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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

For the DIFFERENT POV GAME:

I want Javi’s POV on this whole adorable scene.

Okay, my Queen @quica-quica-quica, I want you to know that I suuuuucked in a huge breath when I saw this Ask, because I was entirely unsure if I could do this. It seemed like a really hard challenge, but FOR YOU I’ll try anything.

I dug in to see what I could do, and of course because I can’t just write succinctly I had to start waaaaaay back in the beginning of the story to get Javier where I needed him for the phone number scene… hope that’s okay!!

Thank you for challenging me this way! This went from scary to amazing in just a few days! I love you so much, my friend!!!

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Coffee Shop Girl (a companion piece to “For Now” told from Javier’s point of view)

Word count: 3000+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; references to previous hiring of sex workers; cigarette smoking; Javier masturbating

Javier Peña felt like he was at loose ends. Not for the first time in his life, but it’s different feeling ‘lost’ as a young man than feeling ‘lost’ when you’re on the wrong side of 40. At least a teenager can still expect their whole life ahead of them. Since leaving the DEA and the fight in Colombia behind, he had been feeling directionless.

Spending some time at his dad’s ranch in Laredo had helped, the way that hard labor and sweat always does. It left him too tired to ruminate, to sink into the blues and feel sorry for himself. He had lined up a teaching job at a university in D.C. but it didn’t start until the fall semester, and Javier wasn’t looking forward to an entire blazing-hot summer on the ranch. So when his friend Bill called from Austin and offered a short contract job doing consulting for one of the state agencies, he jumped at the chance.

Javier landed at Mueller Airport at 2:00 in the afternoon on the second Saturday in June. He made his way out of luggage pickup to the Hertz desk and signed for a rental car. It didn’t take him long to find the apartment complex where Bill had arranged for him to stay. Bill’s coworker’s son had graduated from UT Austin in May, and the lease wasn’t up until August, so everything worked out perfectly. Javi could sublet for the remainder of the summer, and the apartment complex was close enough to the office that he could take the bus, meaning he wouldn’t have to put too many miles on the rental car or pay for parking downtown. A small, blandly furnished one-bedroom apartment near work was perfect. He could make it work for two months, and he had certainly lived in much worse places during his years traveling.

On Monday Javier was introduced around the office and given his portfolio of cases to consult on. He also found out that the coffee in the office was total shit. He had spent too many years drinking government-grade slop at the DEA and other agencies to put up with it now. He wasn’t one to complain, or to order any of the frilly new designer coffee drinks that seemed to be making the rounds among the ladies in the secretarial pool, but he had noticed a coffee shop between here and the bus stop. Some local place, one of those Austin things where they boasted about fair trade and locally roasted beans. If they made a decent cup of black coffee he could splurge, buy a cup on his way into the office each day.

The bus dropped him off at the corner at 7:45, so he could grab a coffee and still be on time to work at 8:00. Punctuality wasn’t always his strong suit, but Javier wanted to at least make a good impression while he was consulting. You never knew who might be a network contact to something good, and he didn’t want to screw Bill over after he had recommended him for the contract.

Tuesday Javier tried the coffee shop and found out that their coffee was not only decent for the price, it was actually good. Wednesday he went back again, this time brushing fingers with the pretty barista by accident. He offered her a “thanks” and then went on his way. Thursday he walked in and stood patiently in line behind two stoner kids trying to make up their minds between breakfast tacos and blueberry muffins. The pretty barista was there again, and she waved him over with a smile, indicating he could skip to the counter and leave the hippie kids in line.

“Black coffee, right?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, and for a moment Javier was very glad for all of the body language and psychology classes he had ever had to sit through. It was nice having a pretty lady smile at you to start your morning, and even better that this one already knew his order. She was quick, he figured, and good at her job if she had his order memorized after only two days as a customer. Not that ‘black coffee, to go’ was a difficult order, but he hadn’t expected to become a regular so quickly.

He smiled and nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He looked for a wedding ring and then for a nametag on her black apron, but didn’t see either one. He slid a rumpled $5 bill across the counter, larger than the singles he had paid with the previous two days, but she was nice. “Keep the change.”

He thought he saw her bite her lip as she turned away, and while she was fixing his cup he took a moment to check her out. He wasn’t some kind of pervert who would goose her from over the counter, but from what he could see she was attractive. Hell, most women were attractive to Javier. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship was years past, and he no longer visited prostitutes regularly. Javier wasn’t a ‘reformed man’ by any means, it was just that that habit had been limited to a specific time and place in his life where he wasn’t stable enough to have a long-term relationship, and it had the added bonus of gathering intelligence.

The barista turned back to him with the cup and when she handed it off their eyes locked and their fingers touched again. He saw her pupils dilate and recognized the little spark that turned over in his own gut. Damn, she really was attractive. But Javier didn’t want to be the kind of lecherous guy who hit on a woman while she was working. Too many men mistook the minimum of customer service friendliness for a sexual invitation. Or worse, like the men who hit on waitresses on purpose since they couldn’t be outright rude to stop them. Javier suppressed a smile and took the cup from her, nodding his thanks.

On Friday when he breezed into the coffee shop he saw the pretty barista smile from behind the counter, and she immediately turned and started pouring his to-go cup. She turned back and gave him the ‘what’s up’ chin nod while holding his cup up. Javier walked up and he slid a few singles across the counter to her.

Javier gave her a warm, “Thanks,” and winked at her. That was at least a harmless bit of flirting, in line with her bright smiles and her friendliness so far. If she liked it, great; and if not, then at least he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking for her number or hitting on her directly. When he said, “See you next week,” she smiled that bright smile back. Javier noticed that it again reached her eyes, lighting them up just a bit more than last time. A good sign.

The weekend dragged but Javier filled it up with errands: a run to HEB for groceries and to Highland Mall for a new shirt. If there was the possibility of a date sometime in the next few weeks he at least wanted to wear something other than his work clothes. Saturday night he ordered pizza and watched a movie on TV, some lame action movie with giant muscled guys shooting way too many bullets, and of course all the curse words and a sex scene edited out for network TV. Can’t let the kiddies hear the word ‘shit’ while they’re flipping channels, but watching Stallone blow a guy’s head off is good for their growing brains. He finished his pizza and a cigarette and then felt that tug, the loose ends, a little bored.

Javier took a shower and his mind went to the pretty barista, that smile, the sparkly eyes. He thought about those eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or down at him from on top. He wondered what her skin felt like, imagining the rest of her naked, spread out, touching him all over. He felt a little bit creepy touching himself to the thought of her, hoping it didn’t make him a bad person, hoping he would see her again on Monday. But fuck it, he needed the release. Javier came, spurting hot in the steamy shower as he leaned his head on his forearm and groaned into the cold tile wall. He wished he at least knew her name.

Sunday Javier slept in and then did laundry, tidied up the apartment, and took a jog around the neighborhood. He tried to talk himself out of a repeat of Saturday’s shower. It didn’t work.

On Monday Javier lit up as soon as he stepped off the bus. The first week of the consulting gig had gone well, but today was a big meeting and he knew the agency was not going to like his recommendations. He was constantly trying to quit, but at least he had cut back recently. He was down to a pack a day and only one cup of coffee. That had to count for something, right? Maybe his doctor would finally get off his back about that.

He smoked as rapidly as he could on his way to the coffee shop, and stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he reached the big window that overlooked the street corner. He tucked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his blazer and opened the door to the coffee shop.

The pretty barista was smiling, looking right at him and already holding up his cup of coffee like a game show model holding a prize. Javier felt his heart give a little squeeze, and he smiled and winked at her again as he approached the counter.

“You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and gave him a toothy grin.

Javier opened his wallet and saw that his smallest bill was a $10, but he decided not to ask for change back. She was attentive to her customers, she had surprised him by having coffee ready, and she was cute. “Great service, keep the change.”

Her face lit up and she turned to put the money in the register. Javier turned and exited the front door, and then decided to look back through the big plate glass window. She was looking at him, and Javier realized that meant that she had watched him leave. He hoped he wouldn’t have to tip $10 every time to get that look. He lifted his cup, nodded at her, and then made his way to the office.

Tuesday she had his coffee ready again, so he gave her another wink with his smile, and he thought that she purposely put her fingers in a spot to touch his as she handed the cup over. He paid with a $5 bill again, and then thought about her smile and her touch all the way to the office a few blocks north. He didn’t want her to think that the overtipping was him trying to come on to her; it really was nice to have his order ready to go every day.

On Wednesday she had his coffee ready again as soon as he walked in, but Javier supposed that was a testament to the bus schedule more than his own punctuality. This time he paid with singles. But he didn’t want her to think the smaller tip was because of anything wrong with her customer service, so he smiled a little more warmly, turning the charm up as much as he dared without just outright hitting on her. He noticed she was looking again through the glass as he left. But of course the only reason he knew that was because he had looked, too.

On Thursday Javier decided that it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little more obviously, but to give her an out in case she wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or fuck up his supply of good coffee, so he decided to take it a little slow. When he got to the corner he glanced into the window of the coffee shop and saw the pretty barista looking right at him. He took that as a good sign that she might be receptive to his flirting. He opened the door and let someone exit, then walked up to the counter. She pointed at his cup sitting on the counter in front of her, smiling that bright smile.

He arched an eyebrow up. “You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?”

She grinned at him. “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.” That was the most that she’d spoken to him yet. Javier decided to take his chance.

“And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” She winked and then bit the inside of her lips, like she had said something she shouldn’t have.

Javier decided to be direct. At least that would give her the chance to say ‘no’ if she wasn’t interested. He locked eyes with her and said, “I am.”

He was relieved to see her flash that big smile, all pretty soft lips and sparkly eyes. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

“Good to know.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Javier, by the way.” She continued to smile as she gave him her name. When she took his hand she gave a good firm shake, not like one of those women who went limp as soon as they shook a man’s hand. Javier liked her even more.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” She reached down to grip the lid and spun the cup. He saw her name and seven digits scribbled in Sharpie. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

Javier gave her the eyebrows, very much enjoying how direct she was. It was nice to get a clear signal from a pretty lady, instead of having to play guessing games and worry about overstepping. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

“You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” And there was her pretty smile and her wink again, so soon after the first one.

Javier decided to give her both barrels. He put his hand out again, palm up instead of a handshake. When she put her hand in his he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, giving her a look from under his eyelashes before he let go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Javier picked up the cup and left, and gave her a warm smile through the glass as he walked away. As soon as he got to the office he jotted her name and the number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his wallet. He felt hopeful in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, and he rolled the cup endlessly between his palms while he considered his options. Options. Something he sometimes had taken for granted in life, until those moments where they suddenly ran out.

Javier drained the last of the coffee and then scribbled over her number with a Sharpie before tossing the cup in the trash. No sense in letting her number out into the world where some creep might find it. He smoked his third cigarette of the day out on the plaza and thought about her smile, the brush of her fingers on his, the way she approached him directly. He could use a friend in town, one who wasn’t a guy at the agency or an old college buddy. One who was soft and sweet and might be open to a date… or more. He checked his watch and calculated the hours until 1:00 p.m.

Normally he wouldn’t go back to the coffee shop until tomorrow morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to pop back over there today at the end of her shift, see if she wanted to grab lunch, right? He hoped it wouldn’t scare her off, going back so quickly. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the lobby door and jogged back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to finish up, get this meeting over with, see if he could get over to the coffee shop before she left. He sat in the meeting, watching the clock hands spin slowly, listening to someone drone on about a budget issue that didn’t impact his work, and which could have been a memo in the first place. He felt his irritation creep up the longer the meeting went on.

Finally the meeting closed and Javier hopped to his feet. He told Bill he was headed to lunch and then jogged back down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, keeping an eye on his watch. He hoped he wouldn’t miss her.

When he got to the coffee shop he opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. And then he saw her, slinging her bag over one shoulder and coming out from behind the counter. Javier smiled.

She stopped a foot away and smiled softly, “Hey.”

Javier realized he was still wearing his sunglasses, no wonder it was so dark. He took them off and slipped them into his blazer pocket. He really hoped she wouldn’t think it was weird, him coming back so soon.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

Her face lit up. Good sign. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.”

She gestured out the big window, “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

Javier felt his face split into a wide grin. “That’s perfect.”

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Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis

#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #narcos fic #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories

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voltagesmutter · 4 years

Text

Satan x MC - Public.

Pairing: Satan x MC (F).

Fandom: Obey Me.

Prompt: Asphyxiation || Orgasm Denial || Public

Warning: Warning: Public sex, mutual pining, vaginal sex, hand-job, fingering, talks of masterbation, angry Satan.

Day 2 of Kinktober event/prompt list.

Amazing thank you to @crystal13unny for being my beta 💛

Mid-terms were looming and overstressed didn’t come close to explaining how everyone felt. Whilst life was normally chaotic amongst demons, this way beyond words due to how dysfunctional life had become. Mammon had been “retail therapy” shopping so much that goldie broke, Asmo repainted his nails at least four times a day, while Leviathan's beloved console was becoming dusty with neglect. All because Lucifer was bringing forth tenfold his normal strictness to ensure revisions happened, causing tension to run through the household.

Beel was stress eating, which meant consuming triple what he normally ate, hardly leaving anything in the fridge. To say Lucifer lost his shit would be an understatement. He was livid causing sparks of arguments to fly across the house of Lamentation. Of course as soon he started, Satan retaliated as he always did.

“Will you be considerate for just once and not eat us out of food!” Slamming the fridge shut, his red eyes pulsing with anger, “Shouldn’t you be studying rather than indulging in your gluttonous ‘habits’,”. It was asked as a question but meant clearly as a statement.

“Lay off him Lucifer! You know how he gets around exams,” The blonde rolling his eyes at Lucifer's comment, the others around him on the table all going silent, eyes falling upon him before darting back to Lucifer for his response.

“Don’t you start getting involved Satan, keep your nose out where it doesn’t belong,”.

“Doesn’t belong? You're openly yelling at Beel for something he can’t help, just back off Lucifer, I am sick of you breathing down everyone’s necks!” the sound of Satan's fist slamming down on the oak table range clearly through the air. The tension was thick in the room, one wrong move and it would set alight, causing a blaze to rupture in the household. All it took was a tutt and snide remark from Lucifer before Satan dashed across the room and pinned him against the kitchen counter, fists balled up in a firm grasp with the material of the eldest shirt.

“Another word Lucifer and I swear,” Satan hissed, his normal soft demeanour now lost in a sea of wrath. Green eyes normally the colour of soft apple candy now shone dark with tinges of yellow, the iced-cold anger behind them enough to make any human freeze and shiver with fear. Lucifer was no human and went unfazed at the younger's outburst, simply pushing him off him with a, “If you cared this much as your midterms rather than your dopey siblings you could actually pass them with a decent grade,”.

It took the strength of Leviathan and Mammon, quickly running from the table to grip Satan to stop him from swinging at Lucifer. A simple tut, a wave of his hand and a “childish,” was all he left them with before exiting.

“I’ll kill him, I’ll actually fucking kill him,” Satan screamed, chest heaving up and down as the others tried to calm him down.

“Who we killing?” A young girl came strolling into the kitchen, yawning as she did, stretching her arms above her head causing her shirt to slide up and expose her stomach slightly.

“Morning cutie!” Asmo rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her with him back to the table.

“Lucifer,” Belphine huffed, head resting upon the table with his eyes shut.

“Oh I’m in,” Reaching for for a slice of toast only to out it back when she saw a scorpion tale sticking out of the crust, demon food was just not her thing, “He’s been on my case for the last few weeks, I’ve hardly had any time to myself because of his schedule he’s made for me,” her eyes fell to Satan who was still heaving in the corner, before swapping a confused expression with Levi. Levi touched the tip of his nose twice, a signal between the pair to indicate an argument had/or was about to break out.

“You okay there?” She asked, standing up and walking a few paces forward to lean against the counter, meeting Satan’s eyes.

“Yeah just old bossy arse ruining everything as usual,” He murmured, breath finally calm.

“Don’t let him wind you up, you know he gets a kick out of seeing you so angry,” She lent over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. A shared look amongst the other brothers and just as Mammon was about to protest the gesture, Levithan stamped on his foot to keep him quiet.

There was something between the two, they were the best of friends, anyone and everyone could see that. It was also apparent the sexual tension that lingered between the two, slowly building up, waiting to overspill. While they loved each other as friends, certain feelings now occurred between them. He found himself rather embarrassed at fisting his cock to the thought of her nearly every night, whilst she let his name slip between her lips when her vibrator brought her to orgasm. Neither knowing or revealing how they felt for the sake of their friendship. As if too blind to recognise their feelings for each other.

“So what was he going off about this morning?” She asked the room, going into the fridge and opening a cartoon of juice.

“Beel’s eating,” Levithan answered, watching as Beel was still moping in the corner of the room, kicking fallen debris on the floor with a huff.

“Oh Beelze! Are you stressing eating again?” She asked, feeling sympathy for him, she did for all of them. Whilst they were demons, they had no control over their powers, each of them having their own individual quirks tied to their demonic power.

“Yeah-” sulked from the red-head in the corner, scuffing his shoes along the floor.

“Oh honey I’m sorry,” She took a sip out of the juice she’d poured into a clean cup, “I mean he cancelled my date for me for the other day, deemed it as not suitable time for doing my studying,”.

The word ‘date’ made Satan’s ears prick up, he repeated the word out loud causing everyone to turn to him.

“Hmm, with one of them cutie players from Beel’s team I do believe,” Asmo chimed in, causing a blush to grace the girls cheeks, “Muscular, tall, handsome, a little dim-witted but still!”.

A string of curses falls from Satan’s mouth, pushing his brothers off of him, a ‘this day keeps getting fucking better’ is all he says before storming out of the room. The slam of the door is enough to signal his departure.

“What's wrong with him?” She questioned, watching how the brothers all turned to each other before her slowly.

“Isn’t it obvious? He l-” Mammon rolls his eyes with a tut but if cut off by Asmo jumping in, “He’s just stressed sweetie, he’s probably gone up to the library so why don’t you go check on him for us,”. Asmo doesn’t take a second for her response, taking the cup out of her hand and putting it down, practically shoving her out of the room. “But Asmo I!” But her protests are cut short as he shuts the door behind her.

“You!” He hisses to Mammon who blinks in confusion.

“The fuck did I do? I can’t help that Satan is too much of a pussy to admit his feelings, The Great Mammon would never chicken out like that,”.

“Shut up Mammon, you big idiot, let Satan tell her himself,” Levi added, the group of remaining brothers now sitting around the table.

“You think she likes him back?” Beel asked, causing a snort from Asmo.

“Please! Have you seen the way she stares at him? I also know about her little nightly activities,” He sings in a sickly song, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Asmo the fuck that’s gross. I didn’t need to know they were fucking, no wonder he was upset she had a date,” Belphegor sighed, throwing a book at him.

“Oh sweetie no, they’ve not done it yet, but the way she says his name at night she definitely wants too,”.

“How do you even know that?”.

“I’m the avatar of lust sweetie,” Asmo rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist with annoyance at even having to state it, “Plus her room is next to mine and the other night there was definitely a ‘Satan’ slipped between them plump lips after a good ten-minutes of buzzing,”.

“Stupid human, should be thinking of me instead of him,” Mammon pouted, crossing his arms infront him as he sulked like a child.

“Lets just hope the pair admit how they feel,” Levi stated, each of the brothers secretly praying for their brother.

Asmo’s hunch was right, the young girl found Satan angrily moping on the first floor of the library within the house. He had his back against the wooden bookcase sat on the floor, book in lap but little attention being paid to it.

“Hey,” She smiled, taking a few steps forward waiting for his response. He grunted, trying to bury himself in the book without looking up at her.

“Can I sit?”.

“Free place isn’t it,” he responded, flicking the page as she sat beside him, outstretched legs touching.

They sat in for a few moments in silence, Satan still pretending to be studying in his book until he finally broke it.

“So your date,” Finally closing the book and turning to her, “You never said anything,”.

“I,” Her face was blushing slightly, “I wasn’t really into him but I just, I felt too nice to say no,”. Her confession made them both laugh, finally breaking the tension between them. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t know how you would react,”.

“Me? What does it matter what I think?”.

“Your my best friend, your opinion matters the most,” She whispers, reaching between them and finding his hand, their fingers intertwining like they so often did especially when they sat in bed watching movies on a Friday night.

It took a few minutes again before Satan spoke up, “I’m glad you didn’t go,”.

“Oh?” He squeezed her hand, “I didn’t want to go anyway, I think he only asked because he overheard Beel teasing me about my lack of sex life,” she snorted a little with laughter, “I haven’t had sex since living in the human world. Do you know how long ago that was?” Her following words sending the demons cheeks a light pink, “I mean girls have needs too but I think Lucifer kind of got a whiff of why he wanted to take me out and well…”.

He knew exactly how many months to the exact day since she’d entered the Lamentation household, the shining ball of light that was herself weaving her way into all of their lives. How long it had been to even the touch of another person because the minute she walked into his life it lit a carnal desire which only she could quench.

“I mean it’s been the same for me,” He laughs.

“Yeah, why is that? I always see the girls throwing themselves at you, you don’t seem that phased though?” She asked.

“I have my eye on someone else,” He rubbed his thumb over hers in a soft manner, “Someone important,”.

They shared a glance, the avatar of wrath melting into her eyes as if trying to convey the words he couldn't say out loud. Hers mirroring as she softly whispered his name.

“Satan I-...,” She started a waver in her voice, the feeling mutual for Satan to her. Both of them leaning until they were an eye-lash apart, her eyes slowly closing as Satan swallowed with an anxious breath.

It was unsure who started it but they kissed with a passion, tongues meeting in a sloppy exchange as he pulled her into his lap to straddle him. Both of them indulged in a feeling that this was right, that it was meant to be. Her hands fisted into his hair, both of them groaning as he held her waist whilst she subtly began to grind on him.

“Is this okay?” He groaned against her lips as he unbuttoned her shirt slowly, just enough to cup her breast beneath it, thumbs tugging down the material of her bra to let her perky breasts stand free. His fingers rolling her nipples in his hands causing her to grind harder against him, heat pooling inside her stomach as her panties grew wetter by the second.

“Yes, fuck Satan, yes don’t stop,” She replied, inhailing sharply as he pressed kisses to her neck, a trail leading down until his mouth latched over her breast.

Neither of them wanted to stop, losing themselves in the embrace of one another. When his hand skirted up her thigh beneath her skirt to rub against the wet patch of her panties she moaned his name, causing him to still for a second before continuing, the breathless way she called it made his cock stand solid. A moan he’d imagined thousands of times in his head, but none of it compared to the real thing.

She popped the buttons on his jeans, palming his erection beneath the fabric before tugging them down just enough with his boxers for his cock to spring free. Her eyes widened as she marvelled at it, delicately taking it in the palm of her hand, his leaking head oozing wetness onto her skin.

“L-Like that,” Satan encouraged her after a few strokes, his mind fogging over at her movements. He let out a low groan against her neck, almost forgetting his brothers were only a few doors down from them and that they risked any one of the walking in.

“Your so wet,” His hand snaking beneath her panties to rub his index finger against her wet folds, her hips bucking into his touch.

“Only for you Satan,” She whimpered, back arching as he pushed a finger inside her tight, wet heat. A noise like no-other left his lips as her walls gripped around his digit, pushing out to thrust back in until the grip around him loosened and he sped up his movements.

“Satan, I- more please,” Mouth formed in a delicate ‘o’ as two of his fingers worked inside her, knuckle deep and dripping with arousal. Her hand tightly around his cock, jerking it slowly as they both moaned into others mouths. Both eyes brimmed with lust, neither of them wanting to part from one and other for even a second.

“I can’t, I haven’t got a condom,” He swallowed, he may have one in his room but the thought of stopping now to search for one was too much. Even if she came around his fingers whilst he came on her hand, it would at least be enough to satisfy the need until they could be protected.

“I’m on,” Pressing her lips to his, pulling his hand away from her as she lined herself over his cock, “Birth control”.

“Are you sure- fuck,” He groaned so loud the bookcase behind him trembled, the warmth of her tight walls stretching over him send his head flying backwards. It was unknown who said it, but a breathless ‘fuck’ was whispered as she lowered slowly over him. Satan pressing gentle kisses to her lips as she rose up before lowering back down, inching him further into her with each movement. She took a few moments to roll her hips slowly, Satan’s hands cupping her ass to help her down until he was fully hilted inside her.

“Your perfect, so perfect,” Satan repeated over and over in a loving tone as her forehead pressed against his, slowly grinding movements of her hips in tightly circles.

Small rolls of her hips as his hands delicately ran from the curve of her ass to the smooth of her waist beneath her skirt, the sheer wetness dripping from her coaxing over his balls. The pit of her stomach dropped, mouth opening as her eyes expanded, the head of his cock rolling perfectly against her g-spot with each movement causing her to rock directly against that spot. His lips moved from hers, to her neck, moving down slightly to capture a nipple in his mouth as she moaned louder. He had to bite back the chuckle inside him to think for sure his brothers would hear them, but in this moment all he could focus on was the tight-heat eloping over his cock in gyrating movements. That he was claiming her, that she was his human. Heat pulsed throughout her body, feeling no shame at the sudden happening of her orgasm building.

