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kiwixlime · 2 years

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Enjoy Your Flight

A is for Airport

You work at the only Cinnabon in town, which happens to be located in the airport. Having a steady schedule, you see familiar faces on a weekly basis. But one face in particular always makes your day.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Another morning, another shift at the airport. Well, at the Cinnabon at the airport, which is basically just a destination itself. You’re pretty sure some customers who come in every morning just stop by for cinnamon rolls on their way to work. Not that you blame them. It’s kind of ridiculous how the only delicious shop in the area is tucked away in a corner of the international airport. But anyway…

You don’t hate your job. Most of your co-workers are your friends, and you’ve come to know the regulars, the business folk who travel every week, and a lot of them are pleasant. Probably because you provide the cinnamon treats and hot coffee they need to function properly. It’s still a decent job until you can finally decide what you want to do with your life.

As if.

But you’re fresh out of college, need some experience, and you literally live ten minutes from the airport. Things could be worse.

“Hey, chickadee!” That peppy voice belongs to your friend and fellow cashier, Amelia. She always works with you Friday mornings, and her presence adds a little excitement to your day. You like Amelia, she’s witty and unique, and you both have a blast people watching and making up backstories for all these strangers.

“Hey, sweets,” you chirp back, scooting across the counter to offer up some space. She leans next to you, peering around the corner. It’s still early, but the airport is busy enough. She’s already looking for your first target. “Huh,” you mutter, leaning in closer and sniffing her hair. “New shampoo?”

“Yep,” she says and tosses her tresses back. “It’s bubblegum scented. Can you believe that shit?” She laughs and you nod. No wonder the scent was so familiar. “Of course, I bought that shit.”

“You’re a sucker for anything that smells like your childhood,” you comment, sweeping your eyes across the people hurrying to their gates. “Oh, that guy,” you nod in the direction of a man who is dressed in leather from head to toe, pink mohawk, carrying a guitar on his back with sunglasses on in the middle of the airport and a spike coming from his chin.

“Mmm,” Amelia hums, carefully assessing the rockstar wannabe. “Yeah,” she nods, coming to a conclusion. “Okay, so aside from like, being my future husband, he’s currently looking for a band, one that understands his creativity and his eclectic sound. His last band kicked him out for being too “radical” as he would say. He tells girls he reads poetry and writes his own songs about taking down the man and rebelling against authority, but he’s never even gotten a parking ticket. Totally a fraud, totally hot.”

“God, you’re so right,” you say as you both watch Amelia’s future husband stroll past your little stand.

“You know I’m good at this - oh,” she falters and harshly pokes your side. “Look, it’s your hottie,” she whispers, not-so-subtly pointing to the man walking around the general news shop, picking through packages of gum and snacks.

You gasp and smack her hand down, pushing her away as if that will keep her silent. “Amelia, stop,” you warn as a slight buzz trickles from your fingers to your toes. The “hottie”, as Amelia elegantly stated seconds ago, is one of your regular customers. And yes, he is hot, painfully hot, but his name is actually Joel. He is a contractor who has been flying to Atlanta for the past few weeks, working on some project involving multiple buildings.

And yes, you know that because he’s told you. Because he’s a regular. And because he’s just really friendly.

“You two would make a bangin’ couple,” Amelia blurts, her brain-to-mouth filter on the fritz, pretending to organize the straws in their container. Her eyes are still on Joel, studying him like a portrait. “His face, those hands, your body, your voice… You’d be unstoppable.”

“Amelia,” you roll your eyes, though there’s a tugging deep within you that makes you smile at her admission. “He’s like 10 years older than me. He could be married. He could have kids!”

Amelia snorts at your qualms. “If he’s married, he’s definitely a shitty husband and terrible human,” she expresses with confidence. “One, he doesn’t wear a ring on that slender finger. And two, married men shouldn’t flirt like that with hot little cashiers.” She says the last part, looking at you with a smirk.

“He…” You pause, holding back an exasperated mumble as you try to find your words. “He does not flirt with me" is the best you can come up with, lying to yourself and your friend.

“Yeah, well,” she laughs, shaking her head. She knows you are in denial but has the decency not to call you out on it. “He doesn’t call me sweetheart," she murmurs, looking you up and down with a smirk, "or stare at my tits.”

You scoff and try to ignore what nonsense she's conveying. Joel does not do that… You sigh and look over, seeing that he’s left the general store with a bottle of water and a magazine and is currently strolling over to your little sugary oasis. “Hey, hey!” You warn Amelia with a snap of your fingers.

She peeks up at your antics and rolls her eyes teasingly. “Loverboy, right on time to order a Caramel PecanBon, coffee, and an image of you in that tight ass shirt to lock away for his spank bank later.” Your friend taunts, and you bite your tongue to hold in a comment. As much as you would love to argue, Joel is in fact heading your way with a smile already on his perfect face.

You can’t help but match it. No matter what you and Amelia joke about, Joel really is attractive, and he’s charming and easygoing. And okay, you’d totally jump his bones if he asked, but now you’ve convinced yourself he’s married and has a family. And you wonder if Amelia is right. Maybe he is a terrible husband?

“Good morning, Joel!” You say with your typical customer service voice. Even though with him, you’re always upbeat and chatty. And as he relaxes against the countertop, your pesky thoughts on him being married are put on hold.

His lips twitch into a handsome grin, and you have to stop yourself from audibly sighing in delight. Everything this man does makes you swoon, and you swear you could get lost in those warm hazel eyes. His muscles pop out from underneath a dark, navy shirt, and the pulsing veins on his arms somehow make you weak. Are you drooling? God, get yourself together.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Joel replies in his silky smooth voice that makes the hair on your arms stand up. Your insides giggle like a schoolgirl, but you manage to stay professional. He then looks over at your friend and nods politely. “Amelia.”

She waves her hand and flicks her eyes to you, wiggling her eyebrows as if to say, “I told you so.” Okay, so he has a cute little nickname he uses. You’re sure he uses it on a lot of girls, except for Amelia. But she’s not a sweetheart. She’s sour, mouthy, and has hair that smells like bubblegum.

“Your usual?” You ask politely, and he nods, licking his lips as he eyes you over, handing you his card. Your fingers brush as you take it, courtesy of Joel who lets his hand linger a tiny bit longer on yours. It’s like he can’t help himself, dropping his gaze down to your chest for a hot second. Behind you, you hear Amelia giggle, and you groan. “Sorry about her,” you say, handing Joel his receipt.

He chuckles, brushing off Amelia's unpredictable behavior. He's used to her by now. She has always been a bit of a spitfire. “So, Joel,” Amelia traipses up to the counter, leaning over it, intentionally pushing her breasts together. “How’s work?” She asks, loud, curious, and desperate to know any secrets. It's for your benefit, she tells you.

“It’s fine,” Joel answers a little awkwardly, keeping steady eye contact with her. He's not even tempted by her low cut top, and you have to bite your lip. It appears he's passed Amelia's test. “Two more weeks or so and then I’m done. Can finally stay home and relax.” He says happily.

“Oh,” you chirp with interest. “That’s so exciting! I’m sure traveling gets exhausting. Well, that and working," you giggle.

Joel smirks at your sincerity. You sure are a cute one. Sure, he likes sweets and coffee, but he'd never visit a Cinnabon this much if it weren't for you. “Definitely,” he nods in agreement, tapping his fingers against the counter. He's thankful there's no line forming behind him. He wants to savor as much time as he can with you before he has to leave for his flight. “The job is fun, and the money pays well, but I’ll be happy to sleep in.”

“And I’m sure your family is thrilled,” Amelia chimes in, sliding Joel’s coffee over to him.

You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting for an answer. Leave it to Amelia to ask the tough questions. Although, you suppose it's not really that big of a question. Unless... He is married, and you're just the cute cashier he ogles when he leaves on business.

“Oh, no,” Joel scoffs, taking a sip of the hot drink, and relishing in the caffeine this early in the morning. “I mean, not really. The only family I've got is my brother," he admits, and for some reason, that tugs on your heartstrings. "Oh, and my sister-in-law,” he adds, an embarrassed expression painting his features.

You and Amelia exchange glances, a shit-eating grin on her face. Now that you know a bit more about Joel's personal life, you feel all toasty inside. You turn to grab his cinnamon roll, packaging it with a flush on your face. So, not married, no kids. Suddenly, Amelia’s words are hitting you hard. Is it extra hot in the airport today, or is it just Joel?

“Here you go,” you say a little too fast, shoving the box into Joel’s large hands. “Have a good flight!” You mutter and Amelia holds back a laugh, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Joel winks, eyeing you over one last time. For his spank bank, you can hear Amelia say. He walks away towards his gate, leaving you completely flustered with your hand on your chest.

You let out a shaky breath, fanning yourself, and Amelia throws an arm around you. She kisses the side of your head and laughs. “Baby, he’s so into you,” she states.

Maybe she is right. Maybe Joel is into you. And that does not help your situation at all. In fact, you end up daydreaming most of the day with all of your fantasies revolving around one gorgeous man.

--*--

The week after, you find yourself on a late shift after a mix-up with your regular schedule. This time, you are paired with Liza, a woman a few years older than you. But still friendly enough and chatty. She's worked here longer than you have, and she's the person you always go to if you're having trouble with customers or other employees. You consider her a friend. But she's not as much fun to hang out with, not as elaborate as Amelia, not as creative when you people watch.

So the day drags on. You have dealt with your fair share of rough customers, Liza at your side to cheer you up when one becomes a bit hostile and another too flirty. You're thankful for her presence, but you cannot wait to clock out and go the fuck home.

You smell like cinnamon and coffee, and it’s not an offensive smell, but you’re over it. You're in a rotten mood. There is literally nothing on this Earth that could make your shitty day better.

“Oh, wow,” you hear Liza comment and lift your head off the counter to find the source of her enjoyment. Your eyes widen when you see Joel walking from the gates, phone to his ear. Your heart skips a beat, and you lean into Liza for support. “He’s that attractive customer, isn’t he?” She asks you.

“Uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah, that’s him.” Okay, maybe there is one thing that can make your day better. A happy little sigh blows out of your nostrils as you watch him speaking animatedly on the phone. You wonder who is on the receiving end if it's a girl or his brother. Maybe he met someone in Atlanta. Maybe he's a taken man now. The thought makes your heart sink, and you look down at the old cinnamon rolls.

“I wonder if he’s single,” Liza ponders as if reading your mind. You almost speak in return, wondering the same thing. But you don't. And it's a good thing because Liza's next words make you shiver with nerves. “Oh, shit, he’s coming over.”

“What?” You whip your head up fast enough to leave you dizzy. Your eyes blink into focus just in time to see Joel saunter up the counter, his phone now removed from his ear. He gives you a bright smile that leaves hearts in your eyes.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he says to you in that intoxicating deep voice you love. His words cause Liza's eyes to widen, and she looks over at you, almost outraged that Joel would speak to you that way. But you don't know if that's protection or jealousy.

“Good evening, Joel,” you answer quietly, smiling back at him, hoping you come off just as captivating as he is.

“Uhm, hi,” Liza chimes in, making her presence known. Joel gives her a brief nod before turning his attention back on you. You think by his actions that maybe he's missed you. That thought makes your insides do a little dance. Liza, on the other hand, frowns, displeased with Joel's total lack of interest in her.

“How have you been?” You ask him, genuinely interested in hearing about his life. If you remember correctly, he should be done with his job by now. That means he'll be in town, for good, hopefully. Maybe you'll find the courage to make a move. Unlikely, you feel safest behind the Cinnabon counter. You can't imagine seeing him outside of the airport.

“I’m finally done,” Joel answers, confirming your thoughts. “The buildings turned out great. God, the architecture of the place is beautiful. I even managed to capture some photos on my phone. You've gotta see 'em." He rambles on, and it's quite cute how enthusiastic he is over his work. "But as fun as it was, I don’t think I’ll ever take a job with this much travel again.”

“Oh, what do you do?” Liza interrupts, smiling flirtatiously. She has basically pushed you to the side to have Joel's full attention. So then, it wasn't protection earlier. It was jealousy. Liza is jealous of you.

You fight an eye roll, but Joel humors your co-worker. Yes, that's what she is right now. A friend would not act this way, right? “I’m a contractor," Joel tells her. "Been flying to Atlanta for the past month.”

“Oh,” Liza beams, gently tapping Joel's shoulder with the palm of her hand. “That sounds exciting!”

“Yeah,” he grins, flicking his dreamy eyes over to you. “I wouldn’t have survived this month if it weren’t for this one right here,” he winks at you, knowing exactly what he's doing. “She’s been supplying me with coffee and cinnamon rolls and a gorgeous smile every trip.”

“Hm,” Liza hums while you let Joel's compliment settle. Fuck, you want to leap over this counter and kiss him. How can one person be so damn desirable? You understand Liza's sudden fascination with him. It's how you felt the first time you met him. It's how you still feel. “Well," Liza breaks the tension with another unneeded comment. "She is such a wonderful kid,” she jokes, poking your cheek, emphasizing the word “kid.”

Joel hears her sharp tone but chooses to ignore her, keeping his focus on you - the only person he cares about right now. He knows he’s in his thirties, and you’re only in your twenties. It's something he's asked before when he first got to know you. He wasn't going to entertain a teenager, but you're not. You're a young woman. And sure, the age thing freaked him out at first. But you are both respectful, responsible adults. Joel would never do or say anything to make you uncomfortable. Each flirtation - though they do get more and more suggestive as time passes - is tasteful enough to not scare you away. At least, he assumes by all your blushing and giggles.

You sense Liza is not thrilled with Joel’s little confession, but you are. You love hearing that you've been the highlight of his travels. You are - were - the person who kept him sane. He admits that he looks forward to seeing you the same way you do with him.

“Are you almost done here?” Joel asks, ignoring Liza’s little gasp as soon as the question leaves his lips. For a moment, you don't think you heard him correctly. But there's a genuine smile on his face, and he looks hopeful. And you feel like you're floating.

You nod your head slowly, glancing up at the clock. “Yeah, about a half-hour left," you answer him, fighting the urge to twirl your hair around your finger and bite your lip like some flirty teenage girl.

Joel accepts your answer, getting bolder and leaning over the countertop. He skims around to make sure no one is waiting for a last-minute treat before settling in, resting his face in his hands. "Are you hungry?" He asks and your stomach does a little flip.

Liza cuts in before you can answer. Once again, sharing unsolicited advice. And here you thought she was your friend, someone who cared about you. “Oh, sweetie,” she taps your shoulder playfully, treating you like a kid, which she clearly sees you as. “You’ve been eating Churro Swirls all day, no way you’re hungry.” Her laughter is loud, fake, and obnoxious. You think if she's trying to make you feel bad about yourself, it's working.

A knot forms in your stomach, and you close your eyes in humiliation. She is so out to sabotage you. Over a guy, really? Does she actually think she has a chance with Joel? No, as Amelia says, he’s into you. And he's proven that by literally asking you out.

“Oh,” you force a laugh, deciding you're not going to let your pal get you down. “Liza’s right. I’m not hungry,” you sigh, pouting a little when you see Joel’s ravishing smile falter. However, your tune quickly changes. “I could go for a drink, though.”

“Ugh,” Liza scoffs, listening in on your conversation. Clearly, she's over the two of you. Her brazen attempts at seduction were weak, and now she's left to clean off the counters in annoyance. You have to admit that your feelings are a little hurt. She's supposed to be a companion. Earlier she was so kind with you.

“Perfect,” Joel says smoothly, ignoring your co-worker's little outburst. At this point, you think you both miss Amelia. “My sister-in-law works at this bar downtown. I’d love to buy you a drink.” He says, confidently, that smile returning to his face.

His eyes sparkle with something intense, and you find yourself nodding along. He is so hot you would probably agree to anything he asks you right now. Anything at all.

“Sweetie,” Liza speaks up, unable to hold her tongue. “You should probably go home, get some rest. I love ya, kiddo, but you smell like stale coffee and sugar.” Her face reads concerned, but you know she doesn't actually care about your well-being right now.

“Oh?” You ask with a scoff, incredibly insulted by her behavior. Is she always like this with attractive men? Maybe you should try to embarrass her. “If you feel that way, perhaps you should get a drink with Joel,” you offer, smirking a little when Joel cringes.

Liza giggles and looks over to the man you're both fawning over. He awkwardly meets her gaze, gnawing on his bottom lip. “You know,” he says, looking back at you. “I bet you smell great. Besides, it’s Friday, you deserve to have fun. And if you happen to get tired and need some relaxation, I have a really nice apartment," he suggests as his eyes roam over your form.

“Well,” Liza sneers in disgust and walks into the back to be away from you.

“So?” Joel asks you, a bit more bashful this time. He’s starting to think he’s been too forward, brash. Originally, he wanted to ask you to dinner, but then Liza opened her mouth, and he couldn’t stop himself from toying with her. He’d really love to take you out, though. Even if it’s just for a drink. And okay, maybe that comment about his apartment was totally uncalled for, but if you’re up for it… “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Such a gentleman,” you whisper, finding your confidence. Amelia would be so proud of you right now. “Maybe I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Sweetheart, you are magnificent,” Joel chuckles and looks down at his feet, a little too flustered to meet your gaze.

“Wait for me?” You ask, glancing at the clock.

“I have been, and I will continue to,” he teases, and you bite your lip, heading into the back to wrap up your shift so you can leave with the most attractive man at the airport.

Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction

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lisinfleur · 3 years

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Shelter

The request:

Author’s Notes | I took the chance for Day Felice’s new album and wrote it while listening to their song Shelter, if you guys want to listen to it while reading as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! (And the song too haha). Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon. Words | 1878 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions to child abuse and abandonment. Wounds, blood, and some angst.

His chariot noise was always something that would help his mind to ease after any kind of arguing. And with his wife, it wasn't different. This morning he’d left after a huge discussion with her.

Why was Y/N so worried about a slave child?

Ivar insisted several times she should just forget the thing and let it go. It wasn't their responsibility! And more: by taking leftovers and water for that child every night, she was only making the little thing's suffering longer!

"It would be dead already if it wasn't for you, feeding it every night!" he remembered trying to insist.

But Y/N's was stone-headed! Every single night, there was his queen, dressing her cloak and leaving his castle - once a former church - to visit the thing that now wasn't moving places, of course.

Someone was feeding it, helping it, all the time! Why would it be stupid and leave it behind?

Ivar was getting used to passing by that child every day as if the girl was some kind of door or local decoration. But not for his wife. Not his Y/N and her heart blessed by Frigg.

She was a natural mother. He knew that! It was one of the reasons he chose her the love Y/N would show for any child she could have around.

But when she came with that stupid idea, it went too far for him.

"I'm going to take her home."

A thing.

A useless thing that wouldn't serve not even as a slave, so thin it was.

They've discussed it for hours. Ivar screamed at Y/N she was insane, perhaps touched by some local spirit. Y/N yelled he was an insensitive motherfucker who could fuck himself out of her room if he thought she would let a child starve to death on her door.

As always, their love was intense but also was their anger. And whenever they would yell at each other, one of them would end up hurt.

This time, it was her.

"I don't fucking care about what you think! It's cattle, Y/N! Cattle die! And that's it! I won't spend my supplies with a thing that can barely give anything back to us!"

Or maybe not.

Perhaps... It was him.

"Fine then. Let us guide her to the woods and leave her to the wolves, Ivar. Isn't it what we do with useless things? Oh, wait... Wasn't it what your father did to you?"

Their words would always hurt each other deeper than they wanted to hurt. Their hearts would regret the words said at the moment they’d left their mouths.

But this time, her words forced his eyes to look out of his chariot. And Ivar stopped it by the street near where that thing was sitting, observing. Trying to understand why his wife was trying so hard to save that starving child.

Why was she comparing them as if there was anything in common between him and a Saxon abandoned child?

It was early in the morning. He watched as the little girl unwrapped the leftovers his wife had given to her the last night. At first, Ivar thought the little hungry thing would, of course, eat everything without care. But he watched with surprise as she fractioned the little portion, eating a quarter of it and saving the rest for later.

It was an intelligent move... She wasn’t a wild animal, after all.

That would be a cold day. Ivar observed as the little one looked up to the sky. The sun was born behind some heavy clouds - probably some rain would be coming at night.

He watched as the little thing looked around, smartly stealing a barrel from the trash of a nearby store, checking on its wooden pieces to place it properly as a shelter. She was young and thin enough to fit into it. It would serve for the night and maybe keep her warm.

The owner of the store, so as some people who were passing by, pushed her here or there, complaining about her attempts to move between them. And Ivar watched as the little girl looked up from the ground to the bigger people around her, fearlessly.

She wasn't such a defenseless little thing as he thought she was.

In fact, she was pretty smarter than he thought a Saxon child could be, hiding her barrel between the mead barrels of the same store, covering its problems with some mud, so the owner wouldn't see it wasn't one of his barrels.

She wouldn't have her shelter for the night thrown away or broken before she could use it.

Ivar lost track of the time he spent there, watching the girl moving here and there, gathering stones and mud to imitate the shop owner's way of stocking his barrels and preserving hers.

But the important matters of the town had to be more important than his arguing with his wife, and with this, Ivar moved away from that place.

His mind wondered if that was the reason why his wife was so sure he and that child had something in common.

The little girl was a fighter like he was someday, indeed. She was fighting her way to keep herself alive and, perhaps, his precious Y/N was right, and death wasn't exactly the fate that child had in this world.

Ivar tried to get himself occupied during the day. But the truth was that his mind never stopped lingering over Y/N's words, passing over and over the things he had seen that morning.

When the night was threatening to come, the sky broke in water as he thought it would. But curiosity dragged him away from the path to his home.

Ivar wanted to see if the little girl's plan had gone right and what was his surprise when he found the little one sitting away from the store under the heavy rain, with nothing but a rag to cover herself and wounds everywhere.

The barrel she'd tried so hard to protect was shattered near the store's trash, and a fence was placed by the owner around his barrels with some spikes near the place she was sitting before. It was preventing her from having coverage under his roof, even from the outside.

That angered Ivar a little. He'd seen her hard work! And, in the end, her plan had failed. She was clearly beaten and wet from her head to her toes anyway.

However, his eyes caught something he wasn't expecting.

After eating the last piece of what his wife had given to her, the little girl extended the leather over a hole he watched her carve with her bare hands on the ground. Treated, the leather started to catch water and fill itself, becoming a bag into the hole. The little girl caught the bag before it could lose its content, tied the leather with a strand of her ragged trousers, and created a canteen from where she started drinking the rainwater, relieving her thirst.

She was beaten down, defeated. Yet, she didn't give up. She didn't lay her pride down. And found herself a way to turn that rain into a chance for her to survive one more day.

There was determination in her eyes.

That little thing wasn't being sustained by his wife's crumbs. No. She was fighting to the limit of her strength to survive.

Like he'd done someday...

Ivar's eyes filled with surprise when he could see himself in that little girl's wounds, dragging himself through the mud when everyone thought he would never move.

Standing, when everyone was expecting his legs to break and let him fall.

She was a fighter. And, maybe, Y/N was right. Perhaps it wasn't about a Saxon child or a useless slave. Perhaps the gods were showing him they've chosen that little thing, to give her a chance, to reward her for the fight she was putting on for her life.

"Get in," Ivar's voice sounded.

The little thin thing lifted her eyes to see the mighty Viking looking at her from the chariot everyone from her people was taught to fear. Her wounded little body could barely reach the top of its wheels when she got up to look at Ivar.

Her eyes into his, instigating even more the curiosity he was starting to have about that little Saxon thing.

How fierce would she be if raised under his roof?

But the little thing didn't get up on his chariot at once. Instead, she lowered herself, gathering more stones with her muddy and wounded hands.

"I said get in! Don't you see you'll end up dying under this rain?" Ivar complained, annoyed he was standing under such heavy and cold waters for a thing that dared to turn her back on him, carving the floor and placing the stones in a way the rain wouldn't destroy her little monument. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I must do it, sir," she mumbled.

Ivar could recognize a small stone monument in that little girl's construction. His people were used to rising those little towers to pray for the gods or place small sacrifices and offers.

Was Y/N teaching her about the gods?

"Why?" he asked as she tried to climb up on his chariot, struggling a little with the height and her wounded knees.

"It is for the lady who comes here every day," she mumbled. "I promised if I ever was to leave, I would leave one of these for her, so she would know I'm not dead."

For his wife.

She was leaving a stone monument for Y/N, so she wouldn't be worried...

