#AND I HOPED YOUR FEELINGS FOR ME WOULD AT LEAST KEEP THE LEASH SLACK! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hopefulstarfire · 2 years ago

Text

Give it up for day 3 of my valentines ship prompts!! Honestly I'm so excited that the writings been coming a lot easier with the prompts and maybe I might start challenging myself a bit more with these kinda things every month? We shall see.

Prompt 26: First Kiss

I had a few ideas for this one but this one flooded my brain and I knew I had to do it so have some futureshipping! Little bit of dual perspectives and we get a little look at post series and these two dorks getting together so it's a bit longer.

Previous Days Prompts

Day One || Two

Hope you enjoy!

If you asked Seto, their first kiss was at the party they met at when they were 12.

It had been a stifling gala his step-father had dragged him and Mokuba to, all flooded with people in his circle or ran in similar ones. Not many brought children, or even really had any at the time that weren't already fully grown, and those that did tended to stick by their parents side. Gozaburo tried his hardest to keep a tight leash on both the brothers, but even he got distracted by other patrons and allowed them to sneak away for a moments reprieve to go get refreshments.

It was a surprise to find a girl poke out from underneath the white linen covered table, reaching up to steal a cookie. It was more surprising when it clicked in his mind that those bright green eyes and signature pink ribbon tied in her long brown waves was the Kat Pegasus.

There was that initial moment of awe, knowing he was standing in front of Duel Monsters royalty. He opened his mouth to speak before Mokuba stepped up from behind him. "Why are you sitting under the buffet table?"

"Cause if brains were leather, most of the people here wouldn't have enough combined to saddle a junebug." She scoffed, her accent as smooth as butter. "Apparently, bein' elite and hoity toity takes up all the room for common decency and brain power, and I just don't feel like putting on airs." Her expression softened as she lifted up the table cloth. "You guys wanna come hang out with me? Looks like y'all could use a break from the party too."

Mokuba nodded excitedly, looking up at his brother. "Can we?"

Seto hesitated, glancing around. If Gozaburo caught them slacking off, it would mean nothing but trouble.

But...this was a big opportunity for him. In the long run, he wanted to turn the family company into a gaming one; they'd need connections to I2 for what he wanted to do. It made sense from a business standpoint to get close to the heiress and sister of the creator of the company.

And she was the best Duelist he'd ever seen. He was at least curious.

It didn't have anything at all to do with the fact he thought she was beautiful. No. Not at all.

"Alright, but we have to be careful." He told Mokuba quietly and his brothers eyes lit up before he climbed under the table to join her. Seto did one more sweep of the room before doing the same. "Thanks for inviting us."

Kat smiled, shaking her head. "It's nice to have the company!" She laughed, before gesturing to herself. "Memawd be upset if I forgot my manners. I'm--"

"You're Kat Pegasus!" Mokuba said, excitedly, sitting up a bit more. "You're one of the best Duelists in the world!"

She blinked, taken by surprise before a grin washed over her face and her eyes sparkled as she leaned in, putting her weight on her hands. "Y'all play Duel Monsters??"

Seto rubbed the back of his neck. "We want to. We just never have the time." It was an easy enough excuse.

"We saw your matches on TV! You're so cool!" His brother continued, before he gestured between him and his brother. "I'm Mokuba! And this is my big brother, Seto!"

She softened. "Well, it's certainly nice meeting you guys!" A lightbulb seemed to go off as she snapped her fingers. Sitting back, her hand dug around in the purse over her shoulder and she pulled out two decks and Seto let out a tiny gasp. "Would you guys wanna play? I know you said you don't really get a chance to, and I got an extra Deck if yall need--"

"Of course we would!" Seto said earnestly, leaning forward and his hands brushed hers. Both of them realized what they had done and their cheeks flushed pink.

She laughed sheepishly, clearing her throat. "G-great! Cool cool cool! Here, take this -- let's get this Duel on, yeah?"

They spent the majority of the night there, hiding underneath the table, away from prying eyes and responsibilities and a cruel stepfather and busybody older brother, chatting away and playing Duel Monsters. Mokuba didn't have as much success, but Seto, despite not using those cards before, still secured his wins in every match they played. It was impressive and invigorating --

It was what he realized he wanted to keep doing; to keep winning and become the very best.

Especially as a fire seemed to burn in his opponent, fueled by determination and passion.

They lost track of time. At some point, they heard shuffling around and a gruff, stern voice calling out. "Seto? Mokuba?"

Seto great stiff and his jaw clenched. Something told him Gozaburo wasn't gonna be happy they disappeared. His hand found Mokubas and he shot Kat an apologetic loom. "We have to go," he told her quietly, reaching out to hand her back the deck. "Thank you--"

She saw the trepidation and folded his fingers over the deck and gave him a wink. "Keep it. You won that deck fair and square." Her gaze looked towards where the linen hung, where the voice was coming from. "That your dad?"

"Step-father."

"Mm." She held out her hand, smiling. "I'll go with ya. Most people can't stay mad at this face."

Gozaburo wasn't most people.

He shouldn't take the help. No one else should get involved, it was a sign of weakness.

But she held out her hand and gave him the softest smile and he couldn't help but follow her out.

She paused when she saw who his stepfather was.

"Mr. Kaiba, good to see you again." She greeted, managing a tight lipped smile. "Been a long time, huh?"

He hadnt expedted the flash of recognition in the mans eyes; the sneer of disgust came with the territory. "...You're Evangelines youngest, aren't you?"

"Kat Mercer," she affirmed. It wasn't a name he really ever heard in connection with her; he'd later find out the reason why was to try and distance herself from the constant talk of her family tragedies. "I haven't seen you since Mères funeral."

He bit back a scoff. "We've been very busy, young lady. Running my company and all that," he looked to his sons. "I see you've been putting up with my boys."

"Oh we had a blast!" She told him. "They're great. You should be proud." She glanced at them with a grin. "I hope they can come to more parties; I need someone who can give me a challenge."

"They're too busy," he gritted out. It was usually out of character for him to be that terse with people that werent him or his brother. Seto would later learn why; Gozaburo was only fond of her damned mother, and her sister who resembled her. Kat had too much of her father in her. "Where's your handler?"

