#(seriously this is 3800 words)

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 17 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica realizes she is going to have to work hard to help the students in the class she is teaching in Brian's place. Add that to her tenure review, and she's already exhausted. At least she can trust her boyfriend. Jake couldn't be more proud of Jessica, but a night out without his girlfriend is a bit eye-opening for him.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral, angst, language, mention drinking and driving, 18+

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"You'll never believe what happened!" Jessica gushed, releasing Jake and bouncing around a bit. He was all smiles, just like she'd come to expect with him. There were even two beers and a dish of peanuts waiting on the table which made her feel a little weak. She pushed him down onto one of the high stools and let her hands rest on his thighs. 

"Damn," he grunted when she kissed him again, slotting herself between his legs with a laugh. "Either your day was excellent, or you're very happy to see me."

"It's both," she assured him, basking in the soft pressure of his lips on hers. "I am officially under tenure review."

"Reedy," he grunted, cupping her face in both of his hands and pulling back slightly. "Are you serious?" Wide, green eyes searched her face for a hint that she may be joking, but she just shook her head slightly. "How?"

She told him everything, sparing no details about her time in Rosenthal's office with her friend and how much that meant to her. "She promised me that Dr. Rosenthal would hear me out, and when I let him know I never got a tenure review from Brian, he agreed immediately." Tears stung at her eyes again as Jake listened intently, his hands stroking her face. "He started the process today, Jake! He's so busy right now, since he's stepping into Brian's shoes while still covering his own classes, but he still took the time to look at my grade book and my schedule! And he complimented me on how organized I am!" She felt ridiculous for crying at Chippy's, and she could see a concerned looking Chippy himself through her blurred vision, so she gave him a little wave.

"You're incredible," Jake whispered, kissing her forehead. "And how was your meeting with the dean?"

Somehow her smile grew brighter as she said, "He told me the fratraiser was the best event of alumni weekend and already asked me to do it again next year."

Jake's lips were all over her face, bumping her glasses and whispering that he was proud of her while she laughed. If Rosenthal and Dean Walters were both in her corner along with her friend, she felt like she could do anything. She felt like she could succeed. Finally. 

Eventually she made it to her own seat where she started to crack open some peanuts. "I'm absolutely starving," she muttered. "I think all the adrenaline from the day is messing with me." Her fingers were shaking as she pressed the peanuts to her lips, and Jake pushed the bowl closer to her.

"I brought some food with me," he said, kind of nodding toward the door. "It's in the cooler in my truck." He paused before asking, "You still want me to sleep over, Jess?"

"Of course!" She pressed her lips together and softly said, "I've never really done midweek sleepovers before?" Frankly, she'd never been in a relationship she took as seriously as this one. With Jake. 

He lounged back in his seat so casually as he said, "Neither have I. So I was just going to follow your lead on this one, soon-to-be-tenured Dr. Reed."

Jessica blushed as she chewed up another peanut. She imagined mind blowing sex, going to bed early, and Jake making her breakfast in the morning before they both left for work. But she was really worn out from the day, so she said, "We can figure it out together."

-----------------------------

Jake watched his girlfriend as she stood at her kitchen counter in her work clothes and ate the casserole he made for her. She moaned softly while she licked her fork with clearly no idea that she was making him hard. He loved cooking, and she loved eating whatever he made. And then she said, "This is so good, Jake." And she'd make the word good sound like it had too many syllables. And she did all of this while wearing her high heels and cute glasses and looking at him.

This was just the first midweek sleepover, but Jake was already looking around to see how much stuff she really had. It could all fit in his condo. She could ditch her rental and move in with him. He could cook for her all the time and tell her he loved her. Why hadn't he done that yet? He was as excited for her tenure review as he had been for his last rank promotion. He recently printed out a picture of her and flew with it in his helmet bag. He was a mess right now, hesitating because he was afraid of not saying it at the right time and worrying that it was too soon.

"It was really good," she whispered as she set her fork in the sink, and Jake realized he'd never responded to what she said. 

"I love cooking for you, Baby," he told her with a wide grin while she yawned. "You had a big day today. Almost ready for bed?"

"Yeah, I'm tired," she replied quickly, voice soft. "But I kind of wanted to... mess around a little bit?"

There was no way he could deny her something she wanted, especially when he wanted it so badly, too. Without warning, Jake got his hands on her thighs and hiked her skirt up to her waist. Jessica gasped and grabbed at his shoulders just like he knew she would. "Jake!" Her voice was muffled by his lips as he lifted her up, guided her legs around his waist, and carried her to her bedroom. His fingers tangled in her lace underwear as she rubbed herself against his abs. 

She shrieked in delight as he dropped her onto her back on the bed. "Scoot up to the pillows, Baby," he instructed. "And keep your shoes on."

He watched her shimmy up to rest her head on the pillows while she kept her feet up in the air, and he undid his boots, tossing them aside. Jake crawled up the bed, kissing her through her panties before hiking her legs up over his shoulders and pushing them back until he was kissing her lips and the tip of her nose. 

When he ran his rough hands along the backs of her thighs, she whimpered into his mouth. Jake could feel her fingers on his name tag and insignia pins as he pushed his cock against her core through layers of fabric. "Let me eat your pussy?" he asked between soft kisses.

She met his questioning eyes and rubbed her core up against him. "I want you to," she gasped, and Jake pressed one more rough kiss to her lips before moving down her body to his intended target with a little grin.

"These are pretty," he murmured, kissing along the top of her underwear as he pushed her skirt up higher around her waist. Jessica's fingers found his hair, and her high heels dug slightly into his back. So far, he loved midweek sleepovers. As he pulled the blue lace to one side, he kissed her wet slit and thought about how there was actually plenty of room in his closet for her entire lingerie collection. All he wanted to do was keep adding to it, since he definitely loved it as much as she did. 

"Jake," she gasped, pressing herself a little harder against his mouth as he parted her with his lips and teased her opening with his flat tongue. "Jake!" 

He chuckled and kissed her inner thigh as he asked, "How do you make it so many syllables like that?" But Jessica tugged on his hair and put his mouth back where she wanted it. 

"Stop messing around," she whined. Holy shit, he loved it when she told him what to do. When Jessica bossed him around, it made him want to give his best performance.

"Anything you want, Baby," he promised, and she whined louder until he was sucking gently on her clit. That seemed to be what she was after, so he set a leisurely pace, occasionally going harder until she got loud. Then he ran his knuckle along her opening before slipping his middle finger inside her. 

Those heels pressed harder into his back as she demanded, "Harder." Fingers tightened in his hair, sending a ripple of need down along his neck. He plucked her clit with his lips as he added his index finger and hooked them just so. 

"Jake!" she called out, absolutely riding his face and fingers now. She tasted so good, and he couldn't stop picturing her stuff in her condo. He was grinding his hips against the bed in time with the tugging of his hair. Her sharp heels were starting to hurt, and he was a little afraid she would rip his uniform shirt, but there was no way he was stopping now. 

She was clenching and practically screaming as he swirled his tongue around her sweet spot and fucked his fingers harder into her. He was rock hard against her bedding, and her fingernails scraped along his scalp as she came for him. She was squeezing his fingers and felt so tight around him that he needed to fuck her. He needed that around his cock.

Jake was up on his knees and out of her grasp as her legs splayed wide and her hips shook. Quickly he unzipped his khaki pants and pulled himself free, thrusting his cock into her clenching pussy and patting her clit with his wet fingers. Jessica was rolling her head from side to side as he ground himself into her with her name a low growl on his lips. 

"Jessica." He came hard after barely a few thrusts, shocking himself. He wasn't even sure how it happened so fast. But then he looked down at Jessica as his cum seeped out of her and onto the blue lace. Her fingers were in the air coaxing him closer, and he went so willingly to her lips, an absolute mess for this woman.

-------------------------

On Monday, Jessica and Jake cuddled all night in her bed, but Tuesday evening after her office hours, they moved things to his place. "Tomorrow is Wednesday, and you've got to teach that asshole's class, Smart Girl," Jake whispered. "I'll pack you some extra snacks in your lunch." 

Then he fucked her in her new lingerie until she could barely walk, leaving her in his bed aftwards to relax for a few minutes until she could get up and join him in the shower. And Jessica was relaxed and happy and fresh on Wednesday when she walked into the classroom where she would be in charge of Brian's Senior Studies seminar class. 

"Hi, I'm Dr. Reed," she announced when she rushed in as soon as her Physics lecture in the previous time slot ended. "I'll be filling in for Dr. Conley," she said to the group of ten in attendance, unable to keep a smile from her face. "And you're all graduating chemistry majors?" 

She had been given just a tiny bit of information on this class from Dean Walters, and she was a little nervous that she wouldn't be able to help as much as she hoped. Then she convinced herself she'd be okay. She passed a bunch of chemistry classes as an undergrad, and she could work her way through any textbook with ease. 

"Yeah," replied one of the students as he sat up a little straighter in his seat. "But Dr. Conley usually just takes attendance and then leaves."

She blinked at him for a few seconds and adjusted her glasses. "I'm sorry. What? He leaves?"

"Yeah," another student agreed.

"But aren't you all trying to graduate in May? With top grades to get a job or go to grad school?" she asked as she looked around. She was met with nodding heads and a few blank stares as she set her notebooks down at the front of the small room. "Well..." she started, unsure what she should do. "Let me look at your grades a little closer. Maybe we can work on some things from your classes?" She pulled out her information packet on these students. Indeed two of them did have perfect 4.0 GPAs, but there were a few who could use some help with their grades.

"So are you going to stay?" a third student asked. "Even after you take attendance? And help us?"

Jessica was appalled as she stood there with her hands on her hips. "Yeah. I'm going to stay. And we're going to talk about which classes you might be struggling with? You still have some time left in the semester to bring your grades up."

Just then, the door at the back of the room opened, and Dr. Rosenthal walked in, quietly taking a seat off to the side. "Sorry I'm late," he muttered. "Just pretend I'm not even here."

Great. Jessica's first foray into her tenure being reviewed would be when she wasn't even teaching her own subject with her own students. A flash of panic hit her in the face. Her palms started to sweat. Her trusty high heels suddenly felt very uncomfortable. The snack Jake packed for her was sitting like a brick in her stomach. 

"Uh, are there any specific classes or questions in general that I can help you with?" she asked lamely as she wiped her hands on her suit jacket.

"Organic chemistry," a handful groaned in unison, and she supposed that was at least somewhere to start. 

"Okay," she said, watching Rosenthal scribble something in his notebook. "Does anyone have that textbook with them? So I can take a look?"

A minute later, she had the chapter in front of her, and everyone had moved their seats a little closer to the board. With some help from the students themselves, she wrote a few problems out. She had to consult the text frequently, and she had to Google something on her phone, but they did manage to solve the first one correctly. She also noticed a text from Jake when she had her phone out.

Hey, Smart Girl. I just know you're killing it right now. Call me after work.

His words made her push through the second problem on the board. And then a third and a fourth. With only a few minutes left in the class, she passed around her red notebook and said, "Please write down your email address. I could pull them from the campus catalog, but that will take too long. I'll email out more Organic Chem problems to work on for next week, and I'll talk to Dr. Snyder and see if he can give me any idea of what he might be focusing on for his final exam, okay? And please email me if you need help with anything specific," she added, writing her own email address on the board. 

When she turned around, they were all scribbling it down. And Dr. Rosenthal was smiling up at her; she'd forgotten he was even in the room. A few of the students thanked her as they stood to leave, and she handed the borrowed textbook back. This was going to be a lot more work than she anticipated.

"Well, Dr. Reed," Rosenthal murmured as he stood. "Chemistry is not your subject, is it?" he asked with a chuckle. 

She groaned softly. "Was it that obvious? I don't even know any good chemistry jokes."

"Oh, I do," he promised. "I subscribe to the science joke of the day website. I could start forwarding the jokes to you if you'd like?"

She nodded and laughed. "That would be nice, Dr. Rosenthal."

Then she watched him write something in his notebook about forwarding the emails to her, and she realized he really was a very sweet person. But she was afraid that this class would reflect poorly upon her, and she was just about to tell him that when he tucked his pencil behind his ear. 

"I thought you did a good job with these students today, especially since you aren't proficient in the subject. I'll be seeing you in your Quantum Mechanics lecture in about an hour or so."

Jessica watched him hustle out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. And sure enough, later that afternoon, Dr. Rosenthal got to see her shine as she taught her favorite class. And Advanced Calculus was there, too, taking her own set of notes. And then Jessica felt a lot better.

--------------------------

Jake sat at the Hard Deck on Friday night with a beer in one hand and Bradley sitting next to him. He'd invited Jessica to come, but she told him she had to write down some chemistry problems. Coming from literally any other woman, Jake would have assumed she was lying as a way to dismiss him, but he believed every word she told him. 

"Where's Dr. Tits?" he asked Bradley with a smirk as he sipped his beer.

Bradley grunted in response. "Working late. She has a lecture until eight. That's why I'm not staying long tonight. I told her I'd pick her up before nine."

Jake checked the time. It was barely seven. He hadn't been to the Hard Deck in weeks. Maybe months. He'd been spending all of his time with Jessica at Chippy's. He kind of missed that cranky, old man. He also missed being in an environment where he hadn't hooked up with every woman present. As he looked around the bar, he started to get a little uncomfortable. 

"Wanna shoot some pool?" Bradley asked him, and Jake got up out of his seat immediately and headed toward the pool table. 

"You can break," Jake told him as he watched Bradley rack the balls. He was going to lose anyway, and he didn't even mind. Occasionally he glanced around the room, and it registered to him that if he wasn't dating Jessica, he'd be taking one of these women home with him. "I need something stronger," he murmured. "You want a whiskey or two?"

"Sure," Bradley replied, eyeing him closely. "But just one for me."

"Yeah, alright," Jake told him before turning toward the bar where Penny was working at a blistering pace filling orders. He had to wait a minute to get her attention, but she smiled at him when he said, "Penny, my dear, I'll take three Maker's Marks. Neat."

"Of course," she replied. "You sharing them with Rooster or with... someone else? Or two someone elses?"

Jake's eyes settled on the two younger women who were eyeing him up across the bar. They didn't turn away when he made eye contact, rather they looked even more excited. But two of the whiskeys were meant for him. Maybe to take the edge off of the nerves he was feeling being out for the night without his girlfriend. 

"Nah," Jake told her as she poured. "Just ol' Rooster."

She winked at him as she added them to his tab. "Enjoy."

He wanted to enjoy his drinks. He planned to. He carried the three glasses back to the pool table with every intention of downing two of them and giving the third to Bradley. But he could tell he was being followed now, so he stepped through the crowd a little faster to reach his destination.

Jake was handing a glass to Bradley when he knew it was too late. "Hey, fellas," said the first girl who had the fucking nerve to even look a bit like Jessica. "Can we join you?" 

"We always wanted to learn how to play pool," chimed in the second one who was barely wearing any clothing. 

"I'm married," Bradley told them blandly, holding up his left and barely looking at them before he lined up a really nice shot. "And my wife is hot. And I'm not interested. You're up, Hangman."

"Are you married?" the first one asked Jake as he downed both drinks, one after the other.

He looked at her and backed away a few inches. "Well, no."

"Teach us how to play pool?" she whined, her hand coming to rest on his chest. 

And it suddenly occurred to Jake that he had never turned a woman down before in his life. He'd never had to. He'd always been game. Sure, he'd been shot down himself on occasion, but this wasn't something he was used to doing at all. He turned to Bradley for help, but just got a disappointed look in return the longer he waffled. And Jake already felt like he had failed his girlfriend.

---------------------------

Jessica was sitting on her bed examining Jake's birthday gift that arrived in the mail earlier. It was perfect. She giggled and kicked her feet, knowing exactly where he should hang it at his place. She was carefully putting it in the frame and attaching the back when her phone rang.

"Jake!" she gushed answering his call. It was after ten o'clock now, and she was exhausted from all the extra work involved with taking Brian's class and actually doing something to help his students. "How was the bar?"

"I miss you, Jess," he drawled, a harsh edge coming through in his voice. "Can I... can I come over?"

"Yes," she told him right away. "Come over."

"Okay." Then the call went silent. He didn't sound like himself, and Jessica became a little concerned as she packed up all of the chemistry notes that were littering her bed. She put Jake's birthday gift in a box in her closet, and then slipped her robe over her silk nightgown. 

When Jake knocked just a few minutes later, she was surprised he was already there. She was going to have to copy a key so he could just let himself in going forward, but her mind went blank when she opened the door. He looked a little drunk. He smelled a bit drunk. She wondered if he drove himself over, and that thought made her stomach lurch as he walked inside and locked the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly as he collected her in his arms and started toward the bedroom.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Just needed you."

He needed her. She let him kick off his shoes and remove about half of his clothing, and then he was reaching for her again. Jake snuggled next to her in bed and fell asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

-----------------------------

Jake. Don't be a fuckboy. We trusted you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 18

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[nowoyas]

koi no yokan 24: closet door (nishinoya yuu/reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: greetings from hell! we are now more or less completely certain that I have sprained my wrist due to the fall down the stairs on Wednesday. this shouldn't affect any update schedules, however, because of the difference in how my brain functions when using the dictation software versus just typing, you may notice a difference in writing quality. I have done my best to keep it at the same quality and the same voice as usual, but there's only so much I can do when I can't type. Even so, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: The final days before prelims.

Warnings and tags: emetophobia, references to child neglect, light suicide ideation

Words: ~3800

You do not answer the door.

Not the bell, not the knocks. Not phonecalls or texts.

And Yuu, predictably, is worried.

He'd assumed, when you didn't leave the house this morning, that your night had been about as rough as anticipated, but the radio silence throughout the day is concerning. Concerning enough that, after ringing the doorbell twice and waiting ten minutes, he's about to go get the camping gear from his house and wait you out.

He rings the doorbell a third time. His phone buzzes a moment later.

[name] to Noya at 19:48

[name]: go away

Noya: not until I know you're okay

[name]: im not

He sighs. He's not going to get anywhere like this.

He remembers the spare key and locates it with ease, walks right in as quietly as he can manage. You're not in the living room, so you must be upstairs—he climbs the stairs, winds down the hall to your room, where the door is shut but not locked. He cracks it just a bit, then knocks. There's a shuffling from within the room.

"Come on, [name]-san," he says softly through the crack.

You don't reply. He opens the door the rest of the way—your futon is still laid out, and in fact looks freshly vacated, based on the fact that you haven't so much as smoothed out the comforter. You've got no less than four plushies laid up in said futon—he suppresses a smile when he spots the one that had been a get-well-soon gift from Shouyo—but you're nowhere in sight.

[name]: I said go away

[name]: I look awful

[name]: I don't want to be real right now please don't make me

"Are you sick?" he asks out loud, frowning. The text comes back quickly.

[name]: in the head yeah

[name]: did you seriously use the spare key to get in because I didn't wanna talk

He shrugs. "I was worried. Last time you skipped a day you at least came to the door."

[name]: getting punched in the face and telling you about my mom wasn't all that bad. Just exhausting

[name]: I literally want to die right now please just go

His heart cracks at the words. "Yeah, when you put it that way, there's no way I'm doing that."

[name]: senpai

[name]: please

He sits down on your futon, legs crossed. "I'm not leaving until I know you're okay, but I can text Okaa-san and let her know you're not up to dinner tonight."

A muffled fuck! leaves the nearby closet. He huffs and moves to sit with his back against the wall beside the closet door. You must have forgotten.

[name]: see now I just feel bad

"You didn't already feel bad?"

[name]: you know what I mean

[name]: you'll miss dinner for sure if you wait until I feel better

[name]: you're gonna die here at the rate I'm going

He shrugs. "I can miss it. I'll be fine."

"Don't you fucking dare," comes the muffled reply. It's obvious, when you finally speak, that you've been crying. "You have games. Tomorrow. You need to be at your best."

"Oh, she talks!" He smiles. It's progress. "You're still coming tomorrow, right?"

Silence, both from the closet door and his phone. His heart drops.

"[name]-san?"

The closet door creaks a little. "Do you want me to?" you ask quietly.

"I don't think I'll play half as good without you there to watch me," he says honestly. "And I need you there as a good luck charm."

"But do you want me there, because—"

"[name]-san. I want you at dinner with my family, and I want you at the matches tomorrow, and I wanted you at practice today, and I want you at every practice after this, and I want you at every match I ever play."

Silence. You pull the door shut. For a moment, he thinks he's said the wrong thing, but then—

[name]: can you get out for two seconds so I can get dressed

"You're coming to dinner?"

[name]: im actually bisexual

"What?"

[name]: im coming out of the closet

He lets out a startled bark of laughter. "Marry me. Don't even get dressed; I don't mind."

[name]: 875

[name]: I mind

[name]: I PROMISE I'll actually let you back in the room once Im dressed

"Fine, fine." He gets up. Leaves the room. Closes the door behind him. There's a moment of shuffling from within—your footsteps approaching. He thinks you're about to open the door for a moment, and then he hears you fumbling with the lock and jerks it open, careful not to hit you with it. "Oh, no you don't. You promised!"

You don't fight it. You let him push open the door the rest of the way, greet him with your hood pulled firmly over your head and an adorable pout. "Only because I promised," you say quietly.

God, you're in a state. Your eyes are red with tears, face swollen. "Do you wanna talk about what happened?"

"He bought me a late birthday cake. He said he didn't know last month was July."

"That's… good, right?"

"He did it right when things got tense and just left. He walked."

"O…kay?"

"So I immediately had a complete mental breakdown and he came back with cake to find me hyperventilating where he left me because the last time someone went for a walk after a tense conversation they fucking died." You lean into him, slowly bringing your arms up to wrap around his torso. He returns the hold tentatively, resting his chin on top of your head.

"Oh." Ohh. He holds you just a bit tighter as the realization sets in. "I'm so sorry."

"'N then he apologized and we talked about Okaa-san for a while and I thought maybe he might actually listen and be home more, but he hesitated and said he'd try." A sniffle. "And we watched volleyball to distract me, but then he—he—"

Your shoulders shake. He pulls away, guides you to sit with him so he can cradle you just a little bit better. (Now is not the time to think about the fact that you started watching volleyball for comfort. He files it away for later.)

"I can't ever come out to him, Noya," you mumble. "He said he was glad I wasn't playing volleyball because all the women—it was some match between women's teams—looked like lesbians. Like it's a bad thing."

A bunch of potential responses race through his head. Everything from what an asshole to okay, like lesbians aren't hot which he's pretty sure he's slightly more qualified to say than the average guy but probably isn't very useful right now. What comes out feels lame and not nearly enough. "That's messed up."

You nod. "It's like—I don't even know what I want from him. Him not being here makes me feel like shit. And when he's actually here I feel worse. And now I have evidence that he'll never accept me for me, and probably if I did come out he wouldn't get the bisexual thing or pull something about how it's fine if I grow out of it and end up with a man, and—and—" You pause. Buckle in on yourself a little as your stomach growls loud enough for Yuu to hear. "I feel sick."

"Have you eaten today, like, at all?"

You shake your head. "I… I didn't get out of bed until I heard you coming up the stairs."

"[name]-san!" he admonishes. "Alright, that's it. Get everything you need for tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"You're coming to dinner. You're gonna eat."

