#you were hearing about people removing their own teeth at home. it was wild. anyway i finally got a proper filling 4 months later

[stay-midnight]

Spark of Possessiveness

> Requested

> Word# - 3.2K Words

> Minho and Jisung x Male Reader

> TWs - Possessiveness, Little to no plot.

> Kinks and Warnings - Top/Dom Minho and Jisung, Bottom/Sub Male Reader, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Consensual, Spitroasting, Marks, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk, Degradation (Prevalent, I mean alot), Punishment, Soft Aftercare, Jealousy, Cum Swallowing, Barebacking, Minsung is wild, wannabe dom reader.

> A/N - My comeback fic hehe, anyways I wasn't fond of the way I wrote it but hopefully it's enjoyable enough! Thank you anon for giving a Minsung request~

Minho was leaned back on the kitchen counter, gritting his jaw at their now-missing boyfriend, he felt the need to throw his phone away at 21st missed call.

Jisung was not as calmly angry as the other since he was frantically walking back and forth at the amount of time it has been since their boyfriend got coffee (3 hours to be exact).

Minho is incredibly worried knowing they were past idols knowing that people may exact revenge plots at them after coming out to the general public and disbanding the group after so.

Jisung look at the older, “He’s gonna be okay right?!” He asked in a worried tone as to which Minho just nodded and responded with a headpat, which eased Jisung for a bit.

Minho sighed at the unknown location of their lover till they hear a ring from the front door. Jisung with hastened feet and sharp ears, he rushed to the door immediately — leaving Minho in a second but the older shortly trailed after in a bit.

Jisung was fast in unlocking the door, thinking it was you forgetting the keys.

In a moment, Jisung was face to face with 2 familiar set of eyes and a missed gaze.

.

.

You were laughing happily with your two companions, jokes aside — you pulled out your phone at the thought of forgetting something and saw 21 missed calls and 15 unread texts in a moment you saw your lockscreen.

Stopping abruptly in your movements, you look towards yours and your boyfriends' front porch — You weren't ready for the anger of your boyfriends after just remembering that you didn't tell them about the sudden meetup. A smile passed your lips in a flash of excitement

You slowly walked up the stairs, gazing at your two friends with a forced smile but at the same time you couldn't ignore the bubbling of excitement from the pit of your stomach. “You good, Y/n?” they both asked in wonders to which you just smiled as a response.

“Yeah, I just forgot my spare key that's all. Do you wanna join for dinner later?” you asked with a bright expression but your mind is collapsing with unholy thoughts at the awaiting sight of angry lovers.

They both shook their heads, “We have things to do, but we’ll greet Minho and Jisung before leaving.” Jeongin answered and lovingly kissing you on the cheek.

Seungmin let out a silent snort before, continuing sauntering up the stair. With shaky hands, you press on the doorbell to which Seungmin and Jeongin just look at each other with confusion at the sight of your trembling fingers.

The door bursted open in a millisecond to reveal a Jisung looking ready to devour a prey or something. “Hi Sungie..”

Jisung eyes darted to the boys next to you before landing on you, “Hello, Y/n” He says, hiding a different tone of his voice before smiling light-heartedly at Seungmin and Jeongin before he looked at you.

“Are you both coming in?” he asked in a patient tone, but his hands were getting antsy.

“Nope! We’re just here to bid farewell after seeing you and.. Where is Lee Know-hyung? Is he here?” Jeongin asks curiously, trying to get a peek to the inside of the house by looking over Jisung’s shoulders.

Speak of the devil, Minho appeared behind Jisung shortly with a blank face before he turned to look at you with a totally-not-nice-and-has-evil-plans kind of glint.

To which you just ignore by letting out an awkward cough,

“Well, We have things to do right now.. Good seeing both of you after two years!” Jisung voiced quickly before basically grabbing the clearly nervous boy at the middle.

“You too—” Jeongin got cut short by a slam of the door.

“Is that how normally he greets old friends?” Jeongin piped up in question, looking at the taller for his reaction at Jisung’s unnerving dismissal.

Seungmin raised his shoulders as an answer before he turned to look at the younger, “Maybe he’s still mad when we plotted to bring him in a poly relationship.” Seungmin sighed, walking down the stairs with calm steps — seeming unworried and carefree at possible redflags.

“Plotted? You make it sound so evil—” Jeongin responded with a disagreeing huff.

Seungmin rolled his eyes, “Let’s just go~ I wanna rest at our new apartment.” He yawns, hooking his arm around Jeongin when he got into his reach.

“M'kay ” The other agreed.

.

.

.

“Will he be okay though—” Jeongin asks in a worried tone.

“Dunno, Minho and Jisung are a kinky bunch.” Seungmin responded calm as ever.

“How do you know that?!” Jeongin looked at Seungmin with his jaw dropped and like a snooping fox, he was curious for juicy information.

Seungmin let out an airy laugh, “Wishing I didn't know it though.” The older responsed, a flashback flying over his head as a frown on his lips appeared.

.

.

Jisung slowly led you inside your home to which he let you sit on the couch while he stared down at you impatiently with a raised eyebrow — repeatedly tapping the floor with his foot. Eyes piercing you.

Minho was not giving off as much presence as the quokka but his cold resting face was enough to send shivers down your spine

While you, a bunny clearly trapped inside a den with beasts hungering for you and a reason.

“I left my phone accidentally on silent...” you mumbled out, lowering your own head in embarrassment. Jisung clicked his tongue and Minho walks over, sitting right next to you. Looking at you with a glare that caused you to stay silent while Jisung licked his lips in anticipation, clearly turned on by the elder’s gaze.

He grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. His hold forcing you to pucker your lips, your Adam’s apple bobbing at the fact your own dick was getting hard from this, too which Jisung immediately took notice, smirking at the small bulge appearing.

“That’s not a good enough reason, Y/n.” Minho said sharply, his voice dripping with arrogance. Minho doesn't like playing and you know that, his punishments are rough — you know that from experience. Jisung of course, was having a good time at how the elder was talking to you — his own length spraining against the jeans he was wearing.

“It’s the only reason I have—” You defended, earning a tight hair pull from Minho which made a whine escape from your throat. Jisung was also getting restless and impatient and Minho immediately took notice.

“Head to our room Ji. I’ll bring the whore in a bit.” He said in a tone which you both found frightening and a turn on. Jisung nodded and grinned straight at you before rushing to the room in excitement.

With Jisung gone, Minho initiated a rough kiss with you to which you tried to return as much as you could but it ended up being a messy and wet kiss.

Minho continued the kiss, pushing you down the couch in doing so. Bringing you closer to him before pulling away with a hum, “Don’t you have something to say, slut?” He asked, wrapping his hand around your throat — not squeezing but enough to make you constricted in a way as you rutted against his thigh that he placed between your legs. Your cock was throbbing inside your boxers as you already felt your high coming on in a bit which Minho didn't take notice off.

You opened your mouth but a moan slipped out causing your top to chuckle amusedly at how much needy you were right now. “I— I’m sorry...” you said in the sincerest way possible, you rutted against Minho’s muscular thighs and in a bit you came inside your boxers.

Minho looked at your blissed-out face and that's when he noticed a very small wet spot pooling on your jeans. “Ji wouldn't like this.” Minho laughed amusingly, knowing that Jisung doesn't like anyone releasing until he said so. (That also applies to himself.)

He withdrew his hand from your neck — you finally releasing a breath you didn't know you needed. He stood up soon after, gesturing you to follow to which you did — following him with small footsteps.

.

.

.

Jisung eyes lit as you and Minho entered the room, he was disappointed though that you both still had clothes on.

He was okay with it though, what he didn't like was the wet spot visible on your clothed crotch, his eyes looked scary, like a ferocious animal.

Jisung stood up to which you looked at him questionably, completely unaware of Jisung’s dislike of releasing before himself.

You watched as Jisung stopped in front of you and before you knew it, you were pinned against the recently closed door, his strong hands trapping your arms behind your back. “Kinda unfair, you came before us.” he said through clenched teeth, pressing you harder against the door.

Minho took a sit on the bed, letting the younger have his own fun.

“Taking our cum would be a great way to makeup, don’t you think?” Jisung said, biting the top of your ear softly.

“Y- Yes, Sungie..” You said in a small voice.

“Good.” he hums, satisfied a little.

He pulls away and sat down back slowly with Minho in a bed, the older wearing an obnoxious grin as he leaned to whisper words into the Jisung’s ear causing his face to contort into one of an amused expression.

They then turned to you standing there, looking confused of their secret conversation. Jisung didn't like that though, “What did I tell you, baby?”

Your mind was blank before you mumbled a “Sorry.”

Jisung huffs disapprovingly but inches you to continue.

You first remove your shirt, a little bit of marks appearing faded, now contouring a bit more into your skin tone. The marks are from last night’s wild but fun time. Jisung smirks widens, his pride getting uplifted by the marks he left on your clavicle, while Minho just smiled satisfied at the teeth marks on the outside skin of both your nipples.

You typically shy away from their stares but now, feeling a bit confident (and bratty), words leave your mouth that was unexpected by your boyfriends, “You seem to like what you see.” You said, filling your voice with a mocking tone that flared up both of them up.

“Maybe I should instead punish you both i— instead for being needy.” Your voice wavering at the middle of the sentence, but you expertly covered it with a cough.

Minho stood up suddenly,

His eyes, gazed at you, “Such a talkative slut, aren't you?” He stated, his face serious as he slid his hand down your pants before pulling you close to him. “Look at you trying to act all dominant, in the end though, you just want to be fucked.” Minho stated, sliding his hand now through your boxers.

“Is that why, you went out with Seungmin and Jeongin? To be fucked?” He asks, Jisung in your sideview staring at you with a glare as he waited shortly for answer.

Your still kept a challenging gaze on Minho, trying to keep composure and not give in. “No. I went out with them so I could fuck th—” Minho grabbed your dick, stroking it forward angrily before you could finish your sentence, a quiet mewl passing your lips.

Jisung grumbled something behind him.

“Watch your words.” Minho said bitterly, his other hand finding way to your buttocks.

Your eyes glazed over the dominant before he withdrew his hands inside your boxers, before he threw you on the bed, surprising you and Jisung.

You try to pull yourself up but Minho encased you, his strong chest making contact with your back.

“Stay still like a good little bitch, and we’ll actually let you cum. Unless you want the same thing to happen the last time we punished you, hm?”

Minho’s voice was slick, calm and punishing but at the same time, just really hot. Your bulge felt uncomfortable against the bedsheet.

Jisung wanted to join in the fun too so he moved closer and grabbed your hair making you look up at him, “He put you in your place so easily, Where did all your confidence go? What was that about fucking us?” Jisung mocked as you glared at back pathetically.

Jisung did the honors of pulling your pants down with ease, Minho went to grab items needed before Jisung landed a harsh slap on your ass, your lips bruising as you bit it to catch a moan from slipping out.

Minho smirked and signalled Jisung to get into position as the man complied, Minho already slicked two of his fingers before he placed his fingers between your crack teasingly wetting your twitchy hole with cold lube.

Minho rubbed your rim as you glared at your other lover at the front of you, you looked up to Jisung in feigned annoyance due to his hands pinning you down.

Jisung’s eyebrow twitched in irritation before he mumbled through soft lips, “Color?”

You look up at him throwing your act away for a moment, “Green.” you answered before gritting your teeth to which the Jisung noticed and his face shifted into exasperation of your attitude.

Jisung started to undress himself, first unbuttoning his jeans before throwing away his shirt, revealing his buff body and slim waist to which you tried your best not to gawk at.

Jisung then smirked, “You seem a bit dazed, pretty toy~” He said, mocking you as he noticed your submissive nature starting to unfold just from your expression.

Minho then heard what Jisung and his smirked widened before he finally inserted two fingers into your ass, Minho’s own dick was getting hard from your hole swallowing his fingers.

Jisung signalled Minho to do something before Jisung stood up and went away from your sight, clearly planning something.

You were irritated at the lack of attention to your prostate so you shamelessly push back against Minho’s digits to which Minho responded with a mocking laugh, “See. You like this, wonder how did you even think of fucking us. When we know how much you like having cocks fill your hole.” He said amused.

You laughed, “Oh really? Maybe I should fuck you dumb to pro—” Minho clearly had enough of your act as he jabbed his fingers as deep as he can making you choke on your own spit — not even finishing your sentence.

You felt both of them turn you sideways and flip you over so that your legs were spread and your head hanging at the side of the bed, you were faced with an upside down Jisung with playful grin as your own dick was laid flat on your stomach leaking precum against your tummy, smearing it white.

“I think the slut needs his mouth shut, don’t you think Min?” Jisung said playfully, sparing a glance at Minho before turning to you.

Minho looked amused by Jisung’s word before nodding at him in a very agreeing manner.

Jisung’s dick was very hard and approximately shorter than Minho’s size, red at the tip and veins prodding his side, it was curved outwards and pretty overall, matching his buff yet slim body.

His dick slapped against your face as he look at you teasingly, “Open your pretty mouth toy.” Jisung said roughly, slapping his dick against your cheek.

Minho saw this and clicked his tongue, removing his fingers to which you sighed at.

Minho removed his clothes swiftly as the wind, throwing away his shirt and showing his full body in display for Jisung to see.

He looked at Jisung with a glint in his eyes before his hand slapped your dick harshly to which you couldn't contain a loud moan in, Jisung took the chance and slid his dick into your mouth and down your throat, your neck slightly bulged from this man’s cock.

Minho took pleasure at the sight of Jisung’s dick fitting against your mouth, so too, he wanted to join. He quickly drizzled lube on his dick before pushing against your hole, eliciting a choked out sound against Jisung’s cock.

“Good little cockslut, taking both me and Sungie’s cock. See, look at your useless dick.” Minho said, grabbing your cock, squeezing your leaking tip while watching you choke on your words against Jisung’s cock with a satisfied expression

“Wet and messy. You can't even fuck a fleshlight properly, what makes you think you can fuck us?” Said Minho, his voice intoxicating and seductive as he continuously pushed until his hips connected with your ass and his dick pushed near up to your abdomen.

Jisung continued his thrusts, taking pleasure from your mouth’s wet cavern, he curses under his breath at how close he was already.

Minho took this chance to grab your waist, slamming into you vigorously at the same time Jisung pulled away. They both panted as they thrust in a rhythm.

After both were consumed by pleasure and lust, barely any words were exchanged — and the sound that were enveloping the room was the squelch of lube, skin slapping against skin, breathless pants, and your drowned out moans.

Jisung sighs after a while as he came down your throat as you swallowed it, though your mouth was probably gonna be sore in the morning atleast it was fun seeing them being possessive.

Minho took alot while to finish as Jisung already pulled out of your mouth as your laid your back tired as you just let Minho plow your used hole, pulling you back on his cock while you let out weak moans every now and then when your good spot was hit.

Your head felt funny and didn't even notice Minho pulling out and coming on your stomach with some his cum reaching up to your lips. “Fuck.” he groaned out as he panted after reaching his high.

Minho took a hold of your cock which he jerked off, “Gonna cum...” you mumbled to which Jisung had already returned from his small trip to the bathroom, “Cum.” Jisung said as he wanted to watch you release

Jisung smiled at both of you releasing, before he pulled you up so that Jisung could walk you over to the bathroom while Minho followed closely, laughing at the limp that was already noticeable. “Looks like Min fucked you good~” Jisung teased as you pouted and hit the man on the chest for his annoying teasing.

Minho snorted, “You did too, he may be silent as a bug tomorrow because of a sore throat~” Minho teased, laughing when you glared at him.

“I hate you both.” you said in an unusual raspy voice, to which both of your lovers just giggled at.

You three arrived at the huge bathtub that Jisung had already prepared, he helped you get settled on the warm water of it and soon after, both also entered the warm bath.

.

.

Minho pulled you up on his wet chest while Jisung laid his head on your shoulder, “Were you fine with that earlier, baby? Or should we tone it down a bit?” he asked, playing with your collarbone.

You smiled suddenly at the question, “It was okay, I had fun.” you answered him as you leaned further into Minho’s warmth.

Jisung suddenly snorted at the side which caught both your attention, “The little dom act that you put was kinda cute.” he said, giggling.

You look at him and huffed while Minho laughed with him as you splashed some water at Jisung’s face causing him to retaliate.

In the end, the bathroom floor was a mess.

#kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #jisung x male reader #minho x male reader #dom han jisung #dom minho #sub male reader #bottom male reader #dom!skz #skz smut #mlm fic #skz imagines #skz x male reader #han jisung #lee know #stray kids scenarios

[blinder-secrets]

False Employment

tommy shelby x maid!reader, 5,900 words

warnings: power play, dominance, nsfw

ao3 link

a/n: this is essentially the second piece in a maid series i’ve accidentally started, read michael’s here <3

When you were eight, you’d told your mother that you were going to be a dancer. Then a dressmaker, a poet, a horse-groomer. As a teen, you’d decided that you’d be a wife, just a wife, who’d raise the kids while your husband was away making fortunes, no doubt. Your mother had been happy enough with that idea, but it had soured on you. After all, you thought, why spend your time looking after others and not yourself?

In the end, though, you’d found work as a maid. A house-servant in black and white, cursed to parole the hallways of an estate that’d never feel homely, or private. The irony of it was not lost on you. Employed to look after people that weren’t even yours to look after, half the reasoning but triple the pay. At least this way, the work you did was profitable, and the money you made was saved in your own name. The catch, however, was that you hated it. And you hated it because you were frustratingly terrible at it. No matter how many times Frances taught you to fold the sheets, you got it wrong. Somehow. No matter how carefully you swept, or cleaned, or shined the child’s shoes, you missed a spot. You always missed a fucking spot. It’s like you were cursed, destined to be the worst possible maid in the Midlands, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The strangest part, of course, was that you hadn’t been fired yet. You’d hardly even been chastised. The most unbecoming maid in the history of housekeeping, and you still had your job. You were still paid more than the industry standard. Despite all you knew about him, it seemed Mr. Shelby, unlike most employers, was endlessly forgiving of his staff; it was only when you started to question why, that you realised that wasn’t entirely the case.

On the Friday, you’d been called to bring tea to the front sitting-room. You’d say it’s one of your least favourite tasks but, honestly, they all sit equally on the list of things that you hate to do. The dishes always clatter on the tray, rattling wildly as you take the stairs from the kitchen. The china is scolding to touch each time you go to pour it. The spout is short, the saucers fragile and ill-fitting. Really, there’s a lot less grace in serving tea, than there is in drinking it, and that day was no different.

‘Your tea, Mr. Shelby,’ you announced, once you’d wobbled through the doorway. The milk had spilt onto the metal, but the cups and teapot had stayed strong, thank God. ‘Where would you like it?’

He wasn’t alone, the aunt and his cousin were waiting with him, but only your cold-faced boss had acknowledged the arrival. He was stood by the window, picking a cigarette from his case, and had paused to give instruction that no-one else would offer. His gaze flicked to you briefly, then over to the low coffee table in the centre. ‘There.’

You obliged with a nod, before crossing the room to set the tray and its precarious contents down. ‘Should I pour you some, sir?’ you asked the cousin, hoping he’d say no, hoping he’d let you return to some other, more menial job. One that at least let you work without an audience. Instead, he nodded, and leant forward to hold one of the tea-cups up. Why he couldn’t just leave it there, on the flat surface, where no spills could do any damage, you didn’t know. He probably thought he was being helpful; tragically, he failed to take into account that you were the clumsiest tea-maid in the house.

The handle stung, as expected, the moment you took hold of it, but you were interrupted before you could even begin to pour.

‘Shouldn’t milk go first?’ he asked, continuing once you looked at him like he was wild. ‘In china, to stop it from cracking?’

‘Oh.’ You stuttered, straightening from your bend with the burning teapot in your hand still. ‘Of course,’ you answered. Of course there was some rule you had forgotten, some high-class superstition about breaking the bone china they could replace so easily. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you smiled, and set the tea down again. ‘Sorry, sir.’

When his cup was filled with an inch of the obviously critically important milk, you tried again to pour his tea. The aunt and Mr. Shelby were talking around you, but you were so focused on the act that their words fell away into rubble, just birds chattering between the trees. You lifted the pot again and poured as steadily as your arm would allow.

From the sudden hiss of breath between his teeth, it hadn’t been steady at all. You’d poured scolding tea onto the rim, the saucer, and finally, unfortunately, onto the pinstripe-stretch of his knee.

‘Fuck,’ you burst, ‘sorry.’ The pot went back to the tray quickly, your hands into the pocket of your apron. You hadn’t realised you’d sworn until it was too late to correct it. Another X against your name, surely. ‘Forgive me,’ you told him, pulling a cloth free to offer it, ‘it’s clean.’ At least, for your sake, you’d remembered that dabbing the stain yourself would be inexcusable.

He took it, sighing, and his mother rolled her eyes so plainly that you couldn’t have ignored it if you tried. ‘It’s alright,’ he said, though his scowl didn’t agree. ‘That’s enough anyway.’

You nodded, leaving him to pat awkwardly at the stain, balancing the cup and saucer in his free hand. What Mr. Shelby thought of the ordeal, you didn’t know. He was behind you, quiet, and impossible to see without turning entirely. The embarrassed heat that lingered in your ears was enough to keep you from trying. The last thing you needed, was another unimpressed look sent your way; you got enough of them from Frances.

When you shifted to face the aunt, she spoke before you could, insisting, ‘I can pour my own.’

You smiled before she’d even finished. ‘Course, ma’am,’ you offered with a shallow curtsey. Anything to get out sooner was welcome, even if it was a dig at your serving expertise.

Straightening fully, you smoothed the back of your dress and spun, facing the windows and the silhouette before them. ‘Will that be all, sir?’ you asked as you met his gaze —which had already been there, waiting. Taking account. He’d been watching you fuck up, yet again, probably wondering how you got the job in the first place. You chewed your lip as he deliberated.  

‘Yes,’ he said after a moment, speaking through the cloud of his cigarette, ‘that’ll be all.’

Why you got off so lightly, made no fucking sense, but you weren’t about to stand there and argue with him. Instead, you dipped your knees again and left. It had felt like he’d watched you until you’d gone out of sight, through the doorway, but that was more likely to be a symptom of your over-thinking. Just jumping to paranoid conclusions like you always did, assuming his eyes had clung to your back until the door had shut them away.

By the next week, you were starting to think you weren’t paranoid at all.

Frances had caught you in the hallway between your room and her own, just as you were heading down for something to eat. ‘Mr. Shelby will be home soon,’ she said, stopping in front of you with a sure knot between her brows.

You watched her undo the tie of her pinafore. ‘Okay?’

‘He’ll need his coat taking, and offer him a drink, not supper.’

You balked. Why was she telling you this? ‘Isn’t that your job?’ you asked, feeling dread settle into your stomach. She was top of the hierarchy, the one he trusted most, you were a scullery maid at best. It’d make more sense for his boy to greet him, over you.

She sighed like you were at fault, and folded the pinafore over her arm. ‘He’s asked for you.’

‘He has?’

‘And don’t speak more than you should,’ she continued, ignoring your obvious alarm. ‘Just, just do as I would.’

But you didn’t know what she did. You never paid attention to what she did. ‘Do you think he wants to speak to me?’ you asked, following as she started towards her room. ‘Am I in trouble?’ Was it finally the chopping block for you?

She turned sharply, causing you to stumble to a halt. ‘I think,’ she stressed, ‘that he wants his coat taking.’ Then her door opened and she shut herself inside, leaving you to stand aimlessly in the hallway.

With little else to do, you made your way downstairs to wait within hearing distance of the front door. It didn’t take Mr. Shelby long to require your services, but it did take just long enough for you to think yourself into a panic. No, not a panic, it was more of a steady confidence. A certainty that he had asked for you, specifically, so that he could tell you to work harder. Better. So that he could get you alone, and threaten a cut to your wages if you didn’t stop pouring tea onto his guest’s laps. It was the only plausible reasoning you could settle on.

When he stepped into the entry-way, your heart was beating hard enough to trick your mind into labelling it as excitement. A twisted bout of adrenaline at the thought of being fired. You’d have laughed if you weren’t trying so hard to be professional, instead, you kept your face serious. ‘Good evening, Mr. Shelby,’ you started, moving from your post to meet him. ‘Can I take your coat?’

You thought you saw his lip twitch upwards, but it was redirected into a short nod. ‘Frances changed the rota,’ he said, though it was obvious. He turned, showing you his back, and you pulled the collar from his shoulders before you could overthink the motion.

‘She did, sir,’ you agreed. Don’t talk too much. Don’t talk too much. ‘Have you had your hair cut?’ you asked, unable to stop once you’d noticed the close shave at the back of his head.

He faced you again, letting the coat peel from his arms until he was separate, and you were left to wrangle the heavy fabric alone. To no surprise, he didn’t answer your question. He didn’t even remove his cap. Instead, he stared, squinting slightly, then held the briefcase out for you to take.

You were running out of hands to be useful with. The folded coat was thick enough to render one arm useless, and now his case occupied the other. ‘Would you like something to eat, sir?’

‘No,’ he answered, too quick to have really considered it. Then he looked down, eyes on the leather gloves he was removing, and asked, ‘What’s your name?’

‘[Y/n], sir.’

He repeated it once. Rolled it over his tongue and out again like he was testing for its flavour. Analysing its worth, though he had surely heard it a hundred times before.

Your adrenaline had finally been replaced by fragile nerves. The silence felt like an open invite for critique, and you’d rather have it filled with the forbidden small talk than let it begin. ‘Would you like me to fetch Char—‘

‘Have you lit the fire in my office?’ he asked blankly, interrupting you as he lifted his eyes to yours. The blue alone was enough to quiet you. His stare was more intimidating than luxurious; if he had been watching you as you thought he had, you weren’t sure that was a good thing anymore.

‘No,’ you stammered. ‘Should I have?’ It was dark already, but you hadn’t noticed the cold yourself. ‘Should I do it now, Mr. Shelby?’ you corrected, playing catch up on your responsibilities. ‘I’ll put these down.’

He shook his head and put the gloves, together, on top of his coat. Piled it all on you like you were a walking hat-stand. ‘Make sure you have next time,’ he said. ‘It’s winter.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry.’

It didn’t look like the apology meant anything to him, probably because you had rushed it out nervously, rather than sincerely. You didn’t often know what you were apologising for after all, just that you should be, and that you were normally at fault in the first place. So you said sorry quickly, before he could leave. And then, once he had done, turning from you after a final clinging-look, you said sorry again into the absent space he had left behind. Sorry, Mr. Shelby, don’t fire me, Mr. Shelby. I know I’m a terrible fucking servant, Mr. Shelby. He didn’t look back, nor did he ask for you again that evening. From your perspective, that was a win. It meant he hadn’t planned to stage an intervention, or to tell you off like a scorned school master. He had simply wanted you to do your job, well, Frances’ job, and somehow, you hadn’t massively disappointed. A few mis-placed questions hadn’t caused your downfall, and you found yourself hanging his coat with an easy smile. Perhaps you were valuable to him then, or at least acceptable. Perhaps you were employed for a reason.

When he next went away, you made sure to light the fire before he returned. Clever, you thought, well remembered indeed. What you failed to do, however, was time it well enough that it would be lit, burning strong and heating the room, before you had to meet him at the door. You were still knelt by the hearth when he arrived.

He cleared his throat once, from the doorway, and the noise was loud enough to startle you over the snaps of the fire. You sprang from the floor in one panicked burst of energy, turning in almost the same motion, moving faster than you felt you ever had.

‘Oh, Mr. Shelby,’ you panted. ‘Sorry, sorry, I was just finishing the fire.’

He was fully dressed still. Obviously, because you hadn’t been there to pull the outer layers from him as you should have. It wasn’t even a difficult task and you’d seemingly failed on your second try.

‘Have you been there long?’ you asked, hoping that if you kept him talking, and kept his eyes on yours, he would fail to notice the ash on your knees. The grey powdering of your tights and the hem of your dress, dirtied from kneeling too close to the bricks. It could be brushed away easily, but you hardly wanted more attention drawn to it. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

He shrugged, not bothering with a real answer. The nonchalance made you nervous. He could’ve been standing there for seconds, or he could’ve been there for minutes, watching you bent in half, folded in front of the fire as you worked. Whether someone could even be judged on their fire-making skills, you didn’t know. But he seemed the type to be able to judge anyone for anything.

‘Sorry, I should take your coat,’ you started, crossing the room with your hands out.

‘It’s alright.’ He walked past you before you could even reach him, moulding into the study like he was a part of it. ‘I have to go out again, anyway.’

You nodded. He didn’t offer any other instruction, so you just stood there, dirty like a chimney-sweep, gormless like a fucking goose in the river. ‘Should I go, sir?’ you asked.

His case went on top of the desk, his body dropped into the seat behind it. He didn’t look at you, or answer you, he just pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it. You watched him inhale and exhale once before growing tired.

‘There are things I should be doing, sir,’ you said, hoping to sound more apologetic than rude. In truth, you were just bored. Uncomfortable. You couldn’t stop thinking about the ash on your knees.

It definitely wasn’t paranoia that time. His eyes finally found you, in the middle of the room, and drank you in like you were one of his racehorses. The flashy ones that he bought for the sake of money and money alone. You fidgeted under the weight of them, knowing the crystal irises were skimming every part of you that should’ve been ignored. Especially for a maid, for one of his house-servants. Your body should’ve been nothing beneath the rigidity of your uniform, and yet he scooped it out from between the seams, looked at the curves that you were sure had been hidden.

‘Do you live at the house,’ he started, voice low and catching, ‘or at home?’

‘The house, sir.’ You threaded your fingers together, kept them clutched over your pinafore. ‘I share the room next to Frances.’

The smoke pooled from his lips again, trailing after him as he leant back into his seat. He was looking at you down his nose, through his lashes, holding the silence just long enough for it become taut. Sharp enough to make your cheeks warm.

‘And when she hears the bell at night, do you hear it too?’

You frowned, but nodded. The service bells were mounted on the wall between the doors.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘next time it goes, I want you to see to it.’

His gaze was unmoving. Yours had been charmed into the same fate, unable to pull away from him. ‘Sir?’ you said, understanding his meaning, but not believing it in the slightest. There was no innocent reason for him to switch orders like that. The older woman had always covered the night work, as infrequent as it was.

He cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes in one quick pulse of intent. ‘Let Frances have her rest, eh?’

It was either a promotion, or a proposition. You had neither the gall or the desire to ask which. ‘Of course, Mr. Shelby.’

After that, your encounters with him had remained short and indifferent. You took his coat, brought him tea, whiskey, followed orders when he gave them. You’d watched him, watching you, every time, and thought nothing more of it. Or at least tried not to. You never saw him interact with other staff, so you couldn’t dispel the idea that he treated you any different from them; he could’ve held all of his employees under the same searing gaze and you wouldn’t have known. Frances had commented on his favouring of you, claiming ‘he’d ask for you over anyone else’, but she had seemed relieved all the same. She liked her work, but she liked free time just as much. His request to switch you to the night-calls, however, had been a dormant one, an almost pointless one, because he’d never rang. Never asked anything of you once he’d taken supper.

At least, he hadn’t before now, right now. This very moment. You’d been dragged from your sleep by the dull clanging of the service bell, and now you’re hot-footing down the stairs with your pinafore barely fastened. What the allowed time for dressing is, you have no idea. You’re trying to rush, but there’s no way of knowing how long it has been, or how presentable you are. The only comfort is that he’s yet to ring the bell again, so you obviously haven’t been long enough to make him impatient.

The door to his study is shut, but there’s nowhere else he’d be, so you knock once you’re stood in front of it. You hear him cough from the other side, before saying, ‘Come in.’

Right then. Here you go. You take a few steps into the room, just enough to be present, but not intrusive, and force a quiet breath before speaking. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Shelby?’ you ask, starting as he shows no sign of doing it on your behalf. He hasn’t even looked up to acknowledge you.

