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dreamkidddream · 3 years

Note

I’d like to request hc’s of the Brothers and Diavolo reacting to an MC that’s so cute, she could pass off as a doll. If she stands perfectly still, she could pass off as a full sized doll until she moves again. She has adorable doe eyes, wears cute clothes (Lolita fashion or just has an anime girl style), and even makes cute desserts. If the usual MC was weak and frail to them already, Doll!MC seems so dainty, precious, and fragile; these guys would ban paper if she ever got a paper cut.

Oooooo this is really interesting! I can just imagine Doll!MC just making everyone so scared every time she moves because they could probably hurt themselves just bumping into a wall because they look so fragile lol. These were short, so hope you enjoy!

Update: here’s part 2 with the other Undateables!

The Brothers and Diavolo Reacting to Doll!MC

Lucifer

...maybe he made a mistake in picking you for the exchange program after all

You just look so delicate, and just so pure.

You have definitely made cute little snacks and brought it to him while he locked himself in the office with paperwork

He lowkey highkey likes it no matter how he brushes it off with the usual thanks. Keep doing it, MC, he really appreciates it

When you get in trouble and he gives you the usual lectures, he can’t look into your eyes for long

Geez, he already can’t stay mad at you for long but now he can just feel his resolve cracking

If you get hurt oh Diavolo prepare for helicopter parent Lucifer

As soon as you accidently cut yourself in the kitchen (it would be the tiniest cut, barely noticeable), you’re no longer allowed in the kitchen unsupervised and can’t handle anything with a sharp end (whether its a butter knife or kid proof scissors that would be safe for Luke to use unsupervised)

“Let me do it for you, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Lucifer, thank you but I’ll be okay. It’s just a frosting spatula it’s not sharp-”

Will punish his brothers 10x worse and demons 100x more if he finds out you got hurt (doesn’t matter what the injury is, could be so much as a paper cut there will be hell to pay)

Constantly checks on you when he can’t see you in person

Handles you so lightly that you barely feel his touch

Move over Belphie, you’re the baby of the house now

Mammon

Protective x100000

Is still tsudere around you, but doesn’t insult you as much

Who are you kidding as soon as he looks into your cute doe eyes, he forgets what he’s saying

Complains about having to do stuff for you but doesn’t mind at all really. He loves it because it feels like you’re depending on him, and that makes him feel worth something.

“C’mon human, let the Great Mammon carry your books! You’re gonna hurt yourself and I don’t feel like hearing Lucifer’s mouth today!”

It was just your planner and a small recipe book that Luke gave you, and it weighed less than 10 pounds but okay. You don’t complain either when you see that he genuinely wants to help and do these things

Basically your loud guard dog and secret service agent rolled into one

He’s gotten into trouble more than once for “protecting you”. A student barely bumped your shoulder and Mammon already tackled him. Lucifer was not pleased (but he secretly understood)

He can’t help it that you’re weak and surrounded by hungry demons! It’s a pain to go through this much effort to just protect you, since you look so helpless

MC he’s just worried that you easily break if a demon so much as breathes on you but he likes that he can protect you because he knows that he can keep you safe. You’re just too cute and sweet okay??

Also stand in his room after watching a horror movie to freak him out and he’ll be sounding like Mariah Carey lmao

Leviathan

RURI-CHAN IS THAT YOU??!

Is for sure having an otaku/weaboo freakout moment

You blend in with figurines so well, every time you come into his room he asks you to stand next to them so he can feel that his collection is complete

He does it sometimes when he streams so people can think he has a rare limited-edition life sized doll that they can’t get. Makes him feel superior

DRESSING YOU UP IN COSPLAY 100%

You’re like an anime character but in real life and he does not know how to handle it

Can’t stare into your eyes, it makes them too flustered because he’s used to seeing it in his otome games and not from an actual person that he likes

Who needs maid cafes when he has you? You even dress and make anime themed desserts (once he built up the courage to ask you to make it for him)

Has to calm his beating heart every time he talks to you, you’re too precious for him MC!

Your like his very own idol, minus the singing and dancing. However, if you can sing and dance....

Levi.exe has stopped working

Satan

Thought you were a real doll until you introduced yourself

He really thought that someone brought you to life Pinocchio style

You looked like a princess from the many stories that he read, and he was smitten

Treated you so graceful and elegant like until he had his rage moments, which he told you to stay far, far, far away from him until he calmed down completely

Secretly placed a hex on you to where if someone tried to attack you or touch you with harmful intentions, they would be somehow be subjected to looking at their worst fear

You were wondering why that random stranger was just staring wide at you with extensive terror, but then you saw Satan grinning, so you left it alone. You thought it was just some weird demon thing

Loved when you made him cat-themed desserts

If you wore cat ears while doing it, he will turn extremely red

If you meow for him, he won’t know how to handle himself

Asmodeus

You are just the cutest thing he has ever laid his eyes on!!

Besides from himself of course, don’t get it twisted he’s still #1

He has most definitely had more than one photoshoot done with you both. And you guys have been trending on the Devilgram a couple of times already

Really you guys trend at least twice a month, and his fans love you!

They always ask where he got the doll from but he always laughs and says that “it’s a secret”

Imagine their shock when they see you walking and talking at RAD, some are amazed and some are downright scared

Fashion shows!

He lives for dressing you up in cute clothes. Your style already suited you and he had great tastes so the new outfits he got you were just *chef’s kiss*

The cute little desserts that you made for him, he always posted it on the Devilgram before he ate it. They were just so cute MC and he couldn’t not show his fans!

Is the most careful brother when it comes to keeping you out of danger. He refused to let his body or skin damaged, and he wasn’t about to let it happen to you either! You are both way too dainty and fragile to let anything happen

Also spa days and self-care nights weekly!

You’re the perfect match made just for him MC

He finally has someone that can understand his struggle of being beautiful, bless you MC

Beelzebub

Soft boy is scared of touching you :(

He towers over you, and he’s scared to even be near you

It takes some time, but he starts to warm up to you

Is always gentle with you, no matter the scenario

Holding hands? He is hardly gripping your hand, said hand fitting loosely in his

Getting hugs? He’s meagerly holding you, not wanting to crush you

You once complained to Beel that it wasn’t fair to get half done hugs (if you were hugging, you were getting a real hug, not a scared one).

He made you swear that if he was hurting you to let him know, so now you have your very own signal to use for him just in case

He was very tempted to wrap you in bubble wrap and just carry you around like that

He LOVES your sweets, even more than Luke’s and Barbatos’

No matter the size, he loves them, mainly because you made them and it was made with love, just for him

It always makes him feel so warm inside, and he doesn’t feel his appetite gnawing at him like usual

No one is dumb enough to try anything with you both in his presence and not, unless they want to end up either a: deep into the ground or b: into his stomach

You just make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he just loves everything about you. He just loves you

Belphegor

Hm, you look cute

For a human

Acts like he doesn’t care, but you’ve caught him blushing before (he still does it too)

Won’t outright admit that you’re charming in your own little way, but he does in his sarcastic way like usual

“MC, you’re such a half-pint. You’re like my personal sized teddy bear.”

Has cuddled with you like you were his personal teddy bear (and still does, but you don’t complain at all)

Has a secret sweet tooth and eat your desserts whenever you make it just for him (and he doesn’t even share it with Beel, that monster)

Demons just have to look Belphie in the eyes, watch him flex his claws, and they all of a sudden forget about whatever they were planning. Good

He hates that you look so fragile, but at the same time he kinda likes it

You just look so soft, and you’re just so kind

It makes him feel like he’s protecting and caring for you, and that makes him feel calm and peaceful

Please make sure that he’s okay MC, he’s scared that he’s gonna mess up again

Diavolo

The Prince of Hell is both surprised and pleased at your appearance

Do all humans look this charming or is it just you??

If someone as soft as you can survive living and going to school with demons, then this is great

Knew that you weren’t a doll, but still liked to admire you like one

Has asked more than once for pictures, you are just too enchanting!

Wants to have a portrait painted of you so he can hang it up in the castle

LOVES you baking for him! Loves when Barbatos does it too (even though it is kinda part of his job), but it feels different with you. It feels...domestic in a sense. Makes him feel like Diavolo, your friend and very interested in being your boyfriend, instead of Lord Diavolo, the prince that will be residing over Hell in the future

No one would be foolish enough to hurt you. If someone was, they wouldn’t even get the chance to lift a finger before they were directly dealing with him. Don’t take his kindness for weakness, he still is a demon after all, the future King of Hell to be exact

Was scared of touching you at first, but quickly grew out of it! He can handle his own strength, and you guys also have a signal to use just in case he does squeeze a little too tight

Will want to dress you up in royal clothes (if you were okay with it). Nothing is wrong with your current style, as a matter of fact it suits you! He basically just wants to play a fancy game of dress up/have a fashion show with royal clothing

Will take 100s of photos, no exaggeration

Asmo will be jealous, so be warned

Plus, he wants to know how his future lover/ruler would look in a crown so he can start taking measurements. You can never be too ready, right MC?

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Text

A Change of Heart (post-”Miraculous New York”)

"Kaalki, divide!"

Ladybug felt Kaalki's light wash over her, the kwami emerging and flying a small distance away. They were up on one of the rooftops in New York, overlooking an interview that was happening on the street.

Kaalki hummed in interest, taking the time to see the tall buildings. "What a grand city." Then, her gaze dropped down and she squinted, adding with distaste, "Quite crowded though."

"There's an interview going on right now. That's why. One of their supervillains was just taken down," Ladybug explained, placing her foot up on the edge of the building and peering down to look at the crowd.

"And, what precisely are we here for?" Kaalki asked, hovering near Ladybug's face to follow her gaze.

"Not what, but who. We’re here to see Eagle," Ladybug answered, pointing at the eagle-themed superheroine being interviewed. The crowd was enthusiastically cheering at just about every answer Eagle was giving, and Ladybug couldn't help smiling at the fact that the person she gave the miraculous to was still doing well.

As the interview came to an end, Eagle's eyes shifted from the interviewer to Ladybug, who had made sure to be where the red-and-black of her suit would stand out; she wasn't exactly the definition of "stealthy," and it worked to her advantage in this case.

Eagle jumped up to the nearest rooftop, then waited for the crowd to disperse before leaping over to where Ladybug was. "Hey, Ladybug! What are you doing here?" Her brows creased in seriousness, and she held her fists up like she was raring for a fight. "Did Hawk Moth come back to New York?"

Ladybug waved dismissively. "No, no, it's nothing like—"

"Pardon me," Kaalki said, making sure she was loud enough to be heard. She puffed her chest out haughtily and gestured to herself with a hoof. "I'm Kaalki, the kwami of migration. Pleased to meet you," she said, her tone forced as to imply that she didn't appreciate being ignored.

"Uh... hi," Eagle greeted flatly, then looked to Ladybug for an explanation.

"Sorry about her. She was my ride." Grabbing Eagle's wrist and leading her to the center of the rooftop, where they were less likely to be seen from the streets, she explained, "Anyway, I came here because I was hoping that I could get your help."

Eagle leaned to the side, curious. "My help? What for?"

"Well..." Ladybug hesitated. "This is going to sound like a weird request, but..."

—————

Eagle crossed her arms in thought, still seemingly absorbing the explanation. "You want me to use Liberation on you? To get rid of your—"

"—romantic attachments," Ladybug cut in stiffly, the word 'crush' and 'love' sounding extremely un-Ladybug-like. She blushed in embarrassment and looked away, bringing a hand up to partly hide her face. "Listen, I know you probably don't get this sort of thing. It's already awkward to talk about it while I'm Ladybug, but—"

"No, I get it," Eagle assured, though her expression was neutral.

Ladybug looked at her in surprise. "You do?"

With a slight roll of her eyes, Eagle replied, "Okay, so I don't get all the love stuff exactly, but Uncanny Valley has her own thing for me to deal with. She always wants to help people; she can't help it. Besides, Liiri says that there's always something stopping people from reaching their full potential. Sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's good, and it's my job to figure out what it is." She glanced Ladybug up and down, as if to gauge something. "You really think it's that bad?"

Ladybug responded with a wince, bad memories already starting to surface.

"Alright, wow," Eagle said, hands raised as she took a step back, the reaction having already convinced her while she herself clearly wanted no details about it. "Are you ready then? You know this is only going to last five minutes, right?"

"Wait—" Ladybug blinked in surprise. "You're really going to help me?"

"Yeah?" Eagle replied. Half-offended, she asked, "Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"No! Sorry!" Ladybug rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "You'd be... surprised, by how bad this stuff usually goes for me."

For a moment, Eagle looked tempted to ask, but shook off the thought just as quickly. Placing her fists to her chest, her gaze went firm, showing that she was ready.

Ladybug stood in place, almost nervous at the prospect of doing this. She was essentially taking out a piece of herself, but it was the only way to test it; the only way to know for sure.

"Liberation!" Eagle called out, spreading her arms as a single light burst out of her.

Ladybug flinched, her fighting instinct kicking in, but she held firm and let the light touch her. For a moment, she was frozen, able to sense Eagle's presence in her mind and even hear her voice. Eagle's voice was calm, but tempting, offering the freedom so desperately desired.

"Ladybug, your love has taken over your life. I release you from it!"

—————

Marinette quickly stashed the glasses in her purse as she checked her phone's timer. She had four minutes and forty-five seconds to do this, and she took a steady breath before stepping out of the alley she'd been hiding in.

As she raced across the street, the fencing students were just filing out out of Françoise Dupont. The moment she saw Kagami and Adrien leaving, she raised a hand, raising her voice so she'd be heard. "Hey, Adrien!"

Adrien and Kagami stopped and glanced her way. Adrien turned to Kagami, saying something and briefly tilting his head in Marinette's direction. Kagami nodded at him in response, and they separated, Kagami heading in one direction and Adrien heading in Marinette's.

At first, Marinette was nervous, her worst case scenario being that Liberation had truly failed or worn off when she de-transformed, or that her feelings were somehow so strong or messed up that even Liberation somehow couldn't help her.

Yet, as Adrien approached, she found that she wasn't shaky at all. Her heart wasn't pounding either. She didn't even feel the slightest bit of awe from his presence.

She was normal. She was okay.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien greeted with a smile. "Did you need something?"

It took her a moment to answer, still stunned that it'd worked and she'd truly been freed of her crush, even if it was for five minutes. "Oh. No, actually, just..." She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, checking the time, then kept it at her side as she asked genuinely, "How was fencing?"

Adrien looked briefly caught off guard, though whether he was surprised at her acting differently or just the question was anyone's guess. He then brightened, replying excitedly, "It was great! I got paired up with Kagami again, and you know how Mr. D'Argencourt is with fencing, so he..."

The conversation continued as nothing but casual from there, and Marinette almost felt silly at how amazed she was by such a simple thing. It was actually like she was Adrien's friend; like they were on the same page and she could actually hold a conversation with him. He looked and talked the same way he always did, yet she was perfectly fine. Students passed by and maybe tossed them a brief glance, but completely ignored them otherwise because she wasn't acting "weird."

At worst, she was grinning just a little wider out of the pleasant surprise of the whole thing.

When she'd first thought to "liberate" herself of her feelings for Adrien, she was certain she'd be disappointed by it. She honestly thought that she would see Adrien and miss the heart fluttering, the weak knees, and the sheer dreaminess he used to radiate.

But she was wrong. With her crush gone, she could see herself from an outside perspective and reflect without fretting over the things she would've otherwise. Where she thought there'd be disappointment, there was relief that she could actually breathe and not turn into a mess around him. Her mind wasn't clouded with thoughts, and her eyes could drift wherever she wanted without some brainless thought intruding and warning her that she might miss Adrien blinking if she looked away.

She'd needed this. It was nice; more than nice even. Is this how it could be all the time if she truly moved on from him? No more mocking, no more jealousy, no more "crazy Marinette"? It'd be like a celebrity crush that she grew out of; an embarrassing memory of the past and nothing more.

More importantly, she would remember this. She would remember this feeling; the sanity of not being in love with Adrien, or not feeling whatever that emotion was actually called. To say the word "love" seemed so... wrong.

Still mid-discussion with Adrien, Marinette's phone suddenly beeped with a warning message. She turned it in her hand, seeing that she'd properly set the timer earlier to warn her when there was a minute and half left of Liberation.

Adrien leaned over to look at the screen, but jumped when a loud honking noise abruptly sounded off from behind him. Marinette tried not to snicker, but it was difficult; seeing someone else be the jumpy one was quite the experience, and she'd have to remember that too.

Adrien looked over his shoulder at his limo waiting for him, then glanced back at her apologetically. "Sorry, I gotta go. Can we talk later?"

"Oh, sure! Definitely!" Marinette stashed her phone back in her purse, then waved to him. "See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Marinette!" Adrien exclaimed, waving as he rushed off. "It was fun talking to you!"

"You too!"

Marinette pursed her lips, trying to contain herself as she watched Adrien get into the limo and ride off down the street. She waited until it was out of earshot, then let herself start squealing, even hopping around and doing a twirl for effect.

"M-marinette?!" Tikki called, concerned. "Did it wear off? There's still time—"

"I'm gonna delete all my Adrien pictures!" Marinette exclaimed. "And take down that disaster of a wallpaper!"

"W-wHA—!!" Tikki gaped. "Marinette, when your feelings come back—"

"That's future Marinette's problem! This feels great!" Marinette cheered, having to suppress her excitement just so she could talk. Raising one hand dramatically, she placed the other to her chest, saying to no one in particular, "Oh, what's that? Me, crushing on Adrien? Ew, no way! We're just friends!"

She laughed triumphantly, a bounce in her step that made it seem almost like she were jogging. She crossed the street, reaching for the bakery door's handle and practically singing to herself, "Just friends~ We're just friends~ Me and Ad~ri~en are just good—"

She paused as she opened the door, seeing a familiar mix of blue and black standing at the counter and talking to her parents. At the chime of the bell, all three looked over at her, Luka's smile welcoming and his lips partially coated in white from what seemed to be a powdered donut.

"Hey, Marinette," he greeted. "We were just talking about you."

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart," Sabine cooed. "He came all the way here just to see you."

Luka blushed a light shade of pink at the obvious teasing, Tom jumping in to exclaim, "And he really thought he had to pay us for sweets! I told him, you're friends with our daughter, you better not put a single coin on that counter, young man!"

The three had a laugh together; clearly, they'd been getting along before she came in.

Yet, Marinette's smile fell from her face, a mental 'oh' echoing in her mind.

She hadn't even considered Luka when she'd thought of taking away her crush on Adrien, but it made sense; Eagle had said love, and Marinette wasn't foolish enough to think that she hadn't felt anything romantic for Luka. It only made sense that her crush on him would go too.

But it wasn't the same. The relief didn't follow the lack of feeling. With Luka, there'd always be a little leap in her heart, then a wave of calm washing over her, but neither were there and she couldn't help feeling disappointed.

Luka's smile disappeared as he noticed her expression. He approached, concern written all over his features. "Marinette?"

They were friends at that very moment; that was all the feeling she had on the matter, but she wanted what she'd had before. She remembered his confession at the TV station and yearned for the warmth in her cheeks when he stared at her and told her how much he loved her with words that were entirely his own; words that told her that he loved her as herself and filled her with a confidence she seldom had outside of being Ladybug.

Everything clicked. Her crush on Adrien represented stress, anxiety, and losing herself, but her crush on Luka represented peace, happiness, and being herself.

She missed how she felt about Luka. She didn't miss how she felt about Adrien.

That was all the answer she needed.

Almost on cue, her phone beeped again, this time to signal that Liberation was over. Marinette took in a shaky breath as she felt pleasantly familiar emotions rush through her again, and she welcomed them back like she would an old friend.

Luka's blue eyes gained vibrance and allure, his lips being coated in powdered sugar suddenly became incredibly cute, and she could think of him as no less than the most handsome boy in the world.

"...Sorry," she said breathlessly, waving a hand to assure him that she was alright. "Let's just say I went through a lot of emotions today. I'm happy to see you, really!"

Luka's smile came back, filling her with its warmth. "I'm glad," he said in relief. Then, taking a glance at her purse, which was still letting out a muffled, melodic beeping noise, he asked, "Sorry, do you have to be somewhere?"

"Hm? Oh, no, not really." She took out her phone to shut off the timer, then flashed him the screen before closing the app and storing the phone back in her purse. That done, she paused to consider things, then dared a glance back at him. "Hey... can we walk for a while?"

He blinked, mildly surprised, but nodded. "Sure. Did—" He froze, apparently only now realizing that he had powdered sugar on his lips. He swished his tongue around to lick it off, then started over with, "Did you want to talk about something?"

Smiling almost smugly in response, she felt confident enough to offer him her arm, as if he were a damsel she was leading around. She'd never seen his eyes widen quite so much before, but he also didn't protest, happily taking hold of her arm.

Knowing that her parents would just be giving their looks of approval if she glanced back, she stepped out of the bakery and led Luka towards the park.

"So, it took a little longer than I hoped, but... do you remember when you were talking about me getting clarity?"

#MC's Writing #writing: story #special: Miraculous New York #Lukanette Endgame #((the New York special: *creates power that would give Marinette the clarity she was looking for*))#((also the New York special: *does nothing with it*))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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sweeterthansammy · 3 years

Text

Better Than Sex? || Trevor Belmont

Trevor Belmont x Female Pirate!Reader; Reader plays the role of Trevor’s wife.

Summary: When Trevor claims that ale is better than sex, Y/N gives him the worst case of blue balls.

Genre: Smut

Written in third person point of view.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, fingering, fisting (?), vaginal penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, orgasm denial, hair pulling, biting, choking, mild language, sexual innuendos (throughout the imagine), mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, mentions of pregnancy, & Trevor being the horny little shit he is lmao

A/N: So, I posted this on my first piece on AO3 and let me just tell you...I FUCKING HATE IT. Anywho, enjoy this while I go to sleep :)

Word count: 3.5k

She twisted her neck as she sat down, groaning audibly at the stiffness in her neck.

“Rough day, m’lady?” the clerk asked, filling a tankard with the cold ale before slipping it in front of her.