“I'm gonna cum, Satan, I’m gonna-” Fingernails digging into the soft green of his sweater, lips parted with her head tossed back, cheeks dusted a heavy pink as the tension in her stomach rose higher and higher. Satan’s hands working her hips, letting her move at her own leisure as she brought herself to the edge of climax, ready to be pushed off it. His vision was lost in her beauty, admiring each and every thing about her, how she was physically and mentally taking the air out of his lungs as her walls tightened over him. She came crying out his name, unable to hold back, an orgasm with the intensity like none before she had experienced. Drool pooled out the corner of her mouth, hands grasped onto him to keep her grounded as her vision flooded white, Satan’s hands pulling her down to be fully impaled by him as her walls flexed over his cock. Her sweating forehead pressed against his, rapid breaths falling from her mouth as she came down from her high, Satan groaning as her walls slowly stopped withering around him.

“Satan I lo-,” And just as she opened her eyes, they heard it from outside, Asmo screaming out.

“Lucifer don’t-!”.

“I’m sorry,” Satan whispered, cupping her face as he pushed her off of him. The whimper she made broke his heart but he threw her behind the bookshelf, hissing at the loss of her warmth over him and the tightness of his jeans over his still solid cock as he tucked himself back in just in time for the door to burst open.

“Where is she!” Lucifer raging across the room in demon form, black onyx horns pulsing and Satan swore he could see steam coming out of his nose. “The fuck is she Satan!”.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m simply revising as you told me too,” Satan peers up from the book he had tugged into his lap, although his sweating face, ruffled hair and panting breath was enough to signal otherwise. The heavy smell of sex dominating the aroma of the dusty library.

“Don’t play coy. I heard you down the corridor! You vile creature, tainting her like that, you should be ashamed Sata-” Lucifer barks but is stopped. Satan growled, anger controlling him as his demon form takes over, standing and pinning Lucifer against the wall as if he was merely as light as a book.

“I might not be good enough for her,” He hisses, tinged eyes pulsing with anger, “But I fucking love her, you have no right Lucifer, no right. Just because you can’t have her doesn’t mean you can control her,”. He gives a dark chuckle, smirking to see Lucifer's face fluster, “Yeah that’s what I thought, that's why you want us all to study, so you can keep her all to yourself but guess what Lucifer,”. Satan peered into his eyes before moving his hold to choke Lucifer, leaning to the side of him as he whispered in his ear, “It was my cock she was just coming over,” The whimper from Lucifer made Satan smug with pride, “So I suggest you leave, unless you want to watch me fuck her... Oh how glorious that would be seeing you wishing, no, lusting to be me as I drive my cock into her tight walls, for only me to ever do so. She’s my human Lucifer, mine,”. He lets out a cheshire grin before releasing his hold on Lucifer, watching him choke a few breaths before turning on his heels and leaving, his pride purely kicked to the curb.

“Are you okay?” Satan turned back around, running to the bookcase where he had pushed the girl off, watching her nod from behind where she was hiding. “I’m so sorry you had to see that,” He whispered, cradling her in his arms, the moments of darkness passing as fast as it came, she bringing out the best and light out from inside him.

“It’s okay, really I’m just glad he came in then and not when- you know, I guess we were a little loud,” She smiled with a light blush, her askew clothes now fixed, “Did you mean what you said… about Lucifer liking me…?”.

“You can’t tell? That’s why he’s kept us all ‘studying’ to keep us away from you,” Satan tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t realise, I mean- I didn’t realise you liked me either so,” A nervous laughter followed.

“All my brothers like you,” Cupping her face in his palm and stroking her lip with his thumb, “But I-... I love you,”.

“I love you too Satan,” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss her. The kiss quickly deepend, the couple picking up their previous rhythm before being interrupted before she pulled away. Satan frightened he had scared her with his actions to Lucifer.

“Do you-” Twirling her index finger along his chest, hiding her face in a bashful manner, “Do you think that… we could finish this in your room?”.

“Of course, we don’t have to continue if you're uncomfortable,” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, a softer side of Satan that only she would ever get to see.

“No no!” She quickly added, “It’s just- Lucifer's room is next door and I- well, you know, I feel we owe him a little revenge for the past few weeks… and as well,”. Her hand moved down to cup his still hard cock through his jeans, “You didn’t get to finish,”.

“You are perfect, you know that?” Satan laughed, cupping her face again and kissing her nose.

“Um as well,”.

“Yes?”.

“Do you think the whole wall pinning and choking… we could-maybe-try it?” Her face burning red as Satan felt his cock twitch, the horns on the side of his that had subsided as his anger calmed now re-appeared but this time for lust, not anger.

“Fuck me you’re so fucking perfect,” He mumbled once more, picking her up in his arms with her legs around his waist as he kissed her deeply, carrying her from the library to his room.

Kinktober masterlist here.

#alloverkinktober #kinktober #obey me #obey me satan #obey me satan smut #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc #shall we date obey me #shall we date smut #shall we date satan #obey me smut #shall we date #smut

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

I Never Planned On You - C.W.

Charlie Weasley x reader

This is part of my showtunes fic list based on the song I Never Planned On You from the musical Newsies 💗 also i am SUCH a simp for Charlie it’s crazy

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: when the twins bring their best friend to the burrow for christmas, charlie can’t keep his eyes off of her.

Warnings: very brief mentions of death (minor character) & the war, injuries from dragons (?), mentions of food & alcohol consumption

I’ve got no use for moonlight, or sappy poetry

Girls are nice, once or twice,

Til I find someone new

The pub was unusually packed, Charlie noticed.

As he scanned around the crowded room, his friends idly chatted around him. This was their usual routine, every Friday they would clock out of work and make their way here for a round of drinks and some fish and chips.

He hadn’t noticed until she was directly in front of him, but one of the girls he saw around the reserve had made their way over.

“Hello Charlie,” She drawled, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder, “It’s so nice to run into you here.”

Despite the freezing temperature and the fact that everyone else was dressed comfortably, having come straight from work, the girl was wearing barely anything. Not that it mattered what any bird wore, as long as they felt confident in it and in themselves. But, as she bent down to be eye to eye with him, her breasts practically spilled over from her too tight top.

It was obvious what she was trying to do.

His friends watched with amused glints in their eyes, already knowing how this interaction would go. Her appearance was not out of the ordinary. Despite each incident involving a different bird, they had seen this kind of thing happen quite often when they went out with Charlie.

“Erm, hello,” He muttered, trying not to make eye contact, “Louise right?”

Her attempt at a sultry conversation was shattered as she replied, “It’s Leanne.”

“Right.”

Sensing that he was not at all interested in whatever was going on, Leanne huffed and turned on her heel. She angrily strode across the room, making as much noise and ruckus as possible, just to get a reaction out of the redhead, but her attempts were futile.

Mark, one of Charlie’s friends, let out a low whistle as the girl left hearing distance, “That one was rather presumptuous, don’t you think mate?”

Charlie let out a soft chuckle, “I don’t understand why they all think they can pull the same move and expect me to react any differently.”

“They’re all hoping to be the lucky one that the Charlie Weasley falls for, or some other crap like that,” He winked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Reckon that won’t happen for a long time yet, mate.” The redhead replied.

“You never know, Charlie boy!”

He merely shook his head and took a sip of his drink. Dating wasn’t really on his mind anyway.

Love at first sight’s for suckers

At least it used to be

The crack of apparition sounded through the pale morning light.

Charlie landed steadily on his feet as he appeared on the top of a hill, just on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Nothing had really changed since the last time he visited, the same silhouettes of different houses littered the landscape, the same sleepy neighbors about to begin their day. The familiarity of it all blazed in his heart like a warm fire at the end of a cold day, comforting and all consuming.

The Burrow stood proud and tall in the horizon, and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips. He was home. It was the Christmas holidays, the war had ended, and he was home.

He took his time, trudging up through the blanket of snow surrounding the house. Smoke rose from the chimney signalling that his mum was already puttering about in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the army of people no doubt housed under her roof.

“Mum!” He yelled as soon as he crossed the threshold, “Mum, I’m home!”

As he banished the remaining snow on his boots with a wave of his wand, Molly Weasley came bustling out the kitchen door. Apron adorning her waist and a smidge of flour flecked on her fiery hair, she grinned and opened her arms.

“Charlie,” She said as he bent down to wrap his arms around her in an embrace, “Oh love, it’s so good to see you!”

“You too, mum.” He smiled at her, “Anyone else here yet?”

From eldest to youngest, she listed off the plans of each of her children and where they were to spend the holidays. Everyone would be ‘round on Christmas and Boxing day, but the only ones spending the night that day, Christmas Eve, were the twins, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The younger ones of the bunch had arrived the day prior, but were still asleep from what she knew.

Charlie nodded his head before he was sent away to unpack his things in his old room. His mum had kept it just as he left it, even though it had been many years since he moved to Romania. She said something about not being bothered to think of anything to turn it in to, but he knew that she kept it for nostalgia’s sake.

As he made his way back down the stairs, the commotion at the front of the house caught his attention. Fred and George had arrived, noisily announcing their appearance, taking off coats and scarves and calling out to their mum. However, Charlie could also just barely see the outline of a third person behind them.

She was nearly a head shorter than the twins, but when she came into view, he felt the air get knocked out of him. The light streaming in from the open door behind her seemed to glow in a halo around her, her eyes lighting up at whatever the twins had said and a laugh falling from her lips.

She was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on.

The twins took notice of Charlie’s presence, as he was paused halfway down the stairs, and called out to him.

“Oi, Charlie!” George called, making his way to his older brother, “Nice to see you, mate! How’ve you been?”

“Good-erm, good yeah.” He managed to stutter out, head still spinning at the sight of the beautiful girl, “What have you lot been up to, then? Who’ve you brought over?”

“This is Y/N,” Fred said, motioning to his best friend.

At the introduction, she smiled brightly and held out her hand for Charlie to shake, “I work with the twins at the shop, nice to meet you.”

Charlie spotted Fred and George roll their eyes playfully.

“Oh come off it,” Fred nudged her before turning to his older brother, “We’ve been mates with this one since Hogwarts. She was usually the one getting us in trouble, though.”

“Oi!” She laughed, “Don’t make me sound like the bad influence, I was a perfectly good student.”

As Charlie watched their interaction, he had flashes of a little girl always in step with the twins and causing mischief in the halls of Hogwarts during his last few years there. Back then, she had only been a child, bright eyed and inquisitive, but now she had grown into a woman, confident and sure.

“Nice to meet you,” He murmured as their eyes locked, “The more the merrier around here.”

He might have been imagining things, but he swore he could see the faint beginnings of a blush creeping onto Y/N’s cheeks.

The ruckus made from the twins & Y/N’s entrance was enough to wake the rest of the inhabitants of the household. It seemed like the Christmas celebrations had begun early as they all clambered into the slightly too small kitchen table and had a meal together.

For the rest of the day, Molly had them all helping out in preparation for the real celebratory meal the next day. Charlie hadn’t had the time to strike up a conversation with Y/N and instead settled with (not so) subtle glances her way.

Once or twice, one of the twins would catch onto his game and send him knowing looks. He paid them no mind, though, being used to their antics.

“So Charlie,” Fred began, as the family was settling in around the living room after dinner, “Y/N, huh?”

The pair of them leant against the wall in the corner of the room, away from any prying eyes or ears.

“Shove off, mate.” He replied with a slight shake of his head and his lips barely twitching into a smile.

The younger brother rolled his eyes playfully, “It’s alright. Georgie and I have been fending off boys for years with our Y/N. She’s quite fit, but no guy’s been good enough for her in our eyes, or in hers I reckon.”

“Don’t you go playing the protective best friend on me now, I haven’t even done anything!” Charlie playfully shoved his shoulder against his brother’s.

“Nah, I’d never. Just wanted to tell you that she’s never been romantically involved with anyone.”

“Well, that makes the two of us then.”

The Burrow was uncharacteristically silent as Charlie crept down the staircase. It was definitely past midnight, but he hadn’t been able to fall asleep, tossing and turning from the moment his head met the pillow.

He paused for a moment as he reached the bottom, not expecting to see light filtering through the open kitchen door at this time of night. His heart only picked up its pace as he noticed that it was Y/N who was sat by the counter, nursing a cup of tea in her hands and staring out the window.

“Care for any company?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe.

He noticed her body jump slightly at the noise, but when she turned to face him, the smile she sent in his direction could light up any room, “I’ve just heard from a certain redhead that around here, the more the merrier.”

“Fred tell you that?”

Her laugh was a sound he knew he would never tire of hearing, “And I see cheekiness runs in the family as well.”

“Nah,” Charlie shrugged, taking the seat across from her, “It’s our good looks that you should be watching out for.”

He flicked his wand and the kettle began to boil once more as a mug floated its way towards the counter. The pair of them had settled into a peaceful silence, taking in the comforting atmosphere of the winter night.

It was Charlie who finally broke the silence, “So, how’s it been working with the twins at the shop? They drive you mad yet?”

She gave him a knowing smile, “When you’ve spent nearly seven years in close quarters with them, you tend to get used to it. Plus it’s good to have steady company, especially when it comes in the form of Fred and George.”

“What about your family? How’re they spending the holidays then?”

The moment the question escaped Charlie’s lips, he knew he had made a mistake. The light in Y/N’s eyes seemed to dim and her grip on the mug in front of her seemed to tighten.

“Oh I’m sorry, you don’t have to–” He began.

“No it’s alright,” She assured him, “My parents died in the war. I was going to spend the holidays alone, but the twins refused to even entertain the thought.”

“Well, I’m glad they brought you along this year.” He sent her a timid smile.

“Me too.”

But I never planned on someone like you

Christmas comes and goes in a flurry of cable knit sweaters and too much food. Y/N and Charlie found themselves tucked away in a corner or out in the snowy landscape taking a walk together more often than not. A quiet conversation at the dead of night did wonders for their budding friendship.

It was as if they were magnets now, drawn to each other in a way that couldn’t be explained.

Sooner than he’d like, Charlie found himself in one of the Ministry offices, hand tightly gripped onto a portkey.

As he settled back into his daily routine at the dragon reserve, his mind often wandered to Y/N. The way her eyes lit up when she saw the snow fall, how her smile bloomed at any of the twins’ (albeit not so funny) jokes, the little crinkle in her nose when she had a particular thought in mind.

“Look out, mate!”

He only had a second to react as he saw one of the younger Welsh Greens open its mouth and shoot flames in his direction. Charlie had been so distracted by his thoughts that despite his best effort and his exceptional flying skills, he still felt flames lick his skin and singe his clothes.

Full of adrenaline, he managed to land his broom properly before rolling onto the grass and performing the protocol for accidents such as these. Mark reached him quickly, as the rest of the team he was with went to settle the dragon down. A quick aguamenti charm at the still burning areas of Charlie’s clothes got rid of the remaining flames, but he still suffered a few burns and scrapes.

“You alright, mate?” Mark asked, helping the redhead get to his feet, “I think we’ve still got to get you to the infirmary for those burns.”

“Nothing I haven’t gone through before.” He smiled, wincing slightly as his clothes rubbed against the new burns on his skin.

As it was protocol for the reserve to inform next of kin of serious injuries, Molly Weasley received an owl detailing the accident and the procedures done to make sure that Charlie was well taken care of.

When she received it, she just so happened to have Y/N over for some tea. As the matriarch of the Weasley family couldn’t help but be drawn to children who had lost their parents in unfortunate circumstances, she made it a point to have her over every once in a while.

“Charlie’s hurt?” Y/N asked, concern leaking into her voice. She had peered over Molly’s shoulder to see what could be so urgently delivered from Romania.

Molly tried to hide her smile as she noticed how much Y/N cared for her son. She wasn’t the only one who took note of how quickly they were drawn to each other over the holidays, and she was thrilled at the thought of Charlie finding someone to love.

Of course, she knew it wasn’t love just yet.

“Got a few burns from one of their younger dragons, it says,” Molly clarified, “He’s confined in their infirmary until further notice. Usually we’re allowed to visit them when we get a notice like this, but I don’t think I’d have the time to go this week… And I don’t want to bother Arthur, he’s been so busy these days with the Ministry as well.”

Having been around Molly for much of her Hogwarts years, Y/N knew exactly what she was doing. But she couldn’t deny the flutters in her stomach when she realized that the person she looked up to as basically her second mother was trying to push her into the arms of her second eldest son.

“Molly,” She began, already set to turn down the offer.

Mrs. Weasley was quick to the chase, however, “Oh I hope he wouldn’t feel too bad, being injured and not having anyone come to visit him.”

A small chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips as she shook her head, “I’m sure he’s got friends over at the reserve.”

“Oh Y/N, but I know he’d love to have you over!” She protested, “And I know the twins would let you go and visit him as well. I would be truly grateful if someone from the family could visit him and come home with news.”

Y/N’s resolve faltered as she noticed that Molly had said she was family. The Weasleys had been practically her second family the moment the twins took her under their wing, but hearing the family matriarch say it so casually moved something in her heart.

“Oh alright.” Y/N smiled, “I’ve never been to Romania, might as well go and see what all the fuss is about.”

The infirmary wasn’t new to Charlie.

Working with dragons was a little more high risk than his mother would’ve liked, but his love for magical creatures overrode whatever concerns she might have had. It helped that everyone working in the place was a top notch healer and got him patched up in no time.

Still, he found himself on bedrest for at least the next few days as he waited for the various balms and soothing creams applied to his skin to work.

Just as he began to feel a little stifled and antsy, a knock on the door rang and the familiar head of one of his healers popped in, “Looks like you’ve got a visitor, mate.”

Charlie furrowed his brows, “But, my mum said she couldn’t come ‘round and visit–”

“Sorry to disappoint, love.”

The sound of her voice was enough to fill his heart with immeasurable joy. In that moment, he forgot all about the uncomfortable sting of his burns and the itch he had to get out of the ward and onto the field again.

“Y/N?” He asked, as she stepped into the room, looking as radiant as when he first met her, “What’re you doing here?”

“Molly said that you were injured,” She shrugged, nonchalant, “Just thought I’d keep you company while you recovered.”

“You came all the way to Romania just so that I wouldn’t be bored out of my mind?”

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds like I went through loads of trouble! I just got the next portkey out of Britain.”

Despite all appearances, the two of them bantered with each other with rapidly beating hearts. Charlie couldn’t believe that his own mum had sent the bird he was pining after to visit him in the infirmary. Y/N couldn’t believe that she had actually gone through with the plan and was going to be around the boy who caught her eye.

As soon as she took a seat next to his bed, though, their conversation flowed from where it left off. No awkwardness or uncomfortable pauses, just the two of them chatting as if they were still back in the Burrow, nursing warm mugs of tea and watching snow fall outside the window.

Y/N had to avert her eyes when the healer came back to redress his bandages, not because she was embarrassed to see him practically naked in front of her, but because seeing the burns nearly made her gasp out loud. She knew that he was a dragon tamer, but she hadn’t known the severity of what accidents on the job looked like.

Of course, he noticed and once the healer had left them again he said, “I’m alright, love. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all patched up in no time!”

“Yeah,” She nodded, “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Without thinking, she reached out and took his hand in hers. The both of them looked at their intertwined hands atop the stark white bed sheets. His skin was calloused and rough, she noted, but tender and gentle too. It was evident that he enjoyed what he did and he did it with a lot of care.

“Tell you what,” He stage-whispered, finally meeting her eyes, “I know what’ll help me feel better.”

“Oh yeah? What?” She raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to him and playing along.

“For you to go on a date with me once I get out of here.”

“You are something else, Weasley.” Her eyes glimmered as she shook her head, and Charlie felt his heart hammering in his chest, “If you weren’t injured, I would’ve shoved you off this bed.”

“You didn’t give me an answer, Y/L/N.” He replied, hoping that he didn’t come off as too eager, but still squeezing her hand to show that he was serious.

“Of course I will, you silly man!” She rolled her eyes, but pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

She relished in the way that simple gesture brought a rosy pink tinge to his skin.

#kai's showtunes fics #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley imagines #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley fics #charlie weasley fic #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x y/n #hp fanfiction #tw injury #tw mention of death #tw food #tw food mention #tw alcohol #tw alcohol mention

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

The Cowboy - Part 7

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) -- her boss in this part brings up gender.

Word count: 2827

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Perhaps it was because everything that transpired earlier had felt like a dream and closing your eyes made the most sense. You wondered if you had actually been reading one of those novels Natalia had packed for you to pass by a rainy afternoon and conjured up the delicious events that had occurred in your mind until you roused from your slumber.

No. You knew you had been within the strong arms of Jaehyun’s for some time. And after you both became still from the bountiful passion, the last thing you remembered was his lips softly pressing over one of your brows, and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were at peace.

As you became alert again, however, your bliss felt short-lived as panic rose in your chest.

Had Jaehyun spent his afternoon with you and then departed? It did make sense if he had. There was always a lot to do on the ranch and playing around with you all day long would no doubt put further strain on the daily chores.

But it was Sunday, and as Jaehyun stated yesterday, the weekends were for rest.

As you gathered yourself up, wrapping your robe around your body, you looked around your room. There was no sign of the man anywhere. Going into the bathroom next, you saw the pile of damp clothing was gone, including your own.

“Maybe I really did dream it all up,” you mumbled dejectedly, going down the stairs at a snail’s pace, each step descending you further into despair.

Just how much did you like Jung Jaehyun?

You knew part of the dejection came with your past. As a woman with a career, you had often struggled with relationships. You knew of successful people who managed both, but you weren’t so lucky. You invested too much time into your job or personal growth that having a partner felt somewhat of a burden. When you did attempt to make room in your schedule for someone, it never felt genuine enough. You were used to sleeping with corporate bachelors, finding the bed empty of their presence once you woke again. There was nothing that spurred you on to find true romance within the city.

Dream or not, you had hoped Jaehyun would be different.

Slumping into the kitchen, you stopped and blinked rapidly when several sounds and smells hit you at once. It felt foreign to stand there and watch the back of a man over your stovetop cooking something that made a sizzling sound. As you regained some coherency, you realised it was bacon and eggs and the man before you was the one that had travelled with you all the way to Nirvana more than once.

Jaehyun hadn’t gone anywhere.

Overwhelmed with relief and the swelling in your chest, you rushed forward and buried yourself into his back. Jaehyun relaxed into your embrace and chuckled. “Missed touching me that much, huh?”

“You didn’t go.”

“Of course not. That would be rude of me to just—hey. Are you crying?”

You tightened your grip around his waist so he couldn’t turn to confirm his suspicions. Sniffling, you shook your head against him. “No.”

“Have I overstayed? I thought you might be hungry, is all. I figured whilst you rested, I should dry my clothes and then I wanted to make sure you ate something before I left. We’ve been rather physical today, both in and out of the house. You need to regain some energy.”

You pressed your lips into his clothed left shoulder blade and hummed in response. A smile crossed your lips with how relieved you felt. Your emotions, normally well in check, were now over the place and you were surprised with how giddy you were after foolishly crying over his back.

Blayne was surely changing the way you processed things. And Jaehyun was affecting your heart in ways you didn’t quite understand yet.

You didn’t want to try to figure it out either. If you started to apply logic to the situation, you might end up in a position that didn’t allow you to hold onto Jaehyun anymore.

You were too comfortable nestled into him like this.

“You know, I’m trying to cook here.”

“Am I bothering you from doing so?” you queried with a giggle, and Jaehyun moved quickly, a squeak coming from you as he grabbed you and pulled you in front of him. You reached for the spatula he had placed down in the bustle as he wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, so it’s now on me to cook, huh?”

“I wanted to experience what was making you feel so good right now,” Jaehyun murmured into you, peppering you in light kisses over your neck. “I can see why you didn’t want to let go.”

“Missed touching me already?” you teased and grinned when he chuckled softly near your ear.

“You made a bad choice in sleeping with this Cowboy, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, how so?”

“I might want to keep doing it more often.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you nudged him playfully. “The food is ready. Let’s eat before we discuss where you’re going to bed tonight.”

The new week started with a smile permanently embedded upon your lips. You had kissed Jaehyun goodbye earlier before the sun had risen, knowing he had to get home before the day of work began for him.

You managed to fall asleep for a little longer until your alarm went off, and you happily took a shower and got dressed. You had a Zoom call at ten with Pierce to discuss the planning process so far and took your time preparing for your drive to the township over for stable internet connection.

All whilst humming a happy tune to yourself.

You could tell you were still on a high from the connection made with Jaehyun yesterday. It wasn’t just because of the sex, though you had to admit, he was an exceptionally good lover. Last night, you hadn’t moaned his name around the walls when you climbed into bed with him, though. He had simply held you and told you some stories about his upbringing, and you had shared your own. You felt content. It was a first that you had met someone who wanted to know more about you than what was under your clothes.

It empowered you as you drove down the country roads, stopping when you saw a familiar horse cantering across a field towards you.

Jaehyun pulled Blaze to an easy halt and tipped his hat in greeting at you, and your insides did a somersault. You felt like a teenager experiencing your first crush as you leaned out the window beaming up at him.