He’s leaning on the end of his desk, staring into the embers of the once lit fire, with a half-filled tumbler in his hand. His jacket’s off, shirt sleeves rolled and shoved to sit above the elbow. If it weren’t for the waistcoat, still fastened and adorned with the chain of his pocket-watch, he’d look almost scruffy. Off-guard. ‘So,’ he says, ‘you heard the bell, then.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And you don’t mind the disturbance?’

‘No.’ Though, if he’d brought you down just to test the mechanism, you would hardly be happy about it. ‘Is that all, sir?’

He snorts, following it with a sip of whiskey. The motion causes the gold band around his bicep to catch in the lamplight, glinting at you. A lighthouse through the dark. ‘You don’t get bored of saying sir?’ he asks, finally flicking his eyes in your direction. ‘You say it more than the others.’

Your brows sink together, frowning before you can help it. You weren’t aware there was any other thing to call him, or that sir had a quota, one that you were seemingly well over. ‘Am I wrong to address you as that, Mr. Shelby?’

Quietly, he stands from his lean and tips his head back to finish the final portion of his drink. You watch his neck against the light, follow the whiskey as it travels down his throat. Once it’s empty, he turns to face you with his arm limp by his side, glass dangling in his palm. ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head half-way, ‘call me what you like.’

You catch a whim in the dim-setting, a spark of courage from the fireplace. It’s like the quiet of the house, the certainty of your solitude together, is daring you to test the bounds of your employee-boss relationship. His lingering pause gives the same effect, his blank stare waits to be challenged.

‘Not Tommy, though, sir?’ you ask, wanting to smirk with it, but missing the moment. Or rather, losing the courage as soon as the name’s left your lips.

His chin lifts a fraction. ‘No, not that.’

Tommy is too personal, too close to him. The faint hope you had, that he’d allow you to say it, is squashed into the rug beneath his feet. Without asking, he holds the glass up, arm straight and pointed toward you. You understand his meaning well enough and cross the room to take it from him.

‘Do you often wake a maid, just to pour your whiskey?’ you ask from beside the drinks cabinet. The decanter is there, ready, un-topped and waiting. You fill his glass a quarter, and then a quarter more after a pause of consideration. It doesn’t seem like an evening for single measures.

He doesn’t answer until you’re back in front of him. ‘No,’ he admits shamelessly, leaving you yet another silence to fill.

‘Just me then, sir?’

He nods. ‘Yep, just you.’

He takes the glass and lifts it for a drink. By the time he’s swallowed, and set it down again, you’re two steps back, waiting in the middle of the rug. Anxious for the next order. You’d hoped that the late hour would’ve made him more accessible, more willing to drop the formalities and pretence of your relationship. Instead, it’s made you all the more aware of them. All the more sensitive to the ladder of power between the two of you, and the way he manoeuvres it. He seems so easy, so comfortable, unapologetic of his status and the benefits that it gives him. He can walk the line without risk of misstepping, because he’s the one who sets it.

‘Do you like your job, [y/n]?’ he asks, sounding as if he knows the answer already.

You chew the reply over in your head. As lucky as you’ve been so far, the outright truth might finally throw you into the cold. ‘I like the company,’ you answer, ‘the people.’

He pushes a laugh through his nose, amused but barely smiling still. ‘Didn’t ask you that.’

No, but you won’t lie to him. ‘I’m terrible at my job, sir,’ you say. He surely knows that as well as you do, maybe that’s the reason for him calling on you. It’s time for the meeting you’ve been dreading. The conversation was here at last. ‘In all honesty,’ you tell him, ‘I don’t know why you’ve kept me on.’

Sighing, he half-sits on the desk again, arms folding across his chest. ‘You think you’re that bad?’

‘Awful, sir.’ The added responsibilities have done nothing to improve your prowess. His extra requests have just given you more things to misplace, more damages to cause. ‘Why have you never said anything?’ you ask, adding a ‘sir’ at the raise of his brow. ‘Most people would’ve docked my wages by now.’

He blinks once. ‘Do you want me to punish you?’

The heat it sends up your neck is scorching, embarrassing. For a moment, you forget that he could mean it plainly, that he could speak as an employer and an employer alone. If he had any other expression, you’d be able to validate that, but he’s stoney as ever, waiting for a response like he’d simply asked for the time. ‘No, sir,’ you manage. ‘I just wondered why.’

He takes a sip before answering, hissing the whiskey between the set of his teeth. ‘You know why,’ he says, watching his hands for once, giving you respite from his stare. ‘You look at me just the same.’

‘I do?’

You don’t know why you’re asking, because you’re already in agreement. The self-indulgent glances you’ve taken of him were for the exact same reason you had hoped he looked at you. It wasn’t judgement, but hunger. You had thought it silly to imagine he felt that way too. Maybe men were men after all, easy to read regardless of status, free to want as they liked, but not without the worry of consequence.

‘I don’t want to misunderstand you, Mr. Shelby,’ you say carefully, speaking slow enough to set your thoughts straight. ‘Why do you employ me still?’

You’d expected bravado in reply, but his eyes are on the glass and his voice is taut. ‘I can’t,’ he states. He knows the reasons as well as you do. The chains that bind him, the ones that keep both of your roles in place. There are rules in this house, things that can’t be changed for desire’s sake and he’s counting on you to respect them; the sheer fact that you’re here, alone with him in the middle of the night, proves that his willpower is faltering. He expects you to make up for what he lacks.

The irony, of course, is that you’ve never been any good at meeting expectations. You feel your heartbeat in your skull, right behind your ears, as you take a step forward. ‘Can’t say,’ you challenge, ‘or can’t act on it?’

Another step and you’re an arm’s length away from him.

He puts the glass down and faces you steadily, like he’s flicked the switch back into place, like he’s got cold, iced water in his veins again. ‘You’ll tempt me in my own house, eh?’ he chides, pushing it through a smirk. ‘So quick to be a whore.’

‘I’m not a whore,’ you answer, ‘I’m a maid.’ You chance it and put a hand to his waistcoat, pinching the edge of it between your fingers. He doesn’t stop you. You’re invincible then, you could do anything in the world, and he still wouldn’t think it reason enough to fire you. ‘You don’t seem like a man to ignore his wants, Mr. Shelby.’ Indulge while you can, taste what you’ve been thinking about for so long. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help,’ you purr, ‘then it’s surely my job to do it.’

He doesn’t say anything, but maybe he’s ran out of words. Maybe they’d just take him further from what it is that he wants. Now that you both know it, there’s no reason to discuss. You may be terrible at housework, but men have never been a challenge, you could never fail at something you enjoyed so thoroughly.

Standing, he takes you by the wrist and pulls your fingers free of the waistcoat. He holds your hand in front of your face like you’re a caught criminal. ‘Go back to bed,’ he says, bluntly enough that you almost turn and run. But you were so close to the impossible, so close to tipping over the line, that adrenaline catches you instead.

‘Why?’ Your brows pinch, your manners forget themselves in the disappointment. ‘You suddenly have morals?’ you ask, teetering on laughter. ‘Shame?’ He could kill a man, but fucking his maid is where his ethics hardened. Where they steeled to a stop.  

His jaw sets. For someone so familiar with staff, and giving orders, he’s struggling to put you in your place. You know it’s coming though, you can see the threat behind his eyes.

‘Are you scared, Tommy?’ you taunt. ‘Worried we’ll be found out?’

It was a risk, but it paid off, and he switches the play so easily into his favour, that the wind is knocked out of you before you can piece together what’s happened. He’d pulled you forward, then past him, so that your thighs are against the edge of the desk and his chest is pressed along the length of your back. His arms are either side of you, palms flat on the wooden top. ‘Is that how you want it?’ he bites, putting the question to your neck. Down the collar of your uniform. ‘Ay? Against the boss’s desk?’

‘If that’s what suits you.’

He puts a knee between yours, pushing your legs just far enough apart to feel like he’s predator and you’re prey. Like your body is his to bend, to set in place and enjoy. ‘What?’ he asks, breath hot and liquored by your ear. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

You clear your throat, willing your voice to strengthen. This was what you’d initiated, after all. This is the side you’d asked to see. ‘If that’s what suits, sir,’ you say again, stressing the ‘sir’ like it’s the key to it all, the fuel under the fire. By the way his breath shudders against you, you’re starting to think it is.

He exhales again. ‘We shouldn’t.’ He’s quiet with it, like the thought had escaped without him realising.

‘I want to,’ you insist. You lean forwards slightly, curving your lower back upwards and into him. ‘You want to, sir.’ It was obvious enough. The extra work, the lingering stares, the hardness growing against the back of your thigh —it all lead to one thing, to wanting, lusting. To favouring desire over anything else.

His hands lift from the desk-top to your waist. Taking the bait, then, making it his.

You turn between them, not caring that the motion has skewed your uniform, twisting the skirt beneath his hands until it’s sat, bunched, at your hips. It would have to be moved eventually, taken off entirely if he had the time. ‘If you take any longer,’ you say, ‘the house’ll wake up, Mr. Shelby.’

‘Yeah?’ He lifts you as he answers, putting you onto the desk, and himself between the spread of your legs. ‘And you’ll have duties to attend,’ he says, looking over you, rather than at you. His gaze is foggy from the need. You hum in agreement, playing the game, following his lead as you’re paid to. When his nose finds the space beneath your earlobe, his lips ghosting the edge of your jaw, you melt. You pour into him like scorching gold. ‘I’ll have to have you now,’ he decides, ‘while you’re off the clock.’ The words rumble out of him, low and careless, shouldered by a kiss.

You close your eyes, holding his biceps to keep you upright. ‘If I’m off duty, should I call you sir, or Tommy?’ you ask, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

His mouth opens against your neck, hot and possessive. His lips drag down to the base of your throat before he replies. ‘Are you a maid,’ he asks, panting into the skin, ‘or a whore?’

A whore, you think. He’d never kiss his wife this way, would never have relations like this with any other member of staff. You purl against him as his hand goes between your thighs. ‘Whatever, sir,’ you breathe, ‘I’m whatever you want.’ Right now, you’re a torched flame, you’re a white hot coal, split apart by the heat. His fingers move like he’s known you before. ‘There,’ you tell him, sighing as he finds that tight bundle of nerves through the cotton. ‘There, sir.’

When he kisses you on the mouth, you’re almost surprised enough to reject it. You had wrongly assumed he would avoid kissing you like a lover, but his tongue swept between your lips, pushing in to find yours, and then the thought had gone entirely. You kiss back like you’ve been starved of it, your arms around his neck to ensure that he’ll stay.

‘I imagined it like this,’ he pants, pulling back to say it into your cheek. ‘From the start.’

Really, you want to ask, right from the beginning? But instead, you moan and curl into him, spine mirroring the path his thumb had taken across your clit. ‘I didn’t,’ you breathe, humming as he repeats the motion. ‘I imagined more fucking.’

His hand pulls away fast enough that you regret saying it, but he speaks so urgently that you don’t have time to mourn the loss. ‘Take them off,’ he says, already starting on the fastening of his trousers. ‘Now.’

You do as you’re told, unclipping the garters from your tights, so that you can push your underwear down and over your knees. He’s back against you before you can shake them from your ankles.

‘It’s just a fuck,’ he says, with one hand on himself, and the other on the bare bone of your hip. ‘Alright?’

You nod, meeting his gaze with the same rushed sincerity. ‘I know.’ You hadn’t doubted that for a second. You’re after the same thing he is: relief. A purge of the tension that he had been building between you, a break from the questioning of ‘what if?’.

‘Just a fuck,’ you repeat, desperate now the heartbeat pulses from your head to your toes. Now it thumps from you, to him. You’re sure he can feel it as he presses into you.

He groans, savouring the sensation, and lets his hands stray to grip your thighs. ‘That’s what you wanted?’ he pants, rocking his hips forward again. ‘That answer your question?’

You lie back, over the newspapers and the letters. Let him fuck you like you’re just another object on the desk. ‘Yes,’ you sigh. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, Mr. Shelby.’ It not only answered your question, but clarified another that you had yet to consider. You knew now, why he employed you still, but you’d discovered why you worked for him, too. Why you kept the job you hated, why you hadn’t quit after failing so many times. ‘It’s this,’ you tell him, ‘it’s for this.’

#tommy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #strap in guys its hell of a ride

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Camp North Star - July 25th

AFAB!Reader x Jeon Wonwoo

Word Count: 3922

Contents: dom!reader, sub!wonwoo, once again someone became a sub by accident, teasing, dry humping, nipple play, pet name (baby), edging, handjob, fingering, protected sex, slight aftercare

“The view is really something,” you hummed quietly. Wonwoo and you had taken an evening walk up one of the trails. The evening was warm and now, at the top of the trail, you could see a wonderful view where there was a break in the trees. The hike itself wasn’t too long, nor too far from camp, but far enough to be quiet.

“We can only stay for a while,” he replied, leaning back on his hands on the blanket you had set out in the clearing. “Otherwise we’ll miss the bonfire. I’m sure everyone will be a little wild tonight.”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. He wasn’t wrong about that. The first set of campers had gone home and now you had a week off. You knew a few people were going home, like Jongho and Yuto, wanting to visit their family after being away for a while. Most of the staff stayed though. There were a few things to do, repairs, ordering equipment, adjusting lesson plans. But for the most part it was just a fun week off.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said. “They’ll be partying all week. If we miss tonight it’s fine.”

Wonwoo looked at you and you caught his curious expression out of the corner of your eye.

“Weren’t you the one who kept dragging me to social events?” He questioned.

“You have friends now,” you snorted. “And I never said you had to go to everything.”

His gaze narrowed. “What’s this really about?”

“What do you mean what’s this really about?” you laughed.

The ghost of a smirk was tugging at his lips. “You usually love drinking and hanging out with everyone and now you just want to spend a quiet evening with me?”

“I-” You felt heat rising to your skin. “Well maybe I just like spending time with you? You ever think of that?”

Wonwoo snorted. “We spend lots of time together. There’s another reason we came all the way up here.”

“I was not plan-”

“Did you bring condoms?”

You felt embarrassment flush through you. “Okay, firstly I always have condoms on me.”

Wonwoo let out a howl of laughter while you crossed your arms. You weren’t planning to bring him out here to have sex. At this point you let things come to you. If they happened, they happened. But you weren’t constantly trying to sleep with anyone.

“Listen, having condoms is just being prepared. I just keep some in my bag like, tylenol or bandaids. My intention is not always to have sex with you.”

“I’m not convinced,” he snickered.

You felt frustration well up inside you. “You know this isn’t all about sex for me, right? You get that I just like spending time with you, regardless of what we do?”

Wonwoo stopped laughing, looking at you with some surprise and then a funny sort of smile.

Why did you feel like you had said too much?

“You actually just wanted to take a hike with me?”

“Yeah?” You mumbled. “Geez, am I not allowed to enjoy your company?”

You didn’t meet his eye but you still noticed the way a blush crept up his cheeks. “Of course you can,” he mumbled. “I like just hanging out with you too.”

You fully looked away from him, feeling your stomach doing a flip that you really didn’t want to dwell on. “Well of course you like hanging out with me, I’m awesome.”

Wonwoo let out a laugh, breaking whatever weird tension had just built up. “I would say you’re just fine but I did agree to spend a few hours doing this.”

“See,” you grinned. “Proof that I’m great.”

“But are you great because people want to be around you or because I specifically have chosen to hang out with you?” He teased.

“You are lucky to have such a cool person to hang out with,” you snorted.

“But I’m the one who’s more picky about my friends.”

Some strange, unpleasant feeling tried to settle in your stomach but you pushed past it. “Picky and hermitting away from people are two different things.”

“Okay, maybe we’re both cool,” he offered.

“Or we’re both losers,” you pointed out.

He stared at you for a moment, seeming to change his mind about whatever was on the tip of his tongue. “At least we’re on the same level.”

You snorted and he cracked a grin.

“What?”

“Why does it sound like you’re calling us both 4s or something?”

“Okay we’re definitely more attractive than that,” he laughed. “At least 8s.”

“Well I’m an 8,” you teased.

“Actually, you’re right,” he grinned. “I’m at least a 9.5.”

“Hey!” you cried, shoving him playfully. “You are not hotter than me!”

“So you’re saying you’re hotter?” he teased, shoving you back.

“You’re the shy, quiet one and I’m the hot badass. That’s how this works,” you said, shoving him again.

“Shouldn’t I be the hot, mysterious one and you’re the playful, cute one?” He snickered.

“Are yo-” You turned towards him, pushing your hands into his shoulders. But Wonwoo was unprepared for it and let out a yelp as he fell back onto the blanket and you fell on top of him, just barely catching yourself from crashing into his chest.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you managed as you pushed yourself up, hovering over him to look at him. Wonwoo seemed no worse for wear as he chuckled. His hands found your waist, supporting you as you held yourself above him.

“I should know by now you like to get rough,” he laughed.

“Shut up!” You said, though you couldn’t keep the laugh from your voice. “And if memory serves, you kinda like it.”

“Hey! I like-” Wonwoo stopped at the smirk on your face. Even in the glowing yellows and oranges from the sky above you could see that his face had flushed red.

“You like what?” You asked.

“I-I’m not- That’s-”

“What do you like, Wonwoo?” You teased. “Or are you going to make me work for the answer?”

“I like- I-” He stammered. “I-I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You grinned down at him, throwing one leg over him so you were straddling him. Your fingertips curled into his shoulders as you moved down closer to him. Your smirk widened as his breath hitched. You dropped your lips down to kiss along his jaw and back near his ear.

“Something to do with being rough, hmm?” You mused.

“Y-Yeah, k-kinda,” his voice was already unsteady and it sent the first thrills of arousal rushing down your spine.

“Well I already know you’re loud,” you murmured into his ear, starting to grind your hips down against him. “You like to be teased.”

“I-I don’t! That’s not-” He tried to protest. You sat up just enough to look at him and he fell silent again, clearly fearing he had given it away.

“You’re so fun to tease,” you cooed. “Don’t you enjoy it when I tease you? Or is it something related to teasing?”

Wonwoo’s cheeks were flushed and the tips of ears burned crimson as he let his face fall to the side. You grinned, knowing he could still see it out of the corner of his eye. Your hips ground down on him at a steady pace and you moved your hands to his waist before slipping them up under the hem of his shirt.

“You really are making me work for it,” you hummed. “Will you tell me when I get it right, baby?”

He let out a whine at the pet name but he did nod. Clearly some part of him was wanting it, no matter how embarrassed the rest of him was. It wasn’t exactly teasing, but it was in that ballpark then? You started to run through ideas in your head.

“Let’s play 20 questions then,” you grinned. “All you have to do is say yes or no, okay?”

“O-Okay,” he breathed.

You continued to push his shirt up, mulling through the thoughts in your head. “Were you lying about it being teasing?” You questioned.

“No-” he took in a sharp inhale as your fingers grazed over his nipples. You moved your hips just a little faster. You could feel him getting harder under you as you ran through all of your previous escapades, searching for clues in your memory.

“Hmm, is it something I can say to you?”

“Mm mm,” he shook his head, still with his eyes closed. He had his bottom lip caught between his teeth but it didn’t quite stop the low, quiet moans that were starting to make it past anyway.

“Is it something you can say to me?”

“No,” he breathed.

“Hmm, so it’s not begging,” you mused, fingers idly playing with his nipples, rolling them slowly. His hips tried to move under you, rolling up to try and get more. “It’s something physical then?”

“Y-Yes.”

You were starting to get somewhere. Despite your own arousal building, the warm feeling in your core and the pleasant friction from grinding down on him you kept your voice even and didn’t moan, far preferring to hear every delicious little sound he let out.

You pulled Wonwoo’s shirt fully off and he let you remove it gladly. He let out a shaky breath as you brought your fingers back to his chest to tease him again. Your hips kept moving steadily as you thought about your next question.

“Is it something I can do to you?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“With my mouth?”

“M-Maybe.”

Curious. You slowed your movements a little as he pondered what that meant, smirking a little at the whine it elicited. 

“Can I do it with my hands?”

“You c-can,” he managed, now squeezing his eyes shut as you got closer and closer.

You let your hands trail down his chest, reaching the waist of his shorts. You shifted back to undo them, thinking about the way he whined as you stopped the movement of your hips. You knew you were getting close but you weren’t quite there yet. Something you could do with your hands or your mouth or presumably any part you could get him off with.

“Is it something I’ve done before?” You asked, undoing his shorts and starting to shift them down his hips, freeing his cock from his boxers.

“It- uh- you-” he stammered. “S-Sort of?”

Sort of? What had you sort of done? You thought again through your encounters and all of the things you could say you had nearly or sort of done while you spit into your hand. Wonwoo peeked at you, unable to contain his moan as you wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping it slowly. 

“You’ve nearly got me stumped, baby,” you murmured. While you thought you leaned down, pressing kisses to his neck. Your free hand came up to his chest, playing with one of his nipples. He pressed up into your touch clearly very worked up. Even if it wasn’t teasing it still seemed to have gotten him turned on anyway.

“I’m n-not- I won’t t-tell you,” he said, voice coming out very whiny in a way that went straight to your core.

“Either way, you’re getting closer, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” he admitted, still facing away from you, still with his eyes squeezed closed. You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him. He couldn’t keep his lips closed, they were hung open in low moans that kept getting louder. You felt him pressing his hips up into your hand as you squeezed it a little tighter around his cock. His hair fell into his face, gently ruffled by the breeze and the beautiful hues of oranges and purples coloured his skin warmly.

A curse fell off his lips and he curled his fingers into the blanket under him. It wasn’t just being told what to do. It was something physical. What had you almost done to him? Just a little bit? You were going to be frustrated with yourself if you didn’t figure it out.

You slowed your hand just a little, loosening your grip and his eyes snapped open as he quickly looked up at you. 

“No p-please,” he whined. “Please d-don’t st- stop…” Wonwoo trailed off, face going very red again as you started to smirk, a thought finally dawning on you. 

You leaned in close to him. “That’s not what you really want, is it?”

“I-I”

“Is it?”

“N-No,” he breathed.

Your smirk pulled wider across your face. “That’s what I nearly did before, isn’t it? I nearly stopped.”

Wonwoo squeezed his eyes shut again, nodding. You dropped your head until your lips were brushing against his ear.

“You want to be edged, don’t you baby?” You purred.

“Mhm,” his voice was so quiet as he agreed, face burning but he still nodded. It was hard not to find him cute, the way he was squirming and how shy he had become. You gazed down at his cock, red and hard in your hand, pearls of precum leaking out of it already and grinned to yourself as you started to pump him very quickly.

Wonwoo let out a gasp, bucking up into your hand. He managed to open his eyes, looking up at you desperately and you could see him trying to figure out what you were doing. You grinned down at him, partially leaning over him as he panted and moaned.

“Please,” he whined.

You stopped your hand, squeezing the base of his cock tightly. Wonwoo groaned, throwing his head back against the blanket. “Please,” he whined again.

“I can’t just let you cum,” you teased, starting to pump his cock again. “Not when I know this is what you wanted.”

Wonwoo groaned, letting his head fall to the side again. You took the opportunity to listen to his sweet moans. You were now very aware of how needy you had gotten, how wet and warm your core was. As much fun as teasing him was, you were starting to need some relief of your own.

“No no no~” he whined as you pulled your hand away. You felt the fresh wave of arousal that rushed through you as took in the look of absolute desperation on his face. “Please don’t stop, p-please. You can’t, p-please.”

“Relax, baby,” you chuckled, pulling your shirt over your head. “I’ll let you cum, eventually.”

He groaned in frustration again, looking up at the sky. His hand twitched towards his cock and you grabbed it quickly. You leaned down as your other hand undid your shorts.

“No touching yourself, baby,” you warned. “I’m in control of your pleasure now.”

Wonwoo let out the prettiest moan at your words and you let go of his hand, pushing off your own shorts. You moved to sit between his legs, spreading your own as you looked at him. He slowly propped himself up on his forearms, letting out a moan at the sight as you started to drag your fingers through your folds, picking up your slick as you went.

You reached your other hand forwards, dragging your fingertips along his cock and watching him jolt from the sensation. You smirked at him as you slowly pushed two fingers into your heat.

“Are you sensitive, baby?” You teased.

Wonwoo nodded quickly, meeting your eyes. Each time you trailed a light touch on his cock he whimpered and twitched. His face was flushed and he kept biting his bottom lip as if it was any use in keeping in his moans.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” You cooed.

“Mhm,” he whined sweetly, looking hopeful. You bit back your smirk, almost wanting to give it to him. But you were having far too much fun playing with him. And you knew that he knew the pay off would be worth it.

“If only I wasn’t having so much fun,” you grinned.

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the crushed look on his face so much. But it was just so cute how he was simply putty in your hands at this point. You wrapped your hand around his cock, not nearly tight enough to get him off but enough to draw a moan from him as you curled your fingers into yourself even faster.

“You are just so cute like this, baby,” you cooed. “Fuck, seeing you like this just turns me on so much.”

You watched the way his face flushed even more, eyes moving between your grip on his cock, your fingers sinking into your cunt, and the way you were looking at him. You watched the way he gripped the blanket tightly again.

“P-Please,” he whined. “Please, I-I’m close.”

You pulled your hand away from his cock with a smirk while you slowed your fingers enough to add a third to your heat. Wonwoo watched you desperately, looking like he was nearly ready to pounce on you, but holding back. He was being so good for you and you wondered just how long he could hold out for you.

You trailed your fingers over his trembling thighs as you moved the three fingers into your cunt. Soon they were moving easily and you let a few low moans slip past your own lips as waves of pleasure moved through your body, a slow coil starting to curl in your core. Wonwoo’s knuckles were white as he gripped the blanket, his cock twitching and leaking even more precum onto his lower stomach.

You pulled your fingers from your heat, leaning forwards. Wonwoo let his mouth fall open for them and you grinned at him.

“Good boy,” you purred, reaching for your bag. You dug around as he ran his tongue over your fingers, only pulling them out when you had the condom in your hand. Wonwoo bit down on his lip again, watching you as you ripped open the package. He let out a gasp as you took his cock gently in your hand and rolled the condom onto him.

“Will you keep being a good boy for me?” You asked as you moved to straddle him.

“Yes,” he breathed quickly, nodding. 

“Perfect,” you hummed, sinking down on his cock.

Wonwoo’s arms shook and he fell back against the blanket again, eyes rolling back in his head as he moaned much louder than you had ever heard him be. You knew he was close now but you wondered if you could get off without him fully cumming yet. Slowly, you ground down on his cock, feeling the pleasure rush through you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned.

Wonwoo couldn’t seem to form full sentences. His hands gripped at your hips tightly. His hips bucked up under you and an idea came into your head. Quickly you lifted yourself off of his cock and brought one hand to your clit, rubbing it quickly and letting out a moan.

A look of betrayal crossed Wonwoo’s face. You tried to bite back your smirk but it was evident that you were enjoying this torture.

“Please,” he moaned.

You took his cock in your hand and came back down on it, grinding on him again. You were focused on the movement that gave you the most pleasure and keeping your eye on him. Wonwoo was clearly desperate but not at a breaking point. Just being kept on his edge. You listened to his moans as you ground down, the coil in your core curling in on itself. As his moans started to climb up in his voice you pulled yourself off his cock once more, rubbing you clit again.

Wonwoo pulled at your hips. “Pl- Pl- I-I c- I n-n-n-”

“Do you want to cum, baby?” you asked.

He nodded quickly as you rubbed your clit, feeling close to the edge of your own orgasm.

“Almost,” you came back down on his cock, riding him quickly. “Fuck, almost there.”

Wonwoo did his best to hold you down and tried to buck up into you, desperate to cum. You still controlled the movements, feeling yourself clenching around him. He threw his head back, fingers digging harshly into your hips.

You pulled up off of his cock again, listening to the broken, defeated whine he let out as you brought your fingers to your clit again. Your mouth fell open in a moan as you rubbed your clit quickly, legs shaking as you brought your free hand down to brace yourself against his chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm crashed over you, a loud moan pouring from your lips. Your legs pressed in as much as they could, shaking as your release washed through every inch of your body, to the tips of your fingers and toes as you curled over Wonwoo, panting.

When you opened your eyes again you looked at his face. Wonwoo looked as if he was about to cry. You were sure his eyes were watering as he watched you with utter betrayal etched across his face. As steadily as you could you moved around him. Wonwoo seemed confused as you pushed him up to sit and then pulled his back against your chest. He let out a whimper as you pressed kisses to his shoulders and reached around his waist to pull off the condom.

Wonwoo leaned all his weight back against you, letting out a broken moan as you wrapped your hand around his cock. You pumped him quickly, adding just a bit of a twist to your movements. It took nearly no time for him to let out a loud cry as he came hard. His body shook violently as hot ropes of cum came from his cock in pulses, coating your hand and his own cock. As soon as he finished cummig you stopped, knowing he was over-sensitive at this point.

You reached over to your bag, grabbing at some wet wipes and using them to clean your hand and then very gently to clean off Wonwoo’s cock. He whined as you did so and you tried to hush him.

“It’s okay,” you hummed, reaching for his water. His body was shaking and you carefully tipped some water into his mouth. He drank it gratefully. You listened to each of his shaky breaths as you put it down before pulling him back to lay on you and helping him shift until he was resting his head against your chest, cheek pressed into your skin.

“You did so well,” you hummed, one hand running through his hair as he clung to you, the other rubbing his back. “That was so good.”

“I-I’m okay,” he said shakily.

“Good,” you said sweetly. “You were really good for me. How are you feeling?”

Wonwoo snuggled his face into your neck. He was still shaking but he seemed to protest the care just a little. “I-I’m really okay.” He mumbled. “It’s a-alright.”

“I know you’re physically alright,” you said gently. “But are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah?” He sounded unsure as he hid against you even more. He sniffed a little, breaths a little shaky. A small smile tugged at your lips and you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Whatever you need, just let me know.”

“Can we just stay here a while?” He mumbled. “I just- I need a few- I- uh-”

“That was intense,” you said.

“Yeah.” he breathed. “I just want to stay here with you.”

You smiled, feeling your heart leap just a little. “We can stay here as long as you like.”

#disclaimer that i shouldnt have to say #but irl do talk to your partner before just doing things like this #camp north star au #cns au #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #jeon wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo smut

[alreadyblondenow]

Black on black | Lucas Wong

▸ Lucas x reader ▸ Smut, Sprinkle of angst, devil au ▸ HALLOWEEN SERIES: 127 HOUSE ▸ 3/5 for NEOHALLOWEEN writing festival hosted by @nct-writers

Summary: We’ve read different stories about humans summoning demons to ask them for a favor but what happens if, the devil himself summons humans so he can have his own fun? The devil himself strikes a deal with a sinner to save her from the trouble she singlehandedly caused in exchange for her to accept the torture that the devil has planned for her. In bed. But an unexpected turn of events happened that even the devil himself did not see it coming.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Rough sex, bleeding while sex, choking, swearing, mentions of alcohol, blood play?, bleeding, unprotected sex, mentions of blackmail, filth, straight up filth, fingering, it’s the devil so its rough sex click away if you’re not into that, mentions of depression

A/N: PURE FILTH. I made this as a breather from the two fics before this hehe. Pure fiction and inspired by some movies of course. Don’t expect that this is good like the two fics before this hehehehhehe I just wanted to write for Lucas, finally. 

Taglist: Again, I hope I didn’t miss anyone, if yes please do message me so I can apologize huhu @huangxx @fruityutas @floweringtheflowers​

Growing up, we’ve read different stories about humans summoning demons to ask them for a favor but what happens if, the devil himself summons humans so he can have his own fun? Execute his own way of torturing humans even if they’re still alive and breathing here on Earth?

