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chloegong · 3 years

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that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic

i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of

the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz

a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)

Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books

Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)

Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.

He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Five hours earlier...

Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.

“Where’s Marshall?”

Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.

“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”

Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”

With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.

“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.

Then his door opened.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.

“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”

Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”

“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.

“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”

“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”

Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.

Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.

That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.

The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?

“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”

Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.

“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”

Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”

Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”

With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.

The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.

Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.

“Is there anything left in that?”

Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”

Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.

Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.

Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”

“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.

“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”

But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Mars—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”

Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.

Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.

“Pst.”

Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”

“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”

“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.

“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”

“Only when they sneak up on me.”

“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”

“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”

Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.

“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”

“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”

The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.

“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”

But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”

Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.

“There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”

Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”

With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.

“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.

“Yes?”

She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”

Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.

Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.

“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”

Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”

Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“The answer was Juliette!”

Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.

Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”

Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.

“What happened?” he bellowed.

“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.

Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.

“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”

Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.

“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.

“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”

Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.

“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”

FIN.

#these violent delights #romajuliette #benediktmarshall #how am i out here using my own book tags this feels weird FKJDHSDKJFH #should i tag my own name too #chloe gong #now i've gone and done it #bookblr #yabooks

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casuallyimagining · 3 years

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Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae, @hoebii and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

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“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick’s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.” As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 3 years

Text

outsider pov deancas, 2.4k, based after the good finale. for @bloodsigilsandpie <3

"it's happening."

natasha returns to the kitchen, her otherwise suppressed glee betrayed by the glint in her eyes as she declares to the entire room. "they're on a date."

chloe's the first to react, or rather, the spoons in her hand that promptly drop back into the foam are. "no way."

"way." farah rushes close to natasha, gushing. "did they tell you?"

natasha sniffs, depositing the plates in the sink with her back turned to her eager audience.

"do you think they told me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, turning around and leaning back against the counter.

"of course they didn't tell me. but i," she smirks. "i could tell."

"oh, you could tell." hutch repeats mockingly, and a few others snicker. "nat, we're talking about the trenchcoat dude who never smiles, and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy. no one has ever been able to tell anything with those two. and they don't look anything more than unlikely work friends to me either."

"unlikely work friends don't look at each other like that!" farah chastises immediately.

"fine. unlikely work friends with repressed homosexual urges from the 80's."

"hutch, if you're going to insult my date-dar, do it to my face!" natasha scowls, earning herself another eyeroll and a defensive palms-up gesture from the skeptic sous-chef.

"he literally just did." chloe mutters, ever the devil's advocate, before farah interrupts. she'd always been their resident 'trenchcoat dude who never smiles and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy' shipper. there tend to be one of those for all such couples the waitstaff discusses on the regular, really.

"so, how can you tell? what's different?"

"well for one," natasha grins. "trenchcoat dude's not wearing his trenchcoat."

a commotion of gasps come up from arguably most stations of the kitchen — even those who weren't a part of the discussion before.

"is it on the back of his chair? did car-guy help him take it off?" farah instantly pipes up, her eyes wide and hopeful. (hutch and her are the newest waiters, natasha remembers with a midge of distaste. sometimes it's too obvious.)

"no. it's nowhere in sight." she admits, eyebrows raised.

"maybe it ripped." that's hutch.

"maybe he finally realized that thing was doing nothing for him." dallas. everybody knows he's got a thing for trench coat dude though, so nobody bats an eye.

"maybe car-guy told him." chloe shrugs.

"hey, maybe somebody else did." hutch again.

"that's not the point." natasha butts in. "car-guy's better dressed too. i don't know much about old people fashion — chloe, if you don't stop looking at me like that — but i think ascots are supposed to be fancy."

"he wore a what —" several voices echo, and just then, freya enters the kitchen, beaming. (second year at the diner, loads of tattoos, and has a lovely girlfriend at the domino's across the street. natasha likes her.)

"you guys'll never guess what happened."

hutch and dallas sigh in unison, and farah giggles a little. "you won't guess what happened here either!"

"me first. trenchcoat dude and car-guy are on a date."

chloe snorts, picking up two prepared plates of food from one of the side chef's stations, and setting off out the door freya just entered from. important to find a job-gossip balance and all that.

natasha turns to the new informant. "what did you see?"

"car-guy asked trenchcoat what he wanted for dessert." freya beams.

"this just in, men can learn manners." hutch inputs before exiting with his own tray.

"car-guy might always order the pie but it looks mutual!" farah points out indignantly but he's gone already.

nevermind, he'll be back in five.

"and what did trenchcoat say?" natasha asks, ignoring the other two.

"milkshake," freya replies, writing it on a post-it as she says it.

"one shake, two straws." farah gasps. "come on, frey. tell me it was one shake, two straws."

"two shakes, two straws." she scribbles away.

"maybe they're gonna share both." farah quickly supplies.

"nobody does that, farah." dallas retorts, and natasha makes a face at him, not willing to kill the former's hopes just yet. farah tends to get this forlorn look on her face when things go wrong — and it always reminds natasha of her dead cousin.

she clears her throat.

"look, it can be a date without the shared milkshake, people." a few thoughtful sounds come up, the gates swing, and chloe walks back in. "plus, we've still got all the staring, the lingering looks over the menu, the soulful eyefu —"

"but that's everyday, nat." freya sighs.

"it's different today —"

"— you know it isn't —"

"— and i can prove it." natasha finishes, earning herself looks of surprise from almost everyone around. she can, though. the diner's got a valentines discount on milkshakes all month, she can approach them about it. trenchcoat and car-guy don't have to know it's not just for couples. and on the (really, really) offchance that they aren't one, natasha could always just minus the discount from the total anyway and no one would be the wiser.

the idea had just come to her but she was fairly sure she could swing it.

farah had already picked up a tray with two soup bowls and a dish of croutons, but she puts it down, and replaces the to-be-forlornness with excitement. "how?"

"i'll," natasha smirks again. "talk to them."

another round of gasps. in this kitchen, the people were nothing if not dramatic.

this time, freya's the one who asks, "how?"

"well, i haven't waitressed for twelve years just to go about rattling off trade secrets, kids." natasha winks, and a few of them make indignant noises because only about one third of the staff was what could broadly be called new. most of them had been there for years, and were practically a part of her family now. but she picks up her own tray smoothly, conveniently having been slid to her counter just then, and sets off — to an audience of hopeful believers (and dallas)'s matching stares.

(natasha isn't exactly free of the flair for drama she'd just accused everyone in this kitchen of.)

once outside, she makes a beeline for the table her tray is actually for, leaves them it, and quickly heads for the infamous trenchcoat and car-guy table.

this is so going to work.

"so then i cut his —" car-guy stops mid-sentence, spotting her. a part of natasha seethes to know what he 'cut off', but being fodder for the kitchenstaff's are-they-dating games didn't take away their rights to privacy, and she respected those. the car-guy smiles shortly at her. "what's the matter," his eyes flick down to her nametag, flick right back. (definitely a good sign; most men linger.) "natasha?"

she puts on her best smile. "it's about the milkshakes."

"is there a problem?" car-guy eases into a wider smile. "do you not have them, not a single one, and do we have to order pie instead?"

car-guy's partner shakes his head exasperatedly. "dean, i hardly think that's what she'd be here about."

"well, a guy's gotta dream." car-guy — dean — instantly says, and goes back to his burger while trenchcoat speaks up instead.

"what's the matter?"

natasha doesn't let her smile budge. it's a hell of a customer service smile, she's been told. "i actually came here to ask if you would like me to add the date dessert discount on the milkshake. it's an all-february thing. not on all items." she clarifies, a reflexive response for why it hasn't come up before.

genius.

dean looks a little cornered — trenchcoat just looks confused.

"i don't understand." he says, after a moment's pause. "the milkshakes cost less just if dean and i are here on a date...?"

"it's not —" she balks a little at his seriousness. "it's actually not that big of a difference."

"that's...alright." trenchcoat tilts his head, and natasha suddenly realizes she's physically fighting the urge to stare. shit, dallas isn't half-wrong. "but why just milkshakes?"

dean lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "capitalism trying to crap all over the free man's heart and the supremacy of pie not enough reason for ya, cas?"

natasha stifles a smile.

that's actually a good line. maybe car-guy deserves more credit than just loyal-to-the-pie.

trenchcoat — okay, cas, at least while she's out here — still looks a little doubtful (and she has no idea why) but he nods at dean, and then looks up at her and nods again. "add the discount."

natasha has to resist the urge to let her jaw drop.

this entire conversation, she'd practically been sure they were heading towards a rejection of the 'date' clause. and her gut told her they weren't lying either.

well, well. always thrilling to be right.

"and thank you for telling us about it." cas continues, and her practised smile returns immediately. probably a little less obligatory.

"of course."

and dean still looks like he'd rather cut more whatever-he-was-talking-about's off rather than be here right now, so natasha goes to leave. but cas stops her right before she's out of reach.

"excuse me." he's the one smiling this time. "if you're not busy right away, could you tell us what other items are eligible for the february date discount?"

dean facepalms. "come on, dude."

cas gives him a look — and natasha was right, of course she was right, that's not a exasperated 'friend' look. "i'd like to know, dean."

to natasha's knowledge, they've never had trouble paying for anything before (hernandez, she thinks one of their surnames is, she's seen it on a card) but she can't object to 'cas' asking, of course. curiosity is also a well-off man's right.

"why?" dean asks vehemently, before she can start to rattle off the list.

"because," cas answers levelly. actually, he kind of sounds like he's using his dad voice. maybe he is a dad. "i think it's strange that we've never gotten the discount before, while we've been eating lunch here almost this entire month."

it's again hard for natasha to not just stare gapmouthed at them.

"those have been dates." she realizes belatedly and out loud, and receives a weird, distasteful look from dean, and an immediate nod from cas that makes her blurt out, "so this isn't your...first date."

they're dating.

oh, farah was going to lose her mind.

"is that a requisite clause?" cas asks politely, while dean just scrubs his face with a hand.

"no." she tells cas truthfully. "i'm sorry, i just assumed it was. your first, i mean."

"lady, we certainly don't look first date aged to me." dean butts in, not hostile, but like it's something that irks him. "and we've been married four years, so one would desperately hope it's not our first date, y'know."

married.

they're friggin' married.

natasha is an idiot, and her date-dar is probably due for an early retirement.

they've been married for four years.

"i'm...very sorry." she apologizes, mortified. "i had no idea. i —"

"it's fine." this time, dean's smiling, and cas's confused frown is back. it's like they take turns. natasha is almost grateful for it, to be fair, because both those smiles directed at her would've been a helluva lot more distracting. "really doesn't matter. and yeah, sure, add the milkshake discount but don't worry about the list of items." he turns to cas. "just have sam look it up for you when we get home. please."

cas seems to be prepared to acquiesce to that but natasha can't help her own curiosity this time. "is that your son?"

and she's halfway to regretting it the moment she registers having said it, even though thankfully neither of them look too offended. in fact, cas is back to smiling.

"he's dean's brother." cas tells her. "he's the one with jack right now." he pauses. "it's easier because he and eileen live with us."

"yeah, an in-house sitter who doesn't even like going out is really a department we won in." dean grins, solely at cas. as if he's momentarily forgotten all about natasha's presence (that had clearly been making him uncomfortable talking in front of, earlier) in just looking at his husband. natasha sends out a quick pre-prayer for farah. "sucks for eileen though."

"eileen is very happy with your brother, dean." cas chastises, his eyes nothing but affectionate even then, and natasha's head reels with how much she has to tell the waitstaff today.

they're going to friggin' adore her.

"so jack is your son," she confirms, less wary of their reaction to her question now that they looked to have settled into their own silent conversation.

"he's our son, yes." cas replies, simply.

"like, you and him." she flashes a smile at dean.

"us and sam." cas corrects, and dean facepalms again. for her part, natasha can do little more than blink.

"but —"

"it's complicated." dean cuts her off suddenly, and she flinches. he didn't even deny it, just...sidestepped it.

"i — i see." natasha clears her throat, still looking at cas in bewilderment.

cas probably doesn't notice because he's talking to dean again. "it's significantly less complicated than claire's parentage, dean. she has over six parental —"

jesus christ.

"aaand that's enough trivia for date night." dean interrupts loudly again, definitely for the best, because natasha was standing there like a thoughtless statue at this point. his raised voice shakes her out of her reverie, and she vaguely calculates the chances of crashing into a table if she tried to walk away right away.

"i'll," she mumbles instead, drawing in a breath forcefully. "i'll be back with your milkshakes."

"thank you!" cas calls after her as she half wobbles on her heels back to the kitchen.

inside, she puts her empty tray on the metal counter and her hands on both sides of it, bowing her head, and almost immediately ending up surrounded by a plethora of people — most of whom, in normal circumstances, would just have been eavesdropping from their respective stations.

farah's the first to ask, followed by hutch.

"so?"

"what did you find out?"

natasha closes her eyes. "they're married."

this time, the commotion is the largest yet. but she isn't done.

"and every single one of their meals here have been dates." freya pumps her fist, chloe squeezes farah's hand, and dallas tsks under his breath. the 'gallery' watchers appear ready to join in the cheering as well today. but the entire kitchen senses she isn't done yet, and waits fidgetingly for the rest of it.

"and," natasha swallows. "they're almost definitely in a cult."

#destiel #third person pov #casdean #baby jack kline #mentions of saileen #spn crack #bluefirecas #userpris #casthyelle #evermorecastiel #rambleoncas #tearsofgrace #userstarry #holmesemrys #smiledean #oh writing my writing #userdori

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altsvu · 3 years

Text

a little jealous, i suppose?

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!female!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: after being called in for a case in the middle of a romantic date, you and hotch have to talk to the lieutenant on the case, but they end up flirting with you at the same time. hotch gets a little jealous and proves it when you and him get back to the hotel room.

tw: sex talk, A SHIT TON OF SMUT, some fluff, swearing.

a/n: this is a long one lovelies! i had so much fun writing this! jealous hotch can be a bit naughty... but this is my first (completed) smut fic with hotch and i hope it doesn’t sound super weird or whatever bc i lowkey suck at smut

criminal minds masterlist! ✯ taglist! ✯ text messages!

✯✯✯✯

You and Hotch had been dating for almost a year and a half now. Upon dating, the two of you had decided that it was best to not say anything to the rest of the team. Although you wanted everything to be kept under wraps, everyone wanted the two of you to be together though, and they picked up on the many interactions that you exchanged with each other. It had been easy to keep the relationship a secret, or at least the idea of either you or Hotch being in a romantic relationship, until now when you came into the BAU floor wearing a revealing dress and a full face of makeup.

“Well, well, well,” Morgan whistled. “Looks like someone’s going on a date.”

“Shut up Morgan, you’re just jealous it’s not with you.” you laughed. “I am not jealous at all. You do look really good though.” he responded, in which you blew him a kiss.

“You look so beautiful! Your date is definitely gonna fall head over heels for you.” JJ squealed, coming up to give you a hug. You knew exactly who she was talking about. Hotch. She was the only person you were able to confide in about your relationship with him even though you had practically become best friends with everyone on the team. “Thank you JJ.” you smiled.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Reid asked.

“Or girl?” Penelope said.

You looked for some of your items from your desk, trying to avoid the team’s burning questions. “All I can say is that he’s... definitely older.”

“Well, you know what they say, the older the wiser.” Emily suggested.

“Yes, this man is very wise.” you replied, putting your badge and gun in your purse. Little did everyone know that they were talking highly of Hotch.

Rossi came out of his office. “Well, you’re not going on a date with me.”

“Unfortunately-“ you frowned, then paused mid sentence when your phone rang. You pulled it out and broke away from the group to make sure they couldn’t see the name.

“Sweetheart, you know I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look.” Hotch mused. You could tell he had a smile on his face. “Well babe, lucky for you, I’m about to leave. See you in 5 okay?” You replied.

“Of course.”

You hung up and dropped your phone in your bag, grabbing your coat. “Alright everyone, I’m off. Don’t miss me too much, I’m a big girl, I’ll be okay.”

“Walk you to the elevator?” JJ asked. You nodded sincerely. You then said your goodbyes to everyone and walked out with JJ.

“He’s lucky to be with a woman like you.”

“Yeah, I like to think that. I’m just glad he doesn’t treat me like a child, ya know. I may be the youngest here, but when we’re alone, everything’s just different.”

JJ lifted an eyebrow. “Ohhhh, I see.”

You playfully smacked her on the shoulder as the elevator door opened. “Girl stop. It’s more than that.” You walked into the elevator, blowing a kiss at JJ.

“Have fun!”

✯✯✯✯

“You look absolutely amazing, did I tell you that already?” Hotch complimented as you got out of the car.

“Yes you have, about 5 times already, but I appreciate the compliments. You look quite handsome yourself, Aaron.”

“Thank you, my love.” he said, kissing you on the lips.

The two of you went inside the restaurant and followed the waiter to the reserved table, which had seating next to each other instead of across and the environment was pretty chill since there weren’t a lot of people inside, so it felt even more romantic. It gave you more freedom to perform many forms of PDA, which was something that Hotch wanted to experiment more with.

“So... everyone on the BAU floor is questioning who I’m dating,” you started. Hotch looked up at you mid bite. “Really? What’d you say?”

“I’m dating an older man who’s very wise.”

Hotch sneaked an arm around your waist. “I’m glad that you think I’m wise.”

“I can think of a lot more.” you whispered. You then crept your hand up to the nape of Hotch’s neck and pulled him closer to you, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

“Mmm, I know what I’m gonna do to you when we get home.” Hotch murmured into your ear after kissing you back. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re gonna be shaking when you walk into the BAU tomorrow.” His fingers tickled your bare skin, and you hoped you weren’t getting an orgasm from his touch.

“Oh what a naughty, wise man you are.” you mused, taking the opportunity to kiss and nibble on the soft skin that was Hotch’s neck. You sucked on it hard, leaving a dark red mark.

You went back to enjoying your meal and chatting when you were interrupted by a phone call.

“It’s Garcia.” Hotch whispered. He then proceeded to answer the phone. When he got off the phone with her, he looked disappointed. “What is it?” you asked.

“We’re being called in.”

“Fuck.” you muttered under your breath, hearing your phone ring too.

Hotch took your face in his hands. “It’s okay. We can finish date night another night.”

✯✯✯✯

You had texted JJ that you would be meeting them on the plane to avoid suspicions from the rest of the team and you would be briefed when you arrived. JJ had grabbed your go bag for you as well.

“Y/N, how was your date?” Emily asked.

It was tempting to smile and look at Hotch but you were able not to. “Despite it being cut short, it was amazing. We had... plans after dinner.”

“Oooo, risqué.” Morgan cocked his head to the side. You pinched his cheek and collapsed in one of the chairs, wanting to sleep. In a way, you were a bit upset that you and Hotch had to be called away from your date, you seriously wanted him to be all over you, kissing you, sucking on your skin, massaging your forbidden spots.

“Very. Where are we headed?”

The rest of the team then briefed you on the case and when you landed, you’d have to go with Hotch to talk with the lieutenant that was the lead on the case and set up at the field office.

While you were looking through your copy of the case file, you got a text from Hotch.

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: That hickey on my neck won’t be going away for a while, Rossi’s already asking about it

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: he thinks i had “a little rendezvous” before being called in.

You stifled a laugh.

You: well... you did. With me of course

You: Keep him wondering, I’ll give you more in our hotel room 😘 and i’m also holding you to that promise

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: the things i want to do to you... i wouldn’t even be able to count

You bit your finger and looked out the window, wanting the day to go by fast. Hotch was sitting across from you, so he looked up at you for a slight second with a grin on his face, which caught your attention quickly. He gave you a wink and looked back down. Moments later, the jet was arriving at the team’s destination and you were eager to just change out of your date night clothes.

“Do we have time for me to stop by the hotel we’re staying in?” you whispered to JJ while getting off the plane.

“My beloved friend, we’re on a time crunch.” JJ started. “But, I’ll let you come with me to get the keys for our rooms.”

You sighed in relief and smiled a thank you.

✯✯✯✯

“I kinda wished you didn’t have to change out of that dress.” Hotch admitted. You side eyed him, knowing that he was joking. That was until you turned to look at him and he was staring at you, examining you almost. “Me too,” you smiled, turning to look at him. “But obviously that would be super inappropriate.”

“Well of course it would be.” Hotch growled, pulling you closer to him.

“There’s cameras,” you hissed.

“Good.” One of his hands grabbed your ass and you let out a gasp. Clearly Hotch did not care whatsoever about the cameras, all he cared about was you, and how amazing you looked in front of him. That, and closing this current case as soon as possible. He took your face in his hands and kissed your lips ever so passionately, stopping just in time for the elevator door to open. As you were approaching the lieutenant, you straightened your shirt in hopes that he wouldn’t think that anything suspicious was going on.

“Lieutenant Baker, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is SSA Y/N .” Hotch said, shaking hands with Baker. When he got to you, a smile creeped up on his face and he lingered a bit after shaking your hand. A bit odd, you thought. “Thank you for coming,” he finally replied. “These suspicious murders have been going on for too long and I’d like to put an end to them as much as you do.”

“And that’s why we’re here.” Hotch agreed. “Is there a place for us to settle?” He led you and Hotch to a conference room with an evidence board, and as you were walking, you felt a familiar hand on your back, creeping to your waist. Goddammit Hotch. You glared at him to stop before he got caught and he only looked back at you with a smile on his face.

The rest of the time in the field office wasn’t bad, but you had a very huge feeling that the lieutenant was trying to make some moves on you.

It’s not like you weren’t used to this, men just found you super attractive. But you only found one man that was attractive.

Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey.” you turned around to find the lieutenant standing next to you. “Is there anything that I can help you with?”

“Nah, just putting these pictures and visuals up. Hotch and I are gonna review the case files until the family comes in to talk to us.”

“Ok, that sounds good.”

You noticed that Baker was still standing in your vicinity. “Is there something that you need from me, Lieutenant?”