“Hello, Cowboy.”

“It’s a good morning today, Miss City. Off to work?”

“I have a Zoom meeting with my boss,” you mentioned, and Jaehyun nodded. You glanced over at another horse in the distance rounding up the cattle. “Shouldn’t you be over there helping poor Avery?”

“Poor Avery? You’re more worried about my cousin than me?” Jaehyun asked as he leaned his forearm onto the horn of the saddle. “I’m wounded.”

“You’ll be fine. The man I spent a lot of time with yesterday seemed pretty strong and capable.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Did he now?”

Avery was now on his way over, and you straightened up in your seat, wiping the adorable smile off your lips. Jaehyun frowned at your sudden disposition and then glanced lazily over his shoulder. “Are we hiding this?”

“No. Yes. No… I mean, I don’t know. People might get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea will that be?”

You scrunched your face up as you answered. “That I’m willing to sleep my way around to get changes here.”

Jaehyun was silent for a moment and then burst into hearty laughter when Avery came to a stop. The newcomer looked between you both and then cocked his head to the side. “What joke did I just miss out on?”

“Miss City here just made my day,” Jaehyun managed to say, adjusting the hat over his head from how amused he had gotten. “I think I’m going to be laughing all day after that one.”

“It wasn’t meant to be funny!” you exclaimed and waved off Avery. “Ignore him. He’s not all with it.”

“He’s been in an exceptionally good mood all morning. Maybe you might know of why, Y/N?”

“Me?!” you asked in an octave higher and shook your head. “I uh-”

“You best get to work before you’re late for that meeting with your city people, Y/N,” Jaehyun reminded, and you gasped, nodding eagerly.

“Good luck!” Avery called, and both men tipped their hats and farewell and turned the horses around.

You watched on only for a moment longer before driving off again.

“What is the status between Jaehyun and me?”

Whilst you didn’t quite know how close you would get to the cowboy, you hoped that what you had experienced over the last twenty-four hours wasn’t the end of it.

With the way Jaehyun had looked at you before, you were certain it was only the beginning.

“I see you’ve assimilated to being one of them,” your boss mentioned with a sly chuckle as he answered your Zoom call. You frowned, and he gestured to your outfit he could see through the video.

“Ah,” you breathed, glancing down at your sundress and then nodded. “I have plans to meet with Mrs Jung here after our meeting today. I didn’t wish to impose on her in office attire. They don’t wear anything quite like it out here.”

“Don’t come back to the office and think you can wear that here. You’re a little too relaxed by the looks of things. I hope you don’t see this as a paid holiday, Y/N.”

“I would never!” you pointed out and then cleared your throat, picking up your copy of your proposal you had printed out at the library just before. With a strained smile, you looked at your boss through the screen. “Shall we start with my recommendations?”

You had only gotten to page eight of your report when Pierce threw it down on the table and leaned back in his chair. “This won’t work.”

“It’s just my preliminary findings, Pierce. I’m still meeting with the people and finding out what they need for this to be pulled off.”

“I don’t care about housing. Where is the report I asked for about my resort land in the first place? We will not be focusing on any of this in our redevelopment, Y/N.”

“Pierce!” you exclaimed, shaking your head at your laptop’s screen. “We need to focus on the development of what’s here first before-”

“We’re not coming into the area to take on the complaints of the people in Blayne and serve their needs first, Y/N. We’re here to scout out the best place for a resort. That’s all. Besides, once we do that, there will be more jobs, and then the development of the county overall will make sense for those to undertake in the area.”

“They won’t agree to it,” you told your boss. “These people need to be offered hope first. They are very closed off to the concept of a resort. What Blayne needs is more housing to help bring in workers to the farms first.”

“When a resort comes into that area, do you think the farms will be at the forefront? Don’t worry about them. Worry about your job. You know, the one I sent you down there to do in the first place. I didn’t take you for being so soft, Y/N. I guess being a woman makes you more sympathetic to these people.”

You gaped at your boss. “That is sexism, Pierce. My gender has nothing to do with how I’m handling things here. Yes, it will mean a delay in building the resort, but I know my idea will lead to the end goal becoming achievable.”

“I don’t care how many people live there.” Pierce steepled his fingers together on top of his desk and leaned closer to his webcam. “They could all get driven out of there for all I care. The resort is what I want to hear about.”

You laughed incredulously. “They’ve been here for generations. They aren’t going to give up their land for any type of pressure you’re suggesting. It was you who told me that I needed to work into the people’s favour, don’t you remember? That’s what I have been doing!”

“Have you? Because all it seems that you can report to me about is a sad township that you want to build up and not about locating the most perfect place for a golf range.”

You clamped your eyes shut in attempts to compose yourself. “I’ve yet to reach page fourteen of the proposal in this meeting. I’ve already noted down where I think the resort and amenities can go once we get the support from the locals.”

Your boss was quiet for a moment, perusing the documents before him and a finger rose to his mouth as he took in the information. A smile grew on his lips. “The back property of the Jungs, you say? Your first mission is to secure that land. Get it to me in two months.”

“Two months?! Are you serious?”

“Deadly. Unless you’re softening to all that country charm they chime on about out there.”

“Blayne needs-”

“I need you to perform your job. Stop worrying about what the people want. Give them what they need. And that is a tourism destination that will bring them greater riches than the bare land and cows ever will.”

_________________

Part 8

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84hotpockets · 3 years

Text

Love is not an emotion

„Love is a lot like fire. It can be an all-consuming blaze that only lasts for a short moment and leaves nothing but chaos, ashes and sadness in its wake. Other times it can be a bonfire at the beach, warm and beautiful while it burns brightly, and when the last embers are finally gone you remember it fondly, sometimes wondering what would or could have been if you had taken a little more care, had watched it a little more closely or given it more space to grow. If you are lucky, the fire will be an almost everlasting flame in your home’s fireplace. It keeps you warm on cold days, it brightens the darkest night and keeps the monsters that lurk in the shadows at bay, its soft crackling offering a comforting background noise you miss whenever you’re not home. Sure, sometimes you have to work hard to keep that fire going, making sure an unexpected gust doesn’t blow it out, but in the end it’s worth it. It can also be a lit match, small in the grand scheme of things yet mighty in its possibilities. You can shield its flame, protect it from all outer forces so it can fulfill its purpose - light a candle, light some kindling wood in that fireplace of yours or even an gasoline fire. The choice is yours.“

David Rossi closed his laptop in frustration. His publisher had been haunting him for the first draft of his latest novel and although he knew where he wanted to go with his story about a serial arsonist, he kept coming back again and again to this passage that compared love to fire. He didn’t know why and that was almost as frustrating as the knowledge that his deadline was in two days. So when on a Friday evening Agent Emily Prentiss burst into his office, two glasses and a really nice bottle of scotch in her hand, his frustration gave way to curiosity.

„Bella, I thought you were already out dancing and having a good time with your friends.“

Prentiss didn’t answer but plopped down in one of the visitor chairs in front of Rossi’s desk, filled the glasses with a very generous amount of scotch and before Rossi could even take hold of one of the drinks, she had downed her own and went for a refill.

„Why does Hotch hate me so much?“ she asked, downing drink number two.

Rossi almost spit out his drink. „What are you talking about? Why do you think that Hotch hates you?“

„He avoids me. When we’re on the plane, in the conference room or in a police station, he sits or stands as far away from me as possible. When he sends me out to do interviews with vicims, family members or prisoners he always pairs me up with JJ or Reid and when we’re about to take down an unsub he pairs me up with Morgan, never with himself. He’s always on my ass about my reports and consults and barely looks me in the eye when talking to me.“ She refilled her glass for the third time.

Rossi sighed. He really didn’t get paid enough to have to deal with this shit. Just last week he had to act as intermediary for Morgan and Garcia when the two of them -

„Prentiss to Rossi, hello!“

„Yes, yes, I’m all ears, Bella. Listen, Hotch doesn’t hate y-“

„Have you heard anything that I said to you just now? How am supposed to interpret his behaviour with anything else than hate or at least annoyance?“

„Do you know who one of my favourite writers is?“

Now Emily herself was the one being annoyed. She looked up at Rossi while downing drink number three and going for an immediate refill. „What has that got to do with agent stick-up-the-arse’s behaviour?“

Trying to stifle his chuckle at Prentiss’ favourite pet name for his friend, Rossi continued, „One of my favourite authors is Andrew Vachss. He’s an astonishing and very brave man but that’s completely beside the point. The point is that he wrote something very simple and completely underrated, something we witness almost daily in our work.

‚Children know the truth Love is not an emotion Love is behaviour’

Hotch doesn’t hate you. He pairs you up with Reid and JJ for interviews because he knows how great you work with either of them. He pairs you up on takedowns with Morgan because he knows that Morgan is the best at it, even better than Aaron himself, and he knows Morgan will do everything in his power to keep you safe. He’s always ‚on your ass‘ because he knows how good you are as an agent and he wants others to see it too. Part of that are his quarterly reports to Strauss in which he has to include some of the team’s field reports, case studies and consults. While Reid’s are factually correct they often lack a more human perspective, yours on the other hand are only second to Aaron’s own. And the reason for him staying as far away as possible from you, if you still haven’t figured that one out on your own by now, is he doesn’t trust himself when he’s close to you. If I had a dollar for every time he had to stop himself from reaching out to you, I’d have a second mansion.“

Prentiss let out a breath she didn’t notice holding. She did however notice the filled glass in her hand, downed that one as quickly as she had the others and didn’t dare to look directly at Rossi lest her eyes show her feelings. Getting out of the visitor chair took a lot more effort than expected. Just before she turned around to walk out of the office she asked one last thing: „This, uh, this here never happened. Okay?“

„Bella, as long as you leave that bottle it’ll be our little secret.“ Rossi smiled at her. He really, really didn’t get paid enough to deal with those idiots. But then again, they were his idiots and he felt at least partially responsible for them. With that in mind, he reopened his laptop and began typing.

#criminal minds #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #if you squint at it from an 37° angle and 7 feet away

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a-dorin · 4 years

Text

tempestuous | darth maul

word count: 5.043k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, professor/student relationship, sexual tension, smut, nudity, sexual innuendos, dominance kink, age gap, cursing

a/n: hello everyone! due to the response i received, this is the second chapter in the professor!maul au! i am so happy with the overwhelming comments of kindness. you guys rock :’) thank you for keeping me sane during quarantine. as always, the first chapter is linked below. enjoy :))

ardor

summary: weeks have flown by, and you find yourself under immense amounts of pressures with midterm quickly approaching. not only are you stressed with the academics, but you can’t seem to shake a certain professor out of your head.

“(y/n), did you have rough night?” barriss chuckled, handing ahsoka an iced coffee before sliding into her own spot, “here, i got you a little pick-me-up.”

wrapping your hand around the cup, you swirled your straw around, “thank you, barriss. i guess i’m just a little stressed out with midterms approaching.”

“a little?” ahsoka giggled, covering her mouth, “(y/n), we love you, but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck. is everything okay?”

you rubbed your temple, a dull aching seeping into your skull, “i’ve been pulling some all nighters lately.”

“well if you ever want to study for with us, you’re always welcome,” barriss’ blue depths shone, her lips curved into an encouraging smile, “ahsoka and i are a little nervous about the midterm as well, especially for this class. professor maul hasn’t given us any sort of notion on what the exam may be.”

“i hope it’s something simple,” you grumbled, taking a sip of the matcha latte, “again, thank you for the matcha, barriss. i appreciate it.”

barriss laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, “anything for you, (y/n). after all, you’re our new best friend.”

“she’s very right,” ahsoka shot you a wink, prodding you with her elbow, “you should come to the library with us tomorrow night! i know, it’s lame, but it’s pretty empty on the weekend. we have a good chance at snagging one of those study rooms. and if we get our homework done friday, we can always meet up before that party saturday night!”

“you guys party?” you arched a curious brow.

barriss and ahsoka rolled their eyes simultaneously, the togruta letting out a huff, “we know how to have fun too, (y/n). after all, they say that the bookworms know how to let loose.”

“whatever,” you couldn’t help but laugh, pulling out your laptop.

it was now about halfway through the semester, with midterms approaching on the horizon. the looming fact that you had about five exams, along with working extra hours with your internship, were beginning to take their toll on you. the internship at the hospital was running smoothly, and you were performing so well that you were offered extra hours. of course, you couldn’t help but accept the offer.

yet, it came with a cost. although it was only two nights a week, they asked if you could stay a few hours later than normal. so, every tuesday and wednesday, you strolled into your apartment well past one in the morning.

rex helped in every way he possibly could. whether it was cooking you dinner, making you coffee, tending to your laundry, as well as keeping the apartment tidy, he was adamant about making things easier for you. which, you greatly appreciated. there were even times he charged your laptop and made runs to the printer. last night was one of those nights where you didn’t get back till late, so to say you were exhausted was an understatement.

although it was your first class of the day, and 9:56 a.m., sleep still hung heavy in your mind. the comfy clothes hanging on your frame weren’t much help either, the coziness of the fabric lulling you to sleep. a university of coruscant hoodie, a few sizes too big, was almost like a blanket. and the grey sweats were comforting. shaking your head, you attempted to focus.

the class fell silent as he entered the room, causing you to perk up in your seat. today, he was clad in a pair of black slacks, the color of his button up and blazer corresponding with his pants. his shoes were freshly polished, glossy in the sterile light. the monochromatic outfit brought out the color of his crimson skin, his amber orbs nearly glowing. as usual, the silver chain hung from his neck, this time, settled on bare skin, as a button or two was left undone.

you nearly choked on your matcha, as you drank in the sight of him. maker, was he gorgeous. mind buzzing, you mustered all of your strength to not admire for a moment too long. it was already embarrassing enough the sheer amount of instances you saw him on campus.

now that you were enrolled in his class, you saw him everywhere. whether it was grabbing a meal to-go in the dining hall, bumping into him at the gym, or mumbling a greeting as you passed him in the halls of the psychology wing. it was odd, yet you paid no mind. a part of you yearned to see him, to just admire his features.

professor maul didn’t seem to mind the encounters either. every time, he would chirp a greeting, his tone smooth and cordial. even though he was formal, you couldn’t help but notice a gleam in the golden pools as he spoke. it was almost as if his eyes were roaming your body, glittering with lust.

just the mere thought of his lips on yours sent a faint blush painted across your cheeks. shifting in your seat, the realization that class began washed over you. letting out a quiet sigh, you typed notes as he spoke, his voice clear, thick with authority as it rang through the lecture hall.

“now,” he cleared his throat, backtracking to the pedestal to the left of the space, “i compiled a list of terms and parameters of your midterm exam.”

groans of frustration erupted like a volcano, maul’s eyes blazing with amusement, “may i discuss the exam with you first or are you all going to complain?”

“i hate him,” ahsoka muttered under her breath.

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, teasing, “what if the exam is a breeze?”

“the midterm will be no walk in the park,” maul announced, gathering a thick stack of papers in his hands.

your eyes wandered to his hands, and how they sprawled over the stack with ease, how they were would fit so well over your breasts. a shiver ran down your spine as you pondered of his hands all over your body, relishing every inch of your skin. his voice snapped you out of your fantasy, his gaze settling on you, a smirk creeping onto his lips.

“for the exam, i ask that you research an individual or authoritative figure who is a ‘monster’ in our society. once you conduct your research, you will give me a brief presentation. the presentation will be done orally, through a video format. the deadline is printed on the assignment sheet. there are no exceptions, so plan accordingly.”

biting your lip, your cheeks reddened under the eye contact. however, his attention was taken away from you, eyes flickering towards a student near the top of the lecture hall.

“does this mean we can talk about president palpatine? he’s a tyrant!”

“i can’t believe he almost banned the frats!” another complaint rose from a classmate.

“if that’s who you would like to report on,” a bubbly, lighthearted laugh escaped his lips, the sound flowing like sweet honey into your ears, “you might have your work cut out for you. that is my boss after all, so i am not sure how biased i can be.”

the rest of the class droned on, ahsoka and barriss lost in their note-taking, their stares fixed to their laptop screens. meanwhile, you found yourself getting lost, daydreaming. maker, did you ache to experience just one kiss. to trace the tattoos all over his chest and shoulders as you unbuttoned the article of clothing. gnawing on your cheek, shame burned through you as you realized that you were beginning to feel a sensation in your core. the mere thought of maul had your folds slick, wet and desperate for him.

soon, class was over, students herded to the doors. you followed ahsoka and barriss, conversing about tomorrow’s plans. you were anticipating the study session tomorrow, as you needed it.

after all, you weren’t paying much attention in class these days.

*******

“so, are we wrapped up for the night?” ahsoka yawned, her eyes bleary with sleep.

a rumble in the distance shook the library, a thunderstorm wreaking its havoc over coruscant. you, barriss, and ahsoka were finishing up, the building nearing closing time. it was 10:32 p.m., the three of you hunkering down in a study room for the past two and a half hours. however, the session was helpful, the three of you passing notes, sharing what you did and didn’t have. you were all caught up, thanks to them.

“i believe so,” barriss nodded, shoving a notebook into her bag, “(y/n), would you like us to walk with you to your apartment? we can share an umbrella and give you one.”

“i’ll be fine,” you shrugged, glancing at your phone, “i think i might wait out the storm for a few more minutes. besides, my roommate has a girl over. i don’t want to impose on them.”

“you sure?” concern flashed across ahsoka’s face, “it’s not a problem to us.”

“you guys can go,” you teased, winking, “i can handle myself. besides, there’s no one in here besides the twi’lek at the front desk.”

“whatever you say,” barriss huffed, adjusting her hijab, “see you tomorrow!”

“see ya,” you waved to the two girls as they left the room, “text me when you guys want to meet up!”

“we will,” ahsoka called, giving you one last grin before they disappeared from your field of vision.

exhaling, you rose to your feet, slinging your bag over your shoulder. strolling out of the study room, the lights of the library were dimmed, a few students lingering, milling around the front desk or nose deep in textbooks, scrambling to finish their work.

eventually, you made your way to the lobby, leaning against the brick wall. rex promised that he would text you when his friend was on her way, yet there were no message on your screen. no missed calls. nothing. frustration welled up inside of you, creeping into your thoughts. surely the girl wasn’t staying the night. rex didn’t mention anything about it to you earlier.

“hey there,” an all too familiar voice rumbled, “do you need a lift?”

turning ever so slightly, your eyes widened at the figure before you. maul stood in the doorway, donned in a pair of grey joggers, a university hoodie on his top half. the hoodie was black, which was a prominent color in the zabrak’s wardrobe. you picked up on that the third day of class. his brows were furrowed, lips pursed. it was almost as if he was concerned.

“i’m fine,” you muttered, “just waiting on my roommate to give me the all clear.”

“i remember those days,” maul mused, “savage used to have all sorts of women over when we rented an apartment together for grad school. it was downright horrid.”

“i bet,” you sucked in a breath, anxiety swirling as you read the time once more. it was 10:48 now, more and more students filing out of the exit.

“you all right?” he inquired, his voice low, “if your apartment isn’t too far from here, i can give you a ride. it’s storming pretty bad out there.”

“isn’t that illegal?” you snorted, a glimmer of hope rising as rex’s called id lit up your phone, “hang on, i gotta take this.”

“heyyyy,” immediately, you sensed that rex was walking on eggshells, “do you have a place to stay for the night?”

“rex, i thought we talked about this.”

“well,” he mumbled, “she wants to stay the night. i’ll do all of your laundry tomorrow if you say yes.”

“rex this isn’t the right time to bargain with me,” tears brimmed your eyes as the horror crept in. you had nowhere to go.

“please?” his voice was sickeningly sweet, “pretty please?”

“fine,” you caved, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“thank you-” rex began, but you hung up before he got the chance to finish.

storming out of the library, tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing effortlessly with the icy rain as it cascaded down, piercing through your clothes. you sobbed, your cries deafened by the thunder. maker, you were so furious. how could rex do that to you? especially so last minute? the only place you could go was your car, and you didn’t even have a fresh change of clothes.

“(y/n),” through the roar of the thunder, you heard his voice.

“oh great!” sobs racked your body, “now i have to deal with you too-”

his hands grasped your cheeks, pulling you in. lips collided with yours, his touch warm, as you crumpled completely. fingers tangled into your wet locks, desperate to bring you closer to him, to feel your lips mold so effortlessly with his. the kiss was fiery, burning with a passion. a desire for you. it was exhilarating, intoxicating, your mind buzzing, losing any sort of coherent thought as the rain pounded against the cement, lightning illuminating your surroundings.

“now,” he pulled away, leaving you breathless, “do you need a ride?”

“i don’t have anywhere to go,” you could barely string the words together.

“you’re welcome to stay at my place.”

“are you sure?” you wiped your tears, yet the effort was fruitless. your clothes were soaked, you were chilled to the bone.

“yes,” he took your hands, “come on, let’s get out of here.”

“what if someone sees us?” anxiety bubbled within you.

“my hood is up,” he began to make his way towards the parking lot, clicking a button on his car keys, “besides, i’m wearing black and so are you.”

“i guess you’re right,” you muttered, a shiver rippling through your being.

as he approached the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for you as the rain pattered against the pavement. slipping off his sweatshirt, he shoved it into your hands, “here, put this on.”

“i-i’m not wearing a shirt underneath,” the words were a stutter.

“and i’m not fifteen,” maul scoffed, ducking so that he could slide into the driver’s seat, “you’re going to get sick out here and mine is somewhat dryer than yours.”

hesitantly, you made your way into the passenger seat, your eyes widening as you noticed the interior, “this is a tesla.”

in the darkness, you picked out the brightness of his grin, his incisors flashed, poking against his lips, “indeed. my apartment isn’t too far from here. i need to let savage know that we’re no longer having drunkfest.”

“drunkfest?” you couldn’t help but giggle.

“drunkfest,” maul affirmed, his thumbs dancing across his phone, “we get absolutely wasted every friday night to forget about the awful moments of the work week.”

“interesting,” you settled into maul’s hoodie, grateful for the slightly drier fabric. his scent flooded your nostrils. it was a strong scent, with traces of leatherwood, spices, and bergamot. it was heavenly, with just the right amount of cologne.

“it is interesting,” his eyes focused on the road, the lights of the city whirring by as he drove, “even though i’ve gotten completely trashed every single time, i can’t seem to shake you off my mind.”

blush flooded your cheeks, your breath hitching in your throat, “i see.”

within minutes, maul pulled into a parking garage, turning off the engine. he helped out of the passenger seat, “let me carry your bookbag for you. the textbooks probably need to sit out for a few hours. i’m sure you don’t want to pay for new ones.”

“i don’t,” you sucked in a breath.

the zabrak slung your bag over his shoulder with ease, locking the car behind you. the two of you entered the elevator on the level, and maul pushed his desired designation. a wave of silence crashed over you, but it wasn’t unnerving. it was more relaxed, maul humming a tune as the elevator whirred.

eventually, you were standing outside his door, the zabrak shoving the key into the lock. pushing the door open, you couldn’t help but marvel at the decor, furniture, as well as the viewports. the apartment was luxurious, screaming wealth. yet, maul remained humble, not uttering a single word.

the floor was a flint concrete, glossed over with a polish. in the den, there was a massive patterned rug, intricate patterns of black, white, and crimson woven together. the couch was a sectional, a dark grey. the shelving and tables were black, paired with subtle hints of scarlet or grey decor. there wasn’t much wall decor, besides some vintage posters from the old days of coruscant. framed photos of zabraki were scattered, and you inferred that they were feral and savage, maul’s younger brothers.

“there’s a hall leading to the refresher. it’s on your right, i’m going to set out your books to dry. before you shower, leave your clothes in a pile by the door. i’ll throw them in the wash for you. and if i pop in, don’t scream. i’m going to lend you some of my clothes,” the zabrak murmured, “take your time in the shower. i don’t want you getting sick.”

“what if i need help getting the right water temperature?” you arched a brow.

his eyes narrowed, gleaming, “i think you’ll be fine, princess. call me if you need anything.”

your cheeks reddened, “okay. i’ll be in the shower.”

maul mumbled something incoherent, and you wandered through the den, discovering the hall that he mentioned. once you found the refresher, you peeled the damp clothing off your body, grateful that there was a towel hanging outside the shower. exhaling, you tossed your clothes outside the door, turning on the water. after adjusting the temperature to your liking, you stood underneath the stream, grateful for the warmth as it seeped into your skin.

the shower was just as elegant as the apartment, with glass doors and a steel shower head in the shape of a square. it was far better than the shower in your own apartment, as you didn’t have to worry about wasting hot water or any spiders. steam billowed into the space, hugging the doors of the shower, droplets of water condensing on the glass.

“i’m coming in to drop off some clothes,” the zabrak’s voice entered the room, “holy fuck do you always have the water this hot?”

“do you not?” you chuckled.

