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joannaliceevans-fanficblog · 3 years

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Two Years, Too Late: Part. 3

A/N: Oh man, sorry to the late update! I didn’t know how to start this chapter and when I got around it, work as been kicking my ass, and being tired all the time. Also not having the inspo to write it down.

Edit: So this is a reupload, because I posted a undedited verson of the chapter. Sorry guys!

Also, I’m so happy everyone is loving this!

Characters: soft Ransom x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (past)

Before I shut up, I need to thank @princessofdarkwinter ! She made me this beautiful mood board and did a beta! Love you and thank you!

Masterlist of Drabbles and Series

Catch up: Two Years, Too Late Two Years, Too Late: Part. 2

Chapter warnings: there is a bit of smut here. 18 + only

Another extended mission, and Nat is already begging him to get a drink with her. All he wanted was to go back to the compound, take a shower, watch some TV, and sleep. But somehow, Steve had agreed, and now here he is, at a table with everyone. Steve had heard that night another girl from the missions department was coming. He didn’t think any of it, as he drank his beer and chatted with Bucky.

“Y/N!” Steve heard; Nat yelled. Steve and Bucky turned to the front, and Nat stood up. Steve watched as Nat greeted the woman.

“Why haven’t I seen her before, Buck?” Steve asked, not looking at his friend as his attention was towards you. Bucky turned towards his friend, who was fixated on the girl next to Nat.

“Steve? Y/N is our mission coordinator!” Bucky nearly yelled over the rowdiness as more people began to appear in the bar. Steve gave a confused look and turned to Bucky.

“I probably didn’t pay attention.” Steve shrugged his shoulders.

As the night went on, there was something that piqued Steve's interest in you. You had this bright personality, intelligent, and had a contagious laugh. Bucky noticed and tried to get Steve your number, but of course, he was in denial. When the night came to a close, the group went out. Steve had noticed that you had a bit to drink and didn’t want you to be driving home. So, he went towards you, seeing that you were struggling to get your keys out.

“Here, let me help,” Steve said. You looked at him for a moment.

“Oh Steve, I’m-I’m fine-" You slurred your words. Steve let out a giggle and took the keys from you.

“Now, Y/N. You had a bit to drink; I would feel better if I took you home.”

Steve shot up from his bed, and sweat dribbled down his face. Steve sat there for a moment, as the dream he had was still fresh in his memory. That was the day that Steve first met you. It took a while and a lot of convincing, but he made it happen with the help of his two best friends to ask you out.

Turning on the lights, Steve kicked off the blanket. Ever since he got back into town, his thoughts and his memories of you began to haunt him. As Steve got out, his wedding ring on the nightstand caught his attention. He picked it up and stared at it, remembering two years ago, every time he looked at it how heavy it was wearing, he never took it off. He doesn’t know why he never took it off for the past two years.

Sighing, he got up and headed to his office. Turning on his laptop, Steve watched it boot up. He began typing into the secure SHIELD database, not sure what he would find. Steve typed in your name, but as he did, Steve frowned at the screen. Steve never intended to hurt anyone with his decision, but thinking back, it was you that he caused the most damage to.

Restricted Access

Sighing, Steve cleared his throat and typed in your name once more. The same bold letters appeared in front of him as he clicked your name.

“That’s strange?” Steve asked himself, wondering why your file was under restricted lockdown. He should have the highest security clearance with the advantage of being an avenger and all.

Steve stared at the screen for a moment, and he got up from his desk. That is a question he needs to ask Tony when he has a chance of why your file got restricted. Knowing Nat and Bucky are giving him the cold shoulder, now they won’t give him an answer. Going to his closet, he changed and quickly headed to the garage. Getting into his car, Steve started to drive. He drove out of the city to a town that he hasn’t been to in two years.

Your legs straddled over Ransom’s waist as he laid on the king-size bed. Your body bounced against him as his massive hands gripped tightly on your waist. Feeling his hands travel down to your ass, and gives a sharp smack and a firm squeeze. You moaned and begged for him, for another. Giving you a lustful smile, he obliged and gave you another.

“Fuck Ransom!” You yelled as you paused and rolled your hips, feeling his tip against your cervix and hitting you in the right spots.

You both were moaning, echoing throughout the penthouse. Ransom’s hands then traveled up towards your breasts, squeezing them. Pinching your now sensitive nipples, you yelled out in painful pleasure.

“Just like that, Ran- “You moaned, rolling your hips harder, making Ransom yell out a primal growl.

“Fuck baby, so hot-" Ransom said as he sat up, wrapping his arms around you. Then flipping you down onto your back and taking your legs, spreading them wide open. Your well fucked pussy, glowed with your sweet nectar. Lust grew into Ransom and slipped his still rock-hard cock into you. Thrusting into you, making you scream out into pleasure. Your eyes rolled back, feeling the pure joy of this man fucking you into oblivion.

“Fuck Hugh!” You yelled, with your hands gripping the red silk bed sheets. Pulling you close to him, Ransom bent down over you, making your legs go back. His cock went deeper into you, making your eyes go wide and stuffing you full.

Before he continued, Ransom paused for a moment and took a look at you. His eyes scanned around you, taking in all the beauty you had. His blue eyes went from lust to filling with love for you. Many girls he’s been with, none of them had captured his heart and his soul but you. Ransom finally landed on your left hand. Taking your hand, he kissed every finger and then finally onto the one that held his heart.

You knew what Ransom was thinking about, and tears came down your eyes. Ransom then bent down and kissed your tears away.

“Hugh, I love you.” You told him. You have told him many times that you do. But this time, it’s different. Ransom looked at you once more and slowly started to thrust into you. You were feeling his length, feeling every inch of him inside of you.

“I love you so much, baby girl.”

“You always had my heart-"

“I’ll love you for as long as you have me-"

More tears came down the sides of your eyes. Your hands laced with his as Ransom's pace became faster. That familiar feeling came over you, and the heat rushed over you like a tidal wave. Your walls tightened against his cock.

“Ran- I’m close-" You moaned. Your eyes rolled back, and your back arched.

“That’s it, sweetheart, come with me,” Ransom muttered, slamming his hips against your hot skin. You yelled out your orgasm and wrapped your arms around him. Holding him close, Ransom gave one final thrust and spilled his spent deep into your womb. The warm sensation gave you a second round of pleasure.

Ransom dropped his forehead against yours, feeling his salty, sticky sweat against you. Your hands ran through his wet, damped hair, and you placed a kiss on his forehead.

The following morning, you woke up to the sound of Ransom on the phone. Rubbing your eyes, you placed your glasses on to see your new fiancée, half-naked, wearing a pair of tight sweats and screaming on the phone. You knew that this was a serious conversation, but you couldn’t help but stare at his perfect god-feature body. Just staring at him and remembering last night how he wrecked you made you wet. You kept watching his movement as he yelled at the phone as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You watched as he turned around to see you, and his face softened. He paused for a moment and sighed.

“Andrew, get it fixed, and I’ll see when we can get a flight,” Ransom yelled and hung up.

“What happened?” You asked as Ransom sighed and crawled onto the bed, and laid next to you.

“There are big issues with the publishing house in London-"

“And you want me to call for flights, get your clothes ready. And I assume that you need me there as well?” You asked with a smile. Ransom stared at you in disbelief and reached over to you.

“How the hell did I get so lucky,” Ransom said, reaching over to you and kissing you. You smiled against his lips and placed your hands onto his cheeks.

“Because I know you too well, babe. Now let me make those calls, and you, sir, can get me some food. You worked up a big appetite from all the sex last night-“You sang and reached over to get your phone. Once you did, you noticed that Ransom was still looking at you as he licks his lips.

“Ransom Drysdale!” You playfully yelled, making him laugh, and got up from bed.

Late in the morning, you and Ransom were scrambling around the penthouse. You had your phone resting on your shoulders while speaking to private airlines and trying to get a flight out from New York City to London. The private airlines kept giving you flights that were cutting it close. You kept begging and begging. But the company couldn’t provide the time that you wanted.

“Mr. Drysdale has flown with you for many years and has always delivered. If you don’t give me the time slot that I need, then I will see that your company will NEVER see the skies again!” You yelled and hung up. Letting out a long, annoyed sigh, you see Ransom looking at you with a smile.

“What?” You said, placing your hands onto your hips.

“You look so hot when you get worked up like that-“ Ransom said, walking towards you. You raised your eyebrow and held your hand towards his chest.

“Not so fast, Drysdale.” You said as your phone vibrated and picked it up. Listening to the lady with a nervous tone, you smiled and thanked her.

“I’m going to pack your clothes. We leave at 1:45 pm, from LaGuardia Airport. So hurry,” You said, walking towards the bedroom.

Ransom looked at his watch and smiled, rushing towards the bedroom. >:)

The sunrise peeked through the morning in Boston as Steve continued to drive. He was looking around the historic city as memories were flowing through his mind. When Steve married you, you wanted to move out of New York, live in a quieter town, and be close to your best friend. Steve grew up in Brooklyn, so he wanted to live there, raise his family there. But he loved you, and that’s what he did.

Looking around as he drove, Steve landed on a familiar spot. A small café, with flowers covering the front of the store. Steve smiled as he pulled over and parked. Getting out of his car, Steve walked over to the café and pushed the door open. Immediately, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet smell of fresh-baked scones. This spot was you and Steve’s, and every weekend you and he would come for breakfast.

Finding a seat, Steve took the menu from the table and read through it. Steve noticed that the menu hadn't changed, bringing a smile and joy to his heart. Finding what he wanted, he looked up to see the waitress walking towards him.

“Are you ready to order, sir?” The waitress asked. Steve sighed and turned to the kind lady.

“Um, I’ll have the French Toast with Strawberries.” Steve said, “And with a coffee, please.”

The lady nodded and turned. Before she left, Steve saw the scones and called out for the waitress. The lady turned and faced him.

“Was there something else?”

“Um, my wife and I used to come here a lot, and her favorites are your scones. Are the scones still available?” Steve asked, and the lady smiled.

“Yes, they are. We have Blueberries, Strawberry, Chocolate Chip, and Plain.”

Steve knew that strawberries are your favorite, and he asked for a popping hot fresh scone. The waitress left, and Steve started to look around. A lot of memories held here, and the more he thought, his tears came down. Steve knew he did the most selfish thing by leaving you without an explanation. He knows one day he has to see you again to give you an explanation as to why he left.

After his breakfast, Steve started to drive down a familiar road. The houses still looked the same, the people, and the elementary school that was nearby. He continued until he hit the one place that held many more memories. Parking across the street, he shut off the engine and sat. He looked over the familiar building. White picket fence, white wooden walls, black-framed windows, and garden that you took care of.

Steve sat in the car battles with his emotions, debating if he should go out and ring that doorbell. He sat, spoke to himself, fought with his inner thoughts. Steve didn’t care if he yelled and people would look his way into his car. Finally, he decided and got out.

Taking deep breaths as he walked across the street and headed up the driveway. Steve glanced around the front yard and noticed there were children's toys sprawled across the lawn. There was a swing attached to the tree as it swayed as the breeze hit it. His heart started to race as he began thinking of the what if.

You and Steve did have the conversation about having kids a few times. Did he abandon you while you were with his child? The thought of you being left alone while pregnant with nobody around began to scare him.

Shaking the thoughts, Steve let out a breath and paused at the front door. His hand started shaking as he placed his finger against the doorbell. There was some muffled voice and the click of the knob turning.

The door opened, and Steve looked down to see a little boy staring back at him.

@jtargaryen18 @patzammit @mariestark @3dsaunt @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @icanfeelastormbrewing @angrybirdcr @shikin83 @stephv23805 @onetwo3000 @shellbilee @what-is-your-plan-today @evansphnx12 @iluvsumbucky

#soft ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #ransom drysdale smut

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banshee1013 · 4 years

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Suptober Day 16 - Switch It Up

Yes, I FINALLY finished this one! This one took FOREVER and put me way behind, so I thought instead I would get all the fic writing done and then do all the art and post as I complete it - but life intervened and I got even more behind. So, I have Days 21-24 already written, Days 30 / 31 partially written; so gonna do the art for 21-24, posting it as I complete the art, then Days 30 / 31 will have to come after (Timestamps!). Regardless, as soon as it’s all done, it will be polished and posted on AO3 in it’s entirety.

So, I hope you enjoy! It’s been quite a challenge but I’ve had such a great time!

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

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CHAPTER ELEVEN - SWITCH IT UP

Words: 3689 CHAPTER RATING - EXPLICIT

“Hello, spoils.”

Dean barely has time to kick off his shoes and register the door being closed behind him before he’s effortlessly spun around and pressed against it, The gasp that escapes him is definitely from the air being driven from his lungs by Cas’ body, not at all from how completely hot it is that Cas so easily manhandled him against the door.

And DEFINITELY not by that statement being growled against his ear.

That deep, rumbling voice vibrates straight to his cock; and the tone of command would have had him on his knees were it not for Cas… Castiel’s… leg placed firmly between his.

“Ah,ah, sweet boy,” Castiel purrs darkly against his neck, his hand moving from the door to grasp the back of his neck, long fingers digging into the short hair there, “can’t have you dropping to your knees here, you’ll damage my property.”

Dean’s eyes fall closed as his mouth drops open, and he most certainly DOES NOT whine.

OK, maybe a little whine. So sue him.

“Open your eyes, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes snap open, and it’s then he sees the object in Castiel’s hand.

An adorable bear-shaped bottle filled with - honey? What was he going to do with honey?

He doesn’t have time to contemplate for long, as Castiel moves back and to his side, the hand on his neck guiding him to the bed. The bottle is set on the nightstand, then Castiel reaches for a pillow, tossing it on the ground by Dean’s feet at the edge of the bed.

No words are needed - a small squeeze and gentle nudge from the hand on his neck, and Dean’s knees hit the pillow, wrists automatically clasped behind his back.

“Good boy.” Dean shudders involuntarily from the praise, as Castiel slides his hand from Dean’s neck and through his hair, petting him while gently pushing his forehead to the edge of the bed. “Rest now, and don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Reaching down into Dean’s pocket, Castiel grabs the keys to the Impala and steps away, followed by the sound of the motel room door opening and closing.

The room door opens again, and Dean first hears the dull thud of a duffle bag dropping to the floor, followed by the rustle of fabric against plastic - the garment bag with their “Fed Suits” in them - moving past him. Castiel’s footsteps retreating in the direction of the closet. The closet door squeaks open, the garment bag’s hanger clinks on the hanger rod, the door squeaking closed again; then Castiel is behind him, fingers running through his hair and around to brush his cheek. Dean leans into the touch, barely breathing.

“So good for me.”

Castiel turns, and then the bed by Dean’s head sinks slightly as he sits by him. Castiel’s hand moves to Dean’s other cheek, rising to card idly through his hair. His hand slides around to Dean’s chin, lifting it so that he’s looking directly into Castiel’s eyes.

“Here is the game I would like to play, Dean. I purchased the bottle of honey at the winery, thinking it would be good for toast or with peanut butter sandwiches, but when I won your game, I had a much better idea for it.”

His lips turn up into a feral grin, and butterflies take flight in Dean’s stomach.

“I would like to see how it tastes on you, first.”

Ok, yes, that was definitely a whine this time. Dean is far too excited at the prospect to care, and his dick is fully on board.

“Will you indulge me, sweet boy?” Dean’s head does its best impression of a bobblehead doll, and he’s rewarded with Castiel’s face lighting up like a kid at Christmas.

Standing, Castiel presses a hand gently on the back of his head, a clear indication that he’s to return to leaning against the bed; and he does so, closing his eyes and focusing his hearing on Castiel’s movements.

He hears a cabinet being opened, water poured into a container and then set into the microwave. Footsteps disappear into the bathroom as the microwave hums, then return as the microwave dings. Castiel pops the microwave door open and removes the dish, and then he’s back beside Dean again, setting the dish on the nightstand.

Dean opens his eyes and steals a glance - the bear-bottle of honey is sitting in a bowl, presumably the one filled with water and microwaved. A washcloth lies folded next to it.

Castiel glances down and catches Dean looking; and Dean flinches but Castiel only smiles.

“I believe it will be a more enjoyable experience for you if the honey were warmed first.”

Oh hell yes.

Castiel turns to Dean, carefully pulling him to his feet, Dean thankful because his feet had started to tingle despite the pillow. Castiel then begins to undress him, slowly, like he’s unwrapping a present; gently pushing Dean’s hands away when he tries to help. The flannel overshirt slides from his shoulders and is draped over a nearby chair, followed by his favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Castiel runs his fingers lightly down Dean’s chest toward the waistband of his jeans, goosebumps popping along his skin in their wake; then unhooks his belt and pulls it free from the belt loops with a crack, sending a shiver through Dean’s body. The belt joins the shirts and Castiel’s hand returns to cup the very distinct bulge in the front of Dean’s jeans, pulling a desperate moan from Dean.

“So eager,” Castiel breathes against his lips and gives Dean’s cock a squeeze, his smile growing wider at the gasp it produced. Releasing it, he pops the button and slowly, tauntingly slides the zipper down. Both hands now at the waistband, Castiel begins to pull the jeans and boxers down, sinking to the floor with them, his breath hot against Dean’s skin as his lips kiss and suck a path down his body.

Castiel is on his knees in front of Dean, his lips a hair's-breadth from his now rock-hard cock, his breath hot against it but not touching; and Dean feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He actually jumps when Castiel reaches for his hand and places it on his shoulder for leverage, tapping the inside of his calf to get him to raise his leg to slide the jeans, boxers, and sock off his foot. Castiel repeats the motion on the other side, then rises to his feet, his eyes devouring Dean.

“So beautiful,” Castiel breathes, and Dean feels a wave of heat flush over him at the look of raw adoration and lust he sees on Castiel’s face.

Dean realizes that while he is completely naked, flushed and hard with arousal, Castiel is still fully clothed; and this really needs to change.

But this is Castiel’s game, not his. He lost fair and square - well, sorta, since he kinda cheated a couple times - and he was honor-bound to play along.

Lost in this train of thought, he’s startled by Castiel suddenly being right in his space, hands on his bare hips and pushing him gently back towards the foot of the bed. His knees hit the edge and he loses his balance, sitting hard on the bed. Castiel places a warm hand flat on his chest and presses him down the rest of the way, his back on the bed, feet still on the floor.

Castiel scans the bed above Dean’s head and huffs in annoyance.

“How unfortunate,” he grumbles. “The headboard is flat and flush against the wall. No anchor points.” Moving to the front of the bed, Dean twists to watch him as he removes all but one pillow, placing them onto the nearby chair. The remaining one he places about a foot from the headboard, then motions for Dean to move closer, patting the pillow.

Dean scoots up to the top of the bed and lays his head next to Castiel’s hand on the pillow.

The hand moves from the pillow to stroke Dean’s cheek, then trails fingers lightly down his neck and across his chest, pausing to sharply tweak a nipple before continuing down his body. Dean squawks in surprise, then hisses as Castiel switches from light fingertips to nails down his stomach towards his painfully hard, leaking cock. He stops just before reaching the head, swirling a finger in the small pool of precome there and lifting it to his mouth to suck it off his finger; eyes sliding shut and humming as if tasting the finest ambrosia.

Dean forgets to breathe and his dick dribbles even more.

Removing his finger from his mouth with a pop, Castiel continues, his fingernails running down Dean’s leg, then clamps a hand around his ankle. “Stay”.

Dean swallows and nods his compliance, the idea of doing anything else never even entering his head.

Castiel gives him an indulgent smile, then turns and heads to the closet. Opening the doors, he unzips the garment bag, revealing the beige trench coat draped over his standard navy blue suit and white shirt. Reaching into the pockets of the trench coat, he pulls out his coiled belt and blue tie before zipping the garment bag back up and closing the closet doors.

He approaches the side of the bed and sits facing Dean, holding out his hands to show him the belt and tie.

“I was going to offer you the option of holding on to the headboard if you did not wish me to bind you to it, but as you can see, there are no handholds.” Dean nods, and Castiel continues. “What I would like to do in lieu of that is to bind you with belt handcuffs.” Setting the tie down, he loops the belt through the buckle to form a loop, then back through the buckle again to form the second loop. “Your wrists will be bound in the loops, and can be tightened by pulling on the end of the belt, here,” he demonstrates, slipping the belt on his own hands, and Dean nods again. “You will have full control of the tension by holding the end of the belt in your opposite hand, as such.” He pulls on the end of the belt, and the cuffs tighten around his wrists. “To release the tension, release the end of the belt.” He demonstrates this as well, then looks up at Dean.

“Do I have your consent to bind you, Dean? You can of course say no.”

Dean nods, but Castiel shakes his head. “I need verbal consent, Dean.”

After not having spoken since entering the room, Dean struggles to find his voice but manages to croak out, “Hell yes.”

Castiel’s smile is as bright as the sun. “Thank you, Dean.” He slips the bet cuffs over Dean’s hands, placing the belt end into his hand, then raises Dean’s bound hands above his head and pressing them down onto the bed.

“Stay.”

Dean nods, pulls the belt end tight and revels in the rush.

“Not too tight. Release the belt end if your hands start to tingle.” Dean nods once more - then drops a pointed look towards the tie by his hip.

Cas picks up the tie, unrolling it and running it through his fingers. “And this… if you’re agreeable, I would like to blindfold you with it.” He quirks an eyebrow.

Dean swallows, hard, and nods vigorously.

“Verbal consent, Dean.”

“Y...yes,” he stammers, and is rewarded with another blinding smile.