"Handler would imply I could manage to wrangle my sister in." A familiar voice drawled out.

Setos eyes went wide as the very creator of his favorite game strolled into view, boredly waving a champagne flute with a smirk.

"Gozaburo! My, has the time just flown by," Maximillion Pegasus drawled out, waving off handedly. "Thank you for finding Kitty Girl for me." He looked to her, brow cocking upwards. "I see you've made friends!"

"I found someone able to actually beat me." She laughed, nudging Seto gently.

"Well, a little rivalry always does your heart good," her brother teased before smiling at the boys. "Thank you for spending the evening with her. She tends to go stir crazy at these things."

Seto stared up at him before bowing. "It was our pleasure, Mr. Pegasus, sir!"

Gozaburo crossed his arms, eyeing the two before turning to his sons and Mokuba shrank under his gaze. "We have to be leaving now."

Kat turned to the boys, biting her lip at the man's tone before scoffing. "It's alright. Can't be standin' round here smelling the cow manure coming off you." She mumbled in disgust and she didn't even flinch at the glare that garnished her.

She was completely unafraid of the man.

Her attention stayed on them as she ruffled Mokubas hair; her free hand was subtly reaching for her purse. "I hope I see you guys soon! Maybe we can get you out for the next tournament!" She turned to Seto and her cheeks flushed pink before she leaned in, pressing her lips to his cheek, right by the corner of his mouth as her hand found his free one, slipping what felt like a business card into his palm. Her brothers number. A way out, if they ever needed it. His heart hammered away from both actions.

She pulled away, tucking stray locks of hair behind her ear as both of their faces warmed up. "Thanks for tonight. Bye!"

With that, she hurried off to join her brother as they left, Maximillion giving them a wave as he wrapped his arm around his sister, a teasing smirk growing on his face; one that resembled the Cheshire cat.

Seto watched as she left, and for a moment, everything else faded and all he saw was her.

...Oh, this could be a problem.

°°°

If you asked Kat, their actual first kiss wasn't until years later, when they were 18 and after life had finally started settling down.

Well, as settled down as it was ever going to get for their group. Or as much as it could for a single mother to a 4 month old.

It was hard to believe a year had past since they had been forced to say goodbye to Atem; even harder to believe it had been that long since Bakura was ripped away from her.

The firsts, the big moments, were hard without him there. Those first few weeks after his spirit was gone was...hell. She rarely left her bed, she cried and cried, and just barely found herself surviving. The realization that, despite all leaps in logic, she ended up pregnant, was even harder. She had figured it out to be magic; it explained the complications, on top of, well, how it happened when they'd never gone that far, and the night he gave her the Ring to see his true form, well...she knew what his magic could do. She knew what he had done in the past with leaving pieces of his soul behind as "insurance".

She highly doubted a baby was what he had in mind with it, but here they were.

Their son was really all she had left of him beyond memories, the knife she kept on her at all times and a simple ring she couldn’t bring herself to wear in her grief. He had made the difference in trying to help her get herself back together, so she could be the best version of herself for him.

The others had helped more than she could ever dream of or hope for.

But none more than, surprisingly, Seto.

He'd been the first person to know about the pregnancy, mainly because he'd figured it out at a gala he was hosting and then he quickly had to take her the hospital when she passed out from high blood pressure. That had been an Eventful evening, to say the least. But, since then, he'd been the one taking her to doctors appointments, helping set everything up, running and getting her the best onion rings money could buy because it had been her big craving and one of the only things she could hold down. Hell, he bought her the best crib on the market by the end of her first trimester, and argued with Maddox -- a man who had done this twice now with the twins -- as they tried to figure out how to put the crib together. Hell, he even let her break his hand when she delivered Jason and honored her request of not leaving his side when they whisked him off to NICU while the doctors took care of her.

Jason was the greatest gift Kat had ever gotten. She loved him more than anything. But, if he was her son and stars, then he was Setos little dragon. He'd helped out wherever he could, loved spending time with him, and even that night, came over because Jason wasn't feeling well and he was one of the only people that could calm the baby down enough to go to sleep when he was just not having it.

It gave her time to at least get some self care in that night. She got in a shower after she'd basically neglected it for a couple of days taking care of him, did her skincare routine in it's entirety and settled on some leggings and a cute tank top. She was pulling her hair into a messy bun, adjusting the soft pink headband she'd put on to keep her hair out of her face, as she headed back towards his nursery.

Her heart melted as she found Seto in the old family rocking chair her Uncle Wes had brought over, cradling Jason in one arm as the baby's eyes drooped, as one of the many, many books the family had stock piled for him rested in his free hand as he read it out loud to him. His own expression had softened, and there was even a small smile tugging at his lips; it was a look once only reserved for his siblings, but now extended out to her little boy.

He was more like theirs.

She leaned against the doorframe, fingers tugging gently at the locket around her neck as she watched them. Jason was hers and Bakuras, the best halves of both of them, and yet Seto had stepped in every step of the way for that little boy. He had been a father where Bakura, unfortunately, couldn't, having to watch them from wherever he was in the afterlife. She was thankful for that.

...And he had been a partner for her.

She'd had a crush on him before. Back when she first met him, and, while she had heavily denied it, for the better part of their time as rivals. She thought they were all gone and faded away by the time her and Bakura were together, and they had subsided for a time. But, then they started pouring back, and she tried to brush them off as hormones, still not ready to jump back into a relationship, and yet, even four months after giving birth, they only grew stronger.

Of course they had. She and him spent every day together practically, and video chatting on days they weren't. They practically flirted with every conversation. They even were able to hug -- something almost unheard of with him -- and he'd let her curl against him on the couch. Hell, when the anniversary of what they lost came around, he had arranged it for her aunt and uncle to babysit Jason for the whole day and gave her the space to let it out however she needed to and held her tight when she broke down and latched onto him and did so until she finally fell asleep. He cleaned up her whole apartment for her after he got her settled into bed, took Lola for a walk and had little presents waiting for her when she got up to help her.

