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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

Note

Hello to my favorite writer!!!

I saw that you had time so how about some mafia bucky with like a badass reader and like people are more afraid of her than bucky

And maybe like instead of reader being in danger and bucky coming to protect you can make that bucky is in danger and the reader saves him 🙃

Love you !!

Ok I love you so much right now, you are seriously fuelling my Mafia!Bucky addiction! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!

Lioness || Mafia!Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, blood, violence, murder, smut. (in that order too lmao) this badass reader got real violent in the middle there oops someone woke up and chose violence today WC: 3116

Prequel || Part One

Two men stood arguing in the shadows, watching the man tied to the chair hang limp and unconscious. The Don turned to his Capo and grabbed the lapels of his shirt as he saw the ‘gift’ he had been brought. “What the fuck is this?”

“What you asked for?”

Throwing the smaller man aside, the boss strode out of the dark and slapped the man until he woke. Grabbing his hair, he tipped his head back and turned it to the capo so he could see the crystal blue eyes. “I asked you for the head of his mob, you brought me the Dona's bitch.”

“You fucked up.” Bucky laughed despite his split lip that reopened with his smile. “My girl’s going to take pleasure draining the life out of every single one of you cocksuckers.”

Bucky’s head rocked sideways at the backhand he received and the rival Don’s jewel encrusted rings sliced his cheek. A pained groan escaped his bloody lips but that was the only satisfaction he gave them at his suffering as his fingers pressed the crown of his watch, the movement hidden having by his hands tied behind his back. It was only a matter of time until you arrived.

“We need to move out.” The Don ordered his men. “Call everyone, tell them to get to the casa sicura.”

“It's one woman.” The Capo frowned as he watched his boss’s face pale. “What threat could she possibly be?”

“You obviously don’t know how a lion's pride works, do you? You look at a lion and think he is fierce but the truth is without his lioness he would starve. The lioness hunts, the lioness protects. He is merely there to fuck and please her.”

“Give me some good news.” You snapped as you shrugged your jacket from your shoulders and tossed it over the back of your office chair.

“The tracker in his watch has just come online but it's deep in Little Italy.” Steve, your 2nd in command, updated you as he typed on his laptop.

You dropped into your chair and mindlessly twirled your butterfly knife as you wondered what the Don was up to. He had never been brave enough to outright start a war with you, there had to be something else going on. It didn’t matter, there was nothing to ponder, Bucky had been taken and you would stop at nothing to get him back. Slipping the knife back into your pocket, you opened the cupboards that lined your office and saw the arsenal of weapons waiting for you.

“You’re not seriously just going to go in there are you?” Steve gawked as you pulled on a custom bulletproof vest that doubled as a holster that could fit four handguns plus magazines.

“You’re not seriously just going to let them kill your bestfriend and your boss are you?” You shot back without looking as you checked the magazines were full before shoving them into place and grabbing a rappelling rope.

“Of course not, but you’re indispensable unlike the rest of us.”

Steve joined you and began to arm himself while you monitored your husband's movements, the red blip making its way through Brooklyn. “They’re on the move. Time to go.”

“Woah, we should wait for reinforcements-”

You cut Steve off with a glare and he gulped his suggestion down before following you out of your office and down to the garage. You looked over the array of keys and chose the Rolls-Royce Cullinan since it was the fastest of the armour plated vehicles you had collected. You didn’t bother looking back to make sure Steve was still with you, he either kept up or got left behind, it made no difference to you.

“I can’t believe you have a fucking shield.” You rolled your eyes as he slipped into the passenger seat and dropped it at his feet.

“Better than getting shot.”

The roar of the engine as you hit the accelerator drowned out the degrading insult you muttered and you flew out into the traffic with little regard for anyone else on the street. Red lights, stop signs, angry horns. They all went unnoticed as you raced across the city, weaving in and out of cars so you could get to Bucky as fast as possible. You couldn’t imagine your Italian rivals being gentle on him and the thought of anyone hurting Bucky sent fire igniting in your veins.

Your knuckles gripped the wheel tighter and Steve watched as your jaw clenched. “He’s gonna be fine. I know he’s soft for you but that jerk is still a tough son of a bitch.”

“If they have hurt him, I swear to god the streets will run red with their blood.” You said as you took the break in traffic to look at Steve. “It will be fucking biblical.”

The car fell silent as Steve avoided looking your way. You knew he couldn’t understand your bloodlust, very few people could. It was a man's world and the men only seemed to understand strength through violence. To be a part of their world you had to be more violent, more deadly, so they would see you as an equal. It turned out you did more than just become an equal, your reputation became the whispers of nightmares and rivals began to fear you more than Bucky.

Bucky was the only one who accepted you and loved you for who you were. He never once tried to rein you in like the others or grew jealous of the power your name held, he thrived on it. It was why you would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant being hopelessly outnumbered in enemy territory. He would do the same for you.

“Park down that alley on the right and we will have to go the rest of the way on foot.” Steve said as Bucky dot stayed stationary inside the industrial building.

You parked in the shadows and shut the engine off, turning to Steve before he could climb out. “I need you to stay here.”

“No way, he’s my best friend!”

“And he’s my husband!” You hissed. “I need you to have the car ready for a quick get away. Don’t make me pull rank here, Rogers.”

He didn’t look happy but he didn’t argue which was the best you could hope for as you tossed him the key and opened the door. “Give me five minutes then move round the block to the front. Unless they have RPGs you should be safe with whatever they fire at you.”

“Should be?” He muttered. “That’s reassuring.”

Your lips tipped up into a smirk at his sarcasm and you stepped out of the, turning back and hitting him with your own. “Guess you could always hide under your shield.”

You quietly closed the door and disappeared up the rusted fire escape, making your way over the rooftops instead of the busier streets below. Spotting an armed guard up ahead, you hid behind a water tower and drew your knife from your pocket. You would have plenty of time to use your guns but for now you didn’t want to announce your arrival.

The steps of the guard grew closer and you heard him humming a tune as he approached, your men would never be so stupid as to do that because it made it too simple to pinpoint when they would be in reaching distance. Your hand flew out, swiping the blade across his throat before he could even react and you grabbed his shirt to pull him away from the view of anyone else, his quiet gurgles stifling the song he had sung.

You froze as you heard another man calling out, assuming he was looking for his deceased amico. You waited ready as before, back pressed to the water tower and knife waiting for its next victim. This time your target was alert for something amiss and his steps were quieter, the sounds eaten by the noise of the city below. You spotted his gun first, peeking around the corner and you blocked the turning body with your forearm before slicing his wrist, the gun clattering to the rooftop as his tendons were rendered useless.

His scream erupted faster than your hand could bury the blade in his throat and you knew your stealth positioning was ruined. Grabbing the rope from where it hung over your back, you tied it around the two men and hooked it into the special clip on your vest. There was no time to second guess your plan as you heard the echoing sound of more than one pair of boots on the metal stairwell of the fire escape. Running across the roof, you ducked as gunshots sounded and leapt over the edge.

The rope burnt your palms as it ran through your fists and you hoped the bodies above stayed where they were before you clenched your grip and came to a jarring stop, your arc stopping before gravity pulled you back towards the building. The stunned face of the Don standing in front of the wide glass pane was almost comical but there was no time to laugh before your feet crashed through. Shards of glass tore at your clothes but you rolled to a stop relatively unscathed and drew two guns as you rose to your feet.

“Kill her!” The Don screamed as he rose from where he had fallen and shuffled his way to the stairs. “Kill the fucking bitch!”

You couldn’t believe this man dared give his soldiers orders but didn’t stay to see them through, he was not worthy of being their leader. Thankfully there weren't many of the soldiers in the room with you, most of his men must have been sent up to the roof and hadn’t made their way back down yet. Three well aimed shots dealt with them but one had managed to hit you before they died leaving your breath winded from where the bullet struck you in the vest.

Chasing after the Don you took the stairs two at a time, putting down everyone that got in your way, and you looked at your watch - 4 minutes and 38 seconds had passed. Finally, you reached the ground floor of the old warehouse and found the Don standing near the exit. Roofing iron lined the walls of the large commercial space and in the centre was your husband, slumped in a chair with slow streams of blood running down his handsome face. Your hand stilled as you looked at the weapon aimed at his head and the smirk on the Don’s face.

“Not so brave now are you, leonessa.” He spat. “Let me go, call this blood feud off and you can have him.”

You could hear the men from the rooftop coming down the last flight of stairs and knew you would be trapped on both sides any moment, you were running out of options and Bucky was starting to stir awake. If you could just see his eyes one more time before you died you would be happy. Suddenly the throaty rev of an engine pulled your attention away from the soldiers about to descend on you and towards the wall that was crumpling under the front of your Rolls-Royce, right beside the Don.

You dropped to your knees as you saw Steve’s window had the barrel of an AK-47 hanging out of it and he opened fire at the capos and soldiers, parking himself between them and Bucky. Your ears were ringing from loud gunshots but you couldn’t cover them as you needed your arms to crawl across the concrete and towards the Don who was pulling himself from the mess Steve’s entrance had made.

“Where do you think you are going?” You hissed as you grabbed his ankle and twisted the already broken limb, revelling in his scream. “This is what you wanted.”

“Please, it was a mistake.” He begged.

“You bet your ass it was a mistake.” You chuckled as your fingers curled around your knife. “One you are going to pay for with your life.”

You were bored of his tears and pleas, your ears already hurting and a headache forming. He was lucky, any other time you might have taken him with you and elongated his torture to appease the anxiety and stress he put you through but you just wanted to get Bucky out of there. You didn’t even take the time to watch his blood pool across the concrete or the colour drain from his face, you were already on your feet and wiping the blood off your knife before pocketing it and limping around your car to Bucky.

“There’s my girl.” Bucky sighed with a smile that cracked the blood that had dried on his cheeks. “Knew you would come for me.”

“Always.” You kissed his cheek gently as you reached behind him and sliced through the ropes that bound him, checking over the burn marks they left behind before helping him from the chair. Steve was already opening the door for you as you supported Bucky and got him settled on the backseat, turning your attention to your 2IC. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“I had to improvise.” He shrugged. “You were right about the armour though.”

“I’m right about most things. Now, get us home and have Dr Banner meet us there.”

You joined Bucky in the back seat and he took your hand as soon as you were in his reach, the familiar calluses settling the adrenaline that had been flooding your system since you heard he had been ambushed. Now that you weren’t high on hormones you were starting to feel the aches and pains of the many small injuries that littered your body.

“You’re bleeding.” Bucky said softly as he pulled the collar of your shirt away to see one of the cuts from breaking through the window.

“So are you.” You reminded as you leant into his touch.

“They barely touched me, doll.” He chuckled. “They were too scared of you to do any real damage.”

His fingers opened the buckles on your vest and pulled the thick layer away, not missing the wince as you moved so he could pull it off completely. Lifting your shirt up he saw the bruise that was already blooming across your ribcage and shook his head, softly placing your shirt back down before Steve looked back in the rearview. He felt terrible that you got hurt for him but knew that it went both ways and if the roles were reversed he would have done the exact same thing, just maybe not with the finesse you had.

“What am I going to do with you, babygirl?” He asked quietly as he kissed his way along your jawline.

“I can think of a few things.” You sighed as his shadow of a beard tickled your skin and your need for him spread faster than the goosebumps over your body.

Your fingers reached out for the control panel on the centre console and the blacked out glass began to rise, creating a barrier between Steve in the front and the back with you and Bucky. You could feel Bucky's smirk against your throat as his hand rose up your thighs in time with the window. Some jazz music began to play and you rolled your eyes at the poor taste both Steve and Bucky shared but you were grateful to have the sound overpower your moans as Bucky’s hands massaged your thighs.

“You get me so fucking hard when you I see you play with that knife.” Bucky teased you with his words and his fingers that were slowly opening your pants. “Seeing the fire in your eyes.”

“Yeah, like this baby?” You pulled the blade from your pocket, catching it with a twirl before running it down his shirt on the blunt side. “Should I just cut your clothes off so there’s nothing stopping me from having you this instant?”

His chest shuddered as a moan expelled on his breath and you watched his tented pants twitch as he enjoyed your teasing. Taking his belt you slipped the knife under the leather and sliced through it before dropping it to the car floor and pulling his pants down his legs. There was no patience left in you, you had to feel him. It was almost more reassuring than just seeing him alive, you wanted to feel his body under yours, his thick cock filling your pussy.

You kicked your own pants off and his hands guided you over his lap, his fingers teasing your entrance and feeling your folds already slick with arousal. He seemed to have as much patience as you did as he pulled you down to spear you with his blunt head, your heads tipping forward as you moaned together. You were careful of the cuts on his face, lacing your fingers in his hair instead and you gently kissed the corner of his lip that was split.

“You take more security now on.” You ordered as you rolled your hips over him.

“Mhmm, anything you want.” He agreed, knowing that you would stop if he tried to argue.

“I’m serious, Bucky. I can’t live in a world without you in it.”

His hands cupped your cheeks and he leant back so he could look you in the eyes, his blue irises blown with lust but still clear as the summer sky. “You won’t have to. Wherever we go, it's together. Hear me?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to feel every inch of him, needing to have as much of his touch as you could possibly get in the confined space. If your kiss hurt he didn’t show it but you could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lips as your tongue danced with his.

“I love you.”

You panted as your head tipped back, the assault of his tongue on your collarbone sending you head spinning before his thumb slipped between your thighs and added to the ecstasy. Everything felt warm, like the comfort of coming home to a roaring fire on a cold winter’s night and you felt the warmth of his breath on your skin as he replied, tipping you over the edge and into bliss.

“I love you too, doll.”

Taglist || Taglist Join Form ||

@jessica11133 @nash-dara @buckyisperfect @itswanktime @slutforsexyseabass @sea040561 @gryffindorqueensworld @honeywithemoney @kenzieam @tsnelf7 @jmeagin-blog @saranghaey @heavenly-rogers @ashly4 @bibibeauelle @wildcat116 @glxwingrxse @ymasen @Ghostpepper21 @thebuckybarnesvault

#mafia!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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enchantestuff · 3 years

Text

hatred - Charles Leclerc

I think I might make this into a mini series with an enemies to civil with each other to friends to lovers kind of vibe but I'm still not sure, anyways here's Charles x reader wanting to rip each others throats but instead end up ripping each others clothes off

gonna dedicate this to the lovely @yungbludz happy birthday <33

GIF NOT MINE

warnings; smut as per usual, Charles being very egotistical, choking, language, enjoy <3

2k words

part two

It was safe to say you and Charles hated each other. You knew hate was a strong word, but you also knew that you felt nothing but hatred for the man. You hated his cocky smile and the fact that everyone seemed to be obsessed with him. You also hated the fact that you had to spend the whole weekend with him.

You worked for Ferrari, meaning that, unfortunately, you had to spend a lot of time with Charles. You were actually excited when you first got the job of being Charles Leclerc's PR manager. You had admired the driver and couldn’t wait to work alongside him, but that all changed once you actually met him and realised what an ass he really was. Everyone else loved him, of course, because he seemed to be nice to every single person on the planet except you.

You and a select number of the Ferrari team had been invited to a special charity event taking place in the ballroom of a luxurious hotel. You had all decided to check into the hotel the day before the event, in order to save time and familiarise yourself with the venue. Of course, according to your job description, you also had to run through the possible questions Charles could be asked with him.

Although Charles loathed you, he had to admit you were good at your job and managed to prepare him for every possible scenario, which is why he hadn’t begged Mattia to fire you, at least not yet.

You sighed as you reached the check in desk, all you wanted to do was flop onto the hotel bed and sleep until the morning. You gave the lady behind the desk your name and watched as she quickly typed on the computer in front of her. “Ah yes, Y/N and Charles, room 506”

Your eyes widened at her words as you shook your head. “No no, that can’t be right” you pleaded as you leaned your arms against the counter.

“Im sorry ma'am, but the booking is for the both of you” she explained with apologetic eyes as she handed you the room key.

“Take your time, Y/N. Not like we aren’t all exhausted from our long trip” you heard Charles scold from behind you. You quickly turned around and shoved the room key into his chest.

“Politetly, go fuck yourself, Leclerc” you muttered as you shouldered past him and walked straight to Mattia on the other side of reception. Mattia sighed once you walked over and gestured for you to begin arguing with him, he knew it was going to happen.

“Why? Why would you stick me in a room with that-that imbecile!” you snapped.

“Listen, Y/N, i know how much you dislike him and vice versa, but everyone had to be paired with someone and I thought this was the best option for you both” he explained with a soothing voice.

“Why do I have to be with her?” you heard Charles ask from behind you. You felt small standing in front of him, his broad frame practically trapping you between him and Mattia.

“Y/N is your PR manager, it's her job to prepare you for this event” Mattia once again calmly explained

“And she couldn’t do that over breakfast?” Charles inquired, you could feel his tense gaze on the back of your head and you whipped around scoffing at him as you placed your hands on his hips.

“Don’t act like this was my idea! Not everyone wants to share a room with you Charles, get your head out of your ass”

Charles opened his mouth to throw a rude remark your way but Mattia stopped him before he got the chance. “The both of you are sharing this room, whether you like it or not. I think everyone would prefer if you took this time to sort out your problems instead of bickering like children. I’ll see you both at breakfast. Goodnight,” he scolded as he walked off with his luggage in tow.

You felt your cheeks redden as embarrassment creeped up your shoulders. “Are you trying to get me fired?” you accused Charles as you grabbed your own luggage and made way for the elevator.

He shrugged in response, “Wouldn’t be the worst thing” he muttered, stepping inside with you. You pressed your floor number and sighed in frustration. “Can you stop breathing so loud?” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“It was a sigh, dipshit.”

“Trust me, i don't want to be near you as much as you don't want to be near me”

“Glad we're on the same page” you replied, stepping out of the elevator and storming to your room, which in hindsight was a foolish idea as Charles had the key and you had to wait for him as he took his sweet time walking up the hallway.

He unlocked the door with a smug look on his face and stepped in before you, dropping his luggage on the floor as he surveyed the room. “You have got to be kidding me” he complained once he saw the double bed in the middle of the room.

“Oh what is it now, Charles?” you asked as you shut the door behind you “is the carpet not to your liking? Is it too bright? Are there no chocolates on the pillow” you continued and slipped off your shoes, “do you want me to - oh shit” you cursed as you saw the predicament you both were in. “Looks like you're sleeping on the floor” you shrugged whilst walking towards the bed.

“I am NOT sleeping on the floor,” Charles complained.

“What? And you think I am?” you argued, once again placing your hands on your hips.

“I don’t see why not,” he commented, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I am not sharing a bed with you, Leclerc! So you,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “are going to have to step off your mighty throne and take the gentleman approach and sleep,” jab “on,” jab “the floor,” you snapped.

Charles raised his eyebrow as he stared at you. You could cut the tension between the two of you with a knife, it was almost unbearable. You had never fought this long, somebody had always interrupted you both before you got the chance to really push each other's buttons. “I'm going to say this nice and slow, sweetheart,” Charles growled, taking a step forward, you in turn took a step back as you removed your finger from his chest, “I’ll take the high road, we can share the bed just this once, as long as you stop acting like the spoiled princess that you will never be” he continued to walk towards you as he spoke and you were eventually trapped against the wall.

Charles moved his hand to lie on the wall next to your head, the distance between the two of you becoming smaller and smaller by the second. “I might be ready to step off my throne but are you ready to be a good girl and step off yours too?” he concluded.

“Bite me, Charles” you retorted and something in the both of you snapped as you grabbed his face in your hands and he roughly grabbed your waist. Your lips violently pressed against his as your tongues practically fought against each other. You almost moaned at the force of his kiss, but refused to give him the satisfaction.

Charles pulled away, giving your mouth a final short kiss before he moved to mark your neck. “Come on, princess. Stop being stubborn for once in your life and let me hear the noises that you can make''

You however kept your mouth shut, Charles smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “If that's how you want to play it,” he smirked before gently grabbing your breast and slipping his hands into the waistband of your leggings. He rubbed circles on your clit as he pinched your nipples. “I want to hear you, sweetheart,” he grunted.

You rolled your eyes back in pleasure and involuntarily let out a moan. Charles felt his dick twitch in his pants and cockily grinned as he kissed right under your nose. “Good girl,” he whispered. It wasn't long before his trousers were discarded as well as your own leggings. You hadn’t moved however and were still pressed up against the wall. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked and although you felt your heart skip a beat you rolled your eyes at him and nodded.

“Yes, please just - just hurry up” you squirmed against the wall. That seemed to be all the validation he needed. He slowly put a condom on before easing into you. You scrunched your eyes at the uncomfortable feeling and tapped him to move. Your lips parting on their own accord as the feeling was replaced with pure pleasure. Charles forcefully grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist, providing him with a better angle for both himself and you.

“O-oh shit” you moaned as you scraped your nails down his shoulders to his arms, which left harsh red marks in their wake. Charles moaned at the feeling and you were almost aroused by the sound. Almost.

One of Charles hands were digging into the soft flesh of your thigh while the other moved to wrap itself around your neck, his signature pinky ring digging into the flesh of your skin causing you to mimic his actions and let out a moan at the pain.

“You like that?” he grunted as he continued to thrust into you, lightly placing some pressure on your throat, not enough to suffocate you, he didn't hate you that much, but enough for you to enter a state of pure bliss.

“I hate you, Leclerc” you found yourself muttering but you certainly did not hate him at that very moment.

“Feelings mutual, love”

You continued to scrape your nails across his back, desperate to pull more moans out of him. Charles however, didn't like being the only vulnerable one and removed his hands from your throat, he grabbed both of your hands in his own and shoved them upwards, beginning his assault on your chest.

Your toes curled as he hit all the right spaces, you knew you were close but you really didn’t want to be the first one to let go. Charles could feel the clenching of your walls and smirked into your chest. “Are you close, princess?” he asked, bringing his mouth to your lips and for some reason you found yourself kissing him back.

“No” you blatantly lied.

You moved your head closer to him when he pulled away but he refused to connect your lips once more and you found yourself pouting at the lack of attention. God, how pathetic had you become.

“Now, i knew you were a spoiled brat but i didn't take you for a liar as well”

“Glad to know your ego has no off moments, Charles” you scoffed and were about to start an argument before he began slowly pounding into you, his precise thrusts made it extremely difficult to formulate a sentence let alone hold onto the knot in your stomach. So, against your brain telling you not to, you let go.

You would have fallen onto the ground if it wasn’t for Charles' strong grip trapping you against the wall and his own body. The noises that he made as he reached his own high caused your heart to flutter in your chest and you began to wonder if having sex with him was a bad idea.

“Are you okay?” he asked after he had pulled away from you. You nodded your head as you furrowed your eyebrows

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you asked.

You were surprised the both of you were capable of having a normal conversation, but you supposed nothing could be normal between you after that.

Charles gently ran a finger across your neck and by the look on his face you knew you looked worse for wear. “I kind of lost myself in the moment, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Really I am” he clarified.

“Its okay” you sighed as you rubbed your neck, “lets just go to sleep”

“I’m still not sleeping on the floor”

“Just stay on your side of the bed, Leclerc”

#Charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #forumla 1 imagine #f1 #formula one imagine

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plutonianrising · 3 years

Text

while the cat’s away a.k/k.k

pairing: akaashi x kenma x f!reader

wc: 4.5k

description: akaashi shouldn’t have left his two brats home alone for so long

a/n: this was v much inspired by that “i think you deserve two boyfriends” tiktok so thank that guy for this

cw: fem!reader, dom!akaashi, switch!reader, switch!kenma, established poly relationship, safe word check-ins, rules, overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, threesome, cum-eating, aftercare implied

MINORS DNI PLS

Sometimes it can get boring when it’s just you and Kenma at home for the day. You know he’s usually busy streaming and it's usually fine since Keiji keeps you entertained. However, this morning Keiji insisted on handling the grocery shopping alone, saying it’d just be a quick in-and-out trip and he didn’t want Kenma to wake up left by himself. It was hours later now and Kenma had kissed you good morning and swiftly turned to his games. Even on his “day off” he’s playing with some of his friends. You’re kicking yourself now for having recently bought his current fixation.

“Kyaaannmaaaa” you whine loudly and flop onto his lap. He doesn’t even acknowledge you as he moves his controller closer to his face. It’s almost like you’re not even there. You wouldn’t even be sure that he noticed you if it weren’t for the faint furrow in his brows and grimace on his lips.

“Kenma you’ve been playing since you woke up. Can’t you take a little break? I don’t even think I’ve seen you eat yet,” you try to command even just a bit of his attention.

“I’m not hungry.” He grumbles. “And can’t you see I’m in the middle of a match? I can’t just leave whenever.”

Your pouting turns to a full-blown scowl as his eyes leave his game for a moment to peek down at you; he realizes how quickly you’re reaching the threshold of your patience.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry. I know you hate when I play on my days off. Just sit in my lap and we’ll go do something else once this round finishes.” He backtracks. You roll your eyes but maneuver yourself so that you're straddling him with his arms around your waist and yours around his shoulders. You lean your head in the crook of his neck, gaining comfort from the smell of his shampoo even while your boyfriend is annoying the shit out of you.

“You said one more match like 3 matches ago. I thought we had a rule about lying.” You say even though you know he really isn’t listening to you. You can faintly hear one of his friends talking in his headset. You thread your fingers through his grown-out hair absent-mindedly and open your phone with your other hand to text Keiji.

Kenma broke a rule. I’m gonna punish him. See you when you get home x

You’ve barely sent the message before you’re pressing down on his lap a little harder. You wiggle your ass as if feigning trying to get comfortable. You shift Kenma’s headset so that he can hear you whisper in his ear.

“Kenmaaa…” You trail off. “What happened to no lying hmm?” He stiffens and a cruel smile creeps its way onto your face. You place a hand on his chest and continue playing with his hair with the other, trying to coax him. You both know he can’t say anything with his friends on the other side and you relish in the fiery glare he shoots you.

You love how easy Kenma is to fluster. A breathy whisper against his neck. A sharp nip at his neck. It takes little to nothing to set him off. Even when you’re being punished and are forced to simply watch Keiji take him relentlessly. Kenma is breathtaking to you. When he’s annoying you. When he’s shyly grabbing your hand or Keiji’s to fall asleep. When he’s fucked out beyond recognition. At this point you’re probably obsessed over even the red that tints his ears when he begins getting overwhelmed.

Sometimes you have to pay for your teasing but you know today at least, you’re fully in command. You know Kenma is too stubborn to shut off his game in the middle of a match with everyone on. After 3 years with him and Keiji, you know he’s a high-risk-high-reward kind of person. He was going to try his hardest to get through whatever you put him through without making a sound. Double or nothing.

“You remember how to tell me to stop, right?” You whisper again and press a kiss to his ear. Kenma nods.

“Hmm I wonder if I should make you say it out loud with everyone on call? Yea they’d think it’s random but better safe than sorry right?” You tease him. He shivers and goosebumps appear on his skin as you lightly drag your nails up his neck. He grunts softly and rolls his hips up to press against you. His eyes are begging you to drop that idea. Your wicked smile grows and you peck his lips.

“You’re right baby. There’s already plenty of time to embarrass you. Don’t forget to talk to your friends on call Kenma. Wouldn’t want them thinking something happened to you.” You chuckle darkly.

You place your hands under his shirt and slowly slide up until you reach his nipples. They’re already hard from the chill of your room paired with his thin t-shirt. You press against one, softly toying with it with the pad of your finger. You watch as he tries to remain stone faced. His ears are a dead giveaway, though. You kiss all over his neck as he responds to someone. They’re feather-soft teases. You want him to have to beg to be marked by you.

“Kenma you’re so greedy..” You growl and pinch his nipple. He startles a bit at the surprise but quickly regains his composure. “You wanted this didn’t you? Too shy to say outright you wanted me to fuck you while you played?”

“Or is it that you just like riling me up?” You tease him by grinding down onto his hardening dick. You roll both his nipples between your fingertips now, occasionally pinching them.

“Wanted the best of both worlds and even while I’m giving it to you, you can’t even be bothered to make those cute sounds you know I like so much.” You sigh, feigning sadness. You grind against him harder as you play with his nipples. You tease him further by kissing up his neck. It’s hard not to relish in his slight trembles when you blow cool air against his ear. While your focus is mostly on pleasuring Kenma, you cannot help the soft sighs that escape you. Seeing him struggle to control the stuttering of his hips only eggs you on.

“How loud do you think I can be before they can all hear me?” You smirk and let out a quiet moan. Kenma’s eyes widen in panic and he slaps a hand over your mouth quickly. You slowly lick his palm while you maintain eye contact. His golden eyes are transfixed on yours, searching for any measure of mercy. He was kidding himself thinking he would find any. Many sessions with Keiji had trained you to follow through when you committed to something.

Kenma slowly pulls his hand away from your face and you lean in closer. Your lips are just barely brushing against his as you mutter “Either you beg for me with everyone on the call. Or I just keep cumming by myself.”

He knows it’s a promise and not a threat. In terms of stamina, you have always had him beat, making over stimulating him a pretty frequent occurrence. At the beginning he and Keiji would switch out when it got to be too much for him but you two quickly learned that even with tears streaming down his face, his one thought is to satisfy you. You grab his face with one hand, squishing his cheeks a little. With the other you cover his mic. “What’s our word so I know you know it?”

“It’s peaches. I’m ok. I want this,” he rushes out quietly, growing even redder. It’s this neediness that you so deeply craved. Kenma was quiet but he wasn’t exactly shy. When he really wanted something, he would push past his reservations to get it. And finally, right now, he wants you more than anything else.