"But why—"

He tilts his head. "I'm gonna ask you to stay the night, and I don't want you to have any "nos". So you gotta get your stuff together and bring it with you to my place before I ask  so you don't have the "no" that your stuff is all here and you don't want to drop by in the morning."

You let out a soft laugh, melting into him just a touch. "You're gonna casually ask me to stay the night."

"Well, yeah!" He shakes your shoulder playfully. "You're good luck. You proved it at the training camp. Gotta absorb all the luck I can off you! And, y'know, I sleep way better when I'm cuddling someone, and—"

"Okay, okay. Message received, you wanna cuddle. Is Rina-san gonna be okay with that?" You wriggle out of his hold, go hunting for clothes.

"What do you mean? She loves you."

"I think any reasonable parent might raise an eyebrow at a girl sleeping in the same bedroom as her son. I don't exactly have the concussion to use as an excuse anymore."

He shrugs. "If Satsuki can have her girlfriends stay the night, I don't see why you can't. Besides, it doesn't mean anything, right?" He flashes a smile, winks at you.

You roll your eyes. "I don't like your implications, Mister. And yes, strictly platonic."

"As long as you still come along. Come on, give me more reasons to say no so I can get you to admit you wanna sleep with me tonight!"

It might've been on the nose, but at your flustered squawk and the bag suddenly flung at his face, Yuu thinks it was worth it.

Even better yet, you play along—you're clearly still down, but you set up arguments for him to knock down one by one, even as you finish packing and walk with him back to his place. By the end of the night, over video games and bantering with Satsuki, you've given in—you steal the shower, cuddle right up to him with no pretense. His chest swells with pride at the feeling of your head resting on it at the end of the night, and threatens to burst when he catches a whiff of his own body wash on your skin.

Strictly platonic, his ass.

~

You wake up to a commotion on the bus. When you turn around in your seat, leaning over Noya to investigate, you find Hinata leaning into the bus aisle, his head between his knees. 

"What's going on?" you ask.

"Shouyo's not feeling good," Noya says. "Anxiety, apparently."

You furrow your brow. "Is he going to be okay?"

Tanaka pokes his head into the aisle. "He gets like this before matches. Before our first practice match he literally threw up in my lap."

You cringe. That sounds… bad. "Okay, wait—Tanaka-senpai, switch seats with me."

He blinks. "What?"

"You heard me." You grab Noya's shoulder and slide over his lap. He lets out a strangled noise, hands coming up to steady you as you slide right past him into the aisle. The shuffle is quick and, for your part, painless. You slip past Tanaka—Noya moves into the seat you'd had, and Tanaka takes the newly-opened aisle seat so that you can sit across from Hinata. "Hinata, do me a huge favor and hum for me."

He looks up in confusion, but before he can say anything, he slaps a hand over his mouth and drops his face back between his legs. "W-what?" he asks weakly.

"You heard me. You can hum anything, it doesn't matter what, but your body's gag reflex can't actually work if you're humming."

He begins to hum—the sound is tuneless, and you're not sure it comes from any particular song so much as his anxiety. You smile softly and reach out a hand rub small circles into his shoulder blade.

"Okay, that's good. Just keep humming for me no matter what while we wait for Coach Ukai to pull the bus over." You speak quickly and softly, but for the last part, you raise your voice insistently so that you're heard. The sharp look you flash in the rear view mirror catches Coach Ukai's eye, and you think he nods in reply. Good.

"I can't believe you're getting nervous like this again," Tsukishima says. "You know, if you didn't gorge yourself like you were talking about this morning, you might not have made yourself sick—"

You don't look up when you speak. "Tsukishima."

The anxious buzz of the other guys falls quiet.

"Do you think you're helping right now?"

Silence.

"Exactly. Not the time. So shut up."

There are a few stifled laughs, but you don't care about those right now. Your focus is on Hinata. It seems to be anxiety, rather than panic—that's good. You have better techniques for anxiety attacks than panic attacks anyway.

"Okay, Hinata, I'm going to ask you to do something for me, but you can't stop humming, okay?"

He nods shakily.

"So what I need from you right now is to just look around, and I want you to focus on picking out five things that you can see, okay?"

He nods, and as he continues to hum the same random notes, he picks up his head to look around.

"When you're done, you can just nod at me to let me know, okay?"

You watch his eyes settle on distinct points—first to you, then to Tanaka in the row beside you. Then to the roof of the bus, then to a sulking Tsukishima a few rows back, and finally, to his own shaking hands in his lap. When he's done, he looks at you again and nods.

"Good. You're doing great. Now, I want you to find four things that you can touch right now. Can you do that for me? When you do, I need you to go out of your way to actually touch those things. Focus on how they feel, alright?"

Again you watch him work—he reaches out and brushes fingertips against your arm. Then against the seat of the bus, then against his shorts, and then, after a moment of hesitation, against his own hair. You keep your hand rubbing his back the whole time and nod.

"Tanaka-senpai, can you hand me my bag from the row? Thanks. Keep humming for me, okay, Hinata?"

He nods. He's switched to a random lullaby, and you smile when you recognize the tune.

"Okay, I know this will be hard because you have to keep humming, but try your best for me, okay? I need you to find three things that you can hear for me. It can be any three things, including your own voice, but I want you to take a moment to notice how they sound as you're listening to them."

He tilts his head this way and that, and for just a moment, his humming falters. You force down the surge of panic as you see him lurch a little, but he picks back up with the humming and nods to you when he's picked out his three things.

"Good." You rifle around in your bag for a moment, searching for something. When you find it, you bring it to the top of the bag and open the cap. "Two things you can smell next. You've probably got the one from the bus air, but just in case, I have something to make it easier."

He sniffs at the air a moment, and once he has, you hold out your open bottle of hand lotion—vanilla-scented—for him to smell. Once he's done, you put it away and immediately reach back into your bag for your water bottle. With honestly perfect timing, the bus slows to a stop on the side of the road.

"Almost done, Hinata. We're gonna make our way off the bus first, and then we'll get to that last one."

You walk behind him down the bus aisle. The entire time, your hand doesn't leave his back—you're careful to keep soothing him, to keep him as grounded as you can get him. When the two of you are clear of the bus, you purposely remove your hand from his back and take three very large steps away. "Alright. Stop humming and let it out."

He obeys to the letter—the humming stops, and then he lurches over and begins to throw up. It's loud and gross and smells bad, but at the very least, it's on the side of the road and not on the bus where you'll be trapped with the smell for another forty-five minutes or so. "I'm so sorry," he cries, doubled over with his hands on his knees.

You uncap the water bottle and hand it to him. "None of that. We weren't finished with the grounding exercise. Here's one thing you can taste. I would recommend swishing and spitting to get the stomach acid off of your teeth and the taste out of your mouth a little bit."

Again he obeys, swishing the water in his mouth and spitting with a distasteful look on his face. "Ugh. That was disgusting."

"Does it feel a little better, though?"

"Yes, it does... Thank you…"

"You can keep that water bottle; you'll want to drink the rest of it in slow sips until we get to the tournament. Hydration and all that."

At the mention of the impending matches, he looks a little pale again. You reach out and replace your hand on his back, hoping that the motion will soothe him a little bit. The two of you get back onto the bus and into your seats, where you lean in with a sympathetic look.

"Nerves about the matches, then?"

He nods weakly. "I just—I don't want to mess up today. I don't want to bring everyone down. I just want to stay on the court as long as possible."

"And you're going to. You know that, right? Even if you have one bad day, you've earned a place on the court already. It's not like Coach made you a starter just because he felt bad."

"But…"

"I mean, you're going to be fine. All of you are. Sure, anxiety is a thing and I don't expect you to just stop feeling it, but you should know that all you have to do is everything you've already been doing. And if that's the case, then you don't really have to worry, because you already know you can do it. You've been doing it. So you know you're capable of it. Y'know?"

He looks at you with tears in his eyes. "[surname]-san…"

"In the first place, I've spent the past two months watching you guys play and I'm pretty confident that you're gonna do just fine today. Even if you can't trust yourself, you can trust my judgment, right?"

"Yeah... you're right. You're so nice... seriously."

You shake your head. "I'm not nice. I'm talking about statistics. You know that we keep those, right? And I like to look at them. so I can say with absolute certainty that all of you have been getting more solid in the things that you're trying and that you've been steadily  closing the point gap between you and high-level teams. So you should know that when I say that I'm confident in you doing well today, it isn't based on feelings. It'd be rude not to trust me when I put so much thought into it, right?"

He smiles. An unfamiliar arm reaches from the row in front of you and shoves your shoulder playfully. It's Tanaka. "Man, Noya-san's right. You really are a tsundere. It's okay to say that you like us and trust us to win, you know?"

You bat at his hand with an unimpressed look. "Yeah, when I feel that way, I'll say it. Until then, I'll say what I mean. Thank you for the suggestion, though."

"But man, [surname]-san, you handled that really good." Hinata tilts his head. "How did you know the trick with the humming?"

You laugh and shrug your shoulders. "Had the stomach flu last year and had to ride it out alone. I think I threw up every hour at exactly the hour for like, two days straight or something. I didn't really want to have to clean anything up, so I figured out how to make sure I didn't have to. And you know what? It worked!"

He furrows his brow, giving you a sad look. "You had to go through that alone?"

A nervous laugh, a shrug. "It's not that big a deal. Otoo-san was busy with work, and it's just the two of us, so I didn't really wanna bother him. In any case, I got through it just fine, and if I hadn't had to deal with that, then I wouldn't have had the trick to share with you now. So it worked out! I'm glad for it."

"If you're sure…"

"Anyways, how are you feeling now?"

He smiles. "Better. Thanks."

You spend the rest of the bus ride to the tournament venue talking to Hinata. He seems, for the most part, calmer than before. You'd like to think that you do a pretty good job of keeping his mind off of the anxiety—you manage to ramble engagingly enough about the most recent book that you read, although you don't remember much about it given that you read it before the concussion. By the time you're all getting off the bus at the venue, he seems more or less thoroughly calmed.

You wait for Tsukishima, hands behind your back. When he steps off the bus, you grab at his arm with a tilt of your head. "Sorry for snapping earlier, by the way. I don't mind the way you act the rest of the time, but I was just worried about making sure that everything was sorted out right now. It wasn't personal, you know?"

He shrugs. "It's fine."

On the way in, a pouting Noya falls in step with you. You roll your eyes. "Dare I ask?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh. Nothing. Are you jealous? Is that it?"

"Yes," he says. "I'm very jealous. Next time, I'll be the one to get sick on the bus so you can lovingly rub my back for ten minutes."

"You're gonna make yourself sick from nerves?" You roll your eyes. "You? Yeah, sure. I'll believe that for sure. And lovingly? Dude, he was gonna throw up. Physical touch grounds people when they're anxious."

He sighs, draping his arms around you. "Fine. You were really good with Shouyo. I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me?"

"Yeah. You know, the flu thing."

Oh. Yeah. You guess you didn't really get too anxious talking about your family or anything. You shrug. "Thanks, I guess. It didn't feel good."

"But you did a really good job. Marry me?"

You huff and bump your head against his shoulder. "Let me run the numbers... Maybe if you ask another eight hundred and seventy-four times."

"I can do that."

You're starting to worry that he actually can.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @kazunish

[jessybarnes]

Something New

Ship - Cockles - Single!Jensen x Single!Misha

Rating - 18+ Only! Minors DNI!!

Tags - Sexuality struggles, First-time m/m sex, anal fingering, anal sex, rimming, oral (male receiving), mentions of coming out, mentions of not being accepted, anxiety, angst, fluff, smut, comfort, drinking, cursing, NSFW title banner, seriously if you're a minor go away!

Word Count - 3800 ish

Beta - Just Grammarly and Me

Fic Aesthetic - Yours truly

A/N - This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this blog. I hope you enjoy. :)

Misha flirted a lot. Everyone knew this and accepted it as a part of his outgoing nature. Jensen, on the other hand, still hadn't grown accustomed to the lingering touches and longing stares from his best friend. It wasn't that it made him uncomfortable, no it was very much the opposite. 

He tried to ignore the way his heart sped up every time Misha's fingers grazed his skin or the way he held him when they would hug, but it was impossible. Jensen didn't want to admit it. He was supposed to be straight, find a nice woman, and give his Mother and Father the grandkids they wanted. Instead, he was having an internal battle with his mind on whether or not his male co-star was hot. 

Jensen sighed and rubbed at his temples lightly. Currently, he was reading over the newest script for one of the upcoming episodes. People probably thought that playing Dean should have come to him naturally by now since he played him on TV for the better part of thirteen years. Sometimes it was more complicated than just 'getting into character' though. 

Certain scenes, much like the one he was reading now, involved Cas and Dean staring into each other's eyes for a longer than normal period of time. That part didn't bother him as much. It was the stage direction that was written in the script. Of course, he didn't write the script or the stage directions so he didn't really have much of a say in how their characters did things. 

Jensen stared down at the off-white paper. His eyes re-reading the same bold print that menacingly stared back up at him. 

INT. THE BUNKER, DAY There's tension between Dean and Cas from a previous argument.  They eye fuck for approx. 30-45 seconds until Sam clears his throat to get their attention.

He swallowed thickly wishing the direction would change, probably for the umpteenth time now. 

Couldn't they have picked a better way to word this?

A sudden knock at his trailer door made him jump. He tossed the script onto his coffee table before walking across the room to unlock it. The familiar silhouette of Jared should have put his mind at ease, but he knew his best friend of so many years would notice something was bothering him. Deciding there was no point in avoiding the inevitable, he flung open the door to let him in. 

"Hey, Jare"

Jared walked up the two stairs into Jensen's trailer and plopped down on his sectional. 

"You're awfully quiet today, Jay. What's going on?"

Jensen sighed, running a hand across his face. Good thing he hadn't been to hair and makeup yet. He didn't wanna piss anyone off this early in the day. Grabbing two beers, he tossed one to Jared and sat down. 

"I don't really wanna talk about it. Not like there's anything anyone can do about it anyway."

He took a long pull of his beer while Jared studied him. He watched Jensen's eyes glance at the stapled packet of papers quickly before focusing on the view from the window. 

"It's something from today's shoot isn't it, Jay?"

Jared picked up the papers and leaned back against the couch. Jensen didn't try and stop him, but he didn't elaborate either. He just sat and watched as the taller Texan read over the page he'd been mulling over a few minutes ago. 

"I don't see anything wrong wi-"

Jared stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at Jensen. He scooted slightly closer and pointed to the middle of the page. 

"It's the 'eye fucking' part isn't it?"

Jensen looked away, picking at a loose string in the hem of his jeans. The beer bottle rested loosely against his lips as he took another swig.

"Jensen, you should really tell him, you know."

It was a miracle the beer didn't come out his nose. It took him a minute to stop choking and gain his breath back. A blush crept up the side of his neck as he looked down at his lap. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jared."

Once again the script was tossed carelessly on the coffee table. Jared scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

"Oh c'mon, Jay! You can't possibly think I believe you. I know how you feel about Mish, and I think you do, too. It's okay to admit that you got a thing for him, and frankly, I think you should talk to him about it. I mean look at it this way, how many times have we told fans that it's okay to be yourself. Love is love, and honestly, I think Misha feels the same way."

Jensen let out a defeated sigh. He should have known better. He and Jared can read each other like a book, and sometimes that wasn't necessarily a good thing. 

"I can't tell him, Jared. I'm not supposed to feel things like this for another man. My parents didn't bring me up this way. I'm just going to grin and bear it until we get through shooting this. I'm an actor. I can just push my feelings aside until this is all over with." 

Jared set his bottle down and repositioned himself so he was facing him. Jensen looked miserable. He was clearly stressing way too much over this. He was pale and dark circles lingered under his eyes from lack of sleep.

"Jay, that's bullshit and you know it! You can't control the way you feel for someone. It doesn't matter how your parents wanted you to turn out. What does matter is who you want to be. If the real you is attracted to both men and women, then so be it. If your Mom and Dad can't accept you for who you are, then they aren't taking your best interest to heart."

Jensen rested his head in his hands and shook his head. 

"Even if they miraculously accept the fact that I have a crush on Mish, how the hell am I going to tell him? I have no idea how I'll get the words out, let alone bring it up."

Jared stood up and walked toward the liquor cabinet. He pulled a bottle of Crown Royal from the top shelf and blew the dust off. 

“Sounds like you could use some stronger liquid courage.”

Now it was Jensen’s turn to scoff. He watched as Jared grabbed two glasses from one of the cabinets and put a couple cubes of ice in them. 

“I can’t shoot these scenes drunk off my ass Jared. Bob will have my head.”

If Jared heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he focused on pouring them each a glass. Handing one to Jensen, he sat back down and sipped at it slowly. After a minute of looking between his glass and his best friend, he sighed and licked his lips. 

“Ah, what the hell, why not? Gotta get through today’s shooting somehow.”

Forty-five minutes later everyone was on the Bunker set setting up for the next scene. The crew was getting the lighting perfected while the director, who just happened to be none other than Richard Speight Jr., conversed with Misha across the room. Jensen shifted his weight nervously and tried to look anywhere else. His eyes kept finding their way back to him though. 

Even though their characters wore layers upon layers of clothing, Jensen could still tell Misha had been working out. His thighs were well defined in the black slacks, how the tan fabric of Castiel’s trench coat hugged his biceps made his mouth water and the way his hair was tousled sent image after naughty image through his mind. 

Jensen bit his lip and looked away. There was no way he was surviving this scene. Misha had him hook, line, and sinker, and the way things were looking he was going to end up walking off the set before they had a usable take. Before he was able to dwell on it any longer, fingers snapped in his face bringing him back to reality. 

“Hellooo! Jensen? You okay man? We’re ready to start, but if you need a minute we-”

Jensen pushed past Rich and stood on his mark that was taped to the floor. 

“I’m good. Let’s get this over with.”

Misha studied him, his piercing cerulean eyes making him shiver. Jared walked around the table and sat in front of the open laptop. Things were eerily quiet between the three of them. Normally, they would be joking around until the moment action was called. 

Rich took a seat in the director's chair and looked through the camera one more time making sure the angle of the shot was right before turning his attention back to them. 

“Roll sound!”

One of the crew members came in with a slate board and held it in front of the camera. 

“Supernatural scene thirty-two, take one! Marker!”

Rich took a deep breath and crossed one leg over the other. He knew this was an intense scene so he was mentally preparing himself to do more than one take. 

“Action!”

Misha walked around the table holding a tattered old book. Jensen eyed him furiously as he snatched it out of his hand. 

“Dammit Cas! I know we needed this book, but I told you not to do anything stupid!”

Misha tilted his head sideways, narrowing his eyes. The hand that was holding the book now rested rigidly at his side, his fingers curled into a fist. 

“Dean, this was probably our only chance for us to get this book! I took a chance and brought it back unharmed. I did it for you! You want to save your brother don’t you?”

Jensen slammed the book on the table a little too hard causing Jared to jump. It wasn’t in the script, but no one said anything so he continued with his line. 

“You could have waited for Sammy and me! We could have gone and got it together. Cas, you could have gotten yourself killed man! When are you gonna learn that you’re our family Cas? Family sticks together. Sammy needs you ... I need you. 

Misha stepped slightly closer to Jensen and lifted those ocean eyes up to his green ones. Jensen was shaking. Whether it was with rage or nervousness he didn’t know, but he had to finish this scene. He couldn’t do this more than once. His eyes flitted down to Misha’s mouth just as his tongue came out to wet his lips, and dammit if he didn’t feel his cock twitch. He couldn’t do this. He needed to get out of there. Just as he was about to storm off to the confines of his trailer, Jared cleared his throat. 

“Guys … get this! So, the writings in this book are apparently a dead language! There’s some sort of codex that requires piecing together, but I think I can crack it if I can just get past this encrypted file.”

“Cut!”

Rich stood up and rubbed his hands together. 

“That was great guys! Very well done with the dynamics. Oh! Nice touch with making Jared jump Jay. His face was priceless! I’m recommending that one for the gag reel.”

Jensen wasn’t listening. He was still staring at Misha, who was now taking off Cas’ tan coat. He watched as his back muscles flexed under his white button-up, and immediately felt his mouth go dry. He couldn’t stand in the same space as his co-star any longer. It was too much. Everyone watched as he took off towards his trailer. Anything was better than feeling this way in his opinion.

“Jensen? You sure you’re feeling okay? You look a little flushed. Hey! Jens- Where are you going? We gotta do another take. Jensen?!”

Once he was back behind his trailer door he immediately stripped off all his clothes and tossed them in a pile. Nothing sounded more appealing than a cold shower. He relished the feeling of the cool spray as it cascaded down his body. Jensen propped his arm against the shower wall and rested his head against it. He needed to figure out how to suppress his feelings because he didn’t think he could go through this every day. 

Ten minutes later he cut the water off and shoved the shower curtain back. Jensen shivered as water droplets clung to his skin. He wrapped one of his burgundy towels around his waist and padded back into his kitchen to grab another beer. 

“Hey Jens.”

He didn’t expect to hear another voice coming from his living room area, and he definitely didn’t expect it to be Misha’s. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around. 

“Jesus, Mish! What the hell?!”

Misha stood and walked across the room not stopping until he was mere inches from him. Jensen swallowed thickly looking down at the neck of the beer bottle to try and distract himself. 

“Why are you avoiding me, Jay? Jared says you’re not, but I can tell you are. You’ve barely said two words to me today other than when we filmed that scene. Even then, I could tell something was wrong. You rarely break character.”

Jensen shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Mish I … It’s not that simple. Y-You didn’t do anything wrong … I just … I can’t do this.”

Misha grabbed his arm before he could get away and pressed him against the wall. The way Jensen’s breath hitched didn’t go unnoticed by him, and that only confirmed his suspicions. 

“Can’t do what Jay?”

Jensen inhaled sharply, the smell of Misha’s cologne nearly making him moan.

“Wha - What are you doing?!”

Misha rested a hand on Jensen’s chest. The water droplets still lingered and he could feel the rapid beat of his heart against his palm. 

“Shh. Just relax Jay. Just let go.”

Jensen closed his eyes, shuddering under the warmth of his fingertips. 

“I - I don’t know what you’re ta-”

Before he could finish his sentence Misha’s lips were on his. For a split second, all Jensen could do was stand there. Eventually, he threw caution to the wind and began to kiss him back. His lips were pillow-soft and he tasted of spearmint. It was intoxicating, and it only made Jensen more dizzy with want. 

Misha tilted his head and licked at Jensen’s bottom lip requesting permission. He granted him access without hesitation groaning as he licked into his mouth. Misha’s knee pressed between his thigh forcing the towel around his waist to come loose. The friction against his dick along with Misha’s perfect lips kissing and licking along his pulse point became his undoing. Jensen wasted no more time contemplating whether he was making a big mistake or not. The hottest man he’d ever laid eyes on was bringing him pleasure he’d never felt before, and he intended on returning it tenfold. 

“Unngh M-Mish… fuck…”

A low growl came from Jensen’s throat as he maneuvered them toward the hallway. His towel lay forgotten on the floor, his hands finding refuge in Misha’s short dark locks. He tore at the slightly shorter man’s shirt trying desperately to remove it. Buttons littered the small space scattering in different directions when it wouldn’t come off fast enough. Misha chuckled and brought Jensen’s head down for another bruising kiss. 