He gave her a sense of peace and security she wasn't sure she'd ever felt before. He was the second person in her life to make her feel truly special, outside of her family.

"Because he's been in love with you since you guys were twelve," Iris had deadpanned to her the other night. It had made Kat spit out her drink and the blonde to roll her eyes, offering out paper towels before she continued. "But, you got with Bakura and lost him and he knows you're grieving and he doesn't know if you want him or not or are even at that point yet."

She...she did love him. From the way he could zero in on a task and how incredibly smart he was, to the snark and the way he could make anybody feel 8 times smaller when they truly deserved it; how he tried so hard to deny magic existed, even though he was the one completely obsessed with dragons. She loved his strength that came from years of trauma and how he fought so hard to make a better life for him and his family, and even make a better world. She loved him even when he was being a toad to others, and she especially loved how soft and gentle he was with specific people in his life.

She just...wasn't sure what to do. Her heart had been healing and there was still the guilt that came with the idea of moving on.

"You're not me," Max told her, not long ago. "You shouldn't behave like me. Don't close off the possibility of finding love again, Kitty Girl. Sure, you may not find it. Perhaps you do only get that one great love. But, you could also find Mr. Or Mrs. Right standing in front of you one day and you can't close your heart off just because you're afraid to lose that again or because you feel guilty. Give yourself that peace of mind and freedom."

"...The end." Seto whispered, and she pulled herself away from her thoughts. Jason was now finally asleep, curling against the young man holding him. He waited for a moment, making sure he lulled deeper into his dreams before Seto rose to his feet, and moved to lay him down in his crib. She watched as his long, elegant fingers brushed back Jason's white tuft of hair. "Good night, little dragon."

She smiled as he walked towards her and they closed the door as quietly as they could behind them, stepping further down the hallway until they reached the living room. Her arms folded across her chest as she looked up at him. "Thank you for coming and helping," she said. "He's been colicky the last couple days and I just--"

"You've looked after Mokuba, River and Flora countless times now," Seto told her. "It's the least I can do."

He straightened his jacket -- the deep purple one with accentuated shoulders, the one she loved the most on him -- and glanced to the door. "I should probably get going. It's late."

Her hand fumbled for his, and he looked at her curiously. "Or. You could stay the night. It's really late, after all. I can get the couch made up for you."

There came that smirk, that damned smirk that always got to her. "You're not willing to offer up your bed instead?"

Logically speaking, Kat knew the teasing was meant as her offering up for him to take the bed while she took the couch. But, she could have fun with it, shooting back a smirk of her own. "You know, back home, it's considered polite for a man to buy a lady dinner before he asks to hop into bed with her."

They leaned into each other almost instinctually, and his smirk grew. "Let's see now, how many times have I gone out of my way to buy you your onion rings over the course of nine months --?"

"You know what I mean!" Kat laughed, hand pressing against his chest to playfully shove him away. But, instead, it lingered there, right above his heart; she swore she had to be crazy, because it felt like it had started beating faster under her palm. She cleared her throat, her hand smoothing out the fabric. "S-still. I can set up a place for you, you shouldn't be out driving this late and--"

His hand wrapped around her wrist when she went to pull her hand away and she sucked in a deep breath as blue eyes bore into her green ones.

"Seto?"

His grip softened slightly, thumb brushing against her skin. He weighed over his words as he studied her.

"...I can take you out to dinner," he told her, his voice firm. "Wherever you want, whenever you want. I'd buy the whole damned restaurant if that's what you asked. If there's a chance--"

They paused and she raised her free hand up to his cheek and he stilled, hesitating as he processed what she was doing, before finally leaning into her touch.

"...What are we?" He finally asked. "It's driving me insane. You -- Jason -- I -- Us --" he clenched his jaw, before closing his eyes. "I need to know."

Kat bit her lip. "I think we've been a little more than rival or friends for a while now. We just...didn't know what to do about it given...well, the shitshow that's been my life."

"According to everyone, it's partially on me too," he admitted. "I'm...me. I know I'm not easy--"

"Seto Kaiba, in what world have I ever wanted easy?"

They stayed like that for what seemed like forever, both unsure of what to say. Now it was just...out there in the open and her heart wasn't sure it could take it if this all fell apart here.

Her other hand moved up to his other cheek, thumbs brushing against the bone. "I...it's not gonna be easy for either of us," she admitted. "We've both been dealing with our own challenges. But we've made it this far. And it's driving me crazy just as much, and I..." She let out a shaky breath. "I didn't think I'd be ready to move on...ever. But, I know I don't want to close my heart off anymore and I know how I feel about you, and probably have for a while. I...I finally feel like I can let myself try again. I feel like i can let myself love again, and you have been...hell, Seto, we've essentially been doing the parenting thing together anyhow, and we act like a couple and -- and, right now, I..."

He finally opened his eyes, and there was a flash of anxiety, of vulnerability she wasn't used to. She just hoped what she asked didn't further it.

"Right now I just really wanna fucking kiss you. If you're okay wi--"

She didn't get to finish the sentence. His hands had tugged her in by her waist as his lips crashed against hers. A surprised noise echoed from her throat before she ultimately melted into the kiss. Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck as one of his hands laid flat against her lower back and the other carded through her hair.

It was like fireworks shot through both of them.

When they finally pulled apart, she stared up at him and smiled. "Well, now you're definitely stayin'."

"Like you had the option of getting rid of me."

She rolled her eyes playfully as her hands found the front of that beautiful jacket. "Uh-huh. Just get back here." With that, she yanked him back into another, more passionate kiss.

#yugioh #ygo #yugioh ocs #ygo ocs #seto kaiba #kat mercer #kenzs valentines prompts #my writing #you painted colors in my heart i could never replace #futureshipping

12 notes · View notes

morgana-ren · 3 years ago

Note

Hear me out. Shiggys captive gf tries to escape so he punishes her by ruining her poor lil butthole

Oh my GOD I love this. I don't know what my fucking deal is today but I am seriously SERIOUSLY just loving the degradation and dominance of him fuckin' you square in the ass when you’re all squeamish and meek about it. I had a few other ones I was gunna try to do first but I am feeling it today.

tw for the standard stuff: Noncon, Dubcon, assplay, bondage, kidnapping, abuse mention, manipulation, general rudeness, etc.