“So, so good for me.”

He leans over and lays the tie over his eyes, the blue silk cool against his flushed face.

The tie he gave Cas after he returned from Purgatory the first time.

Castiel slides the ends of the tie around his head, wrapping it around and tucking the ends in tightly. “Is that too tight?” Castiel breathes into his ear.

“N-no, Castiel.”

Dean can no longer see, but he can feel Castiel’s lips curve up against his cheek, just before his lips brush the shell of his ear, moving across his jaw and settling over his own. Castiel kisses him, chaste and light at first, quickly dissolving to wet and hot. Dean moans into the kiss, whining and chasing after him when Castiel breaks the kiss and moves away.

Castiel lays a hand on his forehead and gently pushes him back down, fingers trailing down over his cheek,the mattress lifting slightly as Castiel rises. The rustle of fabric, the slight thud of his jeans hitting the floor tells Dean that Castiel is finally getting naked, and silently curses the unfairness of not getting to watch it happen.

Suddenly the bed shifts around him, followed by the warm, bare skin of Castiel’s thighs pressing on either side of his hips. He gasps as a shiver of anticipation shudders through him from the contact; and then the bed dips on either side of his head.

“Are you alright, Dean? What’s your color?” Cas’ lips brushing against his ear send a fresh set of shivers down his spine.

“‘M fine. Green, so fucking green.”

Cas’ dark chuckle vibrates against his ear, and the next moment Castiel’s lips are on his again, tongue insistently pressing past them and Dean sucks it in eagerly. His hands twitch in the bonds above his head, the skin where Castiel’s body presses against his tingles and burns.

Then Castiel’s lips are gone, replaced by spreading warmth across his thighs - he’s leaned back, his perfect bare ass now resting on Dean’s thighs, the hands that were on either side of his head lightly brushing down his chest, stopping to tweak his nipples again before skating down his belly, and then gone; Dean jerking and whining from the contact and the loss. The weight on his thighs shifts, becoming lighter on one side and heavier on the other, the mattress creaking softly as Cas leans in the direction of the nightstand. He hears a clink and the slight sloshing of water, the sound loud in the darkness. The weight on his thighs shifts again as Castiel centers himself over Dean.

“Color, my sweet boy?” Cas asks; his voice, dark and deep, drifts towards him as if from far away.

“Green,” Dean breathes.

Seconds later, he yelps in surprise as a pinprick of liquid heat pools in the center of his chest and dribbles in a line down to his stomach, the honey hot but not burning, the warmth expanding as it spreads out against his skin. The weight on his thighs shifts again as Castiel leans forward; then the warm, wet pressure of Castiel’s tongue, pressed flat against Dean’s stomach, slowly slides up his body. As his tongue follows the trail of honey, Castiel’s body shifts against his and Dean breathes out a shaky moan when the hard line of Castiel’s cock slots next to his, just as his tongue laps up the last of the honey from his chest. Castiel doesn’t stop there, his tongue continuing up Dean’s neck and into his mouth, the sweet taste of the honey bursting on his taste buds as he sucks it from Castiel’s tongue, swallowing his groan as Dean ruts against him.

Castiel breaks the kiss and rises back up, pushing Dean gently back down when he tries to chase.

“Patience, Dean. I’m not finished with my taste test yet.”

Dean jerks as the pinpoint of heat returns, this time on his left nipple. Castiel spreads the honey over the nipple with his fingers, pinching and rolling it to a stiff, sticky peak, then swirling the tip of his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. Dean cries and bucks underneath him, but a firm hand pressed on his hip stills him. The right nipple gets the same treatment, hot honey followed by the wet heat of Castiel’s mouth.

Dean gasps and moans, his hands pulling against the belt restraints as he tries to remain still against the onslaught of Castiel’s tongue. He could just as easily let the belt end slip from his fingers and free himself, but he desperately wants to be good, wants to be Castiel’s good boy. He pulls the belt tighter, and feels himself begin to float.

The weight and warmth settles back onto his thighs as Castiel sits back up, and Dean can feel Castiel’s eyes on him, feels the weight of his gaze panning down his body, hears his ragged breath.

“So, so beautiful.” Cas’ voice, reverent and resonating, sends shivers chasing down Dean’s spine.

“Color, my sweet, beautiful boy?”

“G-green,” Dean whimpers.

“So very good for me,” Cas says softly, a hitch in his voice.

The weight moves off him completely then, reappearing further down, thighs now pressing against Dean’s knees, and he gives a high raspy cry when the warmth of the honey trickles down the length of his cock, dribbling down over his balls to his perineum. Cas wastes no time, his tongue briefly circling Dean’s rim before sliding up and sucking his balls into his mouth. Dean keens and writhes, his hands twisting in the restraints until Castiel’s hand returns to his hip, fingers squeezing into the flesh, and he stills again, panting and whining. Castiel flattens his tongue against the base of his cock and paints a wide swath up his length, licking up the honey until he reaches the head. Dean feels the precome dribbling down onto his stomach and Castiel’s tongue lap up, then keens again as Castiel takes in his cock all the way down to the root.

“Ahhhh... fuck… Cassss…” he babbles as Castiel slides up and then back down, starting up a steady rhythm.

Just as Dean begins to feel the pressure build, Castiel pulls off, the warmth of his body is gone completely, and Dean whimpers as he floats alone in the dark.

He hears the soft tread of Castiel’s feet moving to the door, the zipper of the duffle bag he had dropped there. Then the mattress dipping as Castiel returns,the distinctive snick of a lube bottle cap; and eagerly waits for the feel of lubed fingers against his rim, opening him up… but it doesn’t come.

Instead, he hears uneven breaths next to him, little whimpers and sighs, the slick sound of lube against skin.

Dean’s head buzzes as his heart begins to pound, a fresh pool of precome dribbling from his very eager cock.

Cas is opening himself up, and this can only mean one thing.

It’s not like they don’t ever switch it up… but it’s a pretty rare thing since Dean loves bottoming and Cas definitely loves topping.

“C-Cas?”

The bed shifts again and then Cas is straddling him, lubed fingers grasping his aching cock and slicking him up.

“I thought I might give you a special treat for indulging me so,” Cas says, his voice low and rough. “Would you like me to ride you, my love?”

Dean almost comes right then and there.

“Fuck… yes, Cas, YES.”

No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, Dean feels Cas line up and slide down onto his cock, slowly, letting him feel every inch.

“Ahhhhhh ffffuuuck Caaassss... “ Dean moans, the heat of Cas’ body surrounding him, the sensation almost overwhelming, but so, so incredibly good.

Cas slowly rises and falls again, then begins to pick up the pace. A few more strokes and Dean feels Cas’ chest against his, Cas’ cock hard and hot against his stomach, Cas’ lips claiming his, tongue licking into his mouth. Cas’ hands move to grasp Dean’s, threading their fingers together around the restraints, using them as leverage to shove himself back onto Dean’s cock.

Dean feels claimed, possessed, in every way possible; heart and soul floating, surrounded and consumed by the heat of Cas’ body.

Instinct and need takes over, his hips thrusting up to match Cas’ rhythm; the pressure coiling in his abdomen winding tighter and tighter.

The coil snaps, and with a high, thready cry, Dean comes, filling Cas up.

Cas continues to move, whimpering and moaning against Dean’s neck; then with a deep, rumbling groan he follows Dean over the edge, come spurting hot and wet between them. His arms give out and he collapses down completely onto Dean, breathing hard and ragged.

Dean lay still, floating, feeling Cas’ body all around him; their breaths and heartbeats merging, aligning, and finally slowing. Finally, Cas rises and Dean whimpers, missing his heat.

A finger traces through the combination of come and honey on his chest, then the finger is pressed against his lips and he sucks it in; bitter salt and bright sweetness exploding in his mouth.

Cas slides off him and Dean feels bereft, unanchored, but not for long; the tinkling sound of dribbling water followed by the mattress again sinking next to him; a cool cloth running over his flushed skin, cleansing and soothing. Cas washes him down completely, then hears the cloth running over Cas’ body followed by the dim plop of the washcloth returning to the bowl; the click of the lamp switch and then Cas’ warmth pressed against his side, grounding and anchoring him again.

Gentle fingers pry at his hand clenched around the belt end, loosening his grip on it to remove the belt restraint and drop it to the floor; lowering his arms to his chest to massaging his wrists and fingers.

Cas’ lips brush lightly against Dean’s as he lifts the tie blindfold from his eyes. Dean squeezes his eyes shut as the cloth is removed, but the room is now lit only by the lights from the parking lot filtering in through the window. He opens his eyes and stares straight into endless blue, the sparse light catching in Cas’ eyes.

“How are you, my love? Is there anything you need? A drink, something to eat...”

Dean reaches for him, his arms heavy and slow but still able to grab Cas by the waist and pull him down next to him, twining arms and legs around him, burying his face in Cas neck.

He sighs contentedly.

“Just you, babe. Just you.”

#suptober20 #Destiel #art #fic

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littleferal · 4 years

Note

TOP FIVE PEDRO CHARACTER THOTS 😏😏😏

Judging by that 😏 emoji we’re going nsfw right? So nonnie imma pull straight from my unfinished nsfw alphabets for this one

NSFW under cut

Din is here for giving oral and no one does it quite like him. I mean, can we call pussy eating a kink? I don’t think we can? but boy does he fucking love it. We’ve all said it but imma say it again - he would go down on your for like, literal hours. There is no one better. He’s been so cut off from his senses for so long that he is extra keyed in on them when that helmet comes off, the whole world both sharper and louder and just more. And anything that applies to you he needs to know. And this? This ticks almost all the boxes - the warm velvet feel of you on his tongue, your soft flesh beneath his fingers, the honeyed tang he can still taste even long after, the small cut off whimpers and mewls you give him as he just slooowwwly drags every damn action out + the scent of your arousal has gotten him all heady. It’s definitely one of his favourites. He wasn’t experienced at the start but his enthusiasm for it far surpassed that need. And since then he has had a lot of practice.

Ezra thinks sex should be messy. The whole act itself is kind of sacred to him and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to just go all in and make a mess, there’s no half way with this man. So cumplay is simply a natural part of sex for him. He loves painting your body with his cum, the sight of you all hazy eyed as his cum dribbles off you is just the most erotic thing ever. Fuck he loves seeing it dribble down your chin, your breasts, or even the times when’s cum on your pussy instead of in it. But he equally loves cumming in you, the obscene sounds as he ruts a bit more after (or maybe even the morning after), just goes straight to his cock, he swears he could cum from that sound alone. And if he’s not staying snug in you he’s sinking down your body just to watch it leak out of your spent cunt, swirling it around and pushing it back in and then starting the whole thing all over again.

Frankie adores seeing you wearing his clothes especially during sex - in fact it’s probably led to sex on a number of occasions. I’ve seen a couple of mentions of Frankie just straight up losing his mind over thigh high socks and you in his old flannels and I am 100% on board with that. But I think it’s more than just you being in his clothes, although that definitely does things to him because intimacy. But really, he just finds it insanely erotic to have just enough clothes pushed aside that he can see where he’s sinking into you, can see you stretched out on his cock, or when he has you bra pushed up, or even down, so your breast are peaking over the top, moving with every thrust. It ties into his body worship kink, it’s that half promise of more, it’s the sacred that comes with not getting all at once. Does that make sense?

Javier loves lingerie and heels. Look he just wants to have nice things just once. Please give him nice things. And you all wrapped up in lace? That does it for him. Sometimes he’s feeling a little feral and just wants to rip it off you, other times he greatly appreciates the less is more approach that means you’re keeping it all on *cough* crotchless *cough*. Plus the heels? There’s just a kind of power attached to them, an elegance that gets him all hot and bothered. What I’m saying is you could step on him in them and he’d thank you.

Whiskey is a switch and you can’t convince me otherwise. It’s no secret that Jack loves you on top, is more than content with being on the bottom of any arrangement. All of his heavy charm and flirting probably had you convinced he was going to run the whole show all the time. Sure he does most of the time, is very happy to just heap on attention, run his mouth with praises, he loves to see you wriggle with overstimulation and a smidge of embarrassment. But truthfully? Not only is he comfortable with being on the bottom he really fucking enjoys it. He loves being with a woman who can push and pull, who doesn’t back down and bites back at anything he throws at her. So his secret? He’s totally building towards it: Jack Daniels wants you to peg him. Because honestly? The thought of you taking control like that definitely gives him thots™.

talk to me ✨ + ask me my top 5 anything

#anon asks #asks #top 5 #lissi's feral thots

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Amiright?

Summery- 2.1k. Colin x Y/N. A fun night out brings up some questions. So this was written for @official-and-unstable-satan gif challenge. If you wanna participate, head on over and join in, more then happy to nominate you if you desire. I did break the rules a bit with that opening gif, but it does appear before the final gif. Im not much of one to follow the rules, sorry peeps. I roll my own way.

You and Colin had a easy relationship. It was never really all that serious, you two never even made it “official”. The two just melded one day into this more then best friends with benefits, you were his unofficial girlfriend, a term you thought yourself to be. You unfortunately would freeze up at the idea of official girlfriend, i mean... thats to serious, isnt it?

He looked out for you, and you looked out for him. Long days at work, he would surprise you with your favorite take out spread on the coffee table, and then you would sit between his legs, his arms wrapped around you while you both played the newest video game. He would make it out like you totally kicked his ass, stealing kisses and nibbles when he wanted to distract you and usually before the night was done, the video controllers were forgotten for a quickie on the couch, often times the video games music was your new sexy time theme song.

Then other times, he would drag you out of the apartment. His grin boyish as he insisted you change from your work outfit, unbuttoning your blouse and running a hand over the lacy cups of your bra. “Fuck I love this number on you, when we come back, I should peel you right out of this with my teeth.” Your breath hitched, you would like that very much. Placing a kiss to your lips, he smirked “but not right now. I have something else in mind. Something sporty lil minx.”

“Where are we going?” You question, digging through your closet. “Im not sure of how to dress!”

“Anything babe! Comfy clothes!” He went into the closet you currently were a bit lost in, and reached over you to grab your sweat pants and a tshirt. You look at them with an arched brow and snort while taking them. “You high classing me up Stud?”

He winked as he pulled on his old beat up grey zip up. “You know it sexy, aint no one got nothing on you.”

Laughing, the two of you stumble out the door and his arm wrapped around you your waist, holding you in against his side, you followed him along, chatting a bit about your day since he wasnt spilling what the two of you were doing.

But soon enough you two came up to the local gymnasium and he dug out a key from his pocket, unlocking the doors and slipping in. As the two of you walked in, a few lights sprung on and you wiggled out of his hold and sprang forward to do a cartwheel, landing half hazardly back on your feet. “Ta-Da!” giggling as you reach up to pull your hair back into a ponytail, snapping the band you kept around your wrist around. Colin grabbed a nearby basketball and lazily dribbled it as he sauntered towards you across the court. “How did you get the key to this place?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy, who needed a gig played this weekend. Figured we needed a night out baby, and what better then playing Horse?” Another dribble and you put your hands to your hips watching him, you were always down for the thrill of the challenge. Competitive little minx that you are. And he was right, you two had been holed up in the apartment for a tad to long.

“Well lets make it interesting Colin.” you state, holding your hands out for the ball. “Every missed shot, we get to pick something to loose.” He cocked a brow and raked his eyes over you. “Game on babygirl.“ He tossed you the ball ,and smirked, watching as you picked your spot. Off to the left side of the court, along the edge, you dribble a few times and then with a small jump, flick of your wrist, you sent the ball flying, and hell you made this shot a hundred times growing up. That ball gave a sweet sweet swish snap, and Colin rolled his eyes. “easy, I got this.” Jogging for the ball, he swooped it up and zig zagging over to you, showing off, you step from where you stood while he went to make his shot.

“Its harder then it looks” you claim, and he winks.

“Im winning this baby, your gonna look awful good running around all bare ass naked in here while I claim my trophey.” And sure enough he to made the shot.

“Oh you think your gonna get that far? Whats your trophey?”

“Why your panties of course.”

Oh fuck, game on boy, you thought and grabbing the ball, you chose your next spot, further away, towards the middle of the court. When you went to make your shot, he snapped your ass with his palm, making you squeek and shoot it way off, not even hitting the back board. “COLIN!” His laughter echoing as he tugged on your shirt. “Off it comes!”

“That was cheating you bastard” you stick your tongue out as you jerk it over your head and toss it over his shoulder. He grasped your chin and drew your teasing tongue into his mouth, wrangling a moan from you before releasing you.

"Fighting dirty is encouraged babygirl, I thought you knew that" you narrowed your eyes at him as he jogged for the ball, the bouncing echoing while he assessed where he wanted to shoot from. Once he picked, you sauntered in front of him, leaving enough space so he could shoot, but you knew what could distract him. Since they distracted him 20 times a day without even trying. His hand was always snaking up your shirt to play with your breasts.

Just as he was about to shoot, your hands shot up and giving a luscious lip parting, moan, plumping the swells together, his eyes immediately fell from the hoop to where they were spilling over the top, and sure enough his shot went WAY WAY off the mark. A drop of your hands and the wiggle of the brows, you snicker.

“Loose the shirt hot stuff!” You tug on his hoodie, and pull down the zipper for him, leaning up to catch his lips in a kiss, fully meant to draw his focus from the game. Tiny nips, flick of the tongue trailing over his full bottom lip and then pulling away before he can get the satisfaction of tasting your kiss. A frustrated groan fell from his chest, and he shrugged off the shirt.

The back and forth was fierce. Colin got the satisfaction of getting the next few shots, and much to your disdain at this, you shed off your belt, pants and one sock. He did let you keep on one sock, how sweet of him. While you were following along behind him, hooking your hand into his belt loops and tugging on him from behind as he takes a random jumping shot, falling back into you.

“Ha, you missed baby, Pants, they are finally mine!”

He doesnt even hesitate to unzip them and tug them off, a smirk playing off his mouth.

So his next statement threw you off axis, put a pause to your laughter, tilted your whole world off kilter. You dont know why it would scare you so much.

“My girlfriend is free to take my pants off whenever she pleases.” With a toss he shot them in the pile of clothing you accumulated.

But you couldnt see that, he called you his girlfriend, girlfriend. You werent anything, never have been.

“What? Im not your girlfriend.”

He just looked at you a bit weird and picked up the ball. “Of course you are Y/N, we practically live together now, Im just waiting for my lease to end on my apartment.”

“Oh no buddy.” Your hands go to your hips with a shake of the head “We never said we were anything.” Pointing between the two of you, good mood gone as his face turned serious listening to you.

“Then what has this all been? You cant tell me nothing Y/N, its been like a year” You already had turned on your heels. You werent running away, no, not at all. You werent terrified that he might have cared about you more then in a friendly way, although you both know thats the biggest mother fucking lie you told yourself in that moment when he was saying your name, trying to get an answer.

Your gathering your clothes when he grasps your arm. “Will you just stop for a moment Y/N and talk to me?”

“I cant, I got to work tomorrow.” You lamely make an excuse, fuck work.

“You know, I knew I god damn knew you would pull this shit Y/N the minute I said it was anything. You know why? Your so damned scared of actually wanting something, you wont say it. Think its gonna blow all up in your face, amiright?” His words running together as you wrench your arm out and you glare at him.

“Im not the one who just assumed anything asshole.” Your temper flaring to hide anything other then what you really want to say. And you leave Colin standing there in shock, in the middle of the gymnasium, the lights glaring over him and you resolve not to look back as you slam out the door, but you hear him, a string of cusses following you outside in his anger and your name, your name calling you back, to not run away. But run away you did.

He didnt come back that night, not to your apartment, you heard the slamming of his door across the hallway and you curled up in bed feeling completely miserable about what had happened, how you reacted and maybe he was right, you had some kind of commitment issue after years of self esteem issues. Ones he always talked you through.

“Babes your so damn smart, what would I do without you?!” Helping him put together a lyric for his music, the words would just come to you.

“Come on, its not that bad, let me read.” Sneaking a peek over your shoulder at a short writing piece you were indulging yourself in.

“Kicking ass and taking names” High fiving you after a particularly difficult boss in the video game.

“Baby you eat today? How about a grilled cheese?” on those days you just couldnt get your shit together and remember to feed yourself. A water bottle being tossed at you.

“God damn your so beautiful” Early morning wake ups, his arm locking you in close, and not allowing you to leave him for a few moments. A kiss to your shoulder and light nibble to your neck before you really had to start the day.

It hurt he wasnt there now, the bed felt hollowed and you buried your face in the pillow. Why did you do this to yourself? He tried to text a few times, but you bypassed them, not having an answer for him. He would want one, Curtis didnt just let things go. ‘what are you never going to talk to me again?’ was his last one. Then the phone went silent.

The night turned into days, and it turned into the longest three damn days you could recall. Then the third night as you were nursing a beer, secretly listening for the door across the hall, there was a knock, a soft rapt that made you spring up out of your seat. Setting the bottle aside, you unlocked your door and peered out. Opening the door wider, there was Colin, not in his usual band tees, and jeans, or that stupid zip up you missed, no he was dressed up, tie and everything.

“Hi Y/n” he smiled, fidgeting a bit, he seemed so out of his norm. You shyly look down, picking at your rather unfancy attire.

“Hi Colin, you look good”

“Do I? I wouldnt know” He teased and reached out to lift your face with a tilt of his fingers under your chin. “But theres an important woman whom deserves it.” Your brows come together, clearly unsure of what he meant. “Y/N, I didnt mean to scare you off, I should have done this right, not just assume you wanted the same thing I did. Im hoping you do, but if you dont... then I will respect that. Will you date me, be my girlfriend?”