“it feels like a sauna in here,” he chuckled, teasing, “anyways, i’ll leave you be.”

letting out a content sigh, you turned the water off once he left. opening the door, your eyes scanned the space for the light switch. after a few seconds, you found it, flipping on the vent. hopefully that would help with the amount of steam that clung to every single item in the refresher.

on the counter, there was a black turtleneck, along with a pair of briefs. patting yourself dry, you slipped on the briefs first, then slid the turtleneck over your head. it was getting late, the clock on the counter reading 11:36 p.m. yawning, you pushed open the door, padding into the hall.

maul was nowhere to be found, a frown forming on your lips. where could he had run off to? surely he would’ve mentioned something to you. yet, your curiosity crept in, urging you to explore. holding your breath, you noticed a door, inferring that it was maul’s bedroom.

the door creaked as you tapped it, the draft pulling it open. inside, the floor was the same as it was, a king-sized bed in the middle, pushed against the wall, supported by a black wooden bed frame. there was a dresser, along with a walk-in closet. the most breathtaking aspect were the viewports, acting as a wall. the lights of coruscant glowed, the room overlooking the city. rain flowed down the viewports as thunder rumbled. you felt drawn to them, awestruck by the beauty of the sprawling city.

“you like the view?” your heart nearly leapt out of your chest.

“don’t scare me like that!” you pouted, folding your arms across your chest.

“don’t go snooping around,” maul smirked, matching your energy.

your heart thudded as his eyes drank in the sight of you, in his turtleneck. the sweater was a little large, hanging loosely in some areas. the briefs hugged your thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. your nipples poked through the fabric of the sweater, the cool air sending a shiver running down your spine.

“gods,” he breathed, licking his lips, “i-i don’t know what to say.”

“i’m sorry for wandering off,” you mumbled, your cheeks hot as shame burned through you, “i didn’t mean to-”

“just stop,” maul shook his head, taking a step towards you, “just fucking stop. you have no need to apologize.”

the air in room crackled like the lightning outside as he took another step forward, an old t-shirt clinging to his torso, the same pair of grey joggers hanging loosely on his hips. your throat tightened as you noticed the way his chest rose and fell, the zabrak’s breathing ragged.

“it seems as if i can’t shake you off my mind,” he panted as the space between you dissolved, “lately, all of my thoughts have revolved about you.”

“what do you think about?” you swallowed thickly.

“do you want the hear the answer?” his face was merely centimeters away from yours, “or would you rather experience it?”

“i want both.”

his hand reached out, gently grasping your jaw. the touch was light, feathery as his fingers traced your heated skin. you melted, nearly collapsing to the floor.

the zabrak’s eyes glowed, the amber now hardened into a deep honey hue, almost a chestnut brown, “can i kiss you?”

you nodded, almost a little too quickly, “yes.”

a low, guttural growl dripped from his lips, “i couldn’t resist you before. but fuck as soon as i saw you in my clothes, i just can’t fucking take it any longer.”

the kiss was hungry, an open-mouth, lustful kiss. his lips crashed into yours, yearning to explore the taste of your mouth. the zabrak’s hands laced into your hair, tugging at the roots, gripping tightly. a whine echoed through the room as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue delving into your mouth. a hand slid down, resting on the nape of your neck, holding you steady as the kisses grew hungrier and hungrier.

“get on the bed,” he commanded, his tone thick with authority, a hand untangling itself from your hair and tugging on the hem of the turtleneck, “and take this off.”

the way the words rolled of his tongue struck you to your core, your folds growing slick as the anticipation grew. fingers wrapping around the hem, you tugged it off, your breasts bouncing. the zabrak practically groaned as he admired your exposed body, a hand palming his cock as it hardened, the outline prominent in the light.

obeying his order, you laid on the bed, your back hitting the soft comforter. maul slipped off the t-shirt, almost pouncing on top of you. pinning you down, his mouth connected with your neck, trailing sloppy kisses down, onto your collarbone.

“if only i could leave my mark on you,” his breath was hot, coming out in pants, “i would paint you like a canvas.”

“you can,” the words were a broken moan as his tongue dragged across your collarbone.

“oh?” you could feel his lip curved into a smile, “you want me to?”

“ye-” the reply was shortened as maul’s lips wrapped around nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive area.

his tongue drifted from your nipple to your flesh, nipping and sucking, a satisfied purr erupting from the zabrak as a rich burgundy mark appeared, “i hope you’re aware that you’re the most beautiful woman i have ever met.”

“i don’t think so.”

within seconds, his mouth was hovering over the waistband of the briefs, “you better fucking believe you are, (y/n).”

“i- oh my god,” the tearing of fabric rang off the walls as maul ripped the briefs off your frame.

“usually i take my time with this,” maul murmured, his gaze burning with lust, “but fuck i need you. i need to feel you take my cock.”

“please,” you whimpered, squirming as he parted your thighs.

“holy fuck. how are you so fucking wet? you’re soaking and i haven’t even touched you.”

the zabrak was appalled, a flash of awe painted across features as he took in the sight of your dripping core, your pussy aching. desire burned through your being, threatening to consume you whole. maker, you never knew you wanted someone this badly. exhilaration rushed through you with every touch, his fingers slipping between your folds.

“i’ve thought about you like this,” maul was enticed, almost in a trace as your juices coated his fingers, “i’ve thought about the way your body would be underneath mine, your eyes begging for me to fuck you till you can’t take it anymore.”

“i’ve thought about you in class.”

“in class?” his voice faltered, “(y/n), that’s sinful.”

“it’s not as sinful as how i’ve wanted you to fuck me for weeks,” your cheeks were flushed,.

“oh gods,” maul groaned as a finger entered you, “i’m going to make you mine.”

“please,” your hips bucked forward, his finger plunging further into you, “i want to be yours.”

“you’re going to be mine princess,” he purred, “i promise i’ll give you what you’ve been yearning for.”

hastily, the zabrak tugged his sweats off, kicking them to the floor. your nearly choked on your spit when his member sprang free from the constraint of the fabric. his cock was massive, the largest you had ever seen. yet, it wasn’t too large that you couldn’t take it. crimson and black patterns wove all around it, his shaft ribbed, precum dribbling down his length.

“tell me how much you need me,” his voice shifted from a coo to a growl as fingers wrapped around your throat, “tell me how badly you need professor maul to fuck you senseless.”

“i need you to fuck me,” the words were a broken whine.

“louder,” his grip tightened, “say it louder. i need to hear you.”

“i need professor maul to fuck me,” the words were enough to bring the zabrak to the edge, to make him unfold.

“good girl,” his tone oozed with praise, low and husky.

he lined his tip at your entrance, slowly inserting himself into you. maul’s hand loosened from your throat, gripping the headboard for leverage. your moans were breathy, laced with bliss as your walls expanded, wrapping around his cock.

“that’s such a good fucking girl,” maul leaned in, nipping at your ear, “you take my cock.”

the zabrak thrust into you, his tip brushing against your g-spot. throwing your head against the pillow, your body almost went limp, collapsing. the pleasure was overwhelming, burning through you like a fire. but maker, did you want more. you needed more.

maul watched as he fucked you, one hand steady on the headboard, the other on the mattress, gripping the sheets. he was plowing into you now, showing no mercy. the moans bouncing off the walls were rich and so loud, fueling his desire to keep going. the zabrak lost all inhibitions minutes ago, his thoughts blurred, eyes glossed over.

the way you felt was heavenly, every single thrust euphoric.

maker, was he losing control.

tightening his grip on the headboard, his knuckles were almost white. he was completely feral, unhinged, detached.

a horrid cracking filled the zabrak’s ears, and he glanced up towards the headboard. the wood split into two, a lengthy, crack down the middle, stemming from his hand.

“oh shit,” you gasped.

“look what you made me do, angel,” a smirk stretched across his lips, “you’re going to fucking pay for that.”

your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he slammed into you, balls slapping against skin. his cock throbbed, swelling. with every throb, your walls tightened, the pleasure building in your belly. eyes squeezing shut, you felt every inch of him buried in your soaking pussy, balls deep in you now.

“maul,” the zabrak nearly unfolded right there, “i’m going to cum.”

“let go baby,” his lips brushed against yours, “you can cum. cum for me.”

the orgasm racked your body, maul’s mouth connected with yours, the moans muffled. your thighs trembled, stars bursting in your vision, the pleasure almost blinding.

with no strength left, your body went limp, collapsing into the mattress.

his thrusts were more languid, sloppy with every stroke. maul came moments later, filling you up with it all.

“fuck,” he cursed under his breath, a sheen of sweat clinging to his body, “are you all right?”

“i’m fine,” your inner thighs buzzed, soreness creeping into the muscle.

every inch of skin the zabrak touched tingled, as if your body was savoring the memory.

maul cleared his throat, his cock still inside of you, “i kinda lost control.”

“kinda?”

“a little bit,” he chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, “it’s been so long since i’ve last had sex. it doesn’t help that i’m in heat, either.”

“you’re in heat?” you pressed, brows furrowing.

“perhaps,” the color of his eyes returned to their normal hue, amber flowing into crimson, “let’s get you cleaned up. it’s late.”

“is it past the professor’s bedtime?” your tone was snarky.

“don’t tempt me to fuck you again. because we both know damn well that i will.”

glancing up, you noticed the broken headboard, “how much is that going to cost?”

the zabrak let out a huff as his cock slid out of you, drenched with a mixture of juices, “i don’t know. it’s the least of my concerns at the moment. stay here, and don’t move a muscle.”

swinging his legs over the mattress, maul strolled towards the refresher, retrieving a rag to clean up the mess that you made. you sunk into the bed, questions ringing through your mind.

yet, you couldn’t help but notice a prominent feature. in the light, the tattooed skin glowed. but there was something different about the way his thighs transitioned from flesh to an ashen metal.

maul’s legs were cybernetic.

and your curiosity about the zabrak, your professor, skyrocketed.

***

tagged: @sapphicstars , @maulieber , @starflyer-104 , @alwayshappysith , @doobiwankenooku , @magicalkitkat12 , @dartheldur , @princessayveke , @multifandombtch , @spaghetti-666 , @lis-ard , @swimmingsloths , @sithmando , @mother-0f-monsters

#darth maul #darth maul x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #maul #maul x reader #professor #au #darth maul smut #darth maul fluff

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365days365movies · 3 years

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April 9, 2021: Some Like it Hot (1959) (Recap: Part One)

If there was ever a movie more hyped than this one...

Ever heard of the American Film Institute? Well, according to them in 2000 (recent, I know), this is the funniest comedy...period. At the time, anyway. That beats Tootsie (getting there), Dr. Strangelove (love it), Annie Hall (also loved it), Duck Soup (classic), Blazing Saddles (classic, topical, and fantastic), M*A*S*H (maybe later this year), It Happened One Night (maybe next year), The Graduate (later this WEEK), and...THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN Airplane! IS NUMBER 10? You CANNOT be seri...yeah, OK, you know where I’m going.

Anyway. Yeah, so, maybe AFI has Oscar syndrome, because that’s a little bullshit. So, uh...how about the BBC? In 2017, they asked 253 film critics ACROSS THE GLOBE what the best comedy of all time was, and number ONE was Some Like it Hot. Other than beating Airplane! again, it also beat Groundhog Day, Monty Python’s Life of Brian and Monty Python and the Holy Grail, This is Spinal Tap, The Big Lebowski, and His Girl Friday, and...well, every comedy you can think of. This movie CANNOT be that funny.

...Can it?

But there’s more to this film than that. Apparently, it was made without the approval of the MPPDA, which means that it wasn’t Hays Code adherent! Damn! In fact, this film was partially responsible for its collapse about 6 years later! But what is the Hays Code? Well, briefly covered, it was a set of standards laid out by Will Hays and his Motion Picture Produces and Distributors of America, or the MPPDA. It was enforced in the mid 1930s, and stood firmly in place until 1968, when it basically disappeared.

So, what are these standards? Well, there are a lot, but in a nutshell:

No cursing or taking the Lord’s name in vain in any way.

No nudity, real or suggested. And sex is kind of OK, if consensual and between a man and a woman ONLY. But, they can’t be in bed together, and they can only kiss one time, IF one of them isn’t a villain.

No weddings, no wedding nights, and barely any reference to marriage.

No prostitution, or what was called “white slavery”. Yes. Really.

Oh, also, no weird race-mixing stuff. What’s a “civil rights”?

Buuuuuuut...don’t insult any races either. Of course, considering the time period, “insult” or “offense” is probably subjective, so...fuck that, I guess.

PRIESTS ARE HOLY AND CANNOT BE MOCKED

No guns, fire, American flags, murder, smuggling, drugs, hanging, electrocution, or...law enforcement?

No childbirth, seen or inferred, and no naked kids. I mean...that’s common sense, to be completely fair.

NO RACE-MIXI-oh. Oh, I said that already, didn’t I? Well, OK, I’ll pare it down a little. They can’t have sex, but I guess...looking at each other is OK? Yeah, yeah, we’ll go with that. I’m progressive!

That about covers it. And this movie wasn’t adherent to it? Oh...well, I am excited! Let’s jump right in! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The whole thing starts with a bang; literally. It's Chicago in 1929, smack dab in the middle of the Prohibition Era, and a group of gangsters are smuggling some alcohol inside of a coffin, while riding in a hearse. The cops aren't fooled, ad a shootout takes place between the gangsters and the cops, but they eventually drop off as the group takes the coffin into a funeral home. At the funeral home, a man named “Toothpick” Charlie (George E. Stone) meets with Mulligan (Pat O’Brien) a detective who’s got Charlie as his informant. With his help, he makes his way into the funeral home, actually a speakeasy in disguise.

Said speakeasy is run by “Spats” Colombo (George Raft), and within the speakeasy is a massive party, which the partygoers call a funeral. Spats arrives there shortly afterwards, and Mulligan watches all the while. Also at this party is a group of dancers accompanied by a band, which contains two partners, ladies’ man and sax player Joe (Tony Curtis) and anxious double bassist Jerry (Jack Lemmon).

The two talk about what they’re going to do with their upcoming paycheck, with Joe planning on using it for gambling on dog races. Jerry is understandably worried about this, as they owe rent, but Joe rattles off other things that he might was well worry about.

Suppose you got hit by a truck. Suppose the stock market crashes. Suppose Mary Pickford divorces Douglas Fairbanks. Suppose the Dodgers leave Brooklyn! Suppose Lake Michigan overflows.

Fun fact, though: the stock market’s about to crash in a year, Pickford and Fairbanks divorce in 1936, and the Dodgers left Brooklyn in 1957, famously. Lake Michigan has not overflowed...YET. It’s actually at record high water levels, and could cause flooding around it in the next few years. So, although those middle three were DEFINITELY part of the joke...that last one wasn’t at the time. Of course, it’s actually there as a line to set Jerry up with a way to tell him that the streets are “about to flood”, as he spots Mulligan and makes him. He tells Joe, and they both quietly pack up their instruments and leave, BEFORE the ruckus is about to begin.

And begin it does, and the cops raid the place almost immediately afterwards. As the party’s broken up and people are loaded into the paddywagon (Spats included), Joe and Jerry take their chance to escape behind the cops’ backs. However, this also means that the two musicians aren’t getting paid after all. Joe’s still set on betting money on the dog the next day, and get the money for the bet by selling their coats. However, while they do sell their coats, they instead end up looking for jobs at a local music agency, run by Sig Poliakoff (Billy Gray).

The agency is recruited by band owner Sweet Sue (Joan Shawlee) and her nebbish band manager Bienstock (Dave Barry), as they need a bass and a sax player to replace two of their own, in their band in Florida. On hearing this from Poliakoff’s secretary Nellie (Barbara Drew), the two barge into the office. However, much to their dismay, the only ones they’re looking for are women. While Jerry tries to weasel their way in, it doesn’t quite work, and they instead take a job up north for a Valentine’s Day dance. The two go to a garage to borrow a car from Nellie in order to get to the job. There, playing cards, is Toothpick Charlie with a group of men. But then...somebody else arrives.

Spats and his men arrive at the garage, and tell all of the men to stand with their hands on the wall. Joe and Jerry, however, manage to hide in the garage. And if you know anything about Valentine’s Day during Prohibition Era Chicago...then you know exactly what’s about to happen to Toothpick and the guys.

After the massacre (based upon the real St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, Jerry makes a noise and alerts the gang to their presence. This is a problem, because Spats isn’t keen on the idea of witnesses, and immediately orders the musicians killed.With a distraction caused by the still-alive-but-dying Charlie, the two manage to escape Spats’ wrath. Now needing a fast way out of town, Joe figures out a plan. See, that job, the one from Sweet Sue, is in Florida, which is far enough away that they should be able to escape. But, uh...the band is only looking for women. And so...

This is the second most famous thing about the film. Meet Josephine and Daphne, the female aliases of Joe and Jerry respectively. As Jerry realizes the difficulties of the female wardrobe (namely skirts and heels), the two walk up to the band of women, known as “Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators.” But they aren’t the only arrivals, and the other is the MOST famous thing about this movie...

This is Sugar “Kane” Kowalczyk, the lead singer, ukelele player, and...OK, look, it’s Marilyn Monroe, and I think I need to acknowledge this now. Marilyn Monroe is an underrated talent today, but she had a hell of a lot of potential as an actress and as an individual. She had a lot of troubles, and her early death by suicide is an absolute tragedy, no matter how you slice it. She’s a talented actress and singer, and she deserves recognition for that.

SHE IS ALSO INSANELY HOT I’M SORRY I’M WEAK

Look...it’s Marilyn fucking Monroe, OK? I know, I’m a straight cissexual man, but I wanted to make a point to acknowledge the fact that Marilyn Monroe is a talent far outside of her beauty and physicality. She (and all women) deserve that much, and deserve not to be objectified by the male gaze. I genuinely agree with this, and I do understand that concept. I’ll never personally understand the female experience, but it’s my responsibility and duty as an individual to understand experiences foreign to my own, including this one.

But DEAR LORD, her physicality is not easy to ignore, now and then! I mean COME ON! The woman’s considered a standard of classic beauty to this day by many (not by all, and not by herself), and it’s unfortunately her most famous feature to nearly everybody. But, of course, Monroe got a lot of grief for her looks as well (which is bullshit), and the stress of her life sadly led to her terrible suicide. But that doesn’t mean that her beauty inside and out shouldn’t be appreciated for what it is: beauty.

ALSO SHE IS DROP DEAD GORGEOUS I’M WEAK I KNOW

See, the train agrees with me! Oh...OH RIGHT, THE MOVIE! OK, where was I. Well, Joe and Jerry agree with me about Sugar Kane, but it is the 1950′s when the film is made, so of course they do. They watch her get on, and they follow suit, meeting the women of the band, and Sugar Kane. Sugar, see, has a teensy bit of an alcohol problem. That’s not necessarily to say she’s an alcoholic, but she is admonished for it by Sweet Sue and Bienstock, also being a repeat offender of drinking during working hours. That (and men) is something that Sweet Sue doesn’t tolerate.

She’s almost in trouble that night, when her flask falls from her stocking during a performance. However, Jerry covers for her, much to her appreciation. As they settle in for the night, all of the girls (including Joe and Jerry) sleep in the same cabin, much to the, uh, frustration of Jerry, despite Josephine’s urgings to keep it together. As Jerry continually reminds himself that he’s posing as a girl, he’s surprised that night with the appearance of Sugar, who comes to thank her for her help that night. Sugar tells “Daphne” that she owes her one, and also climbs into the cot with him to hide from Sweet Sue. Jerry...that poor mother fucker.

Well, Jerry tries to ease the tension by offering some of Joe’s whisky. But more of the girls overhear this, and eventually, a massive party erupts, with all the girls mixing drinks and sharing the single space of Jerry’s bed. Joe wakes up from all of this, and tries to help end the party, only for Sugar to climb out of it, and ask Joe for help with a block of ice for the drinks.

It’s here that she reveals that she used to work with men’s bands, but joined this band to get away from men. This is especially to get away from her weakness: tenor sax players. This intrigues Joe, the tenor sax player. However, she’s essentially sworn off of tenor sax players because of multiple bad relationships, and is instead hoping to find a millionaire in Florida, preferably one with a yacht. Meanwhile, Jerry’s bed is getting a little too full, and the girls are getting a little TOO familiar. They start to tickle him, and to prevent his cover being blown, Jerry pulls the train’s emergency brake. All of the girls scatter as the train stops, and they manage to get away with the party as Sweet Sue and Bienstock wake up only then.

The train gets to Florida, and the girls make their way into a hotel. As they check in, Jerry (as Daphne) is spotted by Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown), a millionaire, and a man with eclectic tastes in women. And those tastes apparently include Daphne, as he unsubtly (and unwantedly) hits on her. And Jerry’s having none of it. After Osgood pinches him in the elevator, he gets off after slapping him. Unfortunately, that makes Osgood only want Daphne THAT MUCH MORE. This man...this man may just be the legendary alpha simp of which the stories tell.

Meanwhile, Joe manages to get ahold of Beinstock’s luggage and glasses. He steals his clothes (after fending off an overeager bellboy), and uses them to dress as a millionaire. Why? Why, to seduce Sugar, of course!

This is right at the halfway point, so we’ll pick this up in Part Two! See you there!

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grapesodatozier · 4 years

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Tunnel Vision

this is a stenbrough fic I wrote for @angrysimplist !! thank you so much for requesting this!!

rating: explicit

words: 6k

tags: established relationship, smut, jealousy, daddy kink, bondage, spanking, slapping, choking, degradation, subspace, aftercare

notsfw under the cut!!

Bill Denbrough had always been a zero or one hundred kind of guy. He was either super mellow and in his head, or he was so intense it could make even his closest friends shut their mouths. Whether he was off in some other world or focused on one person, whatever held his focus had all of his attention.

This week, he’d been a little too in his head, inattentive. He’d been busy, and he’d had some new story ideas, which kept his attention off of his boyfriend for far longer than Stan could handle. To make matters worse, they had agreed to spend their Friday night at a bar with their friends when all Stan wanted was to get Bill alone, to get his tunnel vision back on him.

As the week went on, Stan’s neediness gradually shifted into brattiness. Sure, he was composed on the surface, but on the inside he was already stomping his foot. He wanted Bill's attention, and he was set on having all of it by the end of the night.

Stan was hot and he knew it. He had rich, dark brown curls and deep green eyes framed by long, dark lashes that both intimidated people and drew them in. Normally, he wouldn’t flaunt it, content to be privately pleased with himself. But he knew how to turn it on when he wanted to, and with the way Bill was so quick to disappear with Bev, Richie, and Eddie into the throng of bodies on the dancefloor, Stan had made up his mind.

He didn’t have to try hard. Stan could be intimidating, he knew that, but he also knew how to soften the seeming coldness into a look that simply said, “I’m out of your league,” a look that he knew from a number of unfortunate experiences drew in just the kind of guy he was looking for: the kind who would be all over him. The kind that would send Bill from this infuriating zero to the hundred Stan needed him at.

Sure enough, as Stan sat at the bar on his phone, disengaged from the conversation flowing between Ben and Mike, it only took a minute or two before some guy came up to him. Stan’s body was angled a bit toward the dancefloor, not facing it head on, but enough that he could glance at Bill and Bill could see what he was up to. So that Bill could see him giving this guy a flirtatiously challenging smile. Nothing over the top, but enough to be suggestive, enough that it would have Bill’s blood boiling as soon as he saw it. It took longer than he would’ve liked for Bill to notice—this guy had his hand on Stan’s knee for fuck’s sake—but just as Stan was about to accept an offer of a free drink, he felt Bill’s hand on his bicep, pulling him to his feet. Stan went easily, looking Bill in the eyes as their noses brushed together. It was forceful and rough in tense in just the way Stan loved. “Having fun, baby?” Bill asked, not bothering to hide the way his voice seethed.

“Yeah, I am,” Stan answered. His voice was even, but he knew Bill could hear the bite.

The guy who had been flirting with Stan began to stand, but he froze in his tracks when Mike cut in with an exasperated, “Can you guys save the kinky shit for your bedroom?”

Bill kept his eyes locked on Stan’s for a moment, then tugged on his arm, wordlessly leading him out of the bar. Out of Bill’s sight, Stan sent Mike and Ben a wink, a satisfied smirk on his face as he happily let himself be manhandled. Their faces of playful disgust were gone from his mind as soon as the cool night air hit his skin, then the wall of the bar hit his back. He smiled as he felt Bill sucking harshly on his neck. That was one of the many things he loved about Bill: he was so impulsive, so immediate with what he wanted. He never hesitated to show how he was feeling, never wasted any time when it came to showing Stan how much he wanted him. “You think flirting with other guys is cute?” Bill demanded as he nosed along Stan’s jaw.

Stan shrugged. “It’s fun.”

Bill backed up a bit and looked him in the eye. His eyes were dark, and intense, and they weren’t looking anywhere but right at Stan. It made a pleased warmth spread through Stan’s chest. “We’ll talk about this when we get home,” Bill said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Stan clung to him as he ordered an Uber, and Bill never took his hands off Stan as they waited.

They behaved themselves relatively well in the Uber, but Bill kept a firm grip on Stan’s thigh the entire ride, and it had him struggling not to shift in his seat, his pants already feeling tighter. They were silent, and the tension was so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife. Sneaking a glance over at Bill, Stan saw that his jaw was clenched. Good. Let him feel the frustration Stan had been feeling all week.