You yank and pull at the bonds that keep you tethered to the headboard, but the rope finds no mercy for you, offering no slack as you desperately attempt to thrash your arms free. Stomach pressed against the filthy mattress, you writhe and kick. It digs into your hands, tearing sores into the delicate skin that covers the bones in your wrist. You can scream and shout and throw your little tantrum, but the binds don’t have the capacity to show leniency, much like the sentient things that dwell in this building where he holds you captive.

None of them investigate your cries for help. Those that did never lasted long.

Tears of frustration bead in the corner of your eyes, breathless and aching in your useless act of defiance. It was your last little display of rebellion that landed you here in the first place.

He’d grown complacent around you, or at least you’d thought he had. Kissed you all too tenderly on the temple before leaving you alone in your cell, hands left free for the first time in months. You’d pondered briefly if he believed you tame now, wondered if he thought he had managed to subdue your rage as you slipped the confines of your prison.

It was a simple task. Far too simple. Had you been more observant, perhaps you might’ve noticed the mischievous glint to his eyes as he had locked the door, the slight grin that tugged at his lips.

But you were feral in your hope, so terribly reckless in your pursuit of freedom. A smarter girl would have waited. A more clever one have wondered why his demeanor had changed so suddenly.

But months of his forced affections had left you starved and broken, so eager to feel the sun on your face and the precious autonomy of moving about the world without the leash he kept for you pulled so taut you would could suffocate. You’d acted far too rashly, and he would punish you for it. That’s all you were certain of.

Your heart drops as the door to your cell swings open, hinges creaking so slowly it makes you want to scream. He’s a theatric at heart, loves to leave a lasting impact. Each footstep carefully timed, precise movements calculated to ensure lasting terror. As he comes to stand so closely you can only hear his breathing, the silence fills you with dread. A shiver wracks your spine as you hear him sigh, breaking the quiet and as he tuts you dramatically.

“And here I thought we’d moved past this.”

His hands graze your calf, slowly moving up to your thigh before stopping just short of the curve of your ass. He studies you, paralyzed in fear and pulled apart to his liking, and you swear you can hear him shudder in some twisted form of anticipation. An ill omen of things to come.

“I guess you just aren’t ready yet.” His cold, lithe fingers toy with the seams of your threadbare panties, pulling them down just enough that you wiggle in defiance. “I don’t enjoy punishing you like this, you know.”

‘Yes you do!’ The accusation seethes behind your tongue but you’ve learned better of it. He’s quick to strike you down in your fits, any semblance of disrespect swiftly culled. Last time you spoke out of turn, it landed you with a fat lip and a swollen cheek, his tongue licking the blood from the open wound on your mouth. it’s best to save your energy for whatever is to come.

Your panties find their way to your knees courtesy of him, the harsh yanking motion enough to jerk the mattress. Despite how many times he’s seen the intimate parts of you, you still clench your eyes in embarrassment when he reveals you. He palms the fat of your ass, kneading his fingernails into the plump skin hard enough it hurts. He’s breathing too hard despite having barely touched you, pulling your cheeks apart despite how you wiggle to lurch yourself free.

“I guess I just have to put you in your place again.”

One of his hands keeps you pried open, the other lifting to his mouth. He wets two of his digits between his tongue, letting his saliva gather thick on his skin before sliding them down your crack, positioning them just short of the puckered hole above your pussy.

“Wait, no- Tomura, please, don’t! I’m sorry!”

He laughs, sinister and cruel, tapping the pads of his fingers down as you clench. “You’re going to want to relax. It hurts less that way.”

A thin finger slides in, wiggling past the first ring of tight muscle and slowly works itself deeper inside your cavity before pulling out and repeating the action. It’s uncomfortable bordering on painful, but no matter how much you worm in his grasp, he doesn’t relent. Before long, he slithers his other finger in alongside the first, scissoring ever so slightly.

“You should be grateful I’m trying to loosen you up after how you behaved. I could fuck you dry, you know.”

You only whimper in response, teeth digging into your bottom lip in an effort to ease the tension, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of him prodding all too deeply inside of you.

“I was going to use toys to make this nice and easy at first, but those are for girls who obey me.” He pushes in as far as he can before turning his hand and pumping in and out once again.

It hurts, and you’re far too aware that if his fingers cause this level of discomfort, things will only get worse when he decides he’s done trying to prepare you to take him inside.

“Please! Don’t! I’ll be good! I promise!”

Your begging falls on deaf ears. Somewhere deep down, you know he’s lying. He’s been waiting for this for a long time, almost shoved his cock there many times before but hesitated and decided better of it. He orchestrated the perfect scenario, one you couldn’t resist. He’d set you up to fail, and like a rat in a cage, you’d fallen for it so easily. He enjoys his little games, loves giving you hope only to yank it away and punishing you for even considering it.

“That’s what you said last time.” He tries to add a third finger, chuckling at your low whimper. “I don’t like lying little whores.”

Your nails dig into the soft of your palms, embedding so deeply that you’re surprised the flesh hasn’t ripped. Anything to keep your mind off of what’s to come. Your mind rapidly files through things you can say or do to appease him, things he seems to enjoy. He likes when you humiliate yourself for him, when you throw yourself into pretending that you love him as much as he is obsessed with you.

“T-Tomura, my love-” You swallow back the stem of tears, quickly wiping the few escapees on the dirty mattress beneath you. “I’m sorry. I won’t try to escape again, I promise. I get confused sometimes, but I know you love me. I love you too, you don’t have to punish me.”

He pauses, slowing the movements of his fingers before withdrawing them from you completely and pulling away.

You almost heave an audible sigh of relief, but it’s short lived. He swings one leg over you, straddling your backside on his knees before leaning forward to whisper in your ear.

“I told you to relax. Don’t make this harder on yourself than it needs to be.” He hisses, hand brushing the cleft of your bottom as he undoes his zipper. Your crying begins anew, thrashing in an attempt to buck him off of the back of your thighs.