“You bet your arse it was a tough day,” she replied, taking a swig of the ale as she gripped onto the stein. “I’ve got my husband groaning about the number of night creatures he’s killed in one night, my crew complaining about me leaving. I just needed a nice cold-”

“Stein of ale.”

The voice was familiar enough.

“How the fuck did you find me?” she asked, annoyance bountiful in her tone.

She loved Trevor to bits but having him up her behind all day was becoming a whole task.

“It isn’t very hard when you’re practically married to yourself,” he snarkily chuckled, tilting his head back as the yellow liquid streamed down his throat. “Oh my god, that is better than sex.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest before kicking his stool. Never underestimate the leg of a pirate - that was rule number one in Trevor’s book to marrying a pirate. His malt came spewing out of the mug, landing all over the lower half of his face and the collar of his shirt as he landed flat on his bottom.

“Glad it’s better than sex, Trevor,” she hummed, taking one last sip of her ale before slinging her coat over her shoulders, swiftly making her way out of the pub.

“That’s why I never got married,” the clerk retorted, drying a stein before placing it rim-down on the counter.

“Better than sex, he says,” she grumbled as she lathered lotion onto the spans of her legs after stepping out of the shower. “Can’t fucking believe he’d embarrass me like that!”

She trudged out of the bathroom, slamming their bedroom door shut behind her before dropping her towel, stepping into a silky nightgown before getting under the covers. She cried aloud as she heard his groans downstairs, just now coming home from the bar. She placed the covers over her head, trying to drown out the sound of him stumbling up the steps but it was near to impossible. He barged into the room, reeking of nothing but ale and other assortments of alcohol.

“Trevor, go take a shower-”

She was cut off by his hands taking a hold of the underside of her knees, pulling her to the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice stern as he caressed her thighs.

“Can we?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side as she rolled her eyes.

“You don’t want me to kick you in the balls, do you?”

“No.”

“Then I highly suggest that you let go of my legs before I do.”

He dropped her legs with a whine, falling forward so his forehead rested against her chest. She carded her fingers through his hair, a residue of his sweat on her fingers as he pulled away from her, leaning on his hands as he towered over her.

“Go shower and maybe I’ll let you bury ya little cock inside of me,” she chuckled, softly kissing his lips before pushing him away.

He stood, rubbing his eyes like a child as he left the room.

“It’s not little!”

“Hurry up! I’m not wearing any underwear,” she teased, a fit of laughter consuming her as she heard the shower turn on in an instant.

By the time he’d drunkenly lathered soap all over his body, he was near to asleep. Y/N had been fast asleep, the shower running for twenty minutes straight. He blundered into the room, briefly waking Y/N before she scolded him “to turn the light off and go to sleep.”

“But you said-”

“Trevor, just get in bed,” she said, her voice fading into a whisper before soft snores left her mouth.

He dove under the covers, a heavy arm throwing itself over Y/N’s waist as his hand reached up to rest itself atop one of her breasts.

“Horny even in your sleep,” she muttered, turning onto her other side to face him before throwing a leg over his waist, her arm splaying itself across his back.

A week or two had passed and Y/N was quite proud of herself. She hadn’t fallen for Trevor’s weak attempts to get in her underwear. She wasn’t letting her hard demeanor fall no matter what he proposed.

Though she wasn’t giving in to him, she was doing a whole lot of teasing - biting and sucking his sweet spots in the midst of a makeout, wrapping her legs around his waist and running her nails over his clothed black, and most of all, stripping down to just her underwear before heading to the bathroom to shower.

Tonight they were taking a trip to Alucard’s castle, visiting him after many long-awaited months. Y/N was far more excited to rejoice with their friends than anything, hurrying to get on the carriage while Trevor struggled with her bags.

“Oh, right,” she muttered, hopping off of the carriage before taking her bags from Trevor, throwing them in the back.

“Thank you,” he snarled, a sigh following.

The ride was everything Y/N could have imagined. Though it became cold at night, Y/N greatly adored the trees adorned by emerald leaves and birds chirping throughout the forest. Night creatures were the least of her worries, she and Trevor taking them down in less than ten minutes.

On the contrary, the ride was dreadful for Trevor. He and Y/N spent many hours with their lips locked, her ending up on his lap somehow, but it was her motive to stick to her plan, hopping off of him as he went to undo the buttons of her shirt. At this point, he was tired of it but he hadn’t exactly done anything to prove so.

“Please?! I won’t be long, I promise,” he’d beg.

“It’s quite a bumpy ride, it’s going to become uncomfortable very quick.”

“Then we can pull over!”

“Night creatures. And villagers. It’d be embarrassing if we were to get caught by anyone or anything. Besides, I’d lose my drive after having to sever off the head of a human-sized wolf.”

Trevor indignantly accepted his fate, remaining silent for the majority of the rest of the trip.

“Alucard!”

She was quick to jump off of the carriage, stretching a bit before running to greet her pale best friend.

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he chuckled, his hands lingering on the small of her back as he peered at her. “Y’know, I’d expect you to be knocked up after not seeing you for so long.”

She chuckled, glancing around to find him popping a cigar between his lips.

“I’ve given him possibly the bluest balls ever since we’ve been together.”

“You are a terrible woman,” he grinned, slipping past her as he went to greet Trevor.

Settling down in the castle that night was far beyond elating, Sypha arriving quite late but still making it in time for dinner.

“You know,” Y/N started, taking a sip of wine after swallowing the bit of roasted potato in her mouth. “I was seriously stunned by how attractive you were when you first floated out of your coffin and I was tempted to drop to my knees right there and then only to be turned down after telling me that you didn’t go that way.”

As Sypha and Alucard laughed away, Trevor glared at her, his jaw clenching at the unnecessary insight of information.

“And I was greatly upset when Trevor made his move on you. I was waiting to pounce on him but then I realized how hot you two looked together,” Sypha giggled, bringing her attention to Trevor’s reddened face. “Of course, I don’t feel that way about you know. I’m more so jealous of the fact that you’re married to her. I’m not sure if it’s the insane amount of sex you guys have been having but she looks gorgeous. She’s always been beautiful but the pregnancy glow that is to come,” she paused, kissing her fingertips. “Chef’s kiss.”

“Why does everyone think that I’m pregnant or I’m going to be pregnant?” she asked, a fit of laughter following as she took a sip of wine from the glass in front of her. “I wouldn’t be drinking this much if I were.”

“Well, you’re postponing it,” Trevor mumbled, earning a guffaw from the other pair as he’d muttered loud enough not only for Y/N to hear but for anyone within five feet to hear.

“Piece of shit,” she muttered, quiet enough for no one to hear.

Drinks flowed like water, the group intoxicating themselves as each hour passed.

“Come dance with me,” Alucard encouraged, standing in the center of the living area as he put his record player on.

“Had you figured out how to not step on someone’s feet while dancing or do I have to smack you upside the head like I did the first time?” Y/N asked, fixing the button of her blouse ere to taking Alucard’s hand.

“You’ll just have to find out,” he winked, pulling her body flush against his while his other hand slithered around to meet her waist.

Y/N watched as Sypha dragged Trevor to dance with her, her eyes getting caught with the cerulean ones she was infatuated with. She grinned at him, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she shot him a wink. Alucard spun her around, their feet moving in a series of patterns with one hand onto his shoulder and the other in his palm.

“And switch,” he called to Sypha, the two boys switching their partners.

“And we meet again, Belmont,” she sultrily spoke, one arm draping over his shoulder while the hand of the other took ahold of his stubbled-chin.

Her chest was pressed against his, her breasts nearing his collarbones as his arm that remained tight around her waist found a way to hoist her body.

“You’re such a little fuckin’ tease, you know that?” he grumbled, his teeth nipping at the skin of her neck.

“What? Am I gonna get punished for it?” she mocked a pout, her cleavage on full display as the buttons of her shirt slowly came undone.

He responded with a growl, his fingertips digging into the plump flesh of her ass. Their legs were an entangled mess; her knee pressed right up to his crotch and his thigh firm against her clothed sex.

“Might as well just fuck me in front of them,” she muttered as he spun her around, her back against his front with one of his hands fixed on her breast.

“Trust me, I’ve considered it.”

Adrian and Sypha looked up for a moment, feeling the thick, tense rope between the couple. They simply looked at each other, stifling their laughter as he spun her around yet again, this time switching her off to Adrian while Sypha was reeled back into his arms.

“That was quite intense,” Alucard retorted.

He slammed her back against the door, knocking the wind out of her lungs as his lips attacked hers. Their lower regions ground against one another, his hands holding onto her knees while his upper half held her up.

He pulled away for a moment, groaning at the sight of her swollen lips, a combination of their saliva coating the flesh. He bit the skin of her neck, rolling it between his front teeth before letting go, sucking on the skin to alleviate the tingling sensation.

“Strip for me - don’t take off your underwear,” he ordered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, panting.

She did as told without a fuss, shimmying out of her skirt and her blouse. He took one look at the white garter around her thigh, letting a scoff-like chuckle fall from his lips. Quite amusing she was. He watched as she stood there, nothing but white lace adorning her body.

“I told you to strip,” he said blatantly.

“But I want you to take it off,” she whined, folding her arms over her chest as she frowned like a toddler.

If he weren’t so desperate to have her around his cock, he would have no problem spanking her until she began to cry. However, he didn’t give up his rough demeanor. He held onto her waist, her chest right up to his.

“Fine, since you want to be such a little fucking brat.”

His arms reached around, fingers effortlessly undoing the hook of her bra before coming back to her front. One leg of his came up, his heel planting itself into the mattress of the bed before he spun her around, one of her arms throwing itself over his leg while the other held onto the one that trailed down her stomach, making its way into her underwear.

“Why can’t you just be a good fucking girl?” he quietly grumbled, his lips hiding into the nape of her neck as his fingers played with her clit. “You’re really fucking wet for someone who has so much mouth.”

His pinky and his thumb resting on the insides of her thighs, serving as a mini obstacle to halt her thighs from caving around his hand while his middle and index fingers fucked her furiously. She moaned aloud, her head rolling onto his shoulder.

He continued at a vigorous pace, profanities tumbling from her lips as he curled his fingers inside of her, reaching for her sweet spot. Her legs quivered as he continued doing this, the tips of her fingers digging into his clothed shoulders.

“Trevor, please,” she murmured, her voice light and airy as ecstasy took over her.

“Please what, darling?” he asked, his voice gruff as his mouth neared her ear.

“Please let me cum.”

The chuckle that came from his lips elicited a groan from her throat.

“We barely even started and you need to cum already?” he tsked, pulling his hand out of her underwear and swiping his fingers over her bottom lips, requesting access as her saliva coated his digits.

“Mm, I should torment you for needing to cum in less than five minutes when I’m sucking your cock, shouldn’t I?”

She’d earned it. But he hadn’t decided whether or not he wanted to edge her until she broke or overstimulate her until her cunt was quite literally palpitating. He pulled his fingers out of her mouth, a dark chuckle leaving his mouth as he pushed her onto the bed.

As she attempted to get onto all of her fours, he held onto her neck from behind, pushing her upper body down so her ass was in the air. He pulled her underwear down, earning a string of moans as he blew air onto her soaked pussy.

“You love tempting me, don’t you?” he queried, his fingers entering her one by one with each pump he gave, his thumb stimulating her clit.

His knuckles were deep inside of her, her moans lewd as they curled and twisted.

“Fuck,” she whispered, the side of her face planted deep into the sheets.

“Go ahead, be the loud fucking slut you are. I want them to hear.”

She didn’t give in to his commands, groaning into the sheets. A yelp came from her mouth as his free hand wrapped her hair around his fingers, grasping at her scalp afterward. He leaned over her yet again, not having anything to say at this point. His hand removed itself from her cunt, placing a taught slap on her swollen folds.

He undressed in a matter of minutes, cursing at the layers of clothing that adorned his brawny build. He looked at her body, her body shaking from not receiving its release. He laughed to himself, rubbing the head of cock along her folds, her body shuddering under his touch.

“Shit- just fuck me already!”

That had come out a bit more pushy (and a bit louder) than she’d hoped it would come out. She was pretty sure that even Alucard, who was all the way at the end of the hall could’ve heard that.

“Such a little whore,” he spoke, swiftly burying his cock between her velvety walls.

Her back arched as he pushed himself further and further into her womanhood. Had it really been that long? She felt so full - for a moment, she forgot what it felt like to be filled up with Trevor’s cock. She felt every inch, their skin slapping with every inch. She instinctively clenched around him, enticing a loud, dragged out groan from Trevor.

She knew she didn’t have much longer as she had two previous orgasms pent up inside of her, her hands clenching onto the sheets while one of his were on her neck and the other digging its nails into the skin of her hips. Her legs shook, confusion consuming her as he didn’t stop. She came around him, an utterly intense moan rippling from the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” she cried out, her back arching even further as both of his hands held onto her hips, pounding into her.

“Turn around, I wanna see your tits,” he grunted, breathless as his hips snapped into hers.

She did as told, struggling as he still screwed her.

He hoisted her legs, the pit of his elbows supporting the back of her knees.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she got out through moans, one hand throwing her leg over his waist so it could occupy the free space of her neck.

“Making up for lost time, angel face,” he obtained a “matter-of-factly” tone, adding a wink while bringing her to her second orgasm.

And it continued like this all night. His abdomen flexed as each orgasm washed over both him and her, the moonlight shining on their gorgeous bodies.

“Gonna make you cum for each fucking day you decided to torture me.”

His hands had practically been engraved into her neck, red marks forming from how much time his nails spent digging into the sides of her necks. Her chest was littered in bites and hickies, a particularly dark bite embedded into the skin below her collarbone.

His semen painted her walls, filling her stomach as the curvature of his cock protruded her womb. He pulled out of her after earning a whopping twelve orgasms before her walls clenched around him unbearably tight, squirting around his length as her hands scrambled for any bit of his skin.

This orgasm waved through her like no other, her back entirely leaving the mattress as her nails pierced into Trevor’s skin. He pulled out of her, her jaw fallen slack as pants fell from her mouth. He admired the way his seed threatened to spill from her cunt, yet she clenched around nothing, sort of any attempt to cave it inside of her.

He hurried to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He tenderly maneuvered the wet fabric around her folds, muttering encouraging words as she fought sleep.

“You can sleep down, angel. You did so well for me.”

“I can’t believe how outstandingly you performed.”

As much as she desired it, she didn’t go to sleep, waiting for Trevor to return. She let out a content sigh as she rolled over, one leg throwing itself over both of his as she held his body close to hers in her arms.

“You are one very determined man, aren’t you, Belmont?”

Her voice was hoarse, surely moaning and praising him for how well he was fucking her caused more than half of it. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, eventually shutting once Trevor kissed her temple.

“Only determined when it comes to you,” he muttered, his arms caving around her waist as he too fell into a deep sleep.

“Oh, fuck me harder,” she heard Sypha as she approached the kitchen, rubbing her eyes as she looked to see the three people she loved most.

“Don’t stop, Trevor! You’re fucking me so well!”

She couldn’t fight the pink tint that splayed itself upon her cheeks, the warmth radiating through the rest of her body.

“Oh, you guys are just jealous that you aren’t getting any of this Belmont dick,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the scorching frying pan in front of him.

“Eh, you might be right about that one,” Alucard muttered, earning a snort from Y/N.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Sypha chuckled, looking at the deep red, soon to be purple marks decorating her best friend’s neck. “You two really went at it last night, didn’t you?”

“Pfft, it’s like he’s having sex with an animal or something,” Alucard retorted, his eyes trained on the bright red scratches on Trevor’s chest, back, and arms.

“Oh, shut it,” Y/N snapped, trying to hide the embarrassment by burying her face into the pit of her laid out arms. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Touché,” he muttered, an exaggerated sigh coming from his mouth as he took a sip of his overly brewed coffee.

“Besides, weren’t you two begging us to give you godchildren?” Trevor grinned, earning a groan from the rest of them. “I thought you’d be happy!”

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kinsurou · 4 years

Text

After Class

Pairings: Takami Keigo x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), No Quirks! AU, Sex in a classroom, Reader is a virgin.

Here's my very first piece of smut, please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the show!

It takes all of your willpower to hold back the pent-up rage growing inside you like a fire doused in gasoline, everyone in the classroom can see the poker face you're trying to maintain is dangerously close to break and let out a horrifying monster called your temper.

Everyone except for the teacher can see you're nearly at your limit, there's an enormous urge to punch someone in the face that keeps growing, and that someone just happens to be the same woman giving you an earful in front of the whole class.

"You should be paying more attention during class instead of being on your phone!" She turns back towards the rest of her students. "Let this be an example to all of you! Don't be like your classmate here!"

She slams her bottle of water in your desk, for dramatic purpose, and finally, she walks back to her own desk, feeling satisfied with her actions. How in the world did someone like her become a college teacher in the first place is a question you'll never get a proper answer to.

There's actually a reason why she's been treating you like this for the past two weeks. A reason that just happens to walk inside the classroom a few minutes after the bell rings, he's carrying a stack of papers in hand, accompanied by a lazy grin stretched all over his face, but that expression quickly shifts to confusion and concern once he feels the tension inside the classroom.

"Sheesh, what's with the long faces guys?"

The teacher's mood flips in an instant. She starts greeting him with a big smile, and there's a not so subtle glint in her eyes that makes many, if not all of her students, cringe in repulse.

"Hi there Takami! Now this is a surprise, is Tanaka not coming today?"

"Good morning to you too Ms. Ito." He replies. "No, professor Tanaka called in sick, but he asked me to watch over the kids for today and hand out their exams. Though judging by everyone's mood, I'm guessing something happened?"

Ito just waves off his question nonchalantly. "I was just talking to everyone not to follow their classmate's example," She throws a dirty look at you from the corner of her eye. "Can you believe the nerve of this girl? Being on her phone in the middle of my lecture? Some people are just completely ungrateful when it comes to their education!"

In the meantime, you're biting down on your lower lip with such force, it's almost a surprise there's not a sight of blood, you're trying so very hard to ignore her snide remarks, all in favor of taking notes from the whiteboard in front of the classroom.

The only thing you were to blame for was forgetting to put your phone on Silent, otherwise she wouldn't have batted an eye when the device rang with a text from your mother. And yet all this woman wanted was an excuse to make you look bad in front of everyone, she just happened to find one at the right moment.

"He's so looking your way right now˜. "Your best friend whispers from your right, with that teasing tone you know all too well.

"Shut.up." You hiss, not really in the mood for another earful after the little stunt with the teacher.

You don't bother paying attention while the blond's gaze lingers on you, disregarding the woman's attempt to get the spotlight with ease, leaving her desperate to make another futile attempt until she finally realizes her class is over. All she can do to keep the remains of her dignity is walk out of the classroom with a huff and a sour attitude.

You feel pity for the students in her next class, they haven't even started the lesson yet and are going to have to deal with the human equivalent of a Tasmanian devil. You could almost listen to her yelling from across the campus already.

Takami Keigo, also nicknamed "Hawks" by his friends, is a teacher's assistant at your college. Older than the majority of your class only by two years, and yet he behaves in such a professional manner with everyone that is hard to believe he's actually a student as well.

It's hard not to like him when he's so chill with everyone, for even in cases like this, when he's asked to take over after a teacher's unavailable, Hawk's only assignment is to stay with the class during the whole period. This time however, he comes carrying a stack of papers.

"Alright kids," He starts, just to be interrupted by one of your classmates.

"Seriously Hawks? You're not that older than us!" They're obviously joking around with him, it's hard to be serious when this guy is around.

"Respect your elders kid!" Laughter fills the whole classroom, dissipating the tension in the air like it's nothing but mist.

Everyone but you is laughing their hearts out, until Hawks points out the contents of the papers.

"As I was saying, Your teacher had to attend some personal business, but he asked me to hand out your test results, and let me tell you guys one thing..." The following silence leaves everyone on edge. "All of you did an amazing job! I don't think I've ever seen so many good notes in a single classroom!"

Everyone starts yelling at him comically. All of you know just how much he enjoys teasing people, but somehow you can't ever get used to his teasing, and he knows it, it's why he's always abusing of his little tendency.

Anybody could agree he's the total opposite of Miss Ito. A 27-years old teacher who's always arguing with her own students for something as insignificant as yawning. Someone who apparently forgot the rule where it says it's strictly forbidden for a teacher to date a student.

That doesn't seem to stop her from throwing hints at a small group of guys, each from a different classroom, and it most certainly doesn't stop her from trying to flirt with the new teacher's assistant.

Hawks starts walking through each row of desks, handing out the papers one by one, each time he gives somebody their sheet of paper you can hear him telling everyone they did a good job.

Once he hands out your own test, his fingers brush against your own with subtleness, sending a small shiver all the way down your arms.

"Good job kid, You had one of the best grades out of the whole class. Your teacher said the same thing too, y'know." The way he says those words with such a reassuring energy makes all the anger inside you leave, no longer the urges to smack somebody tempts you to go looking for Miss Ito and shove your papers up her nose.

All you can muster is a small smile at the guy standing in front of you.

He smiles in return and walks to the next row of seats, ready to hand out the rest of the results.

It's only after he leaves your sight that you see it. A small post it note at the corner of your exam, and judging by the neat handwriting, it's a note from Hawks.

"Meet me after class, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Just when in the world did he write this? You didn't even notice when he put the tiny piece of paper in your test.

...Were you in trouble for something?

"Look Y/N! I've never had such a high grade before!" Your friend's voice snaps you out of the small paranoic fit. Turning towards him, your eyes widen in shock after seeing the results, and even you are surprised by how well he did on his exam.

"What the hell F/N? You got a perfect score!" You can't help the smile of pride that comes out, proud at F/N for getting such a good grade. He wasn't the worst student, but he wasn't the best either, so seeing the perfect score in his paper was something worth celebrating for.

The rest of the class goes by pretty quickly. Most of the time is spent reviewing the results of your exams with each other, and organizing future study sessions for the subjects you happened to have the most trouble with.

The loud ringing of the bell indicates the end of the last period. And with that everyone can finally leave for the day.

Except for you...

"We have to celebrate this! What do you say we go to that pizza place we love?" F/N stands from his chair to stretch his whole body, you wince at the loud "POP!" coming from his back.

