that is, he secretly listens to you and Namjoon have sex one day…He thinks you don’t know, but he’s wrong.
Length of story: 8.8k words
Warnings: Voyeurism
Lavender Hues by inktae II ❀ ☆ ☾
Summary: It all started with brown and lilac eyes, a shy and virtuous smile -
and you thought you knew beauty before. (Fantasy!AU)
Length of story: 13.1k words
Warnings: None
✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿
Kim Taehyung
↳ Series
Seal by dreamscript II ❀ ✓
Summary: You seal Taehyung in a teapot and call it a Taepot. (Demon!AU)
Length of story: 3 parts/11.6k words
Warnings: None
Infatuation by jhopesjawline II ❀ ☆ ☾ ✓
Summary: Laying in bed, Taehyung’s mind skimmed over the events from today, always pausing to think about the extremely pretty girl who was staring at him earlier. He was determined to find out who she was, she wasn’t getting away so easily. Or: when the notorious fuckboy wants to be your friend.
Length of story: 13 parts/40.5k words
Warnings: None
↳ One Shots
Temptation by tae-namjoon II ☾
Summary: Taehyung just really wants to watch porn with you.
Length of story: 2.5k words
Warnings: None
Give You the World by fortheloveofbangtan II ❀ ☾
Summary: If there’s one thing that inspired you to keep going in life, it was a simple picture painted on a wall by a street artist named V. It changed your life- he changed your life and all you want to do is meet him. But what if V is closer than you think? (Street Artist!AU)
Length of story: 11.7k words
Warnings: None
Rent-A-Boyfriend by jimlingss II ❀
Summary: Are YOU lonely? Need someone to cuddle at night? Do you want love? If you said ‘yes’ to any of the questions previously mentioned then we have a service for you! Don’t be alone for this Valentine’s Day! Come Rent a Boyfriend! (Terms and conditions may apply. We are not responsible for any emotional or sentimental damages. Please take caution with Rent-a-Boyfriend.)
Length of story: 12k words
Warnings: None
✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘���°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿
Jeon Jungkook
↳ Series
Mirrors by yoonia II ☆ ☾ ✓
Summary: “Don’t argue. Just do it.” When he finds a way to remind you how good you are together. (FWB!AU)
Length of story: 2 parts/8.4k words
Warnings: None
Best Friend of My Friend with Benefits by xiutingmyself II (+ Jimin) ☾ ✗
Summary: You and Jimin have been friends with benefits for a while. Because of that, you’ve met his best friend Jungkook on several occasions. Some of those moments were not so appropriate. But your not-so-existent relationship with Jungkook changes when you work at the same place as him and have to pretend to be his girlfriend.
Length of story: 3+ parts/10.6k+ words
Warnings: Violence
Lightweight by btssmutgalore II ☆ ☾ ♡ ✓
Summary: Jungkook is tired of you seeing him as a kid, so he takes matters into his own hands.
Length of story: 2 parts/21.4k words
Warnings: None
I Hate You, I Love You by jungblue II ☆ ☾ ♡ ✓
Summary: You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you.
Length of story: 4 parts/22.8k words
Warnings: None
Just Friends by kinktae II ☆ ☾ ♡ ✓
Summary: Jeon Jungkook was many things. He was an asshole, a tease, and kind of an inconsiderate roommate. But most of all, he’s your best friend, and has been since you were 10. When he suddenly confesses his attraction to you and proposes sleeping together, you are smart enough to turn him down. You knew Jungkook; you knew how he moved from one girl to the next. You, too, were many things, but just another notch in Jungkook’s belt was something you’d never be.
Length of story: 3 parts/27.1k words
Warnings: Drinking, spanking, daddy kink
Vampires Will Never Hurt You by ibangtanthings II (+ Seokjin) ☆ ☾ ✓
Summary: You get caught between Jin, the vampire carrying a dark past, and Jungkook, his childhood friend that ran away from it all. Both of them try their best to protect you from each other…and themselves.
Length of story: 5 parts/27.2k words
Warnings: Blood, violence, death
Watch Me Babygirl by lunarimagines II ❀ ☆ ☾ ✓
Summary: Jungkook is your brother’s annoying best friend. You can’t stand him but he just can’t resist teasing you. How far will he actually go? (Fuckboy!AU)
Length of story: 20 parts/40.9k words
Warnings: None
↳ One Shots
Homecoming by minlattes II ☾
Summary: Jungkook comes home from being on tour, and how he finds you is not how he expected.
Length of story: 1.5k words
Warnings: Voyeurism, masturbation/mutual masturbation
The Golden Ones by xiutingmyself II ❀ ☆ ☾
Summary: You and Jungkook are the best of the best at school, the golden ones. But being the competitive people you both are causes for some mischief.
Length of story: 2.7k words
Warnings: None, oral sex
“Wanna Bet?” “You Heard Me, Take It Off” by taegonia II ☾
Summary: You make a bet with Jungkook to see who lasts longer.
Length of story: 2.8k words
Warnings: Oral sex
I Will Not Lose! by jimlingss II ❀
Summary: A single bet - use every means to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. (Magic!AU)
Length of story: 6.3k words
Warnings: None
Spellbound by jeonseok II ❀
Summary: Summoning a demon had probably been a mistake on your part, but what have you ever done to deserve such an annoying demon anyways?
Length of story: 7.5k words
Warnings: Drinking, sexual content (not really smut)
playing with fire by floralseokjin II ☾
Summary: Jungkook seems to have a little crush on you, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, you seem to be losing your resolve with each passing day.
Length of story: 8.5k words
Warnings: Exhibitionist themes
Runaway Puppy by jimlingss II ❀
Summary: You’re a part of a mafia with your father and one day you get kidnapped. (Mafia!AU)
Length of story: 8.3k words
Warnings: Some violence
Damn the Delivery Boy by deerguk II ❀ ☾
Summary: Jeon Jeongguk is a computer science major working as a pizza delivery boy, and you are an uninspired published author who has just started an art degree. When you realise that the delivery boy is your old high school crush, he keeps coming back, but with more to offer than just puff pastry and vegetarian supreme. Though little did he know that he would end up giving you something much more that flips both of your worlds completely upside down in the form of two blue lines and nine months.
Length of story: 9.7k words
Warnings: None
Beneficial by jiminables II ❀ ☆ ☾ ♡
Summary: You’ve been friends for as long as you can remember. So you guess it has its perks. (FWB!AU)
Length of story: 13.8k words
Warnings: None
✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿
All Members
↳ Series
Generation by jimlingss II ❀ ☆ ☾ ♡ ✓
Summary: Humanity is held by the arms of temptation, always sinning. In order to keep the world from being consumed by evil and keep it balanced between good and bad - a sin collector exists, purging black orbs from people’s souls.
Length of story: 5 parts/15.6k words
Warnings: Major character death, violence
A Bed of Roses by jimlingss II ❀ ☆ ✓
Summary: Superpowers are supposed to make you invincible, someone who could save the world, a hero. It’s not supposed to be like this...not like this.
Length of story: 8 parts/38.3k words
Warnings: Violence
↳ One Shots
Seasons Grieving by jimlingss II ❀ ☆
Summary: The five stages of grief include denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.
Length of story: 4.3k words
Warnings: Death
The Seven Kinds of Love by jimlingss II ❀ ☆ ☾
Summary: Love - an intense feeling of deep affection.
Length of story: 8k words
Warnings: None
#bts fics#bts smut#bts fanfiction#bts one shot#bts series#bts fluff#bts angst#jungkook#taehyung#yoongi#namjoon#seokjin#hoseok#jimin#jeon jungkook#kim taehyung#min yoongi#kim seokjin#jung hoseok#park jimin#v#suga#kim namjoon#rm#jin#jhope#jungkook fic#jungkook one shot#jungkook smut#taehyung fic
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I’ll Show You
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Rating: 18+ ONLY!!!!
Tags: Angst, Arguments, Bondage, BDSM, Praise Kink, Fingering (female receiving), Oral (male receiving), Throat-fucking, Unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP KIDS!), Begging (obviously), Fluffy ending, Language, and I think that’s it. HEED THE WARNINGS PLEASE!
Betas: @winecatsandpizza
Word Count: 3.6k
Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly
Written for: @thehoneybeecastielfollows Elliana’s 400 Followers Fanciful Fluff Challenge and it also fills my Begging Square for @spnkinkbingo 2018
Prompt - #7: “You couldn’t handle me if I came with a user manual!”
From the moment you met Sam and Dean Winchester, you’d known your life was about to change. Be it bad or good was hard to determine, mainly because of what they did for a living, but a little part of it had to do with the fact that the elder of the two brothers didn’t seem to like you. You couldn’t put your finger on it. Anytime he exchanged words with you, it was always cold and dismissive. Sam assured you that his brother would come around, but you weren’t born yesterday. Dean had something against you, and you, being the stubborn woman you were, aimed to figure it out.
The three of you were sitting in the library sifting through lore for a case. There had apparently been reports of a Djinn hybrid in the midwest, and you knew it had to be the work of Michael. Dean had his feet propped up on the table, a rather large dusty book in his hands. Sam was typing away on his laptop, the clicking of the keys being the only audible sound other than the occasional page turn. You knew that finding a way to kill the latest and greatest monster of the week was what you should be doing, but you couldn’t focus. Not when this whole thing with Dean was eating at you.
“I can’t do this anymore!” The book you’d been holding was thrown carelessly onto the table, the sound reverberating off the walls making both brothers jump.
Dean removed his boot-covered feet off the tabletop and planted them on the floor. You didn’t miss how his eyebrows knitted into a scowl or his signature eyeroll. “Giving up already, Y/N? You know, if the huntin’ life isn’t cut out for you, then you can see yourself out anytime.”
Sam sighed and gave Dean his best bitch face. “Dean! Whatever is going on with Y/N, I can assure you that you’re not helping!” He turned his gaze to you, his hazel eyes looking at you sympathetically. You’d normally just keep your anger bottled up inside, but something inside you snapped. Being a hunter meant everything to you after a demon killed your kid sister, and for Dean to question your loyalty like that had crossed a line. Your anger started to rise within you, like a sea of molten lava until you were no longer in control of your emotions.
Instead of storming off to your room and slamming the door for good measure like you normally would do, you stood and yanked the book Dean was reading out of his hand. You were gnashing your teeth together in such a snarl that it was a miracle they didn’t break. “You think you’re so fucking smug, don’t you Winchester? You think you’re this big badass and that nothing can touch you. Well, let me tell you something.” Your small hand grabbed onto the front of his shirt, bunching it up between your fingers as you got dangerously close to his face. “You don’t fucking scare me in the least bit!” The venom in your tone was palpable and with a hard push of your free hand, he and the chair went crashing to the floor.
Without giving him a chance to fire an insult back, you headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. You could hear Dean’s muffled voice as he spat angrily in response to his brother’s laughs. It only made the smirk on your face wider. Maybe now Dean will show you some respect.
The rest of the night was pretty quiet. You stayed in your room, scouring the internet for a way to kill the monster in question, and munched on some popcorn. The research came easily to you, your eyes scanning effortlessly through article after article. Even though you still hadn’t found a weapon to kill this Djinn on steroids, you knew your efforts would make Sam proud.
You felt his presence before he knew you did. He loomed in the doorway, leaning against it like it was the only thing keeping him from falling. “Can I help you, Dean?” You didn’t even bother to stop reading the article you’d found. He was probably just here to start something with you, and you had neither the time nor the energy to fight. Instead of replying, he pushed off the doorframe and stalked towards you, his shadow spreading across you and your keyboard.
You knew he was waiting for you to look at him, but you honestly didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction. Why should you? He’d been nothing but an ass to you since you moved in. So instead of giving him what he wanted, you continued to read.
Apparently, Dean got tired of not having your attention because the next thing you knew, he’d taken your laptop and tossed it on your pile of dirty laundry in the corner. He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw clenching as he looked down at you. “What the hell do you want, Dean? I’m trying to find a way to kill that fucking Djinn. You’re not still pissed about me putting you on your ass, are you? I mean, you kind o-HEY! LET ME GO!”
In one swift motion, he’d pulled you to your feet and shoved you against the wall. Dean’s chest heaved and his nostrils flared as he towered over you with his full height. “You don’t fucking get it, do you Y/N?��� His forearm pressed into your chest, not hard enough to hurt you, but firmly enough to hold you in place.
Even at your disadvantage you still stood your ground. Your eyes narrowed perilously, certain that if looks could kill then Dean would have been done for. “Oh, you think I don’t get it?! Trust me, Dean. I think I get exactly what you’re doing. Ever since I came here, you’ve been nothing but hostile to me! It’s because I’m a woman, isn’t it? You think just because I’m a woman that I can’t hold my own. Well, I’ve got news for you, Dean Winchester. I can do the job just as good as you any day of the fucking year!”
You were so caught up in getting your point across that you hadn’t noticed the amused look on his face. His laugh filled the small room as he let go of you. Tears streamed down his face as he hunched over, and it pissed you off that he thought this was amusing.