Lucas, the devil himself. Comes to play in our world during Devil’s Night, his night. It’s like a birthday party for him but nobody knows who he is just how he likes it. He made this huge party for his own pleasure, looking at the humans wearing different costumes, reading their faces, and waiting for a perfect timing. He is specifically looking for someone he can ruin for a good laugh. Someone whom he can ruin in the sheets but also ruin her spirits, her point of view in life, her way of thinking.

The house your friend brought you in was loud and blaring for Halloween night. It was a house and not a club, but the party was so wild that it looked like a club from the outside. Everyone is dressed perfectly for Halloween and tonight, you dressed how you feel. Black wings, black dress, black everything. Perfect for mourning your innocence, purity, and dignity.  

You plan on drinking and pouring all your sorrows at the dance floor, flirt a little if life permits, and maybe go home with a random stranger and have a one night stand. It was a desperate call, you just want to forget your stupidity, feel numb, and be distracted. Fuck morality you said to yourself.

“Did you eat before we get here? You already look fucking wasted” your friend asked, shouting at you so you can hear her.

“No. But I’m fine” you answer her after downing a tequila shot. You feel tired already from too much dancing, mingling with strangers but no one is interesting enough. Little did you know, someone is very interested in you.

He can smell your pain, your struggles, and your desperate call. Your sin is fresh for him and you’re in need of torture, he has a great feeling that he will enjoy this night. The thought of it makes Lucas blush and feel excited for the cherry on top of this night. He was smiling darkly on his little corner, watching your every move, entertained on how you down your alcohols with so much desperation to feel numb.

You drown yourself in the sea of people, dance with strangers who reeks of alcohol, feeling and letting the alcohol get into your system. Everything was blurry. The party lights change every second following the beat of the music. You watch the surroundings turn colored to black, colored to black, colored to black.

“Oh” until someone handsome startled you and appeared in front of you out of nowhere. Looking into his eyes made everything slow, maybe it’s just the alcohol or simply because he’s just handsome and dreamy.

“I think you’re the one for me” shameless. Bold. Just like that, he has you wrapped around his finger.

“Do I know you?” you tried stopping your smile and with your best effort, you put on a serious face. But he can see right through you.

He smirked and came closer, smelling your perfume, and shamelessly bit your left ear. “No. But I know what you did yesterday” you pushed him away but the man was strong and enticing. He held you close to him, holding you on your waist as your eyes are finally captured by his. “I know what you did to get your promotion, such a bad girl you are” you feel his hand slide under your dress, caressing the softness of your skin.

“Tell me the truth, does it feel good to blackmail your boss by forcing him to have sex with you and secretly make a sex tape? Scaring him that you will show it to his wife and his three daughters?” he chuckled darkly while he enjoys watching you get scared.

“Fuck you! I deserve this promotion-“ you croaked, feeling your tears run down your cheeks. But you won’t let this man get inside your head and tried to put up a fight, showed him you’re not scared. Lucas became even more entertained when he saw you cry and fake your bravery.

He didn’t expect you to be quite a fighter and a little fierce, but he loves a good challenge. And you’re definitely it. “Of course you do, but I’m not here to expose you. I want to give you a deal. I will make this all go away, but receive the torture that I have planned for you tonight” his voice became even more inviting and to be completely honest you’re open to accept anything and desperate to make it all go away. What you did was something you want to forget, you’re not a bad person just a very desperate one.

“Who are you? How can you make this all go away, I don’t want anyone to get hurt” He played with the strap of your bra that fell off your shoulder, running his thumb on your clothed nipple. By this time you feel so nervous because you have no idea what this man can do to you.

“I’m the devil and you’re in big trouble clever girl”

You saw it in your own eyes. Under the flicking lights. His face became scaly, the horns on his head look too good to be fake, red dark eyes that hold terror, teeth sharp and dirty as he laughs at you. Then suddenly returned to his handsome form, the one you can stomach to look at.

“F-fine, I’ll do everything you want. Since you’re not giving me any choice here but after this deal, I never want to see you again” you looked at him with scared eyes but still, you stood in front of him with the right amount of bravery.

“You’re not in the position to ask for something. Just enjoy this privilege” the way he kisses your cheek so softly disgusts you after seeing his true form.

For you, you only agreed to do this because the night can come and go. The sun will soon rise and you will be given another day to start over and forget about this night. Just like any other one night stand, you just have to make the sex count, enjoy yourself, and then forget about everything. What can possibly go wrong? You were looking forward to a good fuck tonight anyway.

‘Receive the torture that I have planned for you tonight’ those words linger in your mind like a promise that you’re waiting for him to fulfill. It irritates you how he’s just devouring you while you sit comfortably on his lap by the edge of his massive bed. His dress shirt is only half unbuttoned and you don’t know why you’re itching to get him naked already. So with all your confidence, you unbutton his shirt fully and expose his perfect body.

It made you speechless. Tan skin, perfect chest, abs hard as a rock. It amuses him how you’re completely enchanted by his body. “Remove your clothes, leave your panties” you do as you’re told, removing your own clothes while you kept your eyes lock on the man in front of you. “Perfect” he whispered, brushing his fingers on your now exposed nipples. Soft and slow, making it sensitive, making you whine and turn your head around as you roll your hips slowly on his clothed cock. He is big you’re sure of it.

He puts his thumb on your clothed clit, touching you with the utmost care, taking his time with you, and returning his lips on your neck. “Wheres that torture you were talking about?” you whine out your concern, still waiting for that promise.

“Shut up” is all he said. But it wasn’t stern. It was in an airy tone in between kissing your neck and your boobs, he almost sounded weak but that’s impossible.

He roughly put you in bed, ruined your panties in one go, and spread your legs like you’re just nothing. It was quite a rush and it happened so fast. You don’t know when did he remove his pants and underwear but he is now devouring the valley between your boobs, kissing it softly while his hand caresses your legs like he owns you.

Did it sink in already to you? That you’re now naked in bed and about to have sex with the devil?

His hard cock brushes on the insides of your thighs, feeling how big it is and already doubting if it could fit inside you. “It will” he whispers, ah, he can read your mind. Great. “fuck me already” you spoke to him in your mind, which made him smile.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you’re not in the position to ask for something” he bit your lower lip and made you bleed. He licks the blood and licked your lips. How surprising, you like what he’s doing so you wrapped your arms around him and did the same thing to him.

You bit his lips. Let it bleed and lick his lips right in front of his eyes.

Lo and behold. This is the first time a human surprised him with such boldness. As much as it hurts his pride being continuously challenged, he still wants to see your face when he finally ruins you. But it seems like your touch is ruining him, the way your hands roam around his back is addicting for him. How can this be? “Don’t touch me” he said, but this time it wasn’t soft. He sounded angry and frustrated. But you didn’t stop and continue touching him, irritating him more with your touch forcing him to kiss you.

“I said don’t touch me” he repeats and you feel his skin getting warmer like a kettle on the stove.

“No. Let me touch you, that way you can enjoy more”

It’s not that you already found out that your touch affects him. He is naturally enticing, luring, and handsome. There’s no way you will let this moment pass without having your own fun. A handsome man is on top of you, perfect kissable thin lips, beautiful body with perfectly tanned skin, you don’t care anymore if his eyes turned red and dark.

Lucas on the other hand has never seen anyone look at him with full admiration. How you swirl your finger around his nipples, and kiss him with all the lust you have surprised him. He didn’t expect this kind of pleasure, he felt like a king.  

Desperate people can do horrible things like sleeping with the devil. “Are we going to fuck or are we just going to admire each other for the whole night?” you asked him and he was challenged. He lifts your hips and rests it on his thigh, dragging you completely on the mattress as he spread your legs even wider than before. “I’m completely aware that you’re not a virgin anymore… but tonight I’m gonna make you bleed. I will hurt you and you” there was his scary tone again that sends a shiver in your spine and widen your eyes.

“Hmm?” the answer to your question was answered by one swift move.

Lucas rammed his cock in your tight walls, not giving a fuck if it hurts you. “Shit!” you covered your mouth and breathed deeply as you feel Lucas pulling out completely and ramming his cock again inside you.

It hurt. But just like the first time you had sex, the pain was gone after a few hard thrusts.

He did make you feel like a virgin again and that completely blows your mind. How? As expected, it was a good fuck. Better than anything you’ve had and you’re happy you gave in. So happy that you were smiling while hurting, moaning a string of curses while his fingers dig on your skin.

He pulled out his cock and ran a finger on your slit. The bold move made you whine and you feel your bud so sensitive. He showed you his middle finger with your blood on it, smirked, and licked his finger clean with a devilish smile. He went back to fucking you real hard your head bumps on his headboard. The way he was fucking you was like he haven't had sex for a year.

He cums inside you and started to roll his hips slowly. “I need to rest. Go slow” again, your body is answering to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, he’s giving in from your touch.

“Did your boss made you bleed this good when he was fucking you on his table yesterday?” he asks while still rolling his hips oh so slowly and showering your neck with kisses. He wasn’t tired at all even though he’s grunting and breathing heavily. You feel his soft touches again around your chest, tracing your collar bone but when his hand reaches your neck, he suddenly chokes you and thrust quickly putting you on edge again.

“Harder,” you said, struggling but it pleasures you. You are truly the perfect one for him he thought. As he went harder, choking you until you reach your high again, you watch him smile in satisfaction kissing you while choking and fucking you hard amuses him to the core.  

Oh, how he loved the sex! After cumming inside you, he finally let go of your neck, letting you cough and catch your breath. Your body feels weak and tired, he definitely worn you out but he seems ready to go for another round, so this time you beg. “Please. Rest”

He chuckled and continued kissing your body, devouring your lips, making your nipples swollen. You noticed he’s making you touch him now, he seems to be addicted to your touch at this point. He can’t stop holding your hand, intertwine it with his, and whenever you pull your hand away just to teas him he grips it hard and wrap your arms around his neck.

Still body to body and his cock inside you, Lucas was asking for another round but you refuse. He might be the devil but consent is still important. You refuse and refuse until he gets tired of asking. “Okay. I give up. But that was-“

“Great? Awesome? Admit it you’re already looking forward to seeing me again” you were still struggling to talk from too much choking, the feeling of his big hands around your neck still lingers on your skin.

“Come to Hell with me. You’re the best I’ve had so far- I can make you rich, I’ll give everything you want” he reaches for your hand and placed a soft kiss at the back of it.

“Did you forget that I agreed to this because I have a perfect life here? Don’t forget your part of the bargain, hmm?” it completely surprised him how you easily refused his offer and still embraced your life here. After everything that happened in his bed, he still can’t believe you don’t want to stay with him.

When you got up to clean his cum dripping from your legs and prepare yourself to come home, he stopped you from leaving his room. Kissed you more and for the first time in his entire existence, he begged. “I’m not going to say it again, it hurts my pride. Stay with me”

“Do you love me? After we fucked like that? You suddenly love me?”

“I don’t love you”

“Then I don’t have any reason to stay and come with you” you kissed him one last time like what you always do to every man you slept with.

He felt betrayed, frustrated, and annoyed.

After having sex with him, you left his house limping and sore but quite glowing because of the amazing sex. It was fun while it lasted, but all good things come to an end.

Lucas did make it all go away. He gave you a clean spot for the promotions, deleted your boss’s memories about you blackmailing him, and he deleted the only evidence of what you did beforehand. It was like magic for you and you got all these for free by just having sex with him. What a win-win situation. Your life became perfect as it can be after that night in 127 House. No one can take this all away from you. Or so you thought.

He built your career in just one snap of his finger, the same goes for how he ruined your life. Just because you hurt his pride and refused his offer. After a few months, he released the video to the police and got you arrested. Laughing on the side as he watches you get your hands cuffed. Listening to your cries in jail, it’s like a lullaby for him. But that’s not where his torture ends, he even ruined your mental health. Made you depressed while you were doing time, made your family turn their backs against you. Not even one visit for a year.

That’s why you quickly jumped in bed when finally someone remembered you. Even just one visit from your family can lift your spirits.

But he wasn’t family.

“You did all this!” without hesitation you shouted at him, showing your anger from your side of the room. But he was just sitting there, watching you cry and shout. Smirking.

“Shut up. I’m here to offer something” there he is again with his twisted deals, “Come down there with me. I have a contract here, just to make everything professional and tidy. Sign it. Or you will suffer more”

He was sitting cooly in front of you, like a rich man buying a piece of a very expensive jewelry. One of the guards un-cuffed you and handed you a pen and the contract that will make everything go away. Is being with him for all eternity better than jail? Will he finally keep his word this time? What if one day he found another woman who can offer the same things?  

“You said you don’t love me”

“I lied. I don’t know what love means but if it's close to obsession, then I’m obsessed with you.”

“Why can't you leave me alone?”

He chuckled darkly and leaned closer to the glass that’s keeping you away from each other. “You’re in love with danger and all things dark that's why I can't let go of you. You are, truly the one for me” You turned silent and he just watched you cry in front of the contract, gripping your pen and confused as fuck. He was running out of patience.  

“Are you going to sign that or I will make you?”

For the last time, you read the contract and read the words ‘forever’ over and over again and looked at Lucas before you sign it. Forever with this man? you signed it with a heavy heart and smashed the pen on the table and cry some more.

“Lastly,” he stood up from his seat, buttoning his coat and fixing his sleeve. “Say that you love me” he smirked again in front of you, giving you no choice.

“I love you”

He looked deep in your eyes for some time, smelling your fear through the glass. And with one snap, the glass was gone. It didn’t surprise you this time, you’re well aware of what he’s capable of. In the first place, he ruined your life.

He snapped his fingers again, but this time you’re surprised. “Did you know that after you cleaned my dripping cum from your legs that night you come to bed with me and we had sex again- oh! It was better than the first and second round!”

Flashbacks in your head were playing, as you remember how he lured you in bed that night again. The way you removed your dress in front of him again was so clear this time, he was smiling and you were enjoying his touch. You closed your eyes and the next memory that played in your head was how he put your hands above your head, fingers intertwined with his and the feeling of your fingers gripping tightly still ghosts your hands until now.

“It was all an illusion Y/n. You never left 127 House, I just made you believe that you’re in jail. If you thought that it was already a year, well, it’s only been three days”  

#nct-writers #neohalloween #kdiner #unfortunatus: inferno #nct smut #wayv smut #wayv wong yukhei smut #lucas smut #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #nct imagines #nct lucas smut

[secret-engima]

I’m interested in hearing more about that AU you told me about before- the RWBY/HTTYD fusion(?) where Oscar is basically Hiccup and Ozpin is the dadliest Nightfury ever :)

OH YES THAT WAS A FUN IDEA.

Okay so like- RWBY/HTTYD fusion kinda thing where instead of vikings there’s Remnant characters. And possibly Remnant’s world. Anyway dragons are a thing, dragons are something people all have strong mixed opinions on because most dragons are furious monsters that try to destroy human settlements at any turn, but there are stories and legends of a time centuries ago when dragons were peaceful and tamable and kind.

Oscar has no real opinion on the legends. He’s mostly scared of dragons after an attack of a huge flock of Terrible Terrors when he was a small child left his hands and neck all scarred up. Even so, he doesn't ... really hate them? They’re wild animals. They’re just angry ones. He and his Aunt are pretty good at keeping their farm unnoticed when a flock passes overhead and as long as it stays that way, he’s fine. Any stray dragon that comes by and starts making noises to set the barn on fire or steal livestock, his Aunt deals with it. She’s a good shot.

Then one day, his hideout is broken into.

Now, his hideout isn’t really a “hideout” it’s just the old barn that the farm doesn’t use anymore. it’s too far away from the house, right on the edge of their property. But nobody has a reason to go there, so as long as he’s careful, Oscar gets to use it as his own little clubhouse. He stores books in there, and notebooks to sketch in, and all the junk he likes to tinker with because he likes building things on the side. His aunt says that maybe someday he can get a scholarship to a proper school for engineering and stuff.

He’s always careful not to store food in there, so that the wild animals of any kind have no reason to try to get in, and he locks it when he leaves.

So he is understandably VERY surprised when he comes in and finds a DRAGON on the floor of his hideout, having apparently broken in through the old window on the upper floor. The dragon stirs when Oscar gasps in fear, moves faster than Oscar can think and suddenly Oscar is pinned by a dark paw as the dragon looms over him with bloody, sharp teeth and furious gold eyes.

So this is how he dies then.

He squeezes his eyes shut with a whimper, waiting for the half-remembered agony of being mauled by a dragon to start (it had hurt so bad as a child and this dragon was so much bigger than a Terrible Terror-).

Hot breath on his face and then instead of pain, a low noise that was too soft to be a growl. Oscar whimpers again because please, please don’t try to eat him alive or something, but instead of pain the paw just leaves his chest and when Oscar dares to open his eyes and sit up, the dragon has limped away to curl up in a corner of the hideout again.

....Dragons aren’t supposed to let humans live.

......They probably aren’t supposed to look so exhausted and in pain and bloody either.

Oscar knows he should run. Go get his Aunt so she can come put the dragon down before it changes its mind and hurts him but-. The dragon looks at him, and gold eyes aren’t furious anymore. Just resigned. Scared. The dragon looks like it’s been on the losing side of a very bad fight with something that wasn’t human. There are gashes where scales have been clawed away, and when its tail slides slowly to curl around its paws, Oscar can see its missing a tail fin.

...Was this dragon attacked by other dragons?

Curiosity and pity make Oscar hold his silence as he backs slowly out of the barn and shuts the door behind him. He ... maybe it will go away in a few hours. Once it’s caught its breath.

He peaks in that evening and finds it hasn’t. It’s curled up tightly in the same corner, and he’s pretty sure the dragon is shivering.

He should REALLY tell his Aunt about this.

He brings it a small bucket of fish from the farm’s massive pond the next morning instead.

The dragon looks at him in open surprise and takes the fish as politely as a well trained dog. When it stands up again Oscar flinches, but all it does is sniff at him and then start licking his hair and Oscar yelps from shock more than fear. It’s like a switch has been flipped and even though the dragon is still exhausted and injured, it gently wrestles him down to give him ... a bath? A dragon bath. The dragon is purring while it does so. Oscar takes it as a form of thank you and has to work hard to snag a shower before Auntie Em can see him covered in dragon drool.

It takes a few more tentative visits to realize that 1. the dragon can’t leave because he can’t fly anymore, 2. he’s not actually black like Oscar thought, but a really deep, rich green in the sunlight when the dragon sneaks out to the old back field for a sun nap, and 3. Oscar is pretty sure he’s been adopted by the dragon. It (he, the dragon is a he), keeps cooing at him and trying to follow him and giving him tongue baths and offering him regurgitated bits of fish, which Oscar frantically turns down each time.

He names the dragon Ozpin, after one of the few dragon stories he knows where the dragon isn’t a horrible monster, and the first time he uses it, Ozpin reacts like it’s always been his name.

Oscar realizes halfway through designing a new tail fin for Ozpin that 1. this design is going to need a rider and 2. he’s had a dragon for about three months now and still hasn’t told his aunt. That ... will probably come back to bite later. But by now he’s more afraid of her reaction over the delay than her reaction over the dragon. So he keeps putting it off.

He kinda sorta really wants to ride Ozpin before his aunt can shut the idea down.

Ozpin expected to die that night he fled. Hundreds of seasons he’d managed to keep ahead of Salem, his mad former mate, freeing dragons from her control in twos and threes and hiding them away where she would not find them again, and she had finally caught him. He had been betrayed. Willingly. Leo’s eyes had been clear as day as he stood by Salem’s side, not glazed with her hate and control, and that hurt almost as much as the claws of her horde of dragons (always a horde, never leaving the risk that she will have to fight him alone, because she knows that in an equal fight, he would win, just like he almost had last time) tearing apart his scales, driving him from the air before he managed to fight some of them off and escape.

He’s not sure when he lost his tail fin. But that is a death sentence to a dragon like him. A dragon who cannot fly is a dead dragon, either by starvation, by Salem, or by the humans who have long forgotten what it was like to be friends and companions to dragon kind.

Ozpin wakes up in a human structure and can’t remember how he got in, but he hears movement and pained instinct drives him up to attack (what if it’s Salem, what if it’s one of her scouts, a poor dragon that Ozpin is too weak to free from her control and will have to kill to save himself like the coward he is-).

A child.

A human child.

Oh. Oh dear.

He really is going to die.

Ozpin removes his paw, hoping he didn’t break any fragile bones (human hatchlings were so *delicate*, he remembered that even after so long) and slinks to a far corner. He could run again, but he’s too tired and too heartsick. Let the boy call his parents.

At least the humans would probably make his death quick.

Except the boy does not call his parents, he leaves and pokes his head in hours later as if to check if Ozpin is still there. He leaves again and the next morning arrives with a bucket of fish to feed him. It is strange and kind and strange because it is kind and when he sniffs at the boy in curiosity, looking for a reason, the child doesn’t run, just flinches nervously. He smells of only one guardian and no other hatchlings. He smells nervous and a bit frightened and ... lonely.

Ozpin finds himself gently pulling the child close and bathing him before he can think better of it, and it is foolish, to risk claiming another human hatchling, he hasn’t shared his Life with a Rider in a long long time (not since Salem killed the last one before his eyes back when he was young and foolish and still thought he could call her back from the edge of madness), but he is so grateful and lonely and this child is all but aching with the need for love. Why else would he risk bringing Ozpin food when all the stories men tell nowadays are of how dragons are bloodthirsty monsters?

The boy keeps coming back, bringing just enough fish to take the edge of Ozpin’s hunger, and even though his days are numbered, Ozpin stays and croons and tries to impart love on the child who is so lonely he would befriend a monster. He lets the boy tentatively climb on him and touch his scales, even lets him inspect Ozpin’s injured, ruined tail. He can’t help it. He always loved hatchlings, human or dragon, and it’s been so *long*-.

The boy takes to sketching and building ... something. Ozpin isn’t entirely certain what. He almost jumps out of his scales when Oscar (that was the boy’s name he learned at last) calls him Ozpin, calls him by name, and then learns that there still are a handful of stories of the Old Days. Dismissed as myth now. It’s amusing to be named after himself.

Ozpin frets quietly over the child sometimes, because while he can smell a guardian on him, he has never seen this guardian, even from afar. He knows this barn is on the edge of Oscar’s little territory, but even so, what guardian lets her hatchling wander off so frequently and never thinks to check on him? Sometimes Oscar falls *asleep* in here, curled up against Ozpin’s side and tucked under a wing, and only wakes up when Ozpin nudges him up because he can hear the far off bell that he thinks means it’s time for his hatchling to go home and eat.

He wishes Speaking Stones still existed. That he’d managed to save more of them, or that he was able to fly and get one. The only way to exchange true words without a Speaking Stone would be a Rider bond and- and he can’t do that to Oscar. It wouldn’t be fair.

He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into a war for freedom of mind that Ozpin and dragon kind has been losing for seasons upon seasons.

Except the child doesn’t seem to think so, doesn’t even know what he flirts with when he tentatively drags in a rudimentary replacement tail fin and saddle as well as a harness to connect them.

Ozpin tries to reject it. As much as he wants (needs) to fly, it’s too dangerous. The boy pouts and sets the harness and gear aside, muttering to himself that he’ll just leave it in the barn for a while until “Ozpin gets used to the smell”.

Ozpin snorts. Because he is not a dog that can be tricked into forgetting something exists thank you.

Oscar sticks his tongue out at him. Adorable, feisty, silly little hatchling.

#SE asks #keeperofgems asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Dragon Rider Oscar verse #long post #rwby #httyd #very loose fusion #OH LOOK NEW AU

[forgottenpasta]

Dulce Periculum Pt. 2

Summary: Devious and devilish, your two new impish hybrids never miss a chance to torment you for your hopeless attraction to them, knowing exactly what they do to you. But is sly sexuality and enigmatic allure all there is to the tiger and wolf hybrid, or do the depths of their eyes hide something more for you? Part 2/2.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 8.8k

Pairings: Tiger Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader X Wolf Hybrid!Jeongguk

Warnings: Taehyung has some tiger parts that you might wanna google, knotting, too much cum, creampie, cumplay(?), penetrative hardcore sex, oral sex (f and m recieving), slight ass play, threesome, swearing, ugly crying lol.

Part 1 | Part 2 (complete)

****

Bewildered, Jeongguk stood rooted on his feet for a few seconds, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. He had expected surprise from you, maybe even a little bit of disgruntlement, which he could deal with and have you back in his arms in no time. 

Instead, he’d just watched you cry for the first time. And he was the reason. 

Muscles snapping back into action, he dashed after you, shouldering past many a drunk people impolitely. Jackson wasn’t gonna be happy with him for slacking off on bouncer duty, and shoulder checking club-goers on top of it, but right now he couldn’t give a flying fuck about anybody but his owner. He was a little shaken, second guessing everything. 

He knew you were attracted to them. It was crystal clear you wanted them. Although he admits it wasn’t the most ethical thing to not reveal his identity to you, but he was a hybrid! He hadn’t considered that possibility until after you kissed him. Because for him, he could recognise your scent from among a crowd of people blindfolded. But what had he done that was so bad you would cry? 

He was thoroughly distressed by the time he burst through the exit, frantically looking for you among the few people still straggling outside. His panic rose when he couldn’t spot you. Willing his heart to calm, he took a deep breath, immediately picking up your scent in the air. Turning left, he followed the scent trail and just as he turned a corner he spotted you. The blue of your dress was stark against the otherwise dim surroundings, like a neon light in the dark. You were stumbling along the pavement, clearly the alcohol was doing its job, but he could also hear your angry mutterings. For someone who was usually quiet and never drew attention to herself, you were swinging way too opposite your usual scale of behaviour. As he speeded up to catch up to you, he realised he wasn’t the only one to notice. 

Some humans loitering beside an alleyway a few metres ahead were very opening leering at you, attention firmly on your swaying figure perfectly on display in your skin tight dress as they watched you approach. He broke into a run, anger and fear for you battling inside him. 

“Back the fuck off!”, he shouted when he saw one of them break from the group to approach you. 

Hearing him you stopped in your angry stride abruptly, not turning around to look at him. When he caught up to you, he placed a protective hand on your shoulder immediately, glowering at the men who still seemed to be not getting his message, the man who had stepped forward was observing you both with a critical eye. Likely gauging whether he and his gang could take him up or not. 

“___, lets go home.”, Jeongguk whispered in your ear from behind, and you jolted hearing your actual name from his mouth. 

It seemed he couldn’t get one thing right this night because you turned on him so fast he startled back.

Pointing a finger at his chest, you raged with mascara smudged tears running down your face. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you! Fuck off! I’m done being a toy you can play with!”

Jeongguk gaped at you for a moment, the sight of you so distressed and angry had him feeling a little helpless. He reached for you, but you flinched back, stumbling in your heels. 

A pain bloomed in his chest, like a glass shard lodged in skin and he was convinced that it was his own doing which had put it there. Doing his best to appear harmless, he gently caught your cold hand to stabilise you. 

“__, I’m sorry. We can sort this all out at home, okay. Let me take you home.”, he spoke softly, his ears folded over on his head as he placed his other hand on the small of your back. 

He was never one to display the typical domestic hybrid behaviours so many humans associated hybrids in general with. He was a wolf, he acted like one. But right now, all he wanted to do was give you puppy dog eyes and ask for warm hugs till you forgot about whatever he’d done to fuck up things so bad. 

Tonight wasn’t his night though.

“Oh now you wanna call me by my name, huh? What happened to “owner”?”, your voice was dripping with derision, a sneer on your tear-streaked face. 

“Is that guy bothering you?”, one of the creepy guys who had been leering at you asked, ironically. Giving Jeongguk a smirk, he ambled a little closer towards you.

Jeongguk’s hackles rose, his wild instincts thrumming to protect his territory which was currently under threat for all he cared. But these guys were humans, he had to be cautious, if he beat them into a pulp like he was itching to, he could end up in jail for a long time, or worse be put down without a proper trial. Hybrids weren’t treated like the rest of the general population when it came to acting in self defence. 

On top of that he was a trained fighter. He could lose his license as a trainer if he put his hands on these puny, malnourished bastards. 

But Jeongguk swore if the pervert took one more step towards you he’d throw caution to the wind, chance his luck and cave the fuckhead’s face in with his fist. 

You turned your head to look at the guy in confusion, having not even realised someone was there in the first place. The guy had the audacity to put out his hand for you to take. 

Jeongguk growled threateningly, a sound that came deep from his chest, lengthened canines on display as he bared his teeth in a predatory snarl. 

The pervert faltered, hand falling to his side as he swallowed, but making another shameless attempt he called out to you, “Come with me sweetheart. We can go anywhere you like. Or would you like us to beat up this dog for you?”

You recoiled, disgust clear on your face as you pressed into Jeongguk’s chest to get away from them. 

Jeongguk suppressed his smile when you, very drunkenly, put them in their place. 

“My hybrid broke a hulking bear’s jaw yesterday, do you guys want a bone alignment too? Or maybe you have a death wish?”, you asked sarcastically, wildly pointing at them to make your point.

Jeongguk had had enough of stalling out on this cracked pavement, under broken streetlights and he could tell you were getting cold. He was getting you home within the next ten seconds or else. 

Swiftly removing the black button down he was wearing, that all club employees were supposed to wear, he wrapped it around your shoulders as you gesticulated at the men some more, this time involving middle fingers. He was wearing a t-shirt underneath so he was good to go. 

Next he lifted you into his arms easily, a surprised yelp escaping you as you clutched his shoulders for balance. Making an about turn he strode towards the direction where his car was parked, not giving another glance to the human men looking at you both bewildered. 

Surprisingly, you didn’t put up any fight to get down from his arms, clenching your fingers in the fabric of his shirt around you to keep it from falling down. He peered down at you cautiously, knowing that he was taking a liberty carrying you like this but he could not stand in the presence of those vile men ogling at you while you shivered in the cold for one more moment. He was able to smell their sick thoughts and arousal for you, he wouldn’t have been able to control himself he didn’t take you away from there immediately. 

You looked spent and small in his arms, like all the fight had left your body. You didn’t look at him, instead finding something immensely interesting in the club logo printed on his T-shirt and swirling your finger around the design over his left pec. It was nothing, just the tip of your finger over fabric, but it made him shudder nonetheless. 

You had absolutely no clue what you did to them, how your smallest gesture or quirk send their hearts tailspinning much like yours did when they teased you. 

Taehyung and him had decided that it was better for everyone that their new owner didn’t know how they felt about her. Owning hybrids for the first time, they knew it was difficult for you to adjust your life around them anyhow, when not even factoring your own attraction to them, they had decided not to mix in their own emotions into it to make it any harder for you. 

But Jeongguk was wondering if maybe that wasn’t the best course of action anymore. 

He sighed, your silence was killing him more than your angry shouts. “Own—”

“If you think I’ve forgiven you, don’t. I don’t want to talk to you.” You sniffled slightly and if your words weren’t enough, the sound jabbed him straight in the heart.

Jeongguk knew when to throw in the towel and apologise sincerely, though he still wasn’t quite sure exactly what had made you cry so bad. 

“Forgive me, Owner. I should have told you it was me back in the club, I didn’t real—”

Your sudden glare on him was so intense, his words automatically died in his throat. What had he done now?

“You think I’m angry because I didn’t know that it was you?!”, you snapped, voice loud and decidedly pissed off once again. He gulped, glancing down at you cautiously but not breaking his stride to his car parked behind the club. 

“Then what are you angry at?”, he dared to ask, though something told him that he was only digging himself a deeper hole. But he’d fucked up royally somehow anyway, how worse could it get?

The scowl on your face and the tinge of red taking over the skin of your face told him the answer. Your next words were screamed at his head. “How about not coming up to me in the first place?! How about leaving me be?!”

Jeongguk stopped walking as a horrifying thought occurred to him. His voice was dumbfounded as he asked, “Are you saying it wasn’t cons—”

“NO!”

