#(in walks established relationship with a steel chair)

[honeydots]

Because I love you~Xanlow

"Because I love you." xanlow | 1.4k | rated T ask game

Laslow's been left in a heap of mud.

Not long ago, he and a small army of Xander’s personal guard were in the midst of fighting. Only against some bandits and ruffians, but they were facing off in a mucky marsh. That was trouble all by itself, it was hard to move around without worrying you were going to lose a shoe.

But Xander's father provided them with a battalion of faceless for protection during their travels. And as creatures that are notoriously hard to control, one of them carelessly thwacked Laslow in the chest as they fought. It knocked the wind out of him, and he actually flew backwards and straight out of the battle.

At that moment, Laslow was profoundly grateful for the squishy mud that broke his fall. It could've been a lot worse, and a lot more deadly, had he landed on something hard or sharp. The mud acted as a nice and slimy pillow, and he was promptly smothered in it.

Dazed, Laslow couldn't pull himself up right away. Then he started sinking, fantastically, and he had to use every muscle in his body to try and keep himself steady. With a dull ache in his chest, Laslow resigned himself to his fate of needing some help to get up.

Everyone left him behind, though. Smartly, the battle moved out of the swamp and onto the more solid ground of the forest. So now Laslow's stuck, alone, mind jumbled and chest sore, in a smelly bog. Perhaps the mud was more of a curse than he imagined.

Thick drops of rain begin flicking down onto Laslow's face. Ah, not good. He might actually drown if this place begins to fill up. He decides to stop mucking around (ha-ha) and give an honest attempt to get up. It isn’t exactly fun to be lazy in the mud, but he’s tired, and he wanted to wait out as much as he could.

And he tries to escape! He really, really does! He just realizes that he's still sinking more than he's making progress and stops quite quickly afterwards.

So that's horrible. Laslow’s senses don't sharpen exactly, rather he begins to panic. Wait, is he really stuck? He tries to struggle less aggressively, but he can't find any sort of solid ground, and he really regrets letting himself sink down this far. Oh, it feels gross, and the rain is still coming down. He’s going to be devastated if anything gets in his mouth.

Which makes Xander’s sudden voice all the more heaven sent.

“Laslow!”

Laslow tries to lift his head enough to see where Xander is—and he eventually spots him, only his blond hair standing out against the dark. But he’s looking around quite aimlessly, Laslow realizes.

“Milord?” Laslow calls, and Xander snaps to attention, eyes finally on Laslow in his personal mud bath. He comes running over, and Laslow kind of awkwardly plops his head back down. “I’ll have you know I was just thinking about getting up, but somehow my limbs aren’t entirely cooperating—”

“Are you hurt?” Xander asks, kneeling next to Laslow while safely out of any gooey spots. He’s looking him over, and also absolutely staring at the mess of muck Laslow’s gotten himself into.

“Oh—I think so. But I’m not bleeding.” At least he’s pretty sure he isn’t. He feels oddly moist, but he’s certain that’s because of the frequently aforementioned mud. “I think it’s my ribs? I’m achy.”

Xander frowns down at Laslow. Then, in what seems to be a quick decision, Xander grabs the top of Laslow’s vest in a hard grip, and begins to lift him out of his muddy heap. It’s weird, even more so because it works, and Laslow stumbles onto solid ground on his hands and knees.

An exhaust comes over Laslow in the moment. It was hard work, seriously, to keep himself from sinking, lazy as he looked. He slips a bit, rolls over to sit down, and looks over at Xander quite pathetically.

It should be noted that pathetic looks work enormously rarely on Xander. So when he sighs and begins to turn, at first Laslow thinks he’s actually leaving him to his own grubby devices.

But, a cautious “Climb on my back,” from Xander speaks a different truth which Laslow readily accepts.

“Ah, my savior,” Laslow says as Xander stands, holding Laslow’s weight very well. But he always does, despite the many burdens Laslow brings along with him. “I was worried I’d drown for a moment there. Someone once said to me that it’s not a bad way to go, but how could they possibly know that? I’m not convinced, I'm really not.”

“You’re awfully talkative.”

Laslow sighs. “I’m very lightheaded.”

“We’ll find a proper place for you to rest soon.” Xander continues walking, carefully avoiding the deepest mud pits in the bog. “You were quite a ways, you know.”

“Because you all ran off and left! Abandoning me in a literal pile of goop.” Laslow flings a slop of mud off of his hand for good measure, and Xander shakes his head with a scoff. It gets a laugh out of Laslow, which makes also his chest hurt. So he just rests his chin on Xander’s shoulder. All cold and metal, of course.

“…You came back and found me, though,” Laslow says. He’s teasing a bit, too.

“I did.”

“What made you?”

Xander scowls, eyes still ahead and looking at the thicket of trees they’re slowly approaching. “What made me? You disappeared.”

“I suppose so.” Laslow tilts his head back and forth, chin still planted on Xander’s armor. “Any better reasons?”

Very often, Laslow fails to amuse Xander. Unfortunately, there isn’t a happy ending to this. “I will grant you the mercy of not assuming that you were hoping to be praised for having been trapped in mire.”

“Well thank you, because I wasn’t. I’ll admit, however, that I’m always open to my ego being stroked.” Laslow tilts his head a little far, and manages to bonk the side of Xander’s head lightly. Xander doesn’t shake him off—he doesn’t really do that anymore. Laslow has been gracefully granted the right of toleration. “My heart needs an extra beat or two, or I’ll die right here.”

“Quite the exaggeration,” Xander says plainly. Laslow scrunches his nose.

“Won’t you indulge me? Savior?” He earns a huff from Xander for that.

“Was there something noxious in that mud?”

“You wound me!” Laslow kicks his feet about, until Xander readjusts and makes Laslow nervous to fall. “I’ll be quiet if you tell me something good.”

Xander seems annoyed, but not nearly enough so that Laslow will stop being playful. There’s always some room for this, he thinks. Unless Xander gets actually mad. But lately, many things have changed, and… He doesn’t, as much.

“Why did I rescue you,” Xander repeats, not quite muttering. “Am I correct that you wouldn’t be satisfied with my saying that you’re my valuable retainer?”

Laslow grins, feeling a small warmth radiate in his chest. It’s just beneath the pain, settling in soundly. “It would’ve been enough, though you’re welcome to go on.”

Because Xander is fundamentally a kind man, he doesn’t just drop Laslow for the comment. But there’s long enough of a pause before Xander speaks that Laslow’s sure he considers it. “What would you like me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Laslow presses his lips together. “Because I’m invaluable and not an idiot for getting knocked into a pit of mud and almost dying very stupidly?”

…Laslow is kind of embarrassed, actually.

“Hm.” Laslow waits, but that’s all Xander provides.

“Hm?”

Xander looks around. Though the army isn’t in sight even still. The two of them are very much in their lonesome, unless this muck and gunk all over Laslow is sentient.

“May I say because I love you?” Xander asks.

Laslow feels himself blush. He grunts a little, and he stuffs his head into Xander’s cloth collar, digging his nose into his neck. For a moment, he rests there.

“That works, I think,” Laslow says, still nestled in. He pauses. “…May I say I love you back?”

Xander slows his pace a bit, and he rests his head against Laslow’s. “Will you always be so needy with me?’

“Only a little.” Despite how he can’t find any exposed skin, Laslow still kisses Xander’s neck. “Thank you for saving me.”

Xander exhales. And he keeps walking through the forest while Laslow pecks his neck and bumps his jaw.

“It was only some mud.”

#thanks for the request~~~!!!! #i will be like oh maybe this time i wont do established relationship-- #(in walks established relationship with a steel chair) #I JUST LOVE THEIR BANTER. OKAY. THEY ARE IN LOOOOOOVE #i dont know why i keep writing fics where laslow gets thrown into [substance] and xander has to rescue him but here we are. #its good and fun SUE me (dont) #dots answers asks #anonymous #dots writing games #<- it took me forever to find this tag LOL i forgot what it was #im also gonna use #dots writes #might go around reorganizing tags soon bc im such a mess w these #anyway thank you again~~!!! ah its always so fun to write these two than k youu

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Panic! At the DA's Office

Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: suicidal ideation, mental health struggle, anxiety/depression, panic attack, established relationship, fluff forever, some explicit language Word count: 2k

Summary: You're supposed to be meeting your girlfriend, Casey, for lunch, but prepping for the bar exam has you in an anxious spiral. You try to hide it, but it's hard to pretend you're okay when you're with Casey.

You stood on the subway platform, greasy Shake Shack takeout bags tucked under your arm. You'd told Casey you'd bring her lunch, and you were a woman of your word. Even though the bar exam was two weeks away. Even though you'd written so many practice essays you'd had to get a wrist splint for the cramps. Even though you were practically drowning in information about constitutional law, civil procedure, torts, contracts. You were exhausted from studying, and it felt like it was all for nothing. The more you studied, the more things seemed to get jumbled up in your mind. The more you'd stare at the page and the words would stare back, shifting and writhing until they meant nothing.

With each practice test, you felt less confident. As the day of the exam got closer and closer, your anxiety grew and grew. And you were so good at hiding it. You had to be good at it, or else how would you go on? How would the world keep on spinning, and you with it? Sometimes you wished it wouldn't. Not forever, not for always. You just wished that, for a little while, everything would stop. That just for a little while, no one would need or expect anything from you and you could just be. Or not be, maybe.

As you stood on the platform, waiting for the subway that would take you to the DA's office and your girlfriend you thought, briefly–as you sometimes did at your lowest–how easy it would be to jump. It would be so easy, so fast. But you had the warm food in your hands. You had Casey's milkshake. She loved milkshakes. And she would be so sad. It was always the thought of Casey's heartbreak that stopped you. Or imagining your dad crying. Imagining your parents having to tell your siblings what had happened.

You felt the rush of the subway as it sped past you and exhaled deeply. The moment was over. At least for now. You took a seat and did your best to steel yourself to see Casey. She was excellent at reading you, and you needed to be unreadable today. The last thing you wanted to do was worry her.

You walked the last bit of your journey in the freezing cold, appreciating the way the wind stung your eyes. It brought you out of yourself.

You saw Casey through the window before she saw you, and your heart surged. Just seeing her made you feel better. Not all the way better, but at least a little better. You knocked at her open door, and the look on her face when she saw you made your heart soar.

"Y/N!" she called, waving you in and shutting a notebook.

You were quiet. You didn't trust yourself to speak, afraid you might start crying. The downside of feeling so safe with Casey was that your usual ability to wall up your emotions was significantly impaired with her. You leaned down to kiss her quickly, and she wrapped her arms around your waist, burying her face in your chest.

"This case is killing me," she said as you pulled up a chair, divvying up the food. "I mean, the evidence they've given me is absolute shit. It's always fucking Stabler jumping the gun, and now I have to clean it up. Typical white man. So I think I'm gonna try..."

You let Casey ramble, grateful to hear her voice, to hear about her day, to have the excuse of food in your mouth to simply nod absentmindedly. But you couldn't manage to eat much, mostly pushing ketchup around with your fries and trying to white-knuckle through the panic rising in your chest. Your heart pumped faster and faster, and you were trying so hard to breathe normally, even though you felt like you were suffocating.

"Y/N?" Casey said, snapping you out of it.

"What?" Your voice was shaky, and you avoided her eyes. If she saw your eyes, she'd know.

"I just asked how bar prep was going..." She looked you over, furrowing her eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

You needed to breathe before you could speak, but when you opened your mouth to try, your breath hitched, hiccuping and separating into hyperventilation.

"Y– yes," you replied, clearly not okay, as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your breath came in short gasps. It was as if all the anxiety of the last few days, all you'd bottled up and kept at bay, had come flooding in all at once, knocking the air out of you.

"Okay, well, that's obviously a lie," Casey observed, standing quickly to close the blinds and lock the door. She sighed as she sat back down, mentally beating herself up for not noticing that something was off when you came in.

"Come here, honey." She pulled your chair toward her, grabbing your clenched fists in her hands and forcing them flat.

You were rocking and hyperventilating at this point. Your heartbeat was so fast and loud it was almost all you could hear. If you hadn't had panic attacks before, you would have thought you were dying. You knew better: you were dying, but only on the inside.

Casey pressed her forehead to yours and breathed slowly, in and out, in and out.

"Breathe with me, sweetheart, come on," she said softly.

"I– I c-can't."

"Yes, you can, honey. Come on."

You took a big, shaky breath and let it out, coughing.

"That's it, baby, that's it. Just keep going. Just breathe."

After what felt like an eternity, your heartbeat started to slow. You paired your breathing with Casey's, shaking slightly. She ran her thumbs over your knuckles in rhythm with your breath, and you felt an icy calm settle over you, the same calm that comes after an adrenaline rush, all that hot terror seeping away.

You exhaled and lifted your head a bit, avoiding Casey's eyes.

"Sorry."

She shook her head, fixing your hair and wiping away that tears that lingered on the bottoms of your eyelids.

"Don't be sorry."

But you were. You were so sorry. Your panic attack might have subsided, but the sense of being a burden had only increased. You wanted to sit on Casey's lap. You wanted her arms around you. You wanted her to tell you that she loved you, that she needed you, that you weren't too much for her. But all of that felt like too much to ask for, so you just sat, arms wrapped around yourself.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" Casey asked gently.

You felt more tears coming and dashed them away.

"It's just everything," you said, the words spilling out in a flood. "I'm doing terrible on the practice exams, Casey. Terrible. I'm gonna fail the fucking bar exam, and then what!? What was it all even for? I just can't do it! I can't! Every time I sit down to study I feel like I'm gonna die, and I can't start because I'm too anxious, but then I don't study and I just get more anxious. I'm just– I'm not good enough!"

Your voice broke, and Casey's heart broke with it.

"I'm not good enough for you, and I– I don't want to do this. It's not worth it, I'm not worth it." You grasped your hair and groaned. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't even here. Today I even thought about jumping in front of the fucking subway. I'd never do it," you added, noticing Casey's alarm. "But it just... feels like it'd be easier for everyone, including me, if I wasn't around."

Your head was in your hands. You couldn't see it, but Casey looked devastated, her heart surging for you. She grabbed you up and pulled your body into hers until you were on her lap, her arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Oh, honey," she breathed, pressing her face into yours. "Please don't say things like that. Do you know how empty life would be if you weren't here?"

You shrugged your shoulders, sniffling

"Who would bring me milkshakes?"

You giggled.

"Who would sing loud with me in the car, huh? Who would make laugh so hard I snort?"

You smiled, moments with Casey flashing through your mind, some of the happiest moments of your life.

"Who would make me feel loved and safe and proud, if you weren't here?"

"Somebody would," you argued.

She cupped your face and looked you hard in the eyes. "No. Not like you do."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not. I don't just say things, you know that," Casey reprimanded you. She placed small, warm kisses on your cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, the corner of your mouth, until you were laughing and squinting.

"You," she continued, "are generous and brave and kind and funny and sweet and so, so beautiful. And the world would be a lot darker without you in it."

Your chest buzzed with warmth, like stepping outside on an unexpectedly sunny day or coming downstairs on Christmas morning.

"I don't know about that," you protested, but Casey had successfully beaten back your blues. And she could tell.

"Well, my world would be anyway," she chuckled.

You placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth before returning to your seat, reaching for a french fry.

"Now you're hungry," Casey said, rolling her eyes.

You glanced at the clock. "I thought you had a meeting?"

"I do."

You froze, but Casey was quick to reassure you.

"It's okay! Not a big deal for me to be a few minutes late, I promise."

You relaxed, taking a sip of Casey's milkshake. She snatched the cup back.

"I thought I told you to get your own milkshake."

"Well, I just wanted a little bit!" you whined.

"That's what you always say, and you always drink half of mine."

You flashed her your most charming smile, and she sighed, handing you the cup. You tried not to look too smug as you sipped.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" you said, dripping with sarcasm. "Probably can't take a milkshake to your fancy lawyer meeting."

"I do have somewhere to be, but I need you to do something for me before I go."

"Oh." You sat up a little straighter. "Okay. What?"

"I need you to call your therapist," she stated, staring at you pointedly.

"Case, I'm fi–"

"No, you're not," she cut you off. "If you're having thoughts like you said you were, you need to talk to her."

You sighed and nodded. "Okay. I'll call."

Casey didn't budge.

"Casey," you needled. "You can go. I will call."

She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair, stance wide, looking like a hot Wall Street businessman in her work suit. She could make you do anything when she looked like that, and she knew it.

"Fine." You picked up your phone, scrolled through the contacts, and found your therapist, flipping the screen around to show Casey the contact info before pressing the call button.

"Speaker," Casey commanded.

"You're fucking bossy, you know that?"

Your therapist didn't pick up–probably in a session–but you left a message.

"Hey, Carla, this is Y/N. Just kind of having a rough day... slash week slash time in general, and I was wondering if you could squeeze me in maybe earlier than my session next week? Like maybe..."

"TODAY," Casey whispered aggressively.

"...even today or tomorrow if you've got anything open. Thanks, bye."

You rolled your eyes. "Happy now?"

"Mmhm." Casey stood, picked up her briefcase, and bent to kiss you on the head. "I gotta run, but let me know what your therapist says, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, suddenly feeling embarrassed again.

"Hey," she said, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She planted a firm kiss on your lips before opening the door.

"You can stay in here and work if you want. When I come back, we can work together."

"Okay," you said, already feeling better about an afternoon of studying. If Casey was there, it couldn't be too bad.

"I love you so much I'll even let you have the rest of my milkshake," she called back as she walked down the hallway.

You shook your head and took a sip, feeling better than you had in weeks.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #casey novak drabble #casey novak one shot #casey novak fluff #law and order svu #svu #mental illness #hurt/comfort

[quintessencewrites]

Emotionally Unavailable

cheating! sub! Riri x cheating! fem! black! switch! reader x dom! Shuri

Your thumbs hooked into the elastic of her waistband, pulling down slowly. Further down, her pants went until the tattoo on her hips was completely visible.

 Two little hearts, one on each hip. One black, one red, both nothing but line art because Riri wasn’t drunk enough to handle the pain. The matching pair to the red and black ones etched onto your skin in permanence in the same spot. 

A souvenir from your last last time. 

Warnings: 18+!!! smut ahead!!!! ANGST, cheating, established relationship (Shuri and Riri), previous relationship (Shuri and reader), they ain't in a relationship, but they fucking (Riri and reader), threesome, this whole damn story is toxic, y'all, exhobitionism, squirting, masturbation, overstimulation, praise kink, slight degradation, fingering, public? sex, oral sex, anal, strap slinging Shuri, explicit language, stalking? sub Riri (she's so cute), Dom Shuri, switch reader, mami kink, so many that I probably missed.

Word Count: 8.3k

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @shurislover @6-noir @ihearttish @vampzxi @verachii @phantomof-themcu @taiiunknown @pocketsizedpanther @shuris3leg @bellaallebbella1

Riri’s head was in the clouds, her feet trailing the ground. Each step she took was staggered and unsure, and if her heart were to pound in her chest any harder, it’d be sure to crack the bony cage that contained it. She was so slow to approach you, quite literally digging her toes into the ground so that her feet dragged along the linoleum of the mall floor. 

Her pupils retracted, panicked, glancing back at the large doors she’d just walked through. Maybe she could turn around and pretend she had gotten her dates mixed up before you spotted her-

“Riri- motherfuckin’- Williams!”

Too late. 

Your voice was embarrassingly loud; even you couldn’t help but cringe when it carried across the ample space, and several pairs of eyes traveled with it. 

Her head ducked, and her pace doubled, and she thanked Bast for her mahogany complexion that masked the heat that started in her cheeks and spread through her face.  

“You gotta be so loud?” Riri questioned with a hiss. 

The light reflecting off the steel table that your elbows rested on caught her eye, and they slowly rose, aligning her line of vision with an entirely different view: you. 

Your face rested in your cupped hands, cheeks puffed just slightly. Riri’s eyes stopped on yours, enchanted by the way they danced. Mischief waltzed and amusement tangoed, and together, they pulled Riri in further and further and further until she was swept off her feet-

She tried to shake away her disappointment when the sound of you clearing your throat dragged her back to bleak reality. 

“You tryna silence me?”

A smirk played at the corner of your lips, and Riri felt the corners of hers twitch. Damn, you and that contagious smile, the type of smile that started on your glowing face and spread to the face of those around you like a sickly disease. 

“Never that.” Your grin had broken the girl with an iron heart, and she allowed her body to relax, lowering it into the seat across from you. “Bast help the woman who tries.”

Riri’s back kissed the frigid metal of her chair, and her arms folded across her chest as she sat back beneath your oh-so-intense stare. A string of explicits floated through her mind, though she didn’t dare utter any aloud. She craved to know your thoughts while mapping out her face with your stare.

And yes, it was childish to admit that she stared back, engaging you in a contest neither of you had partaken in since grade school. 

And yes, it was even more childish to admit the joy that she felt when you looked away, declaring her winner. 

“Why am I here, Riri?” 

Your eyes refused to meet hers, instead studying the march of people who passed by.

“I wanted to see an old friend. That a crime?” Riri’s voice was pitched high, her vocal cords tight. You could hear her throat bob with the lie just produced from it. The sound of your hum, the way she could feel it vibrate through the air- Bast, you weren’t supposed to have this effect on her. 

“An old friend?”

“Yes, an old friend.” Her answer was short, quick. You leaned forward just a tad, and Riri was back to silently cursing you.

Fuck you, man, fuck you. How dare you wear that top, that low-cut top, with the lace, the string, and the memories- the memories…

 Damn, you and that damn top. 

“Does Shuri know we’re old friends?” 

She didn’t. You knew she didn’t, and Riri did nothing but confirm that when she finally pulled her eyes away from you and tossed her head to the side. She stared off at nothing, face concealed by the braids that fell past her shoulders. Her jaw was tight, her eyes hung low, and guilt darkened her features. It was an emotion she’d grown used to feeling, one that she quickly swallowed away when your fingertips brushed her cheeks, pushing away her braided curtain. 

“I didn’t think so.”

Riri’s inhale was deep, shaky, and unsure, and her eyes welled behind what must’ve been a dozen- no, dozens- of thoughts. 

She was sinking in those thoughts, unmoving and unaware of your movements, until you stood before her with an outstretched hand. 

Not one word was spoken, but when the warmth of her hand rested in yours, it felt just like it had so many times before- it felt right.  

Riri let you lead her away, abandoning the table and taking up space in the family bathroom instead. Her feet moved independently, taking a few precautionary steps back while you turned the lock until it clicked. 

The tears dancing along the brim of her lids never fully evaporated, threatening to spill in streaks down her mahogany cheeks. Her eyes shifted, watching your curls bounce with the shake of your head and your back pressed against the wall adjacent to her with the cross of your arms. 

“C’mon, Ri, baby. You know I don’t do crying.” 

The floor was suddenly more interesting than the expression you were giving her. “My bad,” she mumbled, so low you barely caught it.

Something was looming over you, gluing you both in place. Riri didn’t dare move before you asked the question she knew was coming, and you didn’t dare move until she answered it. 

“How is Shuri?”

There it was. 

The broken piece that connected you two- the Princess of Wakanda. 

Your ex-girlfriend and Riri’s current one. 

Shuri was so fucking enticing, so goddamn alluring.

Y’know those picture-perfect relationships? The ones everyone envied that made them go, “They still together?” 

Those long, drawn-out relationships where you rarely saw one without the other, and they were so nauseatingly in love whenever you saw the two. 

Yeah, that was you and Shuri. Picture perfect for three long years. 

Perfectly in love, except for those nights when Shuri never came to bed, existing only in her lab.

You were perfectly in love, but she didn’t know how to interact with you when your mood changed, so she ignored you. 

So perfectly in love, but she was emotionally unavailable. 

You were still perfectly in love with her when the decision to end it crossed your mind; it took a full three months before you could do it. 

Still stupidly in love when she didn’t cry, didn’t blink. She’d kissed your cheek and walked off.

Still so stupidly in love when Riri reached out twelve months ago, two years post you and Shuri. How foolish were you to continue listening to her spill past “Me and Shuri been talking for a minute-”

You were stupidly in love and genuinely foolish to offer the girl some advice, to reveal your secrets on penetrating the impenetrable Shuri Udaku.

And yes, you were pretty stupid and foolish when the advice-seeking changed to the storytelling of shared experiences, sexual and non. It started so innocently; there was no reason it had to be a secret. 

But it was. And it worked in your favor when the locations became less and less public, and the experiences became more and more intimate. 

Every few weeks, you and Ri promised each other that that would be the last time. That last time had yet to come, and the actual last time the two of you met up as “old friends,” it concluded with her pussy in your mouth like it always did. 

This time was proving to end no differently.

“Shuri’s being Shuri,” the girl mumbled, her tiny body shrinking into itself even further. 

Hmm, she listened to you hum. “What’s new?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“It is. Your advice isn’t working.”

You’d been taking very timid steps forward, closing the space between you until it no longer existed. Your faces were inches apart, and you caught a whiff of Riri’s scent, a fragrance you’d been missing- warm vanilla and spice. Cinnamon? Cardamom? You couldn’t figure it out, and some part of you didn’t want to; let it stay a mystery.

“Do you want my advice to work?” Truth be told, you didn’t. The advice you were giving her was sound, but on her own accord, Riri was fucking it up. Your advice working meant that this ended. 

And she wasn’t ready for it to end. 

Her lips didn’t offer the expected answer; you thought they’d part and she’d speak. Instead, they remained sealed and pressed harshly to yours. 

The kiss was desperate. You could only imagine that Shuri had only been pecking these lips briefly before disappearing for hours, maybe days on end; Riri needed this. 

She needed your mouth moving in tandem with hers. She needed you to taste her, to lick that breathy moan from her lips. 

So you did. And it was delicious. 

You kissed her with vigor, entangling your tongue with hers and trapping her head between the palms of your hands to hold her in place. 

Riri’s hands roamed, unsure of where to rest. They grabbed at your hips, squeezing and caressing until that didn’t feel right, so then they ran along your spine, pressing you further into her, but that wasn’t satiable either. 

Her movements were distracting and overwhelming. It was too easy for you to gather both her wrists in one of your hands and stretch them above her head, pinning them there. Your free hand rested on her hip, guiding her body until her back was met with a solid wall, encaging her between that and you. 

She had nowhere to move and nowhere to grab, and you were free to take her in as you pleased. 

Riri looked so pretty, hands pinned above her head, eyes blown with lust, lips parted with a gasp. Her vision blurred, eyes rolling back into her head with your lips pressed into her neck. You nipped and bit and licked away the sting of your bites. 

Beneath your touch, Ri’s hips shifted, her knees buckling. Her thighs pressed together, trying to ignore the growing slick between them.

“Do you want my advice to work, baby?”

She only moaned in response, with a long, drawn-out whine when your mouth left her skin. Your back straightened, forehead resting on hers while your fingers found the hem of her pants, teasing along them. 

“Talk to me, Ri; you ain’ never been this quiet. What do you want me to do, baby?”

Riri’s pretty head was swimming with thoughts that made no sense. She wanted you to touch her, to take her, to taste her. She tried to lose herself underneath your grasp; she wanted your name to roll off her tongue over and over and over until she came.

But deep down, a part of her wanted it to be Shuri she came apart for. 

Her deception of the Wakandan princess never got any easier, making this time no different than the last. Or the time before that, or the one before that-

Last time, Riri thought to herself. This will be the last time.

Ought to make it worth it.

Your fingers traced the little tuft of landing strip on Riri’s otherwise bare pussy- it was just how you liked it, which meant Shuri, indeed, hadn’t been down here in a while to notice. 

Her hips wiggled beneath you, urging you to go lower. 

“When was the last time you came, baby?” 

Riri stuttered through her response, “I-it’s been a couple days. M-my vibrator died, haven’t recharged it.”

“Oh, poor baby.” Your words muddied, lips returning to the crevice in Ri’s neck and refusing to leave. “When’s the last time she made you come?”

Riri’s chest rose with a deep inhale while the following exhale caught in her throat. Your name fell from her pretty lips, swollen from your kiss, with a long whine.

“Tell me, Ri.” Unfortunately for Riri, you were gonna get your answer one way or another. The electricity that shot through her body when you finally touched her clit felt so good it hurt. 

“Shit!” She hissed through clenched teeth. “Weeks, ma. It’s been weeks.” Her declaration was breathy, hard to admit with how your padded fingertips drew tight circles around her swollen bud. 

“Ohh, baby-” Goddamn, Riri hated how pity carried in your words. You were intentional with your antagonization, feeling the sorriness you felt for her in the pit of your stomach. “You need this then, huh?”

Riri tucked her lips away between her teeth. Her eyes were slits, and her muscles strained against you, wanting so badly to free herself from your cuffed hands so she could feel you. 

The spot beneath her ear lobe was susceptible, and as soon as your tongue grazed it, the poor girl’s knees buckled. Had it not been for your knee between her thighs, Riri would’ve collected in a puddle on the floor. 

“Tell me you need this, Riri.” You spoke with her earlobe between your teeth.

Not a decipherable thought was passing through Ri’s pretty head. The ability to speak a comprehensible sentence went as well, as evident by how she attempted to say, “I need this.” It came out slurred and broken, like an alcoholic who didn’t know when to stop. 

Her wish to be free was soon granted when you released her wrists, allowing blood flow to return through her arms. They fell to rest on the back of your head, pushing you further into her neck as though to suffocate you.

Her hips met yours, grinding harshly and drawing a coated chuckle from you. “Impatient thing.”

“I-I need this, ma,” she spoke then, explicitly.

“I know, baby,” you whispered for her ears and her ears only. You could feel the sigh of relief she released when your lips moved to her chest and down her sternum. Riri’s hands stayed tangled in your curls while yours ran along her sides.   

A shiver started in her tailbone and shot up her spine, curling her back and displaying the parts of her that your lips met. “Ohh,” even her exhales were sweet sounding.

Down her belly, your kisses continued, along her belly button, until you were face to face with her pelvis. Your thumbs hooked into the elastic of her waistband, pulling down slowly. Further down, her pants went until the tattoo on her hips was completely visible.

 Two little hearts, one on each hip. One black, one red, both nothing but line art because Riri wasn’t drunk enough to handle the pain. The matching pair to the red and black ones etched onto your skin in permanence in the same spot. 

A souvenir from your last last time. 

Riri drew in a shaky breath when your lips pressed against each heart, fitting perfectly into the shape like they were made for you.