"I don't know where you're taking me, king Ivar," she said, showing she knew who he was. "But I don't want her to be sad."

Ivar's heart ached. There was indeed something in common between him and that child. But not only the fact that both of them were survivors.

She didn't want his wife to be hurt.

And so didn't he.

"Cover yourself," he said, throwing his warm cloak around her.

It covered her like a blanket in which she rolled herself, nestling with a grateful smile.

"She was right," the little girl mumbled as Ivar started to ride his horses.

"What?" he asked, and she repeated, smiling at him.

"The lady was right." She said. "The gods were watching me. Maybe I passed their test."

Y/N was definitely teaching that girl. And Ivar sighed, looking at the road.

Perhaps it was a test for himself as well. Or Skuld just had decided to use him as a feather to write that little girl's fate differently.

"Skuld," he said, catching her eyes. "We shall name you Skuld. To honor the god that wrote your fate like this."

"Skuld," she tried.

Pronouncing it perfectly.

"Sounds strong... I like it!"

What a petulant little thing, Ivar thought. As if she had any choice on how things would be from now on. A giggle filled Ivar's mouth.

Y/N was right and he would remember apologising after coming home that night.

The little girl wasn’t a useless thing. And he had to admit.

She was like him, after all.

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bangchanstudio · 4 years

Text

Never Have I Ever | Changbin (3/?)

pairing: seo changbin x reader (fem)

genre: university au, awkward friends to ? something more? smut, house party

tw: sex, attempted date rape (spiked drink), mild panic attack, unprotected sex, penetration, cursing, praising, mild dom!changbin kink, oral sex (fem;receiving), fighting?

word count: 6.8k

ch.one | ch.two

synopsis: you’re forced to face Changbin after ghosting him for weeks, and things happen.

note: I suffered A LOT writing this so please SUFFER WITH ME. Shout out to sera aka @seraplantery for thirsting over changbin with me and his new fresh undercut as i wrote this 🥺 you the real one✨ again, i would love it if you let me know what you thought about this etc. i would love to interact more with those you read my fics!! 🥰 feel free to drop ideas or suggestions/requests in my inbox~ ps. if you would like to be added to the tag list for ✨NHIE✨ please let me know via inbox/message ❤️

taglist: @seraplantery @chang-binnie @synnocence @lordseochangbin

“Spill it, sister.” The way Hyunjin crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently reminded you of your mother when you were in high school, waiting for a confession after sneaking out to a party the night before with the guys.

Suddenly, the ramen hanging out of your mouth that linked to your chopsticks seemed one hundred times more interesting than looking at Jinnie. He was good at seeing through your lies but mostly because you were such a bad liar.

When your only response was a shrug, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve been acting sus for days now.”

“How?” You asked, still avoiding his gaze, sipping on your straw.

“Well, for starters, you’ve stopped pestering us about what happened at the party.” He eyed you up and down. “Did you remember?”

“Just that we watched a hot ass morning sex video.” You said wiggling your eyebrows. “Really, there’s nothing going on.”

That was a lie.

The only thing that was running through your mind most of the time these days was Changbin. Since that night you went to see him you couldn’t stop thinking about his touch. His skin. His lips. The way he tasted. Changbin got your number from Chan, but you were avoiding him. He wasn’t one to chase or push either, so when you didn’t reply to his first message he didn’t send another.

Chan already interrogated you about the night he walked in on you blowing Changbin, and asked why you haven’t talked to him. You could only assume Changbin told Chan you were ghosting him, and Chan knowing you like the back of his hand decided to mediate. You were grateful, because he never judged you for being an asshole or ghosting people. You were always like this and you had been told by many people that you were “too much”, but not Chan. That’s what made you love him and run to him. Even when you didn’t run to him because you were too self-conscious and didn’t want to annoy him, he’d go to you. Talking with Chan helped you realize you didn’t know anything at all and that it would all be okay regardless.

“You know what your problem is, (Y/N)?” Chan started two weeks after you went to see Changbin at his apartment.

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” You were laying upside down on your couch, feet hanging over the backrest next to Chan who was sitting upright typing away on his laptop.

“You avoid thinking about your feelings. Instead of trying to face them head on and figure them out, you just run away.”

Ouch. The truth of his words stung.

“Just slap me next time will ya?” He rolled his eyes at your remark.

“I’m serious.” He closed his laptop placing it on the coffee table before giving you his full attention taking your hand in his as if you were a child. “Look, you know I love you. I care about you and I want to see you happy. That’s why we need to figure this out together. Tell me, when you look at Changbin, what do you feel?”

That was a tough question to answer. “Do I really have to think about that?” You whined.

“Yes.” He said sternly in his dad voice. “We’re going to figure this out together because if not you’re just going to continue this vicious cycle forever and I won’t stand by it.”

Sighing, you closed your eyes trying to find something, anything that you could put into words.

The image of seeing Changbin for the first in over a year at Seungmin’s house party at the start of summer came rushing back. You were sitting at the bar table in the wide living room of Seungmin’s mansion in a champagne slip dress and red lips talking your half tipsy ass off with your girl friend when she gasped at a hot guy who walked in. The place was overflowing with bodies, the heat made your skin slightly damp and the music was loud. There was a mixture of cigarette smoke and the smell of booze flowing in the air, basically it smelled like a good time.

“Who’s that hottie coming in with Felix?” She had asked shouting over the DJ and pointing at the door with her free hand, drink in the other.

Your heart had stopped and the smile you had plastered on your face slowly faded as you saw Changbin walk in, leather jacket, hood up, hat covering his features, but you knew it was him. He was scanning the crowed, high-fiving and bro hugging Seungmin and Minho as they found him. Minho had turned to find you amongst the crowd and nodded your way, Changbin found you but turned away. He never went up to you that night and you didn’t either.

“I feel sad.” You admitted, voice only slightly above a whisper.

“That’s good, (Y/N). That’s a good place to start.”

[three days later]

“Another party?”

Everyone was gathered around in your apartment eating your food and playing video games.

“Yeah, my parents are going overseas again so it’s the perfect time. I think we all could use a good old fashion house party.” Seungmin, respectable Virgo though he may be, was notorious for his house parties. He always had the best DJ’s, the best drinks and most importantly a big house.

“God knows we need to let loose, especially (Y/N).” Felix smirked over at you wiggling his eyebrows, blocking the pillow you threw at him.

“Besides, it’ll be funner this time since Changbin is back and we’ve been hanging out.” The room went quiet at Jeongin’s comment, just the video game sounding in the background “Oh… was I not suppose to say that?”

“Just focus on your game the grown ups are talking.” Hyunjin hushed the younger boy. “Everything is set to go we just need to go shopping.”

“We?” Everything sounded amazing except parties meant socializing, dressing up and being in public. You had a love hate relationship with parties, about as much as you had a love hate relationship with everything else in life.

[]

The weekend came faster than you could have hoped for and that mean the party did too. All you could think about was how you planned to avoid Changbin, though it shouldn’t be too hard in a house that big. You did it once before. The truth was, maybe you were scared to genuinely fall for him, just as he had said he was afraid of falling of falling for you. The only thing you knew how to do when you were unsure of anything was to run away.

Chan was right and you knew it. Your flight instinct was all you were good at but even you knew it would be your downfall eventually.

“Wear this. From your bestest friend in the whole wide world – Jinnie”

Hyunjin stopped by while you were in the shower and shouted a quick goodbye, reminding you to not be “late” to the party before rushing back out in less than a minute. You pulled your towel closer to your cold body before opening the top of the box and pulling out a really short, strappy, silk red slip dress.

“Does he want me to die of hypothermia?” you mumbled to yourself before doing your hair and make up. All the while constantly checking your phone to keep tabs on Chan’s eta. The best you could do was curl your hair and do some basic face makeup since you loved striking more with red lips rather than heavy eyes. Since the party had a rave vibe you opted for a way heavier highlight than normal and sprinkled a bit of body glitter along your collarbones and shoulders.

“(Y/N), I’m here !” Chan’s voice rang out as you heard him shuffling from the entrance to your room.

“Are you rea– damn girl, who are you?” He stopped dead in his tracks taking you in from head to toe.

“Fuck, this is too slutty right?” You turned from your long mirror to face Chan.The dress fit you well enough, but it was so short and low cut you thought your boobs would fall out at one wrong move, not that you had much to begin with, but this dress sure made it seem like you had a decent amount of cleavage. “Shit, I need to find something else to wear. I swear Hyunjin just wants to make me look like–”

“No! Don’t you dare, you look amazing, you are totally wearing that tonight. Just take a good coat so you don’t get sick.” Just like Chan to nag, you couldn’t help but laugh at his comment.

By the time you both made it to the party it was close to 10pm, definitely late. The taxi left you at the gate at the bottom of a small hill. Making your way up you were grateful you opted for a pair of black boots instead of heels. There were a lot of people making their way up to the house and people spilling out of the house as you got closer. The bass could be heard since you stepped out of the taxi and the closer you got the sounds of chatter, heavy laughter and shouting got louder. Crowds made you nervous but holding on to Chan’s arm made you feel better. After a few drinks you wouldn’t be as nervous or anxious. Alcohol had a way of numbing just about anything.

Stepping into the house the heat of bodies welcomed you, almost immediately encouraging you to take off your coat before handing it to Chan who in turn put it, along with his in the hallway closet. You were familiar enough with Seungmin’s house to be able to use certain areas of his place that would otherwise be deemed unappropriated for others.

“Welcome, welcome friends.” Seungmin said greeting you and Chan with a hug. Hyunjin and Felix followed close behind.

“Wow, (Y/N) that dress looks so much better than I imagined!” Hyunjin didn’t trust your sense of taste when it came to party or club attire so he had the habit of picking things up for you ever since you all started partying and clubbing together junior and senior year of high school.

Felix handed you a drink with a sympathetic look, maybe your nervous were louder on your face than you realized. You looked around the crowd trying to see if you could spot Changbin’s figure but by the looks of it he wasn’t here. Even though you were avoiding him, your heart still sank a little.

Get it together, you scolded yourself.

Before you knew it you found yourself on the dance floor passing between Hyunjin, Felix and a couple of strangers. Drinks and shots started to blur as your nervous melted and you started to feel slightly dizzy at the heat and bass filling your chest. The black lights made everything neon and colorful, there were even bubble machines that left residue of shimmer on everyone’s hair, face and body as they burst.

“Whoa– whoa!” Hyunjin shouted as you grinded your ass on a guy, making you laugh and push the stranger away before turning back to Hyunjin, throwing your arms around his neck and his hanging lazily on your hips. Felix had gone off somewhere, probably the bathroom. “Do you think Changbin will show up?”

You shrugged, not wanting to ruin the fun you were having. “Who knows.”

Eventually, you found yourself alone on the dance floor still as Hyunjin went to look for Felix, probably to do other things with him.

The vibrations of the song were filling you when you felt a pair of hands grab your waist letting you know someone was there, but you couldn’t see who since they were behind you. You let your body lean back into the stranger swaying to the song coming out of the loud speakers. He felt strong and warm though he reeked of weed which immediately turned you off, but you didn’t leave him enjoying his body instead.

“Let’s grab a drink.” The stranger said, grabbing your wrist and leading you off the dance floor, weaving you through the crowd. He wasn’t half bad looking, though, the thought came to you like second nature... but he wasn’t Changbin.

You leaned against the bar, letting the coolness of the marble run up the length of your arms, without thinking you placed your forehead down the bar top to cool off a bit. It felt good against your hot skin and the heat of the room.

“Here you go.” The stranger said handing you the drink with a cocky smile.

You thanked him raising the drink to your lips. He had a dark glint in his eyes that made you hesitate. “Fuck!” You shouted as someone grabbed the wrist you were holding your drink with, jerking it away.

“What the fuck did you put in this?” It was Changbin. You froze as he grabbed the glass out of your hand, still holding onto you. He shoved the glass in the guys face, “Drink it.”

“No way, I got that for her.” He said disgust in his voice, knocking the glass out of Changbin’s hand. It shattered on the floor, but you hardly heard a thing over the loud music that was playing. “What? Is she your bitch?”

“She’s not a bitch and what she is to me is none of your fucking business.” Changbin got between you and the guy, shoving his chest.

Fuck, this was not good. You desperately looked around for Chan or Jisung, anyone that could stop Changbin better than you could. You’d seen him in enough fights to know this wouldn’t end well. Of all the good qualities Changbin had, holding back was not one of them.

“What the fuck man, I was just trying to have a little fun.” The guy shoved Changbin back, though it didn’t have much effect since Changbin had a pretty solid build.

“’A little fun’ by what? By spiking a girls drink? You must be one desperate piece of shit if you can’t get a single girl to sleep with you of their own free will.” Changbin’s words made you go cold.

Did he spike your drink when you weren’t looking?

“No, it’s just funner when their helpless.” The guy retorted.

You could feel the rage boil up in Changbin and spill over seconds before he threw his fist connecting it with the guy’s jaw, sending him stumbling into a crowd. The guy couldn’t recover before Changbin grabbed him by the collar throwing him on the ground and shoving a knee into his chest hitting him again and again.

“You low life piece of shit, I hope you rot in hell.” He said between every punch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck where the hell was everyone when you needed them?! You desperately wanted Changbin to stop fighting. The fact that they had garnered a crowd of on lookers but no one was stepping in annoyed you.

“Changbin, stop!” You pleaded but when he didn’t respond you grabbed his arm just as he was bracing to throw it again, “Please, stop!”

Changbin tensed as he turned to face you, his eyes were scary.. on fire with rage. Your eyes must have been desperate because you could feel his anger slowly start to dissipate. For a moment it was as if everything went quiet and all you could hear was your breathing and heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The stranger seized the moment and opening to escape from under Changbin’s hold and book it into the crowd shoving a few people out of the way.

“Fuck.” Changbin mumbled watching the guy run off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

He helped you to your feet before taking you by the hand and leading you around the bar and up the grand stairwell. His pace was a little faster than what you normally walked and with the alcohol running rampant in your veins you stumbled and struggled to keep up with him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was gripping your hand so tight you knew even if you tripped enough to fall, he would catch you.

The hallway lead off to various rooms and people were piling around room entrances and playing various games from drinking games to board games. The bass still sounded throughout the house, but you could hear a little more clearly from up here.

“Get the fuck out,” Changbin pulled you into Seungmin’s room where two people were making out on his couch. “Now.” He ordered.

The couple glanced at each other but did as they were told, which was good on their part. Changbin was scary when he was mad. You were dreading whatever was about to happen because he pulled you away from the crowd probably to scold you for almost getting yourself drugged.

The couple left closing the door behind them leaving you in a dim lit room with Changbin angrily pacing back and forth.

“You are so reckless!” Changbin’s voice made you flinch. You know he didn’t mean to, but he still needed to learn how to control his anger. “Why would you take a drink from someone you don’t know?”

All you could do was wrap your arms around yourself and avoid Changbin’s eyes. You felt like you could melt under his gaze, or burn.

“There are bad guys out there, (Y/N), just waiting for you to let your guard down enough so they can take advantage of you.” He was saying it with good intentions but that still didn’t make you any less angry about it.

“So, what the hell am I suppose to do then? Just not go out? Not drink or have any fun?” Your argument was weak but you hated being pushed around. Especially by Seo Changbin.

“That’s not the point, (Y/N) and you know it.” He stopped pacing taking an abrupt step towards you, your back hit the wall. He took another step cornering you in.

From this close you could smell his cologne, warm and musky. His chest was rising higher than normal, his anger still evident in his eyes and the way he set his jaw. Damn he looks so hot... wait shut up this is not the right time, you tried shaking the thought away but Changbin hit the wall next to your head making you jump.

“Look at me.” His voice was strained.

“Make me.” You challenged, the words leaving your lips before you could filter them out as this is a really bad idea, don’t say that.

He grabbed your jaw fingers digging into your cheeks forcing you to meet his gaze. It annoyed you how much that turned you on, you squeezed your eyes shut trying to control your lust.

“Do you like it when I get rough with you, is that it?” Changbin squeezed a little tighter until you opened your eyes meeting his. Fuck, was all you could think.

“Maybe.” You replied raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I just want to see you go insane.”

His dark laugh made you tremble.

“You know what drives me insane?” He sneered, “The fact that we had one decent, open conversation and then you ghost me like a fucking stranger you met off Tinder.”

To be fair, you knew it was coming. You shoved him off, crossing the room before slumping down on the couch, kicking your boots off and crossing one leg over the other so you wouldn’t flash him by accident.

He watched you from across the room as you noticeably gathered your thoughts before starting, “I.. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Changbin threw his head back in disbelief laughing before angrily asking if you were serious. You didn’t reply which seemed to only set him off even more. He crossed the large room in three strides before sitting down on the coffee table right in front of you leaning forward, elbows on his knees, face resting in his hands; but you didn’t flinch or shrink away this time.

“Then why did you do that to me?” His voice was lower now, his eyes were closed as if he was struggling just to say those words. As if he was trying to hid the hurt that was laced in that question.

“Because I wanted you to feel the same hurt that I felt when you abandoned me.” The words stumbled out of your mouth again before you could stop them.

You both froze.

It’s not something you consciously had thought out, but as soon as you said it you realized that was it. That was the real reason you were avoiding him, you wanted to get back at him. You wanted him to feel the same pain and loneliness you did when he left. Of what could have been but wasn’t.

“That’s fair.” Changbin concluded before straightening his back. “I don’t blame you.”

You sized him up trying to find any trace that he was lying, but he seemed a little more relaxed now. His shoulders were slack, his breathing was normal, eyes serious.

“Really?”

He nodded. “There is one thing though.” He said placing his hand on your knee before pushing it off your other leg. “I haven’t repaid you for that one time at the apartment.”

Your eyes widened as he pushed your legs apart. “Wh–what are you doing?”

He smirked at your sudden shyness. “I told you. Paying you back.”

“No, no it’s okay, I swear, just don’t mention it.” You clumsily shot up before stepping a safe distance away suddenly cursing yourself for being barefoot.

He laughed with his whole chest before standing up straight. “Come on, you were not this shy sucking me off.”

Your cheeks were burning, you were positive your face was the same color as your dress. Changbin made his way over to you, pushing your hair back behind your shoulder. The closeness of his body, the way his eyes made trails down your neck and collarbones made you tremble again, you tried crossing your arms to keep yourself still.

He noticed you shaking.

“Hey, (Y/N), it’s really okay if you don’t want to. I would never do anything you weren’t comfortable with.” His voice was soft, worried.

“It’s not that,” You trailed off averting your gaze. “It’s just I’ve never been... You know.”

“Never what?” He raised his eyebrow in that way that said, I don’t believe you,”I know you’re not a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “Of course not, I mean the,” You flailed with your hand trying to get the point across without explicitly saying it, “I’ve never.. you know.”

Realization dawned on his features, “Oh... you’ve never been eaten out?”

“Fuck, yes, Changbin. That. God.” The fact that he said it out loud made you even more shy.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” He said before pinching your cheek and biting his lip.

“This room’s taken.” Changbin called as a couple walked in barely keeping each other on their feet. He shoved them out before closing and locking the door behind them.

“Changbin!” You squeaked as he rushed back over to you, picking you up off the ground and carrying you to the bed before tossing you easily on it. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, one you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Who let you wear this dress?” He asked pulling at it teasingly; undressing you with his eyes.

“Jinnie bought it for me.” You replied. He took off his jacket, the sleeves of his black shirt were cut off revealing his biceps. “Been working out?” You asked not hiding your want anymore.

“Like what you see?” Changbin asked before pulling your legs towards him so your bum was at the end of the mattress.

You nodded, biting the tip of your finger as you gazed up at him. He ran his hands up your calves and thighs before tugging you a little closer to the edge.

“When did you get so buff?” You asked half teasing. He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know just looking out for my health.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes laughing.

There was silence as Changbin took you in again, staring down at you, his face unreadable as always. “Would it be okay if we forgot everything for a little while?”

His words made you catch your breath in your chest. Your fingertips grazed his hands on your thighs, slowly back and forth before nodding hesitantly, “That sounds fun” You breathed.

Changbin smiled before slipping his hands under your dress and slowly pulled down your lacy black panties. He got on his knees and spread your legs open, the motion made you squeeze your eyes shut squeaking in the process, covering your face with your hands.

“Ah, what? Don’t tell me you’re still shy.” Changbin laughed before placing small kisses on the inside of your thighs, switching between the two. There was a soft romantic song playing in the distance, so you tried to focus on it to calm your increasing heartbeat as Changbin kissed and sucked small spots on your sensitive skin.

His breath was warm as were his lips and his hands felt like they were burning on your thighs. It wasn’t long until you felt your body longing for more of him. He noticed the way your breathing started to come slightly quicker, the way your legs started to unconsciously shake with want and desire. He saw the way you bit your lip trying to keep yourself from making any sound, and the way you covered your eyes with your arm, hand clenched into a fist.

He smirked wanting to make you break.

“Oh, my god.” You breathed as you felt his tongue trace along your folds. You trembled at his warm touch. He liked the way you looked from this point of view and the way you tasted on his tongue.

His mouth found your clit and you let out a “Fuck,” as he drew circles with his tongue, the sensation sending waves of pleasure that you had never felt before. It was so much better than touching yourself. He went between licking you up and circling your clit occasionally sucking on it making you whimper.

“That feels so so good,” Your hands found their way into his hair pushing it out of his eyes, he looked sexy from here.

“I’m glad you like it,” He hummed still at your core, the vibrations of his voice against your clit making you shake.

You could feel the heat starting to rise, the way that familiar knot was forming in your core.

But suddenly, you remembered the guy on the dance floor. The way he smelled of weed, the way he pushed his body against your back. The way he lead you off the dance floor and handed you the drink. The drink you almost drank, the one he drugged to...

The sensation hit you like a truck after a few minutes and you could feel the pleasure start to change into something else, your breathing was coming out faster and heavier. The walls of the room started to close in and you felt like you might pass out. Your thighs were trembling and Changbin had to hold them open to keep you from trying to close them.

“Changbin I– I– fuck, I–,” you couldn’t form a coherent sentence and panic started to rise in your chest. There were black dots starting to dance across your vision, you felt claustrophobic, “Shit, it’s really heavy. Changbin, please,”

“Please what?” He asked, noticing panic in your voice. But you couldn’t speak all you could do was clench his hair making him stop.

“I– I need to catch my breath.” Fuck why were you panicking now. You sat up clenching your chest trying to focus your breathing. Changbin was sitting back on his knees, he grabbed your face between his hands trying to get you to focus on him.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay just look at me. Focus on me.” His eyes and voice were calm but you felt a small part of you unraveling. Your chest hurt from how hard you were trying to breath, you tried closing your eyes but Changbin got your attention again, “No, (Y/N) look at me, keep focusing on me. I’m here. I’m real.”

Your eyes desperately searched his face trying to center yourself.

“The guy fro–from be–before, I– I’m having a p–anic attack,” You chocked out trying to at least tell him what was happening. It wasn’t the first time he saw you panic, but it had been a very long time.

“Okay, baby, don’t worry I’m right here. Just breathe. Can you tell me five things you can see? Come on, just five little things.” You could only see a small glint of desperation in his eyes.

“H–hair,” You chocked out looking at his dark hair, “Eyes,” His eyes that felt like home...

“That’s great, baby, really great. Three more. Just tell me three more little things you see.” Changbin encouraged, hands warm against your cheeks.

“Nose” that you loved to pinch when you would tease him in high school, “Cheeks,” they were flushed, “Lips,” they were soft and still wet from eating you out, your eyes stayed there.

“Great. Now four things you can touch.”

Your breathing was still heavy but you were a tiny bit calmer. You touched the bed for a few seconds, your dress, his hair and his hands on your face.

“Three things you can hear.” He continued calmly, voice like honey.

You concentrated, “rain, piano, your breathing.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Beer and... your cologne.” Your eyes were closed but you were almost in complete control again.

“That’s amazing baby, now tell me one thing you can taste,”

“Dos XX.” You opened your eyes, he was smiling softly. “Damn it, Changbin I’m so sorry.”

You felt so guilty for freaking out like that. It was something that was out of your control but you still felt guilty and week for letting it overtake you like that. Especially now of all moments.

Changbin stayed on his knees looking up at you. You felt so embarrassed. Why did that have to happen now, you cursed yourself again. It had been months since your last panic attack but something about the way that guy tried to drug you made you lose your mind.

You pulled Changbin’s arm tugging him to join you on the bed. “Can you hug me for a bit, please?”