Jeongguk’s soul almost left his body at your scream, as he flinched back from you. At this rate he wouldn’t be surprised if someone called the police. 

A sliver of irritation was quickly replacing his remorsefulness. “Then you did want me to kiss you? And it’s not about me not revealing my identity? Then what is it? You’re not making any sense, Owner.”

“Put me down.”

“What?”

“Put me down.”, you snapped, squirming in his arms so that he was forced to let you stand on your feet.

“We’re almost to my car, please don’t tell me you won’t let me take us home. I’m sorry for making you angry. Again.”

You shook your head, and he almost panicked at your apparent refusal but you allayed it. “Lead the way.”

When you both got to his car, you refused any help from him, running ahead of him slip in the back passenger seat before he could open the front one for you. He sighed, never knowing you were such a petty sulker, but frankly he should have expected it. 

He blasted the heat when he settled in the driver’s seat, reaching back to adjust the rear vents so they directly faced you. The whole time in the car he kept glancing in the review mirror.  You didn’t meet his eyes once, but passed out in your seat two blocks away from reaching home.   

Jeongguk knew he had a mountain to climb ahead of him. For a minute there, his thoughts had taken an unbearable turn. What if whatever he had done damaged his relationship with you permanently? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. 

But he shook them away, not accepting the possibility. 

Parking in the driveway, he exited and rounded the car to open your door. You were deep asleep, the streaks of the tears still visible on your face and your dress so bunched up around your hips, he could almost see your panties. 

Averting his eyes, he wiped your face gently, doing his best to get the rid of the smudged mascara on your skin. Not wanting to wake you up, he took you in his arms so carefully and gently, it was almost like he was holding a newborn. You were as fragile to him though. 

Taehyung opened the front door even before Jeongguk could attempt to take out his keys, his eyes widening taking in the sight of you. 

He had enough presence of mind to keep his voice down. “What the fuck happened?”, he whisper-shouted as he let you both in. 

“Ugh.” Did Jeongguk really have to do this right now? He kinda just wanted to tuck you in, cuddle up to you and sleep forever. 

Taehyung wanted answers though, closing the door behind him, his hyung followed the two of you to your bedroom, feet shuffling frantically. “You had one job, Jeongguk. You were supposed to look out for her, why is she passed out?”

Jeongguk gestured for Taehyung to flip the bedding so he could settle you in. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at his non-answer but did it nonetheless. Laying you down and removing your heels, he answered the elder. “She’s just asleep.”

Taehyung was going to strangle him. He was just prolonging the inevitable. 

Taehyung was silent for a moment, before he whispered ominously. “Has she been crying?”

Or not. 

“Umm.”

Taehyung growled. And trust Jeongguk when he says a tiger’s growl is equal a throaty roar that can make one piss his pants. 

“Jeongguk.”

The younger sighed, getting up to face Taehyung’s wrath. This was officially turning out to be the worst night ever. Taehyung was very protective over you, much like him, though the tiger hybrid didn’t show it as often as he did, which was not much in the first place. But Jeongguk was certain he’d tear apart limb from limb any person who dared to make you cry. Jeongguk just hoped he made an exception for him. 

Taehyung’s face was carefully blank and his voice deadpan, “Jeongguk, tell me why she was crying, or I’ll make you cry.”

Nodding, the wolf gestured for him to come to the living room so as not to disturb you. 

He wished this night got over already.

********

You’d been dreaming of soft fur and an even softer kisses when you woke up, the pleasant images your subconscious was supplying slipping out of your grasp and into oblivion till you couldn’t remember them anymore. 

Instead a dull throbbing ache in your head and in your heart replaced them and by the time you were throwing the duvet off to get up your body ached too. 

“Ugh.” You plopped your head in your hands, feeling like death warmed over. You were feeling a little floaty and disjointed but from the corner of your eyes you sighted the ibuprofen on the bedside table along with a glass of water bringing you hurtling down into reality. 

Your brain supplied memory after memory of the previous night against your will, if you could stop the onslaught of remembrance you would, but you were helpless against it. Whatever happened to too much alcohol making you forget your drunken self? You clearly hadn’t been drunk enough, you guessed. 

Wanting to burrow back under the covers so you never had to face your hybrids but feeling gross as hell, you gingerly got up from your bed to head into your en-suite, internally thanking your real estate agent that you had a bathroom attached in every bedroom of your house. 

As you showered, you couldn’t help but come to terms with what you’d done. Storm off on Jeongguk after publicly climbing him like a tree and play battle of the tongues with him, almost get into trouble with some creepy men, scream Jeongguk’s ear off with your hysterical fit and sulk afterwards. He was likely so fucking confused at your behaviour, it wasn’t like they knew your feelings for them were serious and your anger more like a jilted lover who’d been told their relationship wasn’t serious rather than about your bruised pride, though the latter hurt just as much. 

You could never tell them the real reason though, they’d pity you more than they already did. That’s why you were dithering in your bedroom, putting on your cozy hoodie that reached the bottom of your thighs as slowly as you could. Not having the will to do much else with your appearance, you left it at that. 

Time to put on your big girl panties. 

When you stepped outside you immediately spotted them in the living room. Taehyung was sprawled on the couch, manspreading in a way that forced one’s gaze straight to the crotch and his inviting lap, sipping his tea languidly. 

The sight an smell of tea pulled you robotically closer till the Jeongguk’s figure came into view and you stopped abruptly. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, on pins and needles. 

And he sported a black eye. 

You gasped involuntary at the sight, drawing your hybrids’ attention to you, ears twitching and tails immediately in motion. Jeongguk sprang up from his seat, evidently aiming to amble towards you but you swiftly changed directions and dashed into the kitchen instaed, but not before seeing his crestfallen face at your apparent retreat. 

Grabbing a bag of frozen peas from the freezer you rushed back to the living room, his face lighting up again at your return. What a silly wolf. 

Even before you could stand before him properly, you were slapping the bag of ice cold peas on his eye. 

“Ow.”, he grunted, looking up at you beguilingly from where he had sat back down on the couch. 

“How did this happen?”, you asked, turning your head to narrow your eyes at Taehyung because you had your suspicions. 

The two often roughhoused with each other, giving as best as they got. Even with all of Jeongguk’s training you’d noticed Taehyung never seemed intimidated by it, matching the younger for every swipe and punch. You never thought it was your place to get in between what was clearly nothing serious, just a way to blow off steam between the hybrids but none of them had ever ended up with a bruise before.

Taehyung shrugged, putting his cup down. “We just talked.”

“With your fists?”

Jeongguk grabbed your wrist to pull it down from his eye, showcasing to you the light purple outline along his eye. “It’s already halfway healed, Owner. It’s gonna be back to normal in an hour or two.”

Shaking his hand off yours, you slapped the pea bag back on his eyes. You didn’t care to hear them boast about their accelerated healing, a black eye was a black eye.

 “Or an hour or four.”, he grumbled, rolling one eye up at you. Slowly, he brought his hands up to circle them around your waist, clutching you tightly close. Your heart pounded but you didn’t say anything.

“I’m a fighter, it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“Did I ask?”

Taehyung guffawed from behind you.

Jeongguk pouted. “Right.” He fidgeted a little, clearly bubbling with something more to say but hesitating.

“Just say it, Jeongguk. And remember what I told you.”, Taehyung said exasperatedly. 

You frowned but Jeongguk’s monologue overran your confusion. 

“I’m sorry for not considering your feelings, ___. If you thought that I was playing a prank on you or that I kissed you just for the heck of it, that’s not true! I had been keeping an eye on you all night and you looked so beautiful. When that fucker tried to put his gross hands on you in the club, I couldn’t let it happen. I was gonna leave you alone the whole night, let you enjoy by yourself, that was the plan. But I couldn’t help but give in when you clutched my hands around your waist like you never wanted to let go. And you smelled so good and looked so fucking sexy. I was helpless not to give in. But in no way, was I playing a joke on you or toying with you or whatever else you’ve convinced yourself. It was just my genuine, unadulterated want for you.”

You stared down at him in bewilderment before turning your head to glance at Taehyung. The tiger hybrid looked proud of his younger, nodding at you like he agreed that Jeongguk had been a good boy and it was time for his treat. 

“See. We just talked and I helped him along with his apology.”, Taehyung informed sagely. 

Then something registered belatedly. “Wait. Keeping an eye on me all night long? Let me enjoy myself? You knew I was there the whole time?”

Jeongguk, who had been glowing a little with self pride, looked like all his hopes had been dashed once again. Luckily his hyung was there to save him. 

“Eh, ___. I thought that was a moot point but I should have known you’re a little slow on the uptake. I planted those flyers in our mailbox.”

You turned on him so fast you got whiplash, Jeongguk’s hands falling from your waist. “What?!”

“Umm.” Taehyung eyed the frozen pea bag still in your hand, worried that you were going to hurl it at his head. “I take back the part about you being slow on the uptake?”

“Why did you do it?”, you asked, feeling hurt creep back up on you after the warmth Jeongguk’s words had blossomed. Had they planned this all out to make a fool of yourself? 

Taehyung was remarkably more perceptive than his younger. He realised you were getting riled up in your self-deprecating thoughts again immediately. He got up, closing the distance between you to take your hands in his and pull you closer. Hooking your chin up to make you look at him, he peered into your eyes for an excruciatingly long moment, his orange ears flicking on top of his head when he frowned. 

“I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t. We were just worried. When you told us you were going to a club, I thought why not the one where Jeongguk’s gonna work? He could look out for you from afar while you had the break from us you were clearly going for. Kill two birds with one stone. You weren’t supposed to know he was there.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. He knew why you had not spent your weekend like you usually did and went clubbing instead. He was even more perceptive than you gave him credit for. 

Taehyung smiled slightly at your surprise, taking your right wrist in his hands to softly rub circles on your pulse, a peculiarity of his and Jeongguk’s that they often did. You never asked why but got nervous and flustered everytime they took your wrist in their hands. 

But today you were curious enough. You held up your hand, taking his along. “You guys do this a lot. Why?”

Taehyung, whose gaze was as penetrating as ever a few seconds ago, flitted his eyes away from yours. You heard Jeongguk get up to stand beside you, taking your other hand in his. 

“We can’t properly scent you, __. This is us compensating for it.”, he informed. The bruise around his eye was almost gone, a thin ring of bluish-purpled skin all that was remaining. 

Your frown of cluelessness was clear on your face. 

Instead of answering your unspoken question, Taehyung asked one of his own, stepping even closer till your chest brushed his and you had no choice but to look up as he towered over you. “Tell me, Owner. Did you want Jeongguk to kiss you? Although I know the answer already, be honest.”

You should have been offended at his presumption but you had no room to hide from your feelings anymore, not that you ever had. But you were feeling impossibly exposed since yesterday night, might as well rip off the band-aid and get it over with. 

“Yes.’, you whispered. Jeongguk pulled your hand up to kiss your palm. 

Taehyung smirked. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

God, yes. You nodded. 

Taehyung shook his head, chuffing disapprovingly. “Speak up, Owner. I don’t want any mixed signals between us anymore.”

You bit your lip, but gave in. He was right, it was past time that you went past silent pining and them loud diversion through their constant teasing. 

“Yes please. Kiss me Taehyung.” 

Taehyung closed his eyes, before he closed the distance between you, urgently murmuring one last confession before taking your lips in a searing kiss. “I have been dying to.”

Hands going into his hair immediately to keep him in place, you stood on your tip-toes to deepen the kiss. It wasn’t a slow, languid exploration like the kiss with Jeongguk but a frenzied meeting of lips that left the taste of tea on your tongue when he pushed his inside your mouth. His hand cupped your cheek ever so tenderly, starkly contrasting the ravenous way he devoured your mouth. 

You sensed Jeongguk behind you before he pushed your hair off one of your shoulders, making room for his lips on the pulse at the crook of your neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin before biting it gently, making you groan in Taehyung’s mouth. 

Nuzzling the skin behind your ear, the wolf hybrid whispered heavily. “This is scenting. Our scent all over you so other hybrids know to stay away. Know that you are taken.”

You broke the dizzying kiss to turn your head to the younger, much to Taehyung’s annoyance as he chuffed and attached his lips to your jaw instead, trailing kisses to the other side of your neck. 

“It comforts us to know that our territory is marked.”, the tiger hybrid continued, his voice a low baritone somewhere between a growl and rumble. 

“Your territory, huh?” You raised a brow, a small smile playing on your lips as you tilted you head to bare more of your neck to him. 

Taehyung straightened, his canines had lengthened a little, giving a sinister edge to his crooked smile. “Do you have any doubts, Owner? Want us to give you a demonstration of exactly how much we own you?”

Gulping at the veiled threat/inveiglement, your body couldn’t help but sing with anticipation and lust at it, arousal seeping from your pussy already. 

“Fuck, she’s wet, hyung.”, Jeongguk growled, nipping at your neck lightly, mindful of his sharp teeth. “You smell so good when you’re turned on, Owner.”

Taehyung tilted his head. “Is that a yes? We won’t go easy on you, we’ve wanted this ever since you first stepped foot inside that lawyer’s office.”

He was saying everything you’d wanted to hear from them ever since they came into your life, your wildest fantasies were coming true. 

Reaching up to card your finger into Taehyung’s hair, you ran your nails at the base of his soft orange and black striped ears. An involuntary chuff escaped him automatically and he narrowed his eyes at you. He was so tiger-like in his disposition, arrogant, ever-knowing and loved to keep his feelings in isolation by directing attention on everyone but himself, unless he was modeling that is. No more.

“I’ve wanted this too. But you both knew that, I didn’t exactly make a secret of it.” Reaching behind you pulled Jeongguk closer too, giving his furry ears the same treatment. Unlike Taehyung he accepted your petting gladly. “For once I want you guys to be as vulnerable as I always am around you two.”

Taehyung pursed his lips. “How exactly do we do that?”

You smirked, much like he did whenever he teased you. “You call me Owner but do I really own you? I want to hear it from your lips. Both of yours.”

Taehyung stilled in front of you while Jeongguk was silent only momentarily before barking, “You own me, Owner. I am yours.”

You huffed a laugh at his eagerness but the sincerity in Jeongguk’s voice spread tingles of warmth to your heart, his deep voice flaming your libido. You challenged Taehyung with your eyes.

The tiger studied you for a second before sighing, knowing you’d put him on the spot and he couldn’t get away with dodging talking about his feelings like he usually did. “You own me, __. But we own you too.”

“That’s fine with me.”, you murmured before reaching up to pull him for another mind-melting kiss. 

Jeongguk whined from behind you. “Thats unfair.”

Without breaking away, you took the wolf hybrid’s hands to snake them inside your hoodie and upon your bare breasts. His palms immediately kneading them, hardening your nipples. 

“Fuck yes.”, he grunted in your neck, pinching your nipples till you gasped and broke the kiss, the electric pleasure going straight to your core till you were rubbing your thighs together. 

Taehyung grabbed the hem of your hoodie to pull it up and off your head in one jerky motion, till you stood before them in nothing but your panties. 

Some of your momentary bravado fizzled at the prospect of them checking you out while you were so bare, you fidgeted your hands up to try and cover your breasts. 

Jeongguk’s hands caught yours before you could. “Nuh uh.”

Taehyung bit his lip as he surveyed your naked upper body, reaching up to circle your left areola but not touching the hardened peak of your breast, torturing you slowly. “These belong to us now, you said so yourself. You can’t hide them away from us from now on.”

“Please.”, you sighed when he continued evading your neglected nipple. 

Smiling at your begging, he rewarded you by pushing you back in Jeongguk’s arms and bending down to take your nipple in his hot mouth. Your toes curled immediately as your head hit the wolf’s shoulder, current travelling straight to your pussy at his eager suckling. 

“Fuck, I’ve got the best view.”, Jeongguk breathed into your hair, watching his hyung worship your breast, his striped tail swishing behind him. 

Not able to help himself, Jeongguk slid his hands down to hook into your panties, teasing them down till they fell on the floor. Parting your legs with his thigh and catching the back of your leg with his hand, he put your foot on the couch to give him unfettered access to your dripping pussy. 

Your folds parted on their own at the position he put you in, and when his fingers touched your pussy he found your weeping center immediately, your hole clenching at his touch.. 

When he pushed one finger in slowly, you brought your hands to Taehyung’s head to clutch him to your chest, the tiger hybrid looking up at you with mirth in his eyes. 

Turning your head you whispered in Jeongguk’s ear, “More.”

He smirked...and removed the one finger he’d lodged inside you. 

“Jeongguk!”, you whined, mouth turning down at the corners when Taehyung left your breast too. 

Before you had time to complain, the wolf was pulling you back to abruptly manhandle you over the edge of the couch’s armrest, so that your naked ass stuck out in the air enticingly while your upper body sprawled stomach down on the plush seat. 

“You want more? I think you’d love Taehyung hyung’s tongue on your cunt. He’s got a way with it that even I can’t compete with.” Jeongguk parted your legs to bare your pussy to him, groaning as he thumbed the labia and stretched it open, giving him a view of your empty hole, glistening wet and begging him for a taste. “I wanna eat you out so bad.”

Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glanced back at him in confusion, your face indicating you’d love for him to do just that. “Then do.”

Taehyung stepped beside Jeongguk, pulling his oversized button up shirt over his head without bothering with the buttons and somehow just that simple action made you even more wetter. 

Shaking his head to clear his shaggy hair off his face, he threw the shirt to the side, before giving you a secretive smile, as if he was aware of every thought going through your head. He likely was.

Jeongguk stepped aside to give his spot to his hyung, eyes not leaving the prize between your legs once, it was clearly hard for him to give up eating you out to his elder. 

Jeongguk gave you a knowing smirk as he came to stand before you, hands on the fly of his jeans. “Trust me, Owner. You want hyung’s tongue on you more than mine.”

Taehyung kneeled behind you, parting your thighs much like Jeongguk had. You jolted a little when you felt his fingertip find and rub your clit with experienced ease. Slow, deliberate circles as you felt the heat of his face approach closer to your core. 

You expected his tongue but he blew on your open pussy, making you clench and groan at the tingling sensation. “Please don’t tease, Tae.”

“Why don’t I distract you while hyung does what he wants.”, Jeongguk growled, grabbing your hair roughly to turn your face to him. 

The tight grip on your hair and the sight of a big, fat cock two inches from your mouth, had you salivating. You made to rub your thighs together to alleviate some pressure but yelped when Taehyung slapped your asscheek reprimandingly. 

“Don’t you dare hide away my breakfast.”, he rumbled before promptly taking your clit in mouth, sucking hard while circling the bead with his tongue. Simultaneously, his hand on your ass slid down to push two long fingers in your dripping hole without any warning.

Your gasp was choked back by Jeongguk jamming his cock in your mouth, not giving you any reprieve as he collected your hair in a makeshift ponytail to help him ride your face. 

“Yes.”, he grunted, teeth clenched at the feel of your tongue on the underside of his dick. “You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed about this, Owner. You sucking me off while Hyung eats you out.”

You moaned around his cock, relaxing your throat to take more of him, loving the feel of him so big in your mouth almost to the point of choking. That along with Tae’s mouth on your clit had you on cloud nine, all your dreams coming true already. 

You’d almost gotten settled into the rhythm of Jeongguk’s thrusts into your mouth when Taehyung pulled back to run his tongue from your clit to your perineum in one slow lick. 

This time you choked on Jeongguk’s cock for real, and the wolf generously pulled out to give you room to breath, smirking down at you. “Now you get why?”

Taehyung slid his tongue over your inner labia, probing yout hole but not going deeper. 

You keened. “What is that? It’s like...”, you trailed off because you couldn’t put it into words. 

His tongue wasn’t like anybody else’s you’d had on your pussy before, it felt ridged, like a thousand small peaks over the surface which had your sensitive pussy overstimulated at a thousand different points. 

One more excruciatingly slow lick, that had you clenching your fingers on Jeongguk’s thighs it was so good, and Taehyung pulled back to shrug at you. “Perks of being half tiger. I got a tongue like one.”

Your brain supplied a vague memory of you reading about tigers having spikes on their tongues somewhere. A tiger’s licks were supposed to be painful because of them, but Tae’s felt like it was made to eat a pussy out. You briefly wondered if that was deliberate on the part of the scientists who bred them before Taehyung was going back to giving you his genetically enhanced cunnilingus experience and making you forget all lines of thought.

A nudge from Jeongguk had you taking him back in your mouth, though it was seriously hard to concentrate on the blowjob when Taehyung was making your pussy feel like it was getting its own customised massage. Thankfully, Jeongguk took over the hard part from you by grabbing your hair and thrusting his fat cock in your mouth so that you only had to keep your mouth open and throat relaxed for him while he used you. 

When Taehyung pushed his alien tongue inside your pussy, your eyes rolled back at the feeling. He was eating you out in earnest now, drinking up the juices you produced for him, his hands on your lower back keeping you in place while he enjoyed himself. You could tell he truly loved doing this, he was clearly good at it because in no time you felt yourself climbing that familiar hill of pleasure. One thumb snaked down to gently ghost over your puckered back hole, making you clench your pussy walls around his invading tongue. 

His tongue felt so good, you couldn’t imagine how the cock in your mouth would feel in your pussy. They were clearly experienced lovers, though it wasn’t something you wanted to delve into currently. 

The triple onslaught of his finger circling your clit, his tongue working your cunt and the thumb on your anus, had you hurtling towards your orgasm at breakneck speed. Jeongguk felt you coming too, because he pulled back just as Taehyung flicked your clit with his tongue. 

The texture of his tongue made your clit zing with pleaure-pain as your orgasm washed over you so suddenly it left you winded. 

“Taehyung!”, you screamed his name so loudly the neighbours must have heard it. 

You slumped down on the couch, panting slightly. Taehyung ran a comforting hand up your bare back as he got up. You didn’t even realise Jeongguk taking his spot till you felt the distinct touch of the wolf folding one of your legs over the couch, spreading you impossibly wide. 

“Owner, your pussy is so swollen and cute. Hyung ate you out so well.”

You snorted, not getting up from your sprawled position. “Did you just call my vagina cute?”

Jeongguk huffed more cutely than any part of your body could ever look. “It is. And it’s gonna look even cuter with my cock stuffed deep in it.”

You laughed. “Yes please, but you gotta stop calling it cute.”

Taehyung plopped down on the couch beside your head. “It’s our pussy now. We can call it whatever we want. Infact, I’m gonna name it peaches after my favourite fruit.”

Highly offended, you propoed up on your elbows to give him a peice of your mind but he bent down to cover your mouth with his, effectively shutting you up. His hands carded into your hair to pull you up and deeper into the kiss and you forgot about what you had to say. 

This time you distinctly felt the uneven texture (along with the taste of your pussy) on his tongue, something you’d failed to notice during the first kiss. 

He pulled back to whisper against your lips, eyes hooded. “Because yours is the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

Jeongguk’s pushed in three fingers then, immediately feeling you gush around his finger at Taehyung’s words. Even though you weren’t a fan of hearing about any of their previous exploits, the thought you being the best pussy he’d tasted made your heart clench. 

Jeongguk chuckled. “Are you a slut for praises, Owner? Your pussy just went impossibly tight and wet.”

“I’m a slut for your cock. Put it in, Jeongguk.”, you whined as your hands attacked Taehyung’s zipper, craving his cock in your mouth. 

“Yes you fucking are.”, Jeongguk cursed thrusting inside you in one swift motion that had you tumbling into Taehyung’s lap as you cried out at the feeling of being so fucking full. 

It had been a long time since you’d had sex and you were feeling the effects, your cunt walls moulded to his cock like a warm, wet second skin and you clenched around him to get him deeper. 

“Fuck don’t do that, __. I’m gonna knot you before I even get to fuck you properly.”

“Then fuck me!”, you cried. 

He pulled back slowly, almost making you cry at the pace, before he thrust in so hard you felt his cock near your cervix. Soon, he set a brutal pace that had your jaw lax and eyes clenched in pleaure. His cock was so big and fat, he was making your walls throb from the inside. 

Taehyung pushed your hair behind your ears, making you look up at him. You realized you’d abandoned the blowjob you were about to give him when Jeongguk’s cock made you forget everything. You didn’t know how you could give him a good suck when you were being drilled into so thoroughly, but you made to try nonetheless, putting your hand on his bulge.

He took your hand in his, stopping you. Leaning forward, Taehyung kissed you tenderly. “Don’t worry about me. I’m so hard just looking at the beautiful face  you make when you get fucked good.”

You pulled him in to your lips again, groaning in his mouth when Jeongguk adjusted his pelvis to fuck up into you, brutally pounding your g-spot till you felt a deep pressure build inside you that had you shaking in Taehyung’s arms. 

Your nails dug into his arms, and pretty soon you couldn’t even concentrate on his lips, your face thumping down on his shoulder as your whole body moved from Jeongguk’s hard thrusts that had his pelvis slapping your ass in a rhythmic lewd noise that filled the room.

Biting down on Tae’s shoulder, you clenched around Jeongguk involuntarily when you felt him snake his hand down to your clit. The pressure built till you cried out his name on a prayer. 

“Jeongguk please! Make me come!”

His panting breath came out on a groan as his hand tightened on your hip, pulling you back on his thick cock with every thrust. “Anything for you.”

And then you felt it, the pressure at the entrance of your pussy, but a different kind than the one you felt internally. The base of Jeongguk’s dick expanded, swollen till you felt it distinctly nudging at your entrance at every thrust. 

“Tell me I can knot you, Owner. Please.”, the wolf hybrid pleaded, not faltering as he fucked you into the couch.

“Yes!”, you keened, hungry for everything he had to give you. 

With one more hard thrust, his knot was breaching your entrance making you cry out in pleasure-pain. With his second thrust, he lodged the bulb deep into your cunt. 

Taehyung pinched your nipples, both to distract you from the pain and torture you some more. The double assault had you coming for the second time, a tsunami of electric pleasure washing over every nerve of your body. 

Your orgasm triggered Jeongguk’s, the impossible tightness of your heaven of a pussy not allowing him to hold back any longer. He bathed your insides in hot, thick cum, a never ending stream of it in your womb which left you feeling even fuller if that was possible. You felt thoroughly stuffed. 

Jeongguk collapsed over your back where you were already sprawled on Taehyung’s lap, his weight over you sticky but comforting. 

“Just give me a second.”, he panted, sounding more wounded than you’d ever heard him, which was a feat considering he fought for a living. 

You turned your head to kiss his nose, and he smiled, not opening his eyes. He puckered his lips and you obliged him with a kiss. Something about kissing the wolf while he was buried deep inside you, his cum almost leaking from where you two were attached, had you feeling warm from the inside. You wanted, no needed, an endless repeat of the past hour for the rest of your life. 

Soon enough, his knot was deflating and he was leaving your lips to get up from over you. He was still hard when he pulled out of you, immediately making you feel so so empty. 

Thankfully because you were lying horizontally, not much of the huge load of cum he’d given you slipped out, though you could feel it deep inside of you. 

But when Taehyung stepped behind you to take his turn fucking you, he dashed your dreams of keeping all the cum they gave you inside. 

He grabbed your asscheeks, pulling them apart to give him a clear view of your freshly fucked pussy. Licking his lips, he ordered. “Push it out. I wanna see his cum dribble out of your cunt.”

Pouting, you looked back at him.

He laughed, slapping your ass in chastisement. “I’ll fill you up again, don’t worry. Now clench your walls and push it out.”

You obeyed happily at the thought of being filled again, clenching your pelvic muscles to push out the cum Jeongguk gave you. You felt it rising up towards your entrance and soon enough the thick white liquid was dripping out of you in abundance, leaking down your pussy and on the couch. 

Taehyung cursed, keeping you open for him to look at till his heart’s content. “Fuck, that’s a sight. You know this is it right? Once I’ve claimed you too, you can’t let anyone else touch you like this, Owner.”

A giddy thrill ran through you at his words, he was saying exactly what you wanted to hear. But right now you wanted him inside you more, pillowtalk could be had afterwards. “Wasn’t planning on it. Now will you fuck me, please. I need your cock inside me.”

He tilted his head, his ears twitching as if in amusement. “Be careful what you ask for.”

Slightly confused at his words, all thoughts fled your brain when he pumped his beautiful cock in his hand and brought it to your entrance, running it up and down your slit before pushing the tip in. He wasn’t as big as Jeongguk but he was just as thick, and as your pussy got a filled second time that day, you felt that strange sensation again, but this time on the inner walls of your cunt.

Your mouth dropped open on a silent cry, it was too much, you’d never felt anything like it. Even after being thoroughly fucked once by Jeongguk, your pussy felt assaulted by Taehyung’s cock. You were starting to realise why Jeongguk fucked you first.

Taehyung’s cock was covered in ridges much like his tongue was, the spiky sensation along your walls felt so foreign yet so good, it had you babbling without thinking. “Why haven’t I been with a tiger hybrid before? Ugh— I-I’ve been missing out.”

Taehyung stilled inside you and you cried out as the feeling of him pushing his cock in stopped. 

Grabbing you by the hair, he pulled you back toward him roughly, making you yelp. Your hand on the back of the couch was the only thing supporting your upper body as his cock slid in deeper into you. 

“You could’ve have had this dick much sooner had you not been running away from us all the time.”, he whispered in your ear. 

Turning your head as much as you could with his fist in your hair, you glared at him. “You could’ve had this pussy much sooner had you not been making fun of me all the time.”

Taehyung huffed a laugh, nuzzling your jaw with his nose as he started moving in you again, shallow thrusts that had his cock scraping your pussy walls. “Making fun? You’re so cute when you’re clueless.”

“What—aah.”

The shallow movements gave way to a harsh thrust that had him pulling almost all the way out to pound into your cunt forcefully. The mushroom tip of his cock scrapped your g-spot so perfectly, it had you shutting up immediately. 

Taehyung wrapped his arms around your torso to keep you suspended in the air while he pounded you from behind. The familiar pressure creeping up on you for the third time so fast it left you reeling. 

Taehyung knew what he was doing, he angled his hips to hit your g-spot again and again with every thrust while his ridged cock stroked your walls from the inside better than any ribbed dildo could. His cock made you want to throw out all your woefully inadequate sex toys, now that you’d had the best thing ever in your pussy. 

Sliding down the expanse of your stomach, he pinched your clit with his fingers, making you bite your lip. Your overstimulated and abused pussy had been building upto something monumental all this time. The previous two times you had come but you hadn’t hurtled past that pressure that had been rising up ever since Jeongguk first touched your pussy. You knew you could squirt, although it took a lot to make you reach that point.

This whole morning had been the definition of “a lot’.

Maybe Taehyung could sense it to because he increased the speed of his thrusts, pulling you down on his cock to meet his every upward motion, the sound of hardcore fucking filling up the room again. The inner pressure on your g-spot with every thrust burst as Taehyung bit into your neck, dousing you both and the couch below in clear liquid as you reached your orgasm with a scream of the Tiger hybrid’s name. 

With every thrust from him, you squirted a little more till you had nothing to give and your orgasm dulled into oversensitivity. He continued pounding you for a few more seconds, clenching his eyes closed as he chased his own orgasm at the heel of yours. 

“Fuck, I’m coming, ___.”, he grunted as he released into you, the thick ropes of cum mingling with Jeongguk’s deep inside your pussy. 

With a thump, you both collapsed on the couch, Taehyung taking care to turn at the last second to take you in his arms. 

You opened your eyes after you came down from your high a little, still panting heavily. Jeongguk had returned to the room, wearing a fresh pair of clothes, and sitting on the couch opposite as he watched you two with a mixture of lust and fondness in his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice the prominent bulge in his pants.

Of course they had an insatiable libido. Go figure. 

The wolf hybrid got up to come closer, a freshly laundered washcloth in his hand. Taehyung helped you sit up against him. Taking the insides of you thighs in his hands, he spread your legs so Jeongguk could clean you up. 