Seeing him now, those uncalled for fears still lingered, but you wanted this. You wanted him, and the past few days showed just how much he actually meant to you, maybe you both were taking each other for granted.

“Yes Colin, I cant believe you still want to after I was such an asshole”

“Nah, you werent an asshole.” He stepped in closer, and kissed your forehead. “Okay, maybe a teeny bit, but I was a big dick for not talk to you about it, so that makes us pretty even right?”

You laugh listening to him and tug on his tie, dragging him into the apartment. Fuck you missed this.

@what-is-your-plan-today im just gonna tag you in everything till your like “STOP” lmao

#colin x reader #chris evans #god he was such a baby here

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twinkleomorashi · 4 years

Text

Day 2 Desk Wetting

Day 2 Desk Wetting ( Junior Year Preston)

AN: Yeah big shock, Preston again. It is technically day 2 after all so I managed to get this done just 4 minutes too late lol.

All characters in sexual scenarios are 18 or older. Read my “refz” tag. Preston is 18 in her junior year, the only reason this doesn’t take place when she’s 19 and a senior is because in the greater universe of my fics it wouldn’t make any sense. I care too much about the pissfic universe canon, soz about it. Contains female omorashi. Not your cup of pee? Don’t read!

Not My Fault

Teachers need to chill the fuck out. Listen, I get it that seniors are all little shits who just wanna get out of school already and I wouldn’t wanna deal with us either, but if you’re getting paid to do it there’s no need to be such a massive bitch all the time. Apparently it’s not their fault though. No, apparently it’s my fault. My fault that my idiot friend Josh dared me to chug four bottles of gatorade back to back without hurling. I mean, yeah I didn’t have to do it, but then I wouldn’t have gotten $20. Fine, I can see how that’s kinda my fault. But my third period teacher didn’t have to assign a test today and she didn’t have to make a rule saying that nobody was allowed to leave the room during it. And my fourth period teacher really didn’t have to have such a harsh tardy policy which forces me to sprint to her class everyday or risk detention.

What I’m saying is, it’s really not my fault that I have to piss this badly right now.

I scribble down the homework assignments I probably won’t do in my planner I never used. The writing is more messy than usual, I have to go so bad my hands are shaking. I finish writing and slam the planner shut before trying to casually walk up to her desk.

“Ms. Perez? May I please use the restroom?” I ask in my nicest voice.

“No, you’ve already used your bathroom pass for the semester, remember? September 2nd?” she asks.

It was December 14th, of course I don’t remember that. Oh wait.. That’s the day I ditched class in favor of Taco Bell. Fuck, I’ve screwed myself over. I’ve screwed myself over so bad. No way would I be able to last another hour and twenty minutes like this, I can literally feel my bladder pressing up against the waistband of my jeans and I’m already bouncing my legs and squirming in my seat like an idiot.

She shrugs me off and starts to lecture. And lecture. And lecture. She’s lecturing for years. Centuries. I know it’s history class and all, but does it really have to be taught in real time? The scenario is so cliche I’m shocked I haven’t been in it sooner. I have to pee fucking so bad, holy fuck. I jam my hands between my legs and cross them out of sheer desperation to not risk accidentally letting any out, it helps. I feel a pencil tap my left shoulder.

“What?” I irritatedly whisper at the tapper, my friend Andrew.

“Does wittle Pweston have to go to the potty?” he chides.

“ Leave me alone, dicksack.”

Fuck, if a dumbass like him noticed I’m definitely being too obvious about it. I’m conflicted, do I sacrifice my pride or my (relative) comfort? I slide my hand out from between my legs and hold my legs still. Nope, nope nope nope. It feels like I’m seconds away from pissing myself when I act natural. I check the time. How the hell do we still have an hour left?!

“Ms Perez?”, I beckon, “May I please use the restroom?”

Some kids snicker, probably noticing that I’m drenched in sweat and trembling like a cold chihuahua.

“Is it an emergency?” she asks.

I swallow my pride for the sake of my pants.

“Yes.”

“You should’ve thought of that on September 2nd.”

The class laughs again. It takes all of my strength not to lose my shit over that. That was over three months ago, how the fucking hell was I supposed to know that I would be on the verge of pissing myself in the middle of her class in a few months? And this bitch has the nerve to keep on lecturing. I have to piss too badly to pay attention, much less write notes. Andrew taps me again.

“What now? More words of wisdom?”

“She usually gives in at this point. Guess she just hates you.” he shrugs.

“Andrew, if I piss myself I am placing 23% of the blame on you.”

His eyes widen.

“You have to go that bad, huh?” he chuckles as I rock back and forth in my seat with my hands still between my legs.

I don’t see how he couldn’t have realized that yet. I feel tears prick into my eyes. I can’t tell if it’s because this hurts so much or if it’s because I can tell that I’m reaching the end of my rope at a quick and dreadful pace. Panicking is only making it worse. I need a plan. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I need a plan. Why can't I think of a plan?

Then something horrifying happens. I leak. A ton. It surprises me so much that I whimper in surprise and take a sharp breath. A few kids turn their heads so I try my best to act natural to some extent.

Once they lose interest I quickly inspect that crotch of my jeans. Fuck, it's noticeable. It's really noticeable, there’s a patch about the size of my palm and a couple drops of piss already on the desk chair. I start hardcore freaking out. I can't hold it much longer. Hell, I don't even know if this counts as “holding it”. The stain on my jeans is only gonna get bigger if I don't do anything about it. I shakily raise my hand for the second time in five minutes.

“I said no, Preston.” she says, barely turning away from the board.

I whimper again in frustration, more heads turn. Some kids whisper. Holy fuck, this is so embarrassing. I’m usually not so shy with this kind of stuff, but I literally know only one person in here and it’s fucking Andrew. If I was with my friends I could at least laugh it off.

“Miss, please.”, I beg, “I know you don't want me to miss anymore class, but I- I can't even focus right now!” I whine, my voice shaking. I'm willing to do just about anything to not piss myself right now. I can brush off any comments about this, but if I don’t make it I’m never gonna live it down.

Ms. Perez slams the dry erase marker into the built in tray on the whiteboard and puts her hands on her hips.

“Fine, but we're gonna use this as a learning opportunity. See, kids? This is why we don't skip class-”

Fuck fuck fuck! She's lecturing again. I leak once more, a small puddle starts to form on the chair. I panic and try to sit back further in it to try and cover it up. The feeling of wetness only causes another spurt to escape, somehow traveling up the seat of my jeans. I'm not gonna make it, there’s no way. This isn't happening. This can not fucking be happening.

“Because leaving class at all detracts from your learning and then you use up passes that you're going to need later. And on that note, you really should be going before class.”

The leaks become longer and much more frequent. Even if she stops lecturing right this second everyone is gonna see that my jeans are soaked when I stand up and there’s no way I’m making it all the way to the bathroom, but if worst comes to worst at least I can hide somewhere and avoid making a scene over the inevitable. Another wave of desperation hits me and I can tell my time is running out fast. Hell, can I even move from this position? I slowly uncross my legs to test the waters.

I let out a shaky gasp in surprise as the floodgates stop leaking and burst open entirely. My hand instinctively flies to my mouth as I freeze in shock and try really really hard not to make my heavy breathing obvious. Everybody in the room except for the teacher who's too wrapped up in her fucking lecturing can tell what's going on. A puddle forms on the desk chair and dribbles down to the scratchy classroom carpet. Loudly. To the point where I wonder how the hell she can't hear it. I cross my legs to try and quiet it in sheer mortification but now I can hear people whispering. This can't be happening, this can't be happening.

“So you can't really come crawling back to me if you miss information, because you chose to leave class.”

There's no point in trying to hold back at this point, there's no going back or covering it up now. I put my head on my desk in defeat. Pissing after holding it for a long time is probably one of the greatest feelings in the world. Even if it is in your jeans during the middle of history class. Okay that was the grossest thing I've ever thought. Ignore that please. But I’m not wrong. But-

“So in short, be smart about your bathroom passes. Now hurry, Preston.” Ms. Perez nods. My face is burning with embarrassment as I nervously bite my tongue knowing I had no choice but to fess up before someone did it before me.

“T-Too late.” I stutter through the tears pricking in my eyes. I feel like I'm gonna pass out. My face is so hot with embarrassment it feels on fire.

Her face goes pale, almost sickly so. She stands still, unsure of what to say. All eyes are either on me or her. I slowly stand up, covering my ass with my backpack and my crotch with my spiral which was nowhere near the right size for the task at hand.

“So, uh, I’m gonna go now.” I blush, regretting my choice of words but leaving before any obvious jokes can be made.

And I don't come back. I embarrassedly stormed outside the school, rummaging for my car keys and pressing the car unlock button for way longer than necessary before practically diving into the driver's seat. I start the car and let my head rest against the steering wheel as it turns on, still in park. I glance down at my jeans and can’t help but to find a little humor in it. If people give me shit for it there’s nothing I can do. This so obviously is not my fault.

#omorashi #omo #omocute #female omorashi #omovember #coromo

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- he’s coming of as so much of a jerk, but come on, he’s nice, but he’s not oblivious, and no one’s a saint. Also, I’ve been writing this chapter for 3 weeks now and it’s still not that great.) (Chapter Summary- Keanu surprises Y/n. Later, her parents make an unexpected return, and they’ve brought along unexpected guests.)

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter4 Chapter5 Chapter6 Chapter7 Chapter8

Warnings- SUMT/NSFW, semi-public sex (sort of)

Chapter 9

After a morning's worth of chairing back to back board meetings, in the absence of her father, Y/n was finally heading back to her office, tablet in hand and designer handbag hung in the crook of her elbow. The pristine white of her fitted skirt suit stood out bright against the dark back and grey décor of the building. Her heels clicked softly on the porcelain tiles, complimenting the tip tap of keys of the secretary’s computer.

“Miss Warren!” Emily caught her before she entered her office, standing abruptly, clearing her throat, “I mean, Y/n.” Stopping in her tracks, Y/n turned on the thin heel of her shoes, humming in response. Emily swiped up a post-it stuck to the rounded counter, scanning it to make sure she had things right, “You have a meeting in conference room 19, it’s urgent, he’s waiting.”

“He?” Y/n quoted; despite her best efforts, she couldn’t recall having a meeting with anyone slated for that time, “I didn’t.......how long has he been here?” Worry built in her chest, hoping it hadn’t been long.

Emily glanced at the clock, “Since eleven,” she cringed; it was twelve thirty.

“Fuck,” Y/n breath, mumbling a quick thanks and hurrying back towards the elevators. Briefly, Y/n wondered if it was actually her father who had set up a meeting without telling her, though, as she tapped the toe of her shoe on the way down, she decided that it didn’t really matter, because if he found out that she’d kept someone waiting for that long, he’d be livid.

Sucking in a breath as the doors opened to a hallway two floors down, Y/n all but ran to the conference room labelled ‘19′ in elegant silver numbers on rich mahogany. When she got there, the door was closed and the long window facing the corridor was tinted in an opaque white, signaling that the privacy setting had been enabled.

Taking a minute to catch her breath, she smoothened her hair and skirt before turning the knob and slowly walking in. Though, just as she did, Y/n realized that she had completely forgotten to ask for her guest’s name. Fortunately, she was just about to find out that she wouldn’t even need to ask, for when she raised her head to greet him, she was left speechless by who sat at the table, chair turned facing the doorway. His hair was attractively wind blown and he sat like he owned the whole damn room, sunglasses discarded on the tinted glass table next to him. A well-fitting leather jacket hugged his biceps and between the worn jeans and the familiar brown boots, Y/n already knew that he wasn’t there for any sort of business meeting.

Grinning and amused at her surprise, Keanu folded his arms, eyes unashamedly roaming her body, biting his lips at how everything seemed tight in the right places; she certainly looked like the makings of a dirty movie. Licking his lips, Keanu leaned further into his seat, crossing one ankle over his knee, “Surprised?” He teased, “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting you to be.”

Y/n scoffed, the reddish tint of her make-up only exaggerating the heat in her cheeks. Still, she tried to play it cool, “I thought you were in New York.”

“Well now I’m here,” Keanu declared, standing, the chair rolling back a little as he approached her. After Y/n set her things down the table, she folded her arms, awaiting a more substantial reason for his visit to Los Angeles and by extension, her workplace. Keanu, however, didn’t wait for an invitation to put his hands on her hips, enjoying that he was still able to tower over her even while she wore heels. “Last night was very......unsatisfying.”

Y/n tilted her head to the side, widening her doe eyes, trying to maintain her most innocent façade, even if she was far from it, “So you came all this way just to fuck little ole me?” She pouted, “I’m flattered, but surely a man like you has women just waiting with their legs open.”

Chuckling, Keanu knew she was right, he could play the coy card all he wanted, but he knew what women thought of him. Some even took his passing kindness as something more, offering things up, and admittedly, there were times when he had taken them readily, a night or perhaps a weekend of fun then cutting them lose, neither party ever minded. Keanu briefly thought back to New York, he had already noticed the little gestures and wanting stares from the younger assistant directors, then their was his own assistant with her ‘aim to please’ attitude and finally, one of his co stars, she was just a couple years younger than him, but he was sure they could have some fun if they wanted to. But none would be as fun as she was. He didn’t want just some woman, he wanted Y/n.

Sliding his hands around to cup her ass, he eased her closer, smiling as she ran her hands up his forearms, “Maybe your right,” he said, low and bending a little to get close to her ear, “But I wanted to feel your tight cunt around my cock.”

Y/n smirked wickedly, arching her brows, “Don’t you have a way with the words?”

“Fuck words,” Keanu offered hastily, just before crashing his lips to hers, squeezing her ass. Between them, she reached for the buckle of his belt and the button and zipper at his pants, her fingers fumbling in the process of undoing them. Y/n moaned into his mouth, complying without protest when Keanu broke their hungry kiss, hurriedly turning her and peppering rough nips and kisses on her neck all while undoing the buttons of her blazer. Shoving off the material, Keanu only retracted to pull off her camisole, tossing it to the floor.

Y/n reached behind, stretching to tangle her fingers in Keanu’s hair, encouraging him back towards the column of her throat. His hands slid down her body, stopping at the hem of Y/n’s skirt, pushing it up over her waist only to shove her panties down. In one go, he pushed into her and Y/n melted onto the table, “Fuck,” she groaned loudly, gripping the edges until her knuckles went white. The top of her breasts and her stomach welcomed the coolness of the surface and her loose hair fell over her face, skewing her vision of the screen at the front of the room, not that it mattered.

Keanu maintained a firm grip on Y/n’s hip while his other hand travelled up her body, lingering to loosely circle the back of her neck, but eventually reaching her head. Quickening his rough thrusts, he brushed some hair out of Y/n’s face, only to gather a handful of it up in his hand, twirling it in his fist, before tugging, hard enough to make her whimper. “Do you know what you do to me?” Keanu managed through clenched teeth, “I never wanna fuck anyone else, only you.” Pulling out fully, Keanu slammed back into Y/n’s drenched core seconds later, marveling at how the movements pushed her body up onto the furniture. The toes of her shoes were barely reaching the floor by then and Keanu’s grip was the only thing keeping her in place.

The sound of skin slapping skin, coupled with the blood rushing in her ears was enough to nearly drown Keanu’s words, though, even if she could hear him, Y/n could barely think straight, far less piece together any sort of response. Between the way he stretched her with his girth, his throbbing veins brushing against her slick walls, and how far he reached with each rough motion; it hurt, in the best way possible. His hold on a fistful of her hair was tight and occasionally, he’d tug without warning earning him a little yelp of pleasured surprise.

Y/n’s shallow breath went ragged as the knot in her stomach came loose and she came without warning. Her chest, still pressed to the table, glistened with exertion despite the air conditioning and her legs weakened as heat spilled out of her, dripping onto his thighs and coating Keanu’s cock.

Keanu groaned as he felt her clench around his member. The way his name left her barely parted lips was the most sinful heaven and having Y/n completely at his mercy was something he missed since they’d parted. She was such a wonderful plaything.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Keanu taunted, riding out Y/n’s orgasm, only to pull out and flip her wanton body. Her eyes were unfocused and she could still barely string a sentence together. When she didn’t answer, Keanu gathered her into his arms, discarding her onto the table, already edging into her again, “Well?” He pressed, “Is that all you’ve got for me babygirl?”

Y/n whined at the sensation, shuddering when Keanu reached between to add friction to her swollen cilt, “I....”

“Use your words, tell me that you want my cum in your pussy,” Keanu went slower that time, his hips rolling at a more leisured pace.

“I want....” Y/n swore she was seeing stars and she reached clumsily to grab Keanu’s shoulders, only just realizing that he was still dressed, with his pants only down to his knees. “I want you.....” the words dribbled off Y/n’s lips, slow and broken, “I want to feel you cum inside me.”

Keanu grinned wickedly, using his hand on Y/n’s back to press her closer to him, “Good,” he breathed, feeling himself grow closer to his climax, “You feel so good,” he praised sinfully, “I missed your cunt.”

Y/n felt her second orgasm building quickly and her toes curled as she threw her head back. The room seemed to spin, Keanu the only constant and the only thing keeping her from bouncing off the walls, “I missed your cock,” she eventually returned.

Keanu’s drawn on pace eventually quickened and not long after, Y/n was overflowing with pleasure again, her jaw slackening and her walls clenching around Keanu. “Fuck, baby,” he grunted, fingers digging into her hips as his member twitched inside her.

Y/n’s ragged breaths went shallow, her face falling onto Keanu’s shoulder. In response, Keanu propped his chin on the top of Y/n’s head, his stiff hips still ridding out their highs.

When it was over, and he pulled out, Keanu dropped back into the chair and Y/n laid back on the width of the table, both trying to catch their breaths. “I can’t believe you flew across the country for sex,” Y/n chuckled breathlessly.

With his hands on the plastic, cushioned armrests, Keanu slouched a bit, his pants still undone and around his knees. Y/n didn’t look much better; with her skirt still bunched up, topless and a bit exerted. “I flew across the country for sex with you,” Keanu corrected pointedly, “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/n licked her lips, “I think I’m getting a pretty clear idea.” Sitting up, Y/n winced as she shimmied off the table, going to collect her clothing off the floor, “Can’t say I’m not flattered though,” she grinned, starting with her bra, “Besides, no one can fuck my like you can.”

Standing as he frowed, Keanu pulled his pants up, the front still undone. When he finally stood before her, Y/n looked up at him, eyes holding a teasing glimmer, biting her lip. Keanu let his fingers skim her still bare arms, his movements slow, raising goosebumps on her skin.

Letting one of his hands linger on her hip, Keanu used the other to capture a lock of Y/n’s hair, curling it around his index finger. His gaze was one of questioning and meant to intimidate her, “You’ve been fucking other people?” His voice was low and husky and Y/n sucked in a breath.

“I......” Y/n trailed off. She didn’t know what it was about Keanu, but the thought of him being possessive like that, even if they weren’t in a relationship, sent heat to the lingering soreness between her legs.

Untangling his hand from Y/n’s hair, Keanu let his hand rest at the bottom of her neck, his stocky fingers just over her pronounced collar bones, the edge of his palm in the hollow of her throat, “Answer me,” he urged, stepping forward so they were chest to chest, well, chest to face.

“Yes,” she admitted, blinking slowly, pupils dilated, “But they couldn’t even come close to you.”

Keanu hummed, a wicked grin pulling at his features, “I’m sure they don’t,” by then, Keanu’s hands were freely roaming Y/n’s body; sliding over her curves, groping her ass, “You know, since you left my room the last time; I haven’t been able to think about another woman the way I think about you. But here you are, fucking other people.”

“A girl's got needs,” Y/n teased cocking an eyebrow, “Pity that they were only just barely satisfied.”

Keanu huffed, jerking her even closer, “Sounds like you need someone to make it up to you.” Already, Keanu’s erection was pressing into her stomach and the throb of arousal in her center reminded Y/n of the growing soreness between her legs.

Licking her lips, Y/n regarded Keanu through her dark, hooded gaze, “Maybe I do.” An informal invitation was all Keanu needed to let his hold on her hip grow firmer as he crashed his lips to hers, pushing her up against the pulled down projector screen. Y/n’s skirt rode up her thighs as Keanu lifted her off the floor and her legs went around his hips. Not too long after, they were once again, clumsily shoving his pants down to around his knees, though, that time, Y/n pushed his leather jacket off too.

Keanu’s hands slipped up Y/n’s blouse and underneath her bra, groping her breasts and toying with her nipples, eliciting sinful moans and pleading whimpers. “I like it when you beg,” he smirked, letting his tip brush her folds, “Beg for me baby,” Keanu encouraged.

“I want you,” Y/n pleaded breathlessly, her words evaporating as they left her lips, “Please Keanu, I need you to fuck me....”

The tip of Keanu’s tongue trailed Y/n’s neck, all the way up until his mouth was close to her diamond studded ear, “Well since you asked so nicely,” he mused, pushing into her, dragging his teeth over her ear lobe as she groaned at the feeling.

“God,” the word seemed to bounce off the walls, low and hollow. Y/n’s nails dug into Keanu’s back and he could feel them through his thin t-shirt as he maintained a steady rhythm. Y/n’s warmth cocooned Keanu’s shaft perfectly, being with her like that was the perfect escape.