He’s accustomed to your outbursts, easily able to stabilize himself as he frees his cock from the confines of his pants. He doesn’t bother pulling them down all the way. reaching instead into his pocket to pull out a small packet. He rips it with his teeth, using one hand to massage the liquid onto his rapidly hardening prick, the other smearing the excess around your opening and prodding you again with his thumb this time.

“Shh-” He hushes you, stroking your hair as he brings his cock to sit right at your backdoor entrance. His gentle gesture is contrasted directly by the malevolence in his voice, blatantly mocking you. “You might even like it, huh? Might even beg me to fuck you here again.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond, pushing his hips forward and beginning to press his dick against the resistant cavity. Your sniffles and cries garner you no sympathy, he only hold himself steady as the tip slips past the first ring and slowly pulses his hips to break down the resistance of the ultra-tight walls. You can’t help but wail every time he inches further inside of you, each centimeter of his length burrowing deeper and deeper into your ass with every teasing little maneuver.

“Shit- So fucking tight here too! I knew you would be.” He laughs, almost gasping. “Is it your first time being fucked here?”

You don’t answer, don’t give him the satisfaction of either response.

“It doesn’t matter now.” He reaches one of his hands down, pulling you apart further as he shimmies his hips in an effort to stuff you fully. “My cock is the only one you’ll ever have again.”

You can’t help the strangled sob that breaks from your throat, as desperate as you were to not give him the pleasure. “Tomura please! Please, it hurts!”

“I know it does.” He coos at you a baby voice.

All you can do is grit your teeth and do your best to shoulder the pain as he paps his lower body against you, eventually fully enveloped inside. You feel too full, his intrusion inside of you almost too much to bear. He presses his hips against you, rolling them a few times for good measure as you cry into your bound arms.

“Fuck- that’s so good! That’s one tight little hole you’ve got back here. I’ve only barely gotten inside and I could probably blow my load right now.” He cackles, smacking the side of your hip and causing you almost jolt against him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Make it nice and fast?”

You nod, sniveling pathetically and knowing that your answer ultimately doesn’t matter.

“Don’t get excited. You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

He lets his chest rest fully against your back, one hand holding your hip steady to keep him inside despite your wriggling while the other comes to tip your chin up, forcing you to look at him. He studies your watery eyes, your trembling lips, the hastily mumbled pleas that beg him to stop. He only smiles softly, placing another all too gentle kiss on your forehead.

That’s the finality of his tenderness, raising his legs up slightly and sliding out of you by several inches before immediately pushing back in. Another choked cry escapes your lips, petering out into a whiny blubber as his hips meet the back of your thighs once more. He repeats the motion again and again, each time with a little more force.

“I told you to relax, baby.” He arches himself over you, moving his hands to hold himself up with a firm grip on your arms. “Or don’t. It’s like you’re sucking me in. Damn, I really can’t get enough of this!”

You do your best to relax your protesting muscles, focusing on anything but the sensation of his large cock invading your asshole. With every thrust, it’s like he forces himself deeper and deeper, small groans escalating into grunts and growls as he works himself up. Every subsequent stroke, he plunges harder, skin smacking against skin as his breath grows heavy. You can feel as he begins to sweat beneath his shirt, or at least could until he pulls away suddenly, leaving you connected as he situates himself upright.

He pulls up on both sides of your hips, forcing your lower half up into the air to meet him, bottoming out inside you again shortly after. He rams himself into you, barely keeping you stabilized as his nails dig into the soft fat of your waist, pinky wavering as he tries to keep himself in control. The rhythm he sets is intense, only finding the confidence to weave one hand through your hair after several minutes of practice.

He forces your head down even further into the mattress at first, shuddering at the intensity the new angle offers him. You think, if only for a moment, that he might be close, but your hope is quickly dashed when he yanks you up by the roots and arching your back to a painful degree.

“You like this, don’t you? You like my cock buried in your ass, like it when I use your slutty little body however I want to. Tell me you want more, tell me you want me to ream your ass and use you as a cumdump!”

You refuse to respond, trying in vain to keep the tears from falling as he uses you mercilessly. Unfortunately, Shigaraki is nothing if not accomplished at getting exactly what he wants.

The hand steadying your waist slithers down between your legs, teasing the little bud there with his still-lubed fingers. He doesn’t miss your quiet gasp, the way your thighs clench if only for a moment. It’s all that it takes to know that he’s got you. His touches are feather light in the beginning. Gentle grazes and light strokes to get you worked up. He even relaxes his brutal thrusts inside of you, dulling it down to a languid roll.

“Please-” You stutter, trying to block out the pleasure blooming between your thighs even as he abuses your ass.

“Please what?” He feigns innocence, middle finger working small patterns around your swelling clit.

“Stop!” You beg, struggling against his poisonous lavish of affection.

“Aw, is that really what you want?” He giggles, now using two of his fingers to work tight knit circles, coordinating his movements to match that of his cock. Your breath grows heavy from his expert movements, unable to deny the tightness winding as he plays with you.

“My pretty, stupid little slut. You really think you can resist me, don’t you? I can drag this out all night if I want. I can find something else to stick in that tight little pussy of yours too, show you what it’s really like to be stuffed so full you can’t move. You can beg me to cum in your ass, or I can find another use for that mouth while I do it over and over again.”

Even despite his harsh words, your eyes are glazing. You can feel your apex throb as his fingers expertly stroke across your cunt, the forced intrusion in your hole starting to feel something other than painful. As much as you wish he didn’t, you know he’s aware of this, breathing heavy in your ear as he adds more weight to both his hips and his hands.

“What do you want? Say it!” He seethes, punctuating his sentence with a particularly rough slam.

“I want you to cum in my ass! Please!”

Your acquiescence seems to please him, rewarding you with his fingers. “Do you like it when I fuck you here? Tell me.”

“Y-Yes, I love it when you fuck me in my ass! Please use me however you want, I’m yours!”