You finally kiss him deeply and Kenma reciprocates eagerly. To your content, his hips roll harder against you when your tongue enters his mouth.

“Kenma? Why aren’t you moving, let’s go!” You hear someone say. You pull away from Kenma so that he can answer and he furrows his brow, obviously not ready for it to be over.

“Lev maybe if you quit worrying about what I’m doing you’d get more kills.” He quietly snips. You wince and giggle at his harsh tone, almost feeling bad about being the reason behind his expression. You lean close so you can speak into Kenma’s mic and as you talk you’re also taking a beat to fully appreciate how flushed and pretty Kenma looks. His mouth is wet and slightly pink and though his eyes are half-lidded he’s looking at you with full expectancy. It’s enough to pierce your heart. You aren’t sure if you’re actually punishing him or spoiling him rotten.

“Sorry about that boys” You giggle into the mic. Kenma’s mouth twitches downward a little when he hears how his friends’ react to your voice on mic. “Please forgive Kenma, I distracted him a little.”

You don’t really pay attention to how they respond, turning your focus to slipping off Kenma’s boxers and your panties. You toss them somewhere across the room. As you slick Kenma’s dick with your wetness, it crosses your mind that Keiji could come home at any moment. You haven’t even looked to see how Keiji responded to your text. You’re probably screwed if he told you to wait until he gets back but you can’t focus on that with Kenma looking at you so eagerly, using every inch of his self-control to not fuck up into you.

Placing him at your entrance, you hold his gaze as you slide onto him. You take him all the way, forcing yourself to be just as quiet as he is. You let him try and focus on his game as you slowly roll your hips, silently screaming at how full he makes you feel. You fixate on the way his brows furrow and his breath quietly hitches. Kenma’s face is fully flushed as you ride him, not willing to give in or lose his game. You smirk and turn around slightly to look at his game. It brings you a weird sense of satisfaction that, even though he’s playing like normal, his dick is already twitching like he’s close.

“Kyanma when’d you get so sensitive?” you tease quietly. “You been secretly touching yourself recently? Huh?”

“I-I” he begins to stutter out indignantly, trying not to pant too loudly. You cover the mic one more time. “I w-wouldn’t dare. J-just feels too good.”

You continue rolling your hips, reaching up with your other hand to palm your own breast. You don’t even try to resist the tightness building inside you. You let out a low moan as you shudder around him, your walls clenching around Kenma’s dick so deliciously that you can see the air choked in his throat as he stifles his own moans. As promised, you fuck him through your orgasm. His trembling makes it so much harder for you to relent. You want him to cum so badly, forcing you to turn off his game and fuck him until he’s a sobbing mess.

He does so almost as soon as the almost obsessive thought crosses your mind. He holds you tight against him and buries his face in your collar, biting down hard in a final act of defiance. You yank Kenma’s head back by his hair and he’s glaring at you like his face and chest aren’t completely flushed and his pupils aren’t blown out. You let go of his hair and simply smirk and your anger makes it so much more fun to force shut down his computer.

You wrap a hand around his neck and squeeze. “Kenma’s been such a naughty fucking kitty today haven’t you?”

You slam down on his dick again and Kenma moans loudly this time. You aren’t sure if it’s from the pain of being overstimulated or simply the fact that he no longer faces the threat of embarrassment. Regardless, you know he’s going to be begging for that feeling again by the time you’re through with him.

You hear the front door of your apartment open and the familiar jangle of Keiji’s keys and soft footsteps. Keiji’s home but he puts the groceries away first. You know this is him giving you both time to collect yourselves and be on your knees somewhere for punishments. You know this but Kenma doesn’t look keen on moving and your heart is already beating in anticipation at how much further you could take this.

You hear Keiji’s footsteps grow louder and in seconds he’s right in front of you, analyzing what he’s seeing: an unplugged computer, Kenma slowly regaining his composure, and you right in his lap, lazily looking over at him with a smug little smile on your face.

“Hey baby.” You can tell from one look what Keiji told you in response to your text. You can't help the way your body shudders in expectancy as he stares at you sternly. You kiss Kenma’s neck gently as you meet Keiji’s gaze, knowing full well you won’t be ready for the punishments he will be handing out.

“You had no intention of listening to me, did you?” Keiji says fondly as he walks over and stands behind you. He slides his hands around you: one pulling your against him, the other guiding your head up. His touch is gentle, his fingers moving you more so as a suggestion than a command. You struggle to keep your eyes open and on his beautiful features. Dark hair that curls in the strangest spots fell slightly forward. The sharpness in his deep blue eyes contrasts the loving way he strokes your cheek.

“Mmm… not really. Mmsorry ‘Kaashi but it’s so… much easier to just ask you for forgiveness. You’re so sweet to us.” Your words slur a bit and you smile up at your other boyfriend. You secretly wonder if you’re making the right call by pushing his buttons further. But oh well.

“Oh it's so much easier is it?” Keiji asks, his voice takes on an icy tone. He finally glances towards Kenma, slightly dazed as he watches you both. “Kenma do you agree?”

You all know that no matter what Kenma says, he’s already in deep shit for going along with you. However, there is still a right and wrong answer. He could either a) agree and punish you with Keiji and receive a lighter punishment or b) side with you. The two of you make eye contact as he weighs his options. Memories of you sandwiched between them, mind hazy as they treated you like little more than a toy flood you. You vividly remember the time Keiji sent you over the edge repeatedly while you choked on Kenma’s dick, tears forming from how desperate for air you were. And the way they gazed down at you with your panties shoved in your mouth, so fully focused on making you scream that you feel like you’d been caught by two beasts.

You would never openly admit how much option A makes your mouth water but you don’t have to. Kenma doesn’t miss the way your thighs try to squeeze together, only to be met by his in between. Or the way your breathing has slightly picked up again. Or how you tightened around his still-sensitive dick the moment the thought crossed your mind.

“Yea ‘Kaashi… you’ve been really nice lately.” Kenma looks between you both and smiles before pressing close and embracing you. He holds onto part of your shirt and nuzzles into your neck. You don’t care if he was saying we’re in this together or I'm not letting you get all the attention after you ruined my game. Regardless, you still get to see Kenma trembling right next to you with puffy lips slightly parted, ready to beg, ready to need, ready to please.

Keiji stifles a laugh behind you, covering it quickly before petting both you and Kenma’s hairs. “I didn’t realize I’d been so gracious to my little brats. I guess that means you think it’s finally my turn for a reward?”

“What do you want us to do Master?” You ask coyly.

“Well for one I want you two properly seated somewhere on the floor.” Keiji says coldly. He moves away and you and Kenma quickly take your places. On your knees. Eyes expectant.

“Kitty you look like she put you through hell” Keiji coos at Kenma, looking down at him while he strokes his cheek. You huff.

“I didn’t even-”

“Did I say you could speak sweetheart?” Keiji cuts off your attempt to explain and you know better to try any further. He doesn’t even need to look towards you to keep you in check “Kenma. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened.”

“S-she got mad at me for being on my game so long that she rode me while my mic was on and wouldn’t let me c-cum unless I… begged with everyone on the line.” Kenma looks up at Keiji pleadingly.

“And did you?” Keiji prods.

“D-did I?” Kenma splutters in surprise. The red flush on his body seems permanent at this point.

“Well you obviously came. I can still see it leaking out of her all over our floor. So. Did you beg?” Keiji doesn’t let Kenma avoid his gaze, leaning forward with a firm grip on his cheeks.

“N-no.”

“No. Instead you bit her.”

Of course he noticed that.

“So let me see if I got this right. Instead of accepting your punishment like a good boy or conceding… you decided to take advantage of her kindness and my absence. God it’s like you want that pretty ass of yours lashed until you can’t even sit in your gaming chair.”

Kenma takes in a sharp inhale, trembling slightly. You gulp in turn, knowing that even though Kenma was worse, you aren’t safe from reprimand either.

Keiji fixes his sharp gaze on you and finally acknowledges you. “Did I agree to letting you punish Kenma?”

“No Sir.” You answer quietly, trying to keep the shivers threatening to expose your excitement at bay.

“Take off your shirt and lie on the bed.” He sighs and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You do as you’re told, removing your oversized sweater as you climb onto the king-sized mattress.

“It seems that I’ve been too lenient with the both of you so really the fault lies with me. Allow me to take responsibility for that now.” Keiji says. He stands before you and takes in your form, surely noting how much you’re quivering before lifting and spreading your knees, leaving you on full display. He turns back to Kenma.

“Kitty you should take this chance to properly apologize. Come clean up the mess you made.”

Kenma is just as compliant, quick to kneel where Keiji orders him right in front of your dripping pussy. He can’t even attempt a front, immediately capturing your clit in his mouth. You moan and buck a little at the sudden sensation.

“Easy there Kitty. Take your time.” Keiji chides softly. Kenma hums in response and opts to lick a long stripe against you instead. He tries his hardest to pace himself as he mouths you, gently pushing his tongue in between your folds.

Keiji opens your bedside table and grabs a bottle of lube, squirting some on his own hand and onto Kenma’s ass. You feel the shiver that rips through Kenma as the cold gel runs down him. He takes a quick second to let out a shuddering breath but doesn’t dare look back. You, however, fully stare as Keiji gingerly begins fucking Kenma with his middle finger. Kenma quakes at the feeling and Keiji revels at the sight of you two and how your moans and his combine in the air and fill the room.

“Baby you’re so shameless” Keiji mewls “taking so much pleasure from all the chaos you caused.”

You can’t even argue his point. Every thought of disagreeing had left your head the moment Kenma’s lips had touched your throbbing pussy. All you can do is whine in response.

Keiji doesn’t take his eyes off of you when puts his hand on the back of Kenma’s head and presses him down further. “Make sure you get all the way inside. Only bad boys leave someone else to clean up after them.”

Kenma simply whimpers in response and thrusts his tongue inside you, trying his hardest to move his hips to meet Keiji’s pace at the same time. You can tell Keiji’s purposely changing it to make it harder for him. You continue to tense up helplessly and barely contain your writhing with the very last bits of control over yourself. You know better than to cum right now but the waves of pleasure rushing over you and the sight Keiji fingering Kenma open are quickly clouding your brain.

“Please...” you beg, aching for release. Keiji looks up at you and smiles softly, an utter betrayal when his next words leave his lips.

“Kenma, stop now.”

You both whine and turn your attention to Keiji, facial expressions mirroring each other. He pets Kenma’s hair and plants two quick kisses on his wet mouth. You sit up and pout.

“Keiji, Sir, please, I wanna cum so badly.” You beg, head spinning a bit from the sudden loss.

“Oh so now you acknowledge that I’m in charge.” He says and moves to kiss your cheek next, He places feather light kisses against your jaw as you whine and whimper in protest. Drawing close to your ear, he whispers icily “I have half the mind to fuck your pretty little throat so raw you wouldn’t be able to speak for weeks without regretting testing me. But I’m sweet, remember? So listen before I forget that.”

All your dissent dies in your throat and you stiffen.

“Ready to be a good little girl for me now?” He inquires in his normal tone. It’s almost scary how easily he can flip between the two. All you can do is nod and accept the deep kiss he offers as a reward, moaning into his mouth. “Good, now get on the floor next to Kenma. Wanna see you two suck me off.”

You quickly do as you’re told and sit on your knees next to Kenma while Keiji slides off his pants and underwear. With Keiji sitting on the bed in between you, you let a thick glob of spit fall on his dick and work it down with your hand, slowly stroking him. Kenma positions himself and takes Keiji’s head in between his lips, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks him down.

“You two have been so naughty today and now look at you..” Keiji says breathily and pushes your hair back away from your faces. “Sharing my dick so nicely with each other.”

You and Kenma kiss sloppily around the head of his dick, letting your tongues coat Keiji further in spit. Even though you and Kenma bicker more often, the one thing you two agree on without fail is that Keiji looks the hottest when you service him together. It’s how his eyes focus fully on the looks you give him, full of trust and devotion. How he’s always sure to praise equally as he grips whatever or whoever is nearest to gain some kind of grounding.

“Neither of you is getting my dick today... but you can make each other cum. Should be enough, right? Since you two were so impatient you couldn’t even wait for me.” Keiji teases in between his groans. You try to shove down your disappointment as you use your free hand to reach for Kenma’s dick. You pump him in time with the rhythm you manage to form with Keiji’s large dick in your throat. Your eyes burn but you try to keep down your gags and moans as Kenma starts rubbing your clit fervently, wanting instead to clearly hear how he and Keiji sound. His touch is vengeful, a punishment for putting him in this mess and you nearly see stars from the feeling of his sticky fingers circling your most sensitive spots.

“P-please Sir, t-this time I really can’t hold it,” Kenma whimpers, looking utterly destroyed with tears clinging to his lashes and a trail of spit still connecting him to Keiji’s dick.

“If you think you can keep servicing us while you cum then go ahead baby, but you better keep moving.” Keiji permits and it’s all Kenma needs to cry out and shoot out ropes of his cum all over your hand. He continues his ministrations against you and Keiji and soon it’s your own hips that are stuttering. You do not have Kenma’s level of control so you try to shove down your incoming orgasm.

“I need you to cum Sir please, please please. I-I won’t last. Please I want you to cover us with your sticky cum” you beg. You look up at him from under your lashes as you go back to mouthing him and feel him throb in between your lips.

“Yes Sir pleaseee. Want your cum all over.” Kenma adds, his words slurring together. If he couldn’t focus on both speaking and pleasuring his partners he would simply put his all into the latter.

“Want my cum? Want Sir to make a mess all over those pretty little faces?” Keiji groans, bucking his hips into your mouth.

“God yes please.. Please!” Kenma continues and Keiji takes his dick out of his mouth to stroke himself over your faces. Kenma is steadily bringing you to your own edge and you both can’t help but open your mouths in hopes to catch Keiji’s cum on your tongue while you orgasm. With a shout, Keiji begins cumming, spurting all over you and Kenma.

“Go ahead sweetheart, fucking cum right now” Keiji hisses and you convulse as you finally let go, holding onto his leg as your orgasm rips through you. It’s hard to focus on anything besides how easily Keiji and Kenma make you feel like you’re in heaven.

“Now.. have we all learned our lessons?” Keiji utters once he’s down from his high. The sight of Kenma and you leaning against his legs for support makes his heart swell.

“Yes.. Sir.” You two manage to get the words out.

“See I knew my little ones were smart.” He coos gingerly moves to first pick you up and place you onto the bed and then Kenma before grabbing wet wipes. “Now let’s get you all cleaned up.”

#akaashi smut #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi x reader #akaashi x kenma #haikyuu kenma #kenma smut #haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #hq poly #akaashi fic #kenma fic #micco.fics

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yungidreamer · 4 years

Text

Gifted

Summary: The holidays are finally over and she Mingi and Yunho can finally come home. They exchange their gifts and share an unforgettable first under the Christmas tree.

Word count: 8.3k

Content warnings: warm, fuzzy, intense smut. Double penetration, oral sex, finger sucking, mild restraint and control. Cuddly aftercare.

The moment they walked through the door to their house they finally felt like they could breathe. Although Mingi wanted to immediately pull them into his arms, in the end, cooler heads prevailed and they did all the things they needed to do first. They unpacked their clothes, made food, and got all the presents they had received into places where they belonged. School would start on Monday, but that left them with a couple of days just for them. Everything was right in the world.

The Christmas tree was still up in their living room, just waiting for them to do their own private Christmas together. Aside from Yunho getting his suit from Mingi, they still hadn’t given each other the gifts they had bought for each other. While she finished preparing their food, the boys wrapped their presents. Her present was already wrapped in a simple bright red envelope with both of the boys' names written on the front in shining gold lettering. She stood the envelope in the branches of the tree, among their sparkling lights.

When the boys emerged from their rooms, presents in hand, they found her waiting for them in the living room with the food plated and warm mugs full of hot cider. They had made some carbonara as a quick and filling dish they could make with just things they happened to have left in the house. On her nearby laptop, soft music was playing. As tempted as she had been to put on Christmas music, it was starting to get to be too late in the year for it, and they had been listening to it on and off since Thanksgiving. Instead she had picked a little playlist of sort of melancholic instrumentals which would fade into the background of the room.

“What do you think about having a fire?” She suggested, giving her hands a little rub to warm them up. While they were gone, they had kept the heating low but warm enough to keep everything from freezing. No people meant no need to keep the house warm enough for comfort, and now it was going to take a little bit of time for the house to get back to its normal warmth.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Yunho agreed.

“Would one of you mind bringing in a little more wood while I get it started?” She stood up, heading towards the fireplace. Mingi nodded and went to grab his boots and coat, while Yunho moved to work on getting some kindling ready. She swept the last of the ashes that had been left in the grate down into the little slats that dropped into the built in ash drawer. Yunho then took the little drawer to empty it into the bag of ashes they were collecting on the porch. By the time he got back, she was stacking some of the smaller logs they had inside on the crumpled and knotted newspaper he had helped to prepare. She stood up, getting ready to reach for the super long matches they kept on the hearth, but before she could try, Yunho came up behind her, taking them off the somewhat high shelf to pass to her. He loved when he could do something for her, something simple but helpful. It gave him a deep sense of satisfaction to feel useful or needed, even just for silly things.

Mingi came in, arms burdened with an abundance of wood, just as she slid the drawer back in. Striking the match against the base of the canister, she reached the tip of the lit match to the back of the grate, lighting the kindling from the back. After a few moments, the fire was crackling and popping as it started to come to life.

They ate their meal as they watched it, making sure that it was going to properly catch and grow. With satisfying food, a warm fire, and the Christmas tree’s glow filling the room, it really felt like they were home. When she started to gather the dishes to take them to the kitchen to do, Mingi stopped her, insisting it was his turn to do them and it would only take him a couple of minutes. Afterall, she had already done the dishes they used while cooking. She smiled and let him go as Yunho pulled her into his lap.

“Welcome home, love,” he nuzzled into her hair as he spoke. “I’ve missed you more than you’d believe.”

“I missed you, too,” her fingers played with the cuff of his old, soft sweater. “I really love seeing my family, I miss them too, but home isn’t home anymore without you two.”

“Someday we’ll tell them,” he sighed, trying to reassure himself of this as much as her. “Someday we’ll have a Christmas all together; you, me, Mingi and all our families.”

“Maybe just us, your mom, and my parents,” she said after a moment’s thought.

“Yeah,” Mingi said as he joined them again from the kitchen. “Don’t make me always have to spend Christmas with my parents. Besides, when dad finds out I’m with Yunho, I’m pretty sure he is going to completely disown me.”

“Maybe...maybe when push comes to shove, he’ll actually pick his son over his prejudice,” she tried to give a half note of hope as she spoke.

“Even if he does,” Mingi shook his head as he sat down beside Yunho, pulling her legs into his lap. “I don’t know that I want him there to ruin my happy moments. Even if he can get over the fact I love another man, nothing I do makes him happy anyway.”

“He’s a sour moron,” she stated without a shred of doubt. “If he can’t see what an amazing person he managed to raise, he’s too stupid for me to tolerate.”

“As long as you see it, that’s all I care about,” Mingi took one of her hands in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“We see it,” Yunho confirmed, looping an arm around Mingi’s waist.

“Who is ready for gifts?” She asked excitedly, changing the subject.

“Meeeee!” Shouted both of the boys together.

“Okay, one second,” she told them as she stood up. “I have one more thing to wrap.”

“Wait, why didn’t you do it earlier?” Yunho protested, giving her a scolding look.

“You’ll see in one minute,” she chuckled, knowing they would get it when she came back. She scurried back to their shared room and dug into her desk drawer where she had been keeping the small bag, knowing they would never have a reason to look for anything in there. In the little plastic bag she found the four pieces of silver and lace that made up the lingerie set. It was more for show than anything else, but the little satin tank top and shorts might be something she would use to sleep in when it was hot in the summer. She slipped the bra, mostly made of little lace triangles and thin satin straps, on, followed by the little satin and lace thong, then put on the more practical pieces over them before finally wrapping herself in her large, fluffy terry cloth robe.

She scurried back out into the living room having wrapped herself up for them and was greeted by both of them bursting into laughter, their faces splitting into broad smiles. Indeed they did understand why she hadn’t wrapped that present earlier. It wasn’t terribly practical for cooking or fire building. She pressed a light kiss to each of their lips before kneeling down near both of them.

“Can we unwrap you first,” Mingi questioned hopefully.

“No,” she laughed. “I’m last. But,” she pointed at the envelope in the branches behind them. “You can open that first, if you want.”

“Fine,” Yunho reached up and pulled it out of it’s perch. Both boys looked at it with an intense curiosity. The paper was a bright and vibrant red and had a fine texture to it. It was the sort of paper that begged for the use of fountain pens and sealing wax. Yunho ran his fingers over their names and made a little O face before turning it over to slide his finger under the flap to pull it open. Inside was a little card made from the same paper on which she had written a short letter.

To the boys who make every day special and who deserve the world. Someday I can give you everything you deserve, but for now, enjoy this.

Together they opened the card and found a couple of regular printer papers, folded in quarters. They put the card down and unfolded the papers to see what they were. The first page was a dinner reservation for the first Tuesday in April at a restaurant they recognized as a fancy place in the middle of Manhattan. Mingi’s eyes widened and he looked at her then back at the paper to make sure he had read it correctly. Yunho flipped to the second page to find a reservation for that week in April at a bed and breakfast in New York City.

“That will be over spring break,” she elucidated as their eyes scanned the paper. “Our first trip together. And it’s far enough from everyone so we can just be us. I also wanted a good excuse for Yunho to wear that suit you got him. It would look so good on him. I can hardly wait.”

“This...this can’t have been cheap,” Mingi protested slightly. “You didn’t have to…”

“I know,” she shrugged. “I wanted to. I want to see the world with you both and that is just the first place.”

“We could have paid for this together,” Yunho pointed out. “It’s too much.”

“No, no,” she shook her head. “You’re going to drive us and we can split the cost of everything else while we are there.”

“You aren’t paying for anything while we are there,” Mingi said firmly. Yunho nodded in agreement as he scanned the page of the bed and breakfast again. Located next to Central Park. A great location for entertainment and close to public transportation. Yunho folded the papers and let them drop to his lap. He leaned forward and pulled her into a quick, grateful kiss. She really was too much sometimes. Mingi set the papers and the card on the coffee table before he pulled her into his lap.

“I love you so much more than I can say,” he said as he held her face in his hands, keeping her looking at him.

“I can’t wait to go to the city with my two favorite people,” she beamed at him. “We are going to have so much fun.”

Mingi sighed and kissed the tip of her nose. Her expression was like sunshine and he felt a little quiver in his chest as his heart skipped a beat. She was always pretty and just looking at her could move him, but her grin, how it made her eyes sparkle and how her lips quirked just that way sometimes hit him like a freight train and he could feel the breath be sucked from his lungs. In those moments he knew pure joy and a gut churning fear all at once. It was the thing that made him sure he could endure anything mixed with the, perhaps irrational, fear that it could all disappear.

Yunho read the expression on Mingi’s face and gave him a reassuring kiss on his cheek. He knew that expression, that mix of contradicting emotions which sometimes washed over him. He trusted it more, trusted that it wouldn’t disappear, but in his worst moments he still had those flashes of doubt that he could be that lucky, that people could really love him that deeply, and no matter what might come. Yunho leaned his head against the side of Mingi’s head, silently reassuring him with his presence, his faith.

“Mingi, love, why don’t you open what Yunho got you?” She suggested, running a reassuring hand over his chest. Mingi nodded, taking his eyes from her face but keeping her in his arms. Yunho passed him the wrapped box he had put under the tree, letting it rest in her lap as Mingi began to rip at the paper.

Mingi laughed happily when he saw what was inside. The gift wasn’t the most expensive thing he had gotten that holiday, but it was one of the most thoughtful ones. With his old headphones wearing down from his constant use of them, it was something that showed how much Yunho paid attention to Mingi’s daily life and the things that made it better. He set the box on the coffee table with the papers and guided Yunho’s lips to his in a soft and grateful kiss.

“You like them?” Yunho said self consciously. “I know your old ones are starting to become unusable so I thought—”

“I love them,” Mingi interrupted. “And I’ll think of you everytime I use them.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Yunho gave him a blushing grin.

“Okay, now it’s our girl’s turn,” Mingi excitedly reached for the small package of his gift and placed it in her lap. He had wrapped it in silver paper covered in little white and grey snowflakes. She made a little cooing noise as she admired the pretty wrapping before she found the tape keeping it closed on the back side.

“Just rip it,” Mingi teased, poking at her.

“Fine,” She pouted slightly before complying and gently ripping at the wrapping. Under it she found a simple white matte box, which she carefully righted before opening it to see what was inside. There, she found the little silver and pearl choker he had bought for her a couple of weeks before break.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she commented, running her fingers over the small lines of seed pearls. The central panel, a square frame with a bright eight armed star in it’s center, sparkled in the low light. She carefully lifted it out of the box to better examine it, twisting it in her hand to admire the way the little crystals glinted and glimmered. She loved the elegant beauty of it, though she really couldn’t imagine what occasion she might have to justify wearing it.

“Can I put it on you?” Mingi asked, an excited glimmer in his eye.

“If you want,” she nodded, lifting her hair off her neck to make it easier. Mingi fed the necklace around her neck and brought the two sides together in the back, carefully working the fastening closed.

“Let me see,” Mingi said, leaning back slightly. She dropped her hands, letting her hair flow down her back again and turned to let him admire his gift on her. Though it hid slightly in the folds of the collar of her robe, the cream, sliver, and bright glint of the rhinestones looked remarkable against her skin. He loved it on her and he loved that it was his gift sitting there. It marked her as his at the same time it was a statement of his love of her.

“That is beautiful, Mingi,” Yunho praised from beside them. He lifted her chin slightly to get a clearer look at it, but also to admire how the angle exposed her neck. “It’s perfect for our girl.”

“What about yours,” Mingi reminded him, hugging her tightly in his arms.

“Here,” Yunho handed her the small blue box, tied with a white satin bow. It was long and less than an inch thick and slightly heavy in hand. She lifted it curiously and gave it a light shake, enjoying the sound of whatever it was shifting along with the slight crinkle of tissue paper. Pulling at one end of the ribbon, she undid the bow and tossed the scrap of satin off to the side. She lifted the lid off the box and folded the layer of tissue paper to the side. The hair comb, finally revealed, reflected the flickering of the fire and the color of the lights off the curves of it’s decorative scrolls and long tines.

“It’s a comb you can use to keep your hair up,” Yunho explained, pulling it off the pillow of tissues in the box.

“It’s lovely,” she took it from his hands and turned it over in her hands. “It’s real silver isn’t it?” She had taken note of the little makers' marks that had been impressed into the metal near the base of the crest.

“Yeah,” Yunho nodded, nervously watching her reaction. “I saw it and I could just picture it on you. It would look so pretty in your hair.”

“Thank you,” she pulled his face to hers and gave him a slow sweet kiss. “It’s perfect. Practical, elegant, and thoughtful.”

“Can I put your hair up with it?” Yunho proposed. “I want to see it on you.”

“Of course,” she nodded, and started to get up. “I’ll go grab my brush.”

“I can grab it,” Yunho stopped her and hopped up himself, dashing down the hall to get it. He found it on the counter and caught sight of himself in the mirror. After the long trip home he looked a little tired and his hair was a little bit of a mess, but if you couldn’t look a little like a disaster at home, what was the point?

He headed back into the living room to find her and Mingi cuddling under the tree together. They looked precious, her small form enveloped in his long arms. Mingi’s face had a peaceful relaxation to his features that had been missing the whole holiday back with their families. Their inability to be themselves there had impacted them more than they would have guessed it would have. Afterall, six months ago that was their reality full time, but what a difference those few months had made. Home didn’t quite feel like home anymore now that they had been able to live as themselves, fully and openly.

Mingi turned, catching Yunho in his gaze and flashing the other boy a smile. Yunho moved forward and joined them again. She shifted to sit between his legs, giving him her back so he could brush her hair. He really loved when she let him play with her hair. He loved caring for her and taking little moments where he could just touch her without it leading to something. Even when it often did, he had to admit. He ran the brush through her locks, carefully removing the tangles before he started gathering it up towards the crown of her head. Twisting her hair into a bun, he gently fed the comb through the knot to secure it.

“Let me see,” Yunho put a hand on her shoulder, urging her to turn to face him. Turning where she sat, she looked up at him through her lashes, keeping her head slightly down to make sure that he could see the comb and his handiwork.

“Is it pretty?” She asked him.

“It’s nothing compared to you,” he responded, capturing her lips and lifting her face up to his. Her lips were soft and warm under his, tasting slightly of apple. He wanted her, he wanted them, and felt like it had been almost forever since he had been able to touch them without looking over his shoulder.

“Do you both want to unwrap the last present since you have both given me your gifts now?” She suggested, pulling away from him.

“Are we unwrapping you?” Mingi sounded excited as he drew up behind her.

“Yep,” she wagged her eyebrows at him playfully. Mingi’s face split into an excited grin that extended up to his eyes, making them into little joyful crescents. She stood up and grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it out on the floor in front of the fireplace. She knelt down on the floor and crooked her finger at her boys, inviting them to join her. They hurried to join her, each taking a side.

Mingi’s hands went to the tie at the front of her terry cloth robe, pulling at it until it was untied. Yunho’s hands went to the front of the robe, pulling open the sides to reveal what was underneath. He slid the robe off her shoulders with Mingi’s help, and tossed it off to the side. She knelt between them in the silver satin set and the gifts they had given her. Somehow it almost looked like they were meant to be together, a symphony of silver and pearl. She knew how to present herself in a way that made it clear she was giving all of herself to them.