Y/n’s cheek was pressed to the side of Keanu’s face, his beard rough against her skin, giving her the slightest burn as he moved harshly. She clung to him for dear life, her eyes slipping closed as a consequence of the pleasure. It wasn’t an understatement when she’d told him that there wasn’t another man capable of making her feel the way he did; there was just something about his confidence, they way he could control her without force, wean her body to the highest levels of pleasure with his. Or perhaps it was simply physical, they way Keanu could fill and stretch her so much that it almost hurt, his balls slapping her ass all how his hands sent shocks through her body. Whatever it was, Y/n was certain that there could never be another man like Keanu.

With the tips of his fingers pressed into the sides of her stomach and Y/n still gipping Keanu’s shoulders; they came together, obscenities mixing to sound messy and hanging in the heat that surrounded them. A final squeak of pleasure escaped her just as Keanu pulled out, collapsing lazily into the chair at the head of the table, pulling Y/n into his lap as he did.

Words weren’t exchanged as they caught their breaths, but there wasn’t really anything to be said anyway. One of Keanu’s arms stayed around Y/n tracing absent, unseen circles into her arm. The other hand lingered on one of her legs, both of which were draped over the arm of the chair. Y/n’s head lolled on Keanu’s shoulder, her gaze blank and forward.

They stayed like that for an uncounted amount of time, the only thing pulling the two out of their sated state being the anxious shrill of Y/n’s cell, coming from her bag nearby on the table. Not even bothering get up, she reached over Keanu’s shoulder, knocking over the bag and grabbing the phone and swiping to answer without even checking the name or number.

“Hello?” She nearly yawned, clearly tired from their activates. Letting his hand skim her back, Keanu moved to tangle his hands in her hair, single-handedly massaging her scalp as she spoke. “Okay,” though, Y/n’s frowned suggesting that whatever the matter was; it wasn’t ‘okay’. After another couple minutes worth of her hums of understanding, she finally chalked up, “I’ve been in a meeting all afternoon,” and then, she managed, “No, I’m busy this evening.” Momentarily, Y/n glanced at Keanu, though he couldn’t decipher what she was trying to communicate by her expression, “I’m doing something with a friend,” she offered, though eventually, after rolling her eyes, Y/n seemingly submitted to the other party’s pleas, “Alright. Fine, I’ll ask.”

Hanging up, Y/n tossed the phone back to the table, not even paying attention as it’s movement scattered more of her stuff. The called seemed to sour her mood and she stood reluctantly, wincing as she did, “I’ve gotta go,” she huffed.

“Where?” Keanu furrowed his brows, not sure if he was offended or just disappointed that he couldn’t spend the rest of the evening with her.

Sighing, Y/n went through the motions of putting her self back together; straightening her clothes and running corrective fingers through her hair, “My parents are back from Beijing and they want to have dinner tonight,” she rolled her eyes, adjusting and readjusting her skirt, “They said its important.”

“What about your friend?” Keanu scoffed.

“What?” Y/n scrunched her nose, taking a couple seconds before she realized what he was talking about, “Oh! The friend was you, I didn’t want to go,” she shrugged, “You know,” she grinned mischievously, “They said I could bring you. Do you want to come?”

Shrugging, Keanu shook his head, raising off the chair slightly to pull up his pants. Dinner with her parents didn’t seem like something they should be doing; he and Y/n weren’t a couple. Couple’s did family dinners. They were......well, Keanu didn’t know what they were, but he did know how it would look if he showed up on her arm for a impromptu family meal. “I can’t,” he dismissed, “I’ve got some things to do before I get back to New York.”

Y/n didn’t seem the least bit bothered as she shook her shoulders, “Okay, no problem.” The last thing she set out for was her panties, though, by then, Keanu had already stood too and had just gotten into his jacket.

She eventually spotted them near a table leg and when she stood again, underwear in hand, Keanu cocked a grin as he swiped them away, “I’ll keep these,” he shoved them into his back pocket, the red lace barely peeking out, “To keep the memory alive.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Y/n teased, standing on the tips of her toes, still having to pull Keanu down with a handful of his t-shirt between her fingers to kiss him quickly; no emotion, barely any meaning above an unspoken thanks. “I need to get back up stairs, can you find your way out?”

“Yeah,” Keanu huffed, leaving the room and walking with Y/n towards the elevators, “I’ll see you around,” he half waved as Y/n got into the first available one. With her final goodbye, the doors slid shut and Keanu got into the elevator that dinged open.

After the valet took her keys, Y/n lingered at the hooded entrance of the restaurant, trying to mentally prepare for what awaited her inside. Her family rarely had dinner together without due cause; her parents were usually too absorbed with work, each other or both to care about where, what or whom with Y/n ate. It never bothered her though; after growing up closely guarded and with very little room under their thumbs, she welcomed the freedom that accompanied their disregard. The only issue was her dire craving for more, because while her personal life was of very little interest to Heather and Michael, but they still tried to micromanage, though from afar, everything else; who Y/n was seen with in public, where she had gone to college, and most obviously, where she worked.

With a final stilling breath, Y/n smoothed a manicured hand over her short, plum colored dress, eliminating the inexistent wrinkles. Her velvet Jimmy Choo’s clicked quietly on the cobblestone, her steps only silenced by the carpet after she crossed the gold-framed threshold. “Warren,” Y/n offered to the hostess after someone had taken her coat.

“Right this way,” the woman’s rehearsed smile perfectly charming but in no way warm as she led Y/n to a rectangular table for six central to the room, situated under the dim yellow light of a crystal chandelier. Much to her surprise, all except of one of the seats were taken. Might have been nice to know that they were having company before she got there.

At the sight of her, Y/n’s father stood, greeting her with a hug, “Dad,” she pecked his cheek, leaning in for him to do the same. “What’s going on?” Y/n managed through her plastered on grin.

Heather was the one to speak up, “Darling,” she took Y/n’s hands before greeting her daughter with a trained la bise, “These are the Wang’s, we met them in Beijing.”

“Oh,” Y/n nodded politely in the other family’s direction, wondering what their interaction could possibly be leading too, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Michael gestured to a man about his age first, his grey hair still peppered with dark strands, “This is Li Jian and his wife Alice,” a blonde woman smiled warmly in Y/n’s direction, one of her hands loosely griping her husband’s arm, “And this is their son, Daniel.”

At the mention of his name, Daniel stood, offering his hand,��“What a pleasure to meet you Y/n; your parents told us a lot about you, but they didn’t mention that you were absolutely stunning.” Just when she thought Daniel as going to shake her hand, he turned it over, instead pressing a chaste to the area just above her knuckles.

When he raised his head again, Y/n couldn’t help but return his charming smile. He was attractive, probably more than conventionally so; all sharp, strong bone structure, dark eyes protected by long lashes and short, perfectly trimmed dark hair. “The pleasure is mine,” Y/n bent her head, hoping to hide the warmth in her cheeks. Daniel couldn’t have been more than thirty-five and Y/n couldn’t believe that he was already having such an effect on her.

Like a gentleman, Daniel pulled out the only empty chair for Y/n, and unsurprisingly, it was the next to him. Y/n’s father sat at the head of the table, nearest to her, Heather on the end to his left, while Daniel’s father was situated directly opposite of him, Alice next to Y/n’s mother.

When everyone was settled, the waiter poured them some wine and handed over the menus. Their party looked over the selection of international cuisine, and out of the corner of her eye, Y/n could see Daniel stealing glances at her. Otherwise, it might have made Y/n uncomfortable, but for some reason, Daniel’s intrigue flattered her a bit.

When the waiter returned, he took their orders and as he left, Y/n’s mother was the one who struck up conversation, “Y/n, you know, Daniel is an engineer, he designs planes. He’s at the top of his field in China, and soon here in the U.S too.”

“Oh!” Y/n chuckled awkwardly, briefly turning to Daniel, who’s cheeks had just started going pink, “I didn’t know that, but we’ve just met so he hasn’t really had a chance to tell me.” Maintaining her posed demeanor, Heather kicked Y/n beneath the table, an unspoken warning to put on her best behavior. As the pain shot up her shin, Y/n tried to pretend it didn’t affect her, blinking slowly only so she could roll her eyes. With a sigh, she tried to rectify the awkwardness that she had created, “What I mean is; I’d love to hear about your work sometime.”

“Maybe you two could chat about it over coffee. Or maybe another dinner,” Michael interjected and Daniel’s parents seemed readily onboard with the idea. Suddenly, it all made sense. That dinner wasn’t just a casual affair between two families, she and Daniel were being set up.

Y/n’s face fell but she hoped no one noticed; she didn’t think they’d try something like that so soon. Then again, Jillian was barely five years older than her and her parents had already found her someone.

“We should grab a bite together, just us,” Daniel broke Y/n’s thoughts and she had to blink her internal despair away. “I’d love to get to know you.”

“Yeah,” Y/n huffed, “That would be nice.”

As the food was set in front of them, everyone kept talking, but at some point Y/n zoned out, going into auto pilot. Sinking into her thoughts, Y/n couldn’t decide if her anger was outweighing her feelings of betrayal. How dare they blindside her like that? As if she were child, or worse yet, incapable of making her own decisions.

Y/n’s stare, directed towards the glass of wine in front of her went blank, and that time, the thing breaking her out of her thoughts was her phone vibrating in her purse on her lap. Trying to be discreet, Y/n kept the device below the table as she mined the short text, “Are you alone?”

“No, still at dinner,” for effect, she added a sad-face emoji.

“What a shame,” Keanu sent back almost immediately, “I’m ready for desert.” Attached to his texts was a picture of Keanu’s erection, constrained by his grey sweat pants, her panties from earlier near by, crumpled in his lap.

Y/n’s glass was at her lips, a mouthful of pinot noir nearly half-way down her throat, when she opened the messages. The sheer shock of the matter had her coughing up the wine, leaving Y/n clumsily scrambling for napkin. Daniel beat her to it though, handing one over and placing a gentle hand on her back. The phone fell, thankfully face down, back into Y/n’s lap and as she cleaned up her face just as Daniel offered her a glass half filled with water. “Are you okay?” His touch was soothing and his eyes worried.

Clearing her throat, Y/n took a couple sips of the water, feeling everyone’s eyes on her as she tried to settle herself. “I’m fine,” she managed, “I just....swallowed too quickly.”

“Okay,” Michael didn’t seem to believe her, though he brushed it off, quickly patting her shoulder, “Well take it easy there.”

Scoffing a soft chuckle, Y/n nodded, “Okay, yeah. Sorry about that.” For a moment more, everyone continued staring at Y/n before slowly redirecting their attention to their meals. The peace didn’t last for long though, because just about fifteen minutes later, Y/n’s phone shrieked loudly and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping the marble floor loudly as she excused herself.

“What?” Y/n hissed, her back now pressed the a wall in the narrow corridor that lead to the bathrooms.

On his end, Keanu chuckled, not seeming to care that she was annoyed. It was probably because he knew it wouldn’t last long. “How soon can you leave that restaurant?”

“We’re in the middle of dinner,” Y/n groaned, whatever irritation she had towards Keanu and her attraction to Daniel quickly melting away. By then, the only thing she wanted was to leave that place and go be with him. Keanu didn’t expect anything more than sex from her; no commitments, he didn’t control her unless they were in bed, just how she liked it, and he was certainly more fun than listening to her parents sell her to the Wang’s like she was some kind of prized pig.

The gears in her head started turning and suddenly, Y/n wanted nothing more than to get out of whatever her parents were trying to do, “I can leave in the next ten minutes.”

“I thought you weren’t finished with dinner?” Keanu sounded intrigued and Y/n could only imagine the look on his face.

“I’m not. But I think I’m more interested in desert now,” her voice dropped lower and as the words travelled through the phone, she licked her lips.

“I’ll text you my address,” Keanu huffed and after a haphazard exchange of goodbyes, they hung up.

Everyone raised their heads and awaited an explanation for Y/n’s behavior, though, instead she grabbed up her clutch, “I’m so sorry,” she wasn’t, not really, but she could pretend to be, “But I have to go.”

“Why?” Heather put her fork down, communicating with her eyes that Y/n should sit back down that very instant.

“Jill,” Y/n lied defiant and strong-willed, trying to come with something believable, “It’s an emergency, she.....needs me to....pick her up.”

Michael's brows knitted, “From?”

Moistening her lips, Y/n scoffed, “From......a bar. Rob’s busy and she doesn’t have a ride. So I’m gonna go,” laughing nervously, Y/n rubbed the back of her neck, “But this was nice, Mr. and Mrs. Wang, Daniel; it was great to meet you.”

Before anyone could object, Y/n was hurrying out, not even guilty about the whole thing; every other emotion triumphed by the excitement of seeing Keanu again.

If they kept going like that, Keanu was definitely going to get her into trouble. But, at least for now, Y/n couldn’t find it in herself to care.

*******

Tagging- @baphometwolf666 @a-really-bi-girl @harrisongslimited @paanchu786 @sdaff2

#Keanu reeves #Keanu reeves x reader #Keanu reeves x you #john wick x you #john wick x reader #ff #Keanu reeves fanfic #Keanu reeves fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #john wick fanfic #lullaby #Keanu reeves series #chapter 8 #fluff

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mcleaha · 4 years

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hello lovelies ! i’m bøffy , i’m 20 years old , prefer she/her pronouns , and currently reside in the pst timezone ! uhh . . . i am posting this intro at nearly 5 AM my time , and i would be almost willing to bet it’s littered with errors and it’s . . . probably a bit all – over – the – place since this is very much a new muse ! however , with that being said , if you give this a like , i will definitely contact you via tumblr ims or d!scord ( 𝓲𝓷𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪 / 𝓮𝔁𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪#1384 ) to plot !

[ jasmine brown . 21 . cis female . she/her ] just saw MALEAH AMICK dragging their suitcase up the steps to CABIN 1B . good luck living with HER , i hear that that they’re INDECISIVE , FORGETFUL , SOCIABLE & CREATIVE . Apparently they’re the ATTACKING MIDFIELDER . let’s hope the upcoming season doesn’t affect their JUNIOR year of ART EDUCATION .

STATS:

name: maleah amick .

nickname(s): leah .

age: twenty one .

gender identity: cis female .

pronouns: she/her .

sexual orientation: bisexual / biromantic .

birthday: 26 february 1999 .

zodiac sign: pisces .

myer-briggs: esfj .

pinterest: coming soon !

HISTORY:

born on the 26th of february 1999 in orlando , florida , maleah was the youngest of the three amick siblings . her mother worked as a prestigious board – certified pediatric surgeon at a local children’s hospital , and her father worked as a high school mathematics teacher and volunteered as the school’s unpaid soccer coach , a move that saved the program from ending due to budget cuts ( he claims he was roped into the position as a first – year teacher with no seniority , but while he’s reluctant to admit it , he eventually grew a passion for the sport he had previously known little about ) .

with her mother’s long shifts and emergency work – related calls , she ultimately became closer to her father and two older brothers while growing up . most knew her father as a man who towered over them at 6’7” , ordering his team to run laps or practice drills ; however , maleah knew him as the man who would crawl around the living room floor playing barbies with her or would prepare fruit and herbal teas as she twirled around dressed as a princess , declaring it time for a royal tea party . just as easily , she could be found exploring the great outdoors or playing whatever sport was currently in season alongside her brothers .

she practically followed in her brothers’ footsteps . as they approached high school , each brother chose one sport to specialize in , hoping to secure a position on a college team and eventually on a professional team . maleah did not have professional athletic goals , but although she had immaculate grades with limited effort put towards academics , she knew extra – curricular activities were important for college applications . thus , when it was maleah’s turn to choose which sport to pursue , rather than having to weigh the pros and cons and make her own decision ( or perhaps , fearing that she would make the wrong decision ) , she simply chose the sport that her brothers had previously chosen : soccer .

her high school coach knew the perfect position for maleah . years of informal practice with her brothers in the backyard had enhanced her skills . she had learned how to evade skilled high school defenses by pretending as if she was heading in one direction before bolting in the other . soccer was one of the few areas in life in which she possessed enough knowledge to make quick and effective decisions ; she could read the field and immediately determine the best course of action : dribble , pass , or shoot . ultimately , she possessed the vision and the creativity necessary to secure playmaking and goal-scoring opportunities for her team .

with a line of college scholarships , both academic and athletic , waiting for the attacking midfielder’s choice ( unfortunately , none from either of the schools her brothers played for ) , the time came for maleah to make a decision . as deadlines for summer practices , class registration , and tuition payments crept closer , she finally determined a means of deciding . she numbered her offer letters , 1 through 13 , and allowed a random number generator to make the decision for her . thus , mere chance ( or perhaps fate ) led maleah to hollis university .

her first semester at hollis was . . . rough , to put it lightly . while most freshman shed a few tears as they watched their parents’ car drive off into the distance , homesickness lingered in maleah’s life . coasting through high school with limited effort had done her zero favors ; with no effective study skills , her grades dropped dramatically . between soccer and trying to salvage her grade point average , a social life was virtually out of question . ultimately , she found herself on academic probation , unable to play soccer , for her second semester of freshman year at hollis .

luckily , she was able to develop effective study habits , and even discovered along the way that maybe pre – med was not the best major for her . when asked what she wanted to do , maleah gave an entire list of generic answers – “i want to help people” and “i want to make a difference” came up quite often , but nothing specific enough to point her in the right direction . thus , she changed her major almost every semester , desperately seeking for the right fit . in the meantime , though it took several letters petitioning her temporary removal from the team , she was able to resume playing soccer during her sophomore year .

as junior year approached , maleah was almost certain that she was back in her coach’s good graces – no longer viewed with a sense of skepticism . she had proven herself capable , finding her name on the dean’s list nearly every semester and assisting her team in numerous wins throughout the soccer season . however , with hollis’ soccer teams’ restructuring , maleah can’t help but question if her coach views her as a valued athlete or a liability .

PERSONALITY:

two words : social butterfly . almost to a fault . even if someone has expressed quite literally zero interest in talking to her / getting to know her , she will still make an attempt . kind of a . . . people – pleaser , in a sense , she just wants to be well – liked ?

avoids ! conflict ! at ! all ! costs ! generally just . . . tries to avoid people or situations that upset her . not very prone to like . . . yelling or crying , but those close to her can definitely sense a change in her demeanor when she’s upset ? just . . . a lot more tense , probably lots of eye – rolling and just . . . subtle , quiet signs that she is over whatever the problem is .

kinda . . . chill , mellow , easygoing ? she very much lives in the moment , and tries not to stress too much about the future . always down for a drink , a party , whatever – genuinely just around for some fun and some friends !!!

the kind of person who genuinely gets excited over like those fun facts and jokes that are on popsicle sticks and whatnot – absolutely must share the information with everyone within earshot . honestly , those jokes are very . . . on point with her own personal sense of humor jflakdsj .

HEADCANONS:

she suffers from a terrible case of youngest child syndrome . ultimately , without guidance , she’s terribly irresponsible . she’s always having to run extra laps because she sets her alarm too late to make it to morning practices on time . she’s always receiving overdraft fees for spending more money than is available in her checking account . forgets everything – from homework assignments to names to grabbing her keys before locking the door on her way out . just . . . imagine a child asking for an adult’s help and her looking around until she comes to the realization that “ oh , shit , i am an adult ” .

she’s practically always doodling – in the corners of notebooks , on napkins while eating lunch , on her clothing , on her own skin . she loves making art , particularly drawing or painting portraits or nature . ( ultimately , she only decided to incorporate this into her choice of major after hollis threatened to not allow any further changes to her major ) .

she has a . . . unique sense of style . she has a passion for thrifting and upcycling . practically lives in hoodies and t – shirts that she has purchased from secondhand stores and cropped herself . always adding cool iron-on patches to her clothing . she should be listed as your emergency contact if you’re prone to ripping your clothing because she can definitely fix it .

she probably thinks she’s good at trash-talking on the field , but she actually sounds like a second grader ( and that’s being kind ) . if you looked at her browser history , there’s probably at least one record of her actually googling “ best soccer trash talk ” .

CONNECTIONS:

friends !! friends she’s met through courses throughout her adventures of attempting every major possible , mayhaps soccer friendships that continue off the field , mayhaps that complicated emerging new friendship state for some who are new to hollis ! unlikely friends ! best friends !!! quite literally those unbreakable ride – or – die friendships !

muses !! i feel like every artist needs that little dose of inspiration , even if it’s simply the inspiration of a work – in – progress portrait throughout the duration of camp ! complaints of “ stop moving ! ” and her stopping every ten minutes to ask what they think and probably at some point , her flinging a brush dripping of paint in their direction (if things didn’t end in an all – out paint fight djlfakds ) .

enemies !! honestly i’m sure there is ?? so much ?? potential for this , bt . . . mayhaps someone’s just . . . fed up w her irresponsibility ? thinks she doesn’t take her soccer position seriously ? maybe someone doesn’t think she takes anything seriously ( they wouldn’t be . . . wrong tbh ) . maybe someone from cali takes that “ california vs florida ” feud a little too seriously jflskdja . idk there’s always bound to be personality clashes !

exes !! relationships that ended badly , so she actively tries to avoid them and who even knows what happens when she’s forced to acknowledge their existence at some point at this camp !!! maybe relationships that ended on mutual terms so they’re still p chill with each other ?? maybe ended relationships that never quite got closure so there’s still unresolved feelings !!

hook-ups !! they are . . . college students . they are . . . college students stuck at a camp all summer . idk i feel like this one is pretty self – explanatory jflakds .

honestly i am tired & want to sleep , bt genuinely i am up for & open to anything ! good influences , bad influences , unrequited crushes , requited crushes , idk the world is y(our) oyster !! these are . . . rlly just some ideas to get the whole process started bc i am actually terrible at . . . thinking of plot ideas on the spot . always open to jst . . . doing a thread and seeing how things naturally flow too !