He chuckled before kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed. He pulled your body back with him as he sat up right against the headboard. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist as you settled between his legs. He rested his chin on your shoulder half mumbling half singing the lyrics to I will follow you into the dark and swaying you gently. You closed your eyes relaxing against his chest, feeling the vibrations as he sang the sweet words into your ear. You felt at home in his arms, they were strong and safe. Like a fortress.

After a while of being like this you shifted in his embrace enough to where you could look up at him.

“What?” He asked half worried half smiling.

“Thank you for saving me. Or well, not saving me but you know... saving me. I didn’t realize the guy was a total scumbag. I should have been more careful.” You looked down fiddling with your fingers.

Changbin was quiet for a long time before responding. “If you let me be near you again, I promise I will always keep you safe.”

You met his gaze again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, yes, I like you. A lot, actually. But I understand if you don’t want to be with me in that way or at least not right now, but it would be really great if we could try being friends again.. like before.”

Like before.

That’s all you had ever wanted. Was to go back to how things had been before, but you weren’t sure if that was even possible anymore. So much at had changed, everything was different. You were different.

“Can we go back to forgetting everything... Just for a little while longer?” You asked placing your hand on his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. You felt tired from the panic attack, but you need to feel something. Something that would replace the fear.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Changbin asked, he was hesitating against your lips.

You nodded pulling him into a kiss, your hands getting lost in his hair. Everything seemed to rush, the way your teeth teased his lips and his yours. The way you shifted yourself to lay down on your back pulling Changbin on top of you as you did. The way his hands slipped under your dress feeling your cold skin, and yours tugging his shirt desperately. You pulled the shirt over his head tossing it to the side before he went back to your lips shoving his tongue into your mouth. You could still taste yourself on his tongue and you blushed.

“I really want you to fuck me.”

Changbin chocked at your comment before laughing, “Damn, you can be really bold sometimes. I like it.”

He wasted no time unbuckling his belt buck, he looked so sexy doing it biting his lip, he knew what he could do to you. Changbin discarded the rest of his clothes and pulled your dress off surprised to see you weren’t wearing a bra.

“What?” You teased.

“Nothing, you’re just really hot.” His lips were hot on your chest, trailing down your stomach and back up again. His hands massaging your boobs before taking one in his mouth, he nibbling on your nipple the sensation making you whimper.

You pulled him by his hair back up to your lips, your legs wrapping around his bare waist pulling his naked body to yours.

“If you make me wait any longer I’m going to go crazy,” You whined pouting at Changbin making him laugh. “Oh, fuck,” he said shaking his head, “I don’t have a condom, I forgot my wallet at home...” At this point you were so turned on you just wanted to hit him, but you needed him so desperately.

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill. Either way, I trust you.” You looked at him as you consented, before pulling his body closer to yours. The tip of his throbbing cock was teasing your entrance and you whined pushing your hips to get closer to him.

Changbin tsked, “You’re so impatient baby girl.”

“I need you, I don’t want to feel afraid anymore.” You didn’t care that the words sounded dumb or selfish, it was the truth.

“You don’t need to be afraid with me around.” He hummed into your neck brushing his head against your cheek, his hair was soft and smelled of mint. “I’ll keep you safe.” his words gave you chills.

“I know that, Changbin.” You didn’t, but you wanted to.

He slowly pushed his tip into your entrance making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Changbin said grabbing your jaw in the way that was starting to feel familiar. “I want you to know that it’s me, that it’s me and no one else.”

You picked up on what he was hinting at, because there were things he noticed that you didn’t. Like what may or may not trigger another panic attack. He was right, so you kept your eyes open, watching as his face scrunched up as he pushed himself into your pussy stretching you out.

“Oh, fuck that’s tight.” He groaned, voice raspy and deep. “Fuck.”

He waited for you to adjust before continuing to move slowly in and out. You were still slick from before, so even though he filled you up it felt so good. The way he kissed your neck, and left love marks made you whine and tell him how much you had always wanted to do this.

“How many times have you thought about fucking me?” He asked, sitting back on his knees and pulling your waist higher to fuck you at a better angle. These types of positions always made you a little self conscious since he had a full frontal view, but you felt safe under his gaze.

“Too many to count.” You admitted laughing before moaning as he picked up the pace in time to the song that was playing downstairs. The friction felt like heaven and you felt the butterflies in your stomach start to turn into little knots. “Have you ever thought about fucking me?”

“Since the day I met you,” Changbin confessed between moans. “Fuck (Y/N) you feel so fucking good.”

“Changbin,” You moaned his name, eyes rolling back shut. You arched your back slightly as he pounded into you, the increased pace was making you feel hotter. “Fuck, if I would have known you were this good I would have asked you to fuck me sooner.”

He laughed at your vulgar comment, “Where? Like at the hide out?” He slammed into you again making you curse, your walls starting to clench around his cock.

“Yeah, that would have been really fun.” You found his hand and squeezed it. “Shit, I’m getting really close.” “Don’t worry baby you can cum whenever you want.” His words made you go crazy, and he praised you telling you how well you were doing. He pulled your legs up over his shoulder and bottoming you out with each and every thrust.

“Changbin, don’t stop.” You moaned as the sound of his skin slapping yours echoed louder and louder, Changbin’s breathing was hitching and you knew he was about to cum too. “Fuck,” The knots in your stomach turned into heatwaves as you released onto Changbin, he slammed into you harder and faster the friction making you see stars.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Changbin moaned your name as he came in you, his hot white liquid filling you up and you loved the way it felt. “Shit.”

He fell on your chest letting your legs rest on either side of him, you both struggled to catch your breath but the sound was sweet in your ears. Changbin kept telling you how beautiful you looked in this mess and how amazing you felt. You ran your fingers through his wet hair, admiring his beautiful features as he rested on your chest.

“Hands down,” Changbin breathed, swallowing his spit to hydrate his dry throat, “My favorite.”

You waited for him to finish his thought but he didn’t.

“Your favorite what?” You probed, putting your arm on your forehead still coming down from your high.

“Oh, my favorite sex round.” He said still breathing heavy, laughing. The sound echoing in your chest.

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking amazing.” You agreed. Changbin pulled himself out of you slowly before settling next to you pulling you close. You rested your head on his chest hearing his heartbeat return to normal, the sound bringing you peace.

His hand traced the curve of your waist, and he did that for long time.

Eventually you both fell asleep and sometime through the night, decided to just keep sleeping getting comfortable under the covers and Changbin’s skin pressed against yours.

It was the first night in a long time where you felt like you actually rested well. The morning light woke you and for a few seconds you started to panic, until you saw Changbin’s sleeping face next to yours. Then you remembered the night before, and the amazing things you felt. You calmed your heart and snuggled back into his chest.

“Mm?” he mused lightly.

“Shh, sorry for waking you.” You whispered wrapping your arms around him tightly. He chuckled and fell back asleep in seconds.

That was until Seungmin walked through the door and started yelling every curse word in the book, “What the fuck do you guys think you’re doing in my bed. Wait, fuck, what the hell did you guys do in my bed? Don’t tell me you fucking had sex in my bed that is so fucking gross. Ew! I hate you guys, we’re not friends anymore, get the hell out of my house and wash the damn sheets before you leave I’m telling Chan on you guys..” Seungmin stormed out of the room continuing his rant.

You and Changbin exchanged looks before bursting out laughing.

“I really hope this doesn’t turn into an everyday thing when we have sex.” Changbin said whipping a tear from his eye from laughing so hard. First Chan and now Seungmin.

You prayed to the gods the same thing.

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kaalamarii · 4 years

Text

MC’s 80s Party: I Think We’re Alone Now

Summary: Continuation of the prologue, the Mammon route. Mammon and you go on a quest to find some alcohol for the party.

Word Count: 1708

Pairings: Mammon/MC (you)

Warnings: Cheesy af (I think so anyway), making out, non graphic description of a few second hand job, getting caught, talk of alcohol.

You make your way to Mammon, who is over by the punch bowl, pouring himself some of the pink liquid into a cup. You sneak up on him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

The demon jumps. “G’ahh!” He tumbles forward, then backwards, nearly knocking himself, you, and the table of refreshments over. You tighten your grip on him, a feeble attempt to save both of you from falling.

“What the fuck-” he says, sneering as he turns to see who is attached to him. His face lights up when he sees you smiling up at him.

“Heyyy…” you say awkwardly.

“MC, what’re thinking, sneaking up on me like that? Any other demon and you could’ve been killed.”

“Sorry, Mammon, couldn’t resist.” You move over to the front side of him, giving him an actual hug this time. There’s some sort of electricity that surges through your body as he envelopes you in his arms, hugging you back. As usual, he tries to play it cool, but his cheeks are pink. You wonder if he felt the electricity too.

The two of you hold on to each other for just a moment longer before awkwardly pulling away from each other.

“So, uh,” he speaks, desperately searching his head for something to say.

“I love your costume,” you say and he mentally thanks you for the cop out.

“You d-do?” he asks, blushing again.

You nod. He is dressed as Billy Idol. His white hair is spiked. He has a black leather vest and no shirt, and black pants. Your eyes do a quick scan of his muscled torso. Now it was your turn to blush. Thankfully, Mammon doesn’t seem to notice you checking him out.

“Of course you do,” he says, feigning confidence. “I always look good.”

You laugh. With him, not at him, he knows that. He smiles. He loves making you laugh. He hands you his cup of punch and gets another one for himself.

“I have a very expensive bottle of tequila I bought up in the human world a while back ago,” he explains, “I’m just waiting for Lucifer to leave so I can go get it. Then the party will really begin.”

“What if Lucifer doesn’t leave?”

“He will. He feeds Cerberus every night at 8:30. Once he leaves, you and I will go get it from the library.”

“It’s in the library?”

“Yeah, he took it from me and hid it there after I bought it. Satan said he saw it in there.”

“Do you think this is a good idea?” you question. “Obviously if Lucifer hid it, he didn’t want you to have it, right?”

“I bought it with my own money! It’s mine.”

“Is it worth getting in trouble with Lucifer for?”

“It’s for your party,” Mammon stated. “That makes it worth it.”

You can’t stop a smile from forming on your lips. “Okay, Mammon. I’ll help you.”

“That’s my human.”

Just as Mammon said, at 8:30, Lucifer went to the kitchen and came out with a bowl of who knows what for his three headed dog. You and Mammon waited for him to walk down the hallway and snuck down after him until you got to the library.

You lounge on one of the couches as you watch Mammon snoop through the bookshelves and the accent tables.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, “Where is it? Satan better not have been lying to me.”

After a few minutes of searching that felt much longer, you groan. “Mammon, can we please go back to the party? It’s obviously not here.”

“Just a couple more places I need to look,” he says. “Oooh, maybe it’s upstairs somewhere.”

You sigh as he runs up the steps, causing the wood stairs to rumble underneath him. You sit up and something on the table in front of you catches your eye. The original invitation for your friend’s party. You pick it up and notice other papers in its place, one with your name on it. You slide the papers over to you, scattering them so you could see them all at once.

MC’s Party, one says at the top in messy, adorable handwriting you recognize as Mammon’s. The other papers have different handwritings: the neat cursive of Lucifer and Satan, Asmo’s bubbly and round with hearts dotting the I’s, Levi’s chicken scratch, a messy, greasy fingerprint on the corner of one paper that you know belongs to Beel.

Your heart skips a beat. You look up at Mammon, who has a determined look on his face as he searches everything thoroughly.

“You guys really went all out with this party, huh?” you ask.

“Whaddya mean?” Mammon asks, barely above a mumble.

“The decorations, the costumes. You all put a lot of effort into this for me.”

You can see his face just enough to see him blush. “Yeah, well, can’t have you all mopey, ya know? Brings the rest of us down. So I hope it, uh, helps you feel better or whatever.”

“I love it, Mammon. And I love all of you.”

He goes quiet, and it worries you for a moment.

“Y-yeah?” he asks, his voice a bit squeaky.

“Of course.”

He sighs, shoes thumping down the stairs. “I can’t find it. Lucifer must have put it somewhere else. Or Satan is messing with me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, running your hand through his crunchy spiked hair. “It was sweet of you to try to make my party better. But really, it’s already great. Plus, I got some alone time with my favorite demon.”

“Hey, I thought I was your favorite.”

“I was talking about you, doofus.”

“Oh...wait, I’m your favorite?”

You laugh. “Of course you are. You’re the Great Mammon!”

He grins proudly and puts an arm around your shoulder. “And the first one you made a pact with.”

You nod. “You’re very special to me.”

He looks at you, yellow and blue eyes glowing beautifully in the low light from the fireplace. His eyes go down to your lips, and you mentally beg him to do what you know he’s thinking of doing. You lean closer into him and his breath gets caught in his throat.

Mammon’s head is spinning, his stomach turning. Is he reading this correctly? Because it seems like you want to kiss him and he just doesn’t understand how that could be. Lucifer is the handsome one. Satan is smart. Asmo is fun and flirty. Levi’s funny and Beel is sweet. And what was he? An idiot. Scum...that’s what everyone always says about him. He was the big screw up of the family. Why would you want him when you could have anyone else here?

Your arms reach up to wrap around his neck, pulling him into a hug.“You really are my favorite,” you whisper.

“Thanks. You’re alright, for a human, you know. Not the worst one I’ve ever met,” Mammon replies, still trying his best and failing to play cool while he’s freaking out on the inside.

“Yeah?” you whisper, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“Uh…”His act quickly fades as his face gets serious and he looks at your eyes, then your lips again. “Y-yeah.”

You know he’s too stubborn to ever make the first move. So you stand on your toes and press your lips to his.

He lets out a small gasp. “...!”

You lick his lips, begging for entrance. He quickly obliges, opening his mouth and running his tongue against yours. The two of you stay attached, backing up until the back of his legs reach the chair behind him. He sits, pulling you down with him.

He runs his shaking hands up and down your sides, then down to your ass, which he lightly squeezes. You press your hips into his lap, earning a low growl from the demon, and you feel the bulge in his pants starting to grow.

Your hands make their way to his belt buckle, unbuckling it and unzipping his pants before sliding your hand down and gripping him gently. He lets out a quiet groan, and runs one of his hands through your hair, the other one inching up your thigh.

“Ahem.”

Mammon pretty much throws you off of him, standing up quickly. You tumble forward, Mammon sticking his hand out to try to catch you. Instead, you topple over into another body, who’s arms catch you and help you stand up. You look up to come face to face with Diavolo himself. He looks back and forward at you and Mammon.

“Lord Diavolo,” Mammon says, “We were just-”

“I brought Mammon in here to help me find something. For the party.”

Diavolo grins knowingly. “And did you find it?”

“Uh..no.”

“Hmm. I actually came here myself to find something. Apparently there’s a pricey bottle of tequila hidden in here. Now where did Satan say it was?”

Mammon and you exchange glances as Diavolo pulls a book off of the shelves and opens it only to find it hollowed out and the bottle inside.He looks to the two of you. “I love tequila. You humans have great alcoholic beverages. Asmodeus said we should do body shots. I’m not sure what that is, but it sounds like fun, right?”

“Did he just say body shots?” You mumble to Mammon, who doesn’t hear you as he sets eyes on the booze.

“How did I miss that?!”

Diavolo puts the book back and tucks the bottle under his arm. “Don’t be hard on yourself, Mammon. I think you just got...distracted.”

Both you and Mammon turn a deep shade of red.

Diavolo smiles. “I hope to see you both back at the party. I hear that Lucifer is quite fun when he’s had some drinks in him. Also, Mammon, you might want to zip up your pants.”

Mammon looks down and turns bright red as he fixes himself up. Diavolo struts out of the room, chuckling and saying something about using protection.

You and Mammon stare at each other.

“I guess we should get back to the party,” you say.

Mammon frowns. “Can I come to your room later?”

You smile, giving him a kiss. “I hope you do.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammonxmc #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #mammon fanfic #mammon x reader #mammon x mc

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flyingkiki · 3 years

Text

The Screaming Bunny (2/?)

A day late, but Happy Halloween. You asked for a Halloween treat, so here it is. Enjoy!

Halloween was a terrible time to go out. The streets were packed with people dressed up as drunk monsters, superheroes, sexy costumes of whatever possible, and terrible imitations of the Gotham criminals and their ragtag gangs. Also, sexy Joker costumes, ugh. Petty crimes also saw a spike on this night in Gotham, though it was nothing the GCPD or Batman and Robin couldn’t handle on their own.

Admittedly, Tim should be out on patrol right now or perhaps working on those new business acquisition reports for WE. There are a million other things he should be doing right now – like monitoring criminal activities tonight or keeping an eye out on anyone dressed like an Arkham Criminal. He should be also reading a new book, Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance, because Human Resource has been getting on his case to finish the book.

There are honestly a million other things Tim should be doing right now. He definitely should not be squeezing through a packed crowd of sweat, latex, leather, and lace.

But here he was at The Screaming Bunny. In that stupid domino mask. Again.

The private club had sent out an email to all its members of tonight’s “Spooks and Spanks” event. He shouldn’t be here but Tim would be lying if he said that he was not intrigued after the interesting run-in last month.

The club was packed tonight, drawing a crowd dressed in virtually anything or nothing. A couple of bloodied nurses in uniforms too tight to pass hospital standards scurried past Tim and disappeared around the corner. Tim carefully maneuvered his way through the club and towards the bar, hopeful to get a drink.

Soft techno music filled the club and allowed people in the lounge area to either dance or talk to each other. Club policy allowed for alcoholic drinks only by the bar and common area, Tim learned. Alcoholic drinks, and drunk members for that matter, were not allowed in any of the pleasure chambers or dungeons.

Yes, Tim made an effort to go through the club’s policies.

“Hey, what can I get you?” a topless bartender appeared, dressed nothing but a pair of extremely tight police shorts with a pair of handcuffs dangling from his belt.

“Just a scotch,” Tim replied, this time unfazed by the display of nakedness (or the potential violations of health codes by the lack of clothes). He paid for the drink as it slid across the counter and thanked the guy.

Picking up his drink, Tim pushed himself away from the bar and idly surveyed the scene in front of him. Save for the general nakedness, and the occasional grunts and whipping noises that drifted through the room, the club seemed very much like any other Halloween party tonight. A woman dressed in stockings from head to toe walked past him, roughly tugging along a man in nothing but boxers and a latex mask over his head. Tim blinked at the sight and took a sip of his drink, a few stray thoughts flittering through his mind but he quickly squashed these.

There were a couple of tables and lounge chairs in the corners of the room, Tim thought it would be best perhaps to hang out in the back for a while and let the whole party scene sink in. Tonight was the first time he was here as an actual patron and not tailing a criminal. Dodging a couple of plastic horns and demon wings, Tim easily slid through the standing crowd and spotted an empty spot on the couch next to a couple of purple and pink furry monsters (monsters? Tim wasn’t all too sure).

Sliding past a group of men in lingerie, Tim made a beeline for the lounge area. He immediately stopped in his tracks however and quickly spotted why he came tonight. Or why his curiosity peeked in the first place. His grip tightened around his scotch glass and something in his chest fluttered.

Over the crowd of lace, latex, leather, nakedness, and fake blood, purple eyes caught his own. Tim swallowed and felt his breath catch.

From across the room, Raven – Rachel – stared at Tim for a millisecond before turning her attention back to the couple covered in body paint seated across of her. He watched her chuckle and talk to the couple before her eyes slid back to him and he swore her lips quirked just a little bit. He felt heat rush to his face as he took in her appearance, her pale skin and black hair stood out against the white of her impossibly tight leather corset. And, oh, was that a little halo over her head?

Should he go over? Tim found himself momentarily fumble. Of course he should. Wasn’t this why he came back? Because he was curious? Because he wanted – Tim blinked and caught his thoughts as Raven waved him over.

Oh god.

“You’re back,” Raven said to him once he finally approached their table. She offered him a playful smile and her purple eyes danced in the dim lights. She tilted her head and leaned back just a little bit as she eyed him with that amused smile of hers. “Why don’t you join us?” she asked, scooting down the leather sofa to make room for him in their little corner of the lounge area.

“Sure,” Tim felt a rush of emotions run down his back at the invitation – and that smile – and sat down next to her, leaving respectable room between them. Trying not to focus too much on an intriguingly amused Raven (why was she so amused? He needed to know), he placed his scotch glass on the small glass table and offered the other two women a smile. “Hello.”

“This is Tracy and Lady X,” Raven introduced, pointing at a small redheaded woman in a skimpy Super Mario costume with a dog collar and a blonde woman in complete leopard body paint. Raven gracefully pointed at each woman with her drink in her hand. Tilting her head towards Tim, she eyed him in mild amusement. “And this is…” she trailed off.

“Red,” Tim supplied smoothly and smiled at the two women. “Nice to meet you,”

“Red,” Raven repeated with an amused lilt in her voice before hiding her smile into her mojito glass. She leaned into the sofa, looking impossibly comfortable and blissfully ignoring how surreal everything truly was – Tim and her in club filled with naked people. It just felt surreal. He swallowed.

“So what are you supposed to be?” asked Tracy curiously, leaning forward just a little bit and eyeing Tim’s costume skeptically.

Tim felt his neck and cheeks burn at the attention. He had not put much thought into wearing any particular costume tonight – because what does one wear to a private BDSM club Halloween party really? “Ah, a random biker?” he replied, chuckling softly. He hoped his jeans and the leather vest he was wearing passed those standards.

Tracy chuckled with him and offered him a sympathetic smile. “Good try,”

“Random Biker Red,” Raven hummed next to him barely audible over the noise. He caught her staring at him, that amused smile never really disappearing. Tim swallowed and caught her eye briefly before reaching for his drink.

“How did you guys meet?” asked Lady X curiously. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,”

“He’s a new bunny,” Raven easily supplied and Tim felt his inside twist lightly at the word bunny. There it was again and he fought every urge not to openly stare at Raven. “I just bumped into him a few weeks ago,” she said.

“Ohh,” Tracy leaned forward just a little bit, her eyes sparkling in clear mischief. “Is he going to be your dom, Rachel?”

Tim coughed loudly into his drink at her words and he was sure Raven felt his spike of emotions as she shot him a quick glance. Dom? As in – holy shit. He blinked and tried to ignore how loudly his heart beat in his ears. He ignored the hot jolt than ran through him. “I – ugh, her what?”

Raven rolled eyes at Tracy and sent Tim an amused smile. “Easy. He’s new, Tracy,”

Ignoring Raven, the woman dressed up like a very sexy Mario brother leaned over their glass table and whispered very loudly. “She’s looking for a dom or a switch, just so you know,”

“Oh,” breathed Tim and his gaze involuntarily turned to Raven, who quirked her lips lightly in response. Well, was that information Tim needed? He wasn’t sure. But will he store this information for later? Yes. He inhaled softy as his stomach flopped and stray thoughts flittered through his head. He silently wondered if Dick knew about all of this – Dick would kick is his ass if he knew he was here with Raven.

“So you were saying about your plans?” Raven turned her attention back to the couple across of them. Crossing her legs, Tim’s heart jumped at the sight of thigh-high white stockings, Raven comfortably leaned back into the sofa and eyed her friends. If she could sense his keyed up emotions, she displayed no indication. “Are you expanding your studio or not?”

“Oh, yeah. Like I said we hit a few snags when we opened one of the old walls and discovered that the piping needed replacing. Most of the pipes are ancient like Gotham,” Tracy made a face and took a hearty swig from her cosmopolitan. “I’m talking to some contractors to see what can be done,”

Raven frowned. “Didn’t they tell you about the piping issue when they sold you the adjacent complex?”

Lady X rolled her eyes and leaned back into her seat with a sigh of exasperation. Some of her silver bracelets clinked as she moved around. “They did but we didn’t expect that it’d be that bad.” She shrugged and sent Tim an annoyed look. “Some of these brokers are just lying assholes, you know,”

Tim blinked trying to catch up with the conversation. Admittedly he was a bit miffed at the normalcy of the conversation on renovation work in the middle of a BDSM club. But then again, what did he expect to hear tonight? “I’m sorry, I’m not following?” he blinked and offered them an apologetic smile.

“Tracy owns an art studio,” Raven explained and took a tiny sip from her mojito. “They’re expanding the studio but hit some snags along the way,”

Tim nodded. “You’re an artist? That’s amazing,” he said. Tracy blushed at the praise while Lady X seemed to beam with pride. Leaning forward over the table just a little bit, she grinned at Tim.