You don’t have to see him to know the terrible grin that slices across his face. He speeds his motions once again, coaxing a loud moan from you. The bedframe squeaks with every punch of his cock inside you, but the pain has subsided to a dull roar. Raw pleasure takes its place, flooding out from your thighs and spiraling through your limbs. Your nipples pebble in response, tingling from every brush against the mattress.

“What are you? Tell everyone just what you are.” He pulls you up higher by your hair, unnatural arch of your back only adding to the cacophony of sensation bombarding your nerves. He licks your cheek leaving a thick stripe of saliva across your face, waiting for your answer. Picking up the pace, both of his movements and the manipulation of your quim, he revels in the unraveling of your will power under his hands and the lust-drunk emptiness in your expression.

“I’m your stupid little whore and I want you to cum in my ass! Please Shigaraki, please fuck me!”

His eyes narrow, satisfied in your broken pleading.

“Good bitch. Now let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

He slicks his fingers in your juices, kissing your neck when you whine at his absence before expertly beginning to rub you again, groaning as your clench and squeeze around him. His animalistic grunts echo off the cement walls alongside your needy, licentious moans, mumbling half coherent sentences in the shell of your ear as he nibbles and bites at you. He ramps up his treatment, his cock throbbing in your ass cluing you in to the fact that he’s close.

The coil winds tighter and tighter and you find yourself bucking your hips against him to meet his thrusts, inebriated on the ecstasy of his nimble fingers. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’re fully certain you would have keeled over by now, unable to keep yourself upright between the quaking and the overwhelming waves of pleasure that threaten to drown you. You’re so close now, drool slipping from the side of your mouth, eyes hazy and fluttering.

“Perfect little slut! You’ll cum around my cock no matter what hole I stick it in, won’t you?” His words are bold, but like you, it’s painfully apparent that he’s on the brink of orgasm. “Beautiful- fucking-” He heaves, shoving you back down on the mattress, arching over you again but keeping his palm centered on your sloppy cunt, incessantly grinding the pads of his fingers on your pulsing pearl. “Whore! My whore! Fuck, I love you, I love you-”

Blinding white encompasses your vision, searing pleasure erupting from your abdomen. You throw your head back onto against shoulder, practically screaming as your thighs quake and you lose any ability to keep yourself steady. In the outskirts of your consciousness, you can feel him as he’s thrown over the edge as well, cussing and spitting as he forces his cock as deep as it will go, cumming deeply with a breathy groan against your ear. He rolls his hips against you, muttering about how tightly your ass milks him, but at the present moment, you can’t quite process it. Not when you’re breathless and seizing in bliss of your own.

Your hands shake and your eyes roll backward, cunt clenching around nothing as your hands flex uselessly against the air. You can hear his name spill from your lips alongside vile sentiments you would never say otherwise, but in the moment, it feels so right. You can feel him rest against your sweaty back, stroking you tenderly through your orgasm until the sea of pink starts to subside and his motions begin to border on painful.

“T-Tomura-” You sigh, finally fully waded through your shameful undoing. His heart pounds against you, so hard you can barely feel your own beat out of control in your chest. He decides upon kindness and you’re grateful for it, removing his fingers gracefully from beneath you before falling to your side and wrapping his arms around you. The uncomfortable wetness between your cheeks and dripping from your hole becomes uncomfortably apparent, alongside the now throbbing pain of your abused ass. Disgust washes over you, swallowing down a sob as he tenderly rubs your ribs.

“I’ll get you cleaned up in a few minutes, but I want to lie like this for now. Don’t try and run from me again, okay? I don’t like hurting you but you know sometimes I have to.” He kisses your temple again, sickly sweet and gentle. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad, was it? I promise you’ll get used to it.”

#please see all warnings up top #nsft #b u t t s t u f f #and please before anyone messages me like omg that is just SO not how it would gooo wah wah #keep in mind I am fully aware #its a fuckin fantasy now relax and let him ream you #be grateful #this entire thing was in italics earlier #btw anon i want you to know i CACKLED when I was poor lil butthole that was my selling point here

466 notes · View notes

djarinsbeskar · 4 years ago

Text

PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I'll be honest. And I'd really appreciate any feedback if it doesn't read as well as the first two chapters or doesn't make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I'll make it worth the wait. You know what I'm talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

Truly, he could count on one hand the things he regretted in life; the job on Alzoc III, challenging a fully grown Mandalorian to a fight while still a hot blooded, angry teenager, and not trying to pull his parents into the bunker where they had hidden him from Separatist droids as Aq Vertina was invaded.

In his line of work, there was seldom room for self-doubt. Inner conflict led to hesitation, which could be a death sentence for a bounty hunter.

And yet, as he came out of hyperspace, that unfamiliar gnawing presence in the pit of his stomach began to rear its’ head again. The job he had accepted was… dubious, to say the least.

Din snorted in self-deprecation; most of his jobs were dubious in nature.

What brought on this unnatural doubt, however, was that this was a job for Imperial remnants. Din wasn’t a fool; he knew half the jobs he had taken in the past could have been traced to the Imps if he cared enough to look, but taking a job from them personally… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

He pondered the feeling in his stomach again and frowned. Was it doubt… or instinct? Instinct was his most trusted companion as he travelled through space alone. A tickle at the back of his neck, a wary step forward, even a flash of electricity down his spine; those were only some of the ways that instinct spoke to him. And he always listened.

An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though? Never that.

If it was instinct, then he was going against his very nature in ignoring it. If it was doubt, based on some misguided sense of morality in dealing with the empire… that he could deal with. He could smother doubt with control and consistency; going through the motions of a job brought security and familiarity. Sooner or later, that doubt would make way for a stoic acceptance, a state that had gotten Din through some of his roughest years.

His eyes were drawn to his shoulder, where the glint of newly crafted beskar shone in the gentle lights of the cockpit.

A down-payment…

“Makers Helmet…” he groaned, running a gloved thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as the pressure at the back of his skull increased due to the loop his thoughts were going in.