#hollis.intro #i . . . don't know what most of this is #it is jst #almost 5 am now actually i need sleep #also too lazy to log on to my other account to access my other gifs so :) this is what we have to work with for the time being jflaksdj

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cordonia-continued · 4 years

Text

In The Shadows

Book: The Royal Romance 1 & 2. Bastien’s story.

Pairings: Bastien. Liam x MC (Riley Taylor)

Warnings: slight swearing, slight angst

A/N: I thought it would be nice to see things from Bastien’s POV. Any similarities to anything else out there is unintentional and is purely coincidental. I fell in love with the TRR series late and have only just got into it. I felt that some of the chapters just needed a bit more - it goes along with my previous fanfic where Riley went back to New York briefly after the coronation ball.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Apologies in advance for any typos, grammar or spelling errors.

Chapter 2

A few days after the masquerade ball there’s a knock at Bastien’s office door ‘Come in.’ He summons. The door slowly opens and Maxwell Beaumont stands on the other side his hands wringing themselves together nervously, his eyes darting from Bastien’s face to the back wall, his voice small and unsure ‘You asked for me?’

‘Ahh Lord Beaumont yes I did, come in.’ Bastien pulls out a leather computer chair from the desk next to him and places it a foot away directly in front of his own, as he sits down in his own leather desk chair he he motions for Maxwell to sit down. The poor young lad looks uncomfortable and nervous as hell as he sits on the edge of the chair. Bastien enjoys tormenting Maxwell too much, toying with him is just too easy he thinks to himself.

‘So, Lord Beaumont’

‘Please call me Maxwell all my friends do.’ Maxwell tries a smile at Bastien, he doesn’t know why the bodyguard makes him so nervous, well it’s probably got something to do with the silent but deadly looks he gives, that and the all the muscles that strain beneath the older mans suit. Oh, and the fact that he could snap him in half in an instant doesn’t help.

‘We’re not friends’ Bastien deadpans, the stern look on his face unmoving. Maxwell audibly gulps.

‘I need to know everything you know about Lady Riley Taylor.’

‘I’ve already told you everything I know about her.’ Maxwell looks at the bodyguard in confusion ’She was our waitress, we ordered whiskey and burgers, well Drake ordered whiskey and burgers, the rest of us actually wanted steak but you know how Drake is about these things, and she said the closest we’ve got to filet mignon is...’

‘Maxwell’ Bastien growls leaning forward.

‘Sorry’ Maxwell blushes, he knew he was babbling, he had a tendency to do so when he was nervous, he sat back in his chair, trying to put some distance between himself and the intimidating bodyguard.

‘She seemed to get on with Liam well- in fact I haven’t ever seen him so happy as he was when he was with her, so the next day me and Drake went back to her bar and waited for her. We asked her to come back with us and she did. That’s all there is to tell’

Bastien nods his head. ‘So you didn’t go back to her apartment with her?’

Maxwell shakes his head ‘No, we waited for her in the limo.’

‘And what about since then? She’s been living with you right? You must have learnt something about her.’

‘Oh yes!’ Maxwell exclaims, suddenly animated ‘She’s amazing, she knows all the best dance moves and has great taste in music, she puts all the other suitors in their place and yet still holds herself with grace and dignity, errr sometimes she swears but me and Bertrand are trying to drum that out of her, well Bertrand is, I think it’s kinda cute.’ Maxwell’s cheeks grow pink once again.

Oh great him as well, what the fuck has this girl got that’s got them all acting like dribbling idiots? Bastien wonders.

‘No, no, I mean what do you know about her, about her background where she’s come from, her past? Has she told you anything about her family? Her parents? What school she went to? Where she grew up? Anything like that?’

‘Oh um...’ Maxwell looks up to the ceiling tilting his head to the side thinking about the last few days with Riley ‘No, no she hasn’t. We don’t really talk about stuff like that to be honest, we’re too busy teaching her about the court and it’s many protocols.’

Shit. He knew it was a long shot asking the young Beaumont, as nice as the guy is, he’s not the brains of the family. Maybe he should have asked Bertrand he thinks, but the more astute of the two brothers would know that Bastien hasn’t been able to do his job properly, hasn’t been able to find out about the American’s past. He doesn’t want it to get out that he’s so far failed, he’s got enough on his plate with Constantine’s demands on him and arranging the security for the social season. Damn it.

‘Ok Beaumont you can go, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this meeting.’ He gives Maxwell his most menacing stare toying once again with the poor lad, chuckling to himself inside.

Maxwell’s up like a shot reaching for the door handle ‘oh yes of course, my lips are sealed’ he makes a key locking motion on his lips and hurries through the door.

Back to the drawing board Bastien thinks frustrated. He picks up the phone to give an old friend of his in the FBI a call, he needs help on this one, it is as matter of national security after all.

The weeks of the social season pass in a blur, Bastien is rushed off his feet organising the palace guards and personal security teams for the nobles and the Royal Family.

He gets a message that Constantine has summoned him to his chambers. He knocks on the Kings sitting room door and waits.

‘Enter’

Bastien opens the door to find the King standing at the large lead lined window

looking out over the lush green lawns of the palace grounds.

‘Ah Bastien there you are my fellow’

‘Your Majesty’ Bastien bows to the King and enters the sitting room closing the door behind him ‘You wanted to speak with me?’

That in itself wasn’t strange, they often discussed the palace security details outside of their morning briefing, especially when it involved leaving the security of the palace walls.

‘Come, have a drink with me.’ The King walks over to a drinks cart stocked full of decanters of spirits, without waiting for an answer he pours two glasses of amber liquid.

‘Your Majesty, I’m on duty’ Bastien’s not a big drinker at the best of times, preferring to keep a clear head in case he’s needed to respond to a threat at anytime.

‘Nonsense, you can indulge an old man this once.’ The King hands a glass to Bastien and knocks his own against it.

‘What are we drinking to?’ Bastien asks

‘Hmm’ The King pauses thoughtfully ‘to creating our own destiny’

Bastien raises an eyebrow and his glass to The King.

‘Ya mas’ he toasts before taking a sip of the fiery liquid. He remains silent waiting for The King to fill him in on the reason for this impromptu drinking session.

‘Bastien, I need you to do me a favour.’

‘Of course Your Majesty, anything.’

The King runs a hand along his cleanly shaven jaw thoughtfully. ‘It’s of a delicate nature, I need your discretion on this.’

‘Your Majesty I have served you faithfully for over twenty years now, you know my discretion is guaranteed’

‘Of course I realise that Bastien, it’s just, this is for The Prince, it’s in his best interests, only he might not see it that way.’ Lines crease the old mans forehead.

Bastien nods ‘Ok, go on.’

‘I need you to get rid of the American’

Bastien’s eyes widen and his voice falters ‘Ahh. Sir I understand, but Prince Liam is really quite taken with her, it wouldn’t be right to, um, get rid of her.’

The King lets out a deep throaty laugh ‘Good God Bastien what do you think of me! I don’t mean kill her!’ He laughs again and Bastien lets out a breath thank God for that he thinks. He’ll do a lot to serve his crown and country but murdering a suitor is way past his job description.

‘I mean get rid of her from the running, make it so she can’t stay as a suitor. Preferably before the coronation, it won’t give the right image to do it after he’s chosen her. And knowing my son as I do, he will choose her.’

‘Yes Your Majesty, I think he will. However surely it’s his choice to make. Are you sure that’s what you want? You must have noticed as well as I have how happy The Prince is when he’s with her. And the press seem to love her.’

Constantine straightens his posture and takes a sip of his scotch ‘It’s not really his choice to make. This whole ridiculous farce is just for show. He will marry the best choice for the country, not whoever he wants. That’s why I’m asking you. I’m not a fool Bastien, I’ve seen the looks he gives her, you’ve kept me updated on their antics, their romantic rendezvous. He’s just lucky he’s got you looking out for him, not letting him get carried away and caught in a compromising position by the press. It wouldn’t do for the crown to be dragged down in some gutter press scandal involving my youngest son. I don’t want Liam to be likened to his brother and the reputation he made for himself.’

Bastien clears his throat. ‘Your Majesty he’s been quite the gentleman so far.’ He feels bad that he’s required to report back to The King on Liam’s life, but that’s part of his job and he knows if The King found out something that Bastien hadn’t told him there would be hell to pay.

‘Exactly - so far. He’s a young man Bastien, and as old as I am I do remember what that’s like, he won’t be able to keep that up for much longer.’ He gives a rueful smile and turns his back to his bodyguard, moving to stare out of the window once again at the palace gardens beyond. He shakes his head.

‘Bastien I am quite sure. She needs to be gone. She can’t compete to be Queen. She’s not the right fit for Cordonia. She’s not a noble, she’s a mere commoner. Your dossier on her was...enlightening, it’s clear where she gets her stamina and veracity from, however it also made it clear that she was born beneath us, that she’s not fit for our world. As pleasant as she is she’s not good enough for my son or my country.’ He pauses thinking for a moment. His lips turn up at the thought of the pretty American woman ‘Hell, if I was a young prince I would chase after her too for some fun. But even Liam, as soft as he is, can surely see that’s all it can be, that she’s not worthy to wear the crown.’

‘Your Majesty...’ Bastien starts but is cut off.

‘And while you’re at it get rid of that damn Nevrakis woman too, she’s far too feisty and hot headed to be Queen. What with her family’s past I wouldn’t want him choosing her as some kind of consolation prize.’

‘Your Majesty, please I don’t think...’

‘I don’t pay you to think Bastien, I pay you to do. You have my orders. I don’t care how you do it I just want it done. Some kind of scandal should do the job, get it out all over the press, make sure she’s humiliated enough to leave immediately afterwards. Do you understand?’

‘Yes sir, but there has to be another way, please Sir, talk to The Prince...’

‘Bastien’ the King raises his voice an octave ‘Do not overstep the mark.’ Bastien closes his mouth and nods silently. He makes for the door.

‘And Bastien, not a word of this to anyone.’

Bastien places his barely touched drink on the antique sideboard. ‘Very well Your Majesty.’ He bows and leave the room.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His mind is whirling, how the hell is he going to do this, Liam is never going to forgive him. He’s seen how much the young prince cares for Lady Riley. She’s done so well in her time here, even Bastien can now see what it is they all love about her, she’s got them all captured with her majestic beauty, her uncompromising strength, quick wit and dazzling personality. Even the stone cold Drake Walker has totally fallen for her, much to Bastien’s chagrin. That boy is gonna get his heart well and truly broken going after his best friends girl. Ever since Jackson Walker died in the line of duty Bastien has looked out for Drake and Savannah. Drake’s not going to forgive him for this either. He has no choice, he can’t go against the direct orders of The King.

Regretfully Bastien sets up a trap for Riley. He gets that idiot Tariq to try his luck with her, knowing that the fool couldn’t resist the thought of getting one up on The Crown Prince by getting his end away with the favourite suitor. It was easier than he thought it would be. The only thing he didn’t count on was that Drake would go piling in to save her. Still, they got the photos they needed. He sent them to the press anonymously. Constantine had orchestrated it so that it would happen at the Coronation Ball for maximum impact, Bastien was not in agreement to that, the public humiliation was a step too far in his opinion. But The King was ruthless and Bastien had no choice but to go along with it.

#choices trr #choices #liam x riley #trr mc x liam #king liam #trr bastien #trr fanfic #the royal romance

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ehstarwar · 4 years

Text

under thy own life’s key (5/7)

They were both mostly silent during the meal, reacting to their friends antics only when prompted. Rey could feel Bens' leg against hers under the table and if she weren’t shoveling food into her mouth, she wouldn’t have been able to resist touching him.

Teasing him, more likely.

Ben and Rey engage in a friendly competition to make the day go faster. (And also tease each other until one of them breaks.)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4K

Read on AO3

Notes: home stretch you guys... this was the hardest chapter to write but also my favorite so far, i think? lemme know what chu think babes. thanks for reading! enjoy (･∀･)

Chapter 5: makes heaven drowsy with the harmony

Rey doesn’t feel Ben crawl back into bed that night, but she sure a hell feels him the next morning. He has her in his grasp again, his face buried in her hair and lightly snoring against her neck. His arms hold Rey to his chest, body flush with his and legs shuffled together.

She also feels him.

Hot and aching against the cleft of her ass. It takes a minute to realize exactly what she’s feeling, but when the realization crashes over her, her whole body shivers. Rey does her best to turn towards him, eventually having to lift parts of his body to turn fully over.

“Ben,” She whispers against his neck. Her hands trace the muscles that stretch his shirt in a way that should be illegal. She moves her feet so they rub against his strong calf muscles.

Ben grumbles something, not opening his eyes, but moving his face down to Rey’s and bumping their noses together.

“Good morning,” She whispers against his cheek. Ben doesn’t respond, just shifts his face so their lips press together. The kiss is slow and warm, and makes Rey feel better than any kiss ought to. Ben’s hands come around her again, one to hold onto her back and another to kneed the swells of her ass. They make out like that for a good minute, not caring about morning breath or knotty hair, just enjoying the soft intimacy of each other.

When Reys’ hand trails lower, gently tracing the outline of his morning wood, Bens’ breath hitches.

“Rey, baby,” His voice is a whine, and that just makes Rey move a little faster. She dips her hand beneath his boxers, finding him so hard that she can only imagine how painful it is. Her hand immodestly goes to work, gliding up and down on his hot skin. Their tongues tangle together, neither of them breaking the kiss for even a moment. She feels Ben clench his muscles wherever she touches him, giving her a rightful sense of power.

Ben moves his hand to come up from her ass and rub circles on her nipples that are hard and stiff against her sleep shirt. She moans against his mouth, hand moving even faster now. His thumb rubs at one, the calluses evident even over the fabric of her shirt. She wishes he would rip it off like he did to her underwear, toss it far across the room so she could feel his flesh against her.

Ben begins to mumble something against her lips, a warning, she can tell. She just shoves her tongue down his mouth and rubs his head with a little more determination. Ben’s whole body tenses when he comes, cock straining against her hand, overflowing with sticky white come. Ben is breathing so heavy that Rey works her mouth across his jaw, nipping and licking everywhere let lips land.

His come coats her hand, a little dribbling down onto her thighs and spreading his warmth even further. Rey doesn’t feel the clenching need like she did last night after he came; the need to fall over the edge with him or she was going to die. His orgasm sends a ripple of pleasure though her, but doesn’t claw at her the same way.

When Ben gets his breath under control, his mouth seeks out Rey’s once more. She still holding him, working out the last possible drop of come into her hands, feeling powerful and satisfied and adored, all in one.

“REY! BEN! WAKE UP. YOU’LL MISS BREAKFAST!”

Poe’s loud shrill breaks the silence and Rey can’t help but be reminded of last night.

“I’ll kill him,” Ben says. “I will chop his body into tiny pieces and feed him to fish in the lake. I’ll do it.” Ben says with eyes closed.

“Hux wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Fuck Hux.”

Rey smiles at Ben, watching the way she small stream of sunlight his his hair just right so it looks like a halo. On cue, her stomach rumbles. They both look down at her stomach before looking back up in silent agreement.

“Breakfast, then.” Ben says and Rey nods enthusiastically. “I’ll just… get a towel for you.” Ben gets up and walks into the bathroom quickly.

It dawns on Rey that this is the first time they’ve been sexual in broad daylight, with out the excuse of needing to get off to get to sleep. She doesn’t know why, but it feels like more. Probably because it is more. The made out last night after… everything, and this morning before they even started. Rey tries to think about what this all means, but Ben is back handing her a wet washcloth before her mind can begin to reel.

She takes it with her clean hand, but when she goes to wipe her other hand, something stops her. She looks down, her palm covered in his now-cool come. She glances down to her thighs, seeing the white blob that landed there earlier still against her tan skin. She feels Ben watching her, so she decided to be bold.

Rey licks her palm clean; every finger, every crevice, every joint. She sucks off his come before using the rag to clean her of saliva. Ben is still standing at the end of the bed, eyes dark and posture rigid as he watches her.

“I don’t need breakfast.” His words are a growl and Rey is very, very tempted to agree with him. But another rumble breaks the silence before Rey can say anything, like her body is cockblocking them now.

“I think I do,” She tells him sheepishly.

Breakfast is… an event. To say the least.

When Ben and Rey finally came up stairs to eat with the rest of their friends, the tension between them had not shifted one bit. It’s like there was a looming force around them, making them move together, reach for the same plate, brush hands whenever possible. They were both mostly silent during the meal, reacting to their friends antics only when prompted. Rey could feel Bens leg against hers under the table and if she weren’t shoveling food into her mouth, she wouldn’t have been able to resist touching him.

Teasing him, more likely.

“We have to spend all day outside today, guys. It’s our last day of full sunshine before the storms roll in tonight. If I have to go home without the epic tan I promised my office mates I would have, I’m going to personally send all of you strongly worded messages on insta,” Poe says before popping a blueberry into his mouth.

“How is that on us?” Kaydel asks, laughing at him. Poe sticks his tongue out at her.

“I don’t have an instagram,” Ben says, slicking up one of the wheat protein pancakes he bought for the trip. The only other person who dared to eat them was Phasma.

“Then I’ll send it to you via raven, Benjamin. Can we all just agree to make the most of today? Pretty please, for the blushing bride?” Poe bats his lashes at everyone and Finn throws a pancake at his face.

While a day lounging in the sun sounds wonderful after the incident yesterday, Rey can’t help but feel a little annoyed. She wants to stay inside. In her room. With her roommate. Preferably making each other come as many times as humanly possible. Maybe they’ll talk about what the hell this is. Maybe they’ll just fuck each other boneless. Rey selflessly prefers the latter.

A shared, exasperated look at Ben tells her that he wants the same thing.

The sun is hot. The drink, once filled with ice, are hot. The damn water is hot.

But all that heat is nothing compared to what Rey is feeling inside herself. Ben chose the tiniest, most ridiculously short-board shorts, that hug his taut ass just right, show off his perfectly toned long legs, and ride dangerously short on his adonis belt. Rey wants to fucking melt.

When she’d seen the low blow he pulled when he emerged with that male-equivalent of a thong, she decided pull out the big guns. And by big guns, she means the practically non-existent white bikini that shows off more skin than she’s usually okay with people seeing.

She thinks the look he gave her when he saw the white fabric bunch up in her ass was enough to get her through the rest of the day relatively smoothly. She was wrong.

Ben, it seemed, was also up for a challenge. An actual challenge, that is.

“Volleyball?” Rey questions, looking up at him from her sunbathing spot that she’d subtly been flashing her ass towards him. Kaydel, beside her, pipes up.

“Ugh, yes! I haven’t played volleyball since high school!” Jannah, Zorii and Poe seem all equally enthused. Rey wants to slap the smug grin off Bens face. Or kiss it.

Ben teams up with Zorii, Poe, and Hux (‘the celebrating couple must be on the same team.’) leaving Rey with Jannah, Kaydel, and Phasma. Rose and Finn were ‘taking a bathroom break’ for the last twenty minutes.

Ben attached the net that he’d pulled out of god knows where at Kaydel gives Rey tips on playing.

“Weren’t you like, a super gym rat in college?” Kaydel asks when Rey eyes the ball with a tenuous expression.

“I run. And swim. On occasion, I enjoy a good barre class. But my hand-eye coordination is virtually nonexistent. I tried playing baseball once and literally gave the umpire a concussion,” She admits.

“Well, there is no bats in volleyball, so just… be careful.” Kaydel gives he a goodnatured pat on the shoulder before walking off to practice serving. Rey turns to glare at Ben, who still has that smug look which Rey can’t decide if it's off-putting or unbelievably sexy.

“You know I don’t have hand-eye coordination to save my life.”

“Yes I do.”

“So you suggested that we play volleyball because you want to see me make an utter fool of myself.”

“No. I suggested we play volleyball because I found a volleyball net in one of the closets. And because I want to see what your ass looks like when you jump in that… bathing suit.” Ben’s eyes rake down her body. Rey suddenly sees the… potential this particular game has.

Only when the sun skins below the mountain tops that Rey realizes how long they’ve been playing. Well, how long she and Ben have been playing. Everyone slowly bowed out when they realized this competition was between Ben and Rey and that they each had a single minded victory to beat each other.

“Guys, we need to head in! The bugs will be coming out soon!” Jannah shouts at them. Ben is detracted enough that Reys’ serve to Ben hits him square in the chest before bouncing off into the water. Rey doubles over in laughter, seeing Ben walk towards her with determination.

“I swear… I didn’t mean…” Rey can barely talk though her laughter as she tries to justify herself. Suddenly, Rey is lifted from the sand, feeling two strong arms hoist her up. Ben carries her back towards the house, steely expression on his face.

“I think this means I won?” She taunts, poking him in the chest. She’s rewarded with a low mumble that sounds like ‘no’ and ‘you wish’.

He carries her up to the cabin, only setting her down once there outside the door where her friends laughter drifts towards them.

“Were going to eat dinner,” He says, the same determined expression still on his face. “Then we’re going to bed.”

“Okay,” Rey breaths. He pulls her inside then, practically dragging her to get her food.

“Are, uh, you guys hungry?” Finn asks as Ben load up both of their plates with militant precision.

