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reidgraygubler · 3 years

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dirty little secret (reid/reader)

Title: dirty little secret

Requested: yes, was a request someone sent to @/imagining-in-the-margins, but I took it off her hands :) (alskdf that was so hot um could you do where the Reader gets spencer a collar and maybe someone accidentally finds it… okay tysm and it’s totally ok if not <3)

Couple: spencer reid/gen-neutral!reader

Category: spicey fluff

Content Warning: D/s dynamic, allusions and mentions to sex, sub!spencer, dom!reader, this does contain some kinda sexual content, no actually nudity or actual sex

Word Count: 1,678

Summary: Reader gets Spencer a super meaningful, and private, gift. All is well… Until a member of the team finds out about it.

A/N: pom posted this in her discord and said if someone had any ideas for this, we could have it. thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{**}

“Wait, wait,” I looked down at Spencer, a smile growing across my lips, “I got you something… I think you’ll want to use it right now,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his. He hummed and followed after me when I pulled away from him. I laughed before pushing him back down on the bed. “Stay there.” I pointed at him.

“What is it,” he asked as he watched me climb out of the bed. I tried to be graceful but failed when the sheet came along with me.

“Well, you see, I was just thinking… And, well,” I stopped speaking and went to a paper bag sitting by my dresser. I could hear the bed shift slightly, alerting me that Spencer had sat up.

“Should I be worried?” He asked, watching as I pulled out a piece of tissue paper. Sitting at the bottom of the bag was a thick black band of leather with an ‘O’ ring right in the middle of it. It was perfect. I think it’d suit Spencer perfectly.

“Mmm, no. I don’t think you should be worried,” I whispered as I held it up to show off what it was. “I figured it was time to get you one,” I explained as he sat up to look at it. A small smile grew across his lips once he realized what exactly it was I held. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Of course I do!” He reached out to touch the collar. I smiled at him as he carefully took it from my hands. “When were you able to get this?”

“Earlier this week when you stayed late at the office. I told Emily I had to do some errands and well…” My words trailed off as I gestured to the collar he held in his hands. I watched as he looked down at it, his fingers trailed across the leather texture. “I wanted to get you something… And I figured that was the best thing to get,” I whispered as I took it back from him. I stood up from the bed and moved to sit behind him.

“It definitely was the best thing,” Spencer laughed as I put the collar around his neck before fastening it to him.

“How’s that?” I asked in a soft tone. My arms snaked around his body as I rested my head on his shoulder. Spencer hummed as he nodded. “You can breathe just fine?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he whispered and kept nodding. I smiled before moving back around to sit in front of him.

“You’re my good boy, you know that,” I whispered as I lifted my hands to hold his face. The smile that sat on his lips grew as he looked at me. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Spencer replied before moving to press his lips to mine. I hummed happily as I pushed my hands through his hair to hold him closer to me.

{***}{***}{***}

Of course not a week later did we get called out for a case. Whenever there was a case, Spencer and I had to be a little bit sneaky or creative with our… extra-curricular activities. Even if we were dead tired from a full day of work, we still put a little effort into doing something. Although, a scene wouldn’t last too long. We’d get to the point of nudity and then we’d just end up cuddling, which is just as good as the actual sex.

But this… This was not the case. We weren’t on a time crunch for this case. We were allowed to go to the hotel for some rest. Though, rest probably wouldn’t exactly come for me or Spencer...

“You brought it with, correct?” I asked as I kept my voice low as Spencer and I walked side by side down the hall. Spencer glanced at me, an eyebrow raised as if he was saying ‘Yes, ma’am, I did bring it. I’m not an idiot,’. But in turn, I raised my eyebrows. “Good boy,” I cooed before pressing my lips to his cheek.

“I hate you,” he muttered as he pulled the key card out from the paper sleeve.

“Oh, Baby Boy, I don’t think you do.” I smiled as I lifted a hand to ruffle his hair. He glanced at me as he unlocked the door. “I’m going to shower, you get ready for me… Okay,” I whispered once we were both inside.

“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer mumbled before pressing my lips to his. I smiled at him with a knowing glance before stepping into the bathroom.

I should have taken my time to get ready. Instead I rushed. I let my excitement of getting off make me rush. I wondered what things would’ve happened had I taken my time. Damn my excitement...

“I hope you listened to me and you’re all ready,” I spoke as I exited the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah… Um, about that,” I could hear Spencer’s voice, but what I wished I heard was the moment of regret in his tone. It was too late as I stepped out from behind the door wearing nothing but my underwear. My eyes first went to him, then our apparent guest to our room. “Luke is here…” his eyes dropped to his lap as he spoke. I stared at him for a moment before looking down at what I was wearing.

“Hey.” Luke looked up at my face as he waved. I knew he was trying his hardest to not let his eyes linger on my body. We were all frozen at this very moment. I know I couldn’t move because of how embarrassing this moment was.

“Kinda wish I was dreaming right now… But I know that this wouldn’t be a dream… It’d be a fucking nightmare,” I lifted my finger as I spoke. I could feel my embarrassment mix with anger the longer I stood in the room wearing just my underwear. I bit my lips before taking a deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll be right back,” I pointed at Spencer then at Luke. Luke looked over at Spencer, the apparent embarrassment for all of us growing on both their faces. Although the embarrassment Luke showed wasn’t as bad as what Spencer had...

I quickly went back into the bathroom and went for one of the folded robes sitting on the towel rack. When I was covered in something more than my underwear, I stepped back into the room and noticed Spencer wearing a little more than his boxers.

“What do you want, Luke?” I asked, trying to not let my annoyance be known. But it was so incredibly hard. The moment was already ruined. When he stayed silent, I looked over at Spencer with a raised brow before looking at Luke. “Did you need something, or were you justh ere to fuck with Spencer and me? Because you’re free to leave,” I spoke as I gestured towards the door. Luke stood and walked towards me. I silently thanked God that Luke was leaving…

“Right… I’ll see you later, Spencer,” Luke stated as he turned to look at Spencer. His eyes narrowed as he looked over in Spencer’s direction for a moment too long. “Is… Is that a collar?” he asked, pointing at the object sitting on the nightstand. I looked at Spencer, then over at Luke, then, finally, back at Spencer. My eyes were wide and I could feel a blaze grow across my cheeks.

“Uh… I… Uhm…” I pulled my robe tighter around my body as I looked at Luke. I genuinely couldn’t find anything to say at the moment. But, to be fair, I’ve been dreading this exact moment since Spencer and I started doing… this. “It’s mine,” I cringed as I raised an eyebrow. Luke looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure, I believe that…” Luke walked up to me. He patted my shoulder a few times before finally actually leaving. “Listen, I know you two were about to… Ya know…” He let his words trail off as he did a set of crude actions. I rolled my eyes as I looked over at him. “But Emily needs us over at the station soon.” His voice was low as he got further away. “But I’ll just let her know you guys are… busy with other-”

“Just go, Luke… Please,” I lifted a hand to rest over my eyes. I let out a deep sigh before turning to look at him.

“Hope you guys have fun,” Luke looked at me with a smile before leaving. I rushed to the door once he was gone and locked the deadbolt and chain lock.

“Moment’s ruined,” I said to the room. Spencer laughed as I walked over to the bed. He stood from the bed before coming up to my side. “It’s gone. Ruined forever,” I said in a dramatic tone.

“It’s not ruined. We can… Try again when we’re allowed to be here for a while. Or, when we’re back home,” he reassured as he lifted a hand to my shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right… But now all I’ll be able to think about is Luke’s idiot face when I’m fucking you.” I laughed as I looked up at him.

“Oh please, I hope you’d be able to think about me and my-”

“Pretty…”

“Sure, pretty face… Especially when you’re cumming,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine.

“Of course!” I shouted and stepped away from him. “Even better when I’ll be riding that pretty face of yours,” I hummed before kissing him again. I really, really liked the thought of that. It was something I really needed at the moment, but it wasn’t going to happen at the moment. Emily needed us… So that moment was going to have to wait.

“I agree though. I think next time will be a little awkward… Now that Luke knows what we’re doing,” Spencer anxiously chuckled.

“Maybe next time we’ll just ask him to join us,” I said before leaving his side to get dressed again.

“Wait… Wait… What?”

{***}{***}{***}

i am currently take a break from a taglist. but if you have any questions or comments, please let me know here!

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fan fic #sub!spencer #sub spencer

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gohyuck · 3 years

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the purge: society

pairing: firefighter!san x reader

genre: purge au, angst, some fluff

warnings: mentions of violence (especially violence against cops), murder, blood, injury, weapons (guns, knives, metal baseball bats)

word count: 2.4k

note: this was originally meant to be a drabble and it’s still pretty short so i didn’t get to elaborate on the characters but honestly maybe i’ll explore a purge universe with ateez someday because this was fun (i’ve never watched any of the movies though so i’ll have to get on that)

“What the fuck?”

He hadn’t expected to see anyone left alive on this street.

“Shut up and get down,” You hiss, reaching your good arm up to grab onto the man’s jacket collar before unceremoniously pulling him towards you. He stumbles, falling gracelessly onto you. A scream bubbles up in your throat as he accidentally puts pressure onto your already free-bleeding bicep, but you get ahold of yourself just in time, only letting the quietest of wounded moans escape you.

“You’re the first person that hasn’t tried to kill me before talking to me all night - oh, shit,” The stranger trails off, swearing when you effectively stop him from speaking further by placing your switchblade right under his skin. It’s only then that he even pauses to take you in: your back is up by the police car door, sure, and your left arm has a massive gash in it, but you’re armed. There’s a pistol laying idly in your lap, kept company by a metal baseball bat.

Not to mention, the knife at his neck.

“What the hell are you doing, walking around unarmed and with a first aid kit? Also, how the hell are you unarmed and with just a first aid kit? What the fuck?” You let the questions out in a rapidfire fashion, and he can’t help but clock the slight rasp in your voice. It’s easier to recognize than the pained wheeze you’re trying very, very hard to suppress, but neither escape him. He’s trained to notice the little things, anyways.

“You need to bandage that shit up,” The man ignores your questions, moving his head just enough to miss your blade but also enough to be able to look you in the eyes. “How long has it been bleeding?”

“That’s none of your business,” You grit out. “Answer my questions or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

“If I answer yours, will you answer mine?” For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be panicking just yet. His gaze is sincere, but it’s too solid to be that of a bona fide idiot. You suck in a breath of air. Threatening him would be so much easier if he didn’t seem like a nice guy. It’s hard enough to live through the night, you don’t need guilt on your hands, and you know you’re going to feel guilty when you kill him. And you will kill him.

You need that first aid kit. You’ll do anything for it.

Anything, starting off with lying.

“Sure,” You reply, steeling yourself for any sudden movements he might make now that you’re faking amicability. Maybe he’ll believe you to be vulnerable and try for your pistol or your bat, or maybe he’ll be properly cruel and finish off your arm. You don’t want to think about it. He lets out a sigh of relief, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve actually affected him after all. “Now speak.”

“Not unarmed, there’s a police-issue pistol in my jacket and a tactical knife in my jeans. I’m not totally nuts. First aid kit’s for my buddy, though, I’ll be real, you need it way more than him.” There’s something resembling concern in his expression as his eyes flit between your torn arm and your face, but that barely interests you. You haven’t truly registered anything after ‘police-issue’.

You lean in, pressing the edge of your knife against the skin directly above his adam’s apple. For the first time since you’d cornered him, your mystery purger’s breath hitches. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. It’s no matter. You no longer regret the fact that you’ll have to tear his jugular out yourself.

“You’re a hog, huh,” You stare him down, any sympathy you might’ve had gone. For a moment, it seems as if he has no concept of what you’re saying. A second passes, though, and his gaze clears.

“Firefighter,” He responds, though the word is garbled due to him attempting to keep his movements to a minimum. You pull back slightly, very slightly, to let him explain. “I… found a dead cop, jacked his pistol. I’ll show you my ID, if you want.”

“Let me see it.” You nod your head at him as if giving him permission to live a little longer, though you both know full well that identity theft and identity fabrication are legal, too. Might as well see how much effort he puts into a fake. The man waits until you pull back just a bit more, enough to let him slowly reach his hand into his back pocket before producing a lanyard.

You grab it out of his grip with your hurt arm, not willing to move your knife too far away from his throat. You simply don’t have a good enough read on - you glance down - San Choi, ACT Firefighter, Employee ID: 018-102-4 to allow yourself any leeway with him.

His gently smiling face stares up at you from the plastic card, protected only by a clear sleeve connected to a red lanyard. San’s photo has black hair and an undercut, styled so his forehead is on display. A pair of dimples makes a guest appearance, and, overall, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. The ID looks real, too, so maybe you aren’t totally fucked.

The San under your knife has bleach blond hair that almost falls over his eyes, though you suppose you can’t blame him for skipping out on the hair product tonight. He seems slightly tanner than his photo, his skin beautiful even now as dust from the aftermath of the explosion starts to settle against it.

Right. The explosion.

Recalling the events leading up to you meeting San forces you to remember that you have a gaping, bloody gash in your left arm. You’re honestly lucky to be alive, having ducked and used the car you’re against for cover from flying debris after a building down the block had exploded. You’d just finished driving your knife into a cop’s side - third cop of the night, eighth of your career as a purge cop killer - to make sure that he was dead when you’d heard the bomb go off, and you’d dropped before even thinking about it. Something had hit your arm on the way down, and when the adrenaline had finally left your system, you’d taken note of your blood-soaked sleeve.

You’d closed the car door after that, sealing your third murder of the night in the vehicle just so you could lean up against the door. It had been 6:31 in the morning then, and you had figured that someone would come by and kill you in the last moments before legality ensued again. You’d assumed that you’d fight, of course you would, but your arm being totally fucked definitely put a damper on your belief in your ability to overcome anyone or anything else.

Instead of the disgruntled, trigger-happy purger you’d expected to eventually find, though, you’d been found by San Choi. San Choi, who’s currently staring at your wounded arm like it’s grown eyes and can stare back.

“Come on, let me fix it up,” He pleads, lifting the kit up with the hand that’s farther from you. “You might not trust me, or whatever, but the purge is about to end as it is. I have a paramedic friend, Seonghwa, who’s taught me the basics of -”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell him, though you’re quickly losing your bite. He obeys regardless. God, your arm really, really fucking hurts. Before pulling your knife back, you check the watch on your wrist. 6:47. Stay alive for 13 more minutes, 780 more seconds. You’ll be fine. You take the shakiest breath you’ve ever taken.

You pull your knife away from him.

Nothing happens.

“I’m going to use an alcohol free wipe and then wrap gauze around your arm, okay? You’ll just have to hold out until we can get you to a working hospital after that,” San speaks as if he’s talking to a child, or a scared animal, and you can’t blame him. He doesn’t seem like a purger, but you technically are one. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to attack on a whim if you were him. He, very slowly and with his hands in your full view at all times, opens the kit and pulls out the requisite materials.

“Gonna need you to rip your sleeve off above the cut.” He continues, leaning back as you bring your knife up to your clothes and slit the cloth right above your wound. You tear the remainder of the sleeve off your arm before throwing it behind you somewhere. San gently grabs ahold of your elbow - his palm is calloused in a way that tells you he lifts regularly, and you’re sure of this as he discards his jacket and you watch the muscles ripple in his arms under his thin black shirt - and places the wipe against your cut.

Your reaction is instantaneous: now that you’re completely past the adrenaline stage, the feeling of something, anything against the gash has you reeling to cry out. Before you can even process that you’ve made a sound, a hand presses hard against the back of your head, shoving your mouth against San’s.

He doesn’t know how else to shut you up.

His lips are chapped, but the sensation of being kissed so suddenly jars you out of your pain. San attempts to pull back, and you can already feel the apologetic wince he’s about to give you, but he brushes over your wound with the wipe again and your pain doubles back. It’s you that pulls him in this time, pressing your lips to his sloppily but forcefully as if it’ll alleviate the burn in your arm.

Kissing him only slightly muffles you at best, but you no longer care. The purge isn’t over yet. You could both die at any second. Hell, San could kill you at any second. His hand moves from the back of your head to cup your face as he leans in towards you to deepen the kiss. His lips are chapped, yes, but they’re soft. He tastes like mint and copper: there’s a cut in his lower lip. You don’t mind.

San pulls away for a moment, but only does so to grab the gauze from the kit. Once he’s wrapped it around your arm once, twice, thrice, he leans back in and your mouth accepts his own eagerly, your other hand coming up to drape over his shoulder. Neither of you know why you’re doing this, kissing a stranger with such fervor as one of you bandages the other up, but you both know that there’s really nothing else to do.

It’s only after he finishes taping you up that the two of you pull away fully. His eyes are still just as kind as you’d thought them to be at first, though his lips are far more swollen than they’d been mere minutes prior. You admire your handiwork, eyes tracing his features as he admires his own, thumb very, very gently running over your gauze. Both of you raise your heads to smile sheepishly at each other at the exact same time.

Three things happen in rapid succession.

“Good?” San’s voice is barely above a whisper, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just as you’re about to speak -

“San!” A voice, low and hoarse, interrupts you, and you look up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at the space between your eyes. You’re frozen in place for a split second before you start reaching for your own pistol. Your fingers brush the grip when -

The clock strikes seven, and sirens go off all around you, signalling the end of the purge.

