#He pins them down with his one good arm and his glamorous style

[forgetful-fox]

Welcome to the universe, Saturn Whammy

#build a bear #build a beast #furry #anthro #fur #fursona #My boy out here pegging pigs in the street #Marking his territory #Cute #Glamorous #Glam #Acab #And he will whip them into place #His pronouns are he/him #But pigs call him Queen or M'Lady when they gettin pegged #Plush #Plushie #Lore #Lives of stuffed animals #He pins them down with his one good arm and his glamorous style #I love him sir #Blorbo #Be gay do crimes #Do crimes be gay #Vigilante #Hero #Can't wait for the possibility of hate that will flood my inbox that I keep forgetting about

[nonobadcat]

For @oklolnoty

Down the Rabbit Hole - Five Chapters - 20k words - Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Rabbit Quirk Female Reader

Rating: 18+ readers only - Minors DNI

Whole story TW: Noncon, yandere with kidnapping, severe quirk based discrimination, binge drinking, canon typical threats of violence (reader directed), canon typical death (nonreader directed), oral (give/receive), PnV (doggie), breeding, and expensive designer clothing everywhere.

Summary:

Working at Animal Instinct, the city's premiere hostess club for those who like their girls "pawsitively" attractive, may pay the bills but it'll cost your soul. Playing the brainless bunny girl everyone expected you to be, you were prepared to waste your life selling over priced champagne and sham companionship just to afford rent. When your efforts are rewarded with the client from hell, you try to stick to your bubblegum bimbo persona. However, being called boring by some crusty incel with the social skills of a trashcan is not something your pride can let slip by. ...and finding someone who hates society's games as much as him is not something Shigaraki Tomura can let go.

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Chapter 1: Dumb Bunny - 3.4k words

TW: Binge drinking, quirk based discrimination

“Omigosh he’s back again!”

Plastered against the glossy black bathroom door, Nyanko’s twisted grimace and bristling tail ill suited her glamorous styling. Rhinestone trimmed claws pawed for purchase as an annoyed shriek hissed between tight teeth. It was fortunate that lilac satin squeezed her willowy frame like a vice. The very dress that transformed her bust line from “average” to “savage” restricted her air intake, keeping her whining to a polite volume.

Twisting the golden cap of your Yves Saint Laurent lipstain back on, you dabbed at your cupid’s bow. “Crusty boy?”

“Yes!” She groaned, pinning her cat ears to her skull. “Mama-san has paired him with twelve different girls in the last month. Boy’s got a heart made of Teflon! Won’t stick to anyone!”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought this club was a kurabu? Isn’t the first pairing long term?”

“His dad is some sort of big deal so he gets special treatment, but mostly it's a mutual hate-hate thing,” Nyanko explained, wagging her finger. “He can’t find a girl he likes and all the girls beg Mama-san to let him try someone else. Even Aru didn’t want him and you know she has thick skin!”

“Quirk~ist,” you sang out, tucking your make-up back in the small, pearled handbag. “Just because she has an armadillo quirk doesn’t mean her soul is armor plated.”

Nyanko’s tabby tail swished. “Why does he keep coming back if he’s never happy?” she demanded, stomping her spike heels.

“I like those.” You nodded to the red bottoms. “The flower lace on the mesh is cute.”

“I know, right!” She twisted this way and that, showing off the shimmering details. “Abe-san got them for me last week. I think he has a foot thing but I’m not complaining.” All at once, her hair bristled. “Wait! Don’t try to change the subject! I’m in a real bind here!”

You popped your lips, smoothing down a stray lock of hair. “Oh? Why?”

“Because I’m one of the few he hasn’t chewed up yet!” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I’m terrified Mama-san will pair me with that creep next!”

“Then quit your job and take Abe-san up on that mistress position. It’s not like he can last more than twenty seconds anyways so you won’t have to do much work.”

Her face fell flat. “Honey, hell’s got your name.”

You kicked off the faux marble tile and strutted over to the petite, raven-haired cutie. A single finger reached out, straightening the curl of her long bob. Patting her shoulder, you flashed her a grin and whispered in her ear. “Then it’s a good thing none of us go by our real names here, isn’t it?” 

She giggled before rolling her eyes towards your new lip color. “Speaking of 'people who just want to take a poor girl away from this place', is that a gift from your one hero client?”

You nodded. “Oshida bought it for me on the paid date. Asked me if he could put some of his cum in it.”

“Guess he’s not as family friendly as his press agent makes him out to be,” she muttered.

“I told him I couldn’t use it if he did because I’d be too addicted to the taste.”

Nyanko flashed you a judgey side eye and pushed open the bathroom door. “How are you that good a liar?”

“Nyanko, what are you talking about?" You plastered on an airy smile. Each word tumbled out wrapped in sweetness. "Everyone knows that bunny girls aren’t smart enough to lie. ♡” 

The words burned bitterly on your tongue.

Nyanko huffed, turning on heel. “I hate you.”

“Hate you more, sweetie,” you teased, following her down the long hall.

Pink tiles with golden veins lead the way to the reception desk. On your right, Animal Instict's main bar buzzed with flirtatious conversation, fake smiles, and exhausted salary men. One of the puppy girls, wrapped in cherry red spandex and ten centimeter black platforms, clung to her elderly client's arm like a fly on garbage. 

"Is Pochi back early from her paid date?" You asked, slipping under the glossy countertop.

"Kiba-san's bunions are acting up," Nyanko whispered, cupping the side of her face. "You know, the bunions that flare up when Pochi wants a fourth helping of foie gras."

You looked the other hostess up and down. Her rosy cheeks glowed as she smoothed her glossy tail across her lap. "She's pounding the champagne again. Her heat cycle must be close."

Nyanko waved her hand. "Don't date the dog if you ain't got the bank."

"Catty of you."

She hissed.

"Ladies," a firm voice warned. "You are on the floor."

You both turned towards a sultry middle-aged woman. Clad in a cocktail dress crafted from delicate golden mesh and rhinestones, her long, peacock plumage glittered every shade from sea green to deep navy in the warm light. She fixed you with a sharp glare before snapping open a fan. Its fluttering teased at her long, fake lashes.

"Yes, Mama-san," you replied in synchrony, bowing your heads to the boss.

She narrowed her eyes, craning her long, graceful neck to inspect your makeup. When it passed muster, she snapped the fan shut. "Honey, Tano-san requested you tonight as Usagi is out with a migraine."

Wow… just going to work his way through the bunny girls, huh? Guy wasn’t even subtle about his fetish.

"Of course," you agreed, bowing again. "Thank you, Mama-san."

Mama-san turned her scrutinizing gaze towards your companion. “Nyanko—” she crooked boney finger— “come with me.”

Nyanko’s ears drooped. “Y-yes, Mama-san…”

Mama-san rapped the cat girl with the lacey fan. “Professionalism.”

Nyanko forced a pained grin before snatching up a hot towel from the stack. “O-Of course!”

You shook your head, selecting a rolled towel of your own and placed it on a silver platter. Then, smearing on an airheaded smile, you followed the leader around the large, gangly money tree. Just past its scraggly leaves, two men came into view.

On the left, dressed in a deep navy sport coat and matching pleated pants stood a solemn faced man in his late sixties. He peered into the entryway’s mirror, fussing with his thinning, silver streaked hair. The wide, rose-gold rolex watch made his wrist look fat and did horrible things for his yellow undertones. When you came into view, he jerked away from his preening. Hungry eyes traced the line of your leg from heel to hem. His thick tongue lapped at the corner of his mouth.

“Tano-san,” your boss guiding you forward. “This is Honey Bunny.”

“It's so good to meet you, Tano-san!” You added a sugar rush bounce to your step. “We hope Usa-chan should feel better soon. I hope it’ll be okay if I take care of you for her until she’s better?”

With a grunt, he took the towel, clumsily groping your fingers along the way.

Mama-san turned to the man on the right. Hiding his face behind a mop of pale blue waves, a surly looking twenty something hunched against the wall. Blazing red eyes stared out from under hairless brows. He tugged at his collar, as if the beautifully tailored Armani three-piece was strangling him. It wasn’t hard to guess how he got the moniker “crusty boy”. Patchy scale peeled from his under eye bags. 

“Shigaraki-san, this is Nyanko-chan.”

Nyanko playfully scratched the air, before speaking out in a voice half an octave higher than her own. “It’s a purr-asure to Meow-chu, Shigaraki-san! I hope we can become good friends!”

He sneered at Nyanko before raking his neck with ratty, broken nails. 

Your coworker smiled so hard you thought her face might tear. “Would mew like a hot towel?”

He plucked the moist terry cloth from her outstretched hand with two fingers. He half-heartedly scrubbed his hands before walking right past her. “Let’s get this over with.”

Nyanko’s tail drooped as she skittered off after her guest. You pressed a coy hand to your lips to hide a grimace.

This was going to be a long night.

One hour into the evening, you would have paid Usa-chan to take her client back. 

At first, you thought Tano simply fumbled his cigarettes due to some nervous condition. However, after the third one in half an hour, you caught beady eyes peering down the front of your dress as you leaned in to light them. He ordered nothing but the cheapest wine on the menu (2.6k yen per glass + the 25% service fee) and nursed his drink like an old woman. Those squirmy hands of his kept “accidentally” brushing against your tail every time he shifted in his seat. Conversation was hard fought and mostly about how much he hated his boss. 

“Are you and Usa-chan related?” he asked for the fifth time that night.

You brushed your long, silky ears back. “Well, I’m a Lop and she’s a Lionhead.”

“Oh. So it’s not the same thing?”

If you smiled any harder your teeth would crack. “I know, right? They sound so similar I always get them confused.” You hoisted the green bottle up. “Here, it looks like you need a refill—”

He quickly covered the glass with his palm. “Let me touch your ears?”

Rot in the gutter, you steaming trash heap.

Hesitant humming accompanied a thoughtful head tilt. “Mama-san kinda sorta told me I’m not supposed to because it’s against club rules or something.” You clicked your tongue and beamed at him. “Makes me sad because I love having my hair brushed. Oh well, right?”

He scooted closer. “You could just ignore her.”

Wide, panicked eyes sold the frantic, high pitched squeak. “Omigosh! But it’d be bad to do that right?”

Rancid breath poured over your bare neck. “I can make being a bad bunny really fun.”

Die.

You laughed, “playfully” shoving his shoulder so hard it pushed him a solid half meter away.  “Oh Tano-san! No wonder Usa-chan loves you so much. You’re so funny!”

…and wringing your floppy neck with your ugly Gucchi tie would be even funnier.

On the other side of the tufted leather booths, Nyanko seemed to fare even worse. 

“So… Shigaraki-san, do you work for your paw-ther?”

“He’s my mentor, not my father.”

“Oh! That’s so neat! So he’s like a father to mew?”

One word grated through gritted teeth. “No.”

Nyanko winced at the harsh tone, her smile shaken for only a moment before she rallied. “Your mentor must be very generous to send you here so Meow-ften.”

“It’s annoying,” he groused, scratching his neck like a dog with fleas. The pungent stench of iron caught on the breeze from the air conditioning. All the women around you wrinkled their sensitive noses.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Nyanko placed one hand on the cream leather next to his thigh and leaned in. A long golden necklace slipped down her décolletage, pointing the eye towards her assets. Pouty lips forced her tongue high against her fangs, playing up an alto’s vocal fry. Delicately, she twirled her hair behind her pointed ear. Dangling diamonds glittered in the dim glow of the teardrop chandelier. Round, golden eyes peered at him from under sooty lashes. “Neh, Shigaraki-san, what kind of girl do mew like?”

The booth squeaked as he scooted away. “Someone real.”

“I’m all nyan-tural,” she purred, letting her free hand trail down her bust.

With a sharp “chcc”, he groped for his cell phone. 

Nyanko cocked her head. “Oh? Nyu like video games?”

“A little,” he muttered, loading up an app. Comic book style red and yellow text exploded across the screen. Four different voices called out: “Hero Center Battle Royale!!!!”.

“Ooooh!” She clapped her hands together. “Which ones do mew like?”

“The ones where the heroes die.”

“Sounds exciting!”

“More exciting than this conversation.”

Fight on, Nyanko-chan!

While your coworker clawed for any hint of mutual interest, Tano leaned back into his seat and manspread until he was pressed against your bare thigh. “Seems like the pretty kitty is having a rough time.”

Awk-ward….

“Really?” You smiled so hard the muscles below your eyes spasmed. “It sounds like she’s having fun learning a lot about a new person to me.”

Face flushed, your patron sipped his wine. “You’re kinda a dumb bunny, aren’t you?”

Yeah… That’s what your university professors thought too. At least, until your grades put you second in your class by only three points. Maybe if they stopped staring at your ears long enough, they would have seen the brain between them.

“Nyanko-chan loves to meet new people,” you chirped back, sitting on quivering hands to avoid throttling your meal ticket.

Tano thumbed his chin. “Wonder if she’s so persistent because she’s gonna go into heat.”

Ew… can you just not?!

"That must be a pain, going into heat.” Beady eyes flashed to you. "You do too, right?"

Gross. Disengage! Disengage!

You tapped your chin. "Huh… I dunno. Maybe bunnies are different or something." 

…cause a three second Google search couldn't have told his horny self that?! Seriously…

Faking a sweet smile you reached for his glass. “Heat or no heat, I think that connecting with others is a reward in and of itself."

And if Tano could connect the dots he would have the decency to GO HOME if he wasn’t going to drink.

He pulled his cup away. "I don't need a refill."

You set the bottle down. "Oh! My bad! I just really wanted to take care of you. You worked really hard after all. You deserve a little rest."

He leaned back into his seat and smiled to himself. "Yeah. Guess I do."

Ugh… Just drunk enough to be a self-centered douchebag, but not enough to get you a sales bonus. This sucked.

He cracked open one eye and glanced at you. "But seriously, aren’t you even a little worried about her or are you just too stupid that to read the room?”

You leaned into your palm, using the thick of your hand to stifle the snarl. “Finding the right fit for every guest can be hard but everyone here loves the challenge.” One ear flopped across your eye. You inhaled, letting the rise of your ribs strain the bust of your gown. “I’m just so glad we have such good chemistry.”

His greasy grin made you nauseated. Greedy eyes drank up your coworker’s long tail and tufted ears. He licked his lips. “Should I offer to save her then? Having two of you around sounds like fun.”

….and entirely defeated the point of coming to the type of classy club where you are supposed to have an intimate, one-on-one conversation with your hostess. Not to mention, you’d have to split the tip. Then again, that assumed this cheapskate didn’t skip it all together.

You bit your cheek until the taste of iron pricked your tongue. Painted lips slipped into a puffy pout. You turned your head, letting tears pool at your lash line. Ducking low to play up the shadows between your cleavage, you pinched his sleeve between two fingers like a schoolgirl tugging on her crush.

“Ah… I suppose it’s true that Tano-san is so cool he could have two women at once.” 

His breath caught in his wrinkled throat.

With a forlorn smile, you glanced down at the connection between you before dropping his sleeve like it shocked you. Your voice pitched high as you hurried out a breathless apology. “Oh! Sorry!” Nervous fingers prodded together as you hid behind one ear. “When I am around a man like you, I-I sometimes just get these instincts...” 

He gulped.

Time to go in for the kill. 

Your eyes danced away from his. “It’s been such a long time since I felt this way, I forgot that it happens. It’s hard, but I’ll try to control myself better.”

Tano reached for your hand, but you pulled it away to bop it into your fist. “Oh! Speaking of instincts, Usa-chan told me once that you negotiated a lot of big contracts for your company. How did you get so good at your job?”

He leaned back into the booth, puffing out his chest. Wrapping one arm over the back of the chair, he crooked his finger at you. “Come a little closer and I’ll be happy to share.”

Ugh… You needed a drink.

“Oh my gosh, Honey-chan he was just the worst!”

Nyanko’s whiskers tickled the side of your neck as she buried her face in your shoulder. You sighed, wrapping your arm around her. The smell of fried food and beer wafted in the summer air. Plump moths collided with the streetlight three paces away. Two wobbly salary men waved. The one wearing a tie on his forehead blew a wet kiss. Your party of three wiggled your fingers and giggled like shy school girls. As soon as they were out of sight, the smiles dropped like corpses on a battlefield.

You patted Nyanko’s shoulder. “There, there. You did what you could.”

She sniffled, fanning her flushed face. You passed her a tissue. She dabbed at her make-up. Flecks of mascara peeled onto pale paper. Another sob wracked her body. “WHAT DOES HE WANT!?” she wailed.

“Seriously,” Pochi scratched her dangling ears. “Mama-san gave him to me last week. He told me ‘your skills need a level up’. What does that even mean?!” She swished her silky black tail. “Let’s see his mummy lips pull three champagne towers in one night!”

“Three? Were you in heat?”

She sneered wide enough to flash her canines. “I faked it.”

You laughed. “Hot, but scary Pochi-sama.”

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, motioning to Nyanko’s limp body. “Blame Little Miss Crafty Kitten there. For 30,000 yen, she gave me a run down on my tells and I did my make-up and perfume to mimic them. Worth every penny.”

Nyanko’s blank eyes stared at nothing. “I am a good hostess. I am a good hostess. I am a good hostess.”

You gave her a long side eye. “You charged 30,000 yen for that?”

A shaking hand rose into the air. She clenched her thumb and index finger into a ring.

“And I’m the one going to hell?” you teased, handing her off to Pochi. “Here. I forgot something at the club. You two get going before the last train leaves. I’m close enough to walk.”

“Whatever,” Pochi groaned, hugging the crying cat to her chest. “Come on Nyanko. You had too much to drink.”

With a gentle wave, you watched them as they staggered down the sidewalk leaving only Nyanko's miserable whining in their wake. When the last sob slipped into silence, the false feelings melted from your expression. Every hair on your neck bristled. A hard heel thumped on the pavement. Fists clenched to your side, you dashed off into the nearest alleyway. Wrenching off your expensive pumps, you set them on the ground out of reach. Your vision swam blood red, you zeroed in on the filthy dumpster. All at once, a frustrated shriek tore through the night air.

"SCREW YOOOOOUUUUU!”

You slammed your heel down into the dumpster, leaving a dent in the rust.

"SCREW YOU! SCREW THIS JOB! SCREW EVERYTHING!”

Blow after blow rained down on the innocent trash receptacle. 

"DUMB BUNNY MY COTTON FLUFFY TAIL! I HAVE MORE BRAIN CELLS IN MY MANICURE THAN YOU HAVE IN YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY TREE!

Twisted metal groaned under the weight of your fury. Memories of fresh-from-college job interviews flashed through your mind.

"I don't know that you're a good fit for our culture." "You seem really nice but we're only looking for serious candidates." "Oh…. I have another position you can interview for, sweetie."

Judgey stares and smarmy grins seared your brain. Lava hot rage bubbled through your veins as you kicked the dumpster five centimeters off its axis.

"I'D THREATEN TO RAZE THIS WHOLE SOCIETY BUT NONE OF YOU IDIOTS ARE EVEN SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RAZE AND RAISE!"

Panting and raspy, you heaved for air in the middle of the pavement. With a final huff you tossed your hair, hiked up your purse, and strutted away.

At the end of the alley, bloodshot scarlet eyes were watching your entire tantrum. Just below them, a ghostly white smile glinted in the flickering amber light.

Next Chapter Expected: June 30th, 2023

Expected Completion Date: Mid-Aug 2023

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Taglist: @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @shig-a-shig-ah @castershellwrites @smilinghowever @krystalwithakay @iris-goddess @ss-syche @mortallysparklyfun @meameows @magnificentclodpiezonk @betterfettered @utena-akashiya @ventdavi154 @st4rrust @imaginedheroine @the-lady-writes-what @shiggysimp69 @toughbook @naughteehee

#shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #yandere bnha x reader #bnha x reader #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura #female reader

[bokutoslittlebird]

Your Place

Akaashi x sister!reader

Author’s Note : This was originally gonna just be a short drabble but like.. I’ve thought of this before. So I changed it into a full fledged fic; Fukurōdani has a girls’ volleyball club ; Love hotels in Japan are pretty popular, especially in Tokyo, and happen to have kiosks to keep up the anonymity, while also offering options of staying overnight or for a few hours (generally 2-4). The rooms offer lots of options, including room service (including food and toys), such as jacuzzi, showers, massage chairs, King-sized bed, as well as a box of free condoms ; okay I don’t know if a butt plug can actually plug up a vagina and if it is even safe (it should be) so don’t take my words as fact! Please!

Warnings : Incest, noncon/dubcon, gaslighting, naïve and innocent reader, manipulation, alcohol, underaged drinking [legal age in Japan is 20], love hotels, Keiji wants lil sis to be his housewife, mating press, pussyjob, orgasm denial, overstimulation, sex toys [butt/anal plug, egg vibrator, hitachi wand vibrator], lots of Nii-sans used, breeding kink, no actual pregnancy (yet), fingering (f. receiving)

The roars of the crowd enters your ears as the ball bounces against the floor of the large stadium, the opposing players diving to receive the ball only to fail. Your team screams and cheers, everyone running to envelope the ace of your team, Akari, as she hugs everyone back. Screaming hurts your ears, yet you’re still doing it. Adrenaline rushes through you as the announcer claims your team with the victory and the announcement that you’ll be moving onto the next round, the finals of Nationals.

Your team lines up, shaking hands with the opposing team as congrats is shared between members. Once that is done, you all face the seats on both sides, bowing and thanking them for cheering you all on. When your eyes look into the stadium seats, they immediately catch the lidded eyes of Keiji, his hands clasped together as he smiles. The simple motion has your chest puffing with pride, tears sliding down your cheeks as you know you made him proud. With your position on the team, he’s the one who trained you to be the best setter the Fukurōdani girls’ volleyball club has ever had these last three years.

Once the moment is over, everyone is back at the hotel room and either on their laptops, phones, television, or asleep. When you exit the bathroom, your hair has been brushed and styled with a nice dress, accompanying the leggings and boots Keiji gifted you to wear. Akari whistles, her arm over your shoulder as she talks to you.

“Who you lookin’ so good for?” She pries, eyes tracing the lip gloss you put on.

“My brother. He requested me to wear something nice. He’s taking me to dinner,” a bit of heat is in your voice as you say that. Keiji’s always pampering you, he loves seeing you dolled up. It’s been like that since you were playing dress-up when he was 10 and you were 5. Akari’s gaze takes on a confused look, pursed lips as she processes your words.

“He’s always taking you somewhere nice after a good game, it feels like. Why don’t you ever invite us?” She finally says. Your head snaps up, looking in the mirror at yourself compared to Akari who is also looking at your face and outfit. It wasn’t glamorous in your eyes, but it suddenly dawns on you that it’s more than a brother should expect. The twist in your gut is ignored, your head shaking as you clear your head.

“He doesn’t know any of you guys. Plus, he’s an alumni. He’s always at our games,” your response isn’t what she was expecting, you’re sure of it. But the truth is, you don’t know why Keiji takes you out to nice restaurants or just on nice walks after games. It’s the few times he has off, always requesting off to be with you, cheering you on, his full support as your brother. Occasionally, he even brings along Bokuto, his best friend, who always congratulates you and asks to have you visit his own team someday. It’s a request that you always turn down, Keiji’s eyes taking on a dark glint that sends shivers down your spine at just the mere memory of them.

Akari leaves you alone after that, your time to get ready slowly coming to an end as your phone rings. It’s Keiji, of course, asking if you’re ready yet. “Almost, nii-san! I just need to get my coat and then I’ll head down.”

He’s at the lobby of the hotel, lounging in a chair as he swipes on his phone. He’s dressed as nicely as you are, black slacks with a nice white dress shirt, all under a large coat to keep out the cold. You bounce up to him, excited for the dinner. “You look beautiful, [Y/N],”

“Thank you! You know me so well, so it’s really all your doing,” you giggle, linking your hand in his offered elbow. It felt so right, being beside as you had been these past few years. Walking towards the restaurant, you didn’t even feel the ache in your ankles and balls of your feet from the heels nor the unmistakeable tension between the two of you. It just felt familiar and right to be in this position, sitting across from Keiji as he lets you gush about all the stuff going through your head during the match or even when you happened to be getting ready for the dinner. A shadow seems to settle over his face as you refer to it as such, just a dinner. You almost referred to it as a date, but quickly corrected yourself.

Tension hangs between you two, you having to force it away by breaking the silence Keiji brings. He’s usually much more talkative, praising you as he talks about what you did right and correcting you on things you did wrong, but never criticizing you too hard. Dinner ends, with Keiji paying the full bill without ever letting you know, saying that he simply cannot let a woman pay, regardless of situation. The champagne and wine he let you have a taste of lingers in your mouth, a burn in your throat from the bitter taste of alcohol. It’s not enough to get you drunk, but you do find yourself clinging to Keiji tighter, feet unstable and legs unreliable as he brings you back to the hotel.

He stops and even in your bubbly and hazy state, you can tell the hotel isn’t the same. “Come on, you need to rest,” he says, lips next to you ear as he ushers you inside. Upon entering the room, the lobby, you know it’s not the same. You panic, the alcohol making you less restrained in your actions as you go to tug on Keiji’s arm.

“Nii—”

“Ah, ah, Keiji, dear. Until we get back to your room,”

His usage of ‘your room’ has your nerves calming down, even as he uses his card to pay the kiosk and tap on the screen, buying something. A metal jingle comes from the bottom of the electronic, Keiji picking up the key to a room. Urging you along, you follow him to the elevator. The lack of people seems to enter your mind, confusing you as you glance around the spotlessly clean black elevator. A small voice enters your mind, telling you that the hotel’s elevators are supposed to be silver, shimmering in the light that shines down.

Keiji has to practically drag you into a room, the door shutting and clicking behind you as it locks. The room is spacious, a large tub in the corner of the room as the king-sized bed offers comfort and relaxation. Yet, you falter— unmoving, your voice seems to barely get out as you question your brother. “Where... where are we?”

“My room for the night, dear. You’re drunk, you need to rest,” his comforting words have you slowly shuffling towards the bed. The chair beside the bed seems too fancy for something in a normal hotel room, more adrenaline entering your veins as you panic from unfamiliarity.

“Nii-san, I don’t like this. Take me back to my room. Akari and Hana and-”

“Shut up, you little slut,” the venom in his words has you squeaking, your much smaller frame easily being pinned to the bed by Keiji’s much broader frame. “I’ve been generous this entire evening and all you’ve blabbered about is your team and your friends. What about me, huh? You haven’t even asked how I was doing the entire date,”

“Nii-san, stop!”

“Do I not hold the most importance in your life anymore? You used to be all over me, my sweet little sister that absolutely enjoyed being around me. Now you’re prancing around as if you have not a care in the world. That boy from the boys’ volleyball club seemed awfully close for comfort, don’t you think?”

“He-,” you once more falter, the brief images from after the game when the captain of the boys’ team congratulated all of you on the win. He wasn’t close to you, you were sure of it, but why would Keiji have been there? “He’s barely a friend, nii-san,”

“Not only that, but you always have that giggle and tendency to twirl your hair as you talk to Bokuto-san, your body moving closer to him as he would walk beside you. You barely acknowledge my existence anymore. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” the tears spill down your cheeks, a hiccup as he continues to say mean things. “I’m sorry,”

“You’ll be graduating soon and then you’re going to live with me. You’re going to live with me and be my little housewife. I’m going to make you completely mine, inside and out,” his breath is hot as it fans over your face, his grip strong as he continues to squeeze and hold your face. You’re unable to do anything, the fear from his words and actions has you frozen beneath him. As his words settle in, ice crawls through your veins as you realize your gut feeling, the tension between you two, everything you ignored for the past hour and a half had a reason for being there. His entire plan was to bring you here, but you’re unable to do much of anything against him — he’s always been stronger than you. When you were young, it was comforting, his arms holding you after a nightmare or even when your first friend moved to America, but now it just served to bring more tears to you eyes, your body forced to let him do what he wants to you.

Keiji’s quick to undress you, your coat being shed as he pushes your fancy dress up, the leggings, shoes, and panties being pulled off and left to fall on the floor. Tears continue to fall, chest heaving as you’re powerless to do anything. Even if you could find the energy to move and attempt get him off of you, it wouldn’t bring anything to fruition. “You’re so dry, are you not enjoying this?”