They were.

“They healing so pretty, baby.”

The smirk that stretched across Riri’s face was purely seductive. “I know, right?”

“What she say bout them?” Your trail of kisses continued south until Riri’s pants piled around her ankles. 

Riri’s eyes shifted to the ceiling, her refusal to answer written all over her face. 

Her reaction was answer enough; Shuri probably hadn’t even noticed them. 

A heavy sigh expanded your lungs. “Oh, my baby,” your words were as smooth as your tongue, running across Riri’s clit with a quick swipe. Her moans were like music to your ears. They were deep and long; you would surely pull many more from her. 

“You don’t deserve that, baby.” Another drawn-out moan floated from her lips while yours attached to her clit, sucking like you’d been deprived. The sound that came from you shook her from the inside out. The moment the taste of her cunt landed on your tongue, your restraint snapped. You dug in, licking and lapping like it was the last taste you’d ever get. “Imma make it up to you.”

“Fuck, ma,” Riri was too loud for you to be in a public place, but for the time being, neither of you cared. Her fingers threaded through your kinks, tugging hard at your scalp. Her hips thrust, and her back arched, offering her pussy in its entirety to your mouth. 

Her body had already turned to mush beneath you, being held up only by your hands on her thighs. Your tongue flattened, spreading to lick as much of Riri as you could. Her swollen lips were slick with your spit and her wetness. The dampness continued like a river; the more you licked and lapped, the wetter she grew. Your mouth met every inch of her down there, your lips disappearing between hers before you came back up for air. 

“Shit, mami. Fuck-” The only words Riri could call out were the string of obscenities coming from her mouth. This feeling, this overwhelming heat she hadn’t felt in so long, felt so good. The type of warmth started in her cunt where your tongue worked her relentlessly and spread to her thighs, where your nails embedded into her flesh. It dug deep into her stomach, where her abs constricted, holding back the dam that would be her orgasm.

Not even the knocking at the door could pull either of you away from this moment. It barely pulled your mouth away from Riri long enough to yell, “Inna minute!” 

She was so close. You couldn’t abandon the girl now; push her to the edge and deal with the consequences later. 

And Bast, was she right on the fucking edge. Riri’s legs were shaking, her body trembling in your grasp, while hers was too tight on your head. Her pussy was fucking dripping, coating your nose and chin, and cheeks. Your lips enclosed around her clit while your head violently shook back and forth. Your tongue stroked the swollen bean slowly, a stark contrast with the quickness of the rest of your movements. Cum, you thought, as if Riri could read them. Fucking cum for me, drown me. 

Maybe Riri Williams was a telepath because, in the next second, you really were drowning beneath her. 

Riri was a mean squirter; the steady stream showed no mercy, barely allowing you time to tilt your head to catch every drop in your mouth instead of through your nostrils. 

She shook as if she were possessed, hands wrapped so tightly in your hair, you were sure she’d pulled a few strands out. You had no choice but to stay where you were and take it, repeatedly listening to your name fall from her tongue.

Her legs shook a little less, her grip a little looser, and though you had the strong desire to cough to clear your lungs of the cum that didn’t belong there, you weren’t ready for this to be over. Before Ri could come down fully, two of your fingers slipped into her dripping cunt with ease. 

“S-shit, ma, I can’t.”

“Safeword, Ri?” You pumped into her slowly, not wanting to rush this orgasm. You wanted to savor it.

“M-mami, I can’t.” Riri rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, a small string of saliva seeping through the corner of her mouth as she stared down at you.

“Say the safe word then, baby. I know you remember it; it’s the same every time.” Your fingers picked up speed just slightly before slowing back down. You were going to edge her to it this time. She had to earn it. 

Riri only whined in response, spreading her shaky legs even further for you.

“Say it, baby. Say the word, and I’ll stop.” Your free hand ran up and down her thigh, easily tracing along the suppleness. Hesitation flashed across her face, but only for a moment. 

She wasn’t going to let that safe word leave her lips. You knew she would if she needed to, but just like you, she fucking wanted this.

“I can’t, ma,” she huffed. 

“You can,” your lips planted along her inner thighs, coating them in her slick. “I know you can. Give me one more.”

Riri’s eyes locked on yours, giving you a slight nod. “One more?”

“Yeah, baby girl. Just one more.” Your fingers picked up speed, splashing her wet cunt even further, coating your forearm in her essence. 

“Shit” seemed to be her favorite word today because it was the only thing she could say from this point on. 

You continued plowing her pussy, whispering encouragement along the way. “That’s my girl” and “There you go, baby,” when her walls would tighten around you, making it hard for your thrusts to continue as they were. 

You could tell she was right there. Her breathing deepened, her moans picking up speed, all flowing into one another. “Cum for me, Riri.”

Her arms were sprawled against the wall behind her to keep her standing. She could only nod in response, her mouth wide open, eyes rolled back. Riri’s only focus then was doing what you asked, so she shut out the outside world. None of the noises of a busy mall, the distant knocking on the door, or the hand dryer whirring in the restroom next door mattered. Even her thoughts of Shuri were long gone. Only you and she were here in this moment as she came apart beneath your hand. 

The minute your fingers found that devilish curve striking her g-spot, Riri saw stars. Her vision went white, and her knees buckled with such force that you could only guide her as she fell so she wouldn’t get hurt.

To her knees she went, your hand on her back, holding her body to yours while your other hand still rested between her thighs, stroking her clit back and forth. “Ohhhh, shitttt-” she drew out between pursed lips. 

The sound of her cum splashing into a puddle grew the wet spot in your panties. “Good girl,” you whispered, trailing circles on her back while she came down. Riri’s chest heaved, her limbs feeling heavy, but she felt good for the first time in weeks. You pressed soft kisses into her temple, and she sunk beneath your touch, allowing the feeling to settle for a moment before speaking. 

You beat her to it, already knowing what she was going to say and not looking forward to the exact words she uttered each time-

“Last time?”

Riri looked into your eyes like she could see past them and directly into your soul. Some of you wished she could, so she could see how you felt. You wanted her to see that this wasn’t just a quick fuck for you. You wanted so badly to admit that your feelings for Shuri had never dissipated, and over time, feelings for Riri arose as well. How could they not? This girl who fell apart in your arms and let you take care of her, with whom you got matching tattoos. 

This girl who didn’t belong to you.

She wasn’t yours. 

And if Shuri were to find out?

Maybe it was best Riri couldn’t see into your soul, couldn’t read your mind. 

“Last time,” she replied finally, resting her forehead against yours. 

You had no idea how Riri was getting away with even texting you. You could only imagine that Shuri had really been checked out lately, too out of it to notice the hickeys that should have begun to heal over by now. 

Three weeks ago, she hadn’t even known about the hearts on Riri’s hips. She’d only recently come to discover them, and according to Riri, she’d only said “cute” and nothing else. 

Shuri had been emotionally absent when the two of you were together, but never this bad. Bast forbid, you get inked, and she not notice or come home decorated in love bites that weren’t from her. 

Poor Riri was being ignored as if she were a bother rather than a partner. She spent many a night FaceTiming you just to see you in the comfort of your own home, in a bed, she never got to share, in clothes that she wanted to rip to shreds. 

The days passed with hundreds of texts passed between the two of you like folded-over love notes between school girls and first crushes. They were about nothing, everything, anything just to get a response. When Riri wasn’t face first in her phone, she was dazed out, daydreaming about someone who wasn’t her partner.

And Shuri wasn’t stupid. 

She had no clue who was holding Riri’s attention when she wasn’t. And she hadn’t been lately, but she’d been busy. The lab needed work, it always needed work, and Shuri wasn’t going to wait until something needed to be improved to improve it. 

Admittedly, Shuri hadn’t given Riri much attention lately. It may have been a couple of weeks since they had a date night—a few nights since Shuri joined Riri in bed instead of falling asleep in her lab. 

And while Riri used to be in Shuri’s ear about it, she hadn’t been lately. The thought that maybe Riri had been getting attention elsewhere crossed Shuri’s mind once or twice, but she quickly shook it away. 

Because there was no way. Nah, not her Riri. Her girl was loyal, a bit needy, but only for her. 

But the thought kept nagging at the princess. It brought forth memories of her previous relationship, and with the memories came a hurt that she hadn’t felt in quite some time. 

She hadn’t allowed herself the space to process the end of your relationship. You left. It was that simple. If you wanted to throw away three years, then fine. Who was she to fight you on it?

Did it hurt like hell when you left? Hell, yeah.

Did her throat burn with the tears she wouldn’t let escape? Absolutely.

She watched you pack your bags and heard your voice break when you told her you couldn’t do this anymore. 

She remembers that stupid, stupid kiss she planted on your cheek when you walked out and how badly she just wanted to grab you, entrap you in her arms, and beg you to stay. 

But she let you go. So she couldn’t be mad at anybody but herself when you didn’t respond to her texts afterward. 

Or her calls. 

Suddenly, your social media profiles no longer appeared when she searched for you. 

She only had your address, which she’d gotten from a young Dora she assigned to keep an eye on you. Yes, it was weird, maybe borderline stalkerish, but she just wanted to know you were okay and would be okay in this big, bad world, all alone. 

Every few weeks, the juvenile warrior would return to her, eyes cast down and full of answers. 

“She okay?” 

“Yes, My Princess.”

A moment of awkward silence passed before Shuri spoke again. 

“What has she been up to?”

“She’s taken up reading again-” The Dora paused, a small smile finding her cheeks. Faint memories of you spending hours in the library flashed through her mind, reading to anyone who’d come just to hear you narrate, her included. 

“Good,” Shuri’s voice trailed, the same memory playing through her thoughts. 

Another moment of silence, this one less awkward. 

“Is she- she seeing anyone?” Shuri hesitated to ask, unsure if she wanted to know the answer, but what she wasn’t expecting was her young spy’s hesitation as well. 

Shuri gulped, though it was a struggle with how her throat dried. “Well?”

The Dora’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her eyes searching for anything in the room to focus on that wasn’t Shuri. 

“She is, isn’t she?”

The adolescent winced, unsure of how to answer.

“Who is it?”

At that moment, Riri’s nearly silent footsteps startled them both. She walked quickly into the room, standing just before Shuri to declare, “I’m going out,” before parting with a kiss and disappearing around the same corner from which she appeared. 

Shuri hadn’t even had time to ask questions before Riri was gone, and when she looked back up at the Dora, she saw her eyes stuck to a retreating Riri. 

When she noticed the princess staring at her, she threw her gaze to the ground, attempting to hide the width her eyes had grown to. 

Shuri looked to the door Riri walked through and back to the Dora, struggling to hide a guilt that wasn’t hers. 

One eyebrow drew to the top of her forehead, silently asking the question that wouldn’t pass her lips. 

“Lemme get that address, please.” 

You approached your front door with a goofy grin plastered across your face. You were so engrossed with the texts from Riri and her promise to be over soon that you didn’t notice your misplaced welcome mat or the plant next to it that somebody dug into. 

The phone was still in hand when you walked into a dark apartment and threw your keys to the counter before hitting the light switch. 

The scream erupted from your body was loud enough for your neighbors to call the cops had they been home. 

Seated on your couch as if she lived there, swirling a cup of whiskey in her hand, sat the Wakandan Princess. 

You hadn’t seen her in so long- her hair was still shaved on the sides, but the top was grown enough to be cornrowed straight against her scalp. 

Besides that, Shuri still looked like Shuri, with a jawline sharp enough to cut through glass, set tight with clenched teeth. 

“Shuri?! What the fuck?”

She swallowed the remnants of her drink before responding. She couldn’t look at you; she needed the alcohol to be her liquid courage. 

“You keep the spare in the same place you kept it when we met.”

Her voice ran over you like fucking silk. The accent, the softness with which she spoke, it was your kryptonite. You wouldn’t be able to stand your ground if you listened to her talk; it's why you were partially thankful she remained silent through your breakup. 

It was a struggle to keep your voice even or your tone steady. “That don’t mean you can use it.”

Shuri stood, towering over you the way she always had, even from across the room. Standing gave you a good look at her and how her clothes hugged her body. The cream-colored button-up was unbuttoned down to her navel, allowing you a sneak peek at the black bra she wore beneath it and the collection of chains hanging on her neck. Her sleeves were rolled halfway up her arm, displaying her veiny hands that held an exhibition of rings adorning her slender fingers. 

The shirt was untucked, paired with a baggy pair of black cargo pants, and her shoes had been discarded next to your front door.

If she were to break into your home, the least she could do was respect it. 

Shuri finally willed her eyes up from the floor to take you in. She practically growled at the sight before her- you, a mass of curls tied atop your head in a cropped bandeau top with pierced nipples peeking through. The curve of your ass was barely contained in the bottoms you wore as shorts that could’ve passed as underwear with the way your thighs sucked in the fabric. 

“Where are you coming from dressed like that?”

You looked down at your appearance, seeing no problem with it. “I was running errands-”

Your sentence ended with a gasp, feeling the heat from Shuri’s body mix with yours as she walked you backward until your back pressed against your door. 

“You leaving the house dressing like this now?” Her face was close to yours, too close. You barely had time to process what was happening, eyes wide and frantic, breathing sporadic. 

Comprehendible thoughts were hard to come across, but some didn’t believe this was happening. Shuri, whom you hadn’t spoken to in a year, was standing before you, looking like she wanted to rip to shreds the clothes she criticized. 

And she did. Her hands found her pockets before they reached to touch a part of you she feared you didn’t want to be touched. 

“I know I taught you better than that,” Shuri whispered, her lips too close to your ear. 

“I-” Your gulp was audible, and the princess watched it, wanting to trace the trail it traveled. “Wha-what are you doing here, Shuri?”

A rapid succession of taps sounded at the door behind you, and your heart leaped to your throat. Shuri’s hands found their way to your waist and sunk in, pulling you so your back kissed her front. Her fingers dug into your skin, drawing a pained moan from you that grew in volume when her lips brushed against your ear. 

“Better question, y/n. Why my girl bout to walk through your door?”

Arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach, your head whipping to look Shuri in her face with wide eyes. Your heart pounded when a chuckle fell from her lips. “Well? Let her in.”

Your hands wouldn’t move; your brain told them to, yet they stayed glued by your side. Shuri was here, standing behind you, pressed against you. Your body fit against hers perfectly, like the missing piece in an incomplete puzzle, and it was a feeling you’d missed-

And on the other side of the door was Riri, whose body fit to yours like a puzzle piece. Poor Riri was about to walk into all hell breaking loose in your tiny apartment. The first thing she would see when you opened the door would be her Shuri with her arms wrapped around your waist, one hand settling into the flesh on your hip while the other trailed so lightly along your thigh, it was torturous. 

Shuri’s fingers played with the lack of fabric covering your thighs, her mouth still close to your ear. “You’ll tell me if you don’t want this? If you don’t want me touching you?” Her voice was much softer, dripping in sincerity. 

You nodded in response. 

“Do you want me touching you, y/n?”

Her hand abandoned your waist, climbing upward to your neck, where she tapped lightly at your throat. Your words she needed you to use your words. You remembered how she would tap at your throat so many years ago and how it meant the same thing then that it had now. She remembered-

“Touch me, Shuri.”

Mm, she hummed, kissing the space behind your ear. “My girl-” The finger on your throat turned into fingers around it, not choking, but pressing your body further into hers, holding your head to look directly at the door and nowhere else. “Now, open the door.”

Your brain made your hands obey this time, and with a shaky hand, the knob turned, and the door opened, and what a fucking sight it was. 

Riri’s eyes widened, taking it all in. Shuri, staring directly into her eyes, holding your practically naked body against her with one hand at your throat and the other on your thigh. You, eyes blown with lust and fear, hands hanging lamely at your sides, and lips caught between your teeth. 

And on the opposite end, Riri, eyes grown several sizes, mouth wide open with a gasp. “Wha-”

Shuri released your throat, extending the free hand to a confused Riri. “C’mere, baby.”

Riri hesitated, and Shuri’s already dark eyes darkened even further. “Come here,” she commanded. 

The more petite girl of the three obeyed, stepping into your home and closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here-?” She asked Shuri.

“I should be asking you the same thing, shouldn’t I, Ri?”

Riri stood silent, allowing Shuri to pull her in until you were both wrapped in Shuri’s arms. “I didn’t even know you knew Y/n. How you know Y/n, Riri?”

Riri didn’t speak, didn’t even meet Shuri’s gaze.

“Y/n, how you know Riri?”

Riri felt ice flow through her veins when you responded, “She’s an old friend.”

An insincere chuckle left Shuri’s lips as she released the both of you, returning to the couch. “An old friend?”

“Yes,” you responded slowly. 

“Mhm,” Shuri’s lips were tucked thin. 

“You know, don’t you?” Riri’s small voice fell to the forefront. “You the smartest person in the country, so I know you know.”

“Know what?” 

“That I’ve been fucking your girl-” Firey confidence fueled your words, thrown harshly at the princess. She should’ve winced beneath them, but instead, she sat forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes glued to your perfect face. 

“Have you?” she taunted.

“Mhm,” You stepped toward her, stopping until you rested between her manspread legs. “Better than you have, too.”

Shuri’s smirk irritated you, and it bothered you even more how sexy it looked-

Her hands quickly reached behind your knees, forcing them to buckle until you straddled her lap. “Have you?”

Her fast movements wavered your cockiness, but only for a moment. Riri stood in the same spot, feeling a warmth build in her belly and an ache spread between her legs at the sight before her. Shuri laid back on the couch, holding your thighs while you sat with one on each side of her hip. 

Simply put, it was hot. 

“I have. Pussy so good, she trims it how I like-”

Shuri’s eyes dart towards Riri before settling back on you. “I-”

You lean forward, not allowing her a moment to speak. “I fuck her so good, she got my tats.”

Shuri’s brows raise to the top of her face, full of amusement. “Oh, really?”

Shuri’s chin rests on your finger, drawing her gaze upward until your eyes lock on one another. “She calls me mami.”

Riri is a blushing mess in the corner, hands clasped together, eyes on the ground. She refuses to look at Shuri, though she knows Shuri is looking at her. 

Only when Shuri speaks does Riri’s gaze rise, surprise scrunching her features together. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me how good you fuck her.” Shuri taps the back of your thighs, signaling you to stand before crossing the room to an awaiting Riri. 

“Can she, baby?” Riri’s mind is a mess, and so are her panties.

She nods, lips still parted, eyes still as wide as saucers, and it takes a glare from Shuri for her to learn her manners and speak. “Y-yeah.”

Shuri kisses her forehead gently before bending at the waist to kiss her lips. “Good girl, Ri.”

She taps Riri’s butt roughly, watching it bounce in her hand. “Go ask her.”

Shuri retreats to the couch once more, arms spreading across the back of the cushions. Riri looks so cute, walking to you like her feet are made of lead, and you’re almost sure she won’t even be able to get the question out. 

To your surprise, Riri’s hands fly to your hips, massaging the space where your hearts sit before lowering them to cup your ass. Your cheeks spill over her hands, and she moans at the feel. “Will you fuck me, ma?”

A small smile plays on your lips at the eager girl. “You little exhibitionist. You like that she’s watching?”

Riri turns to look at Shuri with her bottom lip between her teeth as she nods. She turns back to you with wide eyes, and you hold her head in both hands before leaning slightly to kiss her hard. 

“Then let’s give her a show.”

She moans into the kiss, and you sink into her mouth, loving the feel of her tongue grazing yours. The kiss is deep, wet, indeed the kiss of two people deprived of this feeling. 

Riri’s hands stay on your behind, gathering the fabric of your shorts in her hand and hiking them up until your ass spills from under them. She runs her fingers along the softness, squeezing and gripping so hard, you’re sure she’ll leave marks. 

Your hands find the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head, flinging it in Shuri’s direction with discard. The hook and clasp of her bra are easy to release; you’d had weeks to perfect it. The bra gets thrown at Shuri as well, who’s seated enjoying the strip show, trying hard to ignore her wetness. 

Riri’s breasts are small and perky and fit perfectly in your mouth. Her nipples stiffen at the pass of your tongue, and her moan sounds so sweet when your teeth graze her.  You two are caught in a trance until Shuri speaks, “Take off her pants.”

So you do. Your thumbs hook in Riri’s waistband, tongue never leaving her chest while she uses your shoulders to balance, stepping out of her pants, one leg at a time. 

“Turn her around,” Shuri commands once more, and with your hands on Riri’s hips, you rotate her body so her back and ass are all Shuri sees. 

“Get up, bend her over.”

Riri’s breast leaves your mouth with a pop, and you stand fully, walking behind the small girl and bending her at the waist. “Eat her.”

“Just getting right into it, huh?” You tease, fingers running up and down Riri’s round ass as you fall to your knees behind her, inhaling her scent. Your mouth waters, and you waste no time licking a stripe from her clit to her ass.

“Oh, fuck-” Riri moans beneath you, pressing her cunt further into your face.

Your tongue meets her with vigor, licking along her slit with a moan. “You taste so fucking good.” Your hands find a cheek in each hand, separating them so Riri’s on full display for you, her delicious cunt glistening for you. Her knees are already shaking.

Shuri watches as you slurp and suck, remembering how your tongue used to feel against her. Her eyes are glued to your mouth on Riri, never abandoning her pussy for long, but sure not to have her ass feel neglected, either. She drools when you spit on Riri’s asshole, prepping it to take the finger you’re about to fuck her with. 

And she watches Riri’s back arch, and her moans fall, “Oh, fuck, ma-” when she takes your index finger in her ass so fucking well. Your mouth continues working her cunt, lapping like you’ve been starving. Your cheeks and chin are slick with Riri’s wetness, and your jaw is growing tired. 

“Fuck, mami, fuck.”

“Are you gonna cum, Ri, baby?” Shuri’s voice carries from her place in the room.

Riri nods before correcting herself. “Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna cum.”

Shuri stands, watching you momentarily, before pulling you away from Riri’s pussy by your hair. Her hand raises and drops against Riri’s ass harshly, with a spank that could be heard several blocks away. “Don’t,” she commands before turning to you and entangling your tongues. 

She’s tasting Riri from your mouth while you swallow her moans, enjoying the taste of her.

Shuri found herself caught up in how your mouth moved, how your lips moved in sync, and your tongues found nothing but each other. It was a feeling you’d both missed, and you could have stayed there for hours just kissing each other had Riri not whimpered at the sight in the background. 

“Fuck,” you whispered when Shuri pulled away, her eyes landing on Riri. The tiny girl’s nimble fingers were going to work on her clit, her arm on the table being the only thing holding her up. 

“Needy bitch-” Shuri whispered back, and you felt your clit twitch behind your thin panties. “You got a strap, baby?”

You realized she was addressing you, and your body responded once more. You nodded slowly, eyes stuck on Shuri, and she tilted her head at you. “Go grab it.” And you held your breath as she leaned in, kissing you softly. 

When you returned with your favorite dildo and the strap to match, Riri was coming apart with Shuri’s fingers buried in her pussy. 

She was already squirting, making a massive mess in your living room, but Shuri didn’t let up. “There you go, baby, look at you. Good fucking girl,” she growled, and her words traveled straight to your cunt as if she were speaking to you. And she might have been when she turned to look at you, still pumping Riri when she uttered, “My girl.”

Shuri only removed her hand from between Riri’s legs when you approached, holding the harness out to her. Her fingers moved to unbutton the rest of her shirt, and she leaned forward, pressing her lips against yours again. “Put it on for me.”

She loved it when you strapped her up. It was the sexiest sight to see you on your knees, securing every strap to her muscular thighs with her cunt straight in your face. 

It was an intimate moment between you two to shed her pants from her waist and toss them aside while she stepped into the harness. You slid it up her thighs, pulling the straps until it was tight around her hips and waist, and secured the pink toy where it belonged, all without breaking eye contact. 

Riri watched with her head tilted to the side, still bent over the table. Her breath caught in her throat, anxious to see where this moment between her two lovers led-

But of course, it was Shuri who pulled away. Once the harness was strapped in place, she pulled her gaze away from you, walking back to where Riri was waiting, her cunt still dripping. 

Shuri lined the head of the faux dick up with Riri’s slit, having to use every muscle in her abdomen to resist slipping right in. “Mm,” Riri hummed, eyes closed, lips tucked. 

“It’s been a minute, baby.” Shuri bent into the curve of Riri’s body, planting kisses on her shoulders and down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ohhhh-” Shuri’s thrust cut off Riri’s sentence. The dildo’s entire length was swallowed up by Riri’s tiny cunt, and it was a delicious sight. Shuri bottomed out, allowing her pelvis to kiss Ri’s before pulling out and thrusting again before the poor girl had time to adjust. 

“Oh, fuck, mami-” Shuri pulled out and thrust again, this time even harder.

She couldn’t feel Riri like she could with her dildos, but she knew her cunt was tight. The dildo was met with resistance upon each thrust, though she splashed a little more each time. 

“Fuck!” Riri cried out, gripping the ends of the table with all her strength. You sat on the couch and watched, amazed at how the lengthy toy disappeared to the hilt within Riri’s walls. 

“Yeah, baby. You taking me so well,” Shuri moaned out, digging her nails into Riri’s backside. 

Riri wouldn’t last long; you both knew it. She’d barely had time to come all the way down from her first orgasm, and this one would hit her like a train. Each time Shuri pulled out, you heard Riri squirt just a little more, pushing Shuri further and further out, so each thrust back in was hasher. 

“Look at you, Riri, goddamn baby,”

Her moan in response was incoherent. 

“You gonna make a mess, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Riri whined.

“Good girl,” Shuri’s thrusts had slowed significantly; Riri’s little cunt trapped her. “You right there, aren’t you?” 

“Uh-huh,” she drew out once more. 

“Go ahead, baby.” Shuri reached over Riri’s body, finding her swollen clit and flicking it with a vengeance. “Let it out.”

Riri didn’t need to be told twice. With a shriek, she was coming all over your floor, covering Shuri’s hand. “There you go, baby, look at you. Good girl.”

Riri was loud, her thighs trembling, her words shaky. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Shuri hadn’t let up on her clit yet, and the overstimulation brought her to tears.

“Fucking good girl-”

“Shit!” Riri cried. “Mercy! Mercy-” 

And Shuri’s hand was off of Ri like a repellent. She took Riri’s face in her hands, grazing it with concern. “You okay, baby?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Riri replied. It came out breathless. “Just need a minute-”

Shuri nodded, kissing Riri quickly. “Okay, ma.”

They both turned to glance at you, amused to see you were in your own world, fueled by theirs. Your fingers were pumping furiously into your cunt, legs drawn back so it was on display. Your pretty eyes were squeezed shut, head thrown back.

Shuri’s mouth watered at the way your cream collected around the base of your fingers, needing to get a taste-

“Go take care of her,” Riri whispers with a nod in your direction. Shuri nods, kissing Ri’s head quickly before allowing her feet to bring her to you. 

Your eyes shoot open with the feel of hands wrapping around your thighs. You find yourself staring face to face with Shuri lining the glistening pink dildo up with your own wet entrance. Her breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Can I-?” She trails off, unsure of how to finish the question. 

Your arms wrap around her neck, and your legs lift higher, parting further. “Fuck me.”

That’s all the permission Shuri needed, and she watches in lust love when your head falls back against the couch. 

You feel every divet of the dildo parting your walls, and you’d felt it before, but this time felt so much better. A gasp falls from your lips when Shuri’s pelvis touches yours, and you lift your head to watch her pull out and thrust back in. 

She’s moving slower than she was with Riri. Her eyes never leave your face, watching as ecstasy writes itself across your features. “Y/n,” she stutters with a gasp. Your eyes meet hers again, watching her intensely. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should’ve never let you go-”

Your hand reaches up to graze her cheek, and she leans into the delicate touch, relishing in the sound of your moans as her thrusts pick up speed. “I’ve missed you so much,” Shuri admits. 

The words are hard to get out through moans, but you do. “Then fuck me like you missed me.”

And she does. 

#quintessencewrites #shuri x reader #riri x reader #shuriri x reader #riri williams x reader #shuriri #letitia wright shuri #queen shuri #shuri smut #shuri udaku smut #riri smut #black panther smut #smut

[harwinsgirl]

The White Sheep - Harwin Strong X Reader, Part Two

Part Two of The White Sheep!

I wanted to say right off the bat that I hope it’s okay that this chapter sets up some backstory. I wanted to establish a relationship between the reader and Viserys. I’ll get started on part three soon, which will focus on the wedding! Lots of Harwin fluff there, for now we have more angst.

(Big fan of our boy Vizzy T, I promise he’ll get better, he’s just in his feelings a bit. Also still on mobile so apologies if the formatting gets wonky)

When you were a young girl, not much older than eight years old, you stumbled past the dining hall and heard the unmistakable laughter of your father. Pressing your small frame against the wall, you were able to hear his conversation through the wooden door, which had been partially left open by one of the attending servants. You took great care in remaining out of sight as you peered into the room. Your father was talking to a man you scarcely recognized along with two young boys that were most likely his sons. You had internally chided yourself for not paying more attention when the palace had received its most recent guests, for you could not recall their names or even their house. But you were a child, your mind preoccupied with the newly expanded library and the wildflowers blooming outside your window and your sister’s brand new gown that had golden stitching along the wrists. What were boys to you?

“So I might marry Rhaenyra?” The youngest boy asked through a forkful of lamb.

That earned a round of chuckles from everyone else at the table. Presumably his father, the man shook his head and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Aye, not you lad. The honor would go to your brother. You would take the other princess, the quiet one.”

The boy let out a whine and tossed his fork down, the clatter sending bits of meat across the table. “But she’s boring!”

There was no laughter this time. “Watch yourself boy,” his father hissed. “That’s the king’s daughter you’re insulting!”

“He’s right though father,” the elder boy replied, “She’s had her nose in a book the entire time. I don’t think I’ve heard her speak to any of us since we arrived. It’s no wonder he has no interest.”

Viserys had been eyeing the boys carefully since the first comment had been made, chewing slowly. He proceeded to unsheathe his dagger and feign interest in it, pretending to inspect the blade. “Do you know what this is made of, boys?”

“Valyrian steel.” The older boy responded, as if reciting an answer for an exam. The younger one mumbled in agreement.

“Right you are, Valyrian steel. Everyone knows of its strength. But sometimes you need to see up close,” Viserys paused and grabbed an apple from the table, slicing a piece of skin off so precisely and quickly that it landed on the young boy’s cheek, “just how deadly and unforgiving it could be.”