“Wardrobe is gonna be pissed you know. That was one of Castiel’s only clean white shirts.”

Jensen worked at his belt and wasted no time in shoving Misha’s slacks down his legs. His mouth watered at the sight of his tented boxers, a noticeable wet spot becoming more prominent from his arousal. 

“Don’t care. Wardrobe can take it outta my pay. Need you too bad.”

Misha knew how reserved Jensen was, and the fact that he was unable to speak in full sentences and was on the verge of losing control was by far the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Slowly Misha sank to his knees and looked up at Jensen through his long lashes. He wetted his lips placing open-mouthed kisses on his thighs. Jensen whimpered shamelessly when Misha licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock. Before he could process what was happening, Misha took him deep into his mouth and didn’t stop until he hit the back of his throat. 

“F-Fuck! Christ, Misha... “ 

Misha couldn’t get enough of how Jensen tasted. It reminded him of sandalwood and old spice. He stripped off his boxers and began palming his cock, moaning at the way Jensen was coming undone by his mouth alone. 

“Fuck Jay, you taste so good. Wanna feel you cum baby. Wanna taste every last drop of that sweet nectar.”

Jensen was so close he could taste it. The heat coiled in his lower belly, and his hands instinctively came out to grasp the back of Misha’s head. His rhythmic thrusts soon became more erratic as the first waves of his orgasm washed over him. 

“Oh fuck! Mish I’m gonna… fuck I-I’m gon- ah!!!”

Jensen watched as Misha swallowed around him making sure not to miss a single drop. He stood, pressing his lean body against his, leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw. 

“Such a good boy Jay. You taste so good too.”

Jensen’s breathing was ragged as he came down from his high. His eyes were closed and his cock was still rock hard. He was a goddamn goner. Never in his life had he come that hard, not until Misha anyway. 

Mere minutes later, Jensen was sprawled out on his bed. Misha was rooting around in his drawers for something, and soon he realized what it was. His eyes went wide at the small bottle of lube and the predatory look in his co-star’s eyes. 

“Mish, I… I’ve never…”

Misha silenced him with a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“I know baby, don’t worry okay? I’m gonna make sure you’re nice and prepared for me. Gonna make you feel so good, Jay. Can’t wait to hear those pretty moans you'll make just for me.”

The sound of the bottle cap opening filled the room and soon Misha was coating his fingers with the shiny liquid. He leaned his body over Jensen’s, resting his weight on one arm. The other slid between his bow legs finding his entrance with ease. Jensen sucked in a breath as Misha pressed one digit against his opening. 

“Shh, baby you gotta relax for me. Just breathe, Jay. Let me in and I’ll show you how good it feels.”

Jensen opened his eyes and was met with Misha’s lust-blown ones. He let out a shaky breath, and let his mouth fall open as Misha eased in his finger. He eased it in and out slowly creating a steady rhythm. It wasn’t painful, but it was definitely foreign. Soon Misha slid in another finger and curled them upwards searching out his prostate. He knew he’d found it when Jensen’s back arched off the bed and the prettiest moan he’d ever heard fell from his lips. 

“Mmmm, Jay… I wanna taste you. Get on all fours baby. Gonna show you how good it feels to be worshiped.”

Jensen flipped over on his belly and gripped his pillow. Misha hooked his fingertips into the place where his thighs met his hips and pulled him so his ass was presented to him nicely. 

“So beautiful... “

Misha placed a hand on each side of his ass and spread him open. Jensen dipped his head low and groaned when he felt the wetness of Misha’s tongue against his hole lapping at him repeatedly. He could feel the familiar heat in his core and began fisting his cock furiously. 

“Oh God… Mish! Please… p-please need to feel you…”

Misha pulled away, his chin glistening with saliva. He turned Jensen over so he was laying on his back again. He pushed two fingers back inside him and began to scissor him open gently. His mouth leaving love bites along Jensen’s inner thighs. 

“Gotta get you ready for me baby. Don’t wanna hurt you any more than necessary.”

Soon Misha was three fingers deep and Jensen was wantonly meeting every thrust. He could almost cum like this. Watching his best friend coming undone by his hands alone. It was almost too much. 

“Please f-fuck me… please! Need you. Fuck Misha please!”

Misha removed his fingers and slicked his cock up with lube. He once again leaned over Jensen and captured their lips in a heated kiss. He knew this would hurt, so he did his best to distract him from the pain. Pressing firmly against his tight hole, he sheathed himself inside him. Both of them moaned obscenely at the sensation, and Misha tried not to cum at the way Jensen’s muscles squeezed him deliciously. After a few seconds, he felt the Texan’s nails scrape bluntly against his chest. 

“Fuck me Mish… Wanna feel everything you’ve got.”

Misha growled and pulled out almost completely, before slamming back into him. Jensen threw his head back and gripped the sheets, not caring that his sinful moans filled his trailer. They built up a steady pace, and both were well aware that people walking by could tell what was going on. Soon Misha’s brutal thrusts became more sporadic. His forehead rested against Jensen’s as his cock pounded him, brushing against his prostate over and over again. 

“Fuck Mish, You’re gonna make me cum again… c’mon baby, fill me up. Wanna feel you cum inside me. Fuck baby, just like that...Oh, God!”

Misha swallowed his moans with a heated kiss. Jensen could feel his second orgasm of the day approaching as Misha continued to fuck into him. He began to stroke his cock feverishly, his ass tight around Misha’s dick as the first spurts of white coated his belly. 

“F-FUCK MISHA!!” 

Misha wasn’t far behind, filling him up, as he felt Jensen’s cum coat their chests. They stayed like that, breath heavy, and beads of sweat covering their bodies. Slowly Misha pulled out and grabbed the nearest article of clothing to clean them up. 

He climbed back on the bed and laid next to Jensen nuzzling into his neck. He felt the warmth of his arms snake around his torso and held him close. 

“Fuck, that was amazing..” Jensen purred. 

Misha peppered kisses along his pulse point and raked his nails lightly down his back. 

“You did so well for your first time, Jay. I’m so proud of you. Took me so well.” Misha said tiredly.

Jensen felt his breathing even out, and soon light snores fell from his lips. It was hard to believe how fast he was falling for this man, but he couldn’t wait to see where they’d take their newfound relationship. Whatever happened, he knew he would be along for the ride

[caranfindel]

Fic: Go on and kiss the girl

genre: het | length: about 3800 words | rating: pg 13? r? i dunno; sex happens but nothing explicit | characters: dean winchester, sam winchester, ofc

Synopsis: A few years ago, several of us plotted out an entire alternate season 12, which would take place on a boat. Go take a look, it is marvelous. (Oh, all those missing friends; it makes me sad.) Anyway. I wrote one of the stories I pitched, though I changed it due to the original idea being a little too noncon. So here's Sam and Dean and a mysterious woman they find at sea...

also on ao3

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Sam's the one who spots her. They're sitting on the deck drinking beer, and Dean's not necessarily watching the sun set over the ocean, because he's not that kind of person, even after a month of aimlessly drifting around the Gulf of Mexico on a borrowed boat. But he's not exactly ignoring it either. Sam, on the other hand, seems totally into this gazing-into-the-sunset business, until he suddenly stands up, thrusts his bottle into Dean's hand, and walks to the edge of the deck.

"You see that?"

"See what?"

"Shit!" Sam grabs the top of the rail and vaults right off the boat, swimming with long, even strokes toward something floating in the water. Crap, it's a person. A woman. Sam hooks an arm around her and hauls her back to the boat, where Dean lifts her onto the small sunbathing deck.

She's unconscious. And completely naked. She's young, mid-twenties maybe, lean and muscled like a swimmer. At first glance it looks like she has seaweed entangled in her long platinum blonde hair, but it's actually her hair itself, with highlights of green and purple twisting through that give it an iridescent mother-of-pearl sheen. Peeking through her hair is the soft pink shell of her ear, decorated with a quartet of small pearl earrings. Another pearl nestles in her navel. A pastel tattoo climbs up the outside of one pale leg, the barely-noticeable undulating pattern inked in ghostly shades of lavender and aquamarine.

Sam pulls himself onto the sunbathing deck and kneels over her, saltwater dripping from his hair onto her fair skin. He presses his fingertips against her throat. "She's breathing. Strong heartbeat."

"Where did she come from?"

"I don't know," Sam says, frowning in confusion. "She was just floating out there." He stands up and scans the horizon. "I didn't see any debris, or a lifeboat, or anything. Just her." He bends down to gather her in his arms. "Let's get her inside somewhere."

Sam's cabin is the one with a single queen-size bed (stupid rock-paper-scissors), so that's where they take her, lowering her gently onto the mattress. Dean lifts her slightly so Sam can slip one of his t-shirts over her head. Her skin is cool and silky against his fingers. Sam digs out a pair of clean swim trunks, hesitates self-consciously, then covers her with a blanket and places the trunks on the bed next to her. He stows the few things he'd actually unpacked back into his duffel. There doesn't seem to be anything else they can do for her, so they quietly close the door and Sam drops his bag on the second twin bed in Dean's cabin (seriously, stupid fucking rock-paper-scissors; never again).

"What now?" Dean asks.

Sam contemplates the door of his former cabin. "Leave her for now, I guess. It'll be completely dark soon, and neither of us is experienced enough to sail this thing at night, so we should stay put. We can head back to shore in the morning."

><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Dean wakes just before dawn, silently climbing out of bed and slipping out of the cabin without waking Sam. He opens the door to the larger cabin, just a crack. Their mystery girl has changed positions and is curled on her side, looking more asleep than unconscious. That's a good sign. He gently closes the door with a quiet snick and slips into the small galley. A few minutes later he's sipping coffee on the deck, watching the horizon slowly turn fiery shades of pink and orange.

The faint click of a door opening and closing announces that Sam is up. Dean refills his own coffee and pours one for Sam, setting it by his chair. But by the time he finishes his second cup, his brother hasn't made an appearance. And it's not necessarily anything to worry about, but, well. Dean is Dean, so he's going to investigate. He opens the door of their tiny cabin and stops, stunned, his senses assaulted by an eyeful of naked back half-covered with a spill of mother-of-pearl hair, perfect heart-shaped ass, and a quick flash of a tramp stamp that looks like a… no, that can't possibly be right. And suddenly the tattoo is framed by a pair of huge hands gripping a narrow waist and oh, Christ, it's Sam's hands, she's riding Sam cowgirl-style, and Dean has never noped back out of a door so quickly in his life.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

The sun is fully up by the time Sam makes his way above deck. Without a word, he plops into the chair next to Dean's and takes a swallow of lukewarm coffee.

"Sleep well?" Dean asks.

Sam stares at the horizon. "Yep."

"Wake well?"

"Yeah." Sam smiles into his mug, not meeting Dean's eyes. "Yeah, I did."

"And I take it Aqua Woman is feeling better."

"Seems to be." Sam's lip twitches and he does not have the courtesy to look even the tiniest bit ashamed.

"Exactly how good does she feel, Sam?"

Sam grins. Big. "Pretty damn good, actually."

They're interrupted when Aqua Woman herself appears on the steps. She's wearing Sam's t-shirt, and maybe his swim trunks underneath — it’s impossible to tell, because the shirt is huge on her, slipping off her shoulder and reaching almost to her knees. She walks gracefully toward Dean, and the longer he soaks up her full lips, wide blue-green eyes, and thick dark lashes, the more he's convinced she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

"Hello," she smiles. "I'm Alana." She holds out a hand and it's cool and soft, like her voice.

"Dean. I see you've already met my brother Sam."

"Yes, I have." She turns to flash a blinding smile at Sam and then slips her hand from Dean's grasp, resting it on his shoulder. "Thank you both for rescuing me. I would have been lost without you."

"No problem, sweetheart." He gives her his most seductive grin. Just making sure she knows what a mistake she made by picking the wrong brother; not trying to lure her away from Sam or anything.

Although. There really is something about her. Something kinda perfect.

"It'll take us a couple of hours to get you back to shore so you can get checked out at a hospital," Sam says. "Are you feeling okay? Do you remember anything? How did you get out here?" Asking all the questions now, since apparently they weren't talking much earlier.

She bites her lip, and Dean desperately wants to feel those perfect white teeth nibbling on his own lip. And other parts of him as well. "Do we have to go back to shore?" she says. "I'm really fine. And there's nothing for me there. I'd rather stay here with you."

Sam meets Dean's eyes and he's all furrowed brow and tight lips and something's not right here, and Dean knows what he's going to say, but Alana steps over to him and lightly plants a kiss on his cheek. "Please let me stay here with you," she says softly.

Sam's face softens into a dopey grin and he says exactly what Dean is thinking. "Of course. You should stay here with us."

><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

They spend the rest of the morning doing nothing. Alana doesn't explain how she ended up in the water, but it doesn't matter. She's safe on their boat now; everything's fine. Everything's fine. She sits on Sam's lap and drinks his coffee and plays with his hair while Dean tries not to imagine her soft nimble fingers running through his own hair, she leans over the railing to watch the fish gliding alongside the boat and it turns out she is wearing the swim trunks Sam left her, rolled up high on her legs and riding low on her hips, and finally Dean decides he needs to go below deck and take a not-particularly-warm shower.

Everything's fine.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

When he comes back up, Sam's in the big fishing chair, facing away from him, and oh, for fuck's sake, they're at it again. Alana is straddling him, head thrown back, slender fingers twisted in his hair, moaning, and Dean desperately needs to step away but he's frozen to his spot - and then she opens those huge blue-green eyes and fucking winks at him.

Dean probably needs to hang out in his cabin for a while. Everything's fine.

Lying on his bed, it occurs to him that she never did answer the question of where she came from, or why she was in the middle of the ocean, unconscious. It didn't seem important enough to pursue at the time. But now it seems important. He should go up and ask her again. Yeah, he'll do that.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

By the time Dean's brave enough to get above deck again, Sam's alone.

"Where's Aqua Woman?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Alana is sunbathing."

Damn. Topless, probably. If he stretches just a tiny bit, he can see the sunbathing deck and yep, there she is, lying on her stomach, completely nude. Dean swallows. And tries to think about what was bothering him so much earlier. Something about Alana… something Sam probably doesn't want to hear. He can't really remember. He's too distracted by something else he wants to talk about. And there really is no way to say your girl oughta be banging me instead without sounding kind of churlish.

"You know what you're getting into?"

Oooh. Sam's face suggests this wasn't a good opening. "Yeah, Dean, I think I can handle it."

"Not exactly your type, is she?"

"In what way?"

"Come on, dude, the bad girls are my type."

"Bad girl?"

"Yes, a bad girl. You go for librarians and I go for bad girls, and this one is a naughty girl, Sammy. I mean, she's got a 69 for a tramp stamp, for fuck's sake."

"Okay. One, have you forgotten Ruby?"

(Yeah, she was a very bad girl; Dean's got to give him that.)

"Two, don't call it a tramp stamp; that's douchey even for you. And three, it's not a 69, it's her zodiac symbol."

"You're telling me there's a sign of the zodiac that's symbolized by a 69?"

"It's not a 69; it's on its side. It's Cancer."

"All right, but I swear, she winked at me while you two were hunting for Moby Dick."

"I don't care."

"Hey, I'm just saying, she may be regretting her life choices at this point. Did she say anything about me?"

If Sam rolls his eyes any harder, they're going to roll right out of his head. "What, you mean, while she was having sex with me, did she mention you? Sure. Absolutely. She climbed on top of me and then said hey, I like your brother too; why don't you call him over here and we'll have a threesome."

"Seriously?"

"No, you idiot."

"Because if she did… you know… I would be… if she was interested…"

"Dean. No, she did not say that. And even if she was interested in a threesome with you and me, I'm not."

"Oh. Yeah." Dean rubs the back of his head. "Wasn't thinking about the you and me part of that."

"Obviously."

"So… did she say anything about me when she wasn't having sex with you?" But Sam's giving him the are you shitting me? face and maybe he's got a point. "Yeah, you're right. This is an awkward conversation."

"Yes, it is. Let's stop having it. Please." Sam turns and walks away, probably heading for the sunbathing deck, probably to sit next to her and rub sunscreen over all of that smooth sun-warmed naked skin and… dammit all to hell.

Dean stomps below deck again, and halfway down the stairs realizes he had a completely different conversation from the one he meant to have.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

That afternoon he stands beside Sam at the railing and they watch Alana swim, if you can call it that. Because she doesn't just swim like a normal person. She's literally cavorting naked with dolphins, laughing and splashing with them like some kind of fairy tale creature.

"For someone who spends so much time naked in the sun," Dean says, "she sure is pale."

Beautiful pale Alana waves, then tumbles and twists out of sight, swimming to the other side of the boat. Sam’s forehead folds into puzzled creases as stares silently at the Alana-free waves.

"She doesn't have any body hair," he eventually says. True, Dean noticed the Brazilian when Sam dragged her out of the water, but he's kind of surprised his brother would consider that an appropriate topic of conversation. But before he can respond, Sam continues. "So maybe she's a competitive swimmer. Something long distance. Do swimmers shave their arms? Or wax, maybe? She'd be stubbly by now if she shaved her arms and legs," he muses. "Anyway. Maybe that's why she's out here."

"We should ask her about that. We should really, really ask her about that."

"Yeah… I just keep getting distracted."

"No shit."

Sam smiles. "You know, I didn't approach her. I just woke up and she was standing next to the bed."

"You complaining?" Dean asks, with a raised eyebrow.

"No. No, God no. It's… she's amazing. It's just…"

"Inexplicable?" Dean offers. "Inconceivable? Incomprehensible?"

Sam turns to him with a surprised frown. "Unexpected."

Dean shrugs. "Beautiful naked woman shows up out of nowhere and, of the two of us, latches onto you? I'm going with incomprehensible."

Sam can bitchface all he wants at that one; it's the God's honest truth. But he isn't bitchfacing. Alana is back in view, and he's staring at a flash of long leg and full breasts bobbing in the water, and there's that dreamy expression again, and oh, fuck this. Dean needs to go read a book or something. He turns on his heel and heads back to his cabin.

"And another thing," he calls over his shoulder as he heads below deck. "You two obviously don't need separate beds. I'm moving your shit back into your room."

><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Dean's alone in his cabin when he wakes up the next morning, but he doesn't have to wonder where Sam is. The walls on this boat are not particularly thick and he can hear murmurs next door. Laughter. Other things. And okay, maybe it's payback for all the times he brought a girl back to whatever shack they were hunkered down in, but Jesus. Sam always had the ability to at least take a walk and get away from it. All Dean can do is lie here and listen. Finally it occurs to him that this is a safe time to venture above deck, so he makes coffee and enjoys the breeze and the solitude.

When Sam and Alana emerge — him in swim trunks, her in another of Sam's t-shirts — Sam heads toward Dean. Alana pouts prettily and takes his hand. "Swim with me, Sam. You promised." He shrugs apologetically at Dean and lets her lead him to the sunbathing deck, where she pulls the t-shirt over her head and jumps naked into the water. Sam jumps in after her, still wearing his trunks, thank you baby Jesus.

Swimming was rarely a form of entertainment for Dean when they were young, not anything he normally did for fun or relaxation. Swimming was something he usually did with a monster in his sights and a blade clutched in his teeth. But Sam was always thrilled when there was a pool at their motel or crappy apartment complex, or a pond at their cabin or ancient farmhouse. He took to any body of water like a fish, dutifully swimming laps when Dad was around, playing like an otter when he wasn't, nose and shoulders constantly peeling from layer upon layer of sunburn. And now he's splashing with Alana like one of her goddamn dolphins and okay, he deserves this. It would be petty for Dean to resent it. It really would. He keeps repeating that to himself as he watches Sam and Alana frolic (there is no other word for it, they're fucking frolicking) in the water. And then as they climb onto the sunbathing deck and dangle their legs over the edge, with eyes only for each other. And as they come back onto the deck and Alana hops onto the rail, still as naked as the day she was born, shimmering in the sunlight.

Dean tries hard not to stare at her. She doesn't seem to care. She wears her nudity casually, as if a shirt were as optional as a hat or a necklace. But it still seems impolite, and Dean is nothing if not polite around beautiful naked women. He settles for grabbing quick glimpses when she's not looking. Which turns out to be pretty easy, since she spends most of her time staring at Sam. Right now she's pretending to be interested in whatever boring story he's telling her, something about almost falling overboard on their first day on the boat, whatever; it's hard to pay attention when she's right there, beautiful and wet and naked and happy, throwing her head back and laughing at Sam's stupid story.

"I remember that!" she says. "You were so funny. I was afraid I might have to come rescue you."

Sam stops, brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, you remember?"

"Oh." Alana looks away and bites her pretty lip with her pretty teeth, then shrugs. "I have a confession to make. I've actually been watching you for a while."

Sam's alarm goes off first, because by the time Dean parses that conversation, his brother has stepped back from Alana and is already in hunter mode — narrowed eyes, defensive posture, a quick glance to confirm Dean's location.

"What are you?" he says.

Instead of answering, Alana strokes a finger down the faint tattoo on her leg and it darkens, deepening from lavender and aquamarine into purple and teal. The color spreads over her leg, then across both legs, and as Dean gapes in disbelief, her legs meld and extend into an iridescently-scaled tail. "Jesus Christ," he breathes. She's a goddamn mermaid? Suddenly, everything makes sense.

"Did you put a spell on him?" he yells, waving at Sam, who looks completely bewildered. "Is that why he can't think straight when you're around?"

"Of course not. I'm not a siren," she says, with a pretty little frown. "I don't take anybody against their will. I don't have to trick anyone into my bed." She turns to Sam and smiles warmly. "I'm just very enchanting. Difficult to resist. Sorry."

"Not complaining," Sam says.

"Good." She holds out a hand, beckoning him closer. "All I want is to make you happy. I've been watching you for weeks, Sam, ever since you arrived in my part of the sea, and I've grown to love you more every day." Sam's at her side now, holding her hand, looking at her like she's his everything. "And now we don't ever have to part."

"But I… this…" Sam stammers and falls silent, staring into her eyes.

"Come with me, Sam. Join me in my world. I know what your life is like, above the waves. I know it's cold and cruel and dangerous. You don't have to live that way any more. You can come live in peace, under the sea with me."

"Wait. No." Dean turns frantically to Sam, who isn't saying no. "Dude. You can't live underwater!" (Although what he really means is you can't abandon me. Please.)

"Of course he can." Alana doesn't look at Dean, her gaze still locked on Sam's dreamy smile. "Anyone who pledges their eternal troth to a mermaid can be granted the ability to breathe underwater, as we do. Will you, Sam? Will you come with me?"

Sam clasps Alana's tiny hand in both of his and her tail (her tail, she has a fucking tail) curls gently around his legs and oh, God, Dean can't watch, can't say goodbye, not like this. But he can't blame Sam for wanting to leave the pain of this life behind him, to escape to a world where he's not a hunter, to love someone again. He's not going to stop him. He's not.

But Dean goes weak-kneed in relief as Sam shakes his head. "I can't, Alana. This job we do, it's too important. I'm taking a break, but I have to get back to it. And I don't want to leave my brother behind."

Alana sighs a small, pretty little sigh. "I understand." She cups his face in her hands and pulls him down for a kiss. "I'll be here if you ever change your mind." Then, with a wink at Dean, she flips gracefully backward and plunges into the water. He gets one last glimpse of pale skin and iridescent tail, and then she dives out of sight.