“No, not at all. Let me know if you need anything from me, I’ll be trying to round up some potential witnesses.” Baker said, squeezing and rubbing your forearm for a moment and walking away to his office. He had a side grin on his face.

You, on the other hand, stood in your spot truly dumbfounded. Your mouth slightly gaped, you turned and watched Baker walk away. Suddenly your eyes made their way to Hotch, who was looking at you across the room, a grin also on his face.

“What was that about? He ask you if you were dating anyone?”

You rolled your eyes and finished putting up the map for Reid to use later. “Please, no.” Hotch was then standing by your side, leaning against the wall beside the evidence board.

“That wasn’t just any touch there.”

“Yeah well, it didn’t mean anything to me. Did you forget that I love you or something?”

Hotch pulled you into a kiss. “Of course not.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Then what’s the issue? A little jealous, I suppose?” You put emphasis on jealous.

“Agents? The victim’s mother is here.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Hotch replied. He turned back to you. “We’ll talk later.”

✯✯✯✯

It was nearing the end of the day, and everyone was tired. It was only the team’s first day in a small Nevada town, but a lot was accomplished.

Riding in the car with Derek, Emily, and JJ back to the hotel room, you let the breeze flow through your body. Nervousness washed over you as you thought about the morning upon arriving at the field office.

Hotch always had underlying meanings to even the simplest things he would say, which is why you couldn’t stop wondering if he was the slightest bit upset at the lieutenant for advancing on you, the person he loved with all his heart.

“Hey.” JJ poked at your arm. “What’s going on? Trouble in paradise?”

You smiled a bit. “No, uh, I guess there was a bit of tension since the lieutenant was flirting with me.”

“He was actually good looking, I think he’d be a great match for you.” Emily suggested, turning around.

“Y/N does attract almost every male species.” Derek commented.

“Guys, stop, I’m just... not interested in him.” You said simply, turning back to the window. The only thing running to your head was what Hotch had planned for tonight.

When you got to the hotel room, you found things the way they were, only Hotch’s go bag next to yours. You pulled out your robe and shower essentials from your go bag - you hated using hotel soap - and started to strip. When Hotch came out of the bathroom, you were only in your underwear, slipping on your robe, and he was only in a towel.

“You didn’t say when you came in.” Hotch whispered, planting a small kiss on your head.

“I know, I didn’t wanna bother you. I’m gonna shower quickly okay?” He nodded and you then went in the bathroom. When you were done, Hotch was in bed wearing a white shirt and grey boxer shorts. God, he looked so hot.

“What conversation did you want to have earlier?” You asked, wrapping your robe around a bit tighter.

Hotch gestured to you to lay next to him. “You know how I get when it comes to people flirting with you.”

“Yeah, you go feral. Internally, of course.” You paused. “Wait. Is Aaron Hotchner... mad?”

His hand snuck inside your robe, trailing up to your chest, cupping your right breast, sending chilling shockwaves to the rest of your body.

“Let’s just say I wanna show you that you belong to me.”

Oh, Hotch was jealous alright.

You turned to face him and that’s when he worked his magic. One side of your robe slipped off, and next thing you knew, he was teasing your clit, making you wet. Your shallow breaths and whimpers filled the emptiness of the room. He continued teasing you for a bit, then you watched as he pulled out his cock, stroking it a bit while staring at you dead in your eyes. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to make sure you knew he was the one in control, and that he would do anything to get off on your pleasure.

He made extra sure of it when he started cockwarming you.

Oh fuck you Aaron, you said in your head as small whimpers escaped your mouth.

“Yeah, you like when I do that to you?” Hotch- well Aaron, asked roughly. “You like feeling my cock inside you, don’t you?”

He was enjoying the sight of you, close to him, almost orgasming on the spot. But he wasn’t gonna let you get off that easily.

“What’s wrong, my sweet girl? Hmm?”

“I- I need you, Aaron,” was all you could croak out.

Aaron shifted on top of you and you curled your legs around him.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to speak up for me to give you what you want.” Aaron teased, taking of his shirt.

“I need you Aaron,” you repeated a bit louder.

Aaron smiled and thrusted hard and fast into you, in which he took no time. “Good girl.” He let out a fierce groan when he did so.

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You do,” you moaned. “You make me feel good Aaron.”

He kissed you fiercely in response with one of his hands gripping your neck and the other holding on to your leg. “God, you look so sexy under me, my sweet, sweet girl. You take me so well.”

He knew you wanted to come, your flushed face gave it away. But when you asked, ever so politely, he responded with a firm no.

“You don’t get to come until I do.”

“But Aaron, plea-“

“No.”

As he was going faster, you felt yourself nearing an orgasm, and all you wanted to do was melt under him.

He pulled out just after he reached his high and smashed his lips against your clit, stimulating you even more. When he finally let you come, it came on strong and heavy, and a loud, broken “Aaron” escaped your lips. You did not care whatsoever if two of the other team members in the next room heard you. Aaron on the other hand was enjoying every moment of it. “Oh, my sweet girl, you taste amazing.” he mused.

When he was done he collapsed next to you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just... that was super hot.” you breathed, moving closer to him.

“It was. I think now you know who you belong to.” Aaron whispered, caressing your cheek.

“Much more than I did before.”

Aaron offered to clean you up, and after, the two of you slept soundly for the rest of the night.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @averyhotchner @storiesofsvu @ssaic-jareau @blackbeautifulqueen @dr-omalley @morcias @mstrinnyb

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

onlyfans #2 [ransom drysdale x reader x lee bodecker]

A/n: !!!! part two is here and I’m literally so excited lmao. It was supposed to be twice as long, but stick around because I’ll start writing part 3 asap!! I love this concept!! Come talk to me about it!!

Summary: Ransom decides that what his onlyfans account needed to get more traction is a threesome. So here he is, Sheriff Lee Bodecker in all his glory. (SMUT) 8.9k

Warnings: unprotected sex, double penetration, oral (both receiving), humiliation, degradation, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, domestic submission, daddy kink, slapping, spanking, dubcon/noncon, filming sexual acts... they’re both assholes, you have been warned! Absolutely DO NOT READ if any of these upset you or make you uncomfortable in any way! Also, 18+ in case that wasn’t clear lol. That being said... ENJOY!!

You can read part 1 here, although this works as a standalone too!

Despite your fingers nervously trembling around the small brush in your hand, your makeup turned out just about perfect. And now, you were just standing there, in front of the mirror, studying every inch of your face, searching for any small detail that had yet to be fixed. There wasn't one. Just like always, you now looked perfect too.

Still, the will to stand up and leave was absent. It was perfectly silent around the room, creating the perfect environment for you to get lost in thoughts. Your stomach was buzzing with enthusiasm and your palms were sweaty, yet you wanted to delay the moment for as long as you could - maybe the eyeliner wing on your right eye was a bit too thick - maybe you needed to start over. And you were just about to do so, to grab the makeup remover inches away from your hand, and undo the work you've put so much patience in. But you didn't get to.

The door opened and Ransom walked inside.

You didn't turn around, as his frame showed up in the mirror, right behind you.

"You look beautiful, love" he said softly, his fingers dancing through your recently styled hair.

"Thank you"

"Look at me" he cooed, tilting your chin.

You fell back against his hard abdomen, smiling deeply as you searched for his stern eyes. They were cold, you knew he had something in mind.

It was one of those days when he wouldn't allow anything to go wrong. Although always a control freak, throughout your relationship, you learned when it was absolutely necessary to not piss him off - and it was more than easy to tell that this was one of those times.

"I love you" Ransom smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

His touch warmed you up from the inside. Slowly, his hands descended from your shoulders, caging your chest into a sweet embrace, before grabbing your breasts into his palms. You moaned lightly, your eyes falling closed.

"Such a good girl" he chuckled, squeezing harder until you squirmed under his touch. "Does it hurt?" he asked, his grip not loosening up.

You nodded, eyes still closed and your smile just as wide. "But I like it," you confessed.

"Of course you do, baby" he laughed, "I know exactly what my baby needs"

Cheeks on fire, you spun around in your chair, and wrapped your arms around his middle. Ransom rubbed your back a few times, before harshly pulling you up to face him, "How are you feeling? You feeling good? Excited?"

"Yes" you nodded eagerly.

He took a deep breath, kissing the top of your head before returning to look at you with a serious glare in his eyes, "Lee's gonna be here real soon, and I need you to be real good for me, ok? I know you can, but you can also be a pain in the ass, sometimes. Now is not the time, Y/n, ok?"

"Yes, I know" you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, "I'll make you proud, you'll see. I wanna do this right, Ransom, I won't let you down, I promise."

Hearing your words, the corners of his mouth tilted into a devious grin, "Why aren't you always like this?" Despite his words being somewhat cold and condescending, there was awe in his eyes. It didn't always look like it, but he loved you more than he could ever put into words - he did it in his own fucked up way, but he did, and you knew it.

"I try" you giggled, "You know I always try to be good, it's just that sometimes it's hard with you"

"I wouldn't be so hard on you, baby girl, if you didn't ask for it"

"Ok" you sighed, smiling as you spoke inches away from his lips, "You know I never actually mean to upset you, right?"

"Of course, angel, you're not that stupid"

"Oh my god" you rolled your eyes.

Laughing at his antics and at his ways of making everything that came out of his mouth sound demeaning, you turned around to give yourself another look in the mirror.

"I'm not finished, baby" he sighed, grabbing your elbow to spin you around. "Now, I know you're not dumb enough to say no to me, but it's not gonna be just us two today-"

"I know" you cut him off, stomping your foot, already growing annoyed with what looked like his lack of trust in you, "I won't do anything to piss him-"

"No," Ransom said harshly, grabbing your chin. Your blood ran cold as his demeanor changed. "Why do you have to go and make assumptions, hm? Told you to be a good girl and listen to me. He's not even here yet, and there you are, interrupting me when I'm speaking to you. You know how much I hate that. Are you capable of shutting that mouth and listening?"

You nodded against his grip, eyes wide with regret.

"Good" he cleared his throat, "What I wanted to say, you dumb slut, is that if he does anything you don't like - and by anything, I mean so much as breathes the wrong way, you tell me, and he's out, got it?"

"Yes" you whimpered, taken aback. You did not see that coming.

"You'll be a good girl, listen to him and do whatever he says, yeah? If you don't like him, you come to tell me. If you don't come and tell me, I'll assume everything goes, understood?"

"Yes"

"Use your words, full sentences, come on, Y/n, I know it's hard for you, but you can do it," he growled, shaking your entire frame to get your attention.

"If- if I don't like him-" you mumbled, "I'll tell you. Otherwise, I'll do everything he says"

Instantly, his face contorted into a sick smile, letting go of your chin, "Was that so hard?"

You weakly shook your head, "No"

Ransom opened his mouth to say something else, but the sound of the door bell ringing beat him to it. A wave of anxiety washed over you, but he never looked more excited. Ransom hurried towards the door of the bedroom, stopping just before waking out, "Is that blow job proof?" he asked, pointing to your lips.

"Yeah" you nodded.

"Good, I like a challenge" he grinned, "Come downstairs whenever you're ready"

"Wait-" you hurried to stop him, "You never told me what to wear"

Ransom frowned, looking you up and down. You had a violet bralette on, and a pair of shorts. This wasn't right.

"Wear whoever you want, love" he said confused, "You won't be in them long anyway"

"Ok" you whispered, head buzzing with a million possibilities, "I'll be right there"

"Take your time, baby"

And with that, he left. 'Fuck' you thought, rushing over to your closet. Nervous sweat coated your entire body as your eyes scanned over the multitude of clothing options laying before you, yet none of them seemed to fit the occasion. You knew better than to wear something unnecessarily skimpy that would make every one of your movements uncomfortable, but at the same time, you knew sweats wouldn't cut it. After a moment's worth of careful consideration, you took off your bra and instead put on a black cashmere shirt, with the top buttons undone to the point where your cleavage was nothing more than suggestive, and tucked it into a pair of high waisted shorts. For a second you considered adding heels to your outfit, but figured none of the two men patiently waiting downstairs would think twice before asking you to put them on in case that was what they wanted. So, you hooked your fingers around the heel of the shoes, and left the bedroom.

As you tiptoed your way down the circular staircase, Ransom's familiar tone became audible. When you rounded the corner, his voice came to a halt, and instantly, his eyes met yours.

"Babe!" he called, his proud smile lighting up the room. He raised one hand to wave you over as he sent a knowing grin to his guest.

From where you were standing, you could only see the back of Lee's head. Now, you had seen pictures of him, yet a buzz of anticipation coursed through your body. As you walked across the living room, Ransom's eyes never left your frame, but Lee took his time. He had only turned to look at you when you reached them, deep, hungry blue eyes scanning your frame.

You knew he was a sheriff two towns over, so that was why you found yourself just slightly disappointed with the fact that he seemed to have left his uniform at home. It made sense, but you still wished he had brought at least the hat.

His attire resembled a police uniform, however these were regular clothes. Nothing more than a black shirt tucked into some worn out pair jeans, and a leather jacket to top off the look. At a first glance, he wasn't the type to take your breath away, but still, your eyes remained trained on him.

He looked about a few years older than Ransom, which made him maybe 15 years older than you, only the thought tugging the corners of your lips into a frenzied grin. You did your best not to stare, but you found yourself somewhat drawn to him. He wasn't your type, not even by far, especially considering the way his belly pushed down on the belt of his jeans, but the circumstances allowed, and you couldn't deny the pang you felt between your legs when you remember what he was here for.

"Baby?" Ransom called. With a small jump, you came back to reality, and turned to your boyfriend, a polite smile on your lips. "Sheriff Lee Bodecker, Y/n. Y/n, this is Lee"

Before he even finished making the introductions, you had already tiptoed your way over. "Nice to meet you"

Up close, there was something different about him. He didn't bother standing up, instead just spread his knees a little wider, taking your hand into his and kissing your knuckles, "Nice to meet ya, sweetheart"

Tingles went up your arm from where he had just pressed his lips to your skin, and as your mind was busy processing the situation, you failed to say anything else.

Ransom saved you the embarrassment, cutting off the silence, "Love, grab us something to drink, ok?"

"Yes, of course!" you jumped, eager to change the tone. "What would you like?"

"I'm a whiskey man myself-" Lee snickered, "I'll take whatever you guys have, though. Just make it cold. Ice, if ya got any"

You turned to Ransom. "That Toussaint no.05 bottle, baby, you know which one?" he asked.

You nodded.

"Good, now hurry"

And you did - you almost stormed out of the room, rushing into the kitchen. Being out of their presence felt like you could finally breathe again. Planting your hands on the cold, marble counter, you leaned forward, taking in breath after breath. 'Calm the fuck down' you thought to yourself. 'The fuck is wrong with me? He's not good looking-' you cringed, squeezing your eyes shut, 'Then why am I-'

You stopped yourself before even articulating the thoughts. You were afraid of what it meant. That was not something for you to process right now. So, forcing yourself to not make any wrong move, you took out the good glasses stashed on the top shelf of the kitchen counter, added a couple of ice cubes, and watched the whiskey linger along them.

Cringing at the thought of announcing the drinks were ready, you decided to walk back inside without another word, and placed the glasses on the small coffee table between them.

"Where's your glass, puppet, ya gonna drink straight from the bottle?" Lee asked, not even hesitating before attacking his whiskey.

"Oh, I don't really drink"

"Why not?" he asked, cringing from the sourness of the drink.

"I-" you stammered, turning to look at Ransom.

"Have a sip" he laughed at your innocence, pointing to his glass, "See if you like it"

"Come on, angel, you'll love it." Lee chuckled, patting the spot next to him on the couch, "Pour yourself a drink and come sit down with me"

Against your better judgement, you did as told. You went and fixed yourself a glass, but when you returned, it was as if the alcohol had already gotten to them. You knew they couldn't have been drunk yet, but it sure looked at if it was what they needed to get the vibe going. Ransom gestured for you with a simple nod to join Lee, and on shaky knees, you did so.

In your mind, you were going to walk over there and sit at least 10 inches away from him, but he had other ideas. When you reached him, Lee spread his legs, tapping his thigh, "Come 'ere, doll"

You gulped and sat down in his lap, his hands instantly finding your hips. "You good?" he asked, rubbing his big, calloused hand up and down your bare thigh, "Seem a little tense"

"I'm good" you smiled shyly.

"Ya sure?" he asked tauntingly, throwing you a wicked smile that exposed his teeth. It sent shivers down your spine, but you nodded obediently. Wanting to release some of the tension, and due to a lack of a better answer, you turned to Ransom, who much to your dismay, had his nose buried into his phone - his attention nowhere near to whatever was going on in the room.

Lee was quick to cry for your attention, not too shy to grab your chin and get you to face him again. "Don't you think you and I should get to know each other a bit?" he taunted, "Or do you not have any kind of problem fucking a random stranger?"

"I-" you muttered, eyes widening with surprise, "Yeah. You're right, yeah. We should"

It was as if he could feel the tension in your veins. And it was if he feasted on the uneasiness that enveloped you. His proud stare showed just how much he was enjoying the moment.

"Let me see you, then, doll" he hummed, rubbing the back of his fingers up your side, tracing the curve of your breast. "Got no reason to be shy" he added, tugging at your collar.

"I- I'm not shy" you sighed, shaking your head.

"Told ya to drink some of that whiskey, doll, would've made things easier." Lee grabbed the highest button that was still done on your shirt, playing with it between his fingers, "Wanna see your tits, baby"

Determined to at least start on the right foot, you didn't hesitate to open a few more buttons and then pull the shirt over your head. Never in your life had you felt more exposed, and the pain between your legs reflected that perfectly.

"Sorry to interrupt-" Ransom laughed, standing up from his spot.

His voice nearly startled you. Embarrassment took over you when you put all the pieces together, and your palms got sweaty just thinking about what he was about to say.

"I'll give you two some alone time-" he continued, "Gotta set up the room anyway. But I need to post a picture before, a little hype never hurt nobody, right?"

"Right" you nodded, waiting for further instructions.

However, they didn't come from Ransom. Lee grabbed your waist and spun you around, your back now facing him. Straddling his right leg, you pushed your ass back against his crotch and brought your chest forward, tilting your head to the side, as you waited for Ransom to take the picture.

He was chuckling as he did, shaking his head with an expression on his face that you failed to read. Instantly, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and walked over to you. He laced his fingers through your hair, looking down into your eyes.

"You gonna be a good little girl for Mr. Bodecker?"

"Yes"

"You'll do anything he asks, ok?"

"Yes, I will" you nodded.

"Promise me?"

"Yes, I promise" you smiled up at him.

"Don’t piss him off, Y/n, you'll regret it later" Ransom threatened, but he did so with an eager grin on his lips.

"I won't" you giggled, "I promise"

"She can't piss me off" Lee butted in, his whole frame shaking with laughter under your weight, "Look at her"

"I see her" Ransom smirked, walking towards the bedroom, "I fucking see her but you'll be surprised how big of a fucking pain in the ass she can be when she wants to"

"You look a fucking gem to me, doll" he grinned.

You turned around in his hold and settled back on his thigh, but this time facing him. "Thank you" you smiled.

"Can't lie," Lee chuckled, "Curious what you could do to piss your daddy off"

"Nothing on purpose"

"Course not" he agreed, every now and then his glare slipping down to your exposed chest. "Can tell you're a good girl, and you know your place. Wouldn’t be standing here if you weren't, would you?"

"I guess not"

He took a deep breath, "I tell you what-" Lee sighed, grabbing your glass and shoving it into your hands, "Drink this. All of it, like the good girl you said you are, and maybe then I won't have to force the words out of you, hm?"

"I'm sorry-" you tried to excuse yourself, "I'm just-"

"Drink!"

His tone made the temperature in the room drop, and you didn't hesitate. The alcohol burned its way down your throat, upsetting your stomach before you even finished the drink. The bitterness became too much, and feeling your gag reflex threaten to stop you from ingesting any more of the whiskey, you straightened your back and pulled the glass away from your lips.

"What did I say?" he raised an eyebrow, "Finish it"

And he helped you with it, guiding your hand back up to your lips, forcing the remaining liquid to pour down your throat. A few stray drops escaped and dribbled down your chin, giving him the perfect excuse to gather them with his thumb and then shove his digit into your mouth.

You gathered your lips around his finger, your eyes shakily looking for his.

"See it wasn't that hard?" he laughed, and you nodded no, without breaking the eye contact.

"God damnit, girl, got my cock all hard already"

You watched him carefully, unable to answer with his thumb still knuckles deep into your mouth. It was clear you were driving him insane, his cock bulging against the material of his pants.

"Come 'ere" he eventually said, moving his hand to grip your chin, roughly pulling you towards him.

You leaned into his touch and followed his lead. Slowly, you found yourself bent over him, your chest pressed to his, as he welcomed your lips into a greedy kiss. It took you aback, but you gave in completely. He took the lead, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist, his tongue exploring your mouth with nonchalance. For better support, you planted your palms against his shoulders, hoping you could pull yourself up and straddle his hips.

"Like this" the sheriff grunted against your lips, effortlessly guiding you higher up his thigh. You settled with a small huff, holding onto his chest for better balance. The hunger on his lips was consuming you as he kissed down your neck. His hands reached behind your back, pressing you down into his leg. Unconsciously, you started to rock back and forth, slowly and subtly, not wanting things to escalate, all you needed was a bit of release.

But Lee caught onto it, snaking his fingers under the hem of your way too revealing shorts, "Wanna get yourself off on my leg, doll?" he whispered against your jaw, tightening his hold on your ass.

You whined lowly, not giving him any kind of answer.

"Is your cunt wet?" he asked, his hands not leaving your ass.

"Yes-" you cringed, pressing yourself harder down against his thigh.

"Then fucking strip, and get yourself off"

"Now?" you gasped.

"No, tomorrow" Lee rolled his eyes, slapping your cheek hard enough to get you to realise just how serious he was.