“It’s not the only thing in the Red Keep that possesses those qualities either.” With a terrifying grin, Viserys chuckled and bit into the apple. You noted how the children’s faces had paled, the youngest one not daring to move a muscle, even though the fruit was still sticking to his skin. “A word of advice to you lads. Never insult a daughter in front of her father. You’ll find that there are things more unforgiving than a blade.”

As you turned on your heel to leave, you could hear the old lord laugh uncomfortably and utter apologies and the sound of chairs sliding against the cold floor, signaling that the meal was being hastily adjourned. You couldn’t help but walk away with a small smile on your lips. Your father proved right then and there that you were enough for him. That you were loved and cherished as his daughter. It’s a memory that has kept you warm these many years, bringing you comfort during council meetings, feasts, tourneys, and other events where you had been pigeonholed as the second daughter, the quiet one, the white sheep.

Viserys was a very busy man, often leaving you wondering how he truly felt about you. The king was not known for his outward expressions of love but it was easy for anyone to see how proud he was of your sister Rhaenyra. At a young age she was already equipped with fiery personality that captured the hearts of many people across the realm. But you were just a child who happened to be born into a dynasty. At the end of the day you were grateful to have a sister and father that you loved very much. All you wanted was for them to be happy, especially after your mother and brother had passed. Everyone in your family felt those losses strongly but you had internalized your pain, resulting in a sense of personal responsibility for your family’s happiness. It’s why you felt most comfortable saying nothing at all and choosing hobbies that caused little strife. It’s why you always said yes to your father’s requests and why your refusal to marry as of late seemed to agitate him more than Rhaenyra’s outbursts. You were the good child as your sister would say, which was intended as either a compliment or a demeaning remark depending on her mood. “I may very well put father in the grave with my antics,” she mused to you one time, “but if anything I know is true, it’s that father will always love you.”

You were hoping that love would be enough to temper the storm that had been brewing ever since you accepted Harwin’s proposal. He had escorted you back to your chambers and bid you goodnight with a tender kiss and a promise to return for you the following morning. The fire in your belly from the night’s events allowed sleep to elude you, your eyes fixated on the silver ring that adorned your finger. Excitement eventually dwindled as fear of your father’s reaction began to take root in your mind. On the one hand, he could’ve been overjoyed that you actually showed interest in marriage and that you had chosen a respectable husband, one who had proven himself as dutiful and loyal. But more than likely he was going to be displeased due to not being offered a say in the matter, as removing you from the marriage market meant that certain advantageous matches could no longer be considered. You were, after all, a Princess of Dragonstone, which still held a significant amount of value. It hadn’t bothered you much as a child, the feeling of being a pawn, a bargaining chip to be offered to a man of a great house. For a time, it actually made you feel important. Now you realized you only felt that way because you had nothing to lose.

The ring on your finger reminded you that was no longer the case.

Harwin kept his promise and arrived at your door after you had been served breakfast. You didn’t even register the quip he made about your full plate; the fact that you were too nervous to eat was not lost on him. You suddenly felt yourself being held against his chest as he embraced you in a tight hug, his head dipping down to your neck as he whispered gentle, sweet words into your ear. He hummed softly as he started to spin you around, his hand trailing down to your waist as he kept you close. Tears sprang to your eyes when you realized the song he had begun to sing was a song you had not heard since your mother had passed. A gentle lullaby about a bird in summertime returning for his love;

“Darling, know my love for thee

Two sweetlings in a maple tree

Though I leave on a summer’s eve

I ask my love to wait for me

Darling, know my love for thee

And when the leaves begin to fall

I will fly across the sea

When I hear my lover’s call”

He had begun to let go but you clung to him tighter, pressing your face against the cold breastplate of his armor. Harwin planted a kiss on your forehead and rested his head against yours.

“As much as I feel as though I could live in this moment forever, we should meet your father before he begins to worry.” He murmured softly.

“I don’t think I can do this, I don’t think I can face him,” you whispered. “I’m not strong enough.”

“My beloved,” Harwin said, his hand raising your chin up towards him, his eyes searching yours, “You are strong, and our love is a cause worth fighting for. You know this to be true.” More genuine, heartfelt words were spoken but you could no longer hear them, the feeling of terrible weightlessness overwhelming you. Misery had taken hold of you and would not let go.

You appreciated Harwin’s efforts to calm you but you were still wary, and rightfully so. Dread coursed throughout your entire body as the two of you began to walk down the corridor. Every step that led towards the throne room felt torturous, the sound of your feet upon the cobblestone floor reminding you of the dull thump of a nail into a coffin. Harwin squeezed your arm reassuringly and you paused briefly to glance up at him. The words he spoke to you moments before in the privacy of your room echoed in your ears again, although it felt like the first time.

“No matter what, I will fight for us. For you.”

“Say the word and we leave now. Together.”

“If this is my end, I will find a way back to you. Your love has saved my life and I believe in its power to do it again.”

He smiled at you and gestured forward, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Come, my lady. It’s time.”

The heavy doors creaked open and revealed your father’s silhouette on the throne, his form being partially shrouded by the sunlight. Lyonel Strong was positioned at the base of the steps, his arms clasped together. He acknowledged the two of you with a brief nod. You returned the gesture in kind, although guilt started to flood your thoughts soon after. He was likely not to approve of the marriage either. You had hoped that the honorable hand of the king would be spared, free from any repercussions caused by your actions. It hadn’t quite occurred to you just how many people could be affected by this decision.

Your heart sank further into your stomach.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my youngest?” Viserys said in greeting. “And as always, it is good to see you Ser Harwin. You look to be in good health.”

“Father, Ser Harwin wishes to ask you something.” You announced, swallowing thickly. Harwin stepped forward and kneeled down before his father and his king, bowing respectfully before raising his head and stating his request.

“Your Grace, I humbly ask to resign from your kingsguard, effectively removing myself from the position of the princess’s guardian.”

Harwin’s plea was met with silence. Viserys was still for a moment before a hint of a smile formed on his lips. He turned to Lyonel and quipped, “My apologies to you old friend, for whatever my daughter has done to frighten your behemoth of a son.” All credit was due to Lord Strong, whose casual laughter at the remark disguised the fear in eyes all too well. A thousand questions lingered between father and son, the air growing thick with tension.

“There is only one reason why I would choose to walk away from this role, Your Grace,” Harwin continued, his voice steady and firm. “I have fallen in love, and I intend to marry.”

In a swift response, your father began clapping, quirking an eyebrow at Lyonel when he did not follow suit. “Well now son, don’t keep us in suspense!” Viserys laughed, his hand moving to rest under his chin. “Tell us the name of the lass.”

“It’s me.” You said gently.

The world went silent for a moment.

If birds were singing, notes were lost in their throats. Waves ceased crashing. Even the flames in the torches flicked upwards in a soundless dance.

“Say that again child.” Viserys demanded.

“I am his intended. We would like to be married.” You stated, your voice unwavering. “I have never loved a man so deeply-“

“Do not speak of love!” Viserys thundered. “Not to me, not in this room, not ever!” Your father stood up, his mouth growing taut and rigid with anger. “I cannot believe what I am hearing!”

“Why is that father?” You challenged, walking towards the steps of the throne. You had hoped, prayed that he would understand. Now you were seeing that this conversation would be no easy feat. But it was your life, and your love, and you would die at his feet defending it if you had to, if it truly came down to it. “Why is it that only you get to experience true love? Do you think mother would be pleased to know that you are treating her daughters like cattle to be sold off to the highest bidder?”

“Your mother was dutiful!” Viserys snapped back, pointing his finger at you. “She knew of responsibility! She would not approve of you making such a decision behind your father’s back! A decision that is not yours to make!”

“I should have a say!” You cried out, waving your arms in exasperation. “You afforded Rhaenyra such rights!”

“Rights that she will surely lose after this incident,” Viserys said icily. “I may be your father, but I am also your lord and king. Your future lies within my hands girl, not yours. What if I had betrothed you to another already? What would you have me do then? Do you expect me to start a war over this union? All for you to marry a man that can only offer you a blackened estate?”

“It’s either Harwin Strong or no man at all,” you said defiantly, “Too long have I spent in the shadow of my sister, only to be feasted on by aging lords or young sons who only seek the power of our name. Too long have I spent biting my tongue, agreeing to whims of your council simply because it made me appear more sensible and obedient. I am a Targaryen and I promise you if I am not allowed this wish, the only wish I have ever asked for you to grant, I swear that you will bear witness to my fury.”

There was no council to offer. Lyonel Strong remained stoic, his eyes trained on his eldest son. All he could do was wait to see if his child would be cut down in front of him or dragged away to be hung for treason. How he managed to raise a son who was completely ruled by his heart was unfathomable. There should’ve been some logic that screamed at Harwin to not do this, to understand that not every love can be fully realized, that duty and honor comes above all else. But Lyonel’s son continued to bend the knee, his blue eyes unblinking as he stared at the furious king, ready to accept any consequence from his actions.

Viserys had gone still, his body no longer shaking with rage. All the more terrifying, in your opinion. He studied you both for moments that felt like eternity. Your mind should have been preoccupied with your fate, which seemed to be undecided at the moment, but all you could think about was the memory of the dining hall. Faceless boys who witnessed the quiet wrath of your father, all because they dared to speak ill of you. Where was that love? Why was he filled with so much rage? Why couldn’t he see that Harwin would give you the love that he had once told you that you were worthy of? Your heart leapt at the thought of telling him how Harwin defended you in the city, but the words died in your throat when Viserys addressed the two of you with the most callous and cold words he could manage.

“You may marry. Marry the Strong boy, marry your handmaiden, marry a rat for all I care. I will not witness the ceremony. Perform this atrocity outside of the Keep, and commit these halls to your memory child, for it may be the last time you see them.”

“Father!” You cried out, your arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to reach him. But drawn swords from his guards formed a cross, preventing you from moving closer. He descended the steps quickly and brushed past you, not even chancing a look at you as he left the room, the doors closing shut with a deafening finality.

Harwin immediately took you into his arms, shushing you as you began to weep. Kissing your hair, flooding you with words of encouragement, holding you upright in his arms when your knees buckled. Moments later, a voice could be heard over your wracked sobs. “Pity I did not get to witness you defend your betrothed in front of her father,” Lyonel said with mock thoughtfulness. “it felt as if you left her to the wolves.”

You wiped at your eyes and took a deep breath. Harwin took a brief moment to study your eyes, only turning to face his father after you mouthed that you would be okay. “My lady spoke for herself and I am proud of her.” Harwin finally replied, shooting daggers at his father. “I would gladly give my life for her if it were asked of me.”

“It very well could have been asked of you, you fool!” Lyonel snapped. “You ruined this poor girl’s life and there is no going back on this, boy. Nothing I can say will bring you back into the king’s good graces. I may not even be able to escape his wrath. Did you stop to think about that before you asked for her hand? How many lives are you willing to risk for this?”

“I swore my duty and I did it well,” Harwin bit back, “You know I have done well. I have been the perfect son for god knows how long. I left Harrenhal and began training at your request. I accepted a life that would not allow me to start a family at your insistence. I would’ve continued to serve the king for all of my days, and in the end it would’ve been all for you. My whole life reduced to the boundaries set forth by you until I’m left to rot in the earth. No longer. I will not apologize for seeking happiness. And I will not turn my back on my beloved. Not for you, not for the king, not for anyone.”

Harwin stood tall, his chin raised, silently challenging Lyonel to continue the argument. To his surprise, he was met with a tight embrace instead, his father squeezing him like it might be the last time they would ever touch. “I believe the king’s advice goes for the both of you,” Lyonel said, breaking apart from his son as he shared a concerned look with the two of you. He sighed heavily and shook his head. “God knows if we will ever see your faces within these walls again.”

Lyonel departed along with the last of your father’s kingsguard, leaving you alone with your betrothed. You staggered toward to steps before collapsing onto them, your hands raking through your hair as you began to process what had happened. Harwin stood before you, looking contemplative.

“Do you regret this?” He asked suddenly.

“What? Telling my father?” You answered, slightly perplexed. While it had not gone as you had hoped, it had to happen. Marrying in secret would’ve had far worse consequences and you both knew that.

“No. I meant me. Choosing me.” Harwin said quietly.

You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Many would look at Harwin and would assume him to be full of confidence. He was rugged, strong, attractive. Until a moment ago, the strongest knight in the kingsguard. A flash of his smile could capture your heart if you left it unattended. But there was more to him than that, layers and nuances that only you were allowed to see. He trusted you with these parts of him and all of his insecurities too. His doubts manifested in questions like this, although this query had been the most serious so far. If only he knew how much you adored him, and for just how long. If only he knew how he set your whole body ablaze the day you two met in the very same room you found yourselves in. How afternoons in the garden together had been blissful in such an excruciating way. Your time was spent falling in love with a man you believed to be out of reach. A languid breeze, the sounds of the wind passing through the trees, and a sleepy knight propped up beside you against the godswood. You had chosen him right then and there, all those years ago, loving him with your whole heart ever since.

You took your hand and placed it against his cheek. Harwin closed his eyes and leaned into your palm, nuzzling it gently as you began to speak.

“I only existed before you. And now, its as if I get to live. You are my reason for being, Harwin. I would do this all over again if I had to. My heart is yours. I think it always has been.”

Harwin breathed heavily before leaning down and pressing a searing kiss to your lips, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth when you gasped. Holding you by your hip, Harwin kissed you again and again, his tongue rolling over yours and teasing your lips whenever you began to pull away for air. Finally he broke the kiss, only to cause you to squeal when he bent down and scooped you into his arms, carrying you the way a man holds his bride. Blowing a piece of hair from his face, he gazed at you with a fiery intensity and a breathtaking smile to match.

“By the gods woman, I am marrying you tonight.”

#harwinsgirl #harwin #hotd fic #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #harwin strong #harwin breakbones #harwin strong fic

[vannahfanfics]

All Part of the Charm

Word Count: 2,600

Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship, Post-Time Skip

Summary: Kei and Tetsurō have only been dating a short time now, and they haven't told anyone yet. Who knew that fact would lead to an opportunity for a good prank?

Continuing to work on posting the huge backlog of works that I’ve accumulated over my time in school, here’s the piece that I wrote for the KuroTsuki Summer Solstice Exchange!

“You know, holding hands under the table like this… It makes me feel like a married man having an illicit affair instead of just a regular guy on a date with his boyfriend.” 

Apparently, Kei did not appreciate the comment, for he shot Tetsurō an icy glare from across the café table. 

“I can stop holding it, if that would make you feel better,” Kei deadpanned, which quickly wiped the smirk off of Tetsurō’s face; it was replaced with a sulky pout. Kei huffed, but before he could double down on his threat and yank his hand out of Tetsurō’s, the ravenet quickly tightened his grip. Kei’s sharp gaze could have cut steel, but Tetsurō just met them with pathetic puppy-dog eyes. 

“Noooooooo, don’t do that. It most certainly would not make me feel better,” Tetsurō pleaded, fluttering his lashes for added effect. Not that it had much of an effect on Kei, who was all but immune to Tetsurō’s charms. Well, not entirely immune; they’d worked well enough for Tetsurō to reel Kei into dating him, after all.

It had only been a few weeks. This was their first time on an in-person date; Kei had traveled to Tokyo to accompany Tetsurō to one of his favorite cafés. They hadn’t even made any sort of public declaration or told their friends yet—hence all the cloak-and-dagger on Kei’s part. He was anxious about the possibility (however slim it might be) that they would run into someone they knew. Tetsurō didn’t righteously care about anyone finding out about it, but Kei did, and he respected that enough to let Kei go at his own pace. 

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t gonna give him shit about it. It was part of that charm that had won Kei over, loathe as the blond would be to admit it. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, what are the odds of somebody we know walking in here? Like, really?” 

The little bell attached to the café door tinkled as it swung open, and it was swiftly followed by a delighted yell of, “Hey, hey, hey, look who it is!” 

“What are the odds?” Kei huffed and jerked his hand away as Tetsurō just gazed somewhere past him in a thousand-yard stare. Tetsurō snapped back to reality when Kōtarō pranced up behind him and slammed his hands down on his shoulders, for the shock of it made Tetsurō nearly spring out of his chair. As he sagged down in it, glaring at Kōtarō, Keiji rounded the table on the other side to stand next to Kei with his hands in his pockets. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Tsukki,” he greeted with a cordial smile. “What brings you to Tokyo?” 

“I got weary of studying, and Tetsurō’s been nagging me to visit for a while now, so I figured that I would finally take him up on his offer,” Kei explained breezily. His air of nonchalance might be able to fool Kōtarō and Keiji, but it couldn’t fool Tetsurō; he felt the blond begin to compulsively jump his leg up and down, the movements even jerkier with the way Kei’s body had stiffened up. When Kei’s eyes flicked to him, nervous and full of doubt, Tetsurō offered him a discreet but comforting smile. 

“We were having a nice little coffee date, and then you two knuckleheads had to come and interrupt us,” he sighed and slumped down in the chair, masking his genuine disappointment by feigning dramatics. “I think you should buy us more coffee to make up for it.” 

He knew that the two of them wouldn’t leave anytime soon as they’d be eager to catch up, so now had to misdirect their attention until Kei stopped internally freaking out. Ah, he should have kept his big mouth shut; bad things always happened when he taunted the universe like that. Irony had always had it out for him. 

He nodded his chin to Kei, whose eyes widened slightly. 

“You mentioned right before they got here that you were going to get another drink, so why don’t you go place an order for all of us while I entertain our guests?” 

To the other two, it looked like a mere suggestion, but Kei recognized it for what it really was—an out. 

“Sure. What does everyone want?” Kei asked as he nodded and rose from his chair. 

“I’ll take a coffee black, thanks,” Keiji said while handing him enough yen bills to cover both himself and Kōtarō, who was having an existential crisis trying to decide what he wanted. 

“Uhh… Um… Man, it’s so hard to pick off the top of my head like that!” he frowned while pinching his chin, face screwed up in deep thought. When Kei pushed in his chair, he panicked and cried, “Just surprise me! Oh, but it’s gotta be super sweet, okay? I don’t like that nasty stuff like Keiji drinks.” 

“And that’s the reason that you’re going to the dentist tomorrow to get four cavities filled,” Keiji snorted as he pulled up a chair and sat down. 

“Hey, hey, hey, I can’t help it… Sugar ain’t good for the teeth, but it’s good for the soul, my gramma says…” Kōtarō grumbled while grabbing his own chair. He was hunched over and frowning grumpily as he dragged it up to the table, and when he sat down, it was by sulkily plopping down into it. He crossed his arms and stared angrily at the table as he continued to mutter, “Big mean Keiji, makin’ fun of my cavities…” 

“I’ll be back,” Kei announced. As he walked away, he shot Tetsurō a discreet look of gratitude over Kōtarō and Keiji’s heads. 

“Take your time. We’re just gonna talk about you behind your back while you’re gone,” Tetsurō joked with an impish smirk, to which Kei responded with a roll of his eyes and a dismissive wave.

Once Kei was out of earshot, Keiji leaned forward and asked with a dreadfully serious expression, “So, when the hell are you gonna get off your ass and ask him out?” 

If there was one thing that Kei and Tetsurō shared, it was the ability to appear completely unruffled despite completely panicking on the inside. So, while most of his brain was directing its focus to internal screaming, he looked completely nonchalant as he smirked at Keiji and replied, “When I said that we were going to talk about him behind his back, I meant it as a joke, you know.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t sweat the details!” Kōtarō chimed in, immediately abandoning his sulking now that the conversation had shifted to something that interested him. He was all smiles as he continued brightly, “Keiji may seem like he’s bein’ mean, but he really wants to see the two of you get together, yanno?”

Little does he know, he already has, Tetsurō thought while hiding a widening grin behind his hand. His gaze flickered to Kei, who was standing idly in line and none the wiser to the drama unfolding at the table. That was probably a good thing. The idea of Kōtarō and Keiji meddling in their love life would probably give him an aneurysm. 

“I do, too!” Kōtarō continued cheerfully. “I think you guys would be great together.” 

“Well, thanks,” Tetsurō smiled crookedly at him. It was hard, trying to seem genuinely grateful for a nice compliment while trying not to burst into laughter. He cleared his throat to force down the giggles rising up inside of it, to which Keiji arched a brow ever-so-slightly. Quickly, Tetsurō added, “I just think I need a little bit more time. To find a good way to go about it and all, you know?” 

In Tetsurō’s defense, he honestly thought that would put the matter to rest. How was he supposed to know that the two of them would see it as a silent plea for help? 

“Hey, hey, hey! I got an idea!” Kōtarō cried enthusiastically, and Tetsurō was too curious as to where the situation could go to have the good sense to grow concerned. Kōtarō snickered deviously, as if he were some mad villain concocting his greatest evil scheme of all time, and then leaned in close to whisper excitedly, “Let me and Keiji think up a way for you to confess! Right here, right now!” 

“Look, you guys—” Tetsurō started, waving his hands in a “calm down” motion while smiling uncomfortably. 

“I think it’s a great idea,” Keiji interrupted with a smile as deviously keen as Kōtarō’s own. “I’m just about sick of watching you pine.” 

Tetsurō ran his hands over his face with an exasperated sigh. Oh, he was in for it now; once these two got going, there was no stopping them. However, his own devilish side couldn’t help but relish in the prospect of going along with the shenanigan. He could already imagine the look on Kei’s face as he professed his feelings to him, right there for the world to see—

I shouldn’t. He’s not comfortable with letting anyone know we’re dating yet. This’ll just force things out into the open, the little angel on his shoulder tried to remind him. 

But, as far as these two have to be concerned, we aren’t together. So what does it matter if I go along with the charade? It’s up to Kei on how he reacts, crooned the devil on his other shoulder. 

The little devil had always been a smooth talker, and Tetsurō had always had a hard time resisting its silver tongue—especially when a good prank was involved. In this case, it was a two-for-one deal! How could he resist? 

It puts too much pressure on him to accept your feelings! You’re supposed to go at his pace, remember? the angel begged. 

Maybe this little prank will be just the push he needs to stop keeping your relationship a secret, the devil enticed, and Tetsurō arched a brow at the notion. You act all unbothered, but you really don’t like the fact that you have to hide it, do you? You want the whole world to know just how much you adore him… and deep inside, you’re afraid that he’s secretly ashamed of you…

Nothing like your deepest insecurities to push you to be reckless and stupid. 

“All right, what the hell?” 

And so, the two of them quickly hashed together a plan for Tetsurō to “confess,” while the man himself sat back and basked in his own cunning. Which would be more amusing, he wondered? Kei’s utter confusion? Or Keiji and Bōkutō’s looks of incredulity when they realized they’d been had? Oh, Tetsurō simply couldn’t wait …

He tried to seem nonchalant when Kei came back, but to no avail; Kei simply knew him too well by now. 

“You’ve done something,” the blond accused as he set down the coffees, giving Tetsurō a suspicious glower. “You look far too pleased with yourself.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” Tetsurō refuted when he knew that he, in fact, did look far too pleased with himself. 

“And you two are in on it.” Kei looked expectantly at Kōtarō and Keiji, who both tried with varying degrees of success to hide their smiles behind their coffees. One could probably guess who was the less successful of the two. 

Eager to get the show on the road, Tetsurō flicked his gaze meaningfully to Kei’s stack of textbooks, then back up to his face. Kei narrowed his eyes, then hastily flipped the top one open to reveal a napkin pressed between the glossy pages. As he read the words penned in beautiful script across its soft surface, a blush slowly began to make a home in the apples of his cheeks. It slowly crawled across his face until it had flooded down his neck and to the tips of his ears. He stared at it in utter disbelief for several seconds, then snapped his head up to frown at Tetsurō. 

“You’re an absolute menace,” he growled, but it wasn’t very convincing when he was clearly trying not to smile like a giddy teenager. “I can’t believe you. I leave you alone for five minutes, and this is what you get up to?”

“It was their idea,” Tetsurō said while holding his hands up in surrender. That was about as convincing as Kei’s feigned irritation, what with the shit-eating grin splayed across his face. 

“You…” Kei shook his head with a sigh. Then, he chuckled softly and let the smile bloom across his face unimpeded. “What am I going to do with you?” 

To be quite honest, Tetsurō had expected Kei to just laugh it off as a silly prank between friends and gripe about it later. But, again, Tetsurō could read Kei like that open textbook; he wasn’t going to laugh it off. It had been a gamble, but it had paid off; the absurdity of Tetsurō’s prank had all but banished Kei’s insecurities. 

Take that, universe. 

“You should have just told them the truth.” 

“Oh? But I thought you weren’t ready for anyone else to know?” 

“It would have been far less embarrassing than this,” Kei huffed and snatched up the napkin to wave it around in emphasis. “Also, you had it memorized?”

“Of course I did,” Tetsurō drawled as he batted his eyes adoringly at him. “Do you know how many times I practiced that little speech in the mirror? I’ll be able to recite it in my sleep for the rest of my life, probably. Who knew it would come in handy again?” 

“I hate you,” Kei grumbled while pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You’re smiling, so I’d say it’s quite the opposite,” Tetsurō laughed in response. 

“Shut up.” 

“Wait a second. Keiji, what’s happening?” Kōtarō whispered, his eyes wide as he watched the exchange. 

“I think we’ve been played,” came Keiji’s sulky response.

“As a matter of fact, you have,” Kei sighed and dropped the napkin back between the pages of his textbook—a little detail that Tetsurō didn’t miss. “Tetsurō and I are already dating. We have been for almost a month now.” 

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” Kōtarō gasped and looked at Tetsurō with an expression of utter betrayal. “And we put in all that effort…?” 

“I should have known,” Keiji sighed with a shake of his head. “He agreed way too easily.” 

“Sorry, fellas, I couldn’t resist,” Tetsurō said with an unapologetic smirk and a little shrug. “It was just too good an opportunity to pass up.” 

“Aw, man. And here I thought we were bein’ helpful…” Kōtarō muttered as he morosely wrapped his lips around his straw and sucked down at least a third of his frappuccino in one go. 

“Hmph. Whatever, as long as I don’t have to put up with your lovesick brooding anymore,” Keiji huffed and sipped grumpily at his coffee, betraying how irritated he was with the fact that Tetsurō had gotten one over on him. “I was about ready to confess for you.” 

“Sorry I had to beat you to the punch,” Tetsurō teased, then winked at his boyfriend. 

“A menace,” Kei repeated wearily while shaking his head and finally sitting down in his chair. 

“Ah, but I’m your menace,” Tetsurō bragged. 

Kei’s expression suddenly softened, taking Tetsurō by surprise. What Kei did next did even more so. 

“Heh. I guess you are,” Kei agreed with a little chuckle and reached out to take Tetsurō’s hand. Not hidden under the table like before—right there on top of it, where everyone could see. 

And that was the part of Kei’s charm that had Tetsurō so head-over-heels. 

#kurotsuki #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #kuroo x tsukishima #tsukishima x kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima

[jdouglassmithfilmschoolblog]

"Broken Mannequins" Look-book on how to do scene

1.) I am trying to pull off the emotion of being lonely in a crowd, outside of art people go to art galleries, and events to get a buzz off of the energy of other people there, but they secretly hope they'll get laid, meet somebody, meet new friends, get discovered- also often art galleries are open the to the public one day a month, so that creates its own huge buzz, people are out partying, etc. being open about themselves and to new experiences

(First Fridays crowd-art walk -downtown Kansas City-my hometown)

2.) CAMERA/COLOR CORRECTION/EDITS

In my short which I will shoot, on the scene from "Broken Mannequins" (a screenplay I plan on finishing). I planning of creating a rhythm of the relationships, of all the people there, the two future lovers in there space, and there loneliness and contrast that with how intimate they get when they start talking. I plan on starting and establishing, and contrasting awkward moments of silence with Wide Shots of the two leads in relation to others with a little b roll of them being observed by others, which will be contrast with long lens, Close ups and medium shots, a few cinema verité, and zoom lens especially with off the cuff moments like laughs, intercut with the static wide-shots and B roll. When they start to re incorporate with group before they leave could use 50mm or "normal" eye lens, shots, then cut to wide--shots offer his embarrassingly unfunny stand up talking about how he cuts himself, and wide-shot at the end, intercut with cinema verité/zoom lens intimacy of the too.

If I show the flashbacks they mention, I want to do that same kind of push pull from a wide-shot making them look like just another person to getting really intimate with more herky-jerky editing camera/sound/editing. I want the flashbacks wide angles to be more strange angles, and desaturated almost black and white contrasty, but have the red in the blood from the two scenes really pop out.

CUT between the two types of shots.

3.) This scene outside of flashbacks take's place in an art gallery, and I want to use the common art gallery look. With white walls, and art on the walls, and decorations here and there,

and flyers and perhaps it's half a coffee shop/art gallery, and there's a counter or maybe just an art gallery that artist spend a lot of time at, that has a kitchen, and there is s high table with wine bottles and someone who's serving who's getting donations and tips, with snacks. Probably use skylights not tungsten so not so yellow. And then in the right hand section a corner of foldable chairs with the lights down low, colored lights like Christmas's lights, creating colored silhouettes on people's sides. will use some colored lights and gels(So over all bright overhead lights, except for circle of people talking about there disorders where lights are low, with colored light gel throws on people).

I was thinking of using colored gels a lot in city more vivid colors, similar to below. I was wanting, a harsher more contrasty black and white and hard shadows look in flashbacks. I want the art gallery, to have a bit of a warm color, "fuzzy" look to make it inviting more oranges and yellows, amber, etc.

Flashbacks with harsh shadows to show conflict in them like a face half in shadow will use barndoors on spotlights, etc., desaturated almost black white, with bits of vivid color like red blood and tilted wide angles

Could overall create a color theme of fleshtones, earthtones, reds, yellows, pink, browns, with contrast of grey and steel, and contrasty black and white, Like highlighting the fall colors, but also the colors of humans, and contrasting it with the mechanical colors of buildings, and machines.

The story could take place from fall into beginning of winter, maybe later October or November into beginning of January.

4.) I've been into many art gallery's and there's a common theme to how some of them look with bright white walls, art on walls, a little decoration here or there thats a bit random, table's out for snacks, people, and flyers to future events - And then we could either use I would rather use a combination of different types of chair, and small couches that like they had been acquired from many places.