The brothers stand at the rail in shock, staring at the empty surface, until Dean breaks the silence.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam sighs. He turns around to lean against the rail, facing away from the water. "I mean, she's great, she really is. But that whole thing, just. Not a long-term situation. No. I'm good."

"Good." The feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of Dean's stomach finally pulls up its anchor and drifts away. Everything's fine. Weird, but fine. Which is about as good as it gets for them.

"So, uh, I guess she was your type after all," he says. Sam frowns at him. "Because she's a —"

"I know what she is, Dean."

"Yeah. So. Cancer, huh?"

"Uh huh."

"I'd have guessed Pisces. I mean, Cancer, the crab, sure, that works too. Just seems like she'd be a Pisces. Because she's a — "

"I know."

"You're not gonna let me say it, are you?"

Sam rubs a hand down his face with a sigh. "Fine. Go ahead."

"Because she's a mermaid! Because you fucked a mermaid! Because Sam. Winchester. Fucked. A mermaid!"

Sam's glare suddenly turns into a grin. "And you're so jealous, you can hardly stand it."

Dean's thrown. "You're jealous." Dammit.

Sam laughs at Dean's lame attempt at a comeback, which is hardly fair. It's been a stressful day. "Got it out of your system?"

"Are you kidding? I am never, ever going to get the fact that you fucked a mermaid out of my system. I mean, you've had some inhuman girlfriends in your life, but this one's my absolute favorite."

"Well, save it." Sam turns and heads down the stairs. "I'm going to take a very long nap."

"I hope she didn't give you crabs, Prince Eric," Dean yells at Sam's retreating back.

Yeah, he's going to enjoy this for a while.

[loosesodamarble]

Wedding March

Summery: A series of vignettes about Morgen and Josele preparing for their marriage. Part of it is inspired by "Monster's March" by Kenshi Yonezu. Genre: romance Word count: ~3800

..........

There were times in one’s life when all things seemed brighter. When one was all too eager to rise from their bed and face the world. When one’s heart felt lighter than a feather and their smile couldn’t be hidden. In some cases, those high moods came with no prompting, they simply happened to a person. That itself was a joy.

But for Josele, she knew what it was that made her heart race in recent days.

She stared at the ring, at the polished gold and sparkling brown gemstone, that Morgen had presented to her and put on her finger only a couple weeks ago.

Each time Josele looked at her ring, it appeared more lovely than the last time she saw it. It wasn’t just the jewelry’s physical beauty either. What the ring represented, the hope for the future that was Josele and Morgen’s union, became more wonderful too.

Josele was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Whoa there, Jo! You looking to blind someone this morning?” Yami asked with a chortle as he stopped in front of Josele.

“Huh?” Josele blinked then quickly examined herself. Had she been using Shining Joy by accident? But seeing no glow of Light Magic around her body, she gave Yami a shake of the head. “Very funny, Yami.”

“I know I am.” Yami patted Josele’s back and they started to walk together towards the mess hall. “So how long are you gonna go around with that dopey grin on your face?”

Scoffing, Josele smacked Yami’s shoulder. “It’s not dopey. It’s lovestruck.” She held her left hand to her chest then sighed, “And I don’t know when I’ll stop smiling, if ever.”

“Your face is gonna start hurting then,” said Yami.

“I don’t mind. I don’t think Morgen would either,” Josele remarked with a light shrug. “Better that I smile all the time instead of frown, yeah?”

“I think both would get creepy after a while, but I’d also prefer a smile.” Yami ruffled Josele’s hair before she swatted his hand away. “A smile’s a good look on you anyway.”

“Y-you think?” Josele blushed and grinned even wider.

“Yeah. Even if it’s dopey.” Yami caught Josele’s hand before she could punch him for his comment. “I know I said it before, but congratulations.”

Yami, a rough guy who caused as many problems as he solved, maybe more in reality. Rarely did he act like he took anything seriously. Yet in that moment, his words were spoken with a plainness. His eyes held a softness that gave away the truth in his heart.

It made Josele feel all the more confident in the joy she felt about herself and Morgen.

.....

Morgen stretched his arms over his head and let out a groan as he did. His limbs felt sore and heavy but Morgen found that he didn’t mind. Satisfaction was at the front of his thoughts instead as he and his teammates had successfully completed another mission. The ache was a sign of a job well done.

“You look oddly energized after all that work.” Morgen turned and smiled sympathetically at William as the younger Deer approached. “Or did you perhaps loaf around when we weren’t looking?”

“Certainly not. You saw me fighting on the front lines, William,” Morgen laughed as he answered. “But you’re right.” Morgen touched a hand to his cheek. “I wonder if my energy is perhaps…” His heart performed a quick flutter and he grinned knowing who it was for. “Perhaps it’s due to the anticipation of seeing Josele again.”

At that, William let out a guffaw. “Incredible! You really are in love!” He patted Morgen’s shoulder and they started to walk together. “Some might even say ‘besotted’!”

“W-well I do love Josele!” Morgen stammered. “And you say it like it’s a bad thing!”

“It’s more amazement, my friend. But I admit…” William’s voice grew quiet and he leaned closer to Morgen as he continued, “I think you might want to restrain your passion a bit unless you wish to earn the ire of those who don’t happen to have a girlfriend.”

“Well I don’t have a girlfriend either. Josele is my fiance,” Morgen whispered back in jest. “But! I understand.” Morgen looked up at the sky. “I’ve gotten so caught up in my feelings for Josele lately that I forget how to act properly.”

While Morgen could certainly conform to the sophisticated practices that came with his class and upbringing, he never favored having to act in those ways. He didn’t outright hate them—at least in most cases he didn’t—but he didn’t exactly like them either. And Josele, being with her, made him forget the need to mind his manners. She freed him to be whomever he pleased. Which included being a man hopelessly in love with her.

“Even the simple change from girlfriend to fiance has made Josele so much more loveable that I can’t help myself,” Morgen mused. “That feeling will surely increase once I call her my wife.”

“And when that day comes, you can gush about her until your voice is hoarse,” William said before he started to walk ahead. “Although, don’t expect me to listen to your whole soliloquy.”

Morgen let out another laugh before hurrying after his teammate. He was a fool in love for all to see, but he didn’t mind.

.....

The smell of chocolate and caramel filled Morgen and Josele’s nostrils as they stepped into Driftwood Desserts.

“Welcome! Welcome in, my favorite customers!” The elderly owner of the store, Gladis, walked around the front counter and towards the couple. She stopped just in front of Morgen and Josele, placing a hand on their faces, caressing their smiles. “Let me get a look at you… My, you’re absolutely glowing today!”

“Thanks!” Morgen replied. He took a step closer and fully embraced the old woman. “And you look to be in great health as well.”

Gladis waved a hand in the air and laughed, “Thank you, thank you. And I think you know as well as I do that the secret to it is living happily.”

Josele and Morgen looked at each other before nodding in agreement.

“So, shall I get you two the usual for today?” Gladis asked while moving to return behind the counter.

“A-actually.” Josele stepped forward, causing Gladis to pause. ��Morgen and I want to make a special order today,” she said as her grin spread on her face.

“Oh, does your captain want another sugar sculpture for your squad?” Gladis beamed with pride. She was far along in life yet her enthusiasm was as boundless as a child’s. “I’ve been itching for a bigger project lately, you know!”

“Well…” Josele giggled into her hand. “It’s a big project. Just… a little more personal.” She turned her hand to give a better view of her ring. “There was no other option when it came to where we’d get a wedding cake from.”

Gladis’ jaw dropped.  Her head flicked back and forth between Josele and Morgen, who silently nodded to confirm. Then, her face lit up with the largest grin imaginable.

“Oh my goodness!” Gladis gasped and put a hand to her heart. “I’d be a fool to turn down the chance. And the money!” She walked back over to the young adults and grasped one of their hands each. “You two’ve always been so good to each other so you better keep that up. And while you still get to be yourselves, your lives are really shared once you’re married, understand me?”

Morgen and Josele quietly nodded. With that Gladis brought Morgen and Josele’s hands together.

The pair looked at their joined hands then into each other’s eyes. They more than understood the commitment they were making. It was part of why they were making it in the first place.

For no rhyme or reason, Morgen felt a surge of adoration for Josele. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Josele let out a squeak but smiled up at Morgen once he pulled back.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled, again for no reason.

Though maybe the only reason he needed was his love for her.

“Want to discuss the details of the cake then?” Gladis asked, watching the couple with an amused grin.

“Yes, let’s,” Morgen answered.

.....

It was the quiet afternoon of a day off.

Morgen sat at his desk, looking down at a list of names. The guest list for his and Josele’s wedding. He’d done his best to cap the list to one hundred individuals as Josele had agreed to a larger ceremony but insisted that it not be “too big.” It wasn’t a serious loss at least. Because for those who didn’t attend, Morgen could take joy in being able to introduce Josele to them as his wife the next time they met. Josele, too, would begin introducing Morgen as her husband.

Thinking of that scenario brought a smile to Morgen’s lips.

There was so much to anticipate. The wedding itself and even thereafter.

Having finished reviewing the guests, Morgen rose from his seat and went to where Josele was, laying on their loveseat and looking over a different paper. Morgen silently touched Josele’s shoulder and in response, she started to sit up. Once there was room to do so, Morgen sat down. Then, he guided Josele back down so her head laid in his lap.

“What’s on your mind, my heart?” Morgen asked while combing his fingers through Josele’s hair.

“Well at first I was thinking about floral arrangements…” Josele muttered, gesturing to her paper and the various sketches of possible bouquets on it. “But then I was thinking about children.” She gazed up at Morgen with wide eyes. “I’m not thinking too far ahead, am I?”

“Not at all,” Morgen replied with a grin. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He used his free hand to hold one of Josele’s. Their fingers intertwined, like second nature to them. “To be honest, I can't wait to be a parent.” Morgen closed his eyes and began to rock side-to-side, letting himself get lost in thought. “I’d want a large family, where the children play together and learn from one another. I’d like for them all to be friends or at least care for each other.”

“Lots of kids sounds good,” Josele mused aloud, closing her eyes as well. “All that love, increasing with every child we have.”

Morgen hummed.

To be married wasn’t the end goal for him or Josele. It was but one step in a longer, grander journey that they called life. The wedding was certainly an important moment—it would be like a stepping stone made of diamonds in a garden path if Morgen were to compare it to anything—but there was more to come after it. And that more was a family.

“So how many would you like, my dear? I’d like… four maybe?”

“Is ten too many?”

Morgen threw his head back as he laughed. “Are you sure you want to put yourself through all that?” He smiled down at Josele and was met with her wide grin. “We could start our own squad with that many.”

“I like kids, okay?” Josele muttered, turning her face into Morgen’s stomach.

“More than okay, it’s wonderful.” Morgen silently stroked Josele’s hair for a moment longer. “I’d like for our children to resemble you. With pretty brown eyes and hair… Your warm smile… Everything that I love about you, I want our kids to have. So that they can be loved for those same things.”

Josele faced up to Morgen again, blushing bright pink.

“Oh Momo!” she cooed while sitting upright. She turned to face Morgen, crouched on all fours, and leaned in until their noses touched. “Well I hope the kids look like you. At least one should have your eyes which are clearer and bluer than the sky. And if they could be people with brave, kind hearts too, that’d make me happy.”

Drawn to each other, Morgen and Josele shared a feather light kiss. Then, Josele moved back to sit more normally.

“But… The children will also be their own people, huh?” Josele said. “I’d like for them to resemble us, but I’d love to see how they’re different from us.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

If they were different, then Morgen would take it as a sign that their kids were raised without the same difficulties that he and Josele lived with. Being an only child. Or growing distant with a sibling. Losing a parent. Or having parents that hardly cared. Growing up too quick or having one’s passion suffocated by duty.

Morgen wanted none of that for any children of his. And with Josele at his side, he had hope that such pains would never find them.

.....

Hand-in-hand, that’s how they always walked. Even while out on a patrol as Magic Knights, Morgen and Josele held onto one another. It only made sense to them.

At that moment, Morgen and Josele walked towards the meeting point where the Magic Knights for the evening patrol would take over. As the sun set over the town, signaling the end of their shift, the streets were bathed in a golden glow that made the mundane world seem breathtaking.

“Thank goodness for a peaceful day, right, Josie?” Morgen asked as he squeezed Josele’s hand.

Turning her head to Morgen, Josele nodded. She was always willing to fight if it meant protecting others, but Josele preferred not needing to do so in the first place. Dull circumstances were often safe ones, and Josele could live with that.

“Josele,” Morgen muttered as he came to a stop, “can you look at me for a moment?”

“Sure?” Josele faced her betrothed, smiling despite her confusion. “Something up, Momo?”

The sunset was at Morgen’s back, causing the sun’s light to envelop him and make it seem that he was the one glowing. It was a different sight compared to the usual silver halo that his Light Magic gave him. But it was no less handsome.

As Josele stared at Morgen, she realized that he was gazing back at her with the same adoration.

“Yup, I thought so, I still love your eyes the most…”

Josele blinked before letting out a quick laugh, “Oh you!” She tugged on Morgen’s hand. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

They started to walk again. After a few strides though, Morgen stepped in front of Josele, as if to face her, and lifted Josele’s open hand to his shoulder before putting his hand on her waist.

“M-Morgen?!” Josele, as shocked as she was, still naturally matched Morgen’s rhythm. “What’re you—?”

“Practicing our wedding dance of course,” Morgen answered whilst chuckling. “To hold you close and stare into your eyes like there’s no one else in the world… It feels quite nice.”

What truth Morgen spoke. Josele could’ve easily felt the gazes of strangers that were certainly on her and Morgen as they waltz in the street with no music. But she wasn’t going to pay them any mind.

“It feels good to be by your side in general, Josele. Being with you now… Sometimes, it feels like a miracle. I know it’s not so great a difference as, say, you being born in the Forsaken, but we were practically born in different worlds. And I think we were born apart in order to find each other.” As he spoke, Morgen continued to guide Josele’s steps, even getting her to twirl along the way. “Does that make sense?”

Humming softly, Josele considered Morgen’s words. It was true that there could’ve been a greater difference of status between them. But their lifestyles were still drastically dissimilar: her, a commoner who decided to work beginning at age four, and him, a noble who had enough luxury to be bored with it. And being born apart only to find each other…?

“Yeah, I get it, sunrise,” she finally replied. “After all, people go looking for things that are far from them, rather than near.”

If Josele had only known people like herself as a child, she wouldn’t have become who she was in the present. Meeting Morgen, who was different in some ways and similar in others, was what changed her.

So of course she would believe Morgen.

“I’m glad…” Morgen leaned in and nuzzled their foreheads. “To have met you at all and now to be close to marrying you… Gods, am I happy…”

“I know how you feel. And I can’t wait for what comes next for us.”

What was to come was sure to be beautiful.

.....

Josele and Morgen decided to go about acquiring their wedding attire in an untraditional fashion.

The taboo was that the groom seeing the bride in her gown prior to the ceremony brought bad luck. But the couple agreed that they wanted to look matched for their wedding day. Not only that but they wanted to be the first ones to see each other in their chosen suit and gown.

And so they went shopping together.

It began with finding dresses similar to Josele’s favorite dresses: ones with voluminous skirts that used layers of light material such as lace or gossamer. Ruffles and beading were another thing Josele sought out, ruling out a selection of dresses. Narrowing it down further, Morgen suggested a dress with an off-the-shoulder necklace since he found the look alluring on Josele.

The couple then considered options for Morgen’s suit. Black was ruled out. Though neither understood why, Josele and Morgen both felt black didn’t complement Morgen’s appearance as it did for Nacht. Grey and navy were thus the top color choices. Josele insisted that Morgen look for embroidered jackets, so his outfit would have an elegance and flair to it.

The couple searched the boutique for what felt like hours. Then when it came to try out the options, that felt like an eternity.

“The skirt on this one is too poofy. It might be hard to dance in it.”

“Oh no, that pattern doesn’t work on you, Momo.”

“All the beading on this bodice, it’s not for you, my sweet.”

“Ah, I look terribly pallid in this suit.”

“This dress looks nice but I don’t think it’d look good next to any of the available suits.”

Soon, the fitting came to the final dress and suit the pair had picked out.

Morgen’s final suit was an unexpected pick from Josele. It was a white suit with golden embroidery along the front of the suit jacket, the cuffs, and hems. Morgen thought to wear the golden cuff links Josele had given him last year with the suit when he first saw it. Then, as he was putting it on, he realized that white was the perfect color for his suit.

He would wear white to match Josele’s dress but also as a symbol. Marriage was a new life, a clean slate of sorts, for both husband and wife. And so it was sensible for Josele as well as himself to don white as one. Or, well, white with golden embroidery for Morgen.

Josele, meanwhile, stepped into a dress picked out by Morgen. It had a little of everything they’d decided they wanted. It wasn’t entirely white as they’d initially imagined as the neckline and beads had a pearly, off-white color but they didn’t need it to be “pure” white.

When each half of the couple stepped out of the changing stall, they immediately stopped to stare at one another.

Their names were whispered. Maybe.

Neither Morgen nor Josele was sure if they’d really spoken the name of their lover or if they were so overwhelmed at the sight of one another that everything but the name of their beloved ceased to exist.

Never before had Josele seen Morgen look so bright. In the white and gold together, he looked like the shining prince she lovingly called him. He looked angelic even.

And though Josele would always be beautiful in Morgen’s eyes, the layers of lace and satin on Josele made her seem like the most divine of visions, an incomparable beauty.

Slowly, they walked up to each other.

“I think these are the ones,” Josele said as she stroked the golden thread that went up and down Morgen’s torso.

Morgen traced a finger along the neckline that outlined Josele’s sturdy shoulders. He then caressed Josele’s face in both hands and replied, “I think so too.”

.....

“Morgen Faust, when we met all those years ago, I didn't think we’d ever become friends. Now that I’m here, about to become your wife, I’m forever grateful that I was brave enough to take a chance and open myself up to you and Nacht. You’ve brought so much to my life: happiness, peace, love. And I want to give you those same things too. You are my comfort and my hope, the light shining in my life. Through the good times and the bad, regardless of if we’re right or wrong, I want to be by your side. I vow to support you when you're strong and protect you when you're weak, to see and love every side of you. So long as it’s with you, I can confidently face the future, no matter what it holds.”

“Josele Canty, when we first met, I knew I was drawn to you but I never thought that I’d become your husband. There’s a lot I still don't know, but I do know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, no one else that I’d rather be with than you. You, with your kindness, honesty, and straightforward love of the world which has captured my heart. Whether there be tears or laughter, I vow to love you, care for you, and fight alongside you. And I want to make more promises that only we’ll know of. I’m sure we’ll both change with time, but know that I’ll fall in love with every version of you, over and over. For right now though, I only want to take your hand, look into your eyes, and take our first step into a beautiful future together.”

Those were the words they had hoped to speak to one another. Their deepest, most honest feelings were wrapped up like gifts. For that’s what the words were. Presents of grand promises to one another.

Though nothing was set in stone. Though nothing could be guaranteed. Morgen and Josele still had hope for each other. For what was to come.

So they would go towards the future, towards light and color, and do so hand-in-hand.

[shieldmaiden19]

“Rush eventually decided that he would not attempt to have the Titanic-bound vehicle classed by a marine-certification agency such as DNV. He had no interest in welcoming into the project an external evaluator who would, as he saw it, “need to first be educated before being qualified to ‘validate’ any innovations.””

….Fuckin WHAT

This guy was seriously such a narcissist that he refused to have regulators involved because they ‘weren’t at his level’ and he’d have to ‘waste time teaching them.’

SIR. These people are about eight times more qualified than you, they actually care about their job of ensuring people’s safety unlike you, and they’re really fucking good at it. Your word being law isn’t enough to save you at 3800 meters deep, and that’s what they would have told you had you actually listened.

TLDR: Stockton Rush 1) repeatedly ignored warnings from the people he hired to give him said warnings. 2) When they didn’t rubber stamp whatever he wanted, he fired them and threatened to sue them into the ground. And 3) he actively resisted having regulatory bodies involved in the creation and use of this submersible because “that’s not true innovation.”

oh my god this New Yorker article about the Titan holy fucking shit fuck???

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

bizzaro super nintendo games

by pixarcarsfanboy every single super Nintendo game gets a Bizzaro version! no Japanese exclusives! Words: 3800, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Bill Cosby, T-800 (Terminator Movie 1984), Bob Belcher, Bob (Bob the Builder), Mario, Shovel Knight - Character, evil tom hanks, ballpit - Character, Batman, John Cena, norman (fireman sam), George Washington, Megatron (Beast Wars), Bill Murray (Actor) Additional Tags: every single game, super nintendo, Crossover, Not to be taken seriously, Joke Fic, No Plot/Plotless, Alternate Universe via https://ift.tt/di1pYxI

[dirtyblupjeans]

Kinktober Day 31. Any combination from previous prompts! (5. Sadism/Masochism, 22. Impact Play, 24. Shower/Bath, 27. Against a wall, 29. Massage) [Note/Warning: This fic explores what happens when a Domme lets her emotions get out of control and a submissive is too focused on pleasing his Domme to safeword out. It’s also about Barry and Lup being out of sync after their time apart. Things are resolved and everyone is satisfied by the end. The idea here is not ‘Lup is violent’ but that for this fic she tries to use S&M to work off a frustration and fails to pay attention to her submissive. Furthermore, Taako warning Barry was not because he thought Barry needed to be afraid of his girlfriend but because Taako wanted to give him a heads up that Lup had just seen her 100+ year quest for revenge blow up in her face and was in a really foul mood.] Lup stalked back and forth in Taako’s kitchen like a caged panther, ready to leap at any available target. “Lup…” Merle began. “Don’t. Just… don’t.” She slammed the mug of tea she’d been holding on the counter and the other three people winced at the sound. Taako picked it up and set it in the sink, flicking his fingers at the counter to clear away the liquid that had either sloshed up or leaked out of a crack from the rough treatment. He didn’t say anything to his twin. Magnus looked awkwardly between Merle, Lup, and Taako. Taako shook his head minutely. Merle opened his mouth to say something else and Taako widened his eyes at him forcefully. Luckily for once the cleric took the hint and kept his mouth shut. “I’m going home,” Lup said suddenly. Without another word she turned on her heel and stormed across the room to the front door. It slammed behind her with an enormous bang. “Shit,” Magnus began. “She’s really…” “Stop,” Taako interrupted. He had his Stone of Far Speech in his hand. “I need to warn Barry.”