“No, nii-san. I’m not,” you’re honest with him, yet he doesn’t stop. Sitting back on his heels, he lets his eyes trail over your form. Before a thought can enter your mind to move, he’s pushing his weight on top of you as he grabs something the table beside him, a long metal rod emerging from the miniature dresser. He keeps you pinned, moving the rubber head down to your clit, pressing a button as it begins to vibrate. “Ah! Nii-san,” your muddled voice comes out, the sensation sending an unfamiliar tingling up your spine.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel even better. All you gotta do is relax, pretty girl,”

“I’m- I’m still- y-your—” your words die on your tongue, your gut twisting into a knot as the sensation turns pleasurable. You’ve never touched yourself, always being told by Keiji that only bad girls touched themselves, that whores and sluts did. Keiji-nii doesn’t like those kinds of girls, so you never dared to go against his wishes.

“Of course you are, baby. You’ll always be my pretty girl, even if I have to remind you exactly where you belong. I’ll remind you of your place,” his words stop there, but in your head his words continue. Silently, the words of ‘if you’ll let me’ enter, an unspoken question that asks for your consent. Yet, you don’t give him anything else. Your moans and mewls are all he gets, a hand grasping at the unbuttoned dress shirt still on him. A small smile paints along his lips, your vision going black as you roll your eyes. Before the knot can release, the vibrations are removed from your clit and you whine, aftershocks coursing through you.

Keiji’s voice is barely a whisper, under his breath, “I’ll give you something much better, don’t worry.” The vibrator is forgotten and discarded, his hands fumbling with his slacks as he pulls them down, along with the dark grey underwear. His cock springs free, hard and thick and long, you unconsciously scoot away as he strokes himself. “Don’t move away,”

“But it’s scary, nii-san,” you whimper, arms close to your chest as your head bumps against the headboard. He doesn’t say anything, using his hand to rub his cock’s tip against your folds. Contrary to earlier, you’re dripping wet as the wet smacks of his appendage against your skin has you clenching around nothing, more juices dripping out. Moving his hips back and forth, he adds another sensation on your clit as he thrusts in between your folds. His tip catches onto the hood of your folds, brushing against the overly sensitive nerves as you whine and mewl at each move he makes.

“You’re so nice and slick for me, it won’t hurt. It just seems scary, look,” he forces you to do just that, hand gripping your hair as he forces you to look at his cock. The underside of it is glistening with your slick, absolutely dripping with you as it slides down to his base and over his balls. “It’s just in your mind, it won’t hurt. Don’t you trust me?”

“But nii-san, I don’t want this,” it’s not what he wants to hear, you’re sure of it. Yet he says nothing. A sigh finally breaks the silent tension as he rubs his finger against your cunt, two fingers slipping in until they can’t anymore. You’re tight, you know you are, clenching around only two of his fingers.

“If you didn’t want this, you would still be dry. You wouldn’t be squeezing my fingers so snugly. This is your body saying it wants this, don’t you remember what I said?”

Of course you don’t, he says a lot to you, so you shake your head. Another sigh.

“You need to listen to your body. It knows you better than you know yourself. I know you better than you do, you know,” his words ring true, his fingers continuing to pump themselves into you as he talks. Eventually, the feeling is no longer unfamiliar, the sensation pleasing as you moan. He smiles at that, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead as his fingers retract themselves. Using the slick on them, he rubs them against his cock to use as lube.

Pushing his tip into you is scary, but it’s not painful. As he sinks further into you, it becomes much more painful. The room must be soundproof, since Keiji keeps pushing in without trying to make you stop your screaming. He does, however, lean down to press his lips to your tear-stained cheeks as you squeeze him. He groans, his hips rutting against you. “You’re fine, stop screaming. Stop being so pathetic,”

His harsh words have your screams silencing, tears and sniffles as your walls flutter around him. It still hurts, it burns, it stings, it’s more painful than anything you’ve ever dealt with before. Before you can manage to get adjusted, Keiji is pushing your legs up to your chest, somehow making himself feel deeper than he actually is. The feeling of being crushed is back once more, his hips rearing back only to come back down against your skin. The scream from your throat is more of a moan, nails digging into the back of Keiji’s neck and teasing the small hairs as he pistons his cock into your cunt.

It’s a tight fit, the way you’re sucking him in and squeezing him with every thrust. Keiji’s balls slap against your slick ass, cunt squelching with each pump of his cock into you as more juices are forced out. His own moans and grunts of pleasure are drowning in the wave of mewls, squeals, and moans spilling from your lips. The feeling from before is back, the knot in your tummy as he rubs his cock against the inside of your walls and instead of being denied once more, the knot finally snaps as you cream all around his cock, accompanying a squeal of his name.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, let me know how good you feel,” he chuckles, picking up his pace as you continue to suck him in. A garbled call of ‘nii-san!’ leaves your lips, the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against you and his thick cock against your fluttering walls has you creaming around him once more. A sound akin to a growl comes from his throat, leaning even further forwards as he gets himself as deep as he can go, the hair at the base of his cock rutting against your sensitive clit. “I’m going to fill you with my seed and you’re going to have my babies, okay?”

“No, nii-san, I don’t want that!” You cries are ignored, your body continuing to clamp around his cock as he shoots his load into you. The feeling of being full and so warm inside has your eyes rolling, drool spilling from your open mouth as you gush around him, clear liquid splashing against his abdomen.

Once the high has passed, he removes his cock from you, keeping you in that position. You don’t dare speak, unsure you’ll be able to as your throat burns from all the screaming and cries. A metal object briefly enters your vision, the object being inserted into your pussy that drips with your brother’s seed, milky white and thick.

“If you keep it all inside, I’ll give you another treat, okay? You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, but he does take out another object. “You need to keep having an orgasm, I’ll make sure you feel real good, okay?” A medium-sized egg-shaped object enters your ass, another stinging pain from the insertion. Another round of vibrations start, your legs shaking as you mewl, head thrown back as you feel another orgasm quickly coming on. “You’ll be a good little housewife for me, won’t you? Swollen with my child and your pussy will be all for me, you know this, don’t you?”

Of course you do, regardless whether your mind agrees with you or not. He’s your nii-san and he knows best.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #akaashi x reader #Mr. Keiji #BB.Kinky #BB.Dark #BB.Requests #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.alcohol #tw.manipulation #tw.incest #tw.gaslighting #tw.degradation #tw.breeding #tw.pregnancy #cw.pregnancy #cw.alcohol #cw.overstimulation

[deniigi]

So @petrichordiam and I are menaces and giggled over our ideal dinluke flower shop AU for like 4 hrs and then I wrote this.

Title: murderer next door

Summary: Din works as a florist and Luke works as a bookseller and they’re both assassins trying to keep the other off their turf.

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

Two times now, Luke had crashed past that flower shop, and two times now, the fucker inside had taken out his mark. Now all Luke had to say about the whole thing was that it was too bad that he was going to have to kill the guy.

Han told him not to turn back. The mark was dead; the mark was gone. They weren’t fast enough this time, but there would be others.

Luke just couldn’t let it go, though. He had rent to pay, and McFloristApron over there was smashing through all his targets and making that nigh impossible—regardless of how many marks there were in the area.

Luke waited until Han had closed up shop for the night and remained there in the dark with his arm slung over the back of the chair in the backroom, surrounded by books. He rolled his shot of whiskey in its tumbler. The sound against the old wood table offered no comfort.

He stood up and left the glass to get his laptop.

He wasn’t losing to some florist, Han, sorry. Only one family could take innocuous cover on this street, and it was them.

 ---

McFlorist’s name wasn’t listed on the florist’s staff page, but then again, none of the people on that page had names. In fact, the website’s whole vibe was all wedding-chic until you clicked on the ‘staff and contacts’ tab. Then, it may as well have been a line of mugshots.

Luke squinted along the row of increasingly involved headgear until he got to someone with a reasonably-sized neck with no tats. The ladies on either side of him appeared to have sapped all the ink out of McFloristApron. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face and gave a stoic thumbs up to the camera.

Under his picture was the number fifteen.

Damn.

Luke was only making eight per pop. Who the hell was this guy eating up all the feeder fish, huh? Them lower division folks had to eat too, you know.

Well.

‘Lower division’ in a sense of the word. Being two times undercover wasn’t super glamorous, Luke had to say. But when your dad fucked it up for the first family, sometimes you had to take what you could get.

Luke pointed at Fifteen on the screen.

“You and me, pal,” he said. “You and me.”

 --

 Step one was to get paid first.

Luke chased down three marks on the other side of town to pay the rent and the medical bills for now. His hand’s new sleeve felt like a dream. It didn’t overheat like the nylon black one did, and the hand was far less shiny now as a bonus. That had certainly reduced the number of people catching something move out of the corner of their eye.

Was it worth fifty grand?

No.

Was it worth the last nine that Luke had left to pay on it?

Yeah. It was definitely worth the nine.

 ------

 Step two was to go make it clear to Fifteen McFlorist that he and his folks needed to back down in the face of the established guard.

Luke put on his biggest sweater and the thickest glasses he could find. He stole Chewie’s messenger bag with all the pins on it. He slung it over his shoulder and rolled the hems of his jeans up just a smidge too much, then scurried over to the florist’s across the way.

Fifteen was off to the side of the register, fucking around with something in the refrigerator. Luke busily and noisily looked through the wall of foliage on the side of the shop nearest the window. He hummed. He hawed. He made anxious nerd-sounds until a voice asked, “Hi, can I help you?”

Luke glanced out of the corner of his eye and found that Fifteen was standing facing his way now. His mask was gray this time. His apron was orange. His boots were too heavy-looking for florist work.

“I’d love that,” Luke gushed breathlessly. “See, my mom just got engaged and I’m on the way to her house.”

Fifteen lifted his chin slightly.

“What’re her favorites?” he asked tonelessly.

Terrible customer service skills, dude.

“Roses,” Luke said.

“Ours are shit today,” Fifteen said. “How about dahlias?”

Luke didn’t know what those were but sure.

“That sounds great,” he said. “You have any in pink?”

 --------

 He watched Fifteen brutalize some pink, orange, and white flowers into a bouquet wrapped with a silver bow and was sure to smile every time the guy looked up.

“That’ll be $37.59.”

Sir, these are dead flowers. There is no need for that price.

“Can I put it on card?” Luke asked. “How long have you worked here, if you don’t mind me asking? I work just across the way is all.”

Fifteen’s dark gaze flicked up. His hair was covered by a gray beanie two shades darker than the mask.

“At the club?” he asked.

“The bookshop,” Luke corrected him with a shy, but widening smile.

Please be gay. Please be gay. Please be gay. Leia wasn’t going to want to cooperate. She thought it was beneath her to establish boundaries like this.

“Blue paint,” Fifteen said. “Yeah, that place. How long have you been there?”

“My brother-in-law’s place, actually,” Luke said. “I started there last year after I finished college.”

Or, you know, maybe even eight years ago when he’d finished college. No one had to know. Baby faces don’t kiss and tell after all.

“Huh. You must like it there,” Fifteen said.

“It’s fine,” Luke hummed. “You like it here?”

“The kid does.”

“Oh, you’re a father?” Luke asked. “How old?”

“He’s three,” Fifteen said. “Godson. His folks were in an accident; didn’t make it.”

“That’s terrible, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Luke said. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Fifteen handed him his card back. Luke’s hand didn’t close in time to catch it and it fell onto to the wooden counter.

“Sorry about that,” Luke said, reaching for it with the other hand. His knuckles bumped into Fifteen’s when he went for the card at the same time. They both paused and went for the card again with the same result. Luke laughed.

“Slippery, am I right?” he asked, flattening his fingers on top of the piece of plastic and snatching it away.

“Very,” Fifteen said. “I hope your mom likes them.”

“Me too,” Luke smiled. “I’ll see you around—What was your name?”

“You can call me Armando,” Fifteen said.

“Armando,” Luke sounded out. “It suits you.”

It was a falsie.

“And yours?”

“James.”

“It suits you.”

It didn’t.

“Bye now,” Luke said. “Thanks for your help.”

He let the door fall closed behind him with the tinkle of the bell.

 --------

 He informed Han that “Armando” had a toddler and received only a warning look and a scolding for all his effort. Han told him not to get jealous. If there was a kid in the balance, then Fifteen, for better or worse, was going to have to see each day after the next until there was no longer a kid in the balance.

Luke offered to call CPS and report “Armando” as an assassin.

“You do that and those folks across the street are gonna call the VA and tell them I’m an assassin,” Han said. “Lay low, Luke. Lay low.”

Never.

“Christ. At least until that thing’s yours then.”

Luke glared at his right hand.

“Gimme a double,” he told Han without looking away from it.

 ------------

 It was never easy to hunt in the daylight, but Luke wasn’t here to do easy things. He needed to get Mark No. 1 alone. The man took the train once a week to a gentleman’s club on his lunch break. Luke needed a change of clothes.

He had a rainbow windbreaker, white boots, and fishnets all ready to go.

He got on the same train as the mark and dropped his phone nearby. It clattered loudly and the case came off. Luke swore and squatted to drop it at the same time that two girls next to him decided to become good Samaritans. They crouched with him and one of them caught the phone first. They handed it back with a smile.

“I like your jacket,” she said.

Luke let his face struggle to find a smile at her kindness to him, a sweet little twink trying to find the pride parade that happened two weeks ago.

“Thanks,” he said. “I like your bracelet.”

He stood up. The girls were pleased with themselves. Luke glanced back to find Mark No. 1 turn his head abruptly away.

Come here, Markie.

Do you like what you see?

  Mark No. 1 didn’t make it out of his hotel room. A pity. Luke took the elevator down and huffed and puffed about a cheap date when he passed the front desk. He stopped abruptly and went back to ask the receptionist what the cross street was. She judged his go-go boots.

He told her she wasn’t his type. Her manager gave him the cross street.

Mark No. 2 had different parameters.

 ----------

 Mark No. 2’s parameters involved chasing him through a maze of boiler rooms and dumpsters. He was chump change towards a hand that Luke hadn’t wanted in the first place, but alas. The anger still roared.

Luke cornered him, still in go-go boots—no need to sacrifice style for speed—and watched those pale eyes look every which way as Mark No. 2 realized that there was no getting out of this.

“You got options, friend,” Luke said. “I can bring you in hot or I can bring you in—”

“—cold.”

His head snapped up and he lurched out of the way just as the crack of a bullet exploded in the alley. A car backfired around the corner in a sympathetic cough. Luke stared at the body then twisted around just in time for a thick glove to latch onto the back of his neck.

“Well, look who it is,” Fifteen drawled.

Luke glared out of the corner of his eye.

“Hands off, Armando,” he warned.

“I like your boots.”

“You’re gonna love ‘em when they’re on your dick,” Luke warned.

“Back off, Nayberry.”

Fucking hell, Han. This is why they should have set up boundaries weeks ago.

“I prefer ‘James,’” Luke said sweetly.

The glock levelled at his face didn’t care.

“You took my mark,” Fifteen said.

“Aw, poor baby,” Luke pouted. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you took mine.”

Fifteen’s orange apron was gone. He’d swapped it for an old leather jacket—something he could more easily wipe clean. He should’ve gone for patent leather. The brown really wasn’t working with his grey mask-beanie situation.

“Stay in your lane,” Fifteen warned.

“Only if you stay in yours,” Luke beamed.

Fifteen huffed.

“Bookstore,” he scoffed. “Who’d you give the flowers to?”

Luke tsked.

“Myself, jackass,” he said.

“Do you even have a mom?”

“What the fuck business is that of yours? You even got a kid?”

Fifteen’s stare was deadly—the cooling body before them notwithstanding.

“Take one step near him and we won’t be talkin’ so friendly, yeah?”

Mm. Yeah.

“You owe me four grand,” Luke informed Fifteen as the glock went down and Fifteen left him to go take a pulse.

The man’s back stiffened.

“Four?” he asked. “You took this job for four?”

Luke rolled his eyes.

“I got bills, Armando,” he drawled.

“How do you keep that shed open? Have you sold even one book?”

Rude. Luke was a great sales associate. If he actually cared to put his mind to it, he’d be worthy of a promotion to manager.

He pulled the rising legs of his shorts down and adjusted the weapon in his windbreaker. He couldn’t leave the alley the way he’d gone into it. Someone might have seen. He was going to have to take a side street. Hmmm, which one? Choices, choices.

“I’ll give you a Dad’s discount. Gimme two grand, and you can have him,” Luke negotiated as he thought.

“Two.”

Hey, no need for that tone. This was a great deal.

“What’re you gonna do with two?” Fifteen asked, already knelling down to heft the body over his shoulder as proof for payment.

“Buy some more tights,” Luke deadpanned. “Two, final offer.”

Fifteen stood up all the way and gave him a weird look. A long look. His beanie was pulled down low, but Luke got the impression that he was frowning at him.

“Take the four,” he said out of nowhere. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Luke recoiled a step at first, then recoiled another when the reality of the situation hit him full in the chest.

“Forget it,” he snapped.

He spun around and started to leave.

“Wh—hey. HEY. Where are you goin’?”

“I don’t need your fuckin’ pity,” Luke called ahead of him as he set to climbing the chainlink fence separating him from the adjacent dead-end alley.

“You what?”

“You heard me,” Luke said.

He jumped down. His left hand found his right wrist and squeezed as he walked.

 -------

 The phantom pains kept him up all night, and it was definitely that and not the humiliation that made him call in sick. Han told him to answer his therapist’s emails. Luke told him to go do something useful and hung up. He rolled onto his back on his bed and focused on letting his body relax, his jaw unclench, his joints go limp.

There was sunlight finally streaming through his apartment windows again. It had been months.

Spring was almost here. He just had to hold out a little longer.

 --------

 He came in to work the next day and found an envelope on his chair in the backroom. It was thick.

“McFlorist dropped it off,” he said between aggravated sounds at his spreadsheets.

“Is it tax season already?” Luke asked him as he tried to burn a whole in the center of the envelope with his mind.

“Sure fuckin’ is.”

He stepped forward and snatched up the envelope, then deposited it squarely in Han’s lap. He made an unattractive noise of confusion and alarm.

“For the taxes,” Luke called as he went out to grab his lanyard and name tag. “Gotta keep this place open for another six months at least.”

 ------------

 There were new books in. A new shipment to shelve. Two kids’ displays to set up. And Luke was actually good at this stuff, thanks; he started stacking.

He got peace until he nearly got to the end of the second display, and then what he had was a heart attack. Two liquid brown eyes surrounded by an ocean of ringlets stared up at him from between his knees. The child curled a hand in and out in hello.

Luke jerked himself up to locate the thing’s parents immediately, and promptly found himself in deadly eye-contact with Fifteen.

Armando.

“You were gone yesterday,” Fifteen said flatly.

Luke looked between him and the kid. He was pinned between two enemy parties. How to escape, how to escape.

“Are you sick?”

How to escape. How to escape. How to escape.

“Are you hurt?”

H—what?

“I’m fine, stalker,” Luke snapped with more heat than this present cover allowed. He caught himself and pulled it back. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Thank you for asking. Is this…?”

Fifteen blinked once. The child blinked once as well. It was creepy.

“He’s mine,” Fifteen said. “And apparently the only thing that will get us through the next two hours is a book.”

Dude.

“Kids are kids,” Fifteen said. “You got any books?”

Luke stared at him, then checked the shelves to make sure he hadn’t teleported into another dimension.

You always had to check.

“We’re in a bookstore,” he said.

“He can’t read,” Fifteen said, pointing.

The kid grinned. His teeth were gapped in that toddler sort of way. He was kind of cute.

“You can’t read?” Luke asked him.

“Hi,” Baby said.

Oh no.

Luke loved him.

“How much?” he asked Fifteen.

“Touch him and you’ll be permanently comatose,” Fifteen said.

“Not if I died out of spite,” Luke said.

There was a long pause. Then Fifteen started laughing? Kind of hard?

“Oh my god, that was so unprofessional. I am so sorry,” Luke blurted out.

Fifteen collected himself and shook his head. His little one giggled and reached for Luke’s fingers.

“Boo,” he said.

Luke couldn’t feel the hand, but he could feel all the heart.

“Book?” he asked, crouching down. “Do you want a story?”

“Mmmm.”

“I have the perfect one,” Luke told him. “It’s about a caterpillar. Do you know what a caterpillar is?”

He got a slow, exaggerated head shake back and forth, back and forth. He stood up straight.

“I’m conducting a temporary kidnapping,” he informed Fifteen. “Do I have consent?”

Fifteen looked from him towards the front entrance and mulled over the merits of leaving his kid with his rival assassin. Then he shrugged.

“Consent granted,” he said. “Luke.”

Luke’s heart stopped.

“James,” he said.

“Your name tag says ‘Luke.’”

Well, fuck.

“Luke Nayberry. It suits you.”

Hhhhhhh. This was karma, wasn’t it.

“Thanks,” he gritted out. “And yourself, Armando?”

“Din.”

Woah, look out. Mr. One-Syllable-Cool-Man had entered the building.

“Din, what?” Luke asked as his arm registered tension. Din’s kid had latched onto his fingers and started pulling incessantly with a chubby hand gesturing in the direction of the wall of children’s books.

“Don’t you worry about it,” Din said.

“Fine, go trip then,” Luke said.

He swore that there was a smile under that mask.

 ----------

#dinluke #luke skywalker #ficlet #fic #I can't take any trope seriously it turns out #perhaps I am simply too old now to appreciate them #the mandalorian

[the-fiction-witch]

I Like Boys Too

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT

COUPLE BENNY WATTS X READER (MALE)

RATING SMUT AF!!

I sat at the hotel bar sipping at a beer, I knew I had a headache coming on but maybe the beer would numb it. 

"Hey watts" I heard a voice behind me smile I turned and saw townes with a whiskey he came over sitting at the bar beside me a still between us 

"Hey towens" I nodded

"Haven't seen you around much"

"I haven't been around much" 

"Last I spoke to you-" he joked

"You were in Moscow, With Beth." 

"I was," he says sipping his drink "I know you wanted to be there with her"

"I wanted a lot of things…" I answered having a long sip of my drink finishing the bottle 

"You'd think you hate her" he laughs

"I don't hate her, I'm incredibly happy for her, world championship… been a long time since any american held that, let alone someone as good as her, I'm happy for her, and… the small help I supplied in getting her there" I explain I was going to get another but he had finished his whiskey so he bought a round 

"Too miss Elizabeth harmon, World Chess Champion" he laughs I laughed to clicking his glass with my bottle "I miss her being around"

"Yeah… I do too"

"She brought an elegance, a beauty to these things, without her these places are one big, boring, grey-"

"Sausage fest?" 

"You could say so" he laughs 

"She did, she always made these places seem more glamorous"

"Where is she nowadays anyway?"

"Kentucky." I answered "with Beltik" 

"With Beltik." He laughs "That girl could have any boy in the world"

"And she takes him" I sighed having almost half my beer 

"Oh all the boys in the world right" he laughs

"Yeah," I nodded 

"Hey hun? Are you coming to dinner?" I heard another voice say, I looked and saw another guy in a little red suit jacket 

"Yeah just a sec" he winked giving this guy a kiss and he Wandered off "sorry, date night" he laughs 

"Yeah, you uhh you go" I told him "have fun" 

"I am… sorry about it all watts" he says I tried to force the memory away, I didn't want to think about it "it's Alright you'll find a pretty girl" he says tapping my shoulder as he went off with his boyfriend, I sighed having more beer, I didn't want to think about it. I looked around the bar and small restaurant thinking my mind wandering to strange places. Of everything I've done… I'd never had a boyfriend, I couldn't imagine what it would be like, going to dinner with another man, or kissing another man, or… being intimate with another man. I had nothing against honest towens and his boyfriend are adorable, they work so well together and they're happy so who cares. 

I wonder what it would be like having a boyfriend….

We could share clothes. I wouldn't have to deal with make up in my house. We could sit and drink beer while discussing sports. Wait, I hate sports. We could discuss chess! We could go to the movies and not watch romcoms. I had never really thought about it as an option for me but then again why not? It's not like I don't understand how a dick works, I mean I have one. By that logic I should be a good damn fucking expert! I understand a dick way better than I understand a Virgina or atleast I think I do. 

I looked around the bar area, I have no idea how to do this. Then again to be fair I don't completely know how to do it for girls either, I don't think I've ever tried that hard to pick up a girl they just sort of… come to me. I saw a guy standing with a beer. He looked at me so I waved and he looked confused and wandered off. 

Well, that didn't work. 

"Hey give me a beer man" a guy said to the bar man as he sat down on that still where towens had been he reached for his wallet but

"No it's okay, I got it" I said paying for his and for another myself luckily this stuff isn't exactly strong 

"Cheers" he laughs, fixing a cuff of his blue button down, he was strong much more so than me, his pants rather tight given what I had been thinking about I found I was looking much more, his glittering silver watch, his hair styled interestingly enough but nothing to distracting.

"No problem" I smiled "Benny watts" I said offering my hand 

"Y/n y/l/n" he says giving my hand a shake 

"You play? I've not seen you around?'

"I don't, always wanted to but I'm shit" he laughs sipping his beer "reporter. Pays the bills" he shrugs 

"Yeah, I see why you mean" I laughed "what are you working on?"

"Just an update peice, scores and ranks. If it ain't the girl readers aren't interested" he says 

"Sorry you haven't got anything more interested to report on" I laughed

"It's alright, I'm use to it" he shrugs "so you play?'

"Yeah" I nodded "when I can"

"You got your girlfriend upstairs?" He says making me jump a little at the sudden question

"No, single as always" I shrug "you got your girlfriend here helping you out?"

"No, not my kinda thing" he shrugs 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah,"

"You know I uhh I have a little extra time. I do head back to New York till the morning. If you want I could… give you something interesting to write about" I suggested

"I'd like that, Mr Watts" he smirked "ten O'clock, five nine two" he winked finishing up his beer "I'll be waiting" 

"Ten it is" I smirked as he got up and headed off into the hotel, I smirked to myself. This is an odd night I wouldn't have expected it to go this way but fuck it I'm rolling with it. I finished my beer and headed up to my room having a quick shower and standing by my hotel mirror trying to do something… with my hair. I don't know. I haven't had a date in forever. If this is even a date. I haven't had sex in a while, but I suppose it's not like I'm going to forget how to do it. I hope he's done this before because… I haven't got any Ideas, you'd think as a guy I would know but, I really don't. Maybe I should talk with towens and his boyfriend more often.

I got dressed into my jeans and my green button down only doing half of it up as usual, and heading out to his room. I tried to walk confidently even if I didn't feel it, why am I so nervous it's just a hookup? Nothing I haven't done before, just not...like this. I knocked and stood trying not to look nervous when he opened the door his blue button down almost completely undone his jeans even tighter then before, he leant on the doorframe smirking as he looked me up and down 

"Hey" 

"Hey" I answered 

"You wanna come in for a cup of coffee?' he asks 

"Uhh yeah," I nodded so he let me inside his room much like my own "I'll make it" I said Heading to the side where a cheap electric kettle sat with some little coffee and tea packets from the hotel I clicked the kettle on and started making the coffee until I felt his strong body press against me I could feel his jeans buckle in my back his hands snaked around me his fingers playing with the button strips on my shirt inches from my exposed skin, I gasped and held my breath feeling his hands so close to my skin 

"That's not the kinda coffee I meant Benny" 

"Isn't it? I uhh I thought it was"

"No, it wasn't" he smirked gently grinding his hips against me I could feel his erection against my arse, I didn't know what to think for a moment until I turned to face him, "what's wrong?" He asks 

"Nothing, nothing" I answered unable to tear my eyes away from his exposed chest, only ever glancing up to his plump lips, he smiled wickedly at me 

"Ohh I get it" he smirked before I could say anything his hands grabbed behind my thighs and he lifted me up to sit on the counter moving me like I was nothing to him, like he could have done it one handed or that to him I was as light as anything else. "Your one of those boys" he smirked moving forward giving my neck a few gentle kisses, I couldn't deny ever kiss drove me crazy 

"One of those boys?" I asked 

"The ones who need a little…" he smirked moving his hands to sit one each on my knees "attention to get them going" he growled pushing on my knees making my legs open as wide as possible he moved quickly before I had time to react standing between my legs "you like this? Don't you benny?" He smirked grinding himself against me feeling his stiff long cock against my hardering erection, I couldn't stop staring at him

"Yes.." I gasped so I grabbed his neck and pulled his lips to my own partly to stop me moaning, I tasted his aftershave, I tasted his beer, I tasted him, and I loved it. I could feel his smooth skin as he kissed be back it turning fast into hot and heavy make outs my hands playing and toying with his hair as he undid my shirt buttons pushing it off me I tried to do the same to him but I only did two buttons before he picked me up again. I grabbed onto his neck a little scared of dropping to the floor but he pushed us over so I landed on my back on his bed he smirked as he still stood, over me between my legs still, I sat up on my elbows slightly trying to shuffle up the bed with my nerves, he smirked down at me egarly, I gulped beyond nervous he leant down to kiss me but I pushed him back "wait, wait, wait" I said quickly

"What's up? You uhh don't look so great? Are you okay benny?"