“You look so pretty,” Mingi let his eyes flow over the cascade of silver colored satin the draped her curves. “You are my favorite present of the year.”

Yunho laughed but had to agree, her invitation to intimacy tonight was the best gift he could have imagined. “You look perfect, but I’m feeling a little overdressed.”

“You are,” she chuckled. “But I think you could probably help each other with that.”

Yunho caught Mingi’s eyes over her head at the suggestion. He raised an eyebrow to the other boy, as if to ask, what do you think. Mingi gave him a little nod and they both scooted forward to stand before her, where they could reach each other and make quick work of their clothing. Mingi blushed as he looked into Yunho’s warm eyes, enjoying the desire that was lighting them from behind. Yunho leaned forward and brushed his lips over the sharp angle of Mingi’s cheekbones, feeling the heat of the blush that covered them.

“I’ve missed you like this,” Yunho told him as he pulled him against him. The line of their lean bodies matched, hip to hip, where Yunho’s large hand held the two of them together. He could feel the soft bulge of Mingi’s half hardened erection press against him and gave it a teasing rub of his own hip against it.

Mingi let out a small groan and put his broad hands on Yunho’s biceps. “You’re such a tease.”

“And you love it,” Yunho said proudly.

“Shut up,” Mingi laughed, moving his hands to the hem of Yunho’s black t-shirt.

“So impatient,” Yunho teased, but still lifted his arms over his head to let Mingi pull his shirt off him. The sight of Yunho’s bare chest sent a shock of pleasure through Mingi. He loved the perfect, soft, lean muscle of his body. Ever so slightly bulkier than Mingi’s own, he loved the naturally muscular body of the other boy. He simultaneously wanted his own body to be more like that and wanted to luxuriate in the exploration of it. His fingers brushed over the hollow in Yunho’s collarbone, a silly smile on his face as he did.

“Here,” Yunho reached for the buttons on the front of Mingi’s white button up shirt and made quick and nimble work of them. He slid it down off Mingi’s broad shoulders, kissing along his neck to the tip of his shoulder on one side as he did. Mingi let the shirt drop before bringing his hands to tangle in Yunho’s messy locks as his lips moved over his body.

Keeping his lips on Mingi’s body, his fingers dropped to the button on his jeans. Yunho flicked open the button and slid the zipper down. His fingers slipped in the waistband of Mingi’s jeans and boxers, slowly lowering them over his narrow hips. When the cloth fell, pooling at his ankles, Yunho’s hands moved to cup the small tight muscles of Mingi’s butt.

Mingi stepped out of his pants and pulled back enough to be able to see as his hands worked to remove Yunho’s as well. Yunho stepped out of his pants as well as Mingi’s fingers tickled along the fine, muscular v of muscle where his stomach became his hips and more.

“You look so good,’’ he told Yunho, not able to meet his eyes as he complimented him.

“So do you, my love,” Yunho hooked a finger under Mingi’s chin, lifting his face to meet his. Mingi shrugged shyly, not sure how to answer, when he felt like he wasn’t nearly as beautiful as his two partners.

“You’re both beautiful,” she said from where she still sat on her heels in front of the fireplace. When Mingi turned, she was looking at them both with such admiration he could almost believe it himself. She motioned for them to come back, reaching out for Mingi first as he came close. Sitting beside her, he admired the soft curves of her body and the grace of her limbs as she touched him. Her gaze followed her fingers as they danced over his chest and collarbone, then moved up to brush an errant lock of hair off his forehead.

“I love your face,” she said softly, cupping his cheek. “It makes me so happy just to look at you.”

“When you look at me like that,” he softened at her smile. “I feel like I could do anything.”

“Let’s start with unwrapping our gift just a little bit more,” Yunho suggested. Mingi eagerly agreed, his hand slipping in under the hem of the tank top to tickle at her waist before lifting it. Yunho helped from the other side as they slid it up and over her head, careful not to catch it on the comb or necklace. They were surprised by the light lace bralet she wore underneath, but not unpleasantly so. The triangles of delicate lace cupped her breasts, only barely hiding her nipples behind their gauzy fabric. Mingi’s fingers traced over the seam that ran down the center of one before cupping her breast and giving her nipple a brush with his thumb.

“I don’t know if I should be frustrated by the layers or if I like the surprise of it,” Yunho joked from the other side, running the fingers of one hand along the thin strap that held it up. She came to her knees and hooked her thumbs in the elasticized band of the silken shorts and slowly slid them down to reveal the satin and lace thong beneath.

“Just a little more,” she admitted with a giggle as she saw Mingi’s Adams’s Apple bob in his throat as he swallowed past the arousal that was filling him. Between her teasing lace lingerie and Yunho’s beautiful naked body visible just past her, he felt surrounded by temptations.

She stood up to step out of the shorts and Mingi took her gently by the hips, turning her standing body to face him, and brought his mouth to the dimple of her belly button. He mouthed the soft skin there, nipping the skin of her belly as his fingers tightened to dig into the cushion of her hips. Behind her, Yunho took the opportunity to splay his hands over the roundness presented to him, perfectly framed by the thin straps of her thong underwear.

Yunho pulled the panties down and off while she stood, not wanting to wait much longer and taking advantage of the ease the position offered for doing so. He helped her step out of them before he slid two long fingers into the crook of her thighs. Her knees twitched as he teased her lips, spreading the moisture already pooling there. He licked his fingers clean, then set to work unhooking the teasing bit of lace she still wore on her torso.

Mingi was still busy licking and tasting the flesh of her stomach as he worked himself lower to the juncture of her thighs. Yunho pulled at her, asking her to sit again and she acquiesced, slowly coming to sit between his thighs. She could feel his erection at her back and went to reach for it when he grabbed both her wrists.

“Not yet,” Yunho murmured to her. “Mingi, I’ll hold our girl, you make her scream.” His voice held an uncommon sort of determination and Mingi looked at him a second before nodding and moving to lie on his stomach. Mingi used his hands to adjust her hips to an angle that let him comfortably reach her then pressed her thighs wide. He leaned forward and dragged the tip of his tongue over her spread lips, teasing them and drawing a soft gasp and twitch from her.

As Mingi teased her with kisses along her inner thigh, Yunho took both her wrists in one of his large hands, keeping her from touching either of them. He kept them captive against her chest as he held her against him. Over her shoulder he could see everything that Mingi did to her, loving the intense and pleasurable look he had as he worked up to taking her with his mouth. When he finally gave her clit that first intense brush with the flat of his tongue she tried to arch and let out a low shivering moan.

“Shhhh, love,” he teased, kissing the pinking shell of her ear. “You can’t make it that easy on him. He’s barely touched you and you’re already going to scream for him? Can’t have that. Let’s keep your mouth busy.”

He parted her lips with the fingers of his other hand, slipping two fingers into her mouth up to the second knuckle and pressing down lightly on her tongue. The intrusion forced her to suck on his fingers with each swallow as well as kept her facing to where Mingi lay between her thighs. She whimpered around his fingers, giving them periodic sucks to keep the drool that threatened to pool in her mouth from dripping out.

Mingi looked up at the two of them as Yunho held her gently captive and muzzled, a haze of arousal darkening his deep brown eyes. Her eyes met his as his tongue played along her folds. She looked dazed, almost drugged by pleasure, her lips puckered around the other boys fingers in a way that made him think of them taking in other things. Mingi watched as he locked his lips around her clit gave it a gentle and sustained suck. She squirmed as much as she was allowed under his touch, her thighs fighting against his hands to press closer around his head. Her mouth went momentarily slack and a small drop of saliva escaped before she could swallow it. The look of her powerless against the pleasure they were giving her together made him almost painfully hard and he threw himself into pleasing her. He ate at her body, sucking at her most sensitive bits and thrusting his tongue in her tight entrance until she came apart underneath him with a force that left her quivering in its aftermath.

Mingi pulled back and came to his knees between her thighs before wiping the moisture off his face, watching her squirm, still moaning around Yunho’s fingers in her mouth. The other boy only pulled them out, also releasing her hands at the same time, as she started to recover, already relaxing again under his grip. He wiped her damp chin and the skin of her chest, where a small spot of drool had developed near where he had kept her hands captive. She swallowed and leaned her head back against Yunho’s shoulder as she caught her breath.

“Are you ready for more, love,” Mingi asked, running a hand over her shoulder.

“I wanted to try something,” she said as she nodded in response. “What would you think of maybe having you both in me at the same time?”

Yunho and Mingi shared a look, blinking for a second at each other. Of course they had thought about it, fantasized about the possibility, but they hadn’t wanted to ask. Not only hadn’t they approached the idea of doing it together, they hadn’t even tried something more than mostly vanilla sex with her.

“We don’t have to,” she followed up quickly when it seemed like the silence stretched on.

“No,” Yunho rushed to assure her. “It’s just...are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” She looked up at him with eyes that seemed oddly innocent given the circumstances.

“Well, I mean,” Mingi said nervously. “You’re sort of small and we’re a lot to take all at once.”

“We can try it at least,” she suggested. “If it doesn’t work then we don’t have to, but I want to feel you both.”

“Alright,” Yunho agreed, swallowing past his own nervousness. “Do you want to move back to the bedroom?”

“I kind of want to stay here,” she replied. “It’s warm and this is sort of still part of Christmas. It feels right with the tree and stuff.”

“Mingi, can you grab the things we need from the bedroom?” Yunho requested. “Maybe including some pillows.” Mingi nodded, half jogging down the hall to their bedroom. He opened the bedside table and pulled out his favorite lube and a couple of condoms, something that had made it easier his first time with Yunho. Grabbing an armful of pillows, he scurried out to the living room. They were still waiting where he had left them with Yunho holding her against his chest.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as Mingi came near. He tossed the pillows on the side of the blanket nearest the fireplace and put the condom and lube near Yunho’s leg before taking a seat in front of her.

“How do we start?” She sat up a little straighter and ran her palms down her legs, revealing the niggling anxiety she had bubbling inside her.

“Let’s lie down,” Yunho put a guiding hand on her shoulder, bringing her to lie on her side with a pillow under her head. Mingi lay down on the other side, face to face with her, giving her a shy, reassuring smile. Yunho stretched out behind her, putting a hand on her hip as he pulled himself closer.

“Hi,” Mingi said somewhat stupidly as he looked into her eyes.

“Hi,” she giggled back. “Would you kiss me?” Mingi nodded, scooting towards her until his face lay beside hers on the pillow. He lifted her top leg to rest on his hip and put a hand on her ribs as he leaned in to take her lips.

While Mingi kept her distracted, Yunho tried to figure out where he wanted to start. He had to take it slow, test the waters. He waited, watching as they kissed, their lips moving with an unhurried stupor. She relaxed under Mingi’s touch in the flickering of the firelight and Yunho let his hands wander to the curve of her hips. As his hand moved to cup the curve of her ass, she pulled away, turning slightly to look at him.

“Just relax,” Yunho urged. “Kiss our boy but promise you’ll tell me if I do something that hurts or just doesn’t feel good.” She nodded and moved back to Mingi, letting Yunho slowly touch her. Mingi pulled her closer, pressing her chest to his as he explored her mouth more deeply. He knew to distract her, keep her relaxed and feeling good, it would help make everything else easier.

Yunho cupped her flesh, spreading her cheeks and letting his fingertips tease along the smoothness there. She reacted to his touch without breaking the kiss, flinching a little before relaxing into his touch. Yunho took a little of the lube on his fingers, spreading it liberally around her. She let out a slightly tense chuckle and pulled her lips from Mingi’s.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Yunho sighed, taking his hand back. “We can do it another night.”

“No, no,” she insisted. “I’m just nervous and it kind of tickles. Just keep going.” Yunho nodded, letting his fingers return to test the tenseness of her body as he kept his eyes on her face, trying to read her expression. Her eyebrows raised slightly as he pressed against the tight ring of muscle, but she didn’t pull back. She let out a deliberate breath and closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel.

“Does it feel alright,” he asked, keeping his fingers moving gently as he felt her loosen up a fraction.

“Yeah,” she nodded, but didn’t move otherwise, finding it hard to stay relaxed if she did. “I feel like I don’t tease you nearly enough about having big hands.”

Yunho couldn’t help but laugh at her timely sense of humor. “Big hands? Love, I have big everything.”

“Oh, I know,” she gave a deep, breathy chuckle. “Just realizing it for totally new reasons all over again.”

“Here,” he pressed forward, getting one fingertip inside her. “How is that?”

“Mmmm, good,” she nodded and her muscles fluttered around the intrusion. “Keep going.”

“Yunho is always gentle,” Mingi assured her, kissing her forehead and stroking her upper arm.

“You both are,” she put a hand on Mingi’s chest and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. Yunho continued to move as Mingi playfully covered her face in little kisses until she was left a mess of testing pleasure and giggles.

When he could comfortably scissor two fingers inside her, ever so slowly, he decided he had prepared her as well as he could. He slid the condom on and covered it with lube before laying himself down against her back, positioning himself to enter her. Teasing his head at her entrance, he used his hand to steady her hips.

“Ready?” Yunho asked tenderly.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Please.”

Mingi looked over her shoulder at Yunho as he lay on the other side of her. His face was tense with concentration as he slowly pushed inside. He sucked in a breath through his nose, taking in her scent and taking in the moment as he drew close to being fully inside her. She was still tight, but gave no sign of discomfort.

“How does it feel?” Mingi asked, looking at both of them.

“Good,” she answered. Behind her Yunho only nodded. He felt himself twitch in anticipation, still not sure if he should move yet.

“Should I...what should I do?” Mingi asked them, his hand massaging her waist slightly.

“Let me move a little,” Yunho’s voice was tight. “Just to make sure it feels alright with just me.” Mingi nodded and looked to her as he felt Yunho shift in preparation to flex his body for the first time. She moved at the sensation of him pulling out half way, her eyes widening and breath catching in her throat.

“It’s okay?” Mingi asked, a worried look flashing across his face. Behind her Yunho stopped in response.

“I like it,” she let out a giddy sound and Yunho felt relief wash over him. “What’s next?”

“Always so eager,” Yunho teased her from behind but sent a look to Mingi over her, giving him the go-ahead to try and enter her from the other side. Mingi adjusted the leg she had draped over his hip, having to move up slightly to be in the right place and at the right angle. She was left between them, the top of her head reaching just past their chins, seeming so small between them. Her hands went to rest on Mingi’s chest, moving with a jittery energy as she waited for him to enter her.

Mingi’s fingers moved to touch between her legs, making sure she was still slick enough for him to enter her comfortably. His fingers brushed over her sensitive clit, making her twitch and clench slightly with her whole body. Yunho let out a groan and bit his lip. Mingi wasn’t sure if he ought to apologize for accidentally teasing, but he couldn’t deny he liked the face that Yunho made in reaction. Mingi positioned himself and slowly penetrated into her body. She made a little breathy oh and Yunho’s eyes widened, a look of surprise coming over him.

“I can feel you,” Yunho breathed. His hand moved down to splay over her lower stomach, almost as if to test if he could feel Mingi invading her from both sides. Mingi pushed forward until he was completely inside. A shiver rode down his spine. She was usually pleasantly tight around him, but he could feel how much Yunho had already filled her. It was strange, Mingi had to admit, feeling both of them at the same time.

“How does it feel?” Yunho questioned both of them before directing a more pointed question to her. “Do you feel okay?”

“I feel so full,” she said slowly. “I want you to move.” Mingi nodded in agreement, putting his upper arm over her to hold Yunho’s hips behind her. Together, they tentatively moved, feeling the other through the thin wall of her body as they did. Within a few thrusts, the boys had managed to find an easy, synchronised rhythm. It was a strange and intimate pleasure that built between them. When they made love together it was always all three of them doing it together, chasing satisfaction as three parts of a whole. But this, this was somehow different. Between the way they could all feel each other at the same time and the way her body hugged them all the tighter with both of them inside it was a whole new experience.

Mingi would have sworn nothing could have felt this good. His hips stuttered in their movement and he felt the stroke of Yunho’s cock move along him through her body. It sent a thrill through him and his hand spasmed, gripping Yunho with enough strength to draw a hiss from the other boy. Mingi apologized, holding himself still in her as he struggled not to just let himself go.

“Mingi, baby,” she said from between them, feeling the tenseness suddenly suffusing him. “You can move. You can let go.”

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he shook his head.

“I’m okay,” she insisted. “It feels so good; just let go.”

“It’s okay,” Yunho echoed from behind her. Both the boys let go, finding tempos that only occasionally matched, but each sent bliss cascading through her body. Mingi reached his orgasm first, the excitement and novel sensations proving difficult for him to resist for terribly long. He spent himself deep inside of her, his cock twitching as he released the pent up cum that felt like it had been building up in him for weeks. He stayed inside her, enjoying the near overstimulation of Yunho stroking against him through her.

Reaching between them, Mingi began to stimulate her, hoping to bring her again though he hadn’t been able to wait for her. Her breathing quickened and he could feel Yunho thrusting still, though he was getting less steady in his movements. Around his softening erection Mingi felt her walls flutter and knew she was getting close.

“Come for me, love,” he begged, loving his fingers against her. “I’m sorry I didn’t last long enough.”

“‘s okay,” she panted, her breath hitching as the pleasure the boys were giving her began to overflow in her. “‘m so close.” Her words had taken on a lazy slur and her skin shimmered in the low light, having developed a fine sheen of sweat, sandwiched warmly between the two boys. Mingi moved his fingers faster and ground upwards with his pelvis.

Yunho moved faster in her, chasing his pleasure, knowing that she was close. He no longer felt the tight squeeze of sharing her body with the full, hard erection of Mingi, but she still hugged him tightly as he moved. The softness of her ass against his hips along with the light slap of flesh against flesh was heavenly. She let out a moan and her legs twitched and straightened as her muscles tried to flex when the pleasure washed over her. The pulse of her internal muscles finally pushed Mingi out of her body and Yunho felt the odd sensation of them squeezing, though not around him as they usually did. He felt them flutter against the base of his cock as he continued to thrust in her from behind. Seating himself as deeply in her as he could and tucking her tightly against his chest, Yunho came, filling the condom in long spurts.

Though he wanted to stay like that for as long as she would have allowed, he carefully pulled himself out and removed the condom along with him. She let out a sound of surprise and quivered again as he removed himself. Suddenly, it felt as though she was emptier than she had ever been and she struggled with the need to pull them closer to make up for it. It was an odd and overwhelming feeling after such an intense experience. Mingi started to pull away, just to get up and start cleaning the mess they made since he had had the most time to recover, but she caught him, her fingers clawing at him with their confused desperation.

“Don’t go,” she told him with a muffled distress, the tone catching the ears of both boys. Mingi scooted close to her again and sent a look to Yunho, still panting behind her.

“Everything okay?” he breathed, rubbing his palm over her chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said a little too fast and with too high a pitch to her voice.

“Babe,” Mingi’s hand went to her face, stroking the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. “Were we too rough? Does something hurt?”

“No,” she was quick to object. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just...don’t want to feel alone.” The boys looked at each other, blinking at her somewhat baffling answer.

“We’re right here,” Yunho soothed, giving her an extra squeeze as he did. “We just wanted to clean up a little, love.”

“I know,” She admitted, looking down a little.

“If I promise not to let you go,” Yunho proposed. “Can we move into the bath?”

After a moment she let her fingers drop from where they clung to Mingi and she nodded. Without a word, Mingi slipped away to start running the bath. Yunho held her, tucking her body tightly against his in the moment he gave Mingi to get things started in their bathroom. He rocked her gently, slipping his other arm under and around her as he whispered words of love into the quiet room. Finally he could feel her relax against him a little and he decided it was best to carry her to the bathroom, rather than ask her to walk back there with him. Standing up, he lifted her into his arms, facing him with her legs wrapped around his waist. She looped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck as he made his way down the hall.

The tub was half full by the time they got there and Mingi was in the shower rinsing himself off quickly. He poked his head out when he heard Yunho enter, still worried about their girl. Yunho stepped carefully into the large tub and lounged against the back of the tub as best he could, still holding her tightly against him. She didn’t say anything, but ever so slowly began to settle down in his arms until she seemed to almost go slack. Yunho gently dribbled water down her back where it was above the line of the water, trying to gently wash her without disturbing her.

Mingi, having finished his shower and gotten them all something warm to drink, returned to find her draped over Yunho’s chest as he carefully cupped water onto her back. Mingi set the drinks down, offering one to Yunho before kneeling down on the tiles beside the tub. Yunho, more thirsty than he had thought, downed a few gulps before passing the cup back to Mingi. Unencumbered by another body on him, Mingi decided it would be easiest for him to help by washing her as much as he could without disturbing her. He sponged down her back and along her upper arms, surprised that she didn’t really react, even to look at him.

Is she asleep, Mingi mouthed, catching Yunho’s eyes. Yunho placed his palm against her back to feel the rhythm of her breathing. It was slow and steady, seeming to indicate that she had, indeed, fallen asleep against him.

“What should we do?” Yunho asked, trying to get a view of her face, though it was tucked tightly in against the crook of his neck.

“Get her clean and tuck her in bed, I guess,” Mingi shrugged. Yunho could only agree, letting his hand move under the water to the apex of her thighs to swish and rinse her clean as best he could from that angle. She didn’t move as he gave her a light wash, only protesting slightly when he shifted her to pass her to Mingi who wrapped her wet body in one of their towels.

Mingi placed her in their bed and tucked her in under the covers before climbing in beside her. He pulled the comb out of her hair and slipped the necklace from her neck, putting both of them on the bedside table for the night. He spiraled her hair up and over the pillows in the hopes of keeping it out of the way for the night. Yunho emerged from the bathroom, clean and dry as Mingi finally settled down, spooning against her side. Yunho turned out the lights then joined them, pulling the covers high over all of them.

“Thank you for giving us so much,” Yunho whispered to her in the dark. “Thank you for giving all of yourself to us.” On the other side of her, Mingi gently nuzzled her cheek, giving it a little kiss before closing his eyes. Yunho reached across her, taking one of Mingi’s hand in his before finally letting his own eyes close.

Masterlist

#ateez #ateez smut #song mingi #jeong yunho #ateez imagines #yunho #mingi #mingi smut #yunho smut #kpop imagines #kpop smut #yungi #smut and fluff

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 4 years

Text

I Didn’t Mistake Your Finger for the Moon, I Just Chose to Look at You Instead

Tim Drake x Reader Oneshot

The title comes from zen buddhism (maybe chinese? i’m sorry I don’t know), the idea is I am pointing my finger at the moon to show you the moon don’t look at my pointed finger, look where I’m pointing.

Heavily inspired by the play Frankie and Johnnie in the Claire de Lune

***

You can’t believe it’s only 8:30pm, just two hours into the night and you’re already bored out of your skull. Around you, the huge ballroom swirls with sparkling socialites keeping themselves busy by incessantly talking shit and guzzling Bruce Wayne’s alcohol. Everybody has their lips to someone’s ear and a glass in their hand, except for you, which is quite stupid on your part. But that’s why you’re at the bar.

Behind you, the positively charming laughs of the Wayne Gala’s guests dot the conversations that spill out through the room in concentric circles, rippling over each other in waves that ebb and flow right up until they reach you. Then they stop short, leaving you alone and trying to order a drink from a bartender who seems to be too busy to chat you up out of pity.

Not that you’d do anything with her, obviously. But still. Some attention would be nice.

Christ, you were so shit at knowing what to do with yourself at these parties. You’d think you’d have them figured out by now, but no such luck. Your funeral.

“Hey, have you seen Tim?”

You turn to face the speaker and your eyes fall on Dick Grayson, dressed gorgeous in a sharp suit complete with a dark blue bow tie. He looks incredible, but then again, he usually does. And miracle of miracles, the folks around you are now eyeing you up, trying to figure out if it’s worth skydiving into your conversation to get in a word with Bruce Wayne’s heir. Dick does that to people, has the sort of happy, positive demeanor that makes folks want desperately to talk to him, to be part of his group. You’ll probably never get used to it. Or to how beautiful he is.

“Yeah.” Yeah, you know where Tim is. You resist the urge to point across the ballroom, motioning with your chin instead. “He’s over there, schmoozing with some LexCorp folks.”

“Schmoozing? With LexCorp?” Dick’s face takes on a slightly disgusted hue in the light of the chandeliers.

You shrug. “Schmoozing, making thinly veiled threats, planting the seeds for some light corporate espionage, but not the sort anyone can prove. You know Tim.”

Dick chuckles at that. “I guess I do.” He takes a step away from you, then doubles back. “Are you all right, over here? You look a bit...”

“You can say lonely, Dick, it’s okay,” you say with a bit of bite, too many teeth in your voice, but he’s not wrong. “I’m fine, you don’t need to babysit me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Jeez, y/n, I didn’t mean--”

You cut him off. “No, it’s fine Dick, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” You press a hand to the bridge of your nose and try to take deep breaths. Starting a fight with your boyfriend’s oldest brother is not exactly on your to-do list for the evening. “I am a bit lonely, but it’s cool, I get Tim back in...” you check your watch, a cheap analogue that clashes something awful with your cheesed-up attire. “Eight in a half minutes. Then he’s mine for at least an hour.”

Dick quirks his lips in a half-smile. “You guys time how long he spends doing W.E. business at these galas? That’s--”

“Adorable? Or just anal?” Try as you might, you can’t keep the cynicism from spreading thick over your tone.

“I was actually going to say very Tim,” he says back warmly. You grin at him, bad mood abandoning you for the moment. “It was his idea. Wouldn’t be much of a date if we didn’t spend any time together.”

Dick laughs again. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Across the room, Tim turns away from the circle of business harpies and shoots you an apologetic smile. Dick must’ve clocked it as well. “Maybe Tim’ll turn knight-in-shining-armor and rescue you,” he suggests.

You wrinkle your nose. “I doubt it. As much as I don’t like it, the business stuff needs to get done.”

Dick eyes Tim’s back. “Yeah, something tells me you’d be the one doing the rescuing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I hate to be rude, but I gotta skip out on you.” Dick’s down-to-earth manner of speaking always surprises you, especially because he manages to get away with it at these swanky events. When you do it everyone seems to look at you sideways. “Need to go find Damian,” Dick explains further. “If he’s not antagonizing your boyfriend, he may be up to something worse.”

You nod in agreement. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

He sighs. “Yeah, wish me luck.” And then Dick makes his exit, leaving you with seven and a half minutes to wallow before Tim comes back.

You chide yourself a bit, picking up the Gin and Tonic that the bartender had just placed in front of you. Were you seriously going to wallow in self pity at a gala half of Gotham would kill to attend? With Tim Drake as your date? Hundreds of girls and quite a few boys probably daydream about being in your place, especially after he made the Forbes Thirty under Thirty list last month. Still, his spot on the list doesn’t change the fact that exactly no one at this party, striking Dick and the bartender, has said a single word to you.

You stifle a sigh. It isn’t your fault Gotham’s socialites always prove to be uninterested in Timothy Drake’s thoroughly middle-class girlfriend. They had found you just fascinating when the relationship was new and Tim’s move of dating so far below his class had actually made headlines. But, six months later, your novelty had worn clean off. God, you wished you had someone to talk to. You were feeling so small.

Swallowing a sip of G&T, you think back to your first gala at the Manor. The glitter and glamour of the evening had left you breathless, whereas now it’s making you sick. Some parts of the evening never seem to go stale, though. You still love playing dress up in gorgeous clothes and parading around with your boyfriend, who was also dressed up in gorgeous clothes. Tim usually bought your dresses for these events, since there was no way on the planet you could afford them. You’d gotten used to Tim being stupid rich early in your relationship, and it doesn’t bother you that you can never match him in the money department.

Occasionally, Tim likes to spoil you, although neither of you are too keen on outrageous gifts that are ultimately useless. He tends to avoid getting you things that are overpriced and unnecessary. (Cheap and unnecessary is where you operate. The two of you are currently having a competition over who could get the other the smallest, most useless gift for under two dollars. Your last gift to him had been a yellow plastic shovel that fits in the palm of your hand)

Tim doesn’t like buying expensive, frivolous things on principle, and you don’t like receiving them, also on principle. But if you’re going to attend these galas, you need an expensive dress point-blank, otherwise you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And you want to attend, you want to be Tim’s girlfriend, public appearances and all. So Tim just has to buy you the dresses, which you secretly love because they’re gorgeous, and you have to accept them, because you can’t attend the gala without them. It’s a neat way for Tim to give you something expensive and make sure you’ll have a need for it. Plus, you know he loves seeing you wear the clothes he’s bought you.

Tonight, however, you’re not wearing one of Tim’s Vera Wang’s or Alexander McQueen’s. You’ve opted instead on something you’d bought yourself, a bridesmaid’s dress you’d worn to a friend’s wedding earlier this year. It just about fits in with everyone else’s attire, and besides, the dress was expensive. You wanted to wear it at least twice. A great plan, except it isn’t as beautiful as some of the other dresses in the room tonight. You’ve recognized more than one from a runway fashion account you follow on Instagram. Nice as your dress may be, it can’t compare with any of those, and every time you see an exceptionally beautiful gown you wonder what you were thinking, wearing a dress like this.

The negative buzzing in your ears dissipates as you catch Tim’s eye again. He’s got the same stupid look on his face he’d worn when he picked you up this evening. Like he’d been punched but he didn’t exactly mind.

“Are you sure you’re my date for tonight?” he’d whispered, after doing a cartoonish double-take at the door of your apartment, because he really is a good boyfriend. “I’m not sure other people will believe it.”

“Of course they will,” you’d scoffed, cheeks glowing at the compliment. “We look good together. You’re pretty stunning yourself.”

