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couldawouldashoulda50 · 4 months

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A heart full of regret - William Nylander

A/N - This fic still falls under William Nylander and the fem reader who is a global super-star.

Just a side note (for anyone that might be wondering), I have been honestly struggling to find my way back to The Distance and the Time between Us . Between my work and personal commitments, it’s been super challenging to get back in that headspace. Admittedly, my perception changed a little of William since the Sweden trip so I have been reworking a few things in my head about him too.

I tried to tie this side piece into the main Distance and Time series as well so hopefully I can get back to outlining some of the earlier years between William and the reader and have it all flow together. I tried to make sure I’m well on my way with getting Part 2 completed of this piece before I posted Part One. I apologize if I seem all over the place sometimes.

Thank you to everyone for giving this a shot 🙂

Word count 8k+

Warnings: 18+ content, general smut (p in v, oral m receiving, c*ck massage), swearing, angst, reflections of the end of a relationship, casual sex

Late November, 2023

A familiar chime echoes once again through the condo, signalling a step closer to yet another tryst for William Nylander. This time, it’s Trina; a lively and pretty young woman in her early twenties whom he crossed paths with recently while out for his daily walk with Pablo and Banksy.

Prior to the trip to Sweden for the NHL Global Series, William wouldn’t go too many days without a casual encounter with an attractive female, which would lead to introductions and further chats, and often enough, to the bedroom of whomever's place was closest. Ever since Williiam moved to this upscale part of the city, he noticed there was no shortage of beautiful and stylish women that lived within a short distance of his doorstep. Now having returned from his beloved Stockholm, where he shone even brighter than the spotlights themselves, there had been a further surge of interested parties coming out of the woodwork.

William had been in committed relationships for long periods of time prior to this season, but throughout the other periods of time when he was single, he felt there was no harm in having small feasts of women here and there to satisfy his sexual appetite.

William had consistently been very low-key about divulging (m)any details about his personal life, whether it be in interviews or across all the social media apps. He was no stranger to his name being thrown around in the news by reporters hungry to spawn a certain narrative about his game performance or even his personality; many times, he was not cast in a favorable light but somehow his laid back personality carried him through. Regardless of what kind of attention he received, William never came across like any of it went to his head, to any great degree anyway.

However, after his well-documented week in Sweden, and the internet exploding after his appearance on the “Bianca” show where he provided some very personal details of his own sex life, William was reaping the benefits of his re-energized superstardom. As a result, he was getting more notoriety with being a handsome, talented, virile, and notably single, professional hockey player.

All of the resurgence of popularity does not come without a flipside - a downside to which the descent is much longer lasting that the ascent to stardom. William knew this and he was fortunate that he had people in his life that would remind him to be careful of the traps and pitfalls tied to such celebrity. The trouble is there was no one quite like that here in Toronto that he could just call and hang out with, that he could just “be” with; the people that cared for him most, and that he cared for, were all dispersed between the US and Sweden. And as much as he loved his two beloved dogs, they weren’t great for a two-way conversation.

William’s phone chimes again.

Be there in 5 😘

William acknowledges the text and heads into the washroom to do his traditional freshening up routine.

“She's nice, boys - you met her on our walk”, William said to Pablo and Banksy as he returned to the living room; the dogs cock their heads to the side in response. William gives them both a hearty and affectionate scratch behind their ears, and chuckles as their rumps move in unison showing their adoration for their dog dad.

William flopped down on the couch and continued to absent-mindedly scratch the dog's backs and scrolled through some more messages on his phone.

After glancing at numerous DM's received as of late, something shifted in William’s mind; an empty feeling that he only just recognized at that moment. He realized, rather suddenly, that he really wasn’t into Trina at all and the dread of her impending arrival started to build within him. William had only invited her over for one purpose. She was merely coming to scratch an itch, an itch that would still linger long after she’s long gone from his bed. He didn’t have the heart to cancel on her with her just being literal seconds from his door, but he made up his mind right there that this would not be a long visit.

Say you’ve got a migraine he thought to himself.

William’s phone rang, a picture of his mom appeared on the screen.

“Hey, Mom…how’s it going?” William smiled.

They exchange some light-hearted small talk for a few moments when William hears a soft knock at the door. He takes his mom off speaker-phone and starts walking toward the door. He thinks he should probably just tell his Mom he has company and end the call but he’s come to realize that he would much rather talk to her than the girl on the other side of the door. Trina will just have to come in and wait.

“Mom, two seconds - just letting someone in”.

“I can let you go - there’s just something I need to discuss with you about Christmas so we’ll need some more time to talk. I’ll talk to you later William, ok?”

“No - Mom, please…if it’s about you guys coming for Christmas, I’d like to get that sorted out, ok? Just gimme a sec.”

He opens the door for Trina and mustering a smile, he invites her in. She glides past him and gives him her best “come fuck me” eyes, ghosting her fingers along his covered abdomen. William catches the scent of her perfume; between that and the deep blue bodycon dress she’s wearing under a sleek, belted wool coat (the dress he feels is a little over the top given he didn’t plan to leave the apartment), he momentarily forgets his migraine plan as he stares at the contour of her cleavage and her ass as she enters the living room.

She approaches the couch where the two dogs are waiting anxiously, but politely, for some affection. Trina looks at the dogs and tries to give a command for them to get down off of the furniture; looking back at William she said “sorry, I just don’t want the dogs slobbering all over me”.

There’s a sinking feeling in William’s stomach; he really wants to get out of this now.

Migraine plan is back on. Say you’ve got a migraine right after a few sips of wine correcting his first thought to himself.

“Boys….off,” William commands. He feels like shit watching his cherished companions skulk off the couch.

He motions to the phone, “It’s my Mom, she’s just got a quick question but I won’t be long, just going to take in here” nodding toward his bedroom. “There’s a bottle of white wine in the fridge; help yourself. I'll be right out”.

William enters his room, closes the door and lets out a long sigh.

Switching to his native tongue, he resumes the call.

“Ok, Mom…what’s up?”

“You sure I’m not interrupting? You have a guest, William”.

“It’s ok, she’s good…it’s fine, Mom”.

“So Dad and I have been figuring out what might make sense for all of us to get together for Christmas. We’ve had an interesting offer if we come to Toronto, but we wanted to talk with you about it first.”

William senses that his mom seems tentative; her tone just seems off.

“...oh - okaaay?...”

Camilla hesitates and then begins. “Well, we recently received a phone call from Y/N”.

William’s stomach is no longer sinking. It’s plummeting. His heart begins to race hearing your name.

“She reached out to ask if she could borrow back that guitar she gave your sister a few years ago. There’s an exhibit that was running in London but has now moved on to Toronto showing the different guitars she’s collected over the years and the stories behind each one”.

William remains silent at the other end. His face is drained; any colour he had initially has been swapped out with a dull, achy feeling.

“She was very apologetic for calling but she explained that although it wasn’t part of the London exhibit, she would really love to have it included at the Toronto exhibit, given it’s in her hometown and she has a strong sentimental attachment to it”.

Camilla was only met with further silence from William. She knew this would be difficult for him, given the history you and he shared.

“She ended up coming to Stockholm to pick it up herself. We invited her to stay for a meal so we had a long visit, which was nice.”

William could barely think to form a sentence; a million thoughts ricocheted off of one another in his brain.

“So, anyway, she asked if we were coming to visit you in Toronto this year for Christmas. I said we weren’t sure. I told her that when we were there last year, it soaked up a lot of our time trying to get anywhere since we were split up between your place and the hotel.”

Although William didn’t speak, he agreed silently in his head that it was chaotic from time to time last year to line up the logistics with the various designated meeting places and transporting his family in the heavy downtown traffic.

“Are you still there darling?” Camilla asked.

“I’m here, Mom.” William quietly responded.

“Getting to the point, she said that if we wanted, and if you were comfortable with it, that we could use her house while she’s away visiting her family. She said she would be happy to arrange anything we needed so we can just relax and spend time together. Your Dad was impressed that she came up with the idea at all…then she just offered it up straight away.”

Turns out, when he tells Trina that he has a migraine, it may not be far from the truth.

“Sounds like her - always going above and beyond for everyone”, William said. His tone was indiscernible; it was hard for Camilla to tell whether her son was just emotionless or if he was really hurting.

“You don’t need to answer right away, but it really would be such a great option for us. She told us a bit about the layout; it would almost be like being back at one of those villas in Saint Tropez….only in winter. I suppose you already know that.”

William knew what his Mom was saying was true. He knew and loved your house, and not just for all the grandeur of the amenities; the indoor/outdoor pool, the games room and the theatre room to name a few. He loved how it felt whenever he was there with you. It didn’t matter if it was just the two of you, or if it was a get together with friends, you always made it so warm, comfortable and inviting for anyone that came to visit.

“Yeah, ok Mom, I’ll think about it and will call you back”. William ends the call and remains in his room, trying to regroup.

Ugh. Trina’s out there waiting

He walks out and sees Pablo and Banksy lying on the floor by the entrance door. He had forgotten he had banished them from the couch so apologetically, he told them to hop up on his bed. If they’re sad, they can at least be comfortable.

“Hey you,” Trina smiles warmly.

“Sorry about that - with the time difference and all, it’s hard to sometimes get a chance for my Mom and I to talk”, William fibbed.

William sits beside Trina on his couch and sees she has poured a glass of wine for her and him.

Take a drink, say you have a headache, get her out of here.

“Was it not a good call? You don’t look well…” Trina said, her perfectly shaped brows furrow.

“Nah, it was fine - I just feel a headache coming on I think”.

“I’m sorry…can I do something? I know this thing - like a massage for your neck that helps reduce pressure from your head.” Trina’s hopeful tone was apparent.

William thought for a moment and then reluctantly agreed. She positions him in the exact spot she needs and readjusts herself sitting on her knees behind him. She instructs William to lower his chin to his chest and he obliges.

William closed his eyes and let Trina’s hands try and work out the pressure that has built in his head since the phone call. You used to do the same; the strength and dexterity in your hands from years of masterfully playing guitar, piano and drums always succeeded in releasing pressure from one area or another. It usually led to a thoroughly enjoyable activity after the fact as well.

His memory calls William back to a night, many years ago, with you in his bed and you sheepishly asked if you could give him a cock massage, while he is blindfolded. You said you had seen a video (he got you to admit you were actually watching porn while travelling back to Toronto after a performance) of a woman giving the most insane massage to her boyfriend’s member and you desperately wanted to try it with William upon your return.

[December, 2016]

“Isn’t it just like a hand-job?” William chuckled, lying on his back, his muscular everything fully exposed.

“Maybe a little - but it was more sensual than her just pumping away on it until…” you made an exploding hand gesture with one of your hands.

William watched you, grinning ear to ear. He felt his cock twitch, not just at the thought of your hands working his member but from the purely awesome sight of your beauty. You were standing lighting candles by the bed in a short, black silk negligee that you had bought in Florence that summer. You had bought it for yourself - you loved how you felt in it and oftentimes when you were alone at home, you would pad around the house on a lazy day wearing only that…and it felt wonderful. Your long curls laid loose down your back; your sandy blonde mane layered with dark brown lowlights was tousled at the crown of your head from the passionate make-out session that had just occurred. This was one of those nights where every open mouthed kiss was more delicious than the last and neither you could bring yourselves to stop.

You grab your black sleeping mask and with a coy smile, you put the flexible band of the mask between your teeth so it’s dangling from your mouth, and you crawl slowly from the foot of the bed toward William. Your eyes are fixed on his stunning blues that appear to be darkening with pure hunger for you.

You straddle his midriff - fucking god, his hard abdominal muscles against your entrance has you clenching your walls, wishing he was inside you. Your pussy is primed and wet already for his cock but you’re able to push those urges aside. You carefully place the mask over his eyes and gently expand the band, fitting it around his head. Now fully blindfolded, you lace your fingers through his and bring his hands up to your tits as you rock back and forth.

Fuck, he feels good. You fight with that ongoing urge for his cock to drive into you fast and hard; first, you want to make him writhe and squirm with ecstasy with just your touch. With this, you push the thoughts of him fucking you into oblivion to the side and stay with what you planned initially.

Willing yourself to NOT put his cock in your mouth as you descend down his body, was a chore unto itself. ‘It's right there, Y/N - just a little taste…’, your thoughts taunt you as you shake your head, trying to stay focused.

Finally, you seat yourself in a comfortable position and you help Willam shift his bum down towards you a little further.

You generously apply some warming oil around his (shaved) pubic area and begin the process of smoothing the oil around, somewhat teasingly avoiding his growing erection.

Applying a little more, you strategically drip the oil around just above his balls. The liquid slowly trickles down from the base of his member and across the sensitive skin of his sac, his cock continuing to twitch from the sensation; you smile as you hear a small moan from William as he bites his bottom lip.

You begin smoothing your hands up the length of his dick and down the shaft towards his balls. You repeat various motions, concentrating on his body reactions to the touches and stroking that your hands are providing. You're pleased to hear William start to moan; his hips begin to move to the rhythm of your strokes. When a large, translucent bead of fluid appears from the tip of his penis, you let out a soft moan. It takes everything in you to not lean over and run your tongue through his arousal. Although you love sucking his cock, you abstain as it's not on the menu tonight, not just yet. Instead, you smear the precum around the tip using your thumb and forefinger, over and over again.

William’s head falls to the side as a long moan leaves his mouth, followed by a curse word or two. You experiment a little by grabbing the thick base of his cock, balls included, firmly in one hand, and with the other, you stroke his shaft of his member and his balls masterfully with your hands, using his seeping fluid for extra slickness.

As his breath quickens, William’s muscles in his abdomen flex and contract as you continue to alternate stroking the head of his cock and using his arousal to glide your hand up and down his shaft and over his balls. Soon, his hips instinctively rise and fall with every stroke, while louder grunts echo when you smooth your hands over the now purple head of his throbbing dick at a faster pace. Veins are protruding from his pelvis all the way to his shaft and you sense William is getting close, as he grits his teeth and grasps at the large towel that covers the comforter on his bed.

As breathy gasps escape from his mouth, you can see and feel the eruption bubbling up through his shaft as his balls flex and constrict. You hold his impressive cock firmly in place and continue to work the head of his cock with your fingers and hand until finally thick streams of cum shoot out of his tip. Instead of just finishing him off with a few more pumps of his cock, you follow your recollection of the video and keep using his seed to lubricate his shaft and tip to keep stroking his cock, looking to draw out a longer and more intense pleasure.

As you stroke and manipulate his member after his first orgasm, William becomes even more vocal…only managing short sentences through his strained voice, blurting out his gratification which was mixed with a whole lot of profanity. More and more, his thigh muscles are flexed leading to more contouring of his hips and accentuating that god damned “V” that literally makes you throb at the sight of it.

A long, strained growl marks the next explosion followed by a forceful “Fuuuuuuck mee” from William, almost chuckling as the cum spills out in thick ribbons. You smile at the sight of him panting through his naturally pouting lips; this experience with William was even better than what you had hoped for and as it turns out, it was just as fulfilling for you too.

As William laid there, sprawled out and spent, he slid the blindfold off his eyes, leaving it resting on his forehead. He gazes at you sitting in front of him not understanding how he could have ever gotten so lucky to even be able to kiss you, let alone have you give him two of the most earth shattering orgasms, within minutes of each other, with just your hands.

He was certain that he would lose his mind as he watched you slowly lean over his cock and lick the last remnants of cum from around the head.

William inhales sharply as you flatten your tongue against the rounded tip for a more substantial taste. And just because you could not control the urge anymore (he tasted and felt that good in your mouth), you slid the length of his softening cock all the way in your mouth until it touched the back of your throat. You withdraw him from your mouth and gently lay his cock in back on his midriff. Yep, he's definitely done for now.

“C’mere…that was just fucking amazing. Seriously….fucking amazing, Y/N” William said with a low, gravelly tone as gently pulled you on top of him.

You’re not sure where it came from but a brand new need for William washed over you. It was something beyond sex; you yearned for him to just bring you into his sculpted arms and have them fully envelop you. Gently, you slide your one hand under William’s head and you nestle your face into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips against his skin. Your legs flank William’s torso and your other arm has looped under his other underarm. In turn, William slid his one hand up all the way up from your thigh, along your spine up to the nape of your neck, gently grasping a small handful of your gorgeous locks. His other arm slid around your waist, the silk fabric of your neglige gathered in his hand. Although your core had pressure building from being in the position you were in, the overwhelming sense of calm and safety had momentarily usurped the need for his cock to be buried deep inside you.

After a few moments, William gently rolled you both on your sides, never releasing you from his hold. You remained intertwined as William kissed your forehead, temple…wherever he could rest his lips against.

“Kap’s going to be here tomorrow night with his new girl - think you could make it to the game and we can sneak back to your place after? I might have some ideas to try out on you now…”

“Mmm-hmm - would love that” you said drowsily, nuzzling into William even further.

William kisses your head again and breaks from the embrace for a moment; leaning over top of you, he proceeds to blow out all the candles. As his body pressed against yours, you take the opportunity to run your hands over his muscular flank, marvelling at the look and feel of such a beautiful physique.

As sleep found you both, you each drifted off with the quiet thoughts in your heads, that there was something very unique and special developing between you.

William snapped back to reality. He had to admit; Trina’s hands felt pretty good and with that, William let out a groan. With the memories of you consuming his mind, William began to get hard as Trina continued to work on loosening his tense muscles. William’s burgeoning erection caught Trina’s attention, and she wasted no time in moving her hands from his neck to his shoulders, down along his broad back muscles to his hips.

“You like that, Willy?” Trina said, her tone low and sultry.

“Mmm-hmph”

“What about this?” Trina’s hands brazenly reach around to cup his balls while sucking on his earlobe, slightly north of his diamond earring. She palms his still-clothed dick and rubs his erection in slight circular motion.

“Mmmm….good….” William responds, his voice slightly strained.

William’s mind slides back and forth with conflicting thoughts, like a car fish-tailing on ice. Images of you, your face, your body, your mouth, your taste, your touch - his desire for you - had penetrated his brain. But the voice. It’s not your voice. It’s some random girl’s voice in his ear and William’s gut twists at the thought.

Meanwhile, Trina was determined to seize her moment with the hockey star. She stands up from her position on the couch and gently nudges William to turn so he’s facing her as she stands in front of him.

William's eyes are fixed on the hem of her dress which has ridden up to the top of her thighs. Trina follows William’s gaze and looking down at William, she smiles sweetly and begins to pull her hem up even further.

“You make me so hot, Willy” Trina said, the ‘v’ of her scarcely covered cunt now on display.

She brings one of William’s hands up towards her need, opens her thighs slightly and positions the palm of his hand right against her drenched entrance.

“Shit” William said gruffly; his sweatpants have done little to mask his rigid dick. Figuring he might as well have some fun, William’s mind all but dismisses his previous thoughts concerning you and concentrates on the girl in front of him.

William runs his middle finger from the top of Trina’s folds and firmly inserts the same finger deep inside of her. Trina gasps with pleasure and both of her hands encircle William’s wrist holding his hand in place, she begins to rotate her hips over his digit, encouraging his finger to move deeper and curl inside of her.

William obliges by inserting his ring finger alongside his middle. As William gyrates his hand, Trina’s head snaps back when he connects with her sweet spot. William continues to finger fuck Trina; she releases her grip around William’s wrist and begins to knead her breasts.

“Oooooh - Willy….your thick fingers feel so fucking good inside of me” Trina whines as William continues move his fingers into her wet core.

“Let me suck your cock…I want your dick in my mouth”.

William again obliges, removing his fingers from her centre. Trina steps closer to William and lowers herself between his legs. She closes the distance between them, leaning in for their first kiss. Trina places a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on William’s mouth. Immediately he tastes a faint mint flavour mixed with something else, something stronger.

Weed maybe, he thinks to himself.

Whatever it is, it's not doing much to improve his mood.

If there's anything William’s past sexual encounters have taught him, it was better in the long run to feign enjoyment than to show ambivalence or dissatisfaction toward the girl of the moment. William is hopeful he won't have to fake anything at this point - fuck - he needs a distraction and goddammit, Trina’s just gonna have to be it.

Thankfully, Trina moves on from William’s mouth and starts pulling his sweatpants and shorts off.

Moving right along…., William thinks to himself.

Trina licks a long strip up William’s shaft; she spits on the tip and begins to stroke his cock, trying to make him a little harder.

The spit dries out without Trina even realizing it as she continues to pump his cock. William flinches at the rough and dry sensation that her too firm of a grip left on his member.

She lowers herself down to lap at his balls, enveloping one in her mouth at a time, and withdrawing it with an audible ‘pop’.

She’s trying too hard, William pondered.

He watches her alternate from ball to ball, with a ‘pop’ each time she withdraws her mouth. Trina licks another stripe up his shaft. “You like that, right Willy? You like it when I lick your balls?”

William gives a faint smile and leans his head back on the couch; not because he was enjoying Trina’s attempts at pleasuring him but to try and think of his personal turn-ons so he can get through this.

William thought of you. He thought of the way you always made his toes fucking curl whenever you took him in your mouth. Deep in your mouth as you’d innocently, almost bashfully, make eye contact with him for just a few seconds here and there. He loved watching you working your magic with your tongue, mouth and your hands, smoothing back your curls to view the best angles of your face. You never just sucked his cock. You took your time. You savoured him. You made love to his cock and balls with your mouth and God, the moans you made while you tasted him always left him reeling.

As it turns out, William’s images of you in his head had the desired effect. Now with his diminishing erection reversed, William made some small adjustments to Trina’s methods in order to keep the momentum going in the right direction.

After a few more moments, Trina stood up and she fully disrobed in front of William.“Do you want to move to the bedroom?”

If she’s anything, she’s confident, William muses.

His dogs had already been displaced once and he’s not about to do it again.

“Let’s stay out here - on the couch…just gotta go grab something”.

William stands up, naked from the waist down, and saunters into the bathroom.

Trina eyes his chiselled body walk away, almost as though she’s stalking her prey. She had been hoping to meet William ever since she spotted him one morning leaving his building to go for a walk with his dogs. Though he was dressed down in baggy sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, and a backwards baseball cap, William screamed affluence with the luxury designer labels scrawled across the articles of clothing. He was wealthy, gorgeous, and seemingly single…three of Trina’s favourite qualities. William being a popular professional athlete only further tempted Trina.

Trina’s father, a wealthy executive of a real estate development firm headquartered in Toronto, had essentially gifted her a luxury condo unit in the same neighbourhood as William, once she had graduated from university (only graduating by the skin of her teeth [doing everything at university but apply herself to her studies]; regardless, it mattered not - she still had her degree).

Both Trina’s parents had long realized, after the fact, the detrimental effects of doting on their only child’s every whim for so many years. Privileged and spoiled were the two prevalent adjectives that described their daughter. Therefore after graduation, as an ultimatum, Trina got a luxury condo (and all living expenses paid) as long as she came to work for her father as a junior executive in his firm. Trina agreed, under the condition that her closest friend, Lara (really her only friend amongst a sea of party-goers and acquaintances), could come live and work with her too.

It worked well, or at least Trina’s father thought so. If not for any other reason, Trina’s father could, at the very least, keep a watchful eye on his daughter and at the very most, attempt to infect her with a better work ethic.

While her friend Lara seemed to fit right in at the firm, Trina longed for an even easier life. She wanted to be pampered, to be looked after - she did not want to get up every morning and head to an office just to do the bare minimum while she spent the majority of time shopping online.

The one skill Trina had become quite adept at was pretending to be what she needed to be in order to get what she wants, in any given circumstance.

She had her sights on William now. She could pretend to be a dog lover - that’s how she caught his eye to begin with. She could pretend to be interested in his beloved Sweden, his family, his friends - hell, even the team…there was more than enough eye-candy to snack on with the Leafs. She fit the bill of a trophy wife perfectly and whether she became one with William, or someone else, that was her ultimate goal.

Presently, Trina was pretending to be William’s personal pornstar.

Trina leaned back on the couch with her legs splayed, stroking her sensitive clit, awaiting William’s return. When he finally emerged, his cock semi-erect already covered by a condom, he laid a towel on the couch and then sat down on the middle cushion. He smiled at Trina who was now sitting in an upright position and motions for her to climb aboard.

Trina straddles William; her mouth devours him with more open-mouthed kisses. At this stage, William knew he was just going through the motions; there was zero chemistry, sexual or otherwise, between them.

Struggling to keep his erection, he breaks from her kiss and rubs the tip of his cock back and forth through the slickness of her folds. He positions the tip at Trina’s entrance. Eventually (and gratefully), his cock is rigid enough to slide into her.

Trina adjusted herself to William’s girth and began to slowly rock back and forth. William was cautiously optimistic about how good this is actually starting to feel. Trina had only succeeded in killing his hard-ons so far so he was hoping for a quick release; after she leaves he can just go to bed with his dogs and put this whole experience behind him.