"Maybe tomorrow? There's something I need to do first..." Your eyes wander back to the little pocket in your bag, where the little neon yellow note is carefully tucked away.

"Alright, I'll call you tonight then! See you on Saturday!" With that he walks out of the room along with the rest of your classmates. You're slowly putting all your stuff inside your bag, and it's until the last book is neatly stored alongside the rest of the notebooks and pens that you look up from your seat.

And he's sitting on top of the teacher's desk, Hawks keeps staring at you with something unknown deep inside those amber eyes of his, something lingers in that look and it makes you feel weird on the inside.

But you managed to keep calm before he starts talking.

"That was quite the ruckus back there, uh?" He chuckles, eyes closed as he leans back on the wooden surface.

All you can do is sigh in annoyance at the reminder of your teacher's words.

"Do you want me to remind you why she's being a bitch to me in the first place?" Your mind is faster than your brain, a hand shots up to cover it in shame once you realize what you just called her in front of an unofficial staff member.

But his laughter only becomes louder at your words. Hawks is literally shaking in place, small tears prickling his eyes and head tilted back.

"Easy there, I'm fully aware of it and I take the full blame for it."

He knows it's his fault Miss Ito hates you right now, all because the blond haired male was being friendly with you the other day. The same guy she had laid her eyes on. If there's something you all know is that when Miss Ito gets her eyes on someone single, approaching them is like a death sentence.

Sadly you became one of her targets by pure accident. And now you have to suffer the consequences of something unnecessary.

"But look at the bright side," He goes on. "She can't really lower your grades for no reason, count the fact you have one of the highest grades in her class and it'll look suspicious if you ask me. So for now, just keep up the good work."

You take another look at his features while getting up from your chair. His eyes hold nothing but sincerity, the easy going mood as he stands up from his seat is still evident.

But once he starts getting closer everything changes in the blink of an eye.

He's standing right in front of you, his arms caging your body between his own and your desk. The smell of his cologne quickly invading your nostrils. A subtle combination between citrus and musk that seems to fit Hawks perfectly, it's an alluring and addictive smell that makes you want to lean forward and breath said scent deeply.

That snaps you back to reality, and causes you to look up at him in the eye. A hue of crimson crawling its way up from your neck to your whole face. The whole room's beginning to spin all around you from the nerves struggling to take control.

"W-What are you doing?" The feigned confidence makes him rise an eyebrow in amusement, the glint in his eyes still present as he takes another look at you. His gaze pierces its way into your soul with such ease that it makes it hard to keep eye contact with the man trapping you between his arms.

"I think I should have been more direct from the very beginning..." He leans closer, warm breath hitting your face, making another course of goosebumps run down through your body in big waves.

There's a small and not so foreign feeling between your thighs, making the situation ten times worse.

You know what that feeling is, you just haven't felt anything like it before...

"I don't think I've ever met someone like you. Someone as hard working," His cheek nudges your own as he leans further and inhales your own scent, your bodies are pressed against each other with such an overwhelming amount of strength for someone as lean as Hawks.

"Someone as strong..."One of his hands caress your hip, making you gasp at the sensation of his hands brushing against your skin despite the layer of clothing covering your body.

"Someone as attractive." He's enamoured by the way your face turns away from him, eyes closed tightly from something as simple as his touch.

"If I'm being honest with you..." That same hand caressing your hip goes up, trapping your chin in between his fingers before turning it back to face him, his thumb skims over the outline of your lower lip with such a tender touch, it's enough to make you open your eyes to look at him.

That glint on his eyes is still in there, but this time, with everything happening right now, it all makes sense. This time you can tell just what that glint really means.

"I want you."

It meant lust.

His lips come crashing down on yours filled with never ending passion and lust. Hawks leans in closer, wrapping his arms around your hips as he ravishes your mouth. The warmth of his body makes you feel dizzy, like an intense fever that could make you hallucinate at any moment.

Never in your life has somebody kissed you like this before, with an intensity that makes all of your senses malfunction.

The kiss becomes more desperate as he pulls your body even closer. His touches makes your body give up as your legs begin trembling from dizziness, making him groan in satisfaction at the way you react to his strokes, and before your legs can actually give up on you and make you fall on the floor like an idiot, your own hands grip tightly on his arms for support.

When your limbs makes contact with his biceps, you realize just how fit Hawks actually is. The muscles under your palms feel hard and strong, you can almost feel every single movement as he flexes.

He pulls away soon after, smirking in satisfaction at the dizzy look on your face. You're panting heavily, eyes closing again and face flushing into a deeper shade of crimson than before, and that was only from his kisses.

The mere sight is enough for the growing tent in his pants to become harder, making your own eyes go wide at the realization of what the hard feeling against your leg actually is.

"H-Hawks...Wait...!" You can barely make a proper sentence, still high from everything going on. "I, We can't, you're..."

"I am...?" His teasing doesn't seem to stop. he too, is panting hard before kissing your cheek tenderly and slowly, slowly starts to kiss all the way down from the skin on your face all the way down to the jaw, eventually he reaches the junction between your neck and shoulder, where he starts nibbling softly.

Oh god, please don't leave a mark.

It takes all of your strength to push him away just a few inches. He's not even upset by the gesture, half lidded eyes staring at you intensely.

You finally catch your breath after a few minutes. Glaring at him with more embarrassment than anything else.

"You, are the teacher's assistant. Is it really okay for you to be doing this with a student?!"

All he does is give you a nonchalant look, followed by a smirk that leaves you frozen in place.

Is this guy really the same one that helped you out the other day? The same one that's always helping out everyone around campus with a smile on his face?

He touches your face affectionately once again, before answering your question.

"Yes, you're right, I am a teacher's assistant. But there's something you should know about it..." His eyes don't move from your swollen and bruised lips, with traces of sweet lip gloss slightly smeared on the side.

"Considering I don't have any power over the student's grades, there's really no problem for me to date one y'know?" Hawk's once again making direct eye contact with you, this time the lust in his eyes is more intense than before.

"Besides, be honest with me. You hate Miss Ito, and to be honest so do I."

You can't help blinking twice at his remark, nothing but silence fills the room.

"She may be a bright teacher, but the way she treats her students is unacceptable. That, and there's the fact she won't stop bothering me during free periods." He steps back slightly, pulling you by the wrists in the direction of the teacher's desk, right on the spot where he was sitting before.

"Wouldn't you like to get a bit of revenge on her? Just imagine, being fucked in the very same spot where she grades your exams..."

His words leave you thinking deeply, and you're so deep in thought about it you don't even realize what's going on for a second until you feel his strong arms lifting your body with ease.

You never thought you'd be doing something like this, but here you are, sitting over the desk where your teachers give their lessons, all while one of the hottest men in campus is about to do such depraved things to your body.

"So...What's it gonna be?" His hands are caressing your knees, rubbing circles on the tender skin as he anticipates an answer. If looks could kill his would have burned you a long time ago from the fiery passion behind it.

Your own hands grab on the sides of his face, pulling him closer into a sloppy but swift kiss before you look him in the eye once again.

"Just be gentle, alright...?" The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. Hawk's eyes once again have a mischievous glint deep inside.

"I promise you, by the time we're done here," He kisses your jaw softly. "You'll never want someone to be 'gentle' with you again."

He leans forward for another kiss, and this time, you eagerly kiss him back, the hands resting on your knees pry them apart slowly, giving him enough space to stand in between them.

The heat of his body, along with that intoxicating cologne of his makes the experience even more satisfying, small moans escape your mouth as his hands go under your shirt to caress the skin underneath, his touch feels so...delightful on your skin, almost good enough to make you forget about all of your troubles and dive into an euphoria induced dream.

His hands stop at the clasp of your bra, meticulously unclasping the lingerie, you can feel the fabric becoming loose at the front, but he makes no movement to fully take off your top.

Instead his hands just leave their place at your back to pull both the top and the piece of lingerie until it's all ruffled over your neck, he pulls away from the kiss to look down, and it leaves you flustered when he won't stop staring at your bust with intensity.

"...What?" You ask with embarassment, and he can't help laughing at your reaction.

"Am I not allowed to enjoy the view?"

"Stop it Hawks!" He gives you a look full of authority, it makes your body tremble in arousal, the dampness between your legs is proof enough of the effect this guy has on your body.

"Stop calling me that, and start calling me Keigo."

"But I-"

"Would you prefer to call me 'Daddy' instead?"

You give him an incredulous look, face once again flushed by his words.

"Keigo you son of aaaahhhh-" The words die in your throat, replaced by a sharp intake of breath instantly after he engulfs one nipple with his mouth, causing another wave of shivers to shake your whole body to the core.

You try to fight them back, but the whimpers come out victorious and escape through your lips in a rush. It makes Hawks...No, Keigo, smirk victorious, but it's hard to take him serious when he has one of your boobs in his mouth.

He releases the wet bud with a small "pop!", and caress the tip with his index finger, the friction makes another whimper come out, once again making his smirk confidently.

"Look at you. We're just getting to the good part, and you're already a moaning, trembling mess." He looks down in between you legs with a hungry, predatory stare that could make anyone shrink before him.

"It's a good thing you choose to wear a skirt today."

A hand dips down under said piece of clothing, rubbing a damp spot underneath with their middle finger, right where your still clothed and damp slit throbs, craving more of the deliciously immoral graze.

Fuck...

You can't hold back anymore, and you don't want to either.

You're about to have sex in a classroom.

YOUR CLASSROOM.

"What is it princess?" Keigo growls in satisfaction, enjoying how you're finally starting to let those sweet moans out without a care in the world. "Something you'd like to say? Can't say I'm not enjoying seeing you fight back all those sweet moans."

Someone could walk in any minute now, Miss Ito could be walking in any moment as well, but nothing matters anymore.

All you want is for him to take your body however he pleases.

You pull on the collar of his shirt, pulling him into another sloppy and fervent kiss. He really like this new side of you. Always be wary of the quiet ones they say.

His hands sneaks inside the panties, two fingers going deep inside your velvet walls with a slow pace. The friction is so addicting, and you can't help it when your hips move against your will, craving for more.

"Keigo..." You're panting, eyes clouded with desire. "Please take me, I can't wait any longer!"

That's all he needed to hear. But just to make sure you'll enjoy every single moment...

"As much as I'd love to be inside you already." His fingers start picking up speed, you yelp in surprise at the sudden increase of his movements. "I want you enjoy every single part of this. After all, it's your first time, isn't it?"

Between the nerves of being caught and his ministrations you can barely think straight, but your brain still manages to process his words, and it leaves you surprised.

"How?" This time he gives you a tender smile before kissing your temples.

"The way you kept trembling when I got closer? How you kept hesitating? It was pretty obvious, princess." Your walls clench around his fingers, he could tell you're pretty close, so he pulls back his fingers, leaving you hot, bothered and whining at the sudden lack of friction. "But don't you worry a pretty little hair, I'll take good care of you."

His arms hook themselves under your thighs, pulling them forward until his clothed and still throbbing girth brushes against your soaked pussy. The friction feels so fucking good. You can barely wait to feel the rest of it.

"Oh! right!" His hand goes inside his back pocket, and pulls out a small, blue package.

"...Do you always carry one of those around with you?" You squint at him in suspiciousness, and he gives you a sheepish grin in response.

"Nah, the nurse gave me a handful of them as a joke." Keigo quickly unbuckles his jeans, and lowers them along with his boxers just enough for his hard cock to spring out, it's average in length, but it makes up for it with thickness. Its head is also a prominent, reddish shade, throbbing and dribbling with precum.

You couldn't take you eyes off from it, and Keigo couldn't say he didn't like the attention.

He decides to put on a show, putting on the condom at such a slow pace to tease you for a bit. Seeing you squirm due the lack of body contact almost makes him come right on the spot.

Good thing the little piece of latex already comes with lube, not that he'd need much judging by the mess you're making below.

"Are you ready?" He asks, pulling aside your panties and resting his member over your sweet core. As desperately as he wants to pound you into the wooden surface, he'd rather double check, make sure you're completely comfortable with everything about to happen.

And make the experience so good, that you'll eventually come back to him crawling, begging for more of his sinful courtesy. So he can gladly give everything you ask for.

You pull him closer again, wrapping your arms around him with shaky hands. It's not that you're scared, but the nerves are hard to get rid of when it comes to having your first time with someone you've been crushing on for months.

"Please, I want you." You throw those words back at him.

He nods in response, kissing your face with a softness that could make anyone melt, and slowly, so very slowly starts pushing himself inside you. Keigo can hear you whimpering, not used to such a foreign feeling just yet.

It's not painful, but it makes you feel so unusually full once he's completely buried inside you. He also starts growling, savoring the feeling of your walls stretching, creating the perfect spot that fits his throbbing cock in such a delicious ways, it's almost impossible to describe how good you feel.

But one thing's certain, he can't get enough of it.

"God, you're so fucking tight." His voice is so low and hoarse, it nearly makes him sound feral, like a predator about to devour his prey.

And you, were the prey.

"Ahhh...So good, it feels so good being inside my princess."

Your arms grab onto the back of his shirt, bodies plastered against each other so nicely, fitting together just like a puzzle.

Like you were meant for each other from the very beginning.

Keigo pecks you on the lips tenderly. Hips pulling back carefully until nothing but the head is left inside, and then he gives a deep thrust that nearly knocks your whole breath away. Neither of you are capable of holding back the noises, and you don't want to either.

For the first time since you started college, you're glad to be in one of the classrooms in the fourth floor, as far away from prying ears as possible.

"Keigo, oh my god." Your body finally begins to relax, and Keigo can feel it too. He's grateful your insides are finally getting used to having him inside you, otherwise he probably would have come already from the tight clutch of your sweet and slippery cunt.

The moment he feels you completely relaxed it's where the real action begins. He pulls your arms away from him and lays you down over the whole surface.

The palm of his hand plants itself besides your head, acting as a support, otherwise he probably would have fallen over you, too lost over the pleasure your body provides him. The other hand is busy holding on to your hips for dear life, digging his nails on the skin and leaving a painful yet addicting feeling behind, as well as a couple of marks on the bruised skin.

"Remember when I said you'd never want something 'gentle' after this?" He smirks, looking down at you with such dominance, you can't even process any type of thought that's not related to him anymore. "Well, I always keep my promises. Princess."

In the blink of an eye he starts thrusting so hard and fast that you can't help it when the moans start getting louder. Keigo moves with a pace so strong, so fast, and so passionate that rattles the whole desk. It makes your thoughts wander in place, imagining the loud slam that could probably be heard across a room should he be fucking you in bed.

"Hey..." A snap of his fingers brings you back to the present, and to a frowning blond. "Eyes on me princess, or is this too boring for you?"

He stops moving altogether, even despite your desperate whines at the sudden halt of his thrust, but Keigo's a persistent man, and a teasing little shit who adores making you squirm underneath him.

"Keigoooo!" You hips move on their own, trying to get some more of that delicious feeling of his cock against your velvet walls. It doesn't last for long though, as both of his hands have a unshakable hold on your sides, completely preventing you from grinding against him any longer.

"If you really want more..." His hands travels all the way down to your aching sex, rubbing a single digit against your clit and drawing out a high pitched moan. "Then beg for it...Tell me, just how much you really want it."

"I..." You can't even form a proper sentence, an endless stuttering from his finger rubbing harder against the small bud, preventing you from doing so.

You can't talk, you can barely think, but you need him.

"I want you...to fuck me harder. P-Please Keigo, I really, really need your c-cock!" That's all you can say, and that's all he needs to hear. Keigo begins moving again, this time at such a brutal pace that makes everything go white. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoes loudly all around the classroom, and the smell of sex engulfs the whole room.

"That's much better!" He growls, satisfied with the way your head falls back when he hits a certain spot. Keigo gives another harsh thrust, making you scream from how good it feels to have him ravish your body like this.

You're so caught up in the moment, drowning in ectasy from every push. Then you feel it, the way your insides twist from the upcoming orgasm as he begins rutting mercilessly, kissing your womb over and over again.

"Keigo!" There's something about the way you scream his name, that makes his length twitch as it slips back and forth inside your cunt. And his pace begins to waver once he feels his own climax approaching. "I'm coming...!"

"You're coming princess? You want to cum all over my cock?" He gives another sharp thrust, drawing out another moan from you. By this point he could guess your throat is more likely sore from how loud you're getting. And he adores it.

"Do it then," He gasps, head burying itself on your shoulder and biting down on the soft flesh, that is definitely going to leave a mark. "Come for me, make a mess all over this desk, so every time you're in class you'll never forget what happened here behind everyone's back!"

He knows the effect his words have on you, that grin on his face says it all as he watches your body convulsing, trembling as your very first orgasm shakes your senses. He follows after you almost immediately, utterly overwhelmed after the had clenching of your walls around him.

You're both feeling exhausted, attempting to calm your heavy breathing. During that brief period of time, you keep wondering if what happened would be just a one time thing. And once the both of you walked out of the room, Keigo would tell you to pretend nothing happened.

In a way, it makes a small aching dig it's way inside your heart.

"Hey princess, what's with the long face?" Keigo's face leaves its place on your shoulder, worried you might be regretting everything that happened just a minute ago. "I told you there would be no problem in getting involved with me."

"I know," Slowly your hands release their hold on his shirt, leaving behind a couple of wrinkled spots. "But this changes everything. Was this just a one time thing?"

"Oh, that's what you're worried about?" His questions comes out so casually it almost gives you whiplash from how fast you turn to look at him, brows raised high in confusion.

Once again he grabs your chin between his fingers. This time with a softer look in his eyes than when he first proposed this debauchery.

"I meant what I said before, I've never met someone like you before." He gives a soft peck to your jaw, lips lingering in place momentarily. His eyes are closed, deep in thought as he thinks carefully about his next words.

"The question is. Do you, want this to be a one time thing?" He's making eye contact with you again. "Or do you want this to go further?"

"I, want to get to know you better, Keigo." The answer is barely audible, but he manages to hear it, judging by the soft look he gives you.

"That's all I need to hear. Now, what do you say we get out of here? The janitor should be arriving any moment now, and honestly." He pulls out his already soft member, making you whimper slightly at the sudden emptiness. "I'd rather be the only one seeing you like this."

Quickly you both try fixing yourselves as much as you can. Thankfully you always carry a small package of napkins, and quickly clean up the dripping mess between your legs before fixing up your clothes.

As well as the dirty predicament on the desk, the janitor's not to blame for the consequences of Ito's attitude after all.

You both walk out of the classroom carefully. Thankfully Keigo didn't have anything pending, so nobody came looking for him during your little "chat". But if any of your friends happened to see this, you'd never hear the end of it from them.

..........

Just like Keigo predicts, the next time you walk inside the classroom everything that happened last Friday comes back. And when Miss Ito's lesson finally starts, you have to fight back the urge to give her that same mocking smile she gave you last time.

If that's not satisfying enough, then the moment the whole school witnesses her outrage after she makes another move on Hawks, just for the teacher's assistant to mention he's already seeing someone definitely is a sight nobody will ever forget. Particularly after she's finally called into the principal's office for her lack of professionalism.

The whole school ends up celebrating the event. And you definitely will celebrate once again after class, judging by the subtle looks Keigo sends your way after the ordeal.

Taglist: @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @hawks-senseis @honeytama @savagetrickster @unbreakableeiji @wakaoujisenhime

#bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha smut #mha smut #hawks smut #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo #hawks #bnha hawks

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insufferablelust · 4 years

Note

Hi!! I have a fic request if you’re still taking them. Reader has always been really flirtatious with spencer but he’s never taken it seriously because she’s younger than him. Reader calls spencer daddy or sir kind of jokingly but spencer get’s really turned on. This would be post-prison so he won’t hold back. He’s all like you don’t know who you’re playing with😡 you act so tough but can’t even take it !! And she is obviously exited and her bratty ass eggs him on.

Holy shit, this fic is 3,7k words long and i’m so proud of it like fuck, i’m so tempted on making a series based on this cause i got the plot line figured out, tell me if you would like a sequel or continuation of this because honestly i have some ideas gshsj! anyway its filthy.

Warnings : Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, post prison spencer, filthy smut, rough sex, daddy kink, rough spencer, pain kink, masochism, spit play, pet names (bunny, little girl, princess etc), big age gap (but reader is NOT UNDER AGE/A MINOR), degradation by name calling, slight exhibitionism, just filthy rough smut with fluffy after care! please read at your own risk.

MASTERLIST.

——————

If there’s one word that could describe your relationship with Spencer Reid, that would be playful. Playful as in you’ll try to be flirtatious just to watch the deep pink warmth spreading over the doctor’s cheeks. You always considered yourself to be playful maybe it was fitting for your age seeing that you both have a pretty noticeable age gap but, anyone who knows you would know that too.

It started as a small competition between the two of you, finding each other’s quirks and similarities just for the sake of teasing and taunting each other— enjoying your effects on one another. But for you, it was so much more, despite being playful you’re also prone to falling in love quickly, even more so when it’s someone like Spencer Reid; how could you not? from the way his lip twitched whenever he’s thinking, or the way his demeanor changes whenever he interrogated an unsub, or just how he simply himself. You are falling for Spencer Reid, and you’re falling hard.

Imagine your surprise after a couple of drinks at the bar with your teammates, that you let it slip, of course it was mainly the buzz talking, but you know what they said about a drunk man who tells the tell tale truth. The moment you let the seemingly innocent word past your lip, your drunken haze could see how his jaw twitched, feel how his breathing changed, and most definitely, feeling the tension grew thicker and thicker— excitement and nervousness seeped into your skin that has you writhing inside.

“I’m sure you knew that much, given your age, daddy.”

You swear you didn’t do it on purpose, it was just one of those slip ups that for you, coincidentally saying daddy in front of someone you— not only admire but have a major crush on, and for sure would call daddy, if you were together. But you weren’t, you both were only teammates, and flirtatious friends that somehow ended up in this awkward yet exciting situation because your mouth couldn’t let your fuzzy brain to think it through.

“Oh, god. I’m really really sorry i was just— i was truly just indicating that.. that you know! um i think i’ve had too much drinks tonight— maybe i should find em-“ before you could finish your messy apology and an excuse to find Emily, you felt the tender burning sensation across your throat.