He’d look down at his own clothes with a worried expression. “Really?” Following your advice and urging, Tim had stepped out of his comfort zone tonight and was sporting a patterned tux. It’s a dark blue checked with thin black stripes, waistcoat and bow-tie to match. “I think I look like Al Capone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you look very dapper.” You had taken his hand, then, smiling up at him and leading him out of your apartment. “Charming, even.”

“If Jason’s there he’ll make fun of me. Damian definitely will.”

“They were going to do that anyway. And besides, who cares? I think you look great.”

“I guess you’re the only one that matters.”

“Damn straight.”

He really does look incredible tonight, you think to yourself as you check him out from your position at the bar. Nothing short of beautiful, with the long lines of the tux sitting pretty on his sinuous, willowy limbs and gorgeous frame. His shoulders are holding strong under the fine material of his jacket, and presiding over everything are his sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes. Which, you note in satisfaction, are now fixed on you as Tim extricates himself from the suits and makes his way to the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, plopping down next to you and casually hooking a foot around your ankle.

“Nope,” you smile happily, thrilled to be spending time with him again. “I was saving it for you, and as you can see, I had to really fight to keep it free.” You motion around yourself to the people ignoring you.

Tim winces. “I’m sorry, y/n, if I could do anything--”

“Stop, stop,” you wave him silent. “Don’t worry about it. You’re here now, it’s okay,” you reassure him.

“I don’t like that you end up spending so much time alone at these things,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “If you even think I’m going to let you come to this thing by yourself,” you say, shaking your head. “Some of the other ones, maybe, but if I don’t make an appearance at The Wayne Gala, capital T, W, and G, the public will think I’m out of the picture.”

“Defending your territory, huh?” Tim grins sidelong at you. “Keeping the society pages off my back, more like.” You shift in your seat, sensing an opportunity. “But maybe I am defending my territory, hmm?” You give him an obvious once over, let lust show in your gaze. “Maybe you’re too pretty to let out of my sight.”

He flushes, color overrunning his cheeks and spilling down his neck and making him look even more edible. You let out a breath. “God, Tim, I could just...” you lean over, easily catching his lips with yours. Holding him there for a just a second, you run your tongue quick over his bottom lip and then pull back, spending a few moments just looking at him, with him looking back.

You wait for some of the sparkling energy to fade before you speak again. “It’s important to me that you know I’m here to support you as acting CEO.”

He laughs at that, spell broken. “I know sweetheart.” He turns from you to order a drink. “I’m very proud of you,” you say to his back. He rolls his eyes at you over his shoulder.

The bartender makes the drink inside of twenty seconds, because Tim Drake asked for it, and then your boyfriend spends a few more moments staring at you, taking the glass in his hand and eyeing you over the rim.

You meet his gaze. “What are you thinking?” He presses a finger to his ear. “Going off comms,” he murmurs, then surreptitiously fishes the device out of his ear and stows it in his pocket. If you hadn’t known what to look for you would swear he was just running his fingers through his hair and then brushing some lint off of his suit.

“If I’m honest, I’ve spent the last twenty minutes fantasizing about eating you out.”

...what?

It takes a moment for his words to connect to your brain. Then--

“Tim!” you squawk, eyes darting around to make sure no one had overheard you. “You can’t just say that to me in public!”

His eyes meet yours, he looks unimpressed. Tim never has any patience for your prudishness whenever he brings up sex with other people around. “What can I say? The LexCorp people were boring,” and now he’s the one looking you over, eyes slowly working up and down your form. You shiver under his attention. “That’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing, y/n, I think it would look great bunched up around your hips.”

God, confidence is such an irresistible look on him. Despite your better judgment, you decide to play along. Leaning closer, you let one hand ghost over his crotch, cupping him for half a moment as you say “and how do you think the dress will look on your bedroom floor?”

He gasps when you touch him, then smiles brilliantly, eyes shining. You really, really shouldn’t be encouraging him, but you can’t help it. You love him like this, you love the unrelenting force of his desire. You love how much he wants you.

With Tim, you’ve found that once the idea of sex gets into his head and he sees that you’re game, he’s like a dog with a bone, gnawing and gnawing at you. There’s no stopping him in pursuit to get you into his bed, or car, or the nearest supply closet. And you always find yourself indulging him, because the sex is usually good, but the man himself is even better. You delight in seeing Tim aroused, because as soon as that switch is flipped, the self-control that Tim rigidly keeps in place disappears, and he becomes hypnotically impulsive with his emotions. It took some time for him to get the barriers down, for him to let loose around you, but now he allows himself to be everything all at once. An aroused Tim is playful, awkward, confident, shy, ridiculous, and enthusiastic. You never know what you’re going to get with him, and sometimes he flits from one affect to the other between moments, leaving you breathless.

And you’re more than happy to provide an arena for Tim to let loose, because the only time your boyfriend allows himself to be anything less than perfect is when he’s in your arms. Control rules Tim’s life in the form of some probably unhealthy idolatrous god. As he’s explained to you several times, yes, he actually does need to be this tightly wound, because if he makes a mistake he’ll lose clout at WE. Or he’ll be too slow at night. People will die (he will die.) Insert answer here.

Which is all true, but it doesn’t mean Tim can’t take a fucking break once in a while. And that’s where you come in. Your boyfriend spends his whole life striving for perfection and punishing himself when he doesn’t reach it, but when he’s with you, he can be anything he wants.

And one of the wonderful things about sleeping with Tim is so often you get to see everything he wants. Once he’s finally lost control, once you’ve convinced him to put the walls down, he’s like a kid in a candy store. He can do anything, and so he usually does everything.

“Christ,” he breathes in your ear, head still in your fleeting touch, one arm coming to rest on your back. “I think you’ve given me a semi.”

“That,” you say in a sing-song voice, absolutely delighted, “sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” You turn and pretend to walk away, but Tim catches hold of your arm, reeling you back towards him. “You can’t leave now, y/n,” he pleads, eyes dancing. “People are going to look at my crotch and see I’ve got a hard-on, and I can’t endure Cass making fun of me again. C’mon, y/n,” he pouts at you. “I’m your damsel in distress. Save me from the bullies. Dance with me so no one will see.”

You roll your eyes, but come to stand in front of him nonetheless, letting him lead you to the center for the room with his hands on your waist. This isn’t the first time a gala has bored Tim to sexual frustration. “People will still be able to see your crotch,” you argue. “We’ll just dance really, really close together.” As if to prove his point, he suddenly jerks your hips to his, and you all but fall against him. “The song is too fast for this kind of slow-dancing,” you say into his neck, false protests muffled by his suit.

He leans back to make eye contact with you as the two of you start swaying. “That doesn’t matter. We’re young lovers, y/n,” he reminds you seriously. “They’ll forgive us.”

“Young lovers, hmm?” You’re struck again by his confidence tonight, how alluring it is. It’s rare that he’s this sure of himself, but he wears it so well when he is.

“That’s right.” The two of you are silent for a moment, and you contemplate leaning your head against his chest. “You really do look beautiful in that dress, y/n,” Tim says quietly, all joking gone from his tone.

Your cheeks heat at the compliment. “Thank you.” And then, because you’re immature, too, and because Tim isn’t the only one who can flash his sex drive in public, you impulsively say “I bet you can’t guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

This is probably a mistake, but what the hell. You want your boyfriend just as much as he wants you, maybe more.

Tim doesn’t even wait two full seconds before responding. “See, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I bet I can.” You weren’t expecting him to be so quick on the uptake, your mistake for thinking his boredom hadn’t already driven him to tackle this particular problem.

“It’s warm enough out that you’re not wearing any tights or pantyhose, so the suspender sets are out.”

“The suspender sets are out,” you repeat solemnly, already excited by this new game you’re playing. “Well, hang on, maybe I just wore a set without the suspenders.”

Tim is quick to shake his head. “No, you hate doing that, you’d rather just wear separate set altogether. It’s a set without the suspenders.”

You let out a low whistle. “Got me pegged there, detective.” You see an opportunity, and waggle your eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll have you pegged, later.”

He falters in the slow waltz he’s leading you through. “Really not helping with the semi here, y/n” he complains, and he’s right, you can feel it pressing lightly against you. You roll your eyes. “Fine, let’s go back to you guessing what lingerie I’m wearing.”

He nods, only half joking. Tim loves a puzzle. “Thank you. So none of the suspenders.”

“So none of the suspenders,” you repeat again, and offer him a winning smile when he glares at you over it.

Explanatory monologue in full swing, he says “You normally like to match your dress, but this one’s black, which isn’t very helpful.” All of a sudden his attention shifts and comes to rest on your face. “Are you going to tell me if I get it right, or will I just have to wait and see?”

“What would make it better for you, baby?” you ask, voice sultry as you slide your hips against his.

“I have absolutely no idea. Is it the red one?”

“Nope!”

“Damn. I love the red one.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.”

He pouts at you, but quickly perks up again. “Here, hang on, I’m going to risk exposing my erection so I can get a better view of your back,” and suddenly you’re spinning, once, twice, three times, before Tim pulls you back to his chest and dips you as the song ends. You’re panting a bit in surprise, and from your position suspended in his strong arms, you can feel one of his hands pawing around at your hip, smoothing over the fabric of your dress.

He pulls you upright as another song begins, a grimace on his handsome face. You reach up to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. “That was inconclusive,” he mutters.

You glance over his shoulder. “I think Bruce definitely got a good look at what’s going on down south.” Your boyfriend’s father is looking rather pointedly at the ground, a pained look on his face.

“I could barely see the lines of the set through your dress,” Tim complains, and then adds “Bruce’ll get over it. Or he won’t. Whatever,” he says dismissively. “Last week I walked in on Selina blowing him under his desk, so now we’re even. What’s way more important is that I couldn’t see anything, why couldn’t I see anything?”

“Aww, poor baby,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, before brightening a bit. “I mean, it wasn’t a total loss. I did get a great view of your ass. It still looks fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks for the update.”

He keeps going. “I didn’t see the lines, but I did get a good feel of your underwear at your hip.” He plants his tongue between his teeth, eyes closed in concentration as you sway delicately to the new song. “I didn’t feel a strap, so I can rule out some of the thongs.” You hum in agreement, arms coming up to wrap securely around his torso in an extended embrace. “It isn’t either of the black ones, or the nice blue one, is it?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not.”

“Hn.” He shifts his arms, and you feel his slight hand flitting about at your hip again. He soon gives up, discouraged. “The material of your dress is too thick, I can’t feel anything through it.”

You decide to throw him a bone. “I’ll give you a hint: I’m actually wearing another color besides black, and the set matches it.”

Tim frowns, stepping back from you for a moment to look down at your feet. “Your shoes are black too, what are you talking about?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to ruin it for you?”

“No, let me think,” Tim says, and goes silent, eyes shut. You study him as the actual detective comes out to play. His eyes snap open again, and you clock his gaze going for your throat and ears. No necklace, but you are wearing gold earrings. Tim ignores them and takes your hand in his, examining your rings. He knows you too well to ask whether the set is gold or silver, that isn’t your style. He’s getting much closer with the rings though, and then his sharp exhale is ghosting through your fingers and his eyes are meeting yours again. You give him a proud smile.

“Good solve, Timmy.” He kisses the pad of your index finger. “Nail polish, y/n?”

“Nail polish,” you confirm.

“Why?”

You pretend to think it over, letting your eyes go wide. “Well, I just thought it would look nice, you know? My hand right over the panties, maybe even inside them, if you wanted me to do any of the work on my own.”

His eyes just about bug out of his head at that, and then he shakes his smile back and forth, impressed. Your answering grin is knife sharp. “You’ve got me right where you want me, don’t you, y/n? What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” you whisper, winding your arms around his neck. “That’s sort of the point. We can get out of here right now.”

“You know I would love, love, to do that,” Tim says, running his hands down your back, “but there’s supposedly a deal going down at 9:30 that I kind of need to be there for.”

“Well, then,” you murmur, “you’ll just have to suffer for another twenty minutes.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says drily. The two of you sway in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. “Hold on, y/n, something just occurred to me.”

“Yes, Tim?”

“Your nail polish is purple, but you don’t own any sets that color. What gives?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He looks at you for a few moments before his face smooths out again. “You really have it in for me tonight, don’t you? It’s a new set?”

“It’s a new set,” you confirm.

“And I bet you look just stellar in purple,” he says to himself, a desperate edge to his voice.

“You know very well I look good in everything.” You glance downwards. “How are you doing there, Timmy?”

“Fuck off,” he says happily. “Is it lace?”

“Tim, sweetheart, of course it’s lace.”

Your boyfriend groans, then freezes in place. You look at him questioningly. “I’m running a cost/benefit analysis on me skipping out on this deal.”

“Give it to Tam,” you suggest.

“Give it to Tam,” he agrees. “Yeah, alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You let out a delighted laugh, following him in the direction of his old bedroom in the manor. Behind you, you dimly hear the orchestra finish their song. There are a few moments of silence while you make your way to the exit, and then you hear a few forlorn notes on the piano that have you turning around and calling out “Tim!”

“Whoa, y/n, where are you--”

“Tim! Tim it’s Claire de Lune, they’re playing Claire de Lune, we have to stay!” You drag him back to the dance floor.

“But,” he tries to argue, “but y/n, we were going to--”

“Tim.” You stand your ground. “It’s Claire de Lune. Please?”

He mumbles under his breath but takes you back into his arms regardless, like the good boyfriend that he is. You adore the Claire de Lune, and he’s probably reasoned to himself that no amount of arguing or pleading could tear you from the melody spinning lazily through the room.

He’s still going to complain about it, though. “Claire de Lune, huh? I can’t believe I lived to see Twilight cock-blocking me again.”

You poke him in the side. “Some of us first heard Debussy at the Gotham Philharmonic and some of us read about him in Stephanie Meyers’ blockbuster paranormal romance and googled Claire de Lune on the family computer in their Dad’s office, okay? The important thing is we’re both here, and we can both appreciate it, so shut up.”

Tim shuts up. You smile at him, and let your eyes fall closed. The slow melody envelops you like mist and settles on your skin, resting easy in your inner ear. A small part of you anticipates the notes before the pianist actually plays them, and you find yourself nodding when they finally escape from her fingers. Her performance is perfect, she isn’t messing around trying to improve Debussy’s masterwork, just picking her way through it, measure by measure. You take deep, even breaths as a sense of calm permeates your system. Eyes still closed, you let the music relax you, content to wade dreamily in its cool comfort.

After about a minute, Tim clears his throat. “Y/n,” he says gently, “look.” You open your eyes and follow Tim’s pointed finger to one of the floor-length windows, gasping out loud when you see the stunning full moon. It sits in an overcast sky, fog and smog and clouds pressing against it like an embrace. The thin ropey clouds that drift across its slouched figure are reflecting its yellow light and giving it a warm, pearly corona, a halo. You stare at it openly for a few seconds, admiring the bone moon in its sky armchair.

Your attention drifts back to Tim’s finger, arm still hanging loosely in front of you, and then to the man himself. The ballroom lights are low enough that you can imagine the moonlight reflecting off of Tim, too, that he too is catching some of its cotton shine on his face. You’re awfully lucky to be with someone who takes the time to point out a particular moon among of a string of nights with particular moons, and you tell him so. Tim’s smile is quiet, but he presses his forehead to yours, where it stays for the rest of the song.

When it ends Tim leans back to smile at you again. You smile back, feeling filled up with the moon and the music and him. Catching his hand in your own, you start in the direction of the grand staircase that leads up to his old bedroom. Tim stops you by pulling on your arm lightly, before turning and walking towards the doors that will take you outside.

You look at him quizzically. “Can we go to your apartment?” he murmurs. “We’ve been in my world this whole night, now I want to be in yours.”

You smile softly before leaning up to kiss him, quick and light. He squeezes your hand as he leads you through the room, and then suddenly you’re outside, breathing cool, almost autumn air while you wait for Tim to get a car sorted out. You turn your eyes upward to meet the moon again, the ghost of Claire de Lune still drifting through your head.

Tim breaks your reverie by calling your name, and you follow him into the back of a car. After directing the driver to your apartment, Tim hands you an earbud. You put it in your left ear while Tim puts the other in his right, and together you listen to Claire de Lune again as the car makes it’s way through a Gotham that’s soft and shiny with moonlight. Three repetitions of Debussy later you’re standing in front of your apartment, Tim wrapping his arms around you as you fiddle with your keys, unlock your door, and lead him to your bedroom.

Later, after you’re spent twice over and Tim has made good on his fantasy of opening you up with his mouth, Tim shifts in the bed and slides himself around you, lips at your ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You sigh happily. “Mmm.”

“I asked the orchestra to play Clair de Lune.”

You raise yourself up on your elbows at that, leaning over him with a meaningful look into his starry eyes. You’re sure there are stars in yours, too.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You lie back down. “Thank you.”

His hand comes up to stroke your hair. “Mmm.”

#tim drake x reader #batboy imagines #tim drake imagine #dc imagine #batboy x reader #kira writes #tim drake

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kazbrkker · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7: Bloody Reunions

Chapter summary: Time to get the Wolf. Alexis conducts interrogations like the badass she is, but sometimes it sucked being that good at her job. (Protective couple... you don’t even have to squint.)

Warnings: Misogynistic POS, emotional detachment, blood and violence, mild graphic detail of torture. (4490 words... i went hAM lol)

28 October 2019, 0630 "Alexis" and "Alex" | Codename Aces CIA with Demon Dogs Rammazan, Urzikstan

"Place is a freaking morgue."

Judging by the piles of stacked bodies on the medical beds, it was a justified statement. Morgue might be an idoneous word for hospital. The patronising smell of death bypassed her as usual, but not the disturbing scene of unnaturally still bodies.

The handiwork of Roman Barkov.

There was a twisted satisfaction when Alexis shoved another magazine in her M4A1, knowing one of these bullets had Barkov's name mentally carved into it. She couldn't wait to see it lodged between his eyes.

"Check the bodies..." Sergeant Griggs ordered. The Marines and both CIA agents warily slithered along the occupied stretchers and medical beds—hoping none of them was sleeping with a gun.

It was a gut-wrenching sight. Bloodshed and raw injuries everywhere they turned. Not even sure if those alive should be considered lucky.

Suddenly, one of the civilians bolted into a sitting position, making everybody on edge. Frantic shouts and language barrier only escalated the chaos. Not willing to see another dead body, Alexis interjected in mediocre Arabic, calmly demanding the man to lay back down.

"More than a pretty face..." She looked distastefully over her shoulder, the Marine didn't bother wiping the smirk off his face and instead, shamelessly winked. Revolting, but she merely rolled her eyes, though a much younger her wouldn't hesitate to deck his face.

Gender discrimination in the military was a blast. There came a time when a heavy chip weighed down her shoulders—excruciating, yet she thrived under it. Often, some misogynistic meathead would challenge her.

Emotional, weaker, probably a lousy spotter, wouldn't last a week in the jungle.

Eventually, they all ate their words.

Alexis broke through every damn glass ceilings she went: the only female recruit in her company, made Lieutenant, then transferred to JSOC's Task Force Black. Impossible was understating things.

Her unconventional transfer to Task Force Black was a statement in itself. It finally felt like she earned it. Though she loved 88, the CIA was a nice change of scenery, where there were lesser suffocating males with inferiority complex and women were actually appreciated.

Five years later, such remarks were a humourless punchline to her. On the contrary, Alex fantasied how good Demon 1-2 would look with a bruise on his face. In the shape of his rifle stock.

Truthfully, even she considered shoving a middle finger. The weather was hot enough to vaporise her and having a tactical vest strapped against her sweaty body, was not it.

Things changed when another civilian to their 3 o'clock pulled out a gun targeted at the uniforms. While everyone was still busy hollering around, she shot a precise bullet between the hostile's eyes.

With a thud, the man fell off the stretcher.

The female agent scoffed, returning a satirical wink of her own, "Stay frosty, 1-2." He tripped around his words in shock, until Sergeant Griggs forced the gratitude out of him.

Well. If the Universe wanted to send it her way, who was she to reject it, right? She shook her head at the inevitable smirk on Alex, a subtle one hanging on her lips too.

It was a shame that the peace was ephemeral, by this time, several of Sergeant Griggs' men went radio silent. She religiously trailed behind Alex. They pushed further into the hospital, only to be met with a minigun.

"Mini my ass," Alexis laughed nervously as bullets sprayed inches away from tearing her abdominal—because of her ballsy move to switch covers.

"Holy fucking... Okay! Don't give me that look, Alex!"

She thanked the Heavens that Alex's yells were muffled over ricocheting bullets. Several smoke grenades later, Alex sniped the gunman and lo and behold, they finally reached a heavily chained door.

Score, imagery confirmed the Wolf was inside.

It was her job to clear the room while Alex secured the Wolf. Her index finger pressed lightly against the trigger, swallowing the adrenaline that dangerously swirled inside her. Upon Alex's signal, they sneaked in and hid behind messy shelves. The visual of the three missing Marines came into view, with one held hostage with a knife against his throat as the Wolf filmed another propaganda video.

"Check... Five hostiles."

"Affirmative. On my mark," Alex replied. A split second later, he tackled the Wolf from behind. His men's reactions were quick, but her years of muscle discipline was borderline supernatural.

"Clear!" Griggs rushed to untie his men. "You two good?"

Alexis nodded, tightening the zip ties uncomfortably around the Wolf's wrist. She began examining his body language, hopefully finding nibs of his tells to use against him in interrogation later.

Omar Sulaman was strangely calm for a man with a foiled plan. There was slight reluctance in his steps, but still, silence.

"Saint to Watcher, Wolf is in the bag."

Her voice was a stark contrast to the boyish tones that surrounded the room—earning the Wolf's attention, who made the bold decision to turn around abruptly.

"What are you doing here, daughter?"

Alexis felt the entire world's gaze burn into her side profile, equally as confused as the lot. She shrugged and walked away.

Inwardly, the interrogator inside was thrilled. The Wolf was in for a helluva surprise.

━━━━━

28 October 2019, 2100 Sakhra, Urzikstan

The air-conditioned room in the embassy was a godsend, not a word of complaint as the cold air blanketed her. Alexis, Alex, Farah and Hadir patiently waited for Price's arrival.

When Alexis expectingly popped a piece of mint gum, Alex knew. Though it didn't take an expert to discern the ominous aura around her. Alexis hadn't said more than what was necessary in the seven hours since they captured the Wolf, busying herself to study the Wolf.

Alex was smarter than to cut in between. Like Alexis said, she was damn good at her job. Interrogation was one of her most valued expertise, perhaps arguably why the CIA wanted her so badly and the reason why JSOC refused to let her go.

There was a secret to her tactics—compartmentalise. Alexis sat opposite the Wolf, gaze cold as ice. It was a chilling sight even for Alex.

Unscrewing his bottle, Alex greedily rehydrated himself, still observing Alexis. The grittier bite in her tactics was certainly noticeable. He guessed it had something to do with her incident. Having been captured once or twice, that was the closest Alex came to ever understanding her.

Sometimes Alex swore he never got her back.

Physical detachment was a given while she was... compartmentalising, although the rising situation gave him no choice. A shiver ran down his spine as he tapped her shoulders. At the slight arch of her eyebrows, "Bravo's three mikes out."

Alexis blinked slowly in comprehension, not realising Alex's first announcement shot past her. She nodded methodically, the metal chair screeched as she got up. She charged determinedly to an isolated hallway and slipped down against the wall, burying her head in her tucked knees. Despite the rapid intakes of breaths, it didn't suffice.

She loathed every single second in interrogations. Doing the Devil's work, she thought. The irony in this situation was her call sign. For someone called Saint, she didn't know anything else more normal than this.

Saint wasn't a moniker given to her because she was virtuous, innocent or some shit like that. Hilarious to think that, for its darker origin.

Every time she conducted an interrogation, she had to subdue the gag-inducing hypocrisy. How could she, after St. Petersburg?

The reports claimed it was a miracle she survived. Fuck that, what did they know.

That birthday was memorable, to say the least. He had even arranged something special that faithful day—nothing said happy birthday! more than electrocution.

152 days.

"ты прекрасна, ангел... (You are beautiful, angel..)"

"Fuck!" Her eyes shot open, desperate to let the ugly fluorescent light blind the image. Autonomously, her fingers scratched wildly across her arms. After a particularly deep breath, her head fell against the wall and like clockwork, she exhaled all her anxiety.

She was too good at pretending.

It was her desire to stay in solitude longer, but the shrilling embassy siren obviously had other plans. Doubling back, she found Alex at the doorway already looking for her.

"The Butcher and his men are about to breach. We need to leave, now." She peered into the room, barely seeing the tinted glow of the fire outside. Noticing the rising blood clots and angry red streaks on her forearms, Alex clenched his fists to restrain himself from reaching out, knowing she would only flinch. So, he settled for a hard swallow of his saliva, "Follow me."

Price's voice rang in their ears, "Saint and Echo 3-1, primary extraction failed. We're down on the roof."

"Understood. What's the call, Captain?"

"There's a saferoom in the basement. Head there. We'll be right behind you."

When they reached the basement, Alexis basically scrambled to the CCTVs for a sitrep–she had half a thought to join the sweep, eager to rid the hypocrisy from her systems. Eternity later, or in reality, twenty minutes later, their backup arrived.

Price.

The SAS Captain squeezed her upper arm in greeting. Lucky for her, it was where the bullet had previously scraped her. Price clapped Alex's back while glancing at her patched-up injury, "That fast, huh?"

Missed you too, old man, she thought, rolling her eyes as a response. Her coldness confused the Captain, eyes darting to Alex for an answer. He understood when Alex cocked his head at the Wolf.

"Let's move. Clock's ticking."

"You heard her..." Price ordered the Sergeant to direct the Ambassador secretary to safety and the rest headed to the parking lot. While Price and Farah went to retrieve the Ambassador's secretary, the two CIA agents stood guard at the car park entrance.

Under the flashing red coat of the emergency lights, there was no mistaking in the comfort Alex's concerned nod brought her.

It was apparent that Alex was her anchor. But in this state, she couldn't bear to look at him for long, internally disgusted by herself. All these years, she was petrified to ask if he was repulsed by her hypocrisy.

Then, she felt the hesitant touch of a coarse, large hand. She accepted it immediately—much to Alex's surprise. Their fingers intertwined secretly in the dimly lit hallway. Her eyes had long adapted to the darkness, able to witness Alex looking down at her and just like that, a sense of serenity flowed through her.

The unreadable expression on his face was a stranger to her in all their time together. Under the magnetic allure of Alex's gaze and the soothe whirring of his touch, it felt like they were worlds away from a war zone. Until gunshots unforgivingly interrupted.

She immediately retracted her hand.

Afterwards, the group slotted the obtained garage keycard. They fought through waves of Al-Qatala soldiers in low light, courtesy of the lacking streetlights.

The Ambassador's residence was no sanctuary either, as another wave of AQ fighters drew closer. Afraid the rising situation might delay their timeline, Price ordered her to start interrogations immediately. Her heart jumped at the unexpected news, suddenly thrown in the ring.

Hadir and Farah sent nods of encouragement before running out the residence. Price, despite raging at Laswell through the comms, mustered one last small smile for her.

That left Alex, who looked equally worried as her. Wordlessly, he tapped at the base of his neck. She understood instantly, feeling the cool metal of his dog tag against her skin. Obviously they had airtight obligations to not carry personal items, zero accountability and all, but it was Alex. She had corrupted him enough to not give a fuck.

The dog tag was nothing informative, only a simple 'X' carved messily from Alex's kitchen knife. Useless to her enemy, but deadly if it was ever pried from her neck.

It was a matching set. She mysteriously woke up with it after that night with Alex. His way of saying they'd always have a piece of each other.

With one last longing look, that unbeknownst to both of them—burned their insides, Alex left her alone with the Wolf.

━━━━

Her immediate observation? The Wolf was talkative.

It didn't faze her—narcissists simply could not shut up. Past thirty minutes, zero words retaliated and the Wolf was still going on.

Please. She wanted to yawn. Her legs swung restlessly while she sat on a table, undermining whatever authority the Wolf thought he had. The folklores he told in his grandiose sense of self-importance was vexing but valuable.

He hated women in combat. She learnt that when he tried to recruit Farah and even her, just minutes ago. Omar Sulaman thought women were weak.

Exciting.

As he rambled on, she almost failed to suppress a scoff. A woman wielding more power was his stressor, this meathead would be even easier to break.

"You have killer eyes," The Wolf said, tone switched from persuasive to intimidating. He exhausted everything—telling stories of what Barkov's men did to "weak" women, trying to scare her into his protection. Alexis hadn't bothered reacting, which pissed him off.

Victory surged past the fog of irritation inside her. She had conditioned the Wolf by staying quiet, truly a personal achievement. His narcissistic tendencies were itching to get out, evident from how he was desperately reaching for straws.

Alexis reached for her stripped vest and carelessly dug around for a plastic bottle. Popping the lid open, she chucked a mint gum in preparation.

It was time. Clouded by anger, he'd make mistakes that she would catch.

"Somebody hurt you."

She couldn't resist a huff at his eleventh-hour tactics. So the Wolf was now gunning for her emotional side? Fine, she'd bite.

"Don't act like you know me."

"Oh, child... I know more than you think. The look in your eyes, fear..." The Wolf paused, smirking arrogantly even at her mocking smile. "You put a great act, daughter. But I've been around longer than you... seen more."

"I bet... Because what makes a freedom fighter wake up and decide to switch sides?" Alexis circled him in pretence thought, "Money?" Noticing his jaw clenched, she pressed on it. "Power? That's why you made those videos?"