The elevator ride up to their apartment was excruciating. Bill kept one hand on the small of Stan’s back, but it wasn’t enough; all Stan wanted was to feel Bill’s hands all over him, grabbing him, taking him.

Once inside their apartment, Stan began to walk toward the living room, but Bill grabbed him by the wrist and pressed him against the wall of the entryway. Stan’s breath caught as Bill crowded up against him. His blue eyes were blazing, and though he was only a couple of inches taller than Stan, he seemed to loom over him. It made Stan shiver in the best way. “What the fuck was that?”

“Oh, now you wanna pay attention to me,” Stan scoffed. He crossed his arms, all of the frustration and petulance and dejection that he’d been bottling up bubbling to the surface. He knew he was pouting, he knew because he could see Bill’s eyes going soft.

“Aw, baby,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose under Stan’s ear, pressing him further against the wall. He pressed a kiss under Stan’s jaw, eliciting a small whimper from him. “Is that what all this is about? You just wanted a little attention?”

“You haven’t paid attention to me all week.” Stan let his voice sink into a whine, breaking down the way he always did for Bill.

Bill brought his lips to Stan’s, a firm presence. Showing Stan he had all of Bill’s attention now. “Daddy’s here now, baby.” Stan softened at that. He was helpless to Bill referring to himself like that, to the voice he used, the way he kissed the column of Stan’s throat. The tension slowly began to lift from his body, but he didn’t want to give in so easily. He’d been waiting and waiting all week for Bill, couldn’t he make Bill wait a little longer? The more he thought about it, the more stubborn and indignant he felt. Bill pulled Stan away from the wall, guiding him toward their bedroom. Stan resisted just a bit, his arms crossed, but Bill easily spun him around and guided him forward by his hips. “If you want daddy’s attention, all you have to do is ask. You don’t have to act like such a little whore.” Stan gasped as he felt Bill’s hand come down on his ass, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. “You know how to use your words, don’t you?” Stan moaned at the condescension in Bill’s voice, at his warm breath cascading over the sensitive skin of his neck.

They were in the bedroom now, and Bill had spun Stan back around, was now backing him up against the bed, looking into his wide eyes. “Hmm, no? We don’t know how to use our words tonight? You were being such a brat a minute ago.” He ran his thumb over Stan’s bottom lip. Stan’s eyes fluttered at the sensation, so light but so electric. His cock throbbed in his pants as he wrapped his lips around Bill’s thumb, the draw of submission pulling at him. Stan couldn’t think of a single thing to say; he’d been thinking and composing himself all week, and now all he wanted was to fall apart in Bill’s hands. “But you just wanted daddy’s attention, didn’t you?” Bill pushed down on Stan’s shoulders, and Stan went easily to the bed, sitting up with his head tilted back. His face was tantalizingly close to Bill’s crotch now. “I think daddy should remind you who you belong to. Don’t you think, angel?”

Stan’s blood was rushing through him, his head getting light as his cock throbbed in his pants. Bill’s words, his voice, his fingers in Stan’s mouth, all of it made him so hard to resist. Stan went slack as soon as Bill grabbed him by his jaw.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Daddy,” Stan finally whimpered.

Bill loosened his grip just enough to run his thumb over Stan’s lips. His blue eyes darkened as they tracked the movement, making Stan’s skin burn under the attention. “Yes, angel?”

Stan barely knew how to ask for what he wanted. “Take me, please.”

Bill smirked and raised an eyebrow. He stroked Stan’s hair and crowded in closer, making Stan have to crane his neck back as Bill pressed against him. “Aw, so sweet for daddy, remembering your manners now,” Bill teased, making him flush. “You want me to take what I want?” Stan gasped as Bill tugged harshly on his hair. “So desperate for me. You’ll do whatever I want? Let me play with you however you like?” Stan nodded slightly, a blush in his cheeks. Suddenly, Bill tugged him to the floor, and he landed on his knees, his face now right up against the hard on that was straining through Bill’s jeans. “You want me to treat you like the pretty little whore you were acting like back there?” Stan squirmed, but didn’t answer. “I think I should. Think I should show you what happens to little sluts like you.” Stan whimpered and pressed his face into Bill, kissing at the outline of his cock as he hid his face. Pleasantly and unsurprisingly, Bill quickly pulled Stan off by his curls. “No fucking touching until I say so.” Stan went pliant at his tone. Sensing this, Bill loosened his grip and stroked Stan’s hair. Still, his voice was firm as he said, “Tell me our safeword, baby.”

“Giraffe,” Stan answered obediently.

Bill smiled down at him. “Good.” Just as Stan was smiling back, Bill surprised him with a strike to his cheek. It wasn’t all that hard, but it still left a pleasant stinging that had Stan breathless. “Now strip. Then get back on your knees with your hands behind your back.”

Stan stood and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Bill backed up as he did so, just barely out of reach, and started stroking at his cock through his jeans as his eyes shamelessly roamed over Stan’s body. Stan folded his shirt and placed it on the dresser, followed by the rest of his clothes. Though the air was cool on his bare skin as he knelt by the bed, Bill’s unwavering gaze made him burn.

Once Stan’s hands were behind his back, Bill made quick work of unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out. He stroked it lazily as he walked up to Stan, whose lips fell open just a bit as Bill ran the head of his cock over them, making them shine with precome. “Open.” Stan did so quickly and was rewarded by Bill slapping his cock against Stan’s tongue. “Good boy,” he purred as he pressed his cock past Stan’s lips, “so pretty for me.” Stan wrapped his lips around Bill’s cock and let out a satisfied little hum as he bobbed his head. Bill let this go on for a moment or two before tangling his fingers in Stan’s hair to hold him in place. Barely giving him time to adjust, Bill thrust his hips forward with a few slow drags before setting a steady pace, rocking his hips, his cock sliding smoothly in and out of Stan’s mouth. Stan choked a bit at first, caught off guard, but he soon relaxed his throat and jaw and pursed his lips as pleasure coursed through his body. He loved when Bill fucked his face like this, he loved the feeling of Bill’s cock on his tongue, the smooth glide of it over his lips as he got it wetter and wetter. Mostly, he loved Bill’s reaction; he loved the noises he made, the way he held so tight to Stan’s hair, desperately chasing his own pleasure. “God, that’s it, baby, take daddy’s cock, just like that.” His movements forced a small whine out of Stan as his eyes began to water. Still, he kept his hands to himself, happy to be used, happy to have Bill’s eyes on him, to be making him feel good. “Aw, poor baby,” Bill taunted as he continued to fuck Stan’s throat. “It’s really deep, isn't it, angel? Feels so fucking good, love fucking your tight little throat. Love using you like the desperate toy you are.” Stan let out a desperate sound, part moan and part choking. “You think you can play with daddy, huh, baby? Just going around letting other guys touch you as a little game? That’s not how it works, baby. I play with you. You’re the toy. Understand?”

Stan sputtered as Bill pulled his cock out of his mouth. As Stan gasped, catching his breath, Bill ran his thumb over his lips, admiring the mess he had made as he wiped it up, knowing Stan didn’t like to be messy for long. Then he brought his hand down against Stan’s cheek once again.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“What are you?”

“I’m your toy.”

“That’s right, baby.” Bill slid his hand along Stan’s neck before wrapping it around his throat, his fingers pressing under his jaw, cutting off the blood flow as he slowly, slowly pressed down. As Stan gasped, his head going pleasantly fuzzy, Bill said, “You’re mine. Mine to play with.” He squeezed harder for just a moment before loosening his grip to run his fingers over Stan’s collarbones. “Mine to touch.” He tweaked Stan’s nipples, making him gasp. “Mine to do with as I please. Got it?” Stan nodded and smiled to himself secretly when it resulted in Bill slapping him again. “Come on. Even dumb little sluts need to use their words.”

“I understand,” Stan answered, his voice broken and coy.

Bill stepped back abruptly, making Stan whine and lean towards him, naturally seeking his touch. Bill smiled a bit before jerking his chin. “On the bed, hands and knees.”

Stan was already shaking as he stood up and climbed onto the bed, positioning himself the way Bill told him. As he did, he heard Bill rifling through their dresser. He felt so exposed, and not being able to tell when Bill would touch him set him on edge, like a live wire. After what felt like forever—listening to Bill’s clothes fall to the floor, then a prolonged silence—Stan’s breath caught as he finally felt the mattress dip behind him. The tension flooded out of his body as he felt Bill run his hand gently over the curve of his ass. “Aw, you’re being such a good boy now, aren’t you?” He gave Stan’s ass a possessive grab. “So sweet. Still too late though.” His hand came down hard on Stan’s ass, sure to leave a mark. Stan shivered under the pain, his cock achingly hard between his spread legs. “Daddy still needs to punish you for being a needy, bratty little slut.” His hand came down again twice, his other hand gripping Stan’s hip to keep him in place. He grabbed at Stan’s ass, giving him a quick break before giving the other side of his ass three hard smacks in quick succession. “Aw, baby, you’re already shaking,” Bill cooed. It was true; the pain and pleasure had Stan’s body buzzing, and he could already barely hold himself up “That’s sweet.” The next spank had Stan crying out. As Bill kept up a pattern of spanking him red and grabbing at his ass, Stan could feel the precome dripping down the head of his cock before falling to the sheets beneath him, making a mess. He couldn’t help but squirm, trembling, his body both trying to escape and chasing the pain at the same time. “I know, it hurts, doesn’t it, baby?”

“Yes,” Stan cried. And it did. It was exactly what he’d been craving.

“Good.” Stan yelped as Bill’s hand came down hard on a spot he had surely already bruised. “Wanna make sure you’re fucking covered in my handprints. Want you to feel it for days so you don’t forget who you belong to.” Bill slapped his ass one more time before grabbing him by the hips and flipping him over onto his back. Stan fell back onto the mattress with a small smile, his eyes wide and already beginning to feel far away. His muscles sighed with relief, his body trembling pleasantly, the mattress and the sheets unbelievably soft beneath him. He took a moment to drink in the sight of Bill on top of him, of his bare chest and his hard cock hanging so temptingly between his legs. But he only had a second or two to look before Bill’s hand was wrapped around his throat again, guiding his gaze up to meet Bill’s. He pressed firmly down under Stan’s jaw, and Stan couldn’t help the dreamy smile that painted his face as his head went a little fuzzy again. Bill kissed the corner of his lips, a tease. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you tonight, baby.” A jolt of pleasure shot through Stan’s body as Bill ghosted his fingertip along the length of Stan’s cock.

“Daddy,” Stan gasped as Bill released his grip on his throat. He moved to run his fingers through Bill’s hair, to hold onto his shoulder, but Bill grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. He then saw that Bill had not only grabbed lube from their dresser, but a black silk ribbon as well.

“Keep your hands here, baby.” Stan did as he was told, sighing when he felt the soft, smooth fabric against the sensitive skin of his wrists. He loved feeling Bill loop it around him and pull it tight, just the way Stan liked. Bill sat back and admired his work as Stan tugged a bit at the restraint, both of them pleased to find that he couldn’t move. “So pretty,” Bill murmured, running his hands reverently over Stan’s chest, his stomach, his thighs. Stan moaned when Bill forced his legs apart. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Bill smirked, his eyes dark. “You love spreading your legs for daddy. Such a slut.” Stan whimpered and squirmed a bit, his cock leaking precome onto his stomach. Bill swiped his fingers through the mess. “God, you’re already so wet for me and I haven’t even touched you,” Bill said, making a show of the way Stan’s precome stretched between his fingers as he spread them. Bill spread the precome around Stan’s hole and smirked at the way he whined and bucked his hips. There was a delighted derision in his voice as he told Stan, “Fuck, you’re so easy.” He leaned up and pressed messy kisses to Stan’s chest, making Stan’s skin warm. He loved watching Bill, loved how Bill’s hands roamed over him as they pleased. He loved that he was completely under Bill’s control. He loved that Bill was touching him, that he had all of Bill’s attention. He loved that Bill was clearly enjoying himself as he teased Stan’s nipples, which were hard and pink and perky as Bill dragged his tongue over them.

“Oh, fuck,” Stan whined. He pulled at the silk, desperate to get his hands in Bill’s red waves, but it was futile. Still, he kept it up; he knew that as much as he struggled he wouldn’t be able to do anything Bill didn’t want him to, and that thought had his cock throbbing where it sat neglected between his own stomach and Bill’s.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby?” Bill teased. “Does that feel good?”

“So good, daddy,” Stan nodded, his voice slightly higher than normal. “Please, please touch me.”

“Aw, yeah, you’d like that.” Bill once again teased his hand over Stan’s cock, making his hips lift up. “But only good boys get what they want.” Stan whined in frustration as Bill pulled his hand away, but his whines were cut off with a sharp gasp when Bill slapped his hand across Stan’s cheek again. Suddenly he couldn’t even remember what he wanted, his entire body glowing as his mind blanked for a minute. He was vaguely aware of the small, slack jawed smile on his face as he looked up at Bill. “Are you ready to be a good boy for me?” Bill asked, rubbing his thumb gently over Stan’s cheek where his skin still ached.

“Yes, daddy,” Stan answered, his voice dripping honey.

Bill rewarded him with a kiss. “Good boy. Now spread your legs.” Stan eagerly complied, though Bill did most of the work, easily arranging Stan’s legs where he wanted them. It made Stan melt. He loved this, loved how pliant his body was for Bill, how Bill knew just how to play with him to make him feel good. Stan wriggled his hips a bit when he heard Bill uncap the lube and watched as he spread it around his fingers, warming it up before bringing his hand between Stan’s thighs. Stan let out a small moan when he felt Bill touch him, his finger gliding over Stan’s hole in smooth, small circles.

“Daddy, please,” Stan whined when Bill continued to tease him. “Please, please, please.” The tension was so tight in his body; he needed Bill inside of him, he needed to be touched, to be fucked. He needed Bill to take him.

“Aw, you sound so pretty when you ask nicely.” Bill slid his finger in just slightly, just to the first knuckle, then stopped. “Beg a little more.” Stan whimpered and looked down to find Bill watching him, his gaze making Stan shiver.

“Please,” Stan cried. “Please, please, daddy, I need you so bad. Please fuck me, daddy, please.”

“That’s a good slut,” Bill praised, a satisfied grin on his face. He swiftly slid his finger into Stan, nestling into him as far as his finger could go. Stan let out a sound that was somewhere between a shout and a moan, instinctively trying to grab onto something only to be reminded of the silk around his wrists. “Fuck, you open up so nice for me, baby.” Bill slowly pumped his finger in and out, getting Stan used to the stretch. His skin grew hot under Bill’s attention, his eyes burning and intense as they watched his finger pump in and out of Stan’s slick hole. Stan gasped when Bill kissed the head of his cock and pressed a second finger inside of him. “You look so pretty with my fingers stretching you out like this.” Stan moaned softly and let his eyes flutter shut, sinking into the feeling of Bill’s fingers inside of him, stretching him out, brushing against him just so. It made his toes curl, made his breath come shorter and shorter as Bill worked him open. There was something so erotic about Bill fingering him; the way Bill could watch, up close, as he made Stan come apart. The way his mouth teased over Stan’s cock, just enough to make him squirm and whine just the way Bill wanted him to.

“Daddy,” Stan whined mindlessly. Everything felt so amazing—he wanted to live in this moment forever.

“What is it, baby?”

“Feels so good.”

Bill chuckled, the sound full of adoration, and pressed a kiss to Stan’s hip. “Aw, but baby, daddy’s just getting started.” With that, suddenly there were three fingers inside Stan and a vibrator pressed against his cock.

“Fuck!” Stan cried, his wrists jolting uselessly. “Oh my god, oh my god, holy shit.” His body couldn’t decide if he wanted to squirm away from the intensity of it all or chase it, and chase it, and chase it until it sent him over the edge. He could barely get his mind together enough to whine, “Daddy, please, don’t wanna come yet.”

“Oh, you won’t,” Bill said. “You’re gonna come on daddy’s cock like a good slut.” But he didn’t let up on the vibrator, and he still had three fingers buried deep inside of him, thrusting fast and curling at just the right time to make Stan see stars.

“Fuck!” Stan was near tears now, the pleasure so intense and all-encompassing. “Daddy, I ca-can’t, fuck, fuck!”

“Yes you can, baby. You can handle it.” Bill’s voice was reassuring, but it was also commanding in a way that made Stan shiver. “I thought you wanted this, thought you wanted me to pay attention to you. Thought you wanted me to play with you like a toy.” Bill curled his fingers again, making Stan’s cock throb and twitch desperately against the vibrator. “Don’t you like being daddy’s little fuck toy, baby?”

“Yes,” Stan cried brokenly. Tears streaked down his cheeks from the effort not to come. “Use me, daddy. Use me, use me, please, fuck me, I need you so bad, daddy.”

“Aw, that’s a good toy,” Bill praised. Then, abruptly, both the vibrator and Bill’s fingers were gone, leaving Stan crying for more, aching to have Bill close again. “Shh,” Bill soothed, kissing the tears on Stan’s cheeks. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Just lie back and let daddy take care of you, yeah? Gonna fuck you so hard, just the way you need. Daddy knows what you need.” Bill always knew how to calm Stan down. While he was still shaking, still horribly empty, his sobs quieted, and he managed to take in some deep breaths as he watched Bill stroke his cock, covering it in a generous amount of lube, getting it nice and slick. Stan moaned at the sight and rocked his hips eagerly. Bill’s hand held him still. Slotting easily between Stan’s legs, he teased the head of his cock over Stan’s hole. Stan bit his lip and tried to stay still, but he needed it so bad. “Fuck, love seeing how desperate you are for it,” Bill groaned as he pressed inside. Stan let out a small moan at the feeling, at the blunt pressure of Bill’s cock, the stretch. He loved Bill’s cock, loved feeling it stretch him open as Bill pressed inside of him. But Bill didn’t give him time to adjust this time, didn’t drag it out; he thrust hard into Stan, making him cry out from the sudden pleasure.

“Daddy,” Stan gasped, his voice blissful and begging and breathless.

Stan could hear the smile in Bill’s voice as he teased him, “Aw, you like that, baby?” He pulled back slowly before thrusting back in, hard and fast and deep, punching out another moan from Stan. “You like it when daddy fucks you hard?”

“Yes,” Stan moaned. He opened his eyes and trailed them over Bill, over his broad, freckled shoulders and his toned chest, finally flickering up to his face. Stan loved seeing Bill above him. He loved the way Bill gripped his hips and spread his legs, like Stan really was just a toy for him to use. It was such an amazing release, submitting to Bill, knowing Bill would make him feel amazing, knowing he was making Bill feel good. Stan gave a hazy little smile as he looked up into Bill’s eyes and blinked slowly. Whereas Stan’s eyes were hooded and unfocused, Bill’s were intensely trained on Stan, trailing down from his face to where they were connected.

“Fuck, that’s gorgeous,” he murmured. Stan whimpered when Bill pulled his hair, forcing him to look down his own body. “Look. Look at the way daddy fucks you.” Past his cock, which was leaking all over his stomach and nearly purple from how hard he was, Stan could see Bill’s cock thrusting in and out of him, disappearing and reappearing, could hear the sound of Bill’s hips against his ass ringing out in the room.

Stan let out a little, “Fuck,” as he watched, his voice high and breathy. Bill eased up on his grip, letting Stan’s head fall back to the pillow. “Daddy,” he whined again, “more, more, please.”

“You want it faster, baby?” Bill’s voice was dark and challenging and mischievous in a way that made Stan’s breath catch in excitement. Sure enough, Bill dug his fingers into Stan’s hips, surely hard enough to bruise—a thought that made Stan’s cock ache in the best way—and began fucking Stan even faster. Stan threw his head back, his back arching off the bed for a moment as pleasure overtook him. He hooked his legs around Bill, encouraging him. “Yeah, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Stan cried. “Yesyesyesyesyes, shit, oh my god.”

“I know, baby, I know. Always such a desperate little slut for daddy’s cock. Fuck, you take it so good, baby.” Bill was rocking Stan’s body back and forth with the force of his thrusts, and Stan went easily, happily. Everything felt so good, he could feel his mind getting fuzzier and fuzzier from it all. “God, fucking made for my cock, aren’t you? My perfect little personal fuck toy, all for me, isn’t that right?” Stan moaned and nodded. He gasped as Bill pressed down on his stomach. “Fuck, you feel that? You feel daddy’s cock fucking you, baby?” Stan moaned at the feeling, at the obscenity of it all. Bill slid his hand up Stan’s chest, his fingers ghosting over his nipples, making Stan whimper.

“H-harder,” he begged. “Fuck me, fuck me harder. Hit me, hit me, hit me, please, daddy, please.” He was near tears again, chasing his pleasure all while he couldn’t touch his desperately aching cock.

Bill cupped Stan’s jaw with his hand and laughed darkly. “Yeah, you know how to use your words now, huh? God, you sound so good when you’re begging for it. So pretty, and all. Fucking. Mine.” He punctuated each word with a smack to Stan’s face, just like he’d asked for. Stan moaned the whole time, a blissed out smile dancing over his lips even as he felt tears run down his cheeks. Bill was fucking him so hard, so fast, and the pleasure of getting fucked melted in with the amazing pain blooming in his cheeks as Bill hit him once more. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, daddy,” Stan slurred, barely able to open his eyes to peer up at Bill. He was vaguely aware of red hair, of his blue eyes, but mostly all he knew was pleasure, all he knew was Bill’s cock inside of him, Bill’s voice running over his skin. He was barely aware that he was letting out a constant string of moans, punctuated with little gasps every time Bill brushed up against an especially nice spot inside of him.

“That’s a good slut,” Bill praised. “So fucking cute when you get like this. You love getting fucked stupid, don’t you?” All Stan could do was nod, his body nearly completely lax as he trembled in Bill’s hands, in his restraints. “Fuck, you wanna come with daddy, baby?” Stan nodded and whined desperately, rocking his hips weakly. “I got you, baby,” Bill murmured as he buried his face in Stan’s neck, kissing his soft, sensitive skin. Stan mewled as he felt Bill’s hand wrap around his cock. “Daddy’s got you.”

“Daddy,” Stan cried as he felt his pleasure building, and building, teetering just on the edge. “Gonna come.” His words were nearly a hiccup, his voice was so breathless and small.

“Fuck, me too, baby. Come on, be a good slut and come on daddy’s cock.”

Stan cried as Bill groaned in his ear, stilled his hips, and pushed Stan over the edge with him. Stan’s entire body convulsed with it as he came all over Bill’s hand, all over himself. He was only vaguely aware of the warmth that filled him as Bill came inside of him, as everything he knew was warmth. All he knew was warm and fuzzy and pleasure, the embodiment of yesyesyespleasefuckmore.

Stan tended to go somewhere else when Bill made him come that hard. He felt perfectly floaty and spacey as he began to gradually become aware of Bill kissing his hair and murmuring to him. “So good for me, baby. Can you come back for me? Such a good, perfect boy.” Stan gave a small sound as he came to, then became aware of the warm washcloth Bill was swiping over his stomach and between his legs. “That’s it, baby, so good for me.”

“Daddy,” Stan croaked groggily, pulling at his arms. Bill shushed him soothingly and set the washcloth aside.

“I’m here, Stanny baby. Let daddy help you down.”

Given that Stan’s limbs were still complete Jell-o, it was easy to let Bill untie him and massage his arms as he gently, slowly let them down. “That’s right, angel, so good. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing,” Stan sighed contentedly. The aches in his arms were dull and pleasant as they helped bring him back to consciousness. He smiled blearily up at Bill and pulled him down to cuddle into his side. Bill laughed softly and held him close, pressing kisses all over his face and hair. It made Stan’s body hum in the best way, joy and love setting every nerve gently alight.

“I love you so much,” Bill said softly, pressing a kiss to Stan’s forehead.

“Love you, too.” Stan’s words were still a bit slurred, but he was gradually coming to as he nuzzled his face into Bill’s chest.

“Can you drink some water for me, baby?”

Stan gave a small groan. “You have to help me sit up.”

Bill chuckled fondly at that. “I think I can manage that.” He slipped his arms around Stan and gently hoisted him up so that he could lean up against Bill, who reached over to the night stand and handed Stan his glass of water. He sipped it slowly, his eyes opening more and more with every sip.

“You back to Earth yet?” Bill asked with a grin.

“Mhm, think so,” Stan hummed. He kissed Bill’s cheek and leaned into him with another happy sigh, thanking him as he put the now empty glass back on the nightstand. “I’m hungry.”

“You wanna lie on the couch while I cut up some fruit for you?”

“Could you?” Stan looked up at him with wide eyes.

Bill beamed down at him and pressed a long, soft kiss to his lips. “I’d do anything for you.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

Bill ended up practically carrying Stan to the couch. He was back mentally, but his body was still boneless, and he leaned heavily into Bill as he ate his fruit. Bill was stroking his hair and pressing light kisses wherever he could. After a bit of comfortable silence, Bill said quietly, “I’m suh-sorry if I didn’t p-pay enough att-t-ttention to you this week.”