It was his palm, pressed ever so delicately yet alarmingly on your throat, his thumb grazing along your pulse as if its telling you to stop talking or he will press against your windpipe. Your surroundings became blurry as you focused on the only thing that matters; him. His breath so close to you, his warmth electrocuted your veins, and his touch— god his touch on your throat burns and melts you.

“Shut up for once, little girl. Have you got any idea how much trouble this pretty lips of yours would get you?”

His voice was venomous as it rang up your ears, spreading over your core like you were an open flame to sacrifice. You tried to speak, tried to reply with a snarky reply or something to save your dignity, but the only thing your mouth could let out was a, “sorry..” that caused him to chuckle with amusement, gripping your jaw tightly,

“I think you’re missing something there,” He whispered lowly, eyes sharp on yours. You shuddered at the gesture, feeling your knees buckled as you answered; voice barely a whisper, “Sorry, daddy.”

“What was that, bunny? didn’t quite catch that.” He pressed his thumb tighter on your skin that were sure would leave some nice deep purplish marks. So you replied louder, though your voice were shaky and pathetic, “Sorry, daddy!” earning yourself a soft graze across your lips and a hum from Spencer.

“I would say that you’re a good girl but you aren’t, aren’t you?” He tilted your chin then, making sure your eyes locked with his as he scoffed, “No, you’ve been so bratty. Teasing me, all this time huh? thinking you could just push every button? slutty minx like you get nothing.”

You let out an obscenely loud mewl, and stomp your feet, causing him to growl possessively against your neck, biting the soft skin lightly, “Quiet, you want the team to know how insatiable you are?” He grunts, the back of his palm went to slap your cheek softly causing you to gasp, “No, daddy.”

“Good. Now, go tell Emily that you’re coming home with me.” He patted your reddened cheeks before tilting his head.

———

the drive back to your place had been quiet, you were too nervous and buzzed to say anything, and he was enjoying it— the way you squirmed in anticipation and the way you keep stealing glances at him.

You jumped suddenly when you feel the electrifying warmth on your thigh, noticing that it was in fact Spencer’s palm gripping the soft supple skin, tender whimpers escaped your lips as you feel his fingers crept up your thighs slowly up and down.

“Choose a word,” He said simply, eyes stilled on the road ahead as his palm knead the inside of your thigh, leaving crescent marks at it’s wake. “What? i-Oh! don’t understand..” You whined as you feel his fingers grazing against your panties.

“For your safe-word pet, choose a word, or i swear to god i will do more than just making your ass purple, i’ll make sure you can’t walk.”

———

The word you chose was lilac, having no idea your favorite shade of purple could mean so much to you now.

After the tense 20 minute drive, you both arrived at your place, you were almost fully sober then left for the lingering buzz behind your neck that might just be from the fact that you were turned on. The way your fingers trembled as you tried to open your front door sets the idea of just how nervous you are, especially with Spencer’s looming figure behind you, watching your every move— imprinting them inside his mind with his touch ghosting above your skin as if he’s dancing on top of them.

When you finally get the door open, you let out a deep breath and let him in muttering a small, “welcome to my palace!” jokingly. Yet, when you looked behind you, you could see just how mad he was but most importantly— just how much he wanted to hurt you in the most pleasurable way, pleasure through pain. His curls were all over the place, his lip half bitten, and his eyes, god his eyes could tell you just about everything that was racing on his mind.

You noticed it of course, before all of this, right when he got out of prison, you’ve noticed it clearly. Something inside him shifted, something more primal rather than the fact that he becomes way more bold yet private at the same time. Maybe it was because you were the only one who paid that much attention, but you could just see how much he wanted to take control in every situation he was in.

Spencer before prison was a very complicated man yet he was also someone who wouldn’t mind not being in control, he wasn’t your typical alpha male if you could put it that way— and that’s one of the things you love about him, its the fact that he’s not scared to be himself and show his vulnerability at times. But Spencer Reid after prison, is someone you hadn’t expected to meet, the moment he hugged you first; the moment he snapped at everyone for not taking him seriously about a case; the moment he took down an entire mission by himself; the moment he does everything screamed one thing to you, and that is yearning for control.

You couldn’t say you could possibly understand the horror that the prison imprinted on him, but you could understand just how much it affected his need over power— over owning something, over the situation, over someone. And if he needs to own you tonight, then you would willingly give your soul and body to him.

Y/N took a deep breath as his tucked hands reached to grasp her soft neck, already covered in small red marks from earlier ministrations. He hummed at the sight, somewhat pleased, but somewhat disappointed. Disappointed that it’s not deep enough to noticed from the end of the room. Then, his eyes met yours— sending shocking waves of heat inside your body that surely had you clenching your thighs tightly.

“You’ve been so...careless, so out of your place, pet.” He muttered, tracing his thumb just above your pulse up to your jaw and up your blushing cheeks, “I’ve tried so hard to.. hold back, hold back every time you acted like a brat, every time you teased me, you must thought you were so cute huh?” His grip got tighter then, shoving you backwards towards your bed, before releasing your jaw almost in an attempt to not push himself further— he hesitated.

“You surely know better don’t you, bunny? know better than to just carelessly... make a prey out of yourself.” His thumb graze over your bottom lip, tracing side to side slowly as he chuckles, “But i see now that my cute fierce little coworker, is not as innocent as she seemed.” He mused, lips twitched in endearment as he watched you suckle on the tip of his thumb.

“You got everyone fooled by your charming witty self, believing just how bright and good you are. But not me, i’ve seen through your acts pet, i’ve seen just how much you wanted me to just...take control of you, to own you, to.. hurt you just how you like it, isn’t that right bunny?”

You whined through your lips, sucking harder on his thumb with your hands gripping wrist. You were so dazed out, fuzzy with need, and turned on beyond belief that you fluttered your eyes shut, afraid that if you looked at his eyes one more time, you would lit on fire. But like he said, he always sees right through you, he pulled your hair back with his unoccupied hands causing you to gasp- mouth agape and eyes trained to his.

Spencer could swear that he felt his palm twitched at the sight of your face, the desperation dripping from you metaphorically and literally, the hand that was on your jaw moved to your cheeks, caressing the soft skin before suddenly you felt it. Felt the burning sensation of his palm on your cheeks, the pain arouses you to no end, and the aftershock made you moan, out loud.

“Please...” were the only thing that you could let out as you craved for more, you craved him just as much as he craved you, you could care less about the marks— you loved it even and you know now that he loves it too.

Spencer inhaled sharply at her plea before dangerously pressing their foreheads together and warned, “If i start, best believe i’m not going to go easy on you, not a chance. I’m a changed man Y/N, i won’t be gentle, and i definitely will hurt you, you have your safe word but if you don’t want this, or you expected me to go soft, say the word and i’ll leave and we can pretend that this doesn’t happen—“

“I want this..” Your broken voice rang through his ears like music, it was so heavenly that he closed his eyes for awhile as if to made sure that this isn’t a dream, that the woman he love yet been desperately trying to be away from because he was scared to hurt her, is here asking him to.. own her.

“Say it again.” He growled, hands coming back down to her neck as he pushed her down onto the bed, “Please.. daddy, own me, hurt me, fuck me, i don’t care! just do something!”

“Put your hands up, don’t move if you move them even an inch, i won’t let you cum tonight.” He grunted against the skin of your neck, teeth sinking onto them— marking you up in various different spots. He then trail down his kissed to the juncture of your collarbones, fingers trailing down to take off your dress.

You squirmed at the sight of him practically drooling over the image that is your wonderful body, his hand caressed the taunt covered nipples before tugging your bra off and immediately sucking onto one of the sensitive buds, and pinch and twirl the other one.

The mewls and whimpers that left your mouth was lewd and loud, getting louder with each lick and suck he delivered, sending thousands of electric shock-like waves through your veins, you let out a trail of uh’s as Spencer tug your panties down and stared up at you.

“Pretty baby just wants to get fucked, ‘s a shame that you’ve been a bad girl, would’ve wanted to eat you out for hours but i have to punish you now instead.” He mumbled, with an exaggerated sigh, mocking you in his tone, leaving you desperate and soaked through the sheets at the thought of him eating you out. “But-“

“Shh, bratty whores aren’t allowed to talk. so shut up and bend over my lap.” He growled, ending his sentence with a slap to your delicate wet pussy— earning a loud yelp from you as you scrambled to your feet and bent over his lap on the edge of the bed.

“How many do you think you deserve, baby?” The names he called you warmed your heart, you’ve been under his spell long enough to know that this is a trick question, no- you can’t say the exact numbers, the only correct answer is, “As many as you think i deserve, daddy.” He smiled at your obedience, whispering a “good girl” as he caressed your ass. Daddy always knows better after all.

Then you felt it, the first slap felt like fire against your skin, you yelped out a loud mewl as he growled, “Count.” So you did, letting out the shaky numbers as his hand collided with the soft supple skin of your ass cheeks— bruising them on his wake. “T-Ten! god daddy!” You screamed, thigh clenching, cunt fluttering around nothing, and your hands gripped the sheets on for dear life.

“Oh don’t whine now, you asked me to hurt you remember? i’m just giving you what you want little girl.” He chuckled, each words that left his mouth made you even wetter. His palm came down again and again, marking each and every untainted skin of your bum, painting them with his handprints and his crescent nail indents. Your ass was definitely on fire, tears streaming down your face in pleasure and pain, you were dripping down your thighs as Spencer delivered the final slap.

“Twenty! please daddy! i’m sorry!” you cried out, feeling his palm caressing your skin as he coo’d at you, “What are you sorry for bunny... is it for being a slut? for teasing me all this time? for being a damn brat? for being reckless on that mission last week? hm which one is it?” He taunted, bringing more tears to your eyes, lips quivering as you answer him shakily, “All daddy! i’m sorry for being bad! please!”

“Apology can only get you so far, lay on the bed, and spread your leg. I’ll ruin you so next time you want to get under daddy’s skin, you’ll know what happens to slutty bratty whores like you.”

——

You were spread out, hands above your head, tied with his tie, and there he was between you, slowly rubbing your swollen clit trailing your wetness all over your folds. He had taken off his clothes, on his knees bare in front of you with his— beautiful cock, you have no idea one could be so pretty and perfect yet there he is.

His thumb move faster on your clit causing you to buck up against his touches, mouth agape as the lewd sounds kept on spilling from your mouth, he slapped your clit when you bucked your hips again, causing you to gasp in shock and pleasure, “Stop being a greedy, minx.” He muttered lowly, before continuing his ministrations, your moans only grew louder with soft uh’s and “daddy!’s”

Spencer couldn’t even hold himself back, feeling the urge to just take you then and there because you’re here, fucking perfect and spread out for him. Like a damn peach ripe for the taking, your moans was music to his ears, fueling his need— his ego satisfaction as he sped up, “Open your mouth.” he demanded, and you obeyed so happily and eagerly, awaiting for anything he was about to do.

You couldn’t believe yourself when you felt it at first, feeling the warmth of his saliva down your throat as one of his unoccupied hand gripped your waist tightly and pushed himself inside you— letting you feel every veins and the stretch of his cock— pulsing with need.

“Fuck! oh fuck daddy!” You screamed out loud, your breathing as labored as his, you could feel how deep his cock was seated inside you, nudging the soft spongy spot that has you seeing stars, that has you tightening your walls around his length, causing him to let out a deep guttural groan, “Fuck Y/N, so fucking perfect and tight.”

“Please harder daddy!” You begged him, eyes doe like with tears as you looked up to him and egging him on some more, “Please ruin me, Spencer.”

“You want harder? fine i’ll give you harder.” At that, he gripped your waist tightly before pounding inside you relentlessly, each thrust overpowering your whole being, making the room grew smaller as the both of you relinquished the feeling you have for each other.

“Yes! yes yes! o-oh!” Your moans were choked out this time, as his hand went from gripping your waist to gripping your neck tightly, pounding your cunt over and over again, with double the pace and intensity each time harder. “Feel so fucking good, bunny.” The praise that left his mouth only fuels you up, clenching your walls tightly as he let out string of curses and your name.

“Look at me,” He ordered, yet you whined instead, not having the ability to open your eyes. Spencer slowed his pace down as he gripped your jaw and slap your cheek one time causing you to gasp, “Look at me, Y/N. I want you to look at me as you cum, i want you to scream my name when you do, cause i own you. You hear me? you’re mine.” He growled, the words that left his lips sending electrifying feelings on your heart and of course your cunt, pulsing around his cock.

“Yes yes yes! i’m yours Spencer all yours!” You were in commando as you spew out everything you’ve been holding onto for the past few months, “please show me i’m yours.”

Spencer sees red flashes across his eyes, his primal need to mark you and to make you his overshadowed everything, so he picked up the pace again and thrust in and out of your pussy with brutal pace, “Good slut, that’s it my good little girl you are— fuck!” He grunted as he feel you tightening around him, knowing damn well you were about to cum.

“Don’t you dare cum without my permission.” He warned dangerously as you looked up at him tearily, his hands tightening their grip on your waist and neck as he went faster, “D-Daddy! May i- oh uh! cum please!” He chuckled darkly as he faux a pout, leaning closer so your noses brush, “No. Bratty girls waits for their daddy to cum first.” He rasped suddenly, as he drilled his cock inside you and his thumb was on your clit.

This is torture, and you loved every bit of it.

“N-No! can’t hold it! daddy please!” Your were squirming, arms tugging against the tie, as he moaned out loud, feeling himself getting closer and closer to his climax, “Please daddy! Inside me!” You moaned loudly, holding onto your own orgasm as tightly as possible.

“Fucking- fuck! Y/N fuck, cum now.” His commands were deep guttural and shaky as he reach his high, still thrusting inside you with his thumb on your clit. You followed shortly after, feeling the wall burst and you came with a silent scream and toe curling hardest orgasm you’ve ever felt.

Spencer’s controlled his breathing rather quickly, whilst you still squirming and panted under him. He quickly untied your arms kissing your bruised wrist softly before letting it fall beside you. “Shh so good, such a good girl.” He keeps on whispering as you’ were coming down from your high, fingers clutching to his arm.

“D-Don’t leave..” You mumbled weakly, feeling the fuzziness inside your head as he pulled out, and watched the mixture of you and him slip past your wall. “No princess, i’m going to go grab a wet cloth so i can wipe both of us and then we can get some rest okay..?” You mumbled a silent okay, before he leaned down to softly kiss your lips and then goes to grab the cloth.

When he comes back, the first thing he did was cleaning you up, your skin tingles at the gentle touch of the cloth and him— mainly him, you hummed happily as he sat the bucket of water down after he cleaned himself and then grabbing a water bottle.

“Come love tilt your head— there you go pretty girl.” He cooed, as you took sip a few sip before laying back down. He goes to take some sips too, then proceed to laid next to you, and pressing your body close to him, fingers playing with your hair.

“Spencer..” You mumbled tiredly, using the rest of your energy to look up at him and smile, which he returned and mumbled a small, “hm?” whilst playing with your hair gently.

“I have a crush on you..” You weren’t sure whether you were orgasm drunk or whatever but it just feels right to say it— so you said it.

“I know, and i..” He chuckled in shyness, something you used to see on pre prison Reid, your heart flutters when you saw him smile and became nervous.

“I feel the same way.” He continued, making sure he holds you tight and kissed your forehead gently, “We’ll talk about it over coffee and croissants tomorrow okay? for now lets just sleep first.” He smiled gently, pulling the covers on top of the both of you.

“Good night, spencer.”

“Night, Princess.”

—————

Although, cute the ending still kinda suck lmao. Anyways, again if you want a continuation of this fic, or me possibly making it into a series, please let me know!

#insufferableblurb #criminal minds smut #dom!spencer #spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 2 years

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Enemies to lovers

For this ask game

Ah enemies to lovers my beloved...

How likely am I to write it: Honestly not very. As much as I love this trope, in order to do it justice I feel that I'd have to write it into a long-fic and at the moment I just don't have the time to take on another big project (it may not necessarily seem that way but I am currently working on a lot of stuff in the background). If I ever get the chance, I would definitely like to have a proper go at it though ;-;

What character/ pairing would I be most likely to write it for: This part is a little tricky as I think if you're working with a human reader and the canon DL boys then being enemies with them is just going to result in a very unpleasant fate. I think you could get away with it if you made the reader another demon but I don't have any interest in doing that in a long fic as it would involve creating more of a backstory for the reader than I usually like to.

All of that being said, I think I could get away with writing something set in canon if I wrote a Kino x Reader story in which the reader is an extremely good gamer who streams some of their playthroughs and keeps beating Kino in the leader boards on his favourite mobile games. Kino is decidedly irritated by this and becomes convinced that you must be cheating somehow, it's the only way you could beat him as anything other than a one off. He starts leaving rude comments on your videos, which you do not take kindly to and call him out for it on one of your socials.

This starts a bit of back and forth that involves several childish insults and Kino starts to consider you a nemesis of sorts—which is ridiculous because you're human so it's not like you're even on the same level as him. Anyway, he ends up being incredibly thrown off guard when he actually runs into you at an event where they're giving away game codes, to the point where he points at you with narrowed eyes and cries "you!"

You mistake him for some sort of fan, which Kino initially tries to refute before realising that if he plays along, he can ask to play something with you in person and either catch you cheating and post it for the whole internet to see or he can show you up by beating you. So he acts nice and convinces you to have a drink with him in a nearby café where he then lies and says he has a small gaming channel and how cool it would be to record a video where you play against each other. You, unaware that he's actually the bastard who's been trolling you, agree.

Kino sets his phone up to film the pair of you and then accepts your phone and selects one of his favourite apps. He knows the level he chooses like the back of his hand, and even beats his own high score. As he hands the phone back to you, you comment that he's really good at playing, to which he smugly agrees, although he's a little irked that you don't seem to be even slightly intimidated by the thought of trying to match his score.

You start the level and he watches with a keen eye to and try and catch you doing something to mess with the game but... you don't. You play it exactly as it was meant to be played and actually—you're really good at it?! Kino absolutely cannot believe it when you just manage to top his score. He's a vampire prince, there's no way you can actually be better than him. As tempting as it is to drain you dry right then and there, he can't because that's basically admitting that the only way he can beat you is by killing you off. So instead he challenges you to a rematch, but you refuse saying you have to run as you have somewhere to be. Before you leave, however, you tell him that it's been a long time since you had to put in that much effort to best someone and you give him your number in case he wants to play again some time.

Naturally Kino takes it and then spends days grinding away at a game that was just released so he can challenge you to a rematch that he's sure to win. You meet at that same café. He does not win.

This results in several more meet ups and finally, eventually, he finds an arcade game that he's able to beat you at. He laughs in your face and proceeds to mock you for a solid five minutes, which you take in good humour and just ask if he wants to play again.

Kino freezes for a moment. He's beaten you now, he's won so he doesn't have anything to prove anymore, and you're not Eve so it's not like you have anything that's going to benefit him in the long run. He thinks of going home and sitting in his room by himself as he plays through the event that's currently running on one of his current favourite games.

He agrees to the rematch with you instead.

***

That being said I think you could do a very funny Reiji x Reader grad student AU where for some reason incredibly petty reason you started off on the wrong foot when you were introduced to each other and your relationship has only gotten more antagonistic from there. You're both working on similar projects but have different ideas about the systems your working with which results in lots of petty bickering whenever the professor supervising the pair of you has his back turned.

Reiji also likes to nit-pick all of your lab techniques and so you start doing the same to him and the whole thing escalates to point where he 'accidentally' throws away one of your samples while he was 'helping to clean your lab space'. So in retaliation you somehow hack into the university email server and change it so that he's now listed as "Shu Sakamaki" which drives him up the wall.

The whole thing culminates in a confrontation in the library when you both pick out the same textbook at the exact same time and then get into a disagreement over who needs it more and who's research is more important. It turns into some sort of scientific debate and for some reason you can't stop looking at his lips as you spout increasingly complex jargon at each other. You finally run out arguments and Reiji looks so infuriatingly smug at having at the last word that shove the book into his chest, knocking him into a set of shelves in the process, and kiss him just so he'll stop making that damn expression at you.