The gun is out of your face. Your hand moves off of your own.

“San,” The owner of the gun pays you no mind, suddenly, his entire focus on San. The gun-owner reaches a hand out, and the firefighter beside you takes it, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Yunho, I’m totally good,” San responds, giving the taller man a cat-like grin of reassurance. Yunho’s got a fireman’s helmet on, and you suppose it’s good as protection. He must be a fellow firefighter, then. He’s tall, and though he’d seemed nothing short of severe mere moments ago, he seems softer, kinder now that the purge is over. The transformation is enough to give you whiplash. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and this catches San’s sight at the same time it catches your own. “What the hell happened to you, though?”

“That policeman you killed had buddies,” Yunho replies with ease, but you don’t miss San’s wince. Seems like he hadn’t just happened upon that police-issue pistol. You can’t help the small grin that fights to make its way across your face. “They tried to get into the station, we had to fortify ourselves. We’re mostly fine, just that Woo’s lost a finger. He’ll live once he stops whining about it. We were mostly worried about you, honestly, taking fucking forever just to find a first aid kit. Who’s this?”

Yunho moves the topic of conversation over to you so naturally that you barely even realize what has happened before San is reaching a hand out to you to pull you up to a standing position. You grab ahold of your pistol, though you shove the bat off your lap before allowing yourself to be brought up. Without thinking, you practically plaster yourself to San’s side. Now that he’s for sure what he told you he was, and now that you’re no longer in danger of dying, you can’t help but feel inexplicably connected to him even though neither of you know each other. San wraps an arm around your waist naturally, and neither of you miss Yunho’s eyebrow raise. Neither of you acknowledge it, either.

“This?” San asks rhetorically, turning his head slightly to look at you. He’s smiling again, and you find that you want to see it more often. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of delirium. You hope not. “This is…”

“(Name),” You reply, being honest. There’s no need for you to lie. Besides, you owe San answers, right? You stick your uninjured arm out, letting Yunho shake your hand. San’s grip tightens around your waist.

“I’m (Name).”

#first #five #tags #dont #work #san #san fluff #san angst #ateez san #choi san #ateez angst #ateez fluff #san x reader #choi san x reader #san smut

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

Text

Home (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry for @maggiescarborough‘s 400 Followers Challenge. Congrats again, love 🌺

This is another silly, fluffy thing. It’s probably boring, sorry 😔

Since Ivar is undoubtedly a Scorpio, this story takes place in November 😉

The prompt: surprising the character on their birthday.

@geekandbooknerd, thanks for beta reading this for me ♥️ And @inforapound, thanks for helping me out ♥️

Thanks to google translate too 😉 jeg er allerede begyndt at lære dansk: I've already started to learn Danish.

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: On his birthday, Ivar is in a very bad mood. The only present he wants is you, but there is an ocean between you two.

Warnings: Ivar’s bad temper (is that ever a warning??); soft, soft Ivar; fluff+++.

Words: 3209

When his phone rings, Ivar's first thought is to throw it across the room. Looking down, he then sees the name on the screen and closes his eyes. Snippets of his days run through his mind: how he had snapped at Ubbe – I don't give a shit about what you're saying, brother; how his outburst had brought to tears his new personal assistant – if you don't even know how to make a fucking coffee, I should probably fire you; how Harald, his longtime business partner, had hung up on him, angering him even more – you may be smart, Ivar, but when you're such in a bad mood, you're worthless. I'll call you tomorrow.

Ivar knows he needs to calm down. He's so pissed off – at everything – that his right quadriceps is constantly spasming, his thigh as hard as rock. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he sighs loudly, pinches the bridge of his nose and eventually grabs his phone.

"Mor?" He's sure his mother won't fail to notice the hint of sharpness in his voice. She won't acknowledge it, though, used to his temper.

"Hello Darling." There's a tremendous amount of love packed in those two little words, yet it doesn't bring a smile on his stern face. "I just wanted to let you know that Sven is on his way. He left Kattegat forty minutes ago. He is going to take you home."

Clenching his jaw, Ivar stops himself from telling his mother that Kattegat, for him, is no longer home. Not anymore. The truth is, he doesn't know where home is. Home isn't his luxurious loft in in the very center of Copenhagen either. Home should be where you are. But you're so far away…

Ivar clears his throat. "I still don't get it, Mor. Why should I go with your chauffeur? You do know I can drive, don't you?"

"Oh, honey, of course I do. But we've been over this, remember? You had to work the whole day, on your birthday, and I just want you to relax. Traffic can be brutal this time of day. Just let Sven bring you home. Maybe take a nap in the backseat, or just allow your thoughts to wander. I want you to be rested tonight, sweetheart." His mother pauses for a few seconds, and when she speaks again, her words are careful, her tone almost hesitant – so unlike her, his heart softens a little. "You did pack a bag, didn't you?"

Ivar can't help but roll his eyes and then settles his gaze on a brown leather duffel bag right next to his mahogany desk. He knows that whatever his mother might expect, he won't stay the night. And if she doesn't allow Sven

to drive him back to Copenhagen, he will just call a cab. He won't argue about it right now, though – everything in its own time.

Letting out a small sigh, Ivar nods uselessly, a hand running through his hair. "Yes Mor, I did."

Sven knows better than to talk to him and, in the backseat, as the car speeds down the highway, Ivar closes his eyes and tries to relax. Anger still coursing through his veins, it turns out it's a nearly impossible task. It seems as if everything has gone wrong since he woke up and he's therefore mad at the whole world. He's mad at all those stupid, infuriating people he had to interact with. He's mad at Sven for taking him to Kattegat. He's mad at his mother for inviting him for his birthday. He's mad at himself for accepting. He's even mad at you, for not being here; for not making the impossible possible. For leaving him alone. And no matter if deep down he knows how unfair it is to you; because of course, you'd be here if you could. But he can't help it. He's mad at you because he misses you, every day a little more, to the point where the ache in his heart is far worse than the pain in his legs.

And today, he misses you like crazy. To the point where sadness floods his mind. To the point where anger takes control. Because today may be his birthday, but it's also the anniversary of your first kiss, first and foremost. And he wants you here, right next to him, for now and forever.

Fourteen months ago, after yet another surgery, and because even if he knew all too well that he couldn't stay by himself while recovering, the mere thought of his mother's overprotective presence made him nauseous, he had flown – fled – to Canada, to Floki's. The old fool had welcomed him with open arms, turning one of the many guest rooms of his house into a high-tech physiotherapy space. That's where he met you. At first, you had been just his physical therapist, then his date, his girlfriend, and now you are his lover. And if he's back in Denmark for nine months now, you're still in Canada. He had thought he could handle a long-distance relationship. He couldn't have been more wrong. Your absence just kills him.

As a boat whistle can be heard, Ivar slowly opens his eye and then looks around. Frowning, he scratches his head, confused and annoyed. Since the Lothbrok mansion is located on a hill overlooking Kattegat, there's never any reason to go by the seaside to get there. Never ever. "We're on the wrong road, Sven. Why are you going to the shore?" Ivar speaks in a demanding tone of voice that doesn't impress Sven one bit.

The obedient chauffeur barely shrugs. "I'm just following orders, Sir. Your mother's orders."

Now riled up, irked, Ivar snorts, his nostrils flaring. "My mother asked you to drive me here?" Without waiting for an answer, he takes his phone out of his back pocket, gasping as Sven comes to a halt in front of The Nimb Hotel, the hotel palace of Kattegat.

When his mother doesn't pick up the phone, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, he tries to get ahold of Hvitserk, Ubbe, and even Sigurd, but to no avail. Fuming, his hands curling into fists, Ivar clenches his teeth. Did his mother organize a fucking birthday party even though she knows he hates that? She wouldn't dare. No, she wouldn't.

Oh, fuck. Sure, she would. She totally would. And it'd explain why she had been so adamant about having Sven drive him. She wanted him here, in this fucking hotel, and not at the mansion. It explains why his brothers don’t answer the phone. Because they know that if they did, he would yell at them to fuck off. He can’t believe it!! What’s got into his mother?? What the fucking hell??!!!!

For a split second, he hovers a trembling pointer finger over the screen of his phone. Calling an Uber and going back to Copenhagen would be so easy. But as tempting as it may be to just run away, he knows he won't do it. He can't. Because it'd hurt his beloved mother, and the thought is unbearable, even though he's angry with her right now. That's why, whatever she may have planned, he'll deal with it, putting on a brave face for her sake.

And that's why he doesn't object when Sven opens his door, "This way, Sir," his hand gesturing toward the hotel entrance, flanked by two ostentatious marble columns. Ivar uses his hands to place his right leg out of the car and he then slowly stands up, one hand on his crutch and the other on the car door, before following the gray-haired chauffeur, a permanent scowl on his face.

As they walk through the lobby, he is surprised when Sven leads him onto an elevator, pressing the twelfth-floor button. He would have thought that his mother would have privatized the hotel restaurant. But the restaurant is on the main floor. What's on the upper floors other than rooms? A roof terrace, probably. His mother would never throw an outdoor party in the middle of November though. Nothing makes sense.

Confused, Ivar tilts his head while the lift is going up. "Where are we going?" Sven doesn't react to his harsh tone, just repeating his reply from earlier. "I'm following orders, Sir. I am walking you to where your mother ordered me to walk you." He doesn't utter another word, getting out of the elevator as soon as the door opens.

Ivar tightens his grip on his crutch and follows him to what seems to be a hotel room. Or more specifically, and as it's written on the door, the executive suite. More and more bewildered, he watches Sven swiftly knocking on the door before using a card key to unlock it. Holding it open, the chauffeur steps aside, "I've been asked to tell you that the sunroom is over there," waving his hand slightly to the left, Sven then gives a slight nod to an astounded Ivar, "I now take my leave, Sir. I wish you a delightful evening."

As Ivar slowly crosses the living room, the slight thud of his crutch on the hardwood floor alerts you of his presence. Shivering with excitement and your heart pounding in your chest, you struggle but don't move, don't say a word; not yet.

Taking a tentative step into the sunroom, which, he's sure of it, offers during daytime a breathtaking view on the bay of Kattegat, a dumbfounded Ivar notices the candles first – there are candles everywhere, their soft glow creating an intimate ambience – and then the table for two elegantly set in the middle of the room.

"What the fuck is going on?" Ivar grumbles, irritation obvious in his voice, and you know it's time for you to show up, or he may leave. Stepping toward him and into the light, you absently rub your sweaty palms up and down your black dress, your heart now beating so hard and so fast you wonder if he can hear it. This is it. The moment you were waiting for, for weeks now. You couldn't be happier, and yet you can't help but be nervous. Could he reject you? You don't think so but with Ivar, you never know… Swallowing the lump in your throat, and even if you can barely breathe, you manage to crack a smile at the exact moment he sets his eyes on you. "Happy birthday, my love, and happy anniversary too."

Ivar's jaw drops, his eyes widen, and a soft gasp escapes his plump lips. He wobbles for an instant and you quickly close the gap between you and him, steadying him by placing both your hands on his hips. Your touch shaking him out of his stupor, he blinks a few times, his piercing blue eyes never leaving your face. "Y/N, is it… is it really you?" With a trembling voice and tears in his eyes, he stutters, dazed and surprised. "By the gods, what… what are you doing here?" His arm finding your waist, Ivar pulls you closer. There's a whirlwind of emotions on his face, but there's mostly love. You're sure he won't reject you.

"Did you really think I was going to miss your birthday?" Standing on tiptoes, you give him a long kiss before whispering in his ear, "And I missed you so much, my love."

Rough fingers caress your face as Ivar looks down at you incredulously. "But… I… I don't understand… I… I thought you were busy with work. But you're here… How?"

"By plane, obviously," you quip playfully, and your lover rolls his eyes and shakes his head, before suddenly frowning. "That's really a wonderful surprise, Y/N, and I'd love to stay here with you but we… we should go… My mother… I think she's waiting for me, for us… You know, since it's my birthday, she wanted to throw…" Ivar stops talking when it dawns on him that he has been – to his delight – tricked, and you just smile. "Mother never planned a party, did she?"

It's your turn to shake your head. "No, she never did, you're right. She knew I was coming and since I needed a little help, she agreed to play along. Tonight, it's just you and me, my love." Ivar's eyes sparkling with joy, your smile grows wider. "She's expecting us for lunch tomorrow, though."

Nodding, Ivar flashes you a beaming smile that falters almost immediately as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. As he stifles a hiss of pain, you wrap his right arm around your shoulder and your left around his waist. Without a word, you lead him to a corner of the sunroom, help him to sit down on a huge nest chair and finally breathe a sigh of satisfaction as you snuggle into his side.

His hand running up your arm, Ivar cups your face and looks at you fondly. "You being here with me is the best birthday gift ever." He then kisses you passionately, his hands roaming your back and your fingers threading through his long hair. When he breaks the kiss, he still holds you close and you lean into his warmth, your head resting on his chest.

"When are you flying back?" Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, Ivar clenches his jaw as you pull away just enough to look at him. You know he hates the idea of you leaving him once again. You don't have time to answer him as he keeps going. "Guess you'll stay through the weekend, but when is your flight? On Monday morning?"

A mischievous smile playing on your lips, you wrap your fingers around his hand. "There's no flight, Ivar, not anymore. I'm not going anywhere. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my love."

Swallowing, Ivar just stares at you for long seconds, a frown on his confused face. "What… What are you talking about? If this is a joke, it's a very bad one." He eventually manages to say, his bottom lip trembling.

"I swear it's not a joke." You reassure him as you readjust your position, straddling him carefully. Your thumb stroking his cheek, you give him a quick peck before explaining yourself. " I hate our current situation, and I know you do too. I don't want to live like this anymore, between two flights, between two countries. I don't want to miss you anymore. My life is with you, my love. And since you can't exactly relocate the Lothbrok Company, it's up to me to move, which I'm happy to do."

Dumbstruck, Ivar remains speechless for a long time, but you can tell by the smile on his lips that he's thrilled by the news. Tilting his head, he finds his voice again. "You are serious? Wow! You do realize you'll have to find a new job, learn another language? That's not nothing."

"Actually," you place your hands flat on his chest, "I've already found a job. Floki still has strong connections here, did you know that? On the same day I made up my mind, he was already making calls. He has been amazing, truly! I start working in a rehab clinic within a fortnight. As for the language…", you stop and inhale deeply before saying hesitantly, "jeg er allerede begyndt at lære dansk." Ivar's wry smile tells you that your pronunciation could have been better, but you don't mind. It's a first step. "Anyway," you exclaim, beaming, "You know me, I love a challenge!"

"I just can't fucking believe it!" Ivar shines with happiness and it melts your heart. His next question, though, makes you wince internally. Because on that particular point, you're suddenly afraid you've put the cart before the horse.

"Where are you going to live?"

Lowering your gaze, you begin to fidget nervously. "I…", you clear your throat, closing your eyes, "I was thinking… well… Maybe I could… I don't know if…" As soon as you realize you're getting nowhere, you stop; you know you have to muster up the courage to be straightforward. Releasing a short sigh, you tilt your head up. "I was hoping we could live together. I mean if you want to. It's fine if you don't, I'll rent an apartment."

Literally thunderstruck, his eyes fixed on you, Ivar swallows loudly. "You… You…" He stammers, an incredulous expression on his face. "You want to live with… with me?"

As you nod while muttering under your breath "Only if you want to," a broad smile spreads over his lips and he blinks a few times. "Of course, I do. But you do know that", his sheepish look is unmistakable, "I'm not exactly easy to live with, right?"

Relief floods through you and you burst out laughing as you remember what he put you through when you were his physical therapist. "I do know you, my stubborn, grumpy, short-tempered and moody lover! And guess what, my love? I wouldn't want you any other way. Plus, as I said, I love a good challenge!"

Without even trying to hide his elation, Ivar throws his arms around your waist, giggling, "It's a deal, then," before peppering light kisses all over your face. His mouth barely an inch from yours, he's about to kiss you as your stomach rumbles. Embarrassed, you want to hide your face but Ivar, all smiles and laughing eyes, grasps your hands, squeezing them. "Guess we should feed you."

Checking your watch, you stand up reluctantly. "Actually," you point at the table behind you, "we should be served a meal in less than five minutes." Reaching out, you grab Ivar's left hand as he hauls himself to his feet, handing him his crutch once you're sure he found his balance.

Now towering over you, Ivar gives you a thank-you smile. "So, tell me Y/N, what's the plan for tonight? Besides dinner, I mean." The naughty grin adorning his features tells you the answer he's hoping for.

"Well," you can't resist teasing him, "I was thinking maybe we could take an after-dinner walk on the shore afterwards, and later, there's this wonderful documentary about penguins I wouldn't want to miss, so yeah, that's the plan."

"Ooooh, look at you!" You can't help but laugh your head off as Ivar's smile falters, a crease forming between his eyebrows and pouty lips shouting his displeasure. "I'm just kidding, my love," you soothe him, your thumb grazing his mouth, "there's this whirlpool-bath I'm dying to try in the bathroom if you're up for it. And after that, I'm going to make love to you, my birthday boy." Ivar's breath hitches as your hands squeeze his butt cheeks playfully. "And then we'll sleep. And tomorrow we'll go and have lunch with your mother. And when we're done there, you'll…" Overwhelmed with emotion, you stop, your eyes filling with tears.