Finally, he swiped his sleeve over his eyes and took a few deep breaths to regain his composure. “Is that what you think? You really think I’m a dick to you because you’re a woman? Oh my God… I thought you of all people would at least get it.” He sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Look, Y/N, It’s not because you’re a woman. Hell, some of the greatest hunters I know are women. I’m trying to protect you! I don’t want you to go through what Sammy and I have gone through. You’ve already lost one family member, and I’ll be damned if you lose your life, too. Just… Let Sammy and I handle the hunts okay? You can hold down the fort here in the Bunker and be our research guru. That I know you can handle.”
It was your turn to laugh. “What do you know about handling anything? You could barely handle that case with the nest of nearly invincible vampires. What makes you think you can just walk in here and tell me what I can and can’t deal with? I mean, as long as we are on the topic, Let’s just be honest with ourselves, shall we? You couldn’t handle me if I came with a user manual!”
The look on Dean’s face darkened. It sent heat straight to your core, something that you could almost always control when it came to the elder brother. Normally, his asshole demeanor outweighed him being the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on. You swallowed thickly as he invaded your space again. His once sparkling green eyes now clouded with something new, something you’d only seen him offer to the occasional stripper or hooker that he brought back to the hotel. “Are you challenging me, Y/N?”
You tried to hide the fact that he was having an effect on you, but your flushed skin and rapid heartbeat betrayed you. Your answer came easily, and the submissive part of you that lay dormant for so long surfaced like a rekindled flame. “Yes.”
Dean brought one of his hands up to your face and cradled your cheek in it, the touch alone sent sparks through your veins. His freckles were so easy to see this close. Constellations mapped the entirety of his cheeks, and you briefly wondered if he had them elsewhere. Your eyes flicked from his intense gaze down to his lips, silently willing him to close the small gap between you and devour your mouth. “Now now, Y/N, is that any way to talk to me? I think you know better. Yes what, sweetheart?”
You looked down at your bare feet, Y/E/C eyes focusing on the remnants of the chipped polish on some of your toenails. Your mind contemplated what was about to happen. You could still back out of this, push him out of the way and run. That wouldn’t solve anything though. Running from your deepest desires, from Dean, was what you’d essentially been doing for months. It was now or never and quite frankly you wanted to give in. You wanted him to have full control over you, and you’d dreamed about it more than you’d like to admit. “Y-Yes, Sir.”
Two of his fingers rested underneath your chin, raising it so you were looking up at him. “Good girl.” His praise was the first nice thing he’d ever said to you, and you’d be lying if it didn’t make your heart sing. His lips closed the distance and pressed against your own hungrily. His tongue slid into your awaiting mouth and you moaned sinfully. He tasted of cinnamon and whiskey, just like you’d always imagined. Dean broke the kiss and touched his forehead against yours, his hands coming to rest in the curvature of your waist. “Go to my room, Y/N. I want you to be stripped and kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed before I get back. Do you understand?” Your response was immediate. Almost like a reflex, as it left your lips in a whisper. “Yes, Sir.”
He watched you leave the confines of your room before heading the opposite way. Your feet padded down the hallway and came to a stop outside the closed door of Dean’s room. It had been years since you’d been a sub, and even then they hadn’t exuded as much dominance as Dean had just moments ago. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you entered his room and closed the door behind you. The smell of his cologne wrapped itself around you like a hug. The familiar scent calmed your nerves instantly and soon you found yourself naked and kneeling at the foot of the bed just as you had been told to do.
Dean came in a few minutes later and set what sounded like something heavy on top of his dresser. You didn’t dare look up though. He hadn’t given you permission, and you wanted to show him that you could be good and obey him. “Look at you, doing what you’re told like a good little girl. See? I knew you could do this. I bet you’re soaking wet already, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Once again his fingers came to rest under your chin, tilting your head so you were looking up at him through your lashes. “Get on the bed.” He wasn’t mean about it, but his tone was firm and laced with an underlying warning of consequence if you disobeyed. Swifty and quietly you climbed onto the comforter and resumed your kneeling position. Dean walked around to the other side of you and sat down. He was still fully clothed, but you could clearly see his erection tenting his slacks. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s talk about the rules. You are to address me as sir, and only sir. Don’t cum until I tell you to, and if you ever feel uncomfortable with something that I am doing, then please use the safeword ‘cake’. Do you understand?
Hearing that your safeword was cake confused you at first, but when you thought about it for a moment it made sense. Dean was a pie fanatic. Especially if it was pecan pie, but you’d never seen him eat cake. Let alone mention it. So you could see how he’d come up with it in the end. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.” Dean seemed convinced by your response so you stayed still and waited for his next command. You could hear him pick whatever he had brought with him off the dresser, and your pulse quickened at the thought of what he was about to do to you.
The bed dipped behind you, his hot breath fanned across the back of your neck making you shiver. “Clasp your hands behind your back for me, baby. I’m going to restrain you now so you stay still for me.” You brought your hands behind your back, interlacing your fingers together so your wrists rested against your tailbone. The feeling of the nylon rope being looped around your wrists made you impossibly wetter. The thought of being restrained and letting none other than Dean Winchester worship your body was enough to make you cum, but you couldn’t do that. Not when he’d specifically told you not to.
Dean made quick work of the black rope. He maneuvered around your torso, wrapping it around each elbow and tying a knot in the middle to lock your arms in place. The rest of it was placed expertly around your chest and tied off, the final knot resting against your shoulder blades. He let you fall headfirst into the mattress, your head turning to the side so you could breathe. He stepped back to admire his work. “A damn good job if I do say so myself. It’s not too tight, is it, darlin’?
You took a moment to tug at your binds and unclasp and reclasp your fingers. Everything still had circulation, but you still couldn’t break free if you tried. “No, everything feels fine, sir.” You heard him walk behind you, no doubt enjoying the view of you on display to him. “God, you look so fucking beautiful like this. Look at you… showing me that perfect round ass and that tight little pussy of yours.” He ran one of his fingers through your folds, and it took everything in you not to moan.
Your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from making any noise. “Mmmm just as I thought, soaking wet just for me.” The thick digit left you and you looked into his lust-blown eyes as his lips closed around it. “So good, Y/N. Now, are you ready for me to test you? Gonna show me what a good girl you are?” You shook your ass at him for good measure and replied without hesitation. “I’m ready, sir.”
Dean grabbed onto your hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed, his clothed erection applying slight friction to your needy cunt. He ran his middle and index fingers through your juices a few times before sliding them into you. “Be as loud as you want, Princess. Sam isn’t here to hear you scream. It’s just you and me.” Ever so slowly, he moved his fingers in and out of you, making you moan loudly. “F-Fuck!”
His pace increased, and you felt the coil of heat tighten. You were so close already and he’d barely gotten started. You felt your walls tighten slightly and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to control yourself. Dean knew how hard you were trying and you also knew he was competing with you. Using his skills to his advantage to see how much you could take. “Oh shit… shit shit shit… I don’t know if I can…. FUCK!” Dean curled his fingers so they hit that spot inside you with each thrust. Soon you couldn’t hold back any longer. With a cry of his name, you came hard, squirting all over his hand and the bed.
The white-hot orgasm nearly made you pass out, and by the time your climax was over you knew you were in trouble. You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure Dean wasn’t happy. “Tsk tsk tsk … Y/N/N, you knew the rules. I seem to remember you agreeing to them, and look what you’ve done. You’ve made a mess, sweetheart.” Just as you were about to apologize, he picked you up and set you gracefully on your knees. “Are you ready to show me how sorry you are?”
Balancing on your knees while you were tied up like this was difficult, but being this close to Dean’s cock made your mouth water. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry for disobeying you, sir. May I make it up to you by having you fuck my throat?” The groan that left his lips was downright the most sinful thing you’d ever heard, and you definitely wanted to hear him make that noise again. “Fuck… you read my mind, sweetheart.”
Dean began to circle you, watching you like a hawk would its prey. His tie was the first thing to go. Seeing him reach his right hand up and rip it off shouldn’t be as sexy as it was, but at this moment anything Dean did was sexy. He stopped in front of you and undid his belt and the top button on his pants, letting them pool carelessly at his ankles. Finally, he freed his cock and you watched as he pumped it a few times. A bead of precum seeped from the tip, and you leaned forward to catch it on your tongue. Your mouth closed around the head and Dean let you set the pace at first, more praises flying from his mouth as you took him in as deep as you could.
“That’s it, Princess… suck that cock. Mmmmm, you’re so fucking good at that. Taking my cock so well.” His hand fisted in your hair and you let him take over. You relaxed your throat as he took what he wanted from you, your eyes watering more and more every time he hit the back of your throat. “Jesus… you have one helluva mouth, Y/N.” He began to pant and his thrusts began to falter. His grip loosened on your hair and you whined as he pulled himself from your mouth. “Now, Princess, don’t you want me to cum in that pretty pussy of yours?” As much as you wanted to make him come apart with your mouth, having him buried inside you was more appealing at the moment. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”
Once again he picked you up, moving you back onto the bed with ease. Dean crawled behind you again, placing a hand on each of your hips. Without warning, he sheathed himself all the way to hilt, both of you crying out in pleasure. Dean set a harsh pace, his fingertips surely leaving bruises on your skin. You knew you would be sore. He was not, by any means, lacking in size. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t allow you to adjust to him.
His thrusts began to falter, and you felt that familiar feeling come back. You tightened yourself around him, and he growled, fucking you harder into the bed. “S-Sir!… please sir!!! Please, may I cum? … F-Fuck!” You were so close to the peak of pure bliss that you could almost taste it. You just needed a little more. Dean grabbed onto the knotted rope in the middle of your back and pulled you so your back was to his chest. His other hand snaked around your body and circled your clit vigorously. “Fuck, Y/N… C’mon, Princess… Cum all over my cock. Let go, baby.”
A few more seconds of him fucking up into you and you fell over the edge taking him with you. Your walls milking Dean for all he was worth. He held you there for a few minutes, your heavy breathing in sync as you both came down from your high. Dean placed a chaste kiss to your back and pulled out of you. He took his time untying you, being careful not to irritate your skin further. Once you were free you stretched your arms and popped your knuckles.
Dean sat with his back to the headboard and pulled you into his lap, his hands rubbing your back gingerly. “You did so well, Y/N. I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing.” He kissed you sweetly and you melted against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut from exhaustion.
You listened to the steady beat of his heart and somehow made your brain form a coherent thought. “I’m glad we were able to settle things, Dean. I was beginning to think you really did hate me. I understand everything now.” He kissed the top of your head and held you protectively. “I could never hate you, Y/N. Not when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Princess.” His words shocked you, but you were too tired to respond. Sleep came easy for you in Dean’s arms, and you couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow to see what this new life with Dean brought you.
‘Pala’s Taglist - @maddiepants @kittenofdoomage @giraffe1994
#spnkinkbingo#elliana’s 400 followers fanciful fluff challenge#'pala writes#dean x reader#18+ only#supernatural
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March Angel Fish Awards
Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.
The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.
NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle or Mana to check and make sure we got your submission.
WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE MARCH’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!
Nominated by @emilyshurley
All I Want (series) by @katehuntington
I got chills because of how well written Michael and Dean are. Hell I somehow mixed up the fic for something that actually happened on the show while watching.
Nominated by @coffee-obsessed-writer
A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement (series) by @kazosa
Its a Dean Winchester x reader AU and tells the story of a fake dating situation that would be both beneficial to Dean and the reader. What makes this fic so so special, is the dialogue between them. Its so natural, and so incredibly well thought out. The Easter Eggs dropped in it throughout the series just makes you giddy with excitement and the grasp she has of all the characterizations is so on point. The fluff will make your heart just explode with rainbows, yet there is a nice twist of angst that comes at the expense of other characters. Its the best AU I’ve ever read and I literally drop everything the second I see a new chapter out!
Nominated by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish
All I Want (series) by @katehuntington
As I said when I reblogged it, “that scene is one of my all time favorite things to ever happen on the show. WOW! This is so well written, I am in love! I was totally in the room with the boys and I could feel the emotions and see everything happening! Can’t wait to see what happens next!” The first time I read this, I was hit so many times with “Dang that’s a good line” or I love this whole paragraph" feels! It’s a fantastic read and I am so excited to see what else Kate has in store for this fic!
Nominated by @manawhaat
The Pageant Predicament (oneshot) by @hunterscabin
Ok, this is not only a wonderfully fluffy, fucking adorable fic, but it’s also incredibly IN CHARACTER, which is all the more impressive when you take into account that this is her first Sam fic! And Dean’s goofy ass in perfectly in character, too!
It’s got all the things that are good. Sam’s big fucking warm comforting hands on her shoulders, the sincerity that’s just so damn SAM, the confidence boost, and the little mention of the scar is such a subtle yet beautiful way of tying everything together and making it realistic.
I like, totes adored this.
Sneaking Into Sam’s Room (drabble) by @impala-dreamer
Ok so this is just a drabble and yet I have felt SO MUCH with these words. They are well picked, well placed, and stimulating! Seriously, you have a fucking GIFT if you can make me feel this much just talking about kissing. Phew!
When In Rome (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer
Wow. WOW! Okay, so if you like Cockles, this is a must! It’s sexy, it’s daring, it’s subby Mish and Dom Jensen and it fucking murders my vagina. That’s all I have to say. I’m a wet mess. It’s just... go fucking read it.
The Walls That Bind Us (oneshot by @mrswhozeewhatsis)
Saint Michelle always, always, always has an incredible way with words. A way with delving into these characters and expressing their innermost thoughts in a way so personal, so vulnerable, that I simply cannot bring myself to believe that it’s fiction.