Thank you so much for the ask! As you might be able to tell, I got slightly carried away ^^;;

#ask game #this was really fun thanks for sending this in ^^#all this being said I guess Amaryllis could technically count as an enemies to lovers fic?#but I never got far enough into it to write the lovers part OTL #Diabolik Lovers #Kino #Reiji Sakamaki

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scripturiends · 3 years

Text

law school episode 9 musings

warning: very very long post ahead. i have a lot of thoughts.

hey folks — how we feeling about episode 9?

given that there are so many plotlines in the show, i’m afraid i won’t be able to extend my analysis of the episode as far as i would like, but there are three characters who stood out to me the most last night that i’d like to talk about for now:

kang dan

there’s a lot that we got to uncover about her thanks to professor yang’s trial. if i’m piecing it all together right, the basic summary of what led to her disappearance goes like this:

she was a volunteer for assemblyman ko’s campaign, but upon discovering that he was spreading fake news about his opposition, dan reported him to the authorities (i’m guessing not just the police but also the media) and became a whistleblower. assemblyman ko tried to buy her off with money, but she refused, so he attacked her where she’s most vulnerable instead — by using her family.

i’m not completely sure about this (please feel free to correct me!) but it’s either byeol is (1) the twins’ half-sister, or (2) their stepsister? it’s so hard to tell, especially since korean terms can get lost in translation in the process (i watch on netflix, if that helps). but anyway, sol and dan’s mom married someone who was abusing her, and in exchange for dan’s silence (and her fleeing), the husband signs a contract that he would stop hurting his wife.

so that’s the backbone of dan’s story. however, this still doesn’t answer a lot of things, like where seo byungju or lee manho fits into the equation, the whereabouts of their mom’s ex-husband, or why dan was sent into boston in the first place.

i usually don’t like theorizing, but i do have one: there is an ivy league school located just outside of boston — harvard. (it’s technically in cambridge but you know, i’m taking liberties here.) professor yang said in passing one episode that he thought he saw dan when he went to the school for a seminar or a talk or something. could it be that assemblyman ko offered her an education at a top school in exchange for her silence? it could explain why she gave it up all so easily. what if she took that topnotch education as a chance to prepare, so that when she came back, she had much stronger leverage to take assemblyman ko down, given the knowledge and network of connections she’ll have earned in that school?

the theory’s plausible but i might be overestimating assemblyman ko’s kindness — unless he’s insanely desperate, he might not give a damn about dan’s education. it actually benefits him more if she stayed uninformed, but still. let me know what you think about it.

yoo seungjae

in this episode, we learned a little bit more about how yoo seungjae was able to hack into the professors’ laptops, and they also confirmed some of our previous speculations about him: that his wife yujeong was an ob gyn, and so was he, and that they were trying for a baby. unfortunately, i find it all to be a bit lacking in substance. i was hoping we could get down to the nitty-gritty of why he did what he did.

i say this for one important reason: i don’t know about you guys, but i would never make such a stupid mistake in undergrad, let alone in law school. seungjae has gone to med school, so we know that he knows the repercussions of his actions. why would he go to such lengths? sure, he found an opening, he was tempted, and he took it. but he didn’t just do it once, he did it multiple times, and those offenses add up (hacking, stealing exam papers, and cheating). surely he must know that something like this can ruin careers even before they even start, and not only would he get kicked out of the school, he would also get blacklisted from the industry once he implicates himself. so we understand why he’s so hesitant to testify (especially now that his wife is pregnant).

but why did he do that in the first place? we could say he’s insecure about his skills, but he’s survived med school. how much harder could law school be for him? i just don’t think that the payoff is worth the risk. what must be so important for yoo seungjae to do all of this for? what does he get in return if he successfully pulls it off and gets straight As during his entire time in law school? who is he doing for?

i hope it runs deeper than just wanting a ‘good future’ for him and his wife and their baby or something — because he could just as easily do that as a doctor. there must be another reason he went into law.

still, though, and this is just a personal opinion, even if i did find out his entire backstory, there’s no way i could ever defend him. we see in the show how his guilt builds up (from observing how kang sol A studies so well, to his conversation with jeon yeseul in the hospital), but at this point there is no more excusing what he did. not that i ever condoned it in the first place.

we’re still in the dark about a lot of things regarding yoo seungjae. hopefully by the next episode, we get something. but until then, he is still a shady, shady man to me.

kang sol B

her screen time in this episode was short, but i still wanted to highlight her because she is pretty much a ticking time bomb.

she’s in a tight spot right now because even if she testifies about having seen the sugar packet, the prosecutor will just twist the argument by saying she colluded with a murderer just to cover up her plagiarism.

and now, seo jiho needs her help, probably for something related to his case with prosecutor jin. in exchange, she puts pressure on him to ‘confirm’ that she didn’t plagiarize in middle school, since they were schoolmates and rivals.

there may be more to this plagiarism issue than meets the eye. who knows, we might find out later on that she actually didn’t plagiarize? but given what i know now, i have no reason to believe that she didn’t. i don’t blame her specifically for that, seeing as she has to pay for the consequences for something that her awful mom forced her to do. but now that the mess has been made, i want to see how she cleans it up.

kang sol B is a very elusive character to me. the scary thing about her is that she’s on no one’s side but her own. and that’s why i think she’s a ticking time bomb.

bonus: han joonhwi

so that’s all i have for the serious stuff. as a bonus, i’d like to talk about han joonhwi and his four (4) children jeon yeseul, seo jiho, kang byeol, and min bokgi.

one of my friends brought up how it’s so funny how he’s somehow just at the right place at the right time all the time. this happened when he ran into kang sol A when she was looking for yeseul (i still think they were on the phone with each other beforehand but this is just my shipper self talking — truthfully, if the focus was shifted towards that phone call without divulging who it was, i have a feeling it might be more important later on), and when seo jiho confronted prosecutor jin. adding his elevator conversation with kang sol B, i think it just solidified what we already know: han joonhwi is a very compassionate person. but he doesn’t sacrifice his own personality just to appease them — he recognizes that these individuals have agency, and he’s just giving them the little push they need to make them realize what they need to do.

i also felt the need to bring up kang byeol. the show does such a good job of ensuring that all the solhwi scenes that we get, no matter how indulgent and “fanservice-y” they might seem, actually have a deeper purpose. again, i could go on and on about what each solhwi scene has actually contributed to the development of the plot, which is exactly why i love them so much! because all of their scenes are so meaningful. but anyway, it’s nice to see han joonhwi care so much for his, ehem, future sister-in-law.

and for min bokgi — this scene was so short, but i absolutely loved it so much (i tend to pay attention to the throwaway scenes): min bokgi is going off about how yoo seungjae is acting weird, and he says to joonhwi, “hyung, you should call him.” and joonhwi responds with, “sure. eat your food.” it’s such a fatherly thing to do and it’s such a great contrast to bokgi’s dynamic with sol A, with whom he’s so loud and vibrant, moods that both match their personalities, but with joonhwi, who is more subdued, he’s like a little kid in need of rescue from an older brother, or even a dad. ah, i love it so much. min bokgi is such an underrated character. i wish he had more screen time. (if he doesn’t get a central ep, well, you guys know where i’m going with this, right? it means i’ll give it to him myself.)

so that’s it for now! i’m sorry i went on rambling again, but if there’s anything noteworthy in this post that you think is worth discussing, please do tell! if there’s anything that you found thought-provoking in the episode that i didn’t get to touch up on, let me know as well!

i personally don’t make any theories about the overarching plot myself, seeing as by the time the new episode comes out, we get fed information that renders the theory useless. still, that doesn’t mean we should stop coming up with our own ideas. sometimes, the theories are more interesting than the canon itself.

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flightlessangelwings · 4 years

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The Interlude: A Marcus Pike Love Story

Chapter 1/7 (complete, more in masterlist, story also tagged)

Marcus Pike x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags/warnings: none right now really, no use of y/n, reader’s bf is a douche (it’s not Marcus don’t worry), Marcus is a sweetheart, pining, romance, fluff

I was nervous about this, but @tintinwrites “gently nudged” me into writing this ;)

Marcus Pike couldn’t believe how quickly six months went by since he moved to DC for his new job. He buried himself in his work to deal with his heartbreak over Lisbon, which actually did help. It didn’t give him the time to stay stuck inside his own head and as a result, he had never been more successful in his job. Marcus didn’t even entertain the idea of going on a date or anything, and instead chose to be married to his work.

However, the case he was currently on hit a roadblock. Marcus and his team had been after a prominent art thief for weeks now and they didn’t have a single solid lead. The guy was so elusive that they didn’t even know exactly what he looked like. Somehow, the thief always managed to avoid cameras or any other type of identifier, and it frustrated the hell out of the art theft team.

But, Agent Pike had an idea. It was risky, but he felt backed into a corner and didn’t see any other options. He got in contact with a prominent local artist and got him to agree to set up a sting at his next art show. It would be too tempting for the thief to pass up, and Marcus banked on an appearance from their slippery friend at the show.

It was mid afternoon when Marcus and his team arrived at the gallery to meet with the artist and get themselves set up.

“Johnny Luna?” Marcus asked the man who stood in the middle of the room.

He turned around from the portrait he focused on and greeted the agent with a wide smile, “Agent Pike, I assume?” he extended his hand, “Nice to meet you in person.” Johnny was the definition of tall, dark and handsome, and he had a smile that lit up a room. He had a kind face and flawless skin, and Marcus found himself envious of the man at how effortlessly charming he was.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied cheerfully, “Thank you for letting us do this. It means a lot here.”

“Happy to help,” Johnny looked around the room, “Just promise me nothing will happen to my babies.”

“We’ll have agents posted throughout the whole gallery, and we’ll stick around all night,” Marcus took note of his team in the midst of their set up, “Nothing’s gonna happen to any of your paintings. You have my word.”

Johnny was about to answer when a figure approached behind him, “Hey Johnny,” your voice broke into the conversation, “Sorry to interrupt, but I need your opinion over here real quick,” your eyes met with Marcus’ and they lit up, “I just need him for a second, I promise,” you added with a quick wink.

Marcus nodded as he watched the two of you walk towards the large painting that was the centerpiece of the collection. As he studied you, he felt something awaken within himself that he tried so hard to keep dormant. You were so beautiful, and there was just something about you that immediately pulled him in, even after just a few words. But as much as Marcus wanted to make a move, he reminded himself about what happened last time and he forced himself to refocus on his work.

“Agent Pike,” Johnny’s voice knocked him out of his thoughts, “Let me introduce you to the best event planner in DC,” he introduced you with your name and swung an arm over your shoulders as you extended your hand to the agent.

“Call me Marcus, please,” he took the opportunity to really study your face, and he couldn’t find a single thing that he didn’t like. He hoped his gaze didn’t linger too long, but he didn’t want to look away from you.

“Marcus,” you repeated his name with a wide smile. The two of you stood in silence for a moment with your hands still connected until you felt the need to talk to him more, “So what drew you to working in the art department?”

“Big fan of art I guess,” he shrugged as he reluctantly let go of your hand and suddenly felt nervous under your soft gaze, “What drew you to event planning?”

“I saw The Wedding Planner when I was young and it sparked the party planner in me,” you replied with a giggle, “Although I have to say I’m a big fan of art and history as well. Federico Andreotti is one of my favorite artists.”

Marcus’ eyes lit up, “The Interlude is one of my absolute favorites,” he felt as if he could run in every direction at once with how much life filled his veins at how perfect you were.

The smile on your face only grew and you felt your heart pound in your chest, “I love that too! Serenade is my personal favorite,” you opened your mouth to say something more but just then, a member of your staff called your attention, “Excuse me gentlemen, duty calls.” You bit your lip before you slowly turned away from the agent and got back to your work.

The two men watched you walk away, and Marcus couldn’t help the question that left his lips, “Are you two… together?” he motioned between you and Johnny and found his heart beat faster in his chest.

“Nah man, she’s my best friend. Known each other forever,” Johnny replied right away as he faced him, “You’re more my type anyway,” he added with a wink.

Marcus chuckled at the comment, “I’m flattered, but she is more my type,” he retorted playfully.

Johnny smiled brightly at him, “I knew it!” he laughed as he clasped his shoulder, “And honestly, I know we just met and all, but I can tell already you’d be so much better for her than Tom.” He watched your whole interaction silently, and it made an idea pop into his head. Johnny knew you well enough to know when you liked someone, and he definitely knew you liked this agent.

Marcus’ face dropped, “So she’s with someone?” He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah, a huge douchebag if you ask me,” he scoffed.

Clearly there was more to the story than that, but one of Marcus’ colleagues walked up then and wanted to go over some details with them. They spoke for a while, and the entire time Marcus snuck glances over at you across the room.

“One thing we have learned about this guy is he seems to take a liking to the ladies,” the other agent said, “The few images we have of him, he’s always talking to good-looking women at galas when he comes to scope it out.”

Agent Pike scanned the room and studied his team and he found himself wondering when so many men were on the art theft team. The only two women were much older, and he knew he couldn’t use them for the setup. Chatter filled the space around him as everyone put in their opinions and ideas; everyone knew that they couldn’t blow this opportunity to finally catch this guy.

“What if I help?” your voice chimed in from behind him.

Marcus jumped and turned around to face you and he wondered how long you had been standing there. “No, this is something for my team to handle. I can’t ask you to do something like that.”

“No offence Agent,” you quipped back, “But your team is kind of a sausage fest. Besides, how much risk can there be in the middle of a crowded art show with a whole FBI team here?” you were light with your words, but held firm in your stance.

Marcus turned back to his team, who all seemed to be in agreement. It was unconventional for sure, but no one saw a better option. With a sigh, he turned back to you and extended his hand once more, “You’re right. I guess you’re an honorary agent for tonight,” he used his humor to hide his nerves before he went through the plan with you and his team. You were to arrive early and wear a wire and a hidden camera while you talked to several men at the show to give them a better shot at identifying their thief.

Once the plan was set, you left with a nod so you could get ready for the evening. Marcus felt a similar feeling in his chest as he watched you leave. Johnny stood by the door to lock it behind you and he shot Marcus a knowing smile when he turned around and caught his eye. He looked away and pretended to be occupied, but he could still feel Johnny’s gaze on him.

The afternoon flew by and before he realized what time it was, you were back at the gallery, all dressed up. Marcus stopped in his tracks when you walked through the doors in your little black dress, your hair and makeup styled to perfection. You greeted Johnny before you looked around, and your face lit up when you met Marcus’ gaze.

“Wow,” he breathed out when you made your way over to him, “You look stunning,” Marcus complimented you as he felt himself get flustered. But he kept it together; he had to be extra focused now that you were involved in the sting here, “You ready?”

You nodded with a fierce determination in your eyes, “I’m ready, Agent Pike.”

Marcus felt a tightness in his chest at your bravery. Beautiful and brave, he hardly knew you but you were already a dream come true for him. And Marcus found that he wanted to do anything to get to know you more, not to mention he felt a fierce determination to keep you protected during the art show tonight.

He pinned a small hidden camera to your dress and handed you an earpiece so he could stay in touch with you throughout the evening as he explained his plan. You were to float around and chat up men in hopes that they could get enough to successfully identify their culprit once and for all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be close by,” Marcus said in a soft voice, “I’ll watch over you.”

“I know you will Marcus,” your voice was equally as soft as you gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher the meaning behind.

Marcus’ fears were soon pushed aside as the show started and people filtered in. You moved throughout the crowd, and made sure to take the time to talk to any men who lingered. The tech team went right to work and analyzed the images from each of the men you spoke to and so far came up with nothing. And true to his word, Marcus was always close by just in case something went wrong.

As you made your way around the room, you approached a tall thin man who studied the centerpiece of the collection.

“Hey there,” you broke him out of his trace as you cleared your throat. You seemed to startle him, and you couldn’t see his face until you were right next to him. Immediately you became suspicious.

The man soon recovered, however, and he grinned at you, “Well hello there,” his voice felt like ice and you wanted to back away from him. Yet, you stayed determined. “Shouldn’t you be hung on these walls too? Because you are a piece of work.”

You forced a chuckle at the terrible line, “You’re too kind, but thank you,” you shifted yourself to make sure that your hidden camera got a good look at the man, “This is real art though. You can really feel the emotion the artist put into this piece,” you of course knew just how much your friend poured into the painting before you, but you kept that to yourself.

“For you sweetness, I’d buy it in a heartbeat,” he leaned in close to you.

“You don’t even know me,” your reaction was genuine, “Besides I couldn’t ask someone to spend that much money on me. I’d feel too guilty.”

“Well maybe I won’t actually pay for it then…” he spoke under his breath. When you looked at him in surprise, he shook his head and changed the subject, “I mean…” for the first time he seemed unsure of himself, “There’s things other than money that can buy affection. If you get my drift.”

At that, you visibly cringed and took a step away, “I…. I have to go. Excuse me,” you turned around and walked away, suddenly very uncomfortable. You scanned the crowd for a familiar face and you let out a sigh of relief when you saw Marcus in the distance and you all but ran to him.

“You alright?” Marcus asked in concern as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” your voice didn’t convince him in the slightest , “He just seriously creeped me out. I did not get the warm fuzzies from him at all,” you made yourself laugh for a moment at your words, and Marcus relaxed along with you.

“You did really good tonight,” he said your name with admiration, “I think we got what we need here so you can enjoy the rest of the show now,” he paused and looked you over once more, “Thank you.”

At his words, your nerves completely disappeared as you looked into his soft, kind eyes. You let yourself exhale as you handed the hidden camera pin back to him. Once your hands connected, neither of you pulled away for a few moments, and you let your touch linger with his. You were about to close your hand around his when a voice called your name.

You jumped and turned around to find your boyfriend, Tom, walked up with a scowl on his face. He was taller than Marcus, and had a lean, muscular body, though he was not as handsome as Marcus or Johnny. “There you are. You haven’t answered your phone. I’ve been looking all over for you,” there was more annoyance than concern in his voice as he spoke to you.

“I’m sorry,” your once confident and sparkly demeanor changed as you suddenly became a shadow of yourself, “I told you I’d be here and I’d be busy.”

Tom sighed as he ran a hand through his light brown hair, “Well, are you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes?”

He nodded with a huff and gave Marcus a disapproving glance before he turned and walked away. You turned back to Marcus and tried to smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes like before, “Sorry, I gotta get going. Is there anything I need to do before I go?”

Marcus watched the whole interaction with a subtle frown on his face, but he softened his expression when you turned back around, “No, you’ve done more than enough,” he paused. He didn’t want you to go so he tried to think of a reason to keep you in front of him for even a moment longer, “Here’s my card. It’s got my cell on it so give me a call if you ever need anything,” his breath caught in his throat when your fingers touched again as you took the card from him, “I’ll probably need to follow up with you if we successfully ID our perp.”

You were about to pull out your phone when Tom shouted your name again. You let out a shaky breath before you decided not to irritate him further, “You can get my number from Johnny, just tell him I said it’s ok,” you lingered for another moment, “I’m sorry, I gotta go.” With that, you rushed to meet your boyfriend, who put his arm around you the second you were close enough. But it wasn’t a comforting or loving embrace, and he seemed to treat you more like an object or a possession than a person. And it made Marcus furious.

“I see you’ve met Tom,” Johnny’s voice came from behind Marcus, “I told you: total douchebag.”

Marcus nodded in agreement, “Is he…” he cleared his throat as he struggled to find the words, “He’s not hurting her or anything, is he?”

Johnny shook his head, “What kind of best friend do you think I am? I wouldn’t let her stay with him if he was.”

Marcus sighed as he watched the door in the futile hope that you would walk back inside. The two men stood together in silence for a moment before he remembered, “Oh, she told me I can get her number from you. I need to follow up if we get a lead,” Marcus said.

Johnny smiled widely, “I would love to give you her number.”

Meanwhile, you sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s car as gazed out the window as he rambled on about himself yet again, not even bothering to ask you about your day. But then again, he rarely did. You were brought back to the present when your phone buzzed, and you looked down to a text from a number you had just saved in your phone.

It’s Agent Pike. Thanks again for your help today, the sausage fest art department appreciates it. I’ll be in touch. :)

For the first time since you got into the car, you smiled.

Notes: I’m not sure how long this is going to be, but right now I’ve got it at about 5 or 6 chapters. Most likely though, it’ll end up longer. Thank you to @tintinwrites for encouraging me to write this and for giving it a read over for me! And thank you @thirsty-flygirl for your help on this as well! Taglists are open so let me know if you’d like to be added! :)

Everything taglist: @thirsty-flygirl

Pedro Characters taglist: @tintinwrites @ollypopp @starwarswh0re @emesispo @mrschiltoncat @perropascal @shadow-assassin-blix @huliabitch @randomness501

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fic #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike story #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the interlude

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allen-desu · 3 years

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Intrigue: A Canute and Thorfinn Character Study

Canute had learned to do one thing above all else- discern men. It was simple. Either he should be wary of a man or not, and of those he was wary of, who should he make face with.

But then there was Thorfinn..

Very mild Thornute | Vulgar Language | Canon Compliant (Volume 3 specifically) | Spoiler Free

Brushing off my Tumblr to post this somewhere, best read on mobile.

Canute often found himself studying Thorfinn. In fact he was now, stealing glances of him while riding in a wagon through Wales. His nerves were getting the best of him and not wanting to think of signing a treaty without his father present, Canute instead tried to place Thorfinn to keep his mind occupied. The Prince found him to be a most intriguing character, and one that often eluded any solid characterization. It was egregiously annoying; for you see, growing up in the bloodbath of regal politics, Canute had learned to do one thing above all else- discern men. It was simple. Either he should be wary of a man or not, and of those he was wary of, who should he make face with. Granted, Canute had Ragnar, and therefore he never had to put this skill to a real test for his vassal always fought on his behalf, keeping the young Prince’s best interests in mind. Nevertheless, his cautious observation skills were more often than not proven correct as the time revealed untrustworthy men to Canute.

But then there was Thorfinn. There are always exceptions to any and every rule, but even that logic still couldn’t stick Thorfinn under a neat label inside the Prince’s mind. The boy was not like the men he traveled with. Yes, he did the dirty killing, but he did it in a way that oozed indifference. Thorfinn killed swiftly and acted as if each man was a simple stepping stone to the fight being over, for the killing to be over. While the others he traveled with had a sick enjoyment for the act. Thorfinn did not socialize with the Askeladd’s band. He did not share in their spoils, including that of food and drink. Instead the blond hunted his own food, collected his own water. Only rarely did he ever get what he needed from what was plundered. Those rare instances were either when it was offered to him while marching, or on late and loud evenings, while the rest of Askeladd’s band made themselves merry, Thorfinn would slip some goods from tables abandoned for the night.

So, no, Canute would not label him as part of the band. This conclusion was frustrating, for if Thorfinn was not one of Askeladd’s men, why was he one of Askeladd’s most trusted pawns? Perhaps part of the answer was in the word “pawn” itself, but Askeladd was a cautious man as well. So much so that Canute knew it would bode well for him to try and keep tabs on what the man was thinking. So what was his reasoning to keep Thorfinn- who literally wanted him dead for some unknown reason to the Prince- under his thumb. The young blond was skilled and dangerous to have around. How did Askeladd tame-

Ah.. perhaps that was it.

Thorfinn was like something wild, pacing in its cage and waiting for its chance to do something about its keeper and free itself from its confines. Tamed to compliance, but would still happily bite the hand. Something akin to a wolf perhaps.

Canute looked up from his thoughts over to Thorfinn who was leaning on the opposite side of the wagon, his gaze far off and his eyes hard. Feeling that the Prince was looking at him Thorfinn shot daggers at Canute . Seeing the dirty teen do this with the image of a wolf in his mind nearly tempted Canute to chuckle and he swiftly hid his face from the other in case the temptation won him over. He could hear Thorfinn scoff and that was the end of the whole exchange. A lone wolf in an unfamiliar pack. The young Prince was satisfied with the description for the young warrior.

Canute was no longer satisfied. Thorfinn was his guard and, surprisingly, was taking the job seriously. He seemed not to care, was quick with sharp words at either Canute, Ragnar or Father Willibald. But on more than one occasion, the Prince would catch a small glimpse of Thorfinn nearby, seemingly disinterested, but close enough to come to aid or rescue. Any time he was not lurking and couldn’t be seen or found, a few hours or less after the fact, the shorter blond could be seen emerging from the tree line, a rabbit or more hanging over his shoulder.