William grabbed onto Trina’s hips and drove his frustration into her. She screamed in pleasure, calling his name as she bounced on top of him.

Fuck - my neighbours are going to hate me.

Trina continued grinding, bouncing and rotating on Wiliiam’s cock at a furious pace; her chest flushed with pink as she worked his cock and her tits bounced in William’s line of sight.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, yes, Willy…like that” Trina whined emphatically.

It was clear to William at that moment she was exaggerating most of the sounds she was making. Hell, he had made you wail and scream with the most mind bending orgasms that you never thought were possible. William knew that with you, your cries and grasps were genuine and that he was witnessing the real thing, several times over.

William had been around the block with his cock enough to know Trina was overacting and it was getting on William’s last nerve.

Moan after moan, hitting a higher decibel each time, William had reached his limit. His hands circle Trina’s waist lifting her off his cock. With no verbal cues, he positioned Trina back on the couch so he could enter her from behind. He’s frustrated and annoyed at himself more than anything, so he’s just going to fuck her and hopefully the pillow she’s holding onto will muffle her noise.

William closes his eyes and enters Trina. It’s not long before she’s grasping the arm of the couch with the force of William’s dick buried deep inside of her. William grips her hips holding them steady as he continuously bottoms out, his encased shaft is slick and shiny with Trina’s wetness from her core.

“Faster, Willy! Faster….oh god, harder, Willy!” Trina pleads.

Jesus - she’s trying to kill me.

Miraculously, William’s close to release. His hips ram against Trina’s ass as hard and as fast as he could manage while Trina feverishly rubs her clit. A loud shriek signals Trina’s orgasm. Her pussy walls clenching helped William reach his own climax and a few thick streams of cum collect in the reservoir tip of the condom.

Thank Christ this is over.

Trina half collapses on the couch and rolls onto her back. Her sleek figure shines from the thin layer of sweat from their late afternoon’s strenuous activities.

“Oh my God Willy…that was so good, so fucking good…” Trina chuckles, still out of breath. A lazy grin adorns her pretty face. William, having already gotten up to dispose of the condom, returns to the living room, still naked from the waist down.

“Ha, yeah…well, I try” William smiles, grabbing a pillow to place on his lap .

William paused for a moment as he surveyed the situation and whether Trina planned on staying longer.

“I’m sorry to say this but I feel a migraine coming on - could we call it a night?”

Trina sat up and moved closer to William on the couch.

“Oh..I’m sorry, I was hoping that massage, and well, everything else I did would have helped”.

“No, no, the massage was great but I think the headache was already too far gone to really stop it. I just need to crawl into bed, not move and have no sounds around me, and hopefully I’ll sleep until tomorrow.

Trina offers to stay multiple times and William declines each offer. Although William was ready to snap, he kept his composure, pulled his pants back on, helped gather her things and politely escorted her to the door.

Trina leans in and plants another open-mouthed kiss on William’s mouth.

William’s lack of reciprocation went unnoticed by Trina.

“Feel better, Willy - maybe call me later…if you can,” Trina smiles and leans in, giving him a hug.

“Yeah, thanks - have a good night”. William waves as she enters the elevator and he then gently closes the door.

William hangs his head and exhales; there’s so much going on in his mind. He goes into the bedroom, kneels on the floor and brings his face close to each of the dogs.

“Sorry boys….fuck. Never again with that one”.

The dogs are quick to smother William with kisses.

“I’ll take you guys out in a few minutes, ok?”

William climbs onto his bed and grabs his phone. He pulls up his Mom's number and types a quick note:

Hey Mom… if you’re sure, let’s do the Xmas thing at Y/N’s. I’ll reach out to her myself

William’s stomach flips at the thought of contacting you. Despite the time that had long passed since William effectively removed you from his life, his mind would still betray him time after time with the many memories of you in his mind's eye. William often longed to reach out to you and in his quietest moments, William always held a very private and guarded hope that one day, you would wind up together.

These thoughts only intensified for William when, in late July this past summer, William spotted you at Mitch and Stephanie’s wedding. You had third-wheeled it with Tessa and Morgan, who had also tied the knot that summer in a much more secretive manner. With Tessa being one of your closest friends of the last 10 plus years, she knew you might need a crash helmet when you initially laid your eyes on him for the first time in forever, so she and Morgan invited you to come along with them.

When the moment came that you and William first glanced at each other, no air bag or crash helmet was needed. You and William shared a long and lingering look at each other amongst the guests that meandered around the dancefloor. Neither of you could control the wide smiles that spanned your faces. For not only did everything seem right in the world for a mere moment, your dress and William’s pants were the exact same shade of lilac. Your chosen outfits looked obnoxiously pre-planned and the comedy of your attire wasn’t lost on those in attendance that knew of your shared history. They laughed and gestured at you both, all of them getting a kick out of the sight of the two of you being all matchy-matchy.

It served as an icebreaker for you and William; you simply looked him up and down and commented, rather dryly, saying “well, I ain’t changing…I was here first” followed by a cheeky grin. William approached you and extended his arms for a hug. All the hurt from the past temporarily washed away in that moment, and you both felt genuinely happy to see each other.

The small talk flowed easily and you both quickly fell back into light and vivacious exchanges. William began to wonder if he might be able to steal you away before the end of the night. After all, being among the very few bachelors in attendance, it would be a fantasy-come-to-reality scenario to spend the night with you. When William finally managed to ask what your plans after the reception were, he was crushed to find out you would be leaving early, right after your last performance at the reception (oftentimes at weddings, you were not only a guest but were part of the entertainment as well).

Things never change, William thought. It was this main reason why he ended your affair so many years ago.

William couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Still not in one place for very long, eh?”

You were quick to react to his comment inside your head; a feeling somewhere between annoyance and hurt. You felt the sting of one of his last spoken sentiments to you all those years ago about always needing to leave where he was, yet again, for something else.

Quietly you respond. “Well…unfortunately it’s a rehearsal for a musical tribute in Ireland for a dear friend and a mentor of mine who recently passed, rather unexpectedly.” An intense urge to cry hit you without warning, and it took all your might, along with a hard swallow, to keep the tears from appearing.

What you really wanted, and you were thoroughly ashamed to admit this to yourself, was to go to William and lose yourself completely in his arms. After all these years, he still had an effect on you like no one you had ever known.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N…I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole”, William said quietly after seeing you struggle to hide the sorrow on your face.

“William, no, I get it - it’s ok. Honestly though, if I had it my way, she’d still be alive and I’d be having more fun tonight as opposed to belting out a few songs, nursing my Pink Whitney, and then having to catch a flight.”

William pulled you in for a side hug and kept his arm draped around your shoulder as you walked together to rejoin Rasmus Sandin and his girlfriend Lisa.

As you enjoyed the lively banter between the Swedes in attendance, mixed with Jumbo Joe Thornton’s boisterous brand of humour, you were summoned away from William’s side. You excused yourself from the group and as you walked away, you glanced at William’s face and smiled warmly. He leaned in towards you and gently placed his hand on the exposed skin on your lower back. With his voice lowered, just above a whisper, he said “Good luck up there. Come find me after.”

But as fate, or rather too many prolonged drunken speeches and several other delays, once you had finished performing (at Stephanie’s request) Taylor Swift’s “22”, you were whisked away, with no opportunity for goodbyes, into the awaiting car in order to catch your flight to Dublin.

As the car speeds along the Queen Elizabeth Way towards Pearson Airport, you busy yourself with sending a series of texts, starting with Mitch and Stephanie, thanking them and wishing them well for their honeymoon. A flurry of messages are exchanged between you and the other wedding go-ers until finally, you reach William’s contact information.

Feelings had rapidly thawed between you and William but there still was a palpable distance, a recognizable gap in which that great span of time apart, with no communication, had created. You wistfully type:

it was really great to see you…hope you’re having a blast.

Not long after you pressed send, your phone shows an image being received. After a few more seconds, a selfie appeared of Rasmus and William in sleeveless t-shirts with Zeus portrayed on the front.

You can’t help but laugh out loud.

You two…fucking adorable 😄

A lone heart acknowledges your message.

Back at the wedding, William stares at the screen of his phone.

Rasmus can clearly see his friend’s disappointment; he knew William well, and he was aware of the torch he had always carried for you. Rasmus could also see the sadness in your eyes whenever you looked at William. Rasmus knew how fortunate he was to have found his love in Lisa, and he felt strongly it truly existed between you and William as well. If only you could get on the same fucking page at the same time.

Rasmus puts his arm around William’s shoulders. “Sorry she left, bro. But at least you got a chance to talk to her again”. Rasmus paused before ending with “You never know.”

Rasmus, one of William’s closest friends and forever the optimist, smiles and motions for him to put his phone away. “Let’s just fucking enjoy the rest of the night”.

William stuffs his phone in his pocket and the two friends venture off toward the dancefloor where the sound of whoops and hollers co-mingle with the guests screaming out the lyrics to Rasputin by Boney M.

William quickly distracted himself enough to diminish the thoughts that had been circling his mind about you, and concentrated on having a night with his many friends and former teammates.

By the next day, with William’s eventual departure back to Stockholm and you deep in the throes of rehearsals in Dublin, any feeling that may have arisen during the brief encounter between you and William seemed to dissipate. It seemed apparent, at that moment at least, too much time had passed for either of you to feel secure in contacting the other.

William resumed his off-season activities and on the surface, his brush with you had no real impact on his current life. He saw whomever he wanted to, slept with whomever he wanted to and detached from whomever he wanted to. Even after your name made it into the headlines across Europe and North America regaling your poignant and stunning tribute to the late, great Sinead O’Connor, William simply scrolled past the article on his phone. It was better for him to have you remain out of sight and therefore out of mind.

You had mixed feelings, however. You couldn’t never quite grasp, never quite understand why William’s mere presence affected you so profoundly. You surmised that’s what made you you, and what made your musical career so successful was the depths in which your feelings ran, and how it was converted to song. On the other side of the coin was, once again, the realization - that slap across the face, that William did not feel the same about you. You had allowed what transpired between you and William to completely derail you for years. You simply hadn’t been interested in meeting anyone. Love had shown it’s occasional cruelty in the past but unrequited love was pure unmitigated torture and you enabled it enough to shut down the myriad of advances from men. But It was enough now; you just needed to let go.

And the fog you had been in did eventually lift. You had come to terms that you were ready to find that person; a partner to build a life and a family with. You were approaching 31 years of age and you had deep desires for an exciting future with someone by your side. William’s life seemed to be on a completely different trajectory than yours; his recent admissions during his stint in Stockholm during the Leafs visit had people buzzing that William might be more of a fuck-boy than they had originally thought. And all judgements aside - he’s allowed to blow off steam and decompress however he wants - that version of William that the media was salivating over now was of little interest to you.

[back to the present moment]

William remains on his bed, continuously starting and deleting a text addressed to you. He repeats this 5, 6, 8 times before his frustration with himself boils over. He tosses his phone away from him as if it suddenly had turned into a hot potato.

William rubs his eyes with a bit too much force, almost in an attempt to diminish the gnawing feeling he has in his stomach.

Fuck.

Letting out a long sigh, William turns to Pablo and Banksy who had started to play fight on the bed. “Alright boys, let’s make this quick - it’d be my luck that girl is still hanging out somewhere around the building” William said as he picked up each dog for a quick nuzzle and then set them down on the floor to get ready.

#william nylander #willy styles #nhl imagine #hockey fic #smut #hockey smut #nylander x reader

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izukuwus · 10 months

Text

Masterlist

Navi

Fics marked with a 🤍 have been crossposted to ao3.

Fics marked with a 💚 were written as part of a collab or challenge.

Fics marked with a 💝 were written as gifts or requests.

Fics marked with a 🖤 are a surprise tool that will help us later.

Fics //

As Long As You’re Here (I Will Live Like This) // fluff, oneshot, vigilante!Izuku x reader // Your boyfriend comes to your house one day bleeding profusely. You pick up the pieces and chat about the future. // 💚 // 🖤

Bread and Brownies // fluff, oneshot // You and Izuku bake together for the first time. // 💝 // 🖤 // 🤍

Bunny Eyes // fluff, oneshot, bunny!Izuku x sick!reader // Your boyfriend is amazing and wonderful and taking great care of you while you have the flu, but he’s also evil and needs to stop using his damn eyes on you to get what he wants. // 🖤

Cuddlebugs // fluff, oneshot // You tend to cuddle whatever’s closest when you fall asleep. Dorm movie night goes as well as you’d expect, and now you have to explain why sleeping on Midoriya makes you activate your quirk in your sleep. // 🤍

F for Fangs // fluff, oneshot, vampire!Izuku x reader // Cuddle your vampire. Think about your vampire. Talk with your vampire. // 💚 //🖤

Edible Arrangements // longfic, vampire!sugar daddy!Izuku x reader // please see masterlist for this work (linked) for details // 🤍

Floriography 1, 2, 3, 4 (on hiatus) // fluff, prince!Izuku x princess!Reader // For the sake of following your duty, you enter into an arranged marriage with a foreign prince. You never expected to fall in love with your new husband, though. // 🖤

Housewarming // smut, bunny!izuku x reader, oneshot // Your best friend comes over to help you finish moving in to your new house and teaches you a few things about the habits of rabbits. // 🤍

Hug It Out // angst, hurt/comfort, oneshot // After getting kidnapped and held hostage by villains for a few days, then sleeping for several more in the hospital, you and your boyfriend could both use a hug. // 🖤

Knock ‘Em Dead// fluff, oneshot // Midoriya makes it back from his shopping run with just minutes to spare before the culture festival performance, but you can’t let him go out with his tie like that. // 🖤

Never // angst, Izuku x tokophobic!reader, oneshot // You’ve been keeping a secret from Izuku. // 🤍 // 💝

One Conversation // fluff, oneshot, god!Izuku x reader // You have a series of important conversations with your lover, and eventually you both must come to a decision. // 💚 // 🖤

Rest (and Other Things You Force on Your Boyfriend) // oneshot, fluff, sickfic, bunny!Izuku x reader // In which your bunny boyfriend caught your flu thanks to pure hubris. // standalone sequel to Bunny Eyes // 🖤

Safe // fluff, oneshot // You have frequent nightmares. Luckily, your boyfriend's arms make the perfect shield to ward them off. // 💝

Stop Counting // oneshot, hurt/comfort?, some angst, sky pirate!Izuku x reader // You are one of many captured by the Empire and forced to work dangerous jobs aboard their ships. Izuku and the other members of his crew raid your ship in search of things to sell and gold to take, and leave with you. // 💚 // 🖤

Sweet Words, Sweetcheeks // oneshot, fluff, baker!Izuku x reader // It’s been some time since you and Izuku took the plunge and bought the bakery, and Izuku couldn’t be happier working together with you towards both of your dreams. Well, except for one thing. // 💚 // 🖤

(They All Have) So Much Meaning // smut // It's your third date with your long-standing no-longer-crush, and Izuku just found out that you had a tattoo. You let him take a long look. // 🤍

This is Home // smut, trans!Izuku x reader, oneshot // When your boyfriend starts distancing himself not long into your relationship, you decide to confront him and remind him just how loved he is. // 💚 // 🤍

Welcome Home // angst with a happy ending, pro hero!Izuku x pro hero!Reader // You and Izuku broke up after graduation to focus on building your careers as heroes. After spending the past year and a half not speaking to each other, you get placed on a stakeout with him. // 💝 // 🤍

Drabbles //

Bunnizuku has a sensitive tail // Bunny!Izuku x reader, smut // He’s got a sensitive tail. It’s also extremely soft to the touch.

Fics //

Boiling Point 1, 2, 3, 4 // smut, Spider!reader // You are determined to put an end to the onslaught of your toy collection. In your quest, you set out to re-train yourself into some discipline. // 🤍 //completed!

the past half hour wasn't real // Miguel accidentally startles you in exactly the wrong way. Your behavior may require an explanation. // 🤍

darlin' i got your number now // smut, bf!Nishinoya // On your day off, you spend some time cleaning and getting caught up in old memories. Your boyfriend gets home from work and helps you make a new one with your old school uniform. // 🤍

thinking started feeling like burning // ex bf!Nishinoya // Nothing had changed since you left. Not him, a brilliant hurricane, and not you, a lost robot moving forward with no goals or dreams of your own. Opposites attract, after all. // 🤍

winding back and unlearning // smut, ex bf!Nishinoya // Noya shows you how to let go. // sequel to thinking started feeling like burning // 🤍

Consummation Training // smut threesome // The Prince's Familiar hated the Knight. She hated him for having all the skills she lacked, for convincing her that it would be better for the two of them to teach the Prince before his wedding, and of course, for being right. // 🤍 // Familiarverse

#admin stuff #masterlist #my fics

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effervescentdragon · 6 months

Note

Hi! I just wanted to say that this week I chose to read some of the fics you have up in AO3 ( and by some of them I mean a lot) and I'm obsessed with your Sebchal Old Guard AU.

I haven't watched the movie yet, but I've been tempted in the past and your writing was the last reason I needed to do it.

That scene when Sebastian has apparently died and Charles holds him while praying in Latin, and he is so devastated about losing Sebastian because immortality is only a gift if Charles gets to share it with him.

That was..WOW..Yeah. No words. Tens across the board.

Those dreams of Lewis and Nico. The ending in Suzuka when Charles is wearing red again. People choosing to spend immortality together just really gets to me, I guess.

That fic really did something for me, and I have to thank you for it.

PS: your Nico/Jenson Soulmate fic made me see why people ship those two.

PS 2:"Red Gods of Old" is so phenomenal. I had to keep pausing to look at the wall and think about every paragraph.

PS 3: I was blown away when I saw you posted again, and blown away again because I had already read the Piarles piece, but didn't realize it was part of a series. I loved your first chapter. So angsty, and I hated the fact that you made me relate to Lando, but also thank for that.

Thank your for sharing your writing, and I know sending this right now seems so convenient because of your post earlier, but I really enjoyed the reading sprint I had on your stuff and I wanted to say so. Sorry for writing so much this got a little bit longer than the single paragraph I had intended it to be. :)

anon this made me so happy. like so so so happy, insanely happy. the answer is gonna get long because i cant not ramble about all this, so, cut.

my sebchal old guard au is my favourite thing ive ever written and i love it so much and people dont often go for it, though i do have some wonderful asks in my inbox that im saving for a rainy day and i just. thank you for coming here to tell me this and i hope you watched the movie because its MASTERFUL. i put so much into that fic, for example i tried to figure out how to make two white boys be joe and nicky without being insensitive or appropriative about race, and how not to apply the fundamentality of joe's loveliness of being an arab man (gentle and kind and a poet in his soul) to this german dude. that one kept me up for a while, so i decided not to mirror it perfectly but to apply seb and charles' personalities into the context, except adapting the other way around. it was a challenge to write, because i wove so much little ideas and nods to other people in there, not the least lewis and nico as andy and quynh, and then in the end i just really wanted them to come a full circle and somehow tie it in with f1. i always do this in my au's, give a little nod to f1 somehow, just to show my love for it. anyways, thank you so much for reading it and just. i love that you liked it.

oh god the princess cake soulmate fic - i saw the prompt and i couldnt resist! it turned out to be a prompt by a tumblr friend so that worked out even better. i love nico and i love him with jenson and i need to get back to writing him some more soon tbh. he is such a complicated and interesting character and he has twists and turns and i just love him insanely much. (if you liked the soulmate fic, i refer to this fic as my princess cake master thesis, so you may like that one too, maybe.)

oh my fucking god. this part. this part had me stopping in the middle of my corridor when i saw it because like. nobody reads that fic? nobody knows it and its my first proper rpf that i wrote and i love it so much and i just. im just heart-eyeing you now, because that was me trying to figure out some things about seb and about ferrari and to make it work in my head so i know how to proceed, so, thank you for reading it, and especially mentioning it!

thank you also so much for reading my carlando, im very excited about it because i never wrote them and im a bit nervous about the characterisation but so far it seems like it has a positive reception. i made it angsty on purpose because lando is just a ball of anxiety and i rly tried to show it. im super hyped about the next chapter two, but please keep all your limbs crossed for my uni work, which i have to do tomrrow on penalty of death.

please, never think its inconvenient to read something as lovely as this ask, no matter if its because of a post i made or just because, it literally doesnt matter, because you took the time to come and tell me these lovely things anyway. it made me happy and it made me hyped up and thank you. and there's never ever too much rambling, i dont see this as rambling i see this as something lovely. thank you <333

#can you tell how excited i am to talk about all of this?#THANK YOU #lovely anons <3 #wholesome wholesome wholesome #akira answers asks #about my writing. i ramble a LOT.#some shameless self promotion too bcs if i dont #who wil :D

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blackfangedreaper · 2 years

Text

LOVE POTION

One piece witch au, YES! I am here with another au that i brought out of my ass!...uh head rather. This is just witch reader deciding she's had enough of katakuri being dense and adding a mild love potion into the doughnuts she plans to give him.

Pairing: Katakuri x Fem!reader.

Warning: cursing and fluff😍💞

✧⁺⸜(●˙▾˙●)⸝

Coming back after grocery shopping has always been challenging and exhausting for you.

Trust me living in the outskirts of town is just not it, especially with no mode of transportation.

Apparently your broom had to malfunction at the most inconvenient of times causing it to crash against a stop sigh pole, ironic isn't it but don't worry you jumped off just in time while using a floatation spell to guarantee your safety.

But today...today's trip was worth it cause you were going to confess to your long time crush, you've known this man for three years now...actually more.

You officially became acquainted with him while working on a project together, it came as quite a shock when you realised he worked at the same magic institute as you.

Going to the same school of wizardry and being in the same year would count as knowing him but you both barely talked as classmates only passing each other by with a brief 'hello'.

You have been in love with this sixteen and eight foot wizard ever since he took care of you after you supposedly fell sick after one of your many combined projects.

You never thought such a cold man would care to make time for you especially since he was the reason you fell sick in the first place after he left you in the rain when you mistakenly saw his face.

He seemed guilty when he heard of your leave due to you being sick, you reassured him that your weren't mad and ended up spilling how handsome he looked without his scarf, you don't think you've seen him blush so hard after that.

From then on you both became closer, you learnt how he was the second son and third child of one of the most powerful wizarding families.

How he was a diligent and calm man who cares deeply for his family, he once introduced you to one of his little sisters, Brulee her name was, such a sweet girl she is.

And how he looked up to a certain strawhat who supposedly beat him in a duel, causing the charlotte acknowledge the young man as a friend and rival now.

Friends would be the perfect term to describe your relationship with the Charlotte, but you wanted to be more than just friends, for God's sake you were in love with him.

So no matter how many tricks you pulled up sleeves it always seems to fly over the top of his head so you decided you have had enough, you were going to dedicate your day off to him.

Today your going to make his favourite food, Doughnuts...Yeah you saw right, your going get his heart by going through his stomach first.

That's right your gonna lure him into your trap by baking him his favourites then proceed to add a mild love potion you made yourself!

Since the potion contained a short strand of your hair you wouldn't have to worry about him falling for someone else.

It also had no side effects and wouldn't last for long at least maybe it would buy you enough time to confess and for him to realise his feelings for you...if he had any that is.

Whatever! Your still doing it, your going to make him fall hopelessly in love with you, its payment for being dense after all its not your fault, he brought this upon himself.

Snapping out of your daze you begin to take out the groceries out of your basket and putting them on your kitchen counter.

Stretching you arms and back, you roll your sleeves up and tie a scarf around your head then walked to the sink to cleanse your hands you begin to mix in the ingredients for the doughnuts you were about to prepare.

Bringing out your kettle you begin to boil water for the tea you were going to brew... You weren't thinking of serving only doughnuts now did you.

It took longer than usual to prepare this because of how large these doughnuts were... I'm talking extra large.

Pouring your love potion into the doughnut mixture you begin to stir making sure it was spread out evenly in order to drown it's sweet smell.

Even though it was a mild potion it still could be detected, so you had to be careful or you would be in serious trouble.

The next twenty minutes you were adding finishing touches.

"There! All done." You exclaimed, counting up to twelve doughnuts made from scratch and with love too, literally.

"Ohh, i hope he likes them." You said anxiously looking at the perfectly arranged doughnuts which you seemed to have packed in a big straw basket covered with a pink and white checked cloth and inside it was a flask containing the tea you brewed earlier.

You muttered a spell under your breath making the kitchen clean in an instant. Making sure everything was tidy you left to freshen up.

After five minutes you were ready to go meet the man of your dreams at his cabin. Casting a floatation spell on the basket it begins to lift itself while making its way to you.

You grab your cloak and make your way towards the door the basket following after.

Thankfully his house was not far from yours making your journey less stressful. You arrived and proceeded to knock on his door. "Hello? Anyone home?"