They both were so careful and tender with you that it almost brought tears to your eyes, but you held them back lest they call you a wimp. 

Speaking of which…

“Why did you call me clueless earlier?”, you asked Taehyung as he wrapped you up in his arms. You sat on his lap sideways as Jeongguk covered you up with the throw blanket you often kept on our couch. The wolf sat beside you and propped your legs in his own lap. 

Taehyung pecked your temple, gently running his fingertips at the nape of your neck. “Because you are.”

“Do you really think we’d give two fucks about teasing someone we didn’t like?”, Jeongguk asked, his hand massaging your bare thighs. “You know us better than that, Owner. We never put any of our time or effort into anything we’re not interested in.”

Now that you think about it, you’d only ever seen them giving disarming smiles or winks to girls who were interested in them, never going so far as even giving them a word of encouragement or hint or anything else. Never leading them on. Everything they did was deliberate, you were coming to realise. Much like them asking for your whereabouts in the cafe that day so that Taehyung could plant those flyers and Jeongguk could look out for you the whole night. But still. 

“That’s a weird way of showing your interest, I hope you guys know that. You both could have just come out and said it. It’s not like I was making any secret of my hopeless attraction to you guys.”, you complained, crossing your arms over your chest. 

You could feel Taehyung smiling in your hair. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jeongguk rolled his eyes. “And if you think we’re gonna stop teasing you, you’re hopelessly optimistic too, Owner.”

Taehyung snickered at your glare, pulling you closer to his chest. “Haven’t you heard, Owner? Boys always tease girls they like.”

That logic went over your head, but you didn’t question it, instead sighing in resignation as you whined for the nth time. “Okay, at least stop calling me owner.”

Jeongguk nodded easily. “As you wish, Owner.”

A/n: let me know what you thought, feedback keeps me writing.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fic #taehyung fic #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

[maeve-writes]

Summer Camp

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+; Minors DNi

Warnings: PWP, oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex, brutally murdered teens by an immortal serial killer at a summer camp (though that is just mentioned).

Summary: You and the boys investigate the slaughtering of counselors at a cursed summer camp.

a/n: This was written on a Friday the 13th and an excuse to write Sam smut.

-

It was a case straight out of a campy horror movie, five counselors were slaughtered as they got the camp ready for the summer. Normally it wouldn’t have been your kind of scene, but the cops wouldn’t talk about it and the only survivor was missing two limbs and held up in a psychiatric facility. The news said she claimed that whoever killed her friends was still out there and impossible to kill, even after they set him on fire and managed to stab him in the chest.

“Think it’s a Tulpa,” Sam asked as he lugged your bags towards a cabin.

“Could be,” you hummed. You honestly hating camping, the dirt, the bugs, the heat, but living the life as a hunter brought you out into the deep woods from time to time and you learned to deal with it. But at least here at camp there was indoor plumbing and beds. “Or it could be a serial killer bent on revenge against horny camp counselors.”

Sam grinned as you pulled the rickety door open and allowed him in first. The cabin was small, but had a tiny sitting room that lead to a bedroom holding an aging queen bed and bathroom that you barely fit in, so you weren’t sure how Sam was going to use it, but at least you had your privacy. Dean was rooming with, much to his delight, the rest of the actual counselors in hopes of a hookup before facing the big bad.

“My parents shipped me off to camp every summer,” you recalled idly, unpacking your clothes into the small wooden dresser. “I hated every minute of it.”

“Why? I would’ve loved to have gone to a regular camp,” Sam laughed from where he stretched out on the bed, the springs creaked with his breathing. “Probably would’ve been better than chasing werewolves all summer.”

“I built so many birdhouses out of popsicle sticks it’s not even funny.” You tucked away the last of Sam’s shirts and moved to crawl in the bed with him, the thin mattress gave easily to your weight and groaned in protest. He reached out for you as you moved closer, his hands found your hips as you straddled his. “And they forced me to go fishing,” you grimaced. “Had to hook poor little worms, it was so sad.”

“I promise you don’t have to do anything like that while you’re here. We signed you up as the swim instructor,” he informed with a glint in his eye.

“What? You said I was doing archery,” you gasped, slapping at his chest.

“And miss the chance of seeing you in a bathing suit all day? No way,” Sam grinned and blocked the rest of your playful hits.

You rolled your eyes and fought against him as he pulled you down for a kiss. “You’re a pervert, you know that?” You lost the battle and allowed him to press his mouth against yours. “And hopefully we aren’t all chopped up into tiny pieces and eaten before the camp opens,” you muttered against his puckered lips.

“You really know how to kill the mood, Y/N,” he groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillow.

You laughed and winked, climbing off of him. “C’mon, let’s go find your brother.” You pulled him out of the bed and eventually the cabin, heading out to join the others already gathered around the evening campfire. Dean was chatting with a pretty blonde around your age, wide eyed and flushed as the other Winchester flirted shamelessly. “I see that you got straight to work,” you greeted them when you got close enough.

“This the Brittany,” Dean turned his attention to the both of you. “Her parents own the camp.”

She gave a little wave to the both of you. “They’ve been talking about buying it for a while now. They met here when they were younger, they were counselors here. Just celebrated their 25th anniversary, so they caved and guilted me into running it.”

“How sweet,” you cooed.

She nodded and smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Thanks for accepting the job, it was hell trying to get people to want to work here.”

You tilted your head, feigning ignorance, “What do you mean?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head, “We’ve got a nasty mosquito problem. Everyone’s worried about bird flu or whatever.” She laughed loud and nervously and you played along. “Anyway, let’s get drunk!” With a clap of her hands, she was up and jogged over to the cooler the others had open and full of cheap beer.

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Think you can get it out of her, Dean?” The eldest Winchester winked and joined in the merriment of bad music and alcohol, his arm already wrapped around Brittany. “Wanna look around?” You grinned up at your boyfriend and grabbed his hand, leading him back towards your cabin. “I thought you wanted to work?”

“Dean’s working,” you replied with a half shrug. “Besides, don’t you know the best way to get a crazy serial killer to come out of hiding is for two young, beautiful people to fuck like rabbits while their friends party outside?”

Sam laughed and scooped you up to carry you the rest of the way to the cabin, “Is that right?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, “it’s in the rule book.”

“There’s a rule book, huh?” You pulled the door open once again and Sam bee-lined straight to the bed. He unceremoniously dropped you on the cheap, thin mattress and eagerly climbed on top and between your legs. “Does it say how we’re supposed to do it? Hard and fast? Nice and slow?”

You tilted your head in thought when he sat on his hunches, pulling off his thin white shirt that was already soaked through with sweat. “Hard and fast,” you decided. “And very loud.”

“Loud? I think we can manage that,” Sam chuckled and worked on his pants as you wiggled out of your own tank top and shorts, tossing them aside. Stripped down to your underwear, he was back on you, mouth attacking yours with his normal primal greed, teeth and tongue and growls. Your fingers twisted into his hair, your sweat slicked bodies clung together as he rolled his hips against yours.

The bed groaned beneath you as the two of you moved in tandem, drowning out your whimpers and Sam’s moans. Any other time, any other place, you would have complained and moved to the floor as you’ve done in past hotels, but somehow, being in a camp like this hearing the springs protest beneath you made it all the more dirty and got you a bit more hot and bothered.

“C’mon, Sam,” you whined, pulling away from his hungry lips, “fuck me.”

“I’m workin’ on it,” he grumbled, but sat back once more to pull off his boxers. Your panties were next, already soaked from your slick and sweat, peeled off with the hook of his thumbs. A devious smile split his face and he dropped so that his shoulders could spread your thighs.

“No, no,” you shook your head and tried to coax him up to you, “no foreplay, straight to the dicking!”

Sam shook his head right back at you and licked at his lips, his thumbs that removed your underwear now parted your folds and he stared hungrily at your core. “Didn’t get dessert when we stopped for food,” he reminded you.

“I’m not ice cream!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sam sniggered and licked a long, flat strip from your fluttering hole to your clit and groaned at the bittersweet tang. A shiver shot through you and your legs clenched around him, a whining moan begged him for more. “Thought you said it’s gotta be loud? I could barely hear you.”

You slapped the top of his head and scowled down at his beautiful, smirking face. “That’s ‘cause you gotta fuck me.”

“I am,” Sam snorted. His eyes locked with yours as he licked another slow trail from hole to hole to your swelling bud. You struggled around him and groaned, your eyes threatened to flutter closed, but you fought against it to glare at him.

“It’s been five days since you’ve been inside me, Samuel,” you snapped. “Stop fucking around and dick me down, dammit.”

“You’re really bossy when you’re desperate,” he teased, but climbed up your body once more to give you a taste of yourself as he lined up. “I kinda like it.” You grinned up at him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders and when he pushed in one fluid motion to the hilt, your smile turning into a sinful O. “You said hard and fast.”

You nodded eagerly and he pulled back, leaving just the tip before slamming back home with the bed squeaking underneath you. “Sam,” you hissed, “just like that.” Your legs and arms wrapped around him as he started the quick, brutal pace of his hips. The thin metal frame of the bed rocked and swayed with his thrusts, your desperate moans only joining in the chorus of the whining objection of the mattress beneath you.

Sam’s lips found your skin once more, kissing and marking the slick flesh. “Louder,” he murmured against your jaw, pinching the skin off its bone with his teeth. “Want that killer to show up, don’t you,” he chuckled breathlessly.

You did as you were told, lewd sounds ripped from your throat as Sam changed his angle, searching for the right spot to get you really singing. You did your best to encourage him, sobbing out dirty words, telling him to fuck you harder, faster, and he did. His hips slammed repeatedly against your ass, the squeaks of the bed barely registering over the sound of skin against skin or your porn worthy moans.

And when he found your spot, you clawed at his back, latching onto him which signaled him to let loose. He fucked into you with wild abandon, his face buried into the side of yours, both of you losing your voices as Sam worked you closer to the edge. Neither of you registered the sound of your cabin door open or the sounds of the footsteps creeping closer.

You hit yours first, the blinding white of you orgasm burst through you and came out with a cry of Sam’s name. You clung to him desperately as you rode it out, Sam still pumping into you with a feral need until he spilled his own deep inside of you.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me,” Dean said from the doorway, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Are you fucking serious,” you yelled, grabbing a pillow and hurling to across the room only to miss.

Dean watched the pillow fall to the floor and he snorted, “Nice throw. You might want to get your clothes on. We’re getting out of here.”

“What? Why,” Sam asked, reluctantly pulling out of you. Dean gagged playfully and turned away so you two could get decent.

“Because the whole thing is a hoax. The ‘survivor’,” he used air quotes, “we talked to? Brittany’s crazy sister. And Brittany? Just as crazy. The family made the whole thing up to get people to come to the camp. There’s no killer, there was no murders, just a scam to get publicity.”

You sighed heavily and climbed out of bed, gathering you clothes on the way to the shower. “We’ll pack up and meet you in twenty, I guess.”

“If you two wanna keep playing naughty counselors, I’m all for staying the night,” Dean chuckled. “Brittany might be crazy, but she’s got some nice ti-”

You made a loud yelp to get him to stop. “Get out, Dean. We’ll meet you at the car.” You disappeared into the bathroom with Sam on your heels. As you predicted, he was barely able to get around the small room and when you two climbed into the shower, he couldn’t turn on the water without elbowing you in the face.

“You look disappointed,” Sam noted, his fingers running through your dampening hair.

“I wanted to kill something,” you pouted.

Rolling his eyes, he reached for the shampoo and started to wash your hair. “I’m sure we’ll find something for you to murder soon. Close your eyes.”

You whined pathetically but did as you were told. “Next time we agree to go to summer camp, there better be an immortal serial killer on the loose or I’m gonna be pissed.”

#Sam Winchester x Reader #Sam Winchester x You #Sam Winchester x Y/N #Originally posted on @plaided-ani

[wri0thesley]

Smutty but also fluffy and cute scenario of pesci and his afab s/o having their first time together? (and maybe with some hints of prosciutto being jealous of pesci's s/o?)

first time - pesci x fem reader (3k)

NSFW. 18+ only ! afab reader, fem pronouns. sweet vanilla PIV sex; brief mentions/allusions to cheating. 

You’d always thought, when the time came, that you’d be the nervous one. That you’d be the one with the bitten lip and the fluttering hands, falling over yourself to laugh and stammer and try and take away some of the awkwardness in the air. You’d left it a while, after all - your friends and your peers would tell you of their exploits and you’d raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes and gasp at the appropriate moments and kept your secret held close to your chest. It felt silly, saying it out loud; ‘I’m just waiting for the right person’. Eventually, you’d realised that the right person wasn’t going to come. You’d made your peace with it. You’d looked forward to quiet nights in, alone, and tried to ignore the fact that (whilst it was a perfectly good choice that many people were happy with), you didn’t really want to be alone for the rest of your life. 

And then Pesci had walked into your life. 

He might not have been the tall dark and handsome stranger you’d once envisioned, but you couldn’t deny that you wouldn’t change him for all of the world. You look at him and your heart swells; he says you look beautiful tonight and you’re a flushed, blustering mess. Other people might not see him as handsome, but for you . . . you cannot get enough of his mouth, or the broad shoulders, or twisting fingers through his hair. Your first times for everything had been nervous affairs - your first kiss, snatched as he said goodnight to you in front of your door, his cheeks red as he pulled away. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he’d said, stammering, as he looked into your wide eyes. You’d seen him begin to pull into himself - his shoulders drawing in, teeth dangerously close to biting his lip, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes. And instead of letting that happen, you’d taken ahold of his shoulders and kissed him again, scarcely believing in your own courage. 

He’d introduced you to Prosciutto after you’d been nervously dancing around the concept of dating for two months. The severe blond had raised his eyebrows, ice blue eyes flicking up and down your form, before he’d curtly nodded at you and gone about his business. 

“Don’t be worried,” Pesci had said, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. “He’s kinda like that with most people. He saw your picture on my phone and said I’d done a real good job, so . . .” Your poor boyfriend reddens, suddenly aware that perhaps he shouldn’t have shared that tidbit of information, as you felt your own cheeks heat up in response. He probably shouldn’t have shared it - still, the knowledge that Prosciutto felt as though you were at least good-looking helped assuage your fears that he wouldn’t think that you weren’t good enough for his fratello. 

(“He’s not really my brother,” Pesci had fallen over to tell you. “He’s kinda like . . . my mentor, I guess. I-if you were wondering why we don’t look like each other or anythin’, I know he’s a lot handsomer than I am--”. You’d kissed Pesci on the nose, silencing his spluttering, as you’d reassured him that actually, Pesci himself was far more your type anyway.)

You and Pesci go out with Prosciutto sometimes and you notice that he’s . . . off with you. He lingers a little too long beside you, a little too touchy-feely, a little too much treating you like Pesci treats you. He smirks at you and his eyes travel down your body and you blush because you’re not immune to all of his charms - but you realise what it is one day when Pesci is sick and Prosciutto drops by to give you a jacket you left at their place (Pesci shares a house with several of his coworkers; by all accounts his job isn’t well-paying and he has roommates to help keep costs down) and he hovers in your doorway for a fraction too long.

He’s jealous. 

You guess that nobody has ever preferred Pesci over him before. You guess seeing Pesci happy makes him want it for himself - but any good will you have toward him dissipates at the thought that he’s betray someone he cares about for it, and it flees completely as Prosciutto places a hand on your arm and smiles a crooked smile you’re sure has had people falling at his feet in the past. 

“Can’t I come in for a drink before I head back?” He says, his tone slightly lower than usual. His fingers stroke over your wrist. The flush comes unbidden to your face - he’s Prosciutto, after all - but you wave him away and force a smile.

“No, I really have things to do--”

“Cara,” he steps forward even so, toes just brushing the boundary of your home in stylish expensive leather shoes. He smiles at you again, sickly sweet. “Pesci tells me everything, you know. And you and he have been an item long enough that if you wanted to--”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you snap nervously. You do know what he’s getting at. The thought makes it feel like cats are clawing up your insides. Prosciutto continues to smile at you indulgently. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted it,” he says softly. “You’re very pretty, you know . . . I’d be lying if I didn’t say I envied Pesci a little. He doesn’t have to know--”

You’re not proud of slamming the door in his face. You spend the entire night stressed you’re going to get a text from Pesci about how rude you were, encompassing some wild story that Prosciutto’s concocted to make you look like you’re the one at fault in the situation. But nothing is forthcoming. 

Maybe he felt bad about it. You hope he did. 

What it does do, though - the whole situation with Prosciutto - is reaffirm that you love Pesci. Prosciutto’s right in that you’ve been dancing around one area of relationships, but it’s not for lack of attraction to Pesci. God, no. 

It’s fear that you’ll be bad at it, or that Pesci will see something in you he doesn’t like, that you’ll be left tear-stained and alone after something goes wrong. But as Prosciutto had made the insinuation he’d very much like to be invited to your bed, you’d had the realisation that you wanted Pesci. Beyond all reason, you wanted to kiss him and hold him and find yourself under him and drink him in, in every way possible. So the next time you two had a date planned, you asked if perhaps he wouldn’t just like to stay in with you and watch a movie. 

-

You’re both crackling with nerves. Your first attempt to kiss Pesci, after you’ve made it to the bedroom, is broken by your shuddering breath as you look at him from under dark eyelashes. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you tell him, nervous and scared. Pesci’s hands come up to hold your waist, making you feel safe in his embrace. His own smile is nervous, his lip bitten just as much as your own. 

“Neither do I,” he confesses. “So . . . that means we get to find out together, r-right?”

Right. You take a deep breath and kiss him again, and as his teeth gently nip at your bottom lip and you trace the lines of his own lips (his lipstick tastes like watermelon), you feel his hands travel down your back to your shirt. Your gasp is caught in his mouth as fingers gently work under the fabric until he’s touching your bare back, and you push yourself into the kiss. Your own hands go to rest on his shoulders, gently guiding yourself until you’re sat beside him on the bed. 

“I can take this off?” Pesci checks with you, fretting, before he goes any further. You nod and duck your head to hide the way your cheeks are giving you away. 

“Y-yeah,” you breathe. “I’d like that--”

The shirt is gently eased over your head and tossed aside. Pesci’s eyes travel down your body; his gaze lingering longest over your chest. His own cheeks are just as damning evidence as yours. He’d already shrugged off the coat-gilet hybrid he wore when he’d come into the living room,and you’re aware asking him to remove the body suit at this point would be unfair - still, you tug gently on one strap. 

“At least roll it down?” You ask him, voice small. “Just to make me feel less exposed?”

Pesci smiles nervous and earnest at you as he does just that - you see the fear that you won’t like his body reflected from your own eyes into his, and before he can apologise for the light covering of softness you kiss his collarbone. 

“You’re so handsome,” you tell him,” trailing kisses to his clavicle. His breath catches. He is soft - but beneath the layer of softness, you can feel what is unmistakably broad and hard muscle. Despite his appearance, you know that Pesci is strong, and the evidence of that is in how he holds you and how he feels and how effortlessly he holds you against him, pulling you slightly closer so he can unhook your bra. 

That fabric falls from you and though you want to pull yourself in and hide from prying eyes, you make an effort not to - an effort that’s rewarded when Pesci’s eyes darken. One of his hands comes around, cupping the weight of your breast in his hand, thumbs working over your nipple so you bite back a whimper of desire. When he hears the noise he leans in, and - checking it’s alright before he does it - he kisses your nipple, licks at it, until it hardens beneath his continued attention. You moan as he transfers his concentration to the other, fingers gently tangling in his hair. You tug slightly as he brushes the sensitive bud with his teeth, and he moans against you in turn. 

He pulls back from you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed and his mouth slightly open. 

“Should we . . . both?” He asks, and you bite your lip. 

“Maybe . . . together?” You reply, halting. Gratefully, Pesci nods, and for a few moments you busy yourself with jean zips and buttons and the sliding down of fabric of your thighs, peeking at Pesci from on the floor. He peels his bodysuit off his skin - and you’re surprised to see how scarred he is. Emotions well up in your chest. You want to kiss every single scar he has, reassure him of how handsome you think he is, make him sigh and gasp and bend into your touch . . .

And then you see the bulge in his tight underwear and your entire face is suddenly awash in heat. You don’t know what you’d been expecting - but you’re not sure you were expecting that. 

Pesci sees your reaction - you’re expecting him to apologise and worry and pull his clothes back on, but he surprises you by just smiling bashfully. Oh, he knows why you’re responding like that . . . the confidence on him imbues you with some confidence of your own, stoking the flames of your arousal low in your stomach, and you lose your jeans completely. 

“You’re beautiful,” Pesci says, entirely honest, as his eyes drink in the sight of you bare before him. “I can’t believe . . .”

His hands skim over your hips, your breasts, your thighs. 

“Do you wanna help me take them off?” You ask, motioning to the scrap of silk and lace that’s passing as underwear. Hey - this was a special day! You wanted to wear something nice! 

“Yes,” Pesci breathes. His hands are warm on your thighs. You feel the fabric stick to the slick valley between your legs and you know from the way that pesci looks at you and bites his lip, all dark-eyed and desiring, that Pesci feels it too. “For me?” He asks, his tone almost teasing. You nod, embarrassed, at the tent in the front of his underwear. 

“If that’s for me too,” you say, and he grins. 

By degrees he pushes you onto the bed, gently parting your thighs. He looks between your legs for a moment; the glint of light on your slick folds, the way your clit peeks out, swollen, from between plump labia lips. He breathes in, deep and needy. 

He touches you first, coaxing you out with soft strokes, the flicker of his fingertips against that same swollen clit. He’s clearly unsure of what he’s doing - but God, how you love him for seeing your anxiousness and taking charge. God, how you love the little smile he gives when you moan or gasp or your hips buck up helplessly to get him to touch you more. 

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he says, dry-voiced, as he pushes down his own underwear. You bite your lip looking at his cock - thick, flushed, tip ruddy with need. You’d thought you’d be afraid of it - even you, with your limited experience with them, knew that Pesci was packing a sizeable heat - but as it’s revealed to you, and as Pesci bucks his hip against yours so his cock slides slippery against your sex, you find that you’re longing to have him inside of you. 

“I’m the lucky one,” you say, reaching up, winding your arms about his neck, your fingers once more tangling in the green strands. “You’re perfect.”

“No,” Pesci says, smiling. He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, at the same time as you feel the head of his cock gently breach the first few millimetres of your entrance. Your fingers tighten. “You’re perfect.”

He slides himself in slowly, letting you get used to the stretch of him inside you. Every so often, he pauses, letting you take a deep breath, readjust - and as he reaches his hilt, where you two are pressed most thoroughly against one another, he stills entirely. 

“Tell me when I can move, amore,” he breathes, his voice cracked and straining. You can hear the desire for more in his tone - and you’re glad that he, too, wants to fuck you until you can’t walk straight. The stretch of him inside you is slightly uncomfortable, yes - but more than discomfort, your body is crying out for more stimulation. For Pesci to claim you utterly. 

“Please move,” you reply, instead, and as he pulls out with a slick stroke, you pull him into a messy kiss to hide the needy whines that are issuing from your mouth. There’s nothing, for a time, aside from the sound of his skin slapping against yours. The slick noise of your sex welcoming him with every stroke. Yours and Pesci’s heavy breathing, the way your lips press together and go slack as each of you are overwhelmed by sensation. 

He strokes places inside of you that you never knew needed stroking, alights fire where you didn’t realise one could even be aflame. He fits inside you perfectly, and your body knows it. You breathe out soft epithets of how much you love him and how good he feels interspersed with breathy little pleas. A little faster, a little harder--

He’s eager to please, and he responds to every single request by readjusting himself and making sure that you’re as satisfied as you can be. In return, you grind your hips against him and nip at his neck and kiss and run fingers over his skin, delighting every time he sighs or groans inside you. And through it all, a tight ball of heat in the middle of your stomach makes itself known. It tugs and pulls at you, stoked by the feel of his cock against your inner walls, edging at your vision and your throat until you feel like you’re going to fall apart. 

“Pesci,” you whimper against him, sweat-soaked and breathless, “Pesci, I’m going to--”

“Please, cara,” he says, “I want you too, please come for me--”

And you cannot hold it back anymore. The tides wash over you as the ball inside of you explodes into a hundred pieces, pleasure washing over you as you feel yourself pump slick over Pesci’s cock, your inner walls spasming and clenching around his cock like a vice. 

He growls low in the back of his throat, a noise that might have been a swear dropping from his lips, his hips snapping into you in quick succession three, four more times--

He comes inside you, his face more animal than man, and your body gives another low throb of desire at seeing your shy, nervous boyfriend embrace his instinct more. You’ve always known he had the capability to be more than the nervous, stammering wreck that he thinks he is - but seeing it written so clearly on his face . . . You whimper as the rock of his cock and the emptiness when he pulls out of your soaking sex sends a shivering aftershock through your body, your breathing coming in needy little gasps.

Pesci murmurs your name as he lays beside you, settling down, pulling sweat-soaked skin against sweat-soaked skin to whisper his adoration of you into your hair. Exhausted, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and let your eyes drift closed as you settle into the comfortable and familiar embrace of your boyfriend.

“I love you,” you tell him, before you let the sleep claim you. Your thighs feel sticky from both his come and your own; your body feels exhausted from the rocking against him, from the intensity of your orgasm - but above all, you feel happy. Pleased. Relaxed as Pesci settles beside you. You’re glad you waited for him - a thousand lonely nights would be worth one perfect night with Pesci. 

And you feel very glad that you didn’t take up Prosciutto’s offer. 

A little part of you, deep inside, flares with a thought, recalling Prosciutto’s exact words when he’d tried to cajole you into his way of thinking: you hope that Pesci tells him about this too.

#writing #not sfw #pesci #jjba #afab reader #fem pronouns #Anonymous

[kaibacorpintern]

For the prompt thing: kaiba + yuugi + professionalism!

this was fun!! thanks to @dxmichelle for the retail stories. kaiba as a retail worker is like me when I was a retail worker because when i worked at a barnes and noble, i spent a LOT of time perfectly squaring the books. anyway all the kaibacorp adventure park castmembers get some fat fucking pay raise/benefit boosts after this

***

This was all Jounouchi’s fucking fault and Seto was never agreeing to any stupid fucking bets again. When did he become a good duelist, instead of just a lucky one? And he knew it, too, announcing his plans to win the Domino City Invitational with the kind of brash, easy confidence that was a front for nothing, a Roman wall around nothing, with nothing he needed to defend on the other side. As hard to read as a coloring book. Asshole. 

“The gods have struck men down for less hubris than this,” Seto snapped, over a game of poker at Yuugi’s weekly game night. Mokuba had badgered him into attending after their return from the yearly strategic planning retreat with the board. You need to be around normal people! No more sharks in people suits! 

“So what? You don’t believe in higher powers, Rich Boy.”

 “In my experience, a god and a higher power are two separate things."

“Oh, okay, Neeshee. Maybe you don’t believe in me, but you do believe in games,” Jounouchi said.

“Devastating insight,” Seto said. “And it’s Nietzsche.”

“Bless you. Don't be rude and sneeze into a tissue next time. Let’s make a bet. When I win the Invitational, you… pick up all my shifts at the Kame Game Shop for a week. I take home all the paychecks, but you do all the work. You know, bog-standard capitalism.”

Seto rolled his eyes. “When you lose, you give the jet a good wash and wax. Then you throw your deck and your Duel Disk into the river, and never duel again.”

“Deal. And I tell you what, Kaiba. One day we’re gonna meet across the field, and you’re going to lose, but it won’t even bother you, because you had just so much fun,” Jounouchi said, extending his hand across the table, with a savage grin. 

“Don’t fucking threaten me,” Seto said, shaking his hand.

Asshole! Jounouchi stomped the competition with an ease Seto hadn’t seen since he was fourteen and unceremoniously sacking Inspector Haga at the Pan Pacific Final. 

At least Yuugi gave him his own nametag, instead of making him wear Jounouchi’s: a plastic, turtle-shaped badge with a white space for his name. There was a line below it that said MY FAVORITE GAME IS... chess, Seto wrote in moodily, with the marker. Then he affixed it to his dark-green apron, neatly and precisely, just over his heart.

Yuugi nudged the curtain into the stock room aside, wearing a matching apron and smiling like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Ready to clock in - oh, no. This is the Kame Game Shop,” he said, reaching up to fix Seto’s name tag, tweaking it to sit slightly at an angle. “Perfect right angles are for squares.”

“A KaibaCorp Adventure Park castmember wouldn’t be caught dead with their nametag this sloppy,” Seto snapped.

“It’s not sloppy. It’s jaunty and playful,” Yuugi corrected. “Now, let’s review. You’re an engineering prodigy, so I’m sure you can handle the register. What do we do when a customer walks in?”

Seto sighed, hands bracing on his hips as his eyes rolled towards the ceiling. That asshole picked up five full days of double shifts. 

“Welcome them when they walk in,” he said, as Yuugi nodded along. “Ask if they need any help. If they’re just browsing, leave them alone. Provide recommendations if they ask.”

“And?” Yuugi prompted, raising his eyebrows.

“Wrap and bag their purchases and thank them for wasting my fucking time.”

Yuugi reached up, pressing the tips of his index fingers into Seto’s cheeks. “No! Smile!” 

Seto bared his teeth.

“Can’t believe people call you a bad sport,” Yuugi said. “Maybe just smize instead. Go! Clock in! Upsell your own Duel Disk!”

Seto let out a final dramatic huff, took the clipboard off its hook on the wall, and added his billion-dollar contract signature to the timesheet, below several rows of Jounouchi’s scrawl. 

***

After four hours, Seto took his lunch break, an all-too-brief thirty minutes in the alley behind the Game Shop, leaning back with one foot propped against the wall, answering emails on his phone with all the speed and fury his thumbs could muster. It was high summer. Vines spilled over the wall on the other side of the alleyway, limp and vibrating with heat. Even the shade under the wall was warm. 

The side door opened. He turned his head, preparing a choice little bon mot for Yuugi, and paused, his breath hitching in his chest with a wild regret, birdlike, startled suddenly out of hiding. 

He stared at Sugoroku, privately cursing Jounouchi for the nth time for making the fucking bet, winning the fucking Invitational, and putting him here in this fucking alleyway, staring at Sugoroku. It was too late to go back inside. Sugoroku stared back, hoary-haired, stooped under the weight of his years. Even wizened, with skin like old, pale leather, the family resemblances were clear: the same big, warm eyes, the same bright smile, no less weakened for age. 

He shuffled out the door, dragging a small garbage bag of recycling beside him.

“Open that up and drop this in, will you please? My back’s not what it used to be.”

“Yes,” Seto said, rapidly stooping to take the bag. Should he add sir? Yes, sir? He hadn’t said 'sir' to anyone in ten years. What was he supposed to say? Sorry. I was not myself. I was myself, but the worst version. It was the beta release of me and we have removed the bugs (the murder bugs) in advance of stable release. All remaining bugs are acceptable. We have added accurate legal and medical disclaimers to all our SolidVision and Virtual World products about how the sensory intensity of KaibaCorp proprietary holographic technology may exacerbate existing heart conditions. I am taking good care of her and I love her and she loves me. Who? Her. The dragon. 

He dropped the bag into the recycling bin several steps away and turned around to face Sugoroku, summoning his resolve with an inhale, exhale, firm and deep. 

“How’s your first day?” Sugoroku said.

“My company isn’t going down in flames without me,” Seto said. “Color me surprised.”

“How’s your first day here?”

“Enthralling. The adrenaline high of consumer retail is really just something else - ”

“Speak up, I can’t hear you over all that racket you’re making,” Sugoroku said. Seto paused, bewildered, mouth half-open - and shut it, color flaring across his face.

“Uh - fine,” he muttered. “It’s fine. I helped an eight-year-old pick out a board game.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She came in with all the allowance she’d saved up and she wanted something she could play with her sister. I sold her on mancala."