In fact, this had just happened and Ragnar had convinced Thorfinn to add the rabbit to the meal he and the Prince were making.

“Highness!” Ragnar had announced upon entry. “We have beans, cabbage and a hare!” As he listed the items, Thorfinn had walked in behind him and closed the door to the cold. Canute was surprised to see him, tensed and annoyed, looking very out of place in the little home they had… procured.

“ A hare?” The Prince asked, ignoring how his own bout of tension was threatening to rise in his shoulders.

“Thorfinn caught it.” Obviously. “We’ll put it in the soup.”

“Well done.” As if Thorfinn needed or wanted praise for a deed he probably found to be child’s play. “Bleed it and skin it so we can wash the meat.” Truth be told, Canute wasn’t expecting for Thorfinn to just comply without some remark, and he surely wasn’t expecting Ragnar to take the rabbit from Thorfinn to do the task instead. It was jarring seeing his caretaker grab the rabbit from him, as if he had just seen Ragnar take a kill from a wild animal. At least that’s what flashed through his mind when the moment started. However, as it happened in real time, Thorfinn let his catch be taken and he was left to simply stand, awkward and unsure.

Canute, stirring the broth in progress mindlessly as he watched on, couldn’t help but consider Thorfinn for a long moment. This boy in front of him was no lone and wild wolf. The moment his gaze was felt, however, the creature came back and Thorfinn found a spot off to the side against the wall that he could sit at and brood.

Once the soup was done and the table was set, Canute and Ragnar somehow coaxed Thorfinn to join them at the table. The tension in the boy’s shoulders was palpable and Canute couldn’t help but take notice of it, trying to further categorize it. When Thorfinn actually acknowledged the meal in front of him, however, his demeanor changed. It was quick, merely a fraction of a second, but the Prince saw it- tried to burn the image into his brain to try and decipher later.

Ragnar’s compliments of the meal they prepared took Canute’s attention and he took this as an opportunity. Agreeing with Ragnar, “The rabbit made it work.” He looked to Thorfinn, “I’m tired of salted meat. You have my thanks.” There was no answer from the shorter blond, he just continued to look at their spread on the table and look lost. Almost as if he didn’t think it was real. The thought threatened to furrow the Prince’s brow. It made him realize yet again, Thorfinn was not amicable with the men he traveled with. When was the last time anyone showed this young man any kindness? When was the last time Thorfinn had the simple pleasure to share a meal with someone at all?

“What’s wrong?” Canute spoke, aiming to pull Thorfinn out of his stupor. “Eat up, you caught the rabbit.”

It seemed to do the trick, for Thorfinn picked up his bowl and spoon and tentatively took a bite. The look on his face, before it was hidden behind matted bangs, was one Canute would very much like to see again. Anger and/or indifference seemed to have a constant monopoly on Thorfinn’s features, but that one, quick moment of.. surprise? Or maybe he was just pleased with the taste of his meal. Either way, the emotion fit his face better, let the ridges between his brows smooth out for a second. Genuine, that was the word. Thorfinn seemed more genuine in that one instant than he did the entirety of the time that Canute had known him thus far.

“Pretty good isn’t it?” Ragnar mused, though the Prince couldn’t quite tell if he had also caught the glimpse of surprise from Thorfinn, or if he was just rearing up to dote and brag on Canute’s cooking talents. “Catch us a deer next, and we’ll really have a meal!”

“...” Not a real reply, but the young guard had acknowledged Ragnar. Thorfinn continued to eat, and almost absentmindedly, “I thought you noble types had everything cooked for you.” It wasn’t a question, a simple statement of thought, but Canute thought he would answer it anyways.

“I enjoy doing it.” The Prince began, “I don’t normally get the chance. Only Ragnar knows that I can cook.” A pause and Canute laid his spoon down in his bowl for a moment. “Do not tell anyone of this.” Thorfinns reply was instant and disinterested.

“Why not?” Followed by, “Who cares?”

Not sure what persuaded him to do so, but Canute began to tell Thorfinn of his father’s, the King, displeasure in the fact that he liked to cook- that it was a frivolous and useless skill to have. Though the shorter blond’s face was as neutral as ever, he did slow in his eating to listen, that alone made Canute feel as he wasn’t wasting his breath, that it was worth having someone other than Ragnar know of how intensely inadequate his father found him to be. Ragnar seemed to be confused at his tellings though. He was obviously not expecting his Highness to share. Giving his Highness an odd look he decided to try and lighten the Prince’s mood, though Canute wasn’t in need of it.

The two of them held their own conversation from there on out, speaking about different dishes Canute could prepare, or what Ragnar could teach him about new dishes he had yet to prepare. The mood in their little borrowed house was light. It was familial in its own way. The young Prince would glance over to Thorfinn every once in a while and was pleased to see that the ever present knot of tension in his shoulders was slowly becoming unraveled. The guard ate and listened.

Something in Thorfinn snapped and Canute shuddered because of it.

What happened in the next instant was too fast for Canute to follow in real time. Thorfinn had gotten up, more like sprung up, and was immediately at the door one of his signature knives pointed at someone’s throat. Had the man had worse reflexes, he would have impaled himself on Thorfinn’s steel. Ragnar was next in the initiative, questioning both Thorfinn and the man on what was going on.

“Agh- I’m on your side Thorfinn!” So it was one of Askeladd’s men. “I’m just bringing a message…” Despite this, it still took a long moment for Thorfinn to remove his knife from the man’s throat. Ragnar took the lead from there and was questioning the newcomer on Canute’s behalf, but Canute himself was still trained on his short bodyguard.

Thorfinn was still tense, still alert and ready to strike, but his initial instinct was slowly recoiling back into its original state. It was interesting to watch the slow movement of his shoulders and back muscles through threadbare clothing. However, Canute’s gaze was felt and Thorfinn shot him a look that could kill. Oddly enough the look from the dirtied blond softened a little, as if he was reminded that Canute was still there and his presence wasn’t something he should be afraid of. The thought struck the Prince as oddly satisfying. He wasn’t able to really dive further into that train of thought, however, for the man brought news of the English advancing on the hideout they had procured. Canute’s shock couldn’t beat out Ragnar’s rage. Heated words about Askeladd and his poor decisions were spoken, and then, just as suddenly as they had come, the man was gone, Ragnar following after him.

The little house was now too still and too quiet until it was broken by Thorfinn huffing through his nose.

“Can’t even manage to close the damn door on their way out.” He muttered, moving to do just that so the winter’s day wouldn’t try and suck any more of the hard earned heat out of the house. With the door closed Thorfinn relocated to his new post beside the door, leaning against the wall. The Prince watched him do this and suddenly Thorfinn was glaring at him again. “Have I fucking done something?” The shorter teen hissed.

“What?” Such an elegant reply, good job Canute. Not that Thorfinn gave two shits about that kind of thing.

“You’ve been staring. Like a lot.” Thorfinn turned to fully face Canute, leaning only one shoulder on the wall. “Still mad, Princess?” A smirk. Of course that’s what he would call him, but Canute realized he was talking about their squabble in the wagons the other day. “I don’t give a rat’s ass who your father is or who’s womb you crawled out of.”

“Still have the vulgar audacity to speak to me like that, but no.” Thorfinn raised a brow at him. “It was more of a shock than anything else. I don’t particularly mind that you speak so blatantly.” No matter how sharp the words, unfortunately. It seemed that the shorter blond did not have a reply for that and instead just refocused his attention to the fire instead. Canute also took this moment to recollect his thoughts. He knew Ragnar was angry, he warned Askeladd about the very problem at hand. Askeladd had paid him no mind at all. Still, the Prince was worried. Ragnar had left in the heat of the moment to a battlefield only to argue with the man leading the defensive charge. Not to mention, his soup would be cold by the time he came back. What a waste.

Perhaps the moments before Ragnar’s return wouldn’t entirely be a waste, though. Not if Canute played his cards right. He wanted to understand Thorfinn. Never before had he met someone that has proven themselves to be so complicated, especially since at first Canute thought him to be a simple brute among other simple brutes. Why was Thorfinn here, why was he in, but yet not considered, part of Askeladd’s band? What happened to him? The short blond hates the man, yet follows him around the country and overseas. He even follows some insane orders with the promise of some kind of reward.

Thorfinn let out an aggravated noise and was suddenly leaning over Canute, hands flat on the table with a bang.

“You’re doing it again. Quit.” The shorter teen growled. Canute blinked owlishly at him. What? Oh, had he been staring again? Nevertheless he continued to study Thorfinn, which was quickly making his guard’s blood boil. Then Canute stood forcing the other teen to stand back a bit and look up at him. He knew that Thorfinn was shorter than him, but it was still amusing to actually see it. Thorfinn carried himself to be larger, more intimidating. Said young guard was now glaring up at Canute through his dirtied bangs. “What?” He hissed.

“You confuse me, Thorfinn.” The Prince replied. Thorfinn also had a fair amount of confusion mixed in with his usual anger, and that fact pleased Canute a bit- at least the feeling was mutual. “I’ve just been trying to figure you out.”

“Well stop.”

“No, I shan’t” Canute replied swiftly. Thorfinn was prone to argue, but nothing came out. The Prince could take a guess as to what he was thinking. That the person in front of him was the same as the shy and bumbling Prince that was showcased and dragged around all of England these past few weeks? Yes and no. There was nothing political in this task, Canute had nothing to fear if he took a misstep. No repercussions. This was a purely selfish motive in which he had no problems pursuing as long as it was kept private. “Also it’s not that I can not, it’s that I will not”

“You…” Thorfinn struggled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, perhaps not.” This reply really made Thorfinn angry, Canute could see it in the way his whole body tensed, gearing up to fight. Part of him wanted to see if his guard would actually hit him. However, before either of them could think through what they wanted to do next, for some odd reason, Canute had moved and held Thorfinn’s face in his hands. Both teens were now wide eyed and tense. Why did he do that? When did he do that? Just now? A moment ago?

Canute was the first to settle down from the shock of his own actions, and instead of pulling away like he thought he would, the Prince settled into the position. He let his hands feel the warmth of Thorfinn’s jaw and slid down to where his thumbs were still on the other blond’s face, but the rest of his fingers curled delicately around his neck. He knew his hands must have been cold, he was prone to be, but the proof lies in the fact that Thorfinn’s skin puckered into bumps right before he shuddered just slightly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thorfinn asked, his voice surprisingly tame. He was definitely still angry and on edge, but thus far it seemed as if Canute was not in danger of being bitten by the wolf that accompanied Thorfinn’s anger.

“Indulging, just let me for a moment.” Canute replied softly, as if trying not to spook Thorfinn away.

“...the hell does that even mean?” The guard muttered in reply. Canute laughed lightly, amused.

“Don’t think on it too hard,Thorfinn.” No reply to that, but the dirtied teen in his hands didn’t pull away either. Good, that was good.

Now that Canute had somehow managed to get them into this situation, he took as much time as he damn well pleased to study the other boy. Not that he was naive enough to believe that staring at Thorfinn would somehow unlock his secrets, but he did think it would help. Thorfinn was a recluse. No one ever got too close to him and he would never let them, so the fact that Canute was quite literally in his personal space seemed like a major victory.

Thorfinn had hard light brown eyes, but if the fire flickered right they were more like unearthed amber or sweet honey. They were nothing like the Prince’s own eyes, a sky blue. The sky may be vast, but Thorfinn’s eyes were deep. What was that saying? The eyes were a window into the soul? Canute could readily believe that looking into Thorfinn’s.

Next Canute took note that, under all the dirt, Thorfinn was tired. He had coloration and lines on his skin that a boy of their age shouldn’t have. Did he ever sleep through the night? His guard was always up late and always up early, always seen at odd hours thinking about something far away... or a time long gone, perhaps? Beyond what dirt and sleepless bruising lay on his skin, was what lacked beneath it. Thorfinn was a genuine threat on the battlefield, how could someone so strong have such gaunt in his cheeks? He knew Thorfinn fended for himself, but from what he has seen, he does a rather good job at it. Granted, he doesn’t eat square meals. Canute thinks that just earlier was the first time he’s seen Thorfinn eat anything green, or not meat related. Still, a soldier's diet of salted meat and wine wouldn’t result in malnutrition. Was malnutrition why he was short? Just… Just how long had Thorfinn been taking care of himself? The men didn’t bat an eye at Thorfinn’s presence. In fact, while marching and the men told old stories, Thorfinn was in a good many of them. Years? Had it been years since Thorfinn had a meal like the one he had today?

“I don’t need your fucking pity.” Thorfinn’s voice startled the Prince. Was he making a face of some kind?

“I didn’t mean..”

“Save your breath, I don’t care.”

Canute thought it was best to not reply, so instead he wiped some dirt off of Thorfinn’s face with one of his thumbs. With a fresh bath, a sturdy brush, and some new clothes, Thorfinn could be considered handsome.

He wondered what Thorfinn was thinking. Was he actually trying to decipher Canute in turn or was he just waiting for the Prince to be done? Canute also wondered, truly, when was the last time Thorfinn was shown kindness? Affection? Perhaps he wasn’t a lone wolf at all, but something lost instead. When one finds themselves abandoned in one way or another, in an unfamiliar place, one must adapt. Did Thorfinn just adapt to killing? Fights because he has to? It was frustrating going through all these thoughts himself, but Canute knew for a fact that Thorfinn would not simply answer any questions that he asked.

Perhaps… Perhaps Canute could be the one to show him kindness? Maybe he could properly tame the wolf that was Thorfinn’s anger, and find the lost person it was protecting. Thorfinn was so hard to get close to though, even today he had been reluctant to simply share his rabbit and then a meal. So what could the Prince do? He thought of this and that, feeling Thorfinn’s pulse through the fingers on his neck. Absentmindedly he rubbed his thumbs in time with it, studying him. Again Thorfinn couldn’t suppress a shiver and again Canute was moving without thinking at all.

He had pressed their lips together. Why? Not even God above would know. Thorfinn’s lips were chapped, still and shocked against the Prince’s own, but he was warm. Unfairly warm and it seeped into Canute. He could stay this way for a long while if he was completely honest with himself, but one kiss was enough. A gesture of both kindness and affection that Thorfinn could seek out from him if he chose to do so if he ever needed to feel wanted. So Canute pulled away, but instead of the awkward moment he was expecting, strong hands pulled him back in at the hips. Thorfinn had leaned back up and continued the kiss.

The taller blond was not expecting this, but then again he was also not expecting to have kissed Thorfinn in the first place either. His pale hands slipped from Thorfinn’s face and neck and instead slid so Canute could rest his arms on his guard’s shoulders. The hands on his hips were most likely bruising him with how tight they held him, but that was part of what he liked about this moment. Thorfinn was holding him and kissing him like this was something he desperately needed. Canute returned its ferocity and leaned in, making Thorfinn crane his neck at an odd angle, and then ran his tongue over the shorter’s lips. Again this was something neither of them were expecting, not experienced enough to really know what they were doing at all to be honest.

However, surprisingly enough, Thorfinn had again let it happen, letting Canute test the waters. So he did. Canute pushed his tongue into the other blond’s mouth. He felt Thorfinn’s tongue with his own, the roof of his mouth and back of his teeth. It was oddly exhilarating, even more so when Thorfinn mimicked Canute and did the same to him.

As Thorfinn kissed him Canute moved them, pivoting them so Thorfinn was between him and the table. The shorter blond grunted when it happened and turned his head out of the kiss to look at their new position, to which the taller blond took as a chance to place kisses to Thorfinn’s jaw and neck.

“Don’t think that I’m just going to bend over like some paid whore.” Thorfinn muttered, his voice was a little deeper, thicker, Canute couldn’t help but like it, but also couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from him.

“I wasn’t really planning on it.” He mused, resting his head in the crook of Thorfinn’s neck. Canute watched as Thorfinn reached for his low ponytail and played with the strands tentatively. It almost seemed as if he had been wanting to do so for a while but never had gotten the chance to do so until now. Canute kept that nice little thought in mind as he placed more kisses up Thorfinn’s neck, trailing back up to his mouth.

The two of them kissed some more, each exploring at their own paces. Canute also let his hands wander; Thorfinn was all muscle and bone and very thin. The prince knew that one day, if Thorfinn’s disinterest in his own health didn’t kill him first, that he would be properly strong, with healthy muscle, and a fuller face. At least that’s what he hoped for. Thorfinn did not explore the way Canute did, but his grip remained tight and would squeeze him whenever Canute did something he liked. At some point their hands inched a little higher.

The heat between them slowly, so very slowly, faded and they were back where they started, Canute cupping his face. After a few moments that stopped too.

“Did this ever happen?” Thorfinn asked, voice quiet. Canute blinked at him, it wouldn’t bode well for him if Thorfinn ever told anyone of their little venture, but he was honestly surprised that the other cared at all. But more than that, Canute was surprised to see that the anger that was seemingly permanent on Thorfinn’s features was gone. In its place was something the Prince could not identify, but he would burn the image in his brain. Hard eyes were gone, in its place was only honey and a fair amount of color in his cheeks.

Canute decided he would be the one to give Thorfinn the kindness he deserved. Even if it was just in small doses, seemingly meaningless gestures.

“No.” He replied, leaning down to press a kiss to Thorfinn’s cheek. “But it could happen again if you want.”

The shorter blond huffed and made a gesture for Canute to move. He did and Thorfinn moved towards the door. Canute had expected him to leave, but instead he had taken his previous makeshift post at the door. “Whatever, your Highness”

The Prince took his place back at the table, smiling to himself. That response certainly wasn’t a no. He had more thinking to do.

#vinland saga #thorfinn #canute #prince canute #thornute #character study #vinland saga fanfiction #anime #manga

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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creativia10 · 3 years

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Janus in Intrusive Thoughts

What if Janus was there during Intrusive Thoughts? Pairing: Janus x Remus

Word count: 1427

Warnings: Innuendos, Suggestive Themes

Notes: I don't know what this is. It was just fun. I had the urge to write this. Not to be taken too seriously. Also posted on my AO3. Let me know if I've missed anything.

Janus stretched his multiple limbs in the background. They were all distracted with dear Remus’ appearance, they didn’t even notice he was there. Which was perfectly fine with him. He was just there to watch the drama unfold anyways.

He lounged in a chair in the background, that he summoned, and sipped his wine. He didn’t have a particular desired outcome from this, despite having prompted Remus to reveal himself to Thomas (although he did have exasperatedly explain he did not mean to go in the nude). It was fun to be included in his little cameo in Remus’ song intro though. Every time he looked over to Roman on the ground, he couldn’t help but snort. Ah, sibling dynamics. So, Janus was literally just sitting there, commenting and reacting to Remus’ shenanigans, not even bothering to try and seem inconspicuous. They were literally too distracted to notice.

Then, he perked up when Logan mentioned the only way it would be faking it was if Thomas were to actually do something and then lie about it. Which prompted Remus to say,

“Oo, how fun. You know who could help us with that?” Remus said with a little shoulder wiggle. Janus’ theme song played during that. Janus rolled his eyes. Well, he didn’t need further prompting. As Thomas started to protest, Janus suddenly appeared next to Remus.

“Oh dear, if you wanted my company you simply needed to say so. ” Everyone balked. Thomas held his head and groaned. Virgil glared at him. Patton looked around in concern. Roman mumbled something, and Logan simply looked annoyed.

Remus gave him an unhinged smile. Janus pointedly did not look.

“You aren’t even part of this.” Virgil sneered. Janus simply shrugged.

“Oh I know, I’m just here. Not really going to participate unless needed.”

Virgil looked at him suspiciously. Remus clapped his hands excitedly.

"Oo, Dark side buddy! Now I have someone to actively innuendo while I’m here!”

Janus sighed, already starting to regret this, but not moving. Partly due to pride. They all seemed to just keep looking back and forth between Remus and Janus in surprise.

“What, no comment Dee-Dee?”

“When have I ever said you could call me that?”

“You haven’t said that I couldn’t!”

Janus simply hmmed and pretended to check his nails, as though he weren’t wearing gloves. Because he was just like that.

Patton hesitated,

“Uh…do we continue?”

Thomas sighed. Virgil kept darting his eyes between the dark duo and Thomas. Remus simply smiled and leaned his chin onto Janus shoulder, Janus pretended not to react. Remus wiggled a bit against him. Janus sighed. He was not blushing from everyone watching. If anyone were to ask, he would blame Remus. Blaming Remus was always a good plan. It didn’t hurt that Remus usually didn’t mind.

Thomas twisted up his face, seeming unsure how to react to the two of them, especially with how Remus was being with Janus.

They somehow tried to continue, as Thomas and Virgil had deigned this important to resolve. It was clear everyone else’s attention was divided though, at the atmosphere had drastically changed from the moment Janus appeared, despite him not doing anything for the current conflict.

“I’m sorry, this is very distracting. Can we get him out of here?” Virgil asked, gesturing at Deceit.

Janus rolled his eyes and waved his hand, obscuring his appearance.

The others blinked at his sudden seeming disappearance.

Remus snorted.

“Oh, Dee-Dee. That’s not gonna help. Don’t think I’ll stop touching you just cause they can’t see you anymore.” To which Remus wrapped his arms around Janus, looking like he was hugging air. He moved his hands lower, like he was about to imitate a physical innuendo, but Janus reappeared and pushed his arms away.

“That’sss unnecesssary.” Janus turned completely towards Remus as he said that so the others in the room wouldn’t see his returning blush. Remus simply smiled and laughed again.

Somehow, they jumped back into things. Patton barreled back into it as though to keep from another distraction to come about before they could help Thomas. Remus returned to his spot against Janus. He continued his shenanigans almost as though he wasn’t practically leaning on Janus. Janus was, more subtly reacting to the drama unfolding around him. Virgil pointedly glanced at Janus when he asked about if Thomas was lying, despite Janus not saying anything on the matter. Janus almost wasn’t sure why he wasn’t doing more. It totally wasn’t because of the distraction of Remus’ warm body pressed up against him. No, of course not at all.