For the first time, you felt actual fear in your veins, but at the same time, your fingertips buzzed with determination to please him. So you scrambled off his lap and undressed, your jeans sliding off your legs with ease, followed by your panties, drenched and already slick with your juices. His glare burned your skin but you returned to your place against his leg.

The feeling of your bare core against the material of his jeans drove you insane. It was rough and slightly painful, but once you started to move, rolling your hips along his muscles, the pain started to fade into pleasure. With your hands gripping the sides of his shirt under his jacket, you worked on getting yourself off.

"Look at me" the sheriff commanded, slapping your ass, "What goes through that head of yours now, hm? Tell me"

"You" you panted, slowly looking up at him with shame in your eyes, "Now- what I'm doing now-"

"Makes you feel like a slut?"

You hesitated, but answered, "Yes"

"And you love that, don't you?"

"Yes.. I do"

"Should've figured that out sooner" Lee shook his head, his hands lewdly gripping your breasts, "You whore yourself out for money everyday, don't know why I thought I should go easy on you. You don't want that, do you? For me to go easy on you? You wanna be roughed up real good. Saw what your daddy does to you everyday, you can take it"

"Yes, I can take it" you whined, doing your best to work with what you got. No matter what you did, you wanted more. More pressure against your clit, needed something to enter you, needed Mr. Bodecker to push your buttons just a bit more.

"Were you always like this?" he taunted, guiding your hips towards a more profound release, his nails deep in your skin as he spoke through his gritted teeth, "Whiny, and with no fuckin' shame? Eager to please whatever man touches you?"

"...no"

"No?" he questioned surprised, "Ransom turned into into his fuck doll, didn't he?"

You nodded, feeling your walls start to clench as you were getting closer and closer to an orgasm.

"I bet you like it better now, don't you?" Lee pushed, "Bet the fuckin' is so much better now that you got yourself a man that knows how to treat a whore like you"

At this point your core was numb as you sweated through every pore, your high moments away. "Never- I- I never had anyone else" you confessed in a shaky tone.

"What?" Lee exploded, perverse enthusiasm threatening to burst out of him. He smiled like you've never seen him before, his pupils dilated as a rush of jealousy washed over him. "That fucker, shoulda known" he shook his head.

"He loves me” you tried to articulate, your words coming out all whiny and muffled.

“Show me how much you love your daddy-” Lee growled, grabbing your chin into his hand. He immobilized you so that you couldn’t look away, his eyes so vile and crude that you felt violated to your bones, “Cum for me if you love him, you know that’s what he wants”

“Yes” you cried.

“He wouldn’t have you in this position if he didn’t love you, baby” he huffed, his lips wet with spit as the anger in his words took over, “He trusts you to be good, don’t let him down”

“I don’t want to let him down”

“Then be a good fucking slut and cum”

You felt pleasure roll up your spine, your eyes squeezing shut as tears broke away at the corners. You bit down hard into your lips, coming undone into the hands of the stranger Ransom chose, and you didn’t have anything against it. As wave after wave of liquid ecstasy surged through your frame, you moaned out loud, profanity after profanity, until your body reached its limits and you fell into his hold, body limb in Mr. Bodecker’s lap.

“Knew you had it in ya” he commented, rubbing your back, before rolling you off of him. With minimal effort you settled by his side on the couch, naked and sweaty, your thighs sticky together as you waited for his next move.

“I know sluts like you think better after their pussies get some attention, so now you can listen to me” Lee taunted, his hand exploring your body.

With big, doe eyes, you remained silent.

“Got a few rules for you, doll” he grinned, slipping his fingers along your sensitive folds, “Think you can keep up?"

“I can” you responded, just his condescending tone making your clit buzz all over again.

“Once that camera is on, I’m not a fucking sheriff and my name isn’t Lee, got that? I’m Sir to you, or whatever that brain of yours manages to muster. Don’t care what you have to say anyway, so you can go ahead and call me whatever you deem appropriate. If you choose anything stupid, you’ll regret it, so I’m counting on the fact that you won’t”

“I won’t” you shook your head, finally slipping in the right mood for what was to come, “I’ll call you Sir”

“Good,” he slowly nodded, his eyes scanning your body. His hand still between your legs, was teasing your opening, making you crave more, but you knew better.

“What are the other rules?” you asked innocently.

“Had a couple more” Lee admitted, standing up from the couch and motioning for you to follow suit, “But won’t it be so much more fun if you figure them out as we go?”

“I don’t want to do anything wrong” you pouted, scrambling to your feet.

“Sweet-” he grinned, slapping your ass and pointing towards the bedrooms, “I’m sure you will though, and I can’t wait”

“I won’t” you beamed, turning around and walking backwards up the stairs, “You’ll see!”

“Wanna make me real proud?”

“Yes!”

“Figure out what the other two rules were, and maybe then I won’t think you’re just a dumb fuck toy”

“You’ll see, Mr. Bodecker” you giggled, rushing up the remaining steps before reaching the bedroom, “I’m more than meets the eye”

He shook his head, amused with how eager you turned. Your whole attitude changed, you turned from a sweet girl, shy but still determined to do right by her daddy, into this completely other version of yourself, walking naked around the house, smiling proudly when a stranger decided to openly degrade you. Did you care? Not in the slightest.

It only came to you as a sudden realisation that you had no clothes on when you walked into the bedroom, and saw Ransom chuckling under his breath after his eyes landed on you.

“Is that how you get to know people?” he shook his head, opening his closet and fishing out a Tshirt for you, “You fuck ‘em?”

“Jesus-” you scoffed, turning the shirt around in your hands and then pulling it over your head, “We didn’t fuck”

“So you’re just naked and flushed for no reason”

Before you got the chance to say anything you might soon regret, you heard the floorboards creak, as Lee entered the room and walked around you towards the bed. His cock was threatening to rip away through the hard material of his pants, and it wasn’t only you who noticed.

“On your knees, Y/n” Ransom commanded, still on the other side of the room, playing with the camera set-up.

Without questioning his words, you dropped to the floor, only to have to crawl all the way over to Lee. He looked satisfied, his cheeks red and he seemed on the edge, but he had controlled himself enough. He toyed with your hair as you leaned against his knees, smiling up at him.

“Ok” Ransom said, coming up behind you to face Lee, “Record with this-” he added, handing him his phone, “It doesn’t really matter how good it turns out, the main camera is the one over there-” he said, nodding to the side, “But still, you got the best point of view”

“Yeah, yeah, got it” Lee nodded, taking the phone into his hand.

When no command came for you, you looked up at Ransom confused.

“What?” he asked, “Want me to teach you how to suck a dick?”

You almost said no. You almost answered probably the most rhetorical question Ransom had ever spoken, and couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. The moment was cut short however, as Lee stood up and undid his pants. Your palms watered as you listened to his belt being unbuckled, and then you didn’t find the will to look away as he started to lower his jeans down his thighs.

You didn’t quite know what you were expecting, but your breathing became unregulated as soon as his enlarged member came into view. More thick than long and with dark veins protruding at its sides, you watched precum leak out of the inflamed head of his cock.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands, Ransom’s, grab your cheeks from where he was standing behind you, and pull you back with force so that he could look into your eyes. He bent down until his breath fanned against your skin, “Don’t hold back, baby, yeah. Suck his cock as good as you suck mine. Don’t fucking disappoint me. You take it down your throat, you swallow and you say thanks, got it?”

When he received your answer in the form of a nod, Ransom pushed you back. He easily guided you forward until you were standing between Mr. Bodecker’s legs. Placing your elbows on his thighs, you picked up his cock, and lowered yourself as deep as you could, planting your tongue as the base of his shaft. You licked your way up until you reached the tip, expertly twirling your tongue along his slit, delighted by the grunts he tried so hard to conceal.

Pumping him in your hand a few times, you prepared to take him down your throat. You knew he couldn’t last much longer, every sign pointed to him being already close to his release. Wrapping your lips around his tip, you sucked mercilessly from between hollowed cheeks.

"Love-" Ransom sighed, fisting your hair into his hand and harshly pulling you back. He spoke into your ear, in a grave tone that shook you to the core, "I know you can do better than that”

Hyperventilating, your eyes shot up to meet Lee’s, his expression coated in a crude, hazardous shade of darkness. He brought his hand up to rub his thumb across your bottom lip as he, much to your surprise, guided you back, “Come on, doll”

You obliged, and resumed your work as Ransom’s hold on you loosened up.

You bopped your head up and down against the tip of his cock, chest tightening with the anxiety of going further. It was the fear of the unknown that took hold of you, but it was short lived, your suspicion based dread soon being replaced with a fear that was solely rooted in the acts of the two men around you.

Lee curled his fingers around the roots of your hair, forcing your mouth to slip all the way down his cock. He stopped when it was no longer your will resizing him, but the fact that he couldn’t physically push you any further.

You slumped under his grip, your knees falling weak as your back resumed its curved position, trying - hoping to make some way - any kind of way for air to still pass to your lungs. But it was in vain, as your throat convulsed around his bulbous head, your eyes wet with still unshed tears. Deep down, you knew you could keep going, but your instincts begged for a release.

Slowly, you curled your fingers into the flesh of his thighs, pressing down hard as your legs squirmed under your weight. You tried to move away, but were only met with the pain of your hair being pulled, as Lee continued to keep you in place.

“Stop fighting it, you little slut. You know that's what you're here for” Ransom called, bending down behind you.

His right hand snaked up your shirt, his greedy touch exploring the skin of your sides and then he went further up your chest. It was suffocating and exhausting, a wave of shame rushing up your spine as the first row of tears rushed down your cheeks.

A loud sob tried to escape your throat but it was muffled by the way Lee’s cock filled your mouth. That didn’t stop you however from continuing to choke back pitiful wails as your air supply was running dangerously low.

No matter how hard you fought him, it seemed in vain. He enjoyed his moment of pleasure too much, his chest shaking with every grunt that passed his dry lips.

“Fuck, yes” he eventually cried out, throwing his head back as he released you from his furious grip.

You stumbled backwards, gasping for air, right against Ransom’s chest. He brushed the hair out of your eyes, looking down at you. His breathing was calm and regulated, almost a mockery compared to the heaving way your chest struggled to make up for the time you spent without air.

“See?” he laughed, kissing your temple, “Told you you could do it”

It took a few seconds for your vision to focus again, your eyes instantly capturing Lee’s frame. His eyes squeezed shut as he worked himself into his hand. You knew you’d regret it if you let him finish by himself, so you pushed your limits, and despite every muscle of your body trembling out of control, you resumed your position ready to get it over with.

“So eager, you slut” Lee shook his head, gripping your chin. Ransom helped guide you, shoving you back between the sheriff's legs, but this time you didn’t need any assistance in taking him all the way down inside your mouth.

You ignored the pang in your chest when his tip brushed against the back of your throat. Your eyes already wet and lungs close to their breaking point, this time you had no chance in lasting as long as you did the first time. Ransom took it upon himself though, squatting down behind you. His muscled thighs caged your shivering frame, as he pinned you down.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he laughed against the shell of your ear, “The way he’s fucking your mouth? And you just sit and take it, cause you’re a smart girl, right?”

A joke - he amused himself, as if there was any way for you to actually answer.

“You like having your whore mouth filled with a fat cock? Especially when it belongs to a man you met about an hour ago, don’t you?”

This time, you blinked uncontrollably. His devious tone and rude words made your body respond in a jerk like fashion, your pussy starting to throb, all while accelerating the rate at which your body was starting to run out of oxygen. You curled your fingers into the thick material of Ransom’s sweater, your gesture begging him to stop. But he didn’t, not yet.

“Don’t be rude, slut” he taunted, and you heard Lee chuckle, deep and raspy as his hips bucked into your mouth, “I know your limits and you know how fun it is for me when I ignore them”

At this point, tears streamed down your cheeks, ruining your makeup, your glittery eyeshadow now coating half your face. You coughed harshly, your throat closing up against his cock as your gag reflex settled for maybe what was the final warning.

And as it turns out, Ransom did now your limits, as just when you thought you literally couldn’t take any more, not even just one second longer, he grabbed your hair, pulling you back. His action was met with a loud, pleasure infused moan from Lee’s part, all while you broke down. You clawed away at Ransom’s chest, gathering yourself into a ball between his outstretched arms, as you waited for your body to get accustomed to air again.

“Shh, baby-” he cooed, stroking your hair, “You’re ok, look up at me”

And you did, eyes watery and searching for any kind of warmth or understanding. There were traces of what you knew and called love, but they were hidden behind a perverse satisfaction rooted in seeing you at his mercy.

"Do you want to make daddy angry?" he asked, in such a sweet tone it made it feel like a crime to give any answer other than what he wanted to hear.

"No" you nodded sincerely.

"Then finish him off, pet, don't waste my time" he urged you, pointing to Lee.

Without even bothering to wipe your tears, you spun around and faced Mr. Bodecker again. He was far away from you, head tilted back as he chased his release by himself.

"Open" he commanded, rubbing his thumb across his slit.

As it turned out, you were not fast enough to comply, as he broke out of his daze, his palm connecting to your cheek, "Fucking open that whore mouth!"

In a matter of seconds, your lips parted, tongue poking out as you waited. And it wasn't a long wait, his hot cum shooting out of his cock and directly into your mouth in an instant.

You swallowed with every chance you got, licking your lips in search for any drops you may have missed. He cursed his way through the earth shattering orgasm, the chain of profanities that come out of his mouth managing to make all the hairs on your body stand up.

He finished with a low grunt, "Yeah.. yeah.. fuck.." milking his cock until there was nothing left for you to take.

"Good fucking job, you slut" he chuckled along with a shake of his head, almost looking surprised, "Had plenty of practice, didn't you?"

"A bit" you mumbled coyly.

"Oh, so then you're a natural" he laughed, "Makes sense. A whore mouth of yours should always be stuffed"

Due to the lack of a better response, you looked up and muttered a shy "Thank you"

The rollercoaster of emotions and thoughts that stormed through your head at this particular moment made it absolutely impossible for you to keep up with them, but judging by the way he grinned down at you, it should be safe to assume they were not expecting anything more.

With each moment that passed, you found yourself slipping deeper and deeper into a vicious and twisted state of mind, and you let yourself get carried away - both mentally and physically.

In a haze, Ransom grabbed you and threw you on the bed, not even giving you a chance to settle properly before ruthlessly tugging at the shirt you still had on, ripping it off your body with one excruciating screech. His action accentuated the pain between your legs, and you ended up rubbing your thighs together as you sat naked on the bed while the two men looked at you like prey; 3 cameras still pointed at you, still recording.

You licked your lips as Ransom shuffled out of his clothes, your heart rate fibrillating with anticipation. “On your back, pet” your boyfriend commanded.

Following his orders, you let yourself fall back against the plump pillows, your hands around your chest and knees innocently pressed together. Ransom rounded the bed, coming up behind you. He leaned down above you, coming into your line of sight. Even upside down and with his features mostly hidden away by the shadows of the room, his eyes still shone that familiar shade of darkness that brought you to submission in an instant.

As he bent down all the way to press his lips to yours, you felt your legs being pulled apart. Just because you couldn’t see what was going on aroused you to no end, making you moan into the kiss. Ransom’s hands traveled down your body, caressing your breasts with that amount of pressure he knew would have you squirming. And it did, it worked, as you arched your back, whining against his tongue as he tortured your nipples between his experienced fingers.

He almost monopolized your full attention, your mind concentrating solely on the feel of Ransom’s touches, and this too, again, worked in their favour. Out of nowhere, while you were still enjoying the calm moment, a painful slap echoed around the room, the pain only propagating across your body after you processed what happened.

That was Lee’s way of demanding your attention, or maybe his way of reminding you that this day wasn’t about you and your pleasure. The slap he delivered against your exposed and sensitive pussy had you whimpering out in pain as you pulled away from Ransom’s lips and gathered yourself into a ball.

“Come back here, darling. Where do you think you’re going?” he laughed, pinning your shoulders down against the mattress, as Bodecker aggressively straightened your legs again. “Wanna make this hard?” Ransom questioned.

“No” you shook your head, “No, no, please”

“Then fucking behave!” he yelled, his instant mood swing taking you aback.

“I’m sorry”

“Fucking pull away like that again and you will be, you dumb slut” he scoffed, slapping your face again.

In the meantime, Lee crawled between your legs, his sordid nature shining bright as he decided you weren’t worth even a warning, before he rammed two fingers inside your pussy, knuckles deep.

“Fuck!” you screamed, fighting against your instinct, and resisting the urge to close your legs together.

Your reaction won you another slap, this one more tame from Ransom, who towered over you, “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to like that?”

“I’m sorry” you whined, breathing heavily as Lee picked up his pace, his fingers fucking your pussy in a way that was neither painful, nor pleasurable. He worked on driving you close to the edge, tormenting you in the slowest way possible.

“Full sentences from now on, sweetheart” Ransom chuckled, gripping your hair into his fist and forcing your head up to look at Lee, “He’s fucking your cunt, what do you say?”

The look in Bodecker’s eyes cut your breath away, as you’ve never in your life felt more humiliated, but you pushed through, “... thank you?”

Ransom pulled on your hair, “Full sentences, you dumb slut”

“Thank you for fucking my pussy” you said barely above a whisper.

Lee grinned wickedly at your words, “Haven’t even started yet, darlin'” he shook his head, lowering himself between your legs. He licked his way up your folds, his tongue brushing against your sensitive clit a few times before he pushed himself up.

“Just messin’ with ya, doll” he mentioned, lowering himself again.

His words confused you as he resumed his position, his lips finding your clit again, sucking profusely. Your hips bucked under him, the pressure of his teeth brushing against your bundle of nerves, starting to be too much for you to bear. When you moaned out loud, eyes squeezed shut and back arched to the extreme, he pushed himself up, and slapped your pussy again.

“You cum on my cock” he grunted, moving further up the bed.

He leaned on his back, Ransom effortlessly guiding you on top of him. With your body like jelly in his strong arms, you settled with a soft huff, knees on either side of Lee’s hips.

He groaned in pleasure, your thigh brushing against his cock, which much to your surprise was already hardening again. Arching your back in search of some pressure for your clit, you felt the bed dip on your side as Ransom climbed in behind you, his hands coming up to grip your hips.

He lifted you up, sinking his fingers into your pussy. You moaned in pleasure, only to have your heart stop when you felt him caress his way higher up.

“Ransom?” you called with a shaky tone, as you tried to look at him over your shoulder, “What are you-”

“What?” he laughed, slapping your ass hard enough to bruise, “Didn’t think I was gonna stay and watch the whole time?”

“No, no-” you mumbled, shaking your head, eyes meeting Lee’s in the process, “But I don’t-”

“Don’t like it? Don’t want it? What were you about to say?” Ransom taunted, spitting on his fingers as if that would help with the pain in any way. This pathetic excuse for lube made the hairs on your body stand up.

“I-”

“I dare you” Ransom threatened, “Tell me ‘no’”. As he waited for your answer, he teased your asshole, his fingers aggressively pushing in to stretch your muscles.

“Please-” you whined, afraid the actual wording would send you down a road you didn’t ever wish to explore.

“Please, what?” he asked, “Please Daddy fuck my ass?”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, as you felt legitimately lost. Uselessly trying to find a way to delay the inevitable, you felt the tip of Lee’s cock toy between your fold before his warm breath hit your skin as he spoke.

“Fuckin’ get on with it already” he huffed annoyed, “Whatcha listening to her for?”. A sob rushed past your lips, making Lee slap your cheek, “Stop fucking crying, take it up your ass like the good slut your daddy said you were, before I lose my patience”

His words stung, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Ransom’s cock stretching your ass beyond what you ever thought would ever be pleasurable. You screamed out in pain as tears lingered on your chin before falling against Lee’s chest.

Ransom grunted out, his fingers digging into your hips as he felt himself reach another level of ecstasy after watching you mess around all afternoon. The depth his cock reached knocked the wind out of you, your mouth falling agape with absolutely no sounds coming out.

You settled on suffering in silence, hoping it would all end soon. Realisation painfully hit you when you felt the second cock start to penetrate you. Lee spread your folds with his massive cock, stretching your walls.

“So fucking tight” he shook his head, breathing heavily against your face as he forced himself in, “Never thought a whore like you’d be so tight”

And it was all bearable, a pain you considered yourself able to stand. However that all changed when they started to move, their cocks pumping in and out of your in tandem.

With every thrust another cry escaped your lips, the feeling of absolute no control over the abuse inflicted on your body being something you never thought you’d ever dread to this extent.

“Why did we use lube before?” Ransom laughed, letting go of your hips so that he could spank your ass, hard slaps against already inflamed skin, hate in his touch and anger in his tone.

Whenever he pulled out of you, you felt yourself come undone, but when he rammed himself back in, the air was punched out of your lungs, throat closing up with the torment that was getting too much.

Your continuous string of cries was muffled by Lee slamming his lips against yours, his tongue barging in with no warning. He dominated the kiss, not bothered in the slightest by your whimpers or by the fact that you remained motionless against him. He continued to thrust his hips up into you, his hands holding onto your chest, as if you’d ever dare try and pull away.

Despite how wet and needy you already were before he both entered you, you still cursed yourself when you realised just how close you were to another orgasm.

With each thrust, you were pushed closer and closer to your limit. You arched your back, falling down against Lee’s chest with a cry, “God- it hurts…”

“You lying whore, think I didn’t feel your pussy clench around my cock?” he taunted, tilting your shin up against your will, “Can feel ya milkin’ my cock”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you could at least avoid seeing what was going on if you couldn’t stop it. With each passing second, every one of their movements became more and more aggravated. Hoping to speed up the process and still chasing a release, you snaked your hand down your body, your fingers instantly finding your clit.

You focused on working specific, intricate circles around your bundle of nerves, as the pain seemed to slowly but surely transform into pleasure. For the first time since you found yourself caged between the two men, you actually smiled, as your eyes started to roll back.