"I'll…?" Ivar asks as a crooked smile tugs at his lips.

You swallow away the lump in your throat, intertwining your fingers with his. "You'll take me home, won't you?"

There are tears in his eyes as well, but when Ivar nods, the smile that flashes over his face is a wide, shining one. "Yes, my love, I'll take you home."

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @coco2315 @mlchael-guerin @pieces-by-me @xceafh

#ivar #ivars heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x reader #modern-ivar #ivar imagine #ivar fanfic #ivar fic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #vikings #sophies400

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doublebladedbitch · 3 years

Text

Savior - Captain Howzer x reader

Paring: Captain Howzer (bad batch) x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT (as promised)

Chapter 8

Besides our awkward encounter at the start of our conversation, Eleni and I went along very well and she told me more about her planet. She spoke about the political situation and also about the clone wars. Unlike Howzer and Rampart had told me, she seemed to be thankful and respectful towards clones, so I couldn’t stop myself from talking about my issue I have had with Howzer not being a guest.

„I’ve told the admiral this before, but I really think clones, like my captain for example, should have been invited…as guests“ I told her in a soft tone, making it clear that I didn’t wanted to attack her in any way.

„I totally agree with you!“ She stated in her accent and leaned in closer. „But I fear that we’re probably the only ones thinking that they deserve this…most people here are not happy with the return of the clones to Ryloth…“ she paused and looked around „they don’t care if its for their safety or if its troops of the republic or the empire…all they see are the guns they bring and get intimidated…“

„You are not a big fan of us being here either, aren’t you?“ I asked her curiously.

She paused for a moment before she answered. „Not really. Ryloth needs a leader that represents the people. They deserve their complete freedom after everything we went through…They put Taa in power, but thats not what the masses wanted and now the situation is gonna tense up, especially with armed troops running around. But Ryloth needs help…i am just not sure if it’s the empire that can bring it“

I nodded slowly. I understood her position, but since it was against the empire I didn’t want to disagree with her.

„So…“ she began curiously, wanting to change the topic.“What is going on between you and your captain?“ She asked with a smirk and I blushed immediately.

„I don’t know what you mean…“ I said but couldn’t hide my red cheeks, causing her to chuckle.

„Seven, don’t act like you don’t know what-“ Eleni wanted to say, but stopped when we heard Rampart’s cough behind my back.

„I see you found a friend“ he said looking with dispose at Eleni.

„Yes I did, Admiral.“ I answered protectively, as turned towards him to form a wall between them.

„What did I tell you about speaking to others?“ He whispered angrily at me.

„You were busy, Sir and I was just making conversation“ I told him and he sighed annoyed, but eased up.

„Anyways I’m gonna go to the bar with the leader“ he stated in a louder voice and glared at Eleni with his last word. „I’m going to order Howzer to keep an eye on you.“

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I didn’t like how controlling he was, to whom I was talking to really was none of his business and especially since he didn’t interacted with me. He stood up and Orn Free Taa already made his way towards the bar, when Rampart walked over to Howzer.

„Take care of her“ Rampart ordered and Howzer glanced towards me and Eleni.

„Looks like she is doing fine, Sir“ Howzer stated a bit confused about Rampart’s annoyance with me.

„I don’t want her to talk to the other guests, Howzer. Entertain her if you must, just don’t let her get us into even more trouble“ he ended and left after Taa. Eleni and I have listened to their conversation and I looked at her with sadness.

„Don’t worry we’ll meet again. Then I’ll leave the two of you alone“ she stated with a wink before she started talking to her husband. I blushed again and wanted to say something to her, but I noticed Howzer coming up beside me and closed my mouth again. I turned to him with a stupidly wide grin, which even grew wider when he returned the smile.

„Sit down“ I said to him patting on Rampart’s seat, which was now thankfully free.

„I don’t think I should-“ he began but I took his hand in mine and lead him onto the seat.

„He’s gone and didn’t he tell you to entertain me?“ I quoted Rampart with a chuckle. „I bet you’re hungry“ I added, tilting my head slight to the side.

Howzer still was unsure and nervous about what to do, but I waited for his answer. He finally nodded slowly and we both let our eyes wander over the food.

He eased up quickly and we both ate some of the things. A lot of it, either of us had tried before and we had a lot of fun taste testing all the different kinds of foods. We talked about different topics and he also told me funny stories about his battalion, back in the days of the republic. I laughed a lot and found myself drowning in his eyes as he was passionately speaking about his men. I realized how much I had started to feel for him and I couldn’t deny it any longer, I had fallen for him completely…

Suddenly I felt Howzer slowly placing his gloved hand on my cheek and he rubbed his thumb over the corner of my lip. „You have something there…“ he almost whispered, but he didn’t took his hand away. He let his thumb continue to run over my lower lip. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped and it was just the two of us. We looked deep into each others eyes and I noticed his eyes where flickering down to my lips. I felt my cheeks heat up at the upbuilding tension.

Laughter from a very loud Twilek man coming up behind Howzer brought us back to reality and Howzer took his hand away. I nervously looked down and tread to hide my flushed cheeks.

„Hey, Clone“ the twilek spit out at Howzer, who was facing him with his back. „You are not allowed to sit here“ He continued and I could hear that he was drunk. Before Howzer could say anything I stood up.

„He can sit wherever he wants“ I told the Twilek, he rose to his feel too, but almost stumbled. His eyes wandered over my body and I saw lust appearing in his eyes.

„Hello there…“ He stated, just bluntly staring at my cleavage. Howzer stood up and protectively stepped in front of me, shielding his view at me.

I didn’t needed to see Howzer’s face to realize that his expression alone, was intimidating enough for the Twilek to just stare at him in shock. Next thing I knew, Howzer had turned around and took my hand. I followed him through the crowded rooms towards the elevator. He let go of my hand and we waited for the elevator to arrive.

We didn’t have to wait long for the ding of the arriving elevator and he placed his hand on my back, before he gently pushed me inside. He wanted to say something, when the door began to close, but stopped when other guests entered the elevator too. The elevator wasn’t big, so it quickly filled up and I found myself being pressed into a corner. I was shielded by Howzer and he had placed his hands next to my head to stop himself from being pressed against me, so he wouldn’t crush me with his body, as the other guest tumbled around.

When our eyes met, I couldn’t help but blush again. Being so close to him, with our bodies almost pressed against each other, I felt my middle heating up.

The elevator stopped abruptly and caused on of the other passengers behind Howzer to stumble into him, causing him to press me against the wall. I gasped surprised when our bodies met, only a few centimeters parted our faces now and I couldn’t help but bite my lip. What I would give to kiss him now…

His eyes were darted at my lips and he glanced up into my eyes again, before he stepped back, took my hand and lead me out of the elevator. The door closed behind us and when I quickly looked around myself, I recognized what floor we were on.

„This is my floor…“ I spoke out loud. We walked down the hallway towards my room, he stopped in front of it and looked at me. I fished out the card to the room out of my cleavage, causing him to chuckle. „What?“ I responded, but chuckled too. „There was no other place to put it…“ I mumbled, as he opened the door. I followed Howzer inside and turned the dimmed warm lights on.

„What now, captain?“ I asked him playfully and curious about his plan. Howzer quickly closed the door behind me and within one motion he rushed me against it. He had placed his hand on my back to not hurt me when he pushed me against the metal. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped my lips, caused by his touch and his rushed actions.

He smirked down at me and leaned in with his face. „I’m going to entertain you“ Howzer said before our lips met. He kissed me softly at first, but when I kissed him back, hungry for more, the kissing got more and more passionate and rougher. He had placed his hands on my waist, so he pulled my hips closer towards him. I let my hands wander over his chest armor up to his neck and wrapped my arms around him to pull him closer. In the small breaks we took to catch our breaths, he smirked down at me and let his eyes wander over my body.

„You have no idea how long I wanted to do that…“ I said, still breathless, before I pulled him in for another passionate kiss and started to take off his armor. I started with his arm pieces, then his chest piece, until his upper body was left in his blacks. Howzer pulled, torturously slow, the straps of my dress over my shoulders and the dress slit down. I stepped out of it and closer to him, to press my body against his.

His blacks had a zipper in the back and I opened it, more eagerly than he had been, causing him to chuckle into the kiss. I pulled it down and freed his arms and chest, so that his complete upper body was bare now. His chuckle turned into a soft groan, when I started kissing and sucking on his neck. I kissed my way down his chest, stopped at his nipple and when I started sucking, he let out another groan and drowned his hand in my hair. Continuing my journey down his body, I found myself on my knees in front of him. I stopped planting kisses on his skin and started to take of his leg armor, when I wanted to take off his belt and cod piece he grabbed my wrist to stop me. I looked up at him and felt my stomach turn at the sight of him smirking down at me.

„Not so fast, darling“ he said in a raspy voice and placed his fingers under my chin and stroke over my lip with his thumb. I wanted to suck on his finger, but he stopped me again and lifted my chin up further, so that my hair fell back completely. „So eager, huh?“ Howzer asked and I couldn’t help but blush. „We’ll get to that later, but tonight it’s my turn“ he stated and the tone in his voice had turned more dominant, which didn’t left me with another choice to just nod. I knew that he would take the upper hand from now on and I already really enjoyed it.

With a nod he signaled me to stand up and I did as I was told and looked at him with big eyes, just waiting for his next move. I didn’t have to wait long, as soon as I was on my feet he kissed me passionately and I immediately returned it. My arms were wrapped around his neck, as he let his hands discover my body, sending shivers and leaving my skin tingling, where his fingers were. Without breaking the heavy kissing he lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He used this opportunity to rest his hands on my ass as he carried me over to the bed.

Leaning over me as he carefully laid me down onto the soft mattress, he never broke the kiss and I hold onto his body. I placed my feet onto the bed and let my hands wander over his shoulders and his muscular back, while he sank down his hips between my legs.

When Howzer started planting kisses along my neck and traced my throat softly with his fingers, I couldn’t stop the soft moans that escaped my lips. Intentionally I opened my legs to let his hips dive down further, but he didn’t. With a gentle movement of his strong hand he slid down under my body and opened my bra, followed by a quick motion and next thing I knew, the bra was flying across the room. Howzer kissed down my body, without his hand leaving my throat. The grip wasn’t tight, but still enough to hold me in place and tense up my whole body.

Impatiently wanting more I moved my hips up a little, but he defiantly enjoyed teasing me way too much to already give me what I want. He stopped kissing down my body right before he reached my nipple and I looked down at him to see why he stopped. Before I could even catch a glimpse into his beautiful eyes, I threw my head back in pleasure, when I felt his thigh being pressed against my already wet clit. The pressure alone made me moan and I started to slightly move my hips over his still dressed thigh, while Howzer started sucking my nipples.

I could swear that I felt him smiling against my skin at my reaction and I arched my back slightly. Every movement he did with his thigh, his grip slightly tightening around my throat or his hot breath on my hard nipples, made me shiver and even though he had barely started I was already a mess, thanks to all the teasing and the torturing slow process.

Howzer started kissing down my body further and removed his thigh from between my legs. When I felt his hot breath on my inner thighs I shivered and tried my best to stop my hips from moving and waited for him. I gladly didn’t have to wait long before he pulled down my panties and threw them somewhere in the room. I couldn’t help but move my hips slightly towards him when I felt the cold air hitting my wet pussy.

„So wet already?“ He teasingly asked me and I felt his eyes on me, but all I wanted in this moment was his tongue touching me, so I arched my back a little. „Please…“ I begged and when he didn’t move an idea popped up in my head.

„Please Captain…“ I slowly said after I propped myself on my elbows to look deep into his beautiful eyes. A smirk appeared onto his face and his fingers digged deeper into my hips. Howzer lowered his head without breaking the eye contact for a second and I felt his warm tongue on my clit, causing my eyes to roll into the back of my head and I let out a moan.

I felt him smirking at my reaction and he didn’t wait long to give me everything he got. He started licking and softly sucking on my clit, working me quickly closer to my climax. His tongue and his soft lips felt incredible and he hit all the right spots, causing my whole body to shiver and I couldn’t stop any of the moans escaping my mouth, getting louder and louder.

I grabbed his hand tightly when I felt, that I was close to my climax. „Howzer-“ was the only thing I was able to breath out, to signal him that I was close. „Come for me“ he whispered against me and I did, I did come for him.

I breathed heavily and let my hand run through my hair. Howzer crawled up, so he was hovering over my body with his hands placed on both sides next to my head and leaned in to give me a passionate kiss. I tasted myself on his lips and drowned my hand in his dark hair to pull him closer, even though it wasn’t possible. When we broke our kiss to catch our breaths he looked deep into my eyes and I licked my lips.

„You ready?“ He asked in a raspy voice and I nodded. I wrapped my arm around his neck and hold onto him as I opened my legs wider for him. He took his dick into his hand and lowered his hips. I intentionally bit my lip in pleasure as his tip met my clit. He looked at me when he dived in the first time. I clung onto him and let out a heavy breath. Howzer started with slow movements and went deeper by every time, working me more and more open.

My moans got louder, until I lost any control of my volume. Howzer wrapped one hand around my neck with his thumb being softly placed on my throat, sometimes running along my jawline. His other hand was placed right next to my waist to support himself and his controlled hips movements. His thrusts got harder and more firm, when he noticed that I liked his roughness.

I was able to moan out a „yes“ to signal him to go harder on me, causing him to smirk and with a quick movement he threw my leg over his shoulder to go even deeper. He hit a spot inside me, I have never felt before and it was extremely intense and every thrust send an electric feeling through my whole body, causing my moans to turn almost into screams. He slowed his pace and looked at me with a risen eyebrow, being unsure, if my screams were a good or a bad sign.

„No, please…continue“ I breathed out.

„You need to be quiet or else the whole city is gonna hear us…“ he said, but I noticed pride in his voice.

„ Please…Howzer“ I moaned out, causing him to let out a groan, at the way I made his name sounded in my mouth. He leaned down a bit and covered my mouth with his hand and looked into my eyes, before he started to continue with his deep and hard thrusts, hitting the spot inside me and my extremely sensitive clit.

I moaned loudly against his big hand as my eyes rolled into the back of my skull. With his pace and the way he was hitting all the right spots, it didn’t take long, before I was nearing my second orgasm. I dig my fingernails deeper into his back and arched my back, making him go even deeper. He removed his hand when I came.

„Oh…kriff! …Howzer“ I moaned out when I came and clenched my walls around him, bringing him to his edge. He let out a groan in pleasure and pulled out to come into his hand, as another groan escaped him through gritted teeth and clenched jaw. Before I even was able to catch my breath again I took his hand and looked into his eyes. We both were kneeling on the bed now and he was looking at me a little confused about what I would do next. I slowly leaned closer, before I started to lick his cum off of his fingers. When I was sucking on his middle finger and took it almost completely into my mouth, I looked back into his eyes. He looked at me with pure lust in his eyes, watching me closely as I cleaned his fingers.

When I had finished he gave me a kiss, after he said „good girl“ in a low raspy voice. I blushed at the praise from him, confused why these words made me feel so good and caused a shiver to run down my spine.

We both laid down next to each other and I cuddled myself onto his side wrapping my arm and leg around his body. I placed my chin on his chest and looked at him with pure admiration. He turned his head toward me and stroke a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled.

„You’re beautiful“ I said softly without any hesitation.

„I was just going to say the same thing to you“ he replied with a smile and I leaned in to give him a kiss, which he returned. I noticed that he was thinking about something and I tilted my head slightly.

„But how can you say that…you have met millions, that look exactly like me“ he wondered and slightly turned his head away to not look at me.

„Howzer, each and every one of you is individual and…and you are… different, then most clones I have met in my years as a stormtrooper“ I told him truthfully and let my fingers run over his chest. He turned his head back towards me and looked deep into my eyes as if he was searching for something. „When I say this, I mean you are beautiful on the outside and inside“ I added and needed to tilt my head away this time, when I realized how cheesy this sounded.

He sat himself up and took me with him, so I sat in his lap with my legs wrapped around his waist and softly placed his fingers under my chin to make me look at him.

„Thank you, Seven…“ he said and kissed me softly. „it means the world to me to hear that from you“

#captain howzer #captain howzer x reader #captainhowzer #howzer x reader #clone trooper howzer #HOWZER #Howzer my beloved #Bad Batch #bad batch smut #clone x reader #clone trooper smut

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bridgyrose · 2 years

Note

One takes the other to 10. A fancy restaurant - Emerald takes Ruby out to a fancy dinner…with full intent to dine-and-dash

Ruby felt nervous in the Atlesian restaurant as she watched Emerald start to dig into her steak. Sure, it wasnt the first date the two had been on, but she still had to wonder how Emerald could afford to take her to a place like this. Especially since the two of them had been out of work after Ruby botched her last hunting assignment. Ruby picked up her knife and fork and started cutting her meat and picked at her food a bit.

Emerald looked up from her own meal. “Everything okay Rubes?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just… how can you afford all of this? I know you wanted to do something special for our anniversary, but I know you havent exactly been doing well with work.”

“I had a rainy day fund and after the month you had, figured you’d like a night to enjoy yourself for once. So, I’ve decided to give you an expensive meal, a night alone with me and you at a fancy hotel, and some wine to see where things lead. Assuming you’re in the mood.”