Stan melted at the softness in his voice, at the faint stutter he always got when he was saying something that was important to him. With a grin, he said, “You more than made up for it.” Then he turned in Bill’s arms and kissed him. “Seriously, it’s okay. And I’ll make sure to let you know how I’m feeling next time.”

Bill smiled at him and kissed him again. “I love you,” he whispered into Stan’s lips.

Stan grinned and nuzzled his face into Bill’s. “I love you so much.”

“You wanna watch Planet Earth?”

“Only if you can turn it on without leaving the couch.”

Stan spent the next minute laughing his ass off as Bill attempted all sorts of gymnastics to reach the remote that was just out of his reach. He kissed him once he got it, unable to resist the proud way he beamed at his accomplishment. Ultimately, though, they spent the night too wrapped up in each other to pay the movie any attention anyway.

#stenbrough #notsfw

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goofiernu · 3 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors

September 16, 2021

As far back as the early 80s I knew there was something different about my mother, henceforth to be known as the egg donor. She didn't have close friends, she treated me like crap behind closed doors and she would claim that people were peeking into her bedroom window. She even claimed that the next door neighbors were doing things to intentionally drive her crazy and she would force me out of bed in the mornings to go sit on the front porch to spy on them. These people would be outside mowing their lawn, washing their car, pulling weeds, painting the house... normal things. Yet she would insist that they were doing so to intentionally drive her crazy.

After I graduated 8th grade, life became doubly hellish for me. The egg donor had dropped out of 8th grade to have a baby and she would lament about her lost education. As I began 9th grade, she would tell me that I had become "too big for your britches" and that she would have to "take you down a notch". She would create infractions that I had done in order to punish me. My punishment? I was grounded from leaving the house, including going to school. I missed quite a few days in freshman year. Enough to raise flags with the school staff. She backed off the last part of the school year, but come sophomore year, started right back up again. I finally got tired of it, would wait until she got in the shower and would just walk to school. Yes, I caught hell when I got home and paid for my disobedience. But I didn't care. I WANTED to go to school. She even tried to pull this shit when I started college. I had an hour commute to get to classes, plus an on-campus job through Work Study (Financial Aid- I was awarded a grant). If I missed more than three days, I would lose my grant. The first time I she pulled this stunt, she took my car keys and dropped them in her purse. Growing up, you DID NOT EVER get into her purse without her permission. Just don't. She got in the shower, I got my keys out of her purse and left. On my way home, I stopped and had about three copies of my keys made. When I got home, I was screamed at and slapped repeatedly for getting into her purse and for going to class. The next few times she pulled this stunt, I didn't have to get into her purse, but still got the scream/slap punishment for going to class.

Where was my father in all this? Doing the best he could. He tried to protect me as much as he could, but he worked a full time job in order to support us. I helped him out with chores, mostly mowing the lawn, as much as I could. The egg donor would whine, "no one helps ME with MY chores!" so I would offer to do laundry or wash dishes. "NO! You don't use enough soap or hot water! Go outside and help your father!" Fine by me. He was nicer to be around anyhow.

The egg donor didn't have a payroll job except for a two week stint cleaning motel rooms. She claims she had to quit because she got chemical pneumonia from the Comet cleaner she was being forced to use. The same cleaner we used at home. I've always been skeptical about this claim. What was she doing, snorting it?

One of the infractions she created in 1985 was claiming that she had seen me off campus walking with a boy. Now, it's true that I had been walking my then boyfriend to his house for lunch, then walking back to the school to eat with my other friends. On this particular day, though, the boyfriend wasn't in school, so I hadn't left campus. The people she saw was the boyfriend's older brother and his girlfriend who could easily pass for my sister. Despite me trying to explain to her the mix up, she wasn't about to have it. I got the scream/slap treatment for leaving campus, a rule I didn't even know I had been put in place.

Last story because typing this all out is raising my blood pressure. As I mentioned earlier, I had a one hour commute to get to college. One Friday night I called home collect to ask if I could stay to watch a play that my friends were in. I was given the okay and explicit instructions to be home by 10pm. After the show, I was saying my goodbyes when a sweet friend of mine confided in me that he was thinking about going home and killing himself. I couldn't leave. I sat with him in the car for three hours, talking him off the ledge. At midnight I finally got him to promise me that I would see him on Monday. I followed him to his house, made sure he got inside, then booked my ass home. Every light was blazing and I could hear her screaming clear out to the street. I walked in and tried to explain, but was immediately attacked, slapped repeatedly while screaming at me, claiming I was "just like your sister!" (more on that in another post). She would ask me what I had been doing, then instead of letting me answer, would answer for me, saying I was out drinking, doing drugs, sleeping around. Three hours of screaming and slapping and I finally got to go to bed at 4am. (Sigh...) The next day, I was able to get my dad alone and I asked him if he would like to know what had gone on the night before. When I told him, "My friend was contemplating suicide." he went pale. "I couldn't leave him. I knew that if I heard come Monday that he was dead, I couldn't live with my conscience, knowing I could have prevented his death. WHY am I being punished for doing the right thing?" He shook his head, apologized and said he couldn't undermine the egg donor. I lost some respect for him that day.

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nat-20s · 4 years

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PROMPT! the first time the s1 archive gang hangs out outside of work (any variation of the group, doesn’t have to be All of them)

This is only the Archive Assistant sqaud, bc I’m sorry Jon, but no bosses allowed. Also it’s VERY silly and soft bc sometimes u just wanna write nice things u know

(also also fuck I lovecompletely missed that this said “first time” they hang out but uhh. I hope u like it anyway.)

Tim Stoker like to think that, sometimes, not to toot his own horn, but he can be something of a genius. When a cousin’s cousin had offered to let him use their cozy little cabin for a night or two in exchange for help with moving, he had been struck with what could only be humbly described as “inspiration of the most divine nature”. For, as nice as a Friday evening away from it all by himself sounds, it’s so much nicer for a Friday evening away from it all to serve as Archival Assistants Bonding Time™. Or well, more like Tim and Sasha, Who Are Already Best Friends Forever, Figure Out What Martin’s Deal Is, Because For A Guy So Chatty, He Sure Is Mysterious Time™, but that’s not nearly as catchy. Truly, his plan was brilliant, bringing two compatriots and an excessive amount of food and drink to a spot away from the prying eyes of the world and bosses, and feast in the openness and silliness that comes from having a great fucking time.

His plan, and his genius, were tragically derailed. While he knew on their drive up that the air was rapidly getting cooler, Tim couldn’t have even pretended to predict that an hour into their stay would bring a freak blizzard that means they’re snowed in for the next three days, which was 3 times longer than he had accounted on spending with his coworkers/friends. There was more than enough food to last them, and almost enough alcohol, but as Sasha so kindly put it:

“First you make us reenact the first scene of every bad teen slasher movie, now there’s a fucking white out. If we lose power, I’m telling you, there is absolutely going to be a murder.”

“Pfft, no way. The guy who owns this place is one of those weird ass prepper types, there’s a back up generator for the back up generator. And even if we did lose power, we’re all much more the “huddle for warmth under a shared blanket in front of the roaring fire” types than the “get panicked and stab someone in darkness” types, right? Back me up here, Marto.”

Martin, who at three shots in is both hilarious and mean, directs his response to Sasha. “in the event of a black-out I vote we kill Tim. I can take him down and you can finish the job.”

Sasha tips her cup at him, saying, “I like the way you think,” at the same time that Tim yells out, “Hey! Why am I the one dying?!”

Sasha tells him, “Duh. This whole thing was your idea, which makes you the Dr. Black* of this situation. Any good mansion murder mystery dictates the the host dies first. Then, in a moment of entirely unplanned synchronization, her and Martin start chanting, “Host dies first! Host dies first!”

“Okay, you know what? Fuck both of y’all, it’s not my fault that you’re both thoroughbred city slickers that can’t handle being in a cabin with plumbing and running water and electricity. Didn’t either of you go camping as kids?”

Sasha replies “No I’m far too pretty for that,” while Martin bursts out laughing. It takes about 20 seconds for him to settle down. Wiping away a tear, he elaborates, “Sorry, sorry, just. Can not imagine my mother on a camping trip. I mean, sure, she probably hoped at one point or another that I’d be lost in the woods as a child, or maybe even now, but I think that’s a bit different.”

Tim leans over the kitchen counter, placing his chin in his hands as he says, “Oh shit, Martin lore. Spill the deets.”

Sasha, who’s loyalties tend to sway towards whatever’s most interesting in the moment, piles on with, “You called her your mother, not your mum. That’s means she’s pretty much a right bastard, or a member of the aristocracy, which is just another term for right bastard but you got to grow up as a rich kid. Am I right?”

It’s clear the the two of them have made a grave mistake. All joviality flees Martin’s expression, and he shrinks down both his physical presence and his voice to something that could easily be overlooked if someone wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, um, well, I definitely didn’t grow up as a rich kid. And, it terms of the ‘right bastard’ thing, she’s not- er. That’s to say, she’s- she’s sick and. She’s doing the best she can, given, given everything.”

Martin pointedly looks at his hands while Tim and Sasha panickedly look at each other. They go to either side of him, and when he doesn’t flinch away, they each place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tim immediately feels the itch to fill the heavy quiet, and he happens to know he has quite the talent for blazing on ahead after these kinds of moments. It’s how he’s survived basically party for the past decade. “Ooookay, I’m gonna go ahead and say that all depressing familial reveals shall be held off until at least the second night of being trapped. While Sasha may have irritatingly few skeletons in her closet in that regard-”

“I have Tory grandparents?”

“We all have Tory grandparents Sash, that’s absolutely nothing. As I was saying, while Sash’s family is boring and semi functional, you and me are gonna do some fuckin’ commiserating on our journey from work friends to friend friends. However, I’m going to have to be 40% drunker, go through a decently strong hangover, and then once again get hair of the dog drunk before I can even start to consider heading down that path. And in that spirit, I think it’s time to start up the drinking games. Truth or dare might end up a bit too heavy for our needs, but Never Have I Ever should suit us just fine. I know I’m gonna regret saying this considering Sasha is 100% going to target my ass, but I think we should establish that whoever puts all ten fingers down first has to chug the rest of the box wine.”

Sasha pipes up with, “Ugh, no, not drinking games, that’s such twenty-something bullshit. I expected better from you.”

“Hey, Martin is a twenty-something, so that still works fine actually-”

“Tim!”

“What?”

Martin’s directing wide, bordering on frantic, eyes at him, and Tim is almost certainly missing something, though he can’t for the life of him figure it out. Sasha’s head is bobbing slightly between the two of them, and shes apparently able to parse what Tim has not. “Oh! Martin, uh, I already know that you’re 2, and it’s cool.”

“Did..did Tim tell you or?”

Tim scoffs out an “I wouldn’t!” even though there’s a distinct possibility that, entirely on accident, he would, and Sasha makes a reassuring coo. “No, no, babe, nothing like that. It’s just that, uh, the Magnus Institute is kind of notorious for not doing any background checks pretty much ever, so when I get a new coworker, I..do it myself.”

Martin’s face blanches, and his eyes somehow get even wider. “Oh god, please don’t tell Jon or Elias, I know I don’t have the credentials, but I really need-”

“Woah, woah, I’m not gonna do that. First of all, archival assistant squad, we ride together we die together in a snowed in god forsaken log cabin, secondly, it’d be hypocritical as fuck if I got up your ass about qualifications. Not a single one of us is qualified for our jobs, not even Jon. Maybe especially not Jon. It’s like, raise your hand if you have a degree in library sciences. No one? Okay, cool, that’s not weird at all for an archive. Actually, maybe bring that up next time he gives you shit. He’ll be all like ‘bluh bluh, you didn’t document this spooky bullshit well enough, it’s not up to the High Standards here at Spooky Bullshit Emporium’ and you can be like ‘whatever buddy, you’re an English major, what do you fuckin’ know?’. It’ll be devastating. He’ll be devastated.”

Martin laughs in the manner of someone who knows that they shouldn’t be, and his shoulders relax into a lower position. “Why would you want me to devastate him? I thought you guys were friends?”

“We are, which is why we all collectively need to get back at Jon for acting like such a prick. He’s always been a bit temperamental, but I honestly don’t get what his deal is, especially with you. I mean, c’mon, you’re great, being mean to you is like kicking a puppy.”

“Thanks? I think?”

Tim pipes up with, “Oooo, since drinking games are apparently too childish for Sasha, what if instead we play ‘What’s Jon’s Deal Anyway, Featuring, Seriously, Why Target Martin, The Baby of The Archives’-”

“-That feels a bit reductive of who I am and I also I think I’m technically older than Jon?-”

“-Whoever comes up with the best explanation, and by best obviously I mean most entertaining, gets an all expense paid trip from the other two to one of the charity shops I know we all frequent.”

Sasha snorts, “Wow, a whole twenty quid, who could resist such temptation. But also, I’m in, I think I have a winner and I have a violent need to out-cardigan Jon.”

Martin’s relaxation is gone again, which Tim thinks need to be fixed through aggressively passing a glass of wine towards him. He takes it without protest, takes a long drink, and says, “This seems more like 3 am conversation than a 9 pm one.”

Sasha gives an encouraging nudge, prompting another drink, and replies, “Yeah, well, I am not gonna make it to 3 am. I’ve got about an hour until the Alcohol Sleepiness sets in, and I know Tim will be right behind me.”

“Sashaaaaaa, you’re ruining my reputation as a young-at-heart, party-all-night kind of guy.”

“Babe, you’ve complained about your bones aching often enough that you’ve never had that reputation.”

“Surrounded by mean drunks, that’s what I am. I should be pitied.”

Martin shoots a glance towards Sasha, then replies, “You’d be more pitiable if this entire thing wasn’t, you know, entirely your own fault.”

Sasha nods sagely, “It’s true. If you were pitiable then maybe you wouldn’t have to die first.”

“You know what? I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room, how about we divert some of that towards complaining about our bosses, as coworkers who are hanging out and having a good time and not bullying me are supposed to do.”

Sasha giggles slightly as she leans down and presses a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Aw, sorry, Tim. I promise to double cross Martin when if becomes killing time.”

Tim melts a little, even as he’s replying, “Wait, when?” Martin takes another sip and says, “Whatever. I could take you both.”

How the hell are you supposed to resist a set up like that? With an over the top wink and cheesy grin, Tim says, “I bet you could, big guy.”

He’s expecting a slightly flustered reaction, maybe a higher pitched voice and a blush, if he’s lucky. He gets all of those things, but it’s Sasha saying, “Oh my god.” Martin only gives him a raised eyebrow and level stare, and Tim makes a mental note to reevaluate his dedication to only considering Martin in a strictly platonic fashion. Sasha continues talking, cutting through the..tension? with, “Okay, now I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room. Tim, tell the studio audience what you think is up with Jon.”

Tim blinks, hard, gives a shake of his head, and says, “Oh, obviously the Jon we know is dead. His ‘promotion’ to Head Archivist was actually Elias killing him off and replacing him with a robot that has the command If: see Martin Then: be dick. Don’t worry Marto, now that Sasha is aware of the issue, she’ll surely be able to reprogram him.”

Sasha hums a bit, then says, “I buy it. I think my explanation’s better, but Elias does seem the “kill a dude and replace him” type. Like if I was gonna suspect any particular person of murder he’s in the top five.”

“Seriously? Elias? Somehow has middle manager vibes even though he’s the head honcho Elias? Mr. ‘I probably wore boat shoes and khaki shorts for the entirety of university’ Bouchard? Voted most likely to put a thin layer of mayo in between two pieces of white bread and claim it’s a sandwich Elias? The area man that’s almost certainly gone on record as saying that golf and networking are his favorite hobbies Elias? He’s far too boring to have committed a murder.”

Tim’s looking at Martin with shock and delight, and he knows Sasha is wearing the exact same expression. “More of this. Please describe more of the things that Elias is.”

“I mean, sure? Uhh, guy that would pay $80 for a dime bag because you told him it’s a premium strain. Person that ironically says things like “kids these days” and “the youths” and you know he’s talking about people well into their 30s. Genuinely believes that if you can afford a cell phone then you shouldn’t be complaining about being poor, because apparently a one time purchase of around a hundred bucks is the same as trying to pay monthly rent. Tells people to haul themselves up by their bootstraps. Thinks he got to where he was ‘without anybody’s handouts’ even though he’s had a trust fund since he was 15. Writes weekly editorials to the local newspaper complaining about the liberalization of media, and they’re like ‘sir, please stop submitting to us, we’re just trying to talk about Lisa’s gardening club’ because they can’t professionally tell him to fuck off. Thinks salt and pepper are the only spices one could ever possibly need, everything else is simply excessive. Somehow gay and homophobic. Like, yes, he’s taken a male lover, but he’s also seconds away from calling you a slur at any one time. Actually, no, that’s too interesting, and I refuse to believe he’s had a lover. Legally, he cannot have a lover, I’ve decided, so just gay and homophobic, both in theory alone. Has said that Boris Johnson is “a bit much, but really not so bad, and much better than any of the alternatives, really.” All of the cousins in his family banded together and officially got him banned from any sort of major holiday dinners. Basically every shitty boss you’ve ever had, especially if you’ve worked retail, rolled into one.”

Tim lets out a low whistle. “Damn, all right. Get fucked Elias.”

Sasha emphatically agrees, “Get fucked Elias.”

They all clink their glasses together, and then there’s a beat of silence before Martin says, “I’m pretty sure robots can’t get eye bags.”

Tim and Sasha let out a “huh” and “hmm?” respectively, so Martin elaborates. “You posited that Jon had been replaced with a robot. Pretty sure robots aren’t able to look that tired.”

Tim snaps. “Drat, you’ve pointed out the one flaw in my impeccable logic. So what d’you think is up with him? I know you don’t have the Before The Archives comparison, but I think you could provide a fresh perspective.”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know. Two months ago, I might have had some choice words, but first off, you all genuinely got on, so it didn’t really make sense for him to be awful all the time, and secondly ever since the, um, worm thing, he’s actually been pretty nice? I haven’t heard any snide comments, and whenever I mess something up he’s a lot more, um, gentle about explaining what wrong. He actually complimented my work the other day so. I guess I think Jon’s deal was that he was stressed out and I was very nervous and not very good at my job and he picked up on that?”

“So you think he’s like a horse.”

“Explain.”

“He sensed your fear and he became skittish and irritable in kind.”

“Horses can sense fear?”

“Horses can sense everything.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Right?”

“Guys, we’ve gone on like four different tangents in one conversation. Martin, I’m very glad to hear that Jon’s changed his behavior towards, because it means I don’t have to yell at him on your behalf, you’re getting to see the person that me and Tim both know who is actually pretty cool, and also mostly because it feeds perfectly into my winning theory.”

“What, you’ve got something better than Martin’s ‘accurate but boring’ reasoning or my ‘super cool but now that I think about it for .5 seconds actually kind of a bummer robot’ knowledge?”

Sasha’s incredibly self-assured when she says, “I sure fuckin’ do. Jon’s secretly been in love with Martin the whole time, and he’s been previously overcompensating by acting like he hates him.” which makes Tim choke on air and Martin emphatically reply, “Fuck off, he is not.”

“No, no, hear me out, I have, I have receipts, as the kids say. First point of evidence: Martin’s stupid hot, and there’s no way that Jon is straight, so obviously he’s not gonna be impervious to that.”

“What?”

“Oh come off it Martin, it’s just a fact. Like, me personally? I don’t even do the whole romance thing, but the first time I ever saw you I blacked out slightly and thought ‘Now there’s a man I could raise some ferrets with.’.”

“I, um, I, well. Is that...supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

“What? No, I’ve just always wanted ferrets, and asking someone to raise pets with you is like the height of romance, I’m pretty sure. Back me up here Tim.”

“On the ferret thing or the Martin hot thing?”

“Either? Both.”

“Aight. Yes, asking someone to raise ferrets with you is basically a marriage proposal if that someone is Sasha, and I hate to break it to you Martin, but you’re incredibly good-looking. We’re all incredibly good-looking, to the point where I think the only qualification for the archives staff is being a straight up hottie. OH! We should name the group chat “straight up hottie squad”. Anyway, yep, point for Sasha.”

“Not a point for Sasha, even if I believe you about about my, em, physical attractiveness,-”

“-Don’t have to put belief in a fact, Marto-”

“-that doesn’t mean anything. By that logic, he’s equally as likely to be in love with either of you, and my money would be on Sasha if it was anyone, because you’re clearly his favorite.”

“Ah, but that’s exactly why it isn’t me, but thank you for the transition into my second point which is: Jon is the kind of person that sees anything that might make him vulnerable and starts aggressively defending himself against it, and what’s more vulnerable than a crush? He’s not crushing on Tim, because Tim’s fucking great, but sometimes he’s also the walking, talking embodiment of sensory overload, and while I myself I love that, Jon clearly gets a bit overwhelmed by it at times. He’s not into me, because he knows better than that, and overall I’m pretty non-threatening to his whole thing, so of course he’s going to be the most relaxed around me. You, on the other hand, are single, hot, kind to animals and people alike, and make a great cup of tea. Incredibly crush worthy, thus incredibly threatening, thus Jon acting like That.”

“Hmm, this still seems like something that comes from watching one too many corny rom coms, and that’ s coming from someone who loves corny rom coms.”

“I also love corny rom coms, but that’s completely beside the point. Because, okay, sure, if Jon had just been a weird asshole to you, I wouldn’t be like ‘oh, yeah, that’s a classic case of covering for something’ but you’re right about him being nicer since the worm thing. So nice, in fact, I shall be bringing in Timothy as my star witness that’s going to blow this whole case wide open. Martin, you may not have heard how Jon has started to talk about you, but me and Tim sure have.”

“God, yeah. Like if we thought he wouldn’t shut up about you before-

“-which he wouldn’t-”

“it’s gotten way worse now.”

“I think the whole life threatening worm woman flipped a switch for him and now he’s all fuckin. ‘Oh, Martin should stay in the archives, let me give him the place that I sleep.”

“Oh, Martin, I don’t think he should go out on too many research trips anymore, I’d much prefer for him to be ~nice and close~”

“Oh, Martin, good lord, did you know that his tea is quite good? I’m think it might actually be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Martin, his work’s rather improved, don’t you think? It’s really quite impressive, especially considering all the stress he’s had to endure.”

“Oh, Martin, I just want him to take me into his big, strong arms and whisk me away from all of this.”

“He did not fucking say that last one.”

Sasha throws her arms up in the air. “He may as well have!”

Nodding sagely, Tim replies, “This whole thing holds water. I vote Sasha gets the shopping trip. Martin?”

Martin stares at his drink as if it has any ability to give him any sort of answers, then lets out a sigh with his entire body. “You know what? It’s probably nicer than whatever the fuck is the truth, so sure, why not? Let’s get Sasha her cardigans.”

Sasha lets out a whoop. “Hell yeah! Can’t wait for spree, assuming all three of us get out of this cabin alive.”

“Okay, nope, clearly Sasha needs another distraction. Got any suggestions, Martin?”

“Uh, wasn’t a karaoke machine part of the sales pitch for this place?”

“Martey babey, yes! I wouldn’t have thought you’d spring for that sort of thing!”

“If this were a public bar or something where I’d have to listen to drunk strangers and they’d have to listen to me, then no, I’d rather have my brain pulled through my nose a la mummification. But with only you guys and fourish drinks in? I’m down to clown.”

“Sash, you with us?”

“Dunno, what songs are there?”

Tim shrugs, and heads to the storage closet that contains all the various entertainment equipment. It takes a bit of searching, and a bit more digging, but he’s able to unearth the ancient portable karaoke machine. He also grabs some of the jigsaws, mostly on the thought that sometimes a bitch just wants to hang out with their friends and do a puzzle. Also because in light of the fact that they’re stuck inside with no sort of access to the outside world for two days longer than planned, there’s pretty much no way that they’re not going to reach a point where they all say fuck it let’s do a puzzle.

Plugging in the machine, it takes a solid several minutes to boot up, which is the perfect length of time to take it upon himself to take one for the team and chug the box wine himself, with Sasha and Martin chanting in the background. When he finishes, they cheer, and then Martin immediately shoves a glass of water for him to down as well, muttering something about how he wants him to be alive in the morning. Tim can tell he’s well inebriated by now, because the simple thoughtful gesture is enough to make him a little bit misty-eyed, and Sasha can attest to alcohol turning him into the world’s biggest sap. In order to avoid prevent himself from becoming the kind of person who says “I love you” in a gradually more sloppy repeat, he starts flipping through the discography of the now running machine. “Alright y’all, it looks like we got 80s songs or...80s songs. Ooo, they have the Grease 2 soundtrack.”

That gets him a well deserved “No!” from both parties, with Sasha adding on, “Not even if it was Grease 1. I’m putting an embargo on musical theater in general.”

“Oh come on, some musicals are better than other. Right, Marto?”

“I’m with Sasha on this one.”

“Boo. But fine, what do you want?”

Martin and Sasha glance at each other, and Tim’s amazed at how well the bonding night-turned-long-weekend has gone so far, considering they seem to have already mastered the art of silent communication. Martin speaks first, with, “They got Dolly Parton?”