___ Barry thanked Taako and slid the Stone back into his pocket just as Lup flung open their front door. It was lucky she’d been too pissed to think about summoning her scythe. If she’d come in sooner, she’d have been annoyed her brother had called to warn him. And maybe the short walk from Taako’s house had helped a little. He ran over ideas to help her burn off her irritation. Since she’d been back in a body, physical activities seemed the most effective. Well, with Lup there was one physical activity that helped her mood more than anything else. “You want to work off some off that frustration, Lup?” The loud clicking of her heels on the hardwood stopped. She looked at him, considering. “Babe, I’m in the mood to hit something.” Her voice had a note of warning. “Well,” he said, “if that helps…” Her eyes seemed to focus on a point beyond him. Every muscle in her body was tense. The resonating intensity of her stance spiked his pulse and turned him anxious. A shiver of worry slid up his spine. She was so much more keyed up than he’d expected from Taako’s warning. Barry wanted to know what had happened but from the bits of burnt money still clinging to her and the fury rippling off of her, it had been worse than he’d feared. But she was okay. The boys were okay. Anything else they could deal with. “Lup?” he asked. It came out in barely a whisper. Her eyes flashed and her jaw tensed hard. “Bedroom,” she told him, biting off the word. “Be ready.” She stalked down the hall and the bathroom door banged shut behind her. That worry surged through him louder this time. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Barry squashed the thought and walked quickly to the bedroom. He could do it. He could help her work through this. He stripped off everything but his boxers. Those gave him pause but he’d let her make that call. It wouldn’t slow her down very long. They’d assembled an impressive collection of toys in the few months since she’d gotten her body back. In that time they hadn’t used the flogger. Even in the years before Faerun it wasn’t something that they’d used often. Both of them had learned how to use it, studying it they way they did everything else. They’d picked one up here just to fill out the collection. Tonight he thought it might be what she needed. He put out a few other things he thought she might want. Then he waited, standing with his hands at his sides and head tilted down, focused on a spot on the floor in front of him. ___ Lup scraped her hair back hard with the hair brush. Once she’d worked all the dust and ash out of her hair, she pulled it all back in a severe ponytail bound high on her head. She frowned into the mirror. All these years, her simmering hatred towards Greg Grimaldis had been a constant focus she could fall back on. Even in that fucking staff she’d sometimes found herself clinging to it when thoughts of Taako and Barry were too much to dwell on. In those terrible, desperate times she’d considered all the ways she’d one day have her revenge. And now it was gone. Sure, she’d ruined Greg Fucking Grimaldis but she didn’t have her fucking fifteen dollars. Instead she had a new nemesis and this infuriating rage burning fruitlessly inside her. If the belts had lasted just a few more minutes she’d have found that little weasel Terry the Fucking Turkey Boy and made him regret the day he’d crossed paths with her. Rage and frustration boiled inside her as she stripped off her dress and threw it in the garbage. Ruined, just like everything else about this whole fucking day. Her hands tightened, fingernails digging into her palms. She needed to burn off this feeling, needed to burn down more than that fucking casino. If only there were an abandoned DMV she could destroy. But even blowing through magic wasn’t going to help her right now. Even seeing Barry patiently waiting for her didn’t lessen that hard coil of hate and fury roiling molten and heavy in her belly. She saw the flogger sitting on the bed and picked it up. She wished she could use it on Greg Grimaldis or Terry. Hell, line them both up and keep going until they bled. Unfortunately for him, Barry was the only one available. “Wall,” she told him. With a small nod of understanding he turned. There were handles affixed to the wall to suit both of them. He was a few inches shorter but his shoulders were wider. The grips stood out from the wall with braces holding them solid and rings on the sides to attach cuffs. It put him in a similar position to a Saint Andrew’s Cross when he blocked his feet apart. “Wait,” she told him. Barry relaxed. She’s realized this wasn’t a good idea, he thought. “Boxers off.” Without turning, he opened his mouth to say something. That trepidation was thrumming louder now. But no. No, he told himself firmly. It’s fine. He slid his boxers off and tossed them out of the way. Then he resumed his position. He was still trying to remind himself to relax his muscles and was unprepared for the first hit from the flogger’s falls. They struck his right shoulder and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. He didn’t have time to recover, try to drop his shoulders and relax before the flogger hit again. A hiss of pain broke loose and once more he tried to lower the tension in his muscles. Relaxed muscles would dissipate the strike and make it hurt less, make it less likely to bruise and hold the pain. As it went on, he just tried to hold still so she could properly land the strikes. She’d found her rhythm quickly. Barry held on. Each hit landed hard and sharp. He couldn’t seem to make himself let out the tense pull of his shoulders. Every time the falls struck he sucked in another shallow breath and instantly braced for the next. She worked the right shoulder more, sprinkling in hits on the other shoulder, on both sides of his ass, and down the backs of his thighs. It was too hard, too fast, too much. It hurt. He didn’t even realize his whole body was tense. Even his eyes were squeezed shut. She shifted her focus to his ass. Each strike landed with a wallop that nearly made him jump. His hands tightened on the grips until he was white knuckled, just trying to outlast the need he hoped she could work off. She started switching target areas too frequently. There was no time to acclimate at all. He held his silence as tightly as he did the grips above him. At some point he gave up on trying to think himself through it or remind himself to try, try relax his muscles, try to find some kind of mental space to get through it. He was just counting. He could hold on for one more. Then one more. And one more past that. Counting higher and higher, he endured. She showed no signs of slowing or slackening. And she was silent. If he’d been processing better he’d have realized that wasn’t normal for them at all. She was always checking in with him but this time there was nothing. Finally his head slumped forward to brace against the wall. The feel of the painted wood against his forehead made him realize he was dripping with sweat. “Lup,” he said, his voice ragged and pained. He panted out their safe word between harsh breaths. “Red, Lup. Red.” The flogger struck once more but much softer as his words broke through to her. “Oh, fuck,” she said. Her voice was soft and horrified. He sagged forward, leaning fully against the wall. He tried to release his hold on the grips but his fingers had been locked too long with his muscles straining. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said over and over in a whisper as she stepped forward. When she spoke to him her voice was gentle and concerned. “Let’s… Babe, let’s get you…” Her fingers moved to uncurl the deathgrip his left hand still held. She pulled his fingers to her mouth and kissed them gently. “Let me get the other side, bear,” she said. Her other hand went to his shoulder as she helped him step back so she could work his right hand loose. She walked him to the bed and helped him sit. His face pulled tight again as the comforter chafed against him and his weight made the skin on his ass and thighs impossible to ignore. “Get on your side, babe,” she told him. He eased over and she pulled the blanket over him. She knelt beside the bed so she was eye level with him. Rubbing his arm through the blanket she met his eyes. “I fucked up, babe. I’m sorry. I should have realized I wasn’t in the headspace for that. That was…” she hung her head. “I’m so sorry, Barry.” He shook his head. “It was my idea, Lup. You needed to…” “Shh,” she told him. “Are you okay for a few minutes?” He nodded. She eased his glasses off and folded them before sitting them on the nightstand. “I need to get some stuff. I’ll be right back.” He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing down to a steady rhythm. Carrying a tray, Lup returned to the bedroom. She sat it on the desk and brought over a mug of tea and a pot of ointment. A straw stuck out of the mug and she held it for him to drink. “Cool enough to drink and plenty sweet,” she promised. After he drank enough to satisfy her, she sat the mug on the nightstand beside his glasses. Lup kicked off the heels she realized she was still wearing. Then, holding the pot of ointment she moved around the bed to climb up behind him. The cream was made from arnica, marsh root, and lavender. It smelled like flowers and medicine but it would help with the damage she’d done and lessen the bruising he’d have later. She ran her hand through his hair and asked, “Can you lay on your stomach for me, babe?” “Sure, Lup,” he answered, instantly moving into position for her. His voice nearly broke her heart. His tone was the same calm, patient tone he always had for her but that gravel rough voice of his had a harsher quality than normal. Harsher because he’d stood there choking back silence trying to help her. Harsher because she’d fucked up. Harsher because she’d hurt him. Once he was settled she moved the blanket out of the way and settled closer to him. “I’ve got that cream. I’m gonna put it on the… on your skin, babe. I’m gonna try to be gentle but please… Babe, please let me know if I make it worse, okay?” He nodded into the pillow and she started working the ointment into his skin. The cream shouldn’t burn but the pain of even touching the tender skin was enough to cause quiet noises to erupt from him with almost every brush of her fingers. “Doing okay?” she asked, rubbing as lightly as she could. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he answered quietly. “So… I shouldn’t have tried this tonight. I definitely should have been paying attention to you. Should have stopped sooner. I fucked up, bear. I’m really sorry.” “It’s okay, Lup.” His response was negated when he winced as she hit a particularly sore place on his shoulder. He swallowed and turned his head to look at her. “I should have safe worded sooner.” She nodded slightly and brushed his cheek with her knuckles. “Yeah, but we know we’re both bad about that.” She smiled at him and continued rubbing his cheek as he turned his face into her touch. After a moment she moved her hand and wiggled her ointment covered fingers at him. “Don’t want to get this near your eyes.” Working more of the soothing ointment into his back, she continued, “We’re out of practice with this stuff.” She sighed. “With a lot of things. We’ve both tried acting like that time didn’t matter but… it did.” He frowned and his answer came out in a whisper even her elven hearing barely caught. “It did.” With his shoulders thoroughly covered she moved down to apply the stuff to his ass and thighs. She worked in long, soft strokes. The skin there wasn’t quite as bad as his shoulders. His right shoulder had definitely gotten the brunt of it. “I didn’t do so well without you,” he told her in that same quiet whisper. Lup swallowed and tried to focus on her task. Her eyes darted to his face but his eyes were shut, eyebrows pulled together. She realized that she’d known his expressions as well as Taako’s for years but right then she couldn’t have said if that crease between his eyes was from pain or sadness. She rubbed her hand on her leg, trying to clean the cream from her fingers so she could touch his face. Belatedly, she remembered there was a cantrip for that and whispered it. She screwed the lid on the little pot of medicine and laid down beside him. With one finger she traced over his eyebrow. “Me either, babe.” He opened his eyes and looked at her, so close he could see her even without his glasses. He turned on his side and lifted his arm. She snuggled up against him and he wrapped that arm around her. “We’re okay now, though, right?” he asked. The question, the worry and fear in his voice tugged at her painfully. “We are. Of course we are.” She nodded and blinked. When she realized there were tears in her eyelashes she continued, “Or we will be.” He kissed her forehead. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We will be.” His hand trailed over her back. She saw his face change as he felt something. He pulled at something stuck in the back of her bra and moved his hand for them both to see. It was the charred end of a fifteen dollar bill. They both laughed. “I should go get clean,” she said. “There’s probably ash in my hair, too. I tried to brush it out but…” Her face turned serious. “It wasn’t exactly a priority.” He dropped his hand to her hip. “Not just yet,” he said. This time his voice had a different quality and his tone gave her a very different reaction. She let her hand wander down to his hip as well. “No?” Barry shifted forward and brought his mouth to hers. Their lips crushed together, locking in a kiss that had a much better kind of desperation than what either of them had felt so far that evening. “How about you come take a shower with me?” she asked. Her face turned concerned. “Only if you’re up to it, though, babe.” He kissed her again, his tongue sliding over her bottom lip. When he pulled back he answered, “Yes. Definitely up for it.” Her hand slid from his hip to find his cock hard and erect. “Yeah, I’d say so.” They got up. He moved quickly off the bed but she didn’t miss the careful way he moved to avoid rubbing the areas she’d used the flogger on. She removed her bra and panties as they walked to the bathroom, dropping them to the floor. They were a problem for future Lup. Current Lup had other things on her mind. She turned the water on in the shower while Barry got towels from the cabinet. She studied his back, a new wave of guilt washing over her. “How bad is it, babe?” she asked quietly. He looked over his shoulder. “It’s okay, Lup, really. I mean… it’s tender but we’ve had worse.” “I’m sorry, babe.” “Lup, you’re forgiven. It’s really okay, I swear. I should have stopped it, too.” She took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re forgiven, too,” she told him smiling. She pulled the band out of her hair and let it loose. He hung up the towels and they got in the shower. “Let’s get the burnt fifteen dollar bills washed off you,” he said. She turned and let him shampoo her hair. “So am I going to hear how it ended up going so badly?” Lup groaned. “Tomorrow, I promise.” He scrubbed his fingers against her scalp, working the shampoo in and then down through her hair. When he finished, he turned her and let the water run the suds down her back. He repeated the process with conditioner. Lup closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation of his fingers rubbing her head and the warm water running over her chest. When he turned her again, she looked at him, a different warmth covering her body. She moved closer to him, pressing her body against his. She wrapped her arms around him, glad that she could safely put her arms around him without hitting any of the tender areas. Her face tilted and she let him close the distance between their mouths. His lips were hesitant at first. The tentative kiss reminded her of that moment outside the Legato Conservatory. He’d tugged her to a stop and asked her in slow, stammering words if he could kiss her. She’d smiled at him, nodded, and said, “Please.” That kiss, that long ago first kiss, had been careful and cautious. And by the end of that night they’d found a hundred more types of kisses to share. Kisses that were soft and reverent. Kisses that were hard and desperate. Kisses that were teasing or magnetic or impatient or clumsy or sweet or comforting or sleepy or reassuring or too quick or nearly endless or almost breathless. She wanted all of them. She wanted kisses they hadn’t invented yet. She wanted him. He pushed her back against the wall, her breasts crushed between them. The length of his cock was hard against her leg. Lup moved to hook that leg around his to pull him tighter. “Lup?” he asked, because he always asked. She nodded. Barry’s hand slid between them and positioned himself at her entrance. She shifted again, opening herself wider to him with that leg braced against him. “Is that okay?” she asked, realizing she was probably rubbing the back of his thigh with her calf. In answer he thrust forward, burying himself in her. She laughed, a happy rush of sound and breath, then caught his mouth with hers. Locking her arms around his neck, the kiss turned hungry, shifted again and then yet again to capture his lips or tongue in new ways. He pulled back then pushed back forward hard, rocking her back against the tiles. One of his hands slid along her side. Fingers struggled to grip her wet skin as he pushed in hard again, moving faster. The force of him, the feel of him was pulling everything taut inside her. “Barry,” she panted, “Barry, Barry, fuuuck, Barry.” Her hands went up to brace herself. One went in the corner of the shower and the other hit the shower head, knocking it at an angle. He kept pounding into her and, still looking for an anchor point, her hand tangled in his hair. The hand at her hip moved between them. His thumb teased above her clit for a moment before he pressed down. Her mouth hung open and her breath stuttered. Thumb swirling around and over her clit, he thrust in hard as her climax hit. The hand in his hair slid down to clutch at the back of his neck. He kept fucking her through her orgasm, his eyes pulled tightly closed. Then he came, too. His head fell forward to her shoulder as he spasmed inside her. Lup clutched him tightly to her. He hissed out a breath and she yanked her hand away, realizing she’d hit his right shoulder, his sorest point. “Oh fuck, sorry!” “It’s okay,” he told her, dragging a kiss along the top of her shoulder. Reluctantly he slid out of her. As he moved back he realized the shower head was spraying water out onto the floor. “Shit, we soaked the floor.” Lup laughed and cut off the water. “Eh, there’s a cantrip for that, right?” She cast the spell, clearing away the mess. With that dealt with she gathered up her hair and wrung the water out of it. They stepped out of the shower and she grabbed the towel from him. Carefully she blotted his back and down his ass and legs. Then, just as carefully, she trailed soft kisses over the marks on his shoulders. “Let’s get dried off and back to bed then I’ll kiss the rest better as well,” she teased. He took the towel back and toyed with it for a moment. When she turned to get the other towel from the hook he snapped it at her ass, popping her square in the left cheek. She whirled on him. “Oh, buddy, you are so lucky I owe you.” “Don’t worry, Lup, I’ll kiss it better too.”

~Dirty Blupjeans Kinktober 2018 Masterpost~

[master-gatherer]

It's bad enough my brain doesn't want to work

But to have it not work when I'm writing an action scene

That's when I need it to work the most!

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 18 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Tee ball season is almost over, and the Tiny Eagles are still undefeated. You are starting to feel bolder in your personal life, like you are ready to claim everything you are entitled to. And Bradley is subtly letting you know he's along for more than just the ride.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst and swearing

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"Only two more weeks of tee ball left," Molly murmured as she sipped her coffee next to you on the bleachers. 

You paused to think about that. It was only two months ago that you met Bradley, and a lot had changed since you caught yourself stuttering in his presence that first day. After he brought you flowers and lunch to work on Wednesday, he'd met you at your house that night. One thing led to another, and now you knew Bradley loved being called Lieutenant Bradshaw in bed. 

"Two more weeks," you agreed. You'd be sad when tee ball ended, but Bradley had been telling you for the past week since the Phillies game that he'd work on some skills with Everett during the summer. 

"Go Ev!" Molly shouted when he hit the ball really hard and scored a run against the Tiny Robins. It was Crazy Socks day, and Everett had talked you into ordering him a pair from the Phillies website. You had a second pair stashed away for Bradley's birthday, which you found out from Bob was a week after Everett's.

You clapped along with your sister as you watched Everett run the bases in his red and white striped socks, but your mind was wandering elsewhere. 

"You know what you said about Danny last time we talked about him?" you asked, and Molly scoffed. 

"You mean how I called him an incompetent man-child? Or how I told you he doesn't deserve to lick the bottoms of your shoes?"

"Neither," you replied, smiling as both Bradley and Bob waved in your direction at the same time. You waved your fingers at Bradley and smiled. "I'm actually talking about child support. And the fact that he never pays it."

"Ohhhh, you wanna have that conversation now?" Molly asked, giving you a bland look. "Ev is almost seven years old."

"Yeah," you replied softly. 

You could see the fire in Molly's eyes, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You've paid for everything. Take him to court. Seriously. Please, take him to court. I would love nothing more than to help you pay for it. Who's your lawyer? I'll send them a check today."

"I don't need your money," you told her firmly for the hundredth time. But now you were finally feeling like you wanted to do something about this. Why had you been okay with letting Danny get away with so much shit before? Everett deserved the whole world, and you were going to try to give it to him. "I'm going to give him one more chance to either be more involved with Ev or start paying for support."

Molly set her empty cup down and said, "Look at me." You met her eyes, and she looked much more serious than she usually did, which gave you a chill. "What are you going to do when Danny won't do either of those things?"

You pressed your lips together to keep the tingling sensation of tears out of your eyes and nose. "I'm going to stop being a doormat."

Molly kissed your cheek and pulled you against her side just as the game was ending. 

------------------------------

"Still undefeated!" Everett cheered as Bradley carried him on his shoulders up to the parking lot after the game against the Tiny Robins ended in a victory for the Tiny Eagles.

"Hey, Coach Bob," Bradley called, and Bob turned around, still holding Molly's hand. "You better start writing your speech for when you win Coach of the Year. The team is undefeated with two games left!"

"You'll have to give a speech, too," Bob said as he adjusted his glasses. "The award goes to both coaches, not just one."

"Undefeated! Undefeated!" Everett chanted. You were walking next to Bradley shaking your head and smiling. 

Bradley looked at you as he said, "Ev is the best on the team, Kitten. He's really good." Everett continued to chant as Bradley added, "I'm going to plan out the whole summer with visits to the batting cages, pitching in the park, and learning more about all of the different positions. He'll be ready for baseball next spring. No more tee ball." Bradley couldn't remember being this excited about baseball since he was a kid trying out for his first team. 

"He's really that good at it?" you asked. "Thank goodness I signed him up for tee ball."

"Yeah," Bradley agreed, "for more than one reason."

You opened the back door to your car, and Bradley deposited Everett into his booster seat at the same time that Molly climbed in through the other door and tried to buckle herself into the seat. Bradley chuckled while Everett practically screeched with laughter, and then you wrapped your arms around his waist.

"I'm going to buy tickets for the Pittsburgh Pirates game on Everett's birthday," you told him. "Molly and Bob are coming, too."

Bob perked up when he heard his name. "No, Molly and I are going to buy all the tickets. For his birthday present."

"I thought I'd get them for everyone," Bradley said with a frown. "My treat, again."

"I already bought them!" Molly shouted from inside the car as Everett tickled her until she was wheezing. 

"She's so annoying," you said, resting your head against Bradley's chest. "She wants me to save my money for my lawyer."

Bradley jerked his head back and coaxed you to look up at him. "A lawyer for what?"

"Don't worry about it," you whispered before you returned to snuggling against him. 

But he wanted to know what was wrong. "Are you okay? Is Ev? Is this about Danny? What can I do?"

"We're okay, Bradley."

"Kitten. You can talk to me about it."

"I know," you replied, squeezing him tighter. "We're okay for now."

"Well, that's settled then," Molly said as she climbed out of the car with her clothes all dishevelled. "Everett defeated me in the tickle fight, so I owe him a movie. I'll pick him up tomorrow after lunch."

You looked up at Bradley with a smirk on your face. "Any chance you're free for a little bit tomorrow after lunch?"

----------------------------------

Later that night, you called Danny after sending him texts throughout the day telling him you needed to talk to him.

You were happy you had waited until Everett was in bed to make the call, because as soon as Danny answered with a bark of, "Yes?" you felt anxious. 

"Danny," you replied, gripping the edge of the counter so you wouldn't lose your resolve. "Hi."

"What do you need? I'm trying to work."

You squeezed the counter harder and took a deep breath. "Let me know when you have time to spend a day with Everett. I think you need to make that more of a priority."

You were met with silence. 

"Danny?"

"I'm here. You know I don't have time for this."

You pressed your lips together and held back your tears. "He is your son, Danny. You need to make time for him."

More silence spread out before you. Honestly, you wanted to start screaming into the phone, but you knew you shouldn't. Nobody could upset you with just a small handful of words the way your ex husband could.

When you got no response, you took a deep breath and said, "If you're not going to give him some of your time, then you need to start making up for it by paying us child support."

"Child support?" he asked with a laugh. "You know I don't have a steady income like you do." 

You took a deep breath. "I understand that, but providing for Everett shouldn't solely land on my shoulders here, Danny."

"Listen," he replied smoothly. "I have a huge gallery event coming up next month. I'll probably have some more spending money then."

He was trying to manipulate you the way he always had. You'd spent years listening to him try to validate his excuses, and somehow he always got you to agree with him. You didn't need to fall into these traps any longer. Not when you had Molly in your corner. Not when you knew Bradley cared about Everett's happiness.

"Taking care of your son doesn't fall under the same category as extraspending money." You said it before you gave yourself a chance to process your words, and somehow you felt a little stronger. "So then I guess he can come spend a day with you instead?"

"Fine," Danny snapped immediately. "But I'll probably be working, so he's going to have to play on his iPad or something."

His iPad that you paid for. "Sure," you agreed, knowing this was probably too good to be true. "He's going to love to see you no matter what. So how does next Sunday sound?"

And then you ended the call feeling better than you ever had after a conversation with Danny. You poured yourself a glass of wine and carried it up to your bathroom. You filled your tub while you removed your makeup, and then you sank down into a delicious bubble bath. 

You texted Molly about your conversation, and she wrote back saying SLAY YOU QUEEEEEN BITCH. DO NOT FUCK WITH MY SISTER. 

You were still laughing when Bradley texted to ask what you were up to. He had gone out to that aviator hangout bar with his friends, so of course it made you feel even giddier that he was texting you while he was there. 

When you told him you were in the bath he wrote back while you sipped your wine.

Bradley Bradshaw: Pics or it didn't happen

You snorted into your wine glass and took some strategically posed selfies. Finally you took a good one where the swell of your breasts was pronounced above the bubbles, and your knee was peeking above the water next to your glass. You sent it to him, and you did not have to wait long for a response. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Kitten, please baby, you're teasing me. I can only take so much.

You laughed and sent him a second photo where he could see your nipples.