Alexis interrupted at the sounds of his protest, "Surely freedom fighters must not pay well. Maybe you got sick of that and switched?"

"I didn't switch sides! I was always on the right side."

"And what side is that?"

"The winning side," He snapped, "This occupation will never end if we hold sympathy for others."

A narcissist with a saviour complex, laughable. Alexis returned to stand in front of him, the grin ever present on her face. "But you didn't deny my claims—you want money and power."

The Wolf wanted to charge at her but was tied by the restraints, heavy creases in his forehead as he snarled, "No! I am saving Urzikstan!"

"Murdering people is saving them? I know people just like you, hiding behind a cause. After you kill Barkov, you will only start your own regime." Alexis chuckled darkly, "I'm not gonna let you do that. Don't bother holding out, nobody's coming to save you."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" At her strained expression, he continued, "If I die today, I die a hero. You? Your death will be meaningless, a secret." He continued laughing, "You Westerners... Busybodies, you have no business here. The price for that is death–"

He paused, not because of her killer gaze, but as if something in him clicked, "You have no family... That's why you are here." Loud waves of laughter escaped from the man, like he figured it out. And fuck, he did, word for word.

Alexis must have reached Nirvana or gained enlightenment, shocked by her restrain to not blow Omar Sulaman's brains out. She dare not move a muscle, refused to prove him right.

"When my men come, and they will. I will spare you, kill everybody but you. Maybe even make you watch that young man who loves you so much. Then, you shall know fear, child..."

That was it, her trigger point. Blood red. Hot flashes of anger. Picturing Alex's dead body was enough to chuck everything up. The wrathful voice inside her absolutely shattered her restrain, no longer concerned with not letting the Wolf gain an edge.

Alexis bit.

In a flash, she tipped his chair behind and roughly circled a hand around his neck.

"Don't. You think you know fear? You don't know shit until you carve your name on a disgusting brick wall with your bloody fingernails because it was the only way anyone would know what happened to you." Alexis spat, eyes boring at the choking man rendered helpless under her. "So don't fucking talk to me about fear, old man."

When the Wolf thrashed around to breathe, she waited another three seconds before releasing him—the once tipped chair landing wobbly with a sharp shriek. Her sudden outburst gained a new terror visible in the Wolf's eyes. No longer the delicate soldier his sanctimonious mind painted her as.

"Now," She slapped the invisible dust off her hands, tone bouncing scarily fast to normal. "Where is the gas?"

"I... I don't know."

Sighing, she wiped the sweat off her forehead and asked again. Still receiving the same reply, "And I don't believe you. Nothing escapes the Wolf. Someone stole the gas and you knew about it..." Alexis abruptly paused, fingers tapped against her forehead, "No, wait. You made a deal. Help whoever steal the gas and they promise to help you chase the foreign powers out?"

His silence was abundant.

There wasn't a tinge of remorse when her fingertips glided along a screwdriver.

"Since you have been here for much longer... You know this next part." As soon as she wiggled the screwdriver between her fingers, Alexis had him in the bag. The slight twitch under the Wolf's right eye was his tell, fear. Alexis witnessed it when she choked the living hell out of him.

Too damn easy. She should dress a big fat red ribbon across him right now.

"And since you know me so well," She gestured between them, "You definitely know that I'm a big believer in second chances. Right your wrongs, blah blah. I'll give you second chances. Many more, actually, I'm pretty generous... But I'm not sure if you can take it." With that, she ruthlessly stabbed into his left thigh, a devious smile spreading wider with the increased intensity of his screams. The metal tip squelched when she dug around.

"The gas?"

"I... Stop!" The Wolf bellowed in pain when she yanked it out, sprays of blood following. For someone called the Wolf, he had an embarrassing low pain tolerance.

She tilted his chin up, pleased as she surveyed the sweat that broke. "Here's your second chance. Third is when I snap your femoral artery and hang you for all of Urzikstan to see you bleed out. Your legacy will be a joke."

"Y–You can't do that..." He shook his head weakly, eyes blinking in pain. "Everyone will know the Americans are here... You'll be buried with me."

Reducing to eye level, she smiled wholeheartedly, "I'll make sure to dig a grave big enough for us both. Last call... Your third chance is coming," Alexis taunted, nodding towards the electrical screwdriver—witnessing the fear shudder across his body. "Where is the gas?"

She came so close to breaking him, practically seeing the words trying to tumble out of his mouth. Literally a blink later, a truck wildly crashed into their room, crumbling the house's weak foundations. Jerking to a standing position, she instantly reached for her sidearm and fired.

At least five men exited the truck, spraying bullets that forced her to tuck her body behind the slim profile of a cupboard.

They had AKs and she had a handgun, do the math.

She hurriedly pressed her comms, "I lost visual on the Wolf!"

Her instincts wrangled between fight or flight, seeing that she was severely outnumbered and the door was literally on her left. But the morality in her warred on. Suppressed under heavy fire, she still had no visual of the Wolf, but assumed he was freed by now.

She yelped in surprise as a painful tug tossed her out into the open. A burly man wasted no time to attack her. She barely raised her Glock 21 before he swiftly grabbed her wrist and pressed the magazine release button.

He wanted to reach for her Glock's slide lock before she elbowed his jaw, making him stumble backwards but made a quick recovery. He threw her into the metal table and she lost the grip on her gun.

Alexis' back arched painfully across the table, hands scrambling for purchase to rid the tightening hands around her neck. She weakly tried to pry in between his arms, but her lungs burned from the depleting oxygen. Fingers scrambling to poke his eyes and finally mustering enough strength, she sent a cheap blow to his nuts. He hunched over just enough for her to inhale loudly.

Seeing that, the Wolf's man started firing again.

She kneed him in the gut, put him in a chokehold and propped him up as her shield. The man's body jerked in reaction to every bullet he received.

Her ears picked up on the distinct sound of M4A1s approaching closer to her location. The Wolf motioned to leave, dust spluttering her way as their truck wildly reversed, with the Wolf grinning victoriously in the passenger seat.

"We will meet again, daughter! And your lovely man."

He left her alive. Like he said he would.

Miraculously still breathing, the man in her grasps used this distraction to tug on her legs. Seconds later, she felt a splitting pain in her head.

She was on the ground when she reopened her eyes, hazily feeling a wet sensation drip down her temples. The pain mirrored a wave, boggling inside her. Black spots started to consume the edges of her sight.

No no no.

From her blurry vision, she managed to squint out something glimmering in her 12 o'clock—she assumed a knife or her god damn screwdriver coming back to bite her ass.

Not like this.

The shuffles of dragged footsteps echoed in her brain, almost a warning from her body. She blindly saw the shift in light source, presuming he was walking towards her.

Incoherent words tumbled out, forcing herself to speak so she wouldn't pass out. Shaking, she pushed her upper body off the floor and stretched for her fallen sidearm...

That one bullet in the Glock's chambers was still waiting.

More blood flowed messily down her head, further impairing what was left of her vision.

Muscle memory dictated the rest—the grainy grip of her Glock, index finger looped around the trigger.

Alexis prayed when she fired.

At the assuring sound of a body collapsing, so did Alexis.

━━━━━

Price was the one to spot her.

"Clear!" He burst open the door, finding a jarring hole in the walls and an unconscious Alexis laying beside a dead man.

"Shit," Kyle said from beside him. "Is she breathing?"

Price shouted for Alex and the man instantly appeared beside him. Careful not to move her unnecessarily, two shaky fingers checked Alexis' pulse, Price felt his heart threatened to burst out.

"She's alive."

No one heaved louder than Alex. They examined her injuries, a large gash splashed across her right temple that hopefully a few stitches would solve. But her unconsciousness was troubling.

"How long has it been?"

"More than a minute..."

"Fuck, we need to do something!" Alex yelled frantically. Please, please, please wake up. Her chances of a brain injury increased by the seconds. Fuck! He should have stayed with her, why didn't he stay?

His hands gently cupped the sides of her face, feeling an onslaught of tears starting to form amidst the rising stuffiness in his nose. As his light-blue jeans was tinted a carmine red, he decided this was his fault.

Alex jerked at the mention of his name.

"Let me clean her injuries..." Farah coaxed, a cloth that reeked of disinfectant in her hands. Alex reluctantly shifted, kneeling beside her laying body and watched Farah dab carefully, venomously demanding her to exact more care.

"Alex," A powerful grip tugged on his vest, lifting him to his feet to meet John Price. "Ease off. Let Farah and Hadir do the work."

"Captain..."

"She will be fine, trust me." Price chuckled to himself, "Unbelievable. That woman is still an excellent shot." He whistled lowly, staring at the man with a fatal shot to his heart.

Price said with a knowing look, "Clear your head, son."

"Yes sir," Alex exhaled, going to retrieve her fallen comms set on the floor.

Seconds later, Farah yelled for them. The two men doubled back, finding Farah holding Alexis down from wiggling about. Alex heard a groggy mumble of his name.

"Alex..." Alexis repeated, head rolling around despite the yells of protest. "Where..."

"Here! Here! I'm right here. You need to stop moving, baby." Alex skidded to her side and held her outreached hands. His eyes raking over her as if he had the superpower to mentally check her wellbeing.

A weak grin formed at the realisation that he was alive, breathing and right before her. "The Wolf... He... The escaped... He... car... men."

"Shhh, we'll get him," Hadir tried to pacify her while handing Farah a clean cloth.

Ten minutes passed before she started making sense and was fully conscious. Though the pounding in her head was enough to last a lifetime. Her eyes averted to the dead man.

Jesus, the pain...

"Alexis." Price sternly warned.

"Get me up... I'm fine... Don't be a pussy."

Carefully positioning her to sit up, she weakly laid against Alex's chest. The man could care less when her blood seeped into his shirt—evident as he steadied her head against his own, refusing to let her move it wildly.

Staring at her bewildered teammates, she hazily slurred: "Well. Don't all of you look like shit."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓

a/n: i really went with the "i'm injured and my lover finds me and cradles me in my blood" trope and y'know what. y'all are welcome ;) btw sry for the late update... i edited this chapter 17 times lol i was so insecure about it. thanks for waiting lovers!

taglist: @flyboidameron @wanderlustgiant (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

#call of duty x oc #call of duty x reader #alex modern warfare #cod alex #echo 3-1 #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #farah karim #hadir karim #kate laswell #fanfiction #call of duty #modern warfare #ysrwrites: kl #please read tw carefully #oc: alexis #killer instinct

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elonscult · 4 years

Text

The Awakening - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Their bodies were barely touching but his eyes were burning Sabrina with desire. She looked at him, his gaze was open and honest and at the same time she could feel the fear behind it and she wondered what was causing it.

The smell of his body and masculine skin made her instantly wet. He leaned forward towards her making her shiver when their lips touched. Then, while the kiss was intensifying, Elon pulled Sabrina so she would be under him instead of on top of him.

Sabrina sighed feeling the sensation of his body over her, his hips resting between her legs. Her heart racing while she felt the bulge on his pants pressing on the center of her body. There was only so much of him. She felt happy in the way he surrounded her.

Sabrina slid her hands over his perfect back feeling his muscles tense and contract while his mouth captured hers. Holding her body against his, she turned until she was on top of him again.

Elon didn’t move when she pulled away to kiss the slope from his chest to his belly. The sight of Sabrina’s passionate hunger made him hurt, not only in his pants but also somewhere inside of him that wanted, for once, to have someone truly love him. She covered him all over until she reached his pants, making him groan. He cupped her face in his hands and smiled, engraving the memory of her in his heart forever, so she would always be close to him. Sabrina moved to take his boots off and when she was finally done she threw them to the floor.

She moved towards his pants, he moaned feeling her hot breath so close to him. The sight of her head positioned over his zipper… it was almost enough to make him reach the limit.

Smiling, Sabrina unbuttoned his pants. He waited, his heart racing while she slowly slid them down to expose his manhood.

Sabrina bit her lip in satisfaction when she finally got his pants out. The man was completely gifted and huge, it never failed to surprise her.

After taking his shirt off she took a good minute to wander through the beauty of his naked body. He was impressive, absolutely stunning. From his broad shoulders to his hips going down to his long muscular legs.

And she wanted to please every single inch of him.

She took one of her hands and began stroking his hardness. He closed his eyes when the pleasure flooded his entire body. Opening her lips she started taking the tip in her mouth, surrounding him.

“You have the sweetest tongue” Elon moaned.

She lowered her head to take him all in, he was so blinded by the pleasure she was giving him he didn’t even dare to breathe while she was exploring him with her mouth. Unable to hold it any longer, he gently pushed her aside.

“I want to be inside of you so badly” he whispered.

“Then do it” Sabrina said leaning on her side to take her clothes off. Elon’s mouth watered while his body became hard as a rock.

Elon started to think about a hundred different positions to take Sabrina and the mere thought of being inside her was enough to make him moan. But he was big enough to make it unbearable if she wasn’t ready and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

“I’m ready” Sabrina said impatient.

He laughed a little. With his whole body burning, he leaned forward and introduced his thumb inside of her. Sabrina bit her lip in response.

“You’re so wet baby” Elon said while he lowered his head to lick her and make her even more slippery.

Sabrina spread her legs to feel as much of him as possible.

“You’re killing me” she said.

“Patience” he introduced another one of his long fingers. She trembled when his tongue twirled and played on her. That finger was followed by another one. He slid his chin against her.

“Cum for me, Sabrina. I want to taste you” Elon said.

When he went back to her, she didn’t have other choice than to obey. An orgasm traveled through her whole body almost making her think that she was going to pass out.

Before she could say anything, Elon turned her around and once again, introduced his fingers inside of her.

Elon bit his lip while his body ached, wanting to penetrate her. Now she was even more wet. Sabrina moaned feeling the pleasurable pain inside of her intensify as Elon placed his fingers even deeper. Then he moved to place his dick against Sabrina, rubbing himself on her entrance without penetrating her. The sensation made her moan while he covered her breasts with his hands.

This was more than she could take. Before she could catch a break, her body exploded again. This time, he slid inside profoundly. Sabrina groaned before the sensation, the thickness of him making her orgasm more intense.

With a dry throat, Elon didn’t move when he felt Sabrina’s body holding to his. Her body still adjusting to accommodate him.

He slid out of her and moved so his back was now resting against the couch.

“I want to cum while looking at you” he said.

She kissed him while he pulled her to be on top. She sat down over his hips while they kissed. Elon then ran his hands through her back until he reached himself guiding his dick inside again. He moaned while she lowered herself on top of him.

“You’re wonderful Sabrina. Perfect” he said.

“Really?” Sabrina said.

“Yes” he moaned, stretching down so he could caress her while he mounted him slowly and easily.

In one single heartbeat, she was his and he was hers.

Sabrina burned feeling the sensation of Elon deep inside of her. Nothing else could compare to the feeling of his strength under her.

He was so hard and fierce and still so sweet. Elon cupped her face in his hands and kissed her passionately just a second before reaching an orgasm so intense it made him dizzy. Groaning, he pulled away to look at her while he savored every part of her with his eyes.

Smiling, Sabrina rested her head against his chest and snuggled there until they both fell asleep.

The next day Elon woke up to find Sabrina still laying next to him, she would often wake up earlier and leave bed before he could notice. Elon softly pressed his lips against her forehead taking in as much of her as he could.

He finally left the bed when he heard his phone ringing. Sabrina woke up in the middle of the commotion, lazily stretching her arms she looked at Elon pacing around the room while he talked to someone. She stood up and covered her naked body with one of Elon’s shirts and then made her way to the bathroom.

When she went out, Elon was waiting for her sitting on the bed.

“Hi gorgeous” he said half smiling.

He stretched his hand urging her to come closer, Sabrina then placed her hands around his neck and gave him a kiss.

“My mother invited us to go have breakfast with her” Elon said “She was excited when I told her you were here”

Sabrina smiled. Maye had always been so kind to her.

“I would love to” she finally said.

“Great” said Elon.

Sabrina took a deep breath looking at Maye’s Mailbu house in front of her. Elon’s presence reassured her but she was still nervous about going inside. After finally getting out of the car they reached the door and Elon opened it.

“Mom we’re here” he said guiding Sabrina inside.

They walked through the house until they found the living room. Sabrina was surprised to find not only Maye but also Kimbal and Tosca, Elon’s siblings.

They all stood up and greeted both of them with the usual joy they always seemed to emanate.

“Honey I’m so glad you’re joining us today” Maye said.

“Thanks, it’s really good to see you” Sabrina said.

Eating breakfast was as mundane as it could be but for the first time in a long time Elon felt completely whole being with his family and with the love of his life. For a second, everything felt simple and not complicated at all.

“So, I’m getting married!” Kimbal said looking at Sabrina.

Sabrina remembered Kimbal’s girlfriend, she and Elon had been on multiple double dates with them. She was outgoing and full of happiness and she really believed Kimbal and her were destined to be together. Sabrina wondered if she and Elon would ever get married, not that it mattered that much.

“I’ve heard! Congratulations!” Sabrina said smiling.

“You’re coming right? Its next week” he said.

“I-“

“I was going to invite you” Elon interrupted “I just forgot to tell you”

“It’s okay” Sabrina said unsure.

“Of course you’re invited” Maye hurried, throwing a reproachful look at his son.

Elon took Sabrina’s hand. “I’m sorry, please be my date?” he said. He seemed truly sorry.

“I’d love to” Sabrina said looking lovingly at Elon.

--------------------------------------

This is kind of short but I’ve had a rough couple of days and I can’t really concentrate on writing :( hopefully tomorrow or Sunday I’ll upload chapter 5, Thanks for reading!!!!

@xjjlex & @ourloveisforthelovely here’s chapter 4 my loves <3

#elon musk #the awakening #elonscult #elon musk fanfic #chapter 4

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ardentmuse · 5 years

Text

Wife her, Winger (Talbott x Reader)

Harry Potter (HPHM) - Talbott Winger x fem!Reader

Summary: When Talbott and Tonks spend extra days in the field tracking some death eaters, Talbott assumes you won’t care much. But seeing just how hard his work has impacted you and heeding some wise words from Tonks may be enough to push your relationship to the next level.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, teeny tiny angst, Talbott being thick, talk of death eaters, and wizard battles

Masterlist

A/N: I’m sorry, Charlie. Forgive me for finding a new boyfriend in your absence.

Blasts of embers fly past Talbott’s head as he finds refuge behind a muggle bus stop. Two weeks he and Tonks have spent tracking down the Bhatti siblings after they abandoned their shop in Knockturn Alley. Of course, the instant they make an appearance has to be in the middle of Piccadilly Circus just as all the clubs are letting out their drunken patrons into the rainy streets. Everywhere, chaos.

“Watch your left!” Tonks shouts as she dives behind a trash can, giving Talbott just enough time to pull his head behind the glass of the bus shelter to avoid red flares from the death eater brothers. The tips of his hair burn maroon, the spell just grazing his mane.

Rowdy patrons of the pubs continue down the streets, one even cheering on the “street performers doing sweet magic tricks!” Talbott takes the distraction as an opportunity to readjust his wand in his grip, settling his fingers into the warn grooves of the wood, ready to strike.

Talbott hears a cheer and then feels the force of a person being slammed into the bus shelter. A scream, followed by the pounding of feet, make it clear that the muggles now know these aren’t two performers just looking to make some tips.

“On my count,” Talbott whispers to Tonks, her hair now a fiery red as the panicked cries of pedestrians grow louder. She nods, pressing a hand against the metal of the bin, preparing to launch herself upward and into danger at Talbott’s command.

A second passes, long and excruciating as another curse flies into the crowds of people. Another second extends as the footsteps of the brothers grow louder, splashing upon the pavement. And a third in which a bus comes blasting around the corner, creating a tidal wave of muck over the sidewalk.

“Now!” Talbott yells, jumping upward with a forceful “Stupefy,” just as the Bhatti brothers are doused and blinded by the murky puddle.

The taller of the two brothers is pushed backwards into the road, stumbling over the curb. Tonks manages to injure the second’s arm. She moves forward to detain him but the bus is about to pull away again. Tonk’s opponent quickly dives under the double decker, cradling his arm as best he can. And by the time Tonks can get to the bus, it drives off and underneath is no trace of a wizard except for a few drops of blood.

Talbott’s combatant, still in the streets, smiles and laughs as Talbott continues his pursuit. He stands taunting in the middle of the street dodging Talbott’s quickly flicked stuns until Talbott is close but then with a quick little wave of his fingers, he disapparates just as a taxi comes a little too close. Talbott is one stride from running into the street but Tonks catches him by the neck of his coat, the cab missing his body by only inches.

Talbott pulls himself from Tonk’s arms and leans once again against the bus shelter, the exhaustion of the past dozen days on the road fully taking their toll.

“We finally find them and we’ve still got nothing,” he says to himself. With a sigh, he throws his head back against the bus shelter with a loud bang. The pain doesn’t register over the frustration.

“Not nothin’.”

Talbott looks up to see Tonk’s hair a pleasant bubblegum once again and in her hands she shakes proudly back and forth a long spindly wand made of yew wood.

For the first time since he had kissed you goodbye all those weeks ago, Talbott smiles.

The sun is coming up just as Tonks and Talbott make their descent into the atrium of the Ministry. Upon seeing his reflection in the glass of the elevator, mud-soaked and completely disheveled, Talbott utters a quiet prestidigitation charm to himself and watchs in satisfaction as he becomes clean again, though the edges of his hair are still burnt.

“Trying to impress someone?” Tonks teases with a little too much eyebrow.

Talbott doesn’t even look at her.

“Y/N won’t be in the office for hours. I just don’t like dirt.”

“Sure,” Tonks inflects, the smile growing larger on her face as she watches Talbott squirm.

After a few moments of silence, Tonks asks, kicking the elevator sides in an act to appear disinterested, “So how long have you two been together now? Seven years?”

“Long enough.”

“And it’s going well? You’re happy?”

Talbott sighs, “Of all the problems in my life, I can assure you Y/N is not one of them.”

Tonks continues on, staring at the ceiling now, “And you think she’s—“

“What are you getting at, Tonks?” Talbott growls at his companion.

Tonks drops her eyes to meet his, meeting the challenge of his intense gaze.

“Wife her, Winger.”

“Excuse me?”

Tonks opens her mouth full, puffing out her cheeks as she emphasizes each word, “Wife. Her.”

Talbott simply huffs and turns away.

“I doubt she’d want that,” he says into the air, loud enough that Tonks could hear it.

“She’s put up with you this long,” Tonks teases but when Talbott’s shoulders stay rigid, she continues in a more soothing voice.

“I was there for your first date, bud. You too dorks are perfect for each other. You put your life on the line every day and you have a woman waiting to see you healthy and home again. You’ve made something beautiful with my girl. Don’t you think this job might be a little more – I don’t know – meaningful, if you knew what you were fighting for?”

“I don’t need to marry the girl to fight for her.”

“True,” Tonks said, realizing her argument wasn’t very sound.

“Besides,” Talbott continued, his cheeks a bit redder for the talk, “She’s not just waiting for me to come back safely. She has her own life. I’m just a blip in it.”

As the elevator doors open into the grand entranceway of the ministry, nearly empty at this time of morning, Tonks and Talbott immediately hear a shrieking coming from the fountain.

“Talbott!” you scream, running the 20 yards and jumping into the arms of your boyfriend. He catches you between his hands, running them down your flanks as you cradle yourself deeper into his neck.

“Merlin, Talbott, I was so, so worried about you,” you breath against his skin.

“I missed you, too,” he agrees, pushing lightly on your shoulders to take in your face. The relief he feels in his heart at having you in his arms once more is immediate. His shoulders loosen, his brain clears of the fog of battle his breath evens, and suddenly everything, every sight and sound and scent, is you.

Talbott presses lightly against your shoulders, pushing you away from his body so he can examine your face. You smile up at him, wetness coating your lips from your tears and the gentle kisses you had been placing upon his collarbone. Your cheeks are streaked with water lines. Your eyes, which were always so bright and brilliant, are dull and the bags underneath them are pronounced from lack of sleep. Your top is slightly wrinkled and your hair needs some attention.

“You haven’t slept,” Talbott says as observation, not question.

You look at the ground for just a moment before meeting his eyes once more.

“Someone in the Department of International Magical Cooperation needs to be here to communicate with Tokyo,” you laugh, but when Talbott raises an eyebrow at you in question, you add, “I couldn’t sleep. I was too worried about you – both of you.”

Tonks nods at the acknowledgement, smiling at you. As you turn your attention back to Talbott, you don’t notice the way your friend nods her head at you and pleads with Talbott with her eyes.

You fall back against Talbott’s chest and whisper to him, “You were supposed to be back two days ago. I heard nothing. You can’t blame me for being worried sick. I’d be lost without you, Talbott.”

As you sink deeper into his arms, he looks down at your head against his shoulder, the curve of your back as you take deep breaths, and the soft nuzzle of your nose as you claim him as yours. And suddenly, just like that, he understands all the lies he’s been telling himself about how casual your relationship is, how little you need each other, and how fine he’d be if you decide you want something else with your life, are just that – lies. He feels the revelation sending chills down his spin.

“Well, I think I’ll be bringing this wand down to Level 2 and see if—“ Tonks cuts herself off, realizing Talbott has no interest in what she’s saying if the way he’s cupping your head with a look of shock in his eyes is any indication. “Yep,” she says as she wanders off down the corridor.

“My girl,” Talbott thinks, his brain finally seeing clearly the precious thing before him – not the woman, you were always precious, but the relationship itself, a level of commitment and shared concern, the intertwining of lives and values and joys that two people could only long to find in one another. “My beautiful bird, my everything. How I’ve longed for you,” he thinks. “My wife,” he tests in his brain, feeling the warmth that spread through his chest at the simple phrase, and especially the permanence of it.

As he thinks the words, your head pops up from his chest to meet his gaze. You rub the tears from your eyes and look at him, pleading.

“Your—your wife?”

Only then does Talbott realize what he did. So often he thinks out loud, so often he sometimes doesn’t even register his lips are moving. His face fills with panic and confusion and, at the sight of it, you completely deflate.

“Oh, okay,” you whisper, pulling yourself out of his arms, “I guess we should get back to work then. I’ll meet you—“

Talbott cuts you off with a bold kiss to the lips. His hands cup your jaw and his fingers brush lightly against your ears. His lips are unyielding in their desire to wipe the doubt from your mind, to show you that while he may not have expected to say the words, he certainly intended their meaning.

His propriety gets the best of him as the chime of the elevator behind alters him to the presence of others. When he pulls away, he doesn’t let go of your face.

“My wife,” he whispers again and lifts his voice to add, “Whenever you want to be. Tomorrow here at the Ministry or ten years from now in the grandest wedding the wizarding community has ever seen, I’ll do it. Just next time I leave for a mission, I want to know you’re here waiting for me.”

You laugh as tears prickle at your eyes.

“I’d be here waiting for you regardless.”

“That’s what I said,” Talbott says to himself. He shakes his head at the revelation of just how perfect you are for him, how much you understand him and just how much can go unspoken. Though at the last thought he feels a tinge of regret. Just because you understand each other so much without words doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to hear them, and often.

“I love you,” Talbott breathes like a prayer against your lips.

“And I you, Mr. Winger.”

At the words, he grabs at your waist tightly, holding you to him.

“But perhaps,” you chide, “You could propose to me more properly? At some point when you haven’t just nearly had your head blown off?” You run your fingers through the edges of his hair, chard bits falling between your knuckles. “I’d like to know you still feel this way after the adrenaline has warn off.”

Talbott meets your eyes and curses himself under his breath when he sees real doubt there. All he can do is nod before taking your hand and kisses the knuckles with the gentlest reverence he can muster.

“I’ll do my best,” he says before taking your hand to lead you back to your office just a few floors below his own. As you curl your fingers around his, gripping tightly as you continue your walk, Talbott’s brain is aflutter with ideas. Should he ask your parents for your hand or is that too old-fashioned? Would he be able take time off, with tensions rising in the war the way they are, for a proper honeymoon? And most importantly, would Tonks want to be his best man or would you snatch her up before he got the chance to ask.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech

#hphm imagine #hogwarts mystery imagine #talbott winger #talbott winger imagine #talbott x reader #talbott x mc #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott winger x mc #talbott winger x reader #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #hp hogwarts mystery imagine #hphm #hp hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #reader insert #x reader

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himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

Could you #75 from the intimacy prompts for Luztoye?

intimacy prompts ( accepting! )

75. talking about each other’s boundaries

“So,” Joe finally says, because it’s been too long without George saying anything at all, and the silence is starting to get painful. “You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on, or do I have to guess?”

“Guess away, Joe,” is all George says. His tone is flat, clipped; he’s still staring out the car window as the dark streets zip by, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m all out of guesses,” Joe counters. His eyes are trained on the road, just so he won’t have to look towards the passenger’s seat. The tension in the car is heavy enough without George’s glower reflected back at him.

Christ, for someone who never gets pissed off...

Even as the thought crosses his mind, though, Joe knows it isn’t true. George... gets annoyed plenty. He gets annoyed with people on a daily basis, and doesn’t keep his mouth shut about it. George’s annoyance is loud, sarcastic, biting, but somehow never cruel. His anger’s different. Maybe it really is that he just doesn’t get angry that much, or he doesn’t show it, but George Luz’s anger seethes underneath his skin. He bites it back, jaw tense and shoulders stiff. He gets quiet, his gaze flickers down and goes dark, and it’s impossible to tell exactly what he’s thinking. That’s a rare thing with Luz. He’s always glad to speak his mind, until he’s got nothing nice to say.

When Joe’s angry, people fucking hear about it. When George is angry, most people don’t even know it.