The process of scrolling through individual letters to type is achingly slow, but luckily all he needs to get through is “DO” before she shows up. “They do.”

Sasha says, “Do they got 9 to 5, by Dolly Parton?”

Tim’s eyes light up with realization as he says, “They do,” and in a moment of spontaneous understanding, all three of them know that they’re not simply going to sing 9 to 5. No, they’re going to do a full blown music video for the benefit for nobody but themselves, because why the fuck not.

The next hour is spent in a very silly fashion. They figure out how to use the cabin’s layout to their advantage, assign various parts of the song to each person, and practice their inexpert choreography a few times with the song tinnily blasting from Sasha’s phone. The final result is hardly of professional quality, but it is of making them all giggle quality. It starts off in a relay like manner, each of them in a different area to coordinate with “Tumble of out bed and stumble to the kitchen” (Sasha on the couch), “Pour myself a cup of ambition”, (Tim at the coffemaker), and “Yawn and stretch and try to come to life” (Martin at the fridge), with them finally crowding around the karaoke machine together to scream sing the chorus. Despite their practice, they quickly go off key, and while they might end up with low points for accuracy, they get full marks on enthusiasm.

When the song ends, it takes them a few minutes to settle down into something less giddy. As they do, Sasha, out of breath, says, “Fuck me, I’m sleepy now. What the hell?”

Tim hums in affirmation. “Goddammit, I’m tired too. Let me guess, Martin, you’re young enough that you could go all night?”

“No? I’ve never pulled an all-nighter in my life. Actually, I know that it was supposed to be in case the power went out, but huddling together under a blanket in front of a fire sounds really nice? I mean, um, if you guys were down.”

Sasha leans her head against Martin’s shoulder and takes on the expression of a deeply content cat. “Mmm, I call Martin, he’s warm.”

“Absolutely not, I also want to leech Martin’s warmth. You good with being in the middle?”

Martin’s practically beaming, but his voice manages to almost fake being put upon. “I suppose it’s a sacrifice I could make.”

With Sasha already half asleep, Martin brings her over to the couch, while Tim gets them all set up. He manages to find the kind of big, fluffy blanket that all cabins should contain and wraps it around their shoulders. Luckily for them, the fireplace is gas lit and can be put on a timer. He sets it for 30 minutes, even though all three of them are going to be long passed out before them. Sasha is already softly snoring away, and Martin’s head keeps drifting down and snapping back up. Tim curls up against Martin’s other side, and even though all three of them are going to wake up with aching backs and worse heads, he thinks he really just might be a genius after all.

*Why is Mr. Boddy’s name Dr. Black in the UK. I hate that. Why would you not have the dumb joke of naming the victim “boddy”. Hey brits explain your crimes.

#anon #replies #nat fic #tma #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james

8 notes · View notes

solynaceawrites · 4 years

Text

Wires [3]: Bearers Of

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“It is much, much worse to receive bad news through the written word than by somebody simply telling you, and I’m sure you understand why. When somebody simply tells you bad news, you hear it once, and that’s the end of it. But when bad news is written down, whether in a letter or a newspaper or on your arm in felt tip pen, each time you read it, you feel as if you are receiving the bad news again and again.” — Lemony Snicket

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Sure, I know her.” The waitress pops her gum, handing the grainy photograph back to Lir. “Comes in every Friday like clockwork, doesn’t tip, takes a new man home with her when she goes. She in some sort of trouble?”

Dante smiles charmingly. “You could say that. She wouldn’t have happened to pay by card, would she?”

“You’ll have to ask Joan. The bartender? She handles the tabs.” After a moment, the waitress bats her lashes, reaching out to place a hand on Dante’s arm, and Lir resists the desire to throttle one or both of them. “I can keep you company while your partner talks to her.”

“Who am I to say no to a pretty lady?”

He cuts his eyes to Lir. With a snort, she turns sharply on her heel, trying to keep her irritation from showing on her face, adding lady’s man to the list of ways she’d describe him. It’s far from the worst, but the bright giggles that follow her to the bar have her wondering if pig would be better. A woman emerges from the back as she claims a stool, pretty with her dark eyes and darker hair, and if she weren’t on duty, Lir might have considered leaving her number. Which probably only makes her slightly better than Dante, a fact that has her reaching into her pocket for her badge to buy herself a bit of time to settle.

“What can I get ya, sugar?” the woman asks.

“Are you Joan?” With a raised brow, the woman nods, and Lir holds out her badge. “I’m Detective Thorne with the Red Grave Police Department. I was hoping you’d be able to answer some questions for me?”

Joan studies her badge. “Detective, huh? Sounds like your questions are gonna be heavy enough to warrant a drink. What’s your poison?”

Against her better judgement, Lir replies, “Vodka sour, with Chopin if you’ve got it.”

With a smile that seems a little more than flirtatious, Joan gets to work. Lir watches her deft, slender hands scoop ice into a strainer before adding the vodka and sour mix and shaking, and that coy expression is still on Joan’s face when she sets it in front of her. “On the house for the city’s finest.”

“Thank you.” Lir takes a long drink, closing her eyes as her tongue comes alive under the bittersweet flavor. Then she slides the photograph of Jane Doe across the bar. “Your friend said that you might know her?”

Joan studies it, bracing her arms on the bar and giving Lir a very good glimpse of her cleavage. “Mm-hm. That’s Sophie. Pays with her Amex, likes a frozen margarita with sugar instead of salt on the rim. She the body they pulled from the alley yesterday?” Lir shrugs, and she sighs. “Shame. She was a sweetheart.”

“I heard the opposite.”

“I’m sure you did. She tips for the service she gets, and Lacey’s usually too busy flirting to pay attention to her tables. Never did me wrong, though, and most of the girls here will tell you the same.”

“I have to say,” Lir watches her sharply, “you seem awfully calm for someone who just found out there was a murder next door.”

Joan looks back at her steadily for a long time, not saying anything. When she finally does speak, her voice is quiet, “Don’t get me wrong, Detective. I’m pissed as hell about what happened to her. I read the papers, y’know? So I know that she was . . . If I could find the bastard, I’d wring his neck myself. But I’ve got to trust you to do it, and me crying won’t get you any answers. I’ll do it after you’ve left.”

“Alright. I’m sorry.”

Just like that, the tension is gone, the warm smile sliding back onto Joan’s pretty face. “No hard feelings. You can make it up to me later, if you want.”

“Maybe. Anything else you can tell me?”

The way she catches her plump lower lip between her teeth has Lir vividly imagining what it would be like to do that herself, and she breathes deeply to push the thought away. “Nothing unusual happened last night, not that I noticed. Sophie came in, sat at her table, ordered her drink. She was with some friends, but they split up to dance for a while, and I didn’t see her again until she paid her tab. We get pretty busy on Fridays,” she adds apologetically. “It’s easy to lose track of people.”

Lir takes another sip of her drink. “Did she leave with anyone?”

“If she did, I didn’t get a look at him. But it wouldn’t surprise me. Nothing against her, people can do what they want, but she knew the effect she had on others.” Lir thinks of the face on the slab, beauty made sorrowful by death. “Give me a moment, and I’ll get her last name for you.”

“That would be great, thanks.” As Joan moves to the register on the back counter, Dante slides onto the stool next to her, and Lir eyes him irritably. “Get anything from your witness?”

“Nah, she was too busy cryin’ to talk,” he replies. “Drinkin’ on the job?”

Before she can reply, Joan is back, and she hands a folded piece of paper to Lir. To her pleasure and amusement, not once does she look at Dante. “Here you go. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, Detective.”

Downing the rest of her drink, Lir gives a little salute and heads out of the club, Dante at her side. She ignores him for the moment to unfold the note, a small grin breaking tugging at her lips as she reads over it; there’s a name on the top half, which she tears off to give to him, but on the bottom is a phone number and Call Me written in an elegant, looping script. “Sophie Marons,” Dante recites. “Wonder if there’s a connection to Simon Marons.”

“The lawyer?” Dante exhales slowly, and she curses. “Shit. Draw straws to see who makes the call?”

“Nope,” he drawls. “Your lead, your visit. Let’s go.”

Lir frowns at him, an expression that’s becoming more and more common the longer she works with her frustrating new partner. Her mother used to warn her that her face would get stuck eventually, and she’s starting to wonder if that’s true; at least he’s not sending her off alone, which she wouldn’t really blame him for but would still be angry over. And he turns the volume on the radio down once they're in the car when he notices her pulling out her bottle of aspirin and popping one into her mouth. It looks like he wants to say something and thinks the better of it. Good. The less she has to talk to him, the better. The drive to Marson & Co. passes with only the harsh strumming of rock and the quiet purring of the engine, and their silence persists into the lobby, where Lir speaks briefly to a receptionist, and in the elevator ride up to the seventh floor.

Dante whistles when they step off into an office that sprawls over the entire floor. Glass windows that stretch from floor to ceiling on three of the walls give a stunning view of the city, allowing plenty of sunlight in, and it glows over the interior decorations: a large oak desk, numerous shelves full of books, a sitting area, a bar set next to the elevator. It’s the office of a man who wound up rich and, as the figure behind the desk stands, Lir takes a look at him and decides it was probably inherited. Simon Marsons is as immaculate as the space he occupies, his suit pressed and his salted hair pressed back from a hairline that’s only starting to thin, a lavender handkerchief folded into his coat pocket and diamond cufflinks glittering at his wrists. Lir walks towards him, her boots thudding dully on the polished tile floor; up close, she can see the vibrant green of his eyes and that his teeth, when he smiles, are too even and straight to be anything but bought.

“My apologies, but I’m afraid I’m not open for visitors today,” he says, his voice pleasant yet oily somehow. “If you leave your name with Mary, I’ll try to—”

“Simon Marsons?” Lir cuts him off curtly. “I’m Detective Thorne. This is my partner, Detective Redgrave. Are you related to Sophie Marsons?”

His tanned face goes ashy. “Sophie? She’s my daughter. Has something happened to her?”

“You might want to sit,” Dante advises him, not unkindly.

Marson’s legs go out from under him, and Lir watches with embers of sympathy as he collapses into his grand chair. “Please,” he says, his voice shaking. “Where is she? Was she hurt? I knew I should have called when she didn’t show up for work yesterday, but I assumed she was sleeping off a hangover . . . Which hospital do I need to go to?”

Lir takes a deep breath. “Is your office always open on Sunday?”

“What? Yes, yes, I have a number of clients, and Saturday and Sunday are when I go over all of my notes. Please, Detective, Sophie . . .”

That ember sparks to a dull blaze. Speaking quietly, Lir says, “I’m sorry. We found her yesterday morning.”

A low keening erupts from Marson’s throat. It’s not unlike the cry of a wounded animal, caught in a trap from which it cannot escape and too weak to continue struggling, and Lir thinks of the fox her father had snared one year after it killed their chickens and her mouth fills with the heavy taste of iron. Dante steps around her, his own face displaying a hint of discomfort. It’s oddly reassuring to realize that he probably hates these visits as much as she does, the transformation from detective to confidante and terrible messenger that is a cruel necessity of their job. “When was the last time you saw your daughter, Mr. Marson?”

The man mumbles something incoherent, and the two of them share a look. “Sir?” Lir presses.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice choked. “You’ll have to . . . Mary will know. I’m sorry. Excuse me, I can’t . . .”

Lir exhales slowly. “Okay. Thank you. I’m going to leave my card. Please call us if you think of anything.”

He buries his face in his hands, and she slides her card onto the desk before heading back to the elevator. Once inside, she leans against the wall, and even Dante looks tired, the hollows under his eyes dark and deep. “Never gets easier, does it?” he mutters.

She shakes her head. Outside, she turns to him, her mouth dry and her limbs heavy. “I’m goin’ home. I need sleep. You?”

“Can’t argue that. Want a ride?”

The idea of him knowing where she lives makes her skin prickle uncomfortably, which is strange, given that they work together. Still, she points to the road. “I’ll catch a cab. See you in a bit.”

“Mm-hm.”

Lir leaves him there, feeling his eyes boring into her back as she hails a taxi and slides inside, nearly slurring with exhaustion as she gives the driver her address. She dozes on the ride, woken by the cabbie tapping the glass partition between them, and she fumbles to pay and tip before heading into her building. It’s quiet inside, warm in a stuffy sort of way, which makes her more drowsy. Another short trip in an elevator, and she’s at her door, which she unlocks with trembling fingers and kicks shut. Too tired to bother showering, Lir strips as she walks to her bedroom in the back, where she manages to pull the curtains closed and set an alarm on her phone before collapsing into bed. Behind her closed eyes, visions of Sophie Marson’s body linger, chasing her into her dreams.

In them, she is once again in the morgue. The lights overhead flicker as she stares at the slab in the middle, upon which rests a form covered by a white sheet, and her breath frosts in the air around her and chills her lips. As she stands frozen, the thing under the sheet moves, pallid fingers poking from beneath to curl over its edge and push it slowly down, and a low whine locks in her throat, the remnants of a scream she cannot voice. Creeping, unhurried, the corpse of Sophie Marson sits up, her pale hair spilling limply over her shoulders; when milky eyes focus on her, Lir twitches. But she’s paralyzed, her legs unresponsive no matter how desperately she pleads with them to work.

A low rasp falls from the corpse’s mouth, which forms soundless words. With every attempt it makes to speak, air whistles from it, barely audible over the thrum of the air conditioning, until, at last, it stands on trembling legs, bracing itself on the slabs as it clambers towards her. As it draws closer, the whispers take form: “You saw . . . you saw . . . you saw . . .”

No, Lir tries to shout, no, no, I didn’t see a damn thing. There was nothing to see! Just you, dead on the ground, and if something else was there I had to ignore it because things like that don’t exist!

Grasping fingers reach for her. The murmurs take on a fevered rhythm, rising in pitch and volume until they devolve into a shrill ringing, those dead eyes bulging as its hands land on her face—

Lir snaps up with a strangled scream, reaching to grab and shove and fight. Yet there’s nothing there; just her room with unpacked boxes cluttered around, and she hunches over and presses her palms to her cheeks, fighting to get her panicked breathing under control. The ringing cuts off, then starts again. Cursing, she fumbles for her phone, finding it buried under the covers, and jabs to answer it, fear making her bark into it. “What?”

Dante’s voice comes through the receiver. “Sorry to wake you, sleepin’ beauty, but Marson’s at the station to make a statement and Morrison is liable to rip you a new one if you aren’t there soon.”

“Fine, just . . . Wait, there?”

“Yeah. I’m outside.” Startled, she darts to the window and peers out, seeing Dante parked on the street below, leaning on his car, looking back up at her. He waves as he says, “Better get your ass in gear, Thorne.”

Furious with him, she hangs up and stalks to her bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Then she grabs a fresh change of clothes, tugging them on as she follows the trail of dirty ones she’d left earlier to her boots, which she slams her feet into. Keys, wallet, badge, gun, Lir grabs all of them from the table next to the door, then she leaves, choosing the quicker option of the stairs at the end of the building hall. Dante straightens as she emerges, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh, and she glares at him as she yanks open the door and slides into his car, vindicated by his, “Hey!” when she slams it fiercely. It’s his turn to scowl, climbing behind the wheel, and he cranks the volume up to near painful levels before putting the car in drive and pulling away from the curb.

Tired of his dickish behavior, she turns the knob back down and snaps, “How the fuck did you find my apartment?”

He scoffs. “We’ve got personnel files.”

“For emergencies!” Lir shouts. “You don’t just go into them whenever you feel like it!”

“If you’d just told me—”

“I don’t have to tell you shit,” she seethes.

Dante slams on the brakes, yanking the car into a parking spot and turning to glower at her. “You’ve had a fuckin’ chip on your shoulder since we met. Like it or not, we’re partners, and that means I need to know where the hell you live in case somethin’ comes up, like it did tonight.”

“I could have gotten there on my own!”

“Yeah, sure, and Morrison would’ve reamed your ass out for takin’ so long. Shit, I had to call you four times before you answered your goddamn phone. You think he’d have stood for that?” Lir merely shakes her head, and he throws his hands up in frustration. “What the hell is your problem? Jesus fuckin’ wept, you’d think I’m the biggest prick you’ve ever met—”

“Because you are,” she says curtly. “You’ve been ridin’ me since yesterday, havin’ me run your errands—”

“Oh, so you’re above goin’ to the morgue—”

“—acting like I don’t know my head from my ass—”

“—or dealin’ with reporters—”

“What is with you?” she cries, exasperated. “I get it, you idolize Sam Spade, but do you need his fucking sexism along with the outfit?”

Dante closes his mouth, staring at her intently for a moment, and she realizes that, in their arguing, they had each leaned in, as if to intimidate the other. Then he grins, slowly, and this one reaches his eyes, melting the glaciers there. “You like Humphrey Boggart?”

Thrown by the question, Lir can only blink at him. “Uh . . . I guess? I watched his films a lot as a kid, so . . . What does that have to do with anything?”

“Got a favorite?”

“What?” He’s still watching her. With a groan, Lir slumps back into her seat. “I dunno. Marked Woman, probably.”

Dante nods solemnly. “Bette Davis was a babe.” He continues speaking as he eases them back into traffic. “Look, Thorne—”

She huffs. “Can you just call me Lir like a normal person, for the love of God?”

“Lir,” he amends without batting an eye. “Me ridin’ you? Sorry to break it to you, but Red Grave is a beast of its own. Maybe you were good in Fortuna. Hell, your record says you were. Here? You’ll get eaten alive if you aren’t careful.”

“What a load of shit,” she mumbles.

Dante sighs. “You know somethin’ else? It’s been buggin’ me since yesterday, and the only reason I haven’t suggested Morrison take you off the case is because I’m worried you’d get yourself killed if I couldn’t keep an eye on you. You’re too eager to prove yourself.” Lir bristles, but his next statement, spoken flatly with no hint of emotion at all, has a faint prickle of fear creeping up her spine. “You look an awful lot like our victim. If this guy’s gonna go serial . . . Well, you’d fit his profile nicely.”

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dmc oc #lirael thorne #lir #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #wires

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lilhemmo · 5 years

Text

the forbidden fruit pt. five

the forbidden fruit part five: the disparity

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summary: the reimagined persephone and hades au that nobody asked for. hades!sweet pea :) word count: 4.7k+ warnings: alcohol/drunkenness part one | part two | part three | part four

NEW PARTS EVERY FRIDAY EVENING!

t h e d i s p a r i t y

Lilith holds tight to the skin at the back of Cerberus’ neck, guiding him through the tunnels of the Underworld. For the past three days, Lilith has found Cerberus in the mid-afternoon, climbing up onto his back and walking him throughout the halls and caverns of The Depths.

“Good boy,” she grins, scratching behind his massive ears with both hands. She chuckles before sliding down his neck to the ground. Lilith steadies herself and looks up at him, “How about a treat, huh?”

Lilith plucks three filets of meat from the barrel that Sweets keeps hidden under the floor and tosses one to each of Cerberus’ heads. They gobble it up and she smiles before walking towards the Serpent Den.

The walk is quiet until she gets closer to the hangout, the sound reverberating so loudly that it shakes the ground. A serpent’s hiss opens the door, Fangs clambering out of the den with his arms raised high, a chalice between his fingers.

“Lilith!” He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek before dragging her into the hangout. “We weren’t sure when you were getting back from your walk with Cerb, so we started the festivities early!”

The young mortal laughs, her eyes creasing at the corners, “We took an extra lap around, he had some energy to work out. I’m here now, though.”

Topaz rounds the corner, two chalices in her hands and a smirk on her mouth. “I was drinking for you while you were gone.”

“Oh, little serpent,” Lilith kisses Topaz’s temple and takes both chalices from her hands. She dips one back against her lips and drinks until it is dry. Lilith comes back up for air with cherry-stained lips a devilish grin, “The party has just begun.”

The group is a few drinks deep before Lilith breaches the topic of Sweets. She puts her seventh chalice down on the tabletop, grinning at the tender as he sweeps it away to clean the glass.

“So,” Lilith drags her fingertips over the length of Topaz’s forearm, watching as the scales ripple under her touch. She looks Topaz in the eyes, admiring her dark irises and how they glint in the fire of the serpent den. “What brought you all to The Depths?”

Topaz rests her hand over top of Lilith’s and licks her lips, “The Maker, of course. We were born here, we have no reason to be anywhere else.”

“Sweets birthed you?” Lilith screws her lips up in disgust.

She narrows her eyes as Topaz begins to laugh. The serpent shakes her head, “No, no, silly mortal. He created us here. Hades brought a serpent from The Surface and buried it in the Underworld. He imbued it with his dark magic, and thus the one begat many.”

“And the many are all of you?” Lilith gestures to the many dark shadows slinking through the serpent den.

Topaz nods with a bright grin on her face. She squeezes Lilith’s hand, “Hades calls us the Serpents, but we call one another family.”

“Is that why there is a mark on his neck that resembles a snake?” Lilith inquires, leaning into the bar, closing the space between her and the serpent-woman.

“With every magic act, there is a price to be paid. The Maker had to pay with a pound of his own flesh in order to bring us into the world.” Topaz smiles, her eyes sparkling with the story. “Our essences are trapped there. We only partially belong to this world, but we wholly belong to our Maker.”

“It feels that at some point, we’re all beholden to him in our own ways,” Lilith murmurs before finding a full chalice and gulping the wine in it until the liquid coats her throat. She swallows, her eyes crossing slightly, “So it is just the serpents, Cerberus, and Sweets that live down here?”

“Yes,” Topaz answers. “We are allowed to travel to The Surface whenever we like, but only in our serpent form. Our demon form is too much for the mortals above to handle.”

“I could handle it,” Lilith counters. She does her best to straighten her spine despite the alcohol coursing through her veins. “I looked you in the eyes when I came to the Underworld and I did not waver.”

“You have also looked the god of the Underworld in the eyes without blinking.”

Topaz chuckles, putting her chalice to her lips. When she puts it back on the table, she looks the mortal in the eyes, “You are not an ordinary mortal, Lilith. That much I have always known.”

-----

It is hours later when Lilith finally stumbles out of the serpent den. She can still taste the wine lingering on her lips as she drags her fingertips over the bow of her mouth. Her feet take her to where she’s been staying the past few days – an abandoned cavern that once housed a wayward demon, but Sweets has long since ran him out of the Underworld.

Lilith drags her feet through the ashen ground of The Depths, smiling at her reflection in The River. She watches as the waters ripple when Charon pushes his oars into the water, moving new souls down to be judged. Cerberus barks as she passes and she waves to him with a grin on her lips.

Her eyelids are heavy as the drunken stupor turns into a sleepy haze. Lilith takes a deep breath and blinks hard, trying to force herself to stay awake long enough to find the way home. Her foot catches on a rock and she goes tumbling forward, jutting out her hands to try and stabilize her as she hits the hard ground.

The crash never comes, but instead a warm body steadies her with hands on her biceps, holding her upright.

“Careful,” he grunts.

Lilith grins, focusing on tan skin and brown eyes. She giggles, “Sweets!”

Her arms waver around until she successfully lands on his chest. Lilith’s palms spread over his taut pectorals, her irises widening at the feel of his muscles. She snickers and goes to open her mouth when suddenly she’s cold.

“What are you doing out here so late?” he asks, stepping away from her with a blank expression on his face.

Lilith stumbles forward anyway, a bright grin on her lips as her hands grasp for his tunic, “I just left from Topaz and Fangs’ hideaway! It’s so beautiful in there and everyone is so nice and-”

“They’re demons,” Sweets deadpans.

“They’re nice demons!”

He takes a deep breath to try and calm himself when he feels that same warmth from before spread throughout his body, beginning as a pin prick where her fingertips slide under the sleeves of his top. Her fingernails graze over the flesh of his arm and it is like lightning has struck his soul.

“You shouldn’t spend so much time with them,” Sweets warns. He takes another deep breath and attempts to focus, “Demons are not for mortal consumption.”

“I’m not consuming anything yet,” she laughs, leaning into his side. “Would you mind walking me to the cave? I’m afraid I may fall into The River, and we wouldn’t want that!”

Sweet Pea hates to admit it, but he wouldn’t want that. He actually quite likes having her around, in the strangest of ways. She is good to the Serpents, keeping them busy and friendly. She pays attention to Cerberus, walking him around the Underworld and feeding him so Sweets doesn’t have to worry about it.

The only problem he has is the warmth.

Every time she gets close to him, every time she touches him, the warmth spreads like a plague. It overtakes his body and makes him forget his place before he separates himself from it. He has to physically remove himself from her for the pulsating heat to go away. And even still, so long as she’s close, he can feel it beating in his pulse, sending heat under his skin.

“Why do you stay here?”

Sweet Pea looks her in the eyes and hopes that she’s too drunk to remember her question. She doesn’t, based on the way her gaze bores into him as she expects an answer.

“I am here to protect the others,” Sweet Pea shrugs. “If I leave, who will stay here and keep everyone safe? There won’t be anyone to enforce the law of the underworld.”