5.) I want Jackson to be wearing black or blue jeans a band t shirt, a denim or leather jacket, he looks like he's a posh hipster but that's outdated now. Heidi looks classy, elegant but still a bit maternal, 1960's in floral shirt and semi matching dress. He looks a bit greasy, like he hasn't showered. She look's more put together, through the bottom of her dress, you can see the stubs of her legs that end right after her knee's -after she lost her legs in the car accident.

6.&7.) I see Heidi with long blonde hair, and elegant make up. But I am open to interpretations. I want Jackson to look a little more rough, greasy like he hasn't showered or been drinking too much/smoking too many cigarettes, kind of still sexy to women but weathered, except for half of his face is scarred in cuts to his face "rivers", this will be SFX Makeup, will probably use After effects or Premiere to just key out her legs below the knee, but I was thinking of doing this more simply by tight black socks versus black wheelchair, and some editing and shooting tricks.

8.) I really want to start this film if becomes a feature into a factory with broken mannequins among other items, having rocks thrown at them by possibly hooligan children and all of these images of mannequins, dolls, etc. "exploding" in warehouse. I I'm seeing the colors of peach, pink and brown, desaturated. If I can't get the exact effect I want for budget reasons I could perhaps film plastic dolls being melted, blown a part, etc. but in the same color scheme

[katherinadeluca]

VI - N I G H T S H A D E

(GIF NOT MINE) Credits to original creator

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

!!Warnings!!Dub-con, Adult Dialogue, Mature Themes, Age Gap(Gloria-18, Draco-22), Innocence Kink, mentions of sub-space, oral (male receiving), un-established relationship

THIS IS FANFICTION IS ORIGINAL NO ONE HAS BEEN GIVEN PERMISSION TO REPOST IT UNLESS IT’S REBLOGGING

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

Pairing: Professor!Draco x Student!OC(but you can pretend it’s y/n)

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

Summary: Basically just Professor!Draco smut

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

"If it doesn't burn a little, what's the point in playing with fire?" -Bridgette Devoue

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

Her gaze drifts from the lines in her potions text to the podium affront the class to Professor Malfoy, he sits careened back in his chair with a book in hand- Arithmancy. The first few buttons of his black dress shirt undone. A small silver glint emits from the dainty replica of the Draconis constellation hanging from his neck. The pale, porcelain hue of his skin heavily contradictory to the dingy atmosphere of the dungeons.

As though sensing the presence of her stare, he looks up. A small smirk playing at his plush lips as he sends the girl a discreet wink, causing her straight face to falter as her light honey colored cheeks turn hot. Gloria quickly looks around to see if anyone seemed to notice but the entire class is taken as they either finish work from other classes or scribble away at scrap parchment.

She turns to look at Draco again, only to find an accomplished expression settled on his face. His soft grey eyes leaving hers only when the pitched ringing of the bell in the courtyard dings. The class quickly files out till theirs no one left.

The Slytherin hastily mutters a short "colloportus" and walks toward Draco. Peeling the book away from his hands, he let's her place it on the table. Draco's hands rest on her hips, guiding her to stand between his legs.

"Hadn't gotten chance to say hello?" He teases, reminded her that she'd failed to come by his quarter's this morning.

"M'sorry." Gloria mumble, moving to straddle him and bury her face in his neck

"S'alright love." He chuckles, placing lazy kisses on her neck.

"Think I can make it up to you?" She says, the playful guilt evident in her voice.

"Yeah? How do you plan on doing that darling?"

Arrogance practically dripping from his tone as his hands travels under her skirt, undoing the blush pink fabric of her thong and retiring it to the pocket of his slacks.

With response to his question, her slender digits to unbuckle his belt, the argentum alloy clinking softly. The sound of his zipper coming undone chimes his ears as she picks herself off his lap and drops to her knees.

Draco lets out a breathy groan as a result of her warm mouth wrapping around his cock. His hands instinctively go to her hair, bunching the dark brown strands. Her cunt clenching and pulsating around nothing but air at his choked sounds.

His large hands began guiding her to bob her head in tandem with his bucking hips, his otherwise clear eyes were now eclipsed with illicit pleasure. The tell-tale sheen of heavy, sitting lust coated the steel grey in his irises. She gives another languid suck as he twitches, threatening to come undone. The grip on her hair tightens, his hips rutting into her small mouth, hastily traveling in an out of her swollen lips. A string of drool dripping from the side of her mouth.

"M'going to cum down that pretty little throat."

She chokes out a small hum as he gives another ravenous thrust before climaxing at the back of her throat. He hastily pulls her of her knees and lifts her to sit on his desk causing her to let out a small squeal.

His hand cups the side of her face, wiping the excess cum from her lips and pushing it back into her mouth, forcing her to swallow the liquid lust. Draco slowly pries her leg apart, resting his hands on her thighs, caressing the smooth, light-coffee colored skin.

"So pretty aren't you. So-so fucking perfect." He claims, completely enamored by her. He trails his lips below her ear, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her sweet spot, still unable to fathom his fortune. She seemed so letting that it perplexed him- annoyed him even.

He places a soft, lucid kiss on her lips, the distinct flavor of white tea and fairy floss gladdened his senses.

"Draco." She mewls. The whine so needy yet content, so small and pure yet so ridiculously sinful.

If he could, he would record the sound and play it over and over till he was senselessly drunk off the sound of her sweet voice. Her very existence felt like a drug, a drug he would unquestionably smoke for the rest of his life till he died of asphyxiations. What he felt for her wasn't love- no it was farther- an obsession. So incredibly destructive. Like a flame dancing across their hearts and in the process setting their beings on fire.

With the next proceeding scenes, it was inevitable. Gloria Lightwood was an angel and he wanted to rip her wings off and keep her for himself.

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

FULL STORY ON WATTPAD:

TEACHER’S PET || D.M

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

-Mischief Managed/*

#draco malfoy imagine #dilf!draco #draco malfoy smut #havingdraco'sbabies>>>>>>>>>>>>>>themfuniverse #Draco Malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco #dracosmut #professor!draco #dracoxoc #draco x slytherin!reader #student!reader #dark!draco #slight dubcon #smut #slight age gap #post hogwarts #voldy is dead #teacher x student #short story #husband!draco #crack fic

[darling-i-read-it]

Not Dead

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: kidnapping, heavy insinuations to torture,

Author’s Note: I loved the parts of the book where Inej was injured and he literally couldn’t see her for days because he was so attacked at himself. I am such a whore for those types of moments lol. I hope you enjoy!

Requested: by anon, Hehehehehehe I have returned from the depths with my next Kaz request bestie 😈😇 Kaz x fem!reader where she gets kidnapped (maybe by Dime Lions idk but not because they're trying to get to Kaz, more just because they hate her for being a Dreg or they want information on their next heist or something idk) and she's gone and they can't find her for weeks and then finally one day the door to where she's being kept creaks open and low and behold Kaz and his unnecessarily angsty fedora hat walks in and she can hear the other Crows wreaking havoc outside and he has to comfort her and keep her awake until Jesper can come carry her home. She wakes up in her room at the Slat a few days later and Inej tells her Kaz went ape sh** on the Barrell looking for her and he comes in later to see her to assure himself that she's there and okay and they have some kind of moment with pinky holding and establish feelings and/or a relationship? Omg that was so long I'm sorry I really do have a problem don't I If its too specific you can change it up, I trust your judgement!! Pretty please and thank you very much!! 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛 - 🐍 anon

Summary: the request

Genre: angst, fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Kaz thought it did no good to worry about you all the time. He preferred to decide that you could handle yourself. All his crows could. Whenever you were away from Kaz he had a good inkling that you were alright, reading a book on a roof somewhere or dancing with Jesper at a party. Everyone of you were highly talented and skilled at what you were good at.

Kaz was sitting next to Inej who carefully counted out the money they had gotten on the last job. She was completely silent and he watched her fingers work. She put each coin down carefully, eyes focused.

“Stop staring,” she muttered. Kaz averted his eyes smoothly. He stood from his desk, grabbing his cane and holding it underneath him.

Suddenly he felt a pit in his stomach. Kaz knew nerves and it was something different. It was closer to intuition, gut reactions. He held tightly onto the crow of his cane. Inej caught the energy shift immediately and looked up at him, instantly losing the count of money in her head.

“What is it?” she asked. His jaw set, his eyes softened.

“Where’s Y/N?”

===

You tried to take a deep breath in through your mouth but found quickly that you were gagged. Your eyes went wide as you collected yourself and looked around your surroundings. The last thing you remembered was walking home from the crow club and then...something had hit you. Yes, that's right. Something had hit you before you got the chance to defend yourself and now you were here.

Wherever here was.

You were in a bare room. Some sort of cell. There was one door, no windows. You were in a steel chair and tied with rope. You could get out of this, though you had no idea where you would go. You could be as far as Ravka. You could have been passed out for days. You truly had zero idea what was going on.

You were willing to bet you had been taken by the Dime Lions. Damn.

The door opened slowly and in came a man you didn’t recognize. You straightened your back, trying to read his face. He was a middle aged man. He wasn’t Pekka Rollins. That was a good thing.

“Good, you’re awake.” He walked over to you and ripped the gag out of your mouth. You took a deep breath and felt the relief flood over you. He pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat down a few feet away from you. You looked each other in the eyes.

“What do you want?” you questioned evenly.

“You’re Brekkers girl.” The man smiled an ugly smile. It was grimy and dirty. “I wanna know everything.” You scoffed.

“I’m not going to give you anything,” you told him.

“You’ll give me information or Brekker will give me money. I’ll get what I want or you’ll end up on the side of the roads in Kerch, dead.”

“You don’t scare me,” you said. You had to believe that Kaz would come and get you. He had to.

“I should.”

=====

Inej had never seen Kaz so distraught. It had been three weeks since you went missing and there was no sign of you anywhere. You hadn’t been with someone when you were taken which meant he had no idea who it could be who had you. They hadn’t asked for ransom. They hadn’t bragged about having you.

He had no idea where you were.

And it was tearing him to pieces.

Inej missed you too obviously. She wanted to know where you were. You were one of her family. But it had been weeks. If they hadn’t asked for ransom at this point, you could have been dead. You were likely dead.

Kaz wasn’t willing to accept that.

“What did you find?” His hair was a mess. He had papers all over his usually tidy desk. He looked up at Inej through his eyebrows.

“Nothing.” She hated having to say it time and time again but there was no information to be found.

“They don’t want money. They haven’t sabotaged us. What do they want?!” Kaz slammed his fist down on the desk. Inej didn’t even flinch. When Kaz met her eyes again he slowly straightened his back. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what do you think they want?” Inej pursed her lips, glancing down at his shaking hands. “Inej.”

“They might have wanted to hurt you.” It was logical but he hadn’t thought of it yet. He was so blinded by his own emotions, it didn’t even seem to cross his mind that he was the one truly at fault. “If they killed her, you’re out of the running,” she said as professionally as she could.

“She’s not dead. She’s...not.” He couldn’t face Inej right now. He turned away from her, fighting the tears that had been haunting him for the weeks you were away. Inej was about to turn away from Jesper rammed through the doors. Kaz turned around quickly, about to tell him off but he stopped at Jesper’s expression.

“What?” Kaz questioned quickly.

“I was trying to meet a guy about poker chips and I stumbled upon a conversation about Y/N.” Kaz leaned forward over his desk, listening intently. “The Dime Lions might have her just off the coast. They mentioned a place. Do you have a map?” Inej shuffled through Kaz’s things and brought a map out quickly. Jespser studied it and then pointed to a spot.

“I know that place,” Kaz breathed. ���We did a job there,” Inej said, remembering. Jesper nodded slowly. The memory came back to him. They knew the layout already.

“We leave tomorrow.”

====

You were barely able to open your eyes. You weren’t sure how long it had been. They didn’t come every day. You sat in a cell, thankfully untied, eating what they gave you. Every once in a while they came in, yelled at you, hurt you, asked questions and you spit in their face. You faced the wall, eyes so adjusted to the darkness that you knew if you saw the light again it would be painful.

You heard the door open and didn’t bother looking at it. If you didn’t see them, they couldn’t be there. Object permanence, you thought to yourself. They weren’t there.

“Y/N?” You knew that voice. You turned your head quickly and locked eyes with Kaz underneath his fedora. You breathed a sigh of relief and immediately started to cry. You wanted to hug him but knew you couldn’t. So instead you wobbled over and he helped you stand, one gloved hand under your arm.

“Kaz,” you whimpered. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

“I know.” He wanted to hold you to comfort you. It pained him that he wasn’t able to. “I’m…” He shook his head. Later. “You’re alright now. We’ve got you.” You could hear the grunts and fighting on the other side of the door. It sounded like heaven. “Jesper!” he called behind him.

“Coming, coming!” you heard from a distance away. Kaz was torn between never looking away from you and also not being able to see your wounded face.

“How far away are we from home?” you asked quietly.

“Not that far. You’ll stay with me until you're better. I’ll even let you have the bed.” You smiled weakly.

“Ever the gentleman.”

Jesper came running through the doors. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of you. He quickly put his arm underneath your armpits.

“You look stunning,” Jesper said. You laughed and put your head on his shoulder.

“Oh Jes,” you whispered. He kissed your forehead as he helped carry you out.

“We’re here now sweetheart, don’t you worry.”

====

All the crows came to Kaz’s home where you were resting. You practically lived there before you were taken anyway. It felt more like home than your home did. Kaz had a doctor he knew come and look you over. You had a couple broken bones but nothing that wouldn’t heal over time.

You hadn’t given the Dime Lions a thing. You assured your friends of that.

Kaz had to mostly be out of the room. He couldn’t face you. His failure. You were okay now but he had let you be hurt for so long. He had failed you.

Inej stayed by your side that night, holding your hand. Jesper slept in bed beside you in his clothes, unwilling to leave you. You slept peacefully for a while but often woke up for water.

At one point you woke up to Inej with her head on your intertwined hands. Jesper asleep beside you. You wondered where Kaz had gone off to. At you stirring she raised her head softly. She had a kind warm smile on her face.

“Hello,” you whispered.

“Do you need something?” she asked. You shook your head, eyes lingering on the door.

“Where is he?” She pursed her lips.

“Off feeling guilty.” You closed your eyes gently and nodded. “Was it that bad?” you asked. She scoffed and nodded.

“He almost tore down the entire Barrel looking for you. He ripped out his hair, tried to fight people who didn’t deserve it. If they had killed you, Kaz Brekker never would have done another heist again.”

====

Inej and Jesper left the next morning. You were alone for a while before Kaz came into his room quietly. You smiled at the sight of him.

“There he is,” you whispered weakly. He walked over and sat beside you. You watched him thoughtfully.

He couldn’t meet your eyes. He took off his glove slowly and linked your pinkies together. You saw him take a deep breath and then it mellowed out as he closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner,” he said, voice rough. He stayed still for a moment and then had to unhook your fingers. You put your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright.”

“No it isn’t.” He finally looked up at you. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He was more than glad. He was elated. But he couldn’t exactly express that.

“Me too.” You paused. “Thank you for finding me.” He nodded.

“Always. It will never take that long again.” You smiled gently and sat up, kissing his shoulder, eyes shut.

“I know it won’t.”

Grishaverse Tag List: @elisaa-shelby @chameleon-junkie

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagines

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not okay, m | jjk, myg

full title: I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, ft. jungkook

summary: Jeon Jungkook fucked up. He talked shit about emo girls. Min Yoongi decides he's going to make him take back what he said, make him beg and plead and cry to be touched by the sexiest woman he knows. Never mind that you were a goth in high school and not an emo.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (Yoongi/you); definitely a scheme to seduce a clueless JK; threesome smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics, m-masturbation + daydreaming, edging / orgasm denial, inappropriate (but wanted) touching in public, a lot of begging, hair-pulling, scratching / marking, thigh-riding, handjob, choking, ball squeezing, restraints, cowgirl, nipple play, handcuff and anal vibrator usage, doggy, little bit of m-receiving oral, finger sucking); tbh Jungkook is a mess, is forced to make messes, and likes it; fluff; shifts from all three POVs; black-haired, sub!JK x noona, dom!reader x blue-haired, dom!Yoongi

yes, there are My Chemical Romance references, I'm aware MCR don't like being considered emo, we know labels =/= how someone truly is; yes, it's PTD (emo for a hot second) JK and Yoongi

--

"Is that what you think?"

Jeon Jungkook flicked the long black bangs over his left eye, laughing. "Yeah, these are just extensions. I thought it would be funny. I don't actually think this kind of style looks good on me."

A sharp click of the tongue. "No, the other part. About women."

Jungkook blinked, bewildered. Then he slowly remembered, recalling his words. "Oh... I just meant I wouldn't be attracted to a girl with a more emo, edgy style."

The deep voice was sharp and accusatory. "You said it was cringey."

"Ah... well... a little?"

Those pointed, cat-like eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Uh... hyung?"

Min Yoongi frowned and stood up.

"We will see about that, Jungkook."

Jungkook watched him go, even more confused than before.

"Why did that sound like a threat...?"

-

Because it was.

The next time they went out to eat together, Min Yoongi brought his girlfriend with him. She didn't often tag along. When his friends asked Yoongi about it, he just laughed.

"It's because you guys are too fucking loud."

The few times she did come with him, she was relatively quiet. She had an unapproachable air about her, intimidating in the way that a single eye shift and locked-on attention could cause heart palpitations. Everything about her image seemed far too sleek and refined for everyday life. Her gestures, her walk, her style. Minimalist outfits, mostly white and black. It was obvious that she had a nice body, but none of her clothes implied that she was advertising it, at least when she was hanging out with her boyfriend's friends.

There was one exception.

She always smelled delicious.

Noticeable, addictive, gourmand, always making you turn your head just to smell it again. A hint of ginger to startle, followed by the warmth of marshmallow and the earthly scent of green tea. It blended with her skin, turning warmer and muskier as the evening went on, making you wish that you could smell the bedsheets that laid against that sweet-smelling body later that night.

Very troubling for Yoongi's friends for his girlfriend to smell like pure sex and then gaze at them with such intensity when spoken to, startlingly similar to Yoongi himself.

"Hello, Jungkook. Surprising that you're the only one here."

Jeon Jungkook was so stunned that his brain seemed to cease all functions. He was completely frozen, eyes and mouth wide open, not believing the sight in front of him.

Yoongi?

His hyung was dressed normally. Black cardigan, white shirt, black jeans. His hair was light blue now, a cool-toned, steel azure. The color made his fair skin glow and his dark brown eyes stand out.

His girlfriend?

Her hair was loose and wild, partially covering the left side of her face. Dark eye makeup and dark crimson lips. Large, loose black shirt hanging off one shoulder, with a black leather choker and silver chain that clipped to the button placket of her shirt with a clasp. Her bra strap was obvious, meant to be seen, the delicate lace pattern molding around the top of the cup that was barely visible. The shirt was long enough to cover her ass, belted at the waist with a black leather belt adorned by a silver moon-shaped buckle. Sheer black stockings with seemingly intentional rips and sleek black velvet heels.

"Yoongi said you think emo girls are cringey," she chuckled, looking down at him, smirk on her plump, defined lips.

Jungkook sputtered, feeling his face burn. "N-No, noona, that's not what I meant, I–" He was attempting to restore brain function, but he was rapidly losing blood up top and it was gushing down below.

This had to be the hardest part of living.

"I had to remind him that I was a goth in high school, not an emo. They're slightly different."

She bent at the waist and adjusted the chair before sitting down next to him, giving Jungkook half a second to view her perky tits encased in black lace, her chest smelling so fucking good that he nearly passed out. He jerked his head away, glancing at Yoongi in sheer panic.

The older man gave him a completely blank expression.

Their previous conversation echoed in Jungkook’s head. We will see about that.

"The rest of them aren't coming today. I'm treating Jungkook," Yoongi was explaining.

His girlfriend tilted her head. "I thought you said Hoseok was coming."

"He was, but then something came up."

"Hmm..." She raised an eyebrow at Yoongi. He straightened his cardigan, noticing her discerning gaze, and raised one back.

It was only then that Jungkook realized they weren't sitting next to each other, but on either side of him, boxing him against the wall. Now Jungkook could smell Yoongi too, wearing a spicy, woodsy cologne that mixed with his skin to become warmer and more comforting, except right now it was scaring the shit out of him because he didn't understand why they weren't sitting next to each other.

"Ah..."

He simply pointed to the empty chair in front of him, unable to finish his sentence.

Yoongi looked over to see what he was pointing at. "Hm?"

"You're right, I should move it so the server has easier access to our table."

And she dragged the chair to the side.

"Very considerate of you, Jungkook."

She smiled at him and he swore the proximity was causing his sanity to crumble to dust. He saw her tuck her black purse behind her perky, round ass. It had a small pin on it of a devil reading a book titled, Guide to Eternal Torture.

A cutesy yet ominous image.

At this point, Jungkook realized he was staring at her ass and the raised hem of the shirtdress, revealing the fact that the stockings were thigh-highs. The black garter straps were straining against her juicy thighs as she adjusted her long legs under the table.

Fuck.

He bolted out of his seat, mumbling and stumbling past her, the alluring scent of her perfume enticing him as he squeezed past.

"B-Bathroom, be right back!"

-

You watched Jungkook run off, clamping his hands below his stomach, raising your eyebrows as he and his tight black jeans sprinted to the bathroom.

"Hm."

You turned back to your boyfriend who was looking at the menu like it was the most intriguing piece of art he had ever laid his eyes on. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and breathed out, waiting for him to continue. Yoongi didn't look up. You didn’t really expect him to. You waited out of politeness.

"How long am I torturing him for?" you finally asked.

"Until he takes back what he said about you," your boyfriend responded dryly.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I don't think it was directed at me specifically. Does he even know that this is what I usually dress like? Or why you always tell me to dress simpler when I come with you to eat with all of them?"

Those dark brown eyes flickered up.

Yoongi's perfect lips curved into a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course, he doesn't."

He lowered the menu, raising his chin defiantly as he spoke. "My reason is still valid. You saw how Jungkook acted. He a mess around you."

"I don't ooze sex, Yoongi. You're exaggerating."

He cocked a brow. "I beg to differ. I would wager he's jacking off in the bathroom right now."

He drummed the table with his fingertips, challenging you to bet on it. You waved a hand, dismissing the challenge. Wasn't like you could miss that tent. You circumvented back to the matter at hand.

"Did Jungkook actually say that? About emo girls being cringey?"

Yoongi shrugged. "Something like that."

You frowned. "Really? With his eyebrow piercing and tattoos? And his black hoodie and jeans?"

Your boyfriend went back to the menu. "Projecting, I think you called it?"

-

Yes, Jungkook washed his hands before throwing himself into a stall and touching his dick.

He wasn't gross.

Would be really great if his dick had calmed down on his own, but her perfume lingered on Jungkook's hoodie sleeve, just the faintest trace on his left arm, and he pressed it against his nose, inhaling.

Fuck, why does she smell so good?

His right hand was undoing his pants, his eyes and fingers closing in, focusing on his throbbing erection fighting his underwear. Maybe if he just touched it on the outside, it would be fine...

Her face popped into his head, complete with the little quirk of her eyebrow.

Nope.

Jungkook shoved his hand into his boxer briefs and pushed them down, teeth biting his hoodie sleeve so he could smell her perfume as he stroked his cock, feeling somewhat dirty about it, but mostly violently horny. It wasn't like he could stop his brain. He couldn't go out there with a massive boner either, so he had to do what he had to do. It was only a few thoughts anyway, thinking about her thighs under the table and wondering how they would feel wrapped around him, wondering if she would let him rip those stockings off and bite those delicious legs, wondering if he could undo that belt and unwrap that body and press his nose against that sweet-smelling skin and taste it with his tongue, planting kisses over those beautiful breasts with her hand around his cock instead of his own, pumping him to her unforgiving pace, forcing him to moan into her skin, abusing his stiff length with her tight grip and expansive strokes, his hands gripping her soft thighs and his whines saturating the air, pleading, begging her to let him cum.

Would she edge me?

His hand abruptly stopped.

Jungkook used every ounce of willpower to avoid whimpering into his own sleeve.

His whole body was achingly tense, screaming at him to finish, but he refused, shoving his whole face into the thick fabric and breathing hard, clenching his jaw and his twitching cock, imagining her pretty face with a smug, sadistic smirk, those dark lips teasingly telling him he could finish inside her.

-

"What are you doing?"

The pale hand dance in the air, beckoning the waitress over.

"Ordering."

You tilted your head. "Jungkook isn't back yet. You should wait for him."

Yoongi shrugged. "I know what he likes." His gaze flickered to you. "Meat."

You narrowed your eyes. Yoongi gazed back, unfazed. You knew that look. You knew how to read between the lines. To everyone else, Yoongi was a 3D puzzle with a million pieces, but to you, he might as well have been a children's picture book.

The side of his lips quirked upward, so faint you would have missed it if you weren’t looking for it.

He did have very nice pictures in his book. You'll give him that.

You ticked your right eyebrow so subtly that no one caught it but him. He, too, knew that to look for. His smirk grew, pleased at your wordless communication.

You were dating a real troublemaker.

You smirked back as the waitress arrived at your table, apologizing for keeping you waiting. One look from both Yoongi and you, and she nearly dropped her notepad, fumbling with the pen, cheeks flushing pink.

Trouble did tend to find trouble.

-

Jungkook had determined he hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't actually orgasm in the bathroom stall thinking about Yoongi's girlfriend while smelling her remaining perfume on his clothes as the said couple sat in the restaurant, awaiting his return.

Well.

Now that he mentally described it like that, it did sound kind of fucked.

Crap.

He saw a blob of black in his peripheral vision and looked up to see Yoongi's girlfriend stride past him, fragrant-smelling hair drifting behind her, his head turning automatically to follow the sight, entranced by the movement of her hips and hair, only to find her glancing back at him, foxy smile dancing on those dark lips.

He swore she mouthed his name.

Maybe even said it?

Jungkook blinked and she was no longer looking in his direction, heading to the women’s bathroom and rolling up her sleeves, clearly going to wash her hands.

He was seeing things.

Yes.

Just horny and delusional.

"I ordered the beef plate for you. If you don't like it, we can order something else."

Jungkook looked down at the streaming, sizzling platter of seared beef and vegetables, feeling his stomach growl as he sat down.

"No, hyung, this is great. Thank you."

"Hm, that's good. You can start eating, I'm going to wash my hands."

Yoongi began to stand up, brushing off his pants. Jungkook jerked his head up, seeing the older male push his chair back, light blue hair falling over his forehead.

"Um, h-hyung?"

"Mmm?"

Those dark brown orbs flickered to him.

"Er..."

Yoongi tilted his head.

"Erm... why is noona here? I thought you said… you were just treating me to a meal...?"

Yoongi tilted his head the other way, slowly, unreadable expression in those cat-like eyes.

"I am. I'm paying today."

He raised his head and smiled. Jungkook tore his eyes away from Yoongi to see her weaving through the crowd to make her way back to the table, silver chain hanging from her black choker glittering in the overhead restaurant lights, exposed shoulder and collarbone a stark contrast to her all-black outfit, body shape so exquisite that it wasn't only Yoongi and Jungkook watching her walk. Many pairs of eyes followed her wake, some shy, some unabashed and brazen.

"Besides, she is a treat, isn't she?" Yoongi purred.

She had made eye contact with Jungkook and her lips curved into a small, amused smile.

Any response he had to Yoongi’s words died in his throat.

"Too bad you think that style is cringey, otherwise you might have had a shot, Jungkook."

-

You sat back down as Yoongi waltzed off, gesturing to his hands, leaving you with the Korean equivalent of Steve Rogers from 1943 to 2011, complete with what you presumed to be a very nice ass if the rest of Jeon Jungkook was anything to go by. Ah, well, you trusted genetics. Surely nature would have blessed Jungkook with a good booty. You looked over to him. He wasn’t moving.

Wasn’t even blinking.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Jungkook started, jumping in his seat, his wide brown orbs shakily shifting to you. You made eye contact and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard.

Come on, surely, it's not that serious.

Jungkook ran a hand through his short black hair and snuck a glance at you. Or, more specifically, your chest. Ah. Was that it?

"Something wrong?" you asked, picking up your chopsticks.

"N... No...?"

You had to smile. Jungkook didn't even sound like he believed himself. You pointed to your collarbone.

"Too much?"

His brown orbs shot up. Silence. You locked eyes with him, keeping him in place. You witnessed his inner struggle now, trying to decide between what he thought was the right answer and what his instincts were telling him.

"Aren't you... uncomfortable, noona?"

You chuckled, picking up a piece from your pork belly dish and blowing off the steam. "Me? Of course not. People stare at me all the time. Might as well dress how I want." You dabbed the extra oil off on the side of the plate and brought it to your lips. Your eyes flickered to the younger man. He was still watching you, his own lips parted, wispy black strands over his forehead, accenting his dark brows and the silver bar piercing on the right side. Poor guy. Jungkook really picked the wrong man to project to, the one whose girlfriend never grew out of her goth phase.

You brought the meat close to your mouth.

Let your tongue snake out for a millisecond between your open lips.

His eyeballs nearly fell out of his head.

This is too easy.

You placed the hot meat into your tongue and closed your lips around it, chewing slowly, maintaining eye contact.

Not speaking.

Yoongi was surely overreacting to something Jungkook probably didn't think too much about before saying it, but that was fine with you because Yoongi told you to cause some trouble. You liked causing trouble. That's how you got Yoongi. Trouble attracted trouble. Still, he had something planned. You could tell. Maybe even guess.

You smiled at Jungkook and he gulped so loudly you could hear it over the sizzling meat.

-

Otherwise you might have had a shot, Jungkook.

What did that mean?

Jungkook was having a mild panic attack throughout the entire meal, even when Yoongi suggested they get beers. His girlfriend was driving, so only he and his hyung drank as they ate. They barely talked. Jungkook’s brain was too busy trying to break down the meaning of the mysterious phrase, replaying Yoongi’s words over and over.

You might have had a shot.

A shot at what?

What, exactly?!

Jungkook snuck a glance at Yoongi’s girlfriend and she was looking back, cocking an eyebrow when they made eye contact. He flinched and peeked at Yoongi's expression. His hyung was chewing his beef slowly, staring into space.

Have had a shot.

Maybe Jungkook needed to do shots to be a normal human being at this point.

"You're pretty quiet today, Jungkook."

His dick twitched in his pants.

Jungkook threw one thigh over the other and mashed his dick between them.