“She painted all of this,” she said and waved a perfectly manicured hand over her body. “Such a talented artist, my little pet is,” she practically purred and sent Tracy a fond smile.

Tim blinked and ignored the pet endearment. Briefly glancing at Raven, he shared an amused smile with her, and looked at the intricate leopard body paint on the woman’s body. He nodded and smiled at them. “That’s really beautiful,” he said.

“Thanks,” Tracy beamed. She fiddled with her empty cosmopolitan glass. “So yeah, I’m trying to get something arranged with a few contractors to fix the old piping. We tore down a few walls to open up the space and discovered the piping was rusty and not up to building code. We need that fixed before we can proceed with expansion renovations of the annex building,”

“You could also go after the guys who sold you the place. If they were not totally upfront with the issues of the complex you’re getting, maybe there’s something that could be done?” suggested Tim. And he immediately went into details of some legal remedies they could take.

“Oh wow. Okay,” Tracy nodded and released a deep breath. “That sounds like something we could do,”

Tim took a sip of the last of his scotch and offered her a smile. “Talk to your lawyer to figure something out,”

Lady X sent Raven a look and her black eyes sparkled mischievously under the dim orange lights. “Looks like your new friend is pretty useful,” she said.

Raven chuckled and shrugged. “Looks like it,” she said playfully and the two shared a smile.

A man dressed in nothing but black appeared next to their table suddenly. The words ‘Dungeon Monitor’ were written across a bright orange sash he wore. “The St. Andrew’s Cross is ready for you, Lady X,” he said before turning around and heading back to the pleasure areas.

“Wonderful,” Lady X clapped her hands and stood up. “Come, my pet,” Tim watched as Lady X bent over just a little bit and hooked one of her fingers through the large silver hoop that hung from Tracy’s collar. She tugged the woman into a standing position and gently pulled her away from their table. “You’ll come watch us?” she asked them over her shoulder.

“Watch?” Tim breathed, his brain catching up with what that truly meant.

Raven smiled and shrugged at the woman. “We’ll try to catch up. Enjoy,”

The woman in leopard body paint shrugged with a smile. “Your loss,” she said before roughly tugging Tracy through the crowd.

Tim watched them disappear around the corner and into one of the pleasure corners, or dungeons, he wasn’t all too sure. They were likely the same – and did they just invite them to watch them? He stared at the corner for a second too long.

“Curious?”

Raven’s voice brought him back from his thoughts and Tim turned back to Raven, and finally, finally¸ got a better look at her as she turned her full attention towards him and shifted in her seat to face him. She was dressed in a plain leather white corset and tiny white booty shorts that really left nothing to the imagination. He was sure he stared a second too long, as Raven tilted her head expectantly and the corners of her eyes crinkled just a little bit in amusement.

“Oh,” Tim breathed and felt his ears ring just a little bit. He watched her shift gracefully in her seat and folded one of her legs under her as she faced him. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. He swallowed nervously and surveyed the crowd of naked people around them. “I’m honestly not sure why I came back,”

Raven shrugged and idly took a sip from her mojito. “That’s okay. It’s a lot to take in,” she said. She offered him a small smile. “It’s nice you’re back though,”

Something stirred inside of him and Tim smiled lightly. “Yeah?”

Raven tilted her head lightly and her eyes shone under the dim lights. They could hear the loud cracks of a whip through the air, and Tim watched her gaze slip over his shoulder. Her lips curled just a tiny bit. He swallowed as a thought crossed his mind – did she want that? He felt heart jump into his throat at the stray thought and watched a languid smile grow on her lips as her attention turned back to him. “How do you like it so far?” she asked as she propped her left elbow on the back of the sofa and dropped her chin into her hand, eyeing him in amusement.

“I got good company,” Tim chuckled as Raven snorted softly. He absently fiddled with his glass before placing it on the table. “I’m surprised how normal conversations are here,”

“What? The building expansions? What did you think we’d talk about here?” Raven asked teasingly. She watched Tim look around briefly and take in the people milling around the lounge area. “I don’t know,” he replied as he turned back to Raven.

Raven smiled assuringly. “Clubs like these are close to any other club. What makes places like these special is the level of trust and respect that goes into these places and among the patrons. You come here as yourself, you can explore and enjoy what you like – with appropriate safety limits – and there’s no judgement. Just as safe space for being yourself. With the level of trust and respect that goes into places like these, you’d be surprised how much safer they are compared to your regular clubs,” she said. She looked around briefly before turning back to Tim. “Consent is important here.”

“I noticed that,” said Tim, nodding his head in agreement. He did see how vastly more respectful the crowd was here compared to any other club he had been too. He turned his attention back to her, taking in how comfortable, and alluring, she looked. “So, I’m a Random Biker, what are you?” he asked playfully.

Raven laughed, a sound he was growing to quite like hearing, and titled her head making the little plastic halo dance over her head. “I thought it’d be funny to dress like an angel, all things considering,” she said.

“You make a pretty impressive angel,” he said before he could really think it through. They both paused, ambient techno music falling over them, and they shared a look. Tim watched as Raven’s lips lifted into a small, pleasant smile.

“Were you able to have a look around?” she asked suddenly.

Tim shook his head. “No, when I saw you three I just about arrived.”

“Well then,” Raven breathed and offered him a mysterious smile. The ambient techno music shifted into a louder dance beat and the crowd cheered. “You’re not busy tonight, finally,” she began and leaned into his space just a little bit. He could faintly smell her lavender perfume. “Let’s go have a look around tonight.”

He watched her gracefully stand up and Tim was sure his breath caught in his throat as she stood before him in nothing but her leather corset. He knew it was impolite to stare, but – she was a sight. It was mindboggling to see such a different side of Raven from all the years he had known her – and he would be lying to say he was thirsty to see this side of her more.

As a muted groan drifted through the air and the two shared a look, and Tim admitted that yes, he was curious. So damn curious – he was Tim Drake after all.

“Sure,” he said. He stood up next to her and Raven beamed, bending over and picking up something discarded on the table. A thin riding crop.

Despite her strappy heels, Raven barely came up to his chin. She tilted her head up just a little bit and Tim watched as the shadows of some of the spider decorations danced across her collarbones and cheeks. He held his breath. She held the riding crop in her hands and smiled. “Great, let’s make sure you have fun tonight,” she told him softly.

Tim desperately wanted to know what that meant.

#timrae #timrae fanfiction #tim drake #raven roth #teen titans #red robin #Batman

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laketaj24 · 4 years

Text

Heat

Author’s Note: I am extremely new to the omegaverse. Therefore, when you read this be kind and shoot me some advice if you have any. I would like to make this a series because I really had some fun writing it. So if you think you have a suggestion for part two send it!!! It is for mature audiences because it’s a little freaky. (okay a lot, damn.) I hope that you enjoy!! Please let me know what you think!!! Happy Reading!! (Taglist, Requests Open)

Pairing: Alpha!Ubbe X Omega!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Intense SMUT

The low red light of the club was not his favorite. The woman swung around the pole effortlessly to the floor, moving their hips in a seductive wind but it was not the women that had drawn him into the place. Ubbe took his seat in the leather glass room that topped the club, from there he could see everything, hear everything. Every voice was amplified, even if their lips hadn’t moved he sensed their thoughts, felt their fear, impulses, elation even their lust which was excessive in the place.

“Scotch, no ice.” He tapped his leather jacket in search of his lighter and sat back in the seat as the nearly naked waitress left. His eyes watched the bounce of her ass, the slight jiggle of her thighs as she took each step. “Fuck.” He groaned.

“I don’t get why we are here.” His older brother nursed the beer. The amber liquid squished in his mouth before he swallowed and sighed. Bjorn’s eyes moved from the waitress’s body over to Ubbe. “There are other things we could be doing.”

“You can go,” Ubbe said matter of fact. His lip twitched as he looked out into the crowd. The thud of the music below hummed the windowpanes. He stood from his seat as the song changed. The red lights were focused on her and so were his eyes. His eyes watched as the honied woman started her ascension on the pole, her dark hair swung in a whirl and the sweet floral scent pricked his senses. His cock jerked. “Her.”

The door opened and the rush of the scent his nose. He fought the urge to growl, the urge to charge down the steps and pull her from the stage. Bjorn leaned forward and watched his brother’s eyes widen and fist clench. “What was that brother?”

“Her.” Ubbe turned and retrieved his drink from the tray. “What is her name?”

“We don’t give names sir.” She smiled.

“I want her up here,” Ubbe added with a cocked brow.

“Private dances are two thousand dollars.”

He scoffed and stepped closer. “Does it look like I give a fuck about the price?”

She giggled. “Why not me?”

“Out.” He dismissed her with a snarl.

Minutes passed in silence, but his heartbeat refused to stop flooding his head. The search for his omega had become never-ending. He’d fucked his way through half of Florida, craving the sweet pussy of one woman and finally, it seemed he’d found her.

“What is it?” Bjorn cleared his throat.

“None of your concern.” His anger spiked as Bjorn started his invasive questioning. He could hear them forming in his head.

“You’re never this quiet.”

“Can I enjoy it? Or are you going to talk the entire time?” He looked over.

“Oh, in a mood.” Bjorn stood and buttoned the middle button of the blazer. He tossed two hundred down on the table. “Goodnight brother.”

You entered the room on alert, Mya said the guy was on edge as it was, part of you didn’t want to go. But the part that needed to make sure rent was paid strolled into the room without a second thought. Your heels clacked against the white marble floors. This room was special, VIP Black Card Guests only. Just for entering 1500 dollars was added on to your wages for the night. The man sat in the chair, his legs spread, and hood pulled over his head. All that was visible was the silhouette and his beard.

“You called?” You asked.

He straightened in his seat and his eyes flashed amber. “Actually, I think you called me.” He smiled and pulled down his hood. The tattoos on his face jump out immediately. You knew those markings; he was an alpha.

Your body surged at once. He was the alpha. Your teeth pulled gently on your bottom lip, the tiny jolts of something raced through your veins. “Is that so?” You shook your head. “That’s now how this works.”

“It’s precisely how it works.” He reached for the round whiskey glass taking a sip and then he stood. His frame was larger than you expected, taller than he looked. “But it’s the only time you’ll call me, and I’ll answer.” He unsheathed his finger of his rings and placed them on the table.

Fear plagued you. “Excuse me.”

“How polite.” He smiled again. “I am Ubbe and I think you know what I am.” His shoulders moved, swayed with untethered confidence. “And I think you know what to do.”

Without a word you turned from him and bolted to the door only to hear the thud of his shoes as he rushed over to you. His heavy frame boxes you against the wall. Your bare flesh against the steel door. You weaken feeling the arousal seep thorough the middle of your panties. The smell was loud, even for you.

“Don’t make this hard.” He warned. “I see no alpha around, you’re mine now.”

There was no alpha around and there hadn’t been in this part of the city for years. It was the reason you felt safe enough to even leave the house while in heat. Hearing the men taunt you on and praise you only added to the excitement. Fuck, just before you came to the room, you’d found yourself in your dressing room legs parted and three fingers deep in your own pussy.

Ubbe smiled. You could feel him sifting around in your head, raiding those thoughts you didn’t think anyone could hear. It was evident he could though, the wickedness in his blue eyes exposed it all. He had plans for you and there would be no fight.

He moved the black g-string aside and his fingers moved your plush petals giving him free access to your swollen clit. His thumb pressed down and like a button the arousal dripped slowly on his fingers. It was there for a reason during the heat. Your nipples were erect against his chest, teasing him each time they rubbed across him. Ubbe’s head dipped to the supple mound and his teeth light nipped before he tugged it towards him, and you hissed. “I know you want me to fuck you.” He growled. His fingers gripped the meat of your thighs.

“No the I don’t.”

“You lie.” And it three movements his hand was pressed against your throat while the other plunged three fingers deep into your pussy. “All this,” He withdrew his fingers and tightened his grip around your neck. His other hand wiped the slick nectar on your stomach before he sucked the fingers eliciting a groan from himself. “is for me.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“You will.” Ubbe loosened his grip before he sunk to his knees and pressed his lips onto your clit. They were soft, plush even as the lapped up the juices that flowed from you. Your legs wobbled as he became accustomed to your taste. Instead of greedily licking at your pussy he took his time dragging his tongue from bottom to the top sucking the clit. Then taking his attentions back inside of you. One finger joined the mix, it twirled, prepping for the additional two he dipped and continued to fuck you with as he ate you.

“Harder.” Your hormones had taken control of the situation, whether you knew him or not you wanted him to fuck you as he did. “Ohhh shit, yes. Fucking yes.” He obliged fucking harder, quicker strokes into you with his thick fingers. You could hear how wet you were for him, feel the drops of arousal flowing down the line of your legs. Ubbe devoured you, listened to the way you moaned and came under his tongue, remembering strokes and triggers. Your hands in his head, you tugged at his hair when the sensations took over all over you. Your toes curled in the high heels lifting you higher from the ground. Ubbe continued to lap you up. Your head thumped against the door and you couldn’t tell if you were woozy from coming or the hit.

He stood and unbuckled the leather belt and dropped it to the floor beside the leather seat. He bit his lip and tugged himself free and his cock stood erect, curved and huge. Your mouth all but waters thinking of him fucking into you. Ubbe’s eyes never left your body as he backed into the chair. “Have a seat.”

There was nothing that would stop you at this point. The world could end in a blazing flame right outside these doors and you wouldn’t care as long as you were mounted on his dick. Each step you took to him made your heart beat faster until you were there in front of him. He stroked himself, his hand unable to fully grip the girth of his dick. His impatience reared as he pulled you over him and slammed himself into you. A heady scream erupted as he started his course. His strokes were perfectly timed, finding a rhythm and a place that no one had ever been before.

You were so full of him, your walls stretched painfully around him and all you wanted was more. You bounced on him looking down into his blue eyes with lust. More. Faster. Your hands anchored on his shoulders while you bounced on his cock and each time your clit met his skin the small jolts of an impending orgasm teased. “Oh fuck! Ub-,”

The black loop of the belt fell over your head down onto your neck. “Alpha.” He proclaimed as he tightened the belt and your air was cut off. His free arm wrapped around your body and slammed into you. “I want to fill you, babies.” He grunted.

Your eyes rolled as the strokes became faster. The belt tightened and your hands numbed your body wrecked into oblivion. He looked down with a smile plastered on his face. He pulled you up from him and pushed you over the table. His cock slapped at your ass. The thick head swiped your wet pussy before he slapped himself against your clit a few times. “I want to go deeper.” He turned the belt around, pressed the nape of your back to arch you properly and dived into your pussy again. He was deeper, it felt like he was in your stomach. Your tits pressed against the table and your arms flailed knocking the sticky amber liquor on the table.

He didn’t seem to care. “Deeper.” He grunted as his hips slapped onto your ass. The words came and then you followed, again. Your body shook under him in waves, even your fingertips felt elation. His cock plunged impossibly deeper into you and you squirm. Your legs lift from the ground only for his hand to meet your ass and knock them back down. Something was happening. His cock swelled more, stretching your pussy until you thought he’d never pull out of you. His knot had formed, thick and fucking perfect. He came with an overjoyed groan shaking against you as the warm cum flowed into you. Your nails dug into the wood as it triggered the last orgasm.

You panted, unnerved. What the fuck happened? Ubbe pulled himself from you and the white cum gushed out of you slowly only for you to feel his thick finger prod back into you. You were exhausted, broken and confused and for some odd reason, you wanted to start all over again.

Your eyes met his, they faded from blue to amber. “Alpha.” You panted, somehow obedient to his desire.

“Yes,” He answered.

“More.” You smiled.

“We must leave.” He grinned. “And we can fuck in the car on the way to your new home.”

“And where is that?”

“Kattegat, where else? Come.” He snapped as he pulled his pants up and lit the cigarette. “Now.” He left no room for negotiation.

#ubbe #ubbe x reader #ubbe x you #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson imagine #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fan fiction #ubbe lothbrok x reader #laketaj24 #laketa j writes #omegaverse #alpha!ubbe

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notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

I’m Walking Here

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warning: NSFW – Nothin' but smut, baby! Full of impulsive, rough, irresponsible sex!

This one is written for @cake-writes 1k followers celebration! Congrats to her – and thanks for the prompt!

ooooo

Your heels clicked along the concrete as you strode down the busy New York City street. People actually moved out of your path today instead of the other way around. There were a few more sideways looks, a few more comments made by unsavory men, but today you didn’t care.

Today you put on the expensive emerald green wrap dress that looked like it was made to show off your shape. Your new hairstyle and make up made you glow. Most importantly, you took one last look at that big fat number on the deposit slip right before you marched into work late to tell that creep of a boss where he could stick it.

When you’d walked out, every guy in the place only stared. They’d never seen you like that before.

Somewhere in the last block, you decided treating yourself to a drink and expensive dinner was in order. As you crossed the street, a dark-haired man in a black on black suit caught you eye. Tall and lithe, he strode down the street like a panther. A predator. Staring straight at you.

You kept walking, not looking away. Damn, he was striking. The corner of his lip tipped up as he looked you up and down. You wondered if your expression was as hungry as his. The closer you got, the more you noticed. Small waist. Wide chest. Powerful thighs. He wasn’t bulky, but you could tell he was extremely fit.

Coming toe to toe, neither of you stepped aside. He was tall. Even in your heels you had to look up into his eyes. A small smirk danced on his lips. Holy fuck. He just oozed sex.

“You’re in my way.” His voice poured over you, rich and deep.

“Funny, I thought you were in my way.” You arched a brow.

“Hmm. Just where are you headed that’s so important?”

“There’s a strong drink waiting for me in a dark bar.” You answer.

“You as well? Celebrating?” His head tilted to one side.

“Yes.” You smiled. Neither of you noticed the sea of people moving around you.

“What might that be?” This strange leaned close and practically breathed you in.

“Finally getting what’s mine.”

A wide smile crossed his face. “Truly? Me too. There’s a place right across the street, perhaps we should celebrate together.”

You looked sideways at the boutique hotel and bar across the street. Turning to walk to cross walk, you tossed over your shoulder. “You’re buying the first round.”

The inside of the bar was dim, filled with rich fabrics and dark polished wood. Only the bartender and one business man at a table occupied the room. Moving to one of the leather bar seats, you slipped in and crossed your legs. The stranger pulled the other bar seat close, sitting with legs spreads wide. Your knees ended up between his.

“What can I get you?” The man behind the bar came over.

“12 year-old Redbreast, neat.” You answered not looking at the bartender, but seeing if the stranger would balk at expensive Irish whiskey.

“Same.” He smiled.

Two glasses of amber slid across the bar. You lifted your glass in a toast, which he met. The fiery liquid slipped over your tongue. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Loki.”

You smiled, a fond memory popping into your mind.

“What?”

“When I was growing up, my neighbor had an elkhound named Loki. He was such a shit.”

He laughed, a seductive and melodic sound. Your thighs rubbed together a little tighter. “Mischievousness seems to be a mandatory trait.”

“Are you, Loki?” You took another drink. “Mischievous?”

“I define it.” His eyes bore into yours. Damn. You licked your lips. A cool hand slipped around your calf. “So, Y/N, what is it that you finally got?”

“My birthright.” Your back straightened. “There were people that cut me off from everything my father left for me. I’ve been fighting and scraping by for years. Yesterday I won. What about you?”

“Same. My,” he paused for a drink, “father moved to a retirement home today. Now I run the family business without his interference.”

“To us.” You toasted.

You both drank. Loki slipped a little closer. His fingers traced up your calf to the back of your knee. They drew small circles on the sensitive flesh. Loki spoke low, voice thick as honey. “I can think of ways we could celebrate.”

“I don’t usually sleep with guys I just met on the street.” You insisted, but your heart rate and the heat between your legs said something different.

Loki traced your jaw with the fingertips of his other hand. “I’m not a ‘guy’ - I’m a god.”

From anyone else’s mouth you would have laughed. From his, you practically purred. Smirking, you teased. “You expect me to pray at your feet.”

“You do and I’ll wring every bit of ecstasy from your body.” His long fingers holding the side of your neck, thumb slipping along your jaw. You shivered. The predatory grin returned. “Shall we go upstairs?”

“You have a room here?”

He just smiled.

You downed the rest of your drink. Your body and mind battled. It was crazy to consider going to a room to have sex with a complete stranger, yet every nerve in your body wanted to be touched by him. This never happened. You were usually careful and slow with men.

The hand on your legs slipped a little higher, shaking you out of your thoughts. Instinctively, your hand shot down, locking his fingers and twisting his wrist away. Loki smiled and leaned even closer. “Yes,” He purred. “You’re a fighter.”

“Six years of jiu jitsu and thai boxing.” You changed your grip so you just held his hand. “When I said scraping and fighting, I was being somewhat literal.”

Loki inhaled deep through his nose, smiling wickedly. “I find you intriguing, very alluring. Not something that happens very often with your kind. I want to make you scream my name.”

“My kind?” Damn, you knew you should be wary, but everything about him made you wet. He smelled rich and spicy. His gaze tore right through you. His touch made you crave more.

Loki licked his lips. As you watched a green blaze lit in his eyes. Your mouth dropped open a bit. You felt his hand against the skin of your upper thigh, despite your dress, despite holding his hand. Your pulse kicked up as he whispered. “I am a god.”

Leaning forward, he whispered in your ear. “I can smell your arousal. I can feel your heart beat quicken. Just image how I can make your body sing.”

You shivered, your confidence and attitude returning as you pushed away doubt. “So where’s this room?”

Loki reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. He placed it on the bar before standing. Holding a hand out for you, he led you to the elevators. The doors closed behind you. Loki trailed his fingers along your sides, over the silky material.

“I have to say, this is my favorite color.”

“Then you’ll like what’s underneath.” You grinned.

Loki’s hand wound in your hair, pulling you forward into a deep kiss. His lips barely brushed yours before his tongue slipped over your lips, you tongue dancing with his. His grip tightened in your hair. You moaned into his mouth. He pulled harder. The elevator dinged.

He let go of your hair, taking you by the hand. There were only two doors on the landing. Loki waved his hand in front of one and it opened. Leading you inside the suite, the door shut with another wave of his hand. You stood in a living room, with a seating area and a big heavy dining table for four. A bedroom lay to either end of the room.

“Now, my pet.” Loki purred, “Shall we play?”

You shivered at the tone of his voice. “What do you have in mind?”

“The rules are simple.” Loki trailed his nose against the skin of your cheek, your neck. “I want to hear every delicious reaction from your body. You will do what I say. And, you are not to come unless I give you permission.”

You could feel your panties soak at his words. Still, you rarely gave in. “I’m not so good at following orders.”

“How fun.” He nipped your ear. Nimble fingers untied the stay of your dress. It fell open, revealing the dark green lace set beneath. “Delightful.” Loki purred as his palms cupped your lace covered breasts before he slipped your dress completely off.

You reached for his tie, but he caught your hand. “No.” Sucking your finger into his mouth. “Not yet, my pet.”

Loki slipped behind you. Moving your hair to the side, his mouth nipping a sucking a wet trail across you skin, sending molten heat to your core. A shaky moan escaped your lips. His hand slipped around your waist, fingers dancing over the lace of your panties. You felt a tickle then his finger slipped along your wet folds.

“So responsive.” His fingers rubbing around, over your clit. You shivered, moaning. His other hand cupped your bare breast, pulling and teasing your nipple. Not sure where your underwear went, not really caring, you lolled your head to the side as he nipped at your neck.

His fingers pulled at your nipple just as he pulled at your hair and his teeth bit down on the sensitive spot at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You moaned. His low chuckle made you moan again.

Loki slid around to the front of you. Standing naked and exposed - panting and aroused - while he remained clothes and composed, somehow spiked the excitement. Your eyes darted down, the tenting of his pants giving you a thrill.

“I want to touch you.” Your tongue slid over your lower lip.

His devilish smile returned. “Kneel.”

You stepped forward instead. Loki’s hand wound in your hair, pulling you down. “On your knees.” He demanded. Dropping to your knees before him, you gasped as he twisted his hand in your hair. More thrilling than painful, a smirk curled your lip.

“Stay.” Loki ordered. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it aside. Painfully slow, eyes never leaving yours, he loosened his tie, pulled his shirt from his trousers and unbuttoned it. The flesh beneath was pale, firm, and you desperately wanted to touch. He must have known, shaking his head. “Keep your hands to yourself until I say your can touch me, or I’ll tied them down.”

“Promise.” You smiled.

“Temptress.” Loki unbuckled his belt and release his cock. Damn. He stood in front of you, black shirt hanging open, trousers low and his long hard erection standing proud. “Suck.”