"That's a classic. Not a board game, but a classic. And hard to sell to children."

Seto scoffed. "I hate the crap they pass off as board games these days, with all the… fiddly, little plastic pieces and the arcane rules. Children get drawn in by the colors, but they don't have patience for the rules, so it ends up forgotten at the bottom of a bookshelf somewhere with half the pieces sucked up in the vacuum cleaner. Mancala is simple. You can play it with a patch of dirt and a handful of gravel. But if you want to win, you need to play with skill and wit. It's timeless. It’s elegant."

"Well, you've sold me. I haven’t played mancala in years. Shall we play tomorrow? During your lunch break?"

Seto said nothing, resisting the urge to bite his lip, a bad habit and a sign of nervousness.

“Yuugi speaks very highly of you, you know,” Sugoroku said. “I’d love to know why.”

He chuckled and shuffled back inside, leaving Seto fuming with an odd, stomach-clenching embarrassment. 

He checked his phone. Three more minutes left of his lunch break, and his feet were aching. He should’ve worn different shoes, not the Chelsea boots. Tomorrow. Mancala? Damn Jounouchi to hell. Better shoes.

***

“Excuse me,” the woman said. “Do you have Legendary Heroes II?”

Seto abandoned his task of aligning board game boxes at perfect right angles. Fuck jaunty and playful.

“No. That’s not out until December,” he said. The production issues on Legendary Heroes II were a fucking nightmare, and the thought of making his game developers crunch - making them miserable, overworked, and more likely to quit and get snapped up by Schroeder Corp - gave him hives. So he’d pushed release back to December, allowing the small hit to his stock under the rationale that the holiday retail season would make up for it. But she didn’t need to know that. 

“But - it’s my son’s birthday next Saturday, and Legendary Heroes is his favorite game,” she said, hands clenching loosely by her stomach, a gesture of pleading.

“I’m delighted to hear it. It does not change the fact that the game literally does not exist,” Seto said. 

“Can you just check in the back? He’s been asking about this for months now,” she said, and Seto clicked his teeth, face slipping into a snarl - from the corner of his eye, he saw Yuugi, watching him.

Smile, he mouthed, and pressed his fingers into his own cheeks, putting on a manic, plastic grin. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back,” Seto said, smiling, and stormed away. As expected, he did not find Legendary Heroes II in the stock room. He dawdled, checking his email, firing off a few replies, advising Mokuba on the right way to handle the zesty temperament of their general counsel - this’ll be fun, Mokuba said, I get to run KaibaCorp without you, like, dying or something - WHAT? - and stashed his phone back into his apron pocket.

“My apologies,” he said, returning to the woman. “We don’t have it in stock. If you’d like to pre-order it, it’ll be available just in time for Christmas. Just log on to the KaibaCorp website and enter the Kame Game Shop as your pick-up location. If you’re still looking for a birthday gift, I strongly suggest the new Duel Disk. The design is much better for children than the old one - lighter and more streamlined, with less intense haptics. If he already has a Duel Disk, he can bring that in for a trade-in.”

“Oh, perfect!” she said. “We'll do that. Thank you. You’ve been so helpful.”

“You’re welcome. Have a fantastic day,” Seto said, still smiling. He watched her leave and returned to his board game boxes, feeling hideously, fabulously smug. A customer walked in, carrying a bare Duel Disk under his arm, and Seto shot him a cheerful welcome. The man ignored him, heading straight to Yuugi at the counter.

***

Yuugi swallowed, squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin.

"I'm sorry. We cannot accept a Duel Disk return without a box or a receipt," he said. Clearly stolen. 

"But I bought it here two weeks ago. And the stupid piece of shit is defective," the man said. "I want my money back!"

Loud enough that Seto, re-stocking towards the front of the store, turned towards them, with open curiosity.

"What's the nature of the defect?" Yuugi said.

"It just doesn't fucking work. I don't know what else to tell you," the guy said. "Are you gonna do the return or not?!"

His least favorite type of customer: smashing reason apart with the baseball bat of belligerence. Yuugi steeled himself for the inevitable slew of insults. 

"Sir. I can't do the return without a receipt - "

A hand came down on his shoulder, pulling him with polite insistence out of the way. Seto, with a canny, feline smile, the kind that foretold bloodshed on the dueling field.

"Oh no, Yuugi," he said. "Let me handle this."

#fanfiction #norealgoodbyes

[ladyvader23]

Childhood Injuries

Inspired by MFM minisode 118, though I had this EXACT same thing happen to me as a kid, too. Except I didn’t tell my parents about it. Oops. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It happened on an early afternoon in the middle of summer vacation. 

Vader had just finished a meeting with Grand Moff Randd and was escorting him back to his personal hangar where his ship awaited. 

“We’re headed towards a standoff with the Rebels,” Randd was explaining as they entered the hangar. 

“A standoff I expect you to break,” Vader warned, stopping and pointing at him. “If I have to go out there myself, even your position will not save you from my wrath.” 

Behind him, he sensed the bright presence of his son dashing into the hangar, making a beeline for him. He grimaced, hoping the boy would go somewhere else, and cursing for about the millionth time that schools had such a thing as summer vacation. It left his children with little to do except disrupt him at the worst possible times. 

He would not give Luke the satisfaction of acknowledging him. He needed to learn that there was a time and place. He was eight--it was time he acted his age. 

“We’re committing a fair portion of the fleet--” Randd broke off, blinking down at Luke as he arrived and began tugging on Vader’s cape. 

Disbelief and rage shot through him. What did Luke think he was doing?! How many times had he told him not to interrupt him while he was busy?! 

He shot a brief glare at him over his shoulder. “I am busy. Go find your sister.” Then he turned back to Randd. 

“If...now isn’t a good time, Lord Vader…” Randd began, but Vader held up a hand. 

“My son needs to learn to mind his manners and wait his turn.” He shot another look at Luke. He hadn’t moved, and was staring up at him with wide eyes. 

Children. 

“Ahem. Well, in that case…” He continued to ramble on about planned ship movements in the sector and Vader attempted to listen, but Luke’s bright presence was ever there and waiting, insistent that he needed to talk to him. 

At least he wasn’t verbally trying to interrupt, like usual. Maybe he’d learned something. 

“Be careful that you do not put all of your resources in one battle. The Rebels are hoping you’ll do just that in order to take them out at once. I would suggest splitting your resources to arrive in stages to slowly overwhelm the Rebellion.” Vader replied when Randd was done speaking. 

“Wise advice, Lord Vader. I will do so at once.” 

He had to admit, out of all of the Grand Moffs, Randd was one of the least annoying. 

“Very good. I look forward to the results.” 

He waited until Randd had turned to leave before turning around to address his son, who was now shifting from foot to foot, his face pale. He did not fail to notice Leia peaking out into the hangar, watching them from a distance. 

He crossed his arms. That did not bode well. What else had they broken in their residence? If he had to guess, Leia likely broke something, and Luke was coming to tattle. 

Force, he wished he hadn’t approved Miss Laena’s vacation. He didn’t realize how wild children were. 

“I have told you repeatedly to wait until I am finished with business before interrupting me! I may be your father, but I am also running an Empire. One day you will understand just how busy that makes me!” Luke still continued to stare at him, his eyes pleading. Inwardly, Vader sighed. “Fine. What do you want?” 

Unexpectedly, Luke’s eyes filled with tears. Then he simply opened his mouth…

And blood poured out of it and onto the permacrete floor. 

Vader moved before he even consciously realized what was happening. One moment Luke was standing there, the next he was scooped into his arms, and he was running towards his fastest speeder. 

Running. He never ran. But the sheer terror at the blood still coming out of Luke’s mouth and not knowing why…

Was he dying?! Why didn’t he say something sooner?! What the hell had even happened?! What kind of conditions even caused this?! 

He didn’t know, he didn’t care. His one singular focus was to get Luke to a doctor immediately. 

“Leia!” he bellowed, getting Luke into the front seat. Luke was still much too young to be in the front seat, but he couldn’t take his eyes off him for a second-- “Get in the speeder, now!” 

Thankfully, she did not dawdle. She was climbing into the back seat before Vader had even finished buckling in Luke, whose mouth was still open and bleeding profusely down his chin. 

“Is Luke going to die?” Leia asked, and Vader barely noticed the concern in her little voice. 

“Do not suggest such things!” He yanked his cape off, threw it on Luke, and then shoved one end of it into his mouth. “Hold that there!” 

He jumped into the pilots seat, turning the speeder on with the Force, and rocketed out of the hangar. 

“What the hell happened?!” He demanded. He still kept his eyes firmly on Luke, using the Force to assist him in steering the right way towards the nearest hospital. 

“Well…” Leia began, “Promise not to be mad, daddy…” 

“I am beyond that point!” 

Holy Force, his son was going to die and he’d just let him stand there waiting--

“W-well, Luke and I were hover skating…” 

“In the apartment?!” 

“Sowwy waw--” Luke began, his mouth full of blood and cape. 

“Do not speak!” Vader pointed at him. “Leia, what happened?!” 

“I...Luke had...well you see, he had…” He could sense her squirming in her seat, and by the Force he was about to start screaming himself if she didn’t just spit it out--

“Swick.” Luke said. 

Vader...had no idea what that was. 

“He had a stick in his mouth.” Leia clarified in a terrified whisper. “He tripped and...yeah.” 

Vader simply stared at his son, even as he swerved out of the hyperlane and into the hospital lot. 

A stick. 

“...Why?!” 

He couldn’t even form the words to express how insane that was. What had even possessed Luke to put a stick in his mouth in the first place?! What logical thought…

But children were not logical. And now his son was bleeding everywhere and he didn’t know how serious the damage was…

He slammed the speeder to a stop in front of the emergency center, scooped Luke up, and stormed for the doors. Thankfully, Leia at least had the sense to get out of the car and follow. 

The doors were automatic, but he used the Force to blow them down anyway. The glass landed on the floor with a crash, and multiple people screamed. He paid them no mind, heading straight for the doors leading towards patient rooms. “Get me a doctor, NOW!” He bellowed at the terrified nurses behind the counter. 

They didn’t dare stop him as he ripped the patient area doors open. Multiple doctors were already racing towards him, a gurney between them. As Vader lowered Luke onto it, he felt his son begin to panic, reaching for him both physically and through the Force. 

“I am going with him.” Vader snarled, then as Leia bumped into his legs, he clarified, “We are going with him.” 

These doctors were not stupid enough to deny him. “Of course, Lord Vader. Right this way.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vader grilled the doctors multiple times after they came back with their findings, just in case. He couldn’t lose his son, especially over something so incredibly stupid. According to the doctors, the stick had apparently poked through a tonsil, but was small enough that it would heal on its own. 

“Mouth injuries tend to be bloodier than others.” The doctors assured him repeatedly, “This is actually more common than you’d think.” 

Vader could hardly believe it. Putting sticks in mouths was common?!  

Had he been this reckless as a child?! 

Well. Yes. But he’d never thought to put objects that could cause serious damage in his mouth. 

“So Luke’s not going to die?” Leia asked. 

“No.” He was relieved to say that, but… “You will be removing any similar objects from the apartment when we get home. Do you understand me?!” 

Leia flushed, ducking her head shamefully. “Yes, daddy.” 

“And you are grounded from hover skates for the rest of the summer!” He pointed at her. 

Leia looked up at that, her face twisting angrily...but then she caught sight of Luke on the hospital bed with cotton stuffed into his mouth, still clutching his father’s now bloodied cape. She sighed, looking down again. “Yes daddy.” 

He dropped his hand. Well. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about the skates. 

But that left Luke. He turned, approaching the bed and sitting beside his son. He was staring up at the holovid in the corner of the room. The only sign of his anxiousness was his hands fisted in his cape. 

“Luke.” 

His son tore his eyes away from the holovid to look at him. With cotton in his mouth, it wasn’t likely that he could speak much. 

Good. That meant he wouldn’t be interrupted. 

“I cannot believe I have to say this, but you are not to put foreign objects in your mouth, especially sticks.” He paused. “Why did you even do that?” 

Infuriatingly, his son just shrugged. 

He closed his eyes, and counted backwards from ten. Why? Why? Why were children so illogical? 

“I don’t tell you these things to be unfair,” Vader explained through gritted teeth. “I give you rules because I want you to be safe.” He hesitated, checking to make sure no one but Luke and Leia were in hearing distance. They were alone in the room, and it was apparent that the doctors had decided to make themselves scarce to avoid more interrogation from him. “I was scared today. I don’t ever want to see you injured like this again.” 

Instantly, he felt Luke’s shame in the Force. Despite the cotton balls in his mouth, he tried to say, “wowwy,” which Vader assumed was an apology. 

“Do not do it again.” He warned. 

Luke nodded, and before Vader could stop him (they were in public, after all) Luke threw his arms around him and hugged him. 

He tensed, immediately checking for nearby doctors...and relaxed when they were still well away from the room. He wrapped one arm around his son, bringing him closer, while his other arm reached for Leia. She didn’t need to be asked--she too came, hugging him from the other side. 

He held his children and closed his eyes, savoring the moment. 

His children would be the death of him. He was sure of it.

#Luke skywalker #leia organa #luke and leia #little luke #little leia #darth vader #dad vader series #Dad vader #sticks are dangerous ya'll #don't put them in your mouth #psa #my writing #Star Wars fanfic #fanfiction

[snowbellewells]

Captain Swan Movie Marathon: “Carolina Moon”

Here is my second submission to the @captainswanmoviemarathon event!! This one is a modern au of the Nora Roberts tv movie (adapted from one of her novels) Carolina Moon. The main female character in the movie is psychic/clairvoyant (I’ll admit, I’m not too sure on the distinction between the two) and I thought her visions and what she goes through in connection to them made a nice real world parallel to Emma’s magic. (There’s also a scene in here where the male lead says something that I could so perfectly see Killian saying to Emma… I just cannot wait to get to that point!)

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this romantic thriller with some murder mystery elements.  There are some instances of abuse and violence in here though - which I feel like I should mention, since that’s a little darker than my typical style. Most of them are in flashbacks of Emma’s past, or in visions she has of victims, more than in the actual present day plot, still I wanted to make people aware before we got too far.

Please enjoy! (I’d love to hear what you think.)

Chapter One

July 1993

The water at their hideaway always feels so good. She could sink into it until her head slips below the surface and never, ever want to come up for air. It’s cooler, more luxurious than even the rich, satiny sheets on the trundle bed those rare nights she gets to sleep over at Rose’s. Emma Swan’s gangly, 13-year-old limbs slice through the murky water as if the constant humidity and sultry air of Storybrooke, South Carolina can’t penetrate here in their little haven. She knows, of course, logically, that the real world isn’t all that far away. The shaded pond she and Rose discovered two summers ago is just a short trek into the woods at the furthest edge of Rose’s family’s boundless acres. Still, it feels removed enough to bring Emma a sense of peace and contentment she gains nowhere else.

Looking over her shoulder to the large, smooth boulder jutting up out of the pond at the bank where they left their flip flops and cutoff denim shorts, she can see her best friend stretched out with her new book where they had spread their towels on the rock’s surface, just in the wash of warming sunlight that streams through the tree branches overhead. Her friend’s flawlessly creamy pale skin is prone to burning, but at the moment Rose seems willing to take the risk for the benefit of lazing cozily to read as she dries in the sun after taking a quick dip. Shaking her head, Emma plunges back under, happy to stay in the chilly water a bit longer herself. She knew as soon as they’d met outside Rose’s house that afternoon and Rose had held the newest entry in her favorite mystery series in her hand that she wouldn’t be able to resist burrowing into those pages for long.

It’s funny, Emma supposes, but that’s exactly what bonded she and Rose in the first place. They might seem different on the surface, but in the end, neither of them quite fit with everyone else, and so they gravitate to each other, and have ever since Emma first arrived in Storybrooke as an eight-year-old orphan. They’re willing to give each other at least one other person who takes them as they are and with whom they won’t have to pretend. Emma doesn’t care if Rose wants to read quietly and tell her about the stories she’s already finished instead of picking out dresses for the next cotillion class or preening in front of the mirror to practice batting her eyelashes to charm boys or bragging to Emma about which ones she intends to kiss. Her sister Ruby, who shares the same thickly shining, burnished mahogany hair and pretty pink lips but little of her fraternal twin’s calming, gentle personality, does enough of that for the both of them. Their mother, a former debutante and southern belle, delights in the one daughter’s traditional coquettishness, and despairs of the other’s shyness, a true throwback to another time who wants nothing more than to see both daughters marry well and retain their places atop the social ladder. In turn, Rose doesn’t mock Emma for her thick, dark-framed glasses or secondhand clothes, nor does she cringe away from the “fits” that sometimes take hold of her friend, making strange, disturbing scenes Emma can’t understand flash across her mind with such intensity they sometimes knock her off her feet. Emma knows Rose’s mother and sister find her an unsuitable and embarrassing companion for Rose, but she is eternally grateful her friend seems able to see the best in anyone - even a lost girl nobody else wants - and so blithely acts as though she has no idea of the rest of her family’s opinions.

Cringing even while still submerged in the pond’s depths and practically invisible, Emma tries not to think of her unwanted visions. Her strict, hypocritical, and more than a bit deranged foster father claims she’s possessed - and more than once has taken her episodes out on her hide. The man swears he’s beating the devil out of her and putting the fear of God in Satan’s place when he takes the thick leather strap to her shoulders, back and legs until she bleeds, but Emma has already lived long enough in a cruel and unfair world to know that his violence and “discipline” have less to do with parenting and concern for her soul, and more to show for his own twisted mind and overindulgence in the bottle. She wants to hide her spells from him, but when they come on her so abruptly and with such power, they are impossible to miss. She can’t fathom how a person like him was deemed fit to take in and care for a child, but it seems to be her lot, and so she simply grits her teeth and survives.

It’s different when the spells happen around Rose; the slight brunette merely rests a cool, steadying hand on Emma’s forehead or her arm until it passes, helps Emma stand until she feels in control again, listens as she attempts to make sense of whatever she’s seen, and most importantly… believes her. If only she could stay in the huge house Rose’s family calls home. She’d cook, clean, do chores, and stay in the servant’s quarters, Emma isn’t picky. It would still be a far sight safer than the situation she had in the rundown shack with the monster who’d been deemed her caretaker. Barring that, she would honestly rather live wild in these woods and survive off the land. She knew which plants and berries were safe to eat, Graham, her friend and a fellow orphan now happily adopted, had taught her how to fish; it wouldn’t be easy, but she’d get by, and at least no one would lay a hand on her again.

This afternoon, those eerie images she sometimes had seem far away as she splashes up out of the water, trying to arc playfully like a mermaid as she breaks the surface. Drawing in a big gulp of air after staying underwater so long, Emma startles at the sound of teasing laughter, and whirls to see three figures on the bank where she and Rose left their shoes and shorts. 

“Well, look here,” calls out a taunting voice that never fails to set Emma’s nerves on edge. “It’s the baby beached librarian and her drowned rat friend!” none other than Emma’s nemesis Killian Jones crows from his vantage point on dry land.

Rose sits up ramrod straight, book still in hand and annoyed scowl on her face at the quiet of their sanctuary being interrupted. She isn’t genuinely angry, though; for all that she and her sister shared little in common, she and her two years older brother are affectionately close. “Shut up, Killy!” she shoots back, throwing in the childhood nickname they all know he hates. “Who asked you to come looking anyway?”

The boy standing next to Killian speaks up next, making Emma scowl just as playfully as Rose had moments before. Graham Hunter might as well be her big brother; he’s the closest thing she’d had to family since her parents were lost in a car crash and she was thrown into the foster care system. Be that as it may, he and Killian Jones are thick as thieves, and he’ll give her a hard time for all he’s worth in while in the presence of his buddy. “We just wanted to swim,” he calls across the water to the two girls, smirking at Emma, now standing in the water with one hip jutting out and hands planted on her waist. “How were we supposed to know you two were infesting it?”

“Ha!” Emma jeers back, the affront plain in her voice; despite the fact that the entire routine is like a practiced girls-versus-boys exchange they’ve all engaged in countless times. There isn’t much else to do for entertainment in their sleepy little one-horse town. “You idiots know this is Rose and I’s hideaway, fair and square!”

“Well, Rose’s anyway,” a third voice cuts in snidely.

The cruel jab reminds Emma once more that she is just a charity case, quite possibly only included in anything at all because of her friend’s kind heart, and causes her gaze to cut sharply to the third member of the boys’ little crew, hanging back slightly in the shadows behind Killian and Graham as he always does. Her green eyes narrow to slits in genuine dislike and suspicion. Where before her animosity was largely for show, when they land on Walsh Ozman it is all too real.

She has never understood why the other two boys - jokers and annoyances though they may be, but good guys when it comes right down to it - hang out with Walsh at all.  Where Graham and Killian are much more cut from the same cloth - athletic, outgoing, well-liked and pleasant - Walsh is a splindy, sniveling character, complaining and whining whatever their little trio gets up to. He lives not far from Emma’s foster father’s cabin with his single mother - a bushy-haired redhead who seems strangely overprotective and attached to her only child. Most people give the property a wide berth, except when high schoolers teepee it the whole month of October, and the general town consensus is that Zelena Ozman might be a witch and to steer clear. Still, beyond all of that, Emma might have been able to look past the boy’s circumstances and see him for himself - she of all people knew the gift it was not to be judged by where a person came from - if Walsh hadn’t simply given her “the willies”. Even standing too close to him made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end - and not in the way that nearness to Killian sometimes did; an altogether much more pleasant tingle, even if she was just as unable to explain one as the other.

“We could just take their things,” Walsh suggests, holding up the threadbare, faded jeans Emma had left on the bank. “Make them walk back in their skivvies.” The wicked smile on his face makes Emma’s stomach turn over sickly.

Something sharp flashes in Jones’ eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly and his head giving a subtle shake of dissent that Emma can see even at the distance she stands away from him. Protectiveness, chivalry, or maybe the honor of a southern gentleman passed down to him through generations of his impressive family line, whatever it is, it sparks to life in his eyes at that moment as he quashes Walsh’s mean-spirited suggestion in no uncertain terms. “That’s my little sister you’re talking about Oz,” he growls, smacking the worn material from the smaller’s boy’s hands, even if the article of clothing isn’t Rose’s at all.

Emma feels her breath rush back into her lungs, though she continues to watch the guys warily for whatever they might do or say next. Before long, they grow bored of standing around and move on, hollering out age old taunts of “Bye, losers” and “Hey, smell ya later” to Emma’s derisive snort and Rose completely ignoring them to flip open her book again.

However, even with the intruders gone, it seems as if the perfect comfort of their retreat has been shattered by the unsettling interruption.  Soon, Emma wades to the shore and Rose clambers down from her perch, to dress once more and return to the world outside. For a moment, as she refastens her jeans around her skinny waist, Emma feels a strange prickling along the fine hairs on her arms… like they’re being watched. She jerks around, searching the surrounding trees and brush, but can’t see or hear a thing.

Rose’s small hand takes hers, snapping Emma out of the moment. “What is it?” she whispers, only true caring in her voice. “Did you sense something?”

Emma nods, but can’t give her suspicions voice. Usually her vision are clearer than that - this had just been heavy breathing and like looking at herself and Rose through another person’s eyes, outside her own body.

Rose stooped to grab the little canvas bag she’d bought along with water bottles, towels, and a second book in it. “Hey, don’t worry, okay?” she offers, hopeful and kind as always. “You’ll figure it out. Wanna meet back out here tonight? Secret Sister bonfire?” she winks mischeivously. “I have to get to dinner now. You know how Mama hates it if I’m not washed up and properly attired for the evening meal - or a second late. But we can talk some more then, maybe you’ll remember more and it will be clearer.”

Emma nods gamely. “The stars’ll be beautiful by midnight,” she suggests. “And we’ll definitely have the place all to ourselves.”

“Since we were so rudely interrupted,” Rose chimes in with a giggle and roll of her eyes.

“Shake on it, pinkie swear,” they say together in practiced unison, executing a complex handshake that ends with their pinkies hooked together and wide, matching grins on both their faces.

“Thanks Rose,” Emma whispers sincerely, trying to speak around the lump in her throat as if it’s no big deal. “I’ll be out here as soon as I can sneak away.”

Rose, for her part, wraps her taller, golden-haired friend into a tight, momentary hug. “Hey, we’re Secret Sisters! You can count on me.  I’ll see you then!”

They part ways at the edge of the forest, Emma heading to the rundown cabin that serves as her nightmarish version of a home and Rose to the pristine, Jones mansion standing tall over all the surrounding land. Rose looks back over her shoulder with a smile and wave that bolsters Emma, and the memory fades back into the haze of the past…

Eighteen years later….

September 2011

The blaring of the horn as a sports car whizzed by, barely missing the nose of Emma’s beat-up yellow VW where it had begun to edge out into the country intersection jarred her back to the present with a gasp and painful jolt to her chest. Panting for a moment as she gripped the steering wheel, Emma tried to clear her head and calm the pounding of her heart at the near-miss.

‘Get it together,’ she berated herself. It might have seemed like only yesterday as she remembered that sunny afternoon at the swimming hole, but that day had been nearly two decades ago. She was a grown woman, had made a way for herself, fighting tooth and nail for every step forward, and she answered to no one. She had learned to stand up for herself, to control her visions and use them for good, and was a special consultant for the NYPD. But, more than all of that, she had come back to this place to find peace, to lay to rest the ghosts that followed her everywhere else she’d gone in the years between, once and for all. If she expected other to leave the past in the past, she’d first have to manage it herself.

She’d had no way to know as she and Rose parted that afternoon with promises and plans for later that it would be the last time she would ever see her friend. Emma had harbored the pain and the guilt and the unanswered questions ever since. Finally, it was time to meet the gazes of all of those who’d stared at her in suspicion before she’d been packed up and moved away once more, and it was time she found answers. She wasn’t the scared, whipped, mistreated adolescent she had been at 13. What she had lived through then wasn’t her fault, nor was what had happened to Rose that muggy July midnight. 

And if she had to return to Storybrooke, South Carolina to lay that burden down… well, it was long past time she did.

Tagging: @captainswanmoviemarathon​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @lassluna @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jennjenn615​ @hollyethecurious​ @stahlop​ @winterbaby89​ @lfh1226-linda​ @therooksshiningknight​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @artistic-writer​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @tiganasummertree​ @xsajax​ @spartanguard​ @laschatzi​

#captain swan movie marathon #cs ff #cs au #carolina moon #chapter one #cs mc

[theriverpersonshadow]

Lamia Drama Part 11

Heyooo. Guess who’s back... kinda. ^^;;; Not my favorite chapter by a long shot, but the idea got stuck in my head just enough to type out.

I hope tumblr doesn’t mess up the double-space formatting between texting and Liam’s thoughts, but I think it’s still distinguishable regardless.

A little bit of context for those who don’t play much DnD: Hexblade warlocks get their power from a patron who gives them a magic weapon. Fighters get a fighting style that allows them perks based on what kind of weapon they use. Sorcerers have inborn magic, and wild magic can make weird things happen sometimes.

Also, I know that it’s spelled y’all, but for some reason my fingers insist that it’s ya’ll??? Idek.

Aaaaaaanyways, these lamia species come from @vex-bittys ! Enjoy! <PREV | BEGINNING | NEXT>

           Liam sighed happily as he stretched himself out in his enclosure. His skull-cap had been removed for the night. In theory he could, and probably should, leave it on, but the tacky substance that held it in place irritated his bones and itched horribly. Plus it just felt like something was sitting on his head all the time. It’s not like he had any nerves in the fake-bone, so it just felt like a dead weight. Bandage and cloth wraps were far more comfortable and did just as good of a job at keeping things out of his head. But in the safety of his own habitat with daylight hours away? There wouldn’t be much harm in letting it air out a little. Air swirled into his skull as he moved, tickling the inside, as he slid on top of the silky, plush pillows and under a warmed up heating blanket.

           Normally he wouldn’t put on heat for the night unless it was freezing, it was easier to sleep in cool air, at least for him, but his eyes kept darting to his phone on its charger. Normally he’d have put it away by now, but they’d gotten Alex’s number and added her to the DnD group chat, Snarls and Snakes, so everyone with a phone was still chatting (save for Nikolai).

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): i demand you guys pronounce it G’nome. yeah i wear the pointy hat. m a G’arden G’nome

           Devising Machinations (Keith): Your character still needs a NAME.

           Pledged Companion (Trousle): YES, LAZYBONES!

           Proxy Child (Alex): Names are hard, I get it m’dude.

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): Still, that’s just lazy.

           Devising Machinations (Keith): Oh hey, ya got your phone back. Nice :)

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): They couldn’t keep it from me~

           Pledged Companion (Trousle): THAT ISN’T EVEN YOURS!

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): dude caps

           Pledged Companion (Trousle): I AM SMALL, YOU WILL NOT HEAR ME IF I DON’T SHOUT

           Proxy Child (Alex): That… That isn’t how text works???

           Pledged Companion (Trousle): ALSO THE SHIFT KEY IS STARTING TO ACT BUGGY. I DON’T WANT TO ASK FOR A PHONE OR KEYBOARD UNTIL THIS IS DEAD THOUGH

           Devising Machinations (Keith): *nods* Understandable.

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): p sure that liam got it for good behavior

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): suck up

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): IT IS A VALID HUNTING STRATEGY!!! Deception is JUST as valuable as being able to bite things. Sometimes. I’m more fond of biting deer than trying to play mind games with them.

           Or he assumed he would be, if he got to see a deer. He was old enough to be rented out to handle overpopulated areas, but he wasn’t very popular… People saw the eye and all other thought seemed to go out the window. Nevermind that deer and rabbits pound at the ground like they were trying to break the earth, no one cared about that. They only cared that he was down an eye. Fuck them.

             Devising Machinations (Keith): Everyone happy with their characters before I get started with anything in depth? I’ve talked to Hux, dude’s fine ^u^

           Proxy Child (Alex): I think so??? I’m still trying to figure out whether or not to main in Hexblade or just go straight fighter. I mean, getting the fighting style is well worth dipping into it regardless, but, like, would my character *want* help from another fae, or is this something she felt she needed to do herself? Like, making pacts and stuff would make her seem more fey-y, but does she WANT to be fey-y? Or would I rather have her intentionally shun all of it?

           Devising Machinations (Keith): Not a call I can make, but can’t wait to hear about it.

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): I’ve had similar questions… I do think I’m going sorcerer one way or another, wild magic of course, since they’re inherently magic, but would they have been trying to learn other things as well?

             There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on with their characters. They seemed so juicy already, enough angst and plot potential for them both to sink their teeth into, but something felt slightly off…

             Proxy Child (Alex): I guess it comes down to whether my character (who I will give a name to, eventually) would want the “crutch” of a more powerful fae helping them out, or if they’d rather prove their own worth.

           Liam’s fingers were typing before he’d even thought it through.

             Problematic Changeling (Liam): Prove your own worth. You don’t need someone hand-holding you through life.

           Pledged Companion (Trousle): I DON’T SEE WHY NOT. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH NEEDING ASSISTANCE, BOTH IN GENERAL AND *ESPECIALLY* WHEN EVERYONE AROUND YOU CAN DO THINGS YOU CANNOT.

           Proxy Child (Alex): Ya’ll both have points, just ain’t sure. I might have to try writing or RP’ing her a little to figure out what kind of person she is. Have to get a feel for her first, y’know?

           Devising Machinations (Keith): That’s fine by me. No pressure ^^

           Pledged Companion (Trousle): YES, NO REASON TO STRESS ABOUT IT, YOU’VE GOT AT LEAST A WEEK! YOU’LL COME UP WITH SOMETHING GREAT!

           Proxy Child (Alex): Thanks dudes.