"Ah... sorry..." he mumbled, fixated on his beer glass.

Yoongi rapped his forearm with the end of his chopsticks. "Look at people when you talk to them."

Jungkook swallowed and looked up at her. "S-Sorry, noona."

She tipped her head and frowned slightly. "Is there something wrong? Did I say something to make you upset?" She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry if my presence is ruining your time with your hyung."

He jerked his head to said hyung. Yoongi prodded at something in between his teeth with the end of his chopstick and gave Jungkook a confused look, as if to say, what are you looking at me for?

"Um... no," Jungkook finally said, shaking his head and turning back to her. "No, noona. I'm glad you're here. It's really nice to see you."

"You're barely looking at her."

His ears burned at Yoongi's dry remark.

She perked up, pointing to her collarbones. "Is this bothering you? It's too much, isn't it?" she chuckled, jingling the chain on the choker and making his dick jolt between his clasped, jean-covered thighs. "You really don't like this style, huh?"

Jungkook darted his eyes to Yoongi, who pointedly stared back, giving him zero context clues except for reminding him of what he said before the meal.

A shot.

“Uh, that isn’t it, noona. Ah, actually…”

Jungkook chewed on his lip nervously, focusing on her instead of Yoongi. She turned her body, giving her full attention to him. He couldn’t tell if that was better or worse. The guilt ate away at him. Minutes passed by. So many, in fact, that it was getting awkward. His neck was on fire, his ears were red-hot, he was pretty sure his cheeks were flushed, and not from alcohol, yet he still he couldn’t say shit to those dark eyes and crimson lips, trapped by the gaze of the woman in black, feeling like he just booked himself a room in the Hotel Bella Muerte.

“Are you okay, Jungkook?” she asked, shadows of an amused open-mouthed smirk on those lips.

Was he?

“Er, yeah… I’m okay,” he croaked, coughing to clear his throat.

Yoongi snorted.

Jungkook shook his head quickly, letting out a small growl of frustration. “Actually, no, noona, I’m not okay.” He rubbed his forehead and exhaled hard, biting his lip as he faced her questioning expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said the style you’re wearing is cringey, because it’s not. It’s really not. You look amazing. You always have, but you look extra cool and sexy today and I feel really bad saying something like that because I should have thought about how other people could look and pull off that style, but I didn’t, I was only thinking about how stupid I looked when I was fifteen and I assumed–”

Her hand shot out and she pressed two fingers to his lips, silencing him.

“Shh,” she hummed, fully smirking now. “You assumed and thus you got yourself in trouble, didn’t you?”

She’s touching me!

Jungkook jerked his eyes to Yoongi, who was nibbling on his last piece of steak and ignoring Jungkook’s panic. He added a bit of the sauce and popped the meat in his mouth, chewing slowly. It was like she and Jungkook weren’t talking at all or, rather, Yoongi wasn’t concerning himself with it.

Her fingers slid down, pressing into Jungkook’s lower lip.

He very nearly made a noise, quickly darting his gaze back to Yoongi’s girlfriend.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

Why was she saying his name like that? Like… like she was sexing it with her tongue or something? Oh, shit, he was going crazy. He had to be. It was all in his head. She must be saying his name normally. Had to be. Yoongi’s girlfriend? Flirting with him? No, no, absolutely not. And certainly not in front of Yoongi. Even if his hyung was pretending to be deaf, he was definitely not deaf. Yoongi was the kind of guy who would smack a stranger looking at his woman funny.

This?

It was all in his head.

Her fingertips slid to the side of his lips, tracing the shape.

R… Right?

“You think I look extra cool and sexy today?” she mused, licking her lips.

Jungkook could smell her perfume off her wrist. Sweet, musky, seductive. His thighs were so tightly clasped together that Jungkook was pretty sure his dick was pointing straight down with how erect it was at the moment.

“Ah… w-well… a b-bit…?”

Clink!

Jungkook yelped as cold water flew into his lap, immediately spreading his legs as the glass tumbled onto the tabletop. Yoongi swiftly stopped it, sighing exaggeratedly.

“Ah, my bad, that was quite clumsy of me…”

“Shit, Jungkook, are you okay?”

Her fingertips left his lip and he could finally breathe, only to squeak sharply as hands planted firmly onto his thighs and crotch, bunched-up napkins dabbing the excess water away, quickly soaking it up with the paper.

“You should be more careful Yoongi, sheesh…”

“Sorry, Jungkook, here, take these.”

Jungkook vaguely registered Yoongi saying her name apologetically as well, but at the moment he was not okay, very not okay, he promised this was the most not okay he had ever been in his entire life as Yoongi’s girlfriend mopped up water from his inner thighs and crotch, molding her hands around his dick, yes, his actual straining hard-on was being touched by her hands and it was getting harder by the fucking second, her hurriedly wiping the water off, acting like this was completely normal and not like his cock was trying to rip out of his pants.

“Ack, noona, w-wait…!”

He tried to sit up and Yoongi’s hand came down on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Good idea, get under his ass just in case.”

Jungkook nearly blacked out as her napkin-covered hands slid under him and cupped the inside of his legs and bottom half of his ass, patting around. Her palms cupped his balls for a hot second.

He was fucked.

Utterly fucked.

Jungkook whimpered in his throat.

Her hands immediately stopped.

She looked up at him, very serious. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Jungkook shook his head from side to side so quickly that his vision blurred. “Yes.”

She shared a glance with Yoongi. The older man sighed and stood up, squeezing his shoulder as he leaned down to Jungkook’s ear.

“You want her to keep touching you or not?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, jerking his head to Yoongi. Those dark brown orbs looked back at him, demanding the truth.

“I didn’t spill that water for nothing.”

It was only then that it dawned onto Jungkook.

This was a set up. He was being set up. His hyung had set him up.

This whole fucking thing was a set up.

We will see about that, Jungkook.

She was cleaning his seat off and gently tapped his thigh. “It’s dry now. I think you’re okay.”

Jungkook decided that he really did not care about being set up. He did not give a single shit that he fell for it wholly and completely like a gullible idiot. He whipped his head back to Yoongi’s girlfriend, who was sighing ruefully, giving Yoongi the side-eye, muttering under her breath so only they could hear.

“What do you think he’s gonna do, Yoongi, ask to fuck me?” she hissed, placing the wad of wet napkins onto the table.

Too bad you think that style is cringey, otherwise you might have had a shot.

Jungkook’s hand shot out and squeezed her thigh.

“Can I fuck you, noona?” he breathed, chest tight.

He dug his nails into the sheer stocking, ripping new holes.

“If hyung lets me?”

-

"Yoongi, what are you thinking?"

Your boyfriend smiled. Very nonchalant. Nearly innocent. You knew better. This was Min Yoongi after all. His cardigan was off now. His broad shoulders in the white t-shirt were very distracting. Actually, so were his arms, now toned and more defined. Yoongi had recently taken an interest in working out.

His smile turned into a smirk. "What?"

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You noticed movement under you and smacked Jeon Jungkook's hand down so he was no longer picking at the peach fuzz in his face. He gasped in surprise, but you ignored him, completely focused on your rather troublesome boyfriend.

"You can't be serious."

You felt fingers brushing against the hem of your shirtdress, playing with the edge of the fabric. Yoongi was kneeling behind Jungkook, who was sitting on your bed, and the younger man was now messing with your outfit as you and Yoongi continued your conversation about him.

Your boyfriend leaned down and placed his hands on Jungkook's jaw, laying down his deft fingers one by one, lifting that chiseled chin up, those wide brown eyes now looking at your face, paired with the amused, cat-like ones.

"I am serious," Yoongi murmured. "You should teach him a lesson."

You pursed your lips. "He already apologized. That's enough."

Yoongi tilted his head, clicking his tongue.

"No, it's not."

Your eyes flickered down and you raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's interruption. "What was that?"

He gulped under your stern gaze. "Um..."

Yoongi smiled pleasantly, removing his hands from Jungkook's face. "See? He wants it."

"He's your friend, Yoongi. We're going to have to see him in person later. You want him to be horny every second he's around me?"

Yoongi placed his palm on the crown of Jungkook's head, drumming his fingers slowly. Light blue strands curled around his dark brows and eyes, playful smirk on his shapely pink lips. His deep voice was a low, alluring drawl.

"He already is."

Jungkook nodded very fast to agree. He was trying to hide the keen excitement in his eyes by not speaking, but his eager expression was giving him away as Yoongi slowly chipped away at common sense. You grabbed Jungkook's chin and squeezed, holding him in place. His breathing hitched in your hand, small whimper of your name leaving his lips.

"Don't look at me like that," you scolded.

"Like what?" Jungkook asked with shaking eyes and a small pout.

You kept switching from Jungkook's to Yoongi's eyes because if you looked too long into those pleading brown orbs, you might actually crack. You spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.

"Like you're desperate for it."

A low, dangerous chuckle.

Your gaze fixated on Yoongi. He was about to do something.

His long fingers worked into that short black hair and yanked back, making Jungkook gasp and shiver as he was pulled from your hand, your name falling from his lips in a breathy moan as his eyes continued to watch you, waiting, needing, begging.

"P... Please, noona..."

Yoongi's grip tightened in those black locks, Jungkook whimpering at the roughness, his own hands clutching your shirtdress, tugging at it.

"I'm telling you to do it," Yoongi purred, smokey and dark, staring into your eyes.

Jungkook was pulling your shirt now, pulling you to him, getting you to straddle his lap, you glaring at Yoongi's smirking face the entire time, annoyed that he put you in this position, and yet you knew something of this nature was coming the second he pulled you aside earlier today and asked you to dress the way you normally did because he was going to take you out to eat with Jungkook and Hoseok. Jung Hoseok already knew about your eccentric fashion sense and, while it did spook him a little the first time, he often sent you links of clothes that reminded him of you. You didn't think much of Jungkook being there. He was the youngest and Yoongi often treated him to a nice meal, although usually without you.

"Unbutton the top more."

Yoongi had adjusted the exposed shoulder himself and handed you the leather choker.

"Wear this one."

You had given him a skeptical look. "You suiting me up for some kind of mission?"

Yoongi had smiled mysteriously.

"We're going to make Jungkookie's life a living hell and he's going to like it."

Apparently, Yoongi's mission was to tempt and torture Jungkook until he was mildly insane and then subsequently draw out the younger man’s ravenous desperation so that Jungkook was now clawing at your thighs and whimpering under you, trying to get you to fuck him, shuddering every time he attempted to raise his hands and Yoongi punished him by yanking at his hair in warning.

"She hasn't said yes yet. No higher until she says yes," Yoongi snapped, not taking his eyes off you and your body.

"B-But..."

You slapped a hand down on Jungkook's mouth and squeezed harshly, digging your nails into his cheekbones.

"Shh. I'm thinking."

You closed your eyes.

Breathed out.

-

"You know the only hope for me is you, right?"

"That's a little dramatic, Yoongi."

Those dark brown, cat-like eyes glittered, full of mischief.

"You always play along with my ideas."

"They're all very good. You are a genius."

You loved the way Yoongi smiled at you, endearing and sweet with a hint of cunning cleverness. He liked to invent new ways to keep your life interesting. Being with Min Yoongi was never boring.

"I doubt you'll be able to shock me though. I've seen it all." You, too, enjoyed challenging him and being challenged. That was part of the fun.

That's why you carried on with his black parade.

Yoongi chuckled. "Mmm, famous last words."

-

“Don’t let him move.”

His veins were on fire, chest shuddering as his head was pulled back, back, his spine arching to an almost uncomfortable position, but he didn’t care, only feeling pleasure as she leaned down, hovering over his body, her hand on his mouth, gasps trapped on his tongue while her own extended from those dark lips, down, down, her other hand grabbing a fistful of his hoodie and yanking down the neckline.

The tip of her tongue touched the space right between his collarbones.

She removed her hand.

Jeon Jungkook moaned, hot and wanton, sinfully right in front of Min Yoongi’s face as Yoongi’s girlfriend licked up his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple and scraping her teeth against it, before sliding up to his chin, stopping right before his lips.

Exactly where the mole under his lower lip was, tip of the wet muscle unmoving.

Those sharp eyes shrouded in black eyeshadow and dark eyeliner looked down on him.

“Please, n-noona…”

He didn’t care if he was being pathetic, tearing at her stockings with his fingernails, unashamedly imploring for more.

She didn’t speak. Yoongi spoke for her.

“Please what?” his hyung murmured, massaging his scalp slowly.

His cock was so hard that it physically hurt being trapped in his jeans like this. Any sanity he had left was being obliterated into pure, unadulterated lust. Jungkook didn’t care anymore about right or wrong. Whatever they let him have, he would take. He would beg and plead and cry if he had to. Whatever it took.

He whimpered, his thighs tensing with need.

“P-Please fuck me…”

I want it.

I need it.

I crave it.

She raised her tongue and flickered it over his lips. He moaned, shaking, his hands dropping from her thighs, reaching between his own legs and rubbing his painful erection through the zipper of his jeans, nearly sobbing as Yoongi’s fingers tightened, nails raking at his scalp.

“I can’t t-take it anymore… please… whatever you want to do, just do it, please, please touch me, I can’t s-stand it, I’m so h-hard…”

She pressed her knee down onto the back of his hands and Jungkook whimpered, so aroused that even that felt good, simply knowing she was applying the pressure, his balls suffocating a little against the center seam because of how thick and stiff he had become.

“Are you a little bit of a masochist, Jungkook?” she whispered, licking his lower lip gently.

Instead of answering right away, he pulled his hands out from under her knee and pressed it down onto his aching cock, his eyes rolling back and moaning deeply, forcefully raising his hips up, slightly pulling on his own hair in the process.

“Hyung, noona, please…”

The friction was almost painful, but the leaking pre-cum had soaked into his underwear, the slickness rubbing against the head, the added pressure of her knee slightly crushing his erection being his own self-inflicted pain that only added to the pleasure.

Jungkook gazed at her with half-lidded eyes, shuddering.

“Destroy me more.”

-

Min Yoongi liked to watch his woman work.

She was the best, she knew she was the best, and she only got better the longer she was with him. Of course, he loved her working him most. But Yoongi also enjoyed keeping things interesting. Being an assistant to the master was just as fun. And besides, they had a much more equal power dynamic and that’s what they liked.

But Jeon Jungkook.

He pulled Jungkook’s hoodie off, taking the shirt underneath with it, bare chest exposed to sharp black nails that immediately sent Jungkook into a spiraling mess of moans, falling back as those dark lips attacked the tanned skin, leaving marks all over that muscular body. Yoongi placed a hand under that sharp chin and pressed the younger male’s head to his chest.

He liked this too, this power.

Yoongi pressed his fingertips into Jungkook’s chin and raked his nails over that quivering throat.

He didn’t expect anyone to understand how or why he operated the way he did. He only needed one person to understand and she was currently yanking off Jungkook’s jeans and black boxer briefs with vicious vigor, throwing them aside before climbing off his lap.

Yoongi placed his hand over Jungkook’s eyes and wordlessly took his sight.

He liked the sounds Jungkook made. Needy, desperate, and strikingly beautiful. He had a wonderful quality to his voice, pouring all of his emotion into it. Nice cock too. Very hard, very red, a good length and girth. Yoongi chuckled, amused at the younger man’s eagerness. He lowered his head, whispering into that ear with three quivering silver hoops.

“So cringey, isn’t it?” he taunted.

Jungkook whined in his hands, trembling tone saturated with apology. “I’m sorry, hyung, I’m so sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, p-please believe me...”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his woman remove her panties and step out of them. Stockings and garter belt stayed on though. She had style. He smirked, humming softly to mask her movement.

“You don’t have to say sorry to me.”

He removed his hand and she dropped her bare pussy onto Jungkook’s naked thigh.

-

Wet, hot, and sweet.

“Oooh, fuck…”

He lifted his head, eyes hazy and unfocused, greeted by the sight of Yoongi’s girlfriend straddling his thigh and rubbing her pussy all over him, the scent of her perfume mixing with the scent of her sex, thick and delicious and intoxicating, her soaked opening flexing against his hard muscle, driving him insane, disappointed that she was still mostly dressed.

“Noona…”

Jungkook reached for the belt at her waist, expecting Yoongi to stop him, but he didn’t, letting Jungkook unbuckle it, his hands shaking badly from the pleasure of her pussy touching his naked skin. The gentle slap of her thigh against his balls and cock not enough. He wanted to be touched, but those scrutinizing eyes indicated that she would touch him when she wanted and no sooner. It was making him lose his mind, but he loved it, moaning her name deep from his chest as he struggled to undo the small buttons, flinching and shuddering with her movements.

“I’m sorry, noona…” he gasped, staring into those sultry dark eyes.

She reached up and touched his lips, tracing the shape with her nail, sending shivers all over his body.

“You gonna watch your mouth from now on, Jungkook?” she murmured, trapping him with her gaze, turning the shivers into brimming electricity.

“Y-Yes, noona…”

He undid the last button and she swiftly removed her hand from his mouth and smacked his away, shrugging out of the shirtdress and tossing it to the floor before reaching down to her ass. She opened her mouth and her tongue snaked out, shiny with saliva, using her hands to spread her ass and pussy, squelching down on his hard, tense muscle.

“A-Ah, so good…”

And now he could feel more, the inner lips of her pussy now rubbing on his skin with her clit, slick and slippery, muscles of her opening constricting and relaxing on his thigh, an indescribable feeling, sensual and dirty and raw, the control so precise that her smug expression and upper body remained relaxed, hips still moving at the same rough pace.

Yoongi’s fingers tangled in his hair again, husky voice at his ear.

“Put the fingers of your right hand in her mouth.”

Jungkook obeyed as if spellbound, raising his hand and dipping his fingers into that waiting mouth, her warm tongue wrapping around them and coating them with her saliva, pink muscle gliding between his joints and dancing around his tattoos, spit dribbling down his palm and dropping in fat plops onto his crotch, his body flinching at the contact, unashamedly whimpering his want, Yoongi’s dark chuckle filling his ear.

It must have looked so dirty.

So wrong.

“Take them out.”

Jungkook removed his fingers with a sniffle, the coil in his core so tight he thought he was going to explode.

“Touch yourself.”

His cheeks burned at the thought of his own hand wrapping around his cock in front of two people, adrenaline and thrill burning his veins.

“B… But, hyung…”

“You touched yourself in the bathroom at the restaurant earlier, didn’t you?” that deep purr accused, pulling at his hair, prickling pain shocking his scalp.

“I…” His hand lowered. “I h-had to… noona is just so…” Staring into those heavily shadowed eyes, tongue licking those dark-stained lips, his saliva-coated fingers wrapping around his aching, taut cock, so close to sobbing at the relief of being touched that his voice cracked a little. “So sexy… and she smells s-so goooooood…”

Eyelids fluttering, Yoongi rapping his shoulder, telling him to look at her, telling him to appreciate that hair cascading over her left eye, those breasts cupped perfectly in that black lace bra, that garter and stockings barely encasing those juicy legs and her pussy sliding up and down his thigh, her hands spreading her ass wide so he could feel it as he punishingly and roughly pumped his cock, trembling all over, struggling to get his words out, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he explained but, for some reason, he wanted to explain and became even more aroused by it, relishing in knowing that she was listening intently to his confession.

“You always smell so, so good, noona… I t-touched myself w-while smelling your perfume on my clothes… T-Thinking about you and my hands all over your perfect body and your hands t-touching me…”

Fucking his hand harder, tighter, faster, slipping down, down, knowing what he was going to say next, driving himself to that point, the coil inside causing every muscle to tense, staring right into her eyes, knowing his pupils were blown-out and unfocused.

“T-Touching me like I am right now, abusing my c-cock and… s-stopping right before I c-cum…”

So close, so close, so close, please, please, please…

Her hand shot out and gripped his wrist painfully, forcing him to let go of his cock.

Jungkook cried out in vain, jerking his head forward and bringing tears to his eyes from the pain of Yoongi’s unmoving grip, tugging at his own hair, the sudden denial causing his cock to twitch and slap against her thigh, smearing pre-cum and saliva onto her soft skin, knowing that he wanted it, sinfully satisfied in how perfectly frustrated she made him, reading his signals and torturing him just right.

A merciful, skilled devil in disguise.

The hand left his hair.

Her hips slowed, sitting onto his thigh, an almost unbearable weight that he welcomed.

“Jungkook.”

His head lolled, scalp stinging, staring into her eyes and loving the way she said his name, like her tongue was wrapping around it and caressing it, each syllable drenched with curated possessiveness that was meant just for him.

Yoongi’s fingers snaked around his neck, four fingers fitting under his left ear, thumb pressing onto the pulse just under his right ear.

“You want to finish inside me?” she exhaled, hot and heavy and addictive.

The grip on his neck tightened, pressing on the blood vessels leading to his head.

One of her hands was still on his wrist. The other reached in between his thighs, past his stiff, purple-red cock. Fingers wrapped elegantly around his balls, joints locking, keeping him in a vise-like grip of pure power without adding any unnecessary pressure.

“Y… Yes, please…” he gasped weakly.

The grip of his wrist vanished. He was getting lightheaded, fighting to keep his eyes on her, and her free hand was now finally encircling his cock, finger by finger, making him wait, squeezing his balls a little harder, fuck, her touch, a distinctly different hand and different power, gently stroking his throbbing length as Yoongi choked him and she pulsed her grip around his balls, his breath leaving in shallow gasps and not only from the thinning circulation, but the flashes of pain and the constant pleasure of her hands and her wet pussy flush against his thigh.

“What if I make you cum like this?” she murmured, leaning in, Yoongi pressing in between his shoulder blades and pushing him to her beautiful face, dark and sultry and captivating, her lips now close to his.

“O… Okay…”

It took all of his willpower to hold himself up with his hands.

“You can do whatever you want to me, noona,” Jungkook whispered thinly. “I mean it.”

Yoongi pet his sweaty hair, pushing it away from his forehead, squeezing his neck tighter.

Jungkook choked out her name, desire so potent that he saw something in her eyes flicker. She liked it. She liked him and what she was doing to him and his reaction to it. It gave Jungkook a special kind of high, the kind of arousal that transcended past the sex.

Jungkook couldn’t get out anymore.

He knew he would crave this feeling, the feeling of power in powerlessness.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Jungkook’s first kiss with Yoongi’s girlfriend was her forcefully jacking him off as she squeezed his balls and Yoongi choked him, his tongue sloppy and lips quivering, her sucking on it and making him moan with his tongue trapped in her dark lips, his hips twitching and shooting thick strings of cum all over her thigh, his thigh, and the sheets, suddenly slingshot into oxygen when Yoongi let go, adding to the high, his eyes rolling back, shivers racking his body, pleasure so intense that he felt nothing else, absolutely nothing but her touch, her hand leaving his balls and wrapping around his waist, pulling him to her body, her kiss stealing his breath, her cum-covered hand sliding up and down his abused cock.

Jungkook inhaled.

Her perfume invaded his nose, marshmallow sweetness, warmth of green tea, spark of ginger, and he was drunk, drunk on submission, sex, and their power over him.

-

Yoongi loved everything she did.

The way she looked at him.

The way her body moved.

The way she leaned over and kissed him as he pinned Jungkook’s wrists over his head while she was riding the younger man’s cock with a bruising, intense pace, her tongue curling around his, moaning softly into his mouth, lover to lover. With every moment, Yoongi fell more and more in love, addicted to orchestrating the perfect scenarios for his woman to completely ruin someone else.

She broke the kiss.

What a brilliant, satisfied, killer smile.

“O-oh, fuck, so good, fuck, your pussy is s-so good…”

Yoongi sat back and watched her hands slide over Jungkook’s chest, gripping his shoulders and fucking him hard, watching her pretty pussy clench around that cock that was begging for that tightness and that torture, the younger man rolling his hips up with every descent, destroying himself further.

The squelch and slap of skin to skin was audible, loud, and so, so sexy.

Her fingertip flicked the bottom of Jungkook’s chin, smirk on those plush lips now smeared with dark lipstick. There was something erotic about the mess though, her wild hair bouncing with every thrust, faint dark smudges now on his lips and Jungkook’s panting mouth.

“Aren’t you the perfect little fucktoy?” she teased.

There was a tension in her jaw, indicating that she was clenching around the younger man’s cock.

“A-Ah, just f-for you, noona…”

She frowned playfully, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Hmm, I don’t know, sweet boys always have sweet tongues and you’ve already proven yours sometimes says misleading things…”

Jungkook whimpered. “P-Please, I s-said I was sorry… I m-mean it…”

Yoongi liked this begging, this desperate tremble vibrating from that silvery voice.

“I would n-never do something l-like this…”

Jungkook had such a handsome face, even with his cheeks flushed red and his composure falling apart.

“Unless it was y-you… and Yoongi-hyung, oooh, God…”

He raised his eyebrows, making eye contact with her.

She smirked back, dangerous and perfect.

-

“I-I can’t...”

“Yes, you can, Jungkook,” you murmured, arms around his neck, his arms shaking as he held himself up, moaning as you stroked his back, Yoongi behind you, still fully dressed, kneading your breasts, your nipples poking out between his long fingers and giving Jungkook the visual of your cleavage and the hard nubs poking straight out at him.

He groaned, hazy brown orbs returning to your face.

“Please, wanna make you cum with my cock so b-bad…”

You began to rock your hips again, the brief intermission stalling his orgasm over, and now he was moaning again, squirming at the oversensitivity and strained by the denial, your pulsing pussy keeping him hard until you built the pace up again, pushing him to the edge once more.

“Look at you,” you murmured, caressing his neck and back, fingers splayed over his hot skin. “You dream about this, Jungkook? Dream about hyung letting you be noona’s fuck slave?”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip, whining in his chest.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Shh…”

Your fingers slid up into his hair, cradling his head, smacking your ass down onto his thighs, tightening around his cock. Jungkook moaned into your face helplessly, shuddering at your sensual gesture contrasted by your fierce thrusts.

“I wanted you too,” you whispered hotly, breathing in his clean scent. “You always looked so innocent. Made me want to mess you up every time I saw that handsome, nervous face of yours.”

Your grip tensed around his head, lower half really giving it to him now, bouncing on his cock, letting his thickness and his hardness fill you up over and over again, Yoongi pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers, following your rhythm.

“It’s not going to be enough for him, you know,” Yoongi chuckled darkly behind you. “He’s going to come crawling back, begging for more.”

Jungkook bit his lip again, looking from you to Yoongi, already guilty.

You leaned forehead, placing a light kiss on that mole below his lower lip.

“I love it when you beg for me, Jungkook,” you purred.

You could feel it, arousal flaring at your own words, already close and getting closer, pussy pulsating around that satisfying girth.

“Are you going to be patient?” you teased, tugging at his hair, savoring the strained moans from Jungkook’s throat. “Are you going to wait on your knees and watch Yoongi fuck me until he’s satisfied and then come to take his place and show me that you can be good for me too?”

You felt Jungkook’s cock twitch inside you, already enthralled with the idea.

“Y-Yes, noona, p-please…”

Fuck.

You dug your nails into his scalp and moaned deeply, staring into those glazed-over brown orbs, drugged on his lust for you.

“You’re so obedient, fuck, makes me want to cum on this pretty cock of yours and reward you.”

Yoongi pinched your nipples and tugged on them.

The spark collided through you, gasping as your orgasm seized your senses and took over, your eyes rolling back as the powerful jolts made your walls spasm, tension so high that it felt as if your nerves were vibrating, Jungkook’s name tumbling from your lips with a hiss that turned into a groan in unison with his, his overstimulated cock jerking and twitching from the brutal massage of your orgasm, the condom swelling inside you from spurts of his own.

The scent of sex was so strong that even Yoongi moaned, squeezing your breasts roughly.

“F-Fuck…”

You inhaled sharply, feeling Yoongi’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling your neck.

“Don’t I have such good ideas?”

You grinned, seeing Jungkook’s euphoric expression before he pitched forward and leaned his forehead against your other shoulder, panting for breath. His exhale was warm, drifting over your racing heart and heating your heated skin.

“Yes, Yoongi,” you chuckled, stroking his soft blue hair and Jungkook’s sweaty black hair. “You’re a genius.”

-

"Jungkook-ah!"

"Sorry, Jimin-ssi, I can't–" He clenched his jaw, stifling the noise threatening to escape from his throat. "I can't hang out today. I have a deadline for work."

"Aw, that's okay Jungkookie. Do you want hyung to bring you some dinner? I can stop by!"

"I already ate, ah, just now. Thanks anyway."

"Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. Don't forget your hyungs! You work too much."

Jeon Jungkook made an affirmative grumble. "Talk to you later."

An elegant finger reached over and hung up the call. The same hand lifted his phone from his ear and placed it back on the nightstand. Jungkook wasn't able to hold the phone himself.

He was handcuffed to the headboard.

"A-Ah, noona, fuck!"

Now that he was off the phone, she turned the toy back on, making him yelp and squirm. He whimpered, thighs shaking as his prostrate was assaulted with harsh vibrations, the connected silicone ring choking his cock and balls, flush against the base of both.

He moaned her name helplessly, looking down to see her laying between his legs, jerking forward with every smack of Min Yoongi's hips. His hard, dark red cock was sticking straight up right in front of her face. She heated it with her calm exhale, smiling at his shuddering whine.

"P-Please, touch me, o-o-oh, fuuuuuuuck..."

Yoongi smacked her ass with his open palm, making Jungkook moan at the sight of her ass bouncing from his hyung's dick.

"F-Fuck, please, noona, hyung, please, I wanna c-cum so b-bad..."

She increased the vibration setting and patted his thigh, returning to casually fucking Yoongi as he lost his mind from the jarring, rough pleasure, flexing his core and ass to make his cock jerk and swing in the air, unable to touch himself because of the handcuffs.

He loved it.

Jungkook loved every second of the torture crafted just for him.

-

"What a good boy for his noona."

Jungkook could only moan and whimper in response.

"Mm? Are you a good boy for her? Lying to Jimin so you can spend more time with my lovely woman?"

The younger man whimpered, biting his lip.

“H-Hyung…”

Yoongi smirked as Jungkook’s eyes rolled back, mouth open, gasping wail falling from his mouth as her tongue circled the head of his cock, lapping gently at the sensitive skin. The handcuffs rattled, Jungkook’s hands gripping the chain, tattoos standing out on his arm from his tense muscles. Yoongi watched her hands side up those toned thighs, up shaking hips, up to that slim waist, then drag back down, nails pricking at that skin, creating indents and red lines, visible, wet, glistening tongue toying with the throbbing cock in front of her.