“The walls of his prison weren’t made of stone, but they were just as unbreachable.”
I mean COME ON! That’s such a simple phrase but one of the most accurate statements I’ve ever read about Dean Winchester and his emotional torment. Seriously, this one hurts, but it’s goddamn gorgeous. As is everything on her masterlist. Everything!
Nominated by @oneshoeshort
The Woodsman (series) by @thecleverdame
George's take on a royalty A/B/O AU series is so well written and thoroughly articulated. Sam is the woodsman and the reader is a French princess who's never left her home until she had to. Anything I read of her's immediately sucks me into that universe as if I'm really there! So worthy of an AFA!
Spanner In The Works (series) by @bamby0304
I'm such a sucker for any mechanic!Sam AU. And this one has a simple yet immersive story tied to it. It details blossoming love, a reader who is unsure of where she stands in the world with her insecurities, and her journey to finding herself with her ever-growing crush on Sam, and vice versa! It's still ongoing but it's SO worth a read! Also def worth of an AFA! :D
Nominated by @evansrogerskitten
The Things We Don’t Believe In (series) by @thecleverdame
This fic has every delicious element of AU + A/B/O. Alpha business man Sam is panty melting hot and I genuinely love the reader’s characterization. The story is so rich and well developed. I get so excited when I get a new notification for the story. And she’s one of the best Sam writers in the fandom so all of her fics are worth nominations.
The Letter (oneshot) by @atc74
It’s a well developed AU that kept me guessing and wondering about the reader’s past. And I loved psychic!Jensen portrayal.
Being the Bait (oneshot) by @idreamofplaid (listed as ravenangel33)
This fic was the perfect blend of tension, fluff, and hotness. It’s always incredibly hot when Dean is watching the reader, even more when she’s undercover as a stripper. And I love so much how he cared for her after! A hot Dean fic from one of our best Sam girls! She can do it all.
Embrace The Future (oneshot) by @idreamofplaid
This fic was so swoon worthy! Romantic Jared sharing his heart and orgasms. Made me equally wanted to make love to him and also just cuddle him and feed him candy :) This is incredibly sweet and sexy.
Nominated by @supermoonpanda
Wet Uniform (oneshot) by @meganlpie
I Love this Coffee Shop AU!!!
Nominated by @erins-culinary-service
Cursed To Karaoke (oneshot) by @flamencodiva
I know this is about the reader and Dean being cursed, but Sam is the best in this. His comments throughout the fics are hilarious!
I Can See Clearly Now (oneshot) by @kate-huntington
Not sure if this has been nominated before or not, but always meant to and finally doing it. It’s so angsty and heartbreaking plus the gifs in between the story really make our seem like your watching everything play out. I love it!
Nominated by @risingphoenix761
Comrades In Arms (oneshot) by @slytherkins
Dean and Benny in Purgatory? It’s a lot more chill than it sounds. The banter had me giggling, and the ending was a sucker punch to the feels.
Nominated by @wingedcatninja
(Just found @winchestersinthedrift and have been going through her Dean masterlist. Her writing is amazing with eloquent prose, perfect characterization, and scorching hot smut. Here are 4 of her fics up for Angel Fish Nomination.)
And Beyond (oneshot) by @winchestersinthedrift
What appealed to me in this one was the spontaneity of the moment.
Second Best Suit (oneshot)
Dean tied up? Yes, please! Also, I could almost hear the sounds he was making.
Untitled (phone sex) (oneshot)
Honestly, I'm not sure I'd be able to walk after hearing Dean jack off over the phone.
Untitled (Bondage) (oneshot)
It's sub!Dean, which is my weakness. But also, the way it's written, I felt like I was there.
Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!
As with the BFAs, these are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D
THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!
#spn fic rec#afas#afa masterlist#angel fish awards#fic rec#spn#supernatural#spn fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#supernatural fanfic
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maybe this is how it starts [2/?]
Cover & Disclaimer
Author’s Note: Sorry it took so long since the last update. I ended up deciding not to pants this thing and just do whatever with the chapters, but I went and found an honest-to-goodness plot. Go me! So, to further said plot, have some Jason and Roy Bromance. Because as far as I’m concerned, the best jaytim fics I’ve read always have Roy and Jason doing their girl-talk thing.
The Red Hood’s base of operations is in a bomb shelter beneath the One Police Plaza in Gotham. It’s chilly inside, which doesn’t bother Jason under normal circumstances, but then everything is pissing him off today.
There are a lot of things Jason has learned to endure over the years—torture, death, total mental and physical exhaustion, unending moral dilemmas…
All of them are just more of what life has to throw at him and what he responds to with a smirk and the middle finger. Physical limitations are something for lesser men—men who were never trained by Batman or the League of Assassins.
And yet…
If there’s anything that might drive him almost to the point of Lazarus-Pit-crazy, it’s itching.
“It’s decided. I’m going to kill Ivy,” he growls, slopping another handful of aloe vera over the expanse of his arm, leaning back so as not to drip the green gel onto his keyboard.
Whatever was in the venom from the vampire-plant hybrids, the rash has lingered for the whole week without a sign of improving. He has a peevish hope that Tim is having a worse time of it, since it’s his fault Jason is even in this situation to begin with.
Can’t even fucking go on patrol without wanting to tear my skin off every goddamn minute.
He’s been trying to fill the time doing the whole research schtick for a few of his ongoing cases but has barely even been able to focus on that. It’s irritating and leaves him alone with his thoughts much more than he’s comfortable with.
It’s been three months of pushing down any acknowledgement of what happened. That for the first time in his life, Dick Grayson is dead. Not somewhere being Nightwing or filling in as Batman, but dead. His predecessor-mentor-not-brother-but-yeah-sorta-brother got himself unmasked and killed.
Jason is not entirely sure how to deal with the new reality, and it’s possible he’s been more adrift than he would ever admit. But the cure to that is denial and distraction, which is why when the giant screen in front of him fills up with a picture of Roy making finger guns, he accepts the vid call.
“I swear to God, Roy, if you’re calling to tell me you’ve been evicted again and need money,” he trails off, feigning annoyance despite being glad for the interruption.
“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” his best friend replies dryly, fiddling with something metallic and sprouting wires. He squints at Jason. “Dude, what’s with your arm? That rash is fugly.”
“Compliments of a soon-to-be-dead Poison Ivy and an idiot in a cape.”
“Heh. Which idiot?”
“The one who’s supposed to be the smart one.”
Roy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask for clarification, either because he knows who Jason is talking about or because he knows he won’t get an answer. “That’s more polite than you’d usually put it. You feelin’ okay?”
“No, I’m not feeling okay, I’ve spent the last week scratching my nuts off!”
“Man, come on! TMI!”
“You know what I mean.” Jason rubs his back against his chair, seeking relief from a spot he can’t reach to scratch. “Fuck Ivy…”
“I thought you liked Ivy.”
“Respect. I respect Ivy. I don’t like her.”
“How did you even end up running into her? I mean, greenspaces aren’t exactly your thing.”
“I told you already, I was saving the moron in the cape. Who’s damn lucky I did, because I wasn’t even going to take that route last night.”
All because he’d (not that he’d admit it) been thinking about Dick. Which he had been for months now, a fact which he’s pretty sure influenced him to help Bruce and the rest of them go on that suicide mission to get back Damian Wayne’s body. He’s still a little in shock that the whole thing ended in the kid’s resurrection and not a second explosive and painful death. But then, he’s living proof that it’s possible, so maybe he shouldn’t be.
Roy must sense the direction of his thoughts, because he changes the subject. “So, have you given anymore thought to that idea I had?”
Jason gives himself a mental shake.
“No. Because going after Kori reeks of desperation, and you’re better than that.”
“Am I? Am I really?” Jason exchanges looks with Roy, who then sighs. “Fine. So how long are you hanging around Gotham? Because, by my count, this is the longest consecutive amount of time you’ve spent there since before you died. Family hasn’t grounded you, have they?”
Jason scowls. “They’re not my family.”
“Right, okay, sure. That’s why whenever there’s a fart jammed out that way, you go running—shit!” One of the devices he’s working on emits a minor explosion.
“I go back because it’s my city and I have stuff to take care of.”
Rapists and human traffickers won’t break their own kneecaps.
“And because the Bats are your family.”
“I’m going to shoot you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That was an accident, and you know it. This time it would be on purpose,” Jason grunts, using the heel of his hand against his arm. He winces when the action brings on equal parts of relief and pain, since his skin’s already been clawed almost raw.
Roy snorts in disbelief.
Jason pauses for another moment, considering his best friend, and then decides what the hell, they aren’t the type to keep secrets from each other.
“Demon brat’s alive,” he says at last.
Roy startles, dropping his soldering iron. “Whoa. No shit?”
He was the one who showed up to drag Jason out of the bars he’d practically destroyed in the days directly following the kid’s death. He knows the exact depths to which Jason was or wasn’t affected.
“No shit. It was this whole…thing. Ninjas and boom tubes and a Chaos Shard.” He doesn’t mention the overly-sentimental team-up with the Bats, or the surreal “birthday” dinner afterward. Damian and Tim had been almost pleasant to each other, and Jason had caught Bruce watching him with such overwhelming gratitude in his eyes he’d had to duck out early.
It’s still weird to him when he sees anything other than judgement in the older man’s eyes.
Roy whistles. “Damn. He okay?”
“I didn’t really stick around for the group therapy session. I’d say so—the little shit got superpowers when he woke up. I figured I should make myself scarce before he took it into his head to throw me like a javelin.”
“Didn’t we do that once with Kori?”
“Kori’s end goal wouldn’t be for me to go splat.”
“Not unless you left the toilet seat up again.”
“That was you.”
“Can’t prove it.”
“Of the two of us, who was practically raised by a British butler that wields guilt and disapproval like the Lasso of Truth? You think I will ever in my life dare to leave a toilet seat up?”
Roy sniggers and Jason smirks, and the tension hanging in the wake of their conversation fades somewhat. Humor is how they have always dealt with this kind of stuff.
“Still, that’s pretty heavy,” Roy says after a beat, reaching for a pair of wire strippers and electric tape. “I get why you’ve been hanging around there. I mean, what is this, three out of four now? Four out of five?”
“Huh?”
“Dead Robins. You should start a club.”
“Who says we haven’t?” Jason grumbles. “I’m the goddamn president.”
“I’m just saying, I see why you’re staying. Going by the balance of probability, the moron in the cape is probably next. It’s, like, his turn or something. So I get it—you want to keep an eye out.”
Jason narrows his eyes. “Drake’s not going to die if I have anything to say about it. No one gets to kill my replacement except me. When I feel like it.”
If I feel like it.
He and Tim have sort of come to an understanding of sorts in the past few years, if only in a professional sort of way. Exchanging information or giving the heads-up on a rogue showing up in each other’s territory. Occasionally sharing a bite to eat.
And saving each other’s lives, apparently.
The idea that a grisly death awaits Tim just because he had the misfortune of being a Robin bothers Jason more than he likes.
“When you feel like it?” Roy prompts. “You’re just trying to sound tough to cover up the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“The thing where you feel like you have to step into big brother’s shoes now,” Roy informs him. “With Dick gone, that’s you, man.”
Jason physically jerks away from the screen, staring at Roy. “Fuck no. That’s not my deal.”
“If you say so.”
And just…no.
He jokes about it, sure. Calls them ‘bro’ or makes pointed remarks related to family or siblings, but it’s always tongue-in-cheek and more mocking than serious. It’s just to get a rise out of them, to remind them how he really doesn’t fit in with Bruce’s messed up idea of a ‘family’.
Besides, he’s pretty sure even if he wanted it, he’d be a shit older brother—he doesn’t have any of Dick’s likeability or sense of responsibility or general concern for everyone’s welfare. And Bruce’s kids all have their own level of fucked-up that, coupled with his own many and varied list of issues, could very well land them all in Arkham.
No way he’s going back there.
“Sorry, you’re breaking up,” Jason says flatly, and terminates the call before Roy can get too smug or think he’s actually on to something. He glares at the blank screen for a few minutes, and then queues up all the overseas cases he’s been flagging the past week.
Time to get the hell out of dodge. Before I get called to babysit or something…
֍
Tim is not keeping tabs on anyone.
At least, no more than usual.
The myriad of windows open on his workplace computer screen, showing several different sources of surveillance footage, is simply his method for remaining prepared for whatever crisis is inevitably coming.
(There’s always a crisis coming.)
And he’s definitely not watching out for Jason, even if his eyes keep drifting toward the grainy image of the Red Hood followed by traffic cams in Montreal, where he’s infiltrated a human-trafficking operation.
Tim justifies it as pre-emptive damage control, in case he needs to send someone to save Jason from himself.
(Never mind that Tim never did this before three months ago, never mind that Jason’s mellowed out a lot in the past two years and has developed something almost in the realm of good judgement, never mind that—)
As if to make the point to himself, Tim focusses his attention on the other windows. Damian at Wayne Manor, singlehandedly lifting the roof onto what appears to be a new pet enclosure while Alfred watches, bemused. The kid still has superpowers, which is another mark against the existence of a higher power—what kind of benevolent force would give the brat heat vision?