Remus had definitely calmed down since Janus showed up as well. Even when Remus went through other transformations, he was still touching Janus in some way. It didn’t really make sense with what they were trying to do, but whatever. Janus knew fully well he could leave at any time. He was only there to watch this unfold, after all. Totally.

Janus pointedly sighed and stepped away, not looking as Remus started to undress before Logan clarified his wording, having known where Remus would go with that.

He hmmed when Remus revealed his name, tempted to say something about a lack of drama in withholding his name, if he hadn’t just witnessed all the crazy stuff Remus had been doing that episode, like an entire song intro that was so totally extra. Fitting for a creativity.

Janus sighed when Remus screamed to distract them as they got closer to a resolution. At one point, not long after, Remus leaned in, not even bothering to keep his lips from touching Janus’ ear as he whispered,

“Watch this.” Right before he disappeared, only to jump out before Logan could stop them with,

“Nails on a chalkboard!”

Janus didn’t jump and then snort. Nope. Things started to calm down eventually. Boring. As it seemed some of them were about to sink out, Janus prepared to as well.

“Well, that all certainly seemed exciting,” Janus started. Remus snorted.

“Oh, exciting?” Remus stepped over, to where Roman would have room to get up now. “You haven’t seen exciting yet. You know I could do more,” He said with another shoulder wiggle and suggestive eyebrows.

Janus waved a hand at that.

“Oh please, that’s unnecessary. You don’t want to draw this out too much, there’s a sense of good tension. Some creativities are good with that. So, I think I shall take my leave, it’s a good moment for it, before all the mushy stuff."

Remus pouted at him. “Aww, we didn’t even get to make out in front of everyone though! Voyeurism, you know?”

Janus suddenly sunk out at that, into his room. His face was burning as he glared at nothing, fists at his side. A few moments later,

“Oh Jaaaaanuus~”Janus sighed as he felt Remus sidle up to him again. He touched him way more this time, and Janus felt the weird slide of Remus’ tentacles against him as well, starting to prod and play with Janus’ clothes.

“Remus,” Janus said simply.

“Were you impressed~ with my introduction~?” Remus asked.“

In case you couldn’t tell, I don’t often say if I’m impressed by something,” Janus said. Remus growled and pushed himself even closer. Janus couldn’t withhold his shiver, sure the other was smirking.

“Aw, Jan~” He faux whined, then leaned in to say into his ear, “You know that whole thing got me really riled~ up.” He wiggled against Janus again. Janus feigned a sigh and smiled as he said,

“Like that really takes much.” He turned around and they both grinned at each other.

“You get on from mischief just as much as me,” Remus said.

“I will say nothing on the first part of that statement.”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you satisfied? Even though they think they beat you?”

“Oh, I don’t know about satisfied. I just found myself driven towards my snaky even more.”

Janus rolled his eyes again, but he was still smiling.

“You see me all the time.”

“Hm, so? Today was still fun, you must admit.”

“Hm perhaps. Even though they thought they ‘won’?”

“Eh,” Remus shrugged. “I was more for chaos, which still happened, so I don’t really care.” Remus grabbed Janus’ hand and dragged him toward the bed.

“But now I need to get this excitement out of my system, who better than with the chaotic side.”

“Chaotic? I don’t know if I can agree to that.”

“Mm, you’re more of a reserved chaos.”

“Hmm, I suppose.”

and with that Remus pushed Janus onto the bed, their strange banter continuing.

#ts Janus #ts remus #janus sanders #remus sanders #sanders side fic #sanders sides #fanfic #demus #dukeceit #romantic demus

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connorandersons-blog · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed Characters: Connor, Gavin Reed Additional Tags: Connor Has ADHD, Oral Fixation, Stim Toys, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Gift Giving, Deviant Connor, Post-Pacifist Best Ending, Semi-Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Public Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Getting Together

Summary:

Everyone knew Connor put things in his mouth constantly, it was just a fact of life at this point. He mostly did so while investigating, which Gavin had had the curse (or pleasure) of seeing many times. It got Hank to curse, which was pretty funny, and it made Gavin think things he shouldn't, which was very much not funny.

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Gavin had complained too, trying not to stare at the android who just blinked innocently up at him, because of course he always crouched down when he did it. There was no way the fucker didn’t know exactly what he made people think of when he pulled shit like that.

Then came the pens and pencils Connor would stick in his mouth while at the precinct. It was actually pretty cute for the most part, not that Gavin would tell Connor that, but it was so very human of him to chew on pencils when he was thinking. It was always amusing when Connor would break a pencil, but it was absolutely hilarious when he’d break a pen.

The first time it happened Gavin hadn’t been able to hold back his laughter at the way the ink covered Connor and his mouth. He’d pouted so hard that Gavin felt pretty bad and even went to drag a few paper towels from the break room.

He came back to see Connor yanking his tie off and undoing the buttons on his shirt with his dainty fingers. Gavin was completely frozen, blue screened, for a few seconds before he shook himself and continued to walk the rest of the way. He shoved the towels at Connor before storming away, cursing about useless androids and their mindlessness.

He kept his head down, ignoring the fact that Connor was stripping out of his shirt right there in the middle of the bullpen. He saw a few other officers stop and stare, but Connor paid them no mind at all.

After the fifth time in two months, Gavin had had enough. It wasn’t the fifth time breaking a pencil, nope, this was just pens, and Connor chewed on those a whole lot less than he did pencils, so that was saying something.

He wasn’t getting him these things because he liked Connor (he didn’t), or because he wanted to be his friend (he really didn't, don’t look at him), it was just… pity and a bit of understanding.

Gavin remembered in school when he’d tap his pencil against the desk relentlessly, or bounce his leg until he thought it would fall off. His fellow students would glare at him and his teachers told him to go see the counselor about possible ADHD. Turns out it was more than just that because mental illness was a buy-one-get-three-free kind of deal.

So he saw a bit of himself in Connor with how he couldn’t sit still or would lose track of time so much that he would stay days and nights at the precinct when a case was hard and caught his interest.

Connor obviously liked using his mouth (which sounded so wrong and brought up so many ideas) but pencils and pens surely weren’t good for him either. Plus the precinct was running out of supplies and something needed to give.

The first one he'd bought Connor was a pencil that wasn’t actually a pencil. It was harder (he might have gotten this one specially designed) so Connor wouldn’t chomp through it (hopefully), but completely safe to stick in a mouth.

The next he got was a necklace that looked like a giant coin, because he’d seen Connor doing tricks with the coin he had. He hated to admit it, but the tricks were pretty damn impressive considering he could still do it absentmindedly and while walking.

The last was another necklace that looked almost like a black ouroboros, though the site called it a Phoenix. It was the hardest they had but also had texture too which he hoped Connor wouldn’t hate.

It was hard finding a time to drop them off at Connor’s desk, but one day he’d gone to lunch with Hank, so Gavin took his chance. He wrote a quick note, trying to disguise his handwriting but if Connor did his weird android analysis thing there would be no way he wouldn’t be able to tell. The note just explained these were chewable and wouldn’t make a mess. He didn’t dare add the stupid heart he was so tempted to draw like some blushing school girl.

Then he sat back at his desk and waited. He tried to appear busy at least when Connor showed back up, even as he was almost shaking with nerves. What if Connor hated it or made him self-conscious? What if Connor hated him for it, even if Connor had said he’d never hated him after Gavin had managed to apologize a year after the revolution.

He felt like he needed a stim toy with how he was gnawing on his bottom lip as Connor’s eyes widened when he saw the small box on his desk. He picked up the note that rested on it, tilting his head as he read it. He glanced up, scanning around the room never meeting anyone’s eyes. Gavin was watching from the corner of his and tapping at the computer in what he hoped to be a convincing mimicry of typing a case report.

Connor set the note down carefully before pulling the bow apart, because if Gavin was going to give a gift then he’d go all out. His mom taught him how to tie bows like that and he was rather proud, thank you very much. Connor lifted the lid and gasped, pulling out the coin first. He flipped it over in his hand, probably scanning it to see what it was made of.

He glanced around again but this time nervously as if thinking someone was watching him (Gavin was but he didn’t count), before bringing it up and biting down. He nibbled on it a few times, before grinning and setting it down. Ok, that was one and it went pretty well.

He picked up the pencil next and let out a small giggle, before covering his mouth. Fuck that was adorable, but Gavin made no move to show or tell Connor so.

He scanned over this one as well, before bringing it to his lips and into his mouth. He bit down, androlled it around in his mouth like he sometimes did with actual pens. Then he started to actually suck on it and Gavin realized this was a very bad idea.

Thankfully Connor didn’t waste too much time with that one, setting it down to pull out the last. He tilted his head again, rubbing his finger over the ridged designs before sticking this one in his mouth too. He let out a pleased sound that made Gavin have to shift in his seat slightly, almost choking on his own spit as he tried to swallow.

At least he seemed to like all of them, and when Connor actually put the necklace on for the black one Gavin felt a buzz of happiness that always came from giving a good gift.

Connor picked up the note again and fuck, Gavin stood and ran to the break room. Maybe if he wasn’t in view, then Connor would just ignore his existence and not figure out it was he who sent it.

He made himself a scalding hot cup of coffee, not adding anything at least for now. Though sometimes he’d add a bit of sugar from the packets he’d keep in his desk for the special occasion of needing it to be a little tastier. He hoped it was enough time for Connor to fuck off and get back to work.

He flopped down onto his chair with a huff, running his hand through his hair. It had been a long day and he’d barely even done any work, but maybe now he could get back on track. He did spare a glance at Connor who was–fuck, he was looking at him already.

Gavin steeled himself, ready for whatever that tin can had to say about the gifts, but instead, Connor smiled a bit lopsidedly before turning to talk with Hank. That was… not what he was expecting. It made his stupid heart flutter a bit seeing that adorably dorky smile directed at him, but he chugged some of the coffee and it made it better.

He should have realized how bad of an idea it was to get Connor those toys because the man never let them go and always had them in his mouth as long as it wasn’t at a bad time. No one commented, all of them used to seeing weirder shit, and they all knew this was better than pens breaking. Plus plenty of them was gen z and just as mentally weird as everyone else so stim toys were pretty damn normal.

But Gavin was regretting it because of the blissful look on Connor’s face as he sucked on the fake pencil or held the black phoenix in his mouth. He was probably tracing over the lines with his tongue which wasn’t a thought he needed to think about in detail.

Sometimes Connor would even make these small sounds like a pleased cat or dog when he was chewing on the toys. Gavin was very glad he liked them (the hot cups of coffee with sugar in them that was left on his desk showed just how grateful Connor was), but watching him was killing Gavin.

He was getting boners more than some teenagers did and it was hard not to just do something about it. He’d imagined yanking Connor in to kiss him, making him make those damn sounds because of Gavin’s lips and tongue teasing him and not some toy. He had dreams of Connor initiating and asking if he could use his mouth on Gavin in every way possible. Those mornings when he comes in he can’t even glance Connor’s way, terrified he’d somehow know what his mind was filled with.

But Connor was ever innocent and unknowing, which was just plain weird. Wasn’t he supposed to be some high-tech android that could pick up on the tiniest bits of information? If so then was he just willfully ignoring how bad Gavin was lusting after him?

And no it wasn’t a crush, he absolutely totally did not think about taking Connor on dates, holding his hand, moving in together. He didn’t think about curling up on the couch with Connor as Doa cuddled with them too, her purring loud and clear. There were no feelings of romantic nature, and he would keep telling himself that until he genuinely came to believe it.

So it was just him being a friend (he still wasn’t sure they were even friends) and wanting to celebrate finishing his case when he invited Connor to get a drink with him. He’d stuttered over his words, cursing himself for not thinking that Connor might not be able to drink, but he’d said yes anyway.

So while work was finishing up, he was on his phone trying to find a suitable place that was android and human-friendly. There were apparently android drinks that could make them drunk but who knew if that would work on Connor, given he’s a prototype and the best of the best. Gavin wasn’t sure if he had very high standards or just a love for guys who could kick his ass.

He found a place thankfully, the ratings were pretty high and it seemed it was a very popular place for dates, not that this was one. So when Connor walked up to his desk, asking if he was ready, he wasn’t scrambling to figure things out still.

“Yep, got a nice place we can try out. ‘S got some android drinks that make you drunk, which is cool. You don’t gotta drink those if you don’t want to, obviously.” He shrugged on his leather jacket, having taken it off since the damn AC had broken once again, making the whole precinct practically a sauna.

Connor had his own sleeves rolled up, his tie hanging low and the first two buttons on his shirt undone. It was a damn good look on him and Gavin was close to drooling, but he was a little too dehydrated to actually do that, thankfully.

“Oh, I might have one but I’d rather not get drunk.” Connor glanced back at Hank and, oh right. That made sense. “Is Ms. Chen or Mr. Miller joining us?”

Fuck. “Uh, nah neither could make it. Chris has his kids you know? And uh, I think Tina has a date.” He had absolutely no idea if any of that was true given he hadn’t even asked his friends to join them, but it probably wasn’t too far off the mark.

Connor tilted his head before smiling slightly. Damn android and his creepy face that Gavin just wanted to punch in the mouth with his mouth repeatedly and very gently. “Very well, will we be taking your car or a taxi?”

“Uh, I mean you can ride on my bike with me if you want I guess.” It would be another thing to drive Gavin insane but hey, if he’s lasted three months with Connor and those stim toys he could last the fifteen-minute ride with him pressed against his back. Maybe. That, that actually sounded pretty hard to deal with, but surely it wouldn’t be that bad.

It was absolutely terrible. Connor had his arms wrapped around him, his whole front pressed against him with his damn chin on Gavin’s shoulder. At one point he shifted slightly to rest his cheek on Gavin’s back as they waited at a red light and Connor would most definitely be able to hear how Gavin’s heart was racing.

Gavin hoped he’d take it as just the bike being thrilling but Connor had squeezed him just slightly before relaxing again.

Connor didn’t even hold his own hands together in a fist like most people, no he splayed a hand over Gavin’s stomach, the other one far enough around to hold his side a bit. At one red light, Connor had sat back and stretched his arms a bit as his joints would lock up, and when he went to put his hands back the breeze finally decided to kick up. Of course, that meant Gavin’s shirt moved with the wind, and Connor’s hand landed on skin instead of fabric.

He tried not to react but Connor didn’t apologize or move his hand away either, so he surely wasn’t the only one who didn’t mind. His mind strayed to the idea of Connor just slowly trailing his hand down to rest over Gavin’s crotch where there would no doubt be a tent. Gavin would lean back into him, feel Connor's breath on his ear and the warmth of his lips when he’d–he was jolted out of that thought process by a honk that let him know the light turned green a few seconds ago.

He sped off, and thankfully nothing else of notice really happened the rest of the ride, but Connor’s hand did stay against his stomach under his shirt, holding him close.

Connor moved back when they finally parked and neither said a word as they made their way into the bar. The bouncer had barely even glanced at their IDs (or Gavin’s, Connor didn’t need one) before stamping their hands with a green circle.

The bar was dimly lit by modern-looking lights, the music loud enough that people felt the need to dance but not too loud that Gavin would need to shout either. Like all bars, it smelt of beer, sweaty bodies, and food that most only ate so they wouldn’t get overly drunk. A pretty typical-looking bar and Gavin led them over to a few open stools. He’d find them a table once they got their first drinks.

He ordered a beer, though he actually hated drinking beer, because it’s what everyone expected. Maybe he’d toss back something harder later to impress Connor a bit at how well he could take it down. Fuck, he wasn’t even drunk yet and he was already thinking these things.

Connor got himself a drink, naming off something from the board that was labeled for androids, and then the two found themselves a table a little ways away from the music.

Gavin took a few sips, trying not to scrunch up his face at the terrible taste and smell. Honestly, how could anyone stand this stuff?! “How’s your drink?”

Connor took a careful sip of his before jolting slightly, staring down at his drink in awe before taking another sip. This one he holds in his mouth for a few seconds, eyes wide before swallowing. “It feels good!”

Gavin blinked at him before scoffing. “I think you mean it tastes good.” Stupid android already getting tipsy from one small sip.

“No, I mean it feels good. It’s kind of tingly and I can feel all of the sensors on my tongue lighting up.” He grabbed his drink, cradling it in his hands and keeping it close to his chest.

“Oh,” Gavin said dumbly. Of course, it would be different for androids, Connor might not even have any way to taste it like humans did so sensations were the next best thing.

Connor was obviously trying not to gulp it down, and the way he held it in his mouth was adorable. His cheeks were puffed out and he’s staring down his nose like he’d be able to see the liquid. “Do you like yours?” Connor finally asked after he swallowed that mouthful.

Gavin swirled his beer around in the bottle wishing he could spill it somehow so he wouldn’t feel the need to drink it. “Uh, yeah sure. It’s not the worst.” That was true, it wasn’t the worst beer he’s had at least.

Connor frowned and leaned forward a bit so he wouldn’t have to speak too loud. “You know if you don’t like it you should get something else. This is a celebration for you, you should enjoy what you drink.”

Damn, was he really that transparent? Part of him was screaming to keep the act up, that beer and hard liquor were what was expected and what he had to drink. “Fuck it. Yeah this shit sucks, I hate the taste of beer. I’ll go get something else.”

Connor beamed at him and nodded, sitting back and taking another long sip of his drink and holding it in his mouth.

“You want another one of those, Con?” The nickname slipped out but at least it wasn’t some lovey-dovey shit like honey or dear.

Connor frowned before shrugging and then nodding. Gavin gave him a thumbs-up as he made his way back over to the bar and ordered what he actually wanted to drink. The bartender didn’t comment on it, which he’s thankful for.

He headed back to their table only to find someone standing there, talking to Connor. Gavin cleared his throat and slid into his seat, handing the drink to Connor and then glaring at the man. “Can I help you?”

The man shifted, looking between the two of them. “Was just suggesting some drinks, sorry to interrupt.” The man put his hands up in surrender, taking a step back from the table. Gavin knew very well what this guy was trying to do, and Gavin would not let Connor be taken advantage of.

“Thank you for the suggestions, I’ll keep them in mind,” Connor grinned, but it looked a little too fake to Gavin. Gavin got to see the true smiles that lit up Connor’s face and no matter how weird and awkward he looked Gavin couldn’t help but fall a little farther with each one.

The dude glanced down, but wisely made no comment on Gavin’s choice of drink and how out of character it looked for him. So what he loved a good cherry bourbon smash, beer tastes like piss water and this actually had flavor.

Gavin brought his glass up and took a sip as the guy walked off back to wherever he’d been originally before Gavin left. The drink was damn good and mixed just right so that all the flavors were even and not too overpowering. This was the kind of drink he could easily get wasted on.

“Is that one good?” Connor asked, looking between Gavin’s drink and him.

Gavin chuckled and nodded, taking another swig. “Yeah, it’s damn good. Wish you could try it.” Connor still hadn’t confirmed if he could drink human shit or not, but he was going off the assumption that he couldn’t.

“I’m sure it’s wonderful if you like it.”

That statement didn’t actually hold up for much, but it did when it came to Connor. So he maybe liked him a lot and Connor was indeed very wonderful. It’s incredible how kind and patient he was, and yet he’s so headstrong and stubborn. The way he looked so innocent and pure but then Gavin remembered what he’s made for and how easily Connor could kill him if he wanted. He’d get away with it too, and Hank might even help dispose of his body.

He pulled out a cherry and pulled it off the stem before eating it, and twirling the stem around. He glanced at Connor, then back at the stem before grinning widely. “Hey Con, can you tie this with your tongue?” He held it out to him, and their fingers brushed together as he took it.

“Why would I?” He copied Gavin’s movements of twisting the stem around.

Gavin shrugs, drumming on the table. “Means you're a good kisser or something. It’s just a fun trick to impress people.” Gavin could do it, though he looked pretty stupid while moving it around his mouth.

Connor raised an eyebrow, probably wondering why Gavin wanted him to do it, then. But he shrugged and stuck it in his mouth, after five seconds he spit it back out and held it up for Gavin to see.

Gavin was expecting a normal knot, that’s what everyone could achieve if they practiced enough, but no. Of course, Connor was extra and within five seconds had the stem tied into a pretty bow. “Holy shit,” Gavin hissed, taking the little bow.

He was desperately trying not to imagine that very talented tongue could do on his dick. It wasn’t working, because he had to shift in his seat a bit to try and adjust himself. “Consider me impressed.”

“So this makes me a good kisser?” Connor tilted his head, his eyes shining in the light. Gavin gaped at him, trying to figure out if Connor was flirting or really that naive.

“Could always test that theory,” Gavin tried to say nonchalantly.

Connor tapped his chin, before reaching forward and grabbing the other cherry. He held it up towards Gavin, who took in a shuddering breath. He wrapped his lips around the cherry and pulled the fruit off the stem. For some reason, this one tasted even better than the last.

Connor then stuck the stem in his mouth and scooted over to close the distance between them. Gavin stiffened for a second as Connor was definitely kissing him. He finally got his brain in order and kissed back, bringing a hand up to hold Connor but the back of the neck.

Gavin couldn't help the moan that slipped out as Connor’s tongue brushed against his, and he opened his mouth eagerly to him. It’s hot and needy and fuck, maybe Connor wasn’t naive at all. Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing all the time.

Something that wasn't Connor’s tongue was in his mouth and then Connor was kissing down his jaw over to his fluttering pulse that gives away just how affected he was by this.

“Oh shit, baby,” Gavin groaned, his hand going up to Connor’s hair to tug gently at the soft strands. Connor shivered and nipped a bit harder before sucking at the spot. It would no doubt leave a big mark, and Gavin couldn’t wait to press against it and feel the ache.

A loud shrill laugh made them jump apart, remembering where they were. Right, a bar and the thing in his mouth was the cherry stem. Gavin almost choked on it when he realized it was tied too. They were both panting with wide pupils as they stared at each other.

Gavin glanced down and oh, yep, that answered one of his questions at least. The tent in Connor’s pants gave away that he very much enjoyed that too and indeed had a dick. Gavin wasn't in a better state and he had to shift a bit to try and make his not so obvious. “Well fuck.”

Connor chuckled and ducked his head, rubbing his hands together. “I agree. Admittedly I’ve wanted to do that for some time, but I wasn’t sure how to initiate or if you’d actually want to.”