You waited for a few seconds before the door swung open revealing the man you were enamoured with.

"Katakuri-san.." You said breathless.

"Y/n... What brings you here?" He asked tilting his head in confusion causing his scarf to shift slightly, you never did tell him you were visiting.

"I-I came to drop this off." You stuttered feeling flustered just from his voice.

"Would you like to come in?" He asked tugging on his scarf.

"U-Uh ma-maybe another time! I promise!" You suggested flicking your fingers which caused the basket to zoom over to him.

You begin to walk away after waving goodbye to him. You definitely do not want to be there when he consumes the potion.

He stood outside looking at your figure disappear with a puzzled look planted on his face. He looked down peering at the basket that seemed to be wafting a sweet aroma before taking it with him and closing his door.

Sparkles and flowers floated around him when he uncovered the basket, sighting twelve delicious looking doughnuts and a flask with seemed to contain hot tea.

"Oh! Doughtnuts~" Katakuri moaned in delight. He didn't know how to thank you maybe he should invite you out sometime.

He picks up the first doughnut its sweet aroma wafting all around him, he finally decides to takes a bite, he savoured its sweet taste and soft texture before freezing after he swallowed.

Meanwhile...

You hummed as you walked home with a skip in your step, you arrived home quickly deciding to take a rest, the events carried out today has left you exhausted as you walked to your room and laid on your bed.

"The potion should be taking effect by now." You said yawning, sleep taking over you as your heavy eye lids began to close.

Going to work the next day, you met the man who had been on your mind through out the night. There he was talking to one of your colleagues.

You were nervous, 'did the potion work?' or 'What if it doesn't?' These thoughts ran along your mind the longer you stared at him.

You snapped out of your daze realising he was walking towards you, 'oh gosh what should i do?! Do i smell ok? Do i look ok?!! He's coming closer, oh what's gonna happen now?'

"Hello!" He said squinting his eyes at you.

"Uh hi!" You stuttered out.

"Thank you for the doughnuts and the tea, i will remember to return the basket and the flask." He said picking on his scarf.

"Yeah yeah no problem." You said smiling.

"I will be going now, see you at lunch." He said causing your smile to falter.

"I-I sorry w-what? already? You got nothing you need to say?" You said smiling anxiously. Did the potion not work?.

"No, nothing that i recall." He said, raising his eyebrow in suspicion.

"...i uh, tha-that's fine, see you uh, later." You sighed dejected, maybe you should give up, seeing the potion never worked anyways.

You begin to turn around questioning how you fucked this up, only to feel a big warm hand pat on your head gently, you turn around looking up at the man you adored.

"I am sure you are wondering why your little potion didn't work!" He said, your jaw dropped and you felt cold all of a sudden...yeah you just got caught, holy shit what did you expect, this man was no joke, of course he could detect it!

"I-I-I uh f- uh w-wait i- ah c-can ex-explain!" You stumbled over your words trying to explain to him.

"I feel the same way." He said briefly.

"L-Look i-i'm sorr- excuse me, what?" You said feeling your face heat up.

"I said your potion didn't work because i feel the same way." He explained looking away, you could see his ears turning red.

"Y-You do?! You really do?!" You asked only to receive a nod from him, he still wouldn't look at you, how cute he was flustered but yet again so were you.

"S-So your not mad?" You asked nervously.

"No." He muttered.

You honestly didn't know what to say, you had been chasing this man for three years almost four and you finally somehow got him.

"I'm glad, i like you too." You said bashfully looking down on your fingers, too shy to look up at him.

"Are we... Now?-" he asked raising his scarf higher to cover his rouge cheeks.

"Yes we are." You said laughing while looking up to see katakuri looking down at you, his curved eyes making it obvious he was smiling.

"We should get going." He said.

"Yeah, we should." You said before walking the opposite direction of the institute.

"Uh... Y/n the institute is that way." Katakuri said

"I definitely knew that!" You said turning towards the institute causing katakuri to chuckle. He grabbed your hands claiming you would get lost if he didn't.

I guess he was just as enamoured with you as you were with him.

⸜(●˙▾˙●)⸝⁺✧

Hmm...i kinda like it but not alot(i don't like it.) Im back!!! Here again with another one.

I hope you like it 🥺🥰💞

Ouh and @closet-degenerate i just want to let you know that your are number three on my fav cousin list🙃.

#fem reader #one piece x reader #charlotte katakuri #one piece katakuri #katakuri imagine #katakuri charlotte #katakuri x reader #doughnuts

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sugarplanet · 1 year

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Realizing How Important Storytelling Is To Art

For a lot visual artists, writing fully fleshed out stories doesn’t seem to be as widely an exercised skills. Many have scripts, storyboards, outlines, footnotes, or loose ideas in their reference folders or notes apps but it can be hard to connect the dots all the way. I myself find writing to be pretty taxing (thank you short attention span) while I do love making lots of unsorted detailed lists of traits spread out among characters and little factoid sheets, telling a full cohesive story was a bit harder to get into.

For some of my latest character development project, I’d imagined a world in which religion and culture was heavily developed around astrology and astronomy on a planet where humans and gods were once the same thing, the effects of which can even be seen even in a post modern wire-punk dystopia. I had some ideas I thought were cool and ideas for outfits and quirks but not much to tie it all together. It wasn’t until I found myself no longer satisfied with just doing that alone, looking at what I developed thus far, that I remembered one of the key aspects of growth as an artist; references. If you need pictures of tigers or knees so you draw tigers and knees correctly, it stands to reason you also shouldn’t rely on the confines of your brain to help you write a fleshed out made up universe.

For this character, Jet, I set him up with some cool animal transformation powers.

I also didn’t know where his powers came from. He just needed to have them and be the way he was because it seemed really cool. When I started questioning other aspects of my designs (why is this character some sort of patron saint of moon worship with healing powers and why does she have an annoying talking rabbit god side kick? And what does she want with this dude? Why didn’t I make the rabbit a backstory and also visually cuter?)

A while ago, I had gotten a book on astrology on a bargin-bin surfing whim and lately I’ve been sifting through it in bits and pieces at a time in the mornings. Right now, I’m finishing the long decoding each western zodiac sign. I’m not a strong believer in astrology but I did find it interesting and it lead me to research on non western perceptions of the “zodiac” and where there were differences and similarities. I looked up how they’re used in modern terms and what they meant back when they were first a thing. I even dabbled in chakras and their ties to astronomy in some spiritual practices. Inspired by my research, I started cobbling some things together like wet sand into a sand castle.

If your zodiac sign and its traits could have some sort of iconic embodiment, it could be cool animal powers. Perhaps since gods separated themselves from humans and fled to the stars, the moon, the sun, to other planets, then their relation to your zodiac sign could be significant. Jet is a Leo born in the year of the monkey and born during a pretty improbable alignment of planets closest to the earth during a solar eclipse and is therefore a special case special boy. (The only challenge is making that interesting while not letting it overshadow his actual character) Building a magic system with a more clear idea of what my world looks like and having intention behind what I’m pulling from and where to use it was a lot easier as well.

I even managed to change the look of my costar to suit the color coding theme and to look less like a weird monk of vague lineage and denomination and more like a kid who only really has a magical bunny as a parent, teacher, and friend for the longest before clinging to Jet. (Not to mention change her rabbit pal drastically to a more cohesive design...)

Not only was I feeling more confident in my design work, but I was having fun working on this project again. I’d encourage everyone to do a little homework if they’re feeling stuck as well but please keep in mind that you’ll want to do so mindfully. You have to first have any idea at all of what you’d like, an overall theme, and a place and time where your story happens. Consider what you’re basing the world you’re building on. You can look up significant historical events or scientific breakthroughs as a basis for the world building. I’d also recommend keeping notes next your concepts as you’re working them over lest you design something really cool that you fall in love but that is totally ill fitting to what you’re making that look FOR.

#journal #my art #character design #concept development #world building #original art #writing stories #brblog

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freelancearsonist · 1 month

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in shades of gray and candlelight

➔ Marcus Pike x fem!Reader - 7.2k

➔ Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

➔ Rated MA for artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily [please let me know if i missed any at all :)]

➔ this is my (first 😈) submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! i really did mean for this to be a drabble especially since i didn't know anything about marcus before receiving this prompt but he has my whole fucking heart and mind now 😩 thank you so much for the challenge lovely kel, and special thank u to my baby @fhatbhabie for betaing and screaming with me ily <3 (dividers by the amazing and talented @saradika-graphics)

You meet Marcus Pike on a Friday night and it’s obvious from the start that he’s going to change your life forever.

He looks a little disheveled when he enters the gallery–brown hair ruffled and standing up in places, tie loose, top shirt button undone. There’s an alluring five o’clock shadow burgeoning across his jaw and cheeks. He looks like he’s had a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. It’s all part of the plan, of course. He’s supposed to look like a standard blue collar worker, and he pulls it off with ease.

It’s the exhibition’s opening night, so it’s a little more packed than the gallery normally would be. It works in his favor–he’s able to collect a plastic cup of champagne from the refreshment table and blend seamlessly into the crowd.

His eyes are diligent as they scan the faces that come and go. He tries to commit them all to memory–the tall woman with the slight limp, the short guy wearing the Hawaiian patterned shirt. There’s dozens of people that pass by, and so many of them are forgettable. It’s exhibitions like these that make him dread undercover work.

The art on the walls isn’t exceptional, but it’s not bad. Nothing that seems worth stealing, that’s for sure. But his source is good, and his source said that this place was getting hit tonight. So he keeps his watchful eyes vigilant and pretends to sip the champagne in his hand.

Until he finds your exhibit.

There’s a depth to your art that he’s come to be familiar with–something he sees often in work of high value. Anyone can make abstract art, it’s as simple as flicking paint at a canvas. But few can charge it as emotionally as you have. To convey feeling and passion and heart through abstraction is a separate art form all its own, and it’s one you’ve mastered.

He’s seen original Rothko’s, Van Gogh’s, Kandinsky’s; he’s held their frames in his own two hands. But nothing’s ever made his breath hitch in his throat quite the way yours does.

He stands in front of a canvas simply labeled “Waves In Motion” with your name printed neatly underneath, brow creased with a concentration that seems a little unnecessary given the subject matter of the painting. It’s all shades of blue and violet, swirling together in a way that seems partly sensuous, partly violent. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he takes a step closer. That’s when he notices it: a single dot of red paint right in the middle, a focal point of all the swirling cobalts. So small that he wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t close; so small it could almost be interpreted as a mistake.

But he knows without having to ask that it’s not an answer. He wonders who that dot represents: you, the artist? Most likely.

Without meaning to, he smiles. It’s been a long time, years really, since a piece of art provoked such thought.

“Hi.”

The voice Marcus hears next to him is soft, dulcet. He doesn’t turn to the noise quickly–from the tone in that word alone he senses a hesitance, as if you’re a fawn that’s lost its mother and you’re bound to run if he makes any sudden movements.

And, truth be told, part of him thinks he might not be able to look away even if he tried right now. There’s something so beautiful about this painting–and underneath, something so ominous. There’s an air about the work that says he might unlock the secrets of the universe if he just keeps looking.

“Hi there.” He keeps his eyes trained on “Waves In Motion” as he responds–playing the game. He’s here to brush shoulders, after all; to be the right amount of forgettable yet memorable.

“This is my best, I think,” you murmur while taking a step closer. “It took the least time of all of them, surprisingly. But… I think when you know exactly what you’re trying to convey, it just comes to you easily.”

“These are yours?” There’s admiration in his eyes and an air of something akin to disbelief in his voice as he takes in the group of canvases proudly displayed on the plain white gallery walls.

And then he turns and lets himself take you in. More specifically the curling strand of hair that falls out of your updo to frame your face, the deeply plunging neckline of your dress, the way your calf muscles work even standing still in your high-heeled shoes. You’re a work of art in your own right; the most beautiful piece he’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah.” You duck your head–shyly, modestly–and he’s hooked. There’s one thing in this building that deserves awe and reverence more than your painting, and it’s you. “You know, you’re only the second person who’s come over tonight.”

“No way. They’re all just working their way back here,” he whispers before he can calculate a more articulate response.

But it works in his favor–your giggle is gorgeous, if a sound can be described that way. Sweet and syrupy, it seeps over him as if he’s standing under a cracked honeycomb. He hasn’t actually taken a drink of his champagne, and yet he can feel his nervous system tingling. You’re just that intoxicating.

“The gallery closes in half an hour,” you tell him–a little wistfully at that. “In my defense, I don’t have any family or friends in the area. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to show, not with so many other talented artists here.”

It seems so indignantly unfair to Marcus. That you’re shoved into the far back corner of the gallery, that people haven’t come in droves from all over the country to see your work.

“Where are you from?” He asks as his mind finally starts to clear from the haze it’s been in the past few minutes. With only half an hour left on the job, he allows himself a small sip of the drink that he’s been cradling all night.

“New York. This is actually only my second exhibition,” you explain, and you almost sound shy about it; as if you need to be embarrassed about being young and fresh-faced in the art industry, as if you aren’t the most talented artist Marcus has ever met in person.

He hums in response, eyes unconsciously dragging over you once more. “You came a long way for this.”

You smile so prettily up at him, and in that moment he sees something in your eyes. He can’t describe it–maybe it’s something akin to longing. Something incomplete, unexplored. It’s familiar; it’s the red dot from your painting. Solitary amidst the swirling, lost yet not hopeless.

And just like your painting, he finds himself wanting to get lost in your eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day a gallery wants to host you,” you say after another sip of your drink. “Plus, I’ve never been to Texas before, and I needed a change of scenery.”

There’s something so charming, so boyishly intoxicating about the smile he graces you with. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s hotter than I’m used to,” you say with a chuckle that he echoes. “And I haven’t been able to do any exploring yet, my flight only got in a couple hours before I had to be here.”

“That’s a shame,” he hums in a tone that reveals deeper meaning. “How long are you here for? Do you have any plans?”

“A week,” you murmur. Subconsciously he leans in closer, on the edge of his proverbial seat. To seal the deal, you lean in too. “And not a damned one.”

There’s no air between you and Marcus. You exist in a vacuum for this moment–unable to breathe, choking on anticipation. He’s so close, yet way too far away. You want to be consumed by him–for him to be swirling blue; and you, a single speck of red in his midst.

The moment shatters with an audible sound–a deep, penetrating voice. “He’s still not here, huh? I don’t think your boyfriend’s coming. If he even exists.” There’s something strange in the raspy voice that drawls these words–something strange enough to immediately put Marcus on the alert.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion into your vacuum, but you recover quickly. You have to, because this intrusive stranger is standing way too close and has way too much alcohol on his breath.

And then something strange happens–you worm your arm around Marcus’s waist and press yourself firmly into his side.

“Actually, he’s right here,” you say. There’s a quality to your voice that wasn’t there before when you were just talking to Marcus–it’s firm, clipped, bordering on hostile. “He just got held up at work. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Thankfully, Marcus has always been one to think quickly on his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, unconsciously moving an inch or two in front of you. Protecting without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, honey. I got here as soon as I could.”

The man–burly and balding, probably a good twenty years older than you–scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there a problem here?” Marcus draws up to his full height–towering a good few inches over this strange intruder.

Whoever this guy is, he’s not completely stupid. He senses this isn’t going to be a fight he’ll win, so he backs off. “Not at all, man. Just didn’t want little miss standing here all alone the whole night.”

“Thanks,” you say with bitter reprehension. You wind even closer to Marcus–closer than this sudden farce demands. “But we’re fine now.”

He nods once–curt and unhappy, but seemingly satisfied that he’s not going to get what he wants. “Have a good night, ma’am. Sir.”

Marcus takes a mental inventory of the man as he storms off, committing his physical description and his outfit to memory. He doesn’t look like a casual art viewer, and he doesn’t look like a collector. He’s exactly the type that Marcus came here to look out for.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you step out of Marcus’s personal space. “He’s been hovering all night, asking me who I’m going home with and shit.”

“That’s the other guy who came over to talk to you?” It brings a deep frown to his face, a crease forming between his brows. It certainly raises a red flag–if the guy has any eye for value, of course he would be drawn to your exhibit. And if he has an eye for value, he could be the guy Marcus came for.

“Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and avert your gaze, as if you should be embarrassed for drawing that guy’s attention. “It’s not been the greatest night.”

Marcus hates that. He hates that you came all this way to be let down, that this is only your second exhibition and you’ve had such a bad experience with it. More than anything, he hates that he can still see the spark in your eyes when you look up at him, and he can tell that it’s dimmed.

“Gimme just a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to be so abrupt, but he wants to make it quick. He hustles to the single-stall men’s room and tugs the radio out of his inside jacket pocket to call in the man’s description. Then he turns it off, tucks it back into its concealed pocket, and goes over to the sink.

He thought he looked perfect for the part he had to play when he left his house to come here. Now, he’s too disheveled. He wets his fingertips and tries to tame the mess on top of his head; he re-buttons his shirt and tightens his tie. He looks flustered, and he’s not even surprised by it. You’ve got his heart pounding with anticipation in a way he doesn’t think it ever has before.

Butterflies fluttering on in his stomach, he emerges from the restroom to resume his position by your side.

Except you’re not by your exhibit anymore, and the crowd has thinned considerably. He checks his watch and realizes there’s only five minutes before the gallery closes for the night. Maybe you’ve decided to cut your losses and leave early.

He hates the way his gut twists with disappointment, but then he reminds himself that he didn’t come here for you. He’s working, and he needs to stay vigilant. No distractions, no complications.

“You’re still here.”

There’s a wave of relief that washes over him as he hears your voice, and this time he’s not too timid to turn towards you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought I might’ve scared you off.” There’s a fresh cup of champagne in your hand and a hint of vulnerability in your voice, and it makes his heart pick up pace just the slightest bit. You duck your head–that shy, modest gesture again. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just done that without permission.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, more earnestly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I didn’t mind at all, I swear. Just had to hit the head.”

You look so deeply into his eyes he almost wonders if you aren’t looking through him. But whatever you find, you must like it.

He clears his throat and tries to not show how thoroughly unraveled he is by your gaze. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.” You pause for a moment, and he can tell that there’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue–so he remains silent in hopes of drawing it out.

“Do you have someone to go home to?”

There it is–the invitation he was both dreading and hoping for. He should really lie. He’s here on a job, after all–he’s supposed to avoid complications, and some instinct tells him you’re going to be much more than a simple distraction. But he’s told you the truth so far, and he doesn’t want to stop now.

“No. No, I don’t.”

This is everything that Marcus has never even considered doing. It’s late, it’s dark, it’s a little chilly for spring in Austin. The alley is grimey and drafty–your hair blows in the breeze even as you kneel down before him.

All he can do is stand there, dumbstruck with his back up against the rough brick wall, and stare down at you.

He’s still breathless from the way you’ve been kissing him–all heat and passion, fire and brimstone. Your hands ran through his hair and undid the effort he put in while in the bathroom, and his hands clutched your waist in a futile attempt to ground himself. Your lips are so soft; he thinks he could kiss you forever and never get tired of it. He was certainly planning on finding out, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You… you don’t have to–”

But the way you look up at him through your lashes makes his throat close up around whatever protest he was going to try.

“I want to,” you assure him–more of a purr than a spoken statement.

And this really isn’t the place. He shouldn’t let you do this here. But he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make him harden in his boring gray work slacks.

Marcus has never been about excitement. He’s always strayed to the comfortable and familiar–he falls into the sweet, caring companion role with grace and ease.

And tonight doesn’t have to be that different. If you’re going to suck his dick in a dark, dingey alley, he’ll let you. But he’s going to lay his jacket down on the ground so you don’t scrape up your knees first.

You keen at the thoughtful gesture and grace him with a grateful smile as your adept fingers work his belt open. He’s straining against the seam of his pants now, begging for the attention that your gaze promises him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think you’re every bit as eager to get his trousers and boxers down as he is.

And Lord help him, he delights in the gasp you emit when his cock springs free from its confines.

“Fuck, Marcus.” Your lips actually part as you freeze for a moment, just taking him in. He’s thick, maybe an inch longer than average, swollen head peeking through uncut skin as if begging for your waiting mouth. He curves to the left just a little bit, and you can almost see his pulse thrumming through the prominent vein that runs along the length of him.

“S’not that impressive,” he mumbles, and you know that he knows that he’s full of shit.

Your fingers almost don’t wrap all the way around him, and suddenly you’re second-guessing this back alley stint, too. You want him in bed. You want him deep inside you, kissing your face as he fucks you, hands all over your body, thrusts hard yet slow. You want it languid, you want it desperate, you want it any way he’ll give it to you. You don’t want to blow him and say goodbye.

He calculates your hesitation as something other than pure unadulterated lust, and he lifts your chin gently with his index and middle fingers.

“Hey, we don’t have to–”

Again, you cut him off–this time, by dragging your tongue from the seam of his balls all the way along his length to swirl messily around his tip. You taste every heady inch of him and then moan at the salty foreshadowing on your tongue when you catch a droplet of precum leaking from his slit.

Your hand springs into action with a long, slow stroke along his cock, and then you sink your mouth around him and he moans. Without caution or pretense, like you’re not in an alley that anyone could walk down at any moment. It’s a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be and his head thumps back against the brick wall hard enough to hurt, and even still he’s never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure before in his life.

Your nose meets the neat patch of hair at his base and your free hand comes up to his hip, effectively pinning him against the wall when he tries to buck greedily even further into your mouth.

No one’s ever taken him so relentlessly before. You’re insistent, pressing onward even as you gag on his length, and it makes his balls tighten in a way he’s never felt before. It’s like you’re hungry for him; like you’re doing this more for your own pleasure than for his.

Marcus Pike has been a giver his whole life. Tonight, with you, he finally decides to take.

He’d be embarrassed about how fast he comes if you weren’t so eager for it. You moan around him and push yourself as deep as you can, throat working around him desperately not to choke on the size of him. Before he can warn you he’s spilling into your mouth, maybe more than he’s ever come before, thick and salty but undeniably sweet too. You allow yourself a moment to savor him as he pulses in your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head of him in a way that makes him shiver and whine.

He’s panting, nearly light-headed, when you finally pull off of him and press one last gentle kiss over his slit.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, because there’s nothing else to say.

You giggle, and he realizes with a strange wistfulness that he would do anything to keep this girl–a girl he’s just met, a girl who’s leaving to go back to her home on the other side of the country in just a week–smiling and laughing the way she is now.

“My hotel is only a couple blocks away,” you tell him as he helps you to your feet. “Would you like a nightcap?”

You pick up his jacket and dust the grime off it–it makes him chuckle. Everything about this encounter has flown in the face of what he’s used to.

He’s never felt so alive.

“I would love a nightcap.”

Your senses wake up slower than normal.

First it’s your eyes–they tune in on the bright mid-sunrise light streaming through the open balcony blinds on the far wall. It falls in slivers and shards over the rumpled white hotel-standard bedding–the second thing your senses tune into. Everything is so soft and light, but it’s a little cold too. Especially the other side of the bed; there’s no heat remaining there at all.

You push yourself up with a grunt and let the sheets fall away from your bare torso, tired eyes scanning around the room. You notice clothes scattered all over the floor while your ears wake up enough to hear water running in the bathroom, and you can’t help the involuntary smile that spreads over your face. He’s still here.

Marcus lets the too-hot water wash over him in scalding waves, muscles still a little sore after a long night tangled together with you.

He checked his phone first thing this morning, and the gallery was quiet all night. They think the suspect he radioed in was the guy they were looking for, but they weren’t able to apprehend him. The running theory is that he might’ve recognized Marcus and decided low-value art wasn’t worth the hassle, but one guess is as good as the next until they can bait and catch the guy.

It’s the weekend now, and Marcus is thanking his lucky stars. Not only does he have a successful mission to celebrate, but he has the most beautiful woman in the world to celebrate it with.

He emerges after a few minutes, wet hair messily scattered over his forehead and wide hips straining against a low-slung hotel towel. He’s a languid Saturday morning wet dream on two legs.

“G’morning,” he hums with a smile–he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dip down to hungrily take in your naked torso.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He stalks towards you slowly, eyes darkening with each advancing step. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize he didn’t get his fill of your body last night, but you’re certainly not complaining.

He’s already starting to harden as he drops his towel and crawls over the foot of the bed, surging forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. If last night was desperation and passion, this morning is syrupy and sweet. He explores your mouth slowly, tongue sweeping between your lips and tracing every curve and ridge he can–almost like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

There are universes in the depths of his dark eyes. He may not say exactly what he’s thinking, but you can see it playing out in those baby browns of his. There’s something simmering underneath the surface–something more than just lust or desire.

Something dangerous.