"I uhhhhh I have to be honest y/n" I told him as I sat up rubbing my arm a little "I uhhh I've never done this before" 

"Never?"

"Never."

"Humm… pretty dirty for a little virgin boy then" he smirked 

"What, no. I'm not a Virgin"

".... I'm confused"

"I've had sex before just… not with a guy." 

"Oohh." He nods "did you.. want to?"

"I uhh I think I do"

"You think or you do Benny? I don't wanna do this is you don't want to"

"No no I want to, just a little confused and nervous and all" I explain

"I'll be gentle, I promise" he reassured "so you a top or a bottom?" 

"Uuuuhhhhh…. I do not have a bunk bed"

"Ohhh my god you can tell you're straight" he sighed "when your with a girl Benny? Would you rather… push her on the bed face first and fuck her hard or would you rather her pin your arms to the bed and ride your cock?" He smirked pressing kisses down my jaw, my neck and down my chest towards my belt 

"Uhhh depends on the girl" I answered 

"Well I guess you should be top as… your not really ready for.. me inside you"

"Aren't I?"

"No, your not Benny," he laughs "don't worry I'll give you a little confidence first" he winked moving and undoing my belt before I could say another word my jeans where on the floor, I bit my mouth hard trying not to see his reaction as my now fully hard cock sat tall in my boxers "big boy I see Benny" he smirked "lay down, and get comfy" he says pushing my stomach so I did as he asked and laid back down staring at the molded pattern in the ceiling he pulled back my boxers and I hissed feeling my erection against the cold air of the room "excitable tonight" he smirked blowing a little warm air across my head, he pushed my up and apart which freaked me out a little so my feet sat on the edge of the bed, my first thought was. This is a weird position and the secondly I feel… very exposed, I think I get why boyfriends are so close, you really can't hide anything like this. I focused on the ceiling unsure what it would be like, I heard him lick his lips and within seconds he took every inch or my cock in his mouth, it was wet, an warm, and heavenly, I kept my eyes on the ceiling best I could even if I wanted to roll them back in pleasure, my mouth hung open tiny almost squeaky kind of moans leaking from my throat, he gently sucked my complete length which made me throb into his sucks, his lips clamped around my shaft, he moved back as he bobbed his head whenever he pulled back it didn't feel as good so my hands quickly went to his head to push him down where I needed him. 

"Uuhhh UGHHH!" I groaned feeling so close, it felt so good, he pushed my hands off and moved away I tried not to whine even if I wanted too 

"Bossy little thing aren't you" he smirked "keep them there, unless you wanna be inside me" he smirked pinning my arms to the bed either side of my head I nodded and he smirked returning back to the heavenly sucking, I couldn't help but groan rolling my head against the bed starting at the ceiling gripping the covers hard when it felt good, I couldn't help pushing his head down when I felt I was about to cum but he pushed me away 

"No no no please" I begged "y/n… I was about to-"

"I know" he smirked offering his hand so I took it and he picked me up wrapping his arms around my waist resting his hand on my hip so I stood pulled into his side when if my legs barely wanted to stand I couldn't help my hand playing with the little line of chest hair between his pecks resting my head on his shoulder he smirked at me and used his other hand to move the bed around moving pillows and things around the bed almost like he was making a ramp or wedge, I gave his neck some little kisses as he worked until he took my hand from his chest giving it a kiss "cute little thing aren't you? Never imagined you'd be… such a bottom" he smirked 

"Am I?"

"Ohh Benny baby your the most bottom boy over ever met" he smirked "that's fine, I like being a top" he growled 

"What does that mean?"

"You understand Dom and sub right?"

"Yeah"

"Bottom is more sub"

"Oohh… yeah that's probably more me. Mostly because I am way to lazy" 

"Your a cute little bottom" he smiled kissing me gently "and you tickle when you kiss" he smirked gently playing with my chin 

"Did you uh want me to?" I suggested moving my hand from his down under his jeans but he quickly took my hand away

"I'm hard enough Benny. I know I said you weren't ready but… I'll deal with it." He smirked "I wanna fuck you" 

"Uhh okay" I nodded nervous but excited 

"Lay down" he smirked guiding me to lay down this wedge of pillows me had made so my ass was in the air "comfy?' 

"Yeah" 

"Good, you wanna help me?" He smirked standing at the foot of the bed right in front of my face I smirked a little undoing his jeans and tugging them down to his knees I was in shock and a little… I don't know, jealous, he was bigger then me he didn't have underwear so I was faced with his hard cock precum slowly dripping down his shaft he got a condom from his pocket so I took it ripping it open with my teeth gently slipping it on for him he smirked playing with my hair as I did, I was so tempted to suck him but he forced my head away "whoa… slow down there Benny," he smirked getting something from his bag "where gonna need this" he smirked showing me the familiar bottle, "you know this stuff?"

"Yeah, I have a bottle in my bag too" I blushed 

"Yeah? For what?" He smirked 

"Jerking off mostly"

"Well we need it," he smirked getting on the bus behind me, I could feel the bed creak and my heart race "your tight little virgin ass won't take my cock if I don't" he smirked slapping my ass hard with his left hand 

"Whoa!" I said in shock feeling my cock throb as my ass stung with pain "uhh y/n?"

"Yeah Benny?" He smirked 

"Could you uhh… do that again?" I asked 

"Again? Like this?" He smirked doing it again slightly harder I could feel the lube on his fingers that time as he has been using that hand to lube himself up I smirked slightly biting my bottom lip 

"Ummmm Humm" I mummbled nodding quickly

"Aww? You are such a subby bottom" he smirked "you like getting spanked Benny?" 

"Yes…" I gasped 

"Then be a good boy, and don't cum all over yourself, or I'll spank your sexy ass red raw Benny" he earned 

I couldn't even reply as his hands gripped my ass hard, I stared at the hotel carpet unsure what else to focus on as I felt his throbbing erection press against me I held my breath before, it was a simple little push. 

My eyes rolled back feeling like I was being stretched, feeling him throb inside me, my own cock twitching in desperation against the pillows, his hands gripped me tight likely would have nail marks by morning, I gripped the pillows tight, my mouth hung open, it hurt I couldn't deny, but it also felt Soo good, a pleasure I had never felt before and I never wanted it to stop 

"Fuck! Your so tight! Fuck you feel so good" he groans starting to move fast and hard 

I was in another world each thrust sending me deeper into this unexplainable world of pleasure I wanted to scream but not a word came out of my mouth.

"You okay benny?" He asks as he gently slowed 

"No! No no! Don't stop y/n!" I begged "please, don't stop" 

"Somebodies Happy. You like it Benny?"

"I love it" I groaned 

"Yeah I do too" he smirked getting faster, the bed creaking and sqeeking with his every movement, I was so close feeling so an amazing feeling inside me he slapped my ass hard every chance he got, and as he did one hard time I hit a brick wall, my cum spurting across the pillows and my stomach, feeling like a firecracker got set off in my cock, and then a whole new sensation erupting inside of me the two sensations hitting at the same time 

#benny imagine #benny x reader #benny smut #benny #benny watts #bennywattssmut #benny watts smut #benny watts imagine #bennywatts #tbs #thomas sangster #tbs smut #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomas sangster smut #tbs smutty

[pikemoreno]

denying, admitting

part 2 of the ‘pretending’ universe

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader

word count: 5.2k (hahaha whoops. the longest single piece i’ve ever written)

warnings: canon typical violence, mildly gruesome death of a bad guy, some bad words, idiots to lovers

a/n: here it is finally, the continuation of the drabble pretending. the link to it is below. enjoy the best yeehaw man. we ignore canon here.

wanna join a taglist?

pretending | masterlist

“Your name is?” 

“Erica Shields.”

“And your boyfriend’s name is?”

“David Wells.”

“What does he do?”

“He is the CEO of a new weapons manufacturer called Co-Tech.”

“And when they ask what he really does?” 

“He is the CEO of Co-Tech… And all of their offshore accounts holding millions of dollars from the sale of illegal bio weapons.”

“And, just so we’re clear, the targets tonight are?”

“Mr. Lucas Mora and Mr. Grant Levin. Lead dealers of an illegal weapons ring known in the inner circles as IWE. They are the primary targets and any known-associates can be subdued as secondary targets.”

“Good,” Champ nodded, looking quite confident in your ability to keep to your fake identity, “You’re good to go, Agent Brandy. I’ll call up Agent Whiskey now and you can go ahead ‘n head down to get ready.”

You froze as you stood to leave. “Get ready, sir?” Air left his mouth gruffly in a way akin to a laugh as you looked over the pantsuit you were wearing. His eyes were knowing where yours were markedly confused.

You were already ready… You thought?

“Just go meet Ginger Ale downstairs. She’ll explain. Good luck tonight.”

“No luck needed, sir. We’ll take ‘em down tonight. Maybe a couple of their other dealer friends if we can prove they’re in on it.”

“Not that, Agent.” 

“What--” Agent Whiskey knocked on the half-open door at that moment.

“Ready for me, sir?” 

“Yes, please come in. Agent Brandy was just leaving.” His cheeky smile directed between the two of you told you nothing and everything all at once.

What did he think he knew about this? This was nothing. Just an agent with a miserable crush on a senior agent. You excused yourself from the conference room quickly, ignoring Jack as you brushed past him. 

Ignoring how intoxicating he smelled-- was that a new cologne for the occasion? 

Ignoring how nice he looked-- wine-colored velvet suit jacket, white button-up, dark dress pants, the usual hat abandoned in favor of his dark hair, immaculately styled for the occasion. 

Ignoring the fact that you could feel his eyes boring into you and you were not going to be giving him the satisfaction of playing into his flirting.

You did as you were bid, making your way to the staging area to get your weapons and other effects for the mission to find a high-low red satin dress, black heels, and obnoxiously large jewelry hanging along with your knives and the “upscale” version of the Statesman glasses. Your face must have dropped quite visibly because you heard a laugh from Ginger Ale next to you.

“Absolutely not,” you groaned, “I thought ‘Maybe a tasteful pantsuit with some flats?’ Maybe some boots? How am I supposed to work in this, Ging? Where are my knives gonna go?”

“Unfortunately this crew you’re going to be dealing with is-- well-- Unapologetically misogynist under the guise of being ‘traditional’ is probably the best way to put it,” Ginger shook her head. 

“So they’re afraid of a girl wearing pants?”

“When they look as independent and secure as you, absolutely,” she laughed. “The other women at the party are gonna look like this. You would’ve blown your cover before you even spoke if you were in your regular attire.” You sighed. You guessed it was a pretty hot look, if not a little unruly to complete the mission in. It’d get you to walk three inches taller in newfound confidence and you guessed that couldn’t have been anything but helpful in this scenario.

“So do I get my knives or am I just playing the part tonight?”

“Not at all. What better way to take them out then doing it by the hand of someone they don’t respect? They’ll never see it coming.” She presented the thigh holster that had been laying on the table next to her.

“Oooh, now that’s sexy, Ging,” you gawked, admiring the piece and absolutely filling it to the brim with the best of your knives from the wall of weaponry in front of you, as well as your trusty vial of poison.

“I know someone else who’ll think so too.” You stopped cold and turned to face her as she looked particularly smug

“Oh, not you too. First, Champ was acting weird about this and now you too? What exactly do you guys think is going on here? It’s Jack. He flirts with everyone.”

“It’s not just Jack that I’m talking about. I mean this with all the love in the world, but you can’t possibly be that dense, Brandy. Stop playing coy.”

“Playing coy how?’ Your anger bubbled in your throat, not at Ginger Ale or tonight or even Jack. Just yourself. Yourself and your dumb affections. It made your words come out a little more venomous than you intended, but Ginger took it in stride. “Pretending I don’t have a ridiculous crush on a senior agent and my partner in this tonight? Pretending that I won’t be heartbroken when tonight means nothing in the grand scheme of things?”

“You should probably go ahead and get ready. Your partner should be done with Champ any minute.” She gave you a tight-lipped smile and ushered you off to go change.

By the time you made it outside, Jack was already waiting, leaning coolly against the sleek black town car-- no Bronco for tonight; a CEO could only show up in the best.

“Look at you, all gussied up,” Jack smiled as you walked towards him. You rolled your eyes, and avoided his in doing so. It was all a part of the charm. Jack was a serial flirt. You’d seen it. And you’d seen too many before you fall for it, take his having fun too seriously. You couldn’t let his words fluster you or start thinking they were something they weren’t. But still, you couldn’t hide the playful smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth as his eyes stayed on you.

“After you, my sweetheart,” he opened the door to the elegant car for you.

“There’s no one here, Jack, you don’t have to start with that yet.”

 If only you saw the way he had to bite his tongue as you settled into the passengers’ seat.

You were really starting to make him question how good he is reading the signals. It had been seeming so obvious that you were into him; and so he reciprocated, making it more than clear that he is very much into that idea. And now you had taken the coy act so far that he was wondering if it was an act at all. Of course, he wanted to tell you how he felt about you. He’d wanted to tell you tonight. After a night of him “pretending” to woo you, showing you off, and kicking some criminal ass, he would tell you that the pretty things he’d said to you were real, that he would love to take you out for real and definitely not to an illegal weapons party this time. 

But he didn’t want to do that if you really weren’t interested. He didn’t want to put you in that uncomfortable position of having to reject someone you were going to see and work with everyday. Until he got a good read on how you really felt, he’d have to keep it to himself… While still making it so painfully obvious-- in a non-committal way. 

The drive was largely silent as you both thought far too hard about the messes you’d put yourselves in. The thick cloud of it was only interrupted by occasional questions and confirmations about the plan, the targets, and the escape.

Mr. Lucas Mora’s mansion was absolutely breathtaking as you pulled up to you: all light stone with a tiled roof, big windows, a grand driveway featuring a roundabout winding around a glamorous fountain that sparkled in the night lights. You found yourself trying to hide your awe as a valet took the black town car away and Jack led you by the arm up the marbled stairs to the front door that must’ve cost more than your entire apartment. You kept your voice low as you spoke to Ginger Ale over the com. She’d hacked into their security cameras like the damn genius she was and had eyes on the whole affair.

“What do we see, Ging?” 

“Levin and Mora are in the lounge. A lot of foot traffic in there. You should get them out of there before engaging”

“We have to get them separated. Less chance of one escaping.” Jack put his hand over his mouth, pretending to scratch at his mustache so no one could read his lips. You walked in the direction of the lounge, arm in arm. The way the knuckles of his other arm ran lightly over your arm was far too distracting for its own good, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m not seeing a lot of weapons for a weapons dealer party. Should we be worried, Ginger? Anything hidden?” you asked, talking into a flute of champagne you picked up to keep your words hidden.

“Of course not. Their weapons are far too dangerous for their own use,” she laughed,  “I don’t see anything, but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Copy th--” You didn’t get to finish before the two of you were intercepted by Levin, the younger of the two leaders. He had a strong jawline featuring a smattering of well-kept stubble, slicked back greasy hair, and a smile so smugly charming it surely sealed him a few deals. 

“Where do I know you from?” he had an oddly ambiguous accent that you couldn’t quite pin and you wondered if that was on purpose. This man had to be a chameleon. “I pride myself on never forgetting a face. It would seem I’ve missed one.” He talked solely to Jack-- of course.

“David Wells. CEO of Co-Tech.” He held out his hand to be shaken. Levin only looked at it. “And this,” he put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, “is my girlfriend Erica Shields.”

“Never heard of you.” Jack let his hand fall back to his side, not dropping his eager smile.

“We’ve had several dealings with IWE. Often sell to--” Levin’s eyes lit up.

“Oh none of that code here, Mr. Wells, we’re all friends. Glad to have a loyal associate here with us.” He gave Jack one solid pat on the shoulder and then continued on to talk to someone else. You noticed for the first time how tense your shoulders had been and Jack rubbed a hand over one soothingly. How did he always know?

“Alright, let’s re-group,” you shrugged his hand off lightly, turning to face him. “I’m gonna tail Levin. You try to schmooze Mora. Take this.” You placed the poison vial in his hand, disguising the gesture as a hand squeeze-- which you couldn’t say you were mad about doing-- and stalked off to find your target.

It was a half hour before you saw him again. You were walking the pool deck and listening to Jack’s poor attempt to give Mora a poisoned drink. He was incredibly uninterested and you internally groaned at how obvious Jack was being with trying a little too hard to get it to him. The thought was interrupted by a voice coming from the pool below.

“And who might you be? I think I’d remember a gem like you.” You looked down to find none other than Levin, and staggered a moment, unsure of what to make of the comment.

“Erica Shields. We met a few minutes ago? With my boyfriend David Wells?” you responded in your sugary-sweetest voice.

“Right, right, of course.” You nodded awkwardly and there was a long beat of silence.  What game was he playing? Or was he really just that dismissive towards women? “Well, are you coming?”

“Coming?”

“You don’t have to play dumb with me, sweetheart.” It was the same term Jack had used with you earlier, and yet this one went down like poison instead of honey. “Come on down here with me.” He rose to float on his back in the water to emphasize where exactly he was wanting you to go. “Your boyfriend may be making millions, but I’m making billions.” He winked. You had half a mind to take a knife out right there and plant it directly into his chest, unconcerned with the consequence of the on-lookers, but then you realized you had an even better opportunity. 

Let’s turn this Ms. Shields into a gold-digger. 

You played along.

“Oh I don’t doubt it, but I’m afraid I didn’t get the memo about swimsuits.” You cocked a hip, tilting your head at him. 

If you could just get him alone.

He practically leaped out of the pool and climbed up onto the deck, coming to stand almost nose to nose with you. 

“Brandy, I know what you’re trying to do and I can’t recommend this. Rendezvous with Whiskey and you can figure out another way,” Ginger Ale’s voice came into your ear. Levin’s voice cuts back in.

“Well, we don’t have to stay here, angel.”

“Ginger, what’s she doing?” Jack’s panicked voice followed, “Brandy? Where are you? I’m coming to find you.” You’d never heard him speak so urgently. It made you freeze for just a second before you spoke to Levin

“Lead the way,” you smiled, watching as Levin quickly dried off before leading you with a hand on the middle of your back. You leaned into it despite wanting to put one of your knives through it. What a pig. 

It was at that moment that you met eyes with Jack, just briefly, just long enough to see his face fall. You turned away before Levin noticed your staring, missing the seven stages of grief cross Jack’s face as you walked away. 

His first instinct was jealousy. He, of course, knew you weren’t going anywhere with a worm like Levin for any reason other than your job, but he couldn’t help the knee jerk reaction from seeing someone else with an arm around you. His second reaction was worry. You were the most capable agent he knew, but that sort of situation was a particularly dangerous one. He didn’t miss the possessiveness of Levin’s grip; and he didn’t want to think about what he was going to try to do when he had you alone. His third reaction, then, was to follow you. It was his fault you were in this mess with him anyway-- so much for “wooing” you. There was no way he was going to let you suffer for it.

In that time, Levin had pulled you into the first of ten bedrooms in the upstairs corridor of the mansion and promptly pinned you against the opposite wall, an arm on either side of your shoulders. You responded in kind, the way anyone would respond to an unwanted advance by a sleazy billionaire: by stabbing him in the neck. About that time is when Jack finally caught up to you, slamming the door open, lasso at the ready, eyes wide in fear. He relaxed visibly as Levin crumpled lifeless to the floor. You watched Jack crack a smile.

“Guess I should’ve known you wouldn’t need any rescuing,” he reeled the lasso in, returning it to its place on his belt. You smiled back.

“You should’ve. But it was sweet of you to worry, so I’ll forgive you. Let’s get Mora and get the hell out of here before anyone finds the body.” 

***

You made surprisingly, anticlimactically quick work of Mora once you found him again. You snagged a tray of drinks from where a member of his extended wait staff had set it down. Jack added a dash of your little secret ingredient to one of the glasses and you presented it to him as he lounged on the couch. He gave you one singular nod, took the drink from you, and continued laughing with his guests. One sip would be plenty to have him on the floor within ten minutes, and you watched him take that first deadly sip with pride.

So now the targets were either dead or dying and you knew instantly you were going to have to book it out of there because once Mora keeled over, it wouldn’t take very long for anyone in that room to figure out the culprit. The issue, of course, was remembered once you made it outside the doors: your ride back was in the hands of the valet: a valet that was overcrowded with guests trying to leave. It’d take far too long to get the keys and peel out of there. Mora would be long dead before then. 

“Ginger, how long before we can get an extraction? We can’t get the car back in time.” Jack mumbled lowly as you made your way out of the mansion, walking with Jack hand in hand as though you were a couple going to look at the front gardens

“I’m not sure. All other agents are out. There’s a small town about a mile away if you can get there. I’ll send someone to you with a ride as soon as possible.”

You looked at each other. 

“Guess we’re walking darlin’.” Screams sounded from the house and you both jumped at the sound. “Quickly,” Jack added, eyes wide.

It was about a quarter of a mile of walking down the roadside before the terrible heels really started digging into your feet, leaving blisters and arch pain in their wake. No one had trailed you so far, which was good because your feet couldn’t handle moving any faster than their current trudging pace.

Jack must’ve noticed your limping, because he stopped and grabbed your hand to stop you as well, eyebrows knitted in a frown.

“You alright?” He looked you over, as if checking for injuries.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, Jack. Don’t worry. It’s just the shoes.” He looked down at them, noticing the angry red rub marks. He didn’t waste a second in kneeling down and starting on removing his right shoe.

“What are you doing? You don’t have to do that, Jack. I’ll just go barefoot.”

“Nonsense.” He finished removing the right shoe and started on the left. 

“Well now you’re gonna be barefoot. What’s the difference?”

“I still have socks. You don’t know what kinda weird stuff is on the side of the road out here, Brandy.” He removed them and then gestured to your shoes, looking up at you. “May I?”

You worried at your bottom lip for a moment, looking down into sparkling eyes you’d thought about too often. They were now so close, so earnestly looking into yours. The care and concern sent a little spark up your spine. You nodded and joined him in undoing the little buckles on each shoe. He held out a hand for you to grab onto for balance as you slid out of the heels and into his much-too-large dress shoes. The strange, casual intimacy of the act was odd, but not unwelcome.

“Well, it’s certainly not a perfect fit, Cinderella, but it’s better than whatever the hell Statesman gave you,” he smiled and you returned it. He stood back up and your hands parted as you continued your trek to the town Ginger had found, shoes in hand and the promising lights of it gleaming up ahead.

Actually arriving to the little town of Speake was less than spectacular. The shining lights you’d seen came from the neons of a gas station and a 24 hour dive and the flickering street lamps in front of a long-closed post office, and a quaint but not horribly sketchy motel.

“Ginger, we made it,” you called, “What’s the ETA?” She hesitated.

“Is there a place there you’d feel comfortable staying at a while? 

“I guess,” you sighed, afraid to ask again, “What’s the ETA, Ginger?”

“First thing tomorrow morning.”

You looked to Jack. “Motel it is, then.”

***

Jack couldn’t help but feel he’d won the lottery as you dragged yourselves up to the second floor of the motel. There was only one vacant room with one king bed. It was a little too perfect, like he’d set it up himself, but he hadn’t. Well, he guessed he had, actually, but just the part where you joined him on the mission as his fake girl, not that you’d get stuck out here and have to share a motel room. Sure, he hadn’t gotten the chance to charm you quite like he’d wanted to: having you on his arm, complimenting you to others at the party, maybe getting to fake-- real-- kiss you. And he definitely regretted putting you in danger. But all of that sort of fell away from his memory now that he was getting so much more alone time with you than he’d initially bargained for. He wouldn’t dream of trying to share the bed with you, of course. He’d rough it out on the chair or find a way to make something up on the floor. But still, he couldn’t help but be a little giddy at the prospect of spending this much more uninterrupted time with you. 

Jack might’ve been incredibly enthused with the scenario, but he hid it from you well. He didn’t want to seem overeager and come off as though he was excited about the arrangement because of the off-chance that you might sleep with him. He knew what his reputation could be around the workplace. Hiding what he was feeling from you, though, meant that you had no idea what to think at this point. It all looked very different and incredibly confusing on your end of things. 

First and foremost, you’d settled it in your mind now that you would be sharing a bed with him. That was fine. You were friends, pretty good ones at that. And both professionals to boot. The unsettled part came in you knowing how you felt, but becoming more and more unsure of him. The fact of the matter was that any flirting that occurred before tonight was unreliable as proof that he might be attracted to you. He flirted with far too many other women for you to be able to take it seriously. Then there was tonight. He was clearly panicked about your safety and willing to give up his shoes for you. Hard to say what it meant. He might be a bit of a stubborn asshole at times, but he cares deeply about people. It’s what put him in Statesmen in the first place. Given that, would he have acted similarly with other agents out of the simple goodness of his heart? Maybe. But then again, it had seemed that he was catching onto your crush based on the day in the boardroom when you got this assignment. “You keep saying that we’re friends but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true,” he had said. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Obviously, he was getting the idea. So assuming that he truly was acting differently around you, was it because he felt differently in and of himself? Or was it because he had caught on to how you felt and knowing someone had given into his charms made him automatically more interested in them?

It was hurting your head, going in circles like this. And by the time you gave up on your spinning, cycling thoughts, you’d reached your $35 room for the night.

It wasn’t… Terrible, you guessed. About what you’d expect for a $35 room in no-town Kentucky: beyond basic, subpar comforts, and flickering fluorescents. But it looked clean enough, that was a relief.

Relief ended as you looked in the bathroom mirror, mentally getting ready for bed as it now reached 1am. Relief ended when you realized you had nothing to sleep in other than the sweaty, itchy, puffy dress on your back. A long night was about to be even longer as you stared at the ceiling uselessly, sleeplessly waiting for the extraction. 

You stepped out of the bathroom and stopped as you watched a long-legged Jack trying to squeeze himself into a small armchair in the corner of the room.

“What are you doing?” 

“What does it look like? I’m getting ready for bed.” 

“Yeah, sure.” You hopped onto the bed. “C’mon, there is more than enough room to share this miserable little bed here.” You spread your arms across the bed for emphasis. but he hesitated. Of course he really didn’t want to spend the night in a lumpy old chair, but he didn’t want you to say that it was ok just because you felt bad for him and have you be uncomfortable.

“Ah-- Well, only if you’re comfortable with that, darlin’. I don’t want to overstep. I’m fine here, really.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Get over here.”

“Oh, thank God.” He practically ran and jumped next to you on the bed. 

“Liar,” you grinned, “I thought you said were fine over there.”

“Who wants to spend a night on a chair like that? I’m not crazy.” He crinkled his nose at the realization of your bed attire. “But I’m thinking you might be. Are you really gonna be sleeping in that?” 

“Well, what else am I supposed to be sleeping in?” He sat up and started unbuttoning his white button up shirt before you could utter another syllable. “What--” You began, but it was obvious he wouldn’t hear it. You were too distracted anyway, unable to look away from the exposed, tanned skin of his shoulders down to his soft belly. You’d always assumed him to be the type that took immaculate care of his body and wouldn’t settle for less than perfectly toned abs. The realization of the truth was a happy one, if you were honest. It was endearing, imperfect. It made him a little more human and less Agent Whiskey. 

“It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s probably a lot better than that.” He held the shirt out to you and promptly turned around for your privacy when you took it with gratitude. 

“No peeking, Whiskey,” you teased as you changed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine.”

You flopped back onto the bed when you’d finished and touched his shoulder to let him know it was ok to turn back around. 

“Better?” he grinned.

“Much better. Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.” He flipped off the light and you both retreated to your edges of the bed. 

Both out of respect for the other.

Both kind of wishing that this was happening under other circumstances that didn’t require you both to separate like two magnets of the same pole. 

But instead you repelled apart until sleep took you both.

Waking up in the morning was another story. Both of you had migrated toward the other in the night, meeting in the middle. You were facing each other, noses almost touching, his arm draped over your middle. Both of you coming to at about the same time led to an awkward dance of moving away and arms jolting away and mumbled sorry’s as you both laid there for just a moment more.