Bradley Bradshaw: You are so fucking hot. And now my dick is hard. In the middle of a game of pool. 

You sent teasing texts back and forth while you finished your wine, and he reminded you that he'd be there tomorrow afternoon. And then he sent you a list of all the dirty little things he wanted to do to you. You dreamed about his mouth and his mustache all night long.

And the next day, as soon as Molly picked Everett up to take him to see the movie, you ran up the stairs, two at a time and dashed into your room. You dug around in the bottom drawer of your dresser and pulled out everything you needed. Bradley would be here in just a few minutes, and you'd been wet and worked up for him since last night.

You shimmied into the tight black bodysuit and fastened the choker around your neck before securing the ear headband in place as well. Then you found some sheer black socks that went up over your knees and added them to your Kitten outfit. When you looked in the mirror, you squealed with delight. You turned and checked yourself from different angles. Not bad. Not bad at all. 

You were thinking about how Bradley barely even got a chance to touch you the last time you wore this kitten costume that day at tee ball. You were thinking about how you bought this outfit just for him in the first place. When you heard the Bronco pull into your driveway, you were practically squeezing your legs together to keep from moaning. 

When you made it to the bottom step, you heard Bradley's key in the door, and somehow that made you even hotter. You were afraid you were going to jump on him, so you kept your hand wrapped around the bannister as he opened your front door. 

"Hi, Coach," you said, your voice laced with need as you waved your fingers at him. 

"Oh, god." His groan was so deep and loud, you clenched around nothing as he blindly slammed and locked the door. He let his keys, wallet and hat fall right to the floor as you whimpered. 

"Coach." Your voice quivered as he approached you slowly. "Bradley."

You almost matched up to his height as you were still standing on the bottom step. He was close to you now, licking his lips and breathing faster. He let his knuckles trail slowly up and down over your bodysuit between your breasts, and soon you were panting for him. 

His grin was smug as he asked you, "Did you wear this for me?"

You nodded your head as he stroked your hard nipples through the thin fabric. "Just for you, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

And then his head tipped back as he groaned, and you felt so powerful. You guided his hand down your belly and between your legs, and he met your eyes again. "You're already wet."

"I've been wet since we were texting last night," you admitted. And then you were draped over his shoulder with his big hand on your butt while he hauled you back upstairs. 

-----------------------------

Bradley had been thinking about you in your Kitten costume for weeks, but he hadn't been expecting you to be wearing it today. It was even filthier looking this time, as you paired it with black socks that hugged your thighs instead of your jeans. You skipped the whiskers, but you were wearing your choker. Your collar.

As he took you up to your bed, you were whimpering his name as he stroked his fingers along your ass and your thighs. You were soaking wet. He could feel it when he dug his hand between your legs to tease you as he reached your bedroom.

When he set you down, you crawled across the bed, showing off your ass for him before you settled with your back against the pillows. Bradley was tearing his shoes off followed by his clothing as he watched you run your hands over your bodysuit, squeezing your tits. 

"Do you have any idea what you look like right now?" he asked, crawling across the bed to get to you.

"A Kitten?" you asked softly, fingers skimming over your taut nipples. 

"My Kitten," he growled. "You look like you're mine. My own personal Kitten with a wet pussy and filthy red lips." He kissed you hard, pushing your head back against the pillow while he ran his fingers along the strip of fabric that was barely covering your slit. 

When you moaned into his mouth, he released your lips in favor of running his nose and tongue along that sinful red choker on your neck.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, sir," you whined, and his cock ached with need. "Please."

He was sucking on all of your exposed skin, tasting every inch. You were grinding up against his hand as he palmed your core through your bodysuit. "I'll take care of you," he promised, kissing your choker and your necklace chain at the same time. "You keep your claws tucked away like a good girl, and I'll take such good care of you."

Then he released the snaps between your legs that were keeping you concealed, and the bodysuit was open. You rubbed yourself against his knuckles, and his fingers slid right through your slick slit. You shook your head against the pillow, and your headband with the ears went a little crooked. 

"I am so turned on," you gasped. "I don't think I have ever been this turned on before."

You were whining for him and rubbing your stocking covered leg along his cock. But your eyes were still alert, and he wanted them glazed and fucked out. 

"I'm gonna eat your pussy," he told you, nibbling your nipples through the fabric as you gasped in agreement. "But I'm not going to stop until I'm ready to. Does that sound okay?"

"Yes sir, Coach Bradley, sir!"

"Kitten, look at me," he said, still stroking your clit softly with his knuckle. "That means I decide when you're done."

"Yes!"

And then he put his mouth on your pussy, and it was exquisite. Just like last time. But maybe even better, because he was going to make you lose your mind for him. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and spread you open wide, kissing your hole as he buried his nose in your wetness.

He started off slow, teasing and licking, and then your fingers were in his hair. Your little gasps and words of encouragement made him smile, but as soon as he took your clit between his lips, you got loud. Really loud. Bradley was delighted that you could be as loud as you wanted to, because he was addicted to the feel of your smooth pearl, your perfect clit under his tongue.

"Bradley!"

You were thrusting up against his face, and he dipped his tongue inside you as your wetness coated his chin. He loved this. He loved eating pussy. He knew he was good at it. But you were too perfect. Everything he liked. Everything he wanted. He needed you. He released your left leg and shoved two rough fingers inside you as he eased himself up your body to kiss those pretty red lips. 

"You taste so fucking good. Like a damn kitten in heat," he told you as you ran your tongue along his chin. You kitten licked his face and whimpered while he finger fucked you harder. Your hands wound tight up in his hair were a little painful, but it just made him go harder. 

Your eyes were already starting to drift closed and he kissed you, smiling against your mouth. "Remember. You're done when I say you're done."

His words made you keen, and he could feel you starting to squeeze his fingers as he put his mouth back on your clit and sucked gently. That first orgasm came screaming out of you as your hips bucked and shook against the mattress. But Bradley was already working on the next one as you gasped his name over and over again.

With his tongue moving in languid strokes as you started to calm down, Bradley managed to coax you close to the edge again. This time you released his hair in favor of wrapping your hands in your pillowcase. 

"What the fuck," you gasped, gaping at him and meeting his eyes as you rode his tongue to another orgasm. Your forehead was scrunched up in disbelief as you gasped, sounding scandalized that he did it twice.

But he wasn't done yet. He ground his cock down into your bedding, bucking for some relief against the delicious show that all of his senses were being treated to. Because now you looked truly exhausted, and your fingers were unable to get purchase in his hair. He kissed and nibbled on your inner thigh as he ran his calloused fingertips over your sensitive, overworked clit until you were whining softly. 

"It's okay, Kitten. I love you," Bradley promised, and you nodded wordlessly. And sure enough, after several more minutes, you hiccuped a few times as you came again for him. Your pussy softly pulsing around his middle finger as you gasped had him palming his cock. 

He was about to cum. Quickly, he positioned himself so he was on his knees with your left thigh between his legs. He never removed his middle finger from inside you while he stroked himself a half a dozen times. And then he was spurting his cum all over your pussy and your belly and your bodysuit. 

You didn't even seem to know what was going on as you shook your head against the pillow and wiped at your tears. 

"You okay?" he asked softly, and he smiled. Because your eyes were glazed, your face looked fucked out, and your body was limp, connected to his by his one finger inside you. "God, you're fucking glorious."

A soft laugh escaped your lips while Bradley stroked your cheek with his thumb, and you nuzzled against him like a kitten.

---------------------------

You had your arms draped lazily around Bradley's neck as he showered with you. For a split second, he had been nervous that he might have ruined your bodysuit when he came, but you assured him you could always buy another one. Honestly, you thought the splashes of his white cum on your skin and the dark fabric looked sinfully good. 

"You gonna wear that outfit again for me?" he asked, running his fingers along the little paw print charm he got you where it rested next to your collarbone. 

"Do you really need me to?" you challenged. "You just took a bunch of photos of me half wearing it with your cum all over me. Shouldn't that be enough?"

He kissed you, gently pulling your bottom lip between his before he said, "No way. Those are for when I'm deployed. I'm gonna want the real thing again and again."

You felt a jolt of reality. "Do you know when you're getting deployed again? Do I need to start preparing myself to miss you?"

"No," he murmured, kissing along your neck as the spray from the shower calmed you. "When I find out, you'll be the first to know, Kitten. And I must admit," he added, pausing on a deep inhale that left you with bated breath, "I do love the idea of being missed. By you. And Ev."

You didn't know what to say as you snuggled up against him for a few minutes before you eventually turned off the water. You'd been in a relationship with him for a week. One week. And you already daydreamed about when he'd move in with you. You were already thinking about where all of his stuff would fit in your house. But it was too soon. And you didn't know if he'd want to permanently be here at all. 

But you did say, "Everett and I already miss you when we're not with you," and he smiled. 

"Speaking of Ev," he said, drying off his legs. "It's getting late. Do you want me to be here when they get back?"

You only had to consider that for a beat. "Yeah."

Bradley met your eyes as he pulled his underwear on. "Can I help him with his homework? Or do something else to make things easier for you?"

In that moment, you wanted to tell him everything that had happened on the phone with Danny. You wanted to tell him that you and Molly had talked about a lawyer. But all you said was, "I love you."

------------------------- 

Kitten dressing as the kitten again. Kitten making demands of Danny. Kitten getting what she deserves from Coach! Love to see it. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 19

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[ikeromantic]

Through Her Eyes

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 3800 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 6-8 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 8 of a series.

First: Bravery Becomes Her

Previous: A Word of Advice

Chevalier surveyed the crowd with a discerning eye. It was easy to dismiss these parties as a waste of time, but he knew better. This ballroom was a battlefield where fights were won with a cutting remark or a cold glance. Alliances hid behind studied avoidance and subtle nods. Weapons here were style and wit. 

This was not the province of the brutal beast, but he learned to wield his intelligence and arrogance as well as a sword and shield. He stood on his own metaphorical hilltop like a victorious general, letting the crowd perceive his disdain. It made them hate him. It made them fear him. But that, Chevalier knew, was power as well. 

His eyes found Leon, surrounded as always by a cloud of sycophants. It wasn’t a fair assessment, perhaps. His brother brought out true loyalty in his followers, but Chev wondered how far that would take him in the face of threat and violence. He did not think any of those nobles could accept the hard choices a king must make and Leon . . .

The Belle entered on Clavis’ arm. Her dress was white with silver trim, tight through the bodice and flared through the hips. Though the gown was sleeveless, she wore gloves that came up just past her elbow, and a single pendant necklace on a thin silver chain. The teardrop diamond hung just below the delicate hollow of her throat, leaving the expanse of bare skin below it looking all the more naked to his eyes. 

Beautiful.

Chevalier looked away from her as if he hadn’t even noticed she came in. 

A noble approached him a moment later, but his petty maneuvering did little to distract Chev from the Belle’s presence. He saw Flandre approach her. Clavis, smiling. Was this part of his brother’s game?

“So I was thinking, Highness, if you put in a good word?” The noble smiled hopefully.

“Don’t waste my time with your petty goals.” He let his full attention settle on the man for a moment, well aware of the effect his icy gaze had on weak souls. 

The man bowed low. “Y-yes, of course. Highness. I’m sorry. Very sorry.” He backed away. 

Chev’s eyes found the Belle just in time to see Clavis lean close and whisper something in her ear as Flandre walked away from the two of them. Heat rose in her cheeks as she nodded agreement to whatever was said. Her expression was focused, intent.

“Highness, if I may?”

A matronly noblewoman stood just to his left, eyes cast demurely down. 

“What?”

“Allow me to be brief - “ and to his surprise, she was. She succinctly described the impact of a new Jadeite tariff, something that had crossed Chevalier’s desk a few weeks ago. 

He gave a curt nod. “I am aware. And I will include this information in our negotiations.”

“Thank you.” She gave an appropriate curtsy and left. 

Chevalier wished all the nobility he dealt with were so efficient. Though he did not intend to, his eyes returned to the Belle. Something Clavis said caused an expression of shock to ripple across her features. Every muscle in her tensed as if she were about to bolt. But Chev knew she wouldn’t. The Belle was a stubborn girl. His lips curved up in a brief smile, gone almost as soon as it arrived.

Then Clavis motioned in his general direction and she turned to look at him. Her gaze flitted between Chevalier and Leon, studying them with the same intense look she wore when reading. She was evaluating him, comparing him. Part of Chev hated the idea that he needed to prove himself to this slip of a commoner - as if her ignorance was some sort of mystical strength. But part of him was impressed with how seriously she took her role. Her determination to learn all she could of the princes so that her choice was the best it could be. It was pre-

Clavis took her hand and began dragging her through the center of the ballroom, gathering stares from curious nobility. What was that idiot playing at, Chevalier wondered. The two of them stopped at the fringe of Leon’s circle, close enough to listen in. 

“Highness?” 

Chevalier glanced at the next petitioner. 

“N-never mind. Highness.” They practically ran. 

The Belle looked pleased with what she heard from Leon’s faction. Her eyes crinkled at the edges and some of the tension left her jaw. Chev wasn’t surprised. Black was . . . friendly. Kind. He cultivated love in his followers. It was an approach Chevalier understood - but one he would never pursue. Love was fickle. He knew that from his - his books. 

Such loyalty as love brought only lasted while things were easy,comfortable. He had no use for it. Fear lasted longer and it was more reliable. 

“If you have a moment, Highness?” The nobleman now in his vicinity wasn’t slouching. He held his head up, deferential but not too much so. He was clearly confident.

Chevalier inclined his head. 

“Excellent. I wanted to request additional troops along the border. My properties . . .” He went on, giving a concise but detailed report of the condition of his border properties and the continued issues with Obsidianite raiding. 

The second prince was already well versed in the problems he described. In fact, he’d ordered several improvements already. “Have the border security structural changes been completed?”

“No, Highness. You see, we’ve encountered difficulty deploying construction personnel. Finding those with adequate skill and a willingness to work in dangerous conditions.”

“If you can’t fill the worker shortage from your own domain, petition other lords for assistance. I am sure you will have a favorable report for me next time we meet. And then I will consider your . . . request.” Chevalier let his disdain drip from every word. It was frustrating how easily these nobles gave up on tasks that cost them their own time and effort. How quickly they would come begging for favors without satisfying even the minimum of their duties. 

The nobleman bowed. “Yes. Of course, Highness. I am very sorry.”

Chevalier looked past him to the next approaching noble. “Next.” As the man approached, Chev saw the Belle had as well. At this distance, he could see the light color on her lips, the slight shadowing on her eyelids, the flutter of her lashes. Emotions played out in the depths of her gaze. Anxiety and determination in equal measure. And yet she came forward with her back straight and her head held high. As if she belonged right where she was. 

He listened to the noble report out with half an ear, adding what little information of import there was to his mental catalog. Chev waved that one away and allowed the next to come forward. He realized about halfway through the third petitioner what he was doing. Trying to look good before the Belle. To seem more approachable. To make sure she noticed how busy, how efficient he was. 

Ridiculous.

As if the Belle’s opinion would matter in the end. But. But it would be so much easier if she named him king. He wouldn’t need to kill Leon and Sariel. And he wanted her to choose him because . . . no - Chevalier cut off that line of thought with brutal quickness. This was not one of his books. This was Rhodolite and he must remain focused on his kingdom above all else.

Clavis leaned close to Belle, whispering in her ear again. Chev wished he could hear what was said. Whatever it was, she nodded agreement. Then she said something that made Clavis draw back, eyes wide with surprise. Then, after a hurried conversation between them, his brother began to laugh. Like a braying donkey, Chevalier thought.

Everyone was staring at them now, with the way Clavis nearly bent in two with laughter. Chev did his best to ignore it. He had plenty of practice. It would have worked, had Clavis not clapped loudly and then announced in his high, clear voice, “Hey Chev! Your charming brother has brought you a sweet young lady!”

It was moments like these that made him want to murder Clavis. Chevalier glared at them as his brother dragged the Belle forward. “I don’t recall asking you to do that.”

The Belle shivered, her skin prickling. 

If Chev was being honest with himself, which he wasn’t, the sight made him want to brush his fingers along her collarbone and lay kiss to the spot beneath her pendant. To feel and touch those tiny little dimples that broke out across her skin at his tone. These thoughts lurked in the back of his mind, hidden under the layers of propriety and fratricidal ideations. 

Clavis chuckled, perfectly aware of the fine line he walked with Chevalier. “Aw come on! Don’t say that! This lovely young lady wanted to have a chat with you.”

“Prince Clavis! I did NOT say -”

Of course he didn’t let her finish. Clavis shushed her with a finger to her lips. “Now now, don’t be shy! Weren’t you just saying how lonely you thought Chev looked?”

The sudden flash of heat in her face was evidence enough that Clavis was not lying, about this, at least. 

Chevalier raised an eyebrow. Lonely? He? “What a nauseating reason for bothering me.” Did he seem lonely to her? It was a more astute observation than he expected, and that in turn made him uncomfortable. 

“This sweet young woman said she wanted to relieve you of your solitude.” Clavis winked. “I think you should take her up on her kind offer.”

“No thank you.” Chev saw the way his words hit the Belle. The slight fall in her shoulders. The brief closure of her eyes, followed by a deep breath. 

Clavis saw it too, of course. And he grinned in a way Chev knew meant trouble. “I just remembered! I have something I must go do. Well, it looks like I must leave Emma in your capable hands.” And then he walked off without a look back.

The Belle would have needed to run to catch up to him. “Prince Clavis! Are you serious? W-wait!”

Of course Clavis didn’t slow or turn. “Good luck!” He waved before disappearing through one of the side doors.

Chevalier felt his jaw tighten. He’d picked Clavis for the Belle because he’d expected his brother to stay by her side. For the entertainment value of watching the the girl react, if nothing else. It seemed he was wrong. A rare enough occurrence. He should have pushed her to Nokto. A lecher, perhaps, but a reliable one.  

In a voice more confident than her expression, the Belle asked, “Is it alright if I stay beside you until Prince Clavis returns, Highness?”

He looked at her and gave a nod. “As long as you don’t get in the way.” Her relieved smile took him by surprise. What sort of ridiculous girl would look so happy at such a curt acceptance? She was - she was - 

Chev grabbed her hand as he noted the approach of yet another obsequious noble. He only realized halfway through pulling her behind him that he was probably holding her hand too tightly but at least it was done and just in time.

“Prince Chevalier, may I have a moment of your time?” Marquis Blois bent his head just enough to be proper. He carried himself like a man well aware of how far his wealth and power reached. 

Today there was something new in his calculating gaze and it took Chev a moment to understand. Only a moment though. This was a plot few were brave enough to try with him. 

“Today is my daughter’s debut. I’d like to introduce her to you.” He gestured to a girl that stood several lengths away. She was very young for a debut, or she seemed so to Chevalier. Barely past playing with dolls. Her expression was one of wooden terror. 

She stepped forward obediently, if a little unsteadily as well. Her curtsy was acceptable though lacking for someone that would have been trained in social graces from the moment she could walk. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Chevalier. My name is-”

Chevalier waved her off. “I don’t need your name. I have no interest in those that are useless.” He knew the harshness of his cold, flat voice would have a longer reach than any kinder rejection might have. The tears gathering in her eyes would serve as warning to every noble out there with a daughter of marrying age. 

When he married it would be for the good of Rhodolite. An advantageous union that would bind the kingdom to its allies. He’d known that was his fate since he was in diapers. Princes married for duty. Why, now, did that make his throat feel tight and hot? 

The girl paled and shrunk back from him as if slapped, while her father gave a sickly smile. He was not yet cowed. “If I may be sol bold, Highness, my daughter has a deep knowledge of music. I am sure she could entertain you with -”

Chevalier raised an imperious brow. “If you want to demonstrate her worth, tell me what she can do for this kingdom. Not what she can do for me.”

“I . . .” The Marquis struggled to come up with an answer, not that Chev gave him much time.

“If you’re unable to answer, then I have no business with you. You may go.” His dismissal was curt, barely within the realm of acceptable court behavior. But who would dare scold him?

“M-my apologies, Your Highness.” Marquis Blois sagged in his finery, his brief ambition thoroughly quashed.

Chevalier didn’t deign to look at him. He was turning to look back at the Belle when he heard her take a deep breath. 

“Prince Chevalier, is it alright if I introduce myself to the marquis and his daughter?” 

She didn’t look timid now, not in the slightest. The Belle looked regal. Demure and elegant. Her head held high, her shoulders back, a slight smile on her lips. 

Chev could see something was bothering her in the way she held her skirts, a bit too tightly, and the firmness of her gaze. Interesting that the Marquis and his daughter would bring this out of her. He was curious where she was going with this. “Do what you like.”

The Belle bowed her head demurely. “Thank you, Your Highness.” Then she looked up, a smile on her lips, though it did not reach her eyes. “It is very nice to meet you. My name is Emma, the eldest daughter of Lord Nicola.”

Marquis Blois and his daughter looked confused and unsure what to say. Dismissed by the prince and yet unable to withdraw. The marquis had no similar experience to draw from and his daughter had no experience at all. 

“I overheard just now that you have a deep knowledge of music,” the Belle went on as if oblivious to their uncertainty. “Do you enjoy playing any instruments?”

While her father still looked nervous, this comment brought a wide, genuine smile to his daughter’s lips. “Oh! Yes, I’ve had many opportunities to put my knowledge to practical use. Sometimes I play with the orchestra in town.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m not a performer myself but I do love music -”

Chevalier watched the exchange, noting the warmth that grew between the two ladies. This, he decided, was the Belle’s goal. She wanted to ease them, despite his own curt dismissal. It annoyed him but not enough to intervene or walk away. 

“I think a talent that can make so many people smile is one that is worthwhile, something you can be understandably proud of,” the Belle’s words seemed pointed at Chev rather than the girl now, and he took notice. 

The marquis did as well, and he tensed a bit as his daughter made a sound of surprise.

The Belle went on, “I am sure the people who listen to your music would say the same.” And then, as if to provoke him, she turned to Chevalier, “And what about you, Your Highness?”

He studied her face. Though she spoke lightly, he could see steel in her gaze, just as he had when she faced him down in the street. In moments like these - Chevalier’s lips curved in smile. “Yes, I’m sure she does have worthwhile talent. More than a certain simpleton I could mention.” He shifted his gaze to the marquis. “Though it may be worthless to me, the same is not true for others. If you wish to present your daughter, you should do so to someone who will recognize her value. A marquis in the neutral faction, for example. ”

Marquis Blois blinked. “Ah, Lord Keith? Yes . . . if I’m not mistaken, he’s working to further development of arts and culture.”

Chevalier gestured. “He’s over there. Mention my name when you introduce yourselves, if necessary.”

“May I, Your Highness?” The marquis sounded surprised.

“Yes.” Chevalier’s smile fell. “If you’re able to win the marquis to our faction, that will have value to me as well.” 

Marquis Blois and his daughter looked pleased with this redirection. He nodded, squaring his shoulders. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll do my best to meet your expectations.”

Interesting. Chevalier wouldn’t normally have wasted the time, but this outcome was better than simply removing the annoyance. He glanced at the Belle again, only to find her wavering. She looked as if she might pass out. Chev reached for her, settling a hand at her hip to support her. 

“Thank you.” She gave him a gentle smile. 