Unfortunately, Joe isn’t being given that option right now, because George’s fury is leaking out, and there’s nobody for it to spill onto but him.

“If some shit was bothering you that much, you shoulda said something. Then and there. I’d have ended it.”

“Yeah, bet you would’ve.”

“So why the hell didn’t you —“ Joe cuts himself off, forcing his own frustration back. Too harsh. Now now. “Why didn’t you say anything, George? How’m I supposed to know if there was something wrong with the restaurant, or the server, or the goddamn food —“

“Nothing was wrong with the food —“

“So why the hell are you angry?”

George exhales through his teeth and says nothing at all. Joe’s head pounds; he can feel a vein in his temple pulsing.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know something’s bothering you if you don’t tell me?” No, that’s not right — Joe always knows when something’s bothering George, because he can’t help paying attention to him, and knows him too damn well. When something’s bothering George, it’s obvious to anybody close enough to him.

The what is the problem, and that what is a giant fucking wall between them now, building itself higher every minute.

“Was it —“ Fuck. Joe sighs. “Was it me? Did I fuck up somewhere?”

George does a double take. “What — the hell, Joe, no. Wasn’t you.”

“Well, then why don’t you just come out and say it? How the hell am I supposed to —“

“You just said you’d have —“

“But I don’t, so just tell me!”

“Oh, wow, the king of communicating his emotions is ordering me to open up? Holy shit, I better jump on that!”

If Joe’s blood pressure gets any higher, he’s gonna crash the goddamn car. “You know,” he finally says through gritted teeth, “if you didn’t wanna come out with me tonight, you shoulda just said.”

A long moment of silence passes; the only sound is the engine humming steadily beneath them. Finally, George shifts in his seat, turning to look directly at Joe.

“You really think that’s why I’m pissed off right now?”

He doesn’t raise his voice — because George never raises his voice in arguments, just gets smaller and darker and more closed off, until he pulls away completely — but his words cut like a knife anyway. Joe’s fists tighten around the steering wheel. A few seconds is all it takes; then he’s pulling off the road, a succession of terse movements bringing the car to a stop in the parking lot of a closed store. There’s no one around. Above head, the streetlights illuminate rows of empty spaces, spilling out into the night. They couldn’t have found a more private place if they were trying, and Joe’s too pissed off to try anything right now, besides not raising his voice or punching the steering wheel.

When he finally turns, George is glaring back at him. That’s fuckin’ something, at least. He’s admitting he’s mad, instead of brooding about it like a kid who just got grounded.

“I’m listening,” is all Joe says.

George mutters a curse under his breath, shaking his head but not looking away. Even if he wanted to, Joe wouldn’t let him. His leg bounces restlessly, one hand playing with the seatbelt strap like he needs something to do, while the other curls and uncurls in his lap. Another thing about George’s anger — it’s restless.

Finally, he manages to find the words. Rather than the usual Luz verbal burst pipe, these are deliberate, hand-picked from the simmering pot of his fury. “Maybe you’re okay with folks saying whatever the hell they like about you, Joe, but I’m not. I’m not.” His hand balls into a fist and stays that way. He’s not looking into Joe’s face now, but his gaze is like twin laser beams, dark and searing where it bores into Joe’s chest. “I dunno why you didn’t just reel around and punch both those guys in the mouth.”

It takes Joe a minute to connect the dots. The guys wrapping up their meal a few tables away from them, right after the waiter’d brought George a second drink. They were talking loudly — Joe had no interest in overhearing, but he couldn’t help it — and mentioned something about “crips”. Talking about… well, they’d been saying a lot of shit, none of it kind. Talking about disabled veterans right in Joe’s earshot — and for a second, yeah, he imagined what it’d feel like to send the bastards’ teeth flying.

But the moment passed quickly, leaving nothing in the two loudmouths’ wake but a sour taste in Joe’s mouth. Maybe their food didn’t taste as good as it should’ve… but not long after that, George started to shut down, and Joe was more worried about him.

“That’s it?” he can’t help blurting out. Then, at George’s fierce glower: “Wait a minute. They didn’t say shit about you. You got all your limbs.”

“They were talking about you, Joe. Or guys like you.” George’s voice is low and fierce, harder than Joe’s ever heard it. “Thought they were real smartasses. I shoulda been the one who knocked their —“

“Whoa!” That’s not like George at all. Even in his darkest moods, he’s never violent. “The fuck does it matter?”

“Why doesn’t it matter to you?”

Something in his voice is desperate. One look at his face, at the way the white of his eyes are showing, and Joe knows this goes deeper than a few asshole remarks in a restaurant.

With the utmost care, he reaches over, settling his hand atop George’s tense fist. “What does it matter to me,” he says, “what a few fuckers in polo shirts think of my leg? They don’t have respect for the guys who found for their right to drink martinis at fuckin’ golf tournaments, that’s their problem. I’m not gonna pick a fight in the middle of a nice restaurant, on a date with you —“ He gives George’s hand a squeeze. “Cause’a some asshole strangers. They don’t matter to me. This here — right now? This life, my job, you? That’s what matters. It ain’t worth jeopardizing nothing.”

George stares at him. In the dim light, his eyes are darker than Joe’s ever seen them, more intense.

“So you can just… swallow your pride like that?”

“Ain’t like you can’t.” Plenty of people have run their mouths off in front of George before, and he’s just smiled through it. If George didn’t take jackasses with grace, Cobb wouldn't have any teeth left in his mouth.

“But that’s different, Joe! It’s different when it’s me. People wanna say shit about me, fine, see if I give ‘em the time of day. But you…” His fingers twine through Joe’s and tighten, enough to crack the joints and push the bones together. Instead of wincing, Joe squeezes back. “When I hear people say shit about you, I don’t wanna take it. You don’t deserve that.”

“And there’s plenty you don’t deserve, too. Like working long hours at that goddamn office, with Sobel breathing down your neck. You don’t think I don’t wanna punch the guy every time you come home with a new story to tell?” Joe exhales through his nose. “But it’s your fight, Georgie. When you fight it’s up to you. If you need me there, I’ve got your back… but it ain’t your responsibility to fight for anyone else.”

“But—“

“If they’re helpless, sure. Do I look helpless to you?”

Joe crooks a brow. George huffs a laugh, ducking his head as if unwilling to give Joe the satisfaction of it.

“If someone can fight their own battle and decides not to, it’s their choice.”

“And I get it, Joe. Really.” George’s grip has loosened now; he squeezes Joe like a reassurance, not a lifeline, and it’s a relief to see most of the fury drained from his eyes. The last, most important thing Joe knows about George’s anger: it never lasts long. “But you deserve to have someone fight for you.”

“Fight with me. Not for me.” Joe’s free hand comes up, thumb brushing along George’s stubbled jaw. Finally, a hint of a smile —- and with that, the last of the tension balled up in Joe’s chest unravels, falling away.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll always let you take the first punch.”

“Best part of any fight,” Joe says, and George full-on grins at him. Not his usual beam, by any means, but… it’s a start.

“Maybe,” Joe broaches, massaging gently along George’s cheekbone, “we can talk things through more often. Things like this.” It feels like an important conversation to have had, especially because he’s come out of it understanding George a lot better. “I don’t wanna see you get punched defending my damn honor.”

“Nah,” George replies, leaning into his touch. “I'll never let anybody ruin this pretty face for you.”

Joe, who firmly believes broken noses give a face character, still wouldn’t have George’s face any other way. His gentle touch wanders to George’s temple, stroking back the stray hairs there; for a moment, he considers the kind of man it takes to fight for someone else quicker than you’d ever fight for yourself. He already knew he was in love with George Luz… but damn, if he doesn’t like to be proven right.

“Don’t go stoning me again,” he mutters. George’s eyes, chocolate-soft and tender, gleam are him.

“Don’t let me stay pissed for too long, and we’ll call it even.”

#luztoye #george luz #joe toye #my writing #this kinda devolved into me imagining how george and joe are like/how different they are when angry #we see joe angry plenty but we don't really see a pissed off george #even with sobel #even with dike #even with the guy who shoots chuck #he gets annoyed but his anger seems to be a much quieter thing #and george is 200% not the sort of guy who makes a big deal over insults towards him but will go FERAL if its the people he cares about #one of the few things that can make him really angry #joe's got a lot of rage but he's smart about it #Anonymous

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thatsaltybobcat · 4 years

Text

Jealous Type (part 2)

Relationship: Charlie x Alastor

Rating: Explicit (gets very spicy)

D-did you hear something?” Charlie breathed, lifting her head up from resting her forehead against Alastor’s. Fingertips loosening from the soft tufts of his ears as she started to turn her gaze towards the entrance to the kitchen.

Alastor placed his hand against Charlie’s rosy cheek, tilting her chin up so their gazes locked. Captivating her with his fiery gaze as a wave of his fingertips turned up the volume on his staff as a new song faded in. “Nothing besides the music and your heartbeat, my dear.” Alastor chimed, glancing towards the swinging double doors. Sensitive ears picking up Vaggie’s clumsy paces as she raced back down the hall towards the lobby.

“We’re all alone, no chaperone~”

“I just could’ve sworn I heard somONE- mm” Charlie squeaked as Alastor closed his lips against her neck again, nipping raw marks against her porcelain skin. Clawed fingers tracing down her sides in feather-like touches as he reached down between them.

“Can get our number,”

“The world’s in slumber,”

“I can assure you, my darling,” He purred. Seamlessly undoing the button on her slacks. Unraveling her legs from around his thin waist as he peeled the fabric from her thighs and down passed her ankles. Discarding them with a poof of magic, sending them folded neatly against one of the clean work tables. “That we are completely alone.”

“Let’s misbehave~”

Vaggie could barely see through her tears as she stormed through the lobby, nearly running over Nifty- who barely dodge away at the last moment- and sending the mop bucket the small demon had been using spilling all over the hardwood floor. “Oh no!!” The small cyclops shrieked as she ran to grab paper towels from the maid closet, carrying on about manners or something that Vaggie didn’t give a damn about listening to.

“Woah Woah dollface! Where’s the fire?” Angel exclaimed, moving one of his arms to stop Vaggie just in front of the bar. Pausing momentarily to read Vaggie’s face, even though her splotchy face and the tear-stained eye was an easy read. “Oh, marone why the long face? Ya conversation with blondie couldn’t have gone that bad!”

Vaggie visually flinched at the mere mention of Charlie, furiously rubbing her face as she made an attempt to move past the spider demon. “Th-there was n-NO conversation! M-move!” Vaggie hissed, not look up at Angel Dust when he sidestepped to block her path, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“Soooo… if there wasn’t any conversation… what’s with this?” He asked, motioning to her trembling frame and tear-stained features. “Because this makes me think that something did happen.” With one hand on his hip, two more crossed over his chest, awaiting an answer.

“F-fuera de mi camINO- MOVE!” Vaggie yelled, shoving the taller demon forward so he stumbled and struggled to maintain his balance. Ignoring the slew of curses that erupted from Angel Dust as she stormed passed him and out the front doors of the hotel.

“There's something wild about you, child,”

Alastor took a firm grip on Charlie’s bare hips, yanking the demoness down to meet with him, sheathing her around his length with a low grunt of satisfaction. Which only grew into a guttural growl when she let out a surprised gasp against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. The breathy tone shrilling into an airy exclamation of her partner’s name.

“A-Alastor!”

“That's so contagious,”

“Let's be outrageous,”

Lips parted, mouth agape as her hands dug into the fabric of Alastor’s dress shirt, elongating claws tearing through to carves recesses into his skin. Only relishing in the pain, the Radio Demon egged her on with another sharp buck of his hips. “There we are darling, don’t think you need to act ladylike on my behalf.” His antlers started to branch out over his head as another harsh thrust, holding her still as she started to squirm against him, fighting for more friction as her legs tightened around his narrow waist. “I want to hear that beautiful voice of yours scream for me.”

“Let’s misbehave~”

“What’s got her taco all in a twist?” Angel Dust muttered as he folded his arms over his chest, staring at the half-open entrance as he walked back to the bar. “She said they didn’t even have a conversation!” Sitting back down on the barstool with a huff.

“So she’s must’ve seen something that she didn’t like too much..” Husker mumbled passively, using a long claw to pick at a crusted pieces off the inside of a tall glass. Not really caring about the situation unfolding in front of him as he popped open another bottle of booze, pouring Angel Dust a cup before helping himself straight from the bottle. Watching Nifty scamper back into the lobby with towels to mop up the extra water, continuing to grumble to herself.

“Yeah, I s’pose... Wonder what she saw though..” Angel Dust sighed, taking the glass from the countertop and downed it in one gulp. “Had to be… pretty upsetting whatever it was.”

“Yep… Whatever it was… Involved Charlie or something.” Husk continued, popping the cork back on the bottle before putting it back on the shelf like he hadn’t just taken a swig. Going back to playing with one of the dirty glasses.

“And that strawberry pimp… who were alone together before,” Angel included, setting the glass back down before glancing down the hall towards the kitchen. Humming in contemplation as he brought a hand up to scratch his chin in confusion.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, lost in thought as each mulled over what could’ve possibly sent Vaggie heading for the hills? Maybe Charlie didn’t want to talk to her and sent her away… Maybe Alastor said something that upset her… maybe she-

“Sounds like she walked in on the two of them in the middle of having sex..” Nifty interjected, glancing up from her mopping just long enough to watch the two men snap there gazes to her in shock. Nifty only shrugged at the two of them “what else could it have been?” And went back to her mopping, leaving the other demons in stunned silence.

…

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

“When Adam won Eve's hand, He wouldn't stand for teasin',”

“A-Alastor! D-don’t stoP-” Charlie cried, arching her back against the cool metal backsplash of the kitchen, each rhythmic thrust pushed her higher up the wall. Only to have her lover yank her back down with a harsh tug from his grip on her hips, keeping her body flush to his and holding on tight with every feverish grind. Fireworks fizzled up her spine and exploded in the back of her head every time Alastor managed to graze against a spot deep within her, sending all her senses spinning.

Gripping onto his tattered shirt like her only lifeline. The only coherent thought that she had was his name, and even then it came out in breathless gasps and slurred utterances. Pleasure clouding her mind as all she was able to focus on was sweet release, burying the bridge of her nose into the crook of his neck, gasping out a desperate plea for him to finish within her.

“He didn't care about”

“Those apples out of season!”

There were very few things that got to Alastor, he always managed to keep his composure in even the most hectic occasions. And he always prided himself in that. Yet, here he was, upon hearing her request in such a desperate and needy tone. The feeling of her body writing against his, begging to finish Her hands, the way her nails scratched at his skin, the sheer want and desire that seeped from every inch of her body. It was enough to make even the most stoic man unravel, and the Radio Demon was no exception. Lurching forward and holding the demoness as close as he could, he felt his entire being shudder from his release. Each spasm earning a low hiss to slip past his fangs.

“They say the Spring,”

“Means just one thing to little lovebirds;”

Charlie couldn’t hold back the cry that past her lips, letting it fade into Alastors breath as she rode out her own release. Keeping her face hidden against his neck as she tried to steady her breathing, only ragged gasps blustering out as she felt his warmth release deep within her core. All she could do was cling to him, arms tight around his chest as her body started to finally settle.

“We're not above birds,”

“Let’s Misbehave~”

#im not sorry #charlastor #chalastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie hazbin hotel #salty stories

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spnsmile · 4 years

Text

15x11 (The Gamblers) "I gotta call Cas...✨

Coda💔

Dean didn't know what’s worse—seeing Sam get slowly defeated in a game of winner takes all, or find himself on the sideline being unable to do anything to help his brother.

So brooding and silent, he watched as the game folds in and out of their favor.

The length of the game makes him want to puke. Make his heart drum nervously every time Sam makes a miss.

Cas.

He tried calling Cas earlier only to get a voicemail. Didn't help his nerves. He wants to call Cas again now that the main antagonist happened to be another immortal goddess who's out to get their limbs in pieces.

If Cas were here... He'd feel a lot safer.

Sam misses. Dean hisses and tries not to look away. Sam needs his support. The game goes on. It's now when his heart won’t stop its erratic beats preparing for the worse. All he can do nows is silently pray to the angel to guide his brother.

Pure longing smacks Dean in the face.

Then Sam wins.

Dean shakes his fist in the air, nearly solemnly praying to Castiel to listen out of happiness.

Then the bait comes—

“Another game, double or nothing.” She offers. Dean grunts. Of course, she would. She knows how bad Sam wants to save everyone else. Dean actually knows Sam would ask for another game anyway. His brother is too stubborn to let these people die. So when Sam says, “Yeah, deal,” Dean could only look away, trepidation in his chest.

Luck once. Risk it twice.

Call Cas.

The urge to call Cas wraps in Dean's mind that his hand slips at the back of his pocket where he keeps his phone.

Sam plays, but instinct told Dean only a miracle would help them. Deep inside he knows they would lose. That fighting gods and goddesses were like buying nukes and putting them in his pockets.

He wants to tell Cas what’s going on, wants to get him speeding here right now, the game is serious and for all Dean knows, they could actually be trapped here while the gingerbread goddess drains them of their lives.It didn’t last long and the shoe drops. Dean closes his eyes and shakea his head in defeat.

Too bad…. too bad.

“You challenged the Goddess of Luck in her own joint, what did you think was gonna happen?”

Dean leaves Sam talking to Evie on the counter. Told them he needed to have a moment to himself.He found a private corner by the fireside, away from everyone else, where no one can hear him.

It takes a moment of silence. A lot of inhales and ragged breathing. Then he bows his head, swallowing the bitter pill with expression still hard.

He opts to pray to Castiel, but then, all things considered, Cas might just blast the door, come here, play his luck (which is no better than Dean's) and may even end up trapped here as well.

Chances are high of Cas making another deal-breaker like with Billie.

Dean can’t have that. He licks his dried lips and look down his hands, the lump in the middle of his throat not disappearing.

Then it dawns on him.

It’s a dead end.

What then? Die like they don't exist? Would Chuck bring them back? Toy with them again or maybe he'll keep them buried deep enough?

Frankly, Dean didn’t wanna. Won’t give Chuck the satisfaction of owing him anything. They’ve called it quits.

Dean takes his phone out, sighing heavily as he dials Cas’ number.

It doesn’t surprise him when all he got is a voicemail again. He stares at his phone dumbly, wondering why he couldn’t get anything else in his mind like he’s a tower with no hope for reception, lost amidst the woods, searching for a way out.

Then it hits him. He won’t be able to say goodbye . Won't be able to see Cas again.

The thought somewhat scared Dean. It didn't make sense. Dying amd separation had been his and Cas' symphony ever since they met each other.

What makes separation now any different?

Hands shaking a little, Dean grips the phone tight and dials again. He doesn’t know how to talk to Cas, honestly doesn’t know what to say.

He gotta reach Cas.

Tell him how he’d been stupid enough to let Sam play against the Goddess of Luck that ultimately led to their death.

Listen to Cas call him stupid again and again, no matter how many times…. Because that’s just it, they don’t have time .

Dean knows Cas would do anything for them. He wants to let Cas, but at the same time no. This is Lady Luck. He won’t take that chance again, he won't let Cas pay for this prize.

The voice mail sounds.

“Hey… Cas.” he begins, his voice unexpectedly calm. “Listen uh, I know you’re busy… probably still in heaven… but I, I just gotta tell you we uh… we…” he inhales, profound grief growing in his chest, guilt clawing his insides, “Uh… you uh… remember what we used to say we gotta do stuff with…our lives on the line? Well… me and Sam just pulled out another Kirk Douglas thing… Remember Lonely are the Brave ?”

Dean hesitates, Castiel’s face of pure confusion making him smile a little when he hears this.

“Uh…okay, bad news pal... But you gotta promise me you’ll listen carefully to me, okay? Before you do anything... don’t go Han Solo on me and just… just listen, Cas…”

Palpable silence.

“We’re gonna die, Cas.” he croaks.

A beat of silence.

Dean turns and clears his throat. He hides his eyes on his left palm, glad that shadows kept him from prying eyes.

Just too much nerves for a day. Too much to think about. Too much to say and relay to his best friend.

Too much to say goodbye. Saying goodbye to Cas... Leaving Cas alone, Dean blinks upwards before everything hits him in the core.

How Cas will be alone.

“Sorry to leave you hanging, Cas,” he chuckles, trying his best to sound everything’s okay meanwhile his insides burning guiltily, “Shouldn't have risked so much in a game. I’m still processing... But uh... We gambled and the stakes, you know we don't do things halfway so... you can imagine. Yeah, it’s bad. Things went sideways… really bad, and we…” he swallows hard, “We lost. Lives for a coin, winner takes all."

He wants to tell Cas he’s okay, wants to assure his friend things are good.

But there’s too much lie there and Castiel would only be hurt further.

"Cas, we're good. Sam's fine. I'm fine for now. But I'm more worried about you that's why I called... Wanted to make sure there's even closure here... coz I don't really think we'll see each other again." he smiles a little, "You know all those times Sam and I died? Always thought luck was on our side. This time we got unlucky, and Chuck's not really on board of the whole... Snap fingers, you live thing. It's done. I think this time it's gonna kick... And i better do my bit here propeely coz... Coz I'm really gonna miss you, Cas. And... fuck, I'm worried for you."

He thinks of Cas receiving this, thinks of his best friend’s grieving expression, the same face he’s seen at lost when Jack died.

Dean suddenly lets out a tiny whimper. He remembers Jack. Remembers how Cas already suffered losing a loved one. Losing the Winchesters would destroy him.

Dean opens his eyes again. He can’t have that. Can’t have Cas broken again.

Dean knows how painful it is to be left behind. Oh damn, he wants to see Cas...

“Cas, no matter what happens, you promise me you will live, okay? That you won’t do anything to endanger your life. I don’t want you to do anything about this. I think this is in one of Billie's black notes. Me and Sam dying together averta any chances of Chick winning. So we will be gone, but you… you gotta live. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe Chuck will leave this world alone now that we’re finally gone. Make him move on to other universes to entertain himself. Maybe you get to live a peaceful life now, Cas…”

At least he won’t have nightmares about Cas dying anymore. Stop all the heartbreaks.

The pain is real. The remorse is real. But above all, regret for not being able to stay with the angel a little bit longer.

There's a gap in his heart that will never be filled. An empty space only for the angel.

“Cas, please… you… you gotta promise me you will move on. That’s what you do, right? Move on. Go find another charge, go save another life… Me and Sam are gonna be with mum and dad so… move on, Cas… and help as many people as you can. Go have a new start, buddy. Forget us… forget about how we messed up. You gotta live for the world…so move on… forget us. Save more lives…”

How stupid, Dean.

Dean shuts his eyes, the familiar voice in his head sending fire all over his being. He tries to brace himself once more, brings his cold hands to hos face and sighs deeply.

It ain't about him.

“It’s just too bad I can’t see you again. Sorry to drop the world on your shoulder, man… I want you to be happy, Cas… I want you to deserve living a happy life… I…”

He thinks of Castiel only. A world where Cas can do miracles and make people happy. Just like how he’s been with Dean. How he changed Dean’s life forever.

This time he's giving Cas to the world.

He bows his head, tears streaming down incessantly. There's not enough words to say it to Cas. Not enough time to make anything out of it so Dean chokes silently on his palms and gives a muffled—

“I’m gonna miss you, Cas… thank you for being my angel. Thank you for not leaving my side when everyone else did. You put up with me… and I was… I was a mean jerk who didn’t deserve you. Cas, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if I didn’t meet you. Maybe just another hunter out for blood with no life to give. Maybe just another brother to Sam constantly failing to understand… maybe, just maybe, just another fucked up human with nothing. I got nothing Cas, before you found me. So I gotta thank you for that. And I’m sorry for everything I cost you. Your family, your wings, your grace… Thank you for being there even when I was being mean to you, or push you away. You gave yourself to me, Cas... You were mine from the start… and you know I’m yours too… I…"

I love you….

Dean shuts his eyes. He cannot be that selfish now.

“Cas I…”

I love you…

Dean chokes. They never got what they deserved.

“Thank you.”

Tears streaming down his eyes, Dean shakes his head.

“ Goodbye, Cas.”

He pulls the phone down and curls his knees up to his chest and hisses and gulps back at his heavy heart.

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

Keep reading (6k 👀)

Oh the purgatory prayer can't be the only one ✨🥺 trimmed down, still long, aye 🥺

#castiel and dean need to talk #dean winchester feeling bad about feeling bad #dean avoids cas #cas is not having it #destiel rocks #castiel paves way #supernatural #spn #spn15x11 #coda #ao3 #ao3 preview #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #drabble #ficlet destiel #destiel ficlet

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j-deny · 4 years

Text

Bury me in the backyard

Age: NC-17

Focus: femslash

Peering: Malachite/Opal; Malachite/Sugilite and other

Bury me in the backyard

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter I

At the warehouse, next to the cargo port, which is located near the small city of Edison, founded somewhere in the middle of the nineteenth century, in Alabama, it was quiet and only the sound of the surf and the cry of gulls flying over the surface of the water rang out in the district. In addition, various cargo ships, from petrochemical products to construction materials, visited here at the port every two weeks thereafter. The structure itself had four berths and had about four hundred meters, which was quite acceptable for a small harbor. Judging by the appearance of the structure, it was built somewhere in the 60s and 70s, consisting mainly of coniferous wood. On a flat roof was a billboard about eight meters high rushing into the sea. “Welcome to Edison,” read a slightly worn inscription made on the billboard in the 90s, which depicted green hills and on one of them was a happy married couple waving, as if inviting visitors to visit this city.

And behind this shield stood a female figure in dark jeans and a black leather jacket, on the face was an arafatka hiding her face of the troublemaker. In her right hand, she shook a black spray can of paint, slightly shaking it. Approaching closer to the place of her future “Masterpiece”, she looked around cautiously so that an outsider could not detect her for the crime. Another moment, and she started her own business by spraying spray paint.

* * *

Having finished working on a new creation, she gently stepped aside to contemplate her art.

On the back of the shield, which was given away by antiquity, a woman was depicted in years. Marygold Diamond, in this city she was a well-known businesswoman and CEO of one of the subsidiaries of Homeworld Inc., which indicated her solvency. The street arter was pretty good at completely depicting the woman's facial features: a triangular-shaped face with a pointed chin, puffy lips, wrinkled cheekbones, hollow cheeks, blonde hair under a bob-car. Only the iris was unnaturally yellow and slightly tinted eyelids. The image itself smiled maliciously, holding two large bags with the dollar emblem with both hands.

After examining her next work, her lip corners rose slightly, feeling satisfaction from the work done.

“If art is a crime, then ... the girl, not having time to finish her thought like that, only the police siren rang out - Shit! - the girl cursed, bending down at lightning speed, hoping that the policeman did not notice her. She began to think how to quickly get out of the roof and hide from pursuit. After a little thought, she quickly drew up an escape plan - for a start you need to get inside the storage rooms, exit through the back door, and try to hide in the Red Rocket diner located three hundred meters from the warehouse. Deciding that she would do so, the girl crawled to the roof window, she lifted the hatch and dived into the darkness of the warehouse.

Gently landing on one of the drawers and trying not to attract attention, she carefully began to get close to the open door of the back door, which is the only source of lighting. The complex itself was poorly lit, due to the fact that the light source was in another room, so I had to navigate in the dark. Canned food products brought from different parts of the world were stored in this room, as evidenced by hundreds of cans placed in wooden boxes.

The girl cautiously, walking on the concrete floor, was getting close to the exit, so as not to inadvertently make a noise and not to draw anyone's attention. But, as if the plan was not perfect, she still touched her shed with an empty tin can lying around, as if someone had specially put it here. In the room there was the sound of a bounced tin can, to which the girl squeezed her jaw from her first failure. Suddenly, the door in the right wall opened and from there appeared a strong figure with a flashlight in his left hand and a wooden club in his right hand.

- Who is there?! - a woman's voice came upon hearing that there was someone else in this warehouse. Turning on the flashlight, she shone a source of noise to the side and started slightly, seeing a familiar girl with short ashy hair, dark clothes and about ninety-two meters tall, which was not typical for the girl. The woman turned on the light in the room, which was to her left, allowing her to see the troublemaker and quickly grabbing her by the right forearm. In the light, the walls were painted burgundy, despite the fact that it had not been repainted for forty years.

“Thats right,” a woman of about thirty-six strong physique and dark skin with curly black hair, which was a worker and part-time warehouse guard, rapped out - but this is our Mel. Well, what have we forgotten here this time? - asked the woman, looking into her expressive green eyes, which in the region of the eyelids, temples of the nose and upper cheekbones was covered with a horizontal light brown stripe. She still did not let go of her hand, but rather, gripping her forearm painfully.

"Aw!" Mel cried out a little from the pain of a strong hand "Debra (Bismuth), let go, it hurts!"

The woman let go and opened her brush, waiting for her to begin to compose new excuses.

"Again from cops you run a trifle? Didn’t your mother tell you what actions should be answered?" said the woman. "So what did you do this time?" She asked Mel peering into her eyes.

"Uhh... Nothing like that" Mel tried to make excuses to the watchman "Just passed by".

“I’ve heard your song a hundred times, so tell me better.” - she pressed on the girl, not believing her brief statement, which indicated that this was not the first time.

“Well ...” the girl began to pull, realizing that she won’t be able to get out in front of her - she developed her creative skills - this is the only thing she answered.

“Let me guess, you painted that billboard again?”

Mel merely squinted at this question, droplets of sweat ran from her forehead. The woman, not having time to continue, was knocked on the door loudly. A rude masculine voice came after her.

"Well, get out of there lively! I know that you are there!" without a doubt, that it was a cop and obviously he was chasing Mel.