You tug him closer and cup his face in your hands, enjoying the gentle scratch of morning stubble underneath your palms. He surges forward and presses you into the pillows as he settles himself comfortably between your spread legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs through kisses scattered along the length of your jaw.

You know you probably look like you got run over by a bus–you toss and turn in your sleep, and it always leaves your hair a matted mess. And that’s not even mentioning the slight tremble in your thighs, left over from Marcus’s enthusiastic attention last night. But there’s so much sincerity in his voice; you don’t think he would waste his breath saying it if he didn’t mean it, and that fact alone makes your heart pound with desire.

There’s a syrupy slowness to the way he moves down your body, lips leaving behind heavy wet kisses as he works down your chest and over your stomach.

And it’s almost like he senses the protest working its way up your throat when you feel his hot breath on your thighs, because he looks up at you and there’s sternness in his gaze. You got your fill last night, and now it’s his turn.

“May I?” He looks up at you from the apex of your thighs with big, round puppy eyes that are impossible to refuse–so you nod eagerly and don’t even try.

If you were eager to have him in your mouth last night, he’s desperate.

There’s no hesitation, no build-up. It’s almost aggressive, the way he buries his face in your heat. He laps like a dog at a bowl, hips canting into the mattress involuntarily as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls into your sopping cunt. “You taste incredible.”

You keen at the praise and card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the damp, spiky strands when his tongue laves heavily over your sensitive clit.

Marcus’s greedy hands grip underneath your thighs and push them as far as you can comfortably spread them. You’re still so sensitive after at least three orgasms last night–you lost count after a point–and it serves to wind your nerves tighter than they’ve ever been wound before.

One hand slides to the junction of your thigh and his thumb comes to take over the pressure on your clit as his tongue plunges between your soaked folds. It’s even more overwhelming like this, and there’s not a thing in the world that you want to do more than let him have his fun. Especially when that hand and his tongue switch spots–his lips seal and suck around your clit while he presses two achingly thick fingers into your waiting entrance.

It actually makes your muscles tighten and your back rise off the bed as he curls his fingers just right to find that spot that makes you fall apart for him.

He can tell you’re getting close–he’s already so intune with the way your muscles twitch, the change of pitch in your moans. You whine and cry for him the tighter he winds the rubberband, and he’s eager to make it snap.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says over the overwhelming flutter of his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Let me have it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly as pleasure wracks through your body that you can see constellations. Large hands come to pin your thighs open as his tongue keeps working, lapping and gliding against your cunt with ease as a wave of arousal gushes from your entrance.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, and he’s just getting started.

He trails open-mouthed kisses up your body as you catch your breath–his slick-soaked lips coat your skin with your own arousal as he works his way up to allow you a taste of yourself.

The first wet lick of his tongue into your mouth makes you moan. It’s not the first time you’ve tasted your own slick–you’ve had a moment or two of curiosity–but it’s never been quite as enjoyable as it is on his tongue. It pairs so perfectly with the minty tang of toothpaste left on his breath and makes you hungry for more.

He moves fluidly under your direction as you push him onto his back and roll to straddle his lap all in one graceful movement. It’s perfect like this–he doesn’t have to support his weight so he can run his big meaty hands all over every inch of you, and you can kiss him as deep as you want while you grind down on his aching length.

“Shit, baby,” he pants against your lips. Those aforementioned beefy palms grasp hard at your asscheeks to guide your hips, pulling you into a slow, long grind that bumps the head of his cock against your clit deliciously.

Your pulse thrums with desperation until you’re seeing white–no more teasing, no more preamble. You take his girth in your hand and give him a firm stroke; if you had a little more presence of mind, you might be embarrassed at how wet his dick is simply from grinding against you for a few seconds.

“Go ahead, baby, take it when you’re ready.”

He gasps at the first press of his cockhead against your entrance, head flopping back against the pillows as his hands squeeze your asscheeks with bruising force.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he murmurs, throat working around a thick gulp. “You can take it baby, I know you can. Did so good for me last night.”

You think you would honestly do anything he asks of you so long as he just keeps talking like this.

It takes a moment for you to work your way down his length–he’s so mouth-wateringly thick and the curve of his cock hits the most delicious spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Atta girl,” he praises breathlessly as your hips settle flush against his. “Just sit there for a minute. So pretty on my dick.”

God, he makes your entire body flush with heat. He turns your blood to molten lava with his words, lighting every inch of skin on fire. You’ve never felt a sensation like this–so overwhelming yet so intoxicating.

You start with slow movements as his hands trace up and down your sides sweetly–it’s more like you’re grinding on him than anything else. His thumbs rub abstract little patterns into your skin as his hands work up to your tits; when he finally takes them in the palms of his hands and squeezes all pretense of soft, sweet morning-after sex flies out the window.

You drop down hard on his cock and it nearly punches the wind out of him.

“Yes!” He growls darkly. His eyes flash with something dangerous–it’s the only warning you get before his hand slaps the meat of your ass and grabs a greedy handful. “Just like that baby, use my fuckin’ dick.”

And maybe, if he was someone else, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager to follow instructions. But with Marcus, you’re nothing if not obedient.

Last night was exploration and discovery–hours into the early morning spent learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other squirm and whine and beg. This morning is in perfect juxtaposition to that sweet, soft, probing sex–you know what drives each other crazy now, and you each use it to your advantage. Aggressively.

He surges up to suck a pert nipple into his mouth as you set a hard pace on him, long fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks. He lands another sharp smack to your ass when your thighs start to shake–a reward for using his cock exactly how he asked.

”M-Marcus—”

”I know, sweetheart,” he purrs through a guttural moan. He cants his hips up to meet your thrusts at just the right moment—he hits something so devastatingly pleasurable that your vision prickles white around the edges. “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? It’s okay, you can let go. Come for me.”

There’s a condescending note to his voice that only makes you squeeze harder around his cock, and within seconds you’re hurtling uncontrollably into ecstasy.

He fucks you through the telltale fluttering of your cunt even when your hips stop moving; strong hands hold you in place and work you through the ebbing waves of pleasure that wrack through your entire body.

”M’so close, honey,” he grunts with a particularly sharp thrust upward. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Where do you want me?”

”I-inside,” you gasp. “Come inside me, Marcus.”

He fills you as soon as he has your instruction—hard thrusts punctuated by breathy moans as he pumps you full of his release.

There’s a long, silent moment where Marcus pulls your bare chest tightly against his own and you pant into the crook of his neck while trying desperately to even-out your breathing. His fingertips dance across your skin-feather-light, soothing.

The sun is higher in the sky now and meets your eyes with blinding rays through the balcony shutters when they finally open again.

”That was amazing, honey,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s caught his own breath now, but he doesn’t make any attempt to let you go. “How’re you so perfect?”

”M’not perfect,” you mumble into his shoulder; but even to your own ears, it sounds half-hearted. The truth is, he’s so earnestly honest that you believe him.

He hums his dissent with a kiss pressed to your hairline. ”You are to me.”

And you so desperately want to believe him that you don’t even try to argue.

You bask in this warm, lovely afterglow for a few moments longer before Marcus gently taps your hip. ”Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

You pull off of his softened cock with a whine and try not to get worked up all over again at the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. ”Th-there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs.”

”Oh, then I’ll definitely pick up the tab,” he jokes with a smirk—all you want to do is kiss his goofy, stupidly handsome face.

He pulls you into the bathroom and starts the water running to fill the tub—he’s never really been a bath guy, but your legs are a little too shaky to endure a shower. He’s so attentive—from running a damp cloth between your legs to helping lower you into the water. He doesn’t complain in the slightest when you catch his hand and ask him to join you; he just shuffles you forward and slides in behind you like it’s a casual act that he performs with every hookup.

It’s intimate. That’s really the only way to describe it. You sit between his spread legs, back to his chest, head rested back against his shoulder while his fingers ghost idle paths over your skin. You don’t talk; you don’t really need to. Somehow, you fit together like souls who have known each other for years. Like all you’ve been missing is each other.

You drift off in his arms as he traces soap over all the curves and ridge of your body, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

It breaks his heart a little bit to wake you—the fact that you’re so comfortable with him, that you trust him with such vulnerability, makes his head spin a little bit. But the water’s turning cold, and the last thing he wants is for you to come down sick or something.

He rouses you with gentle, feathery kisses scattered over your rosy-scented shoulders and neck.

”Mmm… what time is it?” You grumble, pressing your sleep-addled face further into the crook of his neck.

”Just after noon,” he whispers into your hair after glancing up at the clock on the wall.

He can feel the way your mouth shifts into a pout. “Shit. We missed breakfast.”

The adorable downward tilt of your frown as you lift your dad to look at him makes his heart flutter. “Let’s go out, then. The first farmer’s market of the season is going on downtown. I’m sure we can find something good for brunch.”

”Kinda sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you hum with a slight smirk dancing at your lips.

”Maybe I am.” His tone is light, his meaning clear—he knows this goes beyond a one-night stand, and there’s no harm done if you’re not wanting to cross this boundary. He’d understand not wanting to get too serious about someone who lives thousands of miles away from your home, of course. He’d never blame you.

You give him your best appraising look, staring deep into those constellation-filled brown eyes. ”You’re not sick of me yet?”

”I have a feeling I couldn’t get sick of you if I tried.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone, in his eyes. He genuinely wants to spend time with you, even if there’s nowhere for this to really go.

You hum thoughtfully. “I do love farmer’s markets.”

You’re with Marcus more often than not over the course of the next week.

He takes you sightseeing to some of his favorite spots around Austin, brings you to his favorite restaurants, shows you his favorite movies. But he multitasks—while teaching you about himself, he learns as much as he can about you and picks activities he knows you’ll love, too.

He’s a pragmatist; he knows your time together is short, and he wants to make himself unforgettable. If he never sees you again, he wants you to think about him every once in a while and look back on this time fondly.

You spend your days while Marcus is at work painting or drawing or lingering around the gallery, and you fall asleep in his arms every night. With shades of gray moonlight and candlelight cast over your hotel room, it almost feels like this could go on forever.

He tells you to wear something nice before he picks you up on the last night–he wants to celebrate in style, which starts with reservations at an up-scale restaurant.

He’s so achingly handsome. He’s in a matching gray suit over a white button-up, top two buttons undone and no tie to be seen. His face bears the slightest five o’clock shadow and your eyes gravitate to the curve of his lips–the instant smile that takes over his face when those gorgeous brown eyes of his land on you.

If you never see him again, this is exactly how you want to remember him.

“Wow,” he whispers reverently. “You look amazing.”

It’s not the most impressive dress you own, but he looks at you like you’re wearing something worth millions–like you’re worth millions.

You lean up and kiss him, and everything feels right. His hands rest on your waist and it’s so easy to pretend that you won’t be on the other side of the country twenty-four hours from now.

The restaurant is beautiful. Dimly lit and romantic, tables spaced enough to give you some privacy. He takes your hand on top of the table and holds it the entire meal. The conversation is light and airy–you’re both stubbornly dancing around what really needs to be said.

Dessert is cleared and the wine bottle is empty by the time Marcus finally works up the courage to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You knew this would be coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. You avert your gaze, instead focusing on his large hand wrapped around yours and the windshield wiper motion of his thumb tracing back and forth over your palm. No one’s touch has ever sent such electric tingles through your nervous system the way his does.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all.

“Look, I…” He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine a little bit, hand leaving yours to gently cup your chin. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he breaks your heart. “I think this could really be something, if we gave it a shot.”

You haven’t lied to him yet, and you don’t plan to start now. “I… I think it could, too. If I didn’t have to go back.”

“Don’t go back then.” There’s a firmness to his voice, but it couldn’t be any more obvious that he’s begging if he actually got down on his knees. “Stay here with me. We’ll figure this out. Just… don’t go.”

And here–with his earnest eyes on yours and his gentle, loving touch on your skin–it’s easy to pretend that it’s that simple.

He takes you back to your hotel room and sheds you easily out of your dress. As cliche as it sounds, it’s not just sex this time. Things that it’s too early to say are buried deep within every kiss, every thrust. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and looks deeply into your eyes while he fills you and you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly connected.

The thud of his heartbeat is insistent in your ear as you come down from your high–so calming, so heartbreaking. You lay on his chest while his breathing evens out and soak up these last few moments of bliss. And then, once you’re sure he’s sound asleep, you carefully worm out of his grip. There’s one more thing you have to do before you go back to New York.

Loud, insistent ringing pulls Marcus from the depths of sleep. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but now that his senses are alert, the sound in combination with bright Saturday morning sunlight won’t allow him the luxury. He presses his face deeper into the pillow that he’s somehow wound himself around in his sleep, but that damned ringing won’t stop.

He sits up slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes–and that’s when he notices the empty sheets next to him. Your side of the bed is long cold, and he knows. Before he even sees the note on the dresser and your room key next to it, he knows you’re gone.

He finds his trousers discarded halfway between the bed and the door and pulls his blaring phone out of the pocket.

“The gallery got hit sometime early this morning. They took everything. Every goddamn piece. You need to get here now.”

His body moves on autopilot as he pulls yesterday’s clothes back on, fingers numb to all sensation as they work to button his shirt. This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.

He notices the note on the dresser as he’s threading his belt through the loops of his trousers, and his gut twists with a sickening sense of foreboding.

I really did fall for you, Marcus. But nothing good starts in a getaway car.

He’s not sure if you knew who he was the whole time and this whole thing was calculated, or if you just got lucky. He doesn’t want to believe you’re that cunning and cruel. He wants to believe that this is just a misunderstanding, that you’re out for ice or something and you’ll walk back through the door at any moment.

But you don’t.

The note is enough of a confession for him. He’ll have the power of the FBI on his side to find you–and he will find you. What he’ll do when he does, he’s not sure. He guesses he’ll know when he sees you.

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bristolvinylguy · 5 months

Text

1st Annual Bristol Vinyl Guy Awards Ceremony

Starting off from now and over the coming months, I will be posting about my awards ceremony. This will cover categories regarding both music and social media.

Part 1

Recommendations Of The Year

Can include an album from any year. Here we have a tie between two outstanding records

Gate of Kluna

By Kuunatic

Suggested by Tom @tfbennettdesign

My friend Tom was working on designing a programme for WOMAD festival, of which Kuunatic were preforming at. He read fascinating things about their music and he thought that I would like them so I listened to their record and he couldn’t of been more right. They blend traditional Japanese music with Experimental Rock and come up with something that’s wholly unique to themselves. ‘Gate of Kluna’ is full of hypnotic rhythms that are both forever changing and constantly engaging. It feels like traversing through a hot desert with minimal resources, much like how the album cover depicts it.

My favourite song on the record is the final track Para Bennya. A track that is focused on call-and-response percussion and chanting before completely changing. It honestly feels like that the record has skipped forward at this point and now we’re seeing things that aren’t really there, stuck in a mirage which feels very welcome thanks to the dangers and uncertainties surrounding us.

A couple of months later myself and Tom were incredibly lucky to see them live at The Exchange. This gig was phenomenal and was the perfect representation of what the band is all about, focused chaos. Despite the weird rhythms they make everyone wanted to get up and dance and they did exactly that.

Blackshape

Suggested by W @waaaaaack

Myself and W have quite a lot in common when it comes to music. As a result they suggested this Blackshape album to me. If I were to distill their sound down to what it actually is, I would say that it’s Math Rock meets Post Rock in an instrumental style but don’t expect them to stay within these parameters all the time. I would consider this record to be challenging to a new listener if they didn’t know the basis that are met within these sub genres being that it’s an instrumental album. Naturally you don’t have a vocalist to act as your guide through the songs so you wouldn’t have any idea about where they would go or where they would end up. This all leaves you without a safety net but I see that as the biggest benefit to this record. Something about the sound of this album feels very positive and motivating to me and has a storybook quality about it, in that every song, riff and movement feels connected to the last. For sure it’s got the heaviness and chaotic nature that some people are just crying out for but through the eye of its own storm, everything in seen differently. Blackshape feels like a band that you should play whilst climbing up a mountain, it just feels so victorious within its nature.

This record has astonishing sequencing and feels like one long song as I was hinting at before. So instead of saying what my favourite song is here, I’m going to say my favourite run of tracks. From track one through to track seven is where I feel like this record is at its absolute best. The way that songs build and extend within their trajectory and angular nature make sure that there never never a dull moment. All of the puzzle pieces come together and make for a wonderful piece of art which just makes you smile.

Part 2

I’ve Been Sleeping On This For Too Long Reward

This applies more so to the previous year than anything else. It represents an album that I haven’t given the proper time to and have fell in love with upon rediscovering it.

Ants From Up There

Black Country, New Road

I fell in love with their debut ‘For The First Time’ fairly easily, I think that it was because it had longer tracks but it was more concise in its length. With Ants From Up There I think that it took time with me as it’s a much longer record but the more that I listen to it, the more it grows on me. I can’t lie but it was a slow burn at first but I only discovered very recently that this is in fact a stellar record, filled to the brim with beautiful songs. The emotion was very noticeable on their first album both in the lyrics and the instruments which made for a loving and supportive partnership, but here it’s been dialled up to an extraordinary level. This is exactly how any sequel should be, it takes what has already been established and builds on it, reaching heights that only very few bands can do. This meets the incredibly high standards that I set for ‘For The First Time’ to a point where I don’t even know which one is my favourite anymore so for now I think that they’re equal. Black Country, New Road represents nostalgia for me both within my past and my current life, it provides me with a sense of both childhood wonderment and adult regret, arranging a balancing act with both strong emotions of happiness and sadness. It honestly gets to me so much and makes me break down and cry, this to me is the band in the country.

My favourite song on this album is Show Me The Place Where He Inserted The Blade. This is a piano lead track that provides me with the sense of longing for how how things once were regarding a relationship. Those moments where Black Country, New Road keep me hanging on for dear life with their approach are hard to describe for me but they give me so much hope that we can all make it.

#critics choice awards #think piece #creative writing #music review #album review #blackshape #bcnr #black country new road #japan music #japan #experimental #post punk #rock music

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astromaki · 3 years

Text

part 3 of second choice ; ceo!shoto todoroki x gn!reader (x ceo!katsuki bakugo) (1617 words)

part 1. part 2. (previous) part 4.

tw ; angst, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, degradation, divorce, mention of alcohol, bad language, slightly suggestive ?

EXTRA INFOS ;; all the characters are aged up obviously (they are 30 here), the point of view of this third part is from shoto todoroki !

confrontation. [7 : 16 pm]

a week has passed since he came home that night drunk. that he had begged momo to stay with him. that he had accidentally seen those divorce papers crumpled by your hands.

momo had seen them too that night, and yet she and shoto had not commented on them. good, he wasn't in the mood anyway.

it had become almost official, even the media had it on their front pages. "one of japan's richest couples on the verge of divorce?", "billionaire todoroki single again?" "y/n, will the heir.ess of their father's company return to being a lawyer?"

he would have liked to say that he cared what you thought about it. if you cried, screamed, were you hurt ? but that would be lying, you were the least of his worries.

and then, wasn't it what he wanted from the beginning ?

that you would end up hating him so much that you would leave him. that he could finally be free of the weight that you represented every day.

and yet his signature was still missing.

"you can't even love your partner properly, and now i hear through the media that a divorce is on the way ? you're pathetic son. i knew i should have married them to touya. " enji's heart-attack voice echoed terribly through the phone, which made shoto sigh. he was even pretty sure he could hear it from across town.

"calm down." shoto said in an annoyed tone. "your marriage isn't a success either, so keep your remarks to yourself. bye. "

"you idiot, don't you dare hanging up on me. i don't care if you can't satisfy your s/o, i don't care if they feel bad about this arranged marriage either. but y/n y/l/n comes from a very famous lawyer's family, so get a divorce and the amount of money you have to give will be huge. "

"i manage them, it will not be a problem. i have to go now. "

the young man finally returned to your room, looking exhausted, his tie loosened and ready to down a few glasses of whiskey.

however, he was surprised to see you. dressed in a beautiful versace dress/suit, you were glowing. well no, he meant that you looked... good.

though, it was the first time he took the time to look at you. to admire you.

the young man finally met your indifferent gaze through the mirror you were standing in front of. that gaze that was so joyful and sparkling at the beginning of your marriage, full of hope to transform this purely financial union into a love marriage.

but that look, devoid of emotion, almost made shoto, Japan's most ambitious ceo, doubt himself. almost.

"i'm surprised you're still using my card to splurge. how much is this one? $1000 ? $2000 ?"

he was tired, exhausted. nut the truth is he was in the mood to be a pain in the ass tonight.

"$ 8,330. plus the $800 pair. " you replied coldly.

your answer was like a slap in the face to your husband. not because of the price, he didn't give a fuck about this.

but this tone right there. it wasn't like you. you were normally so gentle, patient even with the worst of the crap he put you through. that naive kindness that made him want to vomit was completely gone. he didn't expect such a turn of events.

"so you decide to divorce me, but first you want to empty my bank account? you're exactly as I imagined." his look that used to reflect nothing but fatigue was now full of contempt for you.

you finally faced him. shit, he couldn't help but find you beautiful.

"here todoroki, let's talk about the divorce. " you began, quietly walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a stack of documents. "i've signed it, sign it, and i'll take it to my lawyers first thing in the morning.

he snatched them out of your hand and threw them across the room. you didn't even flinch, you even held his gaze. poker face.

a loud silence fell between you. a long silence, uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. heavy and light. sensible and meaningless.

"what's all this about ? who put you up to this ?"

a wry laugh escaped your lips. your new behavior puzzled shoto. he loved and hated what he had in front of him. a challenge.

"you think i need someone to make me realize that i deserve better than an asshole like you ? fuck, let me laugh. "

your hand went to retrieve a piece of paper from your purse. and it was slammed hard against his chest. bakugou’s business card.

he found your face inches from his, your warm breath gently caressing his cheeks. a scent of whiskey filled his nostrils. you were not sober.

"how many drinks are you on? " he asked quietly.

"so now do you care if i downed a whole bottle or not ? oh please shut up. because now that you mention it, your friend bakugou katsuki may have hired me. to be his company's business lawyer. isn't that funny? "

you turned your back on him, unaware of the state you'd put him in. but damn, it was like he'd just been slapped in the face. nausea took over his whole body, his legs became heavy and weak in few seconds only. and he knew damn well it wasn't fatigue.

so you were leaving him, but on top of that you were going to work for his number one competitor ?

he didn't know what hurt more, the knowledge that bakugo had won one of the most competent lawyers in the field or that you were leaving him for him ? was he jealous ? surely not, it was another feeling that repulsed him. he didn't even know.

"have you lost your tongue todoroki ?"

todoroki ? since when did you call him by his last name ? where are the darlings or my heart that used to annoy him so much ?

you finish getting ready, now wearing your long jacket. he had lost his tongue indeed, he didn't know what to say to you. what to do.

y/n y/l/n, you had succeeded in putting your husband to the wall.

but it was only for a moment. he quickly, too quickly, pulled himself together. his usual irritated expression returned.

"you don't see that he's using you to get ahead of me ? i thought you were smarter than that. "

he took a step forward, slowly but surely. like a predator approaching its prey.

"he doesn't care about you. just like no one has ever cared about you, not me, not him and not your bourgeois family. that's why they put you in a loveless marriage so easily. "

a mirthless laugh escaped from his lips.

"y/n, this bastard doesn't give a damn about you. "

you tried to move towards him, ready to slap him, but the alcohol made you capsize and stumble on your carpet. he arrived just in time to support you with his muscular arms. an annoyed sigh resounded in the large room when your sob reached his ears.

nevertheless, a petty smile stretched his lips. there you were again, the fragile and unassertive y/n finally in his arms.

that bakugo had managed to turn your brain inside out. yet shoto knew you better than anyone else. he knew you. better than you knew yourself. you were that puzzle he had managed to decipher long ago.

"that's not true. kacchan wouldn't do that...", you whisper.

"you know i'm right, sweetheart. you know i'm the only one who's honest with you. my love for you is all you need. "

his muscular hand gradually, peacefully, came to caress your back to take off the buttons of your dress. his lips came to meet yours, to draw you into a long, languid, unsentimental kiss. your lips asked for more, your whole soul asked for more of shoto. more of this man for whom your heart never stopped beating. even if his was vibrating for another woman.

you wanted to feel his lips making love to you sensually, sincerely.

you just wanted him to love you for one night. one fucking night.

shoto was ecstatic. he could already see himself opening a bottle of champagne with his father, to celebrate the divorce that would never happen. tonight, shoto had brought out his best acting skills. millions were at stake. he had brought out his best kiss. he had never touched you like that. so gently, so carefully.

he had never called you by any affectionate nickname.

he has done too much to keep you around.

and you were drunk, not stupid.

you finally stood up, moving away from him, reluctantly. nothing he said was true. from his love for you, to his accusations against katsuki.

awkwardly, you put your dress/suit back on properly.