Bruce isn’t in Gotham; last Tim heard, he’s gone to the Hall of Justice, probably to figure out how to drain off Damian’s powers. There are no camera there (and if there were, Bruce would probably have disabled them by now), but the tracer Tim slipped into the cowl the last time they met is still going strong.
Tim pretends he doesn’t know that Bruce knows he put it there; he hates feeling like he’s being humored.
Steph is in class, Cass is out of the country, Barbara is at a information management conference in Metropolis.
They’re all fine.
And he’s not keeping tabs.
He just has to be ready. In case he needs to shut down the power for a city block or remotely cut camera feed, if it looks like someone is about to die or be unmasked.
Not again. Never again. Not like Dick, won’t let it happen—
The speaker on his office phone trills. “Mr. Wayne? Your eight o’clock is here.”
Tim shakes off his disjointed thoughts and reaches for the intercom button. “Send him in.”
Warrick Powers has a face Tim would very much like to punch.
Maybe if he was in uniform, he would find an excuse, but at the moment, he is fully immersed in his Timothy Drake-Wayne persona. Any attack on the CEO of Powers Technology would not only bring a few dozen lawyers down on him and Wayne Enterprises, but it would also wreak havoc on Tim’s image as a feeble, recovering cripple.
Which would be a waste, since he’s been cultivating that image for over two years.
His crutches are long gone, but he still carries a cane with him everywhere for ‘bad days’. It’s not even really a lie, since there are mornings after he hasn’t slept in thirty-six hours where he needs something to fidget with. Some kind of prop to offer a believable reason for his pauses. It’s better if people think he’s reliving the shooting that supposedly injured him, rather than pay attention to the obvious sleep deprivation or concealed injuries.
“Tim! Great to see you again,” Powers declares in a false voice that would do even Brucie Wayne proud. “Glad you could fit me in this morning.”
“It just so happened I needed to speak to you about something,” Tim replies with an insubstantial smile.
“Excellent, excellent,” Powers says vaguely, by-passing the usual polite handshake and sprawling in one of the chairs across from Tim. He hasn’t said so out loud, but it clearly bothers him having to do business with a teenager. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that our little project is right on schedule. Ahead of it, in fact…”
Out of the corner of his eye he watches the footage of Jason outside a restaurant in Chinatown and he suppresses the urge to swear.
The idiot had better not be messing with the Ghost Dragons, because I cannot deal with that right now.
Though, the older man is in civvies, so it’s entirely possible he’s just grabbing lunch.
And…nope. Wishful thinking. Damn it, Jason.
If his suspicions about what’s about to happen onscreen are correct, Tim’s going to have to put an end to this meeting faster than he expected.
Powers is still rambling.
“…we could move up the launch by a month or two without sacrificing quality. Maybe even release it as a limited-edition prototype. For a higher price, of course, but people have been waiting on this model for five years now, they’d pay for it.”
The older man chuckles; it doesn’t reach his eyes, which remain cold and calculating as a snake’s. The overall effect makes Tim’s skin crawl, in a different way from the lingering phantom itch of Ivy’s toxin.
(Stupid mistake. Shouldn’t have been anywhere near Robinson Park without backup, even if it was recon. Another stupid mistake—)
“Thank you for the progress report, Mr. Powers,” Tim says, cutting his thoughts off before they can become too rambling, “but that was not the reason I agreed to see you today.”
“Oh?” Powers looks politely interested.
“I received a tip two weeks ago from a concerned individual that Powers Tech has been dumping toxic waste,” Tim tells him, careful to keep his inflection mild. The term ‘concerned individual’ is loose, but it was Ivy that mentioned it to him and told him to fix it or she would. He doesn’t remember if that was before or after she let her plants have their fun, though. “We take that kind of accusation very seriously. The entire reason Wayne Enterprises agreed to collaborate with your company was because you’ve boasted about your eco-friendly containment practices.”
Powers expression doesn’t betray anything; in fact, the way his eyebrows raise, and his mouth turns downward in confusion, anyone else might consider him legitimately affronted.
“And you believed it? Come on, Tim, I’m sure WE gets half a dozen similar accusations a week. It’s just the granola movement trying to shut down our operations. They’d be happy if we still did things the Amish way.”
“Maybe. But those accusations don’t usually come with evidence to back them up.” Tim slides several folders across the desk. “Only a percentage of your industrial waste is being disposed of responsibly, I imagine for publicity’s sake; the rest, you’re burying in the sublevels of your main facility.”
Powers lips thin ever so slightly. “Hearsay.”
“We do our due diligence in these matters. Some of your employees were willing to confirm the report—anonymous now, but willing to come forward in the event of a formal investigation,” Tim says. “There was also an undercover investigation commissioned by…outside parties.”
No need to admit he was the outside party.
“The results indicate that not only are your containment measures insufficient, but the run-off from that waste is close to entering the groundwater, which could jeopardize Gotham’s entire water supply. Possibly even on a global scale if it gets to the ocean and reacts with the salt water.” He holds his hands in front of him. “I’ve held back on having this released to the public as a curtesy to you to get your affairs in order today.”
“What?” Powers growls and there’s not even an attempt to keep his charming mask on.
“I’ve asked you here so that we can finalize the dissolution of Wayne Enterprises partnership with Powers Tech,” Tim continues. “It’s a fairly cut and dried situation, so there was no need to call in the board.”
“That isn’t going to happen—”
“In exchange for an uncontested dissolution of our agreement and a clear plan to fix the problem, I continue to keep this information from going public—along with several other discrepancies I’ve discovered in your company, many of which are such blatant health-code violations that if they’re made public, you’ll be declaring bankruptcy by nine o’clock tonight. Personally, that isn’t the path I’d choose; your recent indiscretions aside, Powers Tech has the potential to do great things—if it’s being run by someone with half a conscience.”
Which you clearly don’t possess.
“You’d do well to watch your tone, boy,” Powers growls. “Does your father know the career suicide you’re committing right now?”
“He trusts my judgement or I wouldn’t be sitting at this desk,” Tim shrugs, unconcerned, and slides two more folders across. “These are to dissolve our partnership. Feel free to have your lawyers look it over, but I am serious about the nine o’clock deadline. If you intend to keep your company operating for the foreseeable future, you will sign it and send it over before then. You’ll also make an announcement that you intend to step down from your position as CEO, since you are taking full blame for your company’s blatant disrespect for environmental laws.”
“I will do no such thing! That’s tantamount to an admission of guilt—and I have no intention of going to jail over these…these fabricated accusations.”
“The choice is yours, of course. And you are pretty well-off, so even though this is an open-shut case, I’m sure you’ll land in a white-collar institution that’s nicer than most of Gotham’s criminals enjoy. But make no mistake—either you come forward on your own, which will be helpful in negotiating a lesser sentence, or you wait for the evening edition of the Gotham Gazette, which I know won’t paint you in a very favorable light.”
“This is blackmail.”
“Actually, it’s extortion,” Tim corrects him, reaching for his half-filled coffee cup. As Powers eyes gleam at him, a small smirk forming, Tim continues, “Oh, and just so you know, anything we’ve said in this meeting is completely confidential. I took the liberty of installing a scrambler in this office, which knocks out all mechanical devices. Your phone and the recorder in your pocket won’t have caught any of our conversation. To ensure neither of us chooses to play any unfortunate quotes out of context, of course.”
“Of course,” Power grunts tightly.
“I would go with the first option,” Tim says, switching back to the previous conversation with ease. “This way your company’s stocks won’t fall too badly. And this way your son has a chance of being a better man and better CEO than you. I look forward to discussing the changes with Derek at the Green Energy Expo in Hong Kong next week.”
Powers looks as if he’s about to jump across the table and throttle Tim, who casually reaches for his intercom, “Mr. Powers will be leaving early, please ensure someone can escort him down to the lobby.”
“I can find my own way,” Powers snaps, shoving his chair back and grabbing the folders Tim gave him. “And this isn’t over, you jumped-up little brat. You’re going to regret this.”
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that before,” Tim replies, adopting the cold, distant smile of Janet Drake. “Have a nice day, Mr. Powers.”
As soon as the older man has stormed from the office, Tim lets out a breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding. It only occurs to him when the tight feeling in his chest dissipates. He leans back heavily in his chair, feeling like he’s run a marathon, which makes no sense. It’s not the first time he’s had to strongarm a partner or competitor.
He notices he has been bouncing his knee up and down under the desk, and scowls. Good thing Powers didn’t notice that, or he might have taken it as a weakness.
He’s hungry, but the effort involved in procuring food is too much. The stupid cane is not worth it, and despite his stomach complaining, he has no appetite. Not worth it.
On screen, Jason flips a table through the restaurant window.
Damage control, Tim decides, relegating his hunger to the back of his mind and preparing to scrub any footage of Jason’s activities. It’s not keeping tabs.
So, yeah, Tim’s in denial and Jason doesn’t do warm and fuzzy family feelings. And Roy is way more observant than he would like heehee.
Sorry there was a lack of direct jaytim interaction this chapter, but I’d kind of like this fic to be more than boy-broods-about-other-boy-every-chapter. I find it makes for a more authentic slow-build relationship if they also have other stuff going on in their lives. But next chapter, we shall have dialogue once more!
TBC
NEXT CHAPTER ( in progress)
#jaytim#jason todd#red hood#jaytim fanfic#roy harper#jaytim fic#fanfiction#batman fanfiction#bromance#witty repartee#snark#humor#banter#jason and roy are twisted sisters#slow build
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‘Let's hope the complementary AU won't become a drabble even though I thought of this one first,’ is what I said, but at 5613 words this really is halfway to being written. Emphasis on halfway. This was meant as basically just an outline for a fic because I was too busy to actually write it (I really am, actually >.>), but uh. It started leading a life of its own. The first part or so is as its purpose and in tweets so the formatting might be a bit odd but
Basically this is half outline, half drabble, only one round of editing so it’s really rough on the edges, R-17, ShiraYuki mafia x stripper/assassin also roommates AU
Both of them (especially Yukimura) are manipulative bastards and there’s elements of forced intimacy at times so if that squicks you, please proceed with caution.
Shiraishi is a normal stripper to the public eye, under the name of Poison Ivy (or Nightshade or something of the likes) but the criminal circuit, Yukimura head of Rikkai’s mafia included, knows better.
He's a traceless, mysterious, independent assassin, with poisons as his expertise (though rumours go they don't even make half of his murders), an incredible asset, but only if you win his favour. Those are the rumours. But fact is, nobody has ever seen him in the body.
The only thing they know of him is that he works through various strip clubs over the region, that you should leave a message with a generous donation to unravel someone's bandage- (there are many, too many with bandages to count) and you might find your job cleared, or declined.
Needless to say, Shiraishi is rather surprised when Yukimura approaches him, as nothing in the way he holds himself tells him he came here to watch him undress. "You have some killer thighs," he says nonchalantly, handing him a folded bill.
He catches it between his lips, and when he unfolds it, a familiar petal falls from the paper. Then, an imperceptible caution finds its way onto his face, Yukimura notices. He smiles. "You'll meet me after work."
"I don't meet clients after working hours." Yukimura chuckles.
"You'll take your bandage off for me and hand it over," he whispers.
"You won't refuse, will you?" Shiraishi smiles at him.
"That'll depend on your offer."
Yukimura nudges towards the bill. "Think about it." After all, Yukimura finds, he can't refuse.
Shiraishi waited for him in the alleyway, as he should.
"What is your offer?" he asks. Not 'Who are you,' or 'Why did you approach me,' or 'For 9000 I'll fcuk you into Heaven.' No useless questions, no playing dumb, Yukimura notes, pleased.
"I want you, Shiraishi."
"Your reward is handsome, moreso than any other would offer," Yukimura says, playing a card between his fingers.
Both of them knew it wasn't about the money, at all.
"You will live in with me, eat my food, and sleep under my roof." Yukimura leaned in. "You will be safe with me."
With Yukimura's knowledge about his identity, the way he'd tracked him down, he was left with no choice. After all, Shiraishi had no clue how many people his data went by. Even if he killed Yukimura, it would do him no good. Shiraishi was his. "...I accept."
Shiraishi took in a breath. "I accept, if you protect my rule."
"Rule?"
Yukimura's instincts sharpened. Shiraishi was in no state to negotiate here. "That you won't touch my body for your physical gratification."
That, is the rule he would wager his life on? He smiled.
"I won't."
It's immediately obvious this isn't where Yukimura lived. The apartment was too white, too... impersonal for that. Still, it'll have to do, Yukimura thinks. Supervision was vital, as was creating familiarity, no, dependency, obedience. Shiraishi's poisonous plants would stay out.
It would grow in time, he thinks to himself as he watches Shiraishi chew his bread-- Shiraishi seems susceptible enough. They sleep in different beds, in the same room. [if I were writing a fic, I'd be telling myself to do some roommates shenanigans here.]
Going out was a different matter all on its own, solved by proximity and communication. Shiraishi was good at blending in, true, but letting him come to meetings... He settled on passive monitoring and keeping him occupied in times of need. Drugging, would harm their bond.
Probably, as his first assignments, Yukimura has him cut off his last ties first, to force his unequivocal loyalty. He's there with him, no, he guides him, not for his capabilities, but to remind him of his involvement. Every time, he cooks him dinner afterwards.