“Yes,” Ben replies, stoically.

“Lots of volleyball. We’re both starved,” She tosses over her shoulder. Ben sits down at the dining room table and begins shoving food into his mouth like it’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

Rey joins her friends on the couch, trying to be a bit more casual than Ben. Who was now staring at her from across the room. She could feel his gaze all over.

While Ben finished his monstrous plate in record time, Rey was going at a leisurely pace. Taking time to actually chew her food instead of inhale it. Listening to her friends and laughing at the appropriate places. She could physically feel Ben loose his mind.

A hard screech across the hardwood floors made everyone turn their heads to stare at Ben.

“I’m going to bed,” He announced, eyes fixated on Rey. He stomped around the group and down the stairs, leaving the door open as a clear invitation to her.

“The fuck in up with Solo?” Zorii asked.

“Maybe he got sun poisoning. I mean, his thighs were super white. It’s possible he’s never been exposed to this much direct sunlight in his life.”

“He’s not a vampire, Kaydel. Plus, if he is pale enough to get sick by the sun, don’t you think I’d be sicker?” Hux defending Ben was still the cutest thing to Rey, even if she’d never tell him.

“Well you and Poe spent enough time canoodling in the shade, so I think you’re safe,” Kaydel retorted, causing everyone to laugh. Soon enough, the conversation drifted from Ben’s unusual state and onto other things decidedly less interesting to Rey.

“I’m going to make sure Ben is alright. I’ll… probably be going to bed too.” Rey stands up quickly, suddenly very driven to get down to Ben as fast as humanly possible.

“Tell Benjamin that I have plenty of Aloe if he needs it. And that ice baths don’t actually help,” Hux calls after her. She just gives him a thumbs up and closes the door to the stair case.

By the time Rey makes it to their bedroom door, her heart is pounding in her chest. Would this be the night they talked about whatever the hell is going on between them? Would they pretend like they have every other night that this is normal? Or would Ben sweep her off her feet before she had the door opened all the way and make her forget her own name as he fucked her into the next dimension?

There was only one way to find out.

The door squeaks open and Rey finds Ben frowning down at her suitcase and reorganizing her clothes for her. When he hears her open the door, Ben’s head snaps up and his body is coming towards her within an instant.

His lips find hers in a bruising hold, hands coming up to hold her head as his mouth pushes against hers.

“You… took… too… long.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss, his mouth not straying far from hers even to speak. He’s still shirtless, still in his abysmally tiny board shorts and Rey can feel his warm skin pressed against hers. She grips at his chest, runs her hands down his back and across his arms, anything just to feel him.

Bens’ legs are shoved between hers, pressing his thigh against her as he continues his assault on her mouth.

“You just… gonna stay here… and kiss me all night?” She teases him, voice airy and light. Ben works his mouth down her jaw to her throat, chest, stomach, until he bends down and picks her up by the legs.

“You’ve got to stop picking me up, Ben!” He deposits her on the bed, standing back now, bathed only in the light coming from the bathroom. She can see his erection in his board shorts, so she traces her foot along the length of him. She sees his jaw work and his neck tense and she’s tempted to just stick a hand down her bottoms right there.

“Rey,” He catches her foot, holding it in his warm hand, “I need you to tell me that you want this. Not to sleep. Not because you’re frustrated. But because you want this.” His eyes are filled with an intensity that she’s been exposed to quite a bit in the last few days. Her prior experiences with it do nothing to quell the nervous butterflies she gets.

“I want this, Ben. I want you.”

Ben crouches onto the floor, kissing down her leg. He spreads her apart, mouthing at the juncture between her thighs. He gently takes her swim bottoms off her legs and tosses them away, before delving into her pussy. She’s wet, embarrassingly so, but Ben doesn’t seem to mind. His mouth moves against her, pressing kisses against her folds and on her clit. She tangles her hand into his hair, same as last night, as his tongue licks strips up and down.

She’s mewling for him, bucking her hips until his palm comes around to hold her pelvis down. She clutches his hand where it rest on her skin, and his thumb rubs little circles into her. Her orgasm comes much quicker this time, probably a result of being kept on edge for the entire day. She moans his name as her body vibrates with the intensity, legs crushing his head in the process. If Ben minds, he doesn’t mention it.

He soothes her, pressing light kisses up her cunt, nuzzling the brown thatch of hair between her legs, teasing his tongue up her stomach to come circle her nipples. Somehow, Rey had managed to pull off her bikini top (not that there was much to pull), so she was laid gloriously bare before him.

When her breathing returns to normal, Ben speaks again.

“Every time you’ve come, you fall asleep right after. I don’t intend on letting you do that tonight.” His voice is deep and menacing and Rey thinks she could come just from the vibrations it makes against her skin.

“What do you plan on doing about that, Solo?” She taunts.

Suddenly, Rey is being hauled further back on the bed, with Ben coming to lay over her. His mouth is sucking at the skin of her neck, no doubt leaving enormous hickey’s that she’ll have to figure out how to cover tomorrow.

But that’s Tomorrow Reys’ problem.

Her hand trails down his torso, feeling his shorts are still on, but his cock crying desperately to get out. When Ben feels her hand on him, he quickly sheds the material, coming right back down to kiss Rey again. She tugs him a little, spreading the precome over his cock to lube him up. Not that he needs it, with the way Rey is dripping.

“I plan on fucking you so well that you forget what sleep is,” He murmurs against her skin. “That you’ll never be able to sleep again without dreaming of my cock. Of me making you come so hard you forget where we are.”

Rey can only mewl at his words, clawing at him and trying to line him up with her. Ben partially obliges, moving his hips between hers, rubbing the thick head of his cock up and down her pussy. Rey tries to move her hips to force him in her, but Ben is in control at the moment.

“Please, Ben, please. I need this… I need you, please…”

He pushes into her slowly, like he’s savoring every moment her tight, wet heat envelopes him. He’s big in her hand but somehow feels even larger inside of her. It’s not painful, he prepped her too well for that, but fulfilling in a way that makes her toes curl. Like she was made for this exact moment for Ben to push into her. When he’s fully seated inside of her, Ben rest his forehead against hers.

“Rey… fuck. You’re so fuckin… fuck, Rey. You’re prefect. Made for me. Just fucking perfect.” Ben is still inside of her. She’s not sure if its for her to adjust, or for him to control himself. Rey peppers kisses along his jaw, watching his eyes clenched shut and breath through gritted teeth.

“So good, Ben. You’re so good. You feel perfect too, baby. Just for me.” She hope her words calm him, make it easier for him, but the growl that originates from somewhere deep within his bones makes her think otherwise.

“I just need… a minute. I wanna make this good for you. Wanna make this last.” His lips are against her neck now, breathing hot breath onto her with every word. “Want to fucking live inside of you, baby.”

It’s another minute before Ben can move. Rey just cards her fingers through his hair, marveling at how his black locks can remain so silky even after a full day of sweat. His hand comes up to her jaw, and cups her face so that he can kiss her deeply, tongue going so far down her throat she thinks she might swallow it.

His hips begin moving at a snails pace; sharp, shallow thrust that make her breath hitch all the same. He forces her thighs even further apart so that he can get deeper within her, nearly bumping her cervix.

Ben’s thrust get more sure, move faster and harder. His cock brushes against a bundle of nerves that makes Rey see stars behind her eyes. It doesn’t matter if she’s just come a few minutes ago; she’s going to come again and soon.

“You gonna come around my cock, baby? You gonna come for me?” Ben asks between kisses. Rey just seeks out his mouth more, wanting every part of her to be connect with him as much as possible.

Ben sticks a hand by where their bodies meet, rubbing at her over-sensitive, over-stimulated clit, until Rey is a babbling mess. She feels hot tears of desire prick at her eyes as her hand clutches Ben’s head down to hers.

“‘m gonna come, Ben. Please, I need to come,” She whimpers against him. Ben grunts something unintelligible against her lips, but feels his whole body begin to tense up.

“Gonna come to, Rey. Gonna come in your perfect little cunt. You want that, you want me to fill you up?” Yes, yes, yes. Rey is beyond words at this point so she hopes the sloppy nodding of her head will give him the answer she’s so desperate to convey.

When Ben’s thumb catches her clit and his cock brushes against that bundle of nerves inside of her, Rey looses her mind. She sees stars and feels warmth like she’s never known and hears the most beautiful sound in the world. Ben, mumbling her name as he comes and comes. His come feels so good inside of her, a warmth that she never knew she needed until right now. His body is tense as he releases, pressing their hips flush together so hard that she thinks they may never part. She’s okay with that.

Ben sags against her, nearly crushing her with his impressive weight, but Rey loves it. She’ll hold him against her forever if he’ll let her.

Ben moves his head to kiss her again, softer this time. None of the hurried rush they’d experienced before. He’s still firmly inside of her, keeping his come warm and thick in her. She’s boneless and breathless and has never felt this high on ecstasy in her life.

Ben’s lips break away from hers and he rest his forehead on hers, looking down at her with so much emotion Rey is not mentally prepared to decipher.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

“I meant it. Everything I said.”

“Me too.”

They’re silent for a minute, content with just staring at each other. Ben seems to realize that Rey is essentially trapped under him, so he pushes himself up, slowly pulling out of her. The rush of fluids that Rey feels escape her makes the flush in her cheeks deepen. Ben is staring between them now, watching their combined come trickle out of her.

“I probably should’ve asked this before but…” His eyes slowly ascend to hers, “do you take birth control?”

“No,” She shakes her head. Something flashes across Ben’s face that is not the fear she anticipated. “I’m on the shot.”

“Oh.” He looks… disappointed? Maybe not quite sad, but there’s a longing in his gaze that Rey isn’t used to, but thrills her all the same.

“That was a very good way to keep me from falling asleep,” She says, not nearly prepared to talk about that subject. She doesn’t even know where they stand.

“Is that your way of telling me you’re ready to actually go to bed now?” Ben’s sheepish demeanor returns and Rey is thankful that he’s on the same page as her.

“Not if you can think of something even better to keep me awake.”

Bens’ gaze darkens once more, and Rey knows that they’re in for a long night.

#so proud of them!#they made this decision all on their own and not because im an omnipotent being that controls every decision they make in this alt universe #reylo #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #ben solo x rey #kylo ren x rey #star wars #sw #fan fiction #my work #utolk #ao3 #adam driver #daisy ridley

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calpalirwin · 5 years

Text

You’ll Always Have Me

Summary: Alyssa and Ashton have been best friends ever since Alyssa moved in across the street the summer before second grade. Together, they were tackling the stereotype that boys and girls can’t just be friends. That is, until they almost kissed right before their junior year of high school. Can their friendship survive the jealousy that stems from their newfound feelings? And what happens when they realize these “newfound feelings” really aren’t all that new?

A/N: Just a small filler episode before the last chapter and then the epilogue. Aly and Ash’s story is almost over y’all! (notice the time jump)

And away, and away we go!

Chapter 15

~Ashton

March 2025~

I tossed my keys on the counter and started thumbing my way through the mail. I paused at the small envelope with perfect cursive writing on it: Luke and Sierra’s wedding invitation.

I’d been waiting for this invitation ever since Luke had called me in excitement a little over a year ago, Sierra’s equally excited voice in the background, 1.) to tell me the news, and 2.) to ask if I’d be best man.

I carefully tore open the envelope, to reveal the glossy sheen on the little card. I was about to throw the envelope in the trash when I stopped and took another look at the writing. Even six years later, I’d know that writing anywhere. It was her’s. So, rather than throwing it in the trash, I pinned it, along with the invitation, to the board above my desk, right with all my pictures of her and us through the years.

I sat in my desk chair and admired the board. I could, and often did, spend hours staring up at the board at her: ice cream dribbling down her chin and a wide smile showing her missing teeth, her arm flung around me in our Halloween costumes, me smiling at her with an awestruck expression at the talent show, her head resting against my chest as I spun her around on Prom Night, crooked graduation caps and even more crooked smiles. Snapshots of my life with my best friend.

While I had no pictures of her over the last six years, I still kept tabs on her through Luke who kept tabs on her through Sierra, through social media, and through the occasional call when I couldn’t bear another second of not hearing her voice. While she always answered, there was a tension that we both blamed on distance and time. I was busy with the Navy and she was busy with school, but we would catch up soon, we promised.

Well, the Navy was done shipping me around and she was finishing up her Master’s, and I was the best man, and she was the maid of honor. I crossed my hands behind my head and kicked my legs up on my desk, thinking that this was finally the moment, and I wasn't going to let it slip through my fingers.

#you'll always have me #chapter 15 #ashton irwin #5SOS #Lu and Si are GETTING MARRIED!!!#in the story at least #galcal irwin

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kamino-ink · 6 years

Text

Burn | Seo Changbin

genre ⌁ vampire!au, supernatural!au, gothic horror, angst,,, angst,,, kinda fluff lmao

summary ⌁ your little brother, full of pure innocence and blooming life, was kidnapped by a cult on a remote island - your deadbeat dad doesn’t care to pay the ransom, leaving you to even make sure jeongin is still alive so you can rescue him. the cult is strange, but what’s even stranger is one of the oldest members of it - a mysterious man by the name of seo changbin.

word count ⌁ 8.3k

warning ⌁ violent at times, blood, - I mean it’s inspired by Apostle (great movie it’s on Netflix plz watch it 11/10)

Check out my masterlist!

Luggage was a pain in the ass, to put it simply. You were forced to rummage through your closet for clothes decent enough for a destination you weren’t even sure had a proper weather broadcasting system - would it be a spot of frequent storms, or would it be covered in the shadows of thick clouds while the sun peeked weakly over the horizon? The problems of travelling to a remote island in, essentially, the middle of nowhere were agonizingly obnoxious and cruel.

And having to carry the somewhat heavy bag all the way through the main hub of town, where most everyone recognized your face in seconds? That was pure hell - most of the time. Though, considering the circumstances in which you were leaving, the people who would probably question your motives for leaving town stood idly by on the sidewalk, watching you pass by their shadows silently. Everyone knew why you were leaving, though they didn’t expect for you to come back... alive, that is.

“Please put your bags aside and hand us your tickets for the ship. Once we clear you, please go below deck and take a seat. We are scheduled to leave in about an hour.”

Your solemn gaze lifts from the wooden panels of the dock at the bay, drifting towards the older gentleman stood by a shattered post that tied the small carrier vessel to the docks. His lips were curled into an oddly bright smile as he dutifully started to scan the tickets of each boarding individual, as if he was looking for something.

Shit.

You glanced down at your cream colored ticket, comparing it to the one the man in front of you was holding loosely behind his back. While his was quite normal in appearance, sporting the same cream color and signatures, yours had a red stamp on the bottom right corner - it was the symbol of your family name, which was always stamped onto official certificates since your family name was the one that kept the town running. Having your father as mayor was not working out for you.

As if some other deity was looking out for your own well being, the woman behind you for some reason decided she had to shuffle through her luggage a couple feet away - though she clumsily dropped the papers she’d been holding under her arm.

“Here, let me help.” You offer to the brunette, startling her after you’d quietly crouched down beside her arched back.

“Thank you, mam - I accidently stuffed my cash into a pocket. I’m going to try and make a good first impression by tipping all of the staff.” She explains to you, a complete and utter stranger who is likely about to ruin any chance of her being treated as an equal on the island. Her airy voice rang in your ears as she continued to babble on and on about how excited she was to leave the mainland and join the island colony, something about her husband dying years ago and how she found solace in their scriptures.

Well, it appears as if you were just another hurdle in her life. Since her attention was solely on finding the green wads of cash in her suitcase, the frail woman didn't even seem to notice that her ticket had been snagged under her shoe. You hoped that she wouldn’t notice how you leaned in just a bit closer, your hand going to quickly tug the slip of paper from under her foot; you switched it with your own, holding it and waiting for her to be done.

She thanks you warmly, graciously taking what is technically your ticket before she gets back in line. Now feeling a bit more safe, you can only pray that nothing goes wrong when you calmly hand the switched ticket to the gentleman clad in a blue dress shirt and black pants. A droplet of beaded sweat dribbled down the back of your neck as you waited patiently for him to give you passage - what if you were found out? What then? Would you ever get to see your brother again-?

“Alright mam, you’re free to board the ship. Please make sure to keep hold of your luggage during the trip.”

You were free to go. After this ship ride to the island, you’d finally be able to start the hunt for your little brother.

You had to find him.

The island wasn’t as beautiful as you had been expecting it to be. Then again, you weren’t quite sure how to picture a cult running a colony all on their own.

The coastline was small, just barely enough sand for more than four people to stand on at a time before they had to be sent uphill. The rest of the island’s otherwise sandy blemish held pillars of cracked stone, creating a sort of eerie gray wall around the bottom section of the island itself.

The soles of your shoes sink into the grainy yellow sand as you step off of the pathetic excuse of a dock, your long trousers just short enough to not brush against the sand. Unlike most of the other passengers, you’d packed everything messily into a bag you could sling over your shoulders - which you silently patted yourself on the back for while watching as the first four struggled to roll their suitcases uphill or carry the weight of their luggage with their fingers. For a brief moment, you forget of the ticket swap, heading towards the end of the coastline towards a path of grass that led farther up the hill. Then, you look back for just a split second.

The woman you’d switched tickets with is being held back from the crowd of new arrivals by the entire crew from the ship, the pack of them surrounding her frail figure.

There was no time to feel guilty - you had done what you needed to do.

Choosing to brush off any hint of guilt or pity for the widowed woman, you make your way up the hill until you’re stood beside one of the other passengers, a burly, plump man with a skewed mustache that oddly resembled a rat’s tail. Just ahead was the village, with young children running amuck and laughing freely, their parents busying themselves by doing laundry outside or chopping firewood. Not one person there seemed remotely interested in any of the new arrivals, though you didn't think it was too big of a deal. The less attention you could draw to yourself, the better.

Eventually someone led your group of about nine people further into the village, mentioning how the church was at the very end of the stone path and the trading market had been closed down for a short while - although he neglected to explain why. Right in front of their church there was an older man with brown hair sat at a table, a single paper and pen resting neatly on it’s surface.

“This is where you’ll tell our village leader, Junmyeon, your names and he’ll give you the keys to your rooms. Since you’re all new, you’ll be group together in a bunker of sorts - don’t worry though, you’ll be able to have your own homes soon enough.” The man hummed, gesturing for the first person to approach the leader waiting patiently at his post.

Without thinking you step forward, not expressing any emotion as you come to the edge of the table where the leader was waiting. He looked up at you briefly, making eye contact before he grabbed his pen and started to ask questions. “What is your name?”

“Y/N.”

“No last name?”

“I was in an orphanage, sir. My caregivers never told me of my surname, nor did I ever try to find it.” That little comment wasn’t too much of a lie, in all honesty - for a good majority of your life, you’d been holed up in a pathetic orphanage that didn't even have running water. Even now, as young adult, you never knew what your surname from birth had been; you’d taken the name Yang from your father, instead.

Junmyeon nods in silence, not opting to pry further into your life story. “What can you provide for us, miss? We already have many women who do the cooking and cleaning-”

“I can chop firewood or do construction.” You interrupt, “I am a working woman, sir. I can handle labor.”

He pauses, quirking an eyebrow in fascination. All the other women, while extremely intelligent and hard workers, tended to choose work such as laundry or cooking simply so they could be closer to home with their children. “I can’t guarantee you’ll get a spot, but... I can have Kris evaluate how well you do with it all tomorrow.” Junmyeon slides one of the keys from the pile across the table, the dingy golden material scrapping a bit on the rough surface. “This is for the last room on the right. After you get settled, I might suggest getting to know some of the other townspeople or relaxing, as tomorrow will be the start of seeing how well you work.”

“Thank you, sir.” You utter quietly, turning your back to him.

“No - thank you, miss Y/N. Welcome to your new home.”

You had concluded with very little hesitation that this place was entirely, one-hundred percent - almost normal.

At first, mostly due to your inner rage and turmoil of knowing your brother was being kept captive somewhere on this god forsaken island, you has assumed that the cultists residing in the quaint but bustling village would be like those you read about in the storybooks your father kept in his study for church. The words scrawled along the thick paper of the books would describe in horrifying detail how cultists of any kind would make inhumane sacrifices to their deities; from cutting off the heads of lambs to burning babies alive while they chanted haunting mantras into the night sky.

But... that didn't seem to be the case at all.

Everyone was friendly, not one shrouded soul of anger in their midst. Many of the women in the village had made it their duty to approach you first and make good will with you, helping you adjust to life on the remote island by cooking you meals and offering to sew you new garments. One of the women, well, girls - her name was Yeri, and she was maybe a year or two younger than yourself. Each morning for the next five days she would make sure that you got out of bed and went to work (which had been approved of by the second leader, Kris) as you had a very close bond with your bed; mainly in which you never wanted to leave.

She was Jeongin’s age, too. Every time she’d make a silly joke or play an innocent prank on one of the older women, you’d be reminded of why you’d even come here in the first place; to find your brother - hopefully alive and well.

Though, one thing you had learned very quickly was that the village was not doing too well. Their crops would leak a sickly black goo sometimes, and a majority of their livestock would mysteriously die in the middle of the night when no one was allowed out of their rooms. You’d easily figured out that the whole ransom issue was brought on by their lack of supplies and goods, but of course that didn’t convince you to pity them any further.

“Y/N? Aren’t you going to eat?”