           Proxy Child (Alex): I really like your character btw, Liam. Kinda wish I’d come up with that first XD It’s relatable, y’know? Though maybe a little too close to home anyways, ya’ll ain’t my therapists. Can’t wait to see how you play them out.

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): It’s going to be awesome, naturally. Are you sure you can keep up with me?

           Proxy Child (Alex): Honey, I don’t think you know what kind of angst machine you’re dealing with here >:3c

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): oh boy thisll be fun

           Pledged Companion (Trousle): GUYS I’M PUTTING YOU ON MUTE. I’M KEEPING EVERYONE UP. GOODNIGHT! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): night trus

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): also you should just play every single class at once

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): itd be HISSterical

           Devising Machinations (Keith): XD Dude. No. Just no. Also, you’re ripping that off from Puffing Forest

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): lies and slander

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): You watch it *while we game* sometimes. I’m half deaf and I can still hear it!

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): it aint my fault you take 5ever on turns sometimes

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): Well SOME of us know how to strategize.

           Pointy Combatant (Oozy): yeah, trus

           Proxy Child (Alex): PFFFFFT. Oozy omg. XD But I oughta go to bed. I’ve got work tomorrow. Sleep tight ya’ll!

           Devious Machinations (Keith): Niiiight!

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): I’ll get you back for that Oozy. But really, I’m looking forward to this. It’s been a while since we got fresh blood in.

             The last time they had was Trousle. Being the only bitty and the youngest of the group, they hadn’t been friends with him nearly as long as with each other, but he was still quite fun to have around. He was starting to grow on Liam, honestly. Liam had to respect his relentless optimism, at least to a degree. Albeit, Papython in general tended to be unwaveringly positive, but it seemed deeper than the surface-level sugar of some of his breed.

             Pointy Combatant (Oozy): sleep sounds good actually. Night

           Devising Machinations (Keith): Saaaame. Night everyone

           Problematic Changeling (Liam): Goodnight.

             Liam put the phone back and turned the heat off on the blanket, putting it over his head and settling in for the night. He was grateful that his wing tended to be pretty quiet; he never could sleep well with noise, lights, or too much movement, though the pillows muffled the vibrations in the ground nicely. No one was going to come anyways, not this late. Even if they did, he was a light enough sleeper to wake up and bite before the other even knew what hit them. He drifted to sleep alternating between contemplating his DnD character, and imagining hunting a deer.

#lamia drama #Vex-bitties #mamba bitty #lamia bitties #totally not a self insert #fanfiction #papython bitty #In universe texting #Lamia Drama Part 11 #Part 11 #Keith #Trousle #Liam #Oozy #Mostly not bitties despite the bitties tag #got a little experimental with writing style #Not my best work #But something to show at least! #Differing opinions on needing help #Undertones of disability #CAPS LOCK #no caps #dnd discussion in universe

[highqueenofelfhame]

when we were kids, seven.

warning: this chapter contains scenes of sexual content only suitable for viewers 18+. viewer discretion is advised. enjoy. 

ROWAN

“Please call me,” her voice had sounded so broken and desperate in the last one, but somehow almost hopeful in a way that twisted the knife in his gut even harder. He had signed her papers, Rowan just didn’t know why she kept calling. It was like having it rubbed in his face, that he’d lost her. The only thing in the world he’d sworn to the gods, he had done it so effortlessly. Without even trying, really. And now she just wouldn’t leave him alone. 

There had never been a single second of any day over the last eight years, nine months, and 26 days that he stopped loving her. Even through all the heartbreak, even through how godsdamned painful it had been when he came home to everything gone, he loved her through all of it. He loved her when he watched her first role, her second, and her third. He loved her while watching her romance with her agent blossom in the tabloids. Rowan loved her still when her engagement got out and she showed up at his house being a complete bitch about the divorce. For every second that he had known her since he was three years old, he loved her. And thinking that it was about time to let go was absolutely destroying him in ways he never knew. 

So hearing her voice so broken in the newest voicemail was like being skinned alive. She was hurting somehow and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. It wasn’t his job anymore. Aelin had someone new. Aelin made her choice and now he would have to learn to deal with it. 

But that didn’t make it easy. 

The front door knob jiggling, the lock clicking, and the door being thrown open interrupted his thoughts completely. The spitfire herself came storming in, barely giving him half a glance as she headed to the second bedroom that housed her belongings.

“What,” he said dryly, “are you doing?”

“A grand gesture. Turns out that you and I are still hitched,” she called over her shoulder, rummaging around in that bedroom. His eyes fell closed, the memory of signing the papers vivid in his mind. He’d just about had a nightmare every damn night since he signed them… which meant the mistake had been on her end. 

When he finally forced his body into motion, finally made himself enter that room, she was half zipped up in the wedding dress she’d worn when they were younger. Despite eight years it fit her like a glove, ivory satin and lace clinging to her figure to where it pooled at the floor. One of the inch-wide straps was hanging off her shoulder, her chest rising and falling heavily as she appraised him over her shoulder.

“You kept telling me to go home? Well, here I am.” She was gesturing behind her back, silently telling him to zip her up and he stepped forward, fingertips toying with the zipper before finally pulling it down.

“And why would you want to be married to me anyway?” He said slowly, turning over those words she’d said twenty years ago with her hands on her hips and her eyes as wild as her heart. 

Aelin looked at him, every bit as wild as she had been back then and took his face in her hands despite the satin straps limiting her range of motion as they fell down her arms. She looked into his heart and soul and reached up on her toes so that their lips were barely brushing in a whisper of a kiss as she said, “So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

And then they were kissing, and he felt like for the first time in eight years he was awake, he was alive. Everything suddenly made sense, all the puzzle pieces had fallen into place and gods above he could breathe. 

Rowan carried her to his bed and gently set her down then sat back on his knees to take her in. He reached out and  traced her swollen lips as her wide crystal clear eyes looked back up at him. There was something so sensual and sexy about her laying there, the straps of the dress half down her arms, bra fully exposed and satin crinkled from him laying her down. He kissed her again, unable to resist that perfect, full mouth that he wanted desperately to coax sinful sounds from. 

Sitting back, his hands ran up her legs under the dress until his fingers found the lace of her panties and tugged them down, disposing of them behind him on the floor. Aelin’s teeth ran over her bottom lip, and he wasted no time in pushing the dress up to bunch it around her hips. Despite how bad he wanted her completely bare and open before him, Aelin in the dress she had married him in years later was flooding him with desire he hadn’t known since he last had her. She had barely been a woman then, though, and he barely a man. And now when he pulled his shirt over his head it was evident in the way her eyes blew wide with desire that she was thinking something similar. 

She reached out and ran her fingers over his stomach, tracing the lines of his abdomen with cool fingertips until she hooked one finger under the waistband of his jeans. But Rowan hadn’t even started with her yet, so he shook his head and settled between her legs with a kiss to her stomach. 

A kiss that meant so much more than lips pressed against skin, and her fingers gently caressing his cheek told him she understood. 

Rowan continued his descent, not stopping until his lips were wrapped around the most sensitive parts of her and her fingers were in his hair, her voice begging him not to stop. And he didn’t stop, not until she was coming completely undone and doing her best to push him away but he didn’t relent until she was shaking and too sensitive to be touched anywhere below her waist. Then, and only then, did he sit up and pull that dress off of her, did he throw away the flimsy material covering her breasts, did he finally stand at the foot of the bed and remove the rest of his own clothing. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed, running a hand from her neck down her stomach, running both hands down her thighs. “Every single inch of you,” and he claimed her mouth with his, lingering and slow kisses that told her that he had every intention of taking his time with her. Rowan was in no hurry. He hadn’t had his love for almost nine years and was determined to make the most of every single second. 

When he settled between her hips and nudged at her entrance, the feeling alone of just her was almost too much to handle. The heady scent of sex combined with what only could be described as Aelin had him so high that if you had asked him, he would have told you he didn’t know why people did drugs. Not when this existed, when he had this to tumble into every night. He’d swear he didn’t even need to taste alcohol or the finest desserts ever again. She would do. Everything in her face told him it was exactly the same for her, she was just as high as he was. 

And then he was sliding into her and both of them were gasping, her nails digging harshly into his back in a way that felt almost too good. It was an effort to go slow, to drag it out the way he wanted but he was determined, and the longer he thrust in and out of her the more intimate the moment became until the intimacy was a palpable, crackling thing. 

Their cheeks were wet and he wasn’t sure when either of them had started crying, but they were. And as they barreled over the edge together, twice, it was too much. Emotionally it was too much, physically he felt more tired than he’d felt in years and that included all the sleepless nights he’d spent staring at her damn photo like it would bring her back. 

Rowan looked over at her then, shifted onto his side to reach out and brush her sweat coated hair from her forehead. He’d somehow never had a choice when it came to Aelin, it was always her. But choice or no choice, he would have still chosen her anyway. Looking at her now, he knew she felt the same. 

“I love you,” she said, her voice thick. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes as she rolled to face him, to kiss him fully. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come home.” But he shook his head and kissed her fingertips before he sat up fully and reached for his shirt which he handed over to her. 

“I want to show you something.” 

@starseternalnighttriumphant @musicmaam @city-of-fae @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @tangledraysofsunshine  @lorcansalvaterree @valarian-trash @hey-its-grey​ @sleeping-and-books​ @thephilosophyofblank​ @breezyfreezey @westofmoon​ @tonystarksbish​ @mariamuses​ @thereaderandfangirl​ @silvermindedwarrior @rosesandglass​ @xxhopelesspeachesxx​ @maraadyyer @flowerspringsea​ @the-bookloving-girl​ @vartineh @mis-lil-red @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​ @dreamcatchersimss​ @chemicha​ @vi0let-femmes​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @dressedindustandshadows @lowhangingtreebranches @bamchickawowow​

@damnthisjam

#wwwk #when we were kids #wwwk7 #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog #throne of glass #fanfiction

[friendlyunclej]

The Failed Hero

Prologue

     If I’m to be honest with myself, I’ve never truly cared much for this village. My family were looking for a new start when they were offered the opportunity to be founders of a new settlement. Whilst I was barely a teen, I was forced to leave Crimmor without any say in the matter. If I remember correctly, it has been nearly four decades since then and I still reminisce about the city. Just last night, I had a dream of Crimmor’s busy streets. I recalled racing my friends to get across major roads during the busiest hours of the day. Dodging and weaving between wooden carts, we would occasionally be reprimanded by the caravan drivers when their horses would get scared as we bolted past them. Sadly, the dream swiftly became a nightmare as I remembered the moment that those caravans stopped seeming so fun to me.      While racing across the street, I failed to hear the drivers shout for a full stop. I thought that I had timed it just right, but I didn’t take into account the other drivers not listening. I’m slammed by one pair of horses, knocking me to the ground beneath one cart that has come to a full stop. I watch as the car that hit me tips over, slamming its content into the group in front of him. Everyone’s panicking and running away as swiftly as possible, even the drivers. I pick myself up and try to see why everyone is leaving their carts, trying not to get trampled in the meantime. Once I get close enough, I realize that the cart had spilled a number of barrels filled with smokepowder and a lantern had lit a fire near it. Realizing that I was close enough to be blown to pieces, I turn as fast as I can and try to run before hearing something shout from underneath the covers of another cart. To this day, I still don’t truly understand what drove me to check it, dancing even closer to death simply because of an odd whimper. I think, perhaps, it sounded similar to a small dog or cat that someone had left behind. Maybe in my young mind, I had convinced myself that it was an adorable ferret’s cry for help and that I could keep it if I had saved it.

     When I tore the tarp away from the cart, I was surprised when I locked eyes with an Orc no older than I, caged like livestock. I recall the gentle stare that she returned my confused look with, pleading for help with a mere glance. I desperately pull at the lock just as the smokepowder ignites. The last thing I see is the Orc girl’s face streaming with tears before I feel a force smash me through her cart.      I’m conscious as I soar through the air, losing any semblance of direction as I spin head over tail. My hearing is gone, turned deaf by the explosion but I can feel my throat going coarse as I scream. I can feel a constant searing sensation on my back with what feels like needles the size of my arm jamming into my sides. When I return to the ground, my clavicle shatters on impact as my right shoulder breaks my fall. I feel myself skid across the road as darkness creeps into the corners of my vision. The last thing I see is the Orc girls’ upper half slam down in front of me, her eyes still locked to mine with no light behind them.      Perhaps, that’s why my family left. Maybe my father and mother had seen enough of Crimmor after that day. Maybe they knew something about that Orc girl that I didn’t. Maybe they just got tired of me asking about it and wanted to get me away from that memory. Regardless, I’ve still never had anything to care about since then.      My parents died not too many years after moving here, leaving me alone. I had fought with myself over moving back, but, by that time, the small village my family helped found was now flourishing. I decided to stay a few more years, but soon found myself helping train a small guard and scouting force. When I had finished that, I found out that I had been appointed as the head general for its forces. Barely being large enough to be considered an army, I didn’t want to agree but I didn’t know what would become of them without direction. Before I knew it, a decade had past and all I could see was a graveyard of dreams as I strolled around the village on my days away from duty. All this settlement has ever been is a village waiting to be pillaged, yet I stayed anyway as if it was a noose around my neck that I had no way to remove.      As the years passed, I became complacent with my life in a weary village, surrounded by people who were comfortable enough to be around. Being on the south side of River Esmel, we were close enough to Small Teeth that we should have been destroyed a long time ago. Thankfully, Purskul was more enticing.      My complacency lead to depression as I continued to contemplate my life. All the different roads I could have gone down. The many different decisions I could have made. Soon enough, I eventually found myself by Lake Esmel, staring at my reflection with the moon over my shoulders. I recall that no one had ever truly recorded the proper depths of the lake. Some had even suggested that it was endless. I would’ve found out for myself that night if I hadn’t heard an odd whimper on my left.      Glancing over, I saw what looked to be a tarp with something below it writhing around. With a fit of deja vu, I dash towards it and toss the tarp aside. There, crying and naked, Ilmater had provided another sign to persevere, even if only for a bit longer.      I named the boy Lubash and raised him as my own. However, I saved him the curse of my last name. After all, too many would be curious if a Half-Orc boy shared the same name as a village of humans and a few halflings.

An Attempt at Heroism

     Lubash proved to be a greater gift than I had realized. The boy was surprisingly kind, even to those in the village that glared at him with concern. He would always help around the village, even offering it to those who would swiftly speak ill of him behind his back. Much to my own surprise, he even seemed to prove himself to have a surprising bit of charisma, turning many people’s eyes and heads for more positive reasons once he grew to puberty. However, I always noticed something weighing heavily on him. From the moment he started interacting with the other kids, it would seem like he had a mask on. As soon as he returned home, I would see the mask melt from his face as his chin, which he always kept high when interacting with others, immediately flew to the floor. He carried this weight with him well into his teenage years. Whenever I would ask him about it, he simply replied that it was nothing to worry about before heading to his room. I let him be, trusting in his ability to figure it out himself.      Although some may have told me that it was a bit late to do so, I started training him in martial combat around the end of his puberty. I needed to be certain of what to train him in, so I kept from teaching him anything for a bit longer than usual to know what would fit him best. When I handed him a rapier, I was surprised to hear him question it.

     “Old Man,” he said with concern in his voice, “Why not train me with a sword like yours?”

     Taking a few steps back, I unsheathe my broadsword as I tell him, “Well, my boy, a sword like mine requires a bit of strength to wield it properly. The wide blade and heavier design may not be suited for you, as you are far more agile than you are strong.”

     He replies with a hint of sadness and doubt, “Oh, I understand.”

     Seeing his eyes linger on the blade I handed him, I slowly walk over and place my hand on his shoulder as I say, “Speak your mind, son. It’s not healthy to think so much that it prevents you from acting.”

     “I just don’t see why I can’t use your blade,” he retorts, something deeper troubling him.

     “Hmm, well, if you’re so keen to use my sword,” I say, walking up and trading blades with him, “Come at me.”

     “What?” he asked, struggling to properly grip my broadsword.

     Skipping a few steps back, I repeat, “I said to come at me. If you can land a blow on me with my own steel, I’ll train you with a broadsword instead.”

     Lubash agreed as he charged towards me. He’s sloppy and reckless still, swinging my sword in a wild overhead arc. I simply take a quick step to his right and he slams my sword into the dirt. He turns back around to swing again, but he nearly trips over himself as he’s unable to pull the blade from the ground. I walk over, playfully slap him behind his knee with the flat body of the rapier, then pull the sword out myself.

     Handing him the rapier, I tell him, “You may have some strength, but your speed and agility is your best quality. With the proper technique, you’ll be able to fight much better with a weapon that can match that speed rather than one which will work against it.”

     Nodding in agreeance, he takes his blade back and I begin training the last soldier I’ll ever know. I’m settling into my sixties now and I can feel the curse of time working against my movements. Soon, he’ll be a worthy successor and he’ll need to know how to fight, even if he makes the wise decision of leaving this town before it consumes him like it has me. He trains hard, trying to perfect every thrust and parry I teach him. Within a year, he’s already beating me in sparring sessions. All I feel is my pride bolster as his skill surpassed my own.      For the few years of peace that come after his training, he begins to show interest in the world outside of his home. With what few coin we do have to spend on luxuries, he spends his own on detailed maps and historical books focused on the rest of Faerun. He shares his aspirations to explore with me and I listen, hoping to preserve that spark in him that I never had. Alas, it would seem that Cyric had a different plan for me.

     The years of peace and complacency made the standing guards lackadaisical. More importantly, it made me lazy. Couple those factors with my body showing its age and keeping my own son from joining the village’s combat forces in fear that he’ll turn out like me, it should have been clear what came next.      I awoke one night to the sound of my son calling for me. When I rushed to the front door, I saw a fellow guard out of breath from running through the streets. I asked him what the matter was just as an arrow slammed into his neck. Calling to my son to fetch our blades, I immediately jerk him back into our home just as an arrow soars pass his head.      Glancing towards where the arrows are flying from, I see a lone armored hobgoblin racing towards me on the back of a worg with an arrow drawn. I use the dead guard’s body as a shield, but I’m unable to pull the sword from his belt before the assailant leaps on me. As we wrestle and thrash about on the ground, he screams and gnarls in my face as I desperately reach for his sword. Just as I’m about to reach out, I feel the hobgoblin pick me up by my collar and throw me against the wall of my home. The wind gets knocked out of me, but I barely manage to stay on my feet just before I’m picked up by my throat. He drags me high enough over his head that I can see the rest of the village beginning to glow orange against the night sky. I gasp for air as I hear the screams of the other villagers, crying for mercy. My arms go limp as the last gasp of air leaves my body.      Suddenly, I drop to the ground and fill my lungs with a startled gasp. Surprised to have gained a second wind, I frantically look around to see Lubash grappling the Hobgoblin. After dropping my broadsword next to me, my son didn’t hesitate to tackle my attacker. I manage to regain my breath just as the Hobgoblin tosses my boy aside. Rushing him myself, he pulls his blade to match mine as we begin to cross swords.      Matching blow for blow, we seem to be evenly matched despite his greater strength. Unfortunately, my son’s scream in pain distracted me. As I turned towards the scream, I saw Lubash fighting the worg with his rapier. He had been pinned down by the creature and was blocking its jaws with his forearm. The hobgoblin took this opportunity to skewer me through the side with his longsword. I gritted my teeth as he laughed in my face. Needing to help my boy, I resolved to headbutt the hobgoblin. Stunning him by the show of brute force, I gained enough space to deal a substantial slash across his body. As he fell to the ground, I immediately rushed to Lubash, driving my sword through the worg’s throat.      After freeing his arm from the dead beast’s jaws, I try to tell him to run from the village and never look back, but I’m caught off guard again. Before I could say anything, I feel the sharp sting of a dagger slam into my back. I spit up blood on my son’s shirt as I feel the blade tear out of me then reenter my clavicle. Suddenly, everything goes black as the last thing I hear is my son call for me.

Epilogue

     The village is burning behind me while I carry my father’s body back to the house. Tears run down my face as I place him in the same chair he always spent his time in. I give him one last hug and call out for him to wake up one final time as if the attempt will have any different outcome from the last five times I tried. As gently as I can, I remove the longsword from his side and the dagger from his clavicle before placing his broadsword in his lap. I tell him to enjoy his rest as I step back outside.      Hearing the Hobgoblin struggle to drag itself along the ground, I walk over and give him a kick. He flips over to his back, staring up at me in a manic combination of fear and frustration. I place my rapier against his throat and watch him feebly try to raise his arms to knock it away, unable to after I cut his ligament. Slowly, I push the tip of my blade into his throat, taking my time to relish the kill. Feeling a headache pierce my skull, I take a sick enjoyment in watching the light leave his eyes. His strained grunts and desperate gurgles fill my ears like a sweet midsummer ballot compared to the other sounds filling the air. Watching him drown in his own blood, I tear my rapier from his throat before taking his daggers as my own. I use what fabric I can find to bandage my wounds as I make my way through the village. What follows is the longest night of my life, filled with ambushes, blood, and fatigue. When the dust settles, we take count of the dead and give them a proper send off. I handle my father’s remains alone.      As I return, the majority of people still alive are already leaving. They tell me that, with the last member of the founding family gone, the village is better left behind. I don’t fight them. A good chunk of me feels like they’re right, but my pride is telling me otherwise. In hindsight, I should’ve listened.      That was almost a lifetime ago now. The village is gone now. The last residents decided to leave for greener pastures not too long after we all realized that it just wasn’t going to work out. Unfortunately, I was too stubborn to realize that I should have let the village die alongside my father. Nearly lost myself before I realized that I was doing the exact thing my father tried so hard to make sure I wouldn’t.      Since then, I’ve been travelling north towards the rest of West Faerun, mainly trying to get to the rest of the Sword Coast. It took longer than expected to get around Cloud Peaks, but I’ve finally made it. Pretty soon, I’ll be in Greenest, a town founded by a Halfling. Hopefully, they won’t mind a Half-Orc in their midst. Even if they do, I’m just passing through, anyhow. I reckon that nothing in the Greenfields will be able to hold my interest.

#short story #d&d #half orc #backstory #forgotten realms #hoard of the dragon queen #rise of tiamat

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Six, “I’ll Be Seeing You”

Links: 

- *NEW* Check out the new character survey I filled out from Becky’s POV here!

- *NEW* Take a look at the new character survey I filled out from Harry’s POV here!  

- All chapters can be found here!

- Inspo tag can be found here!

- Spotify playlist *updated often* can be listened to here!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 7.2k words

                                             SNEAKYYYYYYYY PEEK

“I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next two weeks with that teasing around in my head - the fact that I get to work with him every day for five days a week. A dream come true, in every way. I’m rather positive tonight will tide me over until next week when I have my orientation.

I have a good feeling for the first time in a while, so many of them actually.

“God, it’ll be weird going back to being boss and employee again. It was so much easier being just friends,” I remark jokingly, the song flowing from his lips mixing with that of my own.

“Eh,” Harry says, shrugging his broad shoulders covered in his long black peacoat. “Don’ think o’ it that way, Becks, we’re colleagues now, which ‘s even betta.”

Song Inspo: I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday (click to listen and am I the only one thinking of The Notebook now?) 

               “What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning.” - T.S. Eliot

Confliction knits together in my stomach as I travel the halls on my way to work. Enthusiasm peeks through when I pass the several courtrooms on my way, imagining myself in them sat next to Harry, his co-counsel. No longer are there feelings of disdain and longing when I pass Courtroom #5, or the mailroom I so often hid inside the walls of. Disdain found its way back to me when I entered the door for Administration, my lousy desk calling for me from its corner. I somehow can’t seem to escape that character trait. Nonetheless, a smile stuck to my lips at times throughout the morning as I browsed new work outfits online during downtime. 

The morning went by painfully slow as I waited to try and catch Sophie after her many meetings and phone calls. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure how I would survive two more weeks of the humdrum between these four walls with my new future teasing me. Not when something out of a dream had woven its way into my life now, getting to work with Harry as his mentee, and a second chance at all of it. A second chance I wasn’t going to waste this time. 

“Hey, Sophie. Good morning, I was wondering if I could speak to you about something?” I ask her, finally finding the right moment as she walks by my desk after a meeting. 

“Yes of course, love. I was just going to grab some tea, why don’t you join me?” she murmurs with a smile, waving her arm as a signal to follow her down the hallway to the nearby break room. “Does this have anything to do with the glowing recommendation I gave about you to a certain Mr. Styles yesterday?”

“Maybe,” I laugh softly, holding open the door for her. 

“Did you get called back for another interview?!” she asks excitedly, her long maroon pants twirling around her legs when she turns to face me. 

“Even better, I got the job!” I answer, matching her excitement easily. She lets out a yelp of joy before wrapping me in a hug. 

“I’m so happy for you, love, even though I’ll be sad to see you go,” she hums, the heavy charm bracelet on her wrist brushing against my back. 

“Thank you, I am too. It’s pretty bittersweet.” 

“Yes, indeed. When will be your last day with us?” she inquires, patting my arm on her way to the electronic kettle she’s had her eyes on. 

“The uh twenty-fifth officially, so I have two weeks left to help find a replacement and finish up my work.”

“Ah, that sounds right,” she mumbles as she removes a packet of tea from a box in the drawer, ginger tea. 

“I was wondering if there is any chance that I’d be able to take a day off somewhere in there to complete some orientation for the uh, new job. If not, that’s of course okay. I just thought I’d ask, since sometimes I’m sent home early for the day or some days are slow,” I suggest nervously, clasping my hands together to keep myself from fidgeting too much. 

“Of course. Hmmm, let me think,” she almost whispers, tapping her long pink fingernails against the counter while swirling the teabag in the steaming water. “I think next Friday would be fine, since those days are rather slow anyways. Does that work for you, love?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to uh, check with Mr. Styles about it to see if it works with him. You know, his cases and the like,” I respond uncertainly, toying with the dainty golden ring Skye got me for Christmas, an amethyst stone set into the middle. 

“Is this Mr. Styles the former boss you spoke of?” she inquires, turning to face me with a grin budding on her lips. I’m unsure of what to say and so I nod my head, but I can tell by the look on her face that I’m not hiding my expressions very well either. “What’s that big smile for, huh, Becky?”

“Nothing,” I respond quickly, trying to save myself as I walk around, reaching into the cupboards for a mug. 

“You haven’t been wearing that big smile for nothing, and it didn’t get five times brighter when I brought up his name for nothing either.”

Her name falls from my lips in a futile warning, marked by an accidental laugh. My name soon follows even though I try to ignore it as I inspect the tea drawer, packets ranging from peach, mint, ginger, green, wild berry, and even glazed lemon loaf. I indulge myself and finally try the sweet lemon one, smiling at the smell of the teabag. 

“I don’t know how to put it into words,” I suffice, picking up the electric kettle, watching how the teabag reacts to the boiling water. 

“Feelings are hard to put into words sometimes, aren’t they?” Sophie replies, somehow putting my confliction and doubt so easily into a phrase. 

“Yeah, and they’re scary to admit.”

“That they are, love,” she tuts, her spoon clanging against the ceramic inside of the mug as she stirs honey into hers. “They’re even harder to admit when you have them for somebody . . Am I getting close?”

“Very,” I respond, jiggling the teabag in and out of the scalding liquid, feeling the tendrils of steam tickle my face. 

“Answer me this, are you feeling better about going back to work for him?”

“Yes, very much so, until I start thinking about it too much,” I reveal softly, growing more comfortable telling her as the seconds pass, wishing it were this easy to tell him. 

“If it’s in your plans, perhaps you should tell him what you told me, or start it off that way. He sounded rather fond of you over the phone, you should know. A very kind and attentive man, as well,” she murmurs sweetly, tapping her spoon on the lip of her mug a few times. “Whatever you decide to do, Becky, I wish you luck and I hope you’re happy. Why don’t you go give a ring to tell him about next Friday?” 

“Thank you, Sophie, really. It means a lot to me,” I reply slowly, weight clinging to every word. 

“Sure thing, love. Now go and make me proud and call him, so you don’t have to wait two weeks to see him.”

I just nod, a smile plastered all over my face as I pick up my tea and bring it with me, feeling her hand on my arm. Few people meander the halls as I join them until I find an empty bench tucked away in a private corner. After setting down the hot mug of tea on a windowsill, I can already feel my fingers trembling pulling my phone from my pocket. Once again, the numbers flow from my fingers effortlessly as I type in his number, but then I stop. I delete them and switch over to Recent Calls, hastily tapping Harry (work) before I lose my bravery. I suppose I should get used to calling this number, anyways, I conclude amongst my thoughts. As I listen to it ring, I debate whether to pick up the tea, but when I glance at the shakes consuming my fingers, I decide against it. They only come to shake harder and faster as I wait, and wait, and wait. 

Suddenly the sound changes, but my ears are met with disappointment. “Hi, ya’ve reached tha office of Harry Styles here at Styles and Lawson. ‘m sorry I missed yer call due t’ bein’ out o’ tha office or in court. Please leave yer name and numba, and ‘ll return yer call as soon as I can,” his pre-recorded message trickles into my ears, the same cold one I’ve heard over and over again. I try to remember the last time I heard it, but it must have been years. Wow, years is a long time. 

The beep comes out of nowhere and I’m stumbling over my words already, “Hi, Harry. This is Becky. If you could give me a call back when you get a chance, that would be great. I’ll try to answer, but I’m at work . . Talk to you soon, bye.” 

Groaning, my fingers soon get caught in my hair anxiously. Taking a deep breath, I try to talk myself down and realize that this happens all of the time. He may be in a meeting, in the middle of a trial, on the phone with a client, out for the day- there are so many possibilities. They don’t soften the blow of wanting to hear his voice and not getting to. No, they can’t take that way or make up for the loss. Exhaling, I stand to my feet and go to reach for my tea, right as my phone begins to buzz in my pocket. 

“Skye, if this is you calling in the middle of my shift again, or Robbie,” I mumble behind gritted teeth, blinking hard as I sit back down. 

I don’t even glance at the name on my screen before answering it with a dreary ‘hello.’

“My goodness, don’ sound so happy t’ talk t’ me,” Harry rasps from the other side, his voice having a cooling effect on the hot frustration coursing through my body. 

“I’m sorry, I-I am. I thought you were somebody else,” I reply, trying not to laugh, but it makes its way out. 

“Ah I see, well that person ‘s in fer a bad time with you,” he titters, and I think I can almost picture it. His eyes crinkling, him doing that scrunchy nose thing, the light green speckles in his eyes sparkling, and him playing with his bottom lip. “So what’s up, Becks? I see ya left a message, but I didn’t listen, jus’ called ya back. Shouldn’t ya be workin’?” he teases, his tone changing to a cocktail of firm and teasing towards the end. My favorite sound. All of it, just it all. 

“Yeah,” I laugh nervously, thinking back to what Sophie said, and trying to focus on only the day off. “I just spoke to my boss and she gave me next Friday off, so I can come and do my orientation that day with you. Would that work for you, Harry?”

“Ah, that’s very nice o’ her. She was very helpful and lovely when I spoke t’ her on tha phone yestaday. Ya, lemme pull up me calendar t’ see what I have goin’ on next Friday,” Harry responds warmly, distraction plaguing his voice quickly. 

“Oh she was? She said you were very nice as well, and that she gave me, I quote ‘a glowing recommendation.’ So, what’d you two talk about?”

“None o’ yer business ‘s what. That’s fer me t’ know and fer you t’ not find out,” he quips with a laugh, typing and clicking appearing softly in his background. “Okay, Friday. Let’s see.” 

“Harry,” I tease not so seriously, hearing a humored hum from him. 

“Becks,” he echoes with an affable scoff. “Oh here, Friday. Ya, that should work fer you t’ c’min t’ do yer orientation. How does nine t’ five sound, bug?” he continues, clicking his tongue habitually, something I remember he does to help him to focus. 

There’s that nickname again, Becky. That’s what, how many times he’s used it in the last two days?