For a while, your orgasm seemed to mock you, inches away but still seemingly so far that you were almost out of breath.

What threw you over the edge however was Ransom changing his position, solely his pleasure infused grunt tickling your ears and playing with your senses in such a way that you were instantly hit with a ravening wave of unbridled bliss, the feeling propagating along your limbs until you were shaking from head to toe, crying out as you came undone, for the second time, in the arms of a stranger.

And if until now you felt like you couldn’t take anymore, as you came down from your high, every feeling, every touch, every jab and spank felt infinitely more dire and extreme, your overly sensitive and freshy exhausted body unable to keep up anymore.

What followed turned out to be all a haze. You lost track of time and had absolutely no idea how much time passed until you were finally free. “It fucking hurts-” you whined again, your ass and pussy sore and aching with each thrust.

“Good,” Ransom said, bottoming out. He pushed himself as deep as he could, cursing out from the feeling your body provided for him.

“Please, stop-” you cried.

“Shut up and take it” he screamed, pulling your hair so hard your head was thrown back, “Stop being a fucking bitch. I don’t wanna fucking hear you”

Choked back moans still echoed around the room as they continued to use your body, but you refrained from making any more comments.

Ransom was the first to finish, shooting his load deep inside your ass, “Better fucking keep it in there” he panted, spent and consumed as he pulled out and fell on his back on the bed.

As he stopped guiding your hips, you fell down against Lee’s chest, making him scoff when the position made it more difficult to keep up. Grunting in your ear from the effort, without pulling his cock out of your pussy, he spun the two of you around, pinning you down into the mattress.

He hovered above you, slamming himself balls deep into your pussy, moaning all sorts of profanities against your cheek.

You held onto his back, hooking your legs around his middle, “Come on” you whispered, “Cum inside me”

“Oh, now you want it, huh?” he chuckled in the crook of your next, shoving himself into you a few more times, until he finally had enough. His movements became irregular and sloppy, his growls lower and more aggressive as he fucked himself into you a few more times. He finished balls deep into your pussy, coating your walls with his hot cum before pulling out, and throwing himself down on the bed, in the same manner as Ransom did mere minutes before.

Although no one spoke for a few seconds, the room was far from silent. Rugged breaths echoed around the room as you shuffled closer to Ransom, ready to curl yourself into a tiny ball into his side, “Hold me” you whined against his shoulder.

He wasn’t quick to react, but Lee on the other side, seemed to have been waiting for the right moment to speak up. “Bring us the glasses-” he sighed, slapping your bare ass, “And a refill, doll”

You gulped and searched for Ransom’s eyes, hoping he’d take your side. He did turn to you with a smile, “Yeah, love-” he nodded, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers, “I’m parched”

Seeing none of them about to change their minds, you shuffled out of bed. Every muscle ached and your bones seemed close to collapse, but you pushed through, limping your way to the living room and returning with their glasses and the bottle under your arm.

After you placed them down on the nightstand, you turned to them, “I’ll go run a bath” you said, pointing to the door.

“Good, babe” Ransom nodded, motioning for you to lean down and kiss his lips. You obliged, finally feeling warmth against your skin after everything that went down.

“I love you, baby” you whined, rubbing your thumb against his cheek bone.

“Love you too, y/n” he smiled. You turned to leave, but just when you were about to pass the threshold, he called for you again. “Lee’s staying over tonight, so when you’re done with your bath, be a doll and fix up the guest bedroom for him, yeah?”

#ransom drysdale x reader #lee bodecker x reader #dark!ransom x reader #dark!lee bodecker #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan x reader #ransom drysdale smut #lee bodecker smut #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fic #lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #chris evans smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #chris evans imagine

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suddencolds · 3 years

Text

Untrustworthy | Genshin Impact

This is a 3k word commission for anon! (I admittedly wrote over the commissioned word count).

Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your kind message 😭This fic was surprisingly very challenging to write, so I’m sorry for the wait; I hope you enjoy!

Requested prompt:

I want Diluc completely miserable with a cold. As much mess as you're ok with. Still trying to function. Until Kaeya can't stand watching anymore and inserts himself as caregiver.

—

It’s subtle at first. Diluc turns away from making a drink to cough tightly into an elbow. Diluc’s gaze pulls uneven as he ducks forward with a barely stifled sneeze into a handkerchief he’s been keeping in his coat pocket. Diluc—when he thinks no one is watching—leans a bit too heavily against the countertop, bracing himself with one arm, and lifts the other hand to massage his temples. as if he’s attempting to drive away a headache that he’s had all afternoon.

It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya pays more attention than people give him credit for. It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya is aware that a cold has been making its rounds through the Knights, many of which frequent the tavern—one severe enough to prompt Jean to actually take a sick day, for once, one that seems especially severe this winter and—judging by the absences in his ranks this last week—difficult to avoid.

Diluc doesn’t fall ill often, Kaeya knows. Even now he barely looks unwell, save for the faint flush of his cheeks, the exhaustion disrupting his usually-perfect posture, the sneezes that he keeps stifling into almost-silence.

Either he’s at the start of his cold—before it’s had a chance to get really bad—or he’s putting in an inordinate amount of effort to hide it.

Kaeya suspects it might be both.

“Master Diluc,” he says, when Diluc conveniently stops by one of the tables next to him with drinks. “When does your shift end?”

Diluc’s shoulders stiffen, though he doesn’t turn around to address Kaeya properly. “Three hours from now.” he says, frowning. “if you intend to involve me in one of your late-night arrangements…”

“Oh? Not this time,“ Kaeya says. He lifts his wine to take a sip. “Even if I were, I think perhaps I would have reconsidered.”

“And why is that?”

Diluc says it flatly—unaffectedly—but he only has the luxury of keeping up that act for a few seconds before he’s ducking into his shoulder with a perfectly silenced stifle. It’s such a seamless performance, neatly contained and expertly quiet—really, Kaeya deems himself unworthy.

“Bless you,” he says, though Diluc scoffs, swipes the empty glasses from the table he’s serving, and starts off toward his usual spot behind the counter. “I do hope you are not falling ill, master Diluc.”

Diluc sets the glasses down on the countertop, diligently averting his glance. “I’m fine.”

“Is that so?” At Diluc’s silence, he presses on. “Perhaps you should close up early, just in case. You look like you could use some rest.”

“No need,” Diluc says. “It’s just— “Hiih… hiIIH-nGK-t! Hiih… HIiIH…-!!.... hiIIh-GKt!” The sneezes snap him forward, his shoulders trembling with the motion. He straightens with an almost imperceptible shiver. “—just dust, snf. Perhaps the Knights would be more efficient if you put more time into work instead of investigating less…” Diluc looks to him at last, his jaw tightly set. “...pressing matters.”

“Ah.” Kaeya laughs. “So eager to get rid of me?”

“Your concern is unnecessary. I already intend to close up earlier than usual.”

That’s surprising, to say the least—Diluc usually never cancels plans to suit himself. “So you really aren’t feeling well,” Kaeya says, suddenly worried. If it’s so bad that even Diluc is closing up early...

He must not be doing a good job keeping the concern off his face, because Diluc just scoffs dismissively, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not that.” He coughs softly into his raised elbow. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Hmm, to think you said no late night excursions...”

“There’s a banquet tomorrow that I’m expected to attend.”

And yet he won't be closing up for another few hours. And yet he’s here, with the start of a cold, looking exhausted and unwell, and still—for reasons Kaeya can’t fathom—he intends to work late into the night and then spend the entire day tomorrow at some pretentious social event. Kaeya knows that having to entertain strangers is exhausting to Diluc even on regular occasions. He also knows that whatever Diluc is coming down with is unlikely to resolve itself in just a night’s rest.

“For the winery?” he asks. “My, such impressive dedication to the business… surely you can send Elzer on your behalf?”

Diluc’s shoulders tense in a way that suggests that he is as reluctant about attending as Kaeya expected. “I can’t. The host requested my presence.”

“At the very least,” Kaeya says, “You should close up a bit earlier.” He glances over his shoulder to peer through the first floor windows. It’s dark outside—too dark to come to any conclusions, but earlier today, the sky had been too heavy, the air prickling with humidity, the clouds overhead sprawling and dark. “It wouldn’t do you any good to get caught up in the rain.”

“The rain is of no consequence to me,” Diluc says, in the kind of tone that suggests that he doesn’t intend to close up early at all.

“Even with a cold?” “I don’t have a cold.”

Kaeya shrugs. “Well, if you’re certain.” He pushes his mug forward so that it rests on the countertop, right within Diluc’s reach, and counts the mora out beside it. “Goodnight, Diluc.”

He turns on his heels. Years ago, he might’ve stayed longer. He might’ve insisted for Diluc to take care of himself and not left his side until he had.

But it’s been years. Diluc left, and Kaeya tried to muster up the pieces of himself that had existed independent of him—he’d taught himself how to lie, tricked himself into believing that the person he’d trusted most hadn’t left him—and now even though Diluc is back, sometimes it feels as if Kaeya barely knows him at all.

If Diluc won’t take care of himself, then that’s his prerogative. It’s stopped being Kaeya’s problem a long time ago.

—

Kaeya has every intention of leaving Diluc alone.

That is, until he’s at the Knights’ headquarters, listening in on a conversation that he doesn’t quite mean to eavesdrop on but hasn’t gone out of his way not to avoid.

“He keeps taking our work,” one of the Knights says. “It’s awful. Last time we spent all our time finding this one domain—Fatui territory, alright? We had a whole expedition team ready to scout out the domain the next day. Then the next day, we get there and the place is abandoned. Everything’s been scorched. Must’ve been a pyro user.” “How do you know it was him?”

“Trust me, you’d know. How many pyro visions are there in Teyvat? It’s like the legends say. He doesn’t leave any room unturned. He’s more thorough than a team of our men put together.”

“Gentlemen,” Kaeya says loudly, smiling when they startle and turn to look at him in synchronicity. “What are you talking about?”

“The Darknight Hero,” one of the knights offers haltingly. “Last night he took down one of the Fatui strongholds we were planning to deal with. Talk about an annoyance, huh?”

“Oh? How heroic. It seems he lives up to his title,” Kaeya says. His mind is reeling. Diluc? But last night, Diluc had been working late. He’d gone home right after, hadn’t he? It wouldn’t make sense for him to be out last night. Unless, of course...

He would really, really like to believe that Diluc’s self-preservation instincts are better than that.

“I’ve been saying,” says another knight. “We were supposed to be scouting out the area right now. Chances are, there will be nothing left there that’s of any use to us.”

“Seeing as we have nothing to do today,” the first knight says, his expression hardening, “maybe we can conduct a search party for the Darknight Hero instead. See what he has to say about withholding information from the Knights.”

“Let’s not be too hasty here,” Kaeya cuts in, before the other Knights have a chance to offer their assent. “It’s unlikely that the Darknight Hero would be out during the day, isn’t it? Rest assured, I’ll make sure that it’s looked into. In the meantime, have you asked the Acting Grandmaster for a new assignment?”

The knight in question falters. “No, but…”

Kaeya smiles pointedly at him—the kind of vicious smile that, around knights and strangers alike, never fails to intimidate. “Then perhaps you should get to it, don’t you think?”

He waits until he’s sure they’ll be busy with something else. Maybe they’re mistaken. Maybe Diluc had gone to scout out the area on some previous occasion, and the Knights are only now paying witness to his usual efficiency.

Or maybe Diluc has forgone a night of rest in lieu of playing hero to Mondstadt in the pouring rain. And now he’s at a banquet somewhere, with a miserable cold that he’s most likely intent on telling himself he doesn’t have.

It’s been awhile since Kaeya’s been to a banquet. He misses the alcohol, the music, the extravagant decorations. It’s easy enough to tell himself that that’s the reason why he’s going.

—

It’s not difficult to get in. Kaeya is well-acquainted with having to sweet talk his way into lowering someone’s defenses.

Inside the banquet hall, it’s crowded. It is as pretentious a setup as it gets—visitors wearing suits and ballroom gowns, walls adorned with streamers and gold plaques, tables laid out with refreshments of all sorts. The building it’s being held in has at least two floors and too many side rooms to count.

He spots Diluc from across the room—red hair is rare enough that he’s not easy to miss. Diluc is currently engaging in conversation with someone Kaeya hasn’t seen before.

It’s likely that Diluc has found the person who explicitly requested his presence—probably someone with a business deal that he thinks warrants a personal talk with the owner of Dawn Winery. If Kaeya interrupts Diluc while he’s negotiating some sort of once-in-a-lifetime deal, Diluc will never let him live it down. So instead, he grabs a drink as an excuse to get closer and stands a few tables away to listen in.

Up close, Diluc’s cold is practically impossible to miss. His clothes look freshly ironed, but his hair is still damp at the tips—he’s changed into dry clothes, then, but his wet hair seems to only confirm the hypothesis that he was, in fact, scouting out domains last night in the rain instead of getting a wink of sleep. Diluc has always been pale, but now there’s a flush high on his cheeks that Kaeya thinks could only be a result of an impending fever. He is standing with his arms crossed—a last attempt to keep warm, perhaps—with a handkerchief gripped loosely in one hand. Faint shivers break the line of his shoulders.

Kaeya feels a pang in his chest. Diluc looks…

Kaeya watches as Diluc twists away with a soft apology and a wrenching sneeze that snaps him forward at the waist.

...miserable.

“That was merely my expectation,” the man says. “Crepus and I were business partners, do you know that? You don’t seem like the type of person who would choose this profession. I am sure your priorities lie elsewhere.”

Diluc clears his throat. “I have no qualms against upholding the family business.” His voice—though usually smooth and mellifluous—has taken on a rough edge to it, as if from overuse.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” the man says. “I am sure you’re aware of your options, no? You could make a fortune selling off the winery if you so desired.”

“If you are...” Diluc starts, though his sentence is punctuated by a soft, desperate gasp, and he turns away just in time, ducking into his handkerchief. “hiIh…. Hiih… hiih’GKt—CHhiiew! Snf-!” His eyes stay shut in anticipation, the grip tightening around the handkerchief as his shoulders jerk with another sharp intake of breath. “Hiih… Hiiih… Iiih’DZsshh-iu! haAHH’iIKTch-iIIew!” he sniffles wetly, barely suppressing a violent shiver.

“If you are here to gauge whether or not I intend to sell the winery, I can assure you that I do not,” he says, quieter than usual.

“Ah, of course, just a question.” The man leans forward, lowers his voice. “Truthfully, I am more interested in a partnership. It’s come to my attention that you have an excess of wine sitting in the winery’s cellars. If you can get me the amount of Dandelion Wine I need at a discounted price, I can sell it down in Liyue for a profit.”

“I have no interest in expanding the business any further,” Diluc says. “The excess will sell out easily in the spring when demand rises for Windblume.”

“I urge you to give it some consideration. Dandelion Wine is a specialty to Mondstadt. Think about the profitability of expanding to somewhere where dandelions are hard to come by,“ the man says. “You could stand to double or even triple the prices per bottle. I am only asking to take a fraction of your stock, see? Ten percent would be enough.”

He says it as if ten percent isn’t anything substantial, but Kaeya can’t help but think that there’s something wrong here—both with the presentation of the offer and with its suddenness. From here, Diluc’s expression is unreadable—it betrays only slight discomfort when he turns to the side, muffling harsh, forceful coughs into his suit sleeve, and murmurs a reflexive apology. No hesitation—not the slightest hint of wariness—even though the Diluc Kaeya remembers wouldn’t agree to raising prices so drastically without good reason.

“I can handle all transportation and deliver the profits to you in a few months,” the man presses on, interpreting Diluc’s untelling silence as interest. “My associates have done research on the market in Liyue and where it would be best to sell. You wouldn’t have to do anything differently from your end. All that I ask is for you to trust me with the first shipment and compensate me fairly after I handle the marketing and transportation.”

Diluc sniffles. “Forgive me,” he says, bracing himself with one hand against the table behind him as he ducks forward violently into a raised arm. “hiIh’nGKT-chhiEW! HIih… I do n-not… hhH… Hiih-! hiIH’iiikT-CHhiew! Sdf-! Ugh… hiIIH’NGKT-CHhiew!” He leans slightly into his side, and though the gesture is well-disguised, Kaeya can tell just how much he’s bracing his weight on the table. It’s concerning, to say the least. Is he really too tired to stand upright? “...I do not expect to give out so much wine without a proper assessment of the risk. If you believe the model to be profitable, you are free to… t-to… hh-! to purchase…. hiIH… haAA’iiKTT-CHh!-u! hiIh’iiiTSSHhh’uh! snf-!” The congestion in his voice is evident in all of his consonants, and his gaze flickers down to his handkerchief in unspoken desperation, though Kaeya suspects he’s too polite to blow his nose in front of a business partner.

“...You are free to purchase wine at the same rate as I offer other corporate partners. I cannot - coughcough - I cannot offer such a large first-time shipment for free based on only an assumption that it will be successful.”

Kaeya can see the exact moment the smugness drops off of the man’s face. His eyes harden at Diluc’s hesitation, his practiced smile shifting into the approximation of a sneer.

“An assumption? You don’t trust my ability to see the operation through to the end?” He says, still in the same polite, haughty tone of his. “As a long-time associate of your father, I would have thought I would have earned your trust as well. Unless, of course, you simply don’t agree with Crepus’s assessments?”

Kaeya can see the way Diluc’s jaw tightens at the query. He clears his throat softly, though the brief wince that follows suggests that the action is far from painless.

“His vision for the company is - snf - very important to me,” he says simply.

The man waves a flippant hand. “Or perhaps once he left, you decided you knew better? I mean, you have grown up so much, so I’m sure you feel more than capable of handling his affairs, regardless of whether or not you’re doing it his way. I don’t blame you.”

As the man turns around to pour himself a drink, Kaeya sees a flash of blue and gold tucked into his suit pocket. It takes him another moment to realize what it is.

A Fatui sergeant’s insignia—for identification purposes, or just a habit, likely.

This man isn’t a business partner of Crepus’s at all.

Now, the man wheels around, holding one drink in each hand. Alcohol, clearly—though it sparkles, faintly red. “Ah, well. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but your decisions are understandable. A friend of mine has been working on a drink that mixes certain Liyuen specialties and Dandelion Wine—would you give it a try?”

“I don’t drink,” Diluc says haltingly.

“Just a sip wouldn’t hurt,” the man says, raising an eyebrow. “If you are anything like Crepus, you must have developed quite the refined taste when it comes to wine. Perhaps you could speak for the quality?”

“I’m sorry,” Diluc says quietly. “I am… Hiih… f-feeling… hH…. hiIih’iIKT-chHIew! Sdf!... slightly under the weather.” Kaeya blinks at him, disbelieving. Such an outright admission is practically unheard of, when it comes to Diluc—but then again, it’s a convenient excuse, and Kaeya is not under the impression that he really knows him. Diluc lifts a hand to his face, sniffling hard. “I’m afraid I would not be able to taste it.”

“You state the obvious,” the man drawls, and Diluc’s shoulders hunch slightly as he turns his face away, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons why I recommended this drink. It’s made with Jueyun chilis. Should be good for clearing up a cold.”

“Is that so?” Diluc says, still frowning.

“Perhaps you could speak to its efficacy?”

Slowly—hesitantly—Diluc lifts the glass. The man watches him like a hawk—too eagerly, if anything. Kaeya presumes that he either wants Diluc poisoned or too intoxicated not to be swayed, and hauling home a Diluc who can’t hold his own sounds like more than he’s signed up for, so now would be a good time to interfere. Diluc can be mad at him later.

Kaeya, for all he’s attempted over the years, has plenty of practice making his entrances as obnoxiously showy as possible.

“My, my,” he says, striding in with a drink in hand to settle right next to Diluc. “The esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery.” Just for the way Diluc grimaces at the title, his eyebrows furrowing, he decides this intervention has been worth it. “And… who’s this?”

Diluc veers away from Kaeya to stifle—a soft, near-silent stifle that must be exhausting to suppress.

“A business partner,” the man answers through gritted teeth.

“Must be a busy job,” Kaeya says, snatching Diluc’s drink out of his hand and setting it down on the table behind him. “Given, of course, that you have two.” He takes an efficient step forward and swipes the insignia out of the so-called business partner’s pocket.

“I do wonder why the Fatui would be so interested in the Dawn Winery,” he says calmly, ignoring the man’s indignant yelp of protest. He turns the insignia over in his hands, contemplative. “Did you really think the owner of the largest wine business in Mondstadt would be so easy to scam?”

The sergeant swears. “You asshole—!”

Kaeya reaches for the sword tucked into his belt. He knows it wouldn’t be a fair fight, seeing that the man seems very much unarmed, but it’s as good as anything as a threat. “I don’t suppose you’ll try this again?” he says. “I can’t claim to be the best swordsman in Mondstadt—that title goes to the previous cavalry captain, but maybe tonight I can come in second.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh? Do you want to find out if I am?”

“No,” the agent says. “I wasn’t finished having my conversation.”

“Well, what a shame.” Kaeya doesn’t wait for him to think of a response. He takes Diluc’s arm and turns abruptly to haul Diluc towards the exit.

Diluc goes along easily enough. It’s only when they get outside that the frustration—from watching Diluc push himself, stubbornly, to this extent—boils over.

“Diluc,” he says, turning on his heels. “Really? After a late night shift at the tavern, your first thought was to forgo rest to spend all night scouting out a Fatui domain? In the rain, for that matter?”

Diluc turns away, his expression unchanging. “That’s not worth mentioning.”

“Perhaps you’d claim that attending a banquet directly afterwards is not worth mentioning, either? Your hair’s still wet. And that encounter with the Fatui sergeant—what’s gotten into you? Since when have you been so careless?”

He’s almost certain Diluc can hear the unspoken accusation behind it. This isn’t like you. Diluc is hasty—he has a tendency to overestimate himself and involve himself in situations he knows will be dangerous—but he isn’t careless.