And he didn’t mean to say it, he really didn’t. This was not how he’d want this come out, but he was just admiring the way his shirt laid against your skin and the way your eyes glittered even in this grungy lamp light. And it just… slipped out.

“When I’ve imagined you wearing my clothes this definitely wasn’t what I was expecting.” You sat up so fast you felt a touch of vertigo. 

“I’m sorry, what?” His eyes widened in panic. Did he say that out loud? He wasn’t just thinking that? Damn was he tired still. 

“That came out wrong I—“

“What does that mean, Jack? Why would you be imagining that?” Your heart rate was picking up to dangerous speeds, your tone was more clipped than you intended, fear seeping into it.

“You know,” he mumbled, hands covering his face now, regretting every choice that led him to this moment.

“No, I don’t,” your voice softened as you crawled over and gently removed his hands from his face. “As a—,” you gulped, “A conquest or a… Something else.” He sat up, horrified, sitting directly across from you. 

“A conquest? Of course not! I talk a big game, but I don’t do that shit anymore.” He sighed. “I recognize that I flirt around a lot, but it really never goes anywhere honestly. I don’t let it. But even then, of course you were different.” You gawked, but you couldn’t hide the way your mouth twisted upwards on the corners. 

“How was I supposed to know that, Jack? You said it best, you flirt with… Everyone. How was I supposed to tell the difference?” He took your hands softly, giving you the space and permission to take them away if you wanted. You didn’t. You let him thumbs run over the knuckles soothingly as he spoke.

“You think I’d give just anyone my shoes to walk in or my shirt to wear? Hell, do you think I’d generally offer to take the floor when presented with a gorgeous woman and a motel room? No, Lord knows a younger me would’ve been all too happy to share the bed and hope something more came out of it. But it’s all different with you.” 

“Oh,” you whispered, looking down at the interconnected hands between you.

“Oh?” he chuckled, “That’s all I get?” 

“Jack I-- I’ve liked you since I met you on my first day. Do you remember?” He nodded. “Swept me right off my feet. I was so upset when I realized you were like that with everyone.”

“It was different then too. I just didn’t know how to make that obvious. It’s been a while since I’ve had to actually try to woo somebody, I guess.”

“You didn’t even have to try. I wasn’t so good at showing that either, I guess. Afraid I was just another name on a long list.”

“No lists. If there was, you’d be the only name on it.” You outright giggled in embarrassment and glee and exhaustion and pure dumbfoundedness all at once. Then your downcast eyes met Jack’s fully and next thing you knew your lips were on his and you really couldn’t have told who initiated it, but now his hand was on your cheek and your lips moved soft and slow against his, just getting used to the brand new feeling that was sending sparks through your stomach. It was over too soon, but you smiled at the prospect of that being your new normal, that you would have the opportunity to get used to the feeling: the feeling of his lips on yours in the morning light and the feeling of his hand in yours as you walked to meet the agent outside for the extraction.

Well, maybe you wouldn’t need another extraction again at least.

permanent taglist: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives @mistermiraclee​​ @marydjarin​​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​​ @miss-leto​​ @spacegayofficial​​ @winters-buck​​ @phoenixhalliwell​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​ @mrpascals​​ @aerynwrites​​ @jigglemiwa​​ @manda-not-lorian @dindjarindiaries​​ @pancakepike​​ @huliabitch​​ @sammiesweet​​ @randomness501​​

#whiskey x reader #bri writes

[jaywritessmut]

Weiß Chapter I- Business & Pleasure

*Weiß- White in German

Florian Munteanu x black female reader (All my fics are with black women in mind!)

Warnings: mentions of death & drug use, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!)

Authors note: Sorry this took so long yall! I moved to a completely new state and that came with its own challenges and adjustments. Things have calmed down since but I’m about to start job hunting and house hunting which is exciting but also stressful AF! Pray for me! I apologize for any mistakes!

Word Count: 4.3K

Something about the smell of a hookah lounge drove her wild. The subtle sweetness in the air had always brought her peace, sometimes a bit of arousal. She found it much more tolerable than plain old cigarettes. But then again, cigarettes didn’t come in flavors like Blue Mist or Double Apple. She scanned the drink menu, impressed with the newer selections listed. Of course there were the outrageous names to contend with. Oil Spill? Typical Klaus she pondered. He’d always had an eye for the dramatic and it was one of the things she loved about him. How sad it was that she’d never hear one of his energetic, albeit coke fueled, rants again. She decided to pay homage to her eccentric companion and order one for old times sake. Her usual order of Jäger would have to wait.

The server took her order, fumbling over his pen as he scribbled it down. He was intimidated by her. She radiated authority and confidence. He had no idea who she was  but the level of service she was receiving let him know that she was definitely a VIP. Making a mistake could cost him his job.

He must be new. She smirked at the thought. How cute.

Most everyone here knew who she was. Her table had been closed off and ready for her with her usual selection. Sex on the beach with a deeper freezer hose. They even made sure to put it in a mango just how she liked it. As soon as she stepped her Manholo clad foot out of her pearl white BMW, she’d been escorted into the club. Tamir gave her a salacious grin while he watched her strut into the building. Yeah, he was still hoping for a piece of that. The line of impatient party goers stared on in envy as she was given preferential treatment. But she was the boss. And bosses waited for no one.

She thought about letting loose tonight. Lord knows she needed it. But tonight was all about business. She needed to think. And surprisingly she was able to do just that as the bass from the clubs stereos shook the room. They had a deal, she and Klaus. She provided the money and kept an eye on the financial and legal side of things while Klaus was the face. He managed the club events, payroll, employees, social media presence, you name it. He was good at being the center of attention while she worked behind the scenes. But he also handled the grittier parts of it all. He dealt with the foot soldiers, making sure they were moving product. And then with suppliers to make sure they weren’t getting screwed them over. Turf wars and partnerships were all handled by him. It was a messy arena that Klaus shielded her form. And it made sense.

She was a sheltered daughter of an American diplomat. Her experience growing up in Berlin was quite different from his. While he fought to escape the crime infested slum and shady gangs, she vacationed on glamorous yachts in Malta. As a kid, he’d learned about the proper price to charge for a kilo while she was taught French and art history. They came from two different worlds yet managed to build a successful enterprise together. And now with him gone, she had no idea what to do. Just why the fuck did he have to piss off the Russians?

From across the club, Florian studied her closely in amazement. Annalise Roper in the flesh. ‘Lise’ was what she went by with family and close friends. But to her secret associates, she was Snow, the cocaine queen of Deutschland. He was surprised to see her here tonight. He had had the pleasure of meeting her on only a few occasions but knew that it was rare for her to be at the club. And with the circumstances surrounding Klaus death, he would’ve thought she’d lay low and increase security. But her face was unknown in the underground circles. When rival gangs talked about taking out Snow they were expecting a blonde hair blue eyed type. Not the melanated beauty he was currently admiring. The whole thing was ingenious really.

He watched as she threw back a shot, the club lights reflecting off her deep mocha skin. Her all white ensemble gave her an ethereal appearance, as if she were floating above the crowd. The effect she had on him was evident from the noticeable bulge in his pants. Full luscious lips, sultry bedroom eyes, flawless skin. All of her features drove him wild. And that was just her face. The white midi dress she wore, clung to her curves sinfully almost like a second skin. He knew she worked out. A body like that had to be properly maintained and cared for. And he wanted to explore every inch of it.

Florian adjusted his pants before approaching her. She’d just finish placing another drink order, a Jäger with ginger beer. The already skittish server rushed from her table almost running straight into him. When he glared stoically at the poor kid, he took off faster than before, desperate to get away from the two of them. Her almond shaped eyes gazed at him curiously while she took a pull from the hose. She admired the way his clothes fit on his body. His tailored shirt accentuated his impressive biceps. and the first two buttons were undone, showcasing his signature gold chain. He had style, that was undeniable.

Florian fought the urge to look at her lips but they were too hard to resist. The image of them wrapped around the hose was enough to fuel his already wild imagination.

She let out the smoke she inhaled while maintaining eye contact

“Wusstest du nicht, dass es unhöflich ist zu starren?”

He couldn’t help the smirk that fell upon his lips. Sarcasm was her defense mechanism, but it only made him want her more.

“Ja. Ich bin nur überrascht dich hier zu sehen, Schnee”

Her eyes flashed in anger at his nickname for her. She hated the way it sounded in German. Schnee. It was nowhere near as sexy as Snow.

“Darf ich mich setzen?”

“Wirst du mich nerven?”

He took a seat next to her, ignoring her question. Asshole she thought to herself. But a very sexy asshole nonetheless. The jittery server returned with her drink and skittered off to help the next patron.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He leaned into her, pressing a muscular leg onto her. She’d always been in awe of his large frame, even daydreamed about being pinned underneath him while he did unspeakable things to her body. But she was his boss. And she didn’t fuck her employees.

“I don’t hate you. I’m irritated by you” she went to take a sip of her drink to take the edge off. Whichever bartender made it went heavy on the Jäger . She was grateful for it.

“Why? Because I turn you on?” She almost choked on her drink as he brought his mouth to her ear.

Composing herself, she turned to glare at him. But he remained unfazed by her anger.

“Who said you turn me on? And how do you even know what me being turned on looks like? You’ve never had me to know”

“We could change that tonight.”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance and turned away from him. He was a typical playboy, used to getting what he wanted with a few charming words. But she wasn’t falling for it.

"Don’t be like that. You know you want me”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Basic science. Your pupils dilate whenever I come around. And you think I don’t notice but you look me up and down while biting your lip. It’s really sexy by the way, makes me want to lean forward and nibble it myself”

She crossed her arms in indignation trying to prevent his words from having an affect on her. His eyes wandered low to admire the way her breasts were pushed together.

“You also clench your legs together when I speak to you. Just like you are right now. And if you let me, I can give you the friction you desperately need. All you have to do is say yes”

He softly strummed his finger against her thigh. The sensation made her dizzy and she struggled to compose herself. It had been a while. Her last relationship ended a year ago and the Tinder dates just weren’t cutting it anymore.

Florian leaned closer once more and brought his mouth to her ear.

“Want to bet on how many times I can make you come in one night?”

Her resolve weakened and she closed her eyes as she fought for control of her libido. This was not what she had in mind when she made her way to the club.

Fighting past her bodies screams for release, she sat up straight and scooted away from him.

“Flo, I’m here to think. I can’t be distracted. Not now”

He picked up on the solemn tone of her voice. Maybe he was coming in a little too strong. Her friend was just killed and now she was left with an illegal business that she felt ill equipped to run alone. His attempt at seducing her didn’t really help.

“He cared a lot about you, you know? And he respected the hell out of you”

She nodded as she took another pull from the hose, trying to fight back the tears that would undoubtedly come. Klaus truly was her friend. And because of some stupid deal that she didn’t even want him to take, he was dead. She’d never hear his infectious laugh or be on the receiving end of one of his bear hugs again. A chill ran through her as she blew out a plume of smoke.

“Snow, did you hear me?”

“What?”

“I said, let me take you home. This is the last place you need to be”

“I can’t. I need to be here”

“No you don’t. Elias has the club under control. We’ll figure out the rest ourselves, okay?”

Maybe now wasn’t the right time. She’d always prided herself on being rational and calculated. It was hard to be that way when so many emotions swirled through her heart and mind. Fear being the biggest one. What if this was all going to collapse? What if she was next?

She nodded, focusing on fighting back the unshed tears that blurred her vision. This was not how the night was supposed to go. But it was for the best. The business could wait. Right now she needed a distraction. She handed Florian her keys and let him guide her out the club, ignoring the curious stares that followed. Fuck them she thought. It was none of their business who she took home.

They rode in her car in silence. She was careful who she let drive her baby but she trusted Florian for some strange reason. Occasionally his eyes would wander over to her seat so that he could admire her toned legs. He imagined them wrapped around his waist while he drove into her. Or maybe over his shoulders while he pounded into her. Snow smirked to herself as she caught him staring in the mirror.

“Drei” she blurted out. He turned to her as best he could, a curious look on his face.

“You wanted to bet how many times you can make me come tonight. Die antwort ist drei”  

Surprise registered on his face as he took in what she was saying. She was giving him the green light, and he had no intention of passing up on the offer. Florian drove like a mad man, weaving through traffic with a fierce determination. The sounds of blaring car horns filled the air as he made his way to her apartment. When they finally pulled into the parking space outside, he turned the car off and turned to Snow. The tension in the air was thick and he fought to compose himself.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked

“Since when did you become such a gentleman?”

“I just don’t want you to regret this. If you say yes, I won’t hold back. If you say yes, then I’m going to make it my mission to explore every inch of your luscious body. Willst du das??”

With an unmistakable nod, she gave him the answer he wanted. She gazed into his hazel eyes, and found that his eyes were slowly flickering down to her plump lips. Florian leaned forward to kiss her, relishing in the feel of her soft lip against his. Her brought up a hand to tenderly stroke her cheek, causing her to gasp. He took the opportunity to slip in his tongue, gently coaxing her to deepen the kiss.

Something came over Snow as she unbuckled her seat belt and climbed over to straddle his lap. Without breaking the kiss, he leaned his seat back to give them more space. His hands lowered down to her ass which he held a tight grip on.

He broke the kiss, bringing his lips to the tender spot underneath her ear and began to place open mouth kisses there. The feeling made her head fuzzy with need and she felt her wetness drip from her center.

“Flo” she moaned, rocking her hips against his. She felt the substantial bulge in his jeans and it made her even more desperate for release. He chuckled against her skin before bringing his lips to hers and planting a hot open mouth kiss.

His hands moved strategically over her body, as if he was studying every spot that drew a response. He committed it to memory, trusting that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to taste her. He took both her hands in his and pinned them above her head and he continued to kiss her which she returned with fierce determination. The inside of his car began to fill with the sounds of her moans as he slid his hands up her right thigh.

His talented fingers began to glide between her legs. Much to his delight he discovered there were no panties to remove and his fingers found the source of the wetness sliding down her shapely mocha legs.

"Enjoying yourself are we?" he teased as he circled her clit. She moaned and shook, unable to formulate a response.

"Gut" he said as he slipped a finger inside and massaged her g-spot. She shuddered and felt himself hardened as her walls clenched his thick fingers.

He kissed her and continued to massage her inner walls while stroking her clit. The sensation of his mouth devouring her while stroking her most sensitive spot, caused heat to spread through her body. She knew her orgasm was close and she didn’t even care that they hadn’t even made it inside her apartment.

“Fuck, Flo, I’m-”

He pumped his fingers into her, stroking the soft spongy part of her with a wicked speed while coaxing her to her release. With added pressure on her clit, she detonated around him, her warm center tightening around him with a vice grip. He placed soft kisses on her neck, which she exposed to him as she threw her head back in ecstasy.

“That was one” she purred, coming down from her orgasm. She saw the flash of persistence in his eye and immediately knew she was in for a wild night. The gauntlet had been thrown down and he was more than ready to pick it up.

“Let’s get you in the house, jetzt” he growled before crushing his lips to hers.

They stumbled into the foyer of her apartment, a tangled mess of hands and lips. The ride up to her floor was nothing but him pushing her up against the elevator wall and teasing her already sensitive flesh. And right now, with them finally having privacy, she felt a mixture of excitement and fear.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he grunted, pulling his lips from hers.

“Upstairs, second room on the right”

With no effort, Florian picked her up and made his way up the steps. She began teasing him, suckling and nibbling on the soft flesh of his earlobe. His skin broke out in goosebumps making her smile with satisfaction. He made his way to her bedroom and crushed his lips onto hers, slamming the door behind him with his foot. They remained locked in a deep kiss, her legs wrapped around him, grinding on the front of his jeans. He tossed her onto the bed and she fell with a squeal of delight. After giggling and catching her breath she looked up at him.

He couldn't remember wanting anything so badly. He watched as she crawled on her hands and knees to the front of the bed and started to unbuckle his belt. Taking off his shirt, he measured the gorgeousness of her feminine curves as they lay before him. The gentle arch in her back, the slight hourglass form that widened into the luscious, full heart shape of her butt.

He needed to devour her; to put her in the ecstatic trance that drew him like a magnet to her in the first place. He needed to taste this irresistible creature.

She had succeeded in the arduous task of loosening his belt and had her little hand down the front of his boxers grasped gently around his thick member. He saw her eyes widen and her tongue trace across her lips in anticipation. He pushed his jeans to the ground so she could get an easier grip but when she went to take him in his mouth, he stopped her, took her hand off his member and kissed it.

"You first..."

Florian shoved Snow back onto the bed. She tumbled over with a giggle and a sigh as he crawled over the top of her. He teased her swollen clit with the tip of his shaft for a second and felt her shiver at the contact.

He began at her neck kissing slowly and biting gently, savoring her smell and every inch of her flavor. He made his way to her toned belly and grazed his lips over her navel, watching her toned tummy rise and fall as her breathing became more erratic. He positioned his shoulders under her thighs and gazed at her glistening pussy, laid open for him. Kissing the inside of her right thigh, then suckling the inside of her left, he reveled in her scent. It reminded him of citrus and honey.

With a long, flat tongue he tasted her.He groaned in appreciation at how sweet and juicy she tasted. Craving more, he  wrapped his arms around her legs and pulled her closer to his face, burying his mouth in her delicious folds. He could feel her wetness soaking his lips but it only made him more excited. His tongue danced around the sensitive flesh as he responded to her gasps and moans.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop” she begged.

His dick throbbed painfully, wanting in on the action. But this was for her. And he loved making her moan. It was such deep satisfaction to feel the power he had over her. She followed his lead, grinding her hips against the entirety of his mouth, using the friction to get closer and closer to her destination.

He flicked his tongue across her clit in a fluid motion and inserted two eager fingers into her slick center. Her moan rose into a pleasure-filled shriek, he heard her breath come in quicker and knew she was close to her release.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her walls tensing around his fingers as she released once more in a succulent explosion that left his mouth soaking to the bottom of his nose and his hand wet all the way to his wrist. His beard glistened with her juices and it drove him wild to be covered in her scent.

“That was two” he grunted, a sense of pride filling him. He had always been a competitive man and this was one game he was sure to win. She lay sprawled, unable to open her eyes, but with a contented smile on her lips as the waves of her body's aftershock shook her, gently bouncing her breasts. He knew she was more than ready for him.

He quickly stripped her of the rest of her clothing, the white midi dress discarded somewhere on her bedroom floor. He was surprised to discover that in addition to no panties, she’d forgone a bra as well.

“No underwear huh? Well aren’t we nasty” he taunted, as he stroked his dick along her already sensitive clit.

“Shut up and fuck me Florian” she growled, growing impatient. Two orgasms weren’t enough, she wanted more. She needed him to fill her.

He slid his body atop hers, looking deeply into her soulful brown eyes as he sank into her. Her nails dug into his skin as he pulled out before thrusting forward and bottoming out inside her.

He began long, slow, deep strokes wanting her to feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock. Her eyes were closed and she was moaning with every down stroke, perfectly in tune with his pace.

“So fucking wet” he gasped as her felt her soft folds took him in deeper and deeper. He had decided in that moment that this was his favorite place to be. He could spend the rest of his life between her thighs and die a happy man.

Her cheeks flushed as the walls of her pussy tightened around him. She knew he was big from the feel of his bulge in the car but she still gasped in surprise when he filled her up. The way he moved within her drove her wild and she was desperate for more. She hooked her leg around his waist, aching for him to be as close to him as she possibly could.

“Please baby, harder” she urged, wanting to feel him fully unleash on her.  Teasingly, he pulled all the way out until just the head was inside her and paused. She opened her eyes and looked at him pleadingly, biting her lower lip hard. He sank his cock back inside her and paused again, causing her to quiver.

“Fuck Flo, get to it!” she cried, causing something inside of him to snap. He picked up his pace, his hips thrusting in her with a feverish need. She was panting as he fucked her and leaned up to kiss him hungrily. His tongue entered her mouth even as his cock penetrated her, hitting that sweet spot. And with one sudden jerk of his hips, he felt her pussy grip him tightly before exploding all around him.

“Oh my fucking God!” she screamed as her entire body dissolved into the waves of pleasure flowing through her. Florian continued to move inside her, softly stroking her face and hair while whispering sweet words in her ear. She was completely shattered, but the hard cock pulsing inside of her told her that the night was far from over.

“And there’s three. Think you got one more for me baby?” he cooed. Her hooded gaze told him she was spent, but he was determined to win this bet. He knew he could push her past the brink of satisfaction one last time.

He pulled out of her and effortlessly flipped her over, leaving her chest pressed into the mattress. He then led her to the edge of the bed, pullingg her lower body up onto her knees. Standing behind her, Florian pushed her head down to the mattress and rubbed the head of my cock against her dripping wet slit.

With a quick thrust forward, he buried his cock inside her roughly, grabbing onto her hips for leverage.

“Fuck!” they both cried out simultaneously.

Snow arched her back, throwing her head back in ecstasy. He grabbed a handful of her hair and used it to pull her back against him as he slammed his cock into her hard and fast. She moaned wantonly, and he felt the familiar tremor of her walls.

“Are you going to come for me again baby?” he cooed into her ear.

She could barely respond but her body answered for him.

“Hold it liebling” he urged, as he pounded into her fiercely.

Her body shook with every thrust of his hips and she wondered just how she would fend off this impending orgasm. As if it wasn’t hard enough, he wrapped both hands around her neck and began fucking her harder.

Her body had no choice but to surrender to his brutal assault and she wailed into the mattress as she fought to stop herself from coming. His thick cock was buried deep inside of her, relentlessly filling her up and staking its claim over her. And just when she thought she couldn’t hold it any longer, he granted her release.

“Fuck, Snow, come! Come all over this dick!” he growled before emptying inside of her, coating her walls with thick ribbons of his cum. Her last orgasm ripped through her, leaving her a screaming mess underneath him. She had never been more thankful for her penthouse apartment that separated her from the rest of her neighbors.

Florian gently pulled out of her before laying next to her. They laid next to each other, both trying to calm their breathing and make sense of what had just transpired between them.

“So I guess I won the bet” he remarked smugly, while taking in her appearance. Her hair stuck to her forehead, dampened by the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out across her body.

“Shut up” she ragged, still struggling to catch her breath. He couldn’t help the chuckle that broke from his lips and pretty soon, they were both laughing hysterically, their arms and legs tangled together.

“What’s my prize. For exceeding your expectations?”

“The nut you got was enough of a prize” she retorted, her head now gently laid on his toned chest. She lazily drew circles around his pecs, relishing in the feel of his warm skin.

“Fair enough”

“But we do have a more serious issue on our hands now,” she continued. The problems she had at the club were still there and a few orgasms wouldn’t be enough to rid her of them. Florian looked down at her expectantly, waiting for her to explain what she meant.

“I need you to walk me through the business. I want to take over.”

Translations:

Wusstest du nicht, dass es unhöflich ist zu starren?- Didn’t you know that it’s rude to stare?

Ja. Ich bin nur überrascht, dich hier zu sehen, Schnee - Yeah, I’m just surprised to see you here Snow.

Darf ich mich setzen?”- May I sit?

“Wirst du mich nerven?- Are you going to annoy me?

Drei/Die antwort ist drei- Three/ The answer is three

Willst du das?- Do you want this?

Gu- Good

Jetzt-Now

Liebling- Darling

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for this story! I hope you like it because I’m so excited to continue writing this!

#florian munteanu #florian munteanu x reader #florian munteanu x black reader #florian munteanu smut

[cosmic-hearts]

castles in the air | lee donghyuck | one

lee donghyuck x female reader

genre; enemies-to-lovers, friendship, romance, fluff, angst

warnings; none

foreword; in which even though you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, you won’t be getting your happy ever after.

next chapter >> 

“Which dress would you like to wear tonight, miss?”

Not a pink dress. Donghyuck hates pink. 

You resent yourself for it, but it’s the first thought that pops into your mind when the nice boutique lady presents your options to you: a peachy pink Alex Perry gown that reminds you of what you used to like when you were ten, a bold red Lia Stubella one that screamed movie star (except you clearly aren’t one), and a glamorous Elie Saab champagne silk dress that was honestly beautiful but had a plunging neckline that was a little too low for your comfort. 

You eye the pink dress warily, remembering the first time you met Lee Donghyuck. Back when you had even less of a say in the clothes you wore, your mother had forced you into a stiff candy pink dress with ribbons all around the waist. You felt like a walking stick of cotton candy, but your mum insisted that you looked adorable. Donghyuck gave you the stink eye all throughout dinner, and when you privately asked him why, he mumbled something about having a raging hatred for pink. 

It would be a hilarious anecdote if you could look back on it fondly with Donghyuck, safe in the knowledge that you two were best friends now, but reality is quite the opposite. You’re not best friends, neither are you two even friends. 

No. Definitely not pink, you think to yourself, mentally crossing it out even though a part of you wanted to wear it just to see the look on his face, to elicit some sort of reaction from him; it didn’t matter if it was one of disgust. It would be better than nothing.

Because resentment was the only form of emotion he could ever seem to spare you. 

—

Lee Donghyuck watches Sohui as she slings the tie around his neck and does a perfect knot, her deft fingers occasionally grazing his chest. She’s clad in a simple, off-shoulder white dress and wears minimal makeup, her inky black hair a glossy cascade down her back. 

She looks like an angel. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?” Her gentle voice lures Donghyuck from his thoughts and he smiles at her, placing an arm around her waist and drawing her close to him.

“You’re my girlfriend. Of course it’s okay.”

Her gaze is downcast, lips pouted in worry. “But your parents don’t know about me. And what about her—,”

“That’s why you need to come with me tonight. So they can know about you,” Donghyuck tries to keep his tone light to mask his worry; deep down, he too knows that tonight is going to be precarious and defining, and it could either make or break his relationship with Sohui.

When they reach the hotel, Donghyuck laces his fingers through hers, and he’s not sure if it’s to comfort Sohui or himself. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes widen at the intricate glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the artful statues of greek Goddesses posing in all their prehistoric glory, and of course, the people parading all around in their finest evening wear like nobility. It is moments like these when he’s painfully reminded of the sheer gulf between the worlds they come from; his reality exists only in her wildest dreams.

“Donghyuck-ah!”

He whirls round at the sound of his mother screeching his name, bracing himself for the whirlwind of interrogation that is sure to consume him. He tightens his grip on her hand, wondering if he and Sohui will make it out alive. 

Mr Lee hurries towards him, the click-clack of her heels against the marble tiles like a mocking countdown towards his impending doom. As expected, she stops short when she sees Sohui, hand interlinked with her son’s, her gaze hardening into one of icy judgement. Mr Lee raises a questioning eyebrow but remains silent. 

And so it begins. 

“Who is this, Donghyuck?” Mrs Lee asks in a tone of apparent civility but she doesn’t bother masking her cold appraisal of Sohui as she assesses her simple dress, lack of jewelry and unimpressive hairdo, in stark contrast to her own immaculate styling and head-to-toe designer wear. 

“Mother, Father, this is Kim Sohui,” Donghyuck says, wrapping an arm around Sohui’s shoulders, “and she’s my girlfriend.”

If looks could kill, Sohui would be writhing on the floor right now. 

“I see. It’s nice to meet you, Sohui. How long have you been dating my son?”

The poor girl stares down at the floor, fidgeting. “Four months?”

“And you know that my son’s engaged? And he has been for a period of time way longer than four months.”

The color dissipates from Sohui’s cheeks and she pales instantly. “Yes, Mrs Lee.”

“We can deal with this later, mother—,”

“Mr and Mrs Lee!”

The Lee family meeting is cut short with the arrival of another family; your own. 

Donghyuck’s eyes are immediately drawn to you; he clenches his jaw as a film descends over his eyes, that familiar feeling of mutiny washing over him.

He takes in your silk champagne dress, no doubt flown in from the most expensive Parisian or Lebanese designer. He takes in your flawless half-updo that’s been styled to perfection, not a curl of hair out of place. He takes in your polished, elegant strides, six-inch heels notwithstanding. Everything about you is immaculate and impeccable; you appear entirely self-possessed and composed, the very portrait of style and sophistication, grace and glamour. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you greet his parents, a cordial smile playing on your lips when his parents gush over how beautiful you look tonight. 

“And who might this young lady be?” Donghyuck flinches when your mother asks, her sharp eyes pinned on Sohui like a predator does prey. 

“Oh, she’s just a friend of Donghyuck’s,” Mrs Lee says, at the exact moment Donghyuck blurts out “my girlfriend”. 