Yukimura wasn't fond of assassinations or any of the kinds, but fact stood that in order to have a healthy garden, weeding was necessary. Weeding, as well as pruning and bugkilling, placing traps, and thorough observation. He'll point Shiraishi where to cut, and where to bother.
Yukimura has communication with the ones below him, of course. Phone calls, mails, messages. The encryption is Yanagi's, at least its base. It had taken him weeks to crack, after which he devoted another month perfecting it. Nobody but him knew and understood the full decryption.
The verbal code was of his own devise. Illogical, personal, effective. He hadn't devised one for Shiraishi, yet. He might want to eventually, but it would come with the trust, in higher-profile and less-contact assignments.
Shiraishi proves himself to be very efficient, a more than intelligent asset he discovers when Shiraishi challenges him to a game of chess. It was said that you could read into someone's personality by the way they played. Into Yukimura's? No. But Shiraishi was interesting.
Methodological, clever, but sly and prepared to take risks. That was his assassin's method as well, and he knew that thoroughly by now. Ever mysterious, funny, fickle, serious. Shiraishi mentioned a detail about the plant of a poison this case, before he knew it, he'd been hooked.
Yukimura had never planned on their relationship being simply subordinate and master. His hold didn't work that way. But friends... The longer the days passed, the more comfortable he seemed to feel. Shiraishi was a natural smooth talker, obviously, but beyond that, amiable.
He decides that having plants in their apartment was perhaps a reasonable addition, after all, when he sees Shiraishi's eyes light up talking about taking care of them and their poisons.Keeping his garden lively and thriving was his priority. However, as time passed, Yukimura noticed a family of weeds, growing vividly in small, persistent patches. It was an eyesore, and a worrisome one, as well.
Removing them would leave the soil vulnerable and at risk, a round of herbicide might damage his own plants. Yes, it'd been occupying his thoughts, even weighing down on him.
However, Shiraishi seems to have noticed his worry.
"Is there something wrong?"
He supposes that it does concern him, with Shiraishi's involvement as his gardening tool. Yukimura sighs, and decides to tell him of the situation. He'd only give him the necessary context, without metaphors or code. He could be of help, even if it ended up just as a listening ear.
He surprises Yukimura when, after hearing him out, he advises him for a systemic approach. It wasn't just advice, no, on top of it being rationally sound it was solid and good. Shiraishi didn't know it, he didn't have the information, but handling things like would be beneficial to Yukimura in a different way as well.
"Thank you, for your advice," he says, genuinely grateful for a change. It wasn't often that he found himself like that, usually people were thanking him with their lives.
Shiraishi smiles. "You're welcome. If you ever want me to think with you again, don't hesitate. I'll be there."
He'll be there, huh.
However, whether he'd confide in him again was entirely up to whether Yukimura was willing to put that trust in him once more.
It turns out that was more often than he'd initially thought. Shiraishi was intelligent and logical, he knew that, but he was confirmed in it when he posed him with a few minor but troublesome problems. Occasionally, Yukimura would give him a hypothetical problem to test him, or a past decision he made. He was delighted when he came to the correct conclusions, surprised when he approached the problem from another angle Yukimura hadn't thought of. Shiraishi was becoming a greater asset to him than the extremely capable assassin he took in, and Yukimura couldn't help but smile inside himself.
Which is when Yukimura decides he wouldn't make meetings a hassle again. Shiraishi was excellent in keeping low profile, hence, he'd let him come in the guise of a waiter. He wouldn't be allowed to speak, but he would allow him to listen. And Yukimura would watch. He'd always been an expert at reading people, and as long as he's known Shiraishi, his opinions would be clear as day, hidden in imperceptible signals in his breath, his posture, his eyes.
Yukimura finds he has no regrets doing so.
One night, he finds himself awake, the silhouette of a sleeping Shiraishi having caught his eye. He can't remember when he woke up, or why, or even how long he'd been observing him, but... Blankets sparsely strewn over his body, breaths languid, moonlight over his slightly toned skin, Yukimura can't deny it's aesthetically pleasing. His posture is messy, as is his hair, his midriff bared and muscled. Shiraishi is peaceful when he sleeps, he notes. Defenseless, even. He supposes that had been different, back in the beginning. Oh, how the times had changed. Against all odds, Shiraishi had become more than a forcibly assimilated assassin, his friend. He didn't just want him. He wants to keep him. By chance, he remembers the spark in Shiraishi's eyes when he talked about his hobbies. Maybe he could... indulge himself for a bit in them, as well. And for the first time in what felt like centuries, Yukimura takes out his sketchbook from the nightstand.
[If I were writing I'd tell myself to write in the conspiracy plot and some foreshadowing. It's Shitenhouji, coming in because they haven't heard from Shiraishi in much too long (not since Yukimura made him cut off his connections). Shiraishi catches wind of this at one point because he's hacked the Yanagi-Yukimura encryption, and from his knowledge of Yukimura's personality has learned how the verbal code works.]
Yukimura one day wakes up early enough to watch Shiraishi doing his yoga routines. Yukimura asks if he minds him sketching him while he holds his pose, Shiraishi doesn't mind at all. The conversation flows to Shiraishi's ex-part time job as a stripper, and that he was quite good, from what Yukimura had seen of him.
"Thanks," he laughs, "I guess that comes easier when you're having fun."
This takes Yukimura a bit aback. "You did it for fun?"
"Yeah. I like the exercise, as well. Do you know how many muscles you use when working the pole?"
A lot, he guesses.
"If it's about exercise, if you want, I can fetch you a pole somewhere."
"You'd do that for me?"
Yukimura smiles gently. "Of course. You're my friend, after all."
"Shiraishi. You'll have to forgive me if I let my body have its natural reaction," Yukimura tells him when he watches Shiraishi lightly finger the pole after doing his warming up.
"It's good. Actually, that might be even better."
"Oh?"
"I like it when people enjoy what they see. So if you could enjoy it, it'd make me very happy."
Yukimura hums.
"Don't hesitate to get hard," Shiraishi winks at him.
Yukimura laughs. "You'll have to try a little harder than that, Shiraishi."
Yukimura's just leisurely watching Shiraishi do his pole exercises, heat rising in his body and Yukimura letting it within boundaries, when, after a remark from Yukimura questioning Shiraishi's fondness for laying himself bare, a certain tension snaps. Shiraishi gets off the pole in one fluid motion and walks over to where Yukimura is sitting, with fire in his tread and desire in his eyes.
Yukimura clutched the chair when Shiraishi unbuttoned the first few buttons on the side of his shirt, teasingly pulling at it to reveal his collarbone.
"Shiraishi, what are you..."
"You wanted me to try harder, no?"
He was only getting started. He had challenged Shiraishi, lit a fire under him. Very well. That didn't mean he'd make it easy for him.
Shiraishi slid in his lap, one leg over his left and the other over his right, letting the gap of his shirt fall to reveal his shoulder. His clothes are loose, hardly revealing, which made the peeking of skin as they were loosened all the more desirable.
Until Shiraishi lets his hand run over his chest, lingering along the lines of his groin to tug his pants down, that is. That, was revealing.
Hands on the sides of the chair, leveraging the rolls of his hips when they buck forward, movements sure and smooth.
Closer, ever so slightly closer, until he closes the distance by overlapping his crotch with his.
Yukimura clutches the edge tighter when Shiraishi smirks at him, and he smiles back calmly despite the searing sense of arousal rising in his chest.
At which Shiraishi leans forward provocatively, throwing his exposed shoulder in the game, midriffs melding together in an extremely sensual grind. Shiraishi's arms come to lean loosely over the back of his chair, breaths mingling with his as a shiver travels up Yukimura's spine.
Did Shiraishi ever do lap dances for others? Table dances, he could see, but--Lips connect.
What...?
In the electricity of the moment, Yukimura almost forgets to breathe, thoughts easily shifting into total disarray.
Shiraishi's hips slide along his groin as his lips slide slowly along his. Shit, it feels good.
With the maddening touch of his lips, the sweet taste of Shiraishi's kiss-- Yukimura inadvertently tilts his head a bit to taste more of it-- the heat falls and rises in his body. Shiraishi kisses him again, draws a soft sigh from his lips as he leans in deeper in tandem with the rhythm of his hips.
Eyes closed, dazed, when Shiraishi pulls back before he'd kiss him again, he manages to breathe "What happened to your rule...?"
Shiraishi pauses and pulls back, eyes locked with Yukimura's. When he sees the look in his eyes and feels the throb of his body longing to have his lips back on his again instead, he almost regrets asking.
"I thought... maybe it'd be okay if I broke it, since it's my own rule, but..."
Shiraishi almost looks guilty, shoulders tensing up as his head lowers along with the volume of his voice,
"But if you don't want to..."
Shiraishi's nose strokes his cheek when Shiraishi's lips trail away from his, down, along his chin and tilting his head down when he lightly caresses Yukimura's cheek with his own.
Oh no you don't.
Yukimura puts his hand to his head and his arm to Shiraishi's back and steps forward, taking advantage of Shiraishi's position in his lap to topple them over and pin him to the ground as he forces Shiraishi's lips open. One hand lowers to his cheek, gently letting his fingers stroke it as his elbow presses his arm to the floor, his other hand pinning his other down. In a single second, his tongue enters Shiraishi's mouth to French-kiss him deeply. His strokes are heated and slow, interspersed with deep breaths and pants as he drives Shiraishi's tongue out from its hiding place. Tilting his head with no choice but to let him in, Shiraishi mewls softly. It's beautiful. He pulls himself further up Shiraishi's body, closer, moans indulgently as everything, everything melts away in the small sea of pleasure roused by the touch of his tongue and the taste of bliss.
Sensing no resistance, he reaches up to unbutton the rest of Shiraishi's shirt.
It was all he could do not to startle when a gunshot and the shattering of glass rings through his ears.
In a split second, his eyes dart from the rain of window glass to the figure on the balcony, to the still smoking nozzle when he collapses without further notice. An assassin.
He lets go of Shiraishi's arm, leaves himself to sit upright on top of his legs, breathing slowly to hold down the adrenaline and the fire attempting to sway his reason. Shiraishi puts the gun in a more comfortable place than the sleeve he took it from and moves away from Yukimura's legs.
'Shiraishi is not a prostitute,' ghosts through Yukimura's mind. He doesn't sell his body. All of this had been an--
"You're a good actor, Yukimura," Shiraishi says.
Because to him, it had been just that, only an act. To Yukimura...
He could have killed him. Shiraishi could have killed him.
"Thanks," he manages. Of course he's only acting. "It's more convincing if you leave your body to do its thing, after all."
Shiraishi stretches out his hand, and forcibly discarding his hesitation, Yukimura takes it and pulls himself upright.
His hand is warm and gentle, and Shiraishi lets go only slowly, fingers slowly sliding over and out of the palm of his hand as he looks at Yukimura's roused state.
"It's my win, though."
Despite everything, Yukimura laughs. It should have been his... It would have been his. No, he'd already thought it was his the moment the subject of Shiraishi pole-dancing came up. And yet...
Shiraishi's eyes run over Yukimura's shape once more, mouth curling in a triumphant smirk.
He never wanted to steal Shiraishi's sight more, after all, he's embarrassingly hard. The best he could do is stay calm.
Shiraishi closes his eyes briefly and walks away to inspect the balcony.
"That's a mess. The only way in which this would have been more of a pain to clean up is if he'd fallen off the balcony."
"It's fine. I'll call Jackal and Yagyuu to take care of the scene. Niou will take care of the window and the coverup."
"I see. That'd be a great help."
Yukimura steps closer, pauses, watching the wind graze Shiraishi's hair, the dimly lit silhouette of his back glimmer in the light of the night. Finally, he opens his mouth.
"Why did you let your no-touch rule go?"
Shiraishi turns to face him, tucks a strand of hair behind his own ear.
"You should know, shouldn't you?" He smiles, whispers softly. "I'll protect you with my life."
And Yukimura knew, from the smallest hints in his posture and the intricacies of his tone of voice, that no word of it was lied.
His heart stirs, heat rising again from the tingling in his stomach to his cheeks as he has to catch himself before he'd reach out to cup Shiraishi's cheek and hold him.
And for the first time, he feels unsafe.
He knows what it is to feel attraction for someone. Yukimura's loved by many, it's what he instils, and at times this causes his body to react beyond the trust and connection he finds to be beneficent.
Controlling his emotions, however, had always been his forte. He's never let his attraction cloud his judgement, lead his actions. He knows how it is to be cruel to someone dear to him, and never has he not been able to see when it worked in his favour, socially or otherwise. He knows when it's necessary to be forgiving.
However, right now he once more lies awake at night, Shiraishi's memory filling his mind every time he attempted to drift off to the land of dreams.
Ridiculous, he thinks it.
It overcame him at random times, when he was cooking, tending to their plants, even when he saw the cold in his eyes when they'd plotted the demise of another hopeless assassin.
When it had been anyone else he'd let it happen, in no danger of making less sensible decisions.
He'd never lost himself like he did when he kissed Shiraishi. Never.
And worst of all...
The feeling of Shiraishi kissing him replays in his mind once more, in all the detail his dazed mind can muster. He shouldn't put his focus on it, no matter how much that voice in the back of his head begs him to. If he does, he fears his foothold will be swept away from under him with no turning back.