Ruby blushed and cracked a small smile. “And you still have a way with words.”

“The only thing I ever lost after we started dating was my ability to flirt.” Emerald took a bite of her steak and gave a small moan of satisfaction, savoring the taste. “And of all the things to lose… I’m okay with that.”

Ruby shook her head and started eating her meal, enjoying each bite. “You never could flirt.”

“I flirted with you just fine.”

“You stole my wallet, left a business card in my pocket, and blackmailed me to go on a date with you.”

Emerald grinned. “It worked.”

Ruby let out a sigh. “Yes, it worked. That still doesnt mean you could flirt. Though, I cant say I wasnt curious on where you were wanting to go with all of this at first. A thief with a huntress? You’d think we’d be at each other’s throats.”

“And as I’ve said, our lines of work arent all that different. We both have things we need to protect, we just go different ways about it. Besides, all you need is your first taste and you’ll see why I enjoy it so much.”

“And what makes you think I’ll enjoy it?”

Emerald smirked. “Because I know you well enough to know that the adrenaline rush you’ll get will be irresistible.”

“And we’ll never find out.”

“Never say never.”

The waiter came by with the check and sat it down next to Ruby as he looked the two girls over. “Will there be anything else you two ladies would like?”

Emerald shook her head, her eyes glowed slightly as she activated her semblance and pulled out a card, keeping it out of view of Ruby. “I think we’re good. And I’ll pay for the meal now.”

The waiter smiled and took the card and bill to start cashing them out.

Emerald kept a smile on her face until the waiter was out of sight. Her smile dropped as she stood up and took Ruby’s arm. “And we need to go. Now.”

“What about your card-”

The waiter started making his way back to the table, his voice echoing from the back of the restaurant. “What kind of joke are you trying to pull?!”

Emerald didnt wait for him to get any closer as she pulled Ruby through the restaurant to leave, making sure to avoid any of the other guests and waiters. She used her semblance on anyone bold enough to look at her, hiding herself and Ruby as she made her way out.

Ruby did her best to keep up with Emerald, almost impressed by how quickly the two of them got lost in the crowds as they left the restaurant. Her heart raced as she felt adrenaline pump through her system. “Emerald! What did you do?”

“Its called dine and dash! Though, he picked up on it much quicker than most other places do. Usually my semblance keeps those fake cards out of suspicion until after I leave.”

Ruby stopped herself and Emerald in the middle of a crowd and looked behind her, watching as the waiters looking for them stayed close to the door of the restaurant. “We just committed a crime!”

“And it felt good, didnt it?” asked Emerald, her voice almost a whisper. “Just feel that adrenaline rush you got as we almost got caught. Intoxicating, isnt it?”

Ruby slowly nodded. “Alright, I’ll admit, the rush did feel nice.”

“Then I think you’ll enjoy the next part of our date.”

“And what’s that?”

Emerald smiled and pulled out one of her fake IDs and held it between her pointer and middle fingers. “I’m going to show you the benefits of dating me.”

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #emerald sustrai #drabbles #shippy drabbles #gemstones #rwby gemstones #emerald x ruby

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liloelsagranger · 3 years

Text

Night shift - finally a new Rocketshipping-fanfiction

My dear friends,

it’s been a while since I last posted an entry. Let me tell you why and what, besides Covid-19, made me pause from publishing fanfictions over the last couple of months. Of course, Switzerland was very affected by the pandemic and still is today. We had numerous lock-downs or as Swiss people call it “slow downs”. My mother got very sick last year, I almost lost her. The doctors said she would only live two or three more days, but my mom is a fighter. She had to stay at the hospital for months, she endured countless medical examinations, had to take meds and slowly learned to live again. I’m so proud of my mother that she was strong and determined to get better. When she turned back home, I started to take care of her and I hate to leave her on her own, even if we’re talking about half an hour or less. Right now, she’s doing quite good, actually, we’re on vacation and she makes a great effort to participate in life in Italy. She’s my role-model! She will never be the same as before, but she won’t give up, she wakes up every morning to make progress. I prayed for her and her well-being, I prayed every single night she might get another chance and now we’re here at the beach and dining in fancy restaurants. It’s been a horrible year for everyone, a year full of sorrow, tears and desperation, a year where I was constantly afraid, the hospital would call me with some bad news, but she did it! She survived and she fights for her life! So proud! Good news is: I passed my doctoral exams and I’m officially allowed to call myself Dr. phil. des. Melanie C. but that won’t ever stop me from loving Team Rocket so here it is - a brand new Rocketshipping-fanfiction for you guys. LOVE YOU! Night shift

Chapter 1:

It was past ten o’clock when that miserable looking guy entered the diner. He inconspicuously sat down in the farthest corner of the café and immediately hid his face behind the menu card. Nevertheless, Jessie the waitress could make out the pathetic expression on his face, how he was cowering like a whipped dog. She had seen quite a bit in this diner. Drunks, thugs, addicts and other needy people who asked for a sympathetic ear, compassion and understanding, but that guy was different. He suffered terribly, but did not dare to communicate, instead he hid from the world so as not to attract attention and quietly endure his fate. Jessie had to do something about it. Of course, she didn’t want to play the Good Samaritan. She knew the tricks of the men who entered this diner. Most of the time, they told the waitress tall tales, hoping to be comforted, whatever they meant by that. But this young man did not make a shady impressionHe was well dressed, looked well-groomed, and Jessie was especially struck by his bright emerald green eyes, the only thing in his face that had not yet been veiled by grief and sorrow. She decided to do something about his displeasure.

“Did you have a rough day?” she asked while disinfecting the table.

He looked briefly into her eyes and nodded. “That’s one way to put it,” he answered, the gaze immediately lowered again.

This would be a taciturn conversation, but Jessie didn’t give up easily, she was a natural at making even rocks talk.

“Listen! No matter what happened, I’ve seen or heard some things. If I can help you in any way, my name is Jessie and I’m in charge of this table today. Let me just get the gum out from under your seat and get you a cold drink. What would you like?” She pulled a spatula from her apron and rubbed away the remains of the spoiled brats that marred her diner.

‘Wow,’ the young man thought to himself. ‘A strong, self-confident woman who lends a hand herself and who’s not above cleaning up dirt.’ Their eyes met briefly, and he forced a wry smile.

“You know, kid. You can’t rely on anyone. If you want to get everything done, do it yourself and don’t trust anyone. This world doesn’t give you anything for granted!” She briefly wiped the back of his chair before disappearing behind the counter and pouring the young man an ice-cold Coke.

“I have rarely seen you so concerned about a customer. Normally you show yourself aloof and only take the order, so as not to get involved in embarrassing conversations. Must be a really great pike, this pathetic creature in the far corner. Could it be that you’ve got a tiny crush on this guy?” For Eddy, teasing his best friend was the greatest pleasure. He didn’t know her like that. Jessie usually resisted any kind of small talk. This was due to her dark past, when she had repeatedly fallen for advances from men who were never looking for a steady relationship, but for a quick fix. Eddy had witnessed this bad time of his friend, how her heart was broken, how she was badly played with, and how she was simply dropped like a hot potato. Jack was the worst example of them all. While Jessie was already hearing the wedding bells ringing, he was making love to the women of the Strip and deceiving Jessie night after night with other broads. Jessie was devastated when she found out Jack was cheating on her. She was furious, not even at her lying boyfriend, but at herself for having been so stupid as to trust a man.

Jessie gave Eddy a light pat on the head. “Don’t be silly! That time is over. I can take care of myself, I don’t need male support for that. I’m a big girl, I make my own dough, and I keep my head above water pretty well. No, not a chance, I’ve sworn off flirting.” Nevertheless, she caught herself as her gaze wandered to the young man in the corner. “Oh yes, this time is definitely over,” Eddy smirked.

“Jessie, could you bring us a side of fries, please?” Misty’s order echoed throughout the hall. The twenty-year old waved her hands. She was used to speaking loudly, almost shouting, to attract guests to her daily water Pokémon show. Sometimes she walked up and down the streets of the Strip all day in the blazing hot sun, trying to win people for her underwater attraction. As an excellent student, she could have taught at any college, but she had decided early on to get into show business and make her living doing what she really loved, joined by Dewgong and Starmie. Her parents had not agreed with this decision at all, it was wasted talent, they had claimed, and had summarily turned Misty out the door. Since then, she had been struggling through life on her own, but could always count on Jess, the diner and her two best friends, Ash and Brock, young people who were also not favoured by fate.

“Temper your voice, twerp!” Jessie couldn’t help but grin. She spread the ketchup bottles around the table, hoping Ash wouldn’t spill on himself and the diner again. His constant companion Pikachu immediately hopped on his shoulder, grabbed a fry and popped it in his mouth. Ash and his Pokémon were carnies. He had trained his friend well and attracted many spectators with his performance. Most of them felt sorry for the guy and tipped generously. That’s why Ash was able to invite his friends to the diner every night, a place that gave them hope where they could experience security. They were convinced that nothing would ever disturb this idyll and that fate, for better or worse, had taken its course.

“Who’s that guy over there?” Brock wanted to know. He had barely sold chocolate and roses tonight. The others held back, but they were certain that their friend was just too pushy with women and that’s why he only collected rejections instead of green bills.

“I’ve never seen him here before. Must be from another area. I can’t tell you for the life of me why he’s wearing a suit at theses temperatures, he looks pretty pathetic to me anyways,” Jessie replied.

“Maybe his car has stalled,” Ash suggested, “and now he was forced to wander through the desert until the tasty aromas from your diner brought him back from his delirium.”

“Or,” Brock interfered, “he had to flee his own wedding because his wife is a real pain in the ass, unlike our sweet Misty,” Brock oohed at his friend. “Forget it, Brock! You and me, this will never happen!” She gave him a gentle poke.

“Enough now with your naïve speculations! Just let him enjoy his drink. We’re closing soon, so get going,” Jessie dismissed their absurd ideas with a wave of her hand, but at this point no one knew how right Brock was.

Dark thoughts hunted the young man. He knew what he would face at home if he was late. Beatings, torture, rebuke, harassment, were just a few words to describe his failed relationship. Unconsciously, he stroked his scarred arms.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Jessie pulled him out of the maelstrom of bad thoughts, of course she had noticed the wounds, but maybe he had gotten those injuries at work. The young man rummaged some coins out of his pants and let them jingle on the table. “Is that enough for a cheese sandwich?” Jessie hated small change, but she would make an exception for him. A friendly smile, a quick nod, and she passed on the order.

“Something’s wrong with this guy,” she whispered to Eddy. “He’s scarred, bruised and pays with penny coins. Possibly a vagrant.” Eddy couldn’t help but grin. “That guy’s been keeping you busy all night, Jess. What’s the matter with you? Are you getting weak?”

The young man could not overhear the conversation between the waiters, but he was sure they were talking about him. He sure made a rather frightening impression, but that was a private matter and not something you shared with a waitress in a diner.

His gaze drifted to the daily paper, which had two faces emblazoned on it: Butch and Cassidy. He had never heard of this odd couple, but according to the news, theses two were causing quite a stir and were terrifying the Strip.

“Oh, so you’ve already spotted them, those two knuckleheads! They keep the Strip in suspense, and heads roll when the taxes don’t add up,” Jessie served him the cheese sandwich and gave him a slight smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” He thanked her and took a hearty bite of his dinner.

The last half hour flew by and the remaining guests left the diner to spend the night on the Strip, as very few had a roof over their heads. Jessie set about cleaning up and Eddy checked the register.

The young man stood up and made his way towards the door. But before he left the diner, he glanced back at Jessie for a moment. A sigh escaped him. What if…?

Jessie returned his gaze and watched him go until the young man disappeared. She walked right up to his table and found a little note on the receipt.

“Thanks for treating me like a human being, James.”

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tuiccim · 4 years

Text

The Scientific Method

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 2842 (It got away from me.)

Warnings: Angst, Sass, Fluff, Smut- NSFW 18+ Only! (If you want to avoid the smut stop at the bed divider.

Prompt: Oct 2 - Authority Kink (“Sir”/“Sergeant”/“Captain”/“Your Highness”/“Doctor” etc.)

A/N: This is for HBC’s Kinktober! @the-ce-horniest-book-club Big thank you to my beta readers, @fandomsaremylifeline and @bubbabarnes!

There were no words for the feelings coursing through you. Or too many words as you watched Steve flirt with the new lab tech. He glances over at you and you raise an eyebrow, smirking at him to mask your own feelings. He had teased you the same way in the beginning. You had been polite but felt uncomfortable with his flirting. He took the hint and a comradery had built. Now, you kicked yourself for not returning the flirtations through your discomfort. Knowing you lost your chance sucked. He only saw you as a buddy now.

The new tech giggles and you rolled your eyes. “Are you about done there? I need to synthesize the sample.” You interrupt ending the giggles abruptly.

“Yes, Doctor.” She smiles brightly at Steve before bringing you the vials.

“Take these to Mr. Stark, please.” You hand her a file of findings.

“Sure.” She turns to give Steve a coy smile. “Nice meeting you.”

“You too,” that charming grin of his stretching across his face.

“Really?” You grouse when he turns to grin at you

“What?”

“You can’t go five minutes without flirting with the new girl?”

“Jealous?” He smirks.

You roll your eyes.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Steve asks.

“Um, yeah. I guess” You shrug.

“Save me a dance.” He says as he leaves with a backwards wave. You’d save a dance for him alright, the arrogant ass. Making a decision, you text Natasha.

Y: I need help with a dress for tonight.

Nat: I thought you had one.

Y: Need something that’ll make him look twice. Done playing.

N: Hell, yeah. Come to my room. I’ve got just the thing.

Y: OMW.

“FRIDAY, inform Mr. Stark that I’m leaving to get ready for the party.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

In Natasha’s room, she pulls out a dress you would never have picked for yourself. You turn, examining yourself in the mirror.

“Nat, are you sure I can pull this off?” You ask apprehensively.

“Yeah. You can. You look stunning.” Nat smiles.

The tight black dress hugged every curve. Your hair looked amazing and your makeup was spot on. You looked almost entirely not like yourself.

“Thanks, Nat. Hopefully someone else will notice.”

“Everyone will notice you. Don’t worry, just have fun. And let him find you.” Nat winks.

The party was in full swing and you were dancing with Jack Rollins, a member of Strike. When the song ended you both hit the bar for a drink. As the two of you chatted and laughed, Jack was summoned by his team leader, Brock, who wore a dour expression.

“I’m sorry. There’s something we have to take care of. Save me a dance for later?” Jack smiles sweetly.

“Sure thing.” You say as he departs. You are sipping your drink and taking in the room when a voice from behind startles you.

“I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since I first caught a glimpse of you on the dance floor. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Steve.”

You snort as you turn towards him, “Really, Rogers?”

Steve’s mouth drops open comically as he looks you up and down. Laughing, you reach up and push his chin up to force him to close his mouth.

“You shouldn’t let your mouth hang open like that. You could get lockjaw.”

“What are you wearing?” Steve exclaims.

“It’s just a dress, Captain. I know you’re used to seeing me in a lab coat but it can't be that shocking.” You see his cheek flinch when you say Captain.

“I just… I’ve never… you don’t-” Steve sputters.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue, Captain?” You know exactly what you’re doing to him. The man rarely gave you a second glance and suddenly he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You lick your lips while looking at him. “Well, I need a refill.” You turn back towards the bar, shocked at yourself. You aren’t really sure where this sassy personality suddenly came from. Maybe it was the dress or Nat’s peptalk, but you were enjoying the newfound confidence. Whatever it was, it just had you walk away from a flummoxed Steve Rogers. With a fresh drink, you moved towards a group of tables and nearly run into Happy Hogan.

“Happy! Hi!”

“Hey! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to knock into you. Wow, you look great.” Happy Smiles.

“Why thank you!” You grin.

“Can I get a dance?” Happy asks.

“I’d love that.” You set your drink down.

“Actually, she promised me the next one.” Steve says, giving a stern look.

“Oh, uh, of course, Cap.” Happy demures.

“No. No, you didn’t. You were having trouble using your words. Remember, Captain?” You smirk and grab Happy’s hand. “Come on, Happy. Let’s show ’em how it’s done.”

While you happily twirl around the dance floor with Happy, Steve stands to one side scowling.

“Did you just turn down Steve Rogers?” Happy asks.

“He’s been a bit of an arrogant ass lately, so he’s gonna have to learn to play nice.” You wink at Happy. “Plus, you asked first and you’re always such a sweetheart, Happy.”

“Hey! I’m a badass fighter, too.” Happy says.

“They’re not mutually exclusive. Everyone knows you’re both.” You smile.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, friend.”

“Did you save that dance for me?” Jack Rollins asks from beside you as the song changes.

“She’s all yours.” Happy twirls you into Jack’s arms.

“Did you take care of your business?” You ask.

“We did. Free for the rest of the night.” Jack winks at you.

“May I cut in?” Steve says curtly to Jack.

“Uh, su-”

“No, you may not. Promised Jack the whole dance.” You pull Jack closer and smirk at Steve.

“May I have the next one?” Steve says tightly.