You shuffled a little closer, taking the base of his cock in your right hand. Bringing your face close, the scent of him filled your nostrils, heady and intoxicating. Brushing the edge of your nose, the edge of your mouth along the length of him, across the silky skin over steel hardness. Up one side, then the other. You pressed your tongue firmly against the underside of his cock, base to tip. Wetting your lips on the drips seeping from the tip, you pushed him into your mouth pass tight lips like pushing him into other parts. You hot tongue swept over him as you bobbed him deeper and deeper, all the way out before sucking him in again.

“By the Norns.” Loki breathed.

Your right hand began to pump in time with your mouth, while you slipped the fingertips of your left along his balls, his inner thighs. Pushing the trousers lower, they slipped free and fell to his ankles. Taking him deep in your mouth, you reached around and got a handful of tight ass. He groaned.

His hand tangled in your hair, cock pumping into your mouth twice before he pulled you off. “You are a hungry little thing, aren’t you, my pet?”

You whined. “But I wasn’t done.”

His brow arched, smirking. Loki pulled you to your feet, he pushed back enough for you to see him fully. In a green simmer, his clothes completely disappeared. “Wow.” You breathed, just before his mouth closed over yours. He pulled you tight against him, fingers digging into your flesh.

His is hand grabbed you by the ass, lifting you off the ground easily. Such strength. Walking you into the bedroom as you kissed and nipped your way down the long line of his neck. He knelt on the edge of the bed, and laid you down in the center.

Loki’s mouth trailed down your neck to your breast, taking the nipple into his mouth sucking until nearly painful. His fingers slipped over your hips, down your thighs. Your legs spread, knees coming up. He sat back on his ankles, lifting your leg. His mouth nipped along your calf, tongue dancing across the back of your knee.

He nipped and kissed up your thigh, coming closer to your core. You watched. Beautiful and dangerous, he felt amazing. His fingers slid through your wetness, spreading it over your flesh, spreading you. His breath was cool against your burning skin. Just hovering there drove you mad.

“Loki, please…” You panted.

You heard a wicked chuckle just as his tongue lapped across your cunt. With a quick intake of breath, your back arched. His tongue moved closer and closer, teasing, but not touching your clit. You whined. Loki’s mouth latched around your clit and sucked, flicking with the tip of his tongue.

“Holy shit!” An electric shock shot through your body. Involuntary quivers ran down your thighs. Your hand buried in his silky hair. A wash of heat coiled in your core. “Oh my god, Loki!, oh my… oh…”

He growled. The orgasm hit you without warning. You cried out, shaking.

You opened your eyes to find Loki above you on all fours, face shining with your release. His voice was harsh, but his eyes sparkled. “You came without my permission, little one. Now you do have to be punished.”

Panting, still tingling, you smiled. “Yes, my lord.” A nearly drunken look passed over Loki’s eyes just before he brutally captured your mouth. Tongue sliding along yours, he took your hands in his and moved them over your head. He held them together in one hand. Something soft but tight slipped around them.

Loki sat back on his heels again, tracing his fingers over your body… down your sides, over your stomach, down your thighs. His touch became more firm, digging into the muscle, pushing your legs further apart. His eyes studied you hungrily.

He slipped two fingers along your slick opening, slipping inside. Curving up, he press against your g spot pulling a moan from you. The thumb of his other hand danced over your sensitive clit. “Hold it, my pet. Do not come until I say.”

So close to your last orgasm, his strong pressure on your g spot had you building quickly. Sloppy wet sounds came from the pumping of his fingers in your cunt. You locked eyes with his hungry gaze. Pulling at your bindings, your body began to shiver. Your mouth fell open, panting.

The hand thumbing your clit pushed down against your belly, intensifying the pressure. “Oh god! Loki, please.”

“No. Not yet.”

You panted, trying desperately to hold back. Your eyes lock closed. Think like a guy. What’s twelve time thirty-two? You tried doing math.

“Look at me.” Loki ordered. You whined, not opening your eyes. He slapped your pussy, sending a shock through your body. Your eyes flew open. “Look at me, my pet.”

“Please. Oh, fuck. Loki, please.” You were shaking now.

His finger plucked at your nipple, pinching hard. You cried out, but held back. His finger pumped harder. You begged. He slapped your pussy again. You screamed.

“Come for me.” He growled.

Hand slamming in your cunt, you came apart, squirting across his hand, flooding the bed. He didn’t stop, his other hand, rubbing at your clit. Another wave crashed over you, making you scream out again.

Loki’s hand flipping your limp body over, pulling your ass to him. You stretched against the binding. His cock filled you in one powerful thrust. Full and deep, your hoarse cry was muffled by the mattress. Pounding into hard, your cunt clenched around him. On the verge of another orgasm.

“Loki! Oh god!”

“Yes!” He growled.

He loved your cries, you knew it. “My god, Loki! Yes! Please! My lord!”

“Mine!” He slammed into you harder. You began to shake.

“Yes! I’m going to, oh god, I need to!”

“Fucking come all over me,” He growled, voice thick low. His fingers dug into your hips hard.

“Loki!” You did, again, violently, stealing the breath from you, making you shake everywhere, collapsing boneless. Loki fell forward with you pumping once more with a deep groan, emptying himself.

He lay atop you for a moment. His weight comfortable on your pliant body. The ties about your wrists disappeared, but you barely noticed. His scent filled your head. His mouth trailed gentle kisses over your shoulder blade. Your body felt heavy. Sleep began to wash over you.

You came awake slowly, stretching. Every delightful sex induced ache echoed across your body. Loki’s smell was still in your nose. You’re eyes cracked open… to see your own bedroom.

Sitting up, the sheet fell off your naked body. You were completely alone. Standing up, you looked around your small apartment. The boxes you’d started to pack the day before were still there. No evidence of anyone else, of any disturbance at all. Looking at clock told you it was in the early hours of the morning after you’d met him.

Loki.

You caught your reflection in the mirror over your dresser. Ravished. That’s what came to mind. Hair mussed, little nip marks on your flesh, and light bruises from his fingertips on your hips. It really happened alright.

Turning around, you looked at the green dress hanging on the frame of the closet door. It looked fresh from the cleaners. A gold tag was tied to the hanger. Pulling it down, you saw your lace bra hung inside the dress.

On the tag, written in delicate script, were the words “I’m keeping the other half of the set.”

You smiled to yourself. Totally worth it.

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@rainbowkisses31 / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @lbouvet / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @theneuropsychwriter / @vanillabunn21 / @sammghgecko / @beautifullungs / @badassbaker / @the-omni-princess / @sebbysstangirl / @jesseswartzwelder / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @the-reading-octopus / @bangtan-serendipity / @kiki5283 / @mindtravelsx

#cake's 1k followers celebration #loki x reader #loki smut #loki fic #loki fanfic

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mister-fleck · 5 years

Text

blood and paint: joker x reader

Prompt: “Could you do a joker x reader, where the reader is getting harassed by someone at work and it gets to a point where joker has to intervene?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” “Come on, gorgeous. Look at the tip I gave you. The least I could get in return is your number.” “I’m — I’m flattered, really, but…” “But, what? There’s nothing to be afraid of, babe. I’m a nice guy. You’ll see.”

Arthur had been listening in on this exchange for some time now and it was starting to give him a headache. He undid the top button of his shirt and rubbed at the back of his neck, irritated. He had stopped into the bar an hour ago to smoke and work on his material — his big night was tomorrow and he was still debating which zingers to throw Murray’s way — but the scumbags beside him were ruining the vibe.

He glanced briefly over his shoulder to see what exactly these assholes looked like. In the booth adjacent sat a group of young men, all crisp white collars and loose neck ties. The lot of them were eyeballing one of the hostesses with blatant lust, laughing like morons and licking their lips. Arthur tightened his grip on his felt-tip pen as one of the men reached out to grab at the hem of the woman’s dress.

“You don’t have to be such a tease,” The man slurred, tossing the hostess a cheap grin, winking at her. “This little number already gave me a semi.”

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Arthur smoothed back his hair and stood. He had heard enough. “It’s time for you to leave her alone.” He spoke slowly, deliberately, each word chosen. “She obviously isn’t interested.”

One of the men looked him up and down, most likely taking in his shabby attire and thin build, nose scrunched in distaste. “Why don’t you mind your own business, you fuckin’ loser?”

The woman took this moment to quickly slip behind Arthur and disappear through the velvet curtains behind the bar. He didn’t miss the subtle squeeze to his arm as she passed, though.

The man with grabby fingers threw up his hands in frustration. “Great, you scared her off!” He grabbed his suit jacket with the intention to leave. “Thanks a lot, freak.”

Arthur slid his hands into the front pockets of his slacks and stayed put, regarding them wordlessly as they stumbled out of the bar. He took a few deep breaths, lashes fluttering. The pistol in his coat pocket felt hot. Heavy. He licked his lips.

“Hey, sir?”

Opening his eyes, Arthur turned. The hostess was back, now wrapped up in a long winter coat made of dark fleece. She was quite striking. He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, hello.”

“Thank you for standing up for me,” she told him, her voice hushed with appreciation. “You really saved me there.”

A smile spread over Arthur’s lips. He dipped his chin to regard her softly. “I’m glad to have helped.”

The woman mirrored his smile and readjusted her purse over her shoulder with gloved fingertips. “Gotham wouldn’t be so awful if there were more men like you.”

With that, she pushed up onto her toes, pressed a kiss to Arthur’s cheek — her mouth was so warm and inviting against his cool skin — and left the establishment with a kind wave.

Arthur blinked rapidly, a bit of a flush having crawled up his throat at the affection, and made his way back to the bar. The way she had treated him certainly calmed the heat in his veins, but worry still itched at him, made his neck stiff. He sat, took a sip of his whiskey, and stared at the journal in front of him.

It took him a moment or two to spot it, but a message was scribbled on the top corner of the page, upside-down. He flipped the journal over to read it.

I’d much rather give my number to you. 555-3842

Arthur ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a dazed laugh. It was hard to fight off the toothy grin this time, charmed and thoroughly taken aback, but it didn’t last long — a loud thump from outside made his head jerk up. Followed by another. Then another.

Thump. Thump. Crash.

Eyes flashing, Arthur drained the rest of his drink, shoved the journal into his back pocket and made his way toward the exit with long, determined strides.

The back of the bar led out into one of Gotham’s many dilapidated alleyways, littered with trash and neglected dumpsters. Arthur looked around wildly, hair falling into his eyes, and took off into an angry sprint towards the noise. There were definitely sounds of a struggle — nothing innocent going on here.

A feminine, muffled cry made his pulse spike dangerously and Arthur whipped around to see a huddle of bodies moving behind an abandoned car. He seethed at the sight in front of him and felt a growl build like a storm in his chest.

The men from before hadn’t given up so easily — not with all of that liquor and self-entitlement in their blood. It seemed as though they had waited for the bartender and were now taking turns holding her down. One of her leather gloves had been shoved into her mouth. Her head was bleeding.

Moving with pure adrenaline and a liberating amount of fury, Arthur strode forward, cocked his gun and placed a bullet into the knee of the woman’s current captor. The man immediately fell away from her with a loud cry, blood pouring out of his tailored slacks.

“What the fuck!”

Index finger flirting with the trigger on his handgun, Arthur watched the men begin to scatter and took the opportunity to help the woman to her feet. She was sobbing, nose and eyes wet, a bit of a bruise already beginning to swell on the apple of her cheek.

He hesitated, at war with himself on how to continue. The last thing he wanted to do was let these men escape, but if it came with the added cost of traumatizing this poor woman —

“They were going to kill me,” she spluttered, seeming to be gasping for air. Arthur quickly glanced down to her neck and took in the bruises forming there too. His stomach twisted. “Please don’t let them get away. Please.”

—

Everything ached. The back of your head, the hollow of your throat. Your ribs, your shins, your feet. Your knuckles. It was hard to see straight through all of this pain, but through your tears you watched as your hero from the bar began to chase down the men who beat you.

He had told you not to look, to cover your ears, and you did as you were told, squeezing your eyes shut and falling to your knees. You shrunk into yourself as you tried not to vomit.

You could still hear the gun shots. Each one made your body jerk with alarm. You counted six of them, some staggered, some rapid.

Then silence.

Wiping snot from your face with the sleeve of your jacket, you gathered the courage to look up, your head spinning wildly at the movement. Black spots began to form in your line of vision, your ears ringing and throat burning. You were going to faint. Or throw up. Or both.

You soon lost the concept of balance and placed your hands out in front of you to stop yourself from falling over, hissing as your palms came in contact with broken glass and filth. The sight of blood on your hands brought on a fresh wave of tears that stung as they rolled down your cheeks.

Minutes went by without movement, without noise. You started to think that maybe he wasn’t coming back for you. Maybe he didn’t feel obligated to return. He had done enough, going after those guys. Your chin trembled. You were still so frightened. You wanted him back.

But then — footsteps, crescendoing and sloshing quickly through puddles and garbage. Footsteps that came to a sliding, somewhat clumsy halt in front of you.

“Sorry. Ran out of bullets.” The man was clearly out of breath, hardly able to speak through his panting. “Had to use my hands.”

Relief crashed over you in waves, causing you to fall forward, but he caught you with strong arms and held you carefully. You collapsed into his embrace, weeping into the fabric of his jacket. He smelled like blood. And paint. You gripped onto him, afraid to let go, thanked him relentlessly through whispers.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. It’s okay.” Lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he pulled you closer. “I promise you, they’re not coming back.”

#joker #joker x reader #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #joaquin phoenix #to my mind arthur became joker after killing his mother which is why i don't have him wearing face paint quite yet #crosses my fingers for no typos because it's nearly 5AM #drabble

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copias-thrall · 4 years

Note

Can we get an NSFW head cannon with the papa’s+cardinal about which love potions they give their fav sister of sin?

Hi, anon! What a saucy ask! Here we go …

*dubcon*

Papa Nihil: [Ed. I’m going to deviate a little here] He once discovered a potion to bring back lost love from a traveling priestess of Hecate. He was dubious at first, but she gave him a vial with just enough for one dose, which he then surreptitiously put in Sister Imperator’s tea. It worked like—well—a charm. By late afternoon, Imperator was in his office, nothing under her habit but racy red lingerie with garters and a riding crop hidden up her sleeve. She’d made him prostrate himself and kiss her patent Mary Janes while asking for forgiveness. She then made him worship her by having him eat her out on his desk with strict orders he was not to touch himself. Once she was satisfied, she had him kneel at her feet in the nude. Then—as she counted out his Hail Satan’s full of ungrace—she whipped his hard cock with her crop as his penance until he begged her for release. She ordered him to get up and stand against the wall, where she gave him a quick and perfunctory hand job, making him lick his spend off her fingers.

That night, Nihil bought every last drop of potion from the priestess. The priestess left on the next full moon with the warning to use the potion only to coax the cold ashes of their love back into an ember—all of which went into one ear and out the other. Papa is not known for self reflection or a willingness to change his behavior, so he simply got used to putting a drop in her cup every morning. They had a swinging good reunion … until he stopped dosing her (surely she must love him again by now!). No longer under the thrall of the potion, she became suspicious, and when she found the vials …. She became spitting mad and flew at Nihil in a righteous rage, nearly slitting his throat with a wicked letter opener.

Three Ghouls had to pull her off him!

In addition to dumping out the contents of the bottles, she made Nihil her slave for the same duration to really hit home what he’d done. (He was smart enough not to tell her that it was actually quite enjoyable for him, especially when the crop made more appearances for correction.) Now, he likes to think they can look back and laugh about it, but everyone else seems to notice her eye twitch when he recounts the “escapade.”

Papa I: He just wants to feel that first blush of ardent, youthful love again. His potion is less about creating false feelings and more about amplifying what’s already there. He invites you to his chambers for a quiet meal, the wine goblets both laced with the draught. After the meal is eaten and the wine is drunk, Papa I leads you to his bedchambers, where he slowly undresses you, reverently. Despite his ostentatious, ceremonial vestments, Papa I isn’t a man obsessed with fine things, so under your habit you’re dressed in simple, cotton undergarments (you tried wearing mesh and lace once, but he only perfunctorily complimented you, then took them off). As he slips off your bra and panties, he makes sure to run a light touch over your nipples and your ass. It makes you shiver, your skin goosepimpling. As he bends to help you out of your panties, he places a chaste kiss on each ankle bone. Then your calves. Then the inside of your knee. Soon he’s kneeling, hands traveling up your haunches, so he can reach first the inside of your thighs before placing a kiss to the lips of your cunt. He’d probably even be happy to eat you out like that, but you pull him up by his vestments—eager to remove them—and the two of you share a deepening kiss before tumbling onto the bed.

He makes love to you slow and close, whispering praises into your skin—and then the feelings hit you like an explosion. He must feel them too, because all of a sudden you’re both gasping and clutching at each other for dear life. You feel such overwhelming love for this man! The sun rises and the moon set with him, and even if you got excommunicated from the Church, it would be ok as long as you had him by your side. Your climax is a soft, quiet thing even as his has him stuttering and moaning out. Soon, he’s covering your face in kisses, and you realize that he’s crying; so you make sure to kiss each and every teardrop away.

The next day you feel like a truck backed over you. Papa I is clearly in no better shape the way he’s curled in on himself next to you. The feeling from the night before seems just within reach—even if trying to capture it again is like trying to hold fistfuls of sand. Papa is shaking, and you realize it’s because he’s crying, so you roll him into you, letting him bury his tears into your shoulder.

Papa II: His chosen love potion isn’t about making you love him at all—it’s about making sure you don’t love anybody else. He’s going back on tour soon, and he can’t stand the idea that you may fall into another’s arms while he’s away. It’s the night before the before, and he has you strung up in cuffs, your toes just about touching the floor. His teasing is making your twist and turn about, but to no avail. A gloved swipes at your nipple.

“And what’s this?” he asks.

“Yours, sir!” you gasp.

“And this?” he asks again as he squeezes your ass.

Again you respond that it’s his. He repeats his question as he teases every inch of your body. He finally gets to your pussy, tracing a leather finger down each lip before plunging in between your folds.

“And who belongs here?” as asks, now close into your ear as he fingers you.

“Only you, sir!” you cry out.

For once you don’t try to get away as he fondles you close to orgasm. Close to orgasm. He removes his fingers from your clit and his body from yours just when you’re close to tipping over. You wine and try to twist toward him, but he’s just out of reach. There’s a crack on your behind, and then he’s asking you to stick out your tongue. He produces the bottle and puts two drops on your tongue before ordering you to swallow.

He leaves you then, only coming back intermittently to bring you close to climaxing, before leaving you again. You cry and beg for him, but he’s not swayed; he’s never swayed. The next time he comes back, it’s with a brother of sin—one you’ve openly expressed thirst for. The guy is pale, the whites of his eyes showing. Papa II pushes him toward you.

“Well, go on, boy. Seduce her.”

He gives one, last, nervous look at Papa, before he’s in your space. His hands hover before finally settling on manipulating your nipples. And it’s all wrong, it’s not him—not Papa. All you can feel is a strong revulsion toward this boy. You try to twist and squirm away from him—the look on his face pure misery—until Papa II calls out Enough. He dismisses the Brother you once found so appealing—who all but hightails it in a cloud of dust—and comes over to pet and coo at you. He praises you and calls you his good girl. He covers your cunt with his hand.

“Now, my pet—whose are you?”

“Yours! Only yours, Sir!”

His finger slips into you, rests there.

“And whose commands do you follow?”

“Yours, sir!”

His finger begins to move, just a little.

“And if I command you to let a Ghoul administer this potion to you every 48hrs? Will you do so without resistance or complaint?”

“YES, SIR.”

His other hand grips you by the jaw and forces you to meet his two-toned gaze.

“Yes. I think you will.”

After that, he brings you to a screaming climax before he lets you down and fucks your pliant body. He’s nothing if not a stickler, so—after some aftercare and nap—he has you sign an amendment to your contract. You could have told him that his measures were unnecessary, but some part of you is thrilled that his affection for you hasn’t waned.

Papa III: He is all about sexual pleasure. Love schmove! Lust is his sin, baby, and he doesn’t need to worry about someone beating their chest and rending their garments because of him. He just wants to make you feel good. He won’t say how he acquired it—and he uses it sparingly enough—but he has a love potion that can connect lovers intimately. He explains that you both have to take it and exchange … fluids … to connect, but when you inquire as to how it works, he just wiggles his fingers and singsongs, Magic. He places several drops on his tongue, and you stick out your tongue, but instead of putting some on your tongue, he draws you into a deep kiss. He practically sucks your tongue into his mouth as his twists and tangles against your soft palate.

When he pulls away, spit strings still connecting the two of you, he says, “What? Did you think I meant other kinds of fluids?”

You slap at him, and he pretends that you’ve wounded him terribly, causing you to giggle. The two of you begin to hastily undress each other, hindered only by both of you pausing to nip and suck at each other’s flesh as it becomes uncovered. Soon enough you’re both naked and tangled in the sheets and each other. Papa III is a generous lover on his worst days, but tonight the two of you are eager to feel each other through this supposed bond, so the foreplay is a little rushed.

Even so, you’re still wet and ready to go when Papa urges you on top of him. You brace your hands on the heated skin of his chest as you sink down on his hard cock. And that’s when you feel it—a sudden spike of pleasure that you’re positive is not your own (being filled by his cock is always nice, but it usually takes a little more stimulation to get you as amped up as you suddenly feel). Your surprised moan is almost drowned out by the guttural one Papa III punches from his gut. You meant to ride the fuck out of him, but the feeling of his pleasure has your back arching and your head lolling sloppily.

Papa is suddenly upright and in your space, sucking at the exposed line of your neck. Your nails dig into his arms as he bounces you on his cock, and you feel the echo of the pained pleasure of it. Papa moans at the echo of your pleasure at his, and it’s not long before the two of you are raw nerves. You thought you’d both be going at it like rabbits, but the pleasure loop is making it hard for either of you to do anything but grind at each other in slow, deliberate circles. You have no idea how you’re barely moving and yet still such a vibrating, live wire.

The echo is getting closer, louder. You don’t think you’re moving at all, but still your arousal ratchets up and fills you from your curling toes to your open, silent mouth. You thought you’d be able to tell the difference between your pleasure and his, but right now you just feel. You’re like a balloon, and your latex is beginning to stretch and strain. Eyes rolling back, all you can feel is the unrelenting pulse of pleasure as Papa pants and mewls into your skin.

The bubble bursting seems inevitable, but it’s still a surprise when you burst, and somehow this is the best and the worst part of the whole experience. It’s almost too much to feel, too much to comprehend, and you seize up as the white-hot, blinding light knocks all sense and thought from you. Someone’s screaming bloody murder—and at some point you realize it’s you—but fuck if you care. Who even knows what sound Papa III is making, but you’re dimly aware of him mouthing at your shoulder.

It’s hard to tell how long the feedback loop goes on for, but when you begin to regain your senses, you realize that you’re on your side and clasped tight into Papa’s chest. And that’s as far as you get before the exhaustion hits you, and it makes sense—you are feeling everything double after all.

Copia: The problem Copia has is that before Ghost, he wasn’t in such high demand. He was by no means celibate, but the sheer volume of offers just weren’t there. At first, he reveled in the attention—rolled around in it, and rubbed it all over himself—but the shine soon wore off when he began to realize some of his lovers only found his position with the clergy attractive. His wake up call was when—in the middle of heated foreplay—one of his conquests accidentally touched his pudge on the way down to his cock, and they recoiled in disgust. After that, Copia couldn’t stop seeing all the little tells when a lover wasn’t really into him.

Obviously, on tour it doesn’t matter—the groupies are only there for the night, and even the hopeful initiates only really require one taking. But back at the Abbey, it’s a different story. Copia is now hyper aware that any Sibling who shows interest could be faking it. Which is why he uses a love potion on you. You, who were all blushes and ducked heads at first, but are now heated glances and lascivious touches. He just needs to be sure, so he finds a love potion meant to amplify feelings.

Now, was that 2 drops or 3 …?

You show up at his quarters for a nightcap. It’s been a busy week, and the two of you have only had the briefest of interactions, so this is a welcome invitation. For some reason the drink goes straight to your head, and soon you’re looking at Copia like he’s a tall glass of water in the middle of the desert. You want him desperately, and you manhandle him into his bedroom. The desire to own him, to show him that he’s yours, overwhelms you. You order him onto the bed as you fish around in your drawer for your cock and a bottle of lube. He complies as you buckle your cock around your hips.