Only she would be silly enough to smile at him like that. She was like a thorn that had worked its way under his skin, finding a soft spot or perhaps, making one. Had she been anyone else, he would have let her fall without a second thought. “You’re quite graceless. I can see that your legs are shaking.”

“Ah! No. It - it’s just your imagination, Your Highness.” She tried to straighten up and pull herself from his grasp but he didn’t let her go.

“Why did you interfere?” Chev felt fairly certain that he knew but he wanted to hear her explain it. He bent his head closer, watching her reaction. Her cheeks heated again and he could almost hear her heartbeat. She didn’t seem afraid now. She seemed . . .

“I - uhm - honestly, I am not sure.”

“Are you joking?” Chevalier could not help the way his eyes fell to her lips, remembering how soft they felt against his fingertips. The warm, light scent she left on his sheets. Would she smell the same now, if he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder? He found himself leaning even in as if she drew him forward.

Unaware of the turn of his thoughts, she shook her head. “No. I just - my heart led me and I acted before my thoughts could catch up.” The Belle sighed. “I couldn’t just leave it be.”

Her words brought his full attention back to the subject. “Let what be?”

“Well . . .”

Chevalier sighed. He should have expected that she wouldn’t be able to verbalize her thought process. “Even children can put their thoughts into words. Unlike you.” He added the last bit as a challenge, knowing it would needle her.

Her eyes went wide, fury sparking in their depths. “Did you just compare me to a child?”

He felt his lips tug up at the corners. “Isn’t that preferable to an indecisive fool who can’t say anything at all?” Chev could see her mulling that over and coming to the conclusion he knew she would. This seemed to hearten her, enough so that she didn’t need his support. And he should draw away from her. Staying so close would create rumor, and danger for her as well. 

Chevalier let go, if reluctantly, and took a step back from her. 

“Your Highness, why didn’t you just introduce that girl to someone else right from the beginning?” 

He shrugged. “They were the ones who ended the conversation. If the marquis wanted such instruction from me, he could have asked for it. Or made the same point as you did himself.”

The Belle looked surprised. “What?”

“This is what happens when I speak with nobles. They frighten too easily and stop talking.” Chevalier gave a low laugh. “I suspect they see me only as a beast of prey. And they are not wrong.”

The way she looked at him, Chev knew she was debating her words.And when she spoke, she said them softly, but with the same determination she’d had when she interrupted earlier. “Aren’t you being a little mean?”

“Oh?” He grinned. “Insulting royalty must mean you’ve become foolishly brave.” 

She reached to fiddle with the pendant at her neck, nervous now. “I - no! I am just speaking my thoughts. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

Chevalier found it adorable how she could get so easily entangled in her own emotions. It made her so easy to tease. But he didn’t want to unsettle her too much, a thought that surprised him. He poked her forehead, bringing her attention back to the moment. “If you wish to redeem yourself after this, I suggest you give me a better explanation.”

Just as she was about to respond, the orchestra began to play and couples assembled in the open center of the floor. “The dance is starting, isn’t it?”

“If you look around you, you’d have the answer.”

She nodded absently, her eyes fixed on the spectacle.

Chev had been attending these kind of balls since he was out of diapers. They were a means to an end, a trial to be endured, a necessity of position. But tonight, watching her as she watched the dance begin, he got to see for a moment the beauty of it. Experiencing it as she did. For a breath, all the expense and time fell away to become a garden of shifting colors and graceful motion. He wanted to take her hand and lead her into it. To hold her against him as they stepped and turned and spun . . .

And then he came back to himself, remembering who he was and what that meant. It wasn’t fair to keep her here, trapped beside him and unable to join in. “A woman who doesn’t get asked to dance is a wallflower. I hope there is someone here that found you worth their time.”

“What?” She turned a look at him, startled from her reverie. 

Chevalier gave a scornful laugh and turned to walk away. No one would approach her with him so near. 

“W-wait! Where are you going?”

“I have no interest in these pointless social interactions. Besides,” he added, feeling the need to clarify, “I don’t think anyone would be brave enough to approach you with me beside you.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. Why had he felt a need to explain it to her? So what if she felt hurt by his abrupt departure?

Chevalier left, determined to bury himself in a book until sleep found him. He would not - under any circumstance - imagine the Belle dancing with someone else. She could dance with who she liked. She was a fool. Beautiful. A simpleton. Precious. Unimportant. Adorable. He didn’t care.

Next: Under His Skin

[hazytaezy]

all i want for christmas (m) kth

pairing: taehyung x reader

word count: 3800- lil smutty holiday drabble :)))

genre: best friends to lovers, tae and reader live in the same apartment complex, comedy (because i think i’m funny), straight up smut, almost pwp lmao sorry

warnings: 18+, smut, language, oral (fem recieving), light choking, story doesn’t mention it- but please practice safe sex!! it is assumed that they are being safe and using the right precautions, 

(author note): happy holidays everyone! please enjoy my first smutty tae drabble :)

Can you get arrested for ripping down decorations from the cities street lamps?

You were swaying on the sidewalk watching and waiting for the walk sign to light up across the street from you, but a long piece of garland had come undone and was obstructing your view.

If you weren't drunk you'd take your chances and dart out into the street with reckless abandon. After the day you've had, it seemed like the only logical thing to do.

Taehyung was repeatedly pressing the cross button and the monotone voice kept repeating "wait! wait! wait! wait!" It felt like it was creeping its way into the crevices of your brain.

The snow had really started to pick up since this morning and that was grinding on your nerves even more. You were almost positive that you were the only one that felt that way at this moment.

The general merriment of Christmas had all but washed away this morning when you'd discovered that your boyfriend of four years had been seeing someone else.

The whole time.

The usual Friday night dinner and drinks with your friends turned into a "how quickly can (y/n) drown her sorrows and with what cheap alcohol". And since your friends were ride or die, especially Jimin, they too soaked their body and minds in soju.

The bright white walk signal finally lit up just as you were about to give up all hope. You all but ran across the street with Taehyung in tow.

He giggled behind you as the two of you retreated back towards your apartment complex. You hadn't meant to get apartments in the same building, but you both had jobs in the arts and it was a really great location. It would have been stupid to live anywhere else.

Luckily you weren't on the same floor, so the only time you would see him was when it was intentional.

"At least tell me. Come on, the sex had to be mediocre at best!" He let out a snort as he jogged his way to catch up with you.

He'd been poking fun at your ex all night long. Even though the wound was still fresh, the alcohol had the shit talking cranked to a ten. "It was good." You let out a small sigh. Even you knew it was a lie. "It wasn't like mind blowing, but who actually gets to have mind blowing sex all the time?"

"Me." Taehyung laughed and you shook his arm off of your shoulder. "But seriously did he have a small dick or what?"

As you moved closer to the building, you thought on the questions Taehyung was firing at you. Your ex wasn't exactly lacking in size. He knew how to use it, but it was more so the lack of romance.

You were fully aware that you didn't live in a fantasy, but it didn't stop you from wanting to feel like you were wanted.

No candle lit dinners. No wining and dining. No frills.

Every time you did have sex, he would skip straight to the main event and that left a lot to be desired on your end.

You pulled open the double doors to your building and jammed the elevator button. "He just— never made me feel special, I guess." An oversimplification, but you were finding it difficult to put your thoughts into words.

"Also, he would never take direction. He just always assumed he knew what I wanted." That made your intimate time together seem even more calculated.

"What? Like, faster? Harder?" Taehyung leaned against the gold railing as the elevator moved.

"No, but those would have been nice too." The climb to his floor felt like it was in slow motion. Even though your teeth had been on the verge of chattering moments ago, the air was growing increasingly hot.

Why'd you let Yoongi talk you into the tequila shots.

"So?" Taehyung had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and you noticed the typical Tae flush he got across his cheeks when he had only a few beers.

When did his hands get so big? You'd think it was the alcohol distorting your vision, but you were seeing just fine. Too fine.

You sighed, "I don't know. He wouldn't choke me. Or pull my hair. Or fuck me over a dresser a time or two. Hell, he wouldn't even eat me out. He did it once and just decided to put a check mark by it. I mean is it a crime to want to be pushed against a wall and kissed so fervently that you feel like a jolt of electricity shoots straight to your pu—"

You stopped your mind from doing anymore word vomit once you realized how silent it had gotten in the elevator. The air was thick. You felt like you were wading in a soupy fog with every breath you took in.

Taehyung was usually always running his mouth, so when you looked over at him, it was surprising to see it hanging wide open.

The chime went off and the doors opening finally got him to tear his eyes away from you and he walked wordlessly off towards his apartment. Not uttering a single syllable.

But as the doors began to roll shut, he reached his hands in between, making it slowly peel back open.

This was so fucking stupid.

Your pulse kicked up, but that didn't stop you from being able to look at him.

And thank goodness you could.

He had always been a handsome drunk. Lips pink from chewing down on them when in deep thought. Hair tussled from raking his hands through it, just enough to charm anyone and everyone.

Including you.

He cleared his throat before looking directly into your eyes. "If it's any consolation, you are welcome to have my hand wrapped around your throat anytime."

With that, he walked away, allowing you to stand frozen as the doors moved to click shut once more.

...............

3 a.m. never felt so terrible.

You were sitting straight up in your bed, panting and sweating from being shooken awake by this nightmare. Dream, maybe?

You didn't know how to make sense of it. Much less, what to call it.

Visions of Taehyung's long fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he bent your body over his black leather sofa. The very same one you had accidentally spilled mint tea on a few years ago.

It was just nonsense. You were drunk and needed sleep.

At least that is what you told yourself.

And that is what you would be telling yourself for the rest of the night.

And forever.

However long it took to expel these thoughts of Taehyung from your mind.

...............

"So what you're telling me is that you want him to fuck you." Your eyes grew wide as you set Jimin's cup of tea down in front of him. You hadn't been able to go back to sleep since whatever that dream was, so you had texted Jimin to meet you at a cafe near the hospital where he worked.

"That is absolutely the opposite of what I want." You hissed towards him and peered out the window. The weather kicked it up a few notches overnight and it looked like a blizzard was just hovering over the city.

Of course it would be. Your brain was just about as fucked up as it was outside.

"Why else would you have a sex dream with him involved? Read between your sub conscience (y/n)." You sat back and mulled over his words as he swirled sugar into his cup.

"My sub conscience is confused because Taehyung was the only thing with a dick that I saw last and I am suffering from a severe deprivation of it." You slowly lowered your head towards the table as you watched Jimin shake his head with every word you spoke.

"Babe, look. Before Yoongi and I were together, I never thought of him that way. So when we starting hanging out more, mostly without you two, I started to develop feelings for him. Then, I practically lived in a constant state of a wet dream for him until he confessed."

You screwed your nose up and took a sip of your tea. "Disgusting."

"Disgusting, but true." He poked at your nose.

"So what, I've been harboring these feelings for Tae our whole friendship?" Your mind was screaming. Hoping Jimin would say no. Your heart on the other hand had this annoying and overbearing fluttering that made it hard to ignore.

"What I'm saying is, friends don't think about friends like that. Maybe once in a fleeting thought kinda way, but multiple times in one night? You want him to rail you." He shrugged his shoulders and rested his elbows on against the table.

"Lower your voice!" You peered around the cafe. As if Taehyung would appear out of thin air and hear every word the two of you had been saying.

You were sleep deprived and delusional.

"I'm right." Jimin peered down at his wrist. "I am also late for my shift. I love you. Think about what I said!" He bend down to kiss your head and you watched in agony as he left.

................

Tae, 1:20pm: hey do you want to come over for a movie tonight? I accidentally bought way too much popcorn for me.

You, 1:24pm: what an idiot...

Tae, 1:26pm: to be fair, it was on sale.

You snorted down at your phone. A brief reprieve from the nagging thoughts in your brain from this morning.

Would it be stupid to go? Yes, of course.

Tae, 1:28pm: it's kettle corn! your favorite.

Tae, 1:29pm: i'll let you pick the movie.

He always let you pick the movie.

Tae, 1:30pm: i'll make you matcha cookies!

Fuck it.

You, 1:31pm: i don't want to answer to see what else you'll do for me.

Tae, 1:32pm: i'd do anything for you (y/n) ;)

Tae, 1:33pm: see you at 9 :)))

A warmth started to grow in your belly. The erratic way that your heart was beating was pointing all signs towards telling Taehyung you were feeling sick and couldn't make it.

You locked the phone and shoved it into your desk drawer. Silently begging your body to play nice tonight and act as normal as one could when on the verge of wanting to fuck their best friend.

.............

If there was one thing Taehyung was the master at, it was playing things off.

From his casual texts this afternoon you had thought that maybe he had forgotten your little exchange in the elevators the night before. You hadn’t thought he was that drunk, but if he really did remember saying that to you, he was burying the memory very deep down in his brain. Something that you should be doing as well.

Movies at his apartment with just the two of you weren’t unusual. He always had the good snacks and he would let you rent a movie if he didn’t own any that you felt like watching.

What was indeed unusual was the thrumming in your chest when your fingers briefly brushed his own as he passed you your mug of tea.

Were you really THAT touch starved? This was Taehyung! The guy that shot strawberry milkshake from his nose all over your white knit sweater on Christmas Eve sophomore year. Your clothes were ruined and Jimin wouldn’t stop introducing you as “Bloody Holy Mary” the whole night.

He was a dork and sometimes stupid, but he was also funny and charming and talented. Would it be so bad to feel these things for him?

Yes.

Yes it would, because then if things went awry, your friendship would be ruined. Not to mention the fact that Yoongi and Jimin would then have to split up their time between the two of you. Living like two kids with their divorced parents.

But you just really needed to be fucked.

“(Y/n)?” Taehyung had moved from the kitchen to a spot on the couch right next to you. Knees brushing against your own.

You blinked a few times and looked over to see him holding up two dvds. You pointed towards The Grinch and prayed that you could somehow make it through this night without being so weird. You were already off to a bumpy start and you had the nerves panging around your whole body to thank for that.

……….

About halfway through the movie is when you noticed Taehyung had moved so close to you that there wasn’t even an inch of room in between your body and his. His fingers were playing with some loose thread on your pajama pants. And with every pluck your mind was screaming to get out of there.

But it felt good. It felt so fucking good.

Every once in a while his thumb would graze over the stray piece of thread and you swore you could feel the heat from his hand shoot straight up your leg.

He was staring at you. He had been doing it for the majority of the movie, but you were trying all your best not to look at him. You just knew, deep down, the moment you turn towards him, your resolve would snap.

His hands came up and brushed against your jaw. Turning it so that you were looking directly at him.

“Tae—” You were barely speaking. It came out in a whisper so quiet, you didn’t even think he heard it.

He kept his hand on your jaw as his thumb came up to swipe across your lips. Slowly, torturously so, he put pressure on your lower lip. Pulling your lips apart so that his thumb could just touch the slightest bit of your tongue.

It was like a lightbulb switched. The gears started to shift. And you couldn’t find it in you to stop.

Your eyes snapped up to his as your closed mouth closed over his thumb. You only opened it back up to let him watch as your tongue swiped and curved around his digit.

“Fuck.” He moved his hand down from your jaw to lightly wrap around your throat. “Is this what you want baby?” He was leaning into you now, but you were making no motions to move. The pet name caused you to pause.

There was no denying you were whimpering at this point. The lines weren't even blurred. You just went ahead and jumped right over them. “I want you to touch me.”

Your hand reached up to wrap around his free one and you slowly brought it up to your chest. Taehyung’s eyes grew wide at the fact that he could feel just how much you wanted him to touch you. His fingers grazed lightly over your covered nipple before giving you the slightest squeeze.

He moved his hand from your throat to wrap around the base of your neck so that he could pull his mouth down to yours. He pulled you over to straddle his lap, making sure to never lose contact with his hand on your chest. “You have no idea how much I think about this.” He spoke between kisses.

You pulled back and stared down at him. “Really?”

He gently laughed at your shocked expression. “I thought it was obvious. And after the other night I jerked off to the idea of wrapping my hands around your throat. Fucking you. Kissing you. Doing what I want to you.”

The speed in which you were breathing picked up significantly. You hadn’t ever thought Taehyung looked at you this way.

You were coming to terms with your own need for him only just the other night, but it seems that he’s been dealing with his own for much longer.

“Why didn’t you ever-“ You watched as he bent to pepper kisses along the lower part of your neck.

“Never thought you’d feel the same. And I thought I was going to have to live that way forever until last night in the elevator.” He pulled you back into a kiss as he fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Lets get this off.”

You raised your hands and let him pull off your shirt. He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat when he saw that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. “Do you usually come over to my place without anything on under here?”

“Not usually.” You squirmed a bit and his curious eyes drifted down to your pajama pants. He traced his fingers along the waistband and pulled it down just enough to see that you were without underwear as well.

He looked back up at you. Dark eyes hooded. Lashes drooping like they weighed the weight of the world. “Did you come here wanting me to fuck you tonight?”, he rasped. You felt his cock stirring the moment you nodded.

So maybe you really didn’t know this was going to happen, but maybe it was like Jimin said, your subconscious really did want you to fuck Taehyung.

“Lay back on the sofa.” You did as you were told, turning to face Taehyung, who was seated on the floor in front of you.

He slid down your pants and just like that you were baring your all to him. If your whole body wasn't buzzing for him right now, you'd be more aware of this fact. Maybe it would even deter you a bit but the way he looked at you made you feel other worldly.

He sucked in a quick breath at the sight in front of him. You were more than ready for him and he knew how much you needed someone to treat you good.

His fingers came up to swipe at your entrance. He only barely rubbed over your clit and his finger was soaked. “Fuck. Do you always get this wet?”

He hoped not.

You were about to answer, but he chose to keep going and sank two fingers into you. You reached out and grabbed his wrist and at first he was afraid you were uncomfortable, but then you were pushing his fingers in deeper. Grabbing at his wrists every once in a while.

“Fuck. You're so tight. I need you to come just once for me. Then I’m going to fuck you over and over again. Is that okay?” The words weren’t pained, but you could tell there was something different in the way he delivered them to you.

You realized you hadn’t touched him yet and reached towards his sweat pants, but he grabbed your hand and pinned it by your side. “This is about you sweetheart.”

He laid his hand on your stomach as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you. He leaned down and placed his mouth over your clit and gave one initial swipe of his tongue before sucking.

You were already close. And it would be embarrassing if it didn't feel so good.

Your back was arching up away from the sofa and Taehyung watched with glossy eyes as you came undone all over his fingers. You were still so tight, but he couldn't spend one more moment without you on his cock.

He leaned down to lick at your clit once more, taking in what was left over after you came. You legs almost snapped shut from the overstimulation, but he held them down on the sofa.

Once he felt satisfied, and Taehyung would soon learn he could never get enough of you, he brought you around to the other side of the sofa. You were practically clinging onto him because your legs refused to walk without wobbling.

His mouth was hot on yours again. Tongue finding its way inside of your mouth to swipe against your own. He bit at your lip softly and pulled back to look at you in the soft light of the living room. "You are so beautiful."

He turned you around and bent you over his leather sofa. One hand wrapping around your hair and the other swiping the head of his cock back and forth at your entrance.

"I need you to say it, (y/n). Say what you want." He pushed in slightly just to watch your legs squirm and hear you moan.

"Fuck me over your sofa, Tae. Pull my hair and fuck me."

Taehyung groaned and at that he thrusted fully inside of you for the first time. The stretch was intense, but it felt delicious. He quickly found a comfortable rhythm and set a torturous pace. "You're taking my cock so well baby. You were made for me."

The bundle of nerves in your belly started to grow with familiar intensity as he praised you.

"I'm going to come again soon Tae. You fill me up so good." That earned you deeper and slower thrusts and he released your hair.

"Yeah? Fuck, me too. Been thinking about this for too long." His hand moved to wrap around your throat as his thrusts became sloppier.

He stopped just briefly to spin you around to face him. "I want to look at you when you come." He bent down and placed his forehead on yours. You reached up and pulled his lips over yours once more before leaning back.

.................

The both of you were laying on the floor of the living room, panting with sweat prickling your brow. Your hands were intertwined and Taehyung brought yours up to kiss your palm.

"What do I have to do to be able to do that again?" You laughed and threw you hands over your eyes. Still in shock over what had just happened. Truly, you weren't looking forward to telling Jimin that he was right, but another orgasm or two would make up for it.

"How about making me those matcha cookies and then we can go for round two?" You leaned down and kissed Taehyung again. You don't think you'll ever get tired of doing so.

"Deal."

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 19 - Chasing Silhouettes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood.

Word Count: 3800

Summary: Truce can be inevitable. 

It was safe to say that you were officially off your rocker after the break up. Stress? Check. No sleep? Check. Getting drunk mid-day? Check.

Looking a serial killer in the eye and threatening him?

Also check.

The constant anger was gone though. That blinding fury was gone, the fear was gone, the only thing you felt was numbness. It was as if you were watching everything happening around you from behind a glass, it was there but you couldn’t touch it or feel it.

With one exception; you missed Spencer each and every minute of the day, so you at least knew there was something left inside of you that wasn’t broken. But after what had happened, it wasn’t like you could call him. You had already left him multiple voice messages whenever you got too drunk anyway, and you were sure he had deleted them without even listening.

Not that you could blame him. He had already told you he wished he had never met you, and there was nothing you could do to change that.

“You guys will get back together,” Kenzie assured you like the hopeless romantic she was, “This is just temporary. I just know it, it’s like me and Mina. You can’t stop true love.”

“I doubt Mina ever told you she never loved you,” you stated, exhaling the smoke of your cigarette. “Or that you told her you wish you had never met her.”

She stole a look at Mina who was waiting for your lattes by the counter and turned to you.

“Well alright, maybe you and Spencer are having a more intense fight than we did, but—“

“This is not a fight, Kenz. We broke up.”

“You broke up with him,” she corrected you, “And you’re still in love with him.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I burned that bridge, okay? After this whole case is over, he will want nothing to do with me—hell, he wants nothing to do with me right now and I don’t blame him.”

“Okay,” Mina said as she came to your table and handed you your latte before sitting down, “What are we talking about?”

“Her and Spencer.”

“Yeah no, fuck that guy.”

Kenzie gasped, “Babe!”

“Kenz, he’s in the FBI, okay? He was there when they brought her into that interrogation room.”

“He wasn’t there when they took me to the station.”

“Fine, he came later on but did nothing to stop his beloved team from hounding you.”

“Mina, he was in another room.”

“You can’t possibly believe he didn’t know what was happening in the interrogation room,” she insisted and Kenzie pulled her brows together.

“Wait, didn’t you say he was the one who called you? For the lawyers and everything?”

Mina shrugged, “Yeah, so? That was just because this one,” she pointed at you, “Was too much of an idiot to ask for a lawyer. What, did you never watch a movie? You always ask for a lawyer.”

“But think about it, it means that he was trying to protect her from that whole interrogation process before he even landed,” Kenzie stated, “He knows how that whole thing goes, he made the calls, he gave his professional opinion to the police, he sent his team because they wouldn’t let him in there, it wouldn’t surprise me if he thought they’d go easy on her.”

You held the warm cup in your hands, listening silently.

“Or he just wanted to play the nice guy so that he could manipulate her more.”

You pulled your brows together, “Dude, he’s not manipulating me.”

“Not right now.”