“I’m not sure. My dance card is getting pretty full and you interrupted our dance, so now I feel like I owe Jack two. Maybe later. Bye, Captain.” You nearly quell under Steve’s angry glare but manage to smile brightly and turn back to Jack.

As soon as Steve is out of earshot Jack says, “I didn’t know you and Cap were a thing. I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“We’re not anything but friends. I’m not sure why he’s acting like that.”

“He must think you two are something more for him to be so pissed.”

“He has no reason to. Anyway, what was going on earlier that pulled you away from me?”

“Just an unwelcome guest. Nothing to worry about.” Jack looks up to see Steve glaring at him over his beer bottle. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go check in with Brock.”

“Fine. See ya later.” You say frustrated before turning to give a withering glance to Steve. He smirks and begins moving towards you. You roll your eyes and walk away. Going to the hall leading to the bathrooms you run into Bucky.

“Hey. Enjoying yourself?” You ask.

“Hey, Doc. Yeah. You look great. Did Steve find you? He’s been looking for you since the party started.” Bucky asks.

“He apparently didn’t recognize me.” You scoff.

“What?” Bucky guffaws.

You give Bucky a quick rundown of the evening and then stare at him bewildered as he bends over double laughing. “Bucky, what the hell is wrong with everyone tonight?”

“Oh, man, that punk. He couldn’t just ask you to the party like a normal person, could he?”

“Why would he ask me to the party?” You ask, confused.

Bucky just gives you a look and waits for the light bulb to go on above your head.

“Bucky, he doesn’t like me like that. He was flirting with my new lab tech right in front of me just a few hours ago.” You exclaim.

Bucky chuckles, “He wanted to see if you’d get jealous. He’s scared to ask you out because he actually likes you.”

“Bucky! Stop laughing, you jerk. Are you serious?”

“Sorry, sorry. Yeah. I’m serious.” Bucky says but begins laughing anew.

You punch Bucky in the arm. “Jerk.”

“Wait, wait. Do you like him? Seriously.” Bucky asks.

“I’m not sure at the moment.” You say vehemently as you walk away. The sound of Bucky’s laughter following you. Catching sight of Steve, you motion your head to the balcony and he nods. When the two of you are somewhat secluded you ask, “What the hell are you doing and why?”

Steve looks down sheepishly, “What do you mean?”

“Ugh, fine.” You turn away but Steve grabs your hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you flirt with the new tech earlier to make me jealous?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Yes.” He says quietly.

“Why?”

Steve stares at you wide-eyed.

“Why?” You ask again.

“Because I wanted to see how you’d react.”

“Why?” There’s a long pause as Steve shifts from foot to foot and fidgets. “You can’t even say it.” You shake your head.

“I like you. A lot.” Steve says.

Your frustration dissolves and a victorious smile spreads across your face. You move closer to him and look into his face. “Is that so, Captain?”

“Yeah.” Steve narrows his eyes at you. “That’s so.”

“Prove it.” You challenge, glancing at his lips.

Steve captures your mouth in a fierce kiss. His lips move over yours dominantly. His tongue slips out demanding entry and you comply with a low moan. Steve’s hands wander over your back pulling you flush against him. When he finally pulls back your lips are swollen and your head feels light.

“Proof enough?” Steve smiles.

“Usually, I would take several samplings to determine if a theory is true.”

“I can provide all the samples you need, Doctor.”

“I do appreciate a willing subject, Captain.” You retort.

“Ready and willing.” Steve says as he pulls you in for another kiss.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"God, yes." Steve twines his fingers with yours and leads you to the elevator.

Seeing Steve press the button for the bedroom floor, you smirk, "Bold of you to assume I wanted to go to your bedroom, Captain."

"Oh, uh," Steve falters, "Would you rather go talk on the roof or something?"

"I said it was bold, not wrong." You wink as you press against him.

Steve growls as he grabs the sides on your neck and forces you to look at him, "Do you know how long I've wanted you?"

"Tell me."

"Since I first laid eyes on you. You didn't seem into me, though, so I backed off."

"I just wanted to get to know your first, Captain."

Steve's hands squeeze just a little around your neck, "Keep saying Captain like that and I'm gonna have to fuck the sass out of you."

"You can try, Captain."

"You asked for it, Doc." The elevator doors open and you find yourself being thrown over Steve's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" You squeal.

"Pulling rank." Steve growls and slaps your ass.

"Oh!" You didn't mean for it to come out as a moan, but your core clenched at the feeling of his hand.

"Liked that, did you? Maybe you can be a good girl." Steve tosses you on the bed, "Take the dress off."

You war with yourself for a moment over whether to comply or tease, but deciding to oblige him, you rise to your knees and unzip the dress. "Yes, Captain." You lock eyes with Steve and slide the dress down and off your body. You are left only in black lace panties. Steve's eyes widen as they slide down your body and his breathing quickens.

Steve rubs his thumb over your lips, looking down at you, and licks his lips. "Lay down, hands over your head." As you obey, Steve pulls his tie off and wraps in around your wrists.

"What are you doing?" You say.

"Tying you down for your lesson." Steve smirks.

"My lesson?" You echo, core clenching slightly as you’re restrained.

"Yup. I'm gonna fuck the sass out of you and then teach you how to be my good girl. You want to be my good girl, don't you?" Steve whispers against your ear, dragging your earlobe into his mouth and biting it slightly, your thighs squirming at his words and sensations

"You do. Do you like it when I call you good girl? Hmm?"

"Yes, Captain." You moan as Steve's tongue plays over your nipple before traveling down to play along the scrap of black lace covering you. You arch at his touch. His hands grip your hips for a moment and then the sound of ripping fabric reaches your ears. Your last covering is thrown off and legs are spread wide by Steve's rough hands. He rubs his hands up and down your inner thighs.

"You look so pretty, baby. All open for me." Steve's tongue swipes up your slit before circling around your clit. When he presses a finger in, you arch.

"Steve!" You gasp.

He stills, looking up with a wicked smirk, "Try again, sweetheart."

"Captain. Please, Captain." You breathe.

"Good girl." He says as he returns his mouth to your core and adds a second finger. His tongue dances over you clit, licking, sucking, flicking. You writhe against him feeling every movement of his tongue and thrust of his fingers. He curls his fingers into you and you nearly lose your breath. Your hands strain against the tie binding you to the headboard wanting to touch him.

"So close, Captain." You moan.

Steve redoubles his efforts pushing you closer before suddenly stopping, leaving you whimpering and looking at him.

"Did you think I was gonna make it easy on you, baby? Told you I was gonna fuck the sass out of you." Steve smirks as he removes the rest of his clothes.

"Captain, please, I've been a good girl."

"You were sassy all evening at the party. Gonna have to make sure you know better in the future." Steve rolls a condom on and positions himself between your legs. He presses against you but stops, eyes roaming over your face as he speaks "Words, babygirl. I need you to tell me you want me," he whispers, soft this time as he waits for your consent.

With the desperation throbbing between your legs, you moan loudly and arch your back, "Please, Captain, please fuck me!"

You cry out as he thrusts fully into you. He sets a rough pace, pounding into you with a bruising grip on your hips, your own body twitching to meet him halfway, heels digging into the mattress for leverage against the force.

"Fuck, you're tight, baby. You feel me? You feel me stretching you?"

"Yes, Captain. It's so good."

Steve puts your legs over his shoulders and bends over you as he thrusts. Hitting that spot deep inside, you feel the coil tightening. Steve’s hands go around your throat and squeezes lightly as he continues to rail you. You were so close. You began clenching around Steve’s cock and strained against your ties when Steve stopped still fully seated in you. His fingers tighten around your throat, “How’s that sass? Gone yet?” Steve says as he thrusts hard one time.

“Yes, Captain.” You whisper.

“You sure about that?” Steve thrusts hard one more time.

“Yes, Captain.” You cry.

Steve pulls out and throws your legs over before hauling you up on your knees. Your face is pressed to the mattress as your hands are still tied. You wait for Steve to press inside you, but instead are caught off guard when his hand descends on your ass. You cry out in surprise when his hand meets your flesh. “Are you going to sass your Captain again?”

“Probably.” You answer eliciting another, slightly harder smack.

“Are you going to sass me, baby?”

“I’ll try not to.” Another smack rains down on your ass.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, Captain.” His hand rubs over your reddened flesh.

"You're dripping, baby" Steve chuckles deeply and slams into you, your back arching as you cry out. “Do you want your Captain to fuck you into the mattress?”

“Please, Captain.”

Steve slams into you again. “Say it again.”

“Please, Captain. Please fuck me into the mattress.”

That is all the encouragement Steve needs. He fucks into you until you are drooling. Your cheek rubbing against the sheet with each thrust.

“Captain, I’m close.” You whine.

“So am I.” Steve grunts. “You’re so tight. So fucking tight. Come for me baby.”

His permission was all you needed. You cry out as you fall over the edge. Your toes curl and Steve rides it out with you, feeling you’re walls clench against him.

Unexpectedly, he pulls out and turns you over to face him again. Ripping off the condom, he fists himself and ribbons of his cum spurt across your stomach and breasts, marking you. “Mine. My good girl. You’re mine.” Steve moans as he looks into your eyes.

Staring up at him, your hands bound, and body covered with his release, you answer him, "Yours."

Masterlist

Permanent: @bubbabarnes @badassbaker @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @cherthegoddess @buckyluvrs @sherlocksmanwatson @cap-n-stuff @finleyjayne @caplanreads @connie326 @daydreamerinadazedworld

Kinktober: @nsfwsebbie @jobean12-blog @buckycuddlebuddy @eurynome827 @navegandoaciegas

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adventuresinwonderlust · 3 years

Text

Title: More than Words

Pairing: Idol! yoongi x reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, thigh riding, dirty talk

Rating: 18 and over

Permanent Tag List: @heyimtavia @mochilicious-yoongi

Y/N:

You were hustling to get to his studio before 12pm, knowing damn well once 12pm hit, you wouldn’t be able to grab his attention. You rush up the hall, iced americano in hand, and bang your knuckles onto the door of his studio.

*Silence*

You pace back and forth from one leg to the other waiting for him to answer the door. Impatient, you knock again. The door swings open and before you stands your boyfriend Min Yoongi. “Hi!” You smile excitedly, handing over the coffee you purchased for him. He smiles wide at you, grabbing the coffee with one hand and pulling you towards him with the other hand. He hugs you tightly, kissing your cheek and breathing you in. “Thank you so much jagi.” “You’re welcome. I wanted to give you some fuel for your day. I'm excited to spend the evening with you.” You explain stepping back to adjust your purse on your shoulder. “Uh, yeah, about that.” He winces and you feel your heart drops knowing what’s coming next. You swallow back the lump in your throat, clearing it completely. “Jagi, I completely forgot, and I told the members we could record the new track tonight. I’m so sorry, please don’t be upset. I know this is a surprise.” You felt the anger sear up inside you. How could he forget? You knew he was busy, but this was too much. “No, I’m not surprised. This is just how you are Yoongi, my busy bee. Honestly, I'd be surprised if we actually hung out tonight. Please, don’t worry about it. We can catch up another night. Have a great recording session.” You give a tight smile, blowing a kiss to him before sauntering off, leaving him standing at the studio door.

Yoongi:

He couldn’t move. He just stood there watching her walk off. His heart thumping in his chest. Her words echoing in his head. ‘Honestly, I'd be surprised if we actually hung out tonight.’ He couldn’t lose her, not when she was the best thing to ever happen to him. He was so in love with her, how could he be so stupid and allow his work to come in the way of his relationship. He growled under his breath, pulling out his phone. “Namjoon-ah, I can't record tonight. I have to take care of some other things tonight. Let’s reschedule for next week.” He hangs up and immediately makes another phone call. “Hi yes, It’s Min Yoongi. I need a favor.” Yoongi smiles sneakily, biting his lip.

Y/N:

You stand sulking in front of the microwave, listening to the kernels of your popcorn settle, ready to take it out before it burns. Just as you are about to yank the door open to your microwave, you startle at the sound of your doorbell ringing, huffing at how silly you are for getting such a fright. You walk over to the door, pressing your ear to it. “Who is it?” “Courier, special delivery, signature needed.” “You have the wrong address. I’m not expecting a delivery.” “Is this Miss Y/F/N Y/L/N?” “Yes.” You almost whisper. “Uh, Ma’am, please I have a lot more drop offs tonight, and this requires a signature or else I can't leave.” Your brow furrows at what it could possibly be that’s so urgent. You open the door slightly, eyeing the courier suspiciously. “Sign here please.” He hands you clipboard. You sign it, handing it back, and he then hands you a black gift box tied with silver ribbon. “Who is this from?” “I just deliver the packages ma’am but whoever it's from, they must really like you cause these deliveries are not cheap. Have a great night.”

You make your way back into your apartment and plop down onto your couch. You pull open the ribbon and lift the lid of the box to reveal a small white card atop white tissue paper. You lift the card out of the box and read the small cursive text.

‘Meet me at the Rooftop Del Mar and wear this. A car will be by in one hour. Xo Y.’

You pull the tissue paper from the box to reveal a black drape neck mini dress. Your mouth falls open as you feel the soft material and you run to jump into the shower. You are dressed and done up in under the hour time limit. You head downstairs and are greeted by a driver who is holding a tablet with your name on it. “I’m Y/N.” You say and the driver opens the back passenger door for you. You take a seat and attempt to call Yoongi but it goes straight to voice-mail.

You are at the restaurant in no time and soon the driver is opening the door and helping you to exit. “Welcome,” A male host greets you upon entrance into the restaurant, “Please follow me. You are our guest of honor.” You can’t help but blush, unsure of what’s going on. Your head is hazy and the feeling of butterflies fluttering in your tummy has you a bit queasy. You are escorted up to the rooftop, the elevator opening to an extravagantly set up dining area. There are no tables set up, only what seems like hundreds of bouquets of roses, pillar candles, and a red carpet. Your mouth hangs open and you look around drinking everything in. “Enjoy madam.” The host bows and gets back onto the elevator to leave. “Uh, wait. I don’t know what’s going on.” You stutter, your mouth dry.

You hear a click and suddenly your favorite love song plays on the overhead and you feel your heart thump in your chest. “May I have this dance?” Yoongi appears before you. Your jaw drops at how amazing he looks dressed in a white shimmering suit with pink embroidered top. He smiles at you, taking you in. “You look beautiful, jagi.”

Yoongi:

“How? Why? I thought you had to work?” She questions, picking at her fingers. “Work can wait. You can’t. I’ve been working too much and neglecting you, the most important person to me. I’m sorry for that jagi. I wanted to show you just how much you mean to me, just how much I love you, here, tonight. So, may I have this dance?” He smirks, holding his hand out to her.

She smiles that big beautiful smile and moves towards him, taking his hand. He pulls her towards him, her giggle filling him with joy. They begin to sway side to side, her palm resting on his chest, his hand on the small of her back. “Won’t you get in trouble for not recording the new track?” She inquires. Yoongi shrugs. “The thought of losing you trumps any trouble I could ever get in.” He says, twirling her around. She giggles again, her body pressed against him when she returns to him.

They gaze into each other’s eyes and all Yoongi can think about is how much he loves her, how he’d do anything to see her smile the way she is right now, and how he’d never do anything to jeopardize what they’ve built. “What?” She chuckles, her cheeks reddening. “You’re just so beautiful. I can’t stop looking at you.” He whispers, leaning in to plant a kiss on her soft lips. “Dinner is served outside sir.” The host appears. Yoongi nods, leading Y/N out through the decorated area, and onto the deck where a beautiful candlelit dinner has been setup.

Yoongi pulls out the chair for her to sit and takes a seat across from her on the bench. He looks up at the night sky, thinking how not one star in that sky shines as bright as his gorgeous Y/N. “Yoongi, this is so amazing. You didn’t have to do all this.” She assures almost nervously. Yoongi reaches his hand across the table to take hers. “Of course, I did. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I haven’t been doing right by you. It’s wrong of me to always put you on the back burner. Yes, work is important but all these accolades and then no one to share them with? If my whole world fell apart, I know I’d be ok, so long as I have you. You deserve someone who cares and I do, so much. I promise to show you that often jagi. More than words, actions. I never want to lose you, us.”

Yoongi sees the tears forming in her eyes and he brings her hand to his lips to comfort her. “Don’t cry my love.” She stands immediately, walking over to sit in Yoongi’s lap, her head in the crook of his neck. He pulls her close, the feel of her warm body against his bringing him such comfort. “I love you so much Yoongi. I was so scared earlier, like you just didn’t care anymore but this is so amazing. You’ve made me so happy. I don’t want to lose us either.” “Never jagi. Never.” He whispers, kissing her shoulder. She shifts in his lap, moving to plant kisses on his lips. He doesn’t fuss, instead letting her dig her hands in his hair to tug at his locks.

He can’t help but moan when she drags her tongue along his bottom lip. He opens his mouth for her and she wastes no time deepening the kiss, swirling her tongue around his. She breaks the kiss, licking her lips seductively as she stands. Yoongi looks past her, smirking when the host steps out to check on them then immediately turns to walk back in when Y/N straddles Yoongi. “Jagi, we’re still in public. Let’s finish dinner and we can head back home.” Yoongi pants, his breath catching in his throat when she thrust her hips forward. She shakes her head in opposition and Yoongi frowns. “I want you now.” She whines. “Not going to happen my love.” Yoongi declares.