He feels the touch of Shiraishi's nose and cheek caressing his own, sees the vulnerability in his eyes again. It's maddening, maddening even as he once more attempts to resist the one thing that had made him snap in the first place.
He curses under his breath.
Shiraishi has poisoned him with his kiss and his act.
Digging with his nails in his arm in an attempt to get a hold of himself, he rolls over. Calm down, Seiichi... Just...
He breathes in, breathes out in a slow rhythm, in through his nose, out along his palate, sinking deeper into the ocean with each passing breath.
He'd find a way to vanquish it.
He'd find a--
The image of Shiraishi ties his tongue with his and derails his thoughts.
Grabbing his pillow, he vainly tries to fight back his unconscious as the rising and falling of his chest slips away from his control. How he wishes he could sleep a dreamless sleep for once...
He's weightless as Shiraishi embraces him, even as his body attempts to brace himself against the bed, with Shiraishi's kisses as his lifeline.
He's drowning.
And in a moment, sharper than the others, he can hear self-satisfaction in Shiraishi's breath.
If I were writing this this is where the conspiracy plot would have come to its culmination, starting off with Yanagi noting there's been unrest and advising Yukimura to be safe. Ofc the number of people coming after Yukimura is foreshadowing for that 😜
Which is when he makes his personal rounds, passing by his members one by one to disarm them for him.
Yanagi warns Yukimura about an information leak. Yukimura supposes it's time for a round of rain to chase the worms from hiding.
And boy, do the worms come from hiding.
When the time comes the worms wage war against his garden, he leaves matters in Yanagi and Sanada's capable hands, when Shiraishi urges him to find a secluded place should people have come to discover his whereabouts.
...I mean that'd be the logical course of action I think but the whole convo thereafter taking place in their own kitchen is also a really good image, so flip a coin I guess!
After a bit of struggle they find a place where they know nobody would just find them.
"Hey, Shiraishi do you--"
He doesn't get to finish his sentence when Yukimura grabs the wrist holding the gun pointed at him. Shiraishi doesn't wait a second pulling Yukimura along with his hand and trying to aim for his neck with his fingers, but Yukimura is quicker as he twists Shiraishi arm and moves aside to evade it.
It isn't long before they find themselves pushing against each other, struggling for control.
In raw power, Shiraishi would win, he knew.
He steps sideways, using Shiraishi's power to pull the two around and despite a moment of wobbling resistance, to put him in a lock.
"Shiraishi. Will you tell me what this is?"
Shiraishi tries to break out of Yukimura's hold, but Yukimura twists his arm a little further, eliciting a small yelp.
One second of desperation, before Shiraishi sweeps his legs against Yukimura's and turns the two around again, but Yukimura wouldn't give him the freedom of giving up his own arms. He pulls Shiraishi's over his head, pulls them down and leans forward, gaining back his balance. Shiraishi is vicious, however, and bites him in the neck. He manages to keep his hold on Shiraishi's wrists, but that split second was enough for Shiraishi to turn them against each other and free himself. This time, it's Yukimura between him and the kitchen counter. But he wouldn't give in, no.
He looks Shiraishi in the eyes, and for a second he can see him falter, shiver.
The gun drops to the floor.
Thigh squeezing between his legs, lips on his. Shiraishi puts his hand on the small of his back and disturbs his footing. The counter as leveraging point, his feet off the ground, hips against his.
He's trapped.
"You wanted me to tell you what this is all about?"
"You purposefully lured me into here," Yukimura says as flatly as he can manage, after that kiss and with Shiraishi's thigh to his crotch. "That I can understand. But I can't wrap my head around why."
Shiraishi smiles, when it flashes into his mind.
"You knew when we'd..."
"Yeah, I planned it. Have been for a while, to be honest, but only now did I get my first and final chance to."
His mind is in disarray as Shiraishi's words clash with the image of reality he'd painted. A shadow of self-doubt creeps into his mind. It couldn't be that he'd misread a lie as truth? No, that can't be...
"How long was this your plan?"
“Do you know who it was that leaked my information to Mouri?”
From... the beginning...
Shiraishi had thrown himself into the lion's den with the intent to pin him down here from the beginning... But no matter what, he couldn't have planned this. He didn't have the info...--
"How, did you know...?"
"Who do you think the worms came for infesting your garden?"
His eyes widen as his mind rushes to piece through the meanings of this new information.
"You cracked Yanagi's code," he manages, to begin with.
"I have, for a while. Though," he laughs, "you have no idea just how many weeks it cost me to even get a hang of it. It came in handy when you wanted to ask me for advice... I'm glad you took to listening to me."
Advice, that he couldn't do without. Shiraishi, that he couldn't do without.
Shiraishi starts stroking his cheek, and there's nothing he could to do stop himself from leaning into it. From wanting more.
“I need you,” he whispers, as Shiraishi’s betrayal sinks into his mind.
“I know.”
He crumbles as the feeling rises in his body.
“You could destroy me...”
Shiraishi kisses him. “I already have.”
He clutches Shiraishi's shoulder when Shiraishi makes their lips meet again. God, it feels good... He can't let this happen now, for fear of his life. Shiraishi is just as dangerous as his plants, he thinks to his grief. He'd poisoned him, and is now coming to seal his fate with his kiss of death.
Shiraishi had been acting, not to deceive the assassin, but to plant this seed in him. And yet, there's many things that don't add up.
He manages to tilt his head away to speak.
“I don’t understand… With that knowledge you could have murdered me and whoever knew about you long ago…”
"The gun's not loaded."
"Huh...?"
“I was planning to kill you at first. Though when I got to know you better, that easily faded away. I guess in the end, your plan didn’t fail... But neither did mine.” Shiraishi smiles.
The heat rises to Yukimura's cheeks.
"It was not an act," he whispers in disbelief. Shiraishi had fooled him, not because his ability to read people was faltering, but because he hadn't had the intent to lie for even a single time.
"I told you before, didn't I? I don't sell my body. When I kissed you..." he locks twistingly sincere eyes with his, "it was because I wanted to."
He leans in close again, moving a strand of hair from Yukimura's face. "I love you."
The hairs rise in Yukimura's neck.
Shiraishi lowers his head. "...It's a shame I had to off one of my own to protect you, though."
"'One of... my own'?" Damn, it's getting harder to keep his voice straight. "So you staged this?"
"Well, it wasn't on purpose. Turns out my men have an agenda of their own, trying to get me back. But knowing your operation really helped."
Yukimura breathes.
“Who are you?” Beside himself, he couldn’t help but ask the stupid.
”Shiraishi Kuranosuke, head of Shitenhouji, the Kansai region's mafia. Qualified assassin, part-time stripper, up until I caught you."
God...
“Why did you approach me?”
“Honestly, I was attempting to thin out Rikkai and weaken it. Your position here is really valuable, you know? And in the confusion, the desperation, I’d aim for your head. But Rikkai was much more powerful than I’d thought. You..." he traces Yukimura's chin, "were much, much more powerful than I thought. I wanted to get closer and slowly gain your trust... How could I have known what to do when you just handed it to me? When you saw through every single one of my insincereties...
I didn't expect you to find my last ties, either. But it's fine this way. If you'd done exactly as I planned, I wouldn't have wanted you."
God, Shiraishi...!
He breathes in.
"Can I--" fcuk you into Heaven?
Swallowing the sentence on the tip of his tongue, he fixes it to a different one.
Breathing disrupted, he's played for a fool, only asking useless questions.
He reaches for Shiraishi's cheek.
“Can I make you an offer?”
Of which this one the most foolish, most useless of them all.
Shiraishi laughs as Yukimura has no choice but to willingly play to his wants. "Let me guess..."
He kisses Yukimura's neck, moves his lips to his ear.
"You want me," he whispers, biting softly into the lobe of his ear.
"So do you," Yukimura purrs back, as he lowers his hand to trail down Shiraishi's neck.
Shiraishi chuckles lowly.
“Your reward will be handsome, moreso than any other would offer…”
Yukimura’s hand slides over his chest as Shiraishi holds him off balance with his arm at his waist.
He hums, gently listening to Shiraishi's proposal.
“You'll live in with me, eat my food, and sleep under my roof. "
Yukimura smiles.
"Don't you mean, my roof?"
Shiraishi's thumb grazes his lips when he holds his chin.
"Are you in any place to negotiate here?"
Yukimura nudges his head up.
"I wonder."
Shiraishi smirks. "How does our roof sound?"
Yukimura's smile curls wider.
"It's a pleasure working with you."
He wraps his arms around Shiraishi's back and pulls up to kiss him. Shiraishi's only shy in the first second, before their lips melt together, lightly. A short pause, a breath, before their lips meet again in a deep, deep kiss. Shiraishi moans softly when their lips slide against each other, indulgently, liberated. Another kiss, when he tilts his head to give him the space he needs. It's as if he'll never be able to taste enough. That's fine with him, really. Really...
Yukimura pulls Shiraishi closer, his tongue going over Shiraishi's upper lip. It's a warning, nothing more as his tongue rushes to meets with Shiraishi's in a frenzied tango.
Shiraishi attacks, leans forward and manages to draw out an unexpected noise with a strike of his tongue. It isn't long before Yukimura turns his efforts against him as he tilts his head slightly. Who said that he'd just let him?
Yukimura chuckles, tightens his hold as he slows down Shiraishi's pace. He can feel Shiraishi tremble, but right how he wants it, he hasn't given up. His hand sneaks behind Yukimura's head, burying his fingers in his hair. Shiraishi's tongues are passionate but faster. More aggressive than his sensual strokes, but just as greedy. Yes, this is it.
An uneven rhythm, interspersed with pants and breaths as they vie for dominance.
He'll never be safe again, and he loves every second of it.
The door busts open.
"Let him go!" is the unanimous call.
Multiple footsteps enter the room, the sound of guns being readied.
Yukimura holds up his hand mid-kiss, knows Shiraishi to do the same.
"It's good." he breathes out, concealing his panting, "Don't shoot."
Shiraishi pulls himself upright with a hum, and with Yukimura's arms around his back, so he pulls Yukimura.
"Thanks."
Yukimura lets his eyes go over the heads in front of him. Some of them were new additions-- Shiraishi's men--, some of them his.
Yukimura laughs. Aren't you loved as well?
In the flash of a moment, he changes his aura. Still at gunpoint, Yukimura walks over to whomever Shiraishi held his hand up to.
"Oshitari Kenya," he says, voice sweet as he steps close and his hand slides around the hand holding his weapon.
"Will you drop your gun?"
After a moment of his gaze, connected to his collapsing eyes, Kenya's gun easily clatters out of his hand.
It only takes a glance from him for the rest of both Shiraishi's and his men to do the same.
"Thank you."
He flashes a smile at Shiraishi, who has to swallow a bit at the sight.
"See? You were my only danger."
He turns around again, projects his voice to those present.
"We will be working together with Shitenhouji, as one and on equal grounds. Both parties are to see this as an expansion of their turf."
Shiraishi hugs him from behind, Yukimura takes to stroking his cheek, and with amusement Yukimura watches the shoulders of everyone present to tense.
"Yukimura and I will lead you together."
Yukimura chuckles. "You know what this means for you, right?"
There are none who could question their power. He knows, from Rikkai's side, that they could have nothing but respect for the man freely embracing his shoulders. Of course, Yukimura forcing Kenya's hand, everyone's hand simply with his presence should have made an impact as well.
On top of that...
"This means nationwide dominion, right, Seiichi?"
Yukimura smiles at Yanagi. "Exactly."
From Shiraishi's side, they know that Shiraishi's plan both failed and succeeded, and that only Yukimura is to blame for that.
"Shiraishi..." Kenya starts. "I'm glad to have you back. We half thought you were done for."
"I'm glad to be back too. Though, done for?"
"Done for," Yukimura repeats, "couldn't be further from the truth. Right?"
Shiraishi lightly rubs his cheek against Yukimura's, and a glimpse of the future makes its way into Yukimura's mind.
"Yeah. We're only getting started."
#prince of tennis#shiraishi kuranosuke#yukimura seiichi#shirayuki#Water's writings#bonus:#Yanagi Renji#because he's important#can you tell I never have any idea how to finish a fic#this would be a lime on the citrus scale right#can you tell I enjoyed the garden metaphors#man Shiraishi and Yukimura are both utter bastards in this but it was really fun to write#Shiraishi shows one (1) sign of vulnerability and Yukimura just LOSES it it's beautiful#Yukimura lowkey has mind-manipulation powers in this but tbh that's how I like him best#I'm laughing this Yukimura apparently really has the hots for powerful people so when Shiraishi just effing dominates him it all devolves in#the other version of this AU has Shiraishi unwittingly getting himeslf tangled in this mess as just a normal person#he even gets trained by Yukimura!
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221Bloodnun’s Updated Rec List
Unless otherwise indicated, fics have an Explicit rating, and John is the Top and/or Dom. Categories: Daddy/Sugar Daddy, Captain, DomJohn, Librarylock, Arranged Marriage/Domestic Situation, A/B/O/, Historicals
Daddy and Sugar Daddy John Watson
A Sherlock In Pink by TheSherlocked (yes, me) Ch: 6/? Words: 12,839 WIP
John Watson is invalided home after his time in Afghanistan, a broken man with no real prospects, and a dwindling bank account. Former colleague Mike Stamford introduces him to the most unusual young man John has ever met, a tea shop owner that looks more like a runway model than anything else, but with a mind like a steel trap. An AU meeting, where John comes back into his own, and Sherlock learns some of the most valuable of life lessons.