The woman, with a sigh, continued:

“Well, I'll cover you,” she decided to have mercy on the girl, “but remember, this is the last time.”

The girl breathed a sigh of relief with these words. Having wiped sweat from her forehead, she replied:

“Thank you, Debra, for me to do without you,” the girl smiled benevolently.

The knocking on the door was not going to stop, the cop was clearly angry that the criminal was not going to give up just like that.

“If you don’t open, then I’ll call Debra right away and she’ll come here with the keys!” - threatened her, thus, the officer, hoping that this would work.

The woman turned toward the door from which she had left.

“Then I’ll go, or they’ll call me now,” she grinned, “and so that you won’t be here in five minutes,” the woman said, leaving for her back room, supposedly for the keys.

Without wasting time, Mel ran outside through the back entrance straight to freedom.

* * *

Running out, she began to run away from this place. Cleverly having jumped over a mesh metal fence, she ran down the hill almost falling. She continued to run around the wreckage of the damp wooden buildings that had once been moorings at the time the city was founded, until mankind learned to build reinforced concrete buildings. The beach itself was rather not very pleasant in appearance - wet, sticky sand; on small rocks of various bizarre forms were covered with mud and algae, which she miraculously managed not to slip; and even in some places there were fragments of old boats that were broken on the rocks.

Thanks to her skills, parkour and high endurance did not allow her to fall into cold water and not crash to death on underwater rocks. Cleverly jumping over the rocks, she jumped onto the wall, grabbing her fingers at the deep crevices, she began to climb up.

Climbing higher and higher, her muscles sounded a little pain, and yet she overcame only five meters; the fingers of the phalanx of her fingers were scratched and worn, but it was impossible to stop for a break if she did not want to be like a cake, breaking into the water.

From her last efforts, she climbed up, clutching the dirty earth, pulling herself forward. As soon as her legs rested on the ground, she got up and began to go around the building in red and white.

Going around a small building, in front of her was a huge neon sign giving a pink tint. "Red rocket" read a neon sign, on the roof was a red rocket itself, horizontally mounted on a metal pole. Climbing up the gray steps, Mel opened a dark glass door and went inside to the sound of a bell, notifying that a new visitor had arrived.

Inside, I wound up on the nostalgic shade of the 80s: chess tiles, white stucco, red double seats, red chandelier with energy-saving light bulbs, metal bar stools with a leather seat. Old music was playing in a long room, the air smelled fresher of brewed coffee and smoke of nicotine. Five people sat in the institution: a man sitting in the far corner, taking a drag on his cigarette and four girls discussing something and periodically laughed about something.

Going to the bar, she sat down in a chair, waiting for the owner of the institution, who worked at the bar. A dense man with blond hair and a well-groomed mustache of about forty-four years old in a white shirt and red apron stepped out of the corner. Mel gave him twenty dollars for a bottle of water. Now, she should take a breath and hope that that cop would not guess to come here. Taking your smartphone brand Highway, which was assembled in another two thousand and fifteen, and even then bought a year ago with it. Having pressed the icon with the telephone receiver on the touch screen, she began to drive in the Opal number.

* * *

The Centaur is a sports academy located somewhere in the western part of Edison. This educational institution was built back in the two thousand and seventh year in the style of postmodernism, painted in white paint reinforced concrete. It was there that Opal studied - a tall girl with the appearance of almost some kind of goddess from the mythologies of ancient Rome or Greece, as many people thought: Lush long blonde hair tied in a tail and two braids, pointed slightly long nose and blue eyes, similar a clear, clear sky, which you can peer into them for at least an eternity; accompanied by puffy lips. Oh yes, Opal can never be called scary, for her nineteen years old, she looked good.

Having fallen from the bow to the very center of the target from ten meters, Opal looked at the watch on her wrist and was horrified when she remembered that she was late for her workout at the gym. Throwing a bow behind her back, the girl hurried from the spacious shooting range to the academy building, stepping along the smooth masonry. Already in the locker room, located on the ground floor of the academy, she hid her bow in a locker and hastened again to the gym for training.

* * *

After finishing her daily workout, with a little fatigue in her body, she returned to the dressing room, trimmed in white tiles with red stripes and red steel cabinets. Opening her drawer, she noticed that there were already four missed calls on her smartphone, both from Mel.

"Oh no," Opal thought, quickly unlocking the screen and starting to call her childhood friend, and seems worried?

* * *

Sitting near the window in a red leather seat, Mala tapped her fingernails on a clean table, waiting for her friend to finally answer her missed calls. Suddenly, her phone vibrated, and there was a familiar number. Taking the phone in her hand, she accepted the call and brought it to her ear.

"Yes?"

"Hello, Mala, did you call?" a voice was heard from the speaker

"Yeah, listen, won't you drop me in the city center?"

"Well, what do you say, then will you wait for me?"

"No question girlfriend, I'm waiting for you" she said, ending the call and putting the phone in her pocket

Looking out the window, she was a little tense, afraid that the cop in the warehouse might find her. She recognized him by her voice, it was Officer Kenneth, a man of about thirty-four, a long-time servant of the law and, as you can understand, was always involved in the administrative affairs of Mel, because of her artwork, if we add resistance to arrest and hooliganism; but if he wants to, he can find her and, as always, inform her mother, and already she will not be good after that.

If we take into account the mother and Kenneth, then my mother will be much worse in this than a police officer.

* * *

After some time, she noticed the approaching old blue Mitsubishi of the two thousand and two. Getting up from the couch and taking her backpack, she hurriedly left the establishment and went out into the air and approached a stopping car. As soon as the car stopped, she pulled the handle and, opening the door, she sat in the front seat.

"Hello" she greeted Opal.

"So where do you go?"

"To the center" she answered, taking a little sigh. As far as she knew, Opal had a small problem with short-term memory, because of which she could forget some moments from the conversation or the text she had read.

"Good," Opal answered, pressing a foot on the gas pedal, driving away from the diner. "How are you? We have not seen each other for a long time."

"Everything’s normal baby" Mala answered looking at Opal, which was about one and a half heads below her somewhere " Are you anyway?"

"Not bad enough, just worried about the future competition" the archer kept up the conversation while looking at the road "By the way, what did you forget in the center?"

"Yes, I’m hanging out with the company and going on foot to the house" she said with a little smile.

"That's how, you are only more careful on the streets, lately it’s restless in the city," she warned her friend.

"Don’t worry" the hooligan answered her friend.

They were already approaching the city, on one of the banners was one of Mel's creations - on the painted banner was a little girl in a red dress, who was watering a seedling of a growing tree, behind her stood three men holding chainsaws. The lumberjacks themselves were painted by rather awkward freaks: thick, in some places there were sawdust of trees, and with huge thick faces. And only a little girl was depicted more humane in the standards of anatomy ...

An archer looked into the windshield noticing the creation of a hooligan.

"Great?" She asked her friend, hoping to get an estimate.

"Wow, a beautiful selection of colors and composition is built in the correct order, beauty" she appreciated her creation. According to the memory of Mala, she always reacted so much to the pictures of the girl, like a mother, evaluating the drawings of her baby.

"Well... But what about your personal life?"

"In general... Not bad" then she lied a little, because in her life almost nothing changed: school, home, graffiti, fun, preparation for exams. And even then her mother treats her as a roommate, not a daughter.

"You always say that..."" Opal sighed.

"But that's true baby" she closed her eyes.

"Opal has no choice but to remain silent about it."

"Well-oooh ... What are you planning?"

"What are you talking about?" She asked, opening her eyes to look at the girl.

"I mean, how are you going to live on after graduation?"

Mel was thoughtful. She had not previously thought what she would do in the future, after graduation, since now colleges rip off a lot of money. This is not necessary to think about. But now, education does not cost a little money, even a local college in Edison costs about twelve thousand a year, and at the same time it is available to people of a more or less affluent class, let alone the rest. What can we say about Mel, then she would not have the strength to go to school in another educational institution, because she already had enough of the time and energy spent in school, if you can call her that...

“I don’t even know...” the girl answered only, looking slightly at the profile with the long nose of her friend.

“You know, at our place of work, a file cabinet guard is required, payment is given every week, maybe... Do you get there?”

The proposal itself was even very tempting, but Mel was not particularly eager to be like her mother, to end as a security guard.

"I already earn extra money." in reality, she wanted to say: “Why would I succumb to the path of my mother?”

"But this is not a stable income."

“Everything suits me anyway,” she ignored her argument.

“As you want, you have to decide how to live,” she said a basic philosophical thought.

The car was already approaching closer to the center. The closer they were to the center, the more there were onlookers in the circle and, along with this, steel boxes on wheels. On the sides of the windows of the car, one could see quite a lot of all sorts of multi-story anthills, catering establishments, and those that perform the function of satisfying basic human needs. A layered cloud hung over the sky, from which a huge dark blanket made of water vapor and the only light in this city was only electricity from the windows of houses, car headlights and billboards and signboards. In order to defuse a quiet environment, Mel asked:

"How are your mothers doing?"

“You know, it's funny that you asked this, because I went to them yesterday.”

"And?" Mel slightly raised her left eyebrow, looking at Opal.

“They are doing fine,” the blonde replied, “True, they miss me... Yes, I really miss them.” Opal’s voice was somehow sad, because you don’t always live in a nest with loving mothers, and sooner or later you should start to live alone "You know, sometimes I’m often lonely... And all is missing someone nearby..."

Mel only said nothing to Opal. It sounded even sad. She could even understand her, although she did not have many friends (but she was cool, Mel thought), but even this was not enough for her to not feel like anyone in this vast world.

And now, closer to the city center, the car stopped at the side of the road, next to a small institution of white brick, with large windows where small lights shone inside, giving off yellow light, like stars in the dark sky. Having unfastened the belt, Mel is ready to get out of the car.

“Well, thank you,” Mel said, taking her bag and pulling the door handle

"Pick you up later?"

"Not worth it, I’ll walk on my own."

“Well, good luck then, contact me when necessary,” Opal replied, getting ready to leave.

“Of course,” she replied, leaving the car carefully, closing the door behind herself.

Bypassing the transport from behind, the car was already starting to leave. In front of her was another cafe with a silver rectangular sign, on top of which was an inscription from blue neon “Fresh”. Throwing her backpack behind her, Mel strode to the glass door.

_____________________________________

Well, here is the first thing I posted on the tumblr. I hope you enjoyed the chapter on this fan fiction. If you find errors in the text, I will be grateful and will work on it (since I am from Russia and can hardly know English)

But at the same time, I consider this my best work.

So, I expect adequate criticism

#steven universe #su #humanization #humanized #human au #au #su au #Malachite #Opal #Bismuth #Yellow Diamond #fiction #J-Deny

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glamrockmonarch · 5 years

Text

A Visit - Requested ~ 70′s!Brian

Warnings: Uh, yeah, it’s about sex. Like there is a plot, but...full disclosure? it’s all just a very elaborate excuse to write smut.

A/N: I honestly have been thinking about this since the moment I got your request, anon...you are an evil genius.

Brian looks up from the notebook he is holding, Roger sticks his head inside the guitarist’s room with a grin on his face. The drummer’s eyes give away his excitement, but there is also a hint of smugness on the way his round jaw moves when he smiled at his friend from across the room.

“Writing a hit there, Brian?”

Roger pushes the door open in its entirety and walks inside, he leaves the door open and looks around in his friend’s room. Everything seems organized, Brian has not taken anything out of his suitcase and it doesn’t look like he will ever make himself at home here.

“At least I am trying to.” Brian tilts his head to the side, his voice sounds like a soft reprimand to Roger.

Sometimes Brian’s tone resembled his father’s too much, but to the boys in the band, it was the voice of reason speaking to them.

“Well...I think you’d like to come outside of this…” Roger motions around, “luxury room,” he smirks with satisfaction at his own choice of words, “and play a game of pool.”

The guitarist promises to come to play once he is done writing his song. With the guitar in his lap and his notebook in hands, he keeps on figuring out the lyrics while Roger leaves his room.

“Close it please, Rog!” He calls out without looking up from his complicated handwriting.

Roger complied and left with a sigh, he knew Brian would regret not coming to the living room with him, but he cannot do anything about it once he is standing in the hallway within everyone’s field of view.

“He said he is working a song,” Roger explains, his eyes scan his bandmates.

John’s arm is wrapped around his girlfriend, Freddie is sitting down with Mary and the two have a drink while they chat. Roger’s current girlfriend is reading a couple pool cues across the room in front of you as you set the wooden triangle in the middle of the pool table to set the balls in their right place.

“What?!” You yell at Roger over the sound of a Led Zeppelin record playing. “Are you joking?”

Roger shakes his head and shrugs going to his girlfriend and wrapping his arm around her waist. The girl giggles when the drummer squeezes her with his fingers, the two already turning to smooch. With a bitter smile you turn to John and his girlfriend, suddenly coming for a visit seems like a horrible idea. Convinced by Mary, now you regret coming.

It is Roger the one who senses your negativity and passes you a cue from his girlfriend’s hand, nodding towards the balls.

“You start.”

Although you feel like going into hiding for the rest of the night and only reappear the next morning to jump on the van and go back home, you find the will take the cue from the drummer’s hands and play.

You pass the time like this, playing with the guys, Mary and Veronica decline the invitation to take part, so you set your whiskey on the edge of the table to play while Mary has her arms wrapped around Freddie’s waist.

The night goes on, between pauses to change the record and small dance sessions among yourselves, you smoke and drink the night away until it comes down to only you and Roger still leaning on the pool table to hit the white ball in hopes you are aiming well enough to get at least one of the other balls into the hole.

John and Veronica are gone by now, and you can tell that your friends are eager to go to their rooms in the company of their girlfriends. With a tired smile, you walk to the record player and stop it from spinning anymore.

“Just go, I’ll knock on Brian’s door.”

You forget the fact that you do not even know which door is your boyfriend’s, but you convince them all of going to their rooms.

When you’re alone you pour yourself another glass of whiskey and lean back on the edge of the green pool table.

Brian was the kind of guy to be focused on things until he finishes a task; this is the reason why you are always so amazed at the fact that he put his studies on hold to pursue a career in rock. One of the things that have always caught your eye was Brian’s commitment to things; so you could not blame him for staying in his room and finishing writing a song…

With a sigh, you put the glass down next to you and fold your arms over your chest. Where the hell are you gonna sleep? You chuckle to yourself as you give it a thought. Well, maybe the couch would not be too bad. In the beginning, you wished to sleep next to Brian, and the failed night now stared back at your through a window, you feel mocked by the silence of the farm. In your head you can hear the faint sounds of the city, somewhere someone would have their television on, maybe a record would play in a flat near yours. There is always a lost drunk out there trying to make it home without tripping on their four pairs of legs thanks to a bad case of double vision.

You reach behind your back and your hand finds an object forgotten by someone, you imagine this little instant camera belongs to Roger, who left a while ago with his girlfriend in a rush to be alone.

“Y/N?” You hear the unmistakable sound of your boyfriend’s voice and look up at him with the camera in your hands. “What are you doing here?”

Brian is standing in front of you in a pair of jeans and a white shirt. You stand upright and put the camera next to you.

“I thought you would like to see me,” you shrug and brace yourself without feeling cold.

Thinking you would get to spend more time with him, you decided in the morning that you would wear something comfortable, you out on your short pinny dress over a shirt with long sleeves.

“I feel kinda stupid now…” You add, looking back at the camera to examine it. “Sometimes I forget that the band is your job.”

Brian shakes his head and walks to you without rushing, he brings his hands to your face and cups your face, smiling he makes you look up at him and kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed in the last second you feel a wave of excitement run through your body.

“How long have you been here?” He wonders.

“All night!” You chuckle, brow arched in frustration as you explain, “Roger went up there to get you but he came back and said you were working on a song.”

Brian nods and presses his forehead against yours. You put your hands on his stomach over the small shirt he is wearing and breathe in the scent of his cologne combined with cigarettes and wood. He sighs and shakes his head.

“I didn’t know you were here…”

You give his chest a pat and put your hands on either side of his face, making him shut up.

“I want to listen to your song before leaving tomorrow.” You say. “We’re leaving after breakfast.”

“We?” Brian looks lost, “Who else came?”

You tell him that pretty much every one of his bandmates must have gotten in on that night and watch his ears turn a bright shade of pink. With a giggle, you kiss his chin and tilt your head back to look up at him.

“Now I feel stupid.” He admits. “Why didn’t you just come to get me?”

Already tired of giving Brian explanations, you dig into his hair and tangle your fingers with his unruly curls.

Brian grunts and closes his eyes, he lets you kiss his jaw and neck and soon he forgets he even asked you a question when he dips his head to capture your lips in a wet needy kiss. God, the band has been away working on their next album for ages! You can feel yourself growing more and more aroused by the second. For him it is quite similar, Brian does not want to push you further but he craves for your touch, his fingers feel sore from the time you’ve been out of reach for them.

You moan into Brian’s lips and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his middle you feel his hard-on press against your belly. Gasping, Brian pulls you closer by the hips. Unable to resist, you bite on his lips and pull apart.

“I can’t make it to the room.” He confesses, teasing your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin. “Do you mind if we…?”

Before Brian says another word you shake your head and put your hands on the edge of the table, you prop yourself up to sit there. With a grin you pull at his arms, so he comes closer, standing in between your legs.

Cupping your face with a single hand he crashes his lips on yours, decided on having you now. You respond to his kiss and let his tongue into your mouth, his hands travel down your waist and Brian’s hands slide on your legs, touching you under the skirt of your dress, caressing your thighs, aiming for your knickers he pulls them aside not without noticing your rapid heartbeat against his chest. He moans at how wet you are, and you have nothing to say when his lips leave yours. You want him so bad, you don’t mind doing it right then and there.

He slides his fingers over your folds and starts rubbing his thumb across your clit, you let your head fall on his shoulder and open your eyes to see his hand working your sensitive spot. You press a kiss on his neck and slide your hand down and palm his cock, hard under your touch. He lets out a heavy breath. You are sure you just want him to fuck you now and don’t even mind that it will be a bit of quickie.

“I need you. Now.” You announce, your fingers lingering on his bottom lip as your eyes stare of up at him.

Brian blinks a few times but hears you. He pulls your underwear off of you and forgets about it once it hangs with danger from your ankle. You pull his pants down along with his boxers and give his cock a couple of pumps watching your boyfriend’s mouth fall slightly open as he moans in pleasure. Brian takes matters into his own hands - quite literally -, he holds your wrists and pulls your hands away, instead, he puts his own hard cock against your entrance and pushes your shirt up. You wrap your legs around him and pull his face closer to you as he enters you slowly, both of you stare into each other’s eyes in the meantime. You push his hair away from his face and kissed him for a second before he started moving out of you, although he has given you little time to adjust you let him and roll your hips against his with loud moans escaping your mouth. You need to hold on to something when he picks up a pace and fucks you relentlessly, thrusting into you, holding your hips as he does. You are perched upon his shoulders, losing yourself in Brian, rapidly nearing your climax.

Brian’s moves become sloppy and you feel him twitch inside you. His eyes are closed, he bows his head and his curls fall on your face, you put your hands on his back and although it would under different circumstances it would be his hands on your ass, you grab his butt and pull him closer.

“Shit, I’m gonna…” Brian cries out, squeezing your thighs to have your legs tightly wrapped around him as he cums, pouring his warm seed inside you he slips his hand between your bodies and presses his finger on your sensitive clit.

Knowing how to work you, he nibbles on your neck and enjoys the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock while it stays inside your pussy.

“Brian!” You come with an agitated gasp and your eyes roll back followed by your head. In absolute ecstasy, you call out Brian’s name, shushed by his lips kissing yours slowly, pulling your lips apart and sliding his tongue inside your mouth to massage yours and slide out again as he presses his lips on yours again. You come back down to earth with worked up breathes and smile at each other.

Looking down you see your underwear still hanging from your foot and laugh as Brian catches some of his cum that started leaking from between your legs. He looks around for a moment, wondering what to do with his dirty fingers now.

“Allow me,” you say with a wink and lean down to suck his fingers clean.

“I thought I was satisfied until just now.” He pushes your hair behind your ear and leans into you to kiss your cheek. “My room?”

You push him away and bring your leg up, motioning for him to grab your knickers. With a grin on your face, you jump off of the table. Brian pulls his pants up with your undies in his hand. Thinking about it, you have an idea, the band still had a long couple of weeks of work ahead of themselves so you grab Roger’s camera and hold your hand out. You wait for Brian to grab it and take you back to his room.

“Is that Roger’s camera?” Brian’s confusion is evident in his inquisitive tone. “What are you doing with it?”

“Leaving you some souvenirs.” You shrug, walking into his room.

#requested #brian may #70’s Brian May #brian may imagine #brian may fic #smut #brian may smut #brian may x reader #queen #queen fandom #queen band #queen fanfiction

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gingermemequeen · 6 years

Text

Homecoming (Eremika Week Day 4)

Eremika Week Day 4: NSFW/Confession

Summary: Both Mikasa and Eren have trouble determining who to take to the dance as Homecoming approaches (High School AU)

Rating: T | Words: 4290 | Read on: AO3 FF.net

A/N: A fluffy, cliche high school AU for you since the current canon-verse is too depressing to write in for seven short stories. Because I still have a younger sibling in high school, I am reminded that it is once again Homecoming season. I don't miss high school dances at all, but it was fun returning to this era for a bit. Also, this piece is SUPER long, like double my other pieces, which is ironic because I initially had major writing block for this prompt. Enjoy :)

Homecoming:

The high school cafeteria buzzes with the chatter of hungry students and the clanking of metal utensils. Eren lifts his head upward to gaze at the dark blue Homecoming banner that’s being hung into place. He grumbles and takes a bite of food, having forgotten that the onset of autumn also means that an annual school dance is right around the corner.

“A beach theme, really?” Eren mumbles, staring at the illustrated waves on the banner.

“Have you thought about who you’re going to ask?” Armin asks besides Eren.

“No. I might just not go. Last year was underwhelming,” Eren mutters as he takes another bite of food.

“I forget. Who did you take last year?”

“Mina Carolina. She just dragged me around the whole dance to show me off to her friends.”

Armin tilts his head. “Why did you even take her, then?”

“We were in the same geometry class. I don’t know. I heard her complaining that no one had asked her yet, and I hadn’t found a date, so I thought, why not?”

“Pst,” Connie interrupts, sliding next to Eren. “I heard a rumor that Mikasa Ackerman is going to ask you this year.”

“Huh?!” Eren questions.

This is the first time Eren’s been made aware of this rumor. Come to think of it, he hasn’t talked to Mikasa in a while, not since over summer. In their elementary school days they were inseparable, but later on into middle school and eventually high school, their childhood friendship began to weaken. Just for a second, Eren feels a glimmer of disappointment and perhaps guilt for not maintaining a strong relationship with her.

“Who did she go with last year?” Armin wonders.

Connie shrugs. “I don’t think she went with anyone. Sasha told me that she was too heartbroken over some guy to go.”

“Well, she never told me anything,” Eren argues.

“Don’t you have Algebra 2 together? Maybe she’ll ask you this afternoon,” Connie jokes.

“It’s not like we sit next to each other and hold hands!” Eren shouts, his anger rising from Connie’s incessant teasing.

“Eren, are you blushing?” Armin asks, turning his head to stare at his face.

Eren turns his face to hide the reddening of his cheeks. “It’s because you two are messing with me!”

“Talking about Mikasa Ackerman, are we?” comes the sly, cocky voice that drives Eren mad every time he hears it. He looks upward to see Jean Kirstein has approached the table with a smug look on his face.

“Mikasa’s going to ask Eren to the Homecoming dance,” Connie states.

“Hey, we still don’t know if that’s—” Eren’s attempt to hush the rumor is broken off by Jean speaking again.

“She’s asking you? Shouldn’t it be reversed?” Jean wonders. His eyes then narrow as he stares at Eren. “Has she spoken to you about it?”

“No! That’s why I think this rumor is bullshit.”

“Good. Because I was planning to ask her later this afternoon myself,” Jean announces, pressing a triumphant hand against his chest.

Eren doesn’t know why, but something about Jean taking Mikasa to Homecoming rubs him the wrong way. Why would she want to go to the dance with the boy whose personality is the equivalent of a rotting dumpster?

“You got quiet all of the sudden, Jaeger,” Jean realizes, raising an eyebrow.

Eren looks away and grumbles. “Do what you want.”

“Were you planning to ask her?”

“No! Have a blast at the dance. In fact, send my congratulations on your future marriage.”

“Stop being sassy with me, Jaeger,” Jean growls.

Eren grins. There is nothing so pleasing these days as getting on Jean’s nerves. Rivals since middle school, Eren has always felt a particular disdain toward the boy, and nowadays, he’s willing to do anything to see Jean become unglued. He slowly rises to stand near his rival.

“Eren,” Armin warns. These pattern of events always turn out the same way, but Eren is willing to deal with the consequences.

“How are you so sure Mikasa Ackerman would go with you? In fact, I’d be surprised if any girl was your date due to that horse-face of yours.”

The tension snaps. Jean lunges forward, gripping his hands around Eren’s collar.

“Get your hands off of me,” Eren growls, grasping onto Jean’s clenched fist.

“Make me!” he challenges.

Eren reaches his hand upward to swing a punch when someone lifts him up from his feet before he has the chance to. He gasps in surprise and cries out as he’s slowly pulled away from Jean. Jean seems more shocked than anything else as Eren is slowly carried farther from him, toward the exit of the school cafeteria.

He glances down and growls at who he sees.

“Mikasa! Let me go!” he shouts, squirming in her grip. It doesn’t help that nearly every spectator is watching and laughing at him being carried away by the young woman.

Once they leave the chaos of the cafeteria behind and enter into the empty hallway, she drops him, not very gently, onto the tile floor. Eren curses quietly and stares up at her. She looks back with narrowed eyes, as if she’s upset with him.

“What was that for?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You were going to get a detention if I didn’t step in,” she says. “What’s wrong with you? Fifteen and still picking fights with anyone who crosses you.”

He is forced to remember how often she’s broken off his fights before anything got too serious. Eren glances down, almost embarrassed that she’s looking out for him even when he should know better. Still though, his fingers clench as he thinks of Jean smirking at him. If Mikasa had just known what they were talking about…

“I didn’t tell you to get involved!” Eren argues. He realizes this is the first conversation they’ve had since the school year started, though he didn’t expect it to be filled with such annoyance.

“Then stay away from Jean.”

“He came up to me!”

“Then ignore him.”

“What? Do you believe all the bullshit he spews?” Eren asks.

Mikasa sighs and reaches her hand forward to help him up. For a second, his heart seizes as he wonders if the rumors are true. Is this her clever scheme to ask him to the dance?

As Eren slowly stands though, she removes her hand and glances away.

“Just relax, for once,” she says, swinging her scarf over her neck. He pauses, realizing that’s the same scarf he bought her for her tenth birthday. It was a particularly cold winter, and he noticed that she’d been sneezing and coughing more than normal. She’d worn that scarf for the rest of season, but he hadn’t realized she’d still kept it after all these years.

Eren opens his mouth to say something, but she interrupts him.

“See you in Algebra. Stay out of trouble,” she murmurs, the bottoms of her shoes clacking against the hallway as she walks away.

Eren rubs his neck again and stares at her curiously as she walks away. He feels like there was something else he should’ve said, but he doesn’t know what. Thank you?. Probably. But there’s some other thought buried deep within that struggles to translate into words on his tongue.

By the time her figure disappears from his sight, the bell rings for classes to resume. He spends the rest of the afternoon thinking of Mikasa, for some reason, and the scarf around her neck. He supposes he’s seen her wear it once or twice on occasion, but he suddenly wonders if she wears it more often than he thought.

He thinks of this past summer, when they went to the beach a few times and gazed at the stars and made smores over the bonfire. Those had just been friendly get-togethers, hadn’t it? She’d seemed more cold during that summer, and even more so in this new school year. When had she stopped staring at him with such admiration?

He blinks, wondering if he still craves attention from her, wondering if maybe he liked her nagging him because it meant she cared about him, deep down.

Eren shakes his head and does his best to sit as far away as possible from her in Algebra 2. His eyes dart to her every once in a while, but her eyes are either glued to the teacher lecturing or on her own notes. It doesn’t surprise him. She’s one of the smartest in their class.

Something hopes that when they pack up for the day, she’ll come ask him to Homecoming. A part of him wants her to so that he can watch Jean crumble in defeat. But Mikasa simply packs her things and doesn’t utter a word to him as she leaves.

Mikasa grips the straps of her backpack as she walks with Sasha down the street during the chilly autumn afternoon. October leaves bursting with red and orange give the surrounding neighborhood more color than ever before. The raven-haired girl steps on a fallen leaf just for fun, grinning in satisfaction as it crunches beneath her foot.

“Can we stop for food before going to Historia’s?” Sasha begs.

“No. That test is Monday, and you barely understand any of the concepts. We need to study for it.”

Sasha frowns. “I don’t care about tests. High school is gross. The cafeteria food in middle school was so much better. But I guess the dances are more fun. Who are you going with?”

Mikasa shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not going to go a second year in a row? It was so boring last year without you! Ymir and Historia left to make-out in a corner halfway through, so I had to deal with Connie being annoying the rest of the dance. Please come!”

“If I recall, you agreed to go with Connie. And…I don’t know. We have midterm exams the next week after the dance.”

Sasha groans. “Ugh…all you think about is school! Loosen up a little. Have some fun!” she states, shoving Mikasa a little.

“I am having fun!” Mikasa argues.

“We should be doing something fun on a Friday night, but we’re studying instead.”