She bites her bottom lip, her eyes glinting with that dark lustful look Yoongi knows too well. “I’m serious.” He warns. “Me too.” She teases, planting an open mouth kiss on his neck, suckling at his flesh. Her hand dripping down to massage at his manhood. Yoongi sucks in a breath, wrapping his arm around her waist and lifting her off her feet. He walks over to a secluded area, covered by greenery and potted trees. Yoongi takes a good look around, happy to have found a spot out of camera view.

Y/N:

“My poor naughty girl. It’s my fault you can barely control yourself.” Yoongi whispers against your collar bone, planting kisses against it. “It is.” You moan, attempting to reach down to grab his erection until Yoongi grabs both your wrist in one of his large hands. “No, no, no my love. Tonight, is all about you.” He smirks, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. He raises your hands above your head, holding them in place there. He lifts his bent knee up and anchors it into the wall between your legs, planting his flexed thigh into your heat. He grips your hip with his free hand and drags you across his thigh. You gasp out loud and watch the devilish grin spread across Yoongi’s face. “That’s it baby. Use me. I want to make you feel good, watch you cum.” You whimper at his words.

Bending your knees to gain better footing, you soon begin to rock back and forth along his firm thigh, your needy bud throbbing and hardening with each thrust. “My gorgeous girl. So needy, I’ve neglected you for too long, haven’t I? Dying for release?” “Yess. Yoongi. I need you.” “I’m right here baby. Watching you, wanting you so badly. You look so beautiful. So hot against my thigh. Soaking into my pants.” He whispers, licking at the shell of your ear. You moan out, rocking harder against him, bending your knees further to press more of your electrified bean into his tensed muscle. Your panties are completely soaked and the friction against your nerve endings has you coming undone faster than you had anticipated.

“Yoongi, so close. So…. God damn close.” You mewl, throwing your head back. Yoongi releases your hands, taking your hips into his hands now. You grip his shoulders, staring into his eyes as he presses his thigh into you more, aiding you across his thigh at an accelerated rate. Your mouth falls open, and you pant frantically, your throat drying. “That’s it jagi. Let go, soak my thigh, cum for me baby.” “Oh god,” You cry out, the coil deep inside your belly tightening. You clench your cunt suddenly, your coil snapping immediately. “Oh, yes! Yoongi, I’m cumming.” You shout, digging your nails into his shoulders. He pulls you into a kiss, one hand buried in your hair the other on your ass, still dragging you across his thigh. He swallows your sobbed moans with his tongue, slowing the pace as you come back from your high.

You pull away from him, pressing your back against the wall. Yoongi stretches his leg, the very apparent wet spot glistening in the moonlight. “I ruined your suit.” You say breathlessly. He shrugs looking down at it. “I don’t care about the suit. How do feel?” “OK, like I want more.” He smiles his wide gummy smile and moves towards you, pressing his body into yours. He kisses you softly. “Like I said it’s all actions from here forward jagi. Whatever you want. Although, maybe we should eat?” You giggle, kissing him again. “OK, maybe just a quick bite.” “That’s my girl.”

#anon request #bts smut #yoongi smut #suga x reader #suga x you

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen?

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here.

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Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #starker festivals summer bingo #bobbie writes #let me get close to #peter parker/tony stark #starker fic #sfsummerbingo21

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batmanie · 3 years

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Worth it - Batman TAS

Out of the few books available at the Arkham rec room’s otherwise empty bookshelf Professor Crane had chosen to read “Pride and Prejudice” today. He had read it about ten times already but the small book collection was not getting any bigger and it was still better than reading the Bible.

“Alice’s adventures in Wonderland” had been banned from Arkham’s library quite some time ago for triggering a certain inmate, and “Christmas Carol” had lately been decorated with obscene doodles by the Joker which Jonathan did not wish to see ever again. The nursery rhymes book was always an option but currently, Harley had her fun with that, giggling each time she read a funny one.

Crane was sitting on the couch with his nose in the book, not bothering anyone with his presence. Next to him, Tetch was staring at the TV. The poor man looked so bored, mindlessly channel surfing, probably too high on medication to be able to entertain himself with any Wonderland plots.

With Joker not around, the rec room seemed calm, almost as calm as the sky before a heavy storm. And said storm came unexpectedly in the form of Jervis Tetch.

The bored man on the couch had switched to the Gotham’s evening news channel, listening in to the street interview with one of the new candidates for the city council, and then, out of nowhere, he threw a massive tantrum – his outburst included flipping the coffee-table and accidentally hitting Harley’s head with it. That, of course, resulted in Doctor Quinzel’s aggressive response. Not much remained left from the unfortunate table after Harley had finished with it.

Professor Crane watched in delight how Mad Hatter fought against a guard twice as big as himself, while Harley attempted to smash both of their heads with a table leg before two other guards managed to tranquilize her.

After a few more minutes, the rec room was calm again and Jonathan got back to his book. But as much as he tried to ignore the incident and focus on the plot, a little voice in his head, the voice of the psychologist who he’d never truly ceased to be, kept whispering a very important question. “What exactly has just happened here?” The voice asked, teasing Jon’s professional curiosity. He cast another glance at the tv. The candidate from the evening news smiled at the camera, still explaining how much he was helping the community.

Professor Crane had his suspicions. And who would have guessed? Mad Hatter broke out of Arkham no longer than three days after that event.

David Colton was in his mid-thirties and he was a man in his prime, looking exceptionally professional today in his expensive dark-blue suit, white shirt, and striped blue tie.

“Smoother than Bruce Wayne,” he thought with a pleasant smile, checking himself in the mirror.

Oh, yeah, he still got it! Still looking as youthful and handsome as the prom king he had been back in his high-school days.

“Almost ready Mr. Colton,” the make-up lady told him, and put some more powder onto his already fluid-heavy forehead. “No glossy faces on TV, that’s my rule. Those spotlights know no mercy,” she joked.

David chuckled. “The only thing that is allowed to shine tonight, is my charisma.”

They would have laughed some more, if not for a sudden knocking on the door to his private dressing room.

“Come in,” David called and took a deep, calming breath mentally preparing himself for showtime.

He was ready to present his best self to Gotham again, and at this rate of him constantly being invited to interviews, the seat in the council was practically his already.

His father was right, the ability to make a good impression and a thing for charity was everything that mattered in this town after all.

The door opened and a short man in a trench coat walked in, not a staff member judging simply by the lack of an ID. Yet, the man seemed familiar – Colton just couldn’t quite place him.

“Can I help you, pal?” He asked the newcomer, hiding his irritation behind a polite smile.

The man smiled brightly and took a few steps into the room. “Oh, yes, yes. I think you can,” he spoke with a quiet yet excited voice.

Colton caught his fake British accent right away – and again, it felt like he had heard it before.

“However, I wouldn’t call you my pal.” The man continued grinning. “Would I? Won’t I? Would I? Won’t I?”.

“Listen, pal,” Colton cut him off, not bothering anymore to be that polite. “My interview is starting in a few minutes. Can we get back to this conversation later?”

“I’m afraid that later will be too late,” the strange man shook his head and took out a silver pocket-watch. “It will take only a moment…”

David sighed, the intruder was really hard to get rid of – he hated those nosy people who worked for the press.

“Very well then.” He stood up from his seat and turned to his guest to shake his hand and introduce himself properly. “David Colton,” he offered his hand to the shorter man.

The man didn’t take it, which led to a very awkward moment.

“Oh, but we know each other,” he explained, staring at David with an intense glare.

Colton, confused as he was, took a closer look at the stranger – his blonde, messy hair, big nose, and even bigger front teeth. Suddenly it clicked. “Gotham High! Jervis, was it? Jervis the Jerkface,” he laughed at the old memories of those past, glorious days of his youth. “How have you been, Jerv?”.

“Surely not as good as you.” There was a hint of fake sadness in Jervis’ voice as he put on the black, old-school top hat that he had held in his hand behind his back the entire time.

That single move made Colton recall some very disturbing stories straight from Gotham’s underworld. He cast a worried look at the make-up lady – she looked terrified and about to scream.

Slowly, he gazed back at the small man before him – the man who used to be just a nerdy kid from his high school, a weird boy that everybody had laughed at – Jervis the Jerkface, Beaver-man, Ratter.

“They don’t call me names that often anymore,” Jervis said calmly, as if he had just read his mind, a nasty grin creeping back on his face. He held a card in his gloved hand. “They simply call me the Mad Hatter.”

-#-

Like every other Saturday, the rec room was hosting the four lucky high-profile inmates who had earned their right to be in here, thanks to their good behavior. This time it was Doctor Isley, surprisingly enough, Nygma and, even more surprisingly, Croc who accompanied Professor Crane during his well-deserved book-time.

Everyone was minding their own business, Ivy was occupied taking care of a small flowerpot of violets, Edward played chess with himself and Croc, well, Croc was currently using his claw as a toothpick to get rid of the remains of his dinner.

Jonathan relaxed on the couch that he had the luxury of having only for himself for once. He had tried to bury himself in a book but couldn’t concentrate on reading – something was on his mind ever since Mad Hatter had disappeared half a week ago. It was this tiny, little voice again, telling him to put the book aside and turn on the TV instead.

Slightly irritated by his own decision, he did as his intuition had told him to. The evening news was about to end and an interview with some philanthropist politician was about to start right after commercials.

When the show began, the fat, jovial host greeted his enthusiastic audience, gaining some applause in return, then he introduced the main guest of the evening, David Colton – Jonathan recognized the guy – it was the same politician who had been talking about the importance of charity just a week ago on the news.

Colton looked a bit stiff, smiling unnaturally wide. As the applause died out and the first question was asked, he didn’t move for a good few seconds, as if he didn’t even hear it. Jonathan couldn’t shake off the impression that the man was either on some medications or very, very stressed.

“David?” The host tried again as the uncomfortable silence dragged for too long. “Will you tell us about your foundation? We are all dying to know more.”

“No, Sam,” said Colton with a strangled voice, his face still kind of strange – more like a mask with a very fake smile and a dead look in his eyes. “First, I want to talk about my teenage years.”

“OK, let’s hear your story,” the host agreed, happily, probably determined to get anything at all from his non-cooperative guest. “I’ve heard you were an overachiever. A football player, a class president and even a prom king. Isn’t that right, David?”

“No. I was a selfish bastard who tormented less popular kids. I called them unfair names, put them in a locker, and made other boys beat them up just for a sake of it.”

The audience gasped at this confession. The host’s jaw dropped for a good five seconds.

Jonathan smiled to himself, satisfied that his intuition had not failed him.

“I was a popular kid so I never took the blame for my misbehavior,” Colton continued with a very calm and steady voice, his face showing no emotion. When the camera took a closeup on him, Jonathan noticed a tiny little detail – a 10/6 card sticking out of his boutonnière.

“I never cared for others' wellbeing either, this charity-thing is just for show. I only care for the fame and attention. In fact, you may say I’m not even a human being. I’m an ugly, stinking, lying chimpanzee.”

As soon as Colton finished his last line, an inhuman howl escaped his mouth. The audience screamed in terror. Colton suddenly jumped onto a couch he previously sat on, and he started to act like a real monkey.

Sam – the host – went utterly speechless, he jumped up from his own seat and just stood there, stunned.

Colton, screeching and howling like a mad chimpanzee, grabbed a glass of water from the tabletop and threw it at the host.

“Help, somebody help!” the poor host started screaming.

Meanwhile, Colton was jumping up and down on a couch, making “Ooh, aah!” sounds.

Before the security managed to catch him, Colton already had taken off his pants and his white, hairy ass was revealed for all of Gotham to see.

After that, the show was hurriedly cut off and the weather forecast started.

Professor Crane didn’t even notice that all the other rogues had joined him on the couch, and were now staring at the TV like a bunch of little kids watching their favorite cartoon.

“Well, that was definitely one way to destroy someone’s political career,” Nygma commented with a hint of amusement.

“A few more minutes and he would have started throwing his own poo,” Ivy added with a disgusted frown.

“Poo,” Crock giggled like a five-year-old and everyone else had to roll their eyes. “I like monkeys, monkeys are so stupid.”

“Well, actually, chimpanzees are…”

“Oh, shut up, Nygma!” Both Ivy and Crane growled as one and Edward went quiet.

“Anyway, Tetch should be back with us any minute now,” Pamela concluded with all certainty. “I hope his little revenge was worth a punch in the teeth from the Bat and getting dragged back to Arkham.”

Professor Crane didn’t say a word but he knew from an experience that yes, it was totally worth it.

#Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #Batman TAS #batman fanfiction #Jervis Tetch #the mad hatter #madhatter #bullying #revange #fanfiction #My Story #Bat-mania #temarcia #Batman animated series

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secretaryunpaid · 3 years

Text

I think I wanna Marry you (part 2)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,000 approx (what can I say, I love Love)

Warning: Lot’s of sex, it’s their wedding night !!!

~~~~~ The Grandhotel Pupp, Czech Republic ~~~~~

“Abiento, Sra. Dalton.”

“Excuse you, I’m no Dalton ...”

“My apologies Sra., then perhaps I should presume you to be a guest of Sr. Samuel Dalton’s party.”

“I’m Sra. Dalton’s aunt, but that wouldn’t be any of your business now would it?”

“Sincere apologies. I didn’t wish to offend... Please, let me take care of your stay to make this up to you. I own the hotel, and just wanted to be hospitable to our esteemed guests.”

After allowing him to do as he stated, taking his card as requested should she require anything further, Dahlia’s Aunt Marilyn finally met up with her older sister Patricia, explaining her delay... very much to Patricia’s disbelief.

Marilyn continues... “Well, I wouldn’t mind a free stay in the hotel... He was so insistent, I wasn’t going to admit that I have a home here... Let’s take full advantage of the spa and other amenities... We can question our Dahlia a bit more about this billionaire boyfriend turned husband a bit later. It’s a good thing we talked to Riley isn’t it... Dahlia will be very surprised to see us...”

~~~~~ The Greeting, Take 2 ~~~~~

Having received word of their helicopter arrival, he makes his way quickly to the front desk to greet his most influential guest. “Anton Edison, welcome to my hotel Mr. & Mrs. Dalton... I’d like to personally invite you to my Casino in Monaco as my private guests... Consider it my wedding gift to you, along with this stay being my compliments... (Both Sam and Dahlia look as if this is some sort of prank until he assures them otherwise, giving Sam his personal Exclusive Contact card.) ... No pressure, just please let me know, should you decide to take me up on my offer. Enjoy your stay!”

As introductions conclude, Anton returns to his private office, pondering if the couple will actually take them up on his generosity... He must have an answer prior to his and their departure from this hotel... An impromptu dinner or meeting will just have to occur... This opportunity will not pass him over... it is crucial that he succeed.

Anxious to start this “Dalton’s love story” he has planned, he practically drags his bride to the private paternoster... But he is respectful of Anton’s hospitality, only kissing her teasingly as the ascent to their room begins. The second wedding had Sam feeling that not only the ceremony deserved a do over.

Once in their room, Sam insists that Dahlia shower, telling her that he wants to make preparations for dinner before joining her... wanting it to be a surprise, and pleading with her through kisses to allow him his way this once.

Setting up his “surprise” with lightning speed, having pre-planned everything down to the last word. He joins her in the shower, totally distracting her mind to prevent any questions as to what he was up to.

After getting properly dressed for this wondrous evening planned, Sam slips out to take his position just before she comes out adjusting her jewelry... looking up to find Sam looking like a lost Cupid ... which puts a deep smile on her face...

“First, I have the infused chocolates... to heighten our mood...”

“Next, I’ve poured the champagne... You know ... to get the tickles in your mouth before I taste those lips...” She closes her eyes, looking away from the playfulness. When she turns back, Sam is holding a rose between his teeth and a sign... resulting in her audible face palm...

“More lovemaking? After we just completed that and got all dressed up? But we’ve got the whole stay... And I must tell you love, that although it feels brand new each time... (she whispers, hand against face) It’s no longer an unexpected surprise!”

“Ah, just teasing... but you’ll be asking for this sign again very shortly...”

“Sam, truly what’s going on?” He looks at the sign, rolling his eyes at the oversight...

“Oh shit, I am showing the wrong side... Let me try that once more... “

“Marry me woman !!!? Please... I can’t live without you...”

“What happened to going down on one knee, Sam?” (Finally understanding what Sam has been trying to do all of this time...)

“Oh baby, I’ll do you one better and go down on you on both knees... Come here, and let me plead for you to marry me... Lick by lick!”

“I’ve still got it!” He teases her, reminding him of the first time he chose to propose... both agreeing that it truly wasn’t the best time... Her reminding him of how romantically unplanned the second proposal was, but truth be told, this is the one she would have ugly cried through before devouring him. “Love, you could never be ugly... no matter what you do.”