As you climb onto the bed, you press him down into the mattress. With lube-slick fingers you test his hole and prep him appropriately as he moans in pleasure. You drape yourself over his back to hiss into his ear, “You’re mine, Copia,” before you push your cock into him. He lets out a moan of ecstasy even as you push his face down into the pillow. Gripping his hips tight, you make sure your angle hits his sweet spot as you thrust into him. He’s scrabbling at the sheets, but you’re relentless in showing him how much you own his body with your cock. The closer he gets, the more grabby you get. Copia is panting and trembling—you can tell he’s close—so you turn on your vibration.

“You make me so fucking hot,” you growl.

With the help of your hand, he’s soon cumming hard—you following close on his heels. Even after your orgasm, the intense feelings of ownership don’t subside; you’re clutching Copia to you and rubbing your juices all over his skin. “Everyone should smell me on you,” you grumble as you try to meld into his skin while grabbing at his flesh. You end up falling asleep like that.

When you wake up, it’s to profound embarrassment—how could you act that way? Of course you don’t own Copia. Why did you do that? He’s still dead asleep, but when you try to leave the bed, he wakes enough to draw you back to him. Feeling guilty, you try and bring up the night before with him—but he just snuggles you closer and says that he could never be mad at someone whose affection for him was true.

#asks #the papas #cardinal copia #love potion #dubcon

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turtlepated · 4 years

Text

The Ghost and the She-wolf

Part 1

You guys, I have been BLOWN A W A Y but the reception this little something has received in such a short time! All the love and the fangirling has been wonderful, thank you all so much! I was so excited that I already finished part 2!

And so I present to you, the continuing adventures of Captain Zhuk and Captain Y/N !

Tagging @monsterlovinghours, Momther of us all and creator of the Mafia!Beejs!

Also @insomni-snacc !

Hopefully the link to Part 1 worked if anybody wants a refresher before diving in.

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Part 2 -

The ocean had spilled into your head, sloshing against the inside of your skull with each movement in ebbs and flows like the tides. Or so it felt, anyway. Why would your skull be full of water? Memory returned sluggishly, dredged up from the depths of your mind: canons blasting, blood-curdling screams of dying men, the bones of the ship, your ship, breaking like dry reeds in the coils of a nightmarish creature. You recalled the angry shrieking of the monster, and the fireball erupting under your feet. Your mouth was filled with the taste of salt. Your eyes were open but they saw nothing and panic spiked in your chest. Slowly, light filtered to you as if through thick cloth, growing brighter all the time and you would have breathed a sigh of relief if you were able to breathe just then. You remembered what had happened, but that did not explain where you were now, or whose shapes were gathered around you.

The blurry shapes were moving, clustered in a loose circle at the edges of your slowly broadening field of vision, and gradually you realized that the harsh ringing in your ears was giving way to low murmuring, as of people talking quietly amongst themselves. A dark form loomed directly over you, and you could hear a voice, rich as strong coffee and deep as the boom of cannon fire, speaking softly to you, “Dyshite, sladkaya veshch'. Vy dolzhny dyshat'.” You frowned, or tried to, struggling against the feeling that you were treading water. Your limbs felt so heavy, so weak, but you fought to move, to speak, to do anything other than lie here on your back while this foreign stranger whispered to you in a tongue you did not understand. “Vot i vse, vernis' seychas. Dyshi dlya menya.” Quite suddenly you coughed, and then you retched, your midsection spasming violently as it purged saltwater out your mouth. Large hands, strong and calloused, grasped your shoulders and turned you onto your side as you heaved up a staggering amount of seawater, coughing and gasping for sweet air. Exhausted, you lay on what you now realized was wooden decking, panting to catch your breath and trying to take stock of where you had found yourself. The salty breeze and gentle rocking of the deck indicated you were on a ship, but the Invictus would be at the bottom of the sea by now. Which left only one other ship close enough to haul you aboard before you drowned. Cold fury settled over your body as you shakily raised yourself up, bracing your arms beneath you for support as you took a proper look around to confirm your suspicions.

The faces around you, the men around you, were not familiar. There was no uniformity to them, they were a hodgepodge of ethnicities and styles of dress and builds. Most appeared intrigued by you, some were leering meanly, elbowing their neighbors to share muttered words that drew ugly laughter from those in earshot. All, you noticed, bore numerous weapons on his person, leaving you at a distinct disadvantage. Last of all your eyes fell on the bulky form closest to you, kneeling at your side and dripping wet just as you were; it could only be him who had pulled you from the water. He wore black from head to toe, wool breeches tucked into worn boots of black leather, his dark tunic plastered to his body and exhibiting his impressive physique. “Ah,” he said congenially. “Still among the living, volchitsa. You are a tough one, no?”

His voice was deep, rumbling from far down in his broad chest, heavily accented, but his English was fluid enough to suggest long practice and easy familiarity. At his light, teasing tone there was a ripple of laughter from the men around the two of you. You raised your head with deliberate slowness, meeting his eyes in a defiant glare. It was him, of course it was. Prizrak, “The Ghost”. Zhuk stared right back, seeming unbothered and even amused by your contemptuous expression. You sized one another up, this was the first time you’d ever been in such close contact. His skin was pale, almost gray, his chin and jaw and cheek bones dusted with stubble. His eyes were a deep emerald, so dark they appeared black at first glance. A scar bisected his left brow. His sodden hair, swept straight back from his forehead, looked green as well, but it must have been a trick of the light. As if reading the confused expression on your face, his shoulders bounced gently as he chuckled. “Taking it all in, I see. You’ve made quite a mess, volchitsa. Just look at what you’ve done to my ship.”

Zhuk rose easily to his feet, gesturing up over your heads. You stood on wobbly legs, willing with every ounce of resolve you possessed to keep your trembling knees from buckling under you as your gaze followed his gesture. Torn sails, splintered wood and snapped rigging hung down from the masts like Spanish moss, your work, of course, and you felt a surge of fierce pride but said nothing. Zhuk waved one of his men forward to report on the damage, speaking in rapid Russian as though you weren’t even there. As their conversation continued a loud, low rumbling from behind you caught your attention and you turned to look, crying out in alarm and backing hastily away as the face of the sea monster appeared at the rail.

When your eyes met, it’s pupils contracted into dangerous slits, recognition burning in the sickly yellow orbs. Its hide was mottled with angry red burns, and you reflected on it’s predatory speed as it feasted on your men. You swallowed hard, wondering if you would now meet the same fate. “Now, now, none of that,” Zhuk called, sounding like a patient parent scolding an ill-behaved child as he turned to see the beast rearing over the side of his ship. “She only just got here, but I understand your feelings. Come, drakon, let me see.” Still growling at you with thin lips drawn back over teeth like ivory daggers, the sea serpent did as he said. Your eyes widened in disbelief as the monster that broke your ship in half laid its enormous head in Zhuk’s arms while he carefully examined the wounds he could reach. It was like watching a loyal pet with its master, except the pet was a vicious sea serpent and the master a notorious pirate. He was even crooning to it in his native language. “Well done, moy drug. Go on now, back to your home. Rest and heal,” he said to it, pushing its head away with teasing fondness. It withdrew obediently, pausing long enough to snarl at you once more before slipping down the side of the ship and disappearing into the water without so much as a ripple.

You stood in stunned stillness, chest heaving slightly as the crew began setting to work clearing rubble off the deck. Zhuk was again speaking in Russian to one of the men, his bosun, perhaps, but only you seemed at all affected by the bizarre interaction that had just taken place. All at once you made a realization, and the shock of it made you gasp. “It was you!” you rasped, rounding on him. “You sent that beast after my ship!” All movement stopped, every man frozen in place as all glanced apprehensively between you and their captain. Zhuk said nothing, unmoved in the face of your furious accusation. His expression was inscrutable, but when he spoke again it was with the same judicious tone as before. “You and I need to have a little discussion, volchitsa, but this is not the time nor the place.” Zhuk turned back to his crewman. “Bosun, show our guest to her stateroom.”

With that he turned away as the crew resumed their duties and got repairs underway. The man he’d spoken to in Russian, the one you had correctly assumed to be his bosun, moved to stand at your elbow and gestured you forward towards the doorway that led below deck.

[TBC]

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[Translations: “Breathe, sweet thing. You must breathe.” “That’s it, come back now. Breathe for me.” If they’re wrong it’s all Google’s fault.]

I’m not telling yet what volchitsa is, but ya’ll can probably figure it out.

If you’d like to be tagged in upcoming chapters (??) let me know!

Thanks again for reading!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #mafia!beej #zhuk #pirate!zhuk #zhuk x reader #my writing #Pate writes

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years

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Bad Girl Go Good (Colt x MC, N*FW)

A/N: A super dirty request from Des (thanks babe!); I don’t think I got everything you wanted but I definitely got in the three lines and I hope this is good enough.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~3800 words

Rating: N*FW (Swearing. Sex. Spanking. Oral Sex. Jesus, it’s just dirty, please be warned.)

Summary: Ellie knows she shouldn’t try to make Colt jealous. She knows this. She just…does it anyways.

Ellie looked over, biting her lip, mulling his question over in her head; she was vividly remembering when she got here, only an hour before, a kiss on the forehead and a low portent in whisper. “I need to take some meetings. Be good.”

This? This would not be good.

“Come on.” The guy (Ryan? Bryan? Something like that?) placed a gentle hand on her hip. “Just one dance.”

Ellie sighed through her nose. Whatever his name was, he was right; she knew that this wasn’t a date when Colt took her to the sideshow, she knew he was here on business, but she was hoping for a little bit more consideration than a head nod. She glanced over, once more, but he was thoroughly engaged in a conversation with a stranger whose stupid spiked hair and neck tattoo were obviously much more worthy of attention than she was.

“Fine.” She turned back to the guy in front of her, all hopeful eyes and preppy blazer, someone she would have never noticed if she weren’t being ignored. She didn’t even know if she would be seen, if it would evoke any kind of jealousy, but a large, bitter part of her hoped. “Just one dance.”

He took her hand to lead her into the dance floor, not noticing the frown on her face. She didn’t want to dance with this unnamed boy. She didn’t want to hold his hand or stop in the middle of the dance floor or start to move as he tried to talk in her ear. She definitely didn’t want to smell the alcohol of his cologne while he pulled her close to move to the beat.

She hazarded a glance through the crowd, past the drunken revelers and exhaust smoke; Colt still stood in the same spot, speaking to someone different now, but she could tell he was standing ramrod straight, hands in fists in his pockets. Great. If his work was going poorly, maybe she would be stuck here for hours.

She was relieved when the song ended, pulsing beat fading into something sultry and heated, but the stranger caught her arm when she turned.

“One more dance.” Pleading eyes caught hers. “Please.”

She looked around again and this time she couldn’t see Colt; he had moved out of sight of the makeshift dance floor. It may be petty but she knew his jealous streak; she knew the surest way to be pulled towards the exit would be to show interest in someone else. She tried to suppress her eye roll but wasn’t quite sure she succeeded. “Fine. Last dance.”

“Okay.”

She felt guilty. The guy in front of her seemed sweet, with a cute smile and hesitant dance steps that were worlds away from moody boys in leather jackets who clasped her hips like he owned them. It wasn’t this stranger’s fault that he wasn’t at all what she wanted. She sighed and tightened her arms around his shoulders, resolving to finish this dance and find Colt.

But when the dance had ended and she made her way out of the crowd, she found that it was neither easy to find Colt nor to get rid of her random dance partner, who had follow close behind.

“Hey, Ellie?” Crap. How did he know her name and she didn’t know his? She felt even guiltier.

She glanced around for Colt again but he had completely vanished. “Yeah?”

“Listen, I was having a great time dancing with you. I’d love to see you again sometime.” He stepped closer, eyes hopeful.

“I actually have to-” She gasped when he leaned even closer, intention crystal clear, his eyes trained on her lips. Crap. It was almost slow motion, his slow lean, her shock, her stepping away, and then the hand on her forearm, pulling her backwards so, instead of anonymous stranger, all she could see was familiar leather adorning a familiar shoulder.

“Back off.” Crap. Colt’s voice was barely restrained, the calm, even tone more frightening than a shout would have been. His hands were in fists, squaring off against the preppy boy, and Ellie felt her stomach clench. Guilt? Pride? Anticipation? She had seen those hands punch and grapple and fight; she had also felt those hands do other things that made her insides squirm.

The nameless boy took two large steps back, hands up in surrender, trying to put space between himself and the storm in front of him. “Whoa whoa whoa, man, I didn’t mean-”

“I said back off.” Colt didn’t even need to raise his voice before the kid fled, disappearing into the crowd so quickly she would have sworn it had all been a figment of her imagination.

Except.

The look in Colt’s eyes? Dark. Dangerous. Calculating. Furious.

The butterflies in her stomach? Eager. Nervous. Anticipating. Impatient.

“Let’s go,” he huffed, curtly.

She could only nod.

~~~~~

The ride home was silent. Granted, it was hard to hold a conversation with the rush of wind ripping through motorcycle helmets, but neither Colt nor Ellie even tried. His back was tense the entire way, muscles rigid underneath her fingertips as she clung to him. She had no problem playing with fire, had never been scared of the burn, but maybe she went too far this time?

Or maybe, as far as she and Colt were concerned, maybe there was no too far.

He threw the bike in park and barely waited for her to slide off before he was gone, throwing his helmet down and storming up to their room, stomping the entire way in a pique of rage. Ellie knew why he was pissed. She knew exactly why, the tremor in her stomach marking her as guilty, a willing participant in stoking his jealousy.

She followed, slowly, knowing he would need a few minutes on his own to cool down. She needed him jealous but not furious. Carefully schooling her face into her most innocent expression, long lashes batting in front of doe eyes, she walked into the room. “What’s wrong?”

He was facing away from her, shoulders raised, but spun when he heard the question. “What’s wrong.” His voice was unnaturally flat. Calm. Impassive. Crap.

“You, ah. You just seem. Upset?”

“Seriously?” He ripped his jacket off his shoulders and threw it to the floor. “Seriously? I’m in meetings for ten minutes and the next thing I know, some guy has his hands all over you?”

“That isn’t exactly what-”

“Isn’t it?” He stepped closer, eyebrows drawn into a dark angle that cautioned at the danger ahead. Apparently she had stopped being good at heeding these warnings, though, preferring to head straight into the unknown than remain on the sidelines of her old life.

She blinked at him, chin against her chest demurely. “Well, you weren’t exactly paying attention to me.”

“So you decided to pay attention to someone else?”

She looked at the floor. “It was just one dance.”

“Two dances and he tried to kiss you.”

“You were ignoring me.”

“So you decided this would get my attention?”

She flushed. Apparently Colt had been watching the entire exchange. She studied the floor, knowing that it was better to wait than respond. He walked toward her, slowly circling as Ellie fought every instinct to look up. She felt like prey as he stalked around her, predatory; she was a fly in a web, a mouse in a trap, and he was a ravenous creature going to destroy her in the most delicious way possible.

Finally, when Ellie’s toes were curled, pressing into the floor with the herculean effort of staying still, he spoke, voice dark. “I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to.”

She sucked in a breath through her nose, watching as he backed up to lean against the desk, crossing his arms in a feigned display of relaxation. But there was nothing relaxed about the fire in his eyes.

“Are you gonna be good for me, Ellie?”

“Yes,” she whispered, barely a breath.

“I feel like you planned this.”

Her eyes widened and she liked her lips before responding, watching his eyes ravenously follow every twitch of her tongue. “I’m gonna be so good for you, Colt. Only you.”

“Then strip.”

She swallowed and, never dropping his heated gaze, slowly peeled off her shirt, raising the hem over the butterflies in the stomach, over the purple lace of her bra, over the flush in her cheeks, throwing it on the floor. His eyes never left her, a slow trail over exposed skin.

“Keep going.”

She nodded. Pants next. He looked hungry, gaze sharp on every move of her hands, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them over her legs, kicking off her heels along the way. She could feel the goosebumps erupt over her body, the cool air and anticipation making her limbs tingle.

He nodded, pointedly, and she waited a beat before she kept going, nimble fingers easily getting her bra off. Another nod and her underwear joined the pile on the floor. She waited, cautious eyes following his every move, as he pushed himself off the desk and strolled over to circle her again, eyes roving up and down her bare skin. Maybe she should feel awkward, stark naked while Colt was fully dressed, eyes raking over her. But she couldn’t feel anything but powerful, commanding his attention and controlling the intensity in his gaze without saying a word, a willing participant in his thrall.

Finally, he sauntered back to his desk and all it took was the crook of one index finger for Ellie to move, drawn like a moth to the fire in his eyes.

“Bend over the desk.” He moved out of the way so she could lean, position herself so she was on top of her school work, research on 18th century literature for an essay that she wouldn’t be able to finish without thinking about this very moment, her bare ass in the air, dark oak clutched between her fingers as she waited for Colt to punish her, to fuck her, to do something, anything.

He was right behind her and then everywhere as he leaned over. “You’ve been so bad, haven’t you, baby?” She could feel him, cotton t-shirt against her bare back, lips moving against her neck as he spoke.

She could only whine in response, caged between him and the desk.

“Ellie. Baby. You promise you’re gonna be good for me now?”

“Yessss.” She tried to move her hips back, to grind her ass right where she knew he would be hard and wanting, but strong hands on her hips stopped her, keeping her in place.

“If you want me to stop, just stay the word.”

“I know.”

“Count.”

She barely had time to inhale before the first hit landed, open palm on the flesh of her ass; she tightened her hands against the desk in surprise. It was restrained, a swat, a tease, a hint of what was to come. She shivered.

“Count,” he reminded, hand still cupping the curve of her.

“One.”

The next hit was harder, in a different spot, at the edge where cheek met thigh and she would surely feel it in the morning, and the day after that, a throb when she sat that would remind her of Colt and his jealousy and the fact that she couldn’t help but using that jealousy to her advantage so they could get what they both wanted.

“Two.”

The third hit landed on the other globe of her ass, slightly harder, vibrations of her flesh shooting waves of sensation through her body, into her core. Was it pleasure? Pain? Somewhere in the middle, in the hazy space where the only thing present, the only thing that mattered, was the impact of flesh on flesh and the heat slowly building in her core.

“Three.”

She thought of the first time, the very fist time. The first time his hand clipped her ass had been a swat, a tap, barely a spank, an otherwise unnotable contact while he was swiveling his hips and making her grip the headboard of his bed with fingers that were white at the knuckles. It would have been completely unnotable if not for the moan that tore through her throat, loud and wanton, audible over the sound of their flesh coming together.

She flushed when she realized that she made the same noise tonight, only four hits in, her knuckles again starting to pale as she clutched the edge of his desk.

“Four.”

She loved his hands, she really did. She loved his hands when he worked on his bike, deft fingers turning wrenches and finessing screws. She loved his hands when they gripped her hair or clutched her waist or made her ass bloom the most violent shade of crimson. She loved his hands when the fifth strike landed, down lower, almost her thigh, his other hand a steadying presence on the small of her back, centering her as the tension in her body climbed.

“Five.”

And she adored his hands now, slipping though her folds to apply a fealther of pressure to her clit, dipping inside her entrance, a tease that made her thighs clench.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so wet already.” And she was, God, she was, wet and needy and desperate. He wiped her wetness on her ass and chuckled. “Are you sure you can take five more?”

“Yes.” She nodded, frantically.

He chuckled again at the pleading tone of her voice. “Fuck, Ellie, you look so good like this.”

She could imagine it, naked over his desk with his handprints on her ass, biceps already shaking with the effort of staying still. “Please, Colt, mo-”

The slap on her ass cut her off and echoed around the room.

“Six.”

Fuck, his hands could draw such pleasure from her, spinning it from her veins like a magician, a wave of fingers and slight of hand to make her melt into the sheets. She wanted to write odes about them, tapered graceful fingers again sliding inside of her so easy, where she was warm and wet and so so needy, needing those fingers to stroke and caress and fill her while she trembled around him. She barely had time to tense before those fingers were gone again and another hit landed.

“Seven.”

His hands also bloomed bruises, dark spots of color, vivid on the curve of her ass, the back of her thigh, possessive marks and hand prints that brought tears to her eyes, curses to her lips, and blessed relief to her bones. She was trying to stop her body from shaking, from trembling underneath him; she was sure she couldn’t.

“Eight.”

Those hands were starting to hurt now, her whimpers almost as loud as the sound of his flesh hitting hers, but the pain was warm, comforting, sending vibrations throughout her body and centering in her core, making her want more, more pressure, more pain, more anything.

“Nine.”

She had to bite her lip and screw her eyelids shut, desperately trying to keep from begging, to keep from asking Colt to just fuck her here, against his desk, where her ass was reddened and her nails burrowed divots into the wood and she just needed him to slide his cock inside her and never stop the tortuous pleasure-pain taking over her mind and body.

“Ten.”

She blinked the tears from her eyes and tried not to move, waiting, as he smoothed his palm over her ass. She could feel the phantom sting, the flush of blood raised to the surface; more prominent than that, however, was the wetness between her legs, slick down her thighs an obvious sign of her need. He was still behind her, not moving, and she needed-Jesus. She was sure he was admiring his work, the red on her ass, his hand prints on her. It would take hours to fade. She needed him to do something.

“Good girl. Come here, sweetheart.”

“Colt, please.” Finally, she stood to face him, thighs trembling. “Colt, I need-”

“Do you think you deserve my dick tonight?”

She felt her eyes fill with tears again. She wanted-

“Kneel.” She was on her knees before she realized, looking up at him, waiting again for a command. “Suck me.”

Her fingers were clumsy and she needed two tries before she got the button, shaky fingers making the zipper catch before finally she could pull out his cock. He was so hard, long and thick in her hand, obviously as turned on by spanking her as she was as the recipient of the stinging blows. She relished the silky skin under her fingertips, hands running up and down, before she pulled the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked, hard, hollowing her cheeks to pull him in.

His hand flew to her hair, fisting the strands between his fingers, tight. The pain was sharp, sudden, welcome, and she moved her head forward in appreciation, taking more of him, deeper, and working her tongue up the vein so she could hear the rumble in his chest.

“Ellie, baby, fuck, so good.” She looked up to see dark eyes watching every slide of his cock between her lips. Holding his gaze, she pulled back so she could swirl her tongue around the head, giving a lusty suck. He cursed, low, before tightening his hold on her hand and urging her forward to take him deeper, again and again and again.

She was taking him as deep as she could, throat straining with the effort, swallowing spit and precum in a dirty squelch as her hands ran over his thighs, his balls, any inch of him that she could reach to touch and feel, muscles shaking underneath her ministration.

“Sweetheart, fuck,” Colt whimpered, voice weak and completely undone. “Ellie, touch yourself. Baby, please.”

She couldn’t move fast enough, hand dropping down to find her clit, rough movements in time with the rhythm of her mouth. Dipping two fingers inside, she found she was as drenched as he said, slick positively leaking from her core, wetting her folds and making it so easy to draw rough circles around her clit as familiar warmth started building.

She moaned, sound lost with the cock in her mouth. He obviously felt the vibrations though; with one last tug of her hair, he eased her off his cock and pulled her to stand, hands rough on her arms and pulling her close so her could kiss her, rough, possessive, a testament of ownership in every swipe of his tongue and bite of his teeth. She was pliant and could only follow his lead as he moved her to the bed, nudging her onto all fours. He obviously couldn’t wait, didn’t even take his clothes off, just knelt behind her to kiss across her shoulder blades and down her spine, jeans rough on her reddened thighs.

She clutched the sheet under her fingers as lined himself up before sinking inside her, fully. The noise from her mouth startled even her, low and lusty and almost crazed, and he responded immediately, a deeper thrust that punched the air from her lungs.

“Ellie…baby…” It was incessant, the roll of his hips against hers, and her elbows dropped to the bed. She could barely stay upright, his strong fingers digging into her hipbones the only thing preventing her from collapsing in a mess of liquid, a puddle of need and longing and absolute desire where a person once was.

She couldn’t stop her chapped lips from forming moans, curses, noises of indeterminate origin. “Colt, please.”

She couldn’t even think, could only hold on to the fabric gripped tightly between her fingers and shake. The heat was building with every drag of his cock inside her, every time his hips landed against the red of her ass, every time his jeans chafed against her sore thighs, impact enough to send throbbing warmth up her spine.

Her breaths were coming faster and faster, lungs struggling to provide oxygen to her weary body, when Colt pulled out of her. She gasped at the suddenness, feeling unpleasantly empty, groaning her displeasure into his bed; she heard him behind her, one wet stroke, another, and then a moan as he came, wet heat, liquid fire, landing on her handprint-marred skin, already so warm with the possessive impact of his blows, made hotter still by the streaks of white falling onto her body.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t keep up with the motions of his body, as he spread her legs and dove underneath her. She was still moaning, keening, desperate and hot and so close that, when he wrapped his hands around her thighs to pull her down to his mouth, it only took one gentle touch of that clever tongue underneath her, one press of the sharp edges of short fingernails curling into her ass. Then, she screamed, hurtling over the edge, pleasure radiating through her body and slamming through her brain until it was the only thing she knew and then everything is blessedly, quietly blank.