“—I knew he wasn’t one of Crepus’s associates.” Diluc explains, with a soft, liquid sniffle. He turns away, lifting an arm to his face. “I would’ve - hhihH-!! - snf, I would’ve recognized him if he were, sdf.” his eyes drift shut; he buries his face into his suit sleeve, sniffling. “Crepus made it a point to… hiIh…-! hIIIh… to introduce him to everyone he - HIiIIih… sdf-!! ...Everyone he worked closely with.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya says, but it’s not enough. “Then why did you entertain him?”

Diluc is quiet for a moment. When Kaeya looks over, it’s to a dazed, bleary expression before he ducks harshly into his raised elbow with a forceful, “hiIh’nNGKT-chHIEw! hiIH’IITCHh-chhUU!! Snf-!”

He doesn’t lift his elbow from his face. “I w-wanted… snf-! more - hiIh-!...information,” he says. “If I were to know more about what he was planning, it would make it easier for me to find any fraudulent - hiIih-!! Snf-! - transactions in the company’s history if I knew what to - hIih-hiIh’iIKTch-IIiu! Excuse me… snf-! -to look for.”

“Bless you. There are better ways to do that,” Kaeya says. “No need to do it when you’re evidently unwell.”

Diluc peeks out from behind his arm, which he still hasn’t lowered from his face. His face is flushed up to his ears—easy enough to dismiss as fever, though Kaeya knows that’s not all there is to it.

Diluc has always been embarrassed about admitting weakness. Kaeya sighs, fishes through his own pockets for a spare handkerchief.

“I have to say, Diluc,” he says, holding out the handkerchief — which Diluc accepts hurriedly, turning away to clean up whatever mess he’s made of his sleeve - “My weekends would be much less eventful -”

“hiiihh’GKTTt-CHh’yyew! snf-!”

“- if I could trust you to look after yourself,” Kaeya finishes, raising an eyebrow. “Bless you, by the way.”

“I know my limits,” Diluc says.

Kaeya huffs a sigh. “But you don’t honor them, do you?”

Diluc frowns, looking away. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t showed up.”

Kaeya stares at him. It’s half in disbelief, half in exasperation—but Diluc has always been like this, hasn’t he? Insistent on his own self-sufficiency. Hesitant to admit he might, in any way, be infallible.

I would’ve been fine.

“You always are,” he says finally, with a smile that he doesn’t mean.

If Diluc so diligently insists on refusing his help, perhaps Kaeya should take a hint. Mondstadt is a half hour away—less, if he hurries. He quickens his pace. It’s fortunate, he thinks, that the rain stopped early this morning, after—

Diluc grabs his arm.

Kaeya wheels around, suddenly worried that Diluc might be feeling much worse than he’d let on, but Diluc’s expression betrays nothing as he lowers his hand to his side.

“Thank you,” he says—a soft, private admission.

Kaeya clears his throat, waves a dismissive hand. “I assure you, I have plenty more handkerchiefs.”

“No,” Diluc says quietly, looking away. “Not just for that.”

#snz #snz kink #snz fic #sneeze fic #my fic #gen/shi/n im/pac/t #i have been working on this for almost 2 weeks straight #longer than anticipated T-T i planned to finish this before moving back #it was really hard to write ngl (more plot-driven than most of my other recent snzfics)#i hope it doesn't disappoint ;;#(prob the last 2k+ fic in awhile unless my time management is insanely good)#i will still write drabbles if time permits! been wanting to write abt ko/kom/i after playing her character quest #(requests are still open as always! or scenarios if anyone just wants to talk!)#this is actually my first time being commissioned for writing and #it really made me happy!! thank you!

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heauxzenji · 3 years

Text

Summer School

Kōshi Sugawara x Milf!Reader

Warnings: lmaooo bitch this shit hurted I can’t even get into it just know that I don’t wish to be perceived and will not be taking questions at this time. This is also not based on a dream I had and I am completely okay and sane

WC: 2.2k

A/N: Part of the lovely Miki Mouse Whorehouse collab- @undermattsun I love you I’m sorry my appendix got in the way of having this in on time. If you haven’t read the rest of the best mf porn trope collab in the universe, check out the mlist here for more hot milfs in your area that can read to you. 💕 and also ty kwis @honey-makki for the banner because y’all almost didn’t get one... she’s the real hero of the story.

The silence in the room was deafening as you sat in front of his desk. The air was thick with tension, and your palms, though sweaty, felt ice cold. He was always jovial, except for in moments like these, moments where he commanded attention. Moments in which he was serious, an ever looming presence over all his students- over the entire school.

“I assume you know why we’re meeting, right?” he said, taking a seat at his own desk, piled high with papers and discarded paper coffee cups- you could also just barely make out... an ashtray? Maybe that was only for after hours- hours like these in which he probably stayed on the school grounds half the night grading term papers and exams- as he’s not one to bring work home with him. You remembered him mentioning that from the orientation. You remembered the gentle, kind, Sugawara-Sensei with a warm smile and soothing voice; but the man in front of you was sinister.

“Final grades?” You swallowed a lump of fear and anxiety.

“They’re not good,” he scoffed, rifling through papers on his desk to pull out one riddled with red marks.

“Something like this definitely means summer school....”

He wasn’t letting up at his icy demeanor.

“That’s- it’s not an option,” you sputtered.

“I agree,” he said. “I’ve heard about your summer plans, I wouldn’t hate for you to miss out, they really seem like fun…”

Your blood was boiling over at the condescension, but it felt ice cold as it ran through your veins thinking of what you stood to lose if you protested him.

“I’ll tell you what,” Sugawara began, rising from his desk chair and crossing over to the classroom blackboard. He started erasing the day’s earlier lessons, leaving murky white streaks across the board.

“I’ll give you a chance to raise the grade, extra credit of sorts- how does that sound?”

By now he had picked up a slender wooden pointer with a white plastic tip. You had already put forth so much effort into Summer vacation, there was no way summer school was written into the occasion. But you felt yourself suffocated by the offer, a nervous twisting starting to build up in your gut as he stared at you, twisting the pointer in his chalk dust coated hands. You begrudgingly nodded.

“Great- it’s an offer you won’t be able to refuse, I know you…”

You knew exactly what he meant.

He bought the pointer to your chin, gently lifting before tracing it down your neck and décolletage, emphasizing the curvature of your breasts as he rounded the chair to be behind you.

“Let’s start with getting this off, yeah?” His hands massaged at your shoulders, gently pulling the woolen cardigan off your body, gently exposing you to the cool air of his classroom. You shuddered in response to the drastic change of temperature. Your exposed shoulders revealed the straps to your camisole and bra, Suga snapped the straps of both against your skin, a wince forming on your face from the soft slapping pain.

“Such pretty skin,” he remarked lowering his head to your neck, lips barely grazing the surface before peppered light kisses along it.

“You smell so nice too- all of this just to meet me, huh?”

You fixed your mouth to say no, but couldn’t get anything out against his advances. instead a small moan rose through the air as his kisses turned to kitten licks and a soft sucking right beneath your ear.

Sugawara’s hands were warm and soft as they lost themselves underneath the fabric of your shirt and bra, leaving a rash of goosebumps in his wake that rose almost as quickly as the heat to your face and neck. He slowly took your nipples between his fingertips, twisting gently as you threw your head into his chest.

“That’s it, it feels good, doesn’t it?” You hummed in response.

You felt him press his body into your back, the presence of his half hardened cock becoming painfully apparent as it slid against you. Suga crossed back in front of you, hands positioned at the buckle of the belt that held his pants at his waist. He didn’t bother to undo the clasps of his suspenders, slipping them down his shoulders instead. Still exposed, your chest rose and fell at the sight of him. Your eyes were locked at his waist, his own eyes growing familiar with your gaze as he slid the khakis down his waist, stopping just above the knee and leaving his hard-on fully visible.

You can’t recall when or how the straps of your shirt and bra fell from your body, but your top half was completely exposed to him as he pushed the head of his cock between your breasts, the soft pink head sporting a prominent freckle akin to the beauty mark under his eye. His cock moved against your skin, gaining soft friction as you held your tits together around it. You couldn’t resist sticking out your tongue to lap tiny kitten licks as he thrust- a soft yet lewd chortle from your own lips offered a little more lubrication, the slick sounds of his dick against your skin now rising in the sticky air. The spit glistened against the supple skin of your breasts as your hands held them together, fingertips hovering just above your pert nipples as you continued to envelop his dick with them. You started to help him, moving the mounds of flesh against him in a matching rhythm.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” Sugawara hissed, speeding himself up. You could see the emergence of precum at the tip, tongue involuntary darting out to lick the salty fluid. His cock grew wetter, veins more prominent with each thrust against you. Your legs were presaging together in your seat, the thin panties you were wearing had started to become uncomfortably wet at this point, as you were so turned on at how turned on he was. In the back of your mind though, the heat on your skin translated to embarrassment, sickened by yourself for stooping to this level, disgusted by your need for perfection- how could you ever live with this?

No time to think about that now, though, not when he was looking down over you like this, cheeks pale pink, and strands of silver still king to his perspiring forehead. The feeling of his dick twitching against your tits weighed heavier than your pride at the moment, and you’d rather swallow several of his loads than grin and bear the stares of all those other bullshit PTA moms looking down on you- looking down on your kid. It was time to work for your bribe- just like the one you’d worked with Sugawara at the beginning of the year to get your son into his class.

Without warning, your son’s teacher thrust farther forward, pushing his dick past your lips- the signifier he was done using your tits to get off, and needed something more. You let go, moving your hand to the base of him, twisting your wrist upward as you opened your mouth wider and granted him full access.

“Very good- open up-ngh-, pretty thing,” He cooed through gritted teeth. “Want you to take this cock down your throat.”

His hands grasped the nape of your neck, pushing your head down further on his length. You gagged the first two or three passes- after all, it had been awhile since you had been adjusted to his size, or any man in general- being a single-mother does that to a person sometimes. But it took a few softer thrusts for your throat to ease up, and he was happy to oblige. He found you cute like this, so pliant with a mouth stuffed full of him. ‘Such a good mom,’ he thought, looking down to marvel at your face, nose buried in his pubes.

There was nothing more appealing to him than the idea of replacing your tight, wet throat with your even tighter pussy- than feeling the tip of his cock right at your cervix- the sensation of him filling you to the brim with his cum, and eventually seeing you swollen and round with his own child after a few months of making sure it stuck. Amazing thoughts- at least to him. But for now, he could wait; his mind telling him he’ll have all summer to wear you down since he has every intention of keeping you at his beck and call for the break, the looming thought of how much you owe him hanging over your head like the most perfect apple on a branch just out of reach.

Looking up at him from your seat like this fit that same illusion for you too. You shouldn’t feel this overpowering desire over the stiffness of your jaw and the burning of your throat- you shouldn’t enjoy the weight of his dick on your tongue, much less crave the feeling of him splitting you open. Yes these are all things you shouldn’t feel- but if it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right?

You popped your lips off of him for a second, gasping for air as strings of your saliva separated you from him. Your hand twisted at the base of his cock, pumping him with a tight grip. You could feel Sugawara shuddering under your touch, eyes meeting his to watch him stifle a moan by pulling his bottom lip through his teeth. He bought a soft hand to your cheek, stroking it lightly with the pad of his thumb before taking both hands to press your head back onto him- pushing as far down as he could fit- a harsh gag filling the room as his cock lodged itself in your throat.

His face was stained scarlet, nose scrunching and eyes creasing as he felt himself starting to slip, succumbing to his impending orgasm.

“Such a good-hhngh- such a good fucking mommy,” he said thrift gritted teeth, sending several hot ropes of cum sliding down your raw, and most likely bruised throat. You could barely hear the rest of his obscenities as he hit his high- your blood was already in your ears the moment you heard him say the word “mommy.” You couldn’t help but swallow every last drop, thinking of how much better it would’ve been if he did cum in your now drenched pussy. It was an invitation waiting for him, but your womb simply had to wait- a dull ache forming where you felt he should be.

You had several seconds to come back into reality, the fluorescence of classroom lights bringing you back to your surroundings of tinfoil planet dioramas and baking soda volcanoes among the rows of desks in front of you. You tried taking stock of how you got here in the first place, but your brain was liquefied in lust. Sugawara took a few moments to fix himself up, slicking his sweaty hair back as he readjusted his suspenders and rifled through the pockets of his pants. Pulling out a silver engraved cigarette case, pulling two out and placing one between his teeth. Handing you one, he pulled out his matching lighter, flicking it open to spark you up first. Almost as if nothing happened, he was the same, jovial, sweet Sensei that your 4th-grade son adored- the same kind, gentleman you entrusted your child to at orientation.

“Don’t tell the PTA,” he joked, a soft smile spreading across his still pink cheeks as he finished his drag, sitting back down in his chair.

“I won’t if you won’t,” you responded, rather breathlessly for having not done much work yourself.

You sat in silence for a beat or two, marveling at how he was able to turn himself on and off like this, at how he was able to continue on in the thick, sex stained air while filling out a gradebook.

“The final grade will remark as a pass,” he commented.

“I can’t give honor’s marks or it’ll look suspicious, so I’ll put in a couple extra credit points and just write it off as a book report or something.”

“Th-thank you, Sensei,” you uttered weakly, remembering just who Sugawara was- after all, he is your son’s teacher. As you stood, you picked up your purse and smoothed your skirt to leave. You slowly pulled the cardigan back over your sleeves, shuddering yet again at soft contact against your sensitive nerve endings, goosebumps still painting your body.

“You can call me Kōshi if you’d like- I’m not your teacher after all.”

“Thank you… Kōshi,” you corrected yourself.

He continued to work, not taking his eyes off the pile of papers in front of him, one by one, marking them up and down with red pen.

The click of your high heels sliced through the palpable silence as you began to leave the classroom. The voice inside of you screamed to hold your head high, not to look back, not to address him, not to crave him but that same voice fell down inside you, mind quelling its fear with a ‘you just have to tell him goodnight, it’s the polite thing to do.’

“Goodnight, Kōshi,” you called, twisting the knob of the door, pushing it halfway open before he stopped you.

“Oh, Y/N- please don’t forget to tell S/N to enjoy his summer vacation… you enjoy yours too.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #Sugawara x reader #suga smut #whorehouse collab #raw dog 1080p #haikyuu writing #hq writing #hq smut #hq x reader

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Sharing is caring

Note - this is part of my soft!reader universe and a sequel to on the run. You don't have to read them to understand this but I do suggest to check em out!

special thanks to sister wives @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @stargazingfangirl18 for their input!

Summary - Steve learns that good things are meant to be shared.

Warnings - smut, mfm threesome, wife sharing, daddy kink, dom Steve, dom Bucky, sub reader, rough sex, light anal stuff

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Word count - 2.6k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Bucky had always been a loyal friend to Steve. Steve was someone who was more than just a friend, their relationship transcends that of a traditional male friendship. They were brothers and practically family. Bucky protected Steve back when he was just a little guy from Brooklyn, not just because he needed it but also because he loved the little troublemaker. He will forever be grateful to Steve for protecting him and believing in him when no one else did.

Which is why he felt extremely disgusted with himself to have feelings, if one can even call them that, for you, Steve’s wife. The punk actually got himself a wife. A beautiful one at that.

Bucky was excited to meet you, especially because Steve couldn’t stop talking about you. He was obviously so proud of you. ‘You have got to meet her Buck. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.' He gushed.

And yeah he was pleased to meet you, but not in the way that would be considered proper. As soon as you shed your thick coat and put on that thin tank top, he could see your plump and curvy figure.

He had to fucking lay there and listen to your moans and whimpers as Steve fucked you just two feet away from him! Did you call him daddy? When the fuck did Steve become such a stud? He didn’t even know how to talk to women! The whole time he wanted to touch his aching cock, relieve some pressure. But that would mean he won’t hear your angelic sounds and cute but useless attempts to stay quiet. He did go to the bathroom to relieve himself. And yes he did think about you and how you must look naked. He was already going to hell.

He thought that would be the end of it. He would stay in Wakanda while you and Steve went to Europe. As much as he'd miss not being able to see you or get to know you, at least he wouldn’t have that kind of temptation.

But then a year later, unceremoniously, you came to his little house on the farm. You were staying in Wakanda for a month while Steve was on a mission.

‘I can’t stay in the palace.’ You lips jutted out slightly quivering as you looked at him hand Bucky had to do everything in his power to not hug you close to him ‘I don’t know anyone there. I miss home. I want to stay with you please.’ You begged.

And of course he said yes. How could he turn you away when you looked him with those puppy dog eyes, when he promised Steve he would look after you.

Living with you was as amazing as it was torturous. You lounged around the house in your small cotton 60s style nighties because ‘Stevie likes them and I do too!’ and of-fucking-course you hated wearing panties. He had gotten a generous view of your cunt at least three times. Sometimes he thought you did it deliberately. Just to tease him. But you seemed too innocent and sweet to play those kinds of games.

There was more to it then him getting to ogle your beautiful body everyday. You were kind, sweet, honest and funny. He could see why Steve was so crazy about you. With you around he didn’t feel so lonely. There was that night you sneaked into his room because you couldn’t stop worrying about Steve. He could see how homesick you were. He was also longing to go back home, only his home no longer exists. He cuddled you as you braided his hair and marvelled at how silky and soft it was.

The next morning you were back to your happy bubbly self. Having no idea that you had ruined him. He had a crush on his best friends wife. How do you tell someone that?

He didn’t feel jealous when you ran into Steve’s arms, kissing him all over his face when he came back. He cared for you both and you deserved each other. You deserved to be happy. Steve was just as happy to see Bucky and how you and him had become such good friends in just one month.

Bucky spent the next week catching up with Steve. There wasn’t much he could tell Steve about but he had plenty to share. Along with your wedding pictures and he was just reminded of how ethereal your beauty is.

What he never in a million years would have expected was for Steve to ask–

“Do you like her?” He asked but it was a rhetorical question. He didn’t really expect an answer.

“I do. There isn’t much not to like.” Bucky played dumb. He was dumb to think that Steve wouldn’t notice his lingering stares.

“You know what I mean.” He retorted his eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s – she’s beautiful. I’m happy for you. My feelings don’t matter.” He said honestly. No matter how much he desired you, he would never act on it.

“Turns out she might like you too” Steve said casually taking a sip of his whiskey leaving Bucky stunned.

Which is what led him here. With you completely bare, spare for your yellow panties with little red hearts on them. He was sitting on the edge of your bed, you stood in front of him, your nipples hard as you shivered. Steve knelt behind you to rolls down your panties leaving you naked as the day you were born in front of both the men.

Steve stood up on his feet, tossing your panties away. You hummed as kissed you under your ear. You relaxed as he massaged your shoulders. “Are you nervous princess?” He asked and you nodded. “What are our words?”

“Green for keep going, yellow for slow down and red for stop” You said biting your lip as Bucky’s hungry eyes took you in.

You were curvy, a lot like women back in his day. Your hips a bit larger than your bust, he couldn’t wait to see what your ass looked like. If it was as plump as he imagined. His hands were shivering, he needed to touch your round heavy breasts. Squeeze them to see if they were as soft as they looked. But he didn’t know just how far he was allowed to go. Thanks to the serum he could smell your arousal, he would die if you didn’t let him dip his fingers or his cock in your heat.

“What do you want baby?” Steve murmured in your hair and placed a soft kiss there. He drew small circles on your hips urging you to speak.

“I want – I want to suck his cock” You shivered feeling Steve’s length pressing against your ass through his sweats. You were the only one naked and you should feel completely vulnerable. But you trusted Steve with your life and you had come to trust Bucky as well. You didn’t feel ashamed, no you were proud. That you could get these amazing men to bend to your orders.

“Then do it sweetheart.” Steve pushed you down and you hissed as your knees touched the cold hard floor. You trembling hands worked to undo Bucky’s pants and pull his cock out of his boxers. You had only ever seen Steve’s cock, but you decided then and there that Bucky’s was your second most favorite. You admired it for a minute, licking a stripe up his slit before taking him in your mouth.

You felt Steve kneel behind you, with his knees on either side of you, pulling your hair over your shoulders he caressed your back “My girl does whatever I tell her” Steve said petting the back of your head “isn’t that right princess?”

You reluctantly pulled Bucky out of your mouth, because you know what happens if you don’t answer. “Yes daddy” You rasped gulping for some air as a strong of your spit connected you to Bucky’s cock. You opened wide to take him back in your mouth. But he was much girthier than Steve, it was a struggle to fit him. You whimpered around his cock as you tried to swallow as much of him as you could.

“She just needs a little guidance sometimes.” Steve hushed you pulling your hair into a pony tail and pushing on the back of your head.

Even if your lips were wrapped around his cock and you were gagging around him. Bucky felt as if he was an outsider looking into an intimate moment with you and Steve. He didn’t want that. Even if he could never have you, he wanted you to remember him. He wanted to make some sort of impact on you. He took a hold of your face lifting his hips up to thrust into it. “You call him daddy. What will you call me doll?” He asked slowly fucking into your face as you looked up at him with your big doe eyes, tearing falling down your cheeks.

“Hm. How about sir?” Steve suggested still pushing on your head. He wouldn’t take too kindly to Bucky being the only one fucking you.

Bucky pulled you off his cock as you coughed and stuttered gasping for breathe. “Yes” you heaved “Sir” you gave him a dazed smile dropping your jaw and silently begging him to continue his assault on your mouth. He groaned shoving his cock in your mouth.

“Breathe through your nose sweetheart.” Steve cooed. Always so worried about you. You took as much of Bucky as you could, breathing through your nose as Steve suggested. Closing your eyes shut to stop the tears. You wanted to do your happy dance as you felt your nose touch the little curls at the base of Bucky’s cock, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You had never been able to deep throat Steve. Even though Bucky was a bit smaller than Steve you couldn’t help but feel so accomplished.