After giving it much thought, Sam sent a text to Anton, stating, “Monaco sounds fun, and my wife is anxious to take in the best that Monaco has to offer! Look forward to meeting with you again!”

~~~~~ Rewind to the Wedding Night ~~~~~

Running a single finger down her sternum, lightly pinching her breasts, tracing her sides until his hands meet her hips, he whispers his plans for her tonight.

Tonight, he’ll be taking her as his wife, not a woman whose affections he has been chasing for support or desire. Tonight… the heights of pleasure he is planning to drag her through will be on a much higher level, knowing her instinctual resistance will only stimulate his drive even more.

He seductively teases her as hidden as possible as they sway through their first dance of the night. Yes, their coming together after their first joining to one another as husband and wife was ethereal and stitched him to her in a way he didn’t think possible again. But this marriage… before family and friends … permanently enclosed his heart with hers in his eyes.

She’d never looked more beautiful on any other day. He was blessed to lay eyes upon her. As he traced the outline of her lips, he imagined them encapsulating his length. Envisioning her teasing his scrotum… drawing shivers from him as her small fingers glide along his pubic hairs, reaching his hips… inducing the assisted gyration within her drooling mouth… increasing her hold with her perfect tongue pressure… inciting satisfied groans…

“Babe, open your eyes… You’re groaning out loud,” she laughs… “Thinking about us, are you?”

His slow kiss gives all the response she needs. He releases her, twirling her around, capturing her back into his embrace … Her back pressed to his chest as he grinds into her the way he’d wished he could privately, but in a way that was respectful to onlookers… if there is such a thing… But, soon his restraint falters… He wants his wife to know his full desire.

Dragging her over to the microphone, he makes an announcement that he and his bride need a few private moments, “Please enjoy the Cristal, music and cake… We hope to return to the celebration, but don’t be too upset if we happened not to… Mom… Dad... twin duty? Thank you everyone…” All Dahlia can do is wave briefly before he lifts her, practically running with her as the crowd’s laughter quickly faded in the distance…

Unable to hold back any further, he finds a secluded corner, lowering her down to her feet… turning her against the wall, dropping to his knees and covering himself under her gown… tasting her already overflowing desire… her head pressing hard into the brick, uncaring of its grittiness.

His constant lapping of her center draws out an uncharacteristic lisp as she whispers her scream of his name. Needing her against him, he stands, hurriedly exposing his overpowering erection, burying it so excitedly into her that it causes her to seemingly climb the wall… both now burning with a need uncontrolled, insatiable, moving with a building friction that brings her love sounds repeatedly … now fueling his own sounds in answer…

“Sam, I need you covering me … Room! Now!” Reluctantly he withdraws, pulling her away from the wall… both now in an excited sprint … Their room is still much too far away to reach … Their growing need for satisfaction overcomes them, so they maintain connection through touch and short kisses.

Coming across cleaning staff, Sam brings them to a near missed stop at her side. “Excuse me Miss… Do you have a room available like, right now! Dahlia buries her face in his neck from sheer embarrassment as he pulls out his wallet. The staff takes notice of their attire and, without hesitation, opens the door out of which she just exited.

Quickly handing her what could easily been over five grand, he carries Dahlia in hurriedly, kicking the door closed, reaching up to put the additional lock on

Now desperately searching her dress for any means to remove it .. feeling way too impatient, he rips it down her back side… to her shock. “Sam !!! It had a zipper !!!” “Can’t wait,” he says as his tongue spirals along her bare skin… already moving out of his own clothes… When he spins her around, both are completely free of clothing…

He pulls her to the bed’s edge, kissing, groping… moaning … Switching positions, he now stands behind her, pushing her into a bend, entering her before he hardens even more … Her gripping of the sheets and muffled whimpers spur his rapid thrusts, her ass clapping against his frame … He grips her hips, ramming himself deep as her walls swallow him repeatedly ...

“Too? … Rough?,” is his broken question… Her throaty, “No… Harder !!,” sends an excitement through him. Before she realizes, she is flush against the mattress with him closing her legs inside of his … Now situated atop her ass, driving deeply, slapping her cheeks before laying against her backside … stroking roughly as she returns his thrust … his hands gripping her hair, marking his territory with such vessel shattering kisses, she claws his ass, spurring him even further still…

“Yes, ba-by… Yesss!,” she hisses. He continues this way until his need to see how she is enjoying him causes his withdrawal, her audible disappointment and turning to pull him back to her proving more than any vision of her clenched eyes could prove…

She all but snatches him back onto her. His rushed entry draws out the sound of pain… He stops, but she moves against him… “No, Sam … Don’t stop!” Driving even deeper still, his forceful movements back her up into the headboard, but she opens herself to him as wide as she could, separating her legs in a lifted grip… her own nails practically piercing her skin…

Sam grips the headboard, determined to send every ounce of his longing through her … Soon they both are screaming each other’s name... her orgasm cascading pleasurably over his slowing strokes… but he withdraws, both watching his seed flow against her mound … spreading it until nearly dried.

Leaning to her ear, Sam whispers, “I’m not ending this night this early … I won’t cum inside you until you beg me to …” Her desperate kiss, tongue pulling, and lip biting, provides her approval … “Let’s get to our room now. I have so many pleasures in store for you tonight, my love,” ending his confession in another sensual breathtaking kiss …

Chests heaving, he pulls her to the pile of clothes on the floor … Realizing now that there is no way she can put her dress back on, they both snicker over his previous over excitement, which is quickly escalating at the bounce of her breasts as she laughs.

“It’s okay… I’ll hold it in place somehow.”

“Here, put my suit coat over it.”

He peers out of the doors, seeing the cleaning staff giving a bashful smile… “Okay, let’s get out of here…” Pulling her yet again in another sprint, her dress catches, almost exposing her… Sam scoops her up, kissing her, steadfast in their rush to reach their room … Shaking her head and covering her lips in a slight grin, the woman enters to clean the room once again. Totally surprised at how disheveled the room had been left in such a short stay.

Now inside, heading towards the elevator, he sees a group of frustrated guests, implying that the elevator has kept them waiting. They give each other a defeated look, but soon Sam sees another cleaning cart… They both nod in agreement, and soon he is rounding the corner.

“Excuse me!... Excuse me!” The gentleman stops pushing the cart of soiled linen to address them… “Is there a private elevator or staff lift?” Noting Dahlia’s clothing dilemma and marriage attire, he leads them to the corner elevator. “It takes a key to operate, so I’ll have to escort you…”

“FINE!!!” Both laugh, as the man shakes his head knowingly. Pulling her into the furthest corner of the elevator, Sam lowers her, taking a protective stand in front of his wife’s exposed frame. He removes his wallet, taking out another wad, handing it hurriedly to the staffer. Quickly standing to his side, speaking in a whisper, the gentleman clears his throat in understanding.

Sam steps back to Dahlia, with her immediately tugging his shoulder down to inquire of the words spoken to the man. Turning, Sam lowers his head to her ear saying that he told him to forget what he was about to hear. And with that, he was falling to his knees, kissing his way up her calves, knees, thighs… until he reached her… “OH !!!” … center... covered with her dress yet again. She fought for quiet, failing miserably.

For each floor the elevator was forced to stop on, the staffer would wave the incoming staffer away, hurriedly pressing for the doors to close. Sam peers from under her dress, realizing he never told what floor, but the staffer said, “We’ll reach the honeymoon suite shortly Mr. Dalton. I mean, sir !!” With that, he's back under the layers of dress once again, Dahlia gasping in the best efforts at silenced pleasure as she could. Once the elevator chimes it’s final time, the staffer steps out to clear the hallway of possible guests to avoid further exposure… “All clear, but not for-”

“Ooooh, Sam!!! Yessss !!”

Clearing his throat loudly, the bride and groom take the hint, Sam carrying her down the hallway hurriedly once again, Dahlia burying her head in his chest. Shaking his head with a smirk, the staffer enters the elevator, understanding their “rush” with familiarity. Planning out his use of the $10K amnesia payment… wondering how many more private elevator rides will be needed with a hearty laugh.

Finally inside their honeymoon suite, Dahlia leaps from Sam’s arms, now tearing his clothing free, lowering herself to his engulfed member, teasingly drawing his deep inhales, her hair now being ruffled into a knotted mess… holding him assisted as her strength allows against his pelvis, she works him desperately, hungrily pleasing him to no end… until he unloads … She allows him to watch her take every drop…

“Perfection !!!” He pulls her into his lustful kiss, then holds her, forehead to forehead, hearts beating erratically. Neither satisfied, both expecting a totally sleepless night.

“Mrs. Dalton…”

“Yes, Mr. Dalton…”

“I’m going to eat you alive! But first…”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s hydrate !!!”

Both break into laughter, heading over to the chilled champagne, walking over with the bucket and glasses, lowering themselves into the jacuzzi. Sam guided her between his legs so that he could hold her tenderly, pouring their first drink of the night.

“Sam, I don’t think this really counts as hydration…”

“Then we’ll just have to keep drinking each other,” he says with hunger building in his eyes yet again. “You know this is your fault for putting me on hiatus until tonight?...”

She smiles into his lips … “I’m not complaining one bit, though…” Her lips now making a heated trail down his center, coupled with an enticing tongue flicker…

By checkout, there is a mess of wax and torn sheets strewn throughout, in the midst of empty bottles, lost lingerie, and a note with a generous tip left for the cleaning crew… The words written:

“Off to our honeymoon! Our deepest apologies for the … yeah !!! The Daltons … Please let us know if jacuzzi replacement costs are required.” … Sam’s signature on the back of his business card.

“Nope, consider this celebration’s damage on the house, lol” She didn’t think her tip last night could get any better, but after her shift, she’s off to shop for her new car. “Come again!,” she exclaims, laughing at the happenings that must have gone on in this room ...

#@Becoming Mrs. Dalton #@secretaryunpaid #@TNA

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pluviophile-bookworm · 3 years

Text

HSMTMTS 2x11: Let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents... the reason for my next mental breakdown

I can't believe myself, honestly. Oversleeping on the one day of the week that I've got something exciting to wake up for? Oh well, I'm up now and I'd better go ahead and do this before my dashboard has showered me with spoilers. I mean, I have never really minded spoilers, but when it comes to this, somehow I do. Though I do wish something had forewarned me about last week's snap ending (get it, 'snap'... I'll see myself out). I'd better dive in already.

Yes, Mr Mazzara, that's what I've been saying for a while! Ok, maybe I haven't been very vocal about it, but it was in the foreground of my mind that they should have asked for Mr Mazzara's help re: transformation! I'm just glad he pointed it out. Not that he could have done much while he was busy playing therapist for his beloved Miss Jenn. Oh well.

Were those Ash and Ricky doing actual paired-up warmups? That is what they should have been doing for weeks now. That and having actual off-stage interactions, too. But I still subscribe to the theory that the gang had some good rehearsals off-screen — otherwise there's no way they could have been this good on stage as we saw in the previews. I said it last time and I'll say it again — not everything is for us to see.

Wow. The one time our leads are in unison, and it is about both being injured. The East High drama club must be cursed — they can't have one production run smoothly and without what can only be described as pure unbridled chaos.

They don't have any understudies? That explains some things... but also how? But also, I'm so happy Ashlyn is going on. No way she would have missed her first (first of many, right?) chance of being the lead because of some 'minor' injury.

Ricky and Nini still can't talk to each other properly. Oh well. Take your time. It's not like I care about this pairing anymore.

Did EJ just use the word 'dig'? Boy, the boy's got it baaaaaad. Also, what is it going to take for these two to realise they're in love? For all we know, they might have that big kiss we're all dreaming of and still be like 'nah, it's nothing, we're buddies'... give me a break! But I mean, at this point they might just be turning into Redlyn 2.0, where even a kiss doesn't define things. But hey, if they do follow in Redlyn's footsteps, that only means good things in their future, right?

What did that fake French git do to my boy Carlos? He's not supposed to look this inanimate until right before the climax of the play! Well, I mean, at least Seb serving as his interpreter means that Seb gets more lines for a bit. Too bad he can't go on for someone with more lines in the play.

Miss Jenn's 'words of inspiration' were less than inspired... yeah, this show's going down. Or it would, if it depended solely on her. Let's hope the kids do better. I mean, I know for a fact they will... at least for about 5 minutes of the thing. There is still room for things to go wrong and I'm scared.

Oh, my sweet boy... I wish I could jump in there and do something to help him feel less nervous. Thing is, if I were there, I'd probably be the most nervous of them all, even if I were playing Townsfolk #3 or something, and everyone's nervousness would rub off on me, and I would be making things worse instead of helping. So yeah, I'm kind of glad I'm not there.

Ahhhh who called it? @redlyncentral was it you? Ash got flowers for her Biggie! And there's a card whose contents we've yet to see. But that doesn't seem to be helping either. My sweet, sweet Reddy... I hope and pray he'll be alright.

Well this is awkward! Who told Mike to show up and shake everything up right now? Miss Jenn is literally on the brink of exploding, and now she's stuck in this completely unnecessary love triangle. She needs some space. And a quiet place to breathe, thanks Mr M for suggesting it.

'Did we forget to build a mote around the school or...' Yeah, you tell her, Rick! That girl whose name I never want to pronounce (because it makes me think of much nicer people and she's making me hate it) has no business being there. She's not... being given a redemption arc, is she now? Some people just don't deserve it. And if hating her is an unpopular opinion now, well, I never did care much about having popular opinions. I can live with that.

'Lily, scram!' Yes, thank you, Natalie! I've always wanted someone who would voice my thoughts in a way that the characters can hear them. Make this girl a main next season, won't you? (Just so we're crystal clear, I mean Natalie, not the other one.)

OMG Mr M is in the play! In a way... I love that!

I love, love, love the way they did the prologue. 'Repulsed [the prince makes an over-the-top gesture of repulsion] by her haggard appearance [the witch shows off her face to the audience]...' I love this. I would pay a lot for a chance to see their entire play, you know?

Oh dear, somebody give my boy Reddy some sort of... medical aid against all the throwing up! I've got a nice pill that helps me with my bad cases of motion sickness. Hey, so maybe I could have helped if I were there after all. Great, now I feel bad. But also, is all the throwing up an excuse on the writers' part to keep my boy off-screen for the majority of this episode? Because it's a really lame excuse.

Gina's 'Many questions' continues to be a mood. What exactly is Miss Jenn expecting from the kids? Last-minute adjustments? No way. This spells disaster.

Was Carlos on vocal rest or something? Because he shines like the star he is... despite all the very obvious nervousness backstage. I mean, I wouldn't have it any other way, but... oh well, I wouldn't say it's unrealistic. In my personal performing experience, the most nervous ones perform the best. (So... what is that saying for my boy Reddy? Good things only.)

I've already had the opportunity to geek out about Be Our Guest yesterday, but... I mean, just look at them! Carlos doesn't need actual candles to be on fire, Ashlyn is stealing the scene without any lines in it, Gina is absolutely gorgeous, and don't even get me started on EJ and Big Red looking at their girls in absolute awe! This is everything!

Aww, look at them! Gina and Ashlyn dancing together, I mean. They're sisters and it really shows. And I love them both so much.

Kourtney is an absolute show-stealer! I'm still upset about some casting choices (one of them is in this scene, doing his absolute best with the crumbs he has been given), but she is absolutely perfect. I think I'll rewind and watch this entire scene again before moving on with the rest of the episode.

I'd just like to point out that Frankie's voice in his lower register is everything!

'You absolutely dusted that stage'... Not EJ making a pun so punny even I could not have thought of it... boy is absolutely smitten!

Not me tearing up when Jordan Fisher appeared as Gina's brother... like, I knew it was happening — I knew it even before it was announced. And I still teared up because, well, it's emotional in-universe and out.

Awww, my boy Reddy is so in love with Ashlyn... I mean, who wouldn't be... but — not Ricky saying Lily might not be as mean as they thought. Especially not to Big Red of all people. To him, she was just as mean as they thought.

'Side hustle project in the south hallway'? Ooh, what is it, I want to know now!

Why do I feel like things are a bit too awkward between Kourtney and Howie? Not that I'm too invested in their relationship, but if it bothered me, imagine how it must feel for the stans.

No, Ash, you absolutely do not need to add any fancy riffs to the song! Especially not just because L... well, that girl did it. You're unique and lovely and a literal Disney princess inside and out. That girl? She's just a wolf in a sparkling golden dress.

Awww... Big Red literally lowers Ash's blood pressure! Those two are such an amazing couple! (Full disclosure, though, he kind of does the same for me too; the other night I had this horrible nightmare, and I woke up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, and then... ok, getting too personal there.) The point is, if even the fantasy of a Big Red hug makes me feel better, imagine what his actual presence would do for Ash at that moment. Where is my boy? Everyone seems to be looking for him.

Oh... guess they took my advice to give the poor boy something for his vomiting issue. Good for whoever thought of it.

And we're back to the Porter siblings... forgive me if I still can't wrap my head around calling Gina's brother Jamie. I don't know about you guys, but thanks to my lovely new friend Paz he will always be Theodore to me. I guess we can headcanon that as his middle name. Anyway, I love it that they made a joke about the hilarious height difference between him and Gina because, well, it's the only thing I can think about when I look at the two of them. It reminds me of me and my little cousin who has been taller than me since she was 10, and is still growing taller now at 13. But, I mean, it's not very hard to be taller than me, since I'm so, so short... ok, this is not about me. Moving on.