He felt his own twitch inside her. Her muscles clenched around him tightly in response.

She lifted her head, gripping Jungkook’s hips and forcing him down on the bed, him whining and pleading for her to do more, but all three of them knew the way this was going to go and the one in the handcuffs wasn’t calling the shots.

“You keep coming back, Jungkook, and it’s gonna ruin sex for you.”

Her hand slid up his abused cock and balls, playing with them and rubbing the overstimulated skin as Yoongi increased his pace in power and speed, fingers spread out on her hips and sinking in, mirrored by the way she removed her hand from Jungkook’s length and grabbed his hips again, cocking her head, looking down at Jungkook.

“You keep flying high and you’re not going to want to come down.”

Jungkook’s black hair was all over his forehead, messy and sweaty, shudders leaving his swollen lips. The light caught the glint of the silver metal piercing on his trembling eyebrow.

She leaned down, hands crawling up his body, digging her nails in, scratching him up, and Yoongi hissed at the shifted angle, deeper now and more intense, her hair cascading down her shoulders, the sweet scent wafting up, sweet, warm, spicy, his favorite scents in the world melding together.

Sex.

Perfume.

And his woman, a curator of the little, beautiful death.

She chuckled, taunting and playful, placing her forearms on Jungkook’s chest, pushing back against Yoongi and using the other male’s body as leverage, poised in front of Jungkook’s fallen composure, one hand lifting and tracing his lips, enticing that pink tongue to sneak out, begging for a taste.

She shoved her fingers into his mouth, humming approvingly as Jungkook began to suck on them noisily, moaning around her fingers as the rhythm escalated, louder and louder, squeezing his length tighter so Yoongi had to thrust harder, growling in his chest, firmly gripping her ass, faster, rougher, her fingers sliding in further, the wet sounds of tongue and lips adding to the symphony.

Her words the crescendo.

“The jetset life is gonna kill you, Jungkook.”

The fire flared to an unbearable tension and Yoongi hissed her name, clenching his jaw and scratching her back hard, causing her to let out a long, drawn-out moan, clenching around his entire length and he came, cock jerking against her punishing walls, shooting his orgasm into the condom, his fingers sliding down her back, groaning satisfyingly when she matched him, her cum gushing out and sticking to his crotch and thighs, sweet purr of his name drifting out of her lips, her fingers slipping from Jungkook’s mouth, shiny with saliva and wiping it all over his chin.

“O-o-oh, fuuuuuuuck, please…”

And she didn’t forget, not even in her ecstasy, her hand wrapping around Jungkook’s neck, choking him strongly, driving him to the edge.

-

It took seconds.

Your lips curved into a smirk, Jungkook’s shaking, half-lidded brown orbs saturated with lust, vibrations and visuals and now the loss of blood leaving him breathless, lightheaded, and at your mercy.

Open mouth, gasping out your name.

Then he threw his head back, airlessly screaming, handcuffs rattling, muscles standing out all over his body from the searing tension, tattoos glistening with sweat, eyes rolling back, hips jolting up and shooting cum all over your stomach and his, orgasm so intense that he arched his back and jammed his cock between your bodies, your hand releasing him, Jungkook sobbing at the relief of his aching length still flinching and twitching, the hot head of his cock throbbing against your skin, still dribbling out hot cum in between your bodies, thick and slick.

You slithered on top of him, smearing it everywhere.

“Oh, God, n… noona…”

-

“Asleep already?”

You petted Jungkook’s head, smoothing his hair. “He had an eventful night.”

Yoongi chuckled. “He asked for it.”

Jungkook scooted closer to your heat, burying his nose in your chest, inhaling deeply.

Yoongi kissed the top of your head affectionately and you reached for his hand, running your fingertips over his knuckles. He placed it on your bare hip, tracing his marks on you.

“So, next time…”

“You’re already planning next time, huh?” You turned your head to look at those mischievous, cat-like eyes shrouded by strands of wispy light blue.

Yoongi ticked a brow. “Do you think he’s going to stop? I made him wait a whole month from the first time to this time and he gave me puppy eyes every chance he got.”

You shook your head with a smile, turning back to run your fingers through Jungkook’s black hair. “I wonder how you survived.”

“I looked away.”

You snickered and lifted Yoongi’s hand, pressing his fingertips to your lips.

“I would make him look away from me,” you murmured, low and dangerous.

“Hmm, then I’ll let you decide when next time will be.”

“Not counting tomorrow morning, right?”

“Of course.”

You felt Jungkook’s lips press onto your skin, a soft kiss inviting you and Yoongi to destroy him more.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook x you #yoongi x you #yoonkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

[inviouswriting]

Apron

This will be one of my better smuts. Showing what I am capable of~

Simeon x fem!reader.

Prompting for an apron idea. This might have multiple parts.

Themes - Smut, naked apron, established relationships, size kink, overstimulation, descriptive stuff, nipple play, temperature play, all that entails to smut. An excuse to write some Simeon smut.

There is a serene quiet of the morning, you had gotten up earlier than you normally would like to. You smile to yourself as you work to get out of the dark brown arms that had you secure in them. They even grasp for you, you supply Simeon with a pillow to bury his face into. You don’t miss the finger that runs down the middle of your bare back.

“Come back... My lamb...” Groggy is Simeon’s voice as he seeks you out snaring your waist to pull you back into his arms, the pillow not sufficient enough for the angel.

“Simeon, my angel. I want to do something for you.” He succeeds in pulling you back down to him. His head pressing into the crook of your neck with happy hums of approval. Even nuzzling his cheek into yours. You almost want to give up your plans and let him have his way.

Almost. 

“A little longer please?” A simple kiss pressed along your ear, and you feel your legs hot. You steel yourself against his charm, and start to move out of his arms again.

“Simeon, please let me up? I’ll make it up to you.” You bargain with him, if you had to guess his blue eyes would be looking at you with that pout he manages. 

“Alright my lamb... I’ll be cold without you.” You look at him over your shoulder with a wink, and he lowers his eyes to your back, sheepish, you see his face lighten up with a blush on it. You reach a hand to his head and rub through his hair earning more happy hums. 

The grip on your waist lessens, and you slip out of his arms entirely. You hand him back the pillow he had shoved aside for you instead. He takes it, resting his head back on it, enjoying your scent.

You tug on a robe and leave your angel after he closes his eyes to get some more sleep. An idea was given to you by Asmodeus, to spice things up with your Celestial lover. You had made a special request the day prior for Barbatos to take care of Luke, and Solomon. Keeping the two out of the Purgatory hall for what you had in store. 

You set about making breakfast for you and Simeon. Something simple but to give you both energy. In fruit crepes and eggs. When you had finished making some of the food, you hear the quiet shuffling of Simeon’s feet, finally roused enough to find out what you were doing and what you made. You feel shy for what you were about to do.

Carefully you remove the robe you had on, and checked the ribbon for the apron holding it together in back. A light green sheer silk apron that went down to your thighs. You fiddle with the hem to make sure it is in place, you shed the last piece of clothing you had underneath in panties while tugging up stockings that went with the apron. Your face burned in embarrassment as you kept your attention on the food to not burn it.

“Lamb? This smells nice, eh!” You hear his voice hitch. You have your back to Simeon, and you turn off the stove now that the last of the food cooked. You look over your shoulder to your angel, he is more than just blushing, he even covered his face. Sometimes you wonder if he is too innocent, fitting as an angel. You almost blush more, but keep your nerve as you turn back to collect the plates.

“I hope you like what I made, I remembered something from my home world. Strawberry crepes.” You carry on non-chalant like you weren’t parading around half naked to him. You note he is shirtless but wearing his white pants. 

“Ahh... I’ll like anything made by you.” Simeon uncovers his face, and takes a deep breath getting a better look at you. You set down the plates, purposefully leaning over to allow the sides of the apron shift down to expose a breast to his eyes. He had taken a seat, and now his hands go down to his lap.

“That outfit... where did you get it? Asmodeus?” You beam at him and nod, the avatar of lust providing you ways to keep things spicy between you and Simeon. You see Simeon looking off to the side to avoid his rising problems. A devilish idea pops into your mind as you tap your angel’s shoulder getting his attention.

“Yes my lamb?” His voice sounded pained, while you two have been intimate many times, it doesn’t take much to get his attention in that area, all you have to do is look him in his eyes and he knows. With the space he creates between the table and himself, you slip onto his lap. Deliberately choosing to seat your rear on the bulge of his pants. You hear him groan at having his straining erection sat on, specially when relief for it is separated by his clothing.

“We should eat before it gets cold.” You say cheerfully, you even bring a fork up for him to take a bite. Simeon’s hands touch at your waist to shift you down to not have you seated just so on him. You only shift grinding down against him, his mouth parts and a moan slips out. You press the fork to his lips and he takes a bite of the offering. Focusing on the sweetness over his tongue, anything other than the heat of you on him like this.

You repeat this, taking bites of your own food in between forkfuls to Simeon. When he announces he is full, you lean in and give him a reassuring kiss. You are met with equal passion, even him pressing forward to you to feel softness. You indulge him, letting Simeon deepen the kiss, tongue dancing around yours, you feel bare hands slipping underneath the side of the apron to feel your skin along your inner thigh.

You taper the kiss off with tugging his bottom lip, hidden promise, he chases after your lips only to kiss your shoulder as you get up off of him.

“I should clean these~” Simeon stares at your back as you walk away from him. The angel more than just a little turned on, he needed you now. So when you return and collect more dishes, you feel Simeon grab for you much like earlier in the bedroom. Snaring you at your waist to tug you into his arms. But you are fast as you swat his hands off.

“Lamb! Please!” Simeon’s gentle voice is a hair sharper, you lock eyes with him and see how much he is desperate for your touch. You are almost merciful, but you needed to clear the table before he could even touch you.

“Patience is a virtue.” Your voice reminding him. Simeon turns his head away to hide his further blush, his hands going down to palm himself through his pants to relieve some pressure. You finish clearing the table and wipe it clear of any syrups or crumbs. 

Simeon has been watching you move about gracefully, looking away a few times that he is surprised when you nudge him to scoot his chair back so you can fit in his lap again. You loop your arms around his neck, meeting his eyes when he turns his gaze on you. He barely registered the sound of things being set onto the table, he eyes a glass of ice, but his attention is on you fully.

“I know we just ate, but would you like a little extra?” You play it up, and Simeon eyes you weary at the idea of more food, only getting it when you roll your hips forward to his own. 

“Very much... I would love extra, Please, my love, I am aching.” You are merciful on him with how his voice is pleading to you now. You lean up to kiss him full, and are met with an equal press back, almost like he is drowning for your kisses.

 You hum into the kiss distracting him with quick and small pecks. His hands at your waist tugging the apron up so his fingers could delve along your sensitive folds. He spreads them apart with two fingers while his middle dips in, Simeon parts the kiss to eye you at how wet you are. 

“Looks like someone was enjoying this too much.” Gentle rubs of his finger around your clit that you wiggle in his lap to push his hand closer. You sheepishly give him a wink only to bury your face in his shoulder when the long finger slips inside.

“You’re very warm this morning... I want to feel more.” Simeon presses kisses along your neck, following the trail of marks he left the night prior. You turn your face to press into his neck; leaving a few soft kisses of your own against it. You both bump heads gently, earning a soft scoff in your cheek when you both wanted to kiss the other’s face.

You rock your hips with Simeon’s hand when he adds another finger inside of you. Your face visibly flushes dark from feeling so hot, that you almost forgot about the ice. You squeeze your thighs to trap Simeon’s hand there, giving small movements with his fingers curling.

“Simeon? Would you kiss me please?” You request, and he happily obliges, pressing a series to your lips. Enough to distract the angel from your hands reaching behind to the glass, you pull two ice cubes from it one you hide in the palm of your left hand, the other you bring up along side your faces.

Simeon parts from the kiss when he feels cold on his cheek, the ice cube being traced from the edge of his jaw, to between your lips together. You hold an end and give him a quiet stare. The angel catches on, and meets your lips on the other end of the ice. 

You tilt your head to kiss him easier, Simeon takes the ice into his mouth and you chase after it as he draws your tongue in to dance with his. You feel his free hand move to the back of your head to hold you in place. You grind down on his hand wanting him now, but you press your left hand to the center of his back. 

Simeon jolts a bit from the sudden cold on his back, and you both break the kiss for air. You hear the ice on the table move as Simeon grabs two, and holds one in his mouth like you did. The other one he runs his palm down your arm. You sigh out and lean forward to kiss him again.

You grind more on his hand till Simeon adds a third finger, you whine into the kiss at the stretch. You feel his thumb brush your clit as Simeon nudges your legs apart to have better movement with his hand. You moan off of the kiss when his fingers press that one spot that has your legs trembling. 

You meet his blue eyes, and Simeon looks proud of himself for the sight that is only his. Your face twisted in pleasure, and eyes now pleading him like his were you earlier. You look away only for him to tilt your head back up to his, a sweet kiss pressed to your lips. Simeon withdraws his hand that had been pleasing you and you feel empty without him.

“My lamb, patience is a virtue.” He uses your words against you, and you feel him shift against you to undo his pants down enough. Simeon helps you lay back on the table, hanging your lower half towards his own as he stands. 

Pushing the chair he had been sitting in away. Simeon kneels down much to your surprise of him almost ready to take you on the table. Instead you feel him rest your legs over his shoulders, while he uses his hands to spread your folds apart. 

“You’re very wet. Do my fingers feel that good?” You almost answer him if it weren’t for the lick around your clit. You dig your heels into the center of his back to pull him closer. Simeon didn’t need to be encouraged twice before his mouth presses full to your pussy, his tongue delving between the folds to lap from opening to clit then back down.

Your nails scratch at the table, and you bite back moans as Simeon holds your legs apart from you trying to close them on him. You noticed the glass of ice missing from the table, and yelp when something cold presses along your hole. Simeon’s hot mouth catches the ice cube and draws it along your folds using his tongue to press the cube around your clit. Your legs shake; Simeon feels your heels digging into his back more when he breathes a hot breath over the path he drew with the ice.

He does this long enough to ensure you are relaxed and thoroughly soaked for him. With one last kiss to your clit, Simeon rises back up, keeping your legs apart as he sets the glass next to your side. The ice in it almost completely melted, save for a few stray cubes and water now.

“Ready for me my love?” Simeon asks, grinding his cock along your folds slicking himself. He exhales a breath feeling the slight difference between hot and cold. 

“Of course I am.. please Simeon? Love me?” A smile crosses his face as he looks at you.

“I already love you.” You wanted to shove him for being sweet and sexy at the same time. But any words you were about to say die on your tongue when he presses inside. A sharp gasp pulled from you for pushing in swift, only to still and be seated full inside. Simeon reaches his fingers into the glass for any remaining ice and presses a melting cube to the front of your chest circling a nipple, watching the already sheer material expose more of your breast.

Simeon settles into a rhythm with you, slow pull backs, with quick thrusts in. He feels good, and you enjoy his size, thick enough to be a reason for alot of foreplay, while long and curved enough that makes you see stars every time he pushes in.

“Love me... please love me... more.” You manage, your arms going to loop around Simeon’s neck as he buries his face into your shoulder, breathy pants against your ear. You wrap your legs around his waist at his urging, and dig your heels into his hips to pull him to yourself.

A shock of cold hits your front, you snap your attention to Simeon who smirks as he had emptied the glass of cold water on you. The angel raises up as he admires your chest fully visible to his eyes. You almost scold him about not ruining the apron, but his hands grabbing your chest to squeeze your nipples makes it hard to do anything but moan out for him.

“Simeon...” You call his name, as his pace increases, he feels like he is in a further heaven than his home in the Celestial Realm. 

“My name, lamb... say it again... please.” Your hands go to the back of his head when he lowers it down to circle a nipple with his tongue then engulfs it through the fabric to suck on it. Gently tugging with his teeth, enough that you arch off the table beneath him. 

“Simeon! Please!” You were teetering on that edge, and Simeon feels it in the way you are alot hotter and squeezing him when he thrusts in. Your nails scratch at the middle of Simeon’s back when he came up to be within your arms. His own arms working underneath you to hold you to him. 

Simeon focuses on the building pressure in his own pending orgasm, while you cling to him, yours hits you hard; your nails scratching fine lines down his back that will have the angel wearing full shirts for a bit. 

Simeon feels immense heat and tight around his cock, that makes it hard to thrust in for himself. He pushes in and you hear him moan out in pleased sighs at feeling you so tight around him that he releases inside. Simeon lays on top of you, pressing kisses to your face. You sigh content and run your fingers through his hair petting his head to earn hums of approval. 

“I love you..” You hear muffled in your neck.

“I love you too, Simeon.” You return his affections, he lifts his head to meet your stare. A kiss shared between you both. You purr into it happily. Simeon tugs you with him to sit back in the chair, you groan a little as he pulls himself free of your folds.

“You want to do more right?” You ask, Simeon’s eyes widen at your question, and you see his face pink up.

“I would love that. We still have a while before Solomon and Luke are back?” You nod.

“They’ll be back in the evening.” 

“Then let’s take advantage of our time together, it’s rare that we get such alone time.” Simeon’s voice sounds happier at the idea of spending the day with you like this.

“I knew you’d be happy.” You begin to undo the apron, wanting it off your skin. You even look at the table to see the mess of water.

“We should clean up first.” You mention.

“We will, after we make more of a mess. May I ask something?”

“Yes? Simeon?” You can see his mind working for something.

“What do you say to something sweet?” 