~~~~~

“Ellie?”

She was floating, far away, somewhere dark, where strong arms kept her warm and safe.

“Ellie?” The tinge of worry in his voice pulled her back, a gauzy tether returning her to earth. “Baby, you ok?”

“Yeah.” The timber of her voice spoke volumes, deep and soft. She couldn’t even open her eyes; it just took too much energy.

The arms were moving, all over, everywhere, all at once, in a dizzying pattern that she couldn’t follow. There were soft touches on her arms, her legs, so careful over the red of her ass, cool and calming on the heated skin. She moaned, unable to show her appreciation any other way, and the warmth against her cheek vibrated, a dark chuckle.

“I’m gonna clean you up now.”

She couldn’t answer, an assenting sigh the only noise she could make, and then there was something wet and soft, wiping where he spilled in streaks against the skin he scored. The feeling of regret was a surprise; she would have wanted to see the white in contrast to the flaming crimson, but it ebbed when he was next to her again, calming hands pulling her close and dropping a soft kiss to her forehead.

She was so tired, almost asleep curled against him when he spoke. “Only me.”

“Huh?” She opened her eyes and her lashes fluttered against his chest.

“You’re only this good for me. Only me. Not the guy at the sideshow.”

Ah. She had already forgotten about the sideshow. “You’re being silly. Only you.” She was fading fast, eyelids fighting a losing battle against her exhaustion. “The only one I ever want is you.”

“You have me,” Colt replied and she could feel him shifting against her, warm and comforting on her side.

“For forever?”

She couldn’t even stay awake to hear the answer, slipping into darkness.

Tags:

Perma @desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @maxwellsquidsuit @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

#playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #choices rod #n*fw #lemon #30 diamond scene #tw:spanking #amy writes

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Resting Grinch Face (baon, 12 days of Cheer)

Note: For the 12 Days of Cheer!

Day #4: Santa

Summary: Searching for Santa Claus in his natural habitat. A shopping mall

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationship, Domestic, Humor, Monsters in the Surface

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The mall was decorated with the kind of manic intensity, every tree bespeckled with lights and oversized ornaments. The traffic barriers were covered in red and white stripes, and bell ringers were at every door, clanging away as they offered holiday guilt to any passersby.

A single step through the doorways, mostly pushed inside by the crowd from behind, only doubled the effect. Trees, garlands, lights. Wreaths fasten upon every wall and door. From overhead came music, cheerful carols pumped through the speakers with jingling intensity, loudly cajoling any listeners to enjoy the season with occasional interruptions to announce sales and to call the parents of a lost child.

In the center plaza was a winter wonderland of sparkling foam and plastic icicles, with a roped-off path leading towards the facade of gingerbread house. On a dais, spectacularly grand for a humble cookie cottage, was a large throne, the sturdiest item in the collection, well able to bear the weight of the large, horned Santa who was firmly sat in its luxurious depths. Children, both Humans and Monster, stood between decorative ropes, following the maze that would lead them to the bearer of gifts.

Edge kept far to the outskirts, standing next to a large support beam that was surrounded by poinsettias. Close enough to watch and assist if necessary, but far enough to keep out of the way. He’d helped plan the event, but for running it, he was more than happy to delegate.

The Trick or Treating event in October had been such a rousing success that Public Relations was hoping to repeat it for the Holiday season. It was a more delicate operation as Humans could be very touchy about sharing what they considered to be their holiday, and Jeff turned out to be very useful in that capacity, carefully checking ideas and keeping any religious aspects away from what should be a joyous time. With all the children and their parents carefully screened along with plenty of extra security, hopes were high that it would go off without a hitch.

If he were honest, Edge could admit he would have preferred to come alone, just in case anything did happen.

But that was about as likely as all the stores suddenly offering free gift wrapping, and he’d kept his opinion to himself, driving over with Stretch bouncing happily next to him, a headband with antlers perched firmly atop his skull and wearing a sweater emblazoned with sleighs and reindeer.

He’d lost Stretch almost immediately in the swirling torrent of holiday shoppers, and while it was perhaps better to have him away from the main festivities, it wasn’t helping Edge’s already roused anxiety to think of him out there alone with crowds of angry Humans demanding the best sale prices for their gifts.

It was good that his self-control didn’t allow any of that to appear on his face. The children in the line, Humans and Monsters alike, already seemed somewhat anxious themselves, staring wide-eyed at the decorations and the hubbub around them. Add in the fact that a large, boisterous and for many of them, unusual Santa was ho ho-ing for all he was worth directly in front of them, it was a wonder none of them were crying from the excitement.

The wall of parents and teachers that ran down both sides of the line surely helped with that. And the fact that all of the security were either dressed discreetly in plain clothes or a few of them donning the costume of Elves, circulating the crowd as they kept an eye and a pointed ear out for threats.

It would forever be a disappointment that his brother had declined a costume.

Jeff wasn’t so lucky. He was dressed up in green tights and rosy painted cheeks, camera in hand to take pictures of each child, plus any candids to add to the press release. The entire event had been planned down to the last candy cane; parents each filling out a sheet with their child’s name and a number of possible gifts for Santa to bring for an eager little one.

Thus far, the line was moving well and from what Edge could see, each child was delighted to tear away the wrapping paper to find something they’d been wishing for. Asgore was in his prime, jolly and laughing as a proper Santa should and even the weary parents were smiling. A rousing success, all the way around.

“looks like it’s going well.” Edge glanced over to see Stretch had managed to sneak up next to him, shopping bags in hand. He didn’t, quite, put it past Stretch to have shortcutted over, but when Edge slid an arm around him and tugged, he willingly moved to stand on the other side, next to the support beam and away from the jostling crowd. That alone was enough to drop his anxiety a notch, nearly two.

“Yes,” Edge agreed. “A success all around; it’ll be good PR, and I believe the children and Santa are enjoying themselves.” He watched as Asgore spoke with another Human child, her eyes wide as he handed her a gift. Her delight as she tore into the package to reveal a set of Legos was dutifully recorded by Jeff, and she nearly fell from Asgore’s knee as she ran to her parents, prize in hand.

There was an odd expression on Stretch’s face, one that Edge couldn’t place. He shifted his arm, squeezing gently.

“Are you all right?” Edge asked low. “I know you aren’t fond of Asgore.” Perhaps he was taking issue to seeing the King he disliked so around so many children. But Stretch only looked at him in surprise.

“huh?” Stretch blinked, then shook his head. “no, it’s not that. it’s just...in underswap, santa didn’t bring presents on gyftsmas day. it was mrs claus. so she’d’ve be the one in the chair, asking the kiddos what they want for gyftmas.”

“Mrs Claus,” Edge repeated, surprised. It was the first he’d heard of this, Blue hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort on their first Gyftmas or any since. But then, they’d been adults, all of them exchanging gifts with each other and there was no expectation of any mythical beings taking the time to wander down the chimney to join the festivities.

“well, yeah,” Stretch smiled, his gaze seemed turned inward. “her husband was too busy in the workshop to be taking time off, so she was always supposed to be keeping tabs on you, making sure you were good. kids were always told to be kind around the holidays because you never knew when mrs claus was around, watching for good deeds.”

He shifted to lay his head on Edge’s shoulder, cheek bone resting on the padding of his more sedate sweater. “then on Christmas eve, she’d come and leave cookies and milk, and put your presents under the tree.”

“Mrs Claus left cookies and milk for you?”

“of course!” Stretch said, almost scornfully, “she was an expert baker! i always thought it was weird you guys left out cookies for santa when he’s got elves baking away in the kitchen with her and the rest of them working in the toy workshop with him.” He shrugged, shoulder jostling against Edge’s. “i’ve gotten used to you weirdos and your santa.”

“I never knew that,” Edge said softly.

“it’s not a big deal,” Stretch said, but Edge couldn’t help wondering. “i mean, it’s not really that different. it’s like everything else in this world; a little bit off, tipped kinda sideways. most of the time, i think it makes it easier, you know? like if it was too similar, it would make it harder. around gyftmas, it gets weird, but not in a bad way.” Stretch nodded at the crowd. “besides, they’re happy.”

They were. The line was dwindling and once they were done, there were activities planned for the children, games and snacks, along with one event that Edge suspected his husband might enjoy. Toriel was there now, setting out trays of sugar cookies cut out into the shapes of stockings and trees and reindeer along with bottles of colorful icing.

Mrs Claus might not provide the gifts here, but she did have cookies well in hand.

“hey,” Stretch stood up straight, rising up on his toes to look even higher over the crowd. “there’s sans...wait, is that your brother??”

The glee in Stretch’s voice made Edge turn, searching through the crowd and finally he caught sight of Red and Sans standing together on the other side of the gingerbread wonderland. They were in plain clothes and he knew both of them had walkie talkies to communicate with the rest of the security team. But Sans had a bright red Santa hat perched on his head, the point falling lazily to the side with a tiny jangling bell at on the pom pom.

And Red…

He might well never know who it was that coaxed Red into donning a hat of his own, nor did he know where they’d found such a hat. It had wide red and black stripes with black leather trim and metal spikes studding the band. Extra spikes were on the ball at the end, turning it more into an impromptu flail than a pom pom.

A ferocious scowl completed the look, for all the world like Santa’s grumpiest elf, watching over the children with a fierce, crimson gaze.

Edge dragged his eye lights away before he was caught staring, not bothering to reach for his phone. No doubt Sans and Stretch would get plenty of photographic evidence, skillfully hidden from all attempts to purge them.

Instead, he looked at the children again, at Asgore, who was ho ho-ing as they all sang a round of Jingle Bells with far more enthusiasm than skill. Here at a shopping mall, surrounded by garish decorations, Monsters and Humans were standing together peacefully as they watched all their children playing. Edge’s husband was standing at his side and his brother was wearing a Santa hat.

Truly it was a Gyftmas miracle.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #kustard #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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spaceskam · 5 years

Text

Make All The Madness Go Away (a buffy au)

Day 1 of Michael Guerin Week: Welcome to the party

Special thanks to @tempest-nova for giving me the idea of Michael as Spike and @michaels-blackhat for listening to me ramble for hours about it before i never brought it up again because i didn’t want to be annoying

ao3

“I didn’t say it was bad, I said it wasn’t my type of thing.”

“What do you mean? You’re the Slayer! Xena should be your queen! Oh my god, I feel like I don’t even know you!”

Liz snorted as she let Maria continue to ramble on about the cultural significance of Xena: The Warrior Princess. She could understand that having strong, powerful women in media was important, but Liz was already living that life. She didn’t want to go home and watch more of it.

Somewhere during Maria’s empowering and distracting speech, a car sped right past them and almost hit them. Liz scoffed and prepared to yell after it, but she was stopped when it slammed right into a tree. Her eyes widened.

“Shit,” Maria breathed and they shared a single look before running towards the smoking wreckage. So much for patrolling.

Liz and Maria checked the window of the backseat first, making sure there were no children before they moved to the front. The driver seemed to be conscious, haphazardly pawing at the door handle. When she tried the door, it was jammed closed, so she used a little bit of Slayer strength to rip it open. The driver spilled out and Liz caught him. He gave a bloody smile.

“Slayer, my hero,” he said, “Long time no see.”

Liz let him fall to the pavement.

“Maria,” she called, double-checking to make sure she was okay. She came around the car to stand beside her, both women staring at the laughing figure on the ground. He had long, unruly curls that were splayed around his head on the ground and was wearing all black head to toe, even down to the leather duster and combat boots. “Who are you?” Liz demanded.

He rolled over, still laughing as he dragged himself to his feet. Liz instinctively pushed Maria behind her, putting space between her and whatever this thing was who knew her.

“Oh, don’t you remember me? Wait, wait, wrong species, Slayers don’t pass on their memories. Whoops,” he chuckled, spitting blood on the ground and dusting himself off, “Oh well, perfect timing. I was indeed looking for you and your rag-tag team of hooligans.”

Liz narrowed her eyes at him. “Why would you be looking for me?”

He blinked all innocently and gave a smile. He pushed his hair to the side before gesturing to himself then doing a little twirl whenever she still didn’t seem to recognize him.

“Do they teach you anything? I would’ve thought you’d at least hear about me. Michael the Brilliant?” he asked wistfully. She still didn’t know “I know at least one book said I was possessed by the most wrathful demon God ever banished so they called me Rath. Does that ring a bell?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!” Michael, apparently, whined, “I killed four Slayers and I don’t even get credit?”

Liz slowly felt for the stake in her back pocket. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Why are you in Roswell?” Liz demanded. She didn’t need to know any more about this vampire. He clearly was overconfident and that meant he needed to go. But she also needed to make sure he didn’t have others like him just floating around Roswell.

“Funnily enough, I need your assistance. Since you’re so kind to Maxwell, I figured you might extend that kindness,” he said, that charming smile on display. Liz furrowed her eyebrows even more and felt Maria grab her arm.

“You know Max?” Liz asked, refusing to show any weakness even if she was curious.

“Oh, Slayer,” Michael laughed, “I just told you I’ve killed four of you! Do you think I did that with no research? I’m almost flattered,” he hummed. However, when she didn’t respond, he grew a bit more serious. “We have been laying low for nearly five decades. I never intended to have to even go out again, but my sister is ill. The last Slayer I killed poisoned her and she has been slowly deteriorating. The only way to heal her is with the assistance of someone who has access to the Watcher’s Council. I would never seek you out otherwise, Slayer.” Oddly enough, he sounded sincere.

“And why would I help you?” she asked, looking him up and down. She gripped the stake. Sincere or not, she didn’t trust him. Especially not to do something as stupid as saving another vampire.

“Ask your boyfriend.”

In that moment, Liz quickly pulled the stake out and went to bury it in his chest. Except it didn’t. Instead, with the flick of his wrist, he had it flying across the parking lot. Liz blinked a few times and for the first time in a long time, she was scared.

“Did I forget to mention I dabble in the arts? You really should never mix the two forces. But you should've seen their faces when they tried to hang me during the trails,” Michael laughed all over again. Liz was brought a little comfort when Maria started murmuring in Latin.

Within a few minutes, Michael’s body slammed against the smoking car. He smiled. Even though Maria was holding in place, Liz made sure to keep firmly between them.

“Mm, another witch. We share blood, don’t we?” Michael said, humming as he happily relaxed in the hold Maria had on him, “I feel you, Enchantress. Your Slayers feeds you well. And how does that feel? To be more powerful than a Slayer. The Slayer. The legendary Elizabeth. The one to close the Hellmouth. You make her weak in comparison. You… Your power,” Michael let out a low chuckle, his eyes falling closed and Liz’s nose began to scrunch up in disgust, “My God, your power.”

Maria thankfully let him go before it got too weird, but he didn’t move from his place against the car.

“I’m not that powerful,” Maria said and Liz put her arm in front of her so she wouldn’t get closer.

Michael smiled, staring at her with half-lidded eyes. “But you are. I could teach you how to find it, but I’m sure you’re aware. You already hide it so well‒I couldn’t even feel it until you let me. Fuck…”

Liz looked over at Maria who seemed unsettlingly neutral about the way the demon was acting. When she looked back at him, he’d lulled his head to the side and was staring at her with those same eyes. It made her far more uncomfortable than it made Maria.

“Poor little Slayer,” he sang, letting out a teasing laugh. But then he shook it away, standing straighter. “We’re staying at an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. All the windows are blacked out, you can’t miss it. Goodbye, Slayer. Enchantress.”

With a dramatic twirl of his coat, Michael the Brilliant disappeared into the night.

“He called himself Michael the Brilliant. He said a few books refer to him as Rath, though. Have you ever heard of him?”

Liz watched as Mimi DeLuca’s face hardened. Bingo.

“Stay away from him,” Mimi said simply. Times like these, when Liz agreed full-heartedly, she actually enjoyed having a Watcher. “He’s bad news.”

“He didn’t seem that bad,” Maria said absentmindedly, clearly embarrassed by her opinion on the man. Liz honestly agreed that she should be embarrassed. Michael was sketchy at best, genuinely terrifying at worst. she didn't want any of her friends around him or his supposed sister.

"Crypto-pedia says his estimated rebirth was 1690 and his standard M.O. is luring young witches by telling them he can train them. Ironically, I think feeding on them helps him develop more powers that help him feel the power that witches radiate," Alex recited. Mimi scoffed as she leaned over his shoulder.

"They have a whole page on him? I really wish I had the internet when I was doing Watcher's schooling," she mused. However, when she turned back to them, she was serious once again. "Like I said-Maria, stay away from him. He's got over three decades of experience seducing witches."

"Also a big history of killing Slayers. Killed his first one in 1691. He was a baby when he took her down," Alex scoffed, shaking his head, "Be careful, Liz."

"We're just going to stay away from him. We'll deal with him if he approaches us but we're not going to seek him out," Mimi insisted. Liz chewed on her lip as she debated telling them what he'd said about Max. She was going to just wait and talk to Max about it first, but it was important information.

"Oh, shit," Alex cursed and for a moment she thought it was because Kyle was drooling on his textbook, but soon saw an old painting displayed on the computer screen. It was of three figures covered in blood.

The one in the front and on his knees was Michael, managing to look seductive even with his face contorted and his teeth bared. Over his shoulder stood Max so very clearly, his teeth just as on display and pure violence in his eyes despite the fact he was covered in less blood than the other two. Above both men was a nearly blindingly gorgeous woman. she was in all white, unlike Max and Michael, and blood was covering the entire front of her dress. Her face was relaxed completely, her eyes half-lidded. Just staring at a painting felt intoxicating.

And that must be his allegedly ill sister.

"Man, this Michael guy really is hot. In like a kill-me-in-my-sleep, rip-my-throat-out kinda way," Alex commented.

"Sweetie, none of what you just said is hot," Mimi said, shaking her head as she stared at the painting in distaste, "This is the Regency of the Restoration. Basically, they were so prolific in the late 1600s/early 1700s that they have paintings and songs about them. Most of them were lost. This painting... I actually think Isobel stole it."

"She did."

Everyone in the room turned to see Max standing in the doorway. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, something between dread and embarrassment scrawled across his features.

"Why are you looking into Michael and Isobel?" he asked quietly, not moving from where he was as if he was scared to get too close.

After seeing that painting, Liz was glad he kept his distance.

She knew of his past, of how he was before he got cursed with a soul. He was vile, vicious, and idolized for it. Liz would never be over the way books constantly spoke of him and said they were demonizing him while glorifying it. It was like Michael‒they did horrible things to be known. Why would you grant them that?

"Michael approached me," Liz said firmly, eying him as he neared her. She couldn't see it like Alex saw it as much as she wished she could. The idea of him covered in someone's blood made her stomach turn.

Max scowled harshly. "He did what?"

"What?" Kyle echoed as he chose now to wake up. Alex shushed him softly, but Liz never took her eyes off of Max and he never looked away from her either.

"He's in Roswell?" Max asked, seeming oblivious. Liz clenched her jaw and took a slow breath. "Why did he approach you? What did he say? Did he hurt y‒Maria, did he hurt you?" Liz was brought a little comfort by how concerned he seemed. It reminded her that he wasn't like that anymore. He had morals.

"No, he didn't. Honestly, he didn't even try," Maria informed him. Max's eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "He said his sister is sick and needs the assistance of a Slayer. Well, actually just someone who can get him the antidote for whatever the Watchers poisoned her with."

Max nodded slowly, bracing himself against the wall and his eyes turning to the floor. Liz waited patiently for him to decide what to say because she didn't really have many questions. She only had one: how did they get him to leave Roswell. She had no intention to help.

"She's sick?" Max asked, pain lacing his tone and Liz felt a bit of panic rise in her, "Sick enough that he'd approach a Slayer? No, okay, I need to go see her, did he say where they were?"

"Max, seriously? Who are these people to you? Why do you care if she's sick? It looks like you knew them back when you were... not yourself, why do you care about them no?" Liz demanded. Apparently, she had more questions than she realized.

Max squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his hand over his face. She waited. They all waited.

"They're my family," Max said simply even though there was nothing simple about what he'd just said. No one spoke. They could've heard a pin drop. "Stop looking at me like that, just... just give me a moment."

"A moment? Every other vampire that we've come across that you knew in the past, you've grown to hate them. Now these two, these vampires who were clearly the worst of them all, come back and you say they're your family?" Liz insisted. It would've been different if maybe he'd mentioned them, but he hadn't. They had never been around and Michael had said they were flying under the radar for decades. This didn't make any sense.

"Isobel was my actual, biological sister," he said, annoyance written across his face, "Our mother died during childbirth and we were basically on our own after that. Because of that, we got affiliated with the wrong people and started going to feeder's dens by the time we were 16. Obviously, that's a slippery slope and we both got turned within a few years."

Max crossed the room, slumping in a chair in the middle of everyone since he knew he was clearly telling a tale they all were eager to hear.

"We were... angry, I guess. Maybe it was from when we were human and it carried over, but we felt entitled. For years we had been denied everything because of our status, but we now had something where they couldn't tell us no. We attacked many people that had wronged us in life or even just seemed the type who would have. Isobel was really good at luring disgusting men in with her beauty and she'd rip them apart as payback for what they'd done to her when she was a little girl."

"If you're trying to make us think that what you two did wasn't all that bad, you're wasting your time," Liz said curtly. He looked up at her like a wounded puppy, but she wasn't going to let that face affect her this time. She'd done so far too many times before.

"That's not what I'm trying to do, Liz," he sighed, shaking his head, "I'm just saying... We were close. We always had been, she's apart of me and I'm apart of her."

"Okay, where does Michael come into this?" Maria asked. Mimi was standing off on the side, her face hardened as if she already knew everything. That was only slightly annoying.

"I was given my soul in 1688 and Isobel and I moved to a small town in Masechuttseus. She wasn't a fan of me being, well, more human, but she put up with it because we're all we had. And we met Michael in that town. He reminded me of myself, just a kid who was abandoned and struggling to survive. So we took him in."

"Two vampires took in a human? How quaint," Kyle snorted. Max seemed to fight the urge to be annoyed. He didn't really have the right to do that right now.

"He needed shelter and I wanted to do better, so I gave it to him and tried to protect him from a life like mine. I wanted to help, not hurt. Only, Isobel didn't trust him. She became so paranoid that he was going to betray us and get us killed or something no matter how hard he tried to please her. And he did try hard to please her. He saw her as something of a mother figure he never had and spent day in and day out catering to her, but she took it as him having devious intentions. Then, in 1690, when the Slayer of that time had been making noise around our town, she was convinced he had sent for her to kill us. So she turned him because then he could no longer out us without outing himself," Max explained. Liz could feel her face being taken over with disgust at this woman that Max clearly seemed to care about. How could he still care for someone who murdered a boy you took in to protect?

"Jesus," Alex cursed, the only one who had it in him to say anything.

"I-I don't actually know what happened to him after that," Max sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, "I obviously know that he lost his soul, but I didn't expect him to... Basically, his already unhealthy obsession with pleasing Isobel was heightened. His loyalty to her is something I've never seen before. He was barely fully turned when he went after the Slayer for her. I wish I could tell you how he did it, but I don't know. I just know he managed to kill her and brought her body to Isobel as a present.

"I didn't know what to do about it. They're my family, they're important to me, but they were becoming calculated killers and I just couldn't take being around that. I tried to explain to them that it wasn't okay, that I couldn't be around it. And... they tried to stop. Sort of. Michael started specifically targeting witches and he'd bring them back to Isobel to drain together, but it wasn't as common as before so I tried to take it as a step in the right direction. Eventually, though, they started gaining powers that they got from the witches. I guess I shouldn't have stuck around once it got to that point, but I was stuck. It took me a century before I finally realized they weren't going to stop. The guilt of standing by as they lured girls in was rivaling how much I love them, so I left. I've tried to keep tabs on them, but they'd been hard to find for the last few decades. I don't even think they're really killing much anymore, but I'm not sure. I haven't seen them since the turn of the 20th century."