Was I the only one who actually laughed out loud at Ricky drinking from the bowl as the Beast? I mean, that part has always made me laugh in the original movie, but something about Ricky's take on it makes it even funnier.

Meanwhile, my girl Ash is absolutely killing it as Belle. Not me having the very same expression as Big Red while watching her... gosh, I love both of them so much! Also, no offence to the rest of the cast, but Julia really is the best vocalist out there. Out of all of them. I said what I said.

My apologies to Ricky, but his voice is just not it when it comes to playing the Beast. Still, with the other option being him putting on that fake deep voice from the audition, I'm glad he didn't.

Ahhhh Portwell nation you ok guys? Since we didn't get them singing Something There, this is very much the next best thing... and boy, is it good!

Those glances between Kourtney and Howie, on the other hand... what on Earth is happening there?

Ok, so you all know just how strongly I feel about Seb's casting as Chip, and yet... boy had one line and absolutely ate it up! Give him an actual singing role next time, Miss Jenn!

EJ being starstruck by Jamie not because he's a big music producer, but because he's Gina's brother... excuse me while I sob!

Excuse me, what!!!! 'A big brother figure'? Boy, this didn't turn out the way I thought it would... now I'm scared.

Way to ruin things, Jamie! And I don't even mean the fact that his name is not Theodore. It doesn't matter what his name is anymore. He might just have put a spanner in the works of Portwell, and they were just doing so well! Ugh, I'm so frustrated. I wish I'd never boarded — what did I call it — 'the majestic S.S. Portwell'. What if it doesn't set sail now?

And there goes another disappointment... Carlos' 'the orchestra hasn't vamped this much since Bop to the Top' line had nothing to do with Seblos, and everything to do with what might still be the downfall of this show. I am not ready.

No. Miss Jenn did not just say that. She did not just tell Ricky — who, may I remind you, not that anyone's forgotten, just fell off of a high place last episode — to 'jump off of something high'. I realise she's under all the pressure, but that is not an excuse. Well, at least she heard herself.

Oh my gods... Nini — well, Nina, actually — did not just call him 'Richard', did she? That's it, that's the point of no return. And well, I kind of wanted them to reach it.

Told you, didn't I? I told you that-girl-who-must-not-be-named was evil! I always follow my intuition and it has not once deceived me. Redeem that, if you can! Guess what? You can't. We've just reached another point of no return.

Wait, a bloody cliffhanger? I cannot handle this. I physically cannot handle this. If you need me, I'll be sitting on my bed in shock, trying to process everything that happened. I'll need a while to get a grip on myself.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #ricky bowen #nini salazar-roberts #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn moon caswell #big red redonovich #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew-smith #kourtney greene #hsmtmts miss jenn #hsmtmts mr mazzara #hsmtmts howie #jnk

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justkeeptrekkin · 3 years

Text

@ariaste thank you for the Object Permanence prompt!

Meng Yao is only seconds away from snapping the pencil in his hand when the delivery arrives. He’s been sat on the phone trying to negotiate with the totally useless manager of a catering company; it’s really quite important that they get a good deal out of them, considering that this is for their biggest event yet. A charity event, no less, and so they have less money to work with (and yet, somehow, more morons to deal with).

And so, as he leans back in his desk chair and holds the phone to his ear with a pursed smile, the only thing that stops him from calmly breaking both the pencil in his hand and his phone is the distraction of the delivery man in the elevator doorway.

“Delivery for…” the postman winces as he looks at the name on the cardboard box in his hands. “Meng Yao?”

Meng Yao raises a finger to show he’s present, but remains on the phone as the catering company manager waffles on the other end.

“Ooh,” says MianMian. She stands up from her desk and rolls up her jacket sleeves before signing. “Thank you. Your timing could not be better.”

Su She is pretending not to be interested. He’s hidden behind his desktop, and is slowly to angling around the screen to view the cardboard box. Their office space is small and sparse, white walls and desks and very little else; Meng Yao watches MianMian’s short commute from the elevator doors to his desk, carrying the box with raised brows and a curious smile. She deposits it quietly on his desk and backs away.

“I understand that we hadn’t previously discussed the potential for extra guests, but as I’m sure you’re aware from your many years of experience, these things often change.” Meng Yao speaks down the phone and stands up, peering down at the top of the cardboard box. He can feel MianMian and Su She sending furtive glances in his direction. They don’t get deliveries often, and when they do, it’s either one of them who’s ordered it in for the office. “Customers change their minds regularly.”

Meng Yao takes a pair of scissors from his desk drawer. He presses his phone between his shoulder and cheek as he cuts through the brown tape. Had he ordered something for the office and forgotten about it? That feels very unlikely.

“Yes. Yes. I understand.” Meng Yao restrains a sigh and purses his lips. He suddenly feels a lot more dangerous with a pair of scissors in his hands. (There is a picture of Jin Guangshan’s face on a dartboard on the other end of their postage-stamp office. He could very easily hit bullseye from here.) “You’ll recall that this is for a charity event -- any reduction in price will not only be appreciated by the customer but also will reflect very well on you. I anticipate that we’ll be working with them often in the future. You would gain a lot of recognition from this if you were to agree.”

The whining voice on the end of the phone continues. Meng Yao opens the box and frowns at its contents. Plunging his hands inside, he pulls out from a cloud of packing peanuts a bouquet. A bouquet? No-- these aren’t flowers.

“That’s excellent news. It’s more appreciated than we can say,” Meng Yao consoles. “I know how much of a stress this is. Yes. I understand--”

It’s stationary. It’s a basket of stationary, arranged like a bouquet of flowers. And it isn’t ordinary stationary, either -- it’s artfully designed fountain pens; tastefully coloured highlighters that don’t immediately take him back to his university days of bright yellow ink leaking all over his hands; post-it notes with daily quotes on them; rose gold paperclips; fine ballpoint pens and file labels.

It’s so organised.

It’s Meng Yao’s idea of heaven.

For the first time that day, he finds himself smiling, despite the reluctant whinging going on in his ear. It’s a smile that makes his cheeks warm and his chest warm and the tips of his ears warm. “I’m so pleased we could agree on this. I’ll let the customers know. They’ll be very pleased. Yes. You too. Yes. Yes. Of course. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Meng Yao puts his work phone on the table and looks down at the basket of stationary.

“That’s so sweet,” Su She says. It sounds more jealous than anything. He’s eyeing the gift with his chin in his hands and a wrinkled brow.

“I personally find it offensive that we didn’t each get one,” MianMian announces, leaning back in her swivel chair. “Here we are, all working like dogs, and Meng Yao’s boyfriend leaves us out on the stationary deliveries.”

Meng Yao doesn’t deign to give either of them a response. Instead, he dips his hand into the packing peanuts and searches for a note. He pulls out a little card.

This seemed more useful than flowers. :) Love, Lan Huan.

Fucking hell, he knows him too well.

***

The day didn’t get much better after that. In fact, he received several more phone calls which seriously challenged his patience whilst dealing with morons quota-- which is saying something, since he’d thought that quota was endless. It was made somewhat more bearable, knowing what waits for him at home.

Meng Yao lets himself into their house. It’s still in the middle of being unpacked. By the looks of it, Lan Xichen has done a fair bit today whilst working from home; the living room is almost entirely finished, except for Meng Yao’s books, which he had wanted to arrange himself. There’s the smell of something familiar and warm the moment he steps through the door.

There’s Lan Xichen, too, on the sofa with a laptop. He turns and looks over his shoulder when Meng Yao comes in. “Welcome home,” he says with that slow smile. “How was today?”

There are so many answers Meng Yao could come up with. He sorts through them, finds the one that fits best, as if he’s trying on a pair of gloves. “Oh,” he sighs, hanging up his coat, “it was fine, thank you. Busy and somewhat grating, but fine.”

“Oh dear.” Lan Xichen sits up straighter and puts his laptop on the coffee table. He views Meng Yao with a wrinkle in his brow. “Grating?”

Meng Yao comes round to his side of the sofa slowly. He looks down at Lan Xichen with a tilted head. “Nothing too challenging.” He steps towards him, leans a knee on the sofa beside Lan Xichen. “Is A-Xing asleep?”

Lan Xichen’s hand reaches to take Meng Yao’s. He’s looking up at him in gentle surprise. “Yes.”

Right, then. Meng Yao smiles, swings his leg over Lan Xichen and settles in his lap, a hand on either side of his face. Lan Xichen manages to smile back before Meng Yao leans in and kisses him. It’s the kind of kissing that they don’t often have the chance to indulge in and that he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of: thoughtless and tangled up in each other. It makes him warm and heavy. It makes him want to go on forever -- kissing like teenagers, wrapped up on the sofa.

“I’ve always preferred practicality over sentiment.”

Parting for a moment to speak. “Your present made my day a lot better.”

Lan Xichen smiles against his lips. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Lan Xichen rests his hands on his hips, leaves a small kiss. “Mm. I’m not sure if that’s true.”

He kisses back. “Oh?”

“Mm.” Another small kiss. “You’re more of a romantic than you realise.”

Meng Yao goes to nuzzle his neck. He kisses him there. He lets himself smile and take fistfuls of Lan Xichen’s shirt. “I’ll take your word for it.”

#my writing #Object Permanence Prompts #jgy #lxc #xiyao #mdzs

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mxpseudonym · 4 years

Text

Just Good Business

Pairing: Tommy x Reader

Reader Gender Expression: She/Her pronouns, feminine clothing descriptions

Summary: You are forced to marry Tommy Shelby, but that doesn’t mean you have to make things easy for him.

Length: 1671 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Mentions of forced marriage. Otherwise Bad bitch, chaotic energy and some justified (non violent) rage.

A/N: This was very fun to write!

Also there’s going to be a NSFW part II because the tension? The sheer sexual tension?? Yeah, it needs to happen.

Part II

Being a bit impossible to pin down is what you're known for, and you liked that. It was your grandmother who taught you how to be difficult.

When they try to smooth your edges, rip the sandpaper.

You didn't have a natural place in polite society, your family knew this. But your father wasn't going to let you into the family business, either. So he took your brother, your imbecile of a brother, and let him lead instead. Two years later, you're sitting at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant with your parents, your brother who can't look you in the eye, and two gangsters from Birmingham. You could tell they were gangsters because they smelled like new money, and had guns under their blazers. One was an older woman Polly Shelby, and the other was her nephew, Thomas Shelby.

You thought it was any other business meeting, but your brother was fidgeting the way he did when you were younger, and he stole your necklace and broke it but didn't want to tell you. He was hiding something big. Luckily for him and unluckily for you, it quickly became abundantly clear.

"Let's get right to it, we'll settle the debt, put in an accountant who will manage to unfuck you, and take 45% of the resulting profit," Tommy Shelby laid the cards on the table. Your face contorted in confusion. What debt?

"Alright, it's done," your father said, a quiver in his voice along with relief.

"What? That's a terrible bargain," you scoffed. The way your mother turned away, her eyes tearing up, and your brother practically quivering beside you. You met the eyes of Polly Shelby, and something about them told you to brace yourself.

"Is your daughter still upholding the marriage to our dear Thomas?" Polly asked. For a moment, you thought you blacked out. For a moment, you thought you'd forgotten you had a sister. For a moment, you assumed it wasn't the 1920's but the 17-fucking-40's where you may have come with some livestock as well.

"So this is it, huh? This is why you let me go to Paris with my friends last week, Mum? And why Dad said he'd buy me a car? And why Graham won't stop fucking fidgeting?" You asked, looking to your brother who just grimaced at you. There was no out, and you knew it.

"Don't make a scene, y/n," your father told you, tired already as if he'd put up some great fight.

"Well? Are we on?" Polly got us back on track. "I'll need to hear it from her." You looked down at your handbag until you saw the emerald color and not a blinding red.

"You'll take 10% of the resulting profits," you finally said. If you were getting given away, it was going to be at least a good deal.

"40," the deep, Brummie voice of Thomas Shelby came to the party. Your eyes flicked up to meet his icy blue ones.

"12."

"35."

"15."

"33%, and you can go to Paris as much as you'd like," he said his final offer with a smirk. If you weren't so fueled by anger, you'd appreciate it.

"18%, I go to Paris as much as I want, and I won't make your life a living hell. Maybe I'll even kiss you goodbye in the morning, my love," you said in the most charming voice you could muster, which wasn't very. He'd never tell you that's when he knew he liked you, but he didn't have to. You landed on an even 25%. You could go to Paris, he'd get his morning goodbye kiss and some peace from time to time, and you'd get a car that was better than anything your father had planned. You shook on it yourself.

"Welcome to the Shelby's," Polly said when she grasped your hand. You grabbed your bag and turned to Tommy.

"If the car's not a Hispano-Suiza, 2% of that profit comes directly to me," you warned him before walking away.

You should've fucking known that it would be at least partially an adventure. At first, you were mad. You allowed yourself to be easily swayed in the wedding planning, saying yes to the most frivolous things.

"500 bloody pounds for a dress you'll wear once?!" Tommy all but shouted and threw down the receipt on the desk of his office. You sat unnerved in the seat in front of him.

"Once, on the most important day of my life," you said, giving a brief pout and nothing else. Tommy rubbed his chin as he went to refill his glass of whiskey.

"Stubborn, reckless, outlandish even. Sure, you're all of those things. But spoiled? That's a surprise," he said, almost disappointed. You rolled your eyes at his little act.

"Come off it, Shelby. I have very little in this world, least of all a family I can trust. Everything I do have is about to belong to you because I'm a woman with nothing but familial debt. So don't stand there and lecture me about the rights and wrongs of acting out, Thomas. You and my father only listen to money." You stood and were halfway to the door when Tommy blocked your way.

"You've threatened to run away if you had to live with your parents, so we've put you in a grand apartment in London. You have your parties there with all your friends. You spend all the money you'd like and more. When will it end?" He asked. You wondered if he actually cared about the stability of your coping mechanisms, or about you. His hand came up to brush your waist. It was all you needed to come back to your senses. You took a breath and looked up at him.

"Until I'm satisfied," You decided.

Polly was something between annoyed and amused at you. You were loud, as subtle as a cannon, and possibly more stubborn than her nephew. There wasn't a week that went by where Tommy wasn't talking about something you'd done.

"Tommy, have you tried going along with something she says?" Polly suggested one day when you'd called not finding a proper wedding venue an "emergency." Tommy leaned back in thought, then picked up the phone. Perhaps his aunt was right... like usual.

"If this is kidnap, it's very ironic," you said as you stumbled along the gravel. Your ridiculous fiancé had taken you to an undisclosed location. Now, the only thing guiding you was Tommy, whose hand was over your eyes.

"It's not a kidnapping. On the contrary, I've come to take you home," Tommy said before his hand lifted. You blinked the blur away to see a large house. Well, let's call a spade a spade. It was a mansion if you'd ever seen one.

"Holy hell," you breathed.

"This is Arrow House, Ms. y/l/n. It's got everything you could need and hopefully what you want. Here's a map." He pulled a thick piece of paper from his coat pocket. "Let me know if I've missed anything."

Crying wasn't in your repertoire. Even the events of the past few months hadn't done you in. But, you made an exception and allowed a few to leak while you looked around. You could feel your betrothed’s eyes watching you take it all in, but it didn't matter when the home was breathtaking. When you came back to the foyer, you couldn't help but tweak an eyebrow at Tommy.

"Have you got a crush on me, Shelby?" You asked, or accused rather. He just chuckled and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the door.

"Let's go see the stables."

The wedding was grander than was even sensible. Tommy didn't know how you forged the guest list or who most of these people were, but you told him if he helped you hang drapes, you'd explain your itemized list. Now that was a sight to see. You could only stand it for a bit and did what you usually did at parties. You found quiet place on a balcony overlooking the wedding reception turned memorable party that spilled into the large venue's gardens.

"Well, we've done it, Mrs. Shelby," Tommy said, walking up from behind you with two champagne glasses. You took one with a broad smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. I'd have to agree."

"Are you having a good time?"

"Sure, are you? This is your wedding gift," you said, motioning to the crowds.

"And how is that?" He looked over the railing with you. You started pointing people out.

"Over there is the Commissioner and his wife's sister. London police chief over there with his mistress. Lady Catherine Wilcox, one of the most influential socialites in the country, is by the fountain. She's been eyeing Arthur all night too. And so on." You nodded triumphantly. "At those parties I was having in London, I only said good things about you, which is annoying to admit but here we are. Thomas Shelby, your wedding is your introduction to the upper echelon society." He turned and leaned against the railing, and you followed his lead.

"I guess I owe you a thank you," he said.

"I’d say so. You’re on several guest lists and incredibly important customer lists now.” You cupped your ear and leaned closer. “Let's hear it.”

"Thank you, y/n." He rolled his eyes, then looked at you with a sigh. "Are you happy, then?" He asked.

"Better, I'm satisfied."

With a clink of your glasses, your relationship could begin. And when Tommy leaned in to kiss you, you didn't pull away.

"This seems like a crush," were your first words when you parted.

"You're the one who made us late to the ceremony," he pointed out.

"No one even noticed."

"I think they did," he begged to differ.

"You weren't supposed to come to find me before the wedding. It's bad luck," you tsked Tommy, taking another sip of the bubbling drink, which did nothing to help the heat creeping up your neck.

"Just had to make sure you didn't run off." He shrugged but moved closer to whisper in your ear. "And I believe, Mrs. Shelby, the dress wasn't even on yet."

"Don't get your hopes up, it meant nothing." You waved it away, not convinced or convincing. Tommy nodded then kissed you again.

"Right, right. It's just good business."

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby fic

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