While everyone falls into stunned silence, anger radiating off his parents in potently palpable waves, Donghyuck’s eyes flit over to you immediately to gauge your reaction. Would this news be enough to shock you, to cause you distress, to cause your perfect facade to crumble for once? Because for once in your life, things weren’t going according to your perfect plan, and they were now out of your control? The very thought causes a sense of triumph to swell through his chest. 

But you don’t even bat an eyelid. 

Without missing a beat, you break out into a warm smile, extending your hand to Sohui’s. “Hi, my name is Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry about my son,” Mrs Lee says, absolutely flabbergasted, “we had absolutely no idea about any of this.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you say, and though Donghyuck tries his hardest to read your expression, you do a perfect job at keeping it inscrutable; he’s unable to figure you out. “We might be engaged, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t date other people, right?”

Your parents look aghast at your flippant reaction, and it nearly causes you to giggle.

“Your daughter is so understanding, as always,” Mrs Lee gushes, “Hyuck really doesn’t deserve her.”

Donghyuck’s head hangs low as he clenches his fists, his mother’s final verdict like a dagger aimed straight for his heart.

He can never win against you. 

—

After Mrs Lee banishes Sohui from tonight’s function, Donghyuck vanishes. You set off in search of him, feeling a sort of responsibility for what just happened even though you’re not exactly sure what you should be held accountable for. 

You traverse through the crowded expanse of the ballroom, stopping every couple of minutes for people to gush over how lovely your dress is, how exquisite you look tonight (you were indeed the daughter of the largest fashion conglomerate in Seoul; there was no way anyone would tell you your fashion sense was hideous). You smile and either demur or thank them politely, depending on how sycophantic they choose to be. You’re good at playing the game; you’ve been raised your whole life learning the ropes of how to be a people pleaser, how to be charismatic and alluring, how to draw people to you and your cause. 

And it’s always worked with just about everyone in your life. Except, of course, for Lee Donghyuck.

The one person you need to charm the most simply refuses to fall under your spell. 

It’s frustrating, but more than that, it’s terribly unsettling; is he able to see through your veneer of poise and confidence to the weak, less-than-worthy girl you’re so afraid to acknowledge? You’ve always believed that vulnerability wouldn’t look good on you, and that’s why you try so hard, in every aspect of your life, to maintain that flawless guise, that charade of effortless excellence. Yet, with a single withering sneer or chilly glare, Lee Donghyuck manages to strike down that meticulously manipulated illusion you’d gone to great lengths to construct.

You don’t like it. 

You shake off all unpleasant thoughts and slip on your game face as you step out onto the balcony where a familiar lone figure stands deep in thought, a forlorn silhouette in the darkness of the night. The wind whips through your hair as you move to stand next to him; you produce your shawl from your purse and wrap it around your bare arms. 

“Hi.”

You don’t look at Donghyuck; a part of you is afraid to see that ever-simmering resentment on his face. But he makes no reply, gazing out at the cityscape beneath you two. You pluck up the courage to continue.

“I’m sorry about Sohui. She seems really nice.”

You hear him exhale, a heavy sound that dissolves into the breeze. Yet he remains silent.

“If you’d like, I can talk to Mrs Lee—,”

“Shut up.”

The words on the tip of your tongue grind to an abrupt halt and die. Donghyuck finally turns towards you, his dark eyes piercing through to your very core.

“Why did you do that?”

Steeling yourself, you match his stare. “I really do think it’s perfectly fine for us to be dating other people. I know you don’t like me, and I won’t force you to. But I just want to remind you that what needs to be done has to be done, when the time comes.”

Donghyuck smirks. “You think I’ll marry you?”

Onward with the diplomatic route you continue. “I hate to put it this way, but you have no choice. We were betrothed to each other since we were kids and we’re bound by a formal contract—,”

At this, Donghyuck grabs your wrist roughly and you lurch forward, torso mere centimetres away from his. He inches his face closer to yours; you can count the beauty spots splayed across the expanse of his honey-gold skin, and the musky scent of his cologne makes your head spin.

You almost gulp in his face. Almost.

“Do you want to marry me?” He asks, all sardonic bitterness gone from his voice. It almost sounds like a genuine question, like he really wants to know your opinion on the matter.

You take a few seconds to clear your head, to formulate a prudent and politically correct reply that your parents would approve of.

But Donghyuck seems to be able to read your mind. “I don’t want a model answer, Y/N. I’m asking you what you really want.”

You chew your lower lip in unease, avoiding his probing gaze. What do you really want? All your life, all you thought you really wanted was to fulfil all the plans your parents had laid out for you even before you were born. To be a good daughter to your parents, a good student to your teachers, a good heiress to the family company. And eventually, a good wife to Donghyuck. Because all these were the means to an eventual end—wealth, material success, approval from your parents, and with those, you’d assumed, would automatically come some form of happiness (a nebulous concept you never truly understood or appreciated). Why should you question your parents, when they’d told you time and again that they only had your best interests at heart?

But now, being faced with Donghyuck’s resolute gaze, the defiant tilt of his chin, with his fingers burning into your skin, you’re not so sure anymore. 

What do you want?

“I-I don’t know,” you mutter softly, so softly that it almost gets carried away by the wind into the night. But Donghyuck catches it, and he doesn’t miss the quiver in your voice that tells him it isn’t very often you’re unsure of something and you admit it. His grip on your wrist loosens and he remarks, “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“What?”

“You not knowing something.”

Your cheeks almost colour with embarrassment. You snatch your hand out of his grip, take a step back and straighten up, ashamed of having let your mask of seamless composure slip, even if it was only for an instant. Looking him directly in the eye, you say in a sharp tone, “Don’t ever touch me again without my permission.”

With that, you turn around, your shawl flapping violently behind you in the breeze and hitting Donghyuck in the cheek. 

He watches you return to the ballroom and disappear into the ceaseless sea of designer gowns and overpriced tuxedos, right where you belong. But he can’t forget the flash of vulnerability he’d seen in your eyes, the shadow of doubt that made him think maybe you weren’t the infallible robot he always believed you were. 

Maybe you too, like him, want to break free from the confines of this cursed matrimonial match.

—

You sit at your desk, working on a history essay that you normally would have completed hours ago but it’s 7pm and you’re not even halfway through yet. You glance outside your bedroom window, or your ivory tower as you like to call it; your house was basically a castle set amid carefully cultivated gardens, and nights of rushing essays made you feel like Rapunzel stuck in an endless cycle of work. 

Anyone would say you were practically a princess. Born with the privilege of not a silver but golden spoon in your mouth, you virtually had the world at your fingertips. Your every whim and fancy came true; all you had to do was ask and you would receive.

But no one understood that this just made it even more difficult to prove that you are worthy. 

Do you even deserve everything you have? This was a nagging, disturbing question that you would likely never have the answer to.

Before you can delve too deeply into your existential issues, your phone pings with a text. 

Lee Donghyuck

Hi. 

You almost drop your phone. You had Donghyuck’s contact saved because your parents forced you two to text each other obligatory birthday wishes and congratulations whenever either of you did well in something. The last text was Donghyuck congratulating you on winning the debate nationals half a year ago. His texts always had this note of forced civility, like he’d rather be skinning a cat than sending you a text. But you hadn’t won anything recently, nor was it your birthday, so why did he deign to contact you?

Lee Donghyuck

Can we meet? I need to discuss something with you. 

You can’t forget the way he’d momentarily disarmed you, or the way you’d callously left him on the balcony that night. Why would he want anything to do with you after that horribly awkward encounter?

You

When?

Lee Donghyuck

Right now, if you’re free. 

It’s funny how your first thought is, what the hell am I going to wear? Then again, it’s not like you have regular midnight escapades with the boy who regards you as the bane of his existence; how would you know the dress code for such an occasion? You end up slipping into your baby pink Adidas tracksuit, the one you usually wear for your night runs—Donghyuck’s strange loathing for pink be damned. You have no intention to endear yourself to him, at least not tonight.

You slip out through the back gate and into the rose garden, where Donghyuck is waiting in the pavilion. His hands are in his pockets and he looks deep in thought, like he’s ruminating on contemporary problems of the 21st century when in reality, you’re sure he’s probably just dreaming about that girlfriend of his. He doesn’t even seem to mind your all-pink ensemble.

“Hey Donghyuck,” you say coolly, determinedly looking ahead of you and refusing to look at him, “let’s make this quick, please. I have an essay to write.” You almost immediately regret how petty that sounds, nothing like the businesslike tone you were striving for.

“Fine.” Did you imagine the mild disdain in his voice? “I just have a proposal for you that I think you might be interested in; I was wondering if you’d want to form an alliance.”

Now that's businesslike. You turn towards him, curiosity aroused. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to marry you; you know that clearly enough. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to marry me either.”

You remain silent, unsure where he’s heading with this.

“The thing is, we never really tried to get close to each other; maybe that’s why our parents are so insistent that we’d be a good match. My parents don't listen to me when I tell them I don’t want to marry you; they say that I’ll get over it, which is bullshit, because I know what I want and it’s not you,” he says, looking over at you, “no offence.”

You smirk. “None taken. Please go on.”

“So if we show them that we’re making the effort to get to know each other better, but it doesn’t work out in the end, maybe they’ll let us off. I mean, mine won’t, but you can tell your parents that you don’t want to marry me; they’ll surely listen to you because you’re literally their darling princess. My parents will have no say then.” The sneer in his tone definitely isn’t imaginary this time.

You consider this for a moment, trying to find loopholes in his plan. “What exactly does ‘getting to know each other better’ entail?”

At this, Donghyuck takes a deep breath. “I need you to keep an open mind about this because it’s for the greater good, Y/N. It’s going to be painful, but I think we should pretend to date each other.”

You keep your expression stoic when really, you feel your heartbeat picking up speed and a surge of heat diffuses across your cheekbones.

Lee Donghyuck never fails to surprise you. 

“And your girlfriend is okay with this?”

“Yes, I’ve told her about it; she gave me her full support. After all, it’s all fake anyway. And this way we can break off our engagement faster, which is what we both want.” 

You know you should say no but you can’t deny that this was indeed a rather expedient plan. And you would never admit it, but you can’t seem to suppress that clandestine urge that had been bubbling inside of you ever since that encounter with Donghyuck—the urge to, for once in your life, take control of your own decisions. To snatch the reins of your fate away from your parents, to do something for yourself instead of for the people around you. This would be your one and only act of rebellion, the lone stain of sin upon your spotless record of dutiful daughter. The thought fills you with a dark thrill of exhilaration and sends electricity charging through your veins, a feeling foreign to your body. Almost immediately you feel years younger, like an errant child about to undertake a secret mission in the forbidden forest.

“Deal,” you say, extending your hand to Donghyuck’s and finally meeting his gaze with your own. “I look forward to working with you, Lee Donghyuck.”

#lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck imagines #lee donghyuck scenarios #lee donghyuck fluff #lee donghyuck angst #nct dream #nct dream fanfiction #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #haechan scenarios #nct haechan #haechan nct #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #haechan fanfic #haechan fanfiction

[blackswaneuroparedux]

The Many Lives of Lee Miller: Surrealist icon who photographed World War Two

If you were one of the few women photographers accredited by the U.S. Army at the start of World War II, chances were you were far from the front lines. Military regulations at the time dictated that female photojournalists, unlike their male counterparts, were not to enter combat zones.

But Lee Miller, the Poughkeepsie-born photographer and noted Surrealist operating as British Vogue’s war correspondent, was not one to be constrained.

Miller had made a habit of not taking no for an answer long before she accompanied American forces to document scenes such as the Blitz; nurses operating hospitals after D-Day; women serving across the armed forces; and just-liberated concentration camps.

Elizabeth ‘Lee’ Miller was born on the 23 of April 1907 in Poughkeepsie,  New York. She was the middle child of Florence and Theodore Miller, a mechanical engineer and avid amateur photographer. She was something of a tomboy, always ready for the next big adventure and to try the biggest stunt.

Her first coup was gracing the cover of U.S. Vogue in 1927 at age 19. Lee Miller was walking down a crowded street in Manhattan. She was ravishingly beautiful: blonde hair stylishly bobbed, lips painted red, her slim figure clad in the latest fashions from Paris.

Perhaps it was Paris she was thinking about so deeply. Whatever it was it absorbs her entirely that as she stepped off the sidewalk she didn’t see a car speeding towards her.

At the last minute a man whisked her to safety. He turns out to be none other than the publisher Condé Montrose Nast. As soon as he saw the woman he saved, he decided she must model for his magazine.

A few short months later, Lee Miller’s face, drawn by Georges Lepape with the New York skyline for a backdrop, stares out from the cover of Vogue.

That cover launched Lee Miller’s modelling career. Within months she became a fixture on the New York social scene, hobnobbing with the likes of Charlie Chaplin, George Gershwin and the Vanderbilts.

Fashion greats such as photographer Edward Steichen zipped her into Lanvin and Lelong, draped her in pearls, swathed her in velvet. In one picture she models a Chanel evening gown covered with geometric embellishments, her body resembling a glorious art-deco building.

Lee was fêted and pursued by suitors. A glassware manufacturer even moulded a champagne coupe in the shape of her breast. It was all very glamorous but, for Lee, not wholly satisfying. Later, remembering her New York years, she said, ‘I looked like an angel but I was a fiend inside.’

This contradiction – stemming from a traumatising childhood into early adulthood,

Her father, Theodore, was an amateur-photographer and had begun to photograph his naked daughter long before that, in 1914, when she was seven. According to Miller herself, in that year, she, then known as Elizabeth, had been sent to stay with family friends while her mother was in hospital.

During the trip, she had been raped by a sailor; the attack left her with gonorrhea. For the next year, the child was subjected to daily douches of potassium permanganate, and k twice-weekly visits to the hospital to have her cervix painted with picric acid. Everything she touched at home was immediately sterilised.

It was during this year that Theodore had begun to photograph his daughter in the nude, his first composition being a take on the French artist Paul Chabas' September Morn, a painting of a nubile girl bathing, which had caused a scandal when it was shown in New York in 1913.

For his own picture, Miller required his daughter to pose, nude but for slippers, in the deep Poughkeepsie snow: the resulting picture was called "December Morn". Theodore made it using a stereoscopic camera, so that, viewed through accompanying glasses, his naked child appeared three-dimensional.

The early childhood experience would plague her throughout her adult life, and arguably cause her to constantly try to reinvent herself, wondering if she ‘ever was meant to fit together’.

Those reinventions – as a key figure in the Surrealist movement, fashion photographer, muse and tormented war correspondent – have made her the subject of plays, film scripts (Nicole Kidman wanted to play her in a film written by David Hare that was never made).

Reinvention of otherworldly beauty was also so evident in all her photographs. But Lee wasn’t happy as a model. A sketch she drew in her journal in 1930 shows a woman standing against a studio backdrop, daggers pinning her into place, as another woman in a hat looks on. No wonder, then, that she was hungry to forge her own identity beyond the camera’s frame – a frame that, to a woman who had been looked at by men her entire life, represented an implicit power imbalance. 

She gave up her modelling career and set sail for Paris, intending, as she provocatively stated, to ‘enter photography by the back end’.

Bags of confidence, together with letters of introduction from Edward Steichen, convinced Man Ray to take her on as his assistant. He was instantly enchanted and their professional relationship blossomed into a love affair so tumultuous that it affected them both for years afterwards.

Miller was to befriend other iconic Parisian artists like Max Ernst and Picasso and intellectuals like Jean Cocteau. She would vacation with some of the most prominent figures in the art world at the time. Picasso would paint Lee six times and the two remained friends throughout the rest their lives. Picasso wanted to bed her but she held her distance.

It was Lee Miller, not Man Ray, who discovered the photography technique known at "solarisation" bu turning on a light in their darkroom before the negatives had fully developed. It creates a dark line around the subject of the photograph and created groundbreaking images at the time. Ray is often credited with this discovery and he used it often in his own work, but it was actually Lee Miller who made the first picture of its kind on accident.

Man Ray’s portraits of Lee are sensuous and romantic, but even he never seemed able to see her as a whole, often depicting her body broken up into pieces.

He painted her lips floating disembodied in a mackerel sky in ‘Observatory Time: The Lovers’, and in his photographs her breasts, neck and eyes are removed from their context, palpably humming with sexual energy, the ultimate surrealist objects.

In December 1930, Miller's father, Theodore, had come to Paris from Poughkeepsie, New York, to see his daughter. Like any good parent might, he had taken pictures of her. Unlike most fathers, these photographs were shot in the nude, in the bathtub of their shared hotel suite. Lee Miller was 23.

The shots Man Ray took of Lee and Theodore Miller, she in a demure print frock and curled, child-like, in her father's lap, are deeply weird. They seem less of a father and daughter than of an older man and his much younger lover.

Perhaps Ray had heard rumours that Theodore had been Lee's actual childhood abuser, or he may have imagined it for himself. (No charges were ever brought against the unidentified sailor-rapist.)

In terms of age, Ray's own relationship with Lee was also ambiguously paternal: he was 17 years older than her, a pattern that would mark all her relationships with men. At any rate, Theodore and Ray seem to have gotten along famously. Together, the two men photographed Lee, nude, lolling on a bed with three other naked women.

It is hard not to see all this in psychological terms, if not in moral ones. Cursed with a perfect beauty, Miller became a focus of Ray’s internal need to violate. For Man Ray, this was aggravated by the masculine drive to compete.

If the countless celebrities photographed by Man Ray – Wallis Simpson, Aldous Huxley, Virginia Woolf, Picasso, Chanel, Schiaparelli, himself – the one he went back to most obsessively was Lee Miller. You can see why. Miller was a physical ideal, the kind of perfectly moulded, ice-blonde beauty beloved of Hitchcock; flawless, or at least imaginably so.

Lee Miller and Man Ray's exciting, passionate and tumultuous relationship ended and Man Ray did not take it well. In fact, one of his most famous pieces, Indestructible Object, includes her eye ticking on a metronome.

Ray's instructions to fans on how to make their own version of the work suggest the violence of his anatomical method. "Cut out the eye from a photograph of one who has been loved but is seen no more," he writes, bitterly. "Attach the eye to the pendulum of a metronome and regulate the weight to suit the tempo desired. Keep going to the limit of endurance. With a hammer well-aimed, try to destroy the whole at a single blow."

That done, the photographer, ever the drama queen, sat for a self-portrait called "Suicide" with a noose around his neck and a gun pointed at his head.

Hell hath no fury like a Surrealist scorned.

When their affair ended, Lee moved back to New York and opened her own studio, where she worked ‘in the style of Man Ray’, as she advertised in a bold appropriation of his name.

She hardly needed the help. Clients such as Saks Fifth Avenue and Elizabeth Arden paid handsomely for pictures by the woman who was herself ‘one of the most photographed girls in Manhattan’.

But in just a few years the Lee Miller Studio closed when Lee married an Egyptian, Aziz Eloui Bey, and moved with him to Cairo. She felt stunted by Egypt’s restrictive society but produced some of her best work there, driving into the desert with her trusty cocktail kit in the boot to take photographs of the landscape.

Her husband, however, let Lee spend extended holidays in Europe with the Surrealist set, where she met painter and art collector Roland Penrose, the man who eventually became her second husband. They would be happily married for the rest of their lives until death. She at last found someone who accepted her whole. But it still wouldn’t be enough for Lee. 

By 1939, it was time for another reinvention. War broke out, the Blitz rained down on London, and Lee, urged on by her friend, the photojournalist, collaborator and sometime lover David Scherman, got accredited as a war correspondent for (of all places) British Vogue.

Her editor, Audrey Withers, expected soft-focus photo-essays about war privation, but Lee had other ideas.

Her reportage was gruesome, intimate and important. On the front lines at the siege of Saint-Malo, Lee documented the Americans’ first use of napalm and described a company ready for action, ‘grenades hanging on their lapels like Cartier clips, menacing bunches of death.’

She shot close-ups of the faces of German Nazis who had committed suicide in Leipzig and took powerful portraits of starving prisoners following the liberation of Dachau and Buchenwald.

When she arrived in Paris during the Liberation the first thing she did was go to Picasso's studio. There they are pictured smiling holding each other tight, probably beyond relieved that they were both alive. Picasso is quoted saying in astonishment "the first Allied soldier I should see is a woman- and she is you."

When Hitler fled Munich at the end of the war, Lee and Scherman were the first of the press corps to reach his apartment, where they drank his cognac and napped in his bed. They propped a picture of Hitler on the rim of his bathtub, set Lee’s dirty combat boots on the bathroom rug and took the now-famous photograph of her bathing in Hitler’s tub.

The war made Lee feel alive.

The image of Miller in Hitler’s tub was the one that led to the end of her Vogue career. The public was outraged at what they interpreted as flippant disregard for the ravages of war. Being accused of insensitivity inevitably took its toll, but it was what she saw, felt, and experienced during those years that would eventually send her into a struggle with depression.

She loved her uniform, tailored on Savile Row. She loved roughing it: washing in her helmet and subsisting on K-rations. And for a woman always searching for meaning in her life, documenting the war for readers back home gave her purpose. ‘Believe this,’ she cabled to Vogue, and the pictures she sent back were indeed horrifying. They came at a cost: Lee was never able to distance herself from her subject. She threw her entire self into her work.

Lee suffered mightily postwar.

The trauma of what she had seen haunted her for the rest of her life. Today we would call it PTSD. In postwar England, Lee was told by her doctor ‘we cannot keep the world permanently at war just to provide you with excitement’.

On her return to London after the war, she was feted. "Who else has written equally well about GIs and Picasso?" her editor said. "Who else can swing from the Siegfried line one week to the new hip line the next?"

Desperate to ward off a sense of anticlimax, she returned to eastern Europe. But soon she was pregnant at 40 years old and finding the prospect of motherhood scarier than any front line.

She missed the action, despite suffering post-traumatic stress. She also felt increasingly sidelined: in staid, patriarchal postwar Britain, her husband was the one in demand.

Finding the inspiration to write and take photographs became harder and eventually she gave it up entirely, hiding more than 60,000 negatives and contact sheets in the attic and becoming so tight-lipped on the subject that even her own son, Antony, knew nothing about her war work until he was an adult. An entire piece of herself was boxed up and placed out of sight.

Depressed at her loss of looks and gain in weight, she found solace in drink and cooking elaborate gourmet meals for her guests at Farley Farm House in East Sussex, her home until her death in 1977. 

She could have written a very good cookbook by all accounts. She was a virtuoso chef. 

She remained friends with the Paris crowd. In particular she was close to Picasso. Lee Miller's son recalls going over to Picasso's home as a child. He even wrote a book about the time he bit Picasso, as a child, called ‘The Boy Who Bit Picasso’.

Lee even reconciled with Man Ray. Lee and Man Ray last met in London in 1975, at Man Ray's retrospective at the Institute of Contemporary Arts. By now, he was in a wheelchair and Lee Miller was a drunk. 

Lee Miller died of cancer in 1977. By the end she was overweight, an alcoholic, ravaged by depression, and tortured by her husband’s affair with a trapeze artist. Anyone meeting Lee Miller then would have been surprised to know that she was once considered the most beautiful woman in the world, second only to Greta Garbo.

But just as she, and her reputation, went out of sight for years. There has in recent years been a resurgence of interest in Lee’s photography, bringing her legacy, and her enduring appeal, further into the light.

As a female icon she never saw herself as a victim. It's remarkable that Miller was able to delight in her body (and in the pleasure others took from it). She saw sex and love as two very different beasts. She was very comfortable living out the truth as she believed it."Emotionally, I need to be completely absorbed in some work or in a man I love," she wrote, but she didn't see why going to bed with someone should upset whichever man she was currently in love with.

Lee insisted that she couldn’t be kept and that women should be able to be as sexually free as men. She was radical, and people made her suffer for it  - Man Ray included.

Strikingly beautiful, she was used to submitting to the male gaze and even subverting it. A less spirited woman might have been crushed by these alpha males, but Miller, unfazed, determinedly transformed herself from passive model to active artist.

Her son, Antony Penrose, observed in his 1998 biography of his mother, The Legendary Lee Miller: Photographer, 1907–1977, her unique background capturing uncanny moments and haunting, bizarre portraits during the heyday of the Surrealist movement served her well in war photography. Penrose wrote:

“Unexpectedly, among the reportage, the mud, the bullets, we find photographs where the unreality of war assumes an almost lyrical beauty....On reflection I realise that the only meaningful training of a war correspondent is to first be a Surrealist—then nothing in life is too unusual.”

But it was the very nature of unconventionality of her career trajectory that hampered her historical reputation.

Her early association with the Paris Surrealists - particularly her role as Man Ray's "perversely enchanting muse" - overshadowed her own artistic accomplishments.

Her abandonment of photography, and the consignment of all her work to her own attic also limited her impact during her lifetime.

Her association with fashion also coloured the interpretation of Miller's work. As her biographer Carolyn Burke states, "to this day, her life inspires features in the same glossy magazines for which she posed...this approach turns the real woman in to a screen onto which beholders project their fantasies", and further perpetuates the legend of Lee Miller as an "American free spirit wrapped in the body of a Greek goddess".

The force of her beauty, effervescent personality and high octane biography will always remain central to interpreting her work.

Today Miller has been recognised as among the most original and ambitious photographic artists of the 20th century, and a subtly transgressive artist, who - as Lynn Hilditch asserts in Lee Miller, Photography, Surrealism and the Second World War - took off from her Surrealist background and "pushed the boundaries both of art and war photography, often using unconventional methods to comment on such multifaceted issues as sex, gender, death, and war"

#lee miller #history #photographer #world war two #art #beauty

[notyetneedcoffee]

Not Exactly A Classic Dame (5)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC (platonic friendship between Steve x OFC)

Warnings: Language, otherwise none this Chapter, but later

Bucky Master List / Main Master List

CHAPTER 5

Cassidy slipped her feet into three inch black heels just as a knock came at the door. She checked herself in the mirror one final time before going to answer. The dark red wiggle dress with the neck line that dropped just off her shoulders fit like a glove. Her black hair fell in loose waves. She considered the retro curls, but she would prefer no pins in the way should Bucky want to run his hands in her hair.  

She opened the door. He mouth went dry and panties went wet.

Bucky stood, waiting. He wore a black suit, fitting sinfully well. The top two buttons of the pewter tone shirt remained undone. His hair hung loose, but he’d put effort into its styling. His trim beard, too, had been neatly groomed. Cas breathed in the delicious scent of him.  

A devilish grin crossed his face. “Damn, woman. I’m not sure I want to take you out in public looking that gorgeous.”

“Oh no, soldier.” Cas ran her hand down the lapel of his jacket. “We have reservations.”

“I may have to break someone’s arm if they get too close. You are just irresistible.” Bucky’s strong hands gripped her hips. His mouth ghosted over her jaw, near her ear.  

“I think it’s more likely that I’ll have to beat the women off,” She pitched her head enough to capture his lips. He drank in her kiss, tongues dancing. Finally, he pulled away with a groan and nip of her lower lip.

“You know, cell phones and the internet are cool and all.” Bucky traced his thumb over her red lush lip, a wicked grin on his face. “But being able to kiss these red lips, and not make a mess, that’s best invention I've seen.”

Cas giggled. “I’ll take your word for it. So, I’m all dressed up as requested. Where are we going?”

“You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

When he led her to the roof, to the waiting helicopter, Cas bounced on her toes. “Really?”

“Yep.” Bucky opened the door and helped her in.  

As he secured her harness, Cassidy looked around. “Where’s the pilot?”

He winked. “Right here, doll.”

Her lips formed a little ‘oh’ shape. And he laughed before jogging around to hop in the pilot’s seat. She watched him handled the controls like a master. As they flew to the city, he stole sideways glances at the smile on her face as he tipped the chopper so she could get a better view of the river. The sun was just beginning dip low in the sky, spreading amazing shadows across the approaching New York City skyline.  

Soon they came close to a glass tower. The top few floors shone with lights of soft blues and greens. Cassidy’s hand dug into his thigh in excitement. “Is that where we’re headed?”

“Stark recommended it.” Bucky chuckled. “He’s even letting us use his designated parking space.”

A tall platinum blonde hostess led them to a table for two near the window. She did a fine job of only visually eating up Bucky once. Still, Cas wrapped her arm in his and leaned into him a bit possessively. Holding the chair out for her, Bucky’s fingertips brushed across the tattoo on her shoulder blade. A shiver danced across her skin.