You pulled up for air and looked over your shoulder to Steve. Wiping your cheeks and mouth “Daddy” You said proudly.

“Yes princess” He kissed your wet cheek “I’m so proud of you baby. You’re doing so good” You whimpered, his praise going straight to your core “You’re such a good girl. You deserve a reward” And you hummed looking back to Bucky’s hard cock, not wanting to keep him waiting to long you swallowed him whole again.

Steve pulled your hips and arched your ass up. You struggled to balance your weight on your hands and knees for a moment before finding a good position. You moaned around Bucky’s length as you felt Steve’s hot tongue invading your folds. “Shit” Bucky groaned pushing your head down holding it at his base “Do that again doll” He groaned as you moaned again. Extra loudly this time.

You felt ropes of his cum in your mouth as he held onto your head for dear life. You swallowed around him and felt him soften in your mouth.

You yelped when Steve’s finger prodded at your pluckered hole. “Keep Bucky’s cock warm while I get you ready. Will you do that for me princess?” Steve asked pushing two fingers into your pussy and fucking your ass and your heat at with his fingers at the same time.

You only hummed laying your head on Bucky’s thigh and suckling on his cock. It was all too much and too little at the same time. You needed his or Bucky’s cock inside you. You perked up when you heard Steve undress behind you. You cried out around Bucky’s cock as Steve sheathed himself in you in one single stroke. He squeezed your hips, rolling his against them. He thrusted into you jerking you forward again and again. You moaned as you felt the sting and the smack of his slap on your ass. “You having fun?” He asked thrusting deep inside you, his tip brushing that spot that drives you crazy “This what you wanted?” He snapped his hips harshly again and again. All you could do was take it and occasionally swallow your spit around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky was too entranced by the sight to do anything. He could feel his cock hardening again. It was strangely voyeuristic and arousing to see Steve rutting into you. His face contorted in pleasure, his torso and neck flushed red. He was happy for you seeing that the serum had enhanced everything. “That’s enough” He took you off his cock and consoled you as you whine at the loss. “I’m gonna fuck her.” Bucky declared. He wasn’t gonna be shy or ask for permission anymore. You both had roped him into whatever the hell this is.

“She’s all yours” You whimpered again as Steve pulled out of you. Leaving you all empty. “Do your knees hurt baby?” Steve cooed and you nodded. You had forgotten about how the cold floor was pinching you. Steve never let you spend any time on your knees cause you were a princess and he didn’t want you being in pain. Well the bad kind of pain. He had no qualms about spending hours on his knees worshiping you.

Steve picked you up in his arms, you were basically putty, unable to move or to speak. He gently laid you on the soft mattress, your head hitting the pillow. He sat down next to you running his hands through your hair wordlessly checking in on you.

“I’m sorry doll” Bucky murmured kissing your bruised knees. He shrugged of his clothes and settled himself between your legs.

“It’s ok sir” You hummed kissing Steve’s hand.

“I don’t think I like you calling me that” he lifted your hips up to elevate them up a bit “It’s too formal” he teased your entrance with his tip before sinking into you. You threw your head back, moaning at the delicious burn as he snapped his hips fucking you with vigor. He leaned down hovering above you and captured your lips with his moaning at your sweet taste mixed with his own musky scent. He stood back again so he could look at your bouncing breasts as he fucked into you.

You moaned as Steve latched his lips onto your nipple, pinching and pulling on the other one between his fingers. “Oh god. You’re so tight. I’m not gonna last” Bucky grunted his thrusts losing their rhythm and becoming erratic. Steve snaked a hand down rolling your clit before stroking it “You gonna cum around Bucky’s cock baby?” Steve teased drawing patterns on your clit and going back to suck on your hard bud.

You could only let out a whined barely there ‘Yes'. You felt as if you were seeing stars as you came hard around Bucky’s cock and gushing over Steve’s fingers. You blacked out as you felt Bucky empty his warm cum inside you. He collapsed on top you before moving to the side. His chest rising and falling out of the corner of your eye.

You looked towards Steve as you heard him quietly groan. He was pumping his angry red cock with his fist, his other hand fondling your breast. “Daddy” You mused “I want to –“

“Shh” He groaned cutting you off “Your throat must be sore baby. It’s ok-ay” He laid his hand flat on the bed to balance himself cumming all over your stomach. He laid down next you and pulled you into him.

You felt Bucky stirring beside You and getting up. You pulled at his bicep to stop him. Pleading him to cuddle with you. “Just a minute doll” He cooed kissing your forehead and disappearing into the bathroom. Returning with a warm and wet cloth he cleaned up your sore pussy and wiped your torso. He tossed the cloth aside and draped an arm across you and cuddled with you just as you demanded.

Cocooned between them both you feel it’s the warmest and the safest place for you.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist lemme know or click the link in the bio.

Please note that my work is NOT to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account. Reblogs are most welcome though.

#steve rogers x soft!reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fic #reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america #steve x reader #steve rogers x you

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shuajeong · 3 years

Text

Love

wonwoo x reader

⌟ fluff, slice of life

part two to this

↠ dt: my lovely @wonunuu and the other wonwoo biased peeps

word count: 1.6k

All day you had been cautious of the boys, they just seemed to be acting off and you couldn’t put your finger on it. They’d had their eyes on you a lot more than what they usually would and just kept giving you strange looks as if waiting for you to do something.

It started when you first got to the dorms early afternoon choosing to spend the rest of the evening all together for some games, movies and catch up as you hadn’t got to do a lot of that recently with everything going on in the world. You had tried to question a few of the boys about their strange behaviour but you ended up no better than how you started. They wouldn’t budge either shutting up completely, denying or just outright laughing telling you that you were the one being weird (not naming any names but it was Dokyeom) There’s an obvious boy here that you could’ve asked about their behaviour but you see your lovely boyfriend Wonwoo had just left with Mingyu to get snacks. The dorm already had plenty but they claimed they needed to get fresh ones.

Leaning back into your seat on the sofa you closed your eyes hoping to let your mind rest for a bit thinking that maybe they were right and it was you that had been acting off. But you couldn’t think of what you’ve done you’ve been the same as you always have.

A gentle pat on the head from Joshua as he passed behind the sofa brought you back. Glancing at him he just gave you a smile before continuing into the kitchen.

“Hey what do you think of this one? Almost exactly like Wonwoo right”

You turned back only to see Jeonghan clowning Wonwoo from one of their recent stages they had done. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh “Ah yes forgot you were Jeonghan for a second”

Upon hearing that, Chan, who was in the middle of drinking nearly spat out his water resulting in a coughing fit and the boys to erupt into laughter. From beside you Seungcheol was shaking his head in shame almost done with his friends mumbling to himself.

Amongst the chaos the ding of a phone going off followed by the others could be heard. Perking your ears up at this you must’ve had a confused face because Seungkwan told you that it was just their group chat. Minghao suddenly got up then getting ready to leave

“Where are you going?”

He looked at you hesitantly “Uh uh they need my help- yeah bye”

Before you could respond he left, all the boys groaning in response.

Turning to the boys you asked no one in particular “Who needs his help? Is it Mingyu and Wonwoo?”

They stared at you blankly. You looked at Dokyeom hoping he would tell you something as he usually does but he just shook his head “Nu uh my lips are sealed”

“Someone please just tell me what’s going on” you groaned in frustration “Or at least if Wonwoo is okay” now putting your head in your hands sitting forward in your seat.

“Wonwoo is okay there’s nothing to worry about” Seungcheol was quick reassure you. “Yeah like I believe that. You guys all know something and won’t tell me”

“Yeah maybe we do! Maybe Wonwoo’s doing something” Soonyoung said resulting in a chorus of cries and “Hosh why” “You weren’t supposed to say anything” “Dokyeom held up better than you!” They all groaned frustrated.

“Guys it’s not ruined and actually it’s time anyway” Vernon pointed out, everyone seeming to calm down and gather themselves together at that. Before you could say anything else Jun cut you off “C’mon we need to add some finishing touches to your outfit” taking your hand and pulling you up guiding you towards the bathroom.

“Jun what are we doing? Where are we going? Why do I have to clean up?”

“I can’t tell you that but I can tell you that when we leave there’s a pair of your boots at the door and one of your nice coats that you should wear”

Confusion struck you again but you just obliged and started tidying yourself up. Not that you had much to do anyway, you’d actually decided to dress up a bit nicer today feeling good in yourself. Come to think of it you’d noticed that the boys were also wearing nicer clothes all dressed for somewhere to go. It was a change from their usual sweats you guess that they didn’t want to waste time in getting ready for where ever you were going.

Brushing through your hair Jun re-appeared in the doorway after disappearing to get something. “Sorry I couldn’t find it first so had to ask Shua for his help” You hadn’t noticed Joshua was beside him til now. Moving closer to you it was then you saw what was in his hand. A necklace. More specifically your necklace, the one in which Wonwoo had given you five years ago for your one year.

Joshua stood behind you as you moved your hair out the way so he could gently secure it for you. Turning around once he had finished he made sure the pendant was facing the correct way and gave you a soft smile once he was done

“There you go all done. You look lovely” smiling at him in return you looked in the mirror one last time before exiting the bathroom to be met with impatient men.

You eventually got out the door and left after the boys tried to sort out who was going with who. Apparently there was an order which sparked your interest but you brushed the thought off for now. You were stuck with Jeonghan, Seungcheol and Joshua.

Arriving at unknown location didn’t take long. Stepping out the car you instantly pulled your coat tighter round your body, the crisp evening being a contrast to the warmth of the car.

Looking around at your surroundings you noticed you were at these secret gardens that always looked so pretty whenever you passed them during the day. Now at night they looked even prettier with everything lit up with fairy lights adding a soft glow. You remembered telling Wonwoo about this place but you’d never actually got round to going.

Making your way to the entrance Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Joshua left you continuing on into the gardens. Chan was standing at the entrance with a single rose in hand which he passed you with a note. Upon reading the note you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as written messily was the thoughts and feelings of your boyfriend from your first date all those years ago.

As you walked further into the gardens through the winding paths collecting roses and little notes of snippets from your relationship with Wonwoo. The order of the boys also became familiar to you as you noticed it was going from youngest to oldest, although you hadn’t seen Minghao and Mingyu yet and you were already at Hoshi.

You were starting to get an idea of what this was leading too and that became more apparent coming up to the last secluded garden where the lights were now dawned with little photos of you and Wonwoo throughout the years. You couldn’t look too much but of the ones you saw you knew they included everything.

The remaining five were pretty much right next to each other going from Joshua, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Minghao and finally Mingyu. Their notes being different all displayed one word each reading in order

Now. There’s. One. Question. Left...

Your heart swelling and tears threatening to fall already you looked at Mingyu who gave you a cheesy grin taking the flowers from your hands and pointing behind you.

Turning around it was like time stopped as there stood your boyfriend who when you stepped closer dropped to one knee. You couldn’t help but let your tears fall as he asked you to marry him and revealed the most beautiful shiny dainty ring you had seen. Letting out a small yes nodding your head you fell to your knees wrapping your arms around him as he embraced you. Pulling away slightly but still in each other’s hold you shared a short but passionate kiss before he took your left hand gently placing the ring on your finger. Pulling you in again he lifted up both up so you were standing again. You smiled through your teary eyes whispering an “I love you” kissing you again he responded “I love you too so much”

Your quiet moment was short lived as the boys began shouting and hollering not being able to contain their own happiness for you guys. Laughing at them you could feel Wonwoo pull you closer into his arms before the boys came running over for one massive group hug. In the middle of it you’d asked the important question as to who was going to be the best man to which chaos broke out over who it should be. You laughed knowing you caused it but also knowing that Wonwoo would choose all 12 of them.

In that moment you couldn’t think of a better place to be right now than surrounded by your friends and your favourite person, your fiancé.

#wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt fic #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios

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mcwriting · 3 years

Text

The Marriage Project (11)

I'm baaaaack :) Sorry it's been so long y'all but I'm finally on break so hopefully I can push out more content soon! Pls enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: little bit of language, mild mentions of alcohol

% approximately the last weekend of October/first week of November %

Sunday, you went wedding dress shopping.

Kinda.

It was for homecoming court. Your school had a tradition where the ladies in the running for queen wore white wedding dresses, so your mom and you went out in search of one.

You’d already gotten your dress for the actual dance weeks prior, so you started at the same store.

It didn’t take long for you to stumble upon one you liked, a slim a-line that accentuated your muscles and curves. There was a draped neckline and a somewhat low back. The entire dress had a grecian feel with the small silver accents dusted across it.

The second you put it on you fell in love, so you made the purchase and set off for shoes, easily finding a pair of heels that would put you at a similar level with Tom.

The next day, you made your way to class for another round of praise and congratulations for the tournament that weekend. The trophy was already sitting in the school display case, the plaque yet to be made with your school’s name and the year.

It was spirit week, so everyone was dressed in clothes that fit the day’s theme.

All morning, people were coming up and asking you about the tournament and homecoming, many of them pledging to vote for you.

Things felt nice.

You and Tom didn’t talk much throughout the morning, but exchanged a few jabs and laughs here and there.

Later, you sat around the lunch table with your girlfriends as usual, this time discussing the homecoming nominations.

“Y/n, there’s literally no way you won’t be queen. I’ve talked to a ton of people and all of them are saying they’re gonna vote for you,” one of them said.

“Aw shucks, you’re making me blush. Obviously I’d like to win queen, but we’ll see. It’s whatever. If Harrison wins king I’ll drop out.”

“As if. No one even likes him. I’m pretty sure he was voted in as a meme. Everyone knows Tom is gonna win,” Alexis stated. “And if Tom wins, you’ll win too with everyone thinking you’re together.”

“Hmm. I honestly hope Tuwaine gets the vote. He’s so sweet and totally deserves it.”

“I think we all know you’d prefer Tom as your royal counterpart,” one friend suggested, causing you to roll your eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys! Nothing is going on! On another note, though, I got my white dress,” you mentioned, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Really? Let us see!” Caroline exclaimed.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m saving it as a surprise for Friday. The only person who’s seen it is my mom, and it’s staying that way until the parade.”

You continued talking about the upcoming festivities and your excitement for the week, and the announcement of who would be crowned queen Friday at the pep rally.

That afternoon, you went to study hall with Alexis. Now that you were between sports, you had a free period to go do art, work out, or just “study,” so you chose the latter as a way to take a breather from everything that had been going on.

“So tell me everything about Johnny’s this weekend. Loved the costumes,” you started as you plopped down at two desks in the very back of the room.

“Not much to report. We mostly just hung out but I heard one dude had to go get his stomach pumped or something after the cops got there. We dipped out before it was busted because it was obvious they were coming. Now how was your weekend, since we’re finally alone?”

You thought about how much you’d actually tell her, especially considering that you hadn’t told her really anything about yours and Tom’s interactions in past weeks.

“Pretty good. It was mostly just volleyball.”

“Oh yeah? What all went down with Tom? Anna told me you seemed pretty close.”

Your face burned.

“We hugged after winning the tournament. Not a big deal. Oh and we maybe kinda pretended to be a couple Friday night.”

“What? You didn’t think to lead with that?!”

“It was for like a minute while we went up the elevator. This drunk couple was harassing us so we just played along for a little bit. Whatever,” you shrugged.

“Did you do anything couple-y? Don’t tell me you guys kissed.”

You tried not to cringe before somewhat telling a lie.

“I kissed him on the cheek and he put his arm around me. I swear it was nothing serious, Lex.”

“Hm. I still think you’ve gotta be hiding something, but I just don’t know what. And I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

Good luck with that. I’m not about to crack yet.

Spirit week continued with people coming up to let you know their votes had been cast for you. The voting ended Thursday so that votes could be counted before the pep rally.

When Friday did hit, you woke up early and tucked your volleyball jersey into some jeans and tossed on your letter jacket, as the day’s theme was school colors and jerseys.

You popped on some mascara and lip gloss, then headed to school, becoming more nervous as you got closer.

The pep rally would be right after lunch, but almost everyone was so excited for the weekend festivities that teachers basically gave everyone a free day so that the students in charge of the event could continue their planning and the athletes could prepare for the rally.

The pep rally was mostly for the football game, but they were also going to recognize the volleyball team’s accomplishments, so you prepared for that and the whole homecoming court thing.

In home ec, Mrs. Flynn let those that needed to help set up for the pep rally eat your lunches in class and then leave early.

You and Tom finished about the same time and went to your lockers to grab your things.

“Ready to win?” Tom asked as you walked towards the gym.

“Nope. You?”

“Yeah, actually. Maybe it’s just because I love winning so much.”

You gave him a little shove as you continued walking. Tom had his jersey on without the pads, so it fit big on him. You admired the way it draped over his thin, toned frame.

A bit later and the pep rally had begun with the dance team doing their routine, then came athlete recognitions.

They started with the volleyball team, calling you all out to the basketball court to wave as everyone cheered. After you all, the cheer squad hyped everyone up for the football team to come out.

You stood in a corner of the gym with Zendaya, as they would be announcing the homecoming court next. You both talked a little bit, but things were somewhat awkward.

Finally came the time to announce the winners. As with nominations, things went in order from freshman to senior, eventually reaching the king and queen announcement. The six of you stepped out onto the basketball court, the pit in your stomach bigger than before.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know that this is the moment you have all been waiting so patiently for!” Mrs. Johnson looked around the bleachers at the cheering students, holding up her paper with everyone’s positions.

“We’re going to start with our third place, the duke and duchess of homecoming! May I have a drumroll please!”

Everyone stomped their feet and clapped.

“This year’s duke is Mr. Harrison Osterfield, and the duchess is Daisy Ridley!”

Cheers went up, not completely enthusiastic for the pair. You felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing the people you liked least had gotten third place.

“Now for our runners up, the prince and princess!” She paused for effect. “Tuwaine Barrett and Zendaya Coleman!”

More cheers rang out than before. Your jaw dropped as you looked at Tom.

“And that means that your senior king and queen are Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Congratulations to all of you. Can’t wait to see you at the parade, game, and dance!” Mrs. Johnson called out, dismissing everyone back to class.

Someone came and placed the crown on your head and slipped a silver sash which read “homecoming queen” over your body. You couldn’t help but slap a hand over your mouth.

“What did I tell you! I knew you’d win!” Tom exclaimed, holding out his hands. You so badly wanted to hug him, but decided not to in front of the whole school, at least not until tomorrow night.

Your friends rushed up and congratulated you, fawning over the crown and sash and laughing. Before you left, you had to return the two items to a teacher so you would have them for later that night.

As you left school that afternoon, you felt like you were floating on air.

You were back at the school later that evening, the game just over a couple hours away. There were families lining the street prepared to watch the parade make its way down.

Since leaving the school before, you’d put your hair in loose curls and done a full face of makeup. You tossed on some sweats and zipped up your varsity jacket, taking your dress and shoes along in the car to change there.

You waited until the last minute to slip on the outfit, causing people to fawn over you when you stepped outside to see everyone who was waiting.

Someone pinned the crown to your head and helped you slip on the sash, then led you to the convertible where Tom was waiting. You’d get to ride around sitting on the back waving like you’d always dreamed of doing.

Your heels clacked on the sidewalk as you confidently stepped. Sure, you didn’t wear heels much, but you sure knew how to work them.

It felt like slow motion when Tom turned around and you saw each other for the first time. He was wearing slacks and a sport coat and his curls were perfectly placed around his own crown. You both gasped a little.

“Y/n! You look… you look like-”

“Let me guess. A princess?” you smirked, raising a brow.

“I was gonna say queen.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, giving him a little shove. He helped you climb into the back of the car, and someone went to hand you his letter jacket.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Usually if it’s cold the queen wears her partners’ letterman over her shoulders if he has one.”

You thought about it. It was pretty chilly, after all.

“You don’t have to wear mine, y/n. Did you bring yours?” Tom asked, making you smile.

“Yeah, actually. I did. Would someone mind going and grabbing it from my stuff? It’s just inside.”

One girl ran and brought it back in a few minutes, and Tom helped drape it over just your shoulders.

“That’s more like it,” he said, giving you a smile as he fixed the neck.

A few minutes later, the cars and floats began moving and families cheered as you passed, waving with a smile on your face.

You and Tom talked to each other quietly as you looked around both sides of the street. When you reached the end, someone had you pose for a couple pictures in the daylight before the football players headed off to get ready for the game.

This was not only homecoming, but senior night, so they all wanted to be on their A-game.

Different people came up to congratulate you and you took pictures with friends, family, and even a few little kids. You were talking with the girls when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around to find the Holland family, including Nikki’s parents and a woman you assumed to be Dominic’s mom.

“Well I sure am glad to see that people have some decent sense around here,” Grandma said, giving you a warm smile. You gave her a hug then greeted the rest of the family.

“You look beautiful, dear. Congratulations,” said Nikki as she gave you a squeeze.

“Oh, y/n, this is my mother,” Dom explained, gesturing to another elderly woman.

“Just call me Nana, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You smiled as she held your hands in hers.

“Thank you! Tom’s told me about you, too.”

Nikki shot some pictures of you with their family. It felt weird to be in their photos without Tom, but also comfortable, like you’d known them your whole life. You had to hold back a laugh when you took one kissing Paddy’s cheek and making him blush.

Eventually your parents also came over and talked to them, and everyone made their ways to the stadium.

A/N: omg it's been way too long since I updated TMP! I just wanted to pre-warn that next chapter will have the heaviest themes of this story. It will have adequate warnings but I want to make everyone aware!

Thanks for reading!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng

#the marriage project #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland series #tom holland fic

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jingabitch · 3 years

Text

Asmodeus

SUMMARY: While trying to summon a demon, you have an encounter with Namjoon.

PAIRING: Namjoon x witch!reader

GENRE: smut

WARNINGS: demons and witches and stuff, dirty sex in a graveyard, oral sex (f receiving), plot twist, kinda dark-ish?