“You’re lying to yourself, Sweets.” Lilith falls further into his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning her cheek on his pectoral as they get closer to her makeshift home. She sighs, “You aren’t here protecting anyone but yourself. But it’s okay, I understand.”

“I-I’m not-”

“Shh,” she drunkenly pushes her index finger against his full lips.

The action makes his breath hitch but she barely notices as she pushes him forward. She grabs the arm currently dangling at her back and pulls it across her shoulders, circling her fingers around his wrists to hold him there.

Fire blazes through his bones at the action, burning up his arm and to his chest. However, he can’t find it in himself to extract himself from her, reeled in by her very presence. In the moment, he forgets that he’s the god of the underworld,

“I waited for years for you to come to earth,” Lilith murmurs, her words muffled by the fabric of his tunic. “I get why you didn’t now.”

They arrive at the entrance to the cavern and she twirls on her bare feet, her dress swaying as she does so. Lilith pushes herself onto her tip toes and presses her mouth to his cheek. For a fleeting moment, Sweets is lost in her trance.

Lilith squeezes his shoulder as she comes down to stand on flat feet, “Thank you for the walk, Sweets. Sleep well.”

As Sweet Pea turns to walk away from her, his fingers drift to touch the spot on his cheek where her lips seared their mark.

-----

They are taking the chariot through the Underworld, visiting the Asphodel Meadows when he finally broaches the topic.

“So, when should I prepare the chariot for your ride back to The Surface?”

Sweet Pea asks her in a way that is casual, nonchalant, and he does not even tilt his head in her general direction because he cannot bear to see the look in her eyes when she understands what he is asking.

“Oh, I do not wish to return to that dreadful place,” she smiles, waving her hands in the air to dismiss the topic. Lilith curls her legs under her backside rather gracefully. Leaning into the edge of the chariot, she looks over at the beautiful green meadows filled with the most righteous of souls. “I am quite happy here.”

The silence returns and Lilith does not seem perturbed at all by his inquiry. Instead, she sits a little straighter, her back rigid as they ride through the Meadows. Sweet Pea grips the reigns between his knuckles so tightly that they turn a ghostly white. He grits his teeth and shakes his head, unsure of how to breach the conversation politely.

“I, well, you see, Lilith,” he starts, stammering over his words. “It’s just that, well, mortals aren’t exactly-”

“The way I see it,” she interrupts daintily, “you could use the help around here. The Serpents are much happier now that they have a female to play around with. And I think Cerberus quite likes the treats I’ve made him. You even seem to be a bit cheerier as the days go on.”

Sweet Pea licks his lips and makes sure his voice has a finality to it when he speaks next, “It is not a request, Lilith. I was merely being polite.”

Ah, there it is.

Lilith’s face contorts into something of terrible beauty. Her pale eyes gaze up at him, a sad storm swirling in contrast to her deep skin, “You’re telling me to leave?”

“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to stay down here,” he answers, covering her knee with his palm. Warmth shoots up his arm like a fire and he welcomes it as it may be one of the last times he feels it until she’s gone. “Mortals cannot be in the Underworld for too long before it does damage to their bodies. I have tried to be lenient, letting you stay here for a few weeks. I will not be responsible for you any longer.”

“No one asked you to be responsible for me. I can take care of myself,” Lilith spats. She crosses her arms over her chest and her nostrils flare. “If you plan on sending me back to that awful realm, then you will have to drag me there yourself.”

Sweet Pea scoffs, “Awful realm? You do realize you’re currently in hell, where people go to die? Everyone here would beg for another chance to go back to The Surface-”

“Even you,” she speaks quietly. Her voice is chilling - quiet and calculated as she stares him down. “This is your ruling place, but you want to be anywhere but here. But, who can blame you? Your brothers are constantly sending puny demigods down here to try and kill you.”

His hand flies from her knee as if he’s been burned. Sweet Pea’s jaw quivers as he grinds his teeth together, “You should heed your place, Lilith. Do not speak ill of my kin, or else I will not be so kind as to escort you out of this place.”

Lilith rolls her eyes and kicks her feet up onto the front of the chariot, crossing her legs at the ankles. She chuckles sarcastically, “Yet, here I am, saving you from the very invaders that your family send to try and seek your demise. I have driven a sword through five attackers and I’ve only been here for two weeks.”

The gray of her eyes looks forward, unable to face him. Her belly turns sour and she cradles her hands against her skin there. “Your family, your brothers, are sending people to try and kill you. How is it that you trust them more than you trust me?”

She snarls, “You need me.”

“They are liars, you’re a liar,” Sweet Pea yanks on the reigns and the horses halt. The chariot skids across the ashen ground and sends Lilith reeling. She gathers herself and stands in the chariot, glaring down at him with icicle eyes that any person would be afraid of.

Sweet Pea is not just any person.

She drives her fingertip into his chest, pressing against his muscled pectoral, “You’re blind, Sweets. You cannot see what is right in front of you because you’ve barred yourself from the truth.”

Lilith steps out of the chariot and storms towards her cavern. Sweet Pea is quick to follow, grasping her by the elbow to turn her around to face him.

“Do you not know who I am? Have you forgotten in your time here?” He shakes his head and searches her with his irises. His grasp on her joints hurts, but she does not flinch even though her skin turns red.

“Have you forgotten?” Lilith counters, stepping closer to her. “You are the god of the Underworld, the Prince of Darkness. Yet here you are, letting your family send mercenaries down to this place and threaten your very existence.”

“My family are not the ones sending these demigods,” Sweet Pea argues.

His eyes betray him, though, as they falter to look down at his feet the moment he speaks. Lilith reaches up to grasp his face between her fingers, squishing his cheeks with her thumb and index.

“You know it to be true,” she seethes, her heart breaking a little at the sadness in his eyes. “I have no reason to lie to you.”

Sweet Pea slaps her hand away from him, the back of his palm connecting with her wrist. The ends of his hair turn a deep blue, curling against his neck as he grits his teeth.

“You hate the gods, of course you have reason to lie. You would have me march to Olympus and end each and every one of them, if it suited you.” Sweet Pea’s throat bobs as he swallows, “They are my family. They sent me here to protect me. Why would they send heroes down here when they could have done it long ago, before I was banished here?”

Lilith shrugs, pursing her lips, “Maybe they changed their minds. Maybe something changed. As if I would know what goes on up at Mount Olympus.”

“You’re right, you wouldn’t,” he bites.

She glowers up at him, eyes a pure storm that back the rage in her voice, “At least I’m here, with you. They have not bothered to visit you once during your exile.”

“It is not an exile, Lilith!” Sweet Pea’s fingers turn to fists and he can feel his hair growing hot on his neck. His jaw quivers under the strength of his teeth.

Lilith scoffs while shaking her head, disbelief washing over her features like the waves of the sea. She swallows before pursing her lips, “If it is not an exile, then why are you barred from Mount Olympus?”

Her voice is so simple but it jars him to the very core, hot lava churning in his stomach. And yet, despite the look on his face, she pushes on and presses him further.

“If it is not an exile, then why do they not visit you? If they are truly your family, and your claims that they are protecting and loving you are true, then why have they not even tried to contact you once in your time here?”

Footsteps bring her closer to him, fists at her side, “I have known you for such a short time, and yet I can see what you cannot. How could this be?”

“You’re right,” Sweet Pea grits his teeth, “you have known me for a short time. And that time has come to an end.”

Lilith huffs a breath through her nose and she bears resemblance to a dragon, what with her fiery spirit and dangerous expression. “You are so insufferable!”

“Good,” he shrugs, “now I’m just like every other god.”

Her voice breaks, “But you’re not.”

“I told you when you arrived here that I did not trust you.” Sweet Pea looks down his nose at her, dark eyes never wavering. “And now you expect me to put you before my own blood? The gods who saved me from my very own father, and gave me this land to rule?”

“They gave you this realm to sequester you!” she shouts, throwing her arms in the air.

She steps as close as she can to him, his body impossibly warm as his hair grows hotter, the flames licking up his scalp and turning his surroundings a pale blue color.

“Have you ever heard the stories from The Surface? The tales of the god of death?” she asks him quietly, imploring him to listen to her. Lilith reaches out and takes his arm by the wrist, “There are stories the gods gave to the mortals to spread. Have you heard of them?”

Sweet Pea knows she’s lying – she has to be. Surely his brothers did not send him to The Depths for his protection only to make the mortals fear him. No, he cannot trust her; Lilith would say anything to force his hands against the gods who she so blindly thinks betrayed her in her youth.

“I did not start this conversation to have you recite children’s tales to me,” he snaps when ponder the thought anymore. Sweet Pea’s fingernails dig into his palms as he squeezes his fists tighter. “Now, I’m taking you back to The Surface, despite how you might feel about it. I am not beholden to you.”

“So you haven’t heard, then?” Lilith tilts her head in questioning.

He says nothing, but his eyes never waver from her.

Lilith takes his quiet for an answer and squeezes his wrist, trying to get his fist to release. She manages to push her fingertips between his knuckles and hold his palm tightly in her own; so tight that it hurts her smaller hand.

“We were told you were banished to the Underworld as a punishment for the crime of attempting to kill your brothers.” Lilith’s voice is powerful as she grits her teeth holds her fists tight at her side. Her eyes are a hard silver as she stares him down, “The story the gods gave mortals all those years ago says something along the lines of Hades tries to storm Mount Olympus and murder every god and goddess in his sight because they only allowed him to be invisible.”

Lilith pauses, and it allows Sweet Pea a moment to hear how his god-name sounds in her mouth and he realizes it makes his stomach sour. She does not back down even as he stares directly back into her pupils.

As he looks longer, there is a pain settled in her irises that he cannot quite comprehend, “Then, after you were unable to kill them and take the throne of Olympus yourself, Zeus decided to spare your life out of familial love. Instead of killing you by his own hand, he banished you to the Underworld to serve an eternal sentence as the lord over the dead, forever to rot in a prison of death.”

Lilith takes a pause to squeeze his hand and hover closer, their chests brushing as they breathe. She wants to reach up and touch his cheek but she knows he has boundaries now, boundaries that he might not have had prior to this revelation.

“The gods told humans of that tale,” Lilith reiterates, praying that he understands. “Zeus told them.”

“You act as if there is a line between you and them!” Sweet Pea’s voice shudders. The muscles in his jaw quiver with the intensity of his voice, and the vein on his neck pulses. “You are a human. You are a mortal! You are no different.”

Rage and pain flashes forward in Lilith’s eyes in the form of tears. Her upper lip wobbles as all the color drains from her face. A single droplet trails down her cheek as she drops her head so she no longer has to look him in the eyes.

“You are deflecting your pain onto me,” she whispers. She wipes at her cheeks with shaking hands before looking back up at him with storm-torn irises, “You know I am telling the truth. Even you did not disagree with the hero when he said the blade was enchanted by your brother, Poseidon.”

“Heroes steal enchanted blades all the time,” Sweet Pea rationalizes, waving his hand at her. He shakes his head, “Just because the blade was enchanted by my brother does not mean it was destined for my flesh.”

“And what if it was?”

Sweet Pea does not respond, and she has to wonder if this truth has broken him down to his soul. This time she does not grasp for him, instead holding her hands by her sides like there were ropes around her arms. Her teeth chatter with the hope of his belief in her.

“You’re lying,” he whispers unfeeling.

She steps further into his space, fire in her eyes and ice in her heart, “Look at me.”

He doesn’t, and so she grabs him by the jaw and pulls him down to her level. For some reason, he does not rebuke her.

Sweet Pea’s eyes dart to hers and she can’t help the whimper that escapes her lips when she sees his glassy irises. She swallows and takes a shallow breath, lips pursing as she tries to keep a sob sewn between her lips.

“My brothers would not do this to me,” he tries again. There is a low rage in his voice, but it is blanched by the whispers of betrayal.

Lilith releases his face and brushes her thumb over the red marks on his skin that she branded him with. Her head tilts as she waits for him to make his next move.

Sweet Pea swallows and it makes his throat bob, “They would never do this to me, Lilith. They love me. You are a lying mortal.”

She does not take the words personally; she cannot. Lilith wraps her arms around her waist to try and hold herself together and back all at the same time. She parts her lips to let a sigh break through but follows with words, “Have you ever heard the prophecy?”

Sweet Pea shakes his head, “Not for myself, no.”

“And yet you wonder how they are so easily manipulating you!” Lilith laughs sardonically, throwing her hands in the air. She rolls her eyes, “They are abusing you. They are keeping you holed in here, unable to interact with the other gods on Olympus, making you hate yourself because of a lie they’ve told everyone on earth. What a perfect plan.”

“Be quiet,” he barks, eyes narrowed.

“Let us find the Oracle, then,” Lilith challenges, standing taller. She braces her spine and curls her fists at her sides, “If you hear the prophecy for yourself, you’ll see that your brot-”

“No.”

Lilith’s face falls and her hands drop to her sides. She takes a step back, protecting herself from what he’s about to say, but pushing him anyways. His voice is so cold, so quick, that she for once is actually minutely worried about what he might do.

“No?” Lilith asks incredulously, unwilling to let fear take over. She chuffs and rolls her eyes, “What, are you afraid of what you might find?”

“Lilith,” Sweet Pea holds a finger in the air to silence her. He shakes his head, “You would be wise to understand there are things you do not toy with. Sacred things.”

She spits on the ground and surges forward, taking his wavering finger in her fist, “Then teach me.”

He considers her for a moment, taking her in with his eyes, and pauses. There is a livewire between the two of them, hot and sparking with tension. She does not waver, as always, and looks him directly in the eyes with a tense jaw and unrelenting spirit.

Sweet Pea chooses to speak, “The Oracle only tells your prophecy to others. One cannot hear a prophecy concerning themselves. Once they do, there is a diversion or an interference with the prophecy that changes the meaning.”

“Then I will listen to it,” Lilith offers. “Alone. I can write it down and read it back to you so you can’t hear it directly from the Oracle, but you can hear it line-for-line as the truth.”

Lilith pleads with him, her eyes earnest and sad as they look at one another. Sweet Pea is quiet, his hair calming from bright blue flames to a deeper, somehow sad, sapphire color. He puffs a breath through his nose, “Even if I say no, you will pursue this on your own once I take you to The Surface, will you not?”

She raises a dark brow and there is a mischievous glint in her gray irises when she looks up at him, “And here I thought you didn’t know me at all.”

Sweet Pea sighs and rakes his hand through his hair, trying to keep the smirk off his face at her taunting tone. He glances down at her with amusement – this mortal has yet to prove herself to be anything but offensive and interesting. And still, he cannot find it within himself to keep her away.

“I will only accompany you on this journey because I know that if you die when interfering with the gods or the Oracle, I will put it on my conscience when I see your soul come wafting down The River.” Sweet Pea takes a deep breath, straightening his spine. “And I want to see the look on your face when I prove that you are indeed wrong, and my brothers have only placed me here to keep me safe.”

She smiles and he swears she’s the most beautiful thing he’s seen, “I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll be fine on my own.”

Lilith turns to walk away but he grasps her by the elbow, his tone firm when he speaks, “I was not asking, Lilith. I was merely being polite.”

The grin on her lips morphs into a smirk, as if this was her master plan all along, and she twirls on her toes to walk back to her makeshift home.

“Better get packing, Sweets!” Lilith calls over her shoulder, “It’s going to be a long trip!”

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bloodiedskirtts · 5 years

Text

Magnetic Demeanour | Sweetener

Summary: After moving back to Florida in the middle of a heat wave, things seem to be getting worse and worse. The only thing to make her days any better is her neighbour, Frank. With neither of them willing to admit that they can’t get enough of each other, a pesky shower malfunction may be the only way for them to tell each other how they feel.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Smut, 18+ mentions of cheating, Gifted spoilers

A/N: My first post for my Sweetener series, based on the song Blazed!

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading. I hope you guys like it! Gif not mine, credit to owner.

Moving back to Florida was never in her plans. It wasn’t something she dreamed of when she left as soon as she finished high school. She had big dreams, but big dreams don’t always come through. And after waiting tables for a few years in New York, she found that out the hard way. She couldn’t afford rent in New York - who could? But she had been lucky enough to meet a guy at a bar one night. He had clearly been slumming it and things moved pretty quickly. It wasn’t long before she was moving into his Upper East Side townhouse.

He brought her to all these fancy parties, introducing him to all his friends in publishing. And when she thought things couldn’t get any better, she walked in on him fucking another women. She had no other choice but to pack up her things and go. And off she went back to Florida. She hadn’t given up her dreams. She was going to be a writer, a published one some day. But instead of meeting with publishers in New York, she would write her American classic in her trailer in Florida.

And that’s what she was doing for the past two months, she worked in the local diner for the morning and lunch shift. And she wrote in the evening. On her old busted laptop. And if she was lucky she got to ogle her neighbour, Frank. He was a good guy, she knew that. Just from the way he acted around his niece. Roberta had explained everything to her when she moved in. She had invited the new girl around for dinner and Mary had barged in. She told her about the custody battle, about why Mary was so special and about Frank. How special Frank was.

‘Not many men would do that, ya know,’ she said as she served her another helping, her plate piling full of food.

And she would sometimes watch as Frank played with Mary in the backyard. Sometimes she would watch as he stumbled home on a Friday night with another girl from the bar. And she would turn off her lights, and head to bed alone once again. She would usually say hi to him as she walked past him on her way home from work. And as the weeks went past they would exchange pleasantries. Nothing too serious. But she was just so drawn to him. She even wrote about him.

Not in a creepy way.

Okay, how could it not be in a creepy way?

It was sweltering hot outside and she could feel the sweat dripping down the canal between her breasts. Florida summers were the worst, especially in a tiny trailer. She let out a hiss as she stood, her shorts sticking to her, the same way her white tank top was clinging to her skin. It was time for a shower. She stepped the few feet into her bathroom, to turn on the shower.

And nothing.

Not a single drop of water came out of the nozzle. So there she was standing in her bra and panties, and she no other choice but to head outside to figure out what was happening with her water. Wrapping a towel around her frame, she marched out. Right into Frank Adler’s board chest.

‘Shit, Frank! Sorry!’ she gasped, the words falling from her plump lips that mesmerised Frank everytime they talked. He tried to avoid her on Fridays. Because he knew that he wanted to be spending the night with her. He had a schoolboy crush on her ever since she moved in. He had seen her, unloading her shitty car under the sweltering sun two months ago. The way the sweat rolled down her skin set him on edge. And he wanted to lick every part of her body.

He was attracted to like a magnetic.

And he had no idea that she felt that pull just as strongly!

He was on his way to the bar to try and forget her by getting another woman under him. It hadn’t worked, he had moaned her name twice now when he was with someone else. Not his finest moment. But hell, he couldn’t get the image of her in her Daisy Dukes and lowcut tops out of his head. He was obsessed with her. In a non-creepy way. Well...

Now she was standing before him, covering herself with a towel. Her hair falling around her face, and her bra strap falling down her shoulder. He was fucked.

‘You in trouble, Y/N?’ he asked, bringing his eyes back to hers rather than her mouth or her cleavage.

‘My water is off for some reason. I paid the bills so I don’t know why it ain’t working,’ she said with a sigh.

‘I can take a look at it for you?’ he suggested.

‘Naw, you’re headed out. I’m sure you have better things to do than help me on Friday night.’

‘Nothing I would rather do,’ he replied with a quirk of his lips. ‘Look, Mary isn’t home. How about you hop in my shower and I will try my darnedest to fix yours. Scouts honour.’

She laughed at how sincere he was being, but thanked him.

‘That sounds amazing, this heat is driving me insane. I need to shower for my own sanity and for everyone else in this trailer park. I’m sure I stink,’ she rambled, mentally cursing herself.

Frank just smiled at her, ‘Naw, you’re perfect. Go grab your stuff and then you can head over to mine. Same layout as yours, take your time. I won’t interrupt.’

So she did, she took her time washing off the sweat from her body, running her fingers through her hair. Wishing it was Frank, lathering soaps into her locks, kissing over her skin, making her eyes roll back in her head.

Oh, God, she needed to stop. Turning off the water, she stepped out of the shower and began to towel herself off. The bathroom was so tiny, she was afraid that she would break something. So she decided to open the door, Frank was still fixing her shower, what was the harm.

Well, the harm was she opened the door, standing butt naked in the middle of his bathroom, and Frank was walking into his trailer. His body was now covered in a soft sheen of sweat, his torso exposed as he had unbuttoned his shirt as he worked, his dirty blonde hair damp with the humidity. And his eyes were blown wide with lust. He stuttered over his words as she covered herself frantically with her towel.

Both of them were shouting apologies at one another.

‘The bathroom was too small.’

‘I came to grab some more tools’

But it didn’t matter the damage was done. Frank no longer had to imagine what she looked like naked, he knew and his dick was sprinting to life. He could feel it fighting against the constraints of his jeans. And now her eyes were focusing on the bulge in his trousers.

‘Frank...’

‘Y/N, I am so sorry. I-I just...’

How could he explain this?

Fuck it!

He crossed the small trailer to stand in front of her and before she could say another word, his lips were crashing against hers in a dominant and passionate kiss. A kiss that sucked all the air from her lungs, a kiss that had her knees weak, a kiss that made her moan and fall against him. Tongues and teeth clashed as hands explored over their bodies. Her towel was discarded, as she pushed Frank’s printed shirt off his shoulders. He was maneuvering her out of the bathroom, towards his bedroom.

She fell back onto the bed, a gasp falling from her lips as he climbed on top of her.

‘I-I don’t usually do this,’ she whispered as he began to kiss down her neck, living a line of hickies over her skin.

He chuckled, ‘I wish I could say the same but...’

‘Yea, I see your Friday night conquests,’ she teased, a soft gasp escaping her lips as his mouth latched around her hardened nipples. He paid attention to her breasts, his hands kneaded the one that wasn’t being licked, nipped and kissed. And after he had left enough hickies over one, he moved on to the next. She was a whimpering mess and she thought that she may cum from just his attention on her breasts.

She rubbed her legs together in a desperate attempt to get friction for her aching core. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Frank, who quickly made his move from her breasts to her core.

‘Oh baby girl,’ he groaned, ‘you are absolutely drippin’.’

‘Do ya blame me?’ she replied, rolling her hips up to his mouth.

He tutted playfully before diving in, his tongue dipping into her core making her moan out. Loud enough to wake up half the trailer park, and he didn’t stop. His tongue dipping in and out of her aching core, bringing her to the brink but not letting her fall over.

Not until his tongue flicked over her clit and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Her fingers twisted in his dirty blonde hair, her legs tightening around his head as his beard tickled her inner thighs. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she reached her peak. With another loud whine, she came, her hips jerking into his face. And when she had rode out her high, Frank pulled away, just not to overstimulate her. And his face and beard were soaked with her release making her blush.

‘Aw, hun!’ he cooed, ‘Don’t be shy. Ain’t nothing prettier than your face when it reaches it peak. Lemme see if I can see it again.’

She laughed at his bravado, but didn’t complain as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to him. He shucked his jeans and boxers off quickly and her eyes widened at the sight of him. His length stood to attention from a tuft of black curls and her mouth was watering at the sight of it. She moved to take him in her mouth, but he pushed her back on the bed.

‘Nuh-uh sweetie, not this time. I need to be in you as soon as I can,’ he groaned as he moved to grab a condom from his night stand. It didn’t take long until he had rolled it down his considerable length. And all she could think was ‘not this time’ meaning that this wasn’t any Friday night fling. He wanted to do this again. She almost laughed at the thought, but all thoughts were pushed out of her head as he pushed inside her. And she cried out, her back arching, her hand stretching behind her to grip the comforter. He began to thrust in and out of her slowly, her moans growing louder and louder.

The noises she made just egged him on, turned him on even more, and his hips quickened, snapping against hers. And his hand went from by her head to grip the headboard of his bed, giving him more traction so he could continue his brutal pace. He needed to hear those sweet moans, they were music to his ears. He had never in his life heard anything so sweet and he wanted to hear it as much as possible.

Her moans were growing louder as she could feel her second orgasm fast approach. She never had much luck with guys making her cum in the past. And here he was, her devilishly handsome neighbour, who was sweet and kind and perfect. Actually perfect. Her fingers dug into his back, as her back arched and his name moaned as she came once again. Her release covering Frank’s dick as he continued to fuck her roughly. Drawing her orgasm out and before she could even think, propelling her into her third.

The feeling of her tightening around his cock not once but twice was driving him nuts. He knew he couldn’t hold his orgasm off for much longer and when she moaned his name again he finally released. Her name falling from his lips as he collapsed on top of her.

They lay there breathing for a moment, before Frank rolled off her, dumping the condom and cleaning himself and her up.

‘I-I should go,’ she whispered, beginning to get up.

‘You don’t have to. Mary won’t be back until after twelve tomorrow. I would really like you to stay and then maybe we could go see a movie or something tomorrow evening. If you aren’t busy!’

She smiled, snuzzling into his chest as they both lay down in his bed.

‘Yea, yea, I would really like that.’

Tag List

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#frank adler #frank adler x reader #chris evans #gifted #frank adler gifted #chris evans character #reader insert smut #reader insert #reader insert fic #gifted movie #chris evans movie #chris evans fic

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