Gavin’s jaw was practically in his lap at the confession. “You wanted… fucking, how long!?!”

Connor looked bashful, the blue blush adorably dusting his cheeks. “Um, well you know the first time I broke a pen? I well, I might have been thinking about you instead of the case.”

Unlike Connor who blushed like a goddamn anime, just across his nose and cheeks, Gavin’s face was completely red all the way to his ears and neck. “And so you crushed a pen, great way to make a guy feel good.” He was teasing, trying to bide time to wrap his head around that.

“I just got overwhelmed! Pens are very fragile and, I just, I’m sorry,” Connor whined, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh no, no, no, you don’t get to hide, pretty boy.” Gavin pulled Connor’s hands away to see his cute face. “I’m damn happy just thinking about me gets you that distracted, that's a fucking ego boost if I’ve ever heard one.”

Connor sputtered but didn't pull his hands away from Gavin’s. “Don’t let it go to your head, I have a very vivid imagination.”

“Oh? Well, you can always tell me about those fantasies you’re having at work no less. Maybe I can fulfill a few of them.” Gavin smirked, leaning in so they were a breath away again.

Connor licked his lips and Gavin followed the motion with his eyes, wanting to close the distance but very much not wanting to get them kicked out. “Maybe I can show you one now?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck fuck. Where the hell did this confidence come from? Had Connor even had sex yet? Had he kissed anyone before Gavin? He was damn good at kissing so either he was a natural or Gavin wouldn’t be his first. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more. He knew he very much wanted Connor, though.

“Yes, definitely, hell yes.” He gave Connor’s hand a quick squeeze, and Connor did it back before pulling him up. Right, yeah ok, he meant now.

He followed Connor back to the bathroom and he felt like a teen about to get his first blowjob. Connor pushed the door open before going to one of the five larger stalls. He momentarily praised the bar for having more accessibility, but that thought went out the door when he was pressed against the stall door as Connor closed it behind them.

Their lips locked again, and Connor slid his leg between Gavin’s. Connor’s hands went under and up Gavin’s shirt, pushing him harder against the door as he touched every bit of skin he could.

Gavin gasped, trying to muffle his moan as he rocked his hips against Connor’s thigh. “What, what were you thinking?” He managed to ask as Connor kissed and nipped down his neck to give Gavin a chance to breathe.

Connor glanced at him, a smirk on those beautiful lips. “I was thinking I could put my mouth to good use, get down on my knees for you.”

Gavin shuddered, nodding quickly. “Yeah, sounds good to me, pretty boy.” All those times he'd imagined this, and now it was finally happening.

Connor’s hands started trailing down lower and lower until they were resting over the zipper. “Thank you for the toys,” Connor whispered. He glanced down at where it hung around Connor’s neck, and Gavin beamed at him.

“You make it sound so dirty, Con, but yeah, of course. Glad you like them.” Now wasn’t the time, but at least he knew Connor had really figured it out. Not that it was hard, but still, it was kind of nice to hear a thank you though none was needed.

Connor hummed and sank down gracefully, unzipping Gavin’s pants as he went. It was a damn good sight, Connor looking up at him through his lashes as he rubbed him through his boxers.

“Fuck,” Gavin sighs, banging his head back on the door as he ran a hand through Connor’s curls. He was obsessed with how Connor let his hair be curly, made him look even cuter and more delectable.

Connor leaned forward, his tongue lolling out as he licked over the bulge. Gavin gasped, tightening his hold on Connor’s hair. The man’s eyes fluttered as he tilted his head back into his hand. “I want it, please?”

Gavin bit his lip, scratching at Connor’s scalp. “Of course, all yours, baby.”

Connor pulled him out of his pants, the cold air hitting him and making him tense slightly. The weight in his gut from pure lust grew heavier when he saw how hungrily Connor was looking at his length.

He banged his head back again as Connor took him in hand and slowly licked from the base to the tip, his tongue swirling around the head and pushing into the slit. “Have you done this before?” He agreed, trying to pull him closer.

“A few times, but I’ve heard I don’t need all that much experience,” Connor smirked as he took him into his mouth and they both moaned at the same time. Gavin couldn’t help but giggle, smiling down at Connor who looked even more blissed out than when he’d suck on the toys.

All the air left him as Connor bobbed his head, taking him all the way down with absolutely no resistance and Gavin tried hard not to buck into that talented mouth. He gripped his hair tight enough that it no doubt hurts but Connor seemed pleased as his eyes closed and he continued to bob and suck.

They both jumped at the sudden amount of sound that filled the bathroom as the door was slammed open and someone stumbled into a stall. The man was singing very poorly and it would have been hilarious if Connor didn’t have his mouth around Gavin’s dick and was still going.

He should have known Connor wouldn’t stop, and it was only the man’s awful singing that was just loud enough to cover up the lewd noises the two were making that let the man continue his business without any knowledge.

Gavin brought a hand up to bite at his knuckles, trying to keep himself silent as Connor took him all the way and then swallowed around him while his skillful tongue did things to the underside of his cock. His hips grinded forward, trying to get deeper and deeper even though he’s as far in as possible.

The sound from the bar hit their ears again as the man left after not washing his hands (fucking ew), but then it’s almost silent again. Gavin dropped his hand back to Connor’s hair and used his grip to push him back just slightly. It’s enough that Gavin had room to fuck his throat roughly, not holding back.

Connor moaned around him, keeping himself nice and pliant while also sucking and swallowing around him. He looked up at Gavin through his lashes and he’s just too damn pretty like this. His lips were red and slick, his face flushed blue, his curly hair an absolute mess from Gavin’s hands, and he looked almost high. He’s not even trying to touch himself, though the tent in his pants hadn’t gone down. Instead, Connor held onto Gavin’s hips, his thumbs brushing against his sharp hip bones.

Gavin was lost in the sensations, and, before he knew it, that cord was almost about to snap. “Fuck! Close, I’m so close, want me in your mouth?”

Connor hummed and made it very clear how much he wanted Gavin to come. It didn’t take much else, and he soon couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled Connor close, squeezing his eyes shut as he bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop from screaming. He’s always been loud with sex, and trying to hold back was hard.

Connor whimpered below him as he swallowed it all down. Gavin panted quickly, rubbing soothingly into Connor’s hair, while he experienced one of the best orgasms of his life.

Connor sat patiently as Gavin came down from it, and once he let go of his hair, slowly pulled off. It’s a huge contrast from Connor’s warm mouth to the coolness of the bathroom, but he carefully put himself away.

“You good? Want me to do something for you?” Gavin asked, glancing down at Connor who looked just as much of a mess as Gavin probably did.

Connor stood up carefully, shaking his head. “No need, I came from that.” He wiped his mouth before grinning widely. Well, fuck, that’s hot and if he didn’t just come he’d be tempted to try and go for another round.

“Huh, that’s good. Um, so thanks I guess, for that.” It was always awkward after but now it felt even more so. Was really it just lust with Connor? Did Connor want to do this again and only this?

Connor tilted his head and followed Gavin as they left the stall and went to the sink. “Of course, it was fun, I very much enjoyed myself.” That didn’t answer any of his questions.

Connor washed his hands and Gavin tried to fix his appearance somewhat to not look like he just had the life sucked out of him from his dick. “Would you uh, wanna do that again some time?”

Connor perked up and nodded quickly. “Yes! I’d love that, but… as a date or just sexual?” Well damn, he just went right out and said it.

“Either way, I guess. Whichever you wanted, you know?” He tried not to get his hopes up, but damn did he want this more than he wanted to have sex again.

“I would like to go on a date with you if that’s ok.” Connor looked sheepish saying this, his head ducked and that blue blush ever-present.

Gavin reached out and gently cupped his cheek. “I’m more than ok with that.” Then he leaned forward and kissed him gently and with as much passion as possible. Connor melted into it, resting his hand on Gavin’s waist and the other on the small of his back. He pulled him in like that and it made Gavin’s heart flutter and his stomach twist with butterflies.

They pulled back slowly and they really needed to not make out in the bathroom, though both of them were grinning. Connor reached down and brought the stim toy up, holding it in his mouth slightly.

“You really can’t get enough uh? Let’s go back, I’ll order you another drink too, and you can have all my cherry stems.” He offered his hand which Connor took. Ok, so maybe Connor driving him insane wasn’t the worst thing ever, if it got him to date Connor then it would be worth it. Plus, now Connor had something to put in his mouth whenever he wanted.

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softboywriting · 3 years

Text

Right Place, Right Time | Santiago “Pope” Garcia | Triple Frontier

Summary: You and Pope have known each other for years because of your ex. When you end up in a bad situation because of your brother, Pope is the last person you thought would end up saving your life. [Post Movie] [TW: Violence, gunshots, mention of drug running, hostage situation] [Film: Triple Frontier]

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist In Bio

The sound of a gunshot rips through the air, ringing in your ears and your heart stops. You huddle down into the cold porcelain tub you're handcuffed to, praying that you can get out of this situation alive. The situation has gone from bad to worse and you suspect it may get uglier.

You're not even meant to be here, you're a bartering chip because your brother fucked up and owes a cartel boss a fuck load of money. You can't even remember his name, Parade? Patron? Partida. That's it. Three days ago you got grabbed by three guys in a van outside your apartment in San Antonio Texas; had your hands tied up and mouth taped shut, tossed into the cargo hold on a small plane and flown for a long time then put in a trunk and driven for a longer time.

Since then you've been fine, no one has hurt you or made you feel uncomfortable other than the whole being held hostage. It's only been a day since you've been handcuffed, you started out much more comfortable in a small sunroom but you quickly ruined that luxury. Your back hurts from the awkward position you're forced to sit in. It's what you get for trying to make a run for it during a guard change.

It's been just under fifteen minutes since you heard commotion from the floor below you. Unmistakable sounds of struggle and loud thumping. Then came the gunshot. You have no idea who is shooting, if it is a guard or someone else with a gun. There are two more gunshots and you are certain that they've come from the stairs just outside the bathroom door. You have a feeling that there is a drug bust going on or a rival cartel is making a move. Either way you're in a bad position.

The hall outside the bathroom door creaks and you hold your breath. Maybe they won't check the bathroom. Maybe it's one of Partida's guards sweeping for intruders. Not that you'd rather it be a guard, but you'd rather not die or go to prison for being in a drug lord's house. You slide the curtain over quietly and lean your head back against the cold tile wall.

The sound of a man speaking catches your attention. It's low, unintelligible. You listen closer, trying to make out what they're saying but you're only catching pieces. It sounds like English.

"I'm going to sweep the rooms."

The door hand jiggles and you can't breathe. Sure enough the door creaks open and you hear someone moving into the room, heavy boots moving slowly across the floor. As long as they don't pull back the curtain it's fine. You're fine. They will take the shit they want and leave. Then you can make a run for it. Just don't open the- fuck.

You stare up at a blonde man with striking blue eyes. He's got a backwards baseball cap and a full tactical vest on. He looks American and you feel only fleeting relief, knowing that at least he doesn't appear to be part of a rival cartel in the country.

"Holy shit." He touches a com on his chest. "Pope, we got a girl up here, second floor bathroom. She's handcuffed to the tub."

"Copy that, I'm on my way."

Your heart soars. Pope. You know a Pope who is now ex military. Your ex boyfriend's squad leader was nicknamed Pope. You got together several times, had drinks with the squad and their significant others. You always had a thing for him, though you never let on since you were with Jude, your ex. The two of you got along far better than you and Jude ever did and you always wondered what if. It was a classic case of right person, wrong time. You can only hope that somehow on the gods green earth, this is going to be the same man.

"Hey sweetheart you know English?"

"Yeah, I'm American." You tug at the handcuff and it rattles loudly against the tub. "Got anything to get this off me?"

"Not on me. I'm gonna let Pope make that call."

Another man appears in the doorway. He looks similar to the one standing before you. Blonde, blue eyes, same jawline and build. "Ah fuck. Did you tell Pope yet?"

"He's on his way up."

A third man steps into view as the second man steps away. He's about the same height, dark curly hair with a bit of gray in the front, stubble, brown deep set eyes. It's him, Santiago "Pope" Garcia. He looks to the man in front of you and then to the one out of sight. They both exit the room and he enters, closing the door behind him.

"Santiago...Pope...holy shit, is this for real?"

"It is." He kneels beside the tub and you can see gray in his dark stubble. He doesn't look old enough to be graying, maybe late thirties or so, you can't remember. His eyes are soft, gentle as he looks at your wrist in the cuff. It's sore, red and rubbed raw. "This is the last place I ever thought I'd see you again. How the hell did you get here?"

"My brother owes Partida money, he did that private security gig here a while remember? He couldn't pay up so Partida took me and brought me here as a hostage. I've been here for three days."

Pope swings his gun around to his back and digs in the pocket of his vest. "He's kept you chained up for three days?"

"No, just one day. I was in the sunroom downstairs under a guard's watch until I tried to get out. I didn't make it far, obviously."

"Then he cuffed you. I got it." He pulls out a pair of pliers and goes for the chain around the pipe. "I want you to listen to what I'm about to say, and listen closely."

"O-okay?"

"If you're lying to me, and you try any funny business I cannot guarantee your safety. Just because we know each other, doesn't mean I can trust you entirely. I don't know you that well anymore. I'm cutting this chain and letting you go because I don't condone hurting women or hostages, and I want to believe you're telling me the truth."

"Of course I'm telling the truth, Pope. Fuck, we've known each other for years, yeah it's been a while but how many times did we get wasted together? Why are you here?"

He gives you a hard look but it smooths out, trust softening his features. "I'm trying to make a difference."

You rub your arm, massaging the bicep as you're able to relax it finally. It's been uncomfortably held at a weird angle since you were chained up. "You're here for the drugs? Are you a mercenary now or something?"

"Something like that." Pope stands and offers a hand to help you up. "You need to get out of here and get back home."

"I can't. I don't have any documents. How am I supposed to get over the border or get a flight?" You climb out of the tub and run a hand over your hair. "They brought me down here on a fucking crop duster hidden in the cargo hold."

Pope sighs, muttering under his breath and hooks his thumbs under the straps of his vest. "I'd say go to the embassy but I'm sure they're in Partida's pockets. Okay, I'll get you out of here, just go downstairs and wait for us to come down."

You nod and open the door, heading down the stairs and stopping short of the last step because there is a guard laying across the bottom steps and he is clearly not responsive. You close your eyes and tell yourself he is just unconscious as you step over his legs and go to the foyer. The front door is open and it's raining outside, the sky a sick green color. How did this happen? How could you have let your brother get in this much trouble? How did you let yourself get picked up outside your apartment? Fuck. You lean on the doorframe and you feel sick. You can't just go home. Partida will find you, his men will find you.

"Hey Handcuffs, you ready to go?"

You turn and see the blond with the baseball cap that initially found you. "Yeah, I'm not eager to stay."

"Pope says you're comin' with us. That he knows you. You're American right? Where you from?"

"Texas."

"Ah I see." He does a little two step move. "I've had a couple of good rounds in Texas. Nice place. Good food and better company." He adjusts his hat and you roll your eyes at him. "How'd you end up in Columbia?"

"My idiot brother." You scoff. "He was in private sector security and he stayed here for six months. Apparently he got in with the wrong people and then ended up owing more money than our childhood home is worth. He's so fucking stupid, he put me and everyone he's knows at risk and look at me now. I'm so fucked."

"Hey it'll be okay. Pope knows the right people, he can get you home."

"I can't go home! If I just go back to my apartment in San Antonio then Partida's men are going to hunt me down. They'll interrogate me about this, whatever this is!" You pace across the foyer. "I'm not supposed to be here, I'm not supposed to be part of anything! This is all my brother's fault and I'm really tempted to snap his fingers one by one when I see him again, if I see him again."

"Ouch. Trust me, Pope will get this right. Partida isn't going to be a problem much longer. Well, he ain't a problem now."

"What do you mean? Of course he's a prob-"

The other blonde comes down the stairs with Pope behind him. He's got a necklace in his hand with a cross on it. It's the one that Partida never goes without. The only way they could have gotten that is- Jesus fucking Christ what did Pope get into? "You got the matches Pope?" The blonde asks.

"You know I do." Pope says, tossing a bottle of some sort behind him.

"Don't you think maybe we should give some of this money in the house back to the people?"

"It's dirty money, it'll just find its way back to the next cartel that tries to take over the country. It's best we don't feed anything back into it. Let the people heal, free of Partida's grasp."

"Whatever you say, Pope."

Baseball cap and the other blonde grab bottles from a bag nearby like the one Pope tossed. You realize they're lighter fluid, or perhaps gasoline. They're going to burn the house to the ground with everything and everyone in it. "Come on, let's get this place good and soaked."

Pope walks up to you and lays his hand on your shoulder. "I never thought I'd see you again let alone in a place like this. Small world."

"Yeah, small world. What are you actually doing here? Seriously this is not a government mission."

"No, it's not. I've spent the last two years here trying to take down Partida. He was responsible for the death of my aunt and uncle a few years back. I worked with the local government for a while but they were all on his payroll. I met up with Benny and Will about doing this on our own. They hot some hard times so I told them they could keep as much cash as they could carry if they helped me and well, here we are."

You reach out and touch his jaw, there's a scratch you didn't see before and it's bleeding a little. You wonder if he knows it's there. "Never thought you'd do some cowboy shit like this."

He shrugs and looks away. "It's against everything I ever swore under oath but it's the right thing to do and we've got the skill set to do it. So many people suffer under Partida's rule. I've done something like this before in Brazil, it didn't turn out so well but it made a huge difference for the people and the government."

"Well I'm glad you are doing it. I've never been more relieved in my life than I was when I saw you walk into that bathroom. I was sure I'd end up dead or in prison or something far worse. I'm so far from home, and someone I know is saving my life, how did I get this lucky."

Pope chuckles. "I guess people are tied to each other once they meet. The invisible strings of fate. Seems that way anyway. How's Jude?"

"We broke up two years ago. It wasn't ugly, just a mutual falling out. He was being deployed to Turkey for a few years so it would have been rough."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. Is he still there? I've not heard from him since I retired."

"Yeah. What about you? Still got that Brazilian girl? What was her name? Annamaria?"

Pope clears his throat and runs a hand over his hair nervously. "No, no she uh...she wasn't into my work. It didn't last long."

"That sucks, I'm sorry. She was a sweet girl."

"She was. Life goes on though."

"Alright we're done, let's light it up and go home." The blonde says and picks up the bag they got the lighter fluid from.

Baseball Cap claps a hand on Pope's back. "Let's get the hell out of dodge my man."

"Let's go." Pope says, laying a hand on your back and guiding you toward the doorway. "We've got a truck waiting on the other side of the highway."

_____________________

The way home isn't as easy as it should be even with Pope's connections. For Benny and Will, baseball cap and the blonde, it's easy as pie. Pope had already set up their fake passports and IDs before the mission. You end up staying with Pope at the place he pays weekly for in Medellin. It's a temporary apartment, all the furniture and appliances are supplied. It's perfect for a man on the move. You both know it's a risk to keep you in the country, should Partida's men decide to get retribution for their boss. Not that many knew who you were or why you were in his home, but either way, if any of them knew about you, this is going to get pinned on you. How one woman in her late twenties could take out several armed guards and a drug lord alone, you have no idea. You're not John Wick, but you're not completely off the hook.

You wake up to the early morning light pouring in the open window of the bedroom. You're covered in soft blankets, a bit too warm, but comfortable enough. Beside you Pope is asleep, his tan skin and dark hair such a contrast against the cream color bedding. He looks peaceful, serene in this state.

Sharing the bed had been your idea. It wasn't as if two adults couldn't share a queen size bed for a few nights. You weren't horny teenagers on a camping trip, forced to share tents. None the less your heart races when you see him inches away, lips parted slightly, eyes closed and his whole expression relaxed. He's gorgeous, rough but attractive beyond measure. He's older than you by a few years, a good eight at least, but you don't care. You definitely still want him.

"Good morning," he mutters, one eye opening to peek at you across from him. He smiles slow and sleepy.

"Good morning."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Mmhmm."

Pope reaches out and closes the gap between the two of you, fingers gliding over your cheek. "You're flushed. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah." You bite your tongue as you stare pleadingly at the man across from you. Do you say something? Does he feel this vibe? Does his chest ache the way yours does right now? You can't decide what to say so you go with the first thing that comes to mind. "You've gotten some gray since I last saw you."

He grins, breaking out into a laugh and let's his hand fall from your face. "Stress and the military will do that to you."

"I like it."

His laughter lulls and he looks over at you once more. "You do?"

"Yeah." You reach out and touch the curls at the front of his head where they are streaked with gray. His hair is soft but full and thick, his latin genetics for sure. He won't be thinning anytime soon, just graying. "It's nice, makes you look distinguished."

"It makes me look like an old man."

"You're not that old."

"Thirty seven and I've got these grays like a fifty year old pushing sixty hard."

You run your hand into his hair, dragging your fingers up through the thickest bit. "Don't worry about it. Get some hair dye. The ladies will still be all over you with a face like this."

He chuckles. "Oh yeah? What if I don't want ladies all over me? What if I just want one." He rolls forward and leans over you. "Am I reading this wrong?"

"No, you're reading it perfectly right."

"Good." He leans in and presses his lips to yours. His hand slides into your hair and you melt. His kiss is everything you imagined, soft, gentle, loving. "I've got a place in Brazil, a condo in Rio."

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Maybe." He smiles and kisses you again. "Just for a bit until things cool down with Partida's men. I think you'll like Brazil."

You smile softly and close your eyes. "Fuck it. Why not? My job sucks in San Antonio. My parents are who knows where since they retired and my brother can figure it out himself. He put me into this mess, he can suffer a while wondering what happened to me."

"If he hadn't, we wouldn't be here." He presses his forehead against yours. "Never thought I'd see you again."

"I guess it's like you said, people are tied together by the universe once they meet." You run your hand through his hair and down his neck, twisting your finger in his curls there. "Maybe we were supposed to end up like this."

He presses another kiss to your lips and then to your jaw. "It was finally the right place, right time."

"Finally."

-------

end

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