"i have a meeting with my future employer mr. bakugou tonight. i'll be late. don't wait for me, i'll sleep at the hotel tonight, with your card. "

a red color came to his cheeks. anger ? sadness ? jealousy ?

he had never seen you so determined, so proud. and that attracted him. he was going to lose millions, no matter what. but it was you who was going to escape him. for that bastard bakugou katsuki.

the nice little y/n was no longer shoto todoroki's.

AHHH omg sorry sorry i told you i can't do a fluffy end!! >< (comments and reblogs are appreciated <3)

🔖 tag list ; @nveusii @angelofthorr @missmolliemoo @jazzylove @loki-an-idiot @deepestranchgoopdeputy @mhasimp666 @shotorozu @chscklvr @devilsbooksworld @marshmallow12345 (ones in bold cannot be tagged)

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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first anniversary headcanons [ albedo, childe, diluc ]

prompt: you’re celebrating your first anniversary with them. what’s in store? characters: albedo, childe, & diluc reader: gn!reader warnings: none word count: ~2.1k words

a/n: the last of tonight’s fic spam... hopefully </3 these got a little long, so pt 2 will be diluc and kaeya and pt 3 will be xiao and zhongli ! (alphabetical order hehe)

albedo

albedo tests the waters before your anniversary appears. he isn’t too well-versed in the nuances of romance, but even he is aware enough of the significance of the date that marks a year spent together. amongst alchemic notes and dates of important meetings lies one of the few dates marked in red ink on his calendar: your anniversary, outlined in a heart. you knew of your boyfriend’s tendency to bury himself in work and, rather than awaiting disaster, you had taken the initiative to put the date on the calendar.

albedo smiles softly to himself whenever he sees your familiar handwriting in the midst of all of his. the gentle reminder gives him something to look forward to -- and something to plan. alchemic success is guaranteed if enough calculations and work are put into it and albedo thinks of your anniversary the exact same way. he isn’t the type for surprises and instead approaches you about what you would like to do to celebrate such a momentous occasion.

which is how, of course, the two of you end up perched on the roof of the knights of favonius headquarters. you snack happily on appetizers you had picked up from cat’s tail earlier in the day while albedo sets up two art easels and their respective canvases. such an idea had been albedo’s suggestion: paint the city of mondstadt together from a high vantage point. if the two of you did it right, your canvases would align to make a full portrait of the cityscape, as viewed from the roof of the knights’ headquarters.

as albedo supplies the art supplies, you supply the refreshments, having picked up a bottle of wine, light snacks and, of course, albedo’s favorite: sugary pastries from a local bakery. your contribution had been a surprise, but you hadn’t failed to notice the way albedo’s expression had softened at the gesture. the two of you talk about everything and nothing as you paint, with topics ranging from how the two of you would spend next year’s windblume festival together all the way to how albedo’s alchemy could bring your soon-to-be-conjoined painting together.

as the two of you finish up, the difference in art styles between the two of you is striking. albedo smiles at the sight, adoring how the two different pieces come together to make one whole, but his eyes widen slightly as he turns to face you.

“come here,” your lover beckons and you happily listen, bounding over to your boyfriend enthusiastically. he lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, to which you send him a wide smile in return.

“what is it?” you ask in a soft voice, standing close to him. albedo’s eyes fixate on a certain spot on your face, but before you can ask what is wrong, he lifts up a hand and brushes the pad of his thumb across your face in a quick swipe. as he pulls his hand back, his thumb is tainted with blue paint. you let out a bashful giggle.

“you had paint on your face,” albedo deadpans and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“you have something on your face too!” you insist and albedo’s eyes widen once more.

“where?” he asks, lifting his clean hand up to feel fruitlessly at his cheek. as he glances down at his fingertips, you decide to strike, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. his face flushes in response, but familiar blue eyes narrow as he glances back at you.

“actually, i believe that you might have missed it,” albedo says. with little hesitation, the alchemist leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. you giggle quietly at the gesture and you feel albedo smile into the kiss, yet he doesn’t pull away, instead electing to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer.

childe

childe has always had a penchant for dramatics. he always wants to be in the limelight, whether it is on the battlefield or within your heart. despite your approaching anniversary, you still sensed that childe felt insecure in your relationship, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t sweep you off your feet at all times, you would leave. therefore, you had let it slide when you brought up your anniversary and he had shrugged it off.

you knew him far too well for that. childe never shrugged off such things. but, every time you tried to make plans, childe would just knowingly smirk at you and tell you to keep your day available and that the two of you would figure it out when the day arrived. you hadn’t believed him for a second, but you had played along anyways.

on the day of your anniversary, childe knocks on the door to your apartment in liyue, a bouquet of glaze lilies in hand, accompanied by a wide-toothed grin on his face. he’s dressed in a perfectly fitting suit, with his tie matching the color of the outfit that a scared-looking fatui agent had nervously dropped off for you earlier in the day. childe’s eyes rake over you as he takes in the custom fit outfit on you, before his ocean blue eyes finally snap back to yours and a devilish grin appears on his face.

“you look hot,” childe declares, as if such a statement is merely a fact of life. to childe, the sky is blue, water is wet, and you are completely irresistible.

“thanks,” you return dryly, but mirth shines in your eyes. “i would hope that i do.”

after you situate the flowers in your apartment, childe takes your arm in his and immediately begins to ramble about the previous day’s escapades, which involved both threatening a band of treasure hoarders and training fatui recruits. you smile and listen to your lover excitedly talk about such things, appreciating how he gestures wildly with his free arm, but you see right through his charade. such conversation is merely an attempt to distract you from asking him details about your night.

but, much to your pleasant surprise, childe did not hatch a half-baked plan. instead, the harbinger had rented out the entirety of xinyue kiosk for the two of you. you weren’t sure how much such a thing cost, especially due to the high demand of the restaurant’s services, but the nervous look in childe’s eyes as he awaits your approval stops such questions from exiting your lips. instead, you smile brightly at him and praise him for his choice in restaurant. he rewards your kind words with a quick peck to your lips.

rather than being the typically energetic, rowdy man you had fallen in love with, childe is reserved and polite to a near fault for the first half of your meal. he pulls out your chair for you, he suggests what on the menu to try, and he even goes as far as to use chopsticks properly. while he often did try, chopsticks were the only potential weapon the harbinger had yet to master, often dropping them on accident. however, he holds the chopsticks in between his fingers with an eerie stillness and that’s when your heart both seizes up and melts.

childe had practiced for your anniversary.

before you can stop it, a soft laugh escapes your lips, interrupting the story he was sharing with you. you reach across the table and place your hand atop childe’s free one and squeeze it gently. his eyebrows raise at your sudden interruption, but it only serves to make you giggle once more.

“what?” childe asks, perplexed.

“i love you, you know that, right?” you say, playing absentmindedly with his fingers as you stare into the blue irises you had come to adore. at your words, childe’s shoulders visibly relax and he laughs. it’s no longer one of forced formalities, but rather the signature, cocky one that was typical of him. your smile only widens at the sound.

“i love you more,” he insists and you playfully consider if such a statement to be possible before shaking your head.

“nope! i love you more!” you insist and childe’s eyes narrow, glinting at the hint of a challenge.

“oh? do you want to bet on that?”

diluc

you’re completely thrown for a loop when diluc wakes up and leaves for work on your anniversary without acknowledging the date. you watch in a half-asleep haze as he changes into his typical outfit and black jacket from the comfort of the bed. you await any indication from him that today is different from the rest, but no reassurance is ever provided. instead, he gives you a quick kiss, tells you he loves you, and heads out of your bedroom for the day, leaving you to lie in bed, perplexed. the two of you had even talked about possible anniversary plans, too.

had he forgotten? sure, diluc was a busy man, singlehandedly dominating mondstadt’s entire wine industry, but you had thought he would at least remember this. as you eat breakfast in silence alone, you stew in your thoughts. was it ungrateful to be mad about such a thing when diluc already did so much for you? hell, you even had the ability to have shorter work hours because of all of his effort and all that he provided you, but the lack of something to do only left you ruminating in your own feelings.

when he finally returns, your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes, despite the fact that he is home earlier than usual. diluc wraps you up in a familiar embrace and you want nothing more than to burst out in tears and cry to him about how you feel forgotten, but diluc’s words interrupt you before you can do such a thing.

“adelinde informed me that one of the maids broke the dining room window,” diluc says. “would you like to go see how much damage there is with me?”

it’s an odd proposition and you want nothing more than to yell at him about how he forgot your anniversary, but you nod and take his hand anyways, for it was diluc asking such a thing and you were utterly whipped and absolutely in love with him. curse these emotions, you grumble to yourself as he guides you to the dining room of dawn winery. as you enter through the double doors, all of your anger at diluc subsides at the sight in front of you.

the dining room has been decorated with several red floral bouquets, ranging from the pinkish-reds of liyuean silk flowers to the deep crimson of traditional red roses. furthermore, string lights and candles illuminate the room in a soft, pale yellow glow, adding to the intimacy of the centerpiece of it all: a cloth-covered table for two, fully prepared for the two of you to eat from.

diluc glances over at you, but manages to contain his nervousness, instead shooting you a cool expression.

“happy anniversary, darling,” he declares and you turn to him, swatting him on the arm lightly. the gesture lacks any real force behind it and diluc only laughs at the motion.

“i thought you forgot!” you exclaim and diluc smiles at you. you glance away, muttering to yourself. “jerk.” the word lacks any malice behind it and diluc only lets out another soft laugh as he clutches your hand more tightly within his.

“do you like it?” he asks, gesturing with his free hand to the scene in front of you.

“i love it,” you respond immediately, gaze fixating on the flowers once more. “who set it up?”

“me.” diluc confesses. “i did not work today. i simply came in here and spent the day setting everything up.”

at such a confession, your heart aches with guilt. archons, he had spent the day preparing and you had the audacity to think he forgot? deciding to alleviate your guilt by giving him something in return, you choose to respond to his statement by pulling him in for a kiss. diluc stiffens in surprise as your lips meet his, but he quickly relaxes into it, placing a hand on the side of your face as you try to convey your gratitude for setting up the venue.

when the two of you finally part your passionate kiss, a light string of saliva forms between the two of you, quickly breaking as you pull away. diluc’s cheeks are flushed scarlet with heat and he stares at you, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the kiss. you decide your debt is paid, albeit temporarily, and take your hand in his once more, guiding him to the table.

“i love you,” diluc states as you tug him gently. you turn to grin at him.

“i love you too.”

#genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #childe #albedo #diluc

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jamespotterthefirst · 2 years

Text

Your Biggest Fan 5/?

Chapter 5: On the Horizon

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.5 K Warning: Language Series: Your Biggest Fan Series Premise: AU: When he is forced to promote his new book on social media, an insolent stranger points out a mistake in his research. Chapter Premise: As their online relationship develops, are they ready to meet in person?

Author’s Note: This one is a little longer than usual. Just had to get some stuff in before their meeting. Also, please forgive any typos or mistakes (I was multi-tasking). I’m sure I’ll catch them and feel embarrassed lol

In between patients, Ethan checks his phone again, not bothering to exert any more mental energy on chastising himself for it. He had long accepted the impulse to look at the screen hoping to see that notification announcing her new message. What Ethan refused to acknowledge, however, was Naveen's suggestions every time he caught Ethan smiling at his phone. Even more infuriating was the old man's knowing smile that grew more smug each time.

“I'd know that smile anywhere. I was young once, too, you know.”

“Could've fooled me.”

In the privacy of his office, Ethan takes a deep breath, his body aching from a long, grueling day at the hospital. After a second of blissful silence, he unlocks his phone and scrolls through that day’s conversation. Still no response from her, but their messages make him feel lighter, some of the day's tension easing from his shoulders.

Their daily conversations over the past week and a half always started with medicine. Ethan would challenge her with the details of his most challenging cases—keeping all patient data confidential—and they would work together through the problem, usually arriving at similar solutions. It never took long for the conversation to turn playful, however, mostly thanks to her natural charm.

This he enjoyed a fraction more than their medical talk. For one, though he'd never admit it to her, she was easily hilarious, always achieving the impossible task of making him smile. Secondly, it was during this part of their interactions that she gave him more information about herself.

Ethan held to each piece zealously. Every bit of herself she shared brought him closer to solving the enigma she had become.

Ethan reads the last line, his stomach swooping. Now more than ever, he wishes he could be having this conversation in person. He'd read her body language and determine if she was flirting or if it is all wishful thinking on his part.

He squints at the screen, noticing a difference in her tiny picture. It's strategically cropped, too far away to distinguish any details of her face. He almost growls in frustration. At the very least, he longs to know the color of her eyes, since she seems to be very aware of his.

Ethan stops, the smile vanishing from his face. Something white hot and fierce pulls at his insides with the force of an iron fist. He doesn't have much time to analyze it because it's gone as soon as it appears.

God.

He feels pathetic.

This is the classic, infantile, obvious flirting method people use to discover if the other person is single. Perhaps it is for the best that they're not face to face. Ethan, being mostly hopeless at casual flirting, would have truly embarrassed himself with that line. In fact, his face burns fiercely and he is convinced she would have taunted him by trying to name the exact shade of pink coloring his face.

No boyfriend.

“Get a grip,” he tells himself through the spike of euphoria those two words catalyze.

When he regains some composure, he realizes he has two more pieces of the Allende puzzle. She is from Los Angeles, with at least part of her family originating from Mexico.

Are you volunteering, Dr. Ramsey?

His mind conjures up a sultry little voice murmuring the words in his ear. Suddenly, the office feels ten degrees warmer. Ethan shifts on his seat and loosens his tie as he reads the words over and over.

That brash recklessness overtakes him again. Suddenly, he longs to ask her out.

“I am. How about tomorrow night at dinner?”

He stops.

How would she respond to that? The one thing he knows about her is how guarded she is. What if the prospect of meeting, let alone for a romantic rendezvous, scares her away? He thinks of an alternative that is far less evident than a high-end dinner. Perhaps his favorite coffee shop a few blocks away?

“Um, excuse me, Dr. Ramsey?”

Ethan jolts on his chair, as though caught doing something indecent. The phone flies from his hand and clatters on his desk.

“Jesus Christ.”

When he looks up, he sees a terrified intern staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“Did no one teach you how to knock? Because I'm fairly certain that skill is engrained in kindergarten.”

“Sorry—” the intern stammers.

“What do you need?”

“Danny—Danny Cardinal— Danny Cardinal at the nurses' station—”

Ethan's eyes sink into the pale face, his patience evaporating by the second. The intern must sense this because she collects herself and rushes on.

“He asked me to tell you about a phone message.”

The message is almost too anticlimactic and Ethan busies himself with a file. “Tell him to forward all future calls to my voicemail.”

The intern shifts on her feet. “We tried but the caller said you'd just delete it.”

Ethan freezes.

“She said her name was F—”

“Never bother me with messages from that individual again, understood?”

His voice is deathly calm, which frightens the intern more.

“Yes, Doctor,” she mumbles before retreating like her life depends on it.

The door doesn't shut all the way because Sharon strolls in, glancing after the terrified intern.

“Just another Tuesday?”

Ethan says nothing, quietly seething. She was getting bolder, calling his work phone. All he wanted was some fucking peace, once and for all.

“What do you want?”

Sharon doesn't even flinch. “Mind your tone or I'll schedule you for book signings at every Barnes and Noble in Massachusetts.”

Ethan allows a cool silence to be his response.

“Let's talk about Harvard this weekend.”

“Don't remind me.”

“That's literally my job.”

“How about this one?” Sienna asks, modeling the turquoise ensemble with a flourish.

Lilac grins.

“Hot,” she comments, gesturing at the deep cut neckline. “And a little risqué with the cleavage. I'm so proud of you.”

“Learned from the best,” Sienna quips back and they both laugh. “What about you? What are you wearing?”

Lilac had arrived to work with Dr. Clemente last week to learn she was retiring. Revered as the older doctor was, not only at Harvard, but in the Boston area, the college decided to throw her a proper send-off in the form of a black tie gala. Lilac, of course, had been invited personally by the guest of honor.

“You can bring a plus one,” Dr. Clemente had said with a wink.

“It'll probably be my best friend, Sienna. Though our friend Jackie will be crushed.”

“Jackie Varma? I like her.” Dr. Clemente had lowered her voice so that only Lilac could hear. “Bring her. In fact, bring as many people as you want. If anyone gives you grief, tell them I approved it.”

“But—”

“What are they going to do? Fire me?”

And that's how a group of broke med students scored an invite to that year's most exclusive event. Landry had looked as though he couldn't decide whether to pass out or kiss Lilac. Luckily, he had settled for a sheepish grin and a rant about all the influential doctors who might be there.

“I'm not sure yet,” Lilac says, absently browsing through the rack of dresses nearby. “I might have something already.”

Thay response is not acceptable, not for Sienna Trinh. They spend the next hour trekking through various different stores. Sienna moves through each with military efficiency, piling gowns on Lilac's arms and steering her into dressing rooms. At last, a black, skin tight number with a scandalous leg slit gets her seal of approval.

“Bitch,” she says affectionately, pairing the proclamation with a low whistle. “How are you single?”

Lilac laughs as she goes back into the dressing room to change.

“What are you going to wear to Dr. Ramsey's event this weekend?”

“Nothing.”

Sienna snorts from the other side of the door.

“Bold. Getting straight to business, I see.”

“No, I meant because I'm not going.”

“What? Why not?”

Lilac pauses to consider what would be the simplest answer to this.

On the one hand, she loved her conversations with him, no matter what the topic was (medicine or his ugly pink sweater). And that was the problem. They had created such a comforting little bubble with this rapport that meeting in person could easily burst it. Right now, they were two strangers who had common interests but if they met in person… then what?

Their conversations had definitely turned flirtatious more often than not. Going to an event, hoping to meet him in person, would definitely communicate an intention of pursuing more. Not to mention that Dr. Ramsey would be totally blindsided by this since he doesn't know Lilac is at Harvard.

“I don't know,” Lilac responds at last. “I feel like a delusional fangirl, to be honest.”

Sienna doesn't reply. The silence is so prolonged, Lilac wonders if she's still there. Then, the door to the dressing room opens gently and her friend gives her a kind smile.

“Is this because of what happened when you were at UCLA?”

Lilac doesn't move, careful to keep her expression neutral. The truth is, however, that just the mention of it sends her heart racing.

“Yes.”

Comforting arms envelop her and Sienna presses her head against Lilac's shoulder. She meets her gaze through the mirror, kind brown eyes full of sympathy.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't realize this reminded you of what happened there.”

“It didn't at first but if I meet him…”

“It's not the same.”

“I know.”

Sienna seems to remember something and cringes. “Oh God. All of our jokes—”

Lilac laughs quietly.

“Don't worry. I didn't take it like that at all.”

They both stay like that, basking in the warm silence. At last, Sienna pulls away and gives her one last, consoling smile.

“You don't have to go if you don't want to. Just don't let what happened stop you from enjoying things.”

She exits the dressing room, leaving Lilac in deep thought. When she checks the thread of messages with Dr. Ramsey, she sees he's typing something. Whatever it is, takes him a long time because no message comes through.

At last, she stores her phone away and heads to the register with Sienna. Her friend's words echo in her mind with every step: “Don't let what happened stop you from enjoying things.”

Her heart is a frantic drum, announcing the arrival of something on the horizon. With a surge of newfound bravery, she realizes that silhouette, so far yet so much closer than it had been in over a year, is her freedom. All she had to do was take the first step…

“I'm going,” she announces.

Sienna's face glows with a smile.

“Yay!”

Lilac's eyes fall on the mannequins in the men's section and she almost laughs out loud. There, proudly styled with a pair of grey trousers is Dr. Ramsey's crepe sweater.

“Be right back,” she tells her friend.

The display below the pink-clad mannequin showcases stacks of similar knit sweaters, all different colors. Lilac carefully pulls out one in navy blue, her fingers brushing through the soft material. It feels comforting, like the sun-basked trail out of the dark, treacherous forest.

“Ooh! You're getting him a gift? Nice touch.” Sienna is beside her. “Why a sweater though?”

“He'll know why.”

A/N: Okay, they’re gonna meet next chapter and get ready because that chapter is the whole reason I wanted to make this a series

As a side note, this is Lilac’s new default pic.

Lucky Old Man Ramsey can’t see it that well because that would have been the end of him.

Thank you so much for reading this!

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #my writing

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

Brown Bear || A. Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hello my loves, this is a double whammy, because it’s for @ssahotchswife‘s soft Hotch Saturday AND for @anxiousblanketqueen’s birthday challenge!

prompt: reading to your baby!

warnings: insane fluff, discussion of pregnancy, mention of morning sickness, injury mention, aaron hotchner being completely wrapped around a baby’s finger

word count: 1.7k

You and your husband hadn’t slept for more than six hours at a time in one month, two weeks, and four days, not that you were counting. Okay, fine, so maybe you were. But to be fair, it also had been one of the most incredible six weeks and four days of your life— the number of days since Alexis Haley Hotchner had entered the world. She was worth every sleepless night.

The past six weeks had been total bliss— both of you on parental leave, Aaron dropping Jack off at school every morning and then coming home to “his girls,” as he had affectionately dubbed the two of you. You’d spend the day together, getting to know the little girl who had stolen both of your hearts in an instant, and then Jack would come home after school and complete your family unit. He couldn’t be more obsessed with his baby sister, and it melted your heart to watch his little fingers push hair out of her even little-r face.

So when Alexis’s coos woke the both of you up at 3AM, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at her. How could you be, when she had come into the world and made everything so perfect? You sat up in bed to go get her, but Aaron threw a tired arm out.

“I got her,” he mumbled, inching himself up to a seated position. “You did the last one.” He says as he tries to delicately disentangle himself from you.

He stumbled out of bed and across the hall into the baby’s room. You hear him simultaneously from her nursery and from the baby monitor on the bedside table as he crosses to her crib.

“Hey, angel, it’s okay. Daddy’s here.” He whispers as he cranes into the crib to pick up Alexis. “Shh, daddy’s got you.” He says, hoisting her up against his chest and placing one large hand over her back.

She’s quiet after a moment, content to be pressed against her father’s chest as he softly bounced around the room to calm her. You couldn’t see her face through the monitor, but you knew her well enough to know that her quiet did not mean she was back to sleep— you were sure that when Aaron checked her big eyes would be wide open and staring up at him.

You were right. Aaron shifted so that she was cradled in his arms and he could see her face, very much awake and enamored with her father.

“Lexie, my little love, “ Aaron cooed out as he settled in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “It’s not time to get up yet. Mama and daddy need a little bit more sleep to keep up with you and your brother.”

Lexie blinked up at him, unconvinced by his pleas.

“Okay, sweet girl. One story, but then you have to go back to sleep.” Aaron answered the question that Lexie couldn’t possibly articulate as he reached blindly for a book off of the shelf next to the rocking chair. She couldn’t even ask for what she wanted, but Aaron was already helpless to do anything but give it to her.

“Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?”

You let out a contented little sigh that no one could hear. You had loved Aaron’s voice since the moment you met him, but listening to him read to Jack and Lexie was always special. He was softer with them, more vulnerable than he was with the team. You could hear his love for them in every syllable.

“I see a red bird looking at me. Red bird, red bird, what do you see?”

He’s so quiet with her, so gentle, and you can’t help but remember the way you stunned him into silence when you told him about her for the first time.

Aaron was away on a case when you found out, off in Michigan or Nebraska or somewhere else that was decidedly not your home in Virginia.

You thought about calling him, but you wanted to see his face when he heard the news. Wanted to be able to pull him into your arms and thank him for choosing you, for choosing to let love in again when life had told him over and over again that doing so was a mistake. You wanted to thank him for this incredible life.

It was late when he finally came home. You had tried to stay up, but the morning sickness had you awake early most days and you were exhausted. You stirred when the bedroom door clicked open.

“Aaron,” you mumbled out, not sure if you really said it or if you just dreamt that you said it.

“Shh, it’s me. Go back to sleep. Love you.” He said, already divesting himself of his suit coat and his tie.

“Turn the light on.”

“Honey, I’m alright.”

It was a habit the two of you had developed— he would never tell you if he was injured on a case, so you insisted on giving him a once-over when he came home, making sure he was all in one piece. Aaron pretended it was ridiculous but he’d never tell you how much your tender touch would warm him from the inside out, how it would bring him back to the bright and soft place in his heart that he saved for you, and how it would pull him out of the darkness he worked in day in and day out.

“Turn on the light, please.”

Aaron obliges you, flicking the switch as he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it in the general direction of the hamper. You squint against the harsh light after just waking up. By the time you’re brave enough to fully open your eyes, Aaron is at your bedside in just his boxers, awaiting his examination with a fond smile. You rise to your knees on the mattress, running a gentle finger over the planes of his jaw and nose before giving him a quick kiss. You missed him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, inspecting his chest and finding only the regular nine scars.