Everyone was silent as they tried to make what they could from the story, but Liz focused hard on Max. He took a slow, almost pained breath as he dared to look up at her.

"But she's really sick?"

Liz hated herself for a moment, hated how she resigned to desperately wanting to make him look less broken. She was so desperate that she was actually considering helping a vampire who was known for being horrifically violent and apparently manipulative. No matter how hard she tried to shake away that feeling, she was confronted with an overwhelming need to make him feel better. She hated how pained he looked.

"Michael said the last Slayer he killed poisoned Isobel with something the Watcher's Council made and that she's been slowly deteriorating since," Liz said softly. Max scoffed, shaking his head before he dropped it into his palms.

"That was 50 years ago. She's been sick for half a century and they haven't tried to reach out to me," Max said. Liz gravitated towards him, her hand touching his shoulder as she looked up to the rest of the people in the room. They clearly didn't feel as sympathetic as she did, but why should they? “I understand if you don’t want to help them, but I have to. No matter what, they’re my family.”

"So are we,” Liz stated firmly, “What should we do?" Alex and Kyle shared a look not too unlike the look Mimi and Maria shared. She knew that they didn't really want to do anything, thinking it was too dangerous. "It's his family. That makes it a little different than just some random vampires."

"They're dangerous, Liz," Kyle said carefully, "Maybe he was civil when he came to ask you for help, but that doesn't mean it's going to stay that way."

"We could go meet them, like, all of us. Somewhere on even ground so we can feel out the situation and see if she's actually sick and if they're actually that dangerous," Alex suggested, though even he sounded hesitant, "If he says they've dialed down their killings, it's worth a shot to check it out. If it's bad, then we figure out how to run them out of town."

"I don't want Maria anywhere near him," Mimi said firmly, shaking her head, "You all can go if you want, but not her."

Maria didn't argue.

"How does that sound, Max?" Liz asked him softly. He looked torn as he looked around the room.

"I'll protect you all if he gets out of hand," he said firmly, "But I would appreciate your help."

"Okay then," Liz said even though she felt this was the beginning to a very risky situation, "Let's do this."

The first thing Alex saw when they walked into the demon bar was Michael.

And apparently, the first thing Michael saw was Alex.

"And who is this?" Michael said the moment they walked up. The way he was staring at Alex had him feeling insecure in a way he hated and desperately tried to push away. He kept his face firm as Michael stood up, circling him like prey. "What are you?"

"Human," Alex said, eyeing Max and Liz who seemed to be watching Michael with nothing but annoyance.

"No," Michael whispered, his breath hot on Alex's neck which sent shivers down his spine and a million waves of confusion to his mind. He didn't know vampires had breath, much less hot breath. "What are you?"

"I told you," Alex said sternly, "Human."

Michael paused in front of him, letting out a huffed laugh. "There's no way. That energy you give off..."

"Michael, stop it," Max sighed. Michael looked to him with furrowed brows.

"I'm serious, you don't feel that? What is that? How are you human?" Michael said, moving closer to Alex once again. He felt predatory in a way that had Alex feeling a little more into it than he wanted to admit. Why did he have to be so damn hot? "I don't understand how you can be human and yet make me feel so‒"

"Michael," Max snapped, "Stop trying that shit on him."

"I'm not!" Michael responded defensively, though a small smirk played on his lips as he leaned back against the bar. "Though I definitely want to. It's not my fault your entire Slayer’s Brigade is gorgeous."

"Alex," Liz ordered, gesturing for him to go stand behind her. He obliged, although requiring a bit of tugging from Kyle to make it all the way. He couldn't take his eyes off of Michael.

"Where is Isobel?" Max demanded eventually and Michael managed to look away from Alex which only had him feeling slightly upset. It was like he just then registered that Max was actually there. He blinked at him a few times and his cocky smirk was all but completely gone.

“She can’t leave the house. She’s too weak,” Michael answered, “Where you been, Maxwell? I know you have been with this Slayer lately, but what about before?”

“You knew I was around.”

“Isobel needed you and you weren’t there,” Michael scoffed, shaking his head, “You’re a shit brother.”

“Why did you seek our help if you were just going to be a complete asshole to us?” Max demanded. Alex tried to care, he really did, but he really wanted to focus on what Michael meant. What feeling to he give off? He wanted to know.

“I don’t want your help. I have no choice. And I need the Slayer’s help, not yours,” he spat, shaking his head. Alex felt an inexplicable need to make him stop looking so irritated. It was more uncomfortable than the smirking. “I don’t know why we even met here. We can’t fucking help Isobel here.”

“We’re here because they aren’t sure if we should help you. You have no proof that Isobel is actually sick,” Max said, though they all knew Max believed she was. They had prepared before meeting him, pouring over every little detail they could find about the Watchers as well as what Mimi knew herself. None of them could find even a mention of a serum, not even something that was in the works to be tested. Not even Alex, who was very good at hacking into all the systems the Watchers had, couldn’t find a damn thing.

“Why the fuck would I be here if she wasn’t?” Michael snapped, looking angry and desperate. He had to reel himself back in, taking a deep breath and through gritted teeth. “Listen, I just need whatever fancy antidote they have.”

“There isn’t one,” Alex said simply. Michael shot his gaze back to him, his jaw clenched as he waited for Alex to keep talking. For some stupid reason, Alex didn’t find him that scary. He reminded him of just a big dog who needed a little more friendship. “Are you sure it was the Watchers who poisoned her?”

“Who else would it be?” he asked, “No offense, but the typical Slayer is all brawn and no brain.”

“Well, I’m not your typical Slayer,” Liz shot back. Michael smiled tightly, hardly taking his eyes off of Alex again.

“We know that.”

“Alright, I’m going to come and see what I can find out,” Liz decided firmly. Max looked at her like she’d lost it.

“If you go in there, she’ll kill you,” Max told her.

“No she won’t, she can’t,” Michael argued.

“Have her mental abilities lessened?” Max asked. Michael didn’t say anything. “See? No, you’re not going there, Liz. She can and will do something to you, especially if it was a Slayer that harmed her.”

“Well, I don’t want you going by yourself there, you’re too emotion I don’t trust them,” Liz argued, “Someone else from our team needs to go and the only person I trust not to get killed is myself.”

“Little Alex can come too,” Michael suggested, grinning slowly. Which, honestly, sounded like a good idea to him even if Liz and Kyle immediately jumped in to protest. Alex had spent the last two days researching the two of them endlessly. He’d known everything they’d done that had ever been recorded‒and most of their movements had been recorded. They were infamous.

“Max and I can go,” Alex agreed, “I make sure he isn’t in cahoots with them and he can make sure they don’t kill me.” Michael broke out into a smile.

“Cahoots,” he repeated softly, his tongue dragging his bottom lip in between his teeth as he shook his head and chuckled to himself.

“And if he is in cahoots with them, you will be murdered by three vampires,” Kyle pointed out.

“Yeah, but what a way to go,” Michael laughed. No one else found that funny, so he held up his hands in defense. “Look, not gonna let anyone lay a finger or fang on his pretty little body. Too intrigued by his whole vibe to let that happen.”

“What vibe?” Alex asked before he could stop himself. Michael shrugged and shook his head.

“If I knew I’d tell you.”

“So, that’s the plan then? We’re trusting three vampires with Alex?” Kyle sighed softly. Alex and Michael nodded at the same time which caused the vampire to smile.

Alex would be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to go.

“Isobel’s in the back room.”

Max immediately followed the instruction which led to Alex being left all alone with Michael. He watched the vampire make himself at home, seeming weirdly human as he took off the steam-punk boots to reveal colorful socks. Alex smiled mockingly at them, one bright orange with cats and the other a baby blue with a cartoon whale saying ‘having a whale of a time’. Michael flopped himself onto the couch, wiggling his toes as he grinned Alex’s way.

“Come here,” Michael urged. Alex shook his head with the same smile as he began to look around the room. It was pretty modern for a vampire den: working electricity, a kitchen, a TV, and even a laptop in the corner.

Alex kept himself aware even when he wasn’t directly looking at him. While he wasn’t scared of him, he also wasn’t about to be caught off guard. That had happened one too many times before. Since he was aware, he didn’t even flinch at the animalistic movements Michael made as he crawled to the other side of the couch and climbed skillfully to the recliner, leaning over the back to intrude on Alex’s space.

“Can I taste you?” he suddenly requested. Alex furrowed his eyebrows and leaned away to get a good look at his face.

“No,” Alex said, “Literally why would I say yes to that?”

“I want to know what you are,” he said, tilting his head to the side, “It’s driving me mad. I just know if I taste you I’ll understand more.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t bite me,” Alex said, walking towards the couch, “And if you do anyway, I will kill you.”

“Why would I do it anyway? That takes the fun out of it, I like when people want it,” he said softly, still eyeing Alex like he was so fucking confused. Alex was torn between loving it and hating it.

“How do you somehow have better morals than some people who have souls?”

“Good question.”

Alex peered towards the door that Max had gone through. It was shut tight. Clearly, they weren’t watching each other like Liz had insisted. Oh well. They could lie.

“Put your blood in a cup so I can taste. No biting involved,” Michael suggested, suddenly in front of him again.

“Good suggestion, but no,” Alex said, circling to the front of the couch. Michael’s gaze stayed firmly on him, following each and every movement.

“You can do it when I’m not in the room so there’s no temptation.”

“Why do you care so much?” Alex asked. While he was slightly curious as to what Michael meant by everything, he wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it when it was probably an elaborate excuse to get him to agree to being bitten. Michael huffed an annoyed breath, but never gave an answer.

They walked around in silence for a moment, still eyeing each other despite the distance between them. Michael was annoyingly attractive and, even in the light, could easily be mistaken for human. The longer they stared, the more comfortable he got with it. He knew the staring likely would’ve pissed off Liz and Kyle and Maria and Mimi. Honestly, probably Max too. He wasn’t so negative.

“I got it,” Michael suddenly said, jumping over the couch and grabbing Alex’s hand. He pulled him quickly through the door to the room Max and Isobel were in, throwing him in front of him the moment they got through. “Izzy! What is he?”

Alex felt the floor drop from beneath him as he became the sole focus of Isobel. Her paintings and descriptions did her no justice. She was nothing short of ethereal. It was impossible not to look at her and let her engulf you with her wide eyes and penetrating gaze.

She wore a long, deep red robe tied around an equally as red slip and her hair seemed skillfully unkempt. While Michael seemed human on some level, Isobel didn’t seem to share that. She was purely otherworldly, but not quite animalistic. She neared Alex with deliberate movements, slow and inhuman. She touched Alex’s cheek and if she asked him anything in the world, he would have surrendered.

“Human,” she decided in a careful voice, pushing on his jaw to face Michael, “He’s human.”

“What?” Michael demanded, sounding more than a little annoyed, “That doesn’t make any sense, he‒”

“Michael,” Max said firmly, “You and Alex need to go, we were speaking.” Michael’s eyebrows slowly pulled together in a level of hurt he couldn’t hide.

“This is my house, I can‒”

“Michael,” Max said, louder this time. Alex found it quite interesting how different Michael became when he was in the same room with both Max and Isobel. He wasn’t the powerful, power-reading, telekinetic vampire. He was suddenly just a boy who had been on the receiving end of a neverending Us vs. You situation.

“You can go,” Isobel said, lightly pushing his jaw towards Michael.

Once they were back into the main room, Alex had to give himself a moment to readjust. All the research he’d done made it clear that, due to the way he was feeling, Isobel had probably just gotten into his mind. Which was terrifying. It made Michael cornering him against the wall much less terrifying in comparison.

“You can’t be human,” Michael accused, breathing heavy in residual anger, “I swear to fuck, I can feel you. I feel you.”

Alex couldn’t find it in him to be scared as Michael pushed further into his space. He knew he should be. He wasn’t. But it was a distraction for the fuzziness in his mind and that made it easy to play along.

“Maybe all you feel is that I’m the only one who isn’t scared of you,” Alex said back. Michael took a deep, grounding breath and that easy, suave smile found its place outside of his anger.

“Is that so?”

“I’ve done my research on you. I know everything there is to know about you,” Alex admitted. Michael’s eyes flickered across his face and lingered on his lips just long enough to have Alex’s mind wandering a bit too much.

“Everything?”

“Everything,” Alex confirmed, his voice matching Michael’s low pitch. The smirk and the half-lidded eyes on the vampire’s face was something out of a wet dream he didn’t know he’d have. “Which means I know how your powers work, I know how quick your reaction time is, and I know I’m quicker.” Michael leaned closer, their chests meeting.

“Yeah?”

“I could kill you if I really wanted. It’d be easy,” Alex told him though he knew he was probably lying. While he was indeed quick, vampires much less dangerous than him had put Alex in the hospital. But, honestly, he wasn’t Michael’s type of victim and he wasn’t one to expand. He’d had a type since he turned.

“We should spar sometime and put your money where your pretty little mouth is,” Michael suggested.

“Maybe we should.”

“Will you get away from him,” Max snapped out of nowhere, grabbing Michael by the neck and physically pulling Michael off him.

“Get the fuck off me!” Michael shouted, twisting out of Max’s hold and glaring at him. Alex watched the metaphorical pissing contest unfold between them.

“Liz is going to kill you if you get that close to him again,” Max threatened, eyeing Michael like he was nothing more than scum, “And I’ll be happy when she does.”

Michael stared at him for a minute before swiftly turning and stalking away. Alex looked at Max with furrowed brows. He hadn’t really seen an inherently aggressive side to the man. Something about Michael and Isobel must have brought it out of him. He still had the audacity to look apologetic about Michael’s actions.

Oddly enough, Alex left that day feeling bad for him.

“We’re doing what?”

Alex rolled his eyes at Max’s tone. He was becoming more and more annoyed with him by the day. It didn’t help that Michael was around more to help find the antidote to whatever that one particular Watcher had conjured up along with helping both Alex and Kyle get better at fighting against vampires. The more Alex warmed to Michael, the more Max irritated him.

“It’s a good idea,” Michael chimed in. He was sprawled on the couch in the back of the magic shop, his feet firmly in Alex’s lap. Mimi had Maria as far away from him as possible, but even she had warmed to him a bit. Max was the only one left with a major problem.

“There is nothing good about it.”

“Max,” Liz said firmly, “We are breaking into a paranoid ex-Watcher’s house that is vamp-proofed. The only reason you’re coming is to stand guard with Kyle. Mimi and Maria can’t stay because they have to charm the Watcher. I need both Alex and Michael here because Alex is the only one who can even hack into his security system and he’s the one in control of the camera that Michael will be using as eyes to get the serum without disturbing the literal spikes around it. Do you hear a way there would be anyone else to babysit Michael and Alex?”

Max looked very annoyed he wasn’t getting his way. He glared at Michael which obviously made him tense. Alex mindlessly rubbed his ankle.

“Listen,” Michael said, that cocky little smirk on his face as he tried not to get angry, “I am the first person to agree that I’m dangerous and probably shouldn’t be trusted with certain people, but my little Alex here is not one of them. I wouldn’t lay a fang on him.” Max looked like he was going to kill him.

“I don’t like this.”

“Why are you so protective of Alex all of the sudden?” Liz demanded, turning to him completely.

“It’s not just of Alex, I don’t trust him around any of you, but he’s taken a liking to Alex which is not okay,” Max accused.

“Alex can handle himself,” Kyle jumped in.

“Alex can speak for himself,” Alex sighed, trying hard not to roll his eyes, “Listen, he hasn’t hurt any of us yet, why are you so certain that’ll change when we’re alone?”

“Because I know him. He’s manipulative and selfish. We’re giving him what he wants!”

“It’s also what you want, Max,” Liz said, crossing her arms over her chest, “We gave you a chance and you’ve done worse than him.”

Max didn’t have an answer. Alex squeezed Michael’s ankle.

“Right. Everyone meet back here at 10 PM to put the plan into action.”

The room quickly cleared out, leaving Michael and Alex alone as if they weren’t just arguing about it. Alex turned to face the vampire.

“You were awfully quiet during that,” he pointed out. Michael breathed in slow, a smirk forming on his face.

“You don’t like when I get into it, so I’m trying to do better,” he answered. Alex snorted.

“You didn’t get in a fight just because I don’t like it?” Alex clarified. Michael shrugged his shoulders, eyeing him. “Man, you keep doing stuff like that and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”

Michael grunted softly in amusement, a predatory look taking over his face before it transformed into that of a vampire. His teeth were bared and he was sitting so close, but Alex just smiled at him.

“Gonna go kill some shit before 10, gotta make sure Isobel’s fed. See you then,” Michael spoke easily, getting up and leaving without another word.

Alex shook his head with a smile before getting up and preparing the camera and microphone he’d be hooking up to Liz.

“Okay, be careful.”

“I am being careful.”

“I literally don’t think you’re ever careful.”

Michael chuckled lowly as he listened to Alex and Liz argue while she walked through the Watcher’s weird lab. The man was almost 95 years old, but apparently, he was still batshit crazy enough to have a fully functioning chem lab where he brewed serums to kill vampires. Isobel had just gotten a very early version of it and it was the only reason she’d made it 50 years.

“Okay, disable this,” Liz said softly. Michael watched as Alex did some fancy, smart shit that went over his head. Alex was impressive.

Michael leaned closer to him, eyes drifting from Alex’s work on the computer to his collarbone. His skin was tan and seemingly flawless, every curve of his body just as perfect. It was hard to stay away, even harder the more he stared.

He had no intention to bite him and he had no desire to either. Occasionally Maria would catch his eye and Kyle would annoy him to the point that he considered it, but the Slayer, the Watcher, and Alex were all tolerable. Alex was more than tolerable. Alex was one of a kind, literally. In all his years alive, he’d never met someone as intoxicating as Alex. The only exception was Isobel, but he was drawn to them in very different ways.

“Stop,” Alex whispered, nudging Michael away as his nose grazed the hacker’s jaw. Michael blinked a few times, moving away just a little bit and just enough to see Alex’s sweet smile. “You’re up.”

Michael shook himself out of the trance he’d been in, looking towards the screen. The camera was pretty shitty quality, but it was enough that he could see what he was supposed to do. He focused as well as he could on the image of the little vile surrounded in complex spikes, watching it slowly be lifted and weaved through them like he wanted.

“Yes, you’re doing great,” Alex said softly, continuing to pour words of encouragement over him in a way he wasn’t used to. Though, everything Alex did were things he wasn’t used to.

The vile landed in Liz’s hand and Michael fell back in his chair, exhaustion overcoming him. He hated using his powers for that long because of how it made him feel, but it was so fucking worth it for Isobel’s safety and the proud smile Alex gave him.

“You did it,” Alex breathed out, mindlessly putting his hand on Michael’s thigh and squeezing. Michael smiled. Honest to god smiled. “Now get out of there, Liz.”

Alex turned off the camera and microphone once everyone made it safely into the car and started making the two-hour drive home. He leaned back with a satisfied little grin, letting his head drift to face Michael. He looked so stunning.

“So, you gonna kill me now?” Alex asked playfully. Michael snorted.

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re getting what you want. In a few hours, Isobel’s gonna be okay. You don’t have to stick around, much less leave us alive. Leave me alive,” Alex said, though this time he seemed a little more serious. “Are you going to leave?”

“Would you be upset if I did?” Michael asked. Alex chewed on his lip and Michael really wanted to do that himself.

“Depends, are you gonna kill me?” Alex asked. Michael shook his head.

“What would I get out of killing you before they hand over the serum?” he asked. Alex scoffed, laughing slightly.

“Jeez, you got a point, I guess,” he said, “Just thought we were friends.”

“You like being my friend?”

“Dude,” Alex laughed, “You’re here aren’t you?” Michael took in his pretty face and thought about what it would be like to stay. He had never really had friends before. He had Max and Isobel and Max didn’t really like him all that much. Here, he had Liz who willingly spoke to him about a bunch of different weapons and took his advice seriously. He had Mimi who, while still being wary of him with her daughter, still liked to hear how he melded witchcraft with the abilities that came with being a vampire. He had Kyle who was annoying as all hell, but who made for a fun sparring partner.

And he had Alex.

“So, tell me, if you stay, are you going to go after Maria?” Alex asked after a moment. Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “I mean, she’s your type. You gonna try to seduce her, drink her blood to power you up?”

“Yeah and have Mimi kill me? No,” Michael said simply, “Mimi is a whole lot more powerful than me and she’s a lot more trained than Maria. Maria has untapped power, but Mimi’s is like an open faucet. She could snap her fingers and snap my neck if she wanted to.”

“So you really can feel people’s powers like that?” Alex clarified. Michael nodded, still not being able to look away. Not that he wanted to. “So, what happens when you would seduce those girls back then? You’d just tell them they were powerful, sleep with them, eat them? Actually, can you even sleep with people? Does your heart even beat to make blood flow?”

Michael smirked, “Are you asking me if my dick works?” Alex paused and his cheeks turned pink before he just went with it and nodded. “Yeah, it does. But I usually didn’t sleep I’d lure in. It’s weird to have sex with your food.”

“Oh my god,” Alex laughed, shaking his head with a smile that was brighter than the sun. Maybe it would’ve burned if it didn’t feel so good. “You know, you’re a lot less crazy than you tried to seem like you were.”

“Sorry to let you down.”

“No, no, I like it. I like you like this.”

“You like me?”

“I like you,” Alex said firmly, “Why doesn’t Max?”

“I don’t know,” Michael shrugged. He hated that Max hated him. He’d spent so long trying to please both him and Isobel only to be shunned away by him. It was easier to just stop trying to please him. Alex smiled comfortingly.

“I think he’s jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” he snorted.

“That you don’t need a soul to be good.”

Michael couldn’t remember the last time some had thought he was good.

He moved forward without too much of a thought and grabbed Alex’s neck, pressing a kiss to his lips. It didn’t last long and he pulled away, preparing for Alex to tell him off or get awkward. Instead, Alex smiled and moved forward again.

It had been a really long time since he kissed anyone, at least 50 years. He was admitted rusty, but Alex didn’t seem to mind as he pulled him closer until they were both sitting on the edge of their chairs. Alex’s tongue slipped into his mouth without any hesitation and the level of trust he must’ve had in Michael didn’t go unnoticed. He felt like he was 17 and stupid again, desperately trying to move closer and trying to touch every inch he could.

Michael tugged on Alex’s waist in an attempt to get him closer and Alex chuckled into his mouth before just moving to straddle his lap. Michael moved back and pulled Alex with him, splaying his hands on the man’s back to hold him through the never-ending kisses. He didn’t want them to end. He wanted them forever.

“You taste so good,” Michael said before he could even control himself and Alex smirked, weaving his fingers through Michael’s hair.

“You didn’t even bite me.”

“I don’t need to.”

Michael dragged sloppy kisses across his jaw and then down his neck. He waited for Alex to deny him, to push him away in panic. He just knew that, while Alex seemed to trust him, there was no way he trusted him to be this close, to be able to feel his pulse against his teeth, and not throw him off. Except Alex, like always, subverted expectations and held him closer with a moan. He left soft bites between kisses, trailing his way back up to Alex’s lips with extra care that he didn’t puncture his flawless skin.

He left one last kiss to Alex’s lips before pulling away, keeping his forehead against the other man’s as he caught his breath.

“Why’d you stop?” Alex asked after a moment and Michael looked at him to see a level of mischief in his eyes that had him reeling. That vibe that he always got from Alex amplified in that moment, warm and encompassing that jumped from just his regular level of no fear to just overwhelming trust and desire. “We have an hour before we won’t get another moment alone for who knows how long. We should make the most of it.”

Michael agreed so easily and they made their way to the couch.

By the time the rest of the group got back, they had managed to look normal and like nothing had happened. Well, as normal as possible.

“Why are you smiling like that? You look insane,” Max scolded the minute he walked in and saw Michael. He was still fidgety with excitement from his afternoon, but he managed to taper it down so Max wouldn’t dig. He didn’t want to deal with the backlash without having a proper conversation.

“Sorry for being excited that my sister isn’t going to die,” Michael said, though his eyes drifted to Alex who was sitting in front of the computer. His thumb was lodged between his teeth, hiding his own smile. He shot a wink Michael’s way before standing up.

It became so clear to him at that moment that there was no way he could leave Roswell now.

“Alright, let’s go heal a murderous mind-controlling vampire.”

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #very shocked i finished this #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic #buffy au #time for bed

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