Everything You Need by Sexxica Ch: 1 Wods: 6,272
Sherlock is the shy little thing that successful and wealthy Doctor Watson’s dreams are made of. Luckily, Sherlock could really use a Daddy in his life and a good bit of looking after.
Sugar Daddy John (series) by Sexxica Works: 7 Words: 22,504
The very best of Sugar Daddy John and his boy, Sherlock.
To A Tee by lookupkate Ch: 14 Words: 15,321
Sherlock receives a text from an unknown number. The man is under the impression that he needs a sugar daddy. After careful consideration…well, he could be right.
Follow Me Down by 221BeStillMyHeart (HighTimesWithHiddles) Ch: 10 Words: 67,725
Sherlock Holmes is a 23 year old genius working as a forensic analyst at Bart’s hospital. John Watson is a 38 year old army captain just back from war, working as the lead surgeon in the trauma ward. A chance meeting brings them together, and no one is ever the same.
A Kept Man Isn’t A Weak Man by Elphen Ch: 1 Words: 20,429 A/B/O
Sherlock is just out of university, but due to drug habits acquired at said college, Mycroft has cut him off, hoping to put a stop to it that way. Instead, Omega Sherlock struggles doubly, both with his cravings and with finding a job that will not bore him to death and support him financially.
Then, when he is on the verge of being completely destitute, he finds several hundred pounds ticking into his account for no apparent reason. He thinks it’s Mycroft, but instead he receives an email from someone who promises to send him more money every fortnight and put him up in a flat rent free, on two conditions; he will stop taking drugs and he will occasionally be asked to be a companion for someone. He does not want to be bought like some toy, but what choice does he have?
A Suitable Stain by vitruvianwatson (keepyoueyesfixedonme) Ch: 1 Words: 7,647
John imagines what they must look like–the young, gorgeous university student, naked as the day he was born, draped over the well-dressed older doctor, the muscles rippling in Sherlock’s back as his slim hips roll that beautiful arse up into the air and back down again, his spine curving beneath John’s hand as he moves it to the small of Sherlock’s back to feel the movement. The hard outline of Sherlock’s cock slides back and forth across John’s body, dampening his clothes with precome, and John moves both hands down to Sherlock’s arse, squeezing and pulling him in harder.
Bespoke by consultingbluebell Ch: 1 Wods: 5728
Sherlock is not at all happy about having to wear a suit for an upcoming party, but he might just change his mind when he meets successful and talented tailor John Watson.
A Little Sugar Never Hurt Anybody by beautifullyheeled Ch: 3/? WIP Words: 11,223
Sherlock’s search for a quiet place to study gave him a whole new learning opportunity.
Breck Verse (series) by orphaned Works: 4 Words: 22,363 (Last story never completed, but doesn’t effect the completion of other stories.)Dr. Watson, world-renowned cardiac surgeon, accepts an invitation to be keynote speaker at a medical conference in Breckenridge, Colorado, a ski resort town in the Rocky Mountains. He meets a sexy young bartender at the opening dinner then spends the week making his baby happy.
Wrapped Around Your Finger by MojoFlower Ch: 4 Words: 27,308 (There is a bit too much top!lock at the end for my taste, but the beginning is good.)Virgin!Sherlock, 18 and just out of school, is in Morocco in the early 1900’s to learn about the ways of the world. Dr. John Watson, lately of the British Army and invalided out at age of 36, picks him up in the market place. Lessons (you know what kind) are taught and absorbed. Inspired by the song Wrapped Around Your Finger by The Police. I’d say PWP, except there’s a soupçon of plot, given that it’s a story worked around the lyrics of the song.
Sugar Daddy John Verse series by Miss Lee Works: 2 Words: 6k
A hot little series about the successful surgeon Sugar Daddy John Watson and his angelic, slutty Twink Sherlock. Lots of sex. Just generally a good time.
Captain John Watson
Command Structure by 221b_hound Ch: 16 Words: 49,034 (I’ve read this one several times.)
Sherlock Holmes returns from his hunt to destroy Moriarty’s network. He comes home to John, and at long last they start this thing between them that couldn’t begin while Moriarty threatened them.But Sherlock has returned fractured and suffering anxiety attacks. He thinks he needs discipline - the whip - to help him focus and be strong. But his problems are deeper and run back to a childhood of neglect.John Watson is prepared to be Sherlock’s Captain, but he’s a doctor too. His command style isn’t about pain and subjugation. It’s about care and responsibility: and those concepts go in both directions in Captain Watson’s command structure.
Across Every Universe - Green Eyes at Rainbow Corner by Pmzilla Ch: 21 Words: 21,505 Based on a prompt I created about the WWII song Green Eyes
Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a Naval Lieutenant at American Red Cross Club in London, Rainbow Corner to find out whether the plans for the D-Day Invasion have been compromised by an American Colonel. Whilst investigating, he meets the captivating Capt. John Watson, who finds himself centre stage in both the dance club and Sherlock’s investigation.
Cadet Holmes: A Detective Undercover by Talizora Ch: 1 Words: 6,388
Sherlock took a deep breath and reached out to lightly brush his fingers across the heavy fabric of the uniform. The shudder that rocked through his whole body was entirely involuntary and hateful. He needed to get over this reaction fast because if he was this affected by an empty uniform on a bed how would he deal with being surrounded by fit men wearing the uniforms while they got hot and sweaty.
Captain, My Captain (Part I of The Stripper Diaries series) by twistedthicket1 Ch: 1 Words: 7,845Sherlock Holmes walks into a strip club for a case. He winds up leaving with more than he bargained for…
Night Song (Niht Drēam) by Bashfulbunny (Aequoreavictoria) Ch: 15/? WIP Words: 15,579 A/B/OBattle hardened alpha John’s self-discipline is tested by his overwhelming attraction to Sherlock, a young prisoner-of-war omega in need of his protection and care.
Captain Watson by Sexxica Ch: 1 Words: 5,144Sherlock is bored and it is driving John insane. Time for Captain Watson to take charge.
Surrender (Part II of the Unwind series) by illwick Ch: 3 Words: 13,506
Sherlock and John take a stab at negotiating a kink. Three rounds of filthy smut ensue. (Includes gunplay)Dom!John/sub!sherlock BDSM Lifestyle
A Little Help from my Friends by Ttime42 Ch: 28 Words: 140,776In a world where everyone identifies as either a dominant or a submissive, Sherlock is having a rough time moving on from a bad relationship and has sworn off doms forever. John has recently returned to London from war and has a fortuitous run in with an old friend in a park. Sherlock and John’s lives are changed forever because of that chance meeting, and they’ll both find their way through life with a little help from their friends.
Shames and Praises by s0mmerspr0ssen Ch: 7 Words: 51,919
Unable but desperate to find a dom who will put up with him, Sherlock swallows his pride and turns to Mycroft for help. Shortly after, John Watson steps into Sherlock’s life.
Librarylock
Collection of Clues by ianavi Ch: 1 Words: 8,922 (I’ve read this one several times.)
There was no sleeping that night. And not due to the awkward stammering in the stacks of the library. Or the phrasing of what felt as a sudden dismissal. All Sherlock could think about was John’s gaze on his neck, lips, reddening cheeks. How heated he felt under that gaze, how alone when John left. He was itching with desperation to not just be looked at but also touched. It was juvenile fantasy. But he was alone in his bedroom, it was past midnight, and he could indulge. He imagined John’s hand reaching to touch his cheek, his fingers brushing his lips. He buried his head into the pillow and groaned. Could John ever see him like that, ever want him?
A Study In Flirting by GubraithianFire Ch: 1 Words: 5,885
Sherlock is the new librarian at the university library. John is bad with pick-up lines.
Quo Fata Vocant by prettysailorsoldier Ch: 1 Words: 18,115
Sherlock is enamored with one of the employees at the university library, wiling away hours of his days just to catch a glimpse of the dynamic John Watson: captain of the rugby team, event manager for the LGBT society, and third-year medical student. Of course, being only a first-year, it’s unlikely John will ever notice him. At least, until fate (and a little well-intentioned meddling) intervenes.
Careless by lookupkate Ch: 15 Words: 23,652
Sherlock is an eighteen year old student working at a library. John is an army medic sent back to London after an injury. He’s spending a lot of time at the library working on his PhD. Sherlock decides he wants to fuck this mystery student, so he initiates a sexual relationship. He doesn’t really do emotional attachment anyhow, and if he tells John he’s twenty three, what’s the harm? It’s not like he’ll want John to stick around. Right? Right?!?Sherlock done fucked up.
360.5 by justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic) Ch: 6 Words: 18,761
One would think that working as a page at the university library would be relatively peaceful, but what John spies through the gap in the shelves changes his mind.
Arranged Marriage or Domestic Situation
The Bachelor’s Handfasting by Jberry Ch: 20 Words: 20,625 (Sherlock is the smolest gay baby in this one, John is an older widower, and I have probably read this fic a dozen times.)
After her son is caught in a compromising position, Victoria Holmes must make arrangements for a quick marriage between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.
A Human’s Prize by clearinghouse Ch: 2 Words: 22,232 (Sherlock is a smol merman, John is a bamf!, and I’ve read this one several times.)
Prince John is a well-travelled man of the world, and yet even he is taken aback when a beautiful merman is delivered to the doorstep of the castle. Despite the helpless creature’s fear of him, John resolves to be the best host he can be for his adorable new guest.
Il Traviato by kedgeree Ch: 18 Words: 68,809 (It’s much like Pretty Woman, but Sherlock and John are very in character.)
A down-on-his-luck ex-soldier meets a wealthy businessman in need of a short-term companion
Northwest Passage by Kryptaria Ch: 27 Words: 95,159 (Another I’ve read several times.)
Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes.“The essentials of their relationship distilled through solitude.”–review by Alicat
A/B/O
Siege by PlainJane Ch: 17 Words: 55,410In 1415, English archer John of Kenilworth is sent by Lord Mycroft Holmes from the field of victory at Agincourt to protect a remote French castle. Cherinfourde is under some dark cloud and John means to get to the bottom of it, in his lord’s name. If only he could stop thinking about the most unusual omega he has ever met.
Loving Care by Elphen Ch: 3 Words: 22,124AU, Omegaverse, Modern times with Edwardian social structure.
Omega Sherlock, out of options for another job, goes into the traditonal Omega occupation of male nurturer. His very first job is taking care of 16-month-old Hamish, son of the highly respected, socially connected widowed doctor, Alpha John Watson. He grows to love the kid very quickly, which he hadn’t expected, nor did he expect to fall for the Alpha quite so hard.
Much as they hit it off, though, and whatever behaviour John exhibits, Sherlock knows that they are too far apart socially, even without John still being in love with his wife. His time is limited. Isn’t it?
A House in the Country by PlainJane Ch: 11 Words: 20,085
With new “real rape” laws in place, every unbonded omega is at risk, including Sherlock Holmes. He needs someone to help protect him and hide his true nature, but John Watson may be more of a problem than a solution.
Historical AUs (That don’t fit the categories above)
Basically anything by Holly Sykes (Artemis8147)
An English Jazz Player in Chicago by alyxpoe Ch: 16 Words: 29k
Sherlock is a young musician trying out to play with a band in the Blue Room, the best jazz club of Chicago in 1925. John Watson is a older private detective just trying to get by, and determined to keep this beautiful young man at bay--until a murder investigation brings them together, and John can’t deny how he feels. Period-typical homophobia and racism (not from Sherlock or John).
This Man’s Heart by ellie_hell Ch: 24 Words: 72,991
In the latter part of the 19th century, a peculiar solitary man and an ex-army doctor disfigured at war live in a small village, surrounded by breathtaking landscapes. When they first meet, they have no idea their lives are about to change forever and, over the months, they will form an unusual friendship, discover more about each other and themselves, and maybe fall a little in love along the way.
Against All Odds by ravenscar Ch: 34 Words: 126,088 (Read three times, and the quick summary does not do it justice.)
When a Crusader crosses paths with an enigmatic young Briton in the Holy Land, their lives are changed forever.
The Royal Caravan by Service Revolver Ch: 10 Words: 53k
Sherlock, a mere servant, is stunned when the powerful, magnificent King John offers Sherlock the opportunity to join him on a journey. At first, it is exciting for Sherlock to serve such a strong, gallant man, but what is a servant to do when he falls in love with a king, especially when that king must someday sire a rightful heir?
Proper Manners also by Service Revolver Part I of King William’s Castle series. Ch: 2 Words: 40k
Sherlock Holmes is a charming—if somewhat eccentric—nobleman who often spends time with John, an apothecary’s son. When John is offered employment at King William’s castle, however, he fears he will have to say goodbye to Sherlock. But in the end, they might actually become closer than before.