“Turn around.” You tell him.

“The unsub confessed. I didn’t even draw my gun.”

“Well then this should be quick,” you quipped back, and he turned with a roll of his eyes and a smile that betrayed his affection.

As promised, he was completely unharmed, and he turned to face you again.

“Can we go to bed now?” He asked, moving in closer to wrap his arms around you, his hands settling on your hips.

“Aaron,” you said, raising your hands to his face and placing your thumb where you knew his dimple would appear at your next words. “I’m pregnant.”

Sure enough, your thumb slotted right in. He couldn’t bring himself to form any words, but his beaming smile spoke loud enough. You couldn’t help but match it. There was a long beat before he spoke.

“Really?” He whispered, after a moment.

“Yeah, honey. Really,” you confirmed.

“You’re sure?” If he wasn’t smiling so big, you might have mistaken his hesitance for fear. You knew better.

“I haven’t been to the doctor yet, but I’m eight for eight peeing on sticks. I bought every brand at the drugstore. So I’m pretty sure.” You confessed with a little giggle.

He’s kissing you before either one of you can say anything else, and it’s perfect. He’s home, and he’s here, and he’s perfect, and you’re going to have his baby. He’s wrapped up in your arms and you’re wrapped up in his and you’re pretty sure you could just stay like this for the next nine months until Alexis makes her appearance.

Aaron’s snore, loud enough to be heard from both the monitor and your half-opened door, distracts you from your reverie. You smirk a little as you swing your legs out of bed and cross the hall.

The book is propped up open against Aaron’s chest, his arm occupied with cradling your little girl and his other hand splayed over her slight frame. Luckily, she’s asleep too, and you begin your quest to remove them from each other without waking either of them.

Aaron, ever the anxious sleeper, wakes with a start as soon as all nine pounds of Alexis are taken from his arms. You shush him before he can say anything.

“You fell asleep, baby. Go back to bed.”

“Could’ve dropped her.” He murmured, not pleased with himself, and you let out a dissatisfied little tsk as you place Lexi against her crib mattress.

“You had both hands wrapped around her. You weren’t gonna drop her. She was fine.” You corrected him.

He rose from the rocking chair and tugged at your hand. “You coming?”

“I just want to look at her a little bit longer.” You tell him

“You know, you aren’t supposed to be awake at all. Sleep when the baby sleeps.” He chastises with absolutely nothing behind it, settling in to wrap his hands on your waist and tuck his chin into your shoulder.

You watch her for a moment, or two or three. It’s hard to tell. You could look at her forever.

“Thank you,” you both say after a moment, and turn to each other with exhausted little smiles.

“Come on, let’s get back to sleep before we get sentimental and weepy,” Aaron teases, tugging you back towards the bedroom.

“It’s a little too late for that, love.” You tell him as you climb into bed, scooting towards the middle of the mattress so you could wrap your arms around him and place your head on his chest. He just places his lips against your forehead by way of response, falling back to sleep before he can move away. You sigh that contented little sigh again, and Aaron’s arm pulls you in closer to him. He really had given you the perfect life. You couldn’t wait to repay him with baby number three.

#jtr23 #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotchner doesn't look like a real word anymore

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bluesora · 3 years

Text

celebrating mother’s day with you

tsukishima kei ; sugawara kōshi ; oikawa torū ; kita shinsuke

headcanon ; fluff ; age up ; snippets of cuteness ; parenthood ; special edition — mother’s day

note: i’m not sure if i portrayed each characterization well but i just thought it’ll be fun to write one. after all, i was blessed to be born with loving parents and i just wanted to share the love i’m grateful for.

tagging: @forgetou @amjustagirl @yacoka @haikyuutothetop @luvnami ;; thank you for dropping these characters as i couldn’t decide who to write for. (of course it was more exciting without context)

ps. it’s longer than expected i’m sorry :’)

tsukishima kei

tsukishima isn’t one who would remember special occasions unless someone had schedule a plan in advance with him. when he wondered if he should do anything for you after hearing his colleagues whispering during break, his work got busier than usual so he had forgotten about it.

that was, until he realized he had ten missed calls from his son; which was odd because he weren’t one to call him so often.

“i was in a meeting, what hap—” before tsukishima could finish his sentence, his son interrupted him, “i bought mom’s favorite cake since you’re slow. hurry home or there’s none left for you,” the line was cut right after; which of course left poor tsukishima’s partner to deal with the aftermath. “tsukishima-san, about the report—”

“it must be so urgent that it needs my immediate attention even when i’m packing up right?” his words dripped of pure sarcasm despite the polite smile hanging from his lips. everyone could literally see the panic swirling in his partner’s pupil.

“i’m sorry!! good work today and see you tomorrow!!” it’s the weekend tomorrow, but tsukishima was too hung up on his son’s attitude to shoot another of his sarcastic reply.

you, on the other hand, were neither someone who would celebrate such occasion unless it was for birthdays or holidays. therefore, you didn’t really had anything in mind nor were you expecting anything as well.

when you finally reached home from a tiring day at work, you were definitely not expecting to see your favorite cake on the table while your son popped a party popper with a party horn in his mouth right beside you.

“happy mother’s day!” he tried to mumble out with the horn still in his mouth. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected surprise, dropping your bag on the counter just so you could hug him—one that he wholeheartedly hugged you back because tsukishima wasn’t around.

it took an hour for tsukishima to be home, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand when he walked over to where you and the cheeky lad was sitting. “oh! you didn’t have to though,” you smiled in surprise.

“dad’s just guilty he forgot about our promise and didn’t want to come home empty handed.” you chuckled at that, perhaps it wasn’t entirely wrong either but you still appreciate the sentiment. it was rare for him after all.

“those who break promises don’t get desserts.” he continued to press his dad’s buttons, only to see tsukishima loosened his tie with an expression he could not understand.

“oh, but that’s on your mom to decide if i’ll get one tonight or not.” you could feel your face heating up at your husband’s words, the tone and smile that dawned on his face was a look you knew oh so well.

“tch...i thought i hid it well.” of course, your clueless son didn’t know the true meaning of those words and thought the strawberry shortcake he bought for his dad was found out.

sugawara kōshi

sugawara would definitely plan in advance with the children. especially when they were the ones who excitedly wanted to do something for you.

“mama like animals! lets go to the zoo!” the middle child exclaimed with so much enthusiasm, sugawara could only chuckle at her adorable smile.

“you only said that because you wanted to go to the zoo, dummy.” the eldest one huffed, feeling proud that he saw through her obvious tactic.

it didn’t take long for the two to start crawling over each other in a fight while the youngest one giggled amusingly as if she was watching a performance. that was, until an insult was thrown at her so she joined in the fight to prove her worth.

“if you don’t stop now, we’ll be celebrating at home like how we did the past two years.” that immediately ceased all action, since they haven’t had the chance to go out together as a whole family thanks to your busy schedule.

“how about the park? the cherry blossoms have bloomed and mama likes going to the park!” of course, sugawara was fond of this idea. it’s been a while since there was a family picnic session.

and so on that very day in which you finally managed to take a day off, you weren’t expecting to be blind folded while having your children guide you to wherever you were supposed to be.

knowing how clumsy the trio could be, he wanted to accompany them as well but was outright rejected when they said they could do it themselves with so much confidence, he wasn’t sure who they got it from.

with their tiny hands, it took a while for them to tie the piece of cloth around your eyes, and even when they did, it wasn’t tied well enough so you could actually still see your footing (which saved you immensely from all the accidental knocks along the way)

after what felt like forever, you finally reached the park where they shouted ‘happy mother’s day’ in unison. you kind of already knew it’ll be a picnic from the soft grass beneath your feet and those fallen pink petals, but you were still moved to tears when you saw your children squeezed together into your husband’s arms while cute decoration and plates of food were spread between you and them.

“mama, try the cookie first! i made them myself!” the middle one was the first to break the silence.

“no! try my sandwich first, i’m the eldest!”

“so what if you’re the eldest? mama must be thirsty from walking so have my ultimate happy berry juice!” the youngest chirped with pride, as if her logic was a straight pass to winning.

you laughed at their competitive nature, which was oh so endearing at the same time. and it was obvious if you don’t decide soon, an all out food war was going to happen.

“before that, shouldn’t mama receive papa’s present first?” sugawara’s cheerful voice interrupted their little argument, and just before the youngest could ask what it was, her eyes was covered by the eldest son along with the middle one.

you couldn’t help but hit his arm in embarrassment when his lips met yours longer than it should’ve been.

“hey! that’s not fair, i didn’t get to see papa’s present,” your middle one sulked, only to be carried into sugawara’s arms as he peck her little cheek with a wink. “why don’t you ask mama what it was, baby?”

oikawa torū

it was supposed to be a big surprise where he came home earlier than the date he had told you. he even told the kids about it and they promised to make it a success (money was definitely involved to be honest)

“make sure you delay mummy at the grocery store long enough for me to set everything up in time.” he reminded his daughter time and time again, only to have her sigh at his impatience.

“i think i’m old enough to not forget something so simple dad. and please stop addressing mom like that, it’s creepy.” she cringed, wondering how you even deal with oikawa every day.

“dad, have you even baked a cake before? do you think you can get it done within an hour or maybe two?” his son asked the third time that day, which did irk oikawa with that tone of his.

“of course i can! are you looking down on me? it’s just a simple vanilla cake and some fruits on top. how hard can it be?”

of course, with every rhetorical question that pose a challenge, there would always be an answer exactly of what’s to be expected.

you, with no idea that your husband was making a mess of your kitchen, took your own sweet time at the grocery store since your daughter was there to help and it’s been a while since you had a mother and daughter bonding time.

“do you think your dad would like to have curry tomorrow? or should we just have hamburger steak?” you asked, still unsure of the menu for a celebratory dinner.

“i think he would like anything you cook, so don’t worry about it. dad’s always so happy to eat your homemade meals.” she answered with shrug, but you could tell she was happy to rely the same sentiment.

everything went smoothly and she did managed to stall your time with her longer than the agreed duration. that was, until she received a text from her brother saying dad’s cake was a failure and they should just get one outside; you two were already at the apartment lift when she read it.

“dad, i think you should just give up. they are already walking over from the—” oikawa having enough of his son’s constant nagging about how he should’ve just bought a cake instead, threw a whiff of flour to his son’s face without thinking.

and of course, which kid would not retaliate from that. the kitchen, which originally wasn’t as messy, turned into chaos of white fluff and sticky childish banter between the two.

you, not expecting to see your husband, was clearly surprise when you heard his voice by the door. the only excitement that came from that vanished the moment your eyes fell onto the state of your kitchen.

“happy mother’s day?” oikawa managed to choke out when he felt your growing presence with each step towards him.

“i’m sorry mom, it was my fault please don’t kill dad—” your son pleaded softly by the side, only to fell speechless when you threw yourself into oikawa’s arms instead.

“welcome home,” you greeted with so much warmth, oikawa couldn’t help but embraced you tightly as he replied, “i’m home.”

“mom? you’re not mad?” your daughter asked in disbelief when she brought the groceries – including the ones you dropped – over to the kitchen.

“mad? why would i be when you dad’s sleeping in the kitchen tonight.” you were so serious and certain, the two broke into fits of laughter as they ran from their father (which was fertile because they got caught immediately and was tickled to tears)

“why are you laughing when you two are having a sleepover with daddy tonight.”

“please dad, just stop.”

kita shinsuke

there was no surprises because kita’s way of celebrating was just regular activities but doing it together. which was honestly, what you love to do most since you don’t always get the chance of spending weekdays with your family often.

from preparing meals to visiting town, usually it would be done by kita himself. however, this time because of the special occasion, you took time off to accompany your husband while bringing your little ones along with you.

“mama here’s the carrot,” your little girl placed the orange vegetable on the chopping board before humming a tune while the other twin helped kita with picking the ends of the beansprouts.

“papa are we going to town later?” she beamed excitedly, hands still working on the tiny vegetable while her legs swung to the rhythm of her twin sister’s melody.

“yes, we are. do you have a place you want to visit?” he was done with his side so he continued onto the pile his daughter was removing.

“yes! we want to go to onigiri miya!” they both said at the same time, giggling right after when their father looked surprise.

“all right, let’s go after our lunch.” and everything went along smoothly with the little twins setting the table together while you and kita took turns to cook up the dishes. lunch was pleasant despite minimal words being exchanged since the twins were taught to not talk with their mouth full (and their mouth are always stuffed full)

while you and kita held hands with the twins walking hand in hand by themselves in front, the feeling of nostalgia seemed to tickle your bones at the memory of how you used to take long strolls with kita during your younger days.

“what’s wrong?” kita tugged your hand gently which snapped you back to reality when you realized you all have reached the store.

“nothing...i’m just grateful to be your wife and mother of two beautiful angels.” your smile had him press a fluttering kiss to your temple as he softly replied, “me too.”

“i see yer two are still as lovey-dovey as ever captain.” atsumu popped his head out from the entrance, both twins sitting comfortably on his arms as he carried them as if they were feathers.

“i’m not your captain anymore atsumu, but i see they both seemed to like you.” kita smiled at his two lovely dolls, one that atsumu have never seen much of because of his busy schedule.

“of course, who do you think i am? the better—” but before atsumu could even finish his flex, the two snapped their head over at the appearance of osamu in his apron. their hands immediately reaching out for the man to hug.

“uncle osamu!!” they squealed happily, trying their best to squirm out of atsumu’s grip.

“i guess not huh ‘tsumu,” osamu smirked at the annoyed twin, patting his hands dry before prying the little twins from his brother’s vice grip. of course, they both would fight over the kid’s affection. who wouldn’t right?

you watched the pair of twins in amusement with your head against kita’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your delicate frame. this too will be yet another moment kita would not forget, for he felt blissful to be their father and your husband.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq x reader #hq headcanons #tsukishima kei #sugawara koshi #oikawa toru #kita shinsuke #tsukishima x reader #sugawara x reader #oikawa x reader #kita x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #tsukishima hcs #sugawara hcs #oikawa hcs #kita hcs

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h2bakugou · 3 years

Text

summary: bakugou despises you, more than he does anyone else. you’re strong, and you don’t take shit from anyone. so when bakugou confronts you, it’s more than just a heated argument that ensues.

you can read the original piece here!

all characters aged 18+ au!!

a/n: a rewrite of a classic, one of the first ever fics written here on h2bakugou, hope you loves enjoy this!

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, smut

word count: 2.7k

nsfw under the cut!!!

»»————-　★　————-««

Being discouraged was never an option. Your goal to be a hero had been driven by your perseverance. Your classmates chose the words ‘driven’ and ‘passionate’ to describe you in your first year year-book.

Growing up, you’d been influenced by the words of others, and you vowed to not let them discourage you any longer. You wanted to be a hero, so you’d use their criticism and challenges to better yourself.

Yet, now as a third year, you were still facing challenges. One blonde, explosive, challenge named Katsuki Bakugou that had despised you the day you bucked up to him.

He hated you. Truthfully, he didn’t understand why. You were just so, aggravating. Though in reality, he saw a bit of himself in you. That fire that raged inside driving you further, he knew what that was like.

You weren’t afraid of him. You tested him every day. From ranking higher than him in tests, to beating his ass in training, god you were wiping the floor with him since you were a measly little first year still trying to learn everyone’s names.

On your side of the spectrum, you had to give credit where credit was due. Katsuki was an extremely talented, and attractive individual. He excelled in his classes, got outstanding grades, and had immense power.

But those things didn’t make up for his atrocious attitude, cocky and arrogant demeanor, and brash exterior.

You were closed off, and had boundaries-something Bakugou didn’t understand. Why you were so closed off was a mystery, something Bakugou wanted to desperately understand. A part of him was curious to see what was hiding behind your own brash exterior.

He watched the way you bit the inside of your cheek when he called you out during a slip up in training.

But what made him far more angrier than when you ignored him, was when you got along with Todoroki.

You always seemed to be smiling around the guy, asking how he’d been over the weekend, despite living in dorms together.

Brushing up on him, rustling his hair, it made his blood boil. What did you see in him?

Today was dragging along like any other, your class stood fixed in the gym, working on some new training regiment put together by your third year Heroics teacher.

It was something similar to the ones you’d done hundreds of times by now, but you’d slipped up, a few times. You were tired, you’d barely gotten any sleep last night because classes finished late and left you to do your homework and shower on top of other things you had to do which landed you in bed at almost three or four in the morning.

So your slip up was something small, but Bakugou noticed. And he was about to make it known.

“You’re slacking today! A slip-up like that coulda getcha’ killed, maybe you should practice some more.” Bakugou chastised, smirking at you. As the buzzing fluorescent lights gleamed over your eyes, he could see so much more than anger bubbling inside them.

He now noticed the heavy undereye bags, and the way your eyes seemed to water. But as he stared into your eyes, he realized this was the first time this week you’d actually looking him in the eye when he said something to you.

You weren’t perfect, you still had moments of doubt, late at night when you thought about what might happen if they were right. What if you weren’t meant to be a hero?

Shaking it out of your head, you didn’t say anything. You focused back on your training, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Todoroki. He shot Bakugou a glare which only caused him to grumble and speak again.

“Get your head outta’ your ass, I’m not pining after your little girlfriend. She’s clearly been putting her mind elsewhere if she’s this fuckin’ terrible today.”

Despite initiating the joke, hearing himself call you Todoroki’s girlfriend made him seethe with anger. He was furious. Why’d he say that?

“Shut up.” Todoroki replied cooly, following you out of the gym to the locker rooms.

You just laughed to yourself before you got water. Todoroki let out a stressed sigh as he stared at you.

“He’s being extra rude today.” Todoroki mentioned.

“Maybe he’s just horny.” You grimaced thinking about Bakugou and the words ‘being horny.’

“How would that tie into his anger toward you?”

“Sexual. Frustration.”

Bakugou couldn't take much more of you ignoring him. Why were you so dead-set on making him seem invisible? You barely bit back at him when he called you out, and he knew you could say whatever you wanted, you’d done it to others who tried you. So what made him any different?

This was just one of those occurrences, and as he ran them through his head, every time he checked, there was always some case of you ignoring him when all he wanted was a stupid fucking acknowledgement from you. He was going to talk to you.

And he was going to do it now.

You’d finally left the gym, taken a shower, and you were now steadily approaching your dorm. You were tired, and ready to speed through any homework you might have so you could head to bed early.

But a pair of strong hands forced your shoulders into the wall.

“What’s your fuckin’ deal?” Bakugou growled at you. You just stared at him.

“What?” You answered softly, unsure of what he was accusing you of.

“You think you’re so much better than me, than everyone else huh? Walkin’ around like you fuckin’ own the place? What makes you that fucking good!?” Bakugou spat at you.

His fingers dug into your shoulder blades as he urged you to answer his question. You shoved him off of you and managed to escape his attempts at grabbing your wrists.

“I don’t. You fucking act like you own the place, like being powerful is all it takes to be number one. You might wanna take your head outta’ your ass before your hair turns brown.” You marched off to your room, fed up with Katsuki’s behavior.

“Oh yeah!? Then why do you act like such a fuckin’ ass to me!?” Bakugou shouts, running after you.

“Because you treat me like shit! You call me weak when I slip up, you’re always on my fucking case. You think I really wanna be your friend?” You stop and stare at him.

“Or maybe it’s just because you’re a stubborn asshole that’s too blinded by his idea of being number one that he’s so fucking distracted by his arrogance to see that he’s really just a douche.”

Your back hit your dorm door. Bakugou towered over you as his shadow cast down upon you.

“You need to watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or maybe you need an attitude adjustment. Everyone’s grown so much but you still seem to think you’re hot shit, huh?” You reach for your doorknob, going to twist it, but you were to slow.

“I said...” Bakugou’s eyes bore into you.

“You need to watch your fucking mouth.” Bakugou opened your door, watching as you fell back, no longer supported by the wood of your door.

“Make me.” You grunted, catching yourself from falling onto the floor.

Bakugou’s eye twitched as he followed you into your room, closing and locking the door behind himself.

“Hey, what the fuck are you-”

“You’re such a bitch, just shut up already.” Bakugou groaned, yanking you further back into your room.

It all was beginning to make sense. Bakugou wanted to-

“This isn’t going to change how I think of you.” You blurted out, knowing exactly what the blonde wanted. He stared at you with a smirk.

“Put that pretty mouth to something useful unlike talking.” Bakugou began to undo his pants, allowing them to pool around his ankles.

“You really want me to suck your cock? I don’t know, what if I bite?” You grin, watching as he angered above you.

“What the fuck did I just say?” A handful of your hair was yanked in his fist, tilting your head back.

“A-alright.” You replied. Your cunt throbbed, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together. Why were you so turned on? You didn’t exactly like Bakugou, but he was attractive. You’d give him that, but his looks didn’t make up for his horrendous attitude.

His cock stared at you, hard, tip leaking precum. You graced a single hand over the base, jerking him slowly as you leaned your head toward it. You placed a teasing kiss to the head, smearing his precum around your lips like a lipgloss.

Allowing just the head to slide into your mouth, you stared up at him, watching him fumble with his hands.

“First time?” You pulled off to tease him which resulted in his cock slamming past your lips and hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes shot open wide as your throat burned, his cock rutting down inside your mouth.

It hurt, but it felt good at the same time.

“You really are a slut, huh. Bet you let guys use this little throat like it’s nothing.” Bakugou spat at you. You wished you could’ve said something back to him, but his cock ramming down your throat was sadly stopping you.

You could hear his whines as he grew close to cumming, but he didn’t want to waste his spend inside your mouth, so he pulled out, hissing as you licked his sensitive cock head a few times as he left your lips.

“I wanna taste you.” You murmured, reaching your hand back up to his cock, ushering him to cum in your mouth.

“H-hey!” Bakugou grunted as your mouth reconnected to his cock. It was too late for him, you were blowing him like no one had ever blown him before. And he was busting in your mouth seconds later.

Swallowing his cum and opening your mouth to show him afterward, Bakugou shook his head.

“Nasty whore.” Bakugou replied, forcing you up and onto the bed, landing on your tummy.

“Had you just asked, I would’ve laid down.” Your shirt was torn off mercilessly by Bakugou, his desperate hands trying to free your tits. Afterward came your sheer tights, followed by your panties. They pooled around your ankles as he left your skirt on for his little fantasies to run wild.

Allowing a firm hand to slap against your now exposed ass, he groaned to himself as he kneaded the skin of your ass between his fingers.

“Pervert.” You mumbled.

Two fingers swiped through your glistening, slick-coated folds.

“The fuck did you just call me?” Bakugou teased, allowing his thumb to rub small, slow, agonizing, circles around your clit.

“F-fuck.” You breathed out, arching your back into his touch.

“Aw does that feel good slut? You want more?” Bakugou dipped his middle finger into your cunt, watching as you mewled underneath him.

You gripped your sheets with embarrassment, unsure of why you’d succumbed to him so fast. You hung your head in disapponment at yourself.

“More. Want more.” You mumbled, feeling empty as his fingers disappeared from your cunt.

“Didn’t know you’d get so wet just from sucking cock.” Bakugou chastised you again.

“Didn’t think you knew where the clit was.” You groaned. However your comment was punished by a striking feeling between your folds.

His fingers slapped against your clit, making you whine as he toyed with you.

“Surely if this wasn’t it, you’d be quiet right now.” Bakugou was just messing around with you at this point. You were panting as his fingers left your abused clit.

He bent down, spreading your cunt open with his fingers, dipping his tongue into your tight hole. You mewled as the appendage ravaged you. Flicking between your cunt and your clit, he was making you scream into your sheets as you came on his tongue.

His chuckled, licking up your mess as he pulled himself away.

“So messy.” He groaned.

“I bet you’ve been waiting for this cock to fill you up huh. I bet you finger this little cunt thinking about it.” Bakugou rubs the tip of his cock between your folds, butting it against your clit, watching as you whine.

“Just fuck me already.” You were tired of hearing him talk. You wanted him inside you.

“I can wait.” He pulled away, allowing the tip of his cock to just barely touch the folds of your pussy. You whined in response.

“Fuck, please fuck me. Please fill me up.” You begged, laying defeated against the mattress, your ass still hoisted in the air.

“That’s more like it-shit so fuckin’ tight.” Bakugou winced, his cock plunging through your tight folds. It felt so good. You were squeezing him, milking his cock without giving him a second to breathe. He felt like cumming again.

“I thought with-fuck-how cocky you were, you were gonna be smaller.” You retorted, mewling as his cock stretched you out, rubbing against your walls.

“You’re gonna regret ever thinking that.” Bakugou responded by peeling your ass apart with his hands, spitting down onto his cock as it slid out of you and then plunged back into you, sending your body jolting forward.