A lithe young man stepped up to the table just as Bucky got comfortable. “Good evening. I’m Ian and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Would you care to start with a drink, or a bottle of wine?”

Bucky arched a brow towards Cas.  

“What do you have in bourbons?”    

“We have an Elijah Craig Barrell, special edition, a very unique Old Forester.”

“The 1920?” She grinned.

“Yes.”

“I’ll have that. A double. Neat.”

“Very well.” Ian turned towards Bucky, who’s eyes remained locked on his date, face straight but eyes smiling.

“Same as the lady.”

Cas thanked the waiter, but her eyes never left Bucky’s. When the guy was out of ear shot she whispered, “Is it just me, or do all the people who work here look like they’ve stepped off the set of an underwear commercial, all wane and glamorously svelte?”

A devilish grin spread across his face. “You mean like prettied up tooth picks that I could snap with my right hand?”

“Exactly like that.” Cas giggled.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Bucky said straight faced.

“Liar.”

“Swear it. I can’t keep my eyes off you, Doll.” He shifted a little closer. “Supposed to be the best view in the city, and I could care less.”

Bucky let her pick the dinners, since ‘you did such fine job with the drinks’. As they waited, conversation stayed in the realm of innocent talk of work peppered with fun flirting. He listened to Cassidy joke about chasing down an impossible bit of intel for ‘the boss’ all day.  

Cas saw Bucky’s attention shift. His posture changed. She remained the same, consciously. However when she took a sip, she breathed out a question so quietly only his enhanced senses would hear. “What’s wrong?”  

His sharp blue eyes darted around the room a moment longer before he sighed. Bucky took her hand in his. “Nothing. Old habits.”

“If you’re sure.” He nodded. Cassidy smiled and pushed back in her chair. “Okay. I’m going to the ladies room before dinner comes.”

A few minutes later, Cas stepped out of the bathroom to see a man in the same suit worn by all the wait staff. He seemed to be leaving the men’s room. Only this guy was thick, like an ex-football player, and it caught her attention. She walked down the short hall to the dining room with a bit more purpose.

Glancing over her shoulder, his right fist bashed into the side of her head.  

An involuntary cry escaped her mouth, muffled by a meaty hand. Dazed, pain flaring, Cassidy clawed at the hand and kicked out. Another man grabbed at her legs, she thrashed. One foot made contact. He grunted, his fist driving into her side. Doubled over, they picked her up and moved her to the freight elevator.  

Cas felt the bite of zip ties around her wrist as one of the men slapped tape over her mouth, smelling sharp and chemical. She fought to stay calm, not to panic. One of the men grumbled low, “We have the Soldier’s woman.”  

Shit. Bucky.  

A woman dressed like the hostesses stopped at the table, inquiring about their service. Bucky smiled and said it was great. She prattled on about the view, some award the restaurant received, and about the time she began telling him about the chef’s pedigree Bucky had enough.  

His focus drifted. Then he heard it, muffled and distant, but a cry. Sharp eyes darted around, noting the three men watching him. He stood up, brushing past the talkative woman. “Excuse me.”

Quick strides led him to the empty hall to the restrooms. He never paused, pushing open the women’s door. Inside a woman freshened her make up in the small lounge jumped at his entrance. Beyond, he pushed open the doors to all the empty stalls. Fuck.

Back out in the hall Bucky’s senses kicked into overdrive. He noticed a fresh scuff on the wall. Bending down, he picked up a small black tip of a high heel. Fear kicked him in the gut. It was covered in fresh blood. Fuck. Fuck.  

Think. He’s had a line of sight to the door. They didn’t go that way. Kitchens. As took the corner at a near run, he practically ran into the hostesses that sat them. He caught her before she fell backwards against a giant table with a big stone sculpture on it. Wait. Bucky looked at the busy kitchen door.

“Is there a freight elevator?”

“What? Why would –“

“For all these art displays. A freight elevator.” Bucky shook her.

“The hall, by the bathrooms, behind the wood panels.” She stammered.  

Bucky rushed back, seeing the metal tab handle and nearly ripped the door off the wall. The display showed it was halfway down. He ran to the lobby, where all the elevators showed ground floor.  Dammit. He hit the emergency exit door, jumping down the stairs a flight at a time.  

Panic pushed him forward, moving impossibly fast. Hitting the bottom floor, Buck crashed through the door marked Load Dock. A black van disappeared around the corner. His feet moved before his brain.  

A sedan hit him hard. Bucky crashed into the concrete wall, debris flying. Pain flared, feeding the fury. He leapt forward, left fist crashing through the car window. He jerked the driver out, throwing him into the same wall with a sickening crunch.  

Moving fast, Bucky chased the van down the street.  

In the distance he saw it swerve and hit another car before careening into a building.  

He pushed harder.

The back of the van popped open, Cas leaping out. She made it three steps before a pursuing man grabbed her by the hair, throwing her to the ground hard. Bucky saw her shoulders and head bounce off the pavement. The bastard grabbed her hair again. She grasped the guy’s forearms and brought her knee up, bashing it into his face. He fell back. An other man reached for her, but she kicked out catching his knee, bending it sideways.  

Wasting no time, Cas scrambled up running – straight towards Buck.

Four more steps and Bucky passed her, grabbing the one with the bloodied nose in his left hand and kicking the one on the ground in the head. He spared a glance for Cassidy, seeing her eyes roll back and body hit the ground. The man’s neck broke.  

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#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x original female character

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

What Time Forgot Chapter 1

Aaravos x reader

Summary: Viren is being suspicious with all those books he just ruined, and someone recalls a tale of a spell that would cause that damage. Could it be the clue she’s been looking for to track down her love?

Word Count: 1844

Viren wanted to scream when he saw that every text he’d found that referenced Aaravos turned black. “Is nothing safe?!”

“Issues?” a female voice asked.

He whipped around to see a woman standing there in armor similar to his least favorite general’s. “That is none of your concern.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows rose skeptically. “Because it looks like you’ve poured ink on those books, and I know the keeper of this fine library won’t be happy about it.”

“And yet that is still not your business.”

“Whatever you say . . .” Y/E/C eyes rolled as she wandered off.

Leery of being caught by guards, Viren slunk back to his secret chambers to think. Little did he know that the woman, Y/N, moved to look at those ruined texts as soon as the dark mage was gone. That particular style of page-ruining magic struck a nerve with her; it seemed incredibly familiar.

“Aaravos . . .” she breathed thoughtfully. “Why would Viren be looking up a Startouch elf?” Eyes widened. “Unless . . .” She closed her eyes, digging deep into her memory to try and recall what was there scratching at the surface of her mind, begging to be remembered.

It was long before the current generation, during the war of removing humans from all that was magical. And the humans were losing. Badly. Honestly, it had been reluctantly expected given that Xadia had practically all the power with their magic, dragons, and overall experience. In truth, it was a miracle and a testament to how truly conniving the high mage was that they hadn’t lost yet.

He had known they needed help in order to continue holding out, much less to have a prayer of winning. For years, he had heard stories of an elf. A Startouch elf that was able to use all primal sources. And he was supposed to be neutral thus far in the struggle. Finding him and convincing him to join their cause, however, was bound to be a difficult issue.

Which was how that one fateful morning went so far off the rails for Y/N.

For her, the day started lazily--like most days, honestly. As a human firmly on the Xadian side of the border, she didn’t get out much to the nearby elven town. At one point--before the world went to hell--she’d been one of the Crownguard of Katolis. There, in the castle, was where she met the man that was currently acting as her pillow and running his fingers through her hair. With as much time as she spent in the library, it seemed inevitable that they met in the first place.

She lightly dragged her nails across the star-dappled chest, earning a quiet hum. “How long have you been up?” she asked, voice still scratchy from sleep.

“Not long,” that bone-rattling, deep voice replied quietly.

She turned to rest her head on his chest to allow her to meet those golden eyes. “Did we need to do anything today? I feel like we said we did.”

He hummed again, this time in thought. “I believe . . .” his free hand moved up to cup her jaw. “It’s a free day aside from needing to get groceries.”

“And here I was hoping to just stay here all day.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest while leaning up so their lips just barely brushed. “I would support that thought, but I’ll give it four minutes before you get hungry.”

Just for that, she defiantly licked his lips, giggling at the slightly disgusted scowl that pulled them down afterwards. Moments later, as an apology, she kissed him sweetly. Of course, that was a slippery slope that led to her being pinned beneath him, hands either clawing at his back or tumbled in his hair.

Eventually, they successfully made it to the town; of course, that was after they’d washed away the evidence of their morning activities. He’d donned his usual plunging tunic, pants, and star-studded cloak while she dressed in the garb of a Moonshadow elf: leggings, boots, and a tank top with her hair braided to be out of her face. She’d worn their style of clothing or a long time since she found it to be the most practical style available among the elves. Besides, everyone in town knew she was human; there was no use hiding it even if there were still some people--mostly the Skywing family--that detested her.

It was overall a peaceful journey with only minor staring. They’d quickly gotten the supplies they needed for the week. Shopkeepers had a tendency to want the pair of them out as fast as possible, what with Y/N’s species and Aaravos’s reputation, but that was fine with them. Neither was fond of chatting with strangers, anyway.

“One last stop,” Y/N breathed. She would be happy to get back to their peaceful house.

Aaravos hummed, as he had a habit of doing. “We just have to pick up that book I ordered.”

“What was it about again?”

“It is an update on the warfront. We may be neutral, but you know how I like to stay updated.”

“Well I suppose we can’t be completely submerged in our little fairytale here. Never been one for doing nothing anyway.”

“Good, because we seem to have guests. Those two ahead, they have a glamor spell on them. That necklace is a moon illusionist’s doing.”

“Been a while since we’ve had a good fight,” she muttered, free hand tightening around a dagger at her waist.

“Now, now, dearest, all in good time,” he chided. “We should at least see what they want first.”

Despite his words, Y/N felt him release the hand he’d been holding. It was a move she was long familiar with; if a fight came forth, he’d need both hands for his magic. “Because that went so well lst time,” she muttered.

The shit-eating smirk on his face was enough to make her roll her eyes. “At least let us lead them out of town. We don’t need to go out of our way to further anger the Skywing.”

“Fair enough.”

“Two of them are circling around in front of us. Third’s still behind,” Y/N reported a few minutes later once they’d reached what was considered the outskirts of town. She’d kissed him on the cheek a few moments prior in order to disguise the process of her looking around.

“Observant as ever, dearest.”

“Okay, now really doesn’t feel like the right time to be flirting,” she snarked back, elbowing him in the side.

“Here we go,” he muttered, changing the tone of the conversation the instant two people--stalkers, her mind provided--blocked their path. “Can we help you?”

“You sure this is the right guy?” one of the stalkers asked, obviously the skittish one of the bunch.

His ‘Moonshadow’ companion scoffed. “Do you see another elf with a human girlfriend?”

“Well . . . no, but--”

“Exactly, this has to be the guy.”

“We are right here,” Y/N sighed. Clearly whoever these guys were, they weren’t professionals. That stung her pride a bit. If this group knew enough about them that one of their members was this skittish, it could be assumed that they knew enough to be more wary of this particular pair. It was a mix of insulting and disappointing, really.

“Right. We were sent by . . .”

And that day deviated wildly from their nice, lazy plans from there. Needless to say, they ended up working for the humans. After the yaers she’d spent ignoring the glares from the elves of their little town, the glares from her former brothers-in-arms did nothing to rattle her, and of course Aaravos was as unshakable as ever. Whispers followed her wherever she went. People called her traitor or worse whenever Aaravos wasn’t around (they weren’t brave enough to do it while he was present) simply because she loved an elf. Of course, she herself thought that their relationship was better suited to be an example that their species could get along and even thrive.

While that relationship flourished as it always had (they’d been together for quite some time, after all), everything else went to shit around them. Because of Aaravos, the humans held their own in the war until the Xadians were willing to come up with an armistice. True to the elven belief that humans were corrupt, they were all too willing to forfeit Aaravos despite all he’d done for them. One of the stipulations for the armistice was that Aaravos would be handed over for the Xadians to punish how they saw fit. Another was that Y/N would never be allowed back in Xadia.

The humans naturally agreed to both clauses.

On their last night together, Aaravos told her of the curse he’d put on his name wherever it appeared in text. Anyone specifically looking for him in human lands would find the pages blackened and unreadable. If they were just reading a random tome in which he appeared, the book would be unaffected--a handy little trick that would help keep from suspicion from arising. It was his way of giving her a fresh start, he explained; no one would be able to connect him with her after enough time had passed.

Provided she wasn’t killed, Y/N would live long enough for the humans to forget. When they initially got together, Aaravos gave her his heart--a crystal he’d used to focus his power when he was young--set into a small silver ring on her finger. To the surprise of them both, she’d stopped aging. It’d seemed like the ring kept her aging to match his in order for them to remain together without the grief that came with loving someone that lived a much shorter life.

As she stood there contemplating things in the present, she thought, That is the only time I’ve ever even heard of such a spell. The odds . . .

She’d tried to find out what the dragon king had done with her lover ever since the day she’d been vanished, but word had never reached the human kingdoms. They seemed to want to forget about the archmage that essentially won their existence for them. Then again, who wouldn’t want to forget that you just offered a virtual hero up like a lamb for slaughter?

Years passed.

Then decades passed.

Eventually, everyone except Katolis���s high council forgot she ever existed.

Then even they forgot.

Just for something to do, she’d eventually rejoined the Crownguard. Surprisingly, she made friends with the children of the king’s advisor. They were good kids, if a little dense at times. Soren was her favorite, naturally; they worked together almost every day, after all. Claudia was a bit too much like her father sometimes for Y/N to be completely comfortable with her, but she tried to be a good influence for the child. Both of the children viewed her as an aunt, and she prided herself in her ability to temper the destructive habits Viren tried to teach them.

Otherwise, her existence largely went unnoticed.

Until she saw those books in the library.

#aaravos x reader #aaravos imagine #dragon prince imagine #reader insert #the dragon prince imagine

[breakyourhaloandley]

02: Life is the Pain of the Pictures In My Mind

“Fuck right there” I moan loudly as the man behind me thrust into me hard. He has my hair wrapped around his clenched fist and he tugs on it violently making me scream out in pain. 

“You like that you fucking slut?” he growls in my ear. The aching in my gut is reaching a climax, the muscles in my body tighten as I feel myself start to cum. My whole body feels hot as I do, my vision blurring as feelings of ecstasy fill me. He flips me over onto my back, thrusting into me deep and without warning. 

“Fuck Max that hurts-” I cry out. He pushes his long black hair back, smirking that devilish grin of his “You fucking love it.” 

He wraps a hand around my throat, pinning me to the mattress. He squeezes the sides of it tightly. I gasp for air, clawing at his hand as I feel myself start to blackout. He releases his hold just before I do and I feel him come inside of me. 

My breathing is labored as he collapses beside me. He grabs a cigarette, lighting it up. He doesn’t wrap his arms around me, kiss me or show a hint of emotion, that’s not Max Green’s style. The pleasure of my orgasm is subsiding and now I just feel empty and numb again, the very feeling I was trying to avoid. 

“When do you leave for tour again?”  “Twenty four hours.” I sigh, grabbing a cigarette for myself. 

Max and I met back when I first moved to California. He’s not what I would call a friend, more like a good time you’ll regret later. He’s got his own issues, but I never ask him about them and in return he doesn’t ask me about mine. We’ve gotten drunk and fucked a few times and that’s all today was. I needed a distraction from the ache in my chest. 

“And you’re seriously not going to drink, the whole tour?”  “That’s the goal. I don’t know if I will succeed. 

I was supposed to have spent the past week sobering up, going through the worst of withdrawals and learning to cope with all the emotions but that’s not what I did. I’ve been on an alcohol and sex binge since that first night of rehearsals. There’s no point in causing pain before you have to, and I’ll put the bottle down tomorrow and not a second earlier. 

“Better you than me, that’s for sure.” he shrugs, fumbling around for his pants and shirt. I want to tell him to stay, just lay here with me and hold me for a little bit. Make me feel like this isn’t just some cheap hookup that means nothing. Lie to me and soothe the pain that’s in my heart. 

“You know you don’t have to leave right now. You’re free to stay the night.” I say so quietly I’m not sure if he hears me or not. 

“Don’t think so kid, but uh good luck with the tour. Let me know when you’re back,” he replies, winking before disappearing into the night. 

---

11 AM to most people probably isn’t early, but to me, it is the literal definition of hell. My whole body feels like it’s been beaten and thrown in a ditch. I’m hungover from downing the last of the whiskey in the apartment after Max left last night and each step brings a dull ache that reminds me of my misjudgment. I tried my best to find something to wear that covers up the obvious bruises and hickeys on my neck but they still peak through the collar of my leather jacket. There are ruby red scratch marks up and down my back and hips which luckily are well hidden at least by my street clothes. 

Jake didn’t come home until after Max had left, no accident on my part, so no one knows of my little fling last night. It’s not something I particularly want getting out, even just to my bandmates. 

Even through my sunglasses, the sunlight makes me wince as I load my bags into the bus that will be our home for the duration of this tour. Several of them are lined up in the parking lot as band members, roadies and managers run around loading gear, clothes and other tour necessities. Ashley isn’t here yet, and for that I’m thankful. 

I hear footsteps approaching fast behind me and before I have the chance to turn around he has me in a bear hug. I wince at the pain it causes and he quickly notices, letting go. 

“You alright man?” Matt asks. 

“Yeah.., just rough night,” I reply, hoping he doesn’t ask for details. 

Matt Good is another guy I met shortly after moving here. Unlike Max, however, he’s the closet thing I have to a best friend... well besides you know who. The only saving grace to this tour is that he is also on it. 

He must notice the bruises peaking out because he moves the collar of my jacket, inspecting my neck, “Jesus Christ Andy who did this to you?” 

I swat his hand away, “Don’t worry about it Matt just a one-night thing.” There is a look of hurt on his face, nothing too obvious but I see it. I know that Matt has feelings for me, I’ve known from the start.

It’s not that I couldn’t see myself being with him, and it’s not that we wouldn’t be a good match but my heart has already chosen who it wants. It was a stupid choice, but it’s not one I can change. I’m not immune to the irony in the situation. Here I am falling apart over a man who doesn’t love me, and I find myself doing the same to someone else. Only Matt copes better than me, I think. 

“Well you should be careful, those look pretty serious,” he comments, and any flicker of hurt seems to vanish from his expression. 

I don’t know what to tell him, that I wanted it that way? I have never experienced that glamorized storybook version of sex, intimacy would probably be the better term.  I’ve never felt the gentle embrace of loving, meaningful sex. I only know hard, dirty, lustful fucking. I’m not sure if it’s because that’s what I like or if that’s what I think I deserve. Either way, that’s not a conversation I feel like having with Matt right now. 

“I am careful.” I lie. 

I hear Ashley’s voice off in the distance, a painful reminder that he is in fact on this tour and I do in fact have to live on the same bus as him for the next few months. Matt doesn’t know about what happened on that night, no one does and I want to keep it that way. As far as Matt knows, Ashley and I are still best friends. 

An intense craving for anything alcoholic runs through my veins and I start to wonder if this whole ‘sober tour’ thing is going to even last a day. I know there will be some sort of celebration tonight and everyone will be drinking. Copious amounts of free alcohol and no one to card me, it’s like putting a steak in front of a starving dog. I should probably just avoid it, what a great look that is. The frontman of the headlining band hiding from a few drinks because he lacks any sense of self-control. What a stupid, hungry dog. 

“Damn looks like it’s time to get this show on the road,” Matt says, distracting me from my pity party. 

“I guess it is...” I groan, noticing the groups of people starting to disappear onto their respected buses. I bid goodbye to Matt and somberly make my way towards where the rest of my band is. 

My stomach is in knots as I step inside, the first thing that greets me is of course cases of liquor still yet to be unpacked. This would be a lot easier if the rest of my band weren’t also borderline alcoholics. The guys are all in the back, probably fighting over who gets what bunk. Not that it matters to me that much, I can’t sleep in them anyway. I walk to the back, throwing my stuff into one of the open bunks. 

There’s a wooden door at the end of the rows with a piece of paper taped to it ‘Stabbing Cabin’ it reads in what is clearly Ashley’s handwriting. I roll my eyes at the stupidity of it, before opening the door. Inside there is a full-sized bed along with some boxes of gear and clothes. Ashley is busy putting clothes into a small dresser. 

“Wait, you’re getting the actual bed?” Our last bus didn’t have this type of luxury, hell if I had known there was an actual bed on this bus I would have told John I refused to go on tour unless it was mine. 

“Yeah, is that a problem with you?”  “I’m the frontman, I’m also 6″3 don’t you think I should be the one who doesn’t have to cram themself into a bunk?”  “Sorry kid, I asked John yesterday if I could have it. You know, got to treat my ladies nice.” 

I suppress the urge to punch him in the face, in my current state I’m not sure if I could actually hold my own. He stands up, walking over to me and raising an eyebrow. “Who did that to you?” he asks, motioning to my neck. 

“None of your fucking business. You’ve certainly got no right to talk.” 

He rolls his eyes at me, moving the collar of my leather jacket back to inspect them. I saw them this morning in the mirror, they look like I was beaten. “You look like you got choked to death.” 

I shrug, “something like that.” Something flashes behind his eyes but it’s gone so fast that I can’t figure it out. There is no way he’d be jealous of Max, he already made it abundantly clear he doesn’t want any part of that. 

“Well make sure you cover that up on stage, I don’t want shit being started online.”  “Oh sorry, I’ll ask for your permission next time.” I bark back at him, how does he have any right to tell me what I should be doing? I shake my head before walking out and letting the door slam behind me. 

---

I feel like I am about to crawl out of my skin. I gave up on trying to get any sleep about an hour ago. The bus is parked in the parking lot of some bar on the way to the first venue. Everyone is inside, drinking, partying and having a great time to celebrate the start of the tour. Not me, I’m miserably sober couped up in this fucking bus. 

My hands are shaking and I feel physically sick. My heart is pounding in my chest, making it hard to breathe. It is as if all the emotions I’ve been suppressing for over a year now are flooding back into me all at once. I don’t know how to handle them, that’s what the alcohol was for. Nothing seems to take the edge off, not even an entire pack of cigarettes. The worst part is there is absolutely nothing to distract me from this pain. 

I’m all alone with my mind, which historically has been a very dangerous thing for my health. I desperately want to be normal like everyone else. I want to be able to go to parties or social events and enjoy them, have a few drinks but be able to stop. I don’t want to feel the panic that comes with having to engage with strangers sober. I want to enjoy the life I have worked so hard for instead of piecing together bits of it from a void of black. I want to feel a love so intense it consumes me, I want to feel happiness. 

The bus door clicks as someone walks in, I keep my head down hoping he’s just going to get something and leave again. His boots stop in front of where I’m sitting and the scent of his cologne fills the air mixed with the clear smell of whiskey. Just like that night... 

“Are you going to stay here and mope around the whole time? Everyone is asking where you are.”  “Tell them I don’t feel good,” I growl, refusing to look up at him. 

“What’s your excuse going to be tomorrow, and the next day? It is your job to go out there, smile, befriend the right people and promote this band, Andy.”

Can he not see how hard this is on me, or does he just not care? I would expect a bit more from someone who has been in my shoes before. Sweating through withdrawals while the world moves on without you. 

“I literally feel like I’m going to throw up can you leave me alone?”  “It is not my fault you decided to sober up last minute instead of a fucking month ago. Withdrawals suck that’s why you don’t do it week one of the tour.”

“Ash please... stop,” I beg, my voice betraying me and cracking. 

I need him back. I can’t go through this without him. He was my home for so long and I hate myself for ever letting things get to where they did. I’d rather keep my feelings for him a secret but have him than be whatever it is we are now. I want to feel those strong, tattooed arms wrap around me. I want to hear his soft voice tell me everything is going to be okay. 

“Fine then. I’ll leave you here to suffer all by yourself since that’s clearly what you want.” he shrugs before leaving. Joining the land of the living. 

#andley #bvb #black veil brides #andy biersack #ashley purdy #andy six #andy sixx #fan fiction #slash fiction #gay romance #02

[thedyingmoon]

💜 This I Promise 💜

***

XLVIII. Angel

***

It appeared that it would be the most memorable evening in (F/N)’s life.

Well, both memorable and taxing.

Not a few minutes had passed after entering the Reiss mansion when people’s eyes began wandering towards her and her escort, Erwin. Yes, they were talking a lot, their subject particularly focused on Erwin Smith’s former military title and how a debutante could benefit from it. But, their sole purpose for wagging their tongues was the fact that the most desirable bachelor of the evening had a partner and a potential fiancée already.

So, hesitant as they may, they removed the former Commander on their lists of potential grooms. And it left them focusing on the second entry of their own list, Levi Ackerman, Captain of the Scouting Legion, and rumored to be still single.

Problem was, no one could find him. Some even said that he skipped the event, altogether.

Had they looked and observed in the proper way, they would definitely learn that the Captain in question was disguised underneath false golden locks and a fancy dark suit. And the only ones who were aware of his façade were his footman, his attendant, his valet, and his partner. Particularly his partner, yes.

Levi raised an eyebrow, observing the crowd of blushing ninnies who started gathering at one particular area of the vast room, yapping their whole tongues away.

“What in the world is that all about?” he whispered to no one in particular.

“I’m not sure, Captain Levi. Maybe someone popular?” his partner whispered back.

Levi snapped his eyes at his partner and squeezed the person’s left hand, which was held unto his right arm.

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that in here?” he warned savagely. “Didn’t Hange also teach you how to moderate your voice, eh brat?”

The brat’s captivating teal eyes widened in fear at his superior. He nodded quickly so as not to piss Levi off even more.

“Good.” Levi whispered and refocused his gaze on the crowd. “I hope we’re clear.”

“Yes, Si – my love. Yes, my love.” His partner said in a small voice imitating a female’s.

Levi nodded in response and satisfaction. He was about to scan the crowd for traces of either (F/N) or Erwin when he suddenly felt dagger gazes directed at his back. He slightly turned and noticed Jean, who was dressed as a valet, stopping Mikasa, who was disguised as the footman, from attacking Levi due to her utter jealousy towards him. At the corner of his eye, he could see how Jean mouthed the words, I apologize towards him for the gloomy brat’s behavior and tried very hard to reason with her. Levi just rolled his eyes, thinking that it was their own stupid idea in the first place.

Well, not exactly their idea, but the one who was dressed as their attendant for the evening.

“Don’t forget your rose, Sir.” The bespectacled attendant muttered mandatorily while pinning a violet rose unto the left side of his finely tailored jacket.

Levi let Hange do her thing and not be obvious, but Eren’s nervousness was starting to really get on his nerves.

Hange smiled and gently dabbed at Eren’s face with a pure, white handkerchief.

“A lady must not get nervous too much, Miss Baxter.” She told Eren. “Look at you, your sweat is beginning to mess up my three hours of vain sacrifice.”

“Well, you decided to put on that makeup and gown unto Jackie.” Levi sarcastically muttered.

Hange smiled devilishly and closed her eyes.

“Everything was done in perfect balance in accordance with the event.” She told him.

“I didn’t know that drawing the short stick could be considered fair.” Levi retorted.

“Let me rearrange that for you, Sir,…” Hange said and went closer towards him in a gesture of fixing his rose. “You should be thankful, shorty.” She whispered carefully to him. “Who do you want to be your Jacqueline for this evening? Mikasa? You both hate each other, remember?”

“I don’t fucking care who gets the role of Jacqueline! Not today, not tomorrow, not in a million times!” he argued back. “You all suck at it!”

“Well, you don’t exactly fit the role of Elvis, because he’s much taller!”

“Guys, guys!” Eren whispered to the both of them, gesturing towards the group of musicians from the large platform at the other end of the room. “It’s starting!”

Levi and Hange stopped arguing at once and diverted their attentions towards the platform.

Slowly, a man in his mid – fifties emerged from a corner and stepped unto the platform, taking his place among the musicians. A man they assumed to be the noble, Rod Reiss, himself.

(F/N) clutched unto Erwin’s right arm tighter than before, making the man turn towards her. He gently clasped her left hand. She looked up at him and was met with soft, blue eyes.

“Are you nervous?” he whispered.

(F/N) just nodded, unable to trust her own voice.

Who wouldn’t be, when the noble who owned the mansion and was the host of the Winter Season ball just casually asked you to lead the first dance?