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: banner by @kookspierogis, beta-ed by @hesperantha, inspired by an ask by @wwilloww. Hope you guys enjoy it (and appreciate that I actually managed to get this out well before my scheduled deadline!).

You pulled your jacket more tightly around your body and hitched your backpack up slightly, looking behind your shoulder to make sure you weren’t being followed. This graveyard gave you the creeps, and you really didn’t know why you’d agreed to do this in the middle of the night. Was joining this coven really that important? Couldn’t you have attempted to summon a demon somewhere indoors and, most importantly, warm?

Sighing at your earlier self for making such poor decisions, you watched as your breath fogged up in front of you. “Jesus,” you muttered. Maybe you should just get this done as quickly as possible, so you could go back home and snuggle up under your warm duvet.

Finally reaching the small clearing in the middle of the cemetery, you stared up at the imposing griffin statue for a second before walking up to it and putting your backpack on the ground, leaning it against the base of the statue and kneeling down to take the necessary items out. Your grandmother’s grimoire, the candles, the ceremonial dagger.

It was so cold that your fingers were frozen, making it difficult to get the candles out of their plastic wrapper. Cursing, you blew on your hands and rubbed them together before picking up the package to try again.

Placing the five candles in a circle, you stepped into the middle and opened the book to the right page. “Why are all the summoning spells in ancient Latin?” you wondered to yourself, before kneeling on the ground and placing the book down in front of you.

As you chanted the first line of the spell, you felt the power start flowing through your veins, hot and electric, and placed your palm against the ground. As soon as your hand made contact, you clenched your teeth against the strange feeling of the magic leaving your body, shooting into the ground in the direction of the candles, which lit up immediately.

It was a windy night, but that didn’t matter, because the flames were fueled by your magic. A pentagram with the five points marked out by the candles began to glow on the ground, enclosed within a circle.

Lifting your palm off the ground, you refocused your attention on the spell in the book, picking up the knife by your side for the blood sacrifice. You would have to slice your palm open and drip a few drops of blood into the middle of the pentagram to bind your soul to the demon.

Before you could start chanting again, however, you heard the telltale rustling sound of leaves crunching underfoot, and whipped your head around. As you turned, you caught sight of someone standing behind you, staring down at you.

“What are you doing here?” you snapped, trying to hide your panic and shock.

He shrugged. “I could ask you the same question,” he pointed out, drawing closer.

Your mind kicked into overdrive, trying to find some rational explanation that wouldn’t lead to you being kicked out of the graveyard or arrested or sent to a mental facility.

“Giving a prayer to my grandparents,” you offered. It was a piss-poor excuse, and you knew it, but it was too late to do anything but double down. “They were really spiritual.”

He raised a brow at you.

“Anyway,” you continued defensively, “what are you doing here?” By which, of course, you meant, how had you missed him?

He stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, and your breath caught in your throat. Holy hell, how had you missed the fact that he was beautiful? Tall and broad, wearing a long black coat over a black turtleneck which contrasted against his ash grey hair. The coat wasn’t buttoned up, and you could see the YSL logo next to the buckle of his belt.

“Paying my respects,” he said vaguely. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

You stood up, compelled somehow by his gaze. “Y/n,” you introduced yourself against your better judgement. When it came to creeps in graveyards at midnight, you could never be too careful, you’d always thought, and yet your mouth had betrayed you before you could think it through.

He was just so beautiful it was disconcerting. Growing up around other witches, you’d never really been around men all that much, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself

“You shouldn’t be hanging around places like these late at night, you know,” he cautioned. His voice was soft and low, pleasing to the ears. You strained to hear more of it.

He stepped closer still, until he stopped right outside the circle you’d marked out with your candles. “You never know who’s going to be around.”

“Like you?” you shot back breathlessly. The moonlight reflected off his fair skin, making him all but glow in the darkness of the night.

The half-smirk he gave you was sinister, dark and dangerous. It should scare you, but instead you felt arousal coil in your lower belly.

“Exactly like me,” he agreed easily. He smiled at you, showing off his dimples.

“You don’t look very dangerous,” you observed.

“Well, maybe you should take a closer look, then,” he invited with a shrug.

Step out of the pentagram? You hesitated for a moment. One of the first things you’d been taught when you started learning magic was never to do that – the pentagram was the only thing that protected you from the demon you were summoning. Outside of it, the balance of power shifted dramatically.

But Namjoon raised his hand, palm out, for you, and before you knew it, your hand was in his and you let him pull you out of the pentagram. “You mean like this?” you asked as you slung your other arm around his shoulders.

You thought you saw his eyes flash, but dismissed it as a trick of the light in the second before his lips descended on yours. “No, I meant like this,” he growled.

Your eyes snapped shut immediately as you lost yourself in the feeling of his lips moving against yours. It had been so long since you’d been kissed, and never like this. Never with such skill and dexterity. His hands crept up your abdomen under your shirt, and even though they should have been cold, his fingers were deliciously warm, making you want to press yourself against him like a cat.

He backed you up into the base of the statue, crowding close and pressing the hard rod of his erection into your belly as he towered over you. It should have been menacing, but everything was, instead, endlessly titillating.

“You like that?” he said in a low, raspy voice that tied your stomach in knots. “You do, don’t you?”

You didn’t have it in you to answer, but he certainly didn’t need you to reply verbally. Not when the way you mewled as you tried to get closer to him, sliding your hands greedily into his coat, told him everything he needed to know.

Witches were always so easy. These closed communities of all-female witches meant it was difficult for them to have their needs met, and they were consequently easy pickings for any man who happened to set his eyes on them. Really, he thought, you’d think that after so many years, they’d have wised up to the pitfalls of the coven structure, but it appeared not.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he promised darkly, the sound making heat pool in your lower belly as you clenched on yourself, uncomfortably aware of how empty you felt. His fingers trailed down your abdomen now, in the opposite direction from before, headed for the button on your jeans.

You barely registered the fact that he was pushing you back gently until your back hit the base of the statue, knocking the air out of your lungs. He crowded close, pressing you back into it, towering over you with his broad frame. One of his hands pushed your sweater up, bunching the fabric under your arms, while his other undid the button on your jeans, sneaking his fingers into your panties.

He didn’t bother to hide his satisfaction, letting out a small noise and lifting his head to smirk down at you. “You’re so wet,” he purred, running his fingers along your slit. With a precision that seemed almost inhuman, he found your clit, rubbing his slickened fingers across it.

A choked moan forced its way out of you as you threw your head back against the cool marble of the statue’s base, your eyes fluttering shut as you rocked your hips into his fingers.

The feeling of him withdrawing his hand from your panties was so objectionable that you opened your eyes, making a sound of indignation. All fight automatically left you, however, when you saw him sucking on his fingers, staring you down with hooded eyes. “I want to taste it from the source,” he told you, his voice deep.

Holding back a shudder, you nodded. “Yeah, we can definitely do that,” you managed, your voice shaky.

He leaned down to kiss you, then started trailing kisses down your neck, before kneeling. Your eyes wide, you watched him get on his knees as you started pulling your sweater down, back over your body.

“Don’t,” he said, a steely undercurrent in his voice that sent a little shiver down your spine. The glint in his eyes let you know that he meant business. Still, despite being mid-hook up with a random stranger in a graveyard – you stared down the neat rows of tombstones – you hadn’t taken complete leave of your senses.

“It’s cold,” you protested with a pout.

“Don’t worry,” he told you. His voice oozed with confidence. “You won’t get cold.”

You were about to say more, but he silenced you with a stern look. With a sigh, you acquiesced, lifting the shirt back up as you leaned your head back against the statue. You were going to catch your death out here, you thought mournfully, staring up at the full, round, white moon. Hopefully he’d at least get you to the little death first.

He ripped your jeans and panties down your legs, knocking off one of your sneakers carelessly as he did so. Your clothes remained bunched around the other ankle, in what surely was the most undignified position you’d ever been in.

Then his tongue touched your body, and as you stiffened and squeaked in surprise, all of those thoughts flew out of your head. The only thing that mattered to you was how talented he was with the appendage, and you adjusted your stance to give him greater access.

Namjoon lapped at your slit with long, broad strokes, bumping your clit every time. You rocked your hips slightly to get more friction, and he reacted by holding your hips still with his strong, big hands, making the thought that he must be the devil flash across your mind in frustration. Then he shifted closer, using his broad shoulders to open your legs wider, and placed his mouth on your pussy, and that last shred of coherent thought left the chat.

The hand holding your sweater up drifted slightly, your fingers ducking into the cup of your bra to circle your nipple as your thumb stayed hooked under the cozy knit material. Your other hand slid down your bare abdomen before your fingers threaded themselves through his hair just to have something to hold on to as he relentlessly attacked your clit.

“Mmf, fuck,” you mumbled around a lock of hair that had fallen into your mouth with all the thrashing around you were doing. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered but Namjoon and his wonderful, awful tongue. Tears squeezed out of your eyes, which were tightly shut, running down the sides of your face.

“That’s it,” he encouraged you as he detached for a second to catch his breath, using his thumb to rub over your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. “You’re close, aren’t you? Come for me like a good girl,” he said slightly breathlessly before once more ducking his head to your core.

Helplessly, you obeyed, your entire body seizing up as you clenched around his fingers, rocking your hips against him as you rode out your orgasm.

When it was over, you slumped limply against the marble statue, blinking up at him with slightly blurry vision as he rose to his full height. In the pale, weak light of the full moon, his cheeks and chin gleamed. He didn’t bother to wipe it away, instead grinning down at you as he braced his weight on the statue, his hands on either side of your shoulders.

“Good girl,” he purred as he leaned in to kiss you. You tilted your head up automatically to receive his kiss, uncaring of the fact that you could taste yourself on his lips. As he slid his tongue against yours sensuously, you eagerly reached to unbutton his trousers. With a chuckle, he leaned back to give you more space, but didn’t otherwise help you.

You were so distracted trying to get into his pants that you didn’t notice how warm your fingers were. You still had full mobility, contrary to your expectations that you’d be frozen solid by now, after his insistence that you expose yourself to the elements the way he’d ordered you to.

Then your hands were full of dick, and you moaned in unison. You would have been more embarrassed about that had your body not been thrumming with arousal still. It had just been so long since you’d touched a man. Training to become a witch didn’t leave you with much free time or access, after all.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he continued praising you, his voice gone raspy as you stroked him. You were about to get on your knees to return the favour, but he stopped you, instead hoisting you up and pressing you against the statue. There was a vague sense of being pinned like an insect, but the thought vanished like so many had tonight the moment you felt him pressing, hot and hard, against you.

Then you felt your softness yield to him as he pushed into you, sliding deep into you with a grunt. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase along his shoulders, but the solid wool coat resisted. The cashmere of his sweater brushed against your skin, and although it was the softest, most luxurious sweater you’d ever felt, it was almost abrasive, reminding you that although you were pretty much fully exposed, he was still completely clothed.

Your head tipped back helplessly. You felt so incredibly full, the stretch riding the line between pleasure and pain. Namjoon, in response, bent his head to the exposed skin of your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses to the sensitive flesh that turned into sucking.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, and he lifted his head to look down at you. For a split second, it seemed like his irises were glowing red, but he blinked and then it was gone, and you dismissed it as a trick of the light. Your paranoia and discomfort from earlier must have seeped into your subconscious somehow. Ridiculous, really, since as a witch, you were probably the thing to be feared the most in the graveyard tonight.

His hand came up, long fingers stretching around the column of your neck.

“You’re mine,” he snarled. The unexpectedly possessive statement should have alarmed you. After all, he was a random stranger you’d met in dubious circumstances, even if you were currently getting to know each other on a very intimate level. Instead of uneasiness, however, his declaration only served to egg you on more, the rightness of it all settling deep within your bones.

Simultaneously, he pulled his hips back and then thrust into you again, bumping your clit with his pelvis.

“Yesss,” you groaned, although you weren’t sure if it was in response to his words or his actions. How was it possible for a man to be this good with his hips? The few sexual encounters you’d had before this had been fumbling, awkward and ultimately, you’d thought after, not worth it. Namjoon was like a whole different species.

He seemed to enjoy your enthusiastic approval, if the satisfied smirk he shot you was any indication. His body moved like a lithe, well-oiled machine, his arms hitching you up slightly higher to adjust the angle as he slammed into you. There would definitely be bruises on your hips from where they were hitting the marble, but it would be so worth it.

Helpless moans and yelps filled the air. As wrecked as you were, the only indication you had that he was feeling the same way was the way his breaths puffed against your neck. He seemed completely composed otherwise, keeping up a stream of filth murmured into your ear, so lewd it made even you blush.

There was no way, you thought, hurtling towards your second orgasm of the night, that he was a regular man. This level of prowess… it had to be something else.

As your moans reached a crescendo, Namjoon growled again, a delicious sound to your ears. You felt his mouth open slightly against your neck and felt the press of his teeth, but you were distracted and dismissed it as him taking in a gulp of air.

A second later, he struck. His teeth sank so deeply into your flesh that blunt human teeth couldn’t have done it. You should have been terrified, should have pushed him away and run screaming, but instead – completely bizarrely – the searing pain pushed you over the precipice. You came harder than you ever had in your life, the sensations so strong that they teetered on the fine line between pleasure and pain.

When the wave finally ebbed, you sagged against the marble of the statue, your arms loosening around Namjoon’s neck. He was approaching his own orgasm, you could feel it from the way his hips stuttered against yours. Thankfully, he’d removed his teeth from your neck, although he continued lapping haphazardly at the wound.

Exhausted, you marshalled the last of your strength to straighten up. “Come on,” you urged, stroking the back of his neck. Sweat was dripping down it and into his collar, you noted absently. When he finally released into you, it was a relief for the both of you.

In the wake of everything, you both slumped against the statue. The air felt almost eerily still and quiet after everything that had transpired before, and awkwardness started setting in.

Slightly uncomfortable now, you wriggled to be let down, and he acquiesced, stepping away to give you some room. You immediately began tugging on your clothes, trying to put yourself back to rights and studiously avoiding eye contact with him.

“Well,” you said in a voice that seemed entirely too loud, piercing through the silence that had settled over the graveyard. “That was fun.”

“Yes,” he said in a slightly amused voice. “I hope you don’t make a habit of this, though.”

Frowning, you raised your head to glare at him. “And what if I do?” you asked slightly irritably. You weren’t really in the mood to be judged for a random hookup by the man who’d just been railing you into next week.

He shrugged, raising his hands up placatingly. You turned away from him and bent to pick up your things. There was no way you were summoning a demon tonight, you thought. Your concentration was shot to hell, and your energy was all over the place. You’d have to try again tomorrow night.

Namjoon perched on a gravestone nearby, the disrespect of him sitting so cavalierly on someone’s headstone making you cringe internally. “I’ll see you around, I guess,” he said, watching you pack your things.

“Uh, yeah…” you said, your voice betraying your confusion. Who was in the habit of continuing to meet their random hookups? You knew it was probably one of those polite platitudes people exchanged, but the way he’d said it was different, like he really did mean it.

Namjoon laughed at your tone. “You didn’t think you’d escape me that easily, did you?” he asked, standing up. His hands were in his pockets as he walked towards you, looking completely nonchalant. Leaning in, he raised his hand to your neck, running his thumb over the bite mark he’d left. His face was so close to yours that for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, but instead, he looked you directly in the eyes. “You’re mine now, after all,” he purred, as his eyes flashed red again.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart started pounding again, although for an entirely different reason this time. This was definitely not a trick of the light, and now that your brain wasn’t so clouded, all the little warning signs you’d dismissed earlier came back to mind.

“Who are you?” you breathed, trying to stop the tremor in your voice.

He chuckled and stepped away from you.

“My name is Namjoon,” he told you, shrugging. As he turned and started walking away into the darkness, though, he called over his shoulder, “But you might know me better by my title, Asmodeus.”

Shocked, you slapped your hand over the bite mark, staring at him as the fog swallowed his tall, lithe figure up. Asmodeus, the demon of lust. So you had managed to summon a demon after all. And, it seemed, a high-ranking one.

Running your fingers over the bite mark, you couldn’t stop the satisfaction from bleeding through you. As a disciple of Asmodeus, you were sure to rise through the ranks of the coven in no time.

#bts smut #bts fic #bts scenario #kim namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader

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writeblrfantasy · 3 years

Text

Adventures of the Existential Three #1: The Great Debate Over Whether Damien Would Look Good in Gold (Turns Out He Looks Better Than)

AHHHH THE FIRST SHORT IS HERE!! remember how i said i'd post these very saturday? yeah that was a lie. also remember charys was supposed to be a non villain villain? yeah all the villain in him is the aesthetic. mans is the nicest softie ever

i thought about making the first one an introduction to their world and them, but i went with going straight in instead. i'm so proud of this, i'm so happy to be writing for the first time in weeks, and i hope you guys love this and all the rest of the shorts as much as i do <3<3 enjoy please

word count about 3100

tws kissing

It starts with, “I think you’d look wonderful in gold,” said with that characteristic eagerness and shit eating grin on Paris’ face. He leans back in his reclining chair and crosses his hands behind his head, glittering from hair to bootlace in his perfect gold. The sleeveless gold coat Charys chose for him tonight shines in the sunlight, and his golden suntanned skin has been rubbed with glitter.

Charys sighs, knowing he’s in for something. He sits back in the chair facing the vanity where they've been watching Damien prepare. Might as well let it happen.

Why does it always seem to start with Paris?

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Damien says, running two hands thick with oil through his dark hair. The three of them are preparing for a night at Charys’ favorite theater, putting on one of his favorite plays. While his lovers have heard him ramble about it at length, they’ve never seen it all together.

Charys was looking forward to the attention he’d be getting, surrounded by all his favorite people and things, but he has a feeling this conversation will steal it all away.

He’s less mad about the prospect than he expected. It’s not like it’s a rare occurrence, or an unpleasant one, when the idea of one of his lovers in something takes his breath away. Even the candlelight on the vanity casts gold shadow onto Damien's light brown skin, a suggestion of an idea.

“Gold is your color, Paris,” Damien says, shaking his head like it’s a stupid idea. Charys’ mind is already spinning, spinning, with possibilities, fabrics, textures…

“What, so no one else could look good in it?" Paris retorts. "I think you could put on a potato sack and you’d look just as good as you do now.”

Damien goes still and quiet as he does when he’s completely overwhelmed by even the cousin of a compliment.

“I’d have to second that,” Charys agrees, sitting up to place his hands on Damien’s shoulders. He startles at the touch, relaxing slightly when Charys begins massaging his stiff shoulders.

Charys just wanted to feel the dark green velvet jacket that looks just as good on Damien as he predicted, perfectly complementing his dark hair down to the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. But the allure of touching his lover overtakes him.

He’s done himself in by putting Damien in white earrings that drip from his ears and sparkle in the light.

“I’m sure I’d look in gold just as I do in everything else,” snaps Damien, sensitive, unwittingly agreeing with them. He stands up, and Charys mourns the loss of warmth under his fingertips. “What about Charys?”

“What about me?”

“You’d be—beautiful.” Charys sees and appreciates the difficulty Damien has pushing the word out. Expressions of his love said aloud have never been his strong suit. The effort makes him smile and his chest flutter like he's learning Damien for the first time. It takes laughably little to bring him back that feeling of giddy newness.

“That’s true,” Paris says. “He always looks beautiful, though.”

“Oh, my gentlemen, you flatter me, but I’m inclined to agree with Damien this time. Gold is not my color. My hair—my hair would clash,” he defends, as the others start arguing. "My skin is white as milk, yellow and I have never been friends, gold neither."

“What are you saying? Your black hair and gold were made to be."

“The dark blue streaks and the gold? My gray eyes? I’m not so sure. Gold is too bright for my image, anyway.” He stands up. “We’re going to be late.”

The others let it go. The conversation falls from Charys’ mind as the three of them finish fixing their hair and climb into a carriage with that meddling gold curling around the edges.

“Only the best for my gentlemen,” Charys says despite their protests, settling back into black leather cushions and closing his eyes for a brief moment. The moon is rising through the orange glow of Paris’ sunset and a thin layer of clouds, and the evening air is wonderfully cool.

Paris and Damien argue that Charys is treating them like always when they should be treating him, this night is about him, and Charys argues that subjecting them to his favorite play should require some compensation. They retort that to share his joy is a luxury in itself—well, Paris argues that, Damien is too shy to say it aloud.

Charys lets Paris win. His chest fills with a warmth he’s never found anywhere else.

They pull up to the theater, and everything gold drops from his head.

***

The topic doesn’t come to mind again until Charys is trying on old clothes and fitting together new ones. A rare eventless day lends them time to sort through the depths of their wardrobe and prepare for the next time they go to the theater—or to the square, or even to the bank of the river to watch Paris play in the black water. Charys would never miss an opportunity to be dressed in their finest just to go outside, if it meant being seen by other people.

The only opinions and attention that truly matter to them are those of their lovers, though. They won’t pretend otherwise.

Hanging on a wooden coat hanger are long golden robes in a similar style to their favorite black ones, the ones they have five pairs of and wear most often. The sleeves of those very robes, wide and embroidered in dark blue, fall down their arms as they pull the gold robes free.

These golden robes, however, have strips of fabric meant to trail behind them, made of a thin and shimmery fabric . A thin layer of dust coats the shoulder padding—these are surely Paris’, bought for the colder months when he actually bothers to cover his chiseled chest. Somehow it wound up in here.

Paris wears his gold and wears it well, with pride, the frequent white chitons offsetting his golden hair and the permanent tan of his skin. No one can deny he is the incarnation of golden sunsets, from their color to their warmth to their aura of simplicity and comfort. But Charys harkens back to his suggestion a few weeks ago, the delectable idea of Damien in gold, their own dismissal of how gold would look on them.

Charys hesitates with the hanger in their hand, wondering. There’s no way Damien will agree to this, but that doesn’t mean they can’t perform an experiment.