“I could use some sugar.” You smile up at him, and his eyes seem to shine from the idea of something more.

~~~~End Part 1~~~~~

I’ll continue this! I just want to separate sections~

#simeon x reader #simeon angel #simeon smut #obey me! #shall we date obey me #obey me simeon #simeon x fem!reader #Invi's smuts #angel simeon

[bontenten]

Efficiency

Pairing: Daishou x f!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings/Tags: smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, light degredation, aftercare, established relationship

Thank you so much @/bakatenshii and @/thirstyforthem2dmen for beta-reading. This is a repost from my main after it went fully sfw. Originally for the hqhq (now Anilysium) hard at work collab.

Pen scrawls and keyboard taps sound throughout the conference room as your boss goes over current client projects. Daishou is sitting across the table and you notice he's wearing the tie you gave him for his birthday last year. Looks good, you think to yourself. It's not just the tie, it's his entire outfit, and him.

Daishou notices your lingering stare and makes eye contact, granting you a cheeky grin and a head tilt. Pompous bastard. In response, you send back an expression of mock disgust before turning your attention back to your laptop.

For any newcomer at the firm, it might seem like the office is split down the middle into either your camp or Daishou's, with opinions and jabs on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. Why else is there so much spite being tossed around between the two of you, if not due to a deeply entrenched layer of grievances?

It might leave the newbie confused as to why Daishou affectionately calls you his "most significant problem". Or why you preface notes to him with, "to whom this may piss off, my royal pain-in-the-ass".

Then there comes a revelation to the newbie that you and Daishou are not mortal enemies, but rather the most wretchedly in-love couple in this skyrise building. It's a bad decision to cross either you or Daishou for any matter. Not only are the both of you perfectly vindictive, crossing one means submitting an application to be on the blacklist of the other. There's no doubt, in your humblest opinion, that Daishou, even if he'll never outright admit it, absolutely worships the dirt under your heels. And when you are in remotely a good mood, fine, you don't mind his coffee breath either.

It's heartwarming, that in this tower of cold, hard stainless steel and immaculate glass panels, there's love floating around the disinfected air of money, money, and more money. When it counts, you can be sure that Daishou will stand on the same side of the fence as you.

While the meeting goes on and you multitask with the spreadsheet open on your screen, you think you hear your name being tossed around. To your knowledge, everything is lined up already and unless there is some sort of overnight emergency, there's absolutely nothing left on your plate to take care of.

At the same time, there is also the off-chance that someone decides to drag you into hell with them and include you in a project. Now, who could possibly have the audacity to put you into the wringer with them?

"Daishou! Excellent, I'll leave this to you," the boss exclaims. "This pitchbook needs to be done by tomorrow. It's high urgency and the client just sent the numbers in."

A sinking feeling begins to churn in your stomach. You pause your frenzy across the keyboard and pay attention to the meeting to hear the rest of what Daishou has to say.

"If I may," Daishou curtly asks with a smile that's a tad too wide, "I'd like to work with Y/N on this. As you know, we work best together. It'll be done before the meeting tomorrow."

You can feel everyone's eyes turn to you in the meeting room, begging you to please say yes to the man holding titles such as your boyfriend, co-worker, and also 'royal pain-in-the-ass'. You force a smile and match Daishou's client-ready, saccharine expression. "Of course, we'll have it done tonight."

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the entire meeting room relaxes by ten notches. Bastards, all of you.

"Our firm's best duo!" the boss praises, "We'll leave it to you two then. Meeting adjourned."

It's the two words everyone has been waiting for. The moment the syllable falls, the conference room is filled with the sounds of shifting seats and scuffling feet eager to leave work for the day. With a huff, you shut your laptop and see Daishou coming around the conference table with his laptop and files tucked under his arm. He adjusts and tugs on his tie.

"Guess it's you and me again tonight," Daishou comments.

"And here I wanted to leave work early for once."

"Hey, just a special date night. It's called 'overtime', sounds pretty sexy don't you think?"

You snort and walk past him, going towards the direction of the elevator. Daishou eyes your figure strutting down the hall. The lines of your ironed shirt and the pencil skirt that hugs your figure perfectly match the echoing clack of your heels striking shiny tiles.

Even if you don't remember, Daishou's impeccable memory absolutely remembers how the last time you paired that shirt and that skirt together, it was an overtime situation very much similar to tonight. And the cock that's starting to grow hard in his slacks certainly remembers a lot more. He can feel it twitching just trying to conjure up the sensation of your gummy walls milking him in the breakroom a month ago.

"You coming or what?"

Daishou sees you holding the elevator door open and waiting for him. Daishou won't ever admit to this, maybe to you in privacy, but Daishou will rather be dead than admit to anyone else how lucky he feels to have someone as incredible as you in his life.

He takes a few quick steps and enters the elevator.

"How sweet," he coos. "I knew you wouldn't just leave me hanging and working in this dismal place all alone."

"Shut-up, Suguru," you snap, but you lean your head against his shoulder anyway. It's been such a long day already, and the night is only going to be longer.

"Stay the night at my place later? I'll order your favorite."

"Let's get this project over with first."

"I caught you staring at me during the meeting."

"Huh, is that so."

"Practically stripped me naked with your eyes. Ooh, I felt tingles all over."

You lift your head from his shoulder. "You're so full of yourself Suguru," you remark before tugging on his tie to pull his face closer to yours. "If anything, I think you're the one getting hard at work."

Daishou leans in even closer. A hand encircles your wrist and his thumb brushes your inner-wrist across the bump of the vein. Your pulse is throbbing against his fingertips. You feel your adrenaline and anticipation rushing through your body as your heart pounds harder and faster.

"Then do something to help poor lil' me out?"

"At your place later, we—"

"But I want you so badly right now," Daishou breathes out, body tight against you so you can feel his straining desires through the layers of fabric. "I want—

Ding.

The elevator opens up to the floor the two of you work at. The co-workers waiting for the lift can only see two pristine and exemplary office workers without any semblance of dishevelment walk out. Daishou even says a polite "see you tomorrow" to them.

"If only the elevator stopped working," you joke after taking a deep breath to swallow the fire building in your core. "Sly snake, no one here in the office knows your true colors."

Sometimes, you wonder just how Daishou can switch his persona so quickly. Or maybe he just likes the precarious edge of being horny at work.

"Love you too dear," he sneers.

A couple workers are still at their desks scrambling for their deadlines. You and Daishou take a seat at your work stations and begin to chip away at the urgent, overtime project. Every now and then, you'll say good-night to the other remaining co-workers finally able to go home. It doesn't take long before the halls are completely vacated and empty except for the two of you still slaving away in front of the bright monitors for hours into the night.

"Where are you going?" you ask Daishou who is returning to his seat after disappearing down the hall again. "This is the third time in the last hour. Are you shitting in the toilets or dumping all the work on me?"

Daishou comes by your desk and leans on the back of your chair. "Just making some phone calls. Want to go home now? It's getting late."

"Uh...work's not done yet."

"It's fine, let's have dinner first, we can just work remotely at my place. The bulk is done anyway."

You glance at the clock and ponder Daishou's offer. It doesn't hurt to leave a little early and continue the work later in a more comfortable setting. "Okay, let me pack."

After cleaning up the workstation and packing everything the two of you will need, you and Daishou are back in the hallway waiting for the descending elevator.

Daishou takes the heavy tote bag from your shoulders. “I’ll hold onto this,” he explains.

“Why so nice today, Suguru? First luring me over with food, the compliments, and suggestions to leave early…” You trace a finger along the line of his spine and observe, pleased with the nervous grin spreading on his face. “Someone’s losing patience, hm?”

Daishou gives you an ingratiating smile. “Princess, as fancy as our work is, we still work in client-services. What can I say, I live to serve and please.”

“Cheeky.”

The elevator arrives and the two of you enter the space.

"How long do you think we still need?" you ask Daishou.

"Must we talk about work, right now?"

"You're just horny, Suguru."

"Oh, so it's 'just' me, is that what it is?"

You shrug and admit, "Nah, I was wondering why you didn't suggest anything earlier when the office was empty."

"Baby, if you wanted me that bad, you should've just climbed on my lap."

You laugh at Daishou's retort and prepare a comeback. "I think—"

A loud screech sounds through the elevator and the lights flicker briefly before a jolt causes you to stumble. Your hand automatically flies to the handrail. Daishou also wraps an arm around you tightly to steady your balance.

"Is the..."

"Seems like we're stuck," Daishou comments.

You rapidly press the service bell button, but it's no use. "No one's picking up, it's like the signal got cut. Should've just taken the stairs!"

The cell signal is also terribly weak in the elevator space. There's nothing else to do but wait and see how things play out.

Daishou laughs dryly and smooths his hair back. "We work on the 18th floor, since when do we take the stairs?"

"There's that one evacuation drill..." you reply weakly.

Daishou raises an eyebrow, giving you a look that says, really now?

"You're right, we're doomed. Last moments and—"

"With the love of your life, isn't that pleasant a way to go?" Daishou tightens his arms around you. "Don't worry, it's all going to be okay."

You reciprocate and respond to his hug, while your brain searches for a solution. "I once saw on the internet that if the elevator drops, you have to time your jump right before the elevator hits the ground floor. Otherwise—"

"Shhh," Daishou shushes you quietly with a quick kiss. He rocks you from side to side and reassures you again that everything is okay.

"Trust me, it'll be okay. Let's just have a little fun while we're waiting," he suggests one hand already tracing up your thigh. "Maybe it'll relax all those nerves you've been holding onto."

Daishou wants to laugh. Whose nerves exactly? Do you have any idea how he’s been counting the minutes and seconds for this moment while you innocently worked on the project like the good, model worker that you are?

It took everything in him to somehow put down a few excel formulas and not shove the monitors onto the floor to fuck you senseless across the worktables. Not to mention, the pleasure of having those witty remarks that spurt out from that little mouth of yours replaced with incomprehensible whines and begs for your precious Suguru to fill you to the brim. And now that you also admit to thinking along the same lines earlier, Daishou knows the dirty little thoughts clouding into your mind already.

Some slut that you are, acting proper and put-together at work, basking in the praise from co-workers and the boss; they just don’t know how ten minutes after those morning touchpoint meetings, you are bouncing on Daishou’s cock in a hidden corner while the financial markets open for the day. It’s an art, really, the number of quicks you two manage to fit into the crevices of a busy office schedule. But that’s why Daishou is one of the best employees of the firm. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

The patterns Daishou's fingers trace tickle and send shivers up the skin. His low voice and hot breath across your ear elicits a soft gasp as you press your thighs together in the tight, figure-hugging skirt, seeking some hidden relief for the needy throb inside. The scrap of fabric down there is barely able to soak up the wetness beginning to pool. You are pressed up against him for comfort and security, your breasts plush against his chest. Each inhale and exhale you take is a test of patience.

"T-there's a camera," you remind him through shaky breaths, eyes flickering to the black mechanism in the corner. This is your final thread.

Daishou eyes the camera that is staring expectantly at the tryst about to happen in the cramped space with a wicked grin. Like that has ever bothered you, but if you want to play coy, he’ll humor you. He pinches the soft flesh on your thighs. "But we both know you're an attention whore. Always wanting to be the center of attention?"

You bite your lip to stop a whimper and look away, unwilling to admit that Daishou is completely right. You're already squirming in anticipation and delight. How cute, Daishou savors before deftly undoing the first two buttons of your crisp blouse. He has all of your clothes memorized, and how to take them off in the least amount of steps. At this point, it's completely second nature, and even if it isn't, the particular outfit you are wearing today has a special pedestal in Daishou's memory of interests. He pulls the tucked fabric apart to expose your delicate neckline and the soft curves of your breasts in the bra.

Oh, this one? What a coincidence then. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhales the scent of your lingering fragrance. His hot breath and tantalizing lips drag across your collarbone, brushing your sensitive skin.

"So fucking sexy. Let's put on a show shall we?"

The thread snaps.

You harshly tug on the Daishou’s tie and capture his lips with yours. Daishou presses his body even closer, resting a forearm right above your head to cage you against the elevator wall. You wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, as you meld into the searing kiss. The zipper of your skirt is tugged and the fabric is pushed up to your waist. His hand snakes up your thigh and a thumb hooks the side of your panties, pulling the soaked scrap down.

"Step," he instructs, pulling your panties down all the way and guiding your heeled feet out. "Don't want them dropping on the floor," he says, tucking the bunched fabric into his shirt pocket.

"Touch me, please," you beg, pulling Daishou back to you. You grab his hand and lead him to between your legs, grinding yourself against his thick fingers for some relief.

“No need to rush, the elevator isn't getting fixed anytime soon," he coos, "We're not going to get distracted this time."

Daishou spreads your lips apart and rubs along your sensitive bud, coating his digits with your slick. "Fuck, you're so wet already," he marvels before slipping a finger in and then another.

Daishou pumps his fingers in and out of your sopping pussy, occasionally dragging over to circle your clit. "That's it, isn't it?" he groans, feeling your walls clench around his fingers when he finds the spot that has you falling apart into streams of whines and mewls.

Daishou withdraws his fingers and brings the glistening digits up for you to see. "How much are you enjoying this? Wanting to be fucked in an elevator, watched by who knows who behind that camera."

You whimper and watch Daishou take the coated fingers in his mouth, licking off every drop of you. "You taste so good," he breathes, before pulling you into a kiss and letting you have a taste of your own arousal.

You break out of the kiss and turn around, resting your hands on the handrail. "S-Suguru, want you in me," you beg. You bend over just enough for your Daishou to see how much more wet you've gotten from tasting yourself on him. Your glistening hole is dripping and desperately clenching around nothing.

"Patience, princess." Daishou quickly unbuckles his belt and lets the cock pressing against his tight slacks spring free. He prepares to give himself a few more strokes but you reach behind and slap his hand away, replacing the hand on his cock with your own.

"Fuck," he groans, bucking his hips into your hands. "Always the impatient one."

"Hurry...please."

The building anticipation is making your knees weak and head dizzy already. You keep both hands on the handrails for support and squirm over trying to better line yourself for that thickness you need to fill your hole.

"Shit, stop teasing me!"

Beep.

The emergency intercom you pressed when the elevator first malfunctioned finally lights up. The line connects after a moment of static and radio noise and temporarily shocks a thread of rationality into your thoughts.

"Hello? Hello? Are we connected now, finally? Hello? Can you hear me?" the voice urges from the other end.

"Ah-" you gasp out, feeling Daishou fingers draw out slow circles on your clit. You press your lips tightly together to muffle a moan.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?"

Daishou leans next to your ear. "Answer them, sweetheart." The tip of his cock teases the entrance of your pussy, running along the wet lips. "Do well and I'll give it to you."

You manage, with difficulty, squeak out, "Y-yes!"

"Good girl."

Your legs buckle slightly when you feel Daishou's thick cock being pushed into you, finally giving you the gratification you have been craving during Daishou's ministrations.

"Oh, careful now, don't want you falling over," Daishou's grip on your hips tightens and he groans at how warm, wet and tight you are around him. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he mutters under his breath.

The speaker buzzes again. "Great, finally connected. Ma'am are you doing okay still?"

"Yes!" you cry out as Daishou gives a firm and deep thrust; a wave of pleasure shoots through you.

"Don't panic, our team is already coming—" The line disconnects as abruptly.

Daishou revels at how your soft walls hug and clench around him. By all means, he didn't expect the interruption happening at all. It seems like you are not the only impatient person, he wonders, before flashing a nasty look at the camera in the corner and flipping said object off.

"Come on, princess,” he encourages and pats the side of your ass lightly. “Let me hear how pretty you sound."

"Sugu—" you gasp out, feeling the tip of his cock rocking into you. "R-right there right, ah—"

"Yea, you like that?" Daishou groans, pushing into you again feeling your walls clamp around him so tightly. So perfectly. It's addicting and all he can do is thrust in and out, over and over again. Each time seeking out the sounds of your pretty moans when you are completely filled and stuffed with him.

Lewd squelches and the slaps of skin meeting flesh fill the elevator space, along with Daishou’s grunts and your pants. Your hips meet each of Daishou’s thrusts in perfect rhythm, taking his entire length until the base. You can feel each stroke dragging along your walls, the size and length of his cock pushing against your tightness and prodding your cervix.

Neither of you can bother with any other distractions now that bliss is just teetering on the edge. Daishou pulls out and turns you around so you face him. He then scoops you up from under your ass with your legs spread over his forearms and hoists you up against the elevator wall. You feel the stinging cold from the cylindrical edge of the handrail as a dubious support against your heated skin.

"Suguru!" you squeal out, "I'll fall! I'll—"

"I got you, don't worry," Daishou reassures, "You're okay, I won't let you fall."

Once he feels your arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Daishou slides into you again with a loud squelch.

"We're right outside now! Won't be long before we get you two out." A loud voice calls out from beyond the shut elevator doors.

"Smile for the camera, princess," Daishou encourages before picking up the pace, chasing the high that's just around the corner. His thrusts become faster and rougher, hitting your sweet spot deep inside you over and over again making your mind spin. The countless reflected images of Daishou's unrelenting pursuit and speed, and the expression of your fucked out face collide together in a blurry, infinite kaleidoscope.

“Gonna cum! Gonna-”

All thoughts leave your mind with each ragged breath as you near your own edge. You can only cling onto Daishou tightly, nails digging into his shoulder and back. You don't hear the sounds of mechanical whirring outside the elevator. Whatever it is that the people are shouting outside does not matter. The bright lights don't make any sense to you anymore. You don't even remember what Daishou Suguru looks like.

The blank stare from the camera is the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut, face tucked in the crook of Daishou’s neck, and body feeling like putty in his arms. All that's left is the euphoria sparking through and broken syllabylic babbles you struggle to utter out.

With a few final thrusts, Daishou grunts and pulls you completely flush against his hips, finally spilling himself into you. Release after a long day never feels this sweet, Daishou muses as he holds your languid body close. Each deep breath you take only pushes your soft breast against his chest, and Daishou can feel your spasming walls still hugging him. He peppers a few kisses on your sweat covered brow. So good, so fucking good.

The voices and mechanical whirs outside interrupt Daishou’s moment.

That’s right, we’re still in this damn elevator. Daishou carefully pulls out his softened and twitching cock and lowers your wobbly form down from your make-shift seat. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the drool from your face then lightly dab away the trail of mixed fluids seeping out of your puffy cunt. The overly saturated handkerchief does a poor job soaking away the mess the two of you made.

Daishou reaches for the crumpled panties he shoved into the shirt pocket, but decides against letting you wear it. In your current state, your legs are like a newborn deer, barely able to support you let alone try to maneuver into underwear.

"Once we get back to my place, I'll draw us a bath.”

The increasingly loud mechanical clamor and sounds of the elevator workers pull you out of your daze for a moment too. You try to fumble around and haphazardly button your shirt, but the buttons miss their proper buttonhole by one. You pout and look at Daishou who just buckled his belt and tucked in the edges of his crumpled shirt. He looks ready for a client meeting already, if not for the obvious smell of sex clinging into him.

Daishou chuckles at your state and helps you slip into his long coat. He kisses your brow again in apology. "Sorry baby, just bear with it for a moment."

"Hungry."

"Yes, yes. I'll order your favorite too, like I promised."

You nod, pleased with his answer.

Ding.

The doors of the elevator open, to the relief of the elevator workers outside. They were in the process of getting ready to pry the doors open, but it seems like the elevator is back to normal already.

"Sir, Ma'am, we apologize for our tardiness."

Daishou waves a hand. "Not at all, it was fine. My girlfriend," he nods to your hidden form in the coat, "a bit frazzled, that's all."

Daishou's coat is like a bathrobe and hides absolutely everything. Turn up the collar, hide your face in Daishou's neck, and no one can see the mess that you are still underneath the thick layer. If they don't look, they won't know about the cum that's already dripping out and trailing down the curves of your legs into your scuffed heels.

"Is she okay? If there are any problems, we can direct you to-"

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her. Thanks for helping fix the elevator." Not that there was anything wrong with it to begin with.

"We'll be inspecting all the elevators in the building as well. We assure you this will never happen again."

The musty smell of sweat and sex is all that lingers in the elevator, but it'll dissipate soon enough. Maybe there are tiny puddles of your juices on the tiles but the 5 A.M. cleaning workers will wipe it all away. By tomorrow, the elevator and rest of the building will be just the way it always is again. The stainless steel is cold, and the glass panels are pristine. In the early hours of the morning, leather shoes and heels will be strutting around on the marbled floors. Phone calls. Printers. Clients. Meetings. And more overtime.

Daishou smirks to himself, supporting just about your entire weight. His phone rings in his coat pocket. He reaches for the device and answers the call. Those bastards.

"Heh, glad you enjoyed the show you fucker. And tell Kenma, 'that was a dick move he pulled back there.'"

He listens to the response from the other line.

"Yea sure, thanks for hacking the system...uh huh, tell him to cum in your dirty sock-rag then...yea whatever, go eat shit."

Daishou ends the call and shoves the phone into his pocket.

"Su-gu-ru..." you mumble.

"Yes princess?"

"...Pitchbook..."

Daishou presses a light kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

Even all fucked out, you still manage to not forget about corporate responsibilities, some overachieving show-off you are. After getting you cleaned up and warm, he'll finish up any remaining work. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #daishou x reader smut #daishou smut #daishou x reader #tw exhibitionism #tw voyeurism #emi.freshtea #ch daishou #in celebration of cleaning up the main whooowheeewhoo #🍵.daishou

[nelapanela94]

Levi x Fem!Y/N

Levi and Y/N choosing a name for the new member of their family.

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Kids had never been a topic of conversation between Levi and Y/N, and much less were they part of the plans. Now they were both in her room, listening in disbelief to the doctor announcing the big news to the soon to be parents.

"We appreciate your discretion, Doc" Y/N said while putting her shirt on.

"My lips are sealed" He swiped his thumb and index fingers across his lips, pretending to zip and lock his mouth. "Everything seems alright so far. I'll set an appointment within two weeks" Y/N nodded and he finished packing the instruments before taking his leave.

Levi was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed. Y/N chewed her lower lip waiting for him to say something. "You said you'd timed it"

"I'm sorry I miscalculated" she walked towards the black-haired man and stopped in front of him. "Are you angry? It's only seven weeks, we still can..."

"Don't even think about it" We warned opening one eye. The steel gray orb landed on her face. "We're having the brat together Y/N" He reassured. "And I'm not angry, I'm just surprised" He let out a sigh. With both eyes opened, he scanned her face looking for a reaction. She looked at him with her mouth agape as tears of joy were forming in her eyes. Then, the sweetest smile drew on her lips. "You don't know how lucky I am to have you by my side, Levi" She whispered before pressing her lips on his.

Levi and Y/N had kept their relationship a secret for over a year, and only Erwin, Hange, Mike and Moblit knew about it. The ravenette had threatened the energetic Hange with killing the precious titans they used for research if they let it slip off their mouth. However, they let the secret escaped when Moblit was around, and that's how he learned. Fortunately, no one else heard, and Moblit was good at keeping secrets.

Y/N and her boyfriend entered the commander's office.

"Levi, Y/N, what brings you here? Today is your day off"

"There's something you need to know" Levi bluntly said.

"Erwin" the young woman took a deep breath. It was now or never "I'm pregnant" She averted the eyes, biting her inner cheek. Erwin's eyebrows rose at the news. "But it wasn't my fault, it was Levi's" She gabbled and hid behind the ravenette, who was standing next to her.

"Congratulations" A corner of his mouth lifted. Y/N poke her head from behind Levi's shoulder. "Thanks!"

"It also means you'll be out of the field for a while" The commander was happy for them; but concerned at the same time. Y/N was a skillful soldier and a great asset on expeditions. Her absence would be noticeable. Levi, on the other hand, was glad and relieved Y/N wasn't taking part on any upcoming mission, meaning one less concern for him.

As months passed by, Y/N's belly began to stick out, making it impossible to hide her pregnancy any longer and rumors about the father's identity spread among the scouts. "I'll tell you when the baby is born" She'd firmly stated. They tried to guess and even make their bets, but they were not even close. No one would believe that the ever stoic, ill-mannered captain was soon to become a dad.

"Don't mind them" Y/N told Levi once.

"I hate when they insinuate you're a..."

"You and I know the truth, it's all that matters. I can't care less about their comments" she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Now, I want some rice with cheese and strawberry jam on top"

"That sounds disgusting"

"it's not, you gotta try it"

And obviously he'd go downtown to get the damn cheese she liked.

When Levi was hectic with work, Hange and Moblit looked after Y/N. The brunette researcher was too excited and impatient to meet their nephew or niece. Since the future mother didn't want to be a burden, she volunteered to take notes and help with the transcription of the investigation reports, even though Moblit insisted she didn't have to.

The night before the 57th expedition, Y/N and Levi were lying on his bed, his calloused hands caressing her belly. "Please, come back home to me safe and sound" she placed a peck on his lips. "To us" and her hand found his. "I want a boy" she said with a smile. "With your hair, your nose and your eyes"

"The brat will have your looks"

"But..."

"Listen Y/N, I promise I'll come back to you" he kissed the back of her hand. "The doctor said you'll deliver anytime soon. I'll be there for you"

The 57th expedition beyond the walls ended up in an utter mess. Countless lives lost, including Levi's squad. Injured soldiers with missing limbs and on the verge of death. Y/N waited for Levi in the SC headquarters. The doctor had advised her not to travel to Karaness since she could go into labor any moment. When Levi opened the door, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. She would not let go, as if her life depended on it. He cupped her face and passionately kissed her. The expedition didn't even last a day, but it felt like a century.

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Levi was impatiently waiting outside the delivery room, nervously walking back and forth and cussing under his breath. "Take a seat Levi" Hange worriedly said. "Your leg is still healing"

"Shut up, shitty eyes"

In truth, he didn't mind the damn leg.

"Captain Levi" he heard the nurse's voice. "You can come in now"

"Congratulations to you and Y/N!" Hange squealed in excitement. "Take your time, I'll be waiting downstairs."

Levi opened the door and found Y/N sitting on the bed, with her back resting on the headboard and the newborn in her arms. He dragged a chair and took a seat next to the bed, placing a hand on Y/N’s. “Are you ok?”

“I am” She assured. “I’m just exhausted”

“Did you give your mom a hard time, brat?” He said rubbing the baby’s head with his thumb, careful enough to not wake him up.

“Isn’t he cute?”

“Yeah, we did a good job” He proudly said. A smirk showed on his face. “We did have fun” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head.

“I haven’t thought in a name yet”

“Me neither” He sweetly placed a kiss on the side of her head.

“I guess we’ll have the time to come up with a good one” She looked down at the new bundle of joy and smiled. “Daddy and I will protect you at all cost little one” She whispered.

Levi couldn’t keep his eyes off of the new member of their family. The new life they had created, half him, half Y/N; he now had another reason to fight for.

After the battle against the colossus and the armored titans to bring back Eren and Historia, the Survey Corps were left on the brink of dissolution. Dimo Reeves and two of his employees were found death in the middle of Trost. Commander Erwin was to blame for the murders and all the remaining members of the Scout Legion were to ceased their activities and turn in to the Military Police. Erwin had previously made an arrangement to hide Y/N and the baby in a brothel room in Trost. The sole idea made Levi uneasy, but he was aware Y/N was not in the condition to escape along with the rest of the scouts while protecting Eren and Historia.

Nonetheless, her hideout was discovered by the M.P.

A tall man broke into the establishment looking for Y/N; and out of fear, the owner gave her away. The man didn't bother to knock and kicked the door open to her room. The place was dark, the smell of recently blown out candles still lingered in the air. Y/N had managed to take the baby in her arms and hide under the kitchenette counter. Tears were running down her cheeks, and cold sweat bathed her entire body. She was quivering in panic, and covered her mouth with one hand to drown her crying. She was praying to all the known gods for the little one not to start crying anytime soon. Surprisingly, he was staring up at her with a cute toothless smile and bright steel gray eyes.

"Well, well, you can't hide from me for too long" the man laughed as he searched around. "Gotcha!" Y/N jolted and cried harder when she saw the gun aiming at her. "Let's end this nice and smooth"

"Who are you?" She asked between sobs. "Why...?"

"Shhh, I'm afraid I'm not here to answer your questions, young lady"

"Please" She pleaded. "Kill me, but don't hurt my baby"

The man's expression turned into a scowl. "Baby? They never mention anything about a baby" He muttered. The infant's cry filled the room, and the coated man grunted.

"Can I... put him to bed?"

"Make it fast"

She stood up slowly, her knees almost giving in. She walked to the bed rocking the baby, feeling the gun on her back. The cry finally came to a halt. Y/N placed a kiss on the baby's forehead and whispered "I love you" before tucking him between two pillows. Then, she turned around with her hands up. The man put the pistol in the case and was about to take his knife out, when a glinting, flower shaped object hanging around her neck caught his attention. His forehead furrowed and walked towards her with a menacing look on his face. "Where did you get this?" he growled, grabbing the pendant in his hand.

"The baby's father gave it to me" She replied, her eyes shut, waiting for the knife to slice her throat.

"May I know his name?"

"Levi, Captain Levi from the Scout Legion"

"I see" His scowl turned into a smirk. "The midget managed to get himself a pretty lady and make her a child. I guess he did learn something after all"

"Uh?" Y/N snapped her eyes open, confused at his sudden reaction.

"What's the baby's name?"

"We haven't had the time to think about it yet. I just call him baby, and Levi opted for brat"

The mysterious man took his knife out and with the free hand, he grabbed a fist full of her hair. With a swift movement, Y/N long strands of hair fell on the floor. It was too fast she didn't even have the time to shriek. "Change your clothes and grab the little runt." He ordered. "I'm getting you out of here" Y/N nodded in understanding and changed into a big shirt, loose pants and her boots. She then wrapped the baby in an improvised baby carrier she made out of a blanket.

"I'm ready" She gulped and everything went black.

Y/N woke up in a small cabin in the middle of the woods. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. The man with the hat was sitting at a chair across the room, while the baby laid peacefully next to her on the bed. The headache make her wince in pain.

"Sorry, but they had to believe you were dead" He bluntly said as he stood up. He put his coat on and fix his hat before leaving.

"Wait. I have plenty of questions sir. Who are you? What is this place? Why did you save us? What about the necklace..."

"You really are a pain in the ass" He complained. "The necklace was a present for my sister. I had it crafted for her when we were young" He turned around. "Ackerman. Levi Ackerman is his full name. Take good care of the little brat" He continued his way to the exit.

"Wait" She got off the bed and followed him. "Who are you to Levi?"

Without turning around, he replied. "An old acquaintance"

Y/N didn't ask anything else. She stared at the man's back as he walked away. When the man was out of sight, Y/N finally relaxed, letting out all the tension contained in her body. While the baby was still asleep, she did a little house tour. There was not much to see, honestly, but the place was cozy enough. There was food for at least three days in the kitchen, as well as barrels of clean water and firewood. She went back to the bedroom, laid next to the sleeping bundle and caressed his black strands of hair. "It seems you're an Ackerman after all" She chuckled. "Your father..." Her eyes saddened. "I wish I could go and find him, but I'm still recovering and taking you with me would be a high risk." She heavily sighed and closed her eyes. "I do hope he's doing well."

A couple of days later, a heavy knock on the door startled Y/N. She swallowed hard and tucked the baby in the bed "Shhh" She put her index finger on her lips, "I need you to be quiet. Do it for mommy" She said in a whispered, then headed to the kitchen. She grabbed a pan and slowly walked towards the door; her hand landed on the knob as cold drops of sweat traveled down her temples. "Oi! Y/N, it's me. I know you're in there, open up" Without a second thought, she twisted the doorknob and found her Levi standing there, with stains of blood on his face and clothes. Y/N glomped the ravenette.

"Levi!" She squealed; her eyes already glistened. "Oi" He fought to keep his balance and embraced her tightly. "Don't leave me alone again" She sniffed.

"I promise I won't" He muttered. "And can you get rid of that damn pan? It's making me nervous"

"Sorry" She threw it away. "I can't believe you're finally here. Please tell me this is not a dream?"

"This is all real" He pulled apart and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you alright? did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Levi. That tall man with the cool hat was sent to kill me, but he changed his mind when I mentioned your name and hid me in this place instead. Are we even near the city? and how did you find me?"

"He told me where to find you" He pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"Come on in, somebody wants to see you" she took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. Levi sat at the edge of the bed and a small warm smile drew on his face. The giggling baby wrapped his little hand around Levi's index finger. "Y/N" he called her name.

"Huh?"

"Have you thought of a name already?"

"Not really"

"What about Kenny?"

"Kenny? I actually like it" She smiled and rested a hand on Levi's shoulder. "Kenny Ackerman will be, then"

#levi x y/n #levi aot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levixreader #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot #aot fanfiction #aot oneshots #snk levi #snk

[ramp-it-up]

Everyday

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader, Rafael Casal (as Miles Turner) x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 + , RPF. CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE IF YOU READ BELOW THE CUT. Cursing, drinking, allusion to smoking weed, fantasy, truth or dare, role play, SMUT, Graphic Depictions of Sex, oral sex (M/F receiving), a lil bit of bondage, established relationship, fantasy play.

A/N:  I have no idea what is for trade in prison; sex packets are a made up joke. And I’m really into 90’s rap this week. Anywho, this fic is in response to the following request:

Anonymous asked:

Rafa!!!!! Maybe a fluffy smut where he’s role playing Miles for you? 👀

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“Ok, Dare.”

You steeled yourself from the query from Daveed.

“Which fictional character, real or animated, would you like to bone?”

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Real or ANIMATED????”  

You were cracking up laughing and buzzed, feeling good surrounded by your crew of friends who were family.

“Ok, I will answer both.” 

Rafa cleared his throat and settled back on the couch beside you. 

You sat up straight and he watched the curve of your breasts underneath the Oaklandish tee you stole from him that morning.

“Rafael is getting swole! Don’t worry Rafa. She will still come home to your everyday ass.”

“Shut up, Ant. You always got something to say.” You rolled your eyes.  “Everyday with Rafa is amazing.”

You leaned over and kissed Rafa’s lips, which were in a slight frown.  He didn’t like that word, ‘everyday.’

“You good?” You whispered so only you two could hear.

He smiled at you, “No doubt. Answer the man’s question!” Rafa said a little louder, bravado on fleek.

“ANYWAYYY.”  You shook your head at him as you straightened up.  “Max could get it.”

“Max who?” Jasmine was confused.  Then she realized, then leaned over Ant and Rafa to give you a high five.

“Max Who???” Daveed was curious.

“Goofy’s son. Max.”  

Everyone erupted in laughter again. Daveed got up and took the bottle out of your hand. 

“Enough of this.” 

You battled him, jumping up and swatting around D’s head. You won your drink back and sat down.

“As far as ‘real’ fictional characters…” You took a drink. And smiled. All eyes were on you.

“Miles Turner could rearrange my guts.” 

Anthony groaned. Rafa sat up straight. You took another drink . 

“For Real. Ruffnecks kinda do it for me.”

“Gotta who? Gotta have a what?”  Jazzy started rapping. You replied.

“Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck.” 

You two started dancing, rapping and singing with your drinks in your hands.

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

I need it and I want it so I gotta get a ruffneck!

Rafael pulled you down to sit on his lap and Jasmine kept dancing, right in front of Anthony.

Anthony sucked his teeth, but was smiling at Jazzy’s ass. 

“That’s cheating. I mean. That’s just Rafa. I mean, he bones you on the regular.” 

Ant smacked Jasmine on the bottom and took a drink before she plopped down next to him and he put his arm around her.

“You know it!” Rafa and Anthony toasted. 

“But I ain’t Miles.”  

Rafa took another sip of his Abasolo on the rocks.

“And it’s just a fantasy. Right baby.”  

Rafael rubbed your back giving you a look that made you tremble. Rafa felt your warmth on his lap. He grinned into his drink.

“Trueeee!”  

You smiled, trying to keep it light and calm the fuck down. Everyone always made fun of you two smashing in people’s bathrooms.

“You aren’t Miles. I didn’t know you when you were younger....” 