(F/N) knew that she studied waltz to death for this very event. But, nothing did prepare her for the actual thing. And she was so nervous, she almost wanted the glimmering marble floor to swallow her whole. Not to mention the looks she received from other debutantes. Yes, they were all younger and more beautiful than her, that she instantly felt that she didn’t belong there. And that made her even more insecure and nervous.

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, (F/N).” Erwin whispered to her ear, sending chills down her spine, but it was a good kind of chill.

“Y-you must be making me comfortable so that I would not make a mess of both of us in the dancefloor, Mr. Smith.”

“I never lie.” He replied, his hand shifting position and making its way towards the small of her back, supporting her gently. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Meanwhile, Levi and Eren observed as the man cleared his throat once more. He began with his speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the,…”

And on he talked and talked, making almost everyone drowsy, including Eren, who was not really used to long, boring talks. A few more minutes of endurance challenge and the noble finally ended his speech, but not before announcing something about the invited couple who was going to lead to first dance.

At his signal, the musicians struck the first notes of the waltz. Levi and Eren looked all over the place for the mentioned couple. And as Eren turned, he found them. His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw. He tugged at Levi’s arm, gesturing for him to look at the couple. He looked down at him and noticed that Levi was already staring, particularly at the lady in Erwin’s arms.

Who could blame him and anybody else in the room? For before all of them waltzed a dark angel, moving very fluidly and gracefully with the tall, blonde man. Yes, she was not wearing the traditional Winter Season gown of white, gold, or pastel, but her garb of simple black dress that went down her legs in a flowing, graceful manner swept the glamorous dancefloor like a black tidal wave that covered everything in darkness. The simple garb, itself, brought attention to her tiny waist, hugging it along with a golden chain that swayed along with the princess who wore them. The man who supported her endearingly held her slender, black – laced, gloved hand. However, not only her dark opera gloves caught the attention of the men and women around her. Her low neckline, which defied the norm of Winter Season debutantes wearing cowl – necked, or high – necked, styled gowns which portrayed ancient princesses, clearly managed to draw everyone's attention towards her long and graceful neck and that picturesque collar bone of hers, not to mention the almost porcelain glow of her skin, which contrasted against her dark outfit. She may not be wearing a tiara just like other debutantes, but her simple golden necklace with dark red rubies in it outshone even the most expensive of all the jewelry worn by the evening’s madams and mademoiselles. And most especially, instead of wearing her hair in a beehive, she simply have it free and flowing unrestrainedly.

In other words, the most beautiful person Levi had ever seen in his entire, pathetic life.

And that person was no other than (F/N), herself.

Eren almost went out of his character as Jacqueline upon watching (F/N) dance with eyes full of complete admiration, so he just looked at Levi to see his reaction. And what he saw on the short Captain’s face threw him into total confusion, for he couldn’t believe that the man could be capable of endearing emotions, after all.

Basically, it was the first time that Eren had seen Levi in such a state of awe. He was clearly smitten, like he really had fallen in love with (F/N),…

All of a sudden, Eren saw something dark invade Levi’s blue eyes. He saw the smile in the man’s face change into that of a frown of disappointment. The boy looked back at the dancefloor and noticed how Erwin looked at her. How he AND (F/N) looked at each other.

It was as if they were both in love,…

The second phrase of the music brought all the other couples on the dancefloor. Jean and Mikasa nodded towards them and went unto their designated positions to spy on the nobles. Hange simply tapped Levi on the shoulder and went towards the direction of the musicians. Eren refocused his gaze unto the dancefloor, starting to forget all the dance moves he learned from Hange. He gulped and started sweating hard again.

“Let’s go.” Said Levi in a monotonous  tone, tugging at his left, white – gloved hand. “And don’t step on me. Got that, brat?”

“U-understood.” Eren muttered and let himself be guided by Levi smoothly towards the dancefloor for their very first dance ever, his pure, white skirts flowing dramatically as the two men danced the romantic steps of Waltz together,…

***

“This is outrageous.” One seamstress announced that afternoon to her colleagues. “How can we make a dress in such a short period of time?”

“We just do what Lord Shunerman suggested.” The Head Seamstress replied. “We just keep it black and simple.”

“How do make something black and simple for the Winter Season?!” one seamstress argued.

“The event IS Winter Season! Not frigging Masquerade!”

“We will be betraying Mr. Smith with this, you know that, madam.” Another pleaded.

The Head Seamstress contemplated for a while, her hand on her chin, her brows furrowed.

“If we force the miss to wear our design, she might go down in a hysteria once more. That, we must avoid, or no Winter Season for both her and the Commander. And that is totally out of the question.”

“What do we do?”

“We have no choice.” Their leader announced. “We follow Lord Shunerman’s advice.”

“You know you’ll be tampering with age – old traditions here, madame.”

“I know.” She said as she took out her sketchbook. “But, do we have a choice? Isn’t our motto to please our customers, and not plague them?”

Her colleagues didn’t say a word, showing their reluctant compliance.

“So, it’s time to get back to work,…” she told them with a clap of her calloused hands.

***

~ @levi4mikasa , @yepps , @nerdyphantomlady , @unhappysap , @shewolfofficial , @super-peace-fangirl , @fangurl-ontgeside , and @emilyackerman78 . 💜

***

💜💜💜

***

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi ackerman #captain levi #this i promise #levi x reader #levi x you #chapter 48 #angel

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Let's do something crazy: Valentino/Magnus

THERE WAS A TIME THAT VALENTINE MORGENSTERN STOOD FOR ALL THAT WAS GOOD AND NOBLE IN THE CLAVE. THERE WAS A TIME:

Valentine Morgenstern knows how frustrating this must be from the perspective of someone like Magnus Bane. Bane, for all his age and power, has always been a bit of a rogue element. The price of independence. His own fault really. His credibility isn’t what it could be; his alliances with the Clave strong but not strong enough. Bane’s greatest weapon outside of his considerable magic is that people like him better than they like other people. He’s popular. A Rockstar. He’s used to getting his way. Finding his words failing now on unsympathetic ears, unmoved by any appeal to familiarity or trust?

It’s almost funny.

“Are you not hearing what I’m saying? None of that is true!” He’s so angry now he’s at that strange desperate stage between completely losing it and crying. Warlocks. The older they get, the deeper, bigger, more unwieldy their emotions. Magnus is losing control of his to the utterly calm face of Maryse Lightwood. “People are dead! Someone is doing this on purpose and you need to do something about it. I’m telling you right now.”

“We are looking into, Mr. Bane. As I’ve been saying for the last five minutes. Do not make me remove you from this premise. I’m sorry for your loss, but the facts of each case stand as they are until such a time as new evidence is presented.” Hell, Maryse is good. She stares down a five-hundred (six-hundred?) year old immortal who is so angry he’s starting to lose control of his glamore and she never even blinks. “We appreciate the services you’ve rendered to the Clave and your diligence as a citizen in bringing us your concerns, but these matters are being handled.”

Which is when Bane telekinetically snaps her clipboard into fifteen pieces, the entire things shattering like glass in her fingers.

“You’re not handling shit,” Bane snarls.

Valentine thinks he’s probably going to have to intervene.

Maryse, again, doesn’t flinch though every single nephilim in the room grabs for their stele. She calmly holds up one hand to stave them off, never looking away from the warlock in front of her. Magnus doesn’t back down. He really should. He’s just used magic against a shadowhunter, however cosmetically, and Valentine knows that Mayse has made actionable mountains out of less. Buried people for less.

But Bane’s got this look, feral, but calculated.

No. Not here. Bane’s got no hold at the Clave, but he’s popular enough it will cause trouble. Can’t do it like that.

“I will give you a warning,” Maryse says reasonably. “Next time you bring magic to bear against me, I will have to detain you. I remember the courses you taught at the Indonesian Institute. I would rather not arrest a former teacher–”

Magnus laughs and the whole room shivers, aches with the potential energy of his fury, a physical presence in the room. 

“God, you grew up, huh? They could put my eyes out in front of you  and you wouldn’t flinch.”

Maryse narrows her eyes.

“The Law,” she says, “is hard, but it is the Law.”

“Fuck you,” Magnus says. “You’re a murderer and all the Writ in the world won’t undo it.”

Valentine separates himself from the doorway he’s been watching from and crosses the room. Magnus sees him coming and his expression immediately changed to relief. And why shouldn’t it? Luke and Jocelyn were favored students of his; they have him on speed dial. Too bad they’re in mission in London and won’t be back for a month.

“Valentine,” he says, pushing past Maryse. “I need to talk to you. No one else will listen.”

“Of course,” he says, clapping Magnus on the shoulder. “Apologies for the welcome. Let’s take this to a conference room.”

Magnus follows him. He’s agitated. A scent of static around him like its own pressure system. Valentine thinks, idly, how easy it would be to turn around and shove a seraph blade through the warlock’s stomach, wrench it up, watch every inch of magic fall to utterly useless in the face of direct action. Magnus is glancing warily at all the other shadowhunters milling through the halls of the Institute and on closer inspection it’s clear to Valentine the warlock’s not sleeping. That’s he’s ragged. Makes sense. A lot of his friends are being detained and disappearing.

Valentine shuts them in a conference room and Magnus immediately launches into a rant.

“Someone is framing downworlders. I can prove it. I have a dozen witness accounts, a forensic spell that’s admissible in court, and I’ll testify myself. Viggo and Verity were killed before those weapons were put on their bodies. This is a cover up. You have something wrong in your ranks, Valentine, and no one will listen to a downworlder, you have to—”

“Magnus. Calm down,” Valentine says. He crosses the room, placing a hand on the warlock’s shoulder. “I know. I know something is wrong. And I’d appreciate it if you weren’t. blowing things up in my foyer while I try to hunt it down.” He squeezes his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Magnus stares. “You know?”

“Yes. I’m putting a stop to it.”

Magnus keeps staring at him, then the relief seems to catch up to him all at once and the warlock kind of falls back into one of the chairs at the nearby table, dropping his face into his hands and exhaling like he’s been holding that breath for a week. Valentine studies him. Bane isn’t that big really. A perfectly normal-looking man. Beneath the mohawk, the nail polish, the boots, the make-up, and the rage he’s actually just… this. A very stressed out and emotional creature staving off a panic attack in a conference room.  

“Thank god,” he says. “I thought I was going to come in here and you’d tell me I was crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Valentine says, moving to lean on the table beside Magnus. “I swore an oath to protect the people of this city. That includes your people.”

“Viggo and Verity were my friends, Val.”

“I know.” Valentine places his hand again on the warlock’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve find who did this, I swear. It won’t be much longer now.”

Magnus reaches up, places his hand over Valentine’s. “Thank you. That… it means a lot.”

“No thanks needed, Magnus.”

The warlock looks up at him. Hmm. Valentine is old enough now to admit there are a few things he enjoys and one of them is having beautiful people looking up at him. Magnus Bane is one of the most powerful people in this hemisphere and he is, objectively, beautiful and right now he looks… ragged, exhausted, like he’s been in a fight recently, his make-up smeared from sleeping in it or going all night not sleeping and wearing it. His dark hari is touch-wrecked, the style ruined, his clothes rumpled. One could almost imagine this is what he looks like after someone fucks him.

Valentine wonders, idly, if Magnus’ cat eyes come out during that kind of thing or if he hides it.

“It is needed,” Magnus says. “The Clave needs more people like you. Looking for this. You understand. No one is infallible. Even nephilim are human and humans care capable of terrible things.”

“I know.”

“You have no idea how relieved I am. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, Magnus. You’ve done enough.”

Magnus stands up and before Valentine can do anything about it, the warlock pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Really, Val.” He seems overwhelmed, his voice raw. “Thank you. I know I can trust you to make this right.”

The warlock is surprisingly sturdy in Valentine’s arms. He’s so… grateful. He’s leaning against him, his head tucked against his shoulder and its very odd how human Magnus can seem. How pliable. Valentine wonders what he could do with gratefulness this complete as he stands there, comforting one of the most dangerous men in New York, imagining the look on the half-breed’s face the day he realizes the mistake he’s made. He thinks it would be so… correct  if Magnus would just fall to his knees right now.

Not for that (well, maybe for that) but just because that seems natural.

Magnus Bane built so many things for the Clave – the Portal systems, the ward walls, the rune apps, so many things. He’s so useful. He’s also still hugging Valentine long past it being strictly appropriate and Valentine should really let the warlock go. But there is something… about this. Knowing. Holding complete power over someone who has no idea, particularly someone as individually powerful as Magnus Bane – the vicious one, the summoner, binder, ward-worker.

Valentine suspects he could, if he wanted to, pull the warlock around and pin him to the table and he wouldn’t do anything to stop him. He won’t do anything to stop Valentine until it’s too late, the trap closing around an animal. There is a standing order, actually, not to kill Magnus if possible but to subdue him because of all the warlocks in New York… he’d have a place in the new world.

On his knees, of course, but a place.

“It’s going to be okay,” Valentine says, the way Luke or Jocelyn might. “Don’t worry, Magnus. You can rely on me.”

“I know.” He hugs the shadowhunter more tightly. “I know you won’t let me down.”

Valentine smiles.

#magnus bane #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #valentine morgenstern #crackship sh #rae writes #raewrites

[geminimoonbeamx]

Winter Wonderland

A/N: A continuation of The Nutcracker. I don’t know why my internal clock has skipped Halloween time hype and has gone straight to Christmas mania but it has. So expect a couple more Christmas smut’s after this one. I’m on a roll, ya’ll

Word Count: 7k… Damnnnn sorry guys. I got carried away.

Warnings: NSFW, Fingering, Oral sex(female receiving)Alcohol consumption. And until I earn to control my sailor like mouth, all of my stories will contain strong language.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You we’re rushing to finish getting ready. You’d misjudged how long it was going to take setting the decorators on the right path and spent hours meticulously making sure that the garlands around the staircase we’re perfect, tweaking ice sculptures and making sure floral arrangements were up to par. This Christmas party would be one to remember, and you we’re going to make sure everything was perfect.

Aesthetically, at least.

So, after taking up so much of afternoon down in the “show room” with Pepper and the other organizers you’d all but sprinted up to you bedroom. On a race against the clock to make sure you didn’t show up to the party you’d worked so very hard on looking like a total mess. You’d managed to shower, shaving and moisturizing in record time. Then you’d pulled your undergarments up your body, wiggling into the shapewear, huffing as you slid it up over your thick thighs and tummy. It held you nicely, controlling your rolls and making your body appear to be smooth and coke bottle shaped. With large curlers in your hair, making you look both glamorous and ridiculous, you work furiously on your makeup. Blending warm shades into your eyelids, perfecting your skin with foundation. Putting on false lashes that touched your cheeks when you blinked. Bronzing. Highlighting. The whole nine yards.

You we’re known for your girly, overdone ways.

You never really did know how to be “casual”

You slide on your dress, the velvet material gliding against your skin deliciously and admire it in the mirror for a moment. The maroon number is a gorgeous piece of clothing. It’s long sleeved, wrap styled, and came down just below your knees so it gave that elegant vibe, but the high slit up the side revealed enough thigh to keep it fun and modern.

Your sliding on your heels when Bucky walks through the door of your(pretty much shared) bedroom, not bothering to knock. You almost have a heart attack, and demand he make his presence known instead of ninja-ing everywhere.

“Sorry, doll” Bucky chuckles half heartedly as he looks you up and down, his steely eyes take on a predatory glint the more they take in “Christ, baby, you look gorgeous”

He’s never seen you dressed up like this; you appeared like you easily could have just walked in from the 40’s with the way your soft curls are pinned loosely to the side of your head and your make up makes your eyes look even more cat-like then usual. It floors him, to be honest. He tries not to stand there with his mouth hanging open. Tries, and fails.

His praises make you smile, but you ignore him and go to your jewelry counter, scowering it for that one pair of gold chain earrings. You don’t have the time to indulge your insatiable boyfriend right now. He cant tear his eyes away, the way the red velvet material of the dress hugs your figure is something absolutely sinful, especially when you bend over in those strappy heels of yours and the fabric pulls taught across your plump ass.

“Ooof, Bucky!” You protest, as his strong hands, both flesh and vibranium, grip you by the hips, pulling you backwards towards his broad chest.

“Baby, I don’t have time! We were supposed to be downstairs ten minutes ago!” You squirm in his grasp, but he’s unyielding as he buries his nose in your hair and nearly salivates.

You we’re wearing that perfume he loved too. The one that made your skin smell like candy. Vanilla laced with little hints of honeysuckle.

“Fuck, Y/N, are you trying to kill me tonight? Is that your plan?” You can feel his hot breath on your ear and it makes you claw at his arm, your cherry red nails digging into his dark suit jacket as you attempted to escape.

“No, It’s actually not. I’m going to need you to show some restraint right now, James. I have to finish getting ready” You scold him, looking him straight in the eye in the reflection on the large, vanity mirror so that he could see you were completely serious. He smirks at your use of his God given name.

“I’m serious, Buck, stop looking at me like that”

“Like what” He gruffs, holding tight to your waist, not breaking eye contact with your reflection. He looks like he might tear your dress off right now, the mischievous determination in his eyes is unnerving. You knew naughty Bucky; the man who’d reach up your skirt in a crowd, who’d pin you against the nearest wall and whisper things to you that would make the devil himself blush. You had no time for this side of him, at least not right now.

You push on his arms until he lets you spin in them, lets you face him. You pull up your big girl panties, determined not to let him hypnotize you with that gaze of his. And you knew just the way to get him to back off.

“Like you want to ruin all my hard work. Puddin’, you know I’ve been so excited for this” Your eyes go big and doe like, your voice drops a couple notches but raises a couple octaves “Let’s go enjoy this party, kay?”

He sighs. You really do play dirty. Your cartoon like pout never fails- you know he cant deny you anything when you look at him like this. His forehead drops to yours in resignation and you grin triumphantly.

You win, again. As usual. The man really was wrapped all the way around your finger.

“If you’re a good boy tonight, maybe I’ll let you open one of your Christmas presents early” You whisper to him, your tone sultry and promising before you press a quick kiss to his nose and yank yourself out of his dazed arms.

“There they are” You grab the earrings you’d been looking for and slip them on, leaving your semi hard boyfriend frozen in his place.

“You’re an evil woman” He accuses, looking like a kicked puppy dog.

“You’re in love with me” you singsong in return, still rushing around the room in a flurry. Bucky shakes his head, he cant deny that one.

The party is stunning, and as you walk through the foyer, your fingers laced with Bucky’s you fill a swell of pride in your stomach.

The Avengers “First Annual Winter Wonderland” charity bash is everything you and Pepper had dreamed up and more. It was elegant, and classy but still looked homey- the atmosphere warm. Shades of gold and silvers decked out every surface, clashing beautifully with the crimson accents and large pine trees. Everything twinkled, the effect of “ice” and “snow” really shown through.

You looked over at Bucky, waggling your eyebrows, a proud look on your face.

“Wow, doll. You really out did yourself” He commends, chuckling at how pleased with yourself you look. “I guess I can forgive you for runnin’ me up the fucken’ walls for these past few weeks. Your party turned out nice enough”

The thunk of you swatting his shoulder comes after his smartalick comment, but your chuckle follows it.

“Are you already starting crap? Isn’t it a little early for you to be such a pain in the neck?” Steve comes up to the two of you, looking sharp in his button down. Sharon is right beside him, her hair falling in polished waves. You’ve never seen her not in her usual work attire- so the dress she has on makes you do a double take.

Well god damn, get it Steve.

“Ha-ha. You decidin’ to come down of your Cap'in issued high horse and join the rest of us commoners tonight?” Bucky retorts, amused at Steve’s language choice, clapping his hand to his best friend shoulder. You roll your eyes fondly at the two. This was constant. They we’re such children. Before turning your attention to Sharon and telling her that her dress was to die for.

Us girls have got to stick together, was your life mantra.

The party is far from small; there’s at least a hundred plus people and even though Bucky has come a long way from his reclusive Bulgaria days, it’s still a little much for him. He sticks to either yours or Steve’s side, mingling cordially with the crowds of people. He was an Avenger, it came with the territory, so he knew he had to. No matter how much he didn’t want to.

“Baby I’m going to go check on Tony and Pepper” You whisper to him as you untangle your hand. You had your own rounds to make, and you didn’t want to force him too far out of his comfort zone. “I’ll be right back”

Bucky nods, not really wanting you to leave him, but he’s a grown man who knows his girls got a job to do so he kisses you on he cheek and tells you to “handle your business”

How you love him.

Bucky’s eyes are glued to your backside as you walk away, never leaving the sway of your hips until you disappear into the crowd

He hates to see you leave, but damn, does he love to watch you go.

Steve notices his friends staring and shakes his head “Come on, bud. Let’s go make our rounds. People magazine is over there, the want to give you a quick interview about making their 2017 ‘Most Beautiful list’”

Funniest part is, Steve wasn’t kidding. Bucky groans, desperately wishing that he could get drunk. All of this would be so much easier if he wasn’t forced to go through it sober. Screw his super soldier enhanced abilities. He’d give up super strength in a minute in return for being able to drink a beer and actually feel the after effects.

“I need a drink” He grumbles, his face sour. Lips turned down as he fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

Bing.

The idea pops into Steve’s head and he truly thinks he’s a genius…well maybe not so much because it just occurred to him now…Still super smart though…

“Steve?” Sharon questions him, one of her thinly manicured eyebrows raised at the look on her dates face.

“Hey, Buck, Thor’s at this party, huh?”

Bucky turns to look at his friend, feeling confused as Sharon looks “Yeah, why?”

“Let’s go find him”

You’ve been trying to find away to politely exit the conversation you’ve been trapped in with the ambassadors of both Bahrain and Denmark, talking politics at a Christmas party really wasn’t how you’d planned on spending your night. Still, you force a smile and add witty comments every now and then as you sip on your second spiked egg-nog cocktail.

When you finally find your way back to your side of the party, where your friends and colleagues- who all happened to be the same people we’re your happily tipsy. Definitely not drunk. Not even close. But buzzing pleasantly.

“Well look who finally made a jail break” Natasha greets you as you approach and you fight the urge to flip her off. Mostly everyone’s gathered at a couple of the tables that have been pushed together. Laughter is ringing the loudest from this area of the room. Clint, Laura, Tony, Pepper and Rhodey sit on one side. Followed by Thor and Bruce, who have been extremely close since their little trip to Asgard, then Wanda, Vision, Steve, Sharon and Bucky. Nat’s sitting next to Maria and they’re shit talking the head of the CIA. Scott’s there too, face down on the table. Sam’s at the buffet table chatting up a pretty brunette.

“Yeah, with no help from you. You’re such a great friend, Romanoff” You snipe at her and she holds up her hands, her green eyes laughing before turning back to Hill.

“There’s my best girl!” Bucky’s voice is too loud, booming joyously and you shoot him a glance, before he grabs your wrist and yanks you down, unceremoniously rough, into his lap.

“Bucky!” You hiss at him, trying to straighten yourself a bit, your cheeks tinging red. No one at the table even blinked but you still felt a little weird sitting your fat ass on your boyfriend in public.

He has you spread over both of his thighs, too. Almost bridal style, his metal arm cradling your back. Cuddling you to him

“I missed you. You’ve been gone forever” The slur in his voice is noticeable “You said you’d be right back”

Why does he sound like that?

You grab him by his freshly shaven chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes for a moment.

Searching.

Your e/c eye’s scan his icy, unfocused ones and you almost gasp at what you find.

“Holy fuck, are you drunk?”

He sniggers at this, lazily, through his nose and nods.

“Your boyfriends sloshed” Tony comments from across the table, slurring his own words heavily.

What the hell had happened? You’d been gone for forty five minutes, tops, and you come back and everyone’s shitfaced? How had Bucky even gotten drunk? You two had been trying different ways to get him inebriated for months. Whole cases of beer. Vodka. That one time you’d tried to keep up with him as he threw back tequila shots and he’d ended up carrying you to your room because you’d completely blacked out…then it dons on to you and your head snaps in Thors’ direction.

He gives you a sheepish grin and holds out the flask of Asgardian hell to you.

“You didn’t” You look down at your boyfriend who just laughs again, before pressing his face into your neck.

“Would you care for a shot, Lady Y/N?” Thor offers “Most everyone else has. You’re the one who stresses the very importance of team bonding”

“No I would not care for a shot, thank you very much” you would never willingly ingest even a drop of that vile liquid ever again “Last time I drank that I woke up two days later on my bathroom floor”

As you take in the faces of your friends, you can clearly see that almost all of them have decided to be lush’s and partake in the idiocy.

“You too, Steve?” You groan, his face is flushed from the liquor and he keeps reaching over to whisper into Sharon’s ear.

“Hey, Bucky’s always been a very talented peer pressurer!” Steve defends himself, hiccupping in between the sentence and you just shake your head, laughing at the hilarity of it all.

Clint’s head is on Laura’s shoulder and he’s looking at her as though she’s Aphrodite in the flesh. Bruce and Thor have started to arm wrestle. Wanda looks dazed, when you ask her if she’s okay she breaks out into a fit of giggles. Scott doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

And Bucky,

Well he’s nuzzling his head deeper and deeper into your chest, the prickle of his chin against your most sensitive skin makes you jump a little bit and you place a hand on his hair, trying to urge him away from you.

“Bucky”

“This dress is so soft. Holy shit, what is this even made out of?” He runs his face all along the front of the dress and you wonder if he knows just how extremely inappropriate it looks. He’s all but motor-boating you, at a party full of government officials. And SHIELD agents, Celebrities. Publicity…

“You’ve gotta stop, mister” you urge him, going to stand up.

Him and that stupid strong death grip of his.

“Uh, uh Y/N last time I let you go you we’re gone forever” Bucky whines in protest, holding on to you tight.

Huh, so this is what your boyfriend was like drunk? Needy. You couldn’t complain, if you were being totally honest you loved it when he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, but it just wasn’t the place for it.

“I’m going to go ten feet over to the buffet table and make you a plate of food so you can sober up a little bit, okay?” You reason.

“I’ll go with you”

“No, baby, just stay here. Look, you can literally see me. I’ll be right back” You laugh as you detach yourself from the overgrown man child and click over to the table, intending on loading him up a carb, bread filled plate.

You we’re happy he was enjoying himself, but you knew how gnarly the effects of that drink could be and you wanted to makesure you didn’t end up with a blacked out Bucky at the end of the night.

When you look over and see him taking yet another shot from the Asgardian flask you close your eyes and breathe through your nose. Yup. This night, was going to be a long one.

You pop one of the mini quiches into your mouth, as you finish loading Bucks plate up with every thing you knew he’d like- making sure to stay away from anything that looks particularly spicy.

“Here you go” you set the plate and water infront of him and he looks up at you with a dopey smile.

“Give me some sweetness, sugar” he puckers his lips up at you, his hands reaching for your waist “your too good to me”

You manage to evade being pulled back into his lap, opting instead for the seat beside him. He pouts but slings his arm across the back of your chair as he makes a dent in his plate.

You know this game, have danced this dance before. You’d been around this group while they were drunk countless times before. Tony got- well more Tony-er. Annoying arrogant and Rhodey was telling glory stories that you’d heard a thousand times, but you still listened intently because you know how his feelings got hurt when people ignored them.

Little brawler from Brooklyn Steve had come out to play and he was getting real invested in those arm wrestling matches. Him and Bucky had gone at it for a good fifteen minutes, both super soldiers amped up and evenly matched. You happen to know Buck let Steve win, you see it when it happens and you squeeze his hand in praise under the table for him being a good friend. Peter comes over, claiming “I get winner!” And pins Steves arm in five seconds flat. Highlight of the night is Steves face after that to be honest.

Natasha is making a rotation, flirting with everyone at the table, her energy amped up to a thousand.

“Stop staring at me, Nat!” You laugh as you feel her eyes burn holes into the side your your face. She’d been extremely touchy, as usual and you couldn’t wait to tease her about it in the morning.

She had a tendancy to get very lesbihonest with you when she drank.

“You really do have a goregous profile, you know that, Y/N” her voice is filled with admiration as she reaches over to smooth a flyaway strand hair away from your face. You didn’t even flinch from her touch, she was one of your closest friends and you were used to her drunken flirting with everything that walks.

“That’s what I’ve been telling her!” Bucky interrupted before you could reply, his voice filled with a ridiculous amount of pride “Could be a poster girl if she wanted to. My baby dolls such a dime piece”

You roll your eyes at the both of them.

“You guys are drunkkkk” you stress the end of the sentance with a laugh.