You moaned loudly as his cock plowed through your cunt, his hands now gripping your waist, holding you in place.

“Not so big and bold when you’re stuffed full of this cock huh?”

“You always fuck this good when you’re angry?” You groan, panting as he rearranges your insides.

“You wanna fuck me when I’m not?” Bakugou teases, sliding out of you before thrusting back in. Your long moan shows him he’s doing a good job.

“You might be attractive but your attitude is the worst.” You whine, feeling like you can’t hold the sheets between your fingers tighter.

“I’ll keep that in mind, slut.” Bakugou leaned and grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking it upward, pulling you into his chest. Another hand gripped your throat.

“Fuck, right there!” You mewled, his cock plowing into you at a different angle, the head of his cock bruising all the good spots inside of you.

“Why don’t you cum on this cock?” Bakugou whispered, biting down against your shoulder.

“C-cumming!” You moaned, your cunt clamping down around his cock as you reached your high. Bakugou hissed as you squeezed around him, forcing his spend out of him and into your cunt.

He let you fall against the mattress as he pulled out, a lewd squelching sound followed by his cum leaking from your pussy was a sight to behold the blonde’s eyes.

Snapping a quick picture for later, he reached for something to wipe you up with before laying down beside you.

“Maybe if you shut up half of the time I’d talk to you.” You mumbled, still trying to catch your breath.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Bakugou stared at you.

“It means...” You rolled over on top of him, leaning down toward his face.

“We’d make a good couple if you weren’t an asshole.” You press a cheeky kiss to his lips, short enough for him not to be able to kiss back. He groans and flips the tables, forcing you under him as he kisses you passionately.

“So fuckin’ date me then and stop fuckin’ around with that half and half bastard.” Bakugou replies.

“Are you blushing?” You tease the blonde, your own cheeks feeling hotter than usual. Bakugou groans and plants his face into your pillow.

“Shut the fuck up. And not a word of this to anyone-”

“Unless I become your girlfriend yeah I know.” You lay beside him and yank up the covers over your naked body, kicking off the rest of your clothes that were uncomforabtly stuck around your ankles.

“I don’t really mean to be such an ass. I just thought-”

“Exactly, you assumed I was a dick. Just shut up, you’re making this worse for you. You really want me to break up with you after we just got together?”

Bakugou is dead silent for the rest of the night as he eventually cuddles up next to you.

The following morning, a few people are surprised to see you actually speaking to Bakugou, and Todoroki is one of them.

Though by the end of the week, most everyone knew what went down, Bakugou mentioned it to Kirishima on accident and then it had spread.

Todoroki was thoroughly surprised, due to the entire nature of you and Bakugou’s previous relationship. But ultimately, as long as you were happy, he couldn’t be mad.

“About time you realized you liked her.” He mentioned swiftly to Bakugou as they passed in the common room.

“What you’d say to me!?”

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

267 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Rock ‘n’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 1- Disco Down

Intro: It's range day. SWAT vs LAPD Special Crimes branch. You and your finance decide to have a bit of fun with the interdepartmental competition.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So yeah, I started another series. Bad WIYBUPT. But there aint enough Disco out there so I thought I’d rectify that situation. This is also another entry for @imanuglywombat ‘s “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “Juicy Ass”. See here for more information.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

It was early in the morning, the first warm rays of the LA sunshine had barely begun warming the pavement when the two of you had started your day. Paul was already pouring you both coffee to go as you met him in the kitchen, dressed in your Swat training tee, utility pants and standard issue uniform boots, hair French braided back. You smirked at the dapper young detective before you, slacks, dress shoes, button down and tie.

It'd been a gruelling last few weeks for you both. You were working a SWAT case with your unit and Paul was busy working an LAPD Vice officer's homicide. He would trudge in late at night, either from the precinct or more recently from a night out with Vice following some leads. You were always already asleep and he didn't want to wake you. He'd kiss you softly, shower, kiss you again and crawl into bed, hugging you close.

Now, you were both getting ready to head out, finally having slept in the same bed together for the first time in weeks. Given your nature, the two of you were playfully squabbling over the upcoming late afternoon's task, a joint fire arms training session between your unit, LAPD SWAT and Paul's unit. The joint time spent at the range always turned into pool of who'd win and, usually, was too close to call rounding off with each team going head to head in a final duel.

And things were getting competitive in the Diskant home.

"If I can make it," Paul grumbled, "we should sweeten the deal."

"You'll make it.” You popped a shoulder. “Paul Diskant doesn't miss a day at the range, nor friendly competition. So, name your terms?" You smirked mischievously over the rim of your mug, watching him adjust his tie.

"Winner gets a favor." Paul devilishly replied.

"What kind of favor?" You played along and the look on his face already made your insides squirm as he raised a brow and curled his lips further in his smirk. "Paul!"

"Y/N!" Paul mimicked, cutting the distance between you, big hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing along your shirt. "Baby, it's been days. This Vice case has me pulled away longer than I have been since I was a beat cop."

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, fingers grazing the point where the short hairs of his buzz-cut met his neck.

“Fine." You kissed him deeply, the taste of coffee on both your tongues but something that was just him too. "We'll call it a bonus." “Bonus...” he nodded. “I can run with that.”

“You couldn’t run a fucking bath, Disco.” "Oh Sweetheart, you're on." The challenge in his voice and mischief in his eyes lit a fire under you. You kissed him again and moved away, a swift smack from his hand to your ass made you yip but you kept walking.

****

The drive into the station was quiet, you reading over your training schedule for the day and Paul driving. The only sound that filled the vehicle was the sound of him humming along to the radio, thumb tapping along to the beat of the song on his steering wheel, before you heard him let out a loud sigh.

"I have some stuff to chase down this morning but if nothing pans out, I should be at the range with the rest of my unit."

"Well, then I'll hope it doesn't pan out, just so I can kick your ass with my Glock," you chuckled as he let out a groan.

"Baby, you know, watching you handle that Glock and riffle makes me horny as fuck right? Nothing like a woman that can shoot," Paul admitted. He took your left hand away from the file and pressed his lips to the top of it. He knew why you did it, but he still hated not seeing your diamond flashing on your finger all day.

"Oh yeah?" You turned your standard issued sunglass covered eyes to him, "is that why you wanted to marry me?"

Paul chortled, “one reason among the many."

He pulled into the carport and parked in his designated spot. You exited the vehicle and gathered your bag from the popped trunk.

"See you at the range, don't be late, or I'll have to listen to Rodriguez bitch as she drives me home." You gave him a teasing kiss and slung your bag over your shoulder, walking away.

"Hey, Y/N?" He called after you. You stopped and turned around to look at him, lifting your sunglasses to the top of your head. "Don’t waste too much energy today, huh? You’re gonna need all the strength you have tonight, Baby."

You chuckled to yourself, "Just show up, we'll talk energy later," you rolled your eyes and walked off, flipping him the bird over your shoulder.

The scorching sun boiled across the training facility tucked between the hills of the valley, away from the hustle of the city and just far enough out of reach for civilians. Abandoned buildings and, green fields and a simulated neighborhood made up the grand, multi-million dollar facility. You and your team had been at it all morning, moving through the buildings in full tactical gear and safety equipment. Together you cleared buildings, fired upon fake assailants and suspects. You and your partner, Alma Rodriguez, even hit the weights and boxing bags to keep loose after a hand to hand session against Everett and Evans. To keep your trigger fingers hot and ready, you played a round of long range sniper poker, you of course beating the team with a straight flush, bullets hitting their targets dead center.

It was the last hours of daylight by the time Special Branch showed up and you couldn't help but smirk as you watched Paul set up his gear from across the field. Long gone were his slacks and tie, and now, he was dressed in a tight black tee with the edges of his two bicep tattoos peeking out from the hem, and uniform issue pants and boots, his wrap arounds shielding those beautiful blues you loved getting lost in.

You smirked as the two of you locked glances, his smile forming across plump lips. A cocky flick of his head was sent in your direction and you laughed, pulling a hundred dollar bill from your pocket and slapping it flat against the table.

The competition started, pairing SWAT members against Specials, two by two until both your captains were the final two.

"Shooters on the line," the facility command officer called. Each shooter stepped up, readying their rifles. Your team lined up behind your boss, Paul and his desk buddies watching from their side. "Stand by... Ready..." The whistle sounded and the first shots at their prospective targets were fired.

Firing judges followed behind each shooter, judging accuracy, safety and protocol. Three rifle shots fired down range and the shooters tossed their weapons to the side, tucking and rolling one roll with their hand on their pistol all while watchful eyes looked on. Your boss didn't roll, but Paul's did and the snickering started from Special Branch. It didn't deter your focus as you watched your boss, Captain Rogers, finish the round. Three shots fired at metal targets, each one going down in accuracy, then a clip reload and three more shots fired at a close range target before the commanding judge asked both men to put their weapons on safe and holster them. He approached each target for accuracy and declared Paul's boss, Captain Wilson, the winner of the round. That brought the two teams to a tie.

The Detectives cheered and razzed SWAT but both captains settled their groups down. The field judge confirmed the tie in the competition and groans sounded from both teams.

"I'll tell you what, I'll toss in an extra two hundred bucks to pit Y/L/N against your pick," Rogers held two one hundred dollar bills up, handing them over to the field judge for safe keeping.

"Alright, I see your two and raise two," Captain Wilson held out his bills, "for Diskant to take that challenge."

"Oooooooh", both teams razzed the real life couple.

You couldn’t help the smirk on your face as one of Paul’s colleagues piped up that this could back fire spectacularly as would Paul really want to risk pissing off the woman who controlled his sex life.

“That’s exactly why he wants to win,” you jibed back, causing him to roll his eyes and scoff, “because his sex life is on the line if he doesn’t.”

More laughter rang out across the area as Paul merely shrugged, a smile flickering across his face as you heard Rogers speak loudly to Wilson from behind you.

“Between us, two hundred on my girl to blow your man outta the water."

Paul leaned down, to whisper into your ear, a smirk plying on his lips, "something's gonna get blown."

"What was that?" You coyly played.

“Sure you wanna do this?” He asked, turning to look at you, his brow arched. “I mean you could just forfeit now and save yourself the embarrassment.”

You held his gaze for a moment before you made a show of dragging your eyes down his body, your gaze lingering on his crotch as if you were contemplating his offer, before you raised your head, your tongue poking out from between your lips a little.

“Did you forget to zip up?" You asked. Paul gave a start, his head jerking down to look at his ‘piece’ so to speak, and at that moment the whistle was blown to start.

The first shots were fired, Paul's just seconds behind yours. Tucking behind the mailboxes for your next shot, you nailed your target and moved forward to fire your final rifle round, using a metal barrel as your cover. You laid your riffle to rest, took a few steps, tucked your chin and rolled, planting your feet and rising up to draw your personal firearm. Poised for your next quick shot behind a mock window frame, you fired at the target and moved on, Paul's form in your peripheral, matching you shot for shot. Coming around the frame you fired a walking shot at your next target and then took your place at the final marker, firing away before the expected reload and emptying your clip into the standing paper target with his hostage.

"Safety on... Holsters." The range judge called after he blew his whistle. You and Paul followed his commands and waited as he examined your individual targets. It was close, you knew it. Paul was an excellent shot.

You watched as the judge looked over Paul's target first, poking his finger through two holes in the face before moving on to yours. You nailed your target, all three shots hitting the suspect. One dead shot to the center of his head, the other in the chest and the last in the torso.

"Here's your winner," the judge declared, pointing at your target.

Cheers began to ring out and you heard Paul groan loudly, turning to you. "You cheated.”

"I guess the favor's on you," You quipped as behind him you saw Captain Rogers holding his hand out, ready to receive the cash prize from Wilson.

“You still cheated.”

“I did no such thing!” You scoffed.

“You distracted me.” He folded his arms across his chest, a sullen pout on his handsome face.

“Well, you should know better than to take your eye off the target, Disco,” you smirked and he narrowed his eyes playfully. “On second thought, I think I will let Rodriguez take me home. Burgers and beer on you. Don't forget the extra pickles."

He smirked, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, "come on, ride back with me, I'll make it worth your while."

"Erm, unless I'm mistaken you just lost so..." You popped a shoulder, your eyes not leaving his as you began walking backwards away from him. "I'm in charge."

“I want a divorce.” He shot back and you laughed, shaking your head.

“We’re not married yet, hot shot.” You winked.

“Details.” He waved his hand and you snorted, before you turned and jogged to catch up with your colleagues.

*****

As per your instructions, Paul didn’t forget the extra pickles and later that evening the pair of you were sat on the sofa in your comfy clothes, food and beer in hand as you lounged back watching a film on the Television. You stole a glance at your fiancé for a moment, his sharp profile illuminated in the soft light of the lamp to his right. He really was incredibly handsome, and you often wondered daily how the hell you’d gotten so lucky, as he could have had his pick of women, they tended to fall at his feet wherever you went. But he’d chosen you. Not only that, he’d pursued you. It had taken him a good few weeks after you’d both met on a case when he was in Uniform to finally accept his offer of a date. The dates had continued, and six months later you’d moved in together, and a year or so after that, he’d gotten down on one knee in the middle of your apartment and asked you to be his wife.

Which, reminded you of something you’d heard before.

With a smirk you turned your attention back to the film, took another bite of your burger before you spoke, your tone light and airy.

"So... strippers huh?"

Paul hastily swallowed his food and turned to look at you. "What?"

"Nothing, just typical."

"No, what?" He chuckled.

"I just heard one of the guys before commenting about how the wedding is getting closer so the stag do needs planning. The words Vegas and strippers were mentioned. Several times"

"Fucking Adler, man," he shook his head, dropping his empty burger container into the paper bag on the table in front of you.

“So you are going to Vegas, then?” You shoved another fry in your mouth to stop the smirk from spreading at the teasing.

"Uh, yeah," his reply was nonchalant, but he rubbed at his neck in that way he always did when he was a little nervous or uncomfortable. His big tell.

"Right. And there will be strippers?”

“Yes, there PROBABLY will be strippers." He side eyed you a little as he reached for his beer, the faint flush of red visible on the back of his neck as you took the final bite of your food.

“How probably?”

"There MAYBE be a night at the club." He leaned back, bottle in hand.

"Dicks." You gave a dramatic sigh, dropping your now empty food container into the bag with his. You made a show of scrunching down the top of the bag, dropping it to the floor by the side of the sofa, ready to be taken to the trash, before you leaned back, shaking your head.

"What?" he turned to you, beer paused halfway to his mouth.

"Oh, no, I was just saying, at my hen do there will be dicks. Lots of dicks."

“What the fuck?” He spluttered and you shrugged, not looking at him, feigning concentration on the television.

“I can't have strippers too? Tut, tut Disco, that's very old fashioned."

There was a pause, and you waited for his reaction, knowing it could go one of two ways. Out and out petulant protesting, or some sort of childish, half witty come back.

"You know, my dick is by far the most important." He chose the latter.

"You mean you are the most important dick?"

“Yeah.” He conceded. “Hey, least I’m important in some way.”

At that you laughed and moved a little closer to him. He shifted, allowing you to snuggle under his arm, pressing a kiss to your head.

“You know what else is important?” You asked, your hand gently tracing shapes on his white tee.

“What?”

“That you don’t forget that you owe me a favor, Detective Diskant." “That I do.” He agreed, and you felt him nod.

“So, there’s a pile of ironing that needs doing and the bed sheets need changing tomorrow. Can you manage?”

At that he let out a loud guffaw, his chest rumbling against your cheek. "Seriously, Baby?" He glanced down at you as you tipped your head up to look at him. "Absolutely," you winked

“I am at your complete mercy to satisfy you in any way you want... and you ask me to do chores?” He rolled his eyes. “You’re losing your sense of adventure, Sweetheart.” "Oh I have a sense of adventure, but a bet is a bet and we've pulled three doubles between the two of us so shits gotta get done, and you lost, therefore, you... are... my... bitch.” Your words were punctuated by soft jabs to his chest with your index finger and Paul groaned, throwing his head back against the sofa as he scrunched his eyes closed.

“Fuck my life.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You looked at him and he opened his eyes. “Fuck my wife?”

“We’re not married yet.” He smirked, arching an eyebrow at you as he played back your words from earlier.

“Details,” you played along and he laughed as you shifted a little more so your face was level with his. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

With a cheeky grin he leaned over, pressing his lips to yours, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as the kiss grew deeper, his tongue slowly sliding against yours. You let out a soft moan, shifting a little, your hand cupping his face and then he pulled back. You pouted at the loss of contact and opened your eyes to shoot him a glare, to find him smirking a little.

"Double or nothing, I bet I can make you cum in less than two minutes.”

“Two minutes?” You arched a brow, biting your lip a little as you squirmed at the frankly filthy look in his eyes. “Now?”

“Yup.”

“Bring it on.” You threw down the gauntlet. “But that doesn’t include the time it takes me to get you naked.” He grinned, shifting a little so he was side on, facing you.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Or the foreplay.”

“Jesus Christ, Paul, just get on with it. You said two minutes. Clock starts the second you start, your challenge not mine. He grabbed your beer bottle and placed it along with his on the table with a bang. “You saying you don’t want me to love on you a little bit before I bang you into next week?” His voice was low as he hovered over you a little, his face inches from yours. "I'm saying I'm fucking desperate, that's what I'm saying."

"Then I won't need two minutes.” He grinned, pressing further into you, causing you to lay back on the sofa.

“God, you’re so full of it.” You narrowed your eyes.

“You’re gonna be full of it soon.” He smirked, his lips pressing to yours. "Stop... Talking... And... Do... It," you demanded between his dizzying, little pecks. His lips curled into a smile against yours as his hands gently trailed up the outside of your smooth thighs, thumbs grazing under the hem of your cut offs. The assault from his lips already soaking you.

It wouldn't take much, you both were fully aware of it. Nearly a week apart or just missing each other had you two desperately seeking release. The question was, who would cave first. He said two minutes and you knew he could hold off until you were good and worked over. His fingers slipped between your denim shorts and he gave a low groan as he felt your damp panties. His kiss grew hungrier and he was quickly on your flies, your shorts were down your leg in a matter of seconds, tossed over the back of the sofa, panties with them.

He moved to a kneel, one hand gently hooking your right leg up to rest against the back of the couch, knocking the other to the side, your foot falling automatically to the floor, toes pressing onto the soft carpet, leg bent at the knee. You don't even register how fast he moved downwards, and part of you wondered if he lost on purpose. A flat long swipe tasted at your folds.

"Jesus," it felt glorious and your back arched off the sofa in delight. There was a wee bit of scruff causing a tease of friction against your inner thighs and although you weren't timing him, you knew it couldn't have been more than sixty seconds when his tongue dipped into your hole causing you to cry out.

"Fuck, Paul..."

He gave a little chuckle, mouth vibrating against your nub which he grazed with his teeth. You bit your lip as your insides began to tremble, you were so desperately trying to hold off just to get that last win over him, but it was useless. That rumble had you in the throes of it and you were gone, your legs shaking as you came, your walls clamping around nothing as you gasped, your body shuddering with pleasure.

The smirk and glisten that was evident on his lips as he sat up and caged you in, had you clawing at his shorts. "I win."

"Yeah, okay, you smug little shit,” your voice was breathy as you recovered from your high, your hands pulling at the drawstring in the middle of his abs. “Dare I ask how you want me?”

His baby blues, already dark with desire, flashed and he pressed his lips to yours, his mouth dominating and you could taste yourself on him. You groaned as his hands slid up, cupping your face and he pulled back.

“Hands on the floor, feet on the coffee table, knees bent.”

You blinked, “what?”

“Hands on the floor, feet on the coffee table, knees bent.” He repeated.

Okay, so this was new…

With a final, suspicious look at him as he moved back, you stood, jumping and emitting a little squeak as he slapped your ass as you went. Taking a deep breath you turned, placed your hands on the floor and rested the tops of your feet on the coffee table, your knees bent.

“So you can do as you’re told.” Paul smirked, standing up off the sofa.

“When I want to.” You peeked up at him as best you could to see him sliding his shorts down his legs, stepping out of them before he moved round and threw his leg over your shins. His hands slid up the outside of your thighs, coming to rest on your waist as he pulled you back a little, his erection pressing into your behind as he ground against you, giving a little hiss.

“Fuck, baby you look so good from back here.” He moaned, bending over slightly to press a kiss to your spin and you shivered, your arms wobbling a little and you began to worry just how much of this you could take.

“Paul, seriously, just…”

“Patience.” He cut you off as he gave your ass a soft slap making you emit a noise that was half way between a squeal and a laugh as he positioned himself behind you, and you immediately missed the warmth of his chest where it had been pressed to your back moments ago.

You felt the tip of his dick as it poked at your entrance, and he had no problem slipping inside your already soaked folds. But the angle and the pressure of your body closed off as he slipped inside you set your nerves on fire. You both moaned out together as he slid home, his balls to your clit.

You felt how thick he was against your walls. A little twitch and flutter from his shaft as you both remained still, you silently begging and waiting for him to move. His fingertips gently dug into your hips as he slowly pulled back and moved forward again.

"Fuck, baby, so fucking tight, like this," Paul ground out as he pumped slowly in and out of you. He was taking his time, slow thrusts and long pulls back. In truth, it was agony, but a beautiful torture. And a torture that he continued again, and again, and again. Over and over, in no rush whatsoever, a sharp contrast to where he’d brought you off before on the couch as fast as he could.

Your arms were shaking from baring the position but you wanted more. And as the bubbles of pleasure slowly simmered through your core and deep into your belly, you moaned out your demand. "Harder."

"Oh, fuck," Paul quivered inside you but picked up his pace, his hips slamming into yours, your insides squeezing him tightly as his hands gripped at your hips, blunt nails biting against your skin. With every thrust forward you were jolted, your palms sliding on the rough surface of the rug underneath you, and you curled your fingertips into the deep, cream coloured shag in an attempt to prevent yourself from face planting straight onto the floor.

"Yeah, just like that," you panted, your elbows locking as you pushed yourself up slightly, "oh fuck, Paul!" You could tell by his breathing and how he felt inside you that he was ready to cum but he could always hold off until you had yours. "So close," you managed to pant out, letting him know you weren’t far.

He slowed his pace, bending his body down your spine again, and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, "just," he thrusted, "let", again, "go".

His words flipped the switch inside your body and you felt yourself going, the blood already rushing to your head from the position you were in, and the pressure was pounding in your ears as you came, hard. "Oh my God!" You cried out as your walls clamped down around him, milking his hot seed to explode inside you.

"That’s my girl, fuck!" He roared at the feel of you around him, and his hips grew sloppy as he came, grunting, pulling you back onto him as he let go of his thick payload.

With your chests heaving, bodies stilled, his fingers still around your hips, his thumbs drew lazy circles on your back. You felt his blue gaze on you and you couldn't see it, but you knew he was smirking.

“Paul.” You managed to swallow, “baby, my arms.”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” He moved gently to pull out of you, curling his arm around your waist in the nick of time as your elbows gave way and the pair of you tumbled rather ungracefully to the rug by the table in a tangle of limbs, your giggles ringing around the room, drowning out the sound of the television.

“You okay?” He asked gently, as you moved so you were lay on your back looking up at him as he lay on his side, propped on his left elbow. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear with his right hand as you nodded, leaning up to kiss him deeply.

“I’m not even gonna ask where you saw or read about that.” You chuckled and he grinned, glancing around the room cheekily before he looked down at you.

“Boys talk, sweetheart.” He shrugged. “But admit it, that was better than making me fold sheets.”

You chuckled as he pressed his lips to yours again, your fingers gently twisting his silver chain between them as you looked at him and arched your eyebrow. “If I admit it will you do it again? Only not tonight, don’t think my arms could take another round.”

Paul let out a laugh which rumbled in his chest and he pressed his lips to yours again. “Maybe we can make a game out of it, see how many other surfaces I can use to I prop your feet on and fuck you from behind.”

You scoffed, slapping at his arm as he grinned down at you cheekily, and you bit your lip.

“I can run with that.” Your hands moved so they slipped round his back, gently tracing shapes over the muscles, making them twitch a little and he sighed as your nails reached that spot on his neck that always turned him to putty in your hands.

“Stop, you know what that does to me.” He looked down at you.

“I do.” You agreed, continuing nonetheless.

“Seriously, you want more?”

“Well, like you said.” Your fingers curled round the nape of his neck, pulling his face down so it was inches from yours. “It’s been a while since we got time together, best make the most of it.”

“Oooh, you’re a bad, bad woman future Mrs Disco…” he smirked, kissing you deeply. “And I’m so down for that.”

****

It was late in the evening, the two of you having carried your sex-capades from the lounge to the bedroom, both of you spent and spooning in the aftermath of bliss when Paul's cell rang out.