“It’s a study party,” Mikasa corrects her. “Besides, this was the only day that worked for our schedules.”

Sasha opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by a voice behind both of them.

“Wait, Mikasa!”

She spins around, hoping for a moment that it’s who she thinks it is, but she only sees a tall, obnoxious boy pursuing her.

“What is it, Jean?” Mikasa asks. “We have a lot of studying to do.”

“Can I talk to you?” he asks. He gazes at Sasha briefly before adding, “In private?”

Sasha giggles until Mikasa elbows her to shut her up.

“Go on ahead, Sasha. I’ll meet you there,” Mikasa instructs her friend.

“Okay,” Sasha says, her giggles still echoing down the street as she leaves them behind.

Mikasa glances downward at the leaves tumbling in the wind, feeling Jean’s stare burning into her. Annoyed, she looks back up at him.

“Well, what is it?” she asks.

Jean stiffens for a second. She watches his cheeks slowly becoming blushed, though maybe it’s just the cold blowing against his cheeks. “Oh, uh, that’s right. Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m asking you to the Homecoming dance. I already have a nice restaurant in mind we can go to, Reiner’s probably going to rent a limo, that after-party is going to be—”

“No,” Mikasa says simply.

Jean pauses. “What?”

“No. I won’t go with you to the dance,” she answers.

“Why not? Did Jaeger already ask?”

Mikasa pauses for a second. Since when was it likely that Eren was going to ask her? Perhaps she’s daydreamed about it once or twice during classes when she should’ve been paying attention but…

“No one’s asked me.”

“So you…just don’t want to go with me?” he asks, hurt in his voice.

“That’s correct.”

She watches Jean’s expression change from boldness to one of shock and betrayal.

“B-But why? Any girl would kill to go with me. I’ve already had three ask me themselves.”

“You’re an obnoxious douche who gets on the nerves of me and countless others. You’re rude and don’t care for the feelings of anyone. You didn’t even ‘ask’ me just now. You just declared we were going together. Why don’t you re-evaluate your personality first before asking a girl to the dance?” Mikasa states. She’s noticed his lingering gaze on her often this school year, and she’s making sure that she puts it an end to it before he gets his hopes continue to grow.

Jean clenches his fist, then unclenches it. “Fine. But don’t think you’re going to get another chance. Don’t expect Jaeger to come to your door, begging you to come—”

A harsh slap echoes. Mikasa’s hand moves away from Jean’s cheek. He reaches upward to press his hand to the reddened skin. She spins around and marches away without looking back, quietly fuming over his comment. She presses a hand gently to her chest, feeling her heart beat rapidly. Mikasa is tempted to turn back, just to see if Jean’s still standing in place, shocked, or if he’s run off, but she decides she doesn’t want to know.

Maybe I should’ve just taken him. He’s right. I don’t know who else would ask me, she thinks hopelessly.

When she shows up to Historia’s house, Sasha, Historia, and Ymir are all snickering as she sets her things down to join them in the living room.

“What?” Mikasa asks.

Sasha finally lets out a squeal of glee. “I’m just excited I won’t have to go to the dance without my best friend this year! We’ll have to go shopping for dresses ASAP, and then—”

“I didn’t say I was going.”

“But didn’t Jean ask you?” Historia wonders. “Sasha said he—”

“He asked me. I said no,” Mikasa explains.

Sasha’s mouth drops open. She reaches forward and grasps her hands on Mikasa’s shoulders, beginning to shake her back and forth. “What’s wrong with you?! A boy asked you to the dance and you said no?!”

“I didn’t want to go with him.”

“Leave her alone. That boy’s a pain in the ass anyway,” Ymir mutters, scrolling through her phone.

Historia clutches the electronic device from her girlfriend. “Stop! We’re supposed to be studying!”

“I’m only here for moral support. I’m not going to ace the test on Monday.”

“Are we all ignoring the fact that Mikasa turned down a date for Homecoming?!” Sasha practically shrieks.

“You can always go stag,” Historia offers. “It’s still fun either way.”

Sasha narrows her eyes. “You just want Eren to ask.”

Mikasa’s eyes widen. “I-I didn’t say that! He probably doesn’t want to talk to me anyway after I broke up his fight with Jean earlier today.”

“You’re better off just asking him yourself. That boy is dense,” Ymir mutters, reaching behind Historia to sneakily retrieve her phone.

Mikasa blushes. “Let’s just get studying,” she decides, beginning to open her textbook.

Eren awkwardly knocks his fist against the dark brown door of the Ackerman home Saturday afternoon. He realizes he hasn’t visited in a while as he glances around. Have the windows been replaced lately? It looks like a new layer of paint coats the old as well.

He shifts his feet. After Mikasa’s stern comments toward him, he realizes he owes her an apology for acting out on Friday.

The door swings open, and he glances up at Mikasa’s mother.

“Eren! I haven’t seen you in ages,” she states, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

“Hi, Mrs. Ackerman. Sorry I haven’t visited in a while. School and all that. Is Mikasa there?”

“Yes. Just a second…Mikasa!”

“If it’s Jean, tell him to fuck off,” Eren hears Mikasa call as her footsteps near the door. Normally, this comment would make him laugh, but instead, he pauses. Did Jean ask Mikasa to Homecoming, then? And was her response what he thinks it was?

“Mikasa,” her mother hisses. “Watch your language.”

Mikasa freezes when she sees Eren at her doorstep instead. He waves his hand slightly.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” she replies quietly. “Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to hang out,” he says innocently.

“Oh…okay.”

The next thing he knows, Mikasa is swinging back and forth on the tire swing hanging from the large tree in her front yard. Eren leans against the trunk, watching autumn leaves slowly swirl down, cascading around her figure.

They don’t speak, but he realizes he can’t take his eyes off of her. When did she become so alluring? The leaves look beautiful around her. He chuckles slightly as one lands in her hair. Eren reaches forward, pulling it off before she has the chance to.

“Oh. Thanks,” she says.

“No problem.”

“So why did you come here?” she asks.

“To apologize and to say thank you. I was being a brat yesterday, and you probably got me out of a lot of trouble. My mom would’ve been angry if I’d gotten in another fistfight.”

“Oh. Whatever. It’s what I’ve always done, right?”

“I’ll try not to beat up that bastard again,” Eren promises.

“You have my permission. I won’t stop you next time,” she alternatively says.

“Did he…”

“Ask me to Homecoming? Was that what you were going to ask?”

Eren quietly nods.

“Yeah. He got all butthurt when I told him no. Sasha’s pissed with me. She thinks that was my only chance to get a date. I don’t even know if I’ll go though.”

“You should. I don’t think Armin’s gotten a date yet. Maybe you two can go as friends,” Eren offers.

He hears Mikasa quietly snort.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she says, swinging her legs back and forth. “I guess it’s nice to talk after a while.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Are you going to the dance?” she wonders.

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Hm, well if you’re not going either, maybe we can just do something fun together that night. Go see a movie or have a sleepover like we used to when we were kids,” she thinks.

Eren blinks in surprise. “Oh, yeah.”

“Do you not want to do that?” she asks. “I guess we might be a little old for that kind of stuff now.”

“No, no, it’s fine. We haven’t hung out in a while, after all,” he says, trying to hide the realization that right now he wants nothing more to see Mikasa in a dress, to dance stupidly with her all night, look into her eyes during the slow dance, and share a huge icecream sundae with her after. Of course, he’d done all the normal Homecoming activities the year prior, but they’d just felt like a chore.

“Eren?”

“Huh?” he asks, realizing she’s just spoken to him.

“I asked if you wanted to go inside. It’s getting kind of cold out here. My mom can probably make us some hot chocolate.”

“Oh, sure,” Eren agrees. Sipping hot chocolate and chatting with Mikasa sounds like a nice way to kill the afternoon.

Mikasa arrives back to school on Monday, still flustered from the weekend’s events. Why now, at a time like this, did Eren Jaeger show up at her doorstep for some casual conversation? She still dreamily thinks of Saturday afternoon. He ended up staying for dinner, just like old times, and she even walked him home under the moonlight.

“What are you thinking about? Your face is all red,” Sasha mutters beside her.

Mikasa practically shrieks, not realizing Sasha has joined her by her locker.

“N-Nothing. Did you study some more like we told you to on Friday?”

“Er…”

“Sasha!”

“I got distracted. This new seafood restaurant opened down the street, and I needed to try it out to get a general consensus. I’ll be fine,” her red-headed friend assures her, waving her hand.

Mikasa sighs and shuts her locker.

“Something else is bothering you,” Sasha realizes.

“Nothing is!”

Mikasa suddenly is grateful for the bell as it disrupts their conversation. She finishes placing her things in her backpack and swings it around her shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

Mikasa is more distracted than normal during her morning classes. Even when she finally sits down to take the test she’s spent all weekend studying for, her mind goes blank. She furiously thinks to herself, trying to recall material, but nothing’s helping.

She quietly asks the teacher to get a drink of water and leaves her test behind, hoping to clear her head with a quick drink. After a sip of water from the drinking fountain, she presses her back against one of the lockers, furious with herself for letting personal issues get in the way of her grades. Mikasa takes a deep breath, about ready to return to her grueling exam, when she hears a quiet voice beside her.

“Hey.”

Mikasa’s eyes widen.

“Eren, hi,” she says.

“Er, everything okay? You look a bit stressed.”

“I’m in the middle of an exam right now. Things…aren’t going as well as I thought,” she admits.

Eren frowns. “That sucks, sorry. I think you’re selling yourself short though. You could still manage to ace it.”

Mikasa weakly smiles. “Thanks. I should probably…”

“Wait,” Eren says before she can move a muscle.

“I can’t linger. The teacher is going to be suspicious. Aren’t you in class?” Mikasa asks.

“Free period. I just wanted to apologize for showing up unannounced. I realize you could’ve been studying or doing something with your family—”

“It’s fine,” Mikasa says, glancing down at her shoes as warmth rises in her cheeks. “It was nice hanging out after a while, like I said before.”

“We should hang out some more,” Eren suggests. She glances up slightly, just to get a quick view of his blushed state.

“Well, are we still on for Homecoming night? We could watch a bunch of horror movies at my place,” she suggests.

“Er, well…”

Mikasa feels her heart sink.

Stupid. I should’ve known…

“Oh. Sorry. Did you end up getting a date after all? It’s okay, then,” Mikasa says, about ready to turn and head back to her exam when Eren speaks up.

“I didn’t get a date.”

“Oh…” It hurts more knowing that he doesn’t want to be with her that night regardless.

“Jean hasn’t asked you again?” Eren quietly asks.

Mikasa impatiently stomps her foot. What is the point of prolonging this useless conversation? She glances down at her feet as she tells him again that she’d rather take five exams in a week before going to the dance with Jean.

“Then…” Eren glances away from her again, staring at the ticking clock in the hallway. Slowly, he turns his head. She glances into his green eyes, feeling her breath catch in her throat. Mikasa’s rarely seen his eyes glow with such light.

“Would you like to go to Homecoming with me?”

Mikasa’s eyes widen. “What?”

She watches curiously as Eren tangles his fingers together and shuffles one of his feet against the ground. She can still make out the faintest blush on his cheeks. Is this…

“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone in three days?”

Mikasa realizes her fingers are beginning to tremble against the metal lockers behind her.

“N-No, but maybe…maybe you can realize suddenly that you’ve grown to love someone,” she quietly answers.

“You’re right,” Eren says. Her heart races with anticipation as he approaches her. She feels his warm hand grasp onto hers and squeeze it.

“I like you—no, I love you—and I want you to come to Homecoming with me. Will you?” he asks.

Mikasa, too shocked to speak, quietly nods before wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. She hears him gasp in surprise before slowly reaching up to engulf her in his arms. She missed his warmth, missed his smell, and most importantly, missed his presence these past few years.

Last year, she cried herself to sleep after learning Eren had taken a random girl in one of his classes. But now, as she holds him close, she realizes none of that mattered. Because this was meant to happen all along.

“Is that a yes?” Eren wonders.

Mikasa laughs against the fabric of his shirt before slowly drawing her arms away to look up at him.

“Yes,” she says happily. She traces her fingertips against his cheek. At first, she is afraid he’ll pull away, but he leans into her touch. “I love you, too, Eren.”

When his lips press against hers, she feels like her body is on fire. For years she’s dreamed of this moment. It’s hard to imagine one week ago Eren was only a passerby, someone she’d always pined over but was too timid to share her true feelings. Now, she weaves her fingers through his hair and smiles against his lips.

“Can we do that a lot during the dance? I want to see the look on Jean’s face,” Eren teases, still breathy from their kiss.

Mikasa giggles. “Yes.” She leans up to kiss him again, but he presses a finger against her lips.

“Hey,” she complains.

“Don’t you still have an exam to finish?”

Mikasa’s eyes widen. “Shit, you’re right!” She pulls away from him suddenly, beginning to head down the hallway. She spins around quickly, her eyes falling on his gentle gaze.

“Let’s hang out after school at my place,” Eren suggests.

Mikasa nods and turns the corner, thinking that she just might have the motivation to finish that exam after all.

A/N: I may consider a continuation of this if people are interested. I feel I may have disappointed some by not including the dance itself, but I thought this was a good place to end.

#eremikaweek #eremika week #emweek2k18 #eremika #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #fanfic #ship #ship week #fanfiction

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cherry3point14 · 6 years

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CAN’T GET NO SATISFACTION | CHAPTER 4

DESCRIPTION: You are VP of Sales for a company with stores and major distribution links across the country and your executive assistant, and only real friend, is leaving. A temp is brought in to replace her, on probation, for you try him out. Of course, nobody told you that it was a him, or that his name was Dean Winchester, or that you’d want to try him out.

A/N: This is an office AU basically from this post. Yep, it’s all a setup for that joke.

[Characters: Dean x Reader, OFC, OMC Words: 3,708. Warnings: workplace drama kids, shit hitting the fan, fucking patriarchy]

Ao3 link if you prefer. Series Masterlist

“No. Shit. No.” It was all he heard before he looked up in time to see her head fall into her arms as they rested on the desk. Until this point, he doesn’t think he’s heard her say anything more than ‘heck’ and even that was just one time late after everyone else left. So, for her to be shouting ‘shit’ in the middle of the day, loud enough for him, and he’s sure others, to hear? Well, that’s a problem.

It’s not concern that forces him up from his chair at the sight of her, it’s just, they were supposed to start their meeting five minutes ago. When she hadn’t called him in he was being polite but now maybe he can distract her. That’s all.

He grabs her a drink first, what assistant goes into an appraisal without one? An idiot assistant that’s who. Dean is decidedly not an idiot so it’s with her drink in his hand that he knocks on the glass door like he’s not been dreading hearing what she thinks of him.

“Dean, what are you…?” She looks up at him confused, her question dying on her lips as they form a perfect ‘o’.

He wants to be annoyed that she forgot about him. Frustration is his knee-jerk reaction. Except there are these worry lines on her face that he hasn’t seen before so he doubles his efforts to let his own emotions go with a heavy swallow.

“I’m so sorry Dean, please sit down.” She searches for a minute as she speaks eventually picking up her phone and typing something furiously.

If he’s honest he wouldn’t have minded her postponing this, or canceling it, whatever. He knows she’s not going to let it go. Eventually, he’s going to end up in this situation, the receiving end of one of her meetings. And he’s not scared of her it’s just what she’s going to say that worries him. It’s one thing to think that your maybe your boss thinks you’re too dumb to do your job right, it’s a really shitty ending to his week to actually hear the words. That’s the sort of stuff you can’t just leave at your desk to have a nice weekend.

“Ok. Let’s go.” She says putting her phone down and giving him her full attention. “Why did you come to work here?”

Wow. She’s going straight for it. Her face is totally unreadable while she waits for an answer and he can’t fight the doubt in his gut. Obviously, he tries to bullshit his way out of getting fired at this point.

“Well, I mean. The company has got such a good reputation of-”

“Dean?” Thank god she stopped him because he had no idea where he was taking that sentence.

“Yeah?”

She smiles, the first time he’s seen her smile all day, and it’s more soothing than he knew he needed. “I’m sorry this is my fault. I forgot you haven’t had one of these with me before so I’ll be honest. I’ve never even looked at the template HR sent me. I’m really only looking to have a conversation with you, just be honest with me. It all stays in this room and I swear this isn’t a test.”

He lets out a giant puff of air he didn’t know he’d been holding in and his shoulders drop thankfully. It’s pretty impossible not to smile back at her or be sucked into her pleas for honesty. He lets himself get too comfortable with her so it all tumbles out too easy. So quickly that his brain doesn’t even approve the words.

“I really, really hated temping, getting treated like a thing and passed about for whatever. There was one guy who didn’t even bother to learn my name. He just called me ‘sport’”

She wrinkles her nose as she nods, “that I believe.” He also sees the flash of guilt that breezes across her face then and wonders what it’s for, she’s called him Dean since day one. “I think we’ve all been there, I know I have. How are you liking it here though? I know the hours aren’t great but how are you finding the actual work?”

He struggles to think about the question straight away because he’s distracted by her admission of being a temp herself. He’d forgotten that she didn’t pop up in the world as this put together sales VP that she is. It kind of blows his mind to imagine her running around after someone else getting them lunch and printing out memos but he supposes she had to start somewhere. The pads of his fingers itch like her story is something for him to scratch at. But this meeting isn’t for him to ask about her, as much as he wants to.

“It’s fine, great even. Everyone is great, the work is great. There was a lot to learn but I think I’ve got a handle on it. I guess everything is just-”

“Great?” She finishes his sentence with a grin and he’s not even bothered by being cut off. He should be, would be usually. Except he’s not because she’s joking with him and slowly it’s starting to turn into an actual conversation which means his palms aren't nearly as clammy as they had been then he’d come in.

“I know this question is going to sound like I’m trying to trick you but I promise I’m not. Where do you want to be in five years? Or, should I say, do you know what you want to do?”

He’s too comfortable again. That and he heard her say shit earlier. His answer is so automatic and honest that he doesn’t really have time to censor it, “not a fucking clue.”

His eyes widen the second it slips out and she freezes for way too long.

And then something unexpected happens. She laughs.

He’s heard her laugh before but he’s never been the one making her laugh. Maddy gets it out of her when they have lunch every now and then, and she’s laughed down the phone. This one is for him though, a laugh he’s never heard before. It’s all unexpected and coming from somewhere deep in her belly, and he did that. His embarrassment melts into a relieved chuckle of his own.

“That might be the most honest answer I’ve ever heard.” She manages through the amusement as it dies in her throat. She has to suck in a quick puff of air for how suddenly it had hit her and pride flutters in his chest.

He shrugs, “it’s true I guess. It’s why I put up with temping anyway. I wanted to see what was out there.”

Now there’s something determined on her face. “I’d really love to help you figure it out if you’re ok with that? I think we can put a plan together so you can try your hand at a few things. How does that sound?”

He really hadn’t expected this. He’d almost called in sick today to avoid sitting in this room. And he knows he hasn’t got the feedback part yet but he can’t imagine she’d be offering him this if she didn’t have some modicum of faith in him. She makes it so easy for him to nod gratefully as he answers, “that would be awesome.”

“Y/N?”

You look up from your desk and before you notice the source of your name you see how the lights of the office are brighter against the darkness flooding in the windows. The last time you’d looked up it was daylight. Only after being crushed at having lost half a day to your panic, do you notice Charlie. Not for anything she’s done, but she’s probably the last person you want to see considering today’s various email chains.

You plaster a smile on your face as best you can, trying to maintain your usual light conversation with her, “now I know it’s serious since you’ve come to see me.”

She grins that same loveable grin that she always seems to have for the few people she genuinely enjoys talking to. You’re torn between being pleased she’s still smiling at you like that and thinking that it makes all of this so much harder.

“Word on the street is that you haven’t left this office all day so I figured this was the only way to get some face time.”

Word on the street? You glance at the clock on your computer, 8:45pm, and then you look over at the desk on the other side of the glass where Dean is still sitting. Not without a yawn you notice.

“Come in, take a seat, just give me a second.” You jump up with more fire than you’ve had all day and stand at the door where Charlie had been leaning. “Dean, go home.”

His head whips round to look at you, an argument on his lips no doubt, but you belay it before he has the chance, “call me a car for nine-thirty and then get out of here. Please. It’s Friday night.”

He nods, his curled lips vaguely apologetic even though it’s your fault he’s still sitting there for crying out loud.

“See you Monday.” You order again before shutting the door behind you, he doesn’t need to hear this conversation while he’s going home.

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me.” You don’t waste any time avoiding the elephant in the room once you and Charlie are alone.

She laughs and you’re genuinely surprised by her attitude, you knew she was pretty laid back but she had to turn the website off five hours ago because the distribution center is out of stock of the top 50 lines. Because of your sale.

“You’re one of the few people around here I actually like talking to, besides, it’s only stock. Nothing wrong with my actual site. Now Doug? Yeah, he might be mad at you.” There’s a playful twinkle in her eye, no one truly likes Doug after all.

You grimace even though you don’t want to, you want to stay calm and collected but he already thought you were public enemy number one before this all happened. “When isn’t he mad at me?”

Charlie sits forward in her chair so that her elbows rest on the edge of your desk and her head sits innocently in her hands, “I only wanted to check you’re ok. I know you’re probably sitting up here blaming yourself-“

“It’s my fault, so yeah. I am.”

She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow for being interrupted, “it could have have happened to anyone. And you’re smart enough to know that at the end of the day we just made money. Yeah, we’ve got some issues to fix but we’re still turning a profit.”

The smile you crack is half appreciative and still half fake. “It didn’t happen to anyone though, it happened to me. Micheal is going to have my ass. He wants to see me when he’s back in next week.”

“Ass?” She can’t stop herself from beaming with a mock affronted tone, “Y/N! Such language in the office!”

Your eyes dart about excessively as you lean in to whisper, “fuck off Charlie.”

It sets you both off and for the first time since the now infamous RE: The Website email chain you feel genuinely lighter. Yes you’d still have to deal with Michael next week and yes you’d be working all day tomorrow to help try and find stock in any of your stores to transfer over, but as you laugh with Charlie you can’t help but think that maybe you have at least one more friend in this company than you previously thought.

Everyone hates the dick that runs off the subway as soon as the doors open, pushing past people and diving through crowds with no consideration for anyone else, like they’re the only one trying to get to work.

Today Dean is that dick.

He’s late, again. While it might be the second time there’s no backup today. No Maddy to cover for him until he arrives. And it’s only 30 minutes but that’s enough that she’ll already be there, wondering where he is and sending out a search party for her goddamn coffee probably. He’s one of the few people that has seen her before her first coffee of the day and he knows how much she needs it. If she’s a little crazy the rest of the time she’s fucking certifiable without caffeine.

It’s kind of deja vu when he arrives. It’s normal that he’s the first person on the floor but it’s still empty when he arrives, the same as his first day. He looks at his watch to confirm and, yep, he’s definitely late and she should definitely be here. His movements are slow and cautious like she’s waiting to pounce attack from somewhere with an empty mug in her hands, except she doesn’t. He makes it all the way to his desk, his messenger bag dropped unceremoniously at his feet and still nothing. It’s only once he logs into his computer with an overhasty sigh that he sees it, a new email at the top of his inbox.

Got called into an emergency meeting, won’t be back till 9. Cancel my 8am call.

Fuck. He is so fucked. It’s Monday morning and he’s late but worse than that, she’s gone into a two-hour meeting without a drop of caffeine in her system. She didn’t even sign her name, which, she always does. She’s hot on that email etiquette shit even when she’s firing one out from her phone.

He looks down at his bag and wonders if he should even bother being here when she gets back before he remembers that meeting with her on Friday. She’d given him real work to do, she’d made promises to get him experience in other departments, but mostly she’d been normal. Like an actual normal person, halfway to being a friend, and that’s what he’s clinging to. That version of her wouldn’t fire him for being half an hour late. Once the panic subsides he thinks the crazy version wouldn’t either.

Pinging open the meeting room calendar he sees that it’s that dick Doug who’s booked the room and his decision is made right there. There’s no way she’ll survive and he doesn’t intend to leave her to suffer more than necessary. So, he makes her usual, with an extra shot by way of apology, and heads to the elevator. She didn’t say do not disturb or anything and he’ll just knock, take it in and leave. Let Doug hate him, as long as she doesn’t.

The biggest challenge is not spilling hot coffee over himself when the elevator chugs to life and then stops two floors up with an equally bracing shudder, but this is not his first rodeo and Dean has nimble fingers. After surviving the trip knocking on the meeting room door is no problem at all, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“Come in.” It’s muffled by the wood but it’s definitely a male voice that orders him in.

Maybe he would have hesitated if he’s known that the entire VP team was in here. Or maybe he wouldn’t have come faster when he sees the look on Y/N’s face.

They’re all sat like any other meeting except they all seem a little more constipated than normal. And they’re all facing her. She’s sitting there flushed with what looks like shame, her forehead resting in one hand as if she can barely hold her own head up to face them. Dean has no clue what’s going on but he doesn’t like it.

It takes her three seconds to look up and spot him at the door but it feels like three hours. It’s worth the wait anyway because as flustered and broken as she looks staring into the table her face melts when she looks at him. She smiles big and bright and for a moment it reaches all the way to her eyes. And she’s not even looking at the coffee in his hand.

“Sorry, just came to bring you this.” He says to her, ignoring the other men in the room who’s sphincters appeared to have tightened even more at his interruption.

She nods, “thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” He can tell she means it and he thinks it’s about more than the coffee.

He smiles back at her and then straightens his face out to offer the briefest of acknowledgments to the other VP’s before leaving. He almost doesn’t go back to his desk when he’s out of the room. He considers setting up camp outside just in case she needs him or so he’s there when she gets out because she looks like she needs something, then he remembers that’s ridiculous. She’s his boss and tough as nails at that. Plus it’d probably be a waste of two hours.

When he gets back to their floor he’s surprised to see someone sitting on his desk. Not at it, on it. She turns to him at the sound of his footsteps and beams.

“You must be Dean!”

He knows the voice as soon he hears it since he talks to her at least once a day. Although he had no idea the voice was attached to someone as hot as the woman standing in front of him.

“Sabina?

“Hey Dean,” she draws out his name while she sizes him up, ending with a satisfied grin as she reaches out to shake his hand. “It’s great to finally put a face to the voice.”

It might be half-past seven in the morning but Dean raises an eyebrow like he’s just bumped into her at a bar, “same here. I had no idea what I was missing out on.”

This woman in the short skirt and power jacket, that any other day he might call a boss bitch, giggles and then pouts her lips at him for eliciting the reaction.

“So, where is our boss?” He doesn’t miss the reminder that Sabine isn't his boss.

“Stuck in a meeting, she won’t be back for over an hour.”

Dean not being in the office when she arrived that morning had been disconcerting. Doug calling her within five minutes and summoning her to a meeting had been terrifying. The room itself, the faces and the conversation had been hell on earth. It was, of course, a thinly veiled ambush. An outlet for the other VP’s to vocalise their displeasure at the sheer amount of work her problem would require from all of their teams. Doug’s being the hardest hit. Him already hating you the most. You’re surprised he wasn’t spitting bile by the end.

You want to say it was better once they got it out of their system but that would imply that they stopped with the aggression. Even once you were all talking logistics and solutions they couldn’t hide their frustration. You didn’t even want to think about the eye rolls and mutters when you got up in the front of the room and lead the charge in making a list of tasks and assigning jobs. There was no appeasing them, not even by taking more than you should yourself.

You get it. You messed up. Although that wasn’t really harsh enough, you fucked up. Even if you kind of didn’t. You did the research and even in your worst case scenarios, this being one of them except for the shutting the website down part, the margins weren’t terrible. Yes, there would be a slight knock-on effect for selling that quantity at a sale price but you still sold the stock.

It’s not enough. If you try and point that out, or talk about the fact that you’d still made money they brought it back to the shame of it all. It’s such bad PR. Social media is raking us over the coals. Commercial suicide.

And people say women are dramatic.

Thankfully you’re all out ten minutes early, probably because they all need to go and think up some more insults for later. Regardless you feel like you’re floating when you get back to your floor. Freedom does that to a girl. Other people have started arriving now and Dean is at his desk typing away. He seems surprised when you stop in front of him and his eyes flick to the time in the corner of the screen.

“Sorry. I really don’t have a good excuse. My alarm…”

You hold your hand up with a smile, which is much easier to do out of that room, “it’s fine. You start work two hours earlier than anyone else just to be here for me. Just text me next time?”

He rubs the back of his neck as he agrees but stops as you try to walk away.

“Sabina is here. Well, not here, she went downstairs but she’ll be back at nine. Said she just wanted half an hour?”

You feel yourself perk up a little at this information. Sabina would be incredibly helpful right now and considering her sales area includes fifth, which still has the sale on, she could potentially be bringing you good news.

“That’s actually perfect, can you send her straight in when she gets back please?”

“Sure thing.”

You look at the lock screen of your phone and note the time as you slump into your comfortable chair. You have seven minutes to breathe and try to forget the last two hours. Well, not forget since you have a considerable list of actions points from the meeting, but forget the experience anyway. You have seven minutes to try and expel the embarrassment and failure that clings to you.

Michael isn’t back in town till Thursday so that gives you three days to fix this. If the website isn’t back up before he arrives you will be a thousand percent done here. You’re actually fairly confident that as long as the site is back up then you’ll be fine. But if you’ve made the mess and not cleaned it up? That would be a cause for concern.

Continue to Chapter Five

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @assassinofmasyaf Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles Story tags: @mannls @22sarah08

#supernatural x reader #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn reader insert #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x y/n #spn x reader #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #my gif

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