You locked eyes with Rafael, and the green fire there did something to you.  

“I think Rafa is Miles’s wasted potential.”

“Wow. That’s deep,” said Ant from a cloud of smoke.

You and Rafa were locked in an eye embrace as well as a physical one.  When he arched his eyebrow, you had to look away, because you couldn’t take it.  

“Y’all need to use my bathroom?”  More laughter.

You and Rafa both flipped Daveed off. 

“Nah, Diggs.” Rafa stood up with you in his arms.  “We’ll use our own. We out.”  

Your man carried you willingly out of the door.

-----

About two weeks later, you came home with some groceries, you were looking forward to a night in with Rafa.

You’d both been busy and tired lately, only available for maintenance sex. 

Rafa was running around creating all of his creative shit, and you worked in the writers room of a popular series.  Life was hectic.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, hands together on top. 

He was wearing blue scrubs over a white Henley and had his face turned to the side, staring out the window. You noticed that his hair was different.

“Hey, babe. Did you get a haircut? What’s wrong?”

He turned his face toward you and that’s when you noticed two more things. Rafael’s eye was black, and there was a tattoo on his neck.

THAT California tattoo. 

You were very concerned and a little confused. Concern came first in your mind.

“What happened to your eye?”  He gave you a strange look, then he spoke.

“A mutha fucka sneaked me in the yard, that’s what happened!”  

You stood still and had to register what was happening.

Rafa was wearing a grill, and his voice was different, in a lower register  and with a long drawn out, almost southern drawl. 

But it wasn’t southern. It was all Bay.

He stood up and walked toward you, and you noticed that his scrubs had “Prisoner” written in yellow letters down the right leg. 

You suddenly realized what was going on. 

Oh, Shit.

“Baby. You’re a sight for sore eyes.  It’s been a minute.”  

You’d left Rafael in bed this morning.  But it seemed that you came home to Miles.

“Hey,” was all you could say. 

Rafael/Miles gestured for you to come over to the table.  It was then you saw that he was handcuffed. 

A strange feeling came over to you.  He stood up, and you saw that his legs were shackled.  You went close to him and looked at his eye closely.

“Rafa?”

His face was fine, up close, you could tell it was makeup.

“You been to see Galaxy today?”  

You were peering at his neck and the Bay/California tattoo there.

He screwed up his face.

“Who tha fuck is Rafa? And what the hell you talking ‘bout space for?” 

He peered into your eyes, then looked around furtively.

“Babe. Are you high?”

The drawl was a whisper now.

“These muthafuckas’ll kick you out if they think you got drugs on you.”

You smiled at him, pecked him on the lips and replied. 

“No worries. I’m not high.” You sat down at the kitchen table and ‘Miles’ sat across from you. 

“As for Rafa? He’s this guy I know.  Had a nice… conversation with him the other night.”  

You looked into his eyes to see if he would crack.  But your man was a pro.  

He huffed.  “Psshhht.  You MUST be high talking to another dude. What kinda name is Rafa anyway. Sounds like some hipster trash.”  

He peered at you again, anger radiating off of him.

Damn, he was good.

“Tell me what the fuck you mentioning some other muthafucka to my face while I’m locked up in here! Every day.” 

He pounded his bound fists on the table in front of you and made you jump.  It also made you wet as fuck.

He gestured with both hands (because they were handcuffed) to the nice kitchen that you loved to cook in, but that you were now seeing through his performance as a prison visitation room. 

But you were still shook.

“R, R, Rafael is a beautiful artist. He’s a poet. He’s gentle, and kind. And a wonderful lover.” 

Miles glared at you. You stuttered again.

“I-I imagine.”

He gave you a menacing smile and leaned back in the chair, pushing his crotch up in your direction.  Your eyes were drawn there.

“So you imagining fucking another muthafucka and decide to come visit me and tell me about it?”

You got into it.

“Well….I miss you Miles. But it gets hard. Not being able to be with you.”

He leaned forward, bearing his teeth.

“Don’t fucking tell me about it.  Here I am jacking off with leftover chicken grease from the kitchen at night.  Got my dick smelling like a Popeye’s chicken sandwich in this bitch.”

“Ew,” you said, disgusted, then you started giggling at the joke.

Miles pouted and sat back.

“ ‘S not fucking funny!”  He looked out the window again. 

“I shouldn’t even tell you about the surprise.”

You straightened up.  “What is it babe?”

You put your hand on his and he caressed yours with his thumb.  He looked at you, excited and mischievous now.

“I got us a conjugal visit.”

Your mouth dropped open, fully into it now.

“But I thought that was just for married couples, Miles…”

“I know, I know.” He leaned forward and looked around again.  “But I got me a side hustle.”

He shifted his eyes as he scanned the empty room.

“I make sex packets outta the leftover chicken grease from my job in the kitchen. Make a KILLING in oatmeal cream pies, ramen noodles, cigarettes and other tradeable currency.  I made enough to buy us a conjugal visit, girl.”

He leaned back, very satisfied with himself, his hands now on his lap, rubbing his crotch.  

Your eyes were drawn there again and you found yourself irrationally wondering how big his dick was. He had you caught up in this fantasy.

“Let’s go to the trailer and I’ll make you forget all about this Raja guy.” Miles winked at you.

“It’s…”  You saw the look on his face.  “Nevermind. Let’s go.” 

He stood up again, and shuffled his way to the bathroom, you at a safe distance behind him. 

He entered the bedroom and shuffled to the bed, sitting down on the edge. He gestured you to him and you went and stood before him.

He put his nose in your crotch.

“MMMmmmmm. I missed your smell Baby. It’s been too long. He lifted his hands and put them on the insides of your thighs. He pulled back and looked at you, green eyes staring into brown.

“The guards left the key over there. That is, if you wanna get me out of these.” He nodded toward the 

He trailed his hands up to your pelvis, managing to hook one set of fingers into your waistband and still have another at your apex.

He ran his fingers over your jeans right where it counts. This kind of petting felt good and made you want more. 

You let him play for a little while, but then pushed him back to sit and watch you. 

You peeled down your jeans to reveal a white satin thong. Rafael loved white against your coffee brown skin, but tonight, Miles would benefit. You stood there in your button-down shirt, that was really Rafael’s. 

Miles’s hands went to his crotch again as he eagerly watched.

“You seem to be doing pretty well all hemmed up, but let me see.”

You went to the dresser to retrieve the key, and you did, then turned around and put it in your mouth while you slowly unbuttoned the shirt.

Miles leaned back on the bed and opened his legs as far as the shackles would let them go, licking his lips as you disrobed.

You were wearing a white lace bra, your dark nipples and areola straining through the delicate material.  You were very excited at the entire scenario. 

The fact that Rafa was doing this for you because he remembered what you said on a drunken night weeks ago was the shit.

You dropped to the ground and crawled over to Miles’s feet jutting your ass up in the air as you unlocked the shackles.

You massaged his ankles and trailed your hands up his legs to his crotch, where you rubbed the hardness there.

“It’s been so long that you’ve been locked up, Miles.”

You raised up on your knees, loving the feeling of his eyes sweeping over you.

“I’m gonna give you the world’s best blowjob.”

Miles smiled at you.

“Aw, baby. That’s so cute.”

“I’ll show you cute.”

You were about to give your own performance.

------

Five minutes later, you were gargling his cock, relaxing your throat and taking him as deep as you could, nose nestled at his base, and gently pulling and kneading his balls.

Someone moaned, and you didn’t know if it was Rafa or Miles.  He bucked his hips up into your mouth while resting his cuffed hands in your hair.

“As much as I would love to … fuck baby… cum down your throat.. I need that… damn where’d you learn to do that?!... I need that pussy.  Unlock the cuffs, baby.”

His cuffed hands were in your hair, alternating between massaging your scalp and pulling your hair the way you loved it. 

The way Rafael invented. 

You smiled around his cock with the knowledge that what you were doing was making him slip out of character.

You pulled your head upward, mouth open, allowing the saliva to trickle out with his dick. 

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe how nasty you were being. He was mesmerized. You looked a mess, eye makeup running, lipstick smudged, spit all over your face. 

Your dream man loved it.

“Am I ‘cute’ now?”

“Fuck no. You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You smiled and quickly reached behind you and unclasped your bra, taking your breasts in your hands and pushed them up around his dick.

“See, if you unlock these cuffs, I’ll handle things the way they need to be handled.”

You just smiled up at him while you manipulated your breasts around him, knowing that he could not control his hips fucking into your cleavage.

“I got it under control.” You stuck your tongue out to tease his tip as it neared your face, lubricating it with your saliva.

“Fuck, baby.  I wanna fuck you so bad. It’s been so long…”

This entire scene was just about the hottest thing ever. You were breathless, dripping, and quivering with anticipation. But you didn’t want it to end so soon.

“How long ‘xactly?”

“Shit, 5 months of being here and jacking off to memories of you everyday.  I need to see that ass and fuck that pussy, babyyyy. Please.”

Those eyes.

Those words. 

The acting. 

Miles. 

You had to relent.

You reached for the key where you dropped it on the floor and unlocked the cuffs.

“Fucking finally!”  Miles rubbed his wrists as he stood up, stripped his shirts off and his pants the rest of the way.

“On the bed, let me see that ass up.” 

He smacked it about three times each and then rubbed it as you did as you were told. 

Miles trailed his hand from your ass up your spine to your shoulder and then pushed your head down further into the bed.

“That’s a girl.” Your back had that perfect arch.

He got behind you and swiped his hardness up and down your slit, teasing you with the head of his dick.

He grabbed your hand and brought behind your back, and very swiftly the other, and before you knew it, your hands were cuffed behind you, head in the bed and Miles was entering you swiftly.

“Fuuuuck! How does it feel?”

You couldn’t speak. The thrill of Miles’ dick inside you and being cuffed had you ready to cum already.

His stroke game was on point, as if he was fucking you to a brand new rhythm- Allegro. 

Strangely, it was different than Rafa had ever been.

That was blowing your mind.

Miles tugged on the metal restraints and the slight pain in your shoulders and wrists, combined with the thrill of this roleplay, made you release, all over him and the bed.

“Shit girl, you really are glad to see me.” That drawl got you ready to peak again.

“Oh fuck yeah, Miles, oh shit, oh shit.” Your pussy was clamping down on him at the thought of Miles Turner having his way with you.

“Shit, I’m cumming with you, hold up.”  

Rafa tried to slow down, but you did that thing with your pussy and he couldn’t help it.  His hips drove his dick inside you until it pulsed and started to flow, and then he pulled out.

“Turn over baby.”

You leisurely moved to turn over, and he motioned you down to the end of the bed, moving the pillow where he wanted your head.

“I need in between those legs, baby.  I need to see you, I need to surround me with you.”

You positioned yourself at the end of the bed, your braids hanging over the edge.

Miles gave you a forehead kiss as he got between your thighs, and pumped himself a couple of times as he aligned with you.  

He leaned down and pulled at your nipple with his mouth, moaning when you moaned, moving his eyes appreciatively down your body and keeping his eyes where you were about to join.

The look on his face when he entered you was very hot, and you found your pussy squeezing his cock in appreciation. It seemed magically somehow bigger, and all of your senses were alive as he started moving.

“That’s my beautiful baby. You’re so fucking tight. Don’t push me out, let me have the glorious pussy. Damn girl, this pussy, those thighs, your curves, these tits. What did a man like me do to deserve you. You’re such a fucking sweet princess for me…”

You were astounded. Missionary was far from your favorite position because you seldom came that way, but the way Miles was whispering praise in your ear and the total fantasy was getting you there. 

Quickly.

He watched your face and adjusted his pace in response to your cries, and that knowledge made you start to come. When your eyes rolled back in your head, that’s when he knew.

He pulled your hair back and sucked the shit out of your neck as you came, and he released inside you.  You wrapped your legs around him and held him as he shivered with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Your lover rolled off of you and you snuggled into his arm. He lay there and held you as you tried to process.

“That was… wow.” You weren’t sure who to address, Rafa or Miles. Irrationally you felt you were in love with both.

He just chuckled at you, and gave you another forehead kiss.

“I’m going to enjoy a shower.  Goodbye for a while, baby.”

You grinned. “Bye Miles.”

He pecked you on the lips and you watched him go into the bathroom.

You rolled over on your back and tried to organize your thoughts. How would you write this?

Thoughts of writing this scene chased you into sleep.

---

You woke up to Rafael, grill and tattoos gone, freshly out of the shower and in a towel, gently trying to pull you from sleep.

“C’mon.”  

You let him get you up and into the bathroom to a hot bath.  You let him tenderly clean you up and then get you out of the tub and dry you off. You were more tired than you thought.

“You hungry?” You walked into the kitchen in a towel behind him.

Rafa had put the groceries up and was holding up takeout menus. He was truly magical. You smiled, nodded and told him what you wanted.

45 minutes later, you were in his softest Oaklandish tee and you were curled up on the couch in the living room together, food containers spead out on the coffee table.

You felt totally in sync with this amazing man.

“I loved tonight.”

He smiled softly back at you.

“Had to give you your fantasy since you help me live mine. Every day.” 

He leaned over and kissed you.  He looked you intensely in the eyes. Those green pools had you trapped.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rafael.”

Your fantasy had been Miles, but your reality was Rafael. 

And that was fantastic. 

Everyday.

-------

Tags:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @delaber @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @janthonystan-blog @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes  @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @einfachniemand @einfachniemand

#rafael casal #rafael casal x reader #bay boys #jasmine cephas jones #jasmine x anthony #rafael casal angst #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #rafael casal fluff #rafa imagine #rafael santiago casal #rafael casal smut #blindspotting starz #Blindspotting #miles turner #Daveed Diggs

[hogwartstoalexandria]

Derek

1283w | General Audiences | Hotchgan: Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan

Additional Tags:

Established Relationship, Episode Related, Episode: s11e16 Derek, Angst, Breaking down, Proposals

Summary:

It's hard to pin down what exactly triggers him, why Aaron can't seem to walk into hospitals without collapsing around their nurses stations, but he does. It's safe here, where the fate of the man he loves is no longer in his hands, where waiting is all he can do. That, and shake with a relief that tears at all of his carefully stitched seams.

Read here on AO3, or under the read more.

It's hard to know what exactly triggers him, why Aaron can't seem to walk into hospitals without collapsing around their nurses stations. He doesn't fall as much as he stumbles, his legs giving out from under him and as much as he sees the nurses rush to him, he shakes his head, and shakes and shakes until a familiar hand curls around the back of his arm, gentle, yet firm. Dave's, Aaron realizes when the other man's face gets into his blurry field of vision. 

Dave doesn't force him to his feet, he doesn't even talk for all that Aaron can make out, he just rubs his hands up and down Aaron's arms and kneels with him. Aaron gasps for air, crimson pain in his lungs as he blinks back tears. He won't let them fall. He won't put on even more of a show. 

It's only when a man in scrubs makes his way to the lobby and Dave looks up and Aaron can hear the others behind him get up from uncomfortable plastic chairs that Aaron focuses his breathing enough to hear— "He's out of the woods." He keeps talking a while longer, his eyes warm with a relief Aaron can almost taste, together with the so particular smells of the sanitized hallways and misery of the world, his own. 

Dave's hands around his elbows tighten, Aaron looks back at him. "One visitor," Dave tells him, "You go, Aaron." 

Aaron is stunned. He remembers now. Remembers carrying Derek out of that house on a stretcher with steel both molten and ice-hard slipping into his veins. Days of trying to find him, turning over every stone he could, losing himself as he'd lost him. He remembers the thought that finally pushed him over, the same one that had been nagging at the frayed edges of his self-control the entire time. He couldn't fall apart when Derek needed him. He couldn't kneel under the weight of it when somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a team of six were hurting the man he loved on contract-sanctioned sadism. 

He couldn't remember their last kiss. 

The thought had gnawed at him, louder and louder the more dead ends they got stuck in, head in the door and bodies too square for the round openings. It had been a whisper, it had been a scream, and now it's stolen Aaron's balance. He can't remember their last kiss. Was it before work that day? In the car as they separated, Aaron going back to the office for a bit and Derek hitting the store in preparation for their night back home? Was it in the hotel lobby or was it all the way back in bed before they even got the call? 

He wheezes as Dave finally pulls him to his feet. 

"Come on, I'll get you to the door." 

Aaron doesn't have the strength to pretend he doesn't need it. He doesn't have it in him to even look at the rest of the team. He never loses it like this in front of anyone but Derek, it's a luxury, vulnerability, and he doesn't have it. Not in front of these people who count on him to be the cool head in the storm, to be a rock nothing can crack when the world crashes and burns. 

They get to the door of the room Derek is now resting in, and Aaron doesn't know if he can get in, until Dave repeats the words the doctor said but Aaron didn't hear— "He's awake, lost, in pain," and adds, "He needs you just as much as you need him, Aaron." 

He tries, so hard, to pull this monster of fear and helplessness back in, where it's invisible, where it cannot get its claws back into his flesh under the eyes of his friends and the very walls of this terrible place. When he gets inside though, he knows it was no use. Even if his eyes weren't so bloodshot they feel puffy, even if his lips weren't so swollen he can feel them catch the cold hair, making him shiver, even if Derek was under even more drugs, he would still see this. He always sees.

"Come here," Derek asks and Aaron can hear the sob in his voice and that's almost enough to start it all over again. 

He doesn't even consider the chair next to the bed, instead he falls at Derek's side, heavy and just narrowly missing the IV drips and wires. His hands fall to his lap for all of two seconds before they find Derek's face and Aaron presses their foreheads together. His eyes close with new tears. Keeping his touch gentle is the hardest part— that, and seeing Derek here at all. His rock, his unshakable ground, lying in a bed of bravery, proving he bested the six assholes of the apocalypse. Aaron cries and Derek doesn't shush him, he cries with him. 

There are whispered apologies and harsh, shocked rebuttals on both sides. Aaron pleads for forgiveness; he should have been with him, they should have gone to the store together, he shouldn't have left Derek alone, he should have found him faster. Derek's hands tighten on his hip and in his hair and he growls a no that is so much louder than their voices have been so far, louder than the terrible yet beautiful beep of the heart monitor Aaron didn't know he was holding onto until Derek's reaction cut through its music. He kisses him, split lips against bitten ones, brushing wet from tears more than saliva, painful in more ways than one and yet alive. So very alive. 

"Marry me." 

Aaron doesn't understand the words until Derek's hand in his hair slides to massage his neck, until he moves to kiss his cheek and his neck and lets him go when Aaron straightens up just enough to not go cross-eyed as he stares at him. 

"Please, baby," Derek repeats, "Will you marry me?" 

They've never even talked about marriage. It was like all the other ways other people used to tell their partners they loved them when they just knew, when words had never been necessary and yet Aaron doesn't even take another breath before he's answered. 

"Yes," it comes out in the next exhale, and again as his sobs come back, terrible wrecks, tears in all of him, limbs and skin and psyche. "Yes, yes, yes." 

They kiss again, Derek hissing when Aaron's arm brushes over the burn on his chest, yet pulling him closer anyway, despite Aaron's protests, glaring at him when he tries to pull his weight off the wound. They kiss, and Aaron commits each press, each slide, each suck to memory. He tastes Derek's lips and he licks into his mouth, he traces his teeth and he screws his eyes shut. He'll never forget another kiss. 

"I love you," he whispers, raw, exhausted, and yet back to terra firma, because he's back where he belongs, because Derek's touch and warmth and gaze surround him once again. He repeats it, over and over, until He can feel Derek's energy winding down, the pain and the drugs pulling him slowly back under. He feels the drowsiness weigh Derek's arms down, until Aaron either needs to move away or commit and lie down next to him, the circle of their embrace undisturbed. He has no intention of moving away. 

For the first time in days, Aaron closes his eyes and actually sleeps. It's a dreamless night, he drifts, he breathes, and more importantly, the movements of Derek's chest against his side carry him through the night. He's got him back. He's got him. 

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #mortch #hotchgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #criminal minds #criminal minds 11x16 #breaking down #hospitals #establish relationship #marriage proposal #lots of pain lots of relief that's how we roll #marie writes #marie posts

[d-andilion]

remember me?

febuwhump day 12: “who are you?”

(geraskier, modern au, established relationship, amnesia, 1.1k, ao3 link in notes)

Geralt tries to read Jaskier’s lips through the sliding glass door of his room, but his efforts produce little in the way of useful information. Par for the course at this point. No one has given him a scrap of useful anything since he woke up. Especially Jaskier.

He’s been in this bloody hospital room for two days and every time he looks up, there’s Jaskier talking to doctors and nurses and fluffing pillows and asking if he needs anything. Which would be completely fine, touching even. If Geralt had the faintest idea who Jaskier was.

The doctor says Geralt has temporary amnesia brought on by the trauma to his brain. Or, they hope it’s temporary. Apparently, he was in an accident with his bike. No one else was hurt, thank the Gods, but he woke up two days ago with a killer headache, a half-shaved head, and no memory of the last six years. 

The first thing Geralt saw was Jaskier, curled up in an uncomfortable-looking chair trying to nap. He looked like shit, but when he noticed Geralt was awake, he brightened like the sun. And when he realized Geralt had no idea who he was, he all but ran from the room. 

Jaskier is his friend. That’s all anyone will tell him. Two days Geralt had been here and Jaskier hadn’t gone home once, not to eat or shower or sleep in a real bed. The doctors always waited until Jaskier was in the room before they explained anything. Even Vesemir was acting strangely, calling Jaskier out into the hall to talk where Geralt couldn’t hear them.

Geralt watches them wrap up whatever top-secret conversation they’re having and Vesemir claps Jaskier on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall. Jaskier stands there by himself for a few moments taking noticeably deep breaths before he slides the glass door open and returns to the room. 

Something is going on. Geralt doesn’t know what but he knows that he isn’t being told the truth, at least not all of it. Everyone is walking on eggshells trying to keep something from him and it's driving him mad. It ends right fucking here.

“Who are you?”

Jaskier freezes in his tracks and stares wide-eyed at Geralt. “I’m Jaskier,” he says.

“Not that,” Geralt snaps, “who are you to me? And don’t say you're my friend.”

“I am your friend.” Jaskier wraps his arms around himself like a shield and Geralt sees his hands trembling. 

Geralt steels himself. This isn’t going to be fun for either of them, but he’s tired of being lied to. “My friends went home two days ago. My own brothers are at home right now, but not you.”

Jaskier tries a weak smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “It’s late, why don’t we talk tomorrow after you’ve had some–”

“No!” Geralt shouts. Jaskier jumps at his outburst but he doesn’t care. “You’re always here, every day, and everyone keeps looking at you and asking you if you’re alright and it doesn’t make any fucking sense! All anyone says when I ask is ‘he’s your friend’ and I’m sick of the bullshit, so tell me right now–who the fuck are you?!”

“I’m your fiance!” Jaskier exclaims, tears welling in his eyes.

Geralt blanches. His what? “What?”

Jaskier takes a deep, ragged breath and pulls his phone from his pocket. He unlocks it and hands it to Geralt and… it’s them. Between the apps and way too many notification bubbles, he sees their faces smiling back at him. Well, Jaskier is smiling, wide enough to make his eyes crinkle at the corners. Geralt is too busy kissing the side of his face to smile. 

Geralt stares at the screen with his mouth hanging open and Jaskier takes a seat by the bed.

“We met three years ago,” he says. “I was playing an open mic at this absolute shithole of a bar and you didn’t even look at me. And I’m an egotistical bastard so I walked right up and demanded a review and you bought me a drink. Never got the review.”

Geralt hears fondness in his voice, but he doesn’t look up, eyes fixed on the photo. He lets his thumb hover over their faces, wishing he could touch the captured moment. They look so happy.

“We haven’t set a date yet. You want it in the summer but everyone gets married in the summer, so I say autumn.” Jaskier huffs a little laugh and goes on. “Eskel keeps joking that we’ll spend the rest of our lives bickering over it and never actually get married.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Geralt asks, finally meeting Jaskier’s gaze. He hasn’t shed any tears but his eyes are still a bit too shiny.

“You woke up missing six years of your life.” The little grin Jaskier donned as he recounted their memories slips. “The doctors said to take things slow and we agreed that springing a fiance on you was the opposite of slow.”

Geralt feels a wave of guilt settle across him. He was so irritated, almost angry, with Jaskier just for taking care of him. Of course, Jaskier would be here at his bedside all hours of the day. And it must have been a nightmare to have to watch someone he loved look right through him as if they’d never met.

Jaskier loves him. That’s the most un-fucking-believable bit of all. That Geralt met someone so amazing, someone who didn’t mind his baggage and emotional constipation, someone who would sit through the hell that must have been the last two days and not falter once, someone who agreed to spend forever with him.

“Where’s your ring?” Geralt asks dumbly, at a loss for anything else.

Jaskier scoffs at that. “You mean your ring? As if you’d have the nerve to propose first. I have it here.” 

Geralt expects Jaskier to reach for his pocket, but instead, he goes for his own hand. He pulls a silver band from his right ring finger and holds it out for Geralt to take. It’s simple, just plain silver, or maybe platinum. Just his style.

“Look, Jaskier begins, drawing Geralt’s attention from the ring. “I know you don’t know me but I… you mean a lot to me. Everything, really. And I’ll be here to help you with all of this. Anything you need. If you want me too, of course.”

Geralt reaches out for Jaskier’s hands where they’re clasped on the edge of the bed before he can think about it. Just before he touches them, he hesitates, unsure. Jaskier waits patiently for Geralt to gather himself, laying one of his hands out for him, an open invitation. Geralt takes it.

“That sounds good to me.”

~

more from febuwhump

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday12 #my fic #mine #gj fic #geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt #jaskier

[nonagesimus]

happy birthday! are you still taking prompts? something sam and cas discussing the whole casifer thing maybe?

if you wanted something more like. productive and healthy, I am sorry. again this is roughly part of touch verse (but all you need to know is that they're in an established relationship).

tw for references to sexual assault (Toni Bevell) and slight unreality in the aftermath of the incarceration in 12x09

(AO3 Link)

-

The basement door had shut, the sound echoing around the walls, and Sam had been left with his family -  Dean, and Cas, and the not-ghost of his mother, which – all of it was a story someone was going to need to tell at some point soon. But with just them, the British Men of Letters gone, he could slouch. Sag down. Not worry so much about letting the last couple of days show.

Cas said, “Sam,” soft and sad. “Let me heal you.” Then he stepped towards him, one hand reaching out and- and-

He’d been keeping his distance. They’d both been keeping their distance, or at least it had seemed like they had been. Maybe it hadn’t been enough time to tell, between Cas being Cas again and the ambush in the bunker. Because Cas was Cas again, Sam knew that, had known that, had held onto that like a lifeline and-

Cas reached out to heal him and he flinched. Froze. Sucked in a breath and held it because otherwise he was going to hyperventilate. Cas’ hand paused too, kept moving only when Sam nodded to him. A rush of grace healing him, then Cas stepped back, and Sam slowly let the breath out. Pushed himself upright, and Cas withdrew further, going to Dean. Sam flexed his newly whole foot against the floor and didn’t look at them.

There was a conversation happening. Mary - Mom? He didn’t know what to call her - was watching him like a hawk.

He needed to be outside. Out of this basement. The Brits had to be gone by now. He could hope they were gone. Mind made up, he strode to the steps - maybe Dean said his name, but his ears were ringing a little - and then up and out.

Daylight washed over him. Something in him relaxed, at the feel of sun on his skin again. It felt real. Real real, not the daydream of a bed, somehow both cloying and ephemeral. This was just the sun, warm on his skin, a reminder that the world was still there. He shut his eyes, breathed deep, listened to boots clomping up the steps behind him.

He already knew it was Dean, but hearing his voice say, “Sam,” before his hand clapped onto Sam’s shoulder still helped. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, opening his eyes again. Mary was with Dean, and Cas was behind them, eyes searching.

“I’ll meet you there,” he said, nodding towards them, and he walked away first.

Dean, thankfully, kept going like nothing was awkward. Jerked his head towards the road. “Car’s this way. You good on bare feet or you want me to go get it?”

If Dean went for the car, Mom would probably stay with him. Sam couldn’t tell if he desperately wanted that or wanted to shy away, so he said, “I’m good to walk.” It would be good to move, anyway.

Dean kept up the chatter all the way to the Impala. Part clear relief, part recognising Sam wasn’t up to talking yet, and the silence needed to be filled.

“We’re about six hours out from the bunker,” he said, as they finally approached. “So, you’ve got time to catch a nap if you want to stretch out in the back. Unless you want the passenger side?”

Sam shook his head. “I’ll take the back.”

He did fall asleep there, listening to Dean and Mom talk in the front, an odd parody of his childhood. Like he’d slipped somehow slightly to the left, some world just adjacent to the one he’d grown up in. Shuddered awake as the car pulled into the bunker garage, took a moment to reassess. Still Dean driving, Mary in the passenger seat. Body still whole, after being healed. Feet still bare, clothes still crusted with sweat and blood. He sat up carefully, rubbed a hand over his face to clear away some of the grogginess.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, you’re up,” Dean said. “Did they feed you in there? I can make you some food.”

They hadn’t, but Sam’s stomach rolled at the idea of eating. “I think I want to shower first,” he said.

“Yeah, dude, you reek,” Dean said. “Go clean up, I’ll get started on food.”

He hadn’t been planning on going back out but showered, in clean clothes, he thought Dean and Mary deserved that. Proof of life. Put on a good show, eat something, take part in the conversation. Something about the way Mom kept glancing between them twinged something - he thought about when he’d come back. Before he’d remembered, a year and half of blank space, Dean and Bobby both watching him with a weight he couldn’t parse.

It was something to focus on, and he took her Dad’s journal, and tried to say the right thing, and when she hugged him he almost broke.

So when he got back to his room and Cas was there, he was already fractured.

It wasn’t an intimate tableau. Cas was just standing by his dresser, the door to the room open, waiting. He swallowed hard, shook off the arrested momentum, finished walking inside.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Sam,” Cas said. Grave, and soft, and concerned. His hands twitched like he wanted to reach out. Sam looked away, felt tension fill his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

The least Sam owed him was honesty. “No,” he said, “but I don’t think that’s anything you could help with. Right now.”

Cas’ face only got graver, and Sam hadn’t really meant it like that. That it was Cas in particular that couldn’t help, but he couldn’t quite grasp the words to explain.

“I understand,” Cas said. “If that changes…”

“I’ll let you know,” Sam said, not sure how he’d be able to tell. “It’s not- you’re not- I’ll be fine, this was just-“ He shook his head. Just physical, but it hadn’t been. Not Cas, but it was. He didn’t even have thought, he was down to sentence fragments and a hollowed out feeling in his chest.

“I want to help,” Cas said.

“You-“ said Sam, “He-“ and he didn’t have to specify who he was talking about.

Cas looked wrecked. Looked ashamed, and part of Sam thought, good, and part of him wanted to bury his face in Cas’ chest and never let go, and all of him felt wrong.

He took a deep breath.

“When she started,” he said, “When she had me in that basement.”

Cas said, “Sam,” and Sam help up a hand to stop him.

“I told her. I told her I’d been tortured by the Devil himself,” his voice was more even that he expected it to be. “So, what did she think she could do to me?”

Cas’ hands twitched again. He didn’t reach out. Sam couldn’t tell if he was grateful or not.

“And I was right, y’know?” He shook his head. “She couldn’t do to me in two days what he could in two minutes. And what he could do with your face.” It looked like Cas was going to speak again so he shook his head again, cutting him off. “And I get it, Cas, I do, I know why you said yes. I just-“ His voice cracked finally. Throat clicked shut.

“I understand,” Cas said. “I- if you want space?”

Sam nodded, guilty at the helpless look on Cas, face. “I think space would be a good idea.”

Then Cas was gone too, and he was alone.

It hadn’t been a lie. Not really. Lucifer - the name tasted like stomach acid even when he was just thinking it - could take him to pieces far more efficiently than Toni Bevell could. And Sam couldn’t stop seeing it, the tilt of his head, the line of his jaw, the curve of his smile on Cas’ mouth when he’d reached into Sam’s chest, ready to close that fist and detonate. It was there all the time in the corner of his vision but-

But.

The door to his room shut behind Cas and even as he breathed a sigh of relief, her voice whispered, Was it good for you? into his ear.

His skin crawled. He felt dirty but he’d already showered, and the comfort would be nice but he couldn’t take another body in his bed.

—

Sam broke through the trees, saw Cas, and didn’t think before he went crashing into him. It had- they hadn’t- It had still been tense. Before Dean and he had gotten arrested. Sam had still been holding his distance, a little, Cas hadn’t been staying in his room like he used to, it had been…

There had been an equilibrium, if one that pleased neither of them.

But that was before the- the time. Sam couldn’t put a word to how much. The cell door had shut behind him and he’d taken in the concrete walls, the buzzing fluorescent lights, the quiet and- He didn’t need to count days. Days would pass with him or without him. He’d eaten when they gave him food, and shut his eyes when he wanted to sleep, and done push ups when he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

Tried to remember some of his college classes to pass the time. Twelve years ago, give or take a couple hundred. He didn’t remember much.

But they were out, and then in a forest that felt hyper-real, where the sky felt too far away, where Sam’s focus had to narrow down on getting out. Blood in his veins, breath in his lungs, cold steel in his hands. Cas appearing out of the trees like a dream.

Not a dream, Sam went crashing into him and he was solid, and warm, and holding Sam as tight as Sam was holding him.

A breath caught in his lungs. He somehow found strength to hold even tighter. Saw Mom over Cas’ shoulder. Hugged her too.

(It was bittersweet, it was probably going to be the last time, he didn’t want to explain it, Dean thought it was going to be him but Sam wasn’t letting him do that, it was going to be Sam, it was, it was, until it wasn’t, until Mom, until Cas’ blade plunged through Billie’s chest, and the broken deal felt bitter but Sam-

Sam was alive.)

The bunker was a relief and a cage. Familiar, and closed in, and concrete walls again. The buzz of the lights.

It didn’t smell like the cell had. Sam breathed in.

Cas was following him again. Trailing where Sam went, watching him like he was going to be tested on it. Like he didn’t know what to say. Neither did Sam.

He tried to ignore it. Showered, got into his own clothes again. Found Cas in his room, sitting on the chair beside his desk. It wasn’t unexpected. Something about it felt almost dreamlike. The forest, after the cell, that had been a shock to the senses. Too much, too different. The bunker, that was familiar. Even if he hadn’t been there in- in some amount of days. Definitely weeks. Maybe months. His mind shied away from the idea of asking. It wasn’t a dream though, he reminded himself.

“Sam?” He’d maybe been standing in the doorway too long. Cas looked concerned. “Should I go?”

He shook himself. “You don’t have to.” Moved further in to sit down on his bed. “Did you want to talk?”

Not the right thing to say - he saw Cas’ expression dim. “Yes, I- I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find you.”

“How could you?” Sam said, attempting a smile. “You were the one who hid us from angels in the first place.”

“I’m still sorry,” Cas said. “You were alone.”

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve been,” Sam said, which was true even if neither of them wanted it to be.

There was still something urgent in Cas’ eyes, so Sam lightly patted the bed next to him. Cas shifted to the bed. Sam felt the mattress shift underneath him.

A voice in his head whispered, was it good for you? and he tried to push it away.

Took Cas’ hand in one of his, but didn’t touch him otherwise. Didn’t look at him. He heard Cas let out a long exhale at the contact. Dry skin to dry skin, the one thing that didn’t feel like a dream.

“I let you down again,” Cas said, quietly, and Sam shut his eyes.

He wanted to say which time? He wanted to tell him it didn’t matter. Wanted to turn and pull Cas into his chest and hold him. He couldn’t quite get himself to move.

Cas said, “Sam?” again, and Sam realised he was gripping Cas’ hand so hard he could feel the bones grinding.

He let go. Folded his hands in his lap. “Sorry.”

Cas touched his arm. “You need rest.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t say anything. With his eyes shut the lights buzzing sounded like the cell.

“Why did you kill Billie?” he asked.

“Because I’m not losing you,” Cas said. “And I’m not losing Dean, and I’m not letting you lose your mother. None of you deserve that.”

“Yes we do,” Sam said. “All of us have cheated death. We need to stop at some point. I don’t- I don’t want anyone else to die for me.”

Cas’ fingers brushed his face and he flinched. Opened his eyes. Cas had frozen, hand still raised. The tips of his fingers were wet. Sam realised he was crying.

“I couldn’t let you,” Cas said. “I- After Lucifer, we never…” He shook his head. “You were gone, and I couldn’t find you. I wasn’t going to lose you again right after I found you. I didn’t want you to go through any more pain.”

“I know I should say thank you,” Sam said.

“You don’t have to,” Cas said. “I know you don’t want to.”

“I miss you, Cas,” he said. “I miss you all the time. I want us to work through this, I do, just-“ He broke off. The buzz of the lights was giving him a headache.

“Sam,” Cas said. “Sam, I would do anything-”

“Yeah,” Sam said, wetly. “Yeah, I know.”

That was always the problem. Someone who would do anything. Anything smelt like Dean’s blood soaking into carpet, felt like hellfire, felt like grace crackling through his hands. Sam didn’t want anything.

“I’m gonna get some coffee,” he said, after a valiant attempt at composing himself.

“Sam, you should sleep,” Cas said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m gonna get some coffee.”

#supernatural #sastiel #sastiel fic #samcas #samcas fic #sam winchester #castiel #my fic #birthday prompts