He grumbled and shifted slightly, turning to grab the offending item form the night stand before he answered, "Diskant."

You strained your ears to listen to who was on the other end but it wasn't audible.

"Yeah, okay, got it. I'll call you back," he replied and hung up. Then he quickly made an outgoing call. "Hey, so I just talked to Scribble. Freemont and Coates, or whoever they are, want to meet us." There was a brief pause, "tonight." Another pause and he closed his phone.

He sighed, turning to you, "I got to go."

"Okay," you sat up, an uneasiness filling your veins.

"I'll be back," he slipped out of bed, dressing quickly in black jeans, a black button down and hat. He clipped his badge from the nightstand to his belt after slipping into his uniform boots. Then leaned over and gave you a long, deep kiss. "I love you."

"I love you. Come home to me," you kissed him and pulled back, your fingers pressing the medallion of safe keeping against his chest. Paul touched his forehead to yours before he pressed his lips to your own in a soft kiss and headed out. You heard the door click as he left your apartment, and you gave a sigh, settling down into the bed, pulling his pillow to your naked chest as you closed your eyes. Whilst you knew that this was the job, hell, you’d done it yourself for long enough, it still never made it easier and for some inexplicable reason, tonight it made you even more twitchy than normal. But, that was more than likely down to the fact you’d managed to enjoy some quality time together tonight, and it had been so good.

Before long you drifted off to sleep, and you had no idea what time it was when the cordless rang, shrilling through the apartment, raising you from your slumber, but as you blinked yourself awake, it was still pitch black outside.

"Hello," you croaked.

"Y/N," you recognized the voice immediately, given your own happenings with IA.

"Captain Biggs," you replied, suddenly fully awake as you sat up in bed, the covers clutched to your chest.

"It's Paul,” his voice was low and serious and instantly you felt a cold, icy dread floor your system from your head to your toes as he passed, taking a breath, “a unit is on its way for you."

***** Part 2

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant #uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #street kings #street kings fan fic #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

A Little Braver - Chapter 11

Hello everyone. That’s me back from my holidays and I have ch 11 ready for you.

The first part is our two lovebirds still on holiday in Doranelle and they get to be cute and yes, this part as fluff. Enjoy it while it lasts.

For the second part and the ending, just blame the angst gremlin. I decline every responsibility.

It was Sunday and also Aelin’s last day of holiday in Doranelle. She and Rowan had spent their Saturday in the Cambrian Mountains and did a lot of hiking, had a picnic near a waterfall and swam naked in the pool in front of it and also engaged in some other more interesting activities. The day had been perfect and they had managed to survive two full days without fighting and they both were impressed by it.

Now they were in his car and Rowan was driving her to the coast. He had explained that it was the last part left to explore and that one of his colleagues had suggested a lovely place. He had made lunch for both again and they did manage to set off a bit earlier.

Aelin was comfortable in her seat, her feet on the dashboard and he stared at her while her head was turned to look outside.

After their talk he had decided to stop feeling guilty. Aelin had been right and they both deserved a second chance at happiness. He had finally decided to accept what he felt for her and maybe that was why they had not fought for two whole days. They had been both pushing the other away, too scared of caring once again. He still was, if he was truthful to himself. Her job scared the heck out of him. But he was done pushing her away.

“Are you comfortable over there?”

She turned and smiled at him, her blue eyes lit with mirth “are you going all health and safety on me, captain?”

“You are the firefighter, you should know the dangers of such a position in case I hit hard on the brakes.” He explained, stopping a mocking smile from appearing on his lips.

“Well, just don’t slam on those breaks, captain. Can you do that and deliver us safely to the beach?”

His hand gently brushed her naked knee. She was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a colourful top.

“Will the water be warm enough for me to swim in it?”

Rowan nodded. “According to my colleague this is a lovely beach and not too busy either. Something only the locals know about.”

Aelin pulled her sunglasses down on her eyes “wake me up when we are there.”

Fifteen minutes later Rowan poked her arm “Ohi, sleeping beauty. Get up.”

Aelin lifted her sunglasses on her head and glared at him “why can’t you behave like a well mannered man? I don’t know, wake me up with a kiss?”

He got of the car and opened the rear door and unloaded the two backpacks “get your arse out of my car. We are at the beach.”

“So, so rude.” She complained while leaving the car and grabbing her stuff from him. They had warmed up to each other but she still adored their bickering.

He started walking and she ran after him, grabbing his hand in hers.

They arrived at the beach and she rejoiced at the discovery they had the entire place to themselves.

Rowan selected a space not too far from the water and deposited their stuff on the ground, placing also the two beach towels for them.

In an instant Aelin had removed her clothes and was standing in front of him in her bikini.

He stared at her “is that your… bathing suit?”

She posed for him “lovely isn’t it?”

It covered very little, thought Rowan. Two red triangles covered her breasts all tied together by some very flimsy strings and the same for the bottom part.

He grabbed her hand and pushed her down on the towel “sit,” he rummaged in his back pack and took out sunscreen “you have a very fair skin and you will burn.”

Aelin sat down and he took a place behind her. He dropped some cream on her back and started spreading it on her back “you do the front,” he said by passing her the bottle.

“I thought you’d love the honour.”

Rowan sighed “if I do that it might lead to something else which is not appropriate on a beach in the middle of the day.”

Once his hands stopped she reached for the knot behind her neck and untied it, the top of her bikini falling off. She untied the one on her back as well and turned to him “up to the challenge, captain?” She took the bottle and put a dollop of cream on her fingers and started spreading it on her naked breasts and enjoyed staring at his expression morphing into pure lust.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He put more cream on his hands and began massaging her breasts making sure they had a nice cover “given how flimsy your bikini is, you need protection everywhere.”

“So considerate of you…” she teased him arching her back into his touch. She never had enough of him. She had a few men before Sam and no one had ever made her feel like that. Not even Sam.

Once he was done he bent over and recovered the piece of garment “come on, cover up.”

She took the piece of her bikini from him “scared by a pair of magnificent boobs?”

“No, we are in a public place.”

She slowly put the top back on and he offered to tie it for her “let them stare.”

Rowan’s mouth was at her ear again, biting gently her lobe “I don’t share.” and the tone in which he said it made her toes curl.

She then pulled away and ran to the water, jumping in it with happiness. Rowan stood and joined her slowly.

“Come one, it’s stunning.” She shouted emerging from the water.

Rowan smiled then ran and once he reached her he tackled her and carried Aelin like a sack of potatoes and threw her sin the water as soon as they reached a deeper spot.

Aelin re emerged. She tried to protest but she found his body against hers, his lips kissing her hard. She stared at his tanned and muscular body and ran a hand along his chest “I don’t share either, captain. I am very jealous of what is mine.”

Those words were his undoing. He grabbed her legs and pulled them around him and Aelin climbed on him and a moment later they had completely forgotten they were in the middle of the sea.

Luckily for them they had remained the only two people on the beach as their adventure in the water was followed a bit later by one on the sand.

Fully clothed again they now lay side by side. Aelin had her eyes closed, trying to suntan a bit and Rowan on his belly reading a book.

Aelin turned on her side and lifted the cover of his book and noticed it looked like about some theory of flight or tactics “we are on holiday and you are working?”

He turned to her.

“Your book,” she pointed “it’s about flight tactics. Can’t you enjoy a day without thinking about flying?”

“I’d like you to know that I am reading for pleasure. The fact that the book is giving me great ideas is another matter.”

Aelin scooted closer to him and placed her head under his arm and stared at the book with curiosity. She noticed strange drawings “are those flight manoeuvres?”

He nodded and with his arm he pulled her closer “this,” he pointed at the diagram “is called barrel roll attack. It’s quite cool.” Then he pointed at another one “this is the Immelmann and this one…” he turned the page “these are a low and high yo-yo.”

“They have funny names.” She looked at the book “this one seems cool,”

“This is a high G barrel roll.” He explained “you do this when the attacker is at your tail and you can feel his guns on you. It’s far more brutal than a regular barrel roll. Not recommended if you have a sensitive stomach.” He took out his phone and showed her something “Fenrys put a camera on his fighter during training and this is a video taken during training and a mock dogfight.”

Aelin watched the video with amazement “Play it again, it was so fast.” He did it and she stared at the jet completing the manoeuvre “was that you?”

Rowan nodded and showed her a few more videos of their training. She was fascinated.

“I still want to see you fly. For real.”

He put the phone down and looked at her “Lorcan says it’s fine. We can do that when I come back.”

Aelin nodded and he kissed her. He closed the book and pulled her closer and then lay down with his arm over her in a very protective gesture. She turned and snuggled all the way against his torso and let his body protect her from the sun.

It was a few hours later when Rowan woke up and realised they had fallen asleep on the beach. Aelin was tucked in his embrace and was sleeping soundly and he was glad to notice that her body was in the shadow of his body. It would have been a very painful awakening.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him and he loved the freckles that had appeared on her face.

“We fell asleep.”

“You really do make a good pillow.” She told him while sitting back up.

“I will make sure to update my resume, I am sure it’s a very sought after skill.” He stood and offered his hand to her “come on, let’s go for a stroll.”

She wore her top again “we don’t want to cause a riot, don’t we?”

Rowan smiled and he pulled her up after he took her hand.

They walked for a while. The beach had turned out to be much longer than they thought. Aelin had kept her shoes in one hand and walked the whole distance with her feet in the water. She hadn’t realised how much she needed a holiday. In the past year her life had been complete dedication to her job. It had helped to keep the demons at bay. But now there was Rowan and hopefully she had found someone with whom to walk the path back toward light.

“Fancy going out for dinner tonight?”

“I am craving seafood.” She said swinging their linked hands “we can stay here. Have dinner and then go back to your flat.”

“Sounds like a great plan.”

It was much later that night when they finally rolled back into Rowan’s flat.

“I am so tired and my face is on fire.”

Rowan cupped he face with his hands “you have freckles and you are stunning.”

Aelin gave him a smile and then ducked “I call dibs on the shower.”

Rowan laughed and let her win.

The shower took her a bit longer than planned. Her thoughts wandered to the fact that she was meant to fly home the next day and sadness struck when she realised she did not want to leave Rowan. They had the four best days so far and she hated that she had to wait two more weeks for him to be back and finally try and work on the foundation of their relationship that they had built during that holiday.

Once back in Rowan’s room she started packing. He had given her her own room but she never used it. They had ended up sharing the room and the bed.

She was busy groaning at packing when she felt his arms fold around her waist from behind. His smell of pine and snow was much stronger and she leaned against his chest, closing her eyes “I really don’t want to go.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” he told her against her ear.

“I know,” and she hated how petulant she sounded. She turned in his arms and buried her face in his naked chest. Rowan held her tight, her head tucked under his chin.

“I love when you hold me like this. It makes me feel less alone.”

Rowan squeezed her and they remained like that for a time that it felt endless. He didn’t want her to go either and he had a feeling they were going to be two very long weeks. He was getting used having her in his bed and loved waking up in the morning with her scent around him. He eventually pulled away and sat down on the bed and put on his briefs “come on,” he patted the bed “time to sleep.” She climbed in bed with him and took her usual position nested against him and his arms protectively around her.

Aelin was once again in his car but alas, this time it was not for an adventure. He was driving her back to the airport. Her holiday was officially over and she had been grumpy all morning.

His hand was resting on her knee giving her comfort.

“Are you going back to work tomorrow?”

Aelin shook her head “I need to start tonight. We are on night shift.”

“That sucks.”

In the distance she noticed the shape of Doranelle airport appear and her heart sank.

Rowan parked in the short stay car park and he grabbed her hand and together they walked into the airport. Check-in was a breeze and he eventually walked her just before the security area “this is as far as I can go.” He told her sadly.

Aelin crashed against him and fought it very hard not to cry.

“Hey…” he said very gently caressing her head “I will be back soon.”

She took a deep breath and pulled back.

“Call me when you land. I don’t trust those civilian pilots.” His thumb brushed her lips gently then he leaned over and kissed her.

“These are going to be two very long weeks.” He whispered against her mouth.

“I know.” Then she kissed him one more time and pulled away with all the courage she had. One of them had to let go eventually.

He kissed her one last time and let her hand go and stared at her walk away until she disappeared behind security.

***

It was a few hours later when Aelin landed back in Orynth. She had texted Aedion before boarding and gave him an ETA. While she waited for her bag to arrive on the carousel she phoned Rowan and he answered at the first ring.

“I am pleased to say that my pilot did manage to land us safely back in Terrasen.”

She heard Rowan scoff “It’s not that difficult, he just needs to press a few buttons and use the stick for landing and take off.”

She loved to tease him “he was hot though…”

“Sure, if you fancy men getting paid to fly a big metal trap in a straight line…”

She chuckled “we turned a few times as well.”

“You banked,” he corrected her.

“Uh?”

“An aircraft banks, does not turn. Then we roll, pitch and yaw.”

She huffed “fine, we banked. Happy?”

Her bag arrived and she placed it on her shoulder.

“Was the flight okay?”

She started walking to the exit “yeah, no turbulence this time.” She reached the main doors and walked through “what are you doing?”

“Getting ready to head to class.”

“Are you going to crush those little bastards?”

Rowan laughed “oh yes, I have a very hard exercise in mind.”

She spotted Aedion in the distance and weaved at him “Aedion is here. I gotta go.”

“Be safe, okay?”

“You too, captain. I am getting quite fond of having you around.”

“Bye menace.”

Aedion found her within minutes and hugged her as if he hadn’t seen her in a lifetime.

“Welcome back.” He squeezed her “give me your bags.” He grabbed her stuff and they walked back to his car “how was you holiday?”

“I had a good time.”

“You seem happier.”

“How is the station? Is it still standing?” She changed the subject. She had no intention of talking about her time with Rowan with her cousin.

“It is still standing. We had a few interesting calls, but nothing we could not handle. The team we got from west is blending really well in our team.”

“Good.”

They arrived at the station not long after and once she got off the car Lysandra and Elide ran to her and hugged her fiercely “I was away only for four days.”

“We missed you.” Then Lysandra grabbed her arm and pulled her to the lockers room “get changed and talk.”

Aelin opened her locker and dropped her duffel bag inside it and took out her uniform “So nosey,”

“You have just spent four days with hot captain. Come on girl, we want details,” and both women sat on the bench.

“We had a good time.”

“And?”

“And it was relaxing.”

“And?”

Aelin removed her clothes and remained in her underwear “and that’s it.”

“You are telling me, that you just spent four days living in his flat and you two did nothing?”

“I am not telling you anything.” She wore her trousers, then grabbed her top and finally her blue shirt “things happened but they are between us.”

“Aelin, I have a bet to win.”

“I knew it.” Shouted Aelin, fixing her hair again in a tight braid.

“Well, they had to concentrate on a new target since Aedion and I are off the betting pool.”

Aelin stopped and turned to Lysandra and the woman showed her her fourth finger now carrying a gorgeous ring.

“Holy fuck, he did it. He finally proposed.”

“It was beautiful,” said Elide dreamingly.

“He did it here at the station?”

Lysandra nodded “he waited for me and Elide to come back from a call. He placed loads of candles in a heart shape in front of the rigs and as we drove back in he stopped in front of the ambulance on one knee. And then he proposed.”

Aelin hugged her best friend “this is amazing. So friggin awesome.”

“So nothing happened with hot guy?”

Aelin looked at the clock. She still had twenty minutes before the start of the shift “Fine. Just as an engagement present.” And she took a seat beside the two women “Rowan and I, we… had a great time.” And at her expression, Lysandra squealed and Elide smiled as well.

“Is he good?”

Aelin laughed “he is… very skilled.”

“Holy shit. How many times? Where? Any naughty places?”

Aelin knew this was going to happen. She and Lys had always shared such things “the first time we did it three time. The night I arrived in Doranelle. And we did it in the sea and on an empty beach.”

“Ok, I am really jealous right now.” Asked Lys grabbing her friend’s hands “what does this mean?”

Aelin shrugged “he is away for two more weeks. Once he is back we… will discuss things.”

“Ok, from a scale from 1 to god, how good is he?”

Aelin laughed “definitely god.”

“And is he…?” Lys’ eyebrows lifted in a suggestive manner.

“I am not telling you that.”

“What does he do to be a god?” Asked Elide shyly.

“Make you scream so much the neighbours thinks he is torturing you.” Explained Lysandra deadpanned.

Aelin laughed and grabbed Elide’s hand “don’t worry about all of this.” She said tenderly “how is it going with Lorcan?”

Elide blushed savagely “really well. I… I told him about… me.”

“And?” Asked Aelin curious. She hoped the man had been nice to her. She knew where his office was.

“He has been nice about it. He promised he’ll wait for me and that when I feel ready he will show me everything.”

Aelin chuckled “Good.” Then looked at the clock “girls, let’s go.”

The team was having a relaxing night in front of the tv. Aelin was on the comfy chair her legs draped over the arm, reading a book. Rowan’s manual on flight techniques that he had lent her. After he had shown what he was reading at the beach she had started getting curious and wanted to be able to impress him upon his return. Her phone was in her lap and they had been texting all evening. She was hoping in an easy shift when the dispatch alarm went off. Everyone jumped and she and Aedion took a rig each after the announcement called for two engines and the ambulance.

Aelin ran to her turnout gear and got dressed super quickly and jumped in the engine.

“Did I hear correctly?” She asked Nox who was already at the wheel ready to go “are we going to the airport?”

Nox nodded.

“Those bloody civilian pilots.” She joked but no one got her and she wished Rowan was there, he would have loved it.

They arrived at the airport and Nox stopped the truck. Aelin got off and met the man in the car with red flashing lights “Follow me. We have a collision between two aircrafts. The big one then crashed into the hangar and we have people trapped in there as well.”

Aelin ran back and they followed the car and when they reached the accident site they were not ready for the carnage in front of them. The plane had slammed into the hangar and a raging fire had enveloped a side of the aircraft. Aelin searched for the second plane but could not see it. She jumped off the truck and went back to the man to get an idea of what they were dealing with.

“I thought you said there were two aircrafts.”

The man silently pointed at the remains of a smaller aircraft under the bigger one. There was nothing left and the smaller plane had been reduced to smithereens.

She went back to her team and started shouting orders “Manon, Asterin, try and crack the aircraft door open and see if we can save someone. Wesley, Kyllian you go with Ress and cover Asterin and Manon with water.” She ordered them “Ansel, you are on the aerial and get Manon and Asterin where they need to go.” Then she turned to the rest of her squad “Aedion, take Luca and Brullo and stop the aircraft fire. Remember that the fuel is in the wings.”

“How do you know that?” Asked Nox surprised.

“That is not important now.” She went to their engine and grabbed mask and oxygen tank and tools “Ren, Nox, you two are with me. We are going inside the hangar.” They all geared up very quickly and in the distance she noticed Dorian’s approaching. “Aedion, we might need to call west if it gets worse.”

Aelin and the two guys ran to try and find and entrance to the hangar but the frame of the plane was stuck inside it, blocking any access. “Be careful, there is jet fuel everywhere.” They walked under the wing on fire but they could not see any point of access inside the hangar.

“Can you hear it?” Asked Nox.

“Fuck, there are people still in the hangar.” The nose of the plane had collapsed as the landing gear had failed. Then she noticed it. A small passage near the nose. She removed her oxygen tank from her shoulders, pushed it through the opening and walked to the small hole.

“What are you doing?” Shouted Ren.

“Going in. I am the smallest of the three.” She kneeled and started to wriggle her body through the small opening “open up a bigger passage, we need to find a way to evacuate the civilians.”

Once on the other side, the heat was unbearable and fire and smoke made visibility impossible.

“Fire department, call out.” She shouted to draw attention. A massive explosion rocked the hangar and she threw herself on the ground and rolled quickly on the side managing to avoid a piece of the roof of the hangar collapsing on her.

“Fire department, call out,” she shouted again. Slowly she began walking deeper in the raging inferno in the hope someone was still alive. Everything was collapsing around her. Then she heard it. A voice.

“Fire department, call out.”

She heard the call again and tried to walk to the voice. Then she saw it. A person was on the floor and beside it there was another one. She ran to them.

“Are you okay?” The woman was in shock but alive.

She had a look at the man lying on the ground and searched for a pulse and found none.

“You need to come with me.”

The woman started shaking and Aelin pulled her up on her feet. She had no time.

“Go through there, there are firefighters outside. They will help you. You are safe.”

The woman nodded and kneeled and slowly slithered through the small aperture.

“Ren, there is a woman coming out.” She shouted.

“We can’t open a passage. If we do this side will collapse completely.” Shouted Nox in a panicked voice.

“Go through the other side, go through the nose, but I need a fucking bigger passage.” and she left again not waiting for a reply.

Manon had cracked open the door of the aircraft and she and Asterin had made their way inside. The cabin was full of smoke and fire had started to spread from a gash that had opened where the wing was attached to the fuselage. Manon smelled fuel and knew they had to be quick.

“We are with the fire department. If you can walk we need you to follow us and evacuate the aircraft immediately.”

Asterin walked deeper down the aisle “cover mouth and nose with something.” She noticed a few injured people “Manon, you take those who can walk.”

Manon nodded and directed people out of the main door and once at the aerial she shouted for Luca.

The young man climbed the aerial very swiftly “I am passing you some passengers, make sure they get down safely.”

Luca started ferrying people back and forth leading them to safety to two waiting Lys and Elide.

Asterin heard a few ominous sounds and pushed the people down the aisle, Manon joined her and together with the last two passengers they ran into the cockpit and slammed the door shut when an explosion rocked the plane.

Luca flattened on the aerial and covered the person he was accompanying, with his body.

On the ground Aedion and his two men took sheltered from the explosion and Dorian did the same.

“Evacuate the civilians quickly.” He shouted over the noise.

Lysandra and Elide took all the survivors to the ambulance that had been parked at a safer distance.

“Aedion, I want that fire under control.” Dorian barked again “we are getting close to the collapse point.” then he realised he was missing one person “where’s Aelin?”

“Inside,” and Nox pointing at the hangar.

“Alone?” Shouted Dorian in rage “you let her go inside alone? That is not protocol.”

“She was the only one who could fit through the small gap.” Ren bit back, not caring if he was being disrespectful to his CO. “Nox and I are trying to open a second gap but the fuselage is the only thing holding up the hangar right now.”

Dorian slammed his hat on the ground and tried to call Aelin over the radio but no response came over.

Aelin knew she was lost. She had found two more people beyond saving, but she did not give up. The heat was becoming worse by the minute. She continued walking until she spotted two figures hiding in a corner. They were alive “Fire department,” she shouted. The two people waved at her. One was badly injured “can you walk?”

“I can manage.”

“Lean on me,” offered Aelin to the man. Slowly they crawled back to the nose of the aircraft and as she did with the first person she pointed the exit to them.

She looked at the small screen on her wrist and noticed that her oxygen was running low.

“Shit.” She probably still had fifteen minutes. She could try and save someone else.

Dorian saw the two people come out of the passage and for a moment he hoped a third one would appear as well but Aelin never did. “Where are you?” He whispered to her.

Aedion got the aircraft fire under control, but not yet the hangar and Nox and Ren could finally work on opening a bigger passage for them to go in. They knew it was a race against time. Chances were Aelin’s oxygen was running low and they had to get in and find her quickly.

Aelin’s breathing apparatus beeped signalling her that her juice was up. She had moved even deeper in the hangar and she had lost sight of the nose of the plane, her only landmark to her way out. All around her there was nothing but fire. She threw the air tank on the ground, now exhausted and useless. She removed the mask and the stench of jet fuel hit her. The smoke grew thicker and she began coughing, her lungs burning at every breath. She placed the mask again against her face and walked a bit more searching for more survivors.

Aedion saw it happen in slow motion. He was helping Nox and Ren opening a new passage to the interior of the hangar when the structure folded on itself. The material, now compromised by the crash and the heat had given up like a house of cards in the wind.

“No… no… no…” said Nox frantically, “Aelin is inside. Fuck it, Aelin is still inside.” He shouted.

Aedion turned to him with a dangerous glare in his eyes.

He ran to the engine and went to grab his oxygen tank but Dorian stopped him “you are not going inside.”

Aedion freed himself from the man’s grip “I am going in and I don’t give a fuck. I am not letting her die in there.”

“You can’t go in there.”

“If you love her as much as you claim you will let me go in and save her.” Aedion wore his gear in defiance.

Dorian tried one more time to stop him but Aedion did not listen and slowly crawled through the passage they had managed to open.

Aelin stopped and coughed a bit more. Her lungs and her throat were on fire. She could feel the fumes from the jet fuel starting to have an effect on her. She moved a few steps then she heard it.

A moment later the whole structure collapsed on her. Her mask rolled away from her hand, and Aelin, trapped under the debris, sank into unconsciousness as the fire now surrounded her completely.