A job was a job. He circled back to his original thought that had led him to accept the clients offer. A job with a bounty greater than anything he could have ever hoped to receive in his lifetime, let alone in one go. It was mere sentimentality and conscience getting in the way of good business. That beskar could not only provide him with armor to reaffirm his loyalty to the covert, but assistance and support to the foundlings and those who raised them.

His resolved steeled. He had never regretted putting the covert before himself, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Turning his attention back to the navicomputer, he scanned the co-ordinates that his most recent lead had pointed to. He had hunted the trail of his latest bounty to the general direction of a vast area of space that straddled the outer reaches of the Outer Rim and halted as it reached Wild Space. There was nothing to stop the bounty from being in those unexplored parts of the galaxy, and if the tracking beacon led him that far, he would have to be ready. With no spaceport on any of the planets he had seen dotting the area on the navicomputer, he thought it wise to refuel and gather provisions should he be there for any prolonged period.

As he lazily assessed which planet to land on, his eyes were drawn to a familiar name. A memory brushed against his thoughts. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but not entirely unpleasant either. For the sake of fairness, Din scanned the planets surrounding the one he pondered; some were equally as well equipped for his needs but the majority he had not been on in years if ever. Somewhere he knew, even briefly, gave him more comfort than the unknown.

At least, that was what Din told himself as he punched in the co-ordinates of Dandoran, the flicker of warmth the memory brought him was something equally as unnatural as the doubt coiled in his stomach.

Bantha balls, maybe he had been poisoned again...

Din tossed a few credits to the human female who received the Razor Crest into the hanger she was managing.

“She needs to be refueled.” Was all he said as he made his way out of the hanger and into the not unfamiliar streets of Mynock. It didn’t look like much had changed in the several months since he was here last; the place was still crawling with a mixture of criminals, bounty hunters and people who just didn’t want to be found. All in all, a good example of most Outer Rim cities.

Mynock had two main pedestrian streets that ran for over two klicks and intersected at the middle. From what he could tell, all legitimate business ran from those two streets, the further into the alleyways and twisted lanes that branched off those two streets one ventured, the seedier the business.

From what he knew, the practice you worked at was on one of these main streets. He paused, causing a few disgruntled pedestrians to have to jerk to a halt and make their way around his imposing frame. He was not here socially. He was never anywhere socially. He shook his head; between self-doubt and sentimentality, the tight leash he usually kept himself on was looser than he remembered and he had no idea just when it had started to slack.

That could not continue. But being aware of a problem allowed him to deal with it. So, with a greater sense of fortitude, he mentally choked any distracting feelings beyond the determination to collect this bounty. That included the somewhat interesting possibility of seeing you again.

Thankfully, Din only needed to stick to the main streets. The road was flanked by stall upon stall of foodstuffs, clothing, trinkets, ammunition and what looked to be a husbandry of Massiff dogs. The large, reflective eyes turned to the Mandalorian; all bared fangs and hostile snarls. An understandable response by most non-sentients when a Mandalorian had no real physical cues they could read, being as covered as they were. Until he lifted his hand for the one closest to sniff, they could only assume he was a threat.

A sniff was usually all it took however, before the snarling stopped. Din brushed a hand over the scaly head as he continued on his way to collect what he came here for.

An hour later, and Din was feeling much more at ease as he picked up the last of the supplies he thought he may need; ration packs, bactapads, generic ammunition that he liked to keep well stocked on the ship and so on. He was once more mentally compiling the information he had gathered on the location of the bounty, running through various routes in his mind that would cover the most planets in the parsec in the shortest amount of time.

He nodded his thanks at the change the Rhodian merchant returned to him and began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. If it hadn’t been for the long flick of your hair in the tie you kept it up in when you turned your head to look at someone at a stall across the central walkway of the street, Din was certain he’d have walked on none the wiser. But alas, that same higher power that had gifted him with a keep perception of his surroundings cursed him in the same fell swoop as the movement attracted his attention.

He came up short, running a mental check on himself immediately. No, no injuries. His shoulder still ached on occasion from being dislocated six months earlier, but it was a phantom pain at most these days. He was fit as a mythosaur and he wasn’t about to have that good streak ruined by getting injured in your presence… again.

Din wondered if he could escape to his ship without you noticing; he didn’t want to tempt fate anymore than he already had. Plus, awkward interactions that left him feeling frustrated both mentally and physically were not high on the list of things he enjoyed, thank you very much.

As a Mandalorian, Din expected attention wherever he went. It was just something he chalked down to being a necessary evil to live by his Creed but he had never wanted to be more invisible than he did in that moment, thinking that at any moment he would be trip into a sarlacc pit or something equally unpleasant.

But you hadn’t seen him, thankfully; much more invested in the choices at the fishmonger’s stall.

Despite his better judgement however, he paused from slipping back to his ship silently.

He was taken by the slight pink flush that rose to your cheeks at something the woman behind the stall said, intrigued by the color and what caused it. Din tilted his head slightly. He had noticed you getting flushed in frustration or annoyance both times you had treated him. It was fascinating to see your cheeks flush for a reason other than irritation and anger.

That particular thought touched a dangerous part of Din’s mind, a part that made him wander into the realm of curiosity to ponder what else might make you blush like that.

Oh, but it was a delightful color on you, and he watched longer than he ought to, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. The image of domesticity as you adjusted the parcels of food already in your arms to accept the fish was so foreign to his eyes and certainly not one he ever associated with you until now. It spoke to a part of him that still slumbered but began to fidget in its sleep, on the verge of consciousness.

That tentative smile that he had unwittingly been giving into as he indulged his senses by watching you, dropped the moment three males approached you. The Twi’lek was standing too close for you to be comfortable and by the rigidity of your spine, he knew you were not.

You had taken a step away from the men easily, your body language read cautious but not fearful and he knew better than to underestimate your abilities to wrangle men into whatever position you wanted them in. He had first-hand experience in that department and honestly, it wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in his head.

Din relaxed the grip he had unknowingly tightened on the blaster at his hip when you made to leave the stall, away from the three. He shook his head at himself; you had lived here for years. You knew how to handle yourself perfectly fine.

Letting out a breath, he was about to continue back to the ship when that same cursed perception caught the Twi’leks arm shoot out to grip your upper arm tightly, preventing your exit.