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got7 as fanfic writers
jaebum: ALWAYS angsty as hell. 98% of his fics are tagged with ‘major character death’. ships anything rare and complains about how dry the tag is. when he writes for the famous ship he always kills at least one half of the pairing off. tags nothing and summaries are vague as hell. fics are either 500 words long or 50,000 words long, no in between. wants to collab with jinyoung but was rejected bc jinyoung didn’t want his ‘emo stink all over his carefully crafted masterpieces’.
mark: fics are lowkey. not too much angst not too much fluff. ships everything and lives in the ‘collage au’ tag. puts in the least effort but always gets 10,000+ reads and his fics become fandom classics. randomly and without warning posts hardcore smut fics. replies to every comment with the same response every time. updates fics every 8 months. never edits anything. writes in lapslock because he thinks its cool. writes a lot of daddy kink for someone who claims to ‘’’’not be into it’’’’.
jackson: fics are either kinky as fuck or extra as fuck. known for writing the most dramatic fics. loves plot twists and cliff hangers. occasionally fights with jinyoung on tumblr because his plots aren’t ‘’’realistic’’’. responds to every comment with a small essay. tags way too much. can never commit to finishing a chaptered fic. summaries always end with ‘i suck at summaries but pls read anyway’. started on wattpad but switched to ao3 after jinoyung made fun of him.
jinyoung: creates novels. plots are always detailed as fuck and complicated as hell. tags every fic with ‘angsty realism’. has never written a fic under 50k words. a fic snob. always leaved constructive criticism in the comments. commented under bambam’s fic that ‘once the word dick appears over eighty times in a 500 word drabble you should really consider deleting your account’. has one of the most high quality fic rec lists in the fandom. takes fic writing extremely seriously. starts every fic with an exert from his favorite poem/novel.
youngjae: fluffy and pure fics mostly. owns the ‘friends to lovers’ tag. surprisingly writes the best smut. fics are usually short and sweet. friends with all the artists so always gets the cutest fanart drawn for his fics. always writes requests and prompts. ships every thing and doesn’t have an otp. fics are always wholesome and soft. tags are messy af. tried to collab with jaebum but cried when he killed the main pairing off so the fic was deserted.
bambam: crack fics. writes the stupidest fics that are infamous in the fandom. authors notes always start with ‘im sorry mom’. started as a joke but actually became really famous within the fandom. never takes prompts seriously. probably wrote that one fic every fandom has that they ‘dont speak of’. forced yugyeom to be his beta. writes self insert fics ironically but they always become his most famous. nearly 100% dialogue. tags are always wild.
yugyeom: is only writing because of bambam. started the fic as a joke but it got really big so he felt obliged to finish it. fic is now 100k words because he didn’t know how to end it. never plans any of his fics so plots are all over the place. can’t stick to one genre. wrote the best stripper au in any fandom ever. unironically writes self insert fics. writes parodies of jinyoungs most famous fics. can’t commit to any other fic because he still has no idea how to end his first. doesn’t understand tagging.
#tag yourself#im a mix between bambam and mark#i.... dont know what this is#i kinda hope it flops#lmao#i made this bc i am a fic writer#got7 as fic writers#idek what to tag this#got7#g7#got7 scenarios#got7 fic#im jaebum#mark tuan#jackson wang#park jinyoung#choi youngjae#bambam#kim yugyeom#should i make this a series lol#pop
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I'm gonna ask 4 for syndisparklez set in mianite if that's okay (pls and thank you)
Marked
Syndisparklez Fic set in the Mianite universePrompt: the one where you and your soulmate have matching marks and the marks glow when you’re near your soulmateYou can send me a number and a ship here, and I’ll write a drabble(at least) based on it :D
Jordan’s eyes opened, and he was immediately greeted withthe sight of the starry night sky. He tried to sit up, and felt the sand crunchunderneath his weight. He stood up and began to make sense of his surroundings.To his left was a vast expanse of sea, and to his right was a hill thatobscured the rest of the island he was on.
He stood up and brushed the sand off of his clothes, hishead swimming with thoughts. He breathed deeply, focusing on the scent of theocean breeze. He searched his memories to start. He could remember his name anda few small things about him, like his oddly simple wardrobe and funny choiceof swear words. He couldn’t remember anything about the life he’d led beforethis, except for the memory of a giant tree house, which only confused him evenmore. He resigned himself to postponing his existential crisis for later, andhe began to climb the hill.
It didn’t take too long for Jordan to climb over the hill,which granted him a good vantage point of the area. To his right he spotted acolossal mountain that basically commanded his attention, and to its left was asavannah. He was about to make his way to the mountain when he suddenly spottedzombies and skeletons littering the plains at the foot of the hills, and hecursed silently.
Jordan decided he’d wait until sunrise. It was the safestcourse of action, and there was no way he was going to make it through themobs-
A zombie turned its head and stopped as it saw Jordan. Hisstomach dropped as it began limping towards him, it’s low growl attracting therest of the mobs around it.
“God dang it.” He cursed, taking a step back. Three zombiesstarted climbing the hill, and he heard bones chattering to his left. He turnedaround just in time to see a skeleton fire an arrow in his direction, and heraised his arms instinctively to defend himself. The arrow missed him by aninch, and Jordan took another step back, and he knew another would mean fallingback to where he woke up.
A sudden glow blinded him, and it took him a second torealize that his a pattern was glowing on his right arm. It was three linesthat started out on his forearm, and it began to intertwine until itdisappeared under his sleeve. He could still make out the glow shining throughthe fabric, and he noticed that it created a flame-like pattern. It continuedto glow brighter, and he was sure that he shone like a beacon in the darkness.
As he tried to make heads and tails of the tattoo, a memoryresurfaced. He was looking into the mirror, his arm exposed, putting his tattooin plain sight. It was three lines stretching from his right forearm until itintertwined at his bicep, forming a flame-like pattern. The only cleardifference he could notice was that this tattoo wasn’t glowing, it was just…atattoo. He felt dread and sorrow as he saw the plain tattoo, almost as if itwas a sign of something bad to come.
The sharp THUNK ofan arrow landing at his feet brought him back to his current reality: his armlooked as if it had just gone swimming at a radioactive waterpark and mobs wereabout to kill him. Jordan was considering just barreling through the mobs, buta faint purple glow appeared from behind the zombies, followed by a swordappearing in and out through their chests. They burned until nothing remained,and a man with blue hair and glowing diamond armor stood behind them. Theireyes met, and the blue haired man wore a cocky expression, as if saying, I just saved your life, until heregistered Jordan’s glowing arm. Shock flashed across the blue haired man’sface before he looked back at Jordan. He was about to say something to Jordanuntil an arrow glanced off of his chestplate, shifting the blue haired man’sfocus to the offending skeleton.
Jordan watched the skeleton burn away with one hit from theman’s sword, and only the two of them remained on the hill.
“Uh…” Jordan said, unsure of what to make of the blue hairedman. “…Hi?”
The man blinked, as if he was looking at Jordan for thefirst time. Tension melted from his expression until he almost looked aloof,and he lowered his sword before approaching Jordan. “Hey!” he said, extendingan arm for a handshake. Jordan shook it with his glowing arm. “Your arm glows.”
Jordan noticed the tone in his voice almost immediately, asif he was trying – and failing – to act casual about it all; as if he knew whyhis arm was glowing. “So it does.” He replied, unsure of how to proceed.
They went silent for a second too long, and the blue-hairedman seemed to notice that he was still holding onto Jordan’s hand. Heimmediately let go and acted like it was nothing, before he continued, “Anyways,I’m Tom, and welcome your face to the world of Mianite!”
“-and that’s about it!” It was morning by the time Tom hadfinished showing him around the island. He had shown him the temple, theirhouses, and right now, they were stopped by the plot of land Jordan wasintending to build his home in. The whole time his arm kept glowing, but theglow had dimmed until it was just bright enough to use as a light forbook-reading or something. That, however, was pushed to the back of histhoughts as Tom gave him the tour. The whole time Tom was glancing at his armas if it might explode, but other than that, he was a very entertaining guide. “Ifthat’s all, I should get going-“
“Actually,” Jordan said, and Tom tensed as he gestured tohis arm. “I was going to ask about my arm? It didn’t glow before today.”
“Oh.” Tom said, looking slightly disappointed, but at thesame time, relieved. “You don’t know?”
“Yeah, I saw Tucker had a tattoo on him, but it wasn’tglowing like mine.”
“Well,” Tom said, pausing before he continued, “Everyone’sgot a tattoo when they’re born, right?”
“Uh, I didn’t know that, actually.”
“Well now you do,” Tom said, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway,the tattoo’s like, a tracking beacon for your soulmate.”
Jordan’s heart quickened, and he acknowledged his glowingarm for the first time in a while. “Wait so…”
“It could mean your soulmate’s on this island.” Tom saidabruptly. His expression began to give away more and more with each word. Tomwas hiding something. “Anyway, I should get going. I promised I’d meet Tuckerto go mining later. See ya later?”
Jordan wasn’t given time to respond, seeing as Tom boltedimmediately. He watched Tom leave, his heart thumping wildly against his chestas he brought himself to look down at his tattoo.
It wasn’t glowing.
Jordan had quickly adjusted to his new life in the island,and it had only taken a month. His house was complete, and he had a statue ofhis head nearby. He’d fallen into a routine with the rest of the inhabitants onthe island, although Tom stood out.
Tom, his soulmate and the horrible liar. A few days afterarriving on the island, Jordan made sure about the whole soulmate tattoobusiness. Declan, their priest, gave him a whole lecture on it when Jordanfirst approached him. Then, he tried asking Sonja and Tucker if they knew whereTom’s mark was, but Sonja didn’t know and Tucker wouldn’t tell. “Why don’t youjust ask him?” Tucker asked, his smile giving away the fact that he knew. Itwasn’t exactly a secret anyways, since Jordan’s arm would go off whenever he waswith Tom. That didn’t stop Tom from hiding it, however.
Jordan resorted to trying to get Tom to strip, something hewasn’t too proud of, after they built their own strip club, the Diamond Hoe.Tom posed as a stripper for Jordan, and he was a mix of extremely flustered, embarrassed,and amused. Nothing came of it though, and Jordan wasn’t sure if he was happyor disappointed about that.
After that attempt, Jordan gave up, as much as it sucked. Hejust went through the daily motions, the constant adventures with the island’sinhabitants, and the occasional shenanigans with Tom. He looked forward tospending time with Tom the most, aside from the fact that Tom was probably hissoulmate.
He loved sharing jokes with Tom, and he loved the casualattempts at flirting Tom made whenever he joked. It grew to the point that theysomehow convinced Captain Capsize that they were dating, which Jordan didn’t doexactly discourage. Then there was their ‘date’ at Tom’s Dine-at-Nite, whichwent well enough that Tom and Jordan just defaulted to hanging out there everySaturday night.
On one such night, they were sitting at the only table,their laughter piercing through the silence of the night. Tom had stoppedbothering lighting a torch as their candle on account of Jordan’s arm, whichstill remained an undiscussed subject between the two.
Jordan was laughing until his vision swam with tears, and hecould feel his face flush. He wiped away a tear and saw Tom just smiling warmlyat him, which suddenly sobered Jordan. Tom noticed what he was doing too late,trying to pass it off with a laugh, but the tension in the air was there.
A few minutes later, Tom stood up to say goodbye, but Jordan’ssudden intense look silenced him. This talk was long overdue, and it wasbecoming clear to Tom that there would be no avoiding it.
“I never really asked but…” Jordan said, gesturing to hisarm. “Where’s your mark?”
Tom looked flustered, but he replied, “I…”
Jordan rose from his seat and walked to Tom, leaving only afew inches in between them. Both of them was surprised with Jordan’s suddenbold action, something they both thought out of character for him. But Jordanhad waited long enough, and if he didn’t do this now, he knew nothing wouldever happen between them.
Tom gestured to his chest, which was covered by the tux healways insisted on wearing.
Jordan’s mark was glowing as bright as it was when theyfirst met, and accompanying that was the rapid heartbeat threatening to betrayhis somewhat stoic expression.
“Can I…” Jordan said, trailing off.
Tom chuckled weakly, saying, “I don’t usually strip for justabout anyone…”
Jordan glared at him in the same way he would whenever oneof Tom’s jokes would fall flat, but Tom didn’t say anything else, which Jordantook as a yes.
He slowly began to unbutton his tux, the extreme intimacy ofthe situation not lost on either of them. He’d finally gotten it open and forthe first time, he could see Tom’s undershirt, and a pattern glowed faintlyagainst it. Lines started from his abdomen until it spread over Tom’s heart,making something that looked like a wing.
“Why’d you try to lie?” was the only thing that Jordan couldsay. “Which you were horrible at, by the way.”
Tom offered a small laugh before answering, “I…It soundsstupid but I was afraid you’d…I dunno, reject me?”
Jordan’s was about to say something but Tom hurriedly added,“Which is why I spent all this time with you first. I wanted you to get to knowme first, before all this soulmate stuff.”
Jordan felt lighter at Tom’s confession, and his heart feltrelieved that the tension as a result of his mark was finally gone. Jordanlooked at Tom and all he could feel was love, and he was glad t-
“Not that, I’m saying that you’re not going to reject menow!” Tom said, cutting Jordan out of his thoughts. “It’s just that-“
Tom took one good look at Jordan and stopped. “I’m going tokiss you now.”
“Good.” Jordan said, smiling widely and their lips met,their joined light shining through the night.
#jacksepticeyeliner#syndisparklez#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE LMFAO#fluff#fics#john blogs#soulmate AU#i had to rewatch a few key episodes from mianite for mostof these references#which made me feel giddy hehe#mianite
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