“Not ever,” you said, “That’s not… that wasn’t the reason. Kenzie has a point, he was trying to get me out of there with minimum damage, and he knows how the system works.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why you need to talk to him and explain—“

“Enough people got hurt because of me,” you cut Kenzie off, “Died, even. It would destroy me if it was him, okay? Me staying away is better for him, at least he will stay alive.”

Mina scoffed, “Not that your heartbreak is not important, but I need to bitch at you before I forget,” she said, “How could you not tell me Nolan was planning to propose mom?”

Kenzie smiled, “I think it’s sweet.”

“I think it’s a fucking disaster.”

“Oh come on,” you murmured, sipping your coffee, “You’ve seen them together, haven’t you? It’s bound to happen, he’s head over heels and mom can’t stop talking about him.”

Mina let out a whine, “I’m a good person,” she murmured, “I give to charity and stuff, I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re not ten years old you idiot, a stepfather will not disturb any dynamics you have.”

“He will though!” she protested, “To repeat, he is basically my boss, okay?”

“He’s a lot of people’s boss.”

“Yeah, do you know what people will think when I finally make partner?” she asked you, “That my brand new stepdaddy pulled some strings.”

“Please don’t call him stepdaddy, that’s just disturbing.” Kenzie made a face and Mina heaved a sigh.

“How are you so okay with this?” she asked you and you tilted your head.

“Mina, there’s a killer who’s going after people I know and making sure I see that,” you started, counting with your fingers,  “I’ve been drugged at my own apartment—in my own bedroom only to find my ex boyfriend’s dead body in my kitchen. I’ve been accused of murder, been handcuffed, interrogated and broke up with the love of my life. The last past week, I got maybe five hours of sleep and oh, before I forget, I also threatened our original serial killer father with death just a couple of days ago. Does it look like I’m in the right mental state to worry about getting a new stepdaddy?”

“To repeat, can you guys stop calling him stepdaddy?”

“What did you tell him when he asked for your blessing?” you asked and Mina rolled her eyes.

“I told him that mom is a grown woman,” she said, “She doesn’t need our permission to do anything. If she wants to get married to the guy who has apparently loved her for decades… who am I to say no to that?”

You tilted your head, “You were nice?” you asked in disbelief, “You’re never nice.”

“Eh, I have my moments.”

“What’s the real reason?”

Mina pointed at Kenzie with her thumb, “She said to be nice.”

“You’re so whipped.”

“You are seriously going to sit there and call me whipped when you’ve been wailing for the last month, miss I shall suffer forever after my lost love even though he was two seconds away from handcuffing me and not in a fun way?”

“He wasn’t-“

“Both of you are being too cynical about Nolan,” Kenzie interrupted you and grinned wide, “I mean come on, doesn’t it make you believe in love all over again?”

“It makes me want to get booze because I’ll never have that, Kenz,” you murmured and she pulled her brows together.

“Oh don’t be like that.”

“Kenz he was the love of my life and I lost—“

“I’m leaving if you start crying into your latte,” Mina deadpanned, “And please don’t say that you’ll plan Nolan’s proposal or God forbid, their wedding.”

“My client list is full.”

She let out a laugh, “You realize we all know that’s your favorite excuse when you don’t want to accept a client, right?” she asked you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” you said and checked your wristwatch, “Well, I gotta get back to the office, I have this meeting and then I have two other meetings with these new pastry shops.”

“Hey, brat?” Mina stopped you as soon as you stood up and you tilted your head.

“Yeah?”

“You’re okay, right?” she asked, “Besides this whole mess?”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to smile, “I’m not but I will be.”

“Will you?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I mean I have to, right? There’s not much of an option there.”

Mina looked like she wanted to insist, but Kenzie squeezed her hand, silently telling her to drop it before you made your way through the street to approach the building your office was in. You nodded at the security guards then got in the elevator and pressed the button.

When the elevator got to your floor the doors opened but your assistant rushed to you as soon as you stepped outside

“Y/N, hi! You haven’t been answering your phone.”

“Shit, I forgot it on silent,” you murmured and checked it to see five calls from her, “Five calls? Erica, did you guys catch fire or something?”

“I was actually thinking maybe you would want to come to the balcony with me, you know, to get some fresh air before your meeting?”

You pulled your brows together, “What’s going on?”

“We didn’t know if we should call you or left them downstairs but…” she said, making your heart skip a beat.

“What is it?”

“Remember the time you said you were allergic to jasmines?”

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms, “Yeah?”

She pointed at something over your shoulder and you turned your head, your breathing catching up in your throat as someone opened the glass door to go outside.

There was a bowl full of jasmine flower petals but you could still take the overly sweet scent. Bile climbed up your throat as you walked through the door to approach the reception desk, and as soon as you saw what was in the middle of the petals, the room started spinning.

A vial of blood.

“Are you dating like a goth guy?” Erica asked as you took a step back, the walls closing in on you.

“Call the FBI,” you gasped as you rushed to the balcony, desperate for air, “Now.”

                                            ***

Panic attacks were a big part of your childhood, and even if you weren’t completely unfamiliar with them as an adult, they still managed to take you by surprise.

It took you nearly an hour to pull yourself together. An hour of sitting there in the balcony, your knees drawn up to your chest as your mind desperately searched for something to focus on, something to hold on to.

Some happy place.

By the time FBI had gotten there, your makeup was smudged around your eyes due to the excessive crying, your whole body was shaky and you were so exhausted that you could barely will yourself to get up and walk to your office.

The jasmine scent still clung to the air though.

You didn’t even have any energy to keep your eyes open, your whole mind wrapped in that numb haze that kept pulling you deeper and deeper into the absolute nothingness as you sat there on the couch, multiple agents coming and going into the office, into the reception, into your floor.

Dr Tara Lewis, Spencer’s coworker had given you a small bottle of hand lotion so that you could take in a scent other than those flowers before she had shot you a sympathetic smile and left your office to talk with the reception.

Even raising your hand to wipe at your nose with the tissue balled up in your palm felt way too tiring for you, but you wiped your nose, your eyes still fixed on the wall as the glass door to your office opened once again and footsteps came closer.

You didn’t even have to raise your head as Spencer approached you before he knelt down to look you in the eye.

“Hi.”

You blinked a couple of times, “Hi,” you sniffled, “Is it okay if we don’t do this today?”

He raised his brows, “Don’t do what?”

“I’m too tired to fight,” your speech was almost slurred at this point but you pulled your brows together, forcing yourself to focus as much as you could. “So can we do that tomorrow please? Like truce for a day?”

He offered you a tight lipped smile, “I’m not here to fight,” he said gently, as if trying to pull you back to the reality without scaring you, “Truce for a day works for me.”

You picked at the crumpled tissue in your hand, “Thank you.”

“Do you think you can talk to me though?”

You nodded silently, wiping at your nose again. “Yes.”

“Great,” he said, his calm voice washing over you, “That’s good. What’re you thinking about right now?”

“I’m thinking…” you tried to put your thoughts in order, “Tara gave me a peach hand lotion, can you give it back to her after you’re done here?”

“Sure,” he said, “That’s a good thing to focus on. What else?”

“It’s not my dad,” you said, “My dad wouldn’t dare to fuck with me, not after- it’s not him.”

“Tell me something other than the case.”

You willed yourself to concentrate on his handsome face, “Do I look like a horror movie corpse right now?”

He scoffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “You look beautiful Y/N. You always do.”

“The only person who’s a bigger liar than you is that makeup artist that told me this eyeliner was waterproof.”

He reached out to tilt your chin up so that his hazel gaze could study you better, and even in your numb state you could feel the warmth spreading through your body with his touch, “How long have you been awake?”

“I dozed off for like an hour last night,” you murmured, “I have this new apartment but I can’t sleep in my bedroom because I keep thinking there’s some noise coming from the kitchen, like… like it’s going to happen again. It’s impossible though, there are like five different locks on that door, someone would have to come with a battering ram to open the damn thing but I still don’t feel safe enough to—to sleep.”

He thought for a moment, “You can’t sleep because you don’t feel safe,” he murmured and you heaved a sigh, your head dropping before you forced yourself to raise it again, making a face.

“I’ve never tried peach lotion before, it smells nice…” you mused, your gaze fixed on the wall while the black spots flew in your vision “Have you ever tried it? Also hypothetically speaking, what happens if you eat lotion? Like do you think—“

“Y/N,” his clear voice shot through the haze again, “Sweetheart, look at me.”

If you weren’t too goddamn tired, the pet name would make you snap out of it and even give you a spark of hope, but you could barely concentrate on what was happening.

“Can you do something for me?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, anything.”

“Lie down.” he said and you pulled your brows together.

“Why?”

“We’ll try something,” he said, stealing a look outside to the reception crawling with agents before turning to you as you curled up on the couch, still holding the tissue tight in your hand, your eyes getting heavy the minute your head hit the small pillow.

“What are we trying?” you managed to ask through the fog and he smiled softly.

“Close your eyes, for thirty seconds,” he said, “Just focus on your breathing. I’m right here, okay? Can you do that for me?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, counting in your head.

You didn’t even reach fifteen before the sleep surrounded you.

                                                      ***

You were pulled away from the bliss when someone shook you by the shoulder gently.

“Y/N,” Erica’s voice reached you, “Y/N, wake up.”

You opened your eyes groggily, frowning. It was already dark outside and there was nearly no one in the office except for her and you. You attempted to sit up but stopped as soon as Spencer’s cologne filled your nostrils and you looked down at the jacket covering you.

He must’ve left his jacket on you while you slept in order to keep you from getting cold.

You could feel the small spark of peace shooting through you, the warmth spreading through your veins as you hugged the jacket tighter around your body and cleared your throat.

“What time is it?”

“Eight,” she shot you a small smile, “Um, everyone left and I figured you’d get a stiff back if you sleept on the couch any longer.”

“Erica,” you said, “You didn’t have to stay.”

“Come on, I wouldn’t leave you here alone after today,” she said, “Besides, I told that tall handsome agent that I’d drive you home. His team was called back to the FBI, some clue or whatever.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, I’d be a lousy assistant if I didn’t.”

“No, I mean—“ you swallowed thickly, “Thank you. It means more than you know to me.”

She grinned at you as you grabbed your purse and both of you made your way to the elevator.

“So I take it there’s no goth boyfriend but…” she said as the elevator went down, “Maybe a tall handsome flirt?”

“We broke up,” you murmured and she scoffed.

“Yeah no.”

You blinked a couple of times, “Erica, I’m pretty sure we broke up. I was there—“

“No I mean,” she huffed while you left the elevator to approach her car, “I have a talent to sense these sort of things you see. He doesn’t look at you like you broke up, and that jacket over you certainly doesn’t say you broke up.”

You got in the car with her and she started it.

“Is it because of your dad?” she asked you and your head shot up.

“What? How did you-?”

“It’s a small office, people talk,” she said as if apologizing, “But don’t worry, we all know that’s not the kind of person you are. I even had a fight with my boyfriend about it, but I told him that I knew you, you would never be able to do something like that. He was like you don’t know what people are capable of and I was like well...”

You were way too tired to answer her, so you let her talk about the time how she was great at sensing people’s true motives and how her boyfriend thought you were capable of murder while you sat in her car as she drove you to your place. You thanked her, your mind still fuzzy with sleep and made your way to your apartment.

After checking if all five locks were in their places and counting them in your head, you kicked off your heels and made your way to the fridge to get the bottle of whiskey. You took a swig of it and went to the couch, turning on the TV and leaning back to the soft cushions. You slowly took the jacket off and pulled it over your body, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.

Maybe you could just imagine that you two were together, just for tonight.

You managed to distract yourself for a couple of hours, just sitting there and staring at the TV, barely paying attention to what was playing. By the time it was midnight, you had reached the half of the bottle and looked down at your phone for a couple of seconds before finding his name in the contacts.

You didn’t have to wait for long, and for once it didn’t go to voice mail.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you smiled, “Um… is the truce still on? Or should I— should I hang up?”

“No,” he said almost too quickly, “No, don’t. We have today, don’t we? Might as well use the truce until the end.”

“Okay,” you whispered, “Thanks, by the way. For today. I can imagine how hard it is for you—“

“No,” his voice was soft, “No you really can’t.”

A silence fell upon you and you grabbed a tissue, wiping at your eyes,

“Professor?”

“Hm?”

“What does science say about heartbreak? Hypothetically speaking?”

“About heartbreak?”

“Yeah.”

He cleared his throat, “Considering the stimulation that increases dopamine and-“

“In a way that I will understand while I’m half drunk?”

“Addiction.”

You pulled back to look at the phone, “Addiction?”

“You know the areas of your brain that are active when you’re in love? Those areas are also active when you use…well, you name it. Cocaine. Drugs. Nicotine.”

“So that means heartbreak means-“

“Withdrawals,” he finished your sentence for you, “Exactly.”

You grabbed another tissue from the box on the coffee table, wiping at your nose.

“Spencer, what if it goes on like this forever?” you rasped out, “This whole heartbreak. What if I feel like this forever? What if I… What if I’m like seventy and I still—“

Love you.

“Miss you,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, “What if I’m old and gray and still using your jacket as a blanket?”

“That’s what you’re doing right now?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, “Pathetic right?”

“I recorded that show you liked and still can’t bring myself to delete it,” he admitted, “I don’t even watch it, it’s just there. You sure you want to talk about pathetic with me?”

You let out a bitter laugh, “Nah, still no competition professor. I still call you whenever I’m drunk, remember? You’re handling this way better than me, you still have your dignity.”

“I saw a fridge magnet in a store a week ago and I actually walked in there to buy it before I remembered I couldn’t give it to you,” he paused, “I’m not handling anything, Y/N. I’m a mess, it’s like…”

You held your breath, waiting for him to continue.

“You took something with you on your way out,” he said slowly, “And I don’t know what to do with what’s left, to be honest.”

“My chest actually hurts when I see you, you know?” you murmured, “And I still haven’t deleted the pictures.”

“Me neither.”

You picked at the tissue in your hand, “So much for Dante and Beatrice huh?”

“All things considered, they’d handle it worse than us.”

“I doubt anyone could handle it worse than us, professor.”

“No think about it,” he said, “We had….we had each other, at least. They didn’t technically lose each other, because they were never together.”

“It’s still romantic.”

“Dante saw Beatrice twice in his life,” he told you, “Once when they were nine, once when they were both adults. Twice in his whole life. Ignore the poems, what would you do if a guy you saw when you were nine showed up years and years later, proclaiming his undying love for you?”

“Call the police?” you said, making him chuckle.

“There you go.”

“When you put romanticism aside, Beatrice should’ve gotten a restraining order.”

“They didn’t have those back then, Y/N.”

You let out a small giggle, “Yeah yeah…” you murmured, “So what does that mean then? We’re more tragic than Dante and Beatrice?”

He sniffled and cleared his throat, “Yeah,” he said, “I think that’s what it means.”

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, “It’s not going to get easier, is it?” you croaked out after almost a minute of silence and he thought for a moment.

“I don’t think so,” he said, “Not for me anyway.”

“Not for me either,” you murmured and wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, burying your nose to the collar of his jacket draped over you.

If you closed your eyes, maybe it would stop hurting this much. You touched your screen to get to your gallery, then found your picture together, both of you smiling at the camera, unaware of the heartbreak that would hit you both very soon.

“Good night Dante,” you whispered and Spencer exhaled a shaky breath, as if he was craving the addictive high of your presence as much as you did his.

“Good night Beatrice.”

Chapter 20

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

History's Greatest Villains

History’s Greatest Villains by katydid

All Might and Izuku travel back in time, rescue child All for One and First, and sort of become villains.

Words: 3800, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Series: Part 11 of The Deconstruction of a Villain, Part 57 of Dad for One oneshots and twoshots

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Sensei | All For One, Yoichi | First One For All User, Yotsubashi Chikara | Destro

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Izuku & Sensei | All For One, Midoriya Izuku & Yoichi | First One For All User, Sensei | All For One & Yagi Toshinori | All Might

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, dadmight, Sensei | All For One is Midoriya Hisashi, Quirk Accident, De-Aged Sensei | All For One, First One For All User is alive, Scary Midoriya Izuku, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Villain Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Villain Midoriya Izuku, but for a good cause, They're both still cinnamon rolls your honor, Corrupt Hero Public Safety Commission, Good Person Sensei | All For One, Yagi Toshinori | All Might's Villain Name is All Smite, Time Travel Fix-It, Yes this is crack treated seriously again

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38771286

[themoonslore]

Neckz’n Throat Teen Wolf Fan Fic Recs Part 2

Ready For Those Flashing Light by rightsidethru

Word Count: 5363 Chapters 1/1 Steter

Being a college student is hard, especially when you have a more obscure major (if only because the price of your textbooks seem to be geared to how many times you can break down and sob hopelessly while in the campus bookstore).

So when Stiles is given the chance to make some quick money, well... he'd be an idiot not to take it, right?

All he has to do is stand there and look pretty and let the photographer do his job.

...oh, God. Stiles has made a Horrible Life Decision.

You’re an understatement (you’re getting worse) by LadySlytherin

Word Count: 13510 Chapter 1/1 Steter

Erica’s goal in life was to be hired by Neckz’n’Throats. Not as a model, though she knew she was hot enough for that. No, she wanted to be behind the camera. And to do that, she needed two things. A glowing recommendation, and a portfolio that would grab their attention; that would make them take her seriously. For that, she needed the right models. Thankfully, she knew just who to ask.

Saving you, Saving me by leela

Word Count: 5154 Chapter 1/1 Sterek

“Damn,” the guy says, clinging to Derek in something that almost feels like a hug, “saved by my very own superwolf.”

Let me give you my life by gryvon

Word Count: 3800 Chapter 1/1 Steter

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Stiles,” he says. He even means it. Stiles is a lovely young thing and he loves when people can keep up with his attitude. “As far as stage names go, you could do better.”

Stiles huffs, but Boyd speaks up before Stiles can respond. “That’s his nickname. His real name is much worse and his cam name is stupid. Now can we get on with it?”

Stiles mutters, “It’s not stupid.”

“I’m sure it’s perfectly fine.” Peter takes Stiles’s hand and bows over it to press a kiss against Stiles’s knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear. I look forward to ravishing you in today’s shoot.”

Claimed by MetasyntacticVariable

Word Count: 7610 Chapter 1/1 Sterek

“Lydia, it's 9am on a Saturday. Someone had better be bleeding or on fire.”

“Get dressed and come to the studio,” Lydia responded sweetly.

“Lydia,” Stiles explained again, patiently, “9am. On Saturday.”

“Stiles,” Lydia replied. “Do you want to make $3000 for one morning's work?”

Alpha, Beta, Omega, and one human by Vincetmeoblinn

Word Count: 47840 Chapter 16/16 Sterek

stiles needs money fast in order to survive from month to month as a single dad. When he gets an offer to work for a skin magazine turned porn studio, he initially refuses it only to realize he's got no options left. His handsome co-star has a nasty disposition, but hopefully the Stilinski charm can win him over.

part 1   part 2   part 3  part 4

[kueble]

2021 Year in Review

I wanted to do a fic roundup for the year. I posted a total of 271,996 words to Ao3 this year! That's crazy to me! Below you'll find my two favorite fics from each month (one sfw and one nsfw). Some months were harder to pick than others, but I'm very proud of everything I've accomplished this year. Let's hope 2022 goes just as well!

I am well aware that the majority of these are Geraskier, but that's my bread and butter, so it is what it is lol.

My overall favorite is the Geraskier Big Bang I wrote and posted in July: It's a Hungry World, Explicit, 25,000 words, Prophecy claims to have a lot in store for Fae Prince Julian. As the younger prince, he's not destined to rule, but is meant to lead his mother's troops to victory. He wants no part of it, and finds himself enamored with the human realm instead of his own. He doesn't mean to fall in love with one of them, especially one who doesn't love him back, but it turns out no one can escape their destiny...or love.

January

Bit of a Mess - Geraskier, Teen, 1300 words, Jaskier helps Geralt take care of a new scar.

All Dolled Up - Geraskier, Explicit, 2700 words, Jaskier gets dressed up for himself.

February

Imagined Flaws and All - Geraskier, Teen, 1200 words, Geralt has a rough day and Jaskier can't help making him feel better.

Glowing - Geraskier, Explicit, 2500 words, Jaskier accidentally finds out Geralt has a thing for being spanked.

March

Perfect Pair - Geraskier, Gen, 1100 words, Jaskier is hurt on a hunt, and Geralt thinks this is how he loses him.

Like Vines, We Intertwined - Geraskier/Leshen, Explicit, 1500 words, A leshen comes across Geralt and Jaskier while they're going at it. Everyone has a good time.

April

Guilty Pleasure - Geraskier, Teen, 2800 words, Ciri begs Geralt to take her to see a local band and the singer is really something else.

Let's Use Them Up 'til Every Little Piece Is Gone - Geraskier, Explicit, Mass Effect Crossover, 6200 words, Jaskier knows the minute Geralt Rivia steps foot on Omega.

(mer)May

Rubies in the Sun - Lambden, Teen, 2100 words, Aiden had made him promise that if he ever got seriously hurt, he’d get him into the nearest body of water.

Indulgent - Geraskier, Explicit, 3500words, Jaskier books an afternoon at the private baths in the hopes that he can convince Geralt to transform for him.

June

If You'll Let Me - Jaskel, Teen, 1400 words, Jaskier is quite taken by the shy witcher.

I Wanna Live a Life From a New Perspective - Geraskier, Explicit, words, Jaskier can't help admiring Geralt's body while he bathes after a contract gone wrong.

July

Stars in His Eyes - Jaskier/Dandelion, Teen, 1500 words, Jaskier has been secretive all day and Dandelion is heartbroken over it.

I'm Trying to Keep From Going Under - Geralt/Jaskier/Eskel, Explicit, 3800 words, Incubus!Jaskier goes into heat and Geralt knows he needs help riding it out.

August

Drenched - Geraskier, Teen, 800 words, Geralt tries to cheer Jaskier up after he gets dumped.

No Matter How Lovely - Geraskier, Explicit, 6700 words, Geralt does his best to ignore the growing feelings his has for his pint sized companion. Spoiler: it doesn't work.

September

Just Kitten Around - Geraskier, Mature, 2000 words, Jaskier isn't sure how Geralt will react when he brings up kitten play.

I Wanna Hear You Sing the Praise - Geraskier, Explicit, 3200 words, Jaskier wants a mating bite, but Geralt can only do that in his werewolf form. Thankfully, nobody minds.

October

Out of Commission - Geralt/Eskel, Teen, 1100 words, Eskel wakes up in a bed, not quite sure how he got there.

Hold My Hand (Oh Baby, it's a Long Way Down) - Geralt/Jaskier/Eskel, 4200 words, “You need to mate?” Geralt asks, and he can practically feel Eskel vibrating next to him. How does he end up in these situations?

November

So Easy - Geraskier, Teen, 1100 words, Jaskier has a bad day and Geralt helps him relax afterwards.

Forget Me Knot - Geraskier, Explicit, 1500 words, Jaskier has a new toy and an afternoon to himself...or so he thinks.

December

Tactile - Geraskier, Teen, 1600 words, Jaskier has always been a very tactile person, and the lack of casual touches has started to eat away at him.

Stay - Geraskier, Explicit, 2400 words, Instead of hugs or apologies, they fuck.