“No, Y/N. You really are so pretty” your surprised to hear that come from Laura “And the kids absolutely adore you. They can’t stop talking about you! Lila said she wanted us to adopt you so that you could come live on the farm”

You place a hand on your heart and your face scrunched up with the flood of love you have for those Barton kids. You wished they were down here instead of upstairs with the sitter.

“My heart” you accuse “I love those children”

You turn to Bucky then “I’m going to leave you to go live on the farm with my new adoptive parents, okay?” You tease him and he gives you a dangerous little smirk in response.

“Doll, if you think your ever going anywhere without me, your nuts” he informs you, simply. As though it was a fact, not a statement. Anyone else would have just thought it was a joke, but you could hear the undertone of it. See that possessive gleam in his eyes. The one that makes you all hot and fluttery every time.

You adjust in your seat, your thighs clamping together as you do. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he reaches over. Looking like he’s just kissing your hair. Innocently enough.

But his breath is in your ear, close and quiet enough so that only you can hear “You gushin in your panties for me, yet?”

You pull your head away, reaching for your glass and taking a sip of the cocktail. You’d been forced to deal with him and his insanely dirty mouth before, you knew how to handle it. Even if it did have your insides twisting in anticipation, you could keep a cool demeanor.

“Nope” you pop the 'p’ as you rebuff him. That makes him grin, his chin dropping to your shoulder.

“Liar” he challenges knowingly. He knows you, knows your body. Knows the pretty pair of panties you have on are probably dampening, even though you swear your a good girl, even though you try to deny it. He can only laugh at the death glare you shoot him, patting your thigh with his huge palm before he straightens back up.

Uh oh. You think. Drunk Bucky is a dangerous Bucky.

It goes on like that for the duration of the night, the drunk Avengers are definitely an interesting sight to behold and you have a feeling there’s going to be a couple of articles about this in upcoming magazines. But nothing too major or scandalous happens. No, it’s a genuinely good time, just like you had hoped it would be.

You’ve never seen Bucky so…carefree at such a big social event. He’s laughing boisterously and cracking jokes with everyone. His New York accent is thick and prominent and his smile is extremely dimpled.

And…he’s more handsy then you ever could of imagined. You literally can’t fight him. Every time you stop him, he’s somewhere else. His prosthetic fingers trailing up your thigh, under your dress. His flesh ones toying with the neckline of it, skin touching skin as he pushes his boundaries. And he does it casually, keeping up his animated drunk conversations.

The thing about that Asgardian liquor is it creeps up on you, you remember. One minute your feeling fine and warm and chatty. The next? Your literally two seconds from throwing up, the room spinning as you re-evaluate your life choices.

Bucky leans heavily into you, shifting so that you can cradle his head on the table and you know it’s starting to catch up with him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m good-” he yawns largely and loudly “I’m just startin’ to get a little tired, that’s all”

“The room starting to spin?” You ask him as you stroke his hair. He’s practically purring. Your big fluffy kitten in your lap. He was never like this in public, this sort of exchange was usually saved for the privacy of your room.

“Mmm, Is’ not so bad, I’ve been drunker. I was in the army, remember, shug?”

You love his accent the way it is when he’s drunk. All raspy and smooth. It’s music to your ears and you wished he’d talk like this more often.

“I love you” you surprize him as you press a kiss to his temple.

“I love you too”

“You guys are sickening” Tony grimaces “no seriously, like teeth rottingly, stomachaching sickening”

You just roll your eyes and continue stroking Bucky’s hair.

Pepper swats his arm “Don’t be rude, if anything you should be taking notes, Anthony Stark”

“Yeah, take notes, motherfucker” you taunt and Bucky barks in laughter.

“Y/N” even in Steves near incoherent state he can still manage to use his Captian tone “You really do have one of the worst mouths I’ve ever heard. And I grew up in Brooklyn, so that’s sayin’ something”

“Leave my girl alone” Bucky gallantly defends you…except for its a jumbled mutter because his face is pressed deep into your arm.

You detirmine it’s time to call it a night when the floods of people have left and it’s only the intimate group of those who inhabited this tower left.

Bucky hadn’t raised his head in ages and you were sure he was asleep. You weren’t far behind him, the long day you’d had finally taking its toll.

“Whose down for pictionary?” Tony proposes and when everyone agrees you know to make your exit. Last time there was a game of drunk pictionary it had almost ended in a three way brawl between Steve, Thor and Maria.

“I think we’re going to start heading out” you know your going to get shit for it but you don’t care. You want relief from your pinching heels, out of the restricting spanx.

“Come on Y/N. I know your man’s a hundred but you aren’t” Sam jests, nursing a beer and a bruised ego. That leggy brunette had opted not to stay the night- and held spent all night chasing her.

“Screw off Sam” Bucky, who apparently wasn’t knocked out spits at Sam and you chuckle before starting to move to get up, pulling him with you.

“We’re going to ride up with you, Nathaniel gets fussy throughout the night” Clint and Laura stand too.

After dealing with a barraging of “you sucks” and “come on you guys” you and Bucky begin the journey to your room. His arms are wrapped around you from behind and he leans down, chin on your head, causing the two of you to do this weird little penguin shuffle.

“Bucky I can barley walk!” You laugh at him “Your too heavy for this kind of shit!”

“Hey, you said you loved my body!” he feigns hurt and Clint snorts so hard it echoes in the small elevator.

The ride to the floor Clint and Laura are on is pleasant. You chat with the older couple idly. About the kids and the impending Christmas Eve. The ding signals that you’ve reached their floor.

You and Laura kiss cheeks and Clint claps both yours and Bucky’s shoulders as they exit.

“Use protection, kids aren’t as much fun as they seem!” Clint advises, the resonating smack Laura gives his head is the last thing you hear before the doors close again.

Everybody’s significant other’ getting slapped up tonight.

You peek at Bucky who’s sniggering to himself. He really was a giggly, happy drunk.

“Little does he know we haven’t used protection like ever” you roll your eyes. You and Bucky had never used condoms, you’d hurried to get on the pill after you two had become sexually active. Neither of you the biggest latex fans

“Mmm thank god. You know I hate rubbers” he kisses the shell of your ear. He’s bold tonight, all of his inhibitions gone away with his sobriety and you squeek when his hands plane down your body fast to grab the boson of your dress and roughly yank it up.

“Bucky” you gasp as his flesh fingers trail over your teddy covered stomach, quickly descending downwards between your legs. He’d never been so forward- so reckless.

“Fuck” he hisses as his fingers find your sweet spot, he can feel the saturation that’s collected in the outside or the lace “I knew it”

You know there’s no use in pushing him away so you cling to his metal arm what’s slung around your middle, holding you up as his fingers being to furiously work at you. Usually there’s a slow build up, he’ll go slow. Take his time. Tease you, but tonight there’s none of that. He forces you to spread your legs and lean back into his chest and as he slips his hand inder the lace. The tight material and your thighs hug his knuckles as he rubs your clit at a furious pace.

The sounds you make resemble choking as he roughly, but nimbly maneuvers you little ball of nerves.

“Feel good?” He puffs in your ear and you just nod. Fuck yeah, it feels good. There’s no warning when he slams his fingers in you, two at once. Your walls stretch around the digets and you let out a small scream. He doesn’t even give you the time to adjust, he just starts pumping them at a pace that matched the way he’d been with your clit. Unforgiving. Your thighs begin to shake and your knees go weak as you claw at his bicep, your head lolling from side to side againts his sharp collar bone. Your already so close, the speed at which he impales you with his fingers makes your brain foggy and your eyes are almost crossing.

The elevator dings- you’ve reached your floor and his hand slips back out of your underwear. You spin in his arms and lean up, crashing your mouth to his, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders trying frantically to pull him closer. He just reaches down, grabbing at the back of your thighs and lifts you, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

Before Bucky- this wasn’t a scenario you could have ever even imagined happening. A man, picking you up with no trouble and carrying you to your bed? No, not with your derrière. But with Bucky’s enhanced strength he’d reassured your nervous mind on many occasions that he could and would continue to carry you.

He even holds you up with one arm, the vibranium one, as he types the code into the keypad. Your not making it easy for him, with the way your kissing all over his face, all teeth and tongue. You nip at jaw, biting the taught, sharp flesh and bone like you were always dying to before salving it with your tongue.

It’s all fun and lust fueled games until Bucky stumbles drunkenly and almost sends you both tumbling to the ground. Somehow me manages to catch himself, your back thudding againts the wall as he uses it to resteady himself.

There’s a terse, silent moment before you both look at eachother and the small, guilty giggle he releases makes you bust into a fit of laughter.

“Oh my gosh, you are so wasted” you shake your head at him, starting to shimmy out of his arms. He was too drunk, you concur in that moment. Too drunk to continue, even if he had worked you up.

“Y/N” he whinely protests as you command he let you down.

“Nope, you’re so drunk I highly doubt you could even keep it up-” you start as your heels hit the ground and you pull away from his embrace.

“Is that a challenge?” The glint in Bucky’s eyes is sharp and playful.

“Listen I’m going to go get changed for bed, you should too” you give him a melodramatic pat on his shoulder before your walking away from him and into your large shared closet. Bucky collapses heavily into your bed, grumbling about “evil woman. Beautiful fuckinf evil woman”

There truly is nothing better then putting on a pair of pajamas after being constricted for som many hours. Taking off your makeup is almost orgasmic, you groan delightfully as you pull off the false lashes.

The freedom.

When you renter the bedroom Bucky’s still in a heap on the end of your bed, but he’s managed to kick off his shoes and dress pants. So that he’s still completely clothed from the waist up, blazer and everything. It’s honestly the most ridiculously cute thing you’ve ever seen.

You manage to grab your phone and snap a stealthy picture, vowing to yourself that it’s definitely your new screen saver.

You crawl into the large bed, planing your hand gently over his cheek. He looks pretty conked out and you know that there’s no way your going to be able to maneuver the bear of a man.

“Bucky?”

His eyes shift under his eyelids “Hmm, doll-face?”

“You good down here or you want to finish getting changed and come up here with me?”

You make your way up the bed and slink under the layers of blankets, waiting for Bucky to make his move.

He’s sedentary for a moment but then shifts upwards and manages to literally rip off the rest of his clothes, leaving him in only his black boxer briefs. He sways for a moment before walking on his knees and then collapsing on top of the blankets, on top of you.

“Unf” he knocks the breath out of you “Come on, Buck”

He just nuzzles his nose into the side of your face, breathing you in deeply. “You smell good enough to eat”

“Bucky” your tones warning,

“Is that what I should do? Eat you? Will you let me?” He starts pecking down your face, chin, neck.

“Bu-ucky” your voice wavers as his kisses descend. “At least get into the covers with me. Please” you pull the blankets open and he gives you a goofy grin before climbing into the cozy warmth next to you. You expect him to nuzzle into your side like he normally does but he quickly disappears out of sight under the thick duvet.

It’s all open mouthed kisses from there, he’s sucking savagely on every inch of skin he can reach, leaving hot wet trails in his wake. His fingers greedily slide along your thighs, grabbing and digging into the supple flesh. He’s being so rough, so careless. It makes your head spin a little.

“Babe” you try to center him, your fingers winding into his hair and pulling it from the little knot it’d been tamed into for the night. He doesn’t respond, his mouth is too occupied.

He nips roughly at your stomach, his teeth sinking into the flesh and you gasp in shock.

“I love your tummy. I can’t wait til’ it’s filled with my babies one day. Isn’t that what you want, for me to fill you up?”

Oh shit, he’s never talked about things like this with you before. Sure, you’d both mention kids briefly but never anything this deep. You don’t know what to say, your words get caught in your throat.

Your brain is swimming with thoughts of little Bucky’s running around when his hands go to your knees and wrench then open. As far as your pelvis will allow them to stretch. It’s a little painful, the muscles scream in protest and you try to close your legs but he doesn’t let you.

“Buck-”

“I fucking love the smell of your pussy” he interrupts you as he presses his face into your your pajama shorts covered core, nose first. You shiver at the contact. “I love the way the room smells after I fuck you. You remember how I came into your office the other day and fingered you?”

You nod, but then remember he can’t see you cause he’s buried under the covers and croak out a “yeah”

“I couldn’t stop smelling my fingers all day. Even after I sucked you off of them, I could still smell you all day long” your stomach tightens at his drunken words, at the image of him descretly bringing his fingers to his nose through out that day. Your too busy day dreaming, when he licks a fat wet stripe up the inseam of your shorts

Your eyes shut tightly and you bite your bottom lip.

He does you dirty, licking you from outside your shorts til the material is sopping wet from both his saliva and your juices. All you want is his mouth on your clit and he won’t give it you you.

“Bucky please”

“Please what, pretty girl? Please fuck you with my tongue?” You huff, frustrated and give the roots of his hair a quick, firm tug.

“Don’t be mean to me!”

He chuckles directly into your core and the vibrations shoot electricity through your thighs

“You’re such a brat” he chastises adoringly before he tugs your shirts off your legs, roughly, moving your body around at his will like a sack of potatoes. You’re about to tell him off for it when he connects his mouth to you, his lips sucking your labia. Hard.

You sigh and throw your head back into the pillows.

Drunk Bucky is a pussy eating champ. He literally devours you, with a vigor you’d never experienced from him before. He’s burying his face in you, and you know the whole lower half of it has to be drenched. He uses a lot more teeth too, and you literally think he’s trying to eat you. It’s such an intensely odd sight- or lack there of. He’s still buried burried under the duvet, which shakes and rises with his movements.

“Baby” you squeal, your chest rising and falling with labored pants as his face moves quickly from side to side, the squelching wet sound it makes is driving you insane. Your fingers are threaded in his hair holding tight, but letting him have the reigns.

The sounds your making, the desperate little cries urge him on and he uses one hand to whip the blanket off of him, hating the depression it brings. Needing to see what he was doing you you. He gazes up as he noses your clit. Past the curve of your stomach to your pillow like breasts that are straining through the thin camisole you have on to your face. Your eyes are screwed shut and your mouth is agape, your lips stretched as you make sounds that sound almost ceremonial.

“Look at me” it’s half way between a command and a plea and your eyes crack open into dazed slits as you rivet down to him.

Now there’s a sight. James Buchanan Barnes head is cradled between your large thighs, his bright eyes are staring up at you as his tongue laps at your clit.

You sob. Literally and one of your hands go to pinch at your over sensitive nipples as the other goes to stroke his wild dark locks tenderly.

It’s a surreal moment, with the pleasure that he’s overwhelming you with and the way it seems to stop time-

“Oh fuck” you whine as it all becomes too much and your stomach knots painfully, every muscle in your body seems to strain and you buck wildly into his mouth, to which he responds by wrapping his arms around your thighs. Attempting to hold you steady.

When you cum, you swear you think you black out. Your ears blow and your eyes go blurry and unfocused-fuck even your pussy goes numb for a second; even though you can feel the movement of his head between your legs as he continues to eat away, it feels hollow.

“I fucking love you, I love you so much” Bucky mumbles inside of you. Your thick thighs clamp vice like around his head and he allows it, loving the way you drown out the rest of the world for him.

When you come back down, when your body regains sensation your instantly pushing him away, your hips retreating desperately as you try to get away from his lashing tongue and it’s assault to your overstimulated clit.

“James please” you cry, pulling his hair “Bucky, stop, it hurts”

That gets him, and even though he’s dying to keep going he pulls his mouth away. Giving each of your quivering inner thighs a sloppy kiss before he climbs off of you.

You still look a little hazy and blessed out, even as your chest starts to settle and your heart beat stops skipping. That was the the BEST head you had ever received, and Bucky had gone down on you dozens of time before.

“You okay, YN?” He questions as he trails a finger deli story down your hairline because you still haven’t spoken and your mouth is still hanging open. His inherited brain jumps from worst case scenario to the next. Shit, he had really hurt you. He’d lost control between your legs- “Baby look at me, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

The panicked laced voice he gives you makes your eyes snap to his “Hey, no, I’m okay. I’m better then okay, Bucky, Jesus Christ- that was amazing”

You coo as you roll closer to him, rubbing his arm in reassurance. Bucky looks- fuck he looks like a dream. Which his swollen mouth and his hair that’s sticking up in all directions from your hands. His chin gleams with your juices, and it makes your mouth salivate.

You press your lips againts his, you can feel him smile into the kiss as you lick at his lips that are coated with your flavor.

“Mmm, remind me to let you drink with Thor more often” you separate from him and rest your head on his broad chest.

It’s serene for a moment, you reveling in the shocks of post orgasmic afterglow and him-spinning, the Asgardian mead messing with his senses before he shoves you off of him and rushes to the bathroom.

“Bucky?!”

The sounds of vicious retching fills your ears as he vomits and you shake your head, sliding on your shorts and going to hold your super soldier boyfriends hair.

You grin even though you know you shouldn’t, he’s going to have one hell of a hangover.

————————-

Welp- it is 100 PERCENT CANNON in my head that Bucky loves eating pussy and drunk Bucky? He’s a whole other breed. I’m going to be writing a few more of these Christmas smuts over the next couple of months so keep an eye out for them! Leave me some feedback! And reblog so all the other freaky, Christmas lovers can feel the cheer!

#bucky barnes x plus size reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #plus size reader #Bucky Barnes smut #mcu smut #christmas #mcu

[kpopfanfixture-blog]

The Vacation, Pt. I

Inspired by http://moonlightscenarios-blog.tumblr.com/post/96677179794/b-bomb-clubbing-smut one shot about B-Bomb of Block B. It has no smut so far, but I make no promises - and it does cover adult themes.

“Two years and not a single orgasm?!? Eunha exclaimed, blushing slightly when she remembered she was on a mildly busy train before lowering her voice to a whisper. “Why on earth did you stay with him all that time?”

You rolled your eyes, looking out the window at the sprawling landscapes passing you by. “Love, perhaps?” You offered sarcastically and she scoffed. Eunha had never much liked any of your past boyfriends, particularly the latest one.

“Ridiculous.” She muttered, unlocking her phone for the umpteenth time to scroll through her facebook feed which no doubt hadn’t changed in the two hours you had been on this train.

“Speaking of ridiculous - why on earth have you brought this much stuff with you?” You asked, gesturing towards her two extremely large and extremely pink suitcases. You were only supposed to be visiting Jihoon for a week and she’d packed enough for three people. According to Eunha, you should never pack light because you just don’t know what you might need. You glanced down at your own small suitcase tucked neatly between your legs and laughed. It was funny how different the two of you seemed at first glance.

Eunha was the glamorous type. She was only about 5 foot 4, but majority of that was leg that she liked to show off at every possible opportunity. With an hourglass figure and long, thick hair she styled into beach waves on a daily basis, she was basically the poster girl for every teenage boy’s wet dream. You on the other hand - well, you were by no means unattractive, but as opposed to Eunha who caught the attention of every room she went into, you were more of a girl-next door type. She would never be caught dead without putting a full face on, you were happy with a bit of concealer and some mascara. She was your happy-go-lucky, flirty and fun type - everyone wanted to go out and have fun with her. You were the quieter and arguably more rational one. 

Perhaps it was your obvious differences that had made you the best of friends - you complimented each other. That was why when you decided to take a week’s vacation into Seoul, there was no one else you’d rather invite. 

After your breakup, your mother had suggested a little get-away. Ideas were thrown about for days until she decided that it would be great for you to go and spend some time in the capital with your cousin, Jihoon. He was so often busy due to being an idol that you only really saw him at big family events or national holidays, but after a quick phone call from his favourite aunt, he had managed to squeeze some time in to spend with you. He lived in a dorm with the other members of his group, Block B, so you and Eunha had made the decision to spend the week in a hotel just around the corner from where they lived. Spending a week living with seven men was not your idea of a vacation.

“So which one of them was it you had a crush on?” Eunha asked, abruptly cutting through your daydreams. 

You turned away from the window to look at her, pausing for a moment to think of who she could possibly be talking about. Then it hit you, and so you hit her. “It was not a crush! I had one sex dream.”

Eunha waved her hands nonchalantly. “Same difference, show me a picture of him.”

With a sigh you pulled out your phone and turned airplane mode off. You had been hoping to save your battery for when you got to the station incase something important happened - not wasting it on pointless gossip. Swiping through Jihoon’s photos, you stopped at one of the whole group and zoomed in on your target’s face. Minhyuk.

You had made the mistake of telling Eunha about the dream when it happened the night after you had first met him. In the dream you had gone to their practise room to meet Jihoon, but Minhyuk was the only one there and things got... a little heated. It was a great dream, but it really wasn’t a crush, despite Eunha’s wild ideas. Sure, you had met him a few times and noticed how good looking he was; but you thought yourself capable of being able to appreciate beauty without having a crush. Besides, the last time you had even seen him was four years ago - you doubted he would have felt anything towards a 17 year old girl when he was 22. 

But of course, Eunha took one look at him and wiggled her eyebrows. “He is hot. You sure you don’t want him?” She looked up at you with those deep, almond eyes and you knew exactly what she was asking. 

“He’s all yours.”

After finally arriving in Seoul and taking a taxi to your hotel, you lay flat on your bed. You hadn’t even done much moving during the day, but even so the journey had tired you out. “I could do with a nap,” you mentioned aloud, although you knew it wouldn’t really be possible if your plans with Jihoon to go out to eat still stood.

“Did you bring anything suitable for dinner?” Eunha asked as she started unpacking her suitcases after a short outburst of panic when she realised there wouldn’t be enough hangers for everything she had brought with her. 

You shook your head and rolled over onto one side, propping yourself up with one arm. “I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere fancy, I was just going to freshen up and put some makeup on.” You laughed when she pulled out a fur coat - how had she even fit that in her suitcase? “Put that back and save it for another night.” She stuck her tongue out at you and hooked it back in the wardrobe.

Your phone buzzed from across the room and Eunha passed it over to you. It was Jihoon - he was taking you to one of his favourite korean barbeque places, so jeans and a tshirt would be fine. “We have to meet Jihoon at his dorm in about an hour,” you explain and Eunha picked up the pace, rushing into the bathroom before you could even fully finish your sentence.

Seeing your cousin for the first time in five months was like being blasted with fresh air. You had forgotten just how fun being around Jihoon was - he was a real ray of sunshine. As soon as the door was fully opened he had pulled you into a massive bear hug. “I’m so happy to see you!” He bellowed in his low, raspy voice. He stopped awkwardly when he saw Eunha, and he bowed politely. You snickered at the 360 in his behaviour. “You must be Eunha, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Like it was automatic, Eunha giggled and flicked her long, brunette tresses behind her, and you got a waft of her signature coconut shampoo through your airways as she did so. “That’s me! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Jihoon laughed. “Oh no - I’m not as bad as she makes out, I swear.” He threw a wink your way and you rolled your eyes. This kind of reaction was exactly what you had expected. “Come in, both of you,” he shuffled you through the door quickly. “Jiho is going to come with us, we’re just getting our stuff together.”

You took off your shoes in the small space by the door, placing them neatly next to Eunha’s. You grimaced when you noticed your socks didn’t quite match. Typical. You looked up to see most of the Block B members sitting on the sofa and you couldn’t believe how good they all looked now. Four years ago they had all still looked a bit awkward, but now it was like being in the presence of real celebrities. 

“Long time, no see!” Kyung yelled from the hallway, grinning from ear to ear as he walked into the living room. He, like everyone else already in the room, glanced over at Eunha and gave her a once-over with his eyes, but she didn’t seem to even notice. Kyung then pulled you straight into hug - even though it had been many years, it still felt comfortable. He was easy to get along with. 

When you pulled apart you placed your hands on his shoulders and frowned playfully. “Insoles?”

He pretended to look hurt. “They’re a must!”

You looked over to the sofa where you saw that Eunha had sat down in the spare seat next to Minhyuk. She made it look so easy to introduce yourself. She waved you over and patted the small space next to her after she had shuffled up closer to Minhyuk to make room. He didn’t seem to mind although you still shot him an apologetic look. 

Four years really had done him the world of good. He had matured in a good way - the boyishness had gone and had left behind a truly handsome man. Your mind flashed back to the dream, his toned arms pinning you against the mirror. It had occurred such a long time ago, and Minhyuk didn’t even know about it, but it still made you nervous, so you felt silly when suddenly eye-contact felt more difficult.

“How have you been?” He asked, leaning forward so he could see you properly. “You look so different!”

“Thank god! I made some strange style choices back then.” You laughed, remembering a time when you thought Disney-style layering was a good fashion choice, and that neon fingerless gloves were absolutely a thing. 

“I think we all did.” He said and you shook your head, not being able to recall a time when you ever thought he didn’t look good.

“Are we all ready then?” Jihoon interrupted, shoving his wallet into his long coat pocket and grabbing his keys from the hook on the wall. Jiho followed behind, looking at his phone - he didn’t look up once. You didn’t think much of it as he always seemed quite busy even when he wasn’t doing anything. You were surprised he had time to be coming out to eat with you, really. 

The restaurant that you went to had a lovely atmosphere. You were on a table outside, but the gazebo over your heads and the heaters all around you meant you couldn’t feel even the tiniest breeze.

Jihoon ordered for the whole group and gave the menus to the waitress before breaking the silence that lingered. “So how have you been?” He asked, smiling kindly. This wasn’t a generic question, he truly wanted to know. You glanced nervously over at Jiho, not wanting to go too in-depth with someone who was essentially a stranger to you listening in.

“So, Jiho - you do a lot of producing, right?” Eunha started, placing a hand delicately over his and leaning forward to bat her eyelashes at him prettily. His eyes widened when she didn’t break eye-contact with him when sucking the drink from her straw. She was absolutely shameless - and a great friend. He wouldn’t be listening to you all the while she was distracting him like that.

You took a quick sip of your own drink and brought your attention back to Jihoon, who was gawking slightly at Eunha’s little show. You coughed a little and his cheeks flushed  a light pink when he realised you’d caught him staring. “I’m doing really well.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed. “He hasn’t bothered you any?”

“No of course not! He’s too busy trying to screw any other girl in town to contact me again.” You explained, a little bitterly when you thought about your ex flirting with someone else. The idea still made you feel sick.

“He’ll come back to you when he’s bored and realised what he’s lost.” Jihoon said seriously, but you shook your head. It was too late for any of that. The relationship had been over long before he had considered cheating on you, anyway. That’s probably why it didn’t hurt as much as everyone around you seemed to think it should. “You’ll find someone who’ll treat you right, don’t worry.”

He patted your arm gently and you smiled, glancing over at Eunha and Jiho who were talking away happily, before she looked over at you and brought you into the conversation they were having about the latest tv-drama they were both watching, and whether you thought the main female lead would really give up her fortune for the shoe-shine boy.

This was going to be a great vacation.

After Jihoon had dropped you both back off at your hotel, the two of you stopped at the downstairs bar to have a coffee before bed. You picked a nice spot by a fireplace that wasn’t lit, but did have candles all along the mantelpiece that made you feel relaxed and cosy.

“Jihoon is lovely, we’ll have to treat him some time in the week to say thank you for the meal.” Eunha said as she took a sip of her cappuccino, licking the foam from her top lip after. “They all seem really nice actually.”

You gestured to your own lip to let her know that she had missed a spot, and she wiped it quickly, checking in her phone camera for herself that it was all gone. “Any of them take your fancy?” You asked curiously. You loved when Eunha set her sights on someone - it was fascinating to watch her conquests.

Eunha tilted her head to the side for a moment, letting out a small hum while she thought about it. “It’s too soon to tell really - I’ve only really spoken to Jiho.” You raised an eyebrow suggestively and she giggled. “I do like him, but how do I know I won’t like the others? Jaehyo looks like he could be quite fun!”

“Jaehyo is so sweet, you leave him alone!” You joked.

“Just be grateful it’s not Jihoon I’ve got my sights set on.” She commented and you shuddered. After seeing her talk to him earlier, you were glad that he wasn’t her target - that was one conquest you wouldn’t feel comfortable watching.

“So you’re not interested in Minhyuk after all that on the train?” You asked, and she smirked, leaning back in her chair.

“Somehow I don’t think I’m the one he’s interested in.” She suggested, and you frowned. “Oh come on!” She raised her voice a little, “you must have seen how he looked at you?”

You shook your head. “I actually have no idea what you’re talking about - we made small talk for two minutes!” There was nothing to suggest that he might have any interest in you. The idea that someone so good looking could be interested pleased you more than you’d like to admit, however.

Eunha downed the last of her coffee, and shrugged. “We’ll see.”

#Block B #bbomb #B-Bomb #Fanfic #Romance