The three of them don’t have an outing planned this evening, just dinner and falling asleep in a pile on the couch, perhaps to the soft sound of Damien reading or Paris singing.

The chipping white paint on their nails, chosen by Damien, will never go with this, but that’s an easy enough matter to fix discreetly. Charys has used their free moments over their immortal existence well to teach themself very valuable skills—they haven’t messed up nail paint in years and years, and the last time was because Damien was distracting them.

They blow off the robes again, resigning themself to trying to fix the creases in the skirts before the others get home.

An hour later, as Charys is fiddling with their earrings and turning every which way in the mirror, dinner from the fish place down the black river laid out on the table, the front door begins opening.

They quickly smooth down their robes one more time and wait, hands clasped, for Paris and Damien to round the corner. The two of them are talking in low tones, followed by the unmistakable sound of Damien’s soft laugh, before his short wavy hair enters Charys’ line of sight.

“Charys, you wouldn’t believe the kind of day we’ve both had, souls thinking they were both dead when—” Damien stops in his tracks.

Paris, who was evidently expecting an answer to a question, says, “Damien?” and comes to stand beside him. “Holy River Black.”

Charys can only smile.

Paris stalks toward them, walking around them and muttering awed endearments. The pin of his own chiton has come undone, as it usually does at the end of the day, and the white trails along the floor while his glorious tan chest lays exposed.

“I know it was my suggestion, but you have no right to look this good,” Paris says, hands on his hips and attempting to glare. He can’t keep the pure wonder out of his ocean eyes, though, and his defiance dies when Charys steps toward him.

“See?” Damien says, much more composed. The hood of the coat he wears to banish the cold in the in the between is down—black today instead of the usual white—an indication he's relaxed. “The gold goes supremely with your hair and your eyes. I know you’re the expert on these things, but I think we’ve found your blind spot.”

Charys resists the urge to roll their eyes. “It’s just some clothing. I’m still me.”

Paris closes the gap between them to place his hands on Charys’ face, kissing them hard. “Don’t for a moment think we’re saying we only love you because of the outstanding things you wear.”

“That’s certainly part of the reason,” Damien says, leaning against the column holding the ceiling up with his arms crossed.

“Damien! I’m trying to tell our dear lover, who will probably look better than we ever will in anything because they actually know what the hell they’re doing, that we love them for much more than their clothes.”

Some of Charys’ burning vulnerability from all the attention vanishes. They grin. “Oh, Paris, I’m not offended in the least. My dear Damien, was that a joke?”

Damien smiles, letting it overtake his whole face the way Charys knows is rare. They take the skirts of the robes in their hands for something to do, swaying idly back and forth. The fabric may be light, but the bulky shoulders and light sleeves in the middle of this summer heat make Charys roll their shoulders to dispel some of the heat, or at least try. This just makes Paris groan.

“You look even more ethereal than always,” Paris cries. “I pity the public the day they see you like this.”

Charys shakes their head. “This is just for you.”

“Aw, Charys—”

“It would rather destroy my image if I were to be seen in anything brighter than dark green dark enough to be mistaken as black.”

Damien grins at the ceiling. Paris groans.

Charys stares at the bits of gold in Damien’s eyes and wonders. “Damien…”

Damien turns his relaxed, loose, beautiful smile to Charys, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Yes?”

Charys doesn’t say a word. Paris begins chuckling as he figures it out.

Damien is next. His smile slowly fades and he points a finger at them both. “No. I will not wear your damn robes.”

“Please, my heart,” Charys says, taking his cheek in their hands. Damien sighs and leans into their hand, kissing the tips of their gold painted fingernails. “For me? For us?” they add.

“You know you don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” Paris cuts in. “You know we would never force you into anything at all.”

Damien smiles faintly, still refusing to meet Charys’ eyes. “For you,” he mutters at last, dragging his eyes up, and the look Charys finds there makes them shiver. Only a hint of hesitation shows in the deep brown, the rest is all interest.

Charys smiles slowly. “I look forward to it.”

The moment is broken when Paris asks, “Charys, you bastard, did you get the fried fish from that fish place down the road? Damien, come on, forget about gold!”

***

The day Damien finally puts on gold is when Charys is least expecting it—though that’s rather the point, probably.

This time, it’s Charys who’s out of the house all day with the others at home. It’s a long day of comforting the usual frightened souls struggling to comprehend their status, watching older ones slowly relax into the afterlife they’re discovering is better than their life, and visiting the ones who’ve been there the longest and luxuriate.

Some days Charys is so busy with welcoming newly dead souls that he has no time for the seasoned ones, but when he does, it brings a sweet ache for home. Home lies with Damien and Paris, where Charys’ heart has taken residence equally in the depths of theirs, but he longs for the comfort of the riverside house, despite usually having left it that morning.

That’s not always a given, either—there have been many occasions where one or all of them have had to sleep in their respective places of business, and there have been days and weeks when they haven’t seen each other or the riverside house at all.

Those reunions are always sweeter than sweet, but thankfully Charys didn’t have to wait weeks to see his loves again. He only had to survive a long twelve hours in the mansion of the dead starting at the crack of dawn. Leaving the warmth of the bed and the tangle of four arms who seemed intent on making him stay was the hardest part—it always is—but now he’s back at the riverside house, letting some of his walls come down.

He pauses for a moment outside the white front door to regain the breath he’s been short on all day, letting his shoulders slouch and rolling up the sleeves on his dark robes a bit before pushing the door in.

All is silent. Perhaps the others aren’t home yet? No, Charys has a foggy memory of Paris telling him they weren’t going to work today. The three of them have assistants who are capable of handling most minor problems and the routine work of registering new souls to the afterlife and helping ones still in their life, but they all prefer to work themselves.

They are the patron of the dead, the lord of the in between, and the ambassador of the living. To leave their duties in the hands of someone else feels instinctively wrong.

Charys pushes further into the house, the wide sitting room to the right and the kitchen further beyond, around every support column, the bath chamber hidden behind a wall to the left, and when he still finds no one, he finally heads up the creaky wooden stairs. He checks their offices, the study, the little library that’s really just there for him, the empty bath chamber, and their shared bedchamber at the very end of the hallway.

Resigned to the fact that he’s the only one home, he begins unbuttoning his robes and reaching for the closet on instinct when he notices that it’s already open and a lantern is lit inside. Paris stands next to Damien, who is wearing the brightest, most delectable golden robes Charys has ever seen.

They’re not even the robes Charys wore. These are entirely different, without the puffs at the shoulders and closer in style to Paris’ beloved chitons. A crown of golden laurel sits on Damien’s hair, free of its usual oil, and when he moves Charys notices the black boots and gold laces going up to his knees.

Charys can’t speak, can’t move. He gains an appreciation for the way the two of them felt upon seeing him in his own gold. Damien is staring at him with a flush painting his cheeks, an embarrassed smile spread across his mouth. Charys swears there’s gold glitter on his cheeks, but the only way to be sure is to step closer, his plan anyway.

Paris is equally flushed, pink atop his tan skin. His head turns to see what has so captured Damien’s eye. The moment Paris clocks him, he drags Damien close by the lapels and kisses him with a clearly pent up passion. Charys is still speechless, he can only watch and feel his heart thaw and heat and melt into a molten puddle.

The love in his chest that blooms and grows for them only seems to blossom more every day. It’s the most precious thing Charys has ever had, and just getting to watch them kiss like this still makes his breath hitch after all this time, like he’s kissing them himself. Oh, what he would give to be able to give both of them that attention at once.

He finally gains control of his feet and strides toward them. He doesn’t know where to put his hands in the face of such pure beauty as Damien wrenches away from the kiss, gasping. A stronger one than Charys can resist Damien’s pink lips, wonderfully framed by the gold and brown. Charys is torn between the insatiable urge to kiss touch and the yearning curiosity to feel those boots, individual of fashion that he is.

The moment he has his composure again, he’s going to demand to know where and when Damien got this outfit, especially those boots, and also how he carried it out so secretly. He underestimates Damien’s capability for secrecy. Being the most mysterious man in three realms seems to have that effect.

“Hey, hey, let me have a turn,” Paris says, shaking Charys’ shoulder. “I was going to kiss him the moment I saw him, but he made me wait until you got home. I know it wouldn’t have been the same, but honestly, can you blame me?”

Charys wrenches himself free of Damien to point his finger and say, “You are not allowed to suggest something for any of us to wear ever again. This is what happens. Are you trying to kill me?”

“You are the patron of death, I would think you’d be well equipped—”

Charys takes his shoulders and kisses him, too, hoping he’ll feel every bit of his spite and revenge. He hates how good Damien looks. He can’t get it out of his head even as he has Paris grasping at the back of his neck, attacking him like a starving man.

The gold compliments Damien so well, he glows with it under the yellow lantern light in this closet that’s too cramped for three people to stand in.

Charys has to tear away to look at him again, especially the way the crown suits his hair. Charys has always been a sucker for Damien’s hair without oil, anyway, when his almost-curls get to be free for Charys’ fingers to run through without feeling disgusting.

He looks so much softer like that, too. People call him brooding, scary, reclusive, but only Charys and Paris get to see the smiling, eternal boy under the white hood he wears to the in between.

“You know I hate it when you fight over me,” Damien says, breathlessly.

“Oh, darling, we’re not fighting over you,” Charys says. “We’re both appreciating your majesty in our own ways.”

“It sounds like you’re fighting over who gets to appreciate me the same way first.” Damien smiles softly again, obviously still self-conscious, and Charys is really so in love he could happily die. They’ve had debates over whether he is actually dead, as patron of death.

He’d only be happy dead if he could keep these two by his side in any of their realms, though. Life, death, afterlife, he couldn’t ever do without them, no matter what color any of them are wearing.

Things like gold and Damien's hair without product and the keen glint in Paris' eye just remind Charys why he wants to share every moment of his existence with them.

aet taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @47crayons @chayscribbles @metanoiamorii @ashen-crest @doggo038

general taglist: @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @wickerring @directionoftime @47crayons @froggywriter

#writing #my writing #writeblr #fantasy #fantasy writeblr #lila's wips: aet #lila's short stories

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mymoonagedaydream · 3 years

Text

Home (Part 2)

Summary: As you got closer to Bucky again, some kind of emotional crescendo was inevitable.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I got one more part after this, so let’s call it a mini-series

---

You slept in the next morning, getting out of bed only to traipse down to the living room and lounge around in your pyjamas on the couch for the rest of the day.

It was the holidays- you were allowed to be disgustingly lazy if you wanted.

Evening came around before you knew it, the smell of your mother’s cooking filling up the house as you stared dead-eyed at the Hallmark Channel, all the white couples wearing red and green sweaters slowly blurring into one.

You were only awoken from your hypnosis by your dad leaning over the back of the couch, jingling some car keys at you.

‘I need to take your mother’s death-trap to Barnes’, you wanna come along?’

‘Really?’ You frowned, eyes darting to the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s almost seven, surely they’re closed?’

‘They are, but Bucky offered to work on it out of hours.’

You gave an impressed nod, adopting your best impression of your mother. ‘What a nice young man he is.’

‘You know it, skip.’

He grinned as you hoisted yourself up from the couch and shoved a coat over your pyjamas, figuring that getting dressed this late in the evening would just be an absolute waste of time.

The two of you hopped in the car, both cringing at the metallic scraping sound the engine made when your dad turned the key.

After a tense few death-defying minutes, you finally pulled up at the workshop. Your dad honked the horn and the shutter door began to rise, slowly revealing what you could only deduce to be an extra from the music video for Uptown Girl.

Oh wait, no, it was just Bucky.

His choice to sport a tank top mid-December was definitely a bold one, but Jesus fucking Christ you weren’t complaining. Glistening with sweat and covered in grease stains, he looked like a page from a raunchy calendar hung up in an office full of middle-aged spinsters.

He waved the car in, greeting your dad with some kind of bro-hug ordeal that immediately confused the hell out of you.

Those two were buds now? What else had you missed?

‘Hey, Lilypad.’ Bucky looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow at the plaid pyjama pants peeking out from underneath your coat. ‘Nice outfit.’

‘Thought I’d make a bit of an effort.’

‘For little old me? You shouldn’t have.’

You gave him a playful shove on the shoulder as you strolled past, taking yourself for a little tour of the shop floor while he started searching under the bonnet.

The place was surprisingly neat and tidy, you were quite impressed. The only questionable thing you found was a scantily clad centrefold torn out of a magazine and pinned to the corkboard, upon which some comedian had scribbled the words ‘Bucky’s girlfriend’.

You’d be having words about that.

Completing your journey, you re-joined the boys just in time to see your dad reach his wallet from his back pocket and wave it towards Bucky.

‘How much?’

‘You're joking, right?’

‘Let me give you something. I insist.’

Bucky chuckled, pulling a dirty rag from his pocket and roughly wiping his hands. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. It’ll be ready in the morning.’

‘Ah, you’re one of the good ones Buck.’ Your dad clapped him on the shoulder before turning to you. ‘Come on then, squirt. Dinner should be almost ready.’

For some reason, you found yourself very reluctant to leave. Jesus, you’d actually prefer to spend the rest of the evening in this cold, halogen-lit grease pool with budget Billy Joel than at home in front of a warm fire. That boy had magical powers or some shit.

‘I don’t mind sticking around, if you want?’ Bucky shot you a slightly confused frown. ‘I could go out and pick us up some food.’

‘You sure? Passing up your mom’s cooking for this place seems crazy.’

‘Least I can do, we’ll count the company as payment.’

His frown slowly melted into a warm smile. ‘Sounds great.’

You looked back at your dad, who was absolutely beaming, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was at Wimbledon. His excitement was sweet, but you knew he was only invested in your relationship because it had the potential to give him a lifetime of free car repairs.

‘Well, you kids have fun.’

After loitering around for a few minutes, you eventually headed out to pick up dinner from a nearby takeout. It was freezing and your pyjamas got pretty soggy, but your good mood didn’t waver for a second. You were really excited to have an evening alone with Bucky.

When you got back, he’d ferreted out some old car seats for the two of you to sit on while you ate.

‘So I saw the photo of your girlfriend hanging up back there.’

‘Oh, that’s just a stupid joke.’ He immediately went bright red, tripping over his words a little. ‘The guys here keep trying to set me up on dates but I always say no, so they found me a “paper girlfriend” instead.’

‘Maybe they’d leave you alone if you sucked it up and just gave it a try.’

‘I think you’d take that back if you’d seen some of these women.’

You raised your eyebrows at him. ‘Never had you down as shallow, Barnes.’

‘Oh, c’mon. I’m not I just-’ He chuckled slightly when he realised you weren’t being serious, eyes flicking back down to his food. ‘I have a pretty specific type.’

‘Maybe too specific?’

‘You could say that, yeah.’

There was that weird atmosphere again, it kept creeping up on you at the most inconvenient times.

You just changed the subject.

Once you’d both finished eating, you watched him work for a while, quickly flicking your eyes away from his bare arms every time he looked up but definitely getting caught a few times. Oh well.

It must’ve been getting close to midnight when you started dozing off, full to the brim with junk food and warmed up by the space heater Bucky had pointed in your direction. You were almost completely asleep when you felt him softly shaking your shoulder.

‘Home time, Lilypad. You need a ride?’

You peeled your eyes open, yawning as you stumbled to your feet. ‘Ugh, that’d be great. Did you drive here?’

‘Nope.’ He turned around and crouched down a little. ‘Hop on.’

‘For real?’

‘For real.’

Still pretty dazed, you did your best to clamber up onto his back, settling your head into the crook of his neck whilst trying to ignore the all feelings that his strong grip around your legs was provoking.

He somehow managed to lock up the garage while you were clinging onto him like a baby monkey, the cold night air waking you up a little more as he started on the short walk home.

You were only expecting a lift as far as his house, but he seemed to deliberately miss the turning.

‘We just passed your street.’

‘I wouldn’t be much of a public transport service if I didn’t take you the whole way now, would I?’

‘You never were one to do things by halves.’ You pressed your cheek against the side of his head. ‘But you know I’m not paying you for this, right?’

‘I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.’

‘In your dreams, Yucky.’

‘You’re damn right about that.’

He took you all the way to your doorstep, refusing to drop you until you were inches away from your front door. After gently setting you down, he spun round, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

You chuckled, trying to find your key. ‘I probably won’t see you now until after Christmas, so I hope you have a really nice one.’

‘Yeah, you too.’ He paused for a second, his hand feeling around in his pocket, looking as though he was building up to something important. ‘I’ll see you for games night though, right?’

Oh, apparently not.

‘Right. Night, Buck.’

Stepping forward, he placed his hand on the back of your head, gently pulling you towards him and pressing a soft kiss just below your hairline.

‘G’night, Lilypad.’

---

Christmas came and went, your family had their usual two day lock-in. You ate until you couldn’t stand, played so many board games that you had them all down to a perfect science and didn’t change out of your pyjamas for two days.

Spending so much time with your parents made you realise how much you’d missed them, and how much you’d miss them when you left again.

Aside from all the warmth and loveliness of your family, there was another big highlight to your day- a text from Bucky that you woke up to on Christmas morning.

Merry Christmas, Lilypad. It wasn’t the same last year without you.

---

The evening of the 26th was games night.

The doorbell rang and you leaped up, yanking it open and immediately pulling Bucky into a hug. You tried to greet his parents too, but it was a little difficult while you were being squeezed like a vice and carried towards the living room.

Everyone settled in while your mom made up the drinks. It was so reassuring to see that the end of your relationship with Bucky hadn’t tarnished the firm friendship that’d formed between your parents, the relaxed atmosphere between everyone made it felt like nothing had really changed since you left.

A little while after they’d arrived, you scuttled off to the kitchen for a snack, not noticing Bucky hot on your heels. You jumped out of your skin when you spotted him in the corner of your eye, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

‘I was just, uh- wondering if we could-’ He took a deep breath, steadying himself. ‘Could we go upstairs?’

You studied him for a second before answering. He was struggling to keep still, shifting back and forth on his feet while also seemingly unable to find a comfortable resting position for his arms. He was tense and anxious, you’d never seen him like this before.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah, all good. I just thought it’d be nice to talk in private for a bit.’

‘Sure.’ You gave him an apprehensive nod and gestured for him to follow you. ‘We can go to my room.’

Dread started to churn in your stomach as you slowly ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps clunking up behind you. Bucky was the most laid-back, carefree guy you knew, what the hell could have him so jittery?

You led him into your bedroom, hearing a low chuckle as he closed the door behind him. ‘This place hasn’t changed a bit.’

‘I think my mom likes to keep it ready in case of surprise visits.’ You sat on your bed, patting the space next to you, giving him a warm smile as he took the invitation. ‘So what’s up?’

‘I haven't had a chance to give you your Christmas present.’

‘Oh, well it’s too late now.’ You teased him, trying your best to ease some of his nerves. ‘You’ll have to try again next year.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.’

Digging a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small, clumsily wrapped present and quickly handed it to you.

‘Thank you, that’s really sweet.’ You felt it in your hands for a second. ‘Insert good-things-small-packages cliché here.’

Eagerly tearing off the wrapping paper, you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was a ring box.

Your eyes shot up to him.

‘Open it.’

‘I don’t think I can Buck, I-’

‘Just, before you say anything, let me explain.’ You nodded faintly, feeling tears pricking your eyes. ‘You remember our last year together, how I told you that my dad was making me work all those hours? He wasn't. I asked him for them, cause I was saving up.’

You felt like you'd been shot in the stomach. ‘You bought it before I left?’

Flashbacks of your break-up conversation flooded into your mind. You’d been the first one to suggest separation, but you vividly remembered Bucky agreeing without hesitation, so quick that it made you think he’d lost interest in you.

‘I thought you wanted to break-up?’ Your words got a bit tangled in your mouth, the wave of emotions you were experiencing making it difficult for you to string your thoughts together.

‘I didn’t want to hold you back. I knew what the job meant to you.’

Your gaze darted back down to the box in your hand. ‘And you kept it all this time?’

‘It's not mine to give away, it's yours. It's always been yours.’ He placed his hand on top of yours. ‘I just couldn’t let you go again without it.’

Your mind went completely blank, the only sensations you could focus on were the sting of hot tears rolling down your face and the feeling of his rough skin against yours. You let your gaze slowly rise back to his face, the sight of his wide, blue eyes fixed on you making it even harder for you to untangle yourself.

Before you could even try to speak, he leaned towards you, cupping your face in his hand and softly pressing his lips against yours.

You let your eyes flutter closed, the only tangible thought rolling around your mind was how much you’d missed this, how much you’d missed him.

It was only a few seconds before he pulled away, letting out a heavy sigh and resting his forehead against yours.

This was too much, you felt your breathing becoming more frantic as you tried to pull yourself together. You turned your head slightly, roughly wiping the drying tears off your cheeks, doing everything you could to just think without being overcome by emotion.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. Just stay.’

‘I’m so sorry, Buck.’ You felt yourself beginning to crumble again as you carefully placed the box back in his hand. ‘I can’t.’

---

Part 3

---

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---

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Text

The Problem with Magic Markers

Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short

If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.

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Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.

Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.

And how silence was very, very worrying.

So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.

So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.

“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”

There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…

Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.

“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”

Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”

Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”

Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”

Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”

Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.

“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.

Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”

Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.

“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”

As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.

Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”

Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.

“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”

His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.

A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.

But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.

The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.

Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.

“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”

Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?

It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.

But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.

“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.

“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”

Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”

Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.

Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.

Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.

Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.

Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.

“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.

When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.

So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.

His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.

As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.

“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”

Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.

Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”

Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”

“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.

Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”

For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.

After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.

“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”

Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”

“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”

Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”

Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.

“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”

Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.

“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”

“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.

“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.

“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”

He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”

Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”

There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank you, Katze…”

“Is it done yet?”

Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.

“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”

Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.

“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”

Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”

Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.

As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”

#critical role #modern au #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #widomauk #una #trinket #please reblog and comment!

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