You’re snapped out of your inner monologue by Yeri, the blonde haired girl tilting her head cutely to the side in amusement. The wooden spoon held between your fingers was lifted almost instinctively up to your chapped lips at her question, as if to reassure the younger girl that you hadn’t forgotten about your meal. “Sorry, I suppose I dozed off.” You hum, quirking an eyebrow when an all too mischievous smile starts to work its way onto her pink lips.

“You’ve been staring at him for at least two minutes, obviously you dozed off!”

“I was not staring at anyone-”

“Yes you were, Y/N! Now he’s staring at you, too.” A giggle escapes her lips as she discretely points across the front of her porch, directly towards the hut across from her own. Your eyes drift over to the hut, only to make sudden eye contact with a man donning a long black trench coat and beige trousers. His hair was slicked into a strange hairdo you had never seen a man sport before, part of the curled fringe swaying in the gentle wind. His eyes seem to almost glisten in the sunlight, appearing almost... red.

And then he turns away, walking back into what you can only assume is his hut.

You're not sure why, but small flurries of goosebumps had dotted your skin after the eye contact had been broken. You choose to ignore the chill that ran up your spine, instead glancing back over to a now widely grinning Yeri. “Who - who was that? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”

“Hm? Oh-! That’s Seo Changbin, he was one of the first people to come here about... I believe three years ago?”

“Three years? He doesn’t look a day over twenty.”

“I don’t know, honestly. Apparently he came here when he was about seventeen.”

You nod in understanding, turning your attention back to the bowl of soup that was only growing colder the longer you waited to finish it. As you lift the spoon back to your waiting lips once more, you swear that you spot a flash of red eyes staring you down from inside the hut the man had gone into.

Still you ignore it, sipping on your soup before it was time to go back to work.

“You’re miss... Y/N, correct?”

You just about jump out of your skin at the intrusion of someone's voice, low and raspy right beside you. With a turn of your head you recognize the man from before - Changbin. “Y-yes, sir. Can I... help you with anything?” The question slips past your lips easily, wondering if he was going to ask why you’d been subconsciously eyeing him down the other week.

For some reason the man, not too much taller than you, grabs onto your shoulder and tugs you closer - to the point your chest is almost pressed against his own. Your eyes widen in shock, but he doesn’t seem to care; too focused on looking around to see if anyone was paying too much attention to the pair of you nearly inches apart. He leans down suddenly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You would do well to inform me as to why you haven’t been participating in the bloodletting, doll. I am well aware that you’ve been taking blood from Kevin Moon’s jar.”

Fuck, the bloodletting.

Since this entire colony was founded upon the belief of some otherworldly deity, the townspeople had to pay their respects somehow - and in this case, they would spill some of their own blood into mason jars once a week each Sunday and place them outside of their doors, presumably so that they could offer their blood to their god.

You... really didn't care much for their beliefs; one, because they were a goddamn cult, and two, because you believed in the supernatural before you would a bloody god. And the man was right, you’d been pouring some of your neighbor’s blood into your jar so you wouldn't have to use your own.

“How - you have no proof, sir.” You object tersely after a moment of stunned silence. Yet he remains authentically calm, his eyes narrowed into slits as he slowly pulls his head back from beside yours.

“Proof? Doll, I have proof that you’re Yang Jeongin’s darling big sister - would be quite a shame if Junmyeon, Kris, or Minseok found out.” He hisses, as if he was growing impatient. “Do you understand the gravity of your situation, Yang Y/N? One slip up and you could be set to be purified tonight.”

You can feel them, the hint of tears starting to pool into the corners of your shaking eyes. How? How had you been found out? Were you too careless? Was Changbin just that good and deduced that the woman you’d switched tickets with was the innocent one in all of this? “I - please, sir, I just want my little brother back home - I beg you, don't say anything!”

Not once did you ever picture yourself close to tears, bowing to a man you barely knew and begging for him to have mercy on you - or rather, Jeongin.

“If you could let me finish, doll, you’d know that I have no intention of outing your sins to those men.” He murmurs, furrowing his brows in surprise when you make a move and there’s a sharp blade at his throat within seconds, just before he’d finished talking. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried - not with that pathetic blade, that is. Smart, though.”

“Should you plan to keep my secret then that must mean you want something in return. Not to offend you sir, but I won’t be on my knees for a man like this.” You grovel to him, a bit of confusion squandering your brain at how he hadn't flinched or made a move to push you away.

“While you are... extremely attractive, miss Y/N, I’m afraid that I am a good man and wouldn't ask for something so - risqué.” The dark haired man snorts, a hint of amusement painting his soft chuckle before he spoke again. “Keep that pesky blade at my throat if you might feel more comfortable, but all I ask of you is to follow me into the woods. There’s something I think you might want to see for yourself, and it involves your little brother.”

Now that caught your attention.

“Show me, now.”

“Whatever you say, doll. Come along then, we need to stay out of sight...”

You felt like you had been walking for hours, with Changbin ahead of you just by a couple feet. Your shoes crunched against the orange and yellow leaves scattered across the grassy ground of the dense woodland, the moon slowly becoming more prominent through the treetops as the sky began to grow darker.

“Stop here. Don’t make a sound.” Changbin instructs you out of nowhere before crouching down towards the ground, seemingly shifting through the grass and colored leaves until he grabbed what looked to be a stone. You do as he advices, stopping completely in your tracks.

His fingers grip tightly onto the gray stone in the palm of his hand, then he’s pulling his hand back and throwing the stone towards a tree trunk a few feet away. Within seconds of the stone hitting the bark covered trunk and making a loud bang, you hear another set of feet walking close by.

From behind a tree not too far away from where the two of you stood in utter silence emerged a grotesque figure - if you could even call it that. The body, which was absolutely torn to shreds with dead skin hanging from the bones and loose organs shifting around in its gut, lurched to where the sound had come from. A bag had been tightly tied over the thing’s head, effectively covering its likely mutilated face.

Changbin makes a sign for you to wait when he goes back to crouching where he had been just moments ago. The grass was suddenly pulled from the ground up, stuck to the top of a panel that he’d lifted up quietly. He gestures for you to go in, which you do, albeit with a bit of reluctance. You soundlessly drop down into what appears to be a short tunnel, at the end of it there was an oddly warm light seeping into the otherwise pitch black area.

“Sorry about that little fright back there,” Changbin mutters apologetically after he’d dropped down beside you, making sure the rusty ladder hadn't broken off the rocky crevice before he goes to stand in front of you yet again, “usually I can detect when it’s around - I suppose I got distracted.” This time he glances over at you quickly, reaching down to grab your wrist with his own cold fingers.

“What you’re about to see may feel... fake, or strange at first. But if you want your brother back you’re going to have to trust me on this entire thing.”

A soft noise of agreement bubbles from between your lips, knowing that you didn’t have much of a choice since he knew of your deadly secret. Seemingly satisfied with your consent, the man leads you through the thin tunnel and makes sure that neither of you accidently bump into a sharp rock jutting out of the walls. You eventually reach the end of the tunnel that seems to round out at the end into a cavern of sorts, Changbin’s grip tightening slightly on your wrist as if he was... worried.

When you walk inside the dimply lit cavern, you immediately understand why he had given you a bit of forewarning beforehand.

The wall to the left was drowning in dying vegetation, sickly looking vines tinted an ugly gray color drooping from various cracks in the stone. A patch of once beautiful red roses hung to the cold floor, their shaky petals close to dust as they brushed against the ground with even the smallest of breaths. In the center of if all was a deathly looking boy - he couldn’t have been any older than Jeongin and Yeri, at least by much.

His hair was an odd mix of faded orange and gray, dust riddling the top of his head like a powdered wig. His cheeks were stained with a thick layer of grime that hid what appeared to be little brown dots spread all across his nose. The corners of the boy’s lips were curled down, dried blood crusting over the chapped pink skin of his mouth.

“C-Changbin-” You start to whisper in concern for the boy, wanting desperately to rip the plants off of his skin and rid him of all the disgusting grime riddling his body.

The man shakes his head, letting go of your wrist as he takes a step closer to the boy, who clearly reacts to his presence and lets out a soft whine that makes you want to cry in sympathy. “This... this is their so called god. He was - part of my clan, but one day he and one of the other younger fledglings decided that they wanted to travel the world. They swore to keep in contact, but we never heard from them again - even after two years.”

He goes to crouch in front of the boy who he knew, grimacing at his disheveled state. “Felix is his name. Jisung went with him, though I can only guess he died a long time ago, as Felix chooses not to speak of him at all. Before all of us could leave to search for the boys together, another clan attacked and destroyed our homes. I watched my only friends burn alive as they told me to run and find our boys.”

“It took me about a year to find out that Felix had purchased a boat at the same dock you came from - it’s the only one those bastards use. I bought one as well, only to come here and find a shitty cult worshiping the corpse of my friend. Course they don’t realize that feeding him so much blood at once is only making him weaker, nor do they realize that he’s just a simple boy - not a god.”

The boy, Felix, lets out what sounds like a strained growl at Changbin’s last statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “You may believe that you’ve been blessed by a goddess, Lix, but there is no god here. There never has been, nor will there ever be.”

“Why can’t you just... take him away?” You ask almost inaudibly.

“Trust me, I’ve been trying to for years now. I don’t know why, but if he leaves this cave then he starts to - to burn alive.” Changbin explains gruffly, standing from his previous position on the floor to stand by Felix’s side. “Mixing so many different blood types together and forcing him to drink it all at once is toxic to our system. There’s only so much our bodies can take. Only reason this kid is still alive is because I help him.”

Mixed blood types? Fledglings and clans? Helping him?

“Changbin, what - holy shit!” You nearly choke on your own breath at the sight of the man leaning down to Felix’s shoulder and sinking his teeth - no, his fangs into the boy’s graying skin. As if paralyzed in shock, you can’t move your body or your stunned gaze away, quite literally forcing yourself to keep watching as Changbin… drains blood from Felix’s body.

When he pulls away, pearly white fangs now dripping with bright red blood, you’re quick to notice how the frail boy’s skin starts to become a bit more noticeable and clear, as if the green and black grime was slipping off of him. His hair was no mostly orange, albeit still faded, but there wasn’t any speck of gray or dust on his head. The brown spots spread across his cheeks and nose like little constellations were much more noticeable now, shining in the dim streaks of light from the single lantern hung on a crevice.

“I take some of the blood those bastards force him to drink so that he can live even a little bit longer... I once asked him if I could just, you know...” He starts to choke up a bit, clueing you in on what he’d been suggesting. Without thinking about the fact that you’d just witnessed the man drinking blood from another person, you step close to him and comfortingly place a hand on his tense shoulder, to which he relaxes just a little. “But Lix refused, said he’d haunt me if I killed him before he decided it was his time to go. He says that he needs to wait for something, and this is where Jeongin is involved.”

Your gaze meets the otherwise mute boy still tangled in the vegetation, which has now started to bloom again in light of being relieved of the blood. “... I’m listening.”

“Felix says that he can sense everyone, up there, that is. He can tell that Jeongin is pure - so pure that his blood can heal this place, the island. I don’t know why Lix wants to wait, in all honesty, but... because your brother’s blood is essentially pure, a vampire would have to have the human’s consent before drinking their blood if they wanted to use that healing power for themselves.”

Oh right, they’re vampires.

“I know I won’t be able to convince your brother to help Felix on my own - hell I can’t rescue him by myself. He’s trapped in the church cellar, and I... can’t go in, for obvious reasons,” he sighed, running his fingers through is slicked back hair, “we can help each other, Y/N. We get your brother out, get him to feed Felix some of his blood, and my friend can finally rest. Please, for the boys.”

Save Jeongin, help a vampire’s other vampire friend by feeding him your little brother’s blood, then leave.

“Jeongin will listen to me, I swear it. I’ll help you - and Felix.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t come with us, Changbin. We have a nice home in London with plenty of space.”

Changbin sighs softly at your confused pout, reaching over to ruffle your already messy head of hair in amusement. He pulls back to grab one of the tiny carrots off of his wooden plate, effectively shoving it between your lips as if to shut you up, much to your displeasure. “I - that does sound nice, doll, but since I’ve been feeding off of Felix who’s somehow connected to this damned island, I am also connected. I’ve tried to go with the other men to get supplies from the mainland, but my skin starts to burn and peel.” He mutters, his thin lips turning into a remorseful frown.

You wince at his sudden gloomy mood, chewing on the orange carrot before you place a hand on his thigh in comfort. “I’ll find a way to come back and take you home, I promise.”

“Home is wherever you are, doll.” The words slip through his lips with no hints of hesitation, surprising both of you to the point you’re positive your cheeks and his resemble that of a ripe tomato. “This place... it’s hell, and I don’t want you to stay any longer than you need to - or come back. When you and Jeongin leave they’ll know who you are; if you even took a step onto the docks ever again they’d spear you without blinking.”

“Enough of this depressing talk - let’s talk about the festival.” You respond after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning back against the wooden planks of the hut. Ever since the weeks had started to pass, you and Changbin had been devising a hopefully foolproof plan to rescue your brother and help Felix. Each passing hour, the church was guarded by two people in the front and with one guarding the door to the cellar where Jeongin was kept hidden away from the outside world. Since Changbin couldn’t step into the church himself, he had to create a plan where the guards would be gone long enough for you to sneak inside and free Jeongin - enter the festival.

At the last day of each month, the village would throw a giant festival to celebrate their god - Felix. What made you suspicious, though, was how the leaders were really pushing the success of this particular festival, especially since they’d been struggling to have a decent harvest and everyone had to ration the meat into thin slices that barely filled anyone up. Changbin guessed that they wanted to make sure everyone was in attendance so they could search the rooms of all the newcomers without arousing suspicion themselves.

It made sense, of course - but you’d fallen into a simple routine just like the other villagers; hell you’d moved in with Changbin after days of him insisting it was safer in case you were caught somehow. Having a vampire as your housemate was - oddly normal. He didn’t need to go prey on the villagers directly, as he got his blood supply from Felix, technically. It’s not like he was entirely different from a normal human much like yourself, although there were times where he would have to ask you to leave the room “because of your scent being too fucking strong,” whatever that meant.

“They’re going to be having two of the regular guards out front with them while they search the rooms. We should hopefully have at least thirty minutes to maybe an hour, if we’re lucky. I don’t know how you’re going to get past the guy by the cellar door, though...”

“I have a plan, don’t worry about it.” You reassure the quiet vampire, lowering your voice as a group of noisy kids starts to walk by the hut. “I can pick the lock on his chains and be out of there in just ten minutes, maybe fifteen if my plan doesn’t work. We need to think about how we’re going to sneak all the way to the docks.”

Changbin hums in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest as he thinks. “Most of them will be at the festival, of course, but we do need to be as careful as possible. I’ll be on the lookout for guards when we get there.”

“... I wish you could come with us, Changbin.” Your voice comes out a bit hoarse, raw emotion spilling into your words as you look over to the man with a somber gaze. He chuckles softly, going to wrap one of his arms around your shoulders, his cold touch comforting against your warm skin.

“So do I, doll. So do I.”

You weren’t too sure why you had to wear a dress to the festival - hell you were going to be leaving it as soon as Changbin gave you the signal. You look in the mirror with a huff, twirling around slightly and admiring the pretty dress clung to your body. Yeri had leant it to on behalf of her older sister, Irene, since the older woman had outgrown it over the years. It was quite cozy, being made of thicker material; faded yellow sunflowers decorated the cloth nicely, adding a pinch of uniqueness to the traditional dress.

“You look beautiful, doll.” Changbin tells you warmly as he steps into the bedroom, going to stand just inches behind you, his soft breathing fanning out onto the top of your head. He’s wearing a simple black suit with a yellow bowtie to match your dress color, the material a bit ruffled and loose on his body; though the look suited him quite well. His normally slicked back hair was allowed to breathe for once since you’d finally convinced him to “let the natural soft hair free.”

He looked good - too good.

“And you look dashing, Binnie.” You hum, snickering in amusement at how his nose scrunches in a playful annoyance.

“I told you to stop calling me that, doll,” he whines cutely, unbeknownst to himself as he drops his chin onto your shoulder, looking at your lonely reflection in the mirror, “I’m a creature of the night that feeds off of your kind’s blood, I shouldn’t have such silly petnames.”

“It’s adorable though, Binnie~ and you’re about as intimidating as a caterpillar, by the way.” You giggle.

He huffs in faux agitation, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Mm, you’re adorable.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the compliment, and you just about choke on nothing when the vampire lets his sharp fangs trail across your neck down to your shoulder, all the way up to the strap of your dress. He repeats his actions when you say nothing in response, checking on your reflection in the mirror to make sure you aren’t showing signs of being uncomfortable; but this time around, he does it even slower and adds his lips into the mix. The sensation of his lips and fangs grazing your skin sends chills up your spine, the feeling something similar to euphoria.

You spin yourself around so that your face is now just an inch or two away from Changbin’s, the tables being turned when he seems to stutter a bit at your close proximity.

“Doll - I want to... to...” He tries to speak, though his small stutters are perfectly clear to you.

“Then do it, Changbin.” You urge him on quietly, blushing furiously when you feel his chilled fingertips dig into your hips through your dress.

“If I kiss you now, then I’ll be addicted, doll. I’ll be struggling to keep my hands off of you all night, and we have a job to do.” He breathes out against your lips, but you know full well he’s going to let it happen anyway by the way he leans in closer. “We might not see each other again after tonight, Y/N. Are you okay with that?”

“Of course not, Binnie. I want you to come home with us - but I will find a way to bring you back one day,” you say determinedly, shushing him when he begins to protest, “no - no arguments. Just... kiss me, please.”

“As you wish, doll.” He gulps, complying to your wish by finally closing the distance between your lips. His lips, much like the rest of his body, are frigid to the touch - but if anything it heightens the euphoric feeling more so than before, the way his cold lips move slowly against yours. Your hands find solace around his neck, with his fingertips still digging into your hips as if he’s trying to pull you even closer - it wasn't physically possible, but damn it all if he didn't try.

You stay like that for what feels like years, slowly kissing each other and occasionally fighting for dominance, with Changbin teasingly biting down on your sensitive lips using his fangs while you would retaliate with a move to poke your tongue between his lips. All good things must come to an end, though, as made evident by the town bell ringing to let everyone know the festival was beginning. You both reluctantly pull back, your lips slightly swollen if inspected close enough.

“Go ahead without me for now. I need to double check and make sure we have everything.” The vampire man breaks the silence, clearly resisting the urge to smash your lips together again.

You laugh softly and peck his lips, not being as strong willed as him, before going to leave the house. “Yeri will probably try to drag me off to dance, so just look for her if you can’t find me.”

Changbin nods in understanding, turning his back to you as he rummages through the bag.

“Oh my gosh Y/N, you look stunning! Changbin is going to want to eat you up!”

If only you knew, sweet little Yeri.

“May I remind you that we live together, you silly girl?” You tease her lightheartedly, flicking her nose with a laugh as she pouts and puffs out her cheeks. While you certainly wouldn't miss the townspeople, not including Changbin and the every quiet Felix, you had a soft spot for the girl.

The shorter girl sticks out her tongue childishly, crossing her arms as a mischievous glint flashes across her brown eyes. “You know, I bet he asked you to move in because he like-”

“Am I interrupting, ladies?” Your savior pipes up in quiet amusement from beside you, easily wrapping a hand around your waist and giving it a gentle squeeze; everything was ready.

Yeri blanks out for a good second, gaze snapping onto the way the man has so comfortably pulled you closer to his body. “Oh my god I have to tell Irene, she owes me now!” She squeals in excitement, turning away to sprint through the crowd and find her older sister.

“Did they... bet on us?” You breathe out in disbelief, shaking your head fondly as the bubbly girl leaves the two of you behind.

“It appears so, doll,” Changbin snorts, going to discretely pull you into the shadows and away from the growing crowd, “I went ahead and put the bag by the stairs leading into the front door. You do whatever you need to do, then give me the signal and I’ll toss you the bag.”

You nod as he goes over the plan for the fifth time that same day, his arm still secured tightly at your waist even when you reach the church. “Y/N, if anything goes wrong, run out of the building so I can pummel the bastard-”

“It’ll be just fine, Binnie. Now, shush and let me do my part.” You effectively shush him by placing yet another peck to his lips, leaving him frozen to the spot by the front door while you quietly open it and waltz inside, swaying a bit. The guard, a man you recalled to be Jackson Wang, raised his chin to come off as more intimidating while he gripped onto his spear.

“Mam, you are not permitted to-”

“Oh shush, Jackson,” you say snootily, boldly walking closer and closer until you’re maybe a foot away from his tense form, “you know better, call me Y/N. We are... friends, aren’t we?”

“W-well I-”

This is too easy.

“Good boy, Jackson! Now, I need a favor from you tonight - and tonight only.” You hum, innocently playing with the ends of your hair. Jackson’s mouth gaped open at your sultry attitude and you could see how his grip on the metal spear loosened a bit as he started to relax with your presence - for more than obvious reasons. “You know how I live with Changbin, right? Well, the shorty is seriously strict and won’t let me have any men over - in fact, he locked the door so I couldn't bring anyone home while he’s out in the festival.”

“But... I do know for a fact that you live alone. Maybe you could... go home and wait for me?” You ask him with a childish pout of your lips, taking it a step forward to speed up the process by placing your hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “Just one night, baby, that’s all I need... although, I might need another. And another. And another-”

“O-okay!” The muscular guard breathes out shakily, bringing a hand to your cheek and caressing it. “Wait here for a few minutes though, okay? If Junmyeon finds out I ditched for you he’d kill me.”