Din was behind you before he even realized he had moved.

You examined the range of fish on offer, eyes skeptically crossing off anything that looked like it had been sitting out too long or anything with more than four eyes. You weren’t squeamish by nature, but the fewer dead eyes that were staring at you while you prepared dinner, the better.

One of the few perks of Mynock, was its proximity to the Great Basin of Dandoran that opened out to one of the many oceans to cover the planet. Fresh seafood was a staple in the city and after years of ration packs between the Rebellion and Klatooine, eating fresh was a luxury you would never take for granted again. Your own home planet was mostly covered in water too; the greater population spread over countless clusters of islands where seafood was also the meal of choice for most. It was a tenuous connection but being able to cook dishes somewhat like the ones your mother made when you and your brothers were younger made it feel like you weren’t so far away.

You smiled to yourself at the thought as you pointed to the light blue colored Berbersian crabs, knowing the trawlers had come in only this morning that carried them. The claws were meaty with the slightest sweetness to their flavor that complimented most dishes. Not to mention that when cooked, they turned the most vibrant blue that their shells alone could be used for decoration and craft.

You chatted aimlessly with the fishmonger as she cleaned and prepared the translucent peachy pink fish you had also chosen for good measure.

“Busy at Biran’s?”

“When are we not busy?”

“It’s all them fights between the gangs. Folk say since the Hutts were chased out that things are better but it’s even more dangerous with the others tryin’ to take their place.”

You only gave a non-committal hum to that; you didn’t get involved in politics of any kind. Gang or otherwise.

The mindless chatter continued on nonetheless to more safe topics.

“Did I tell ye, Drea had her baby not three days ago. Another girl.”

“Poor Nej will have his hands full when they all get older.”

“I’m sure they’re dying for a boy at this point. Great excuse to keep sowin’ the crops though, ain’t it?”

“I’m sure they don’t need any excu—”

“Ever think of havin’ any of yer own? Yer well into that time of yer life, I’d say no?”

You blinked, nearly missing the bag of produce as she handed it across the stall to you. You could feel your face heat up at the direction this conversation had turned, and you definitely never thought you would be discussing your biological clock with a fishmonger over Berbersian crab.

“Well I---”

Movement from the corner of your eye stole your attention from that progressively awkward conversation and the no doubt insufficient answer you would have given as three males came to stand at the same stall, facing you. Your eyes scanned the trio sideways, not prepared to give them your attention unless it became unavoidable. There were two humans and a Twi’lek and given the way the humans flanked the large blue male; you had a fair idea about who was in charge as he sneered at you in what you assumed was meant to be a disarming smile.

The blasters at each of their hips and the emerald green coloring on the right sleeve of their jackets told you they belonged to one of the gangs the fishmonger had been complaining about not a few minutes earlier. This gang in particular, the Quai-Kisu or Emerald Dagger in Basic, were a faction that splintered off from the main Hutt crime syndicate once their influence in Dandoran lessened. Their trademark was spice smuggling but anyone with two braincells knew that they accepted the lesser charge to hide the true wealth of their criminal activity, flesh trafficking.

Suffice to say, you didn’t want anything to do with them and you most certainly didn’t want them to want anything to do with you.

“Can I help you?” You kept your eyes on them as you handed the fishmonger what you owed her when it was clear they weren’t going to leave; the woman wisely remaining quiet as she accepted the credits.

None of them responded immediately, and you wondered if this was a new scare tactic they were employing to make people anxious. The crimson hue of the Twi’leks eyes glinted as he contemplated you, running down your figure lazily before meeting your eyes again when you frowned,

“Ol’ man Biran available for a house call?” He rumbled, the sun catching the points of the filed canines as he spoke.

“I’m afraid Biran doesn’t make house calls anymore. Besides, he’s been under the weather for the last few days unfortunately.”

You reeled the lie off effortlessly, having learned over the years who Biran would tend to and who he would rather see succumb to whatever ailed them. It was a steep and difficult learning curve for you, your initial training taught you that you must do your utmost to save every life. Biran had laughed in derision, saying that that mindset wouldn’t serve you well out here. These were gangs, not the flyboys of Corellia. Saving one of their lives might condemn countless others. So while you struggled, you accepted that it was his practice and he made the rules and after over two years on Dandoran, you had seen enough victims of the gang warfare to not feel any pity when one of them suffered an injury.

“C’mon beautiful. One of our pals was injured in a… terrible, terrible accident.” The taller of the two human males, a lanky man with a neck that looked much too long and eyes that took way too much liberty in running over your body.

“There are other doctors in Mynock.” You replied steadily, “I’m sure one of them can help.”

To humor them any longer would be to encourage trouble, so you cut the conversation short and turned quite deliberately to make the point that the conversation was over, flashing the fishmonger a wan smile before turning back the way you came.

“We weren’t done talkin’ to you.”

Your eyes widened marginally when an iron grip closed around your upper arm, your free hand dropping the items in your arm immediately to click the safety off your blaster and lift it in the time it took for the Twi’lek to yank you into facing him again.

“Did I say you could lay a hand on me?” You hissed, the blaster pointing upward from where you held it close to your body towards the underside of the Twi’lek’s chin.

“Quite the little spitfire, ain’t she lads?” He crowed, amused by your action. His laughter was like shattered glass on your ears, making you want to wince, but you kept your hand steady even as your heart pounded. You received as much training as anyone when they joined the Rebellion, but your experience in actual combat beyond treating people on the front line was limited. You knew your own limitations, and that there was no way you would be able to take on all three of them.

The hand around your arm squeezed painfully and you clocked the blaster, lifting it closer to sit under the Twi’lek’s chin, “Release me. Now.”

And like most men of his ilk, he ignored you in favor of his own voice,

“From what we’ve seen, you work with the good doctor. Shouldn’t be a bother for you to fix him up. Nicer to look at too, eh fellas?” He tossed over his shoulder to the snickers of his lackeys.

“Then you can go back to target practice with your toy gun.” He chuckled darkly, leaning in where the pungent smell of his breath made you turn your