Okay, you have a good point, but hush. 

“Great! I mean, that sounds great. I’ll plan for nine am then, and will dinner and drinks work afterward too?” I question, feeling like I’m stepping further out on this limb that I’ve been climbing dangerously. 

“Ummmmm,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue again absentmindedly. Somehow, even that is cute and it’s just so him, and it makes the missing him ache just a little bit more. “No, ‘m sorry, Becks. ‘m s’posed t’ go out t’ dinna with my sista at half-past five,” he reports solemnly, and that ache hits a little harder now. 

“That’s okay,” I chirp, trying to mask the disappointment in my voice. I feel like I do it pretty well, but I’ve never been the best at telling. 

“No, we’ll figure out anotha day. We’ve put this off fer too long now- Okay, lemme look su’more,” he mumbles, and now I’m sure he’s playing with his bottom lip. And I’m also sure that this all couldn’t be better. I get to see him in less than two weeks, and now maybe sooner. 

Yaaaaaaay!

Yipeeeeeee!

“I see, you’re just too busy for me, because you’re such a popular man,” I sigh dramatically feeling the teasing smile tug at my lips. 

“I am not too busy fer you. ‘s jus’ a busy life bein’ a lawyer, so ya betta get ready fer it, Becks. And I dunno ‘bout bein’ popular, I jus’ think ‘s tha bloody New Years thing. All o’ these friends are comin’ outta tha woodwork, wantin’ t’ get drinks or dinna, saying oh ‘s been so long since I saw ya last blah blah. Ugh, ‘s ridiculous,” he drawls with a groan being the period to his sentence, and all I can do is laugh. 

“You can say ‘no’, you do know that right?” 

“‘Course I know, Becks, but I dunno, tha nostalgia kinda draws me in too. ‘s like oh maybe going to get drinks with Matt from uni would be fun, even tho’ he was a prick, but hey he threw those cool parties,” he explains, a chuckle soon devouring his words and then my ears. Oh, how I’ve missed that sound so dearly. “But no, you and I are gettin’ dinna and drinks. Hey, what’re ya doin’ t’night?” 

“T-Tonight tonight? Um, nothing. I work until six, that’s all. Otherwise, you could probably find me sprawled out on the sofa watching FRIENDS or old reruns of Hell’s Kitchen after that,” I stutter, tripping over my words and more so the idea he just pitched, one that knocked me off my feet rather quickly and completely.  

“Ooooo tha trashy shows,” he chuckles and I have to resist rolling my eyes. 

“Hey, you watch them too!” 

“Not Hell’s Kitchen, altho- wait, ya ‘ve watched it a few times, I admit,” he relents, earning a ‘ha!’ from me that pulls a laugh from his lips. 

Oh, I could do this all day. 

Soon you get to!

Okay, don’t remind me, because I can’t have another reason for these next two weeks to be pure torture. 

“Harry watches trashy tv, hmmm,” I coo happily, that magical sound of his filling my ears again, and then my heart. “We should watch more of it together sometime. But yes, tonight would work. What are you thinking?”

“‘m really glad it finally worked out, and ya we will. Um, how ‘bout six-thirty, does that give ya enuff time?” he poses, and hastily my heart thrashes around in my chest with excitement, growing anxious at the thought of seeing him tonight. Thank, God, he said six-thirty so I can stop home and actually make myself look decent. I didn’t even try when I got up this morning.

“Yeah, six-thirty works. Where would you like to have dinner? Um, what about . . . tacos?”

“Tacos?” he chimes in at the same time as me, sending us both into a fit of contagious giggles. “Happy we’re already on tha same page with some stuff.”

“Me too . . So, tacos and we’ll find a pub somewhere for drinks?”

“Ya, I know a good place ‘ll take ya t’,” he rasps, a light coming through in his voice. I’m not sure if it’s my own internalized buzz of emotions, or if perhaps it’s his own showing through. “Shots and e’rythin,” he purs devilishly. 

“No, Harry, no shots,” I giggle, unable to contain it for any longer. 

“Yes, at least a few. That’s how ya celebrate, not with bloody margaritas, bug. I guess I have loads t’ teach ya ‘bout alcohol, I gotta turn ya onto sumthin’ otha than those bleedin’ wine coolers ya like. Those jus’ give ya gut rot and taste like candy, don’ do anythin’ fer a buzz,” he comments, that other side of him shining through now, more and more with every word he lets go. 

“Oh boy, am I in for it with you, or what?” I exhale, happiness sticking to every breath. 

“Yes indeed, ya are, Becks. Betta get ready fer some fun t’night,” he drawls, the honey sticking lazily to his deep voice. 

“But you’re almost thirty, I thought old people can’t have fun, Harry?”

The groan lined with affable humor tells me what he’s thinking first, and then I hear him sigh, “Ya betta not start this again, ‘m yer boss again, y’know,” he snickers, feigning authority in his soft baritone. 

“No, not for a week officially. Not yet. You’re just my friend right now,” I smile, thinking of Sophie when the feelings start to bleed through into my voice, piecing themselves together, although bittersweetly. I know I can’t handle being just friends, but every second more I’m starting to realize that oftentimes, friends has to come first before more. We have some catching up to do, that’s for sure. 

“Alrighty then. Well, yer just friend has t’ go t’ a meetin’ now, and ‘s tellin’ ya that ya should prolly get back t’ work now too.”

“Wait, since when do you go to meetings? Are you trying to be a good role model for me or something? Aw, how nice of you!” I exclaim, almost confident of the surprise in my voice being genuine. 

“Becks,” Harry laughs, the sound consuming his voice and playing in my ear, but not for long enough. God, that has to be my favorite song. “‘ll see ya t’night, love. Six-thirty,” he hums happily, and for once, I don’t have to wish for what he’s having, because I’m having it too. I feel it, the bubbly hope that could drown me in a moment. I want to let it, and I decide to. 

“Bye, Harry. Have a good day, I’m excited to see you.”

“‘m lookin’ forward t’ it too, bug. Bye,” he croons, and I hope he can hear the smile in my voice, because I can see his already. I think his is filled with hope too. 

It’s a miracle that I didn’t spill my tea as I walked back into the admin office, although it may have been a different story if I hadn’t taken that few minute breather to recover. I was even more surprised when tears of joy didn’t leave my eyes when I shared the new development with Sophie during my lunch break. Although I previously thought it was impossible, my excitement for later tonight only grew when I told her about it, and we both freaked out about it. I really do think I will miss her, she was perhaps one of the best bosses I’ve ever had. 

Waiting at my desk for the time to pass, I still can’t believe that later tonight I get to go and have dinner and drinks with my favorite boss of all time. 

+

Low and behold, searching my closet for something to wear later that night seems next to impossible. Each full hanger that I pass feels like it takes with it a precious minute of my time. After trying on and tossing aside three other outfits, I finally decided on one. Luckily, redoing my morning routine doesn’t take very long, and I soon have minty fresh breath and clean skin again. At the last minute, I decide to ditch the heavy makeup, and leave it minimal. I slide my violet peacoat over the striped maroon sweater and dark jeans, and my brown chelsea boots soon enter the snow. 

The smell of tortillas, peppers, and chili powder hits me in the face when the bell tinkles above my head on the door. Voices buzz around the inside of Pedro’s, a local Mexican restaurant I haven’t been to in well, years. That thought comes to me as a shock as I look around, and finally spot the reason for my absence, sitting at the same table in the right corner we’d always claim. I linger there by the door for a few moments, admiring him as he stares at his phone intensely. Unsurprisingly, I find it adorable how he toys with his bottom lip between his two fingers and jiggles his leg resting on the chair’s rung. A warmth grows in my chest at the sight of him, and a combination of excitement and relief builds with every step I take closer to him. I can’t count the number of times I’ve felt it escape me with every step I’ve put between us, and finally now I’m returning to him. 

The red and white menu is glossy between my hands, and sticky in some places when I take a seat across from him. I don’t let a word slip and only focus on the menu, despite his green eyes waiting for me silently. 

“Yer late, y’know. Not makin’ a very good impression with yer boss, are we?” Harry comments, pulling back the scarlet fabric of his button down to tap his watch. 

The menu falls with a feathery sound to the table when I belatedly make eye contact with him. I try to resist the feelings that tug at my lips when I watch the corners of his curl. 

“Hush, it’s six thirty-four. The traffic was horrid, and it’s after hours, boss. And, I haven’t even started working for you again yet,” I chuckle, savoring the way the dimples fall into his cheeks effortlessly, not there a second ago. He seems to relent, shoving his phone away in his pocket, his eyes lifting to mine again. 

“How was yer day then?”

“It was a typical boring Friday. How was yours?” I reply, resting my hands on top of each other and mindlessly letting my fingers dance atop each other. 

“‘Bout tha same. ‘m tryna find a new case, but now I gotta keep you in mind. I gotta rememba ya’ll be workin’ with me in two weeks, so I gotta do stuff like clean my bloody office and be mo’ stringent when pickin’ cases ,” he titters, touching his pointer finger to his head as I try not to lose myself in his mossy green eyes. 

At the sound of his words, I find it even harder not to. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next two weeks with that teasing around in my head - the fact that I get to work with him every day for five days a week. A dream come true, in every way. I’m rather positive tonight will tide me over until next week when I have my orientation. 

I have a good feeling for the first time in a while, so many of them actually.

“God, it’ll be weird going back to being boss and employee again. It was so much easier being just friends,” I remark jokingly, the song flowing from his lips mixing with that of my own. 

“Eh,” Harry says, shrugging his broad shoulders covered in a thick black Northface coat. “Don’ think o’ it that way, Becks, we’re colleagues now, which ‘s even betta.” 

“Sure. ‘Associate and partner’ and ‘mentor and mentee’ don’t really sound that way, but okay. It’s not like you have almost ten years of experience over me, or anything.” 

“Well ya, that’s what happens when yer tha new fish in tha pond, it happens t’ us all. Ya jus’ gotta climb tha ladder one step atta time, love,” he replies, the dimple in one of his cheeks finding a permanent residence there. 

“Fish can’t climb ladders, silly. And I know, but it’s odd to think that you’re only three years older than me, and have so much experience in law when I’m just starting. I guess that’s why you don’t putz around like me,” I note, drawn in by him randomly sliding a plain silver ring with a black line in the middle, up and down his left middle finger. 

“Wait, what was that, ‘m only how many years older than you? I didn’t catch that,” he teases, cupping his hand around the outside of his ear, inching his neck towards me with the funniest look on his face. 

The only response I give him is the old stink eye which almost makes a laugh explode from his lips. 

“Ya betta watch those ‘old jokes’ y’know. I have power ova you ‘gain, Becks,” he quips, wiggling his eyebrows at me while he does the worst impression of an evil laugh. 

I’m waiting for him to start choking on it so then I can finally laugh. 

His words try to propel me back to the times when I would take his words seriously, but I don’t dare go there. I can’t do that again after all of our random visits earlier this year, and how much they changed everything, including assuring me that he’ll never be that douchey boss to me again.

“Oh yeah!” I exclaim, something sparking inside of my brain. “You’re almost thirty! Ooooo, my prime joke time is coming up,” I squeal with a devilish laugh, rubbing my hands together as he shakes his head disapprovingly, although with reddening cheeks. My name leaves his lips in a breathy giggle as those dimples peek out from his cheeks, saying hi to me. 

“By tha way,” he begins once he recovers and has the bravery to look back at me. “‘m already sick o’ you, so you’ll be working with Myles fer tha week o’ February fourth. I have a case in Glasgow that entire week. Plus, he has an interesting case in Family Court that you should really see, it’ll be interesting.”

“Oh lovely, you’re already tired of me and passing me off to somebody else,” I groan, some dramatics playing in my voice, but not entirely. 

I wish I had a drink already so I could twirl my straw in it absently, trying to hide my heart-crushing disappointment. I remember he had said sometimes I may work with Myles or Rose for a case if there was something better elsewhere, but I didn’t think it’d be almost as soon as I started. Talk about anti-climatic, I ponder silently while my eyes stay glued to the menu, even though I’m not reading any words. There are too many whizzing around in my head for that to happen. 

“Stop it, you pout,” he teases, his hand ruffling my hair. I look up and do my best pout, puppy dog eyes, bottom lip sticking out and all. “‘m sorry t’ break yer heart, but ‘s fer yer best interest, Becks. ‘ve had tha case set up a while, which happens, and ‘ll already have started on it by tha time ya start, but you’ll still be able t’ help me. Myles’ case ‘s far mo’ interestin’ and you’ll learn loads from him. What, has sumbody missed me?” Harry hums, a hand dancing along my arm until it arrives at the crook of my neck where it touches my tickle spot. I squirm and jerk away from his ticklish touch, whimpering in annoyance. “C’mon, pout, let’s go and order.” 

I slide off of the hightop red barstool, following him to the counter begrudgingly and slowly. I mumble a question to him about what we’re getting and he automatically tells me that we’re getting the usual, as if there was another option. We get stuck waiting in a line and when Harry looks over to me, I play the pout extra hard. 

“What’re you still poutin’ ‘bout, Becks?”

“You’re passing me to Myles my second week back,” I whimper, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“Oh stop it, you’ll be fine. He likes you and he’s easy t’ get on with.”

“No fair,” I reply, looking away as the disappointment worsens inside of me. I know I’m being selfish, but I just want him all to myself. I figure that’s not too much to ask after everything that’s happened, but apparently it is. “I’m supposed to be your mentee, and I hardly get to work with you my first week there.” 

“Oh, baby Becks, you’ll do jus’ fine, love. My case ‘s incredibly boring, and tha travellin’ wouldn’t be any fun. I know you’ll miss me, that’s tha real reason yer sad,” he cracks, throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side. The sudden wave of his woodsy-vanilla scent conflicts me as does the utterly adorable nickname he used. I want to stay there snuggled against his warm side, but at the same time, I want to pull away to prove my point. By now, I’m not sure how much of my pouting is dramatics or just the plain truth. I have to wait two weeks to work at the firm, just to be passed to Myles within five days. It’s discouraging to think about when my thoughts have been consumed by him in just the last few days, and I haven’t looked forward to something this much in a while.

“Hmmmph,” I respond, sufficing with turning away and not looking at him. I find it difficult to not think about what it would be like travelling with him for a case. My thoughts consist of those like sitting beside each other on a plane, hotel rooms, and sharing a car. Sure, Harry, you say it wouldn’t be any fun, but I’d beg to differ there, sir.

“Hey, don’t be that way with me. Ya still get t’ help me with it fer tha first week, and then ‘m all yers when I get back. Sound good?” he murmurs, rubbing his hand along my shoulder as he presses me to his side again. 

“Fine, only because you’re hard to stay mad at,” I respond with a sigh, soon hearing his melodic giggle that helps to weed away the disappointment wreaking havoc inside of me. 

“Good, coz ‘s only five days, bug,” he hums gently. The closer I am to him, the more I wish he would kiss the top of my head, like he used to do. Ugh. “Ya think ya can survive without me fer that long?”

“Yeah,” I tell him automatically, but quickly I’m unsure of that. I don’t know how well I’ll do with the tease of getting to work with him for a few days, and then having him leave again after that, if only for a few days. This is all turning out to be full of teases with my visits with him being peppered amongst the next few weeks. “It’s right after your birthday.” 

“Ya, happy birthday t’ me on that one,” he exhales, but I hear the smile even if I don’t see it right away. My sudden sadness is forgotten when ideas blossom inside my head of what to get him for his birthday, as he squeezes my shoulder. It’s also hard to ignore the fact that his arm is still around me, and the all consuming fact of never wanting it to leave. 

Soon, the line moves and with it, his arm falls from around me when Harry steps up to order for us. I make him take the plastic cups to fill up our drinks after I get my card out first to pay, him shaking his head as he waddles over to the soda machine. 

“If you’re going to be all sad about it, then you can pay for drinks, as long as it doesn’t get too expensive,” I tell him, listening to the whoosh of the orange liquid pouring into my cup. 

“‘ll pay fer all o’ ‘em, cheap or not,” Harry hums confidently, bumping shoulders with me softly on his way back to our table. 

We both slide off our coats to hang over the back of our chairs, and the chatter of other customers fills my ears as we sip at our drinks. My eyes quickly wander to the scarlet button up fastened just high enough to show his silver cross necklace, black floral designs covering the fabric. It pains me to look away from the thick dark brown chest hair blooming below the cross charm, unsure of when it was the last time I saw that.

“So, what have ya been up t’ since June?” he remarks, replacing the clear plastic straw between his cherry lips. I find it difficult to tear my eyes away to ruminate on his question enough to answer it without sounding stupid. 

“Um, pretty much just uni and working.”

“Oh ya, bloody hell ‘m dumb, ya jus’ graduated. How was it all? I wanna hear all ‘bout it, Becks - tha good, tha bad, and tha ugly,” he continues, warmth filling his lips as his green eyes stare back at mine. Sometimes the rawness inside of them is too much to handle and they take my breath away, every glint of gold and green in them. I’m not sure if you really know what you’re signing up for there, bud. 

“There’s not really much to say you haven’t heard before, or well, experienced yourself during your degree. It sucked at times, the Bar was awful although I feel like the worrying was worse than the exam, and I’m just really glad to be done and to finally have found a job. And, graduation was pretty gratifying,” I recall aloud to him, savoring how he devotes every second of his attention to me and what I’m saying. It’s both lovely and nerve wracking at the same time, especially as a thought pops into my head. I wish he could’ve been there in the stands, watching me walk the line, and hugging me afterwards. I wish . . 

“Ya, sounds ‘bout right. ‘m sorry ya didn’t have tha best experience, bug, but hey like ya said, ‘s ova. Onto bigga and betta things, like they say,” he smiles, and I swear it sparks something inside of my heart that has begun to return in the last couple of days. Something I’m finally ready to feel again. “Where’d ya do yer clinicals at and how’d they go this last Fall?”

“You’re right, and I did them at Turner and Jones over on the east side. They went well, but it was hard at times. It was a whole new place, and instead of sitting at a desk every day listening to lectures or doing assignments online, I was in the thick of it every day. I worked with just about all of their six lawyers there, and got to argue my first case with their help. I even won it, which was hard to believe. They were pretty great, and at the time I was sad I wasn’t able to find a job there, but now I’ve found my way back to you.” 

The way his lips curl up into his cheeks that round out from the expression feels good and hurts at the same time. It chips away at the wall around my heart that’s slowly been cracking ever since I laid eyes upon him again yesterday morning. 

“Bloody hell, ya make me mo’ and mo’ proud o’ you, y’know that? Great job, love . . That’s quite tha trek e’ry day t’ be drivin’ from tha west side ova t’ Turner’s. I bet yer glad t’ be done with that. ‘ve heard good things ‘bout ‘em, and a friend o’ mine even works there. I mean, ‘ve come up against many o’ em in my time in cases, but I respect ‘em,” he muses to me, stealing my idea to twirl the straw around in his ice chips and Coke. I feel the cracking of the barrier inside of my chest as his smile glows brighter in front of my eyes. It’s poised right at me. “Ya, funny how that works, huh? Kinda, ‘circle o’ life’ or sumthin, huh?” I mumble a confirmation, but the rest of my words are whisked away when his name is called from the counter where he escapes to. 

“I can’t believe n’body else was hirin’, that’s mad,” he notes, setting down the red plastic tray that hits the table heavily with wrapped food. “I can’t complain tho’, got tha best new associate I could ask fer.” Words escape me and leave a hot smile on my face as I pick up a hard-shelled taco, gratefulness etched into the lines of my lips. Boy, is he dreamy in so many goddamn ways. 

“What was your life like uh, recently?”

“Crazy busy, I was filled up tha arse with cases. I was in Scotland fer prolly a few weeks total, up in Edinburgh, Glasgow, then Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, and all ova London,” he answers, crinkling of the paper wrapper accenting his words. A pause follows his reply as he chews a bite of his soft-shelled taco, two more on the tray in front of him. The smells of cheese, queso, freshly fried tortilla chips, and the sweet churros make my taco taste one hundred times better. The nostalgia and absence only makes each bite taste better than the last. “I became an uncle again a few weeks ago, so that’s been pretty exciting. My sister, Gemma, had a li’l boy afta Christmas. Harper’s ova tha moon ‘bout him, his name ‘s Oliver or they call him Ollie.”

“Awwww, Harry, that’s so awesome! Babies are so much fun! How old is Harper now? I don’t think I’ve met her before, but I’ve heard loads. You should have your sister stop by the firm one day, I’d love to meet them!” 

“Ya, ‘course. ‘m sure they’d love t’ meet ya too, all three o’ ‘em. Speakin’ of, Harper will be four soon. It blows me mind,” he giggles, eyes drowning in the steaming container of queso he plunges a chip into with fingernails coated in pink polish. 

“What else, Mr. Lawyer?” I inquire simply, realizing my fault when he looks at me with confusion screwing up his features, chewing the cheesy chip noisily. “What else have you been up to besides work? Like, did you have a fun summer?”

“Ya, I reckon. I took my mum onn’a holiday down south, that was loads o’ fun. I had some good days at tha beach with Rory, who you’ll meet soon, he’s anotha one o’ me colleagues. He came t’ work at tha firm afta you had left, but ‘ve known him since uni. He’s prolly one o’ me best friends, that bloody idiot, but he’s loads o’ fun,” he responds, reaching for another chip and I take his lead, holding back a moan at the long forgotten taste of Pedro’s homemade queso. The enjoyment spills out of me when I spot the weary look stealing the happiness from Harry’s features as he zones out staring at the table. 

“What’s wrong, was it not the best summer ever?” I ask jokingly although softly, and as soon as the words fly from my mouth, I think I regret them for a few reasons. 

He hums an amused sound, tapping his finger against the side of his half eaten taco before his rosey pink lips part, “It was good, but it wasn’t tha best, by any means. I uh, dated this girl fer a bit, but it didn’t go anywhere. I mean, she was nice and pretty, but it was a mistake o’ sorts. I thought it’d make me happy datin’ her, but it didn’t,” he recalls sadly. 

At the first words about her, my eyes fall and I can look at him no longer, instead drawing shapes in the queso with my chip. I want to eat it, but a tight queasiness knits together in my stomach, and I wait for it to pass. I wait for him to stop talking about her, and for me to stop caring as the confliction runs deep within my bones. I can’t decide if I’m grateful or seething to hear the words that spill from his mouth. They bring me back to the summer from hell and also answers so many questions I’ve had. 

Girl, don’t even go there. 

Stay positive! 

Angel’s right, did you not hear how he said it wasn’t right for him? About how it was a mistake? Not to mention, that he wasn’t happy? 

Okay, you have some good points. 

No shit, Sherlock.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, bringing the chips to my lips. 

“Oh, ‘s fine, Becks. It was months ago, and ‘m ova it. Guess ‘m jus’ glad I realized early on it wasn’t workin’ fer me.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” I say softly, warm cheese and soft peppers tickling my tongue as many other words wish to do the rest. His revelation tries to sink underneath my skin, but I try to brush it away instead, not sure of what to do with it. I’m feeling both sides of the emotional spectrum at the mere mention of his relationship with her. I don’t know how to feel about it, and I don’t want to have to decide. 

“How ‘bout you, did ya meet anybody ova tha summer or I guess, tha fall?” Harry queries lightheartedly, and the surprise of it all pulls my eyes to his. The hints of anger left over from his confession melt away at the care I find in his eyes. Another feeling trickles in when for a second, I think I see an anxiousness hiding in the shallows. 

“God, no. Working, clinicals, and the Bar were more than enough for me. Skye’s the only person I really need,” I respond immediately, surprised at his question, although mutual. My word vomit seems to be biting me in the ass already, and quickly I wish I hadn’t phrased it that way. No, not when I want him to be my person. “What I mean is she’s my bestest friend besides Robbie, but nah, I don’t have much luck with guys.” 

I blink hard with hot cheeks as I finish my first taco and hastily grab another one, hunger and embarrassment fueling my actions. The shell is crunchy and anything but soggy between my lips, and the spicy signature sour cream is warm against my tongue as the cheese melts with every bite. 

“Sounds like we both got shit luck with love, huh?” Harry sighs, shaking his head as he grabs another taco. 

“Yep, it’s the worst,” I agree aloud after taking a sip of my soda, which turns out to be more noisy than I thought it would be. 

Thank God it’s empty so I can go and fill it up and escape this awkward fest, but at the same time there are so many words threatening to spill from my lips. They all basically revolve around the fact that I don’t care if I have shit luck with love, as long as my luck finally turns around for him, belatedly. 

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[aerisahale]

paid in full (chapter 3)

Pairing: Clexa (Clarke Griffin x Lexa kom Trikru) Length: 1,461 Summary: Clarke struggles with the peace of her new life post-Ascendance. With her face fresh in her mind, Clarke wants Lexa, fiercely. Apparently, The Ascendance isn’t finished granting miracles. Chapters: 1 2 3

-

The forest is quiet in the warm sun of the afternoon. The forest floor is still damp where the trees were too thick for enough light to shine through. The leaves squelch more than crunch under her feet and it is not a feeling Gaia enjoyed. The warrior in her cringes with every noise. Then she reminds herself that there is not much left to find her but a few wild animals.

When she reaches the edge of Wonkru Village, the small home they were building a few minutes walk from the treeline, she starts smelling something that makes her stomach growl. She has fasted this morning in observation of the Fleimkepa’s Thursday ritual, spending that time and then some meditating on her purpose in this post-Transcendence reality. Wandering further, she finds Niylah tending to a pot over the fire burning at the center of their village. It is the source of the smell and her stomach announces her presence quite loudly.

The blonde woman turns and smiles at her. “Would you like some?”

“Please. Thank you for this meal.” Gaia dips her head in appreciation, hands wrapping around the bowl handed to her, taking pleasure in the warmth that radiates from it. Bringing it to her face, she takes a deep breath, meat and vegetables swirling to create a mouthwatering scent and she doesn’t waste any time in taking a sip of the steaming broth. “This is very good.”

Niylah’s smile widens. “Jackson has helped me find some herbs that are safe to eat and I’ve been experimenting with them. Miller caught some rabbits in a trap this morning and I had a few I thought would go well with them. I’m glad you approve.”

In the ensuing silence, Gaia continues to savor the warmth of the rabbit stew in her hands. Contemplating her place has left her unusually off-kilter despite the way her Sunday meditations usually ground her. She surprises herself when she hears her voice ask, “Do you think the time of the Fleimkepa is over?”

Niylah is quiet for a moment as she stirs the pot of soup and her eyes are warm when she finds Gaia’s dark eyes. “Perhaps it’s not what you want to hear, but if we are the last of humanity, then yes. The Flame is gone, the time of the Commanders is truly at an end.”

Staring for a beat longer, it takes just a moment too long for Gaia to nod in understanding. Niylah smiles a sad smile at her. “I’m sure there are some among us who would enjoy hearing the Fleimkepa’s history, though. Just because your purpose has fled does not mean that your legacy has to follow.”

Another nod. Setting the empty soup bowl into the bin at the edge of one of the tables, Gaia heads towards her home.

--

The afternoon finds Clarke and Lexa huddled into their, admittedly yet bare, home. The bed is the most comfortable place and Clarke is still in awe that Lexa is hear with her. Their lovemaking had come to an end again and now they just lay together, skin to skin despite the sticky sweat making it somewhat uncomfortable.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” Clarke whispers, trailing fingers down the tattoo on Lexa’s arm, curious in it’s very existence.

“Unmoored. I remember the events that have taken place since—since my death.” Clarke’s breath hitches when Lexa’s voice catches. That moment is her greatest source of pain. “But none of that is a suitable replacement for experiencing them.”

Clarke pulls her into a kiss. “I am the harbor at which you can tether.”

“You are, Klark. You are. I am not unexperienced with holding wisdom I never attained myself. I just need time to adjust.”

Clarke’s lips press to her shoulder, murmuring against her skin, “How does a new Commander traditionally fare, after they’ve just taken the Flame?”

“We spend a lot of time learning from the Fleimkepa’s. The new Commander often inherits the previous Commander’s Fleimkepa. The immediately previous Commander’s experiences and insights are going to be the most prevalent. For generations we were warned of Sheidheda’s dark influences. I am sorry for what he did to Madi.”

Shaking her head, Clarke rolls onto her elbow, eyes bright and intense, “You taught my daughter—and reminded me when I forgot it—that love is not weakness. You were there for her. None of what happened to her is your fault.”

Lexa’s eyes soften and she pulls Clarke into a long, slow kiss, hand cupping her cheek. “Madi would have been an awe-worthy Commander.”

Contemplating the note of sadness in her lover’s voice, Clarke spends the time remembering the curves and lines of Lexa’s face. “Aden would have been as well.”

Face falling, Lexa refuses to squeeze her eyes shut and shed the tears that have gathered in them.  When one traces a path down her cheek anyway, Clarke rubs it away with her thumb before enveloping Lexa in her arms, holding her tightly. “It’s okay to mourn. You must feel like you just lost him—all the Natblida—just yesterday.”

In the privacy of their home and the safety of Clarke’s arms, Lexa cries for everything she lost.

--

Gaia is passing in front of Octavia’s house when a particular chanting catches her attention. She comes around the side to the back, finding Levitt on his knees, head bowed, reciting words like he’s done it thousands of times before. Her foot steps on a branch and his head snaps up, catching her in his sights.

“I do not mean to intrude,” she says, lightly.

“No intrusion, you just startled me.” Levitt offers her a kind smile, resuming the quiet invocation under his breath.

“You need not hide your faith from me. In fact, I’d very much like to hear it, if I may?” Gaia folds herself into a sitting position adjacent to him.

He hesitates a moment and then continues out loud. His words speak of a final battle, of tests and ending, of faith in a prophet who helped them Transcend the light. This is the faith of the the Transcendence and Gaia soaks in the words, mulling them over and holding them up against her own faith. It is several minutes before he appears to finish. “For the Good of All Mankind.”

“Your faith has come to fruition. That must feel uniquely satisfying.”

“I can’t say I don’t have doubts, even now. The Shepherd believed that rescinding love and personal connections would lead us to Transcendence, but he did not live by his own teachings, not at the end, at least.”

“It can be heavy to bear when our idols to do not live up to our standards. For what it’s worth, he was human.”

“Ah, I am not sure that humanity would find you destroying a child’s mind.” Gaia raises a brow at him and Levitt explains, “The Shepherd chose to destroy Madi’s mind in pursuit of his daughter.”

Gaia sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Oh, Madi!”

“From what Clarke has said, though, the Judge indicated that Madi chose to stay within the Trancendence, with people her own age.”

“Is that a life with people, in such a sense?”

Levitt shrugs. “I can’t say.”

“It was the situation with Madi, then, that would have you rescind your beliefs, deny yourself the Transcendence for which you lived your life?”

Levitt appears thoughtful, before saying slowly, “I can’t say it was any one thing. Octavia taught me what love for another looked like. The Shepherd displayed it for his daughter and that is when I began to doubt. When he asked me to destroy Madi’s mind, having me removed for refusing, that was when I knew that he was as infallible as the rest of us. He was wrong about the Transcendence being a war. I can’t help but wonder if he’s wrong about other parts of the Transcendence.”

“Enough doubt that you would risk forever?”

“Yes,” Levitt says, so fiercely that Gaia is rocked by it. There is a moment of companionship between them, on the buoy of love amidst the stormy seas of keeping faith. Levitt eventually smiles again. “Tell me, Fleimkepa, what are the virtues of your convictions? I would like to hear your faith, as well, if you don’t mind.”

Gaia’s heart soars at the opportunity. “The Fleimkepa tradition was born with Kalliope Pramfleimkepa…”

It is dark before they find themselves turning away to bed, but Gaia has found a friend in Levitt in the hours spent comparing and sharing their faith. It instills a peace within her that she could not find that morning. There are more things in life than just faith, and she intends to find every good part.

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