“No problem, baby. Now, shoo!” You giggle, sending him a wink as he rushes out of the church doors. You wait a moment before waving through the window, signaling Changbin to toss the bag into the now empty building. You catch it effortlessly before you open one of the hands that had been in his pockets.

Getting the key was far too easy. Poor Jackson is going to have a shitty punishment tomorrow.

You twist the key in the lock to the trapdoor, feeling your heartbeat start to accelerate in your chest when you flipped it open. In just seconds you’d be able to see him again - your baby brother. With that thought in mind, you practically leap down the ladder, turning to look around the extremely cramped cellar.

“Y-Y/N?”

God you missed his voice.

“Jeongin - oh my god-” You rush over to him, pulling him into the tightest embrace you can muster and attempting to hold back the waterworks.

You missed him, so much.

“How did you - why are you?” His voice is strained, likely from dehydration. You don’t fail to notice how sunken his normally plush cheeks have become, nor the creaking of his bones as you unlock his chains with a hairpin and cut off the unnecessary restrains binding his legs and wrists together with a knife from the bag.

“Angel we need to go, but I promise I’ll tell you everything soon.” You mutter quickly, helping the malnourished boy stand from the cellar flood. He struggles to stand on his own, so you boost him up the ladder and rush to follow him. “I need you to listen to me Jeongin - I have a friend who needs your help before we leave. It’s hard to explain, but I swear no one will hurt you.”

Jeongin nods weakly, leaning against your side for support as you lead him out of the church. “O-okay. It’ll be fine as l-long as you’re there.” He whispers hoarsely while you help him down the steps, though Changbin is quick to crouch down and force your brother onto his back.

“Kid, wrap your arms around my neck. We gotta do this fast, alright?”

“A-are you my sister’s boyfriend, mister?”

“... I can see why Yeri reminds you of him, doll.” Changbin snorts under his breath, careful to look around for any stray festival goers. The two of you walk through the woods in mostly silence, with you watching Jeongin so closely you’re afraid you might burn holes into the side of his sunken face.

“Shh, it’s close.” The vampire mutters quietly, clearly sensing the terrifying monster that protected the secret door of the tunnel close by. Since his hands are full, you opt to lean down and pick up a hefty rock, slinging it into a tree a good distance away. Almost immediately the creature wanders towards the sound, unable to see you opening the door and helping Jeongin down to the floor.

You quickly follow him, hoisting him up with an arm while you look up and wait for Changbin to follow. He peeks over the edge, offering a cheeky smirk before he stands up to climb down.

Bang!

Why is there blood on your face...?

Why was Changbin not climbing down...?

“Y-Y/N! Run, there’s ‘nother tunnel behind the lante-” The man shouts down at you through the tunnel entrance, giving you no time to process what the ever living fuck was happening before he slammed the hatch shut.

You can feel it - the dread seeping into your bones. The way your heart starts to clench and unclench madly in your chest even though you try your hardest to regulate your heavy breathing as you struggle to lead an exhausted Jeongin down the tunnel and into the cavern.

You see Felix, bound in his haunting garden of half-dead plants, waiting for you to arrive. When he sees Jeongin, his white eyes start to tear up - he knows that he’ll finally be free. You help Jeongin over the bundles of flowers so Felix is close enough to reach his neck, but you hesitate a little. “Angel, are you sure? You don’t even know wh-”

“I don’t c-care, Y/N, just let hi-him do what he needs t-to do.” He silences you with a single statement, to which you oblige. With a soft nod from the human boy, Felix sinks his fangs into his neck, letting out a whine of satisfaction - in seconds you could see the difference in how he appeared. His skin quickly changed into a honey-kissed color, his lips became smoother and red, and his normally faded orange hair brightened considerably. With a ‘pop’ he retracts his fangs, comfortably sinking into the garden that had now flourished from your brother’s blood.

“I am a god now, you know.” He speaks up suddenly, making you jump in shock at the resounding echo of his deep voice hinted with a foreign accent. “Changbin believes me, he just never wanted to admit it.”

You laugh in disbelief, helping Jeongin up from the flower patch. “I - I don’t understand, Felix.”

“I could only communicate with Changbin through our vampire connection, but I was far too weak to speak properly.” He explains softly, sending Jeongin a thankful smile. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Y-yeah, no problem.” The brunette breathes out shakily.

Felix looks back to you, lips curling into a bittersweet frown. “He’s critically injured, but not dead. He was shot by Junmyeon, but the creature took care of that.” He lets out a soft sign, inhaling the aroma of all the flowers around him. “Before you leave, please burn me. Use the lantern - when you lift it the secret passage the leaders used will open. Changbin is waiting for you.”

You nod in silence, helping Jeongin towards the wall. The second you take the lantern off of it’s perch another door opens, to which you gesture for the younger to go on ahead - for his sake.

“Felix... Changbin thinks of you as his little brother, and as a big sister I can vouch for him in saying that he will miss you, a lot. Forever, actually.” You tell the boy softly, looking him in the eyes as your grip on the handle of the burning lantern tightens in sorrow. “And I just wanted to say that - that I’ll make sure to come back for him.”

“Sweetheart, did he not tell you?” Felix asks you sincerely, rolling his eyes playfully at your confused pout. “The island is going to burn - it’s like a reset button. As I die, the island dies with me. Changbin might be able to leave before it happens but... he is destined to be the next god of this land.”

No.

“He’s to proud to admit that he is to be a god, and too concerned for your own well being to tell you the truth. He won’t be restrained like me - the colony did this, no one else. I was only lucky enough to be blessed by the last goddess of this land, she saved my life.”

“Whatever happens to him, know that Changbin loves you dearly, Y/N. He never would have gone to such lengths for anyone else in his life. Now... it is time for me to rest, please.” He finishes with a warm grin, keeping eye contact with you as you raise the lantern and finally throw it onto his body and the garden surrounding him.

You don’t stay long, worried about Jeongin and the supposedly waiting Changbin - but you do hear Felix’s last breath; a deep sigh of content.

“Changbin you bastard!” Is the first thing you say to the bleeding vampire when you emerge from the tunnel, though you still make the effort to hoist an arm under both him and Jeongin’s shoulders. “I cannot believe you didn't tell me about the whole god situation!”

“Damn kid, I told him not to mention it...” The injured vampire wheezes, clutching hopelessly at the gaping wound in his chest, “you need to go, the village is already burning. You have to reach the docks before the crowd does so you can both get on the ship-”

You huff in defiance, standing up straighter as you walk faster through the woodland, smelling the burning land close behind. “I am not leaving you, Binnie. We already established this. Lix said there’s a chance we can make it before you have to stay.”

With that final rebuttal everyone falls silent, not including the occasional grunt of pain from the vampire or the heavy breathing of your exhausted brother. Eventually you reach the top of the hill by the coastline, looking down to see that not too many other people had made it to the boat just yet - and two people were anxiously waiting just a few feet away... wait-

“You’re finally here- oh my god, what happened?” Yeri screeches in a panic at your limping trio, going to help Jeongin even though she didn’t know who he was to you. Irene is quick to follow, adjusting Jeongin as he starts to whine in pain as well.

“Long story, I’ll tell you later - help me get Ch- Changbin!” You’d turned your head to the side, only to watch in rising horror as he collapses from your arms onto the dead grass, a pool of his blood spilling onto his chest. You crouch down beside him, ignoring the growing blaze that only seemed to inch closer and closer with each passing second. “B-Binnie, please!”

He takes a struggled inhale of fresh air, reaching up with a hand to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yo-you have to leave m-me ‘behind, doll. Go home with-”

“Home is wherever you are, Binnie.” You breathe out with a whimper, leaning down even closer as the flames lick the grass just a yard away.

You can hear the other three screaming at you to hurry, but you pay then no heed - not yet. You had to taste him one more time, you had to feel him one more time - because you never wanted to forget him.

You smash your lips onto his, crying softly as he weakly holds your cheek with his bloodied hand. An explosion of love and fireworks erupts between your moving lips, a new sort of euphoria rushing over your body. Underneath your closed eyelids, both you and Changbin’s eyes have started to glaze over in a white color. His blood, now pooling onto the grass, spurts into giant vines that burst through the ground and manage to intertwine into a protective dome around both of you and the three onlookers just inches away from helping you up.

The fire never touches you.

#skzwriters #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids vampire au #stray kids supernatural au #seo changbin #changbin scenario #changbin imagine #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst

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dbhilluminate · 4 years

Text

DBHI: Equilibrium, ch. 13 - “Periapsis” (pt. 3)

Characters: Noah / “Erwin Yvonne”, Gabriel / “Vincent Sharp”, Director Thomas Falken, Priya Davies, Diego Serrano Word Count: 2,813

A drunk and jealous Noah makes an attempt to recapture Gabriel’s attention, but everything goes to hell in a hand basket when the Inquisition shows up to interrupt his heartfelt serenade.

***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, click here.

(Chapter Art by ozaya, Co-authored by @grayorca15)

• Chapter Index • Characters • Glossary •

——

December 23rd, 2041 - 10:35 PM

Noah’s fingertips traced over the lapels of his jacket and absently brushed across the sigil pin as he ascended the short flight of stairs at the front of the room. It was fortunate he had made sure to bring spending change besides the few thousand waiting to be deposited into the Zion Founders’ coffers, courtesy of Javier. Between the valet, the bartender and the musicians, he would be out a couple hundred regardless of how this foolish stunt went; but if the outcome turned out in his favor, the reward would be worth any price. Noah made his approach with perfect timing as the last chords of Silent Night faded out. The interruption wasn’t half as jarring as it could have been, but the pianist still stumbled over her last few keystrokes when she noticed the newcomer climb up onto the stage. Both her airbrushed eyebrows shot up to her hairline in alarm, and eyes went wide next to the spinning yellow LED on her temple. The rest of her human colleagues spared them both a collectively bemused stare, lowered their bows, and politely kept their disbelief in check a few precious seconds as Noah smirked and held up a card flush of folded fifty dollar bills. “Evening, all. Lovely job so far, but do you mind if we change things up a tad for oh, say, five minutes?”

“S-sir, you- t-this isn’t part of the program,” the cellist needlessly pointed out, as he turned to the conductor to make his request. Even with his reluctant agreement, their hesitation in accepting a little extra Christmas tip didn’t prove strong enough to keep their hands at their strings. “There’s more where it came from if you’ll humor me for one measly request,” Noah promised as he put on the most innocent face he knew. “It’s nothing that isn’t already on the roster, anyway. Last Christmas is a true classic by now, isn’t it?” Already the band’s delay in proceeding to the next song was drawing a few curious stares from the crowd. Drinks were put down, feet shuffled closer. The conversations droning on just beyond the stage’s edge stalled, interrupted with mutters of ‘who is that’, ‘why did they stop’ and ‘it’s not last call for donations for another thirty minutes’. None of which sounded particularly hostile, so- so far, so good. The pianist -an AX400 wearing a long green gown, with bronze eyes and matching shoulder-length hair parted and pinned in place by a holly-leaf hair clip- was the only one who side-eyed him with open suspicion. She didn’t lift her hands from the keys as he offered a bill for inspection. Instead of asking aloud, she pinged a question over the commlink.

You’re a friend of Mr. Sharp? What gave it away? ‘Yvonne’ teased back. He made a quick show of folding the bill up into a neatly-rolled stick before brushing her hair back to stash it behind her ear (since her hands were presently occupied), and made quick work of scanning the information gleaned from brief contact. Trust me, Miss O’Rourke, this is on the level- I’ve only a few words to say beforehand, no harm, no foul. Vince will understand. I’m just helping him break in a sense of humor. Best gift he could get this holiday, don’t you think? The wink did the trick. ‘Sally’ scoffed and failed to hide half a smirk at his reasoning, reached over and swiped a few pages ahead in the holographic sheet music. The gesture was entirely for show, but a visual confirmation she was game for the idea was more fun than a simple ‘sure, why not?’ He patted her shoulder in thanks. “Much obliged. Rest of you, skip ahead. This’ll only take a minute.” With a loose gestured wave to indicate her colleagues should do the same, Noah wheeled the mic stand out of his way and plucked the mic off the cradle. The device whined almost forlornly at being removed from its nest, and Noah cringed at the high pitched whine as it projected throughout the room. “Test-testing,” he dribbled with a few taps to the head of the device, “One, two- oh, for- is this thing on? Where’s the-“ After a few fumbled attempts, his fingers found the slider switch and dialed it up to full volume. The dual set of speakers situated at either end of the stage boomed, followed by a few scratchy puffs of static. “There it is- signal is good, yeah? Okay!”

This was worse than worse. Ill-timed didn’t even begin to cover it. Not even a minute prior, Director Falken had passed on some disturbing news that had left every Agent on the premises reeling. If Noah couldn’t already tell which of the staff members around the room were part of the undercover team, the sudden halt in their planned routes and turning of heads all around at each other gave them away. Gabriel made eye-contact with at least three of those Agents before he looked back at a man fast approaching the bar from behind the east side of the stage while Noah made his introductory greeting.

“Hello, folks. Good evening. Everyone hearing this okay? Yes? Can I get a few nods? Oh, come on, don’t look so confused. We’re all friends here, right?” If they weren’t, they soon would be. Nothing livened a party up like an impromptu bit of karaoke. Even politicians could agree interruptions were welcome if they were amusing enough and, more importantly, harmless; although, not everyone was on board with the change of pace. Gabe’s boss was every bit the grizzled mood-killing type he looked, he needn’t even identify himself- it was painfully apparent in the way he shouldered his way through the crowd with a shoulder-check type swagger that sent bystanders shuffling aside or knocked over like bowling pins. Like a scratched-up fuzzy bowling ball. Noah couldn’t help but grin with a few barely-contained chuckles as he drew the comparison in his head. Almost as if he‘d heard him, Director Falken tossed Noah a stern ‘I’ll deal with you later’ glare as he passed, and made a beeline for Gabe at the bar, who looked like he was about ready to implode. The burly Android’s face had flushed red right to the tips of his ears. His alias hadn’t even been called out by name, but the inference was clear enough- who else was possibly to blame for taking their eyes him for a minute too long? Despite their clear disdain for the situation, Noah grinned and shrugged with an exaggerated hike of one shoulder. “Well, I should rephrase,” he corrected with a small gesture to the grumpy Director, and redirected his amplified words to the rest of the room. “We aren’t friends yet, are we? Hello there! Name’s Erwin Yvonne, nice to meet you, everyone.”

If there was one thing he had going for him that none of the other undercover agents did, it was that even half-drunk and less than on top of his game, he still knew how to command a room. All the stage lacked was an overhead spotlight to really help sell it. “Our dear Vincent was going to get around to introducing us sometime next week, at the rate he moves, but I doubt you all planned on camping out here that long, right? Sleepover in the auditorium isn’t how I’d want to spend the holidays, either. That’d get expensive pretty quick, if I’m doing the math right.” More bemused murmurs and a few uneasy chuckles met his introduction not quite halfway, none of which resulted from ‘Vinnie and company’, who were too wrapped up in whatever it was he hadn’t bothered to tell him about to offer so much as an annoyed glance.

Still leaving me out of the loop...? I see how it is, he huffed indignantly back at his would-be partner. Don’t worry, I’ll keep them distracted for you. Noah, this is really not the time, Gabriel tried to warn with a silent shake of his head, as Serrano greeted their new guest. Falken met his kindness with a curt nod, then turned his attention to the disguised Gabriel, leaned in, grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear. Sharp’s jaw flexed as he grit his teeth and nodded in understanding, then turned back to his mark and passed along the information. A moment later, Falken escorted Serrano and his men out a door to the left of the room- an odd play indeed, but he didn’t make much of it in his current state. Instead, Noah rolled his eyes, shifted his weight onto one foot, and draped his free hand over the empty microphone stand to tilt it away from himself. He was far from being in a falling-down-drunk state, but having something to lean on just in case wasn’t completely unadvisable. There were more tasteless crutches to rely on.

With a frustrated shrug and a sigh, he brought the mic up again. The last ramble hadn’t been all that funny anyway, better to dismiss the joke as a flop and keep going, regardless of the new secrets Gabe wasn’t sharing. “Anyway, my point is- all this finery, good drinks and food and better company, and he couldn’t even be bothered to find us some lyrical accompaniment? Does he find the classics so torturous?” Please, Gabe insisted in a worried tone that went right over the inebriated Android’s head. Come down from there, we need to get you out of here. Yvonne only scoffed in response and wagged a finger back at him as he pushed his way through the crowd toward the stage. “Tsk tsk, I see now why you even put my name on the list at all, Vinnie dearest. If that’s how it’s gonna be, I hope you don’t mind the first pick on my list. I think we can all agree it’s an old favorite, with or without context.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the violinists tightening a loose string; a few random chord plucks from behind him indicated the quartet had finished tuning for the next number. All drew their bows across the necks of their instruments and cast him a mute look of uncertainty that received a thumbs up in return, just in time for Vincent to grab at his ankle and shake him to get his attention. “Erwin… you’re drunk, don’t do anything you’ll regret-“ “No, no, don’t try and stop me now, this is happening,” Yvonne insisted with a shake of his leg as he pulled it away, tossed his hair aside, and took a couple of steps back from him. “Sally, boys- whenever you’re ready. ”

Whatever their doubts, confidence counted for something, and Yvonne wasn’t a guy to shy away from challenges, much less those of his own making. The conductor tapped his baton against the edge of the music stand a few times, then gestured with a large sweeping wave- the band started right up as if they had practiced the song a hundred times before. Gabriel attempted to shoot him one final warning as the instrumental introduction finished its first round without lyrics, but Noah met it with a snarky brow pop and set his gaze on the man’s deep brown eyes so there was no mistaking what this was about.

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, But the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special.

The stage didn’t offer much front lawn space to strut around on. Even if it did, the song was more catchy than a number to dance to. Substituting the keyboard with a concert piano hadn’t turned out terrible, thankfully, and the cello plucked to mimic the percussive beat complimented the higher-pitched violinists. By the second repeat of the first chorus, he could see the crowd was sold. A few faces lit up in new interest, the nervous chatter died down. One man, phone held to his ear, ended whatever call he was on to turn the video camera on him. Most important, though, was that the flustered look he’d been dying to see again had resurfaced on Gabe’s face, even if it was tainted with latent anxiety.

Once bitten, and twice shy, I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye. Tell me, baby, do you recognize me? Well, it’s been a year so- it doesn’t surprise me.

It wasn’t as though there was a real crowd to play to, but past the first few verses, Gabriel’s transfixed gaze and reddening cheeks were all the motivation he needed to dial the performance up to eleven. Noah found himself so lost in relating the lyrics to his current problem, a few extra words slipped in seamlessly without having to put much thought at all into keeping the tempo.

Merry Christmas! I wrapped it up and sent it With a note saying, "I love you," I meant it Now, I know what a fool I've been, oh- But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again!

One hand reached to claw at the layers over his chest as his eyelids fluttered, and Vincent took a backward stagger away from the stage as ‘Yvonne’ repeated the chorus twice more. He didn’t have time to deal with this frivolousness at the moment, not with (what was most likely) the Inquisition on the Mellon’s doorstep, set to raid the fundraiser any moment. The strength returned to his eyes as the morbid pre-constructions of Noah’s death reminded him of his objective. He had to get him off that stage, lest he became a target. Vincent reached for Yvonne’s leg again as he moved a little too close to the stage’s edge, then reached up to pull him down to his level, demanding he get-down-from-there; rather than convincing him to oblige, however, it backfired. The gesture nearly yanked him off balance, but Noah took a knee instead to smoothly cover the stumble and delivered the next chorus directly at him. If he had been trying to keep this from turning into a real embarrassment, nothing would be worse to him than having a song dedicated to him.

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes, I'm hi-ding from you, and your soul of ice. My god, I thought you were someone to rely on. Me? Heh, I guess I was a shoulder to cry on. A face on a lover with a fire in his heart. A man undercover, but you tore - me - apart. Oh, hoo. Now-

LISTEN TO ME! Gabe growled angrily, finally letting the snarl show through his cover, as the band played on and Yvonne fell behind. I’m serious, something is very wrong. All of our other teams on site have gone silent- three of the four missed their quarterly check-ins, and Falken found the fourth dead in the nest a few minutes ago-

The gravity in his words sunk like lead in his gut as a gunshot echoed through the auditorium from the entrance of the ballroom and silenced the band, replaced with a wave of simultaneous screams. Two more shots fired off and injured a couple of guests as a small group of ten to fifteen armed androids, dressed to the teeth in riot gear, fanned out through the hall and trained their automatic weapons on guests trying to escape. Noah -instead of dropping to the floor like any sensible person had by that point- crossed the stage a few steps to look around the tree, just in time to get a front-row seat as the body of one of the guards who had let him in was flung down the stairs like a carelessly delivered package. A lump rose in his throat as the corpse landed beside one-armed thug, who spared it only a kick further into the room, and all thought of singing died off. He couldn’t look away, not even to glimpse the face of the Android who had entered the room dressed in a skintight black dress, the train of which slithered down the steps behind them like the tail of a viper. But the voice was familiar- cool and calm, flowing like a river of milk and honey. It was a voice he only remembered from Purgatory’s recovered audio logs. Priya Davies -better known by the general public as the Horseman, Pestilence- raised one gently folded hand to silence the startled gasps that swept the room.

“Good, evening, ladies and gentlemen. My, don’t you all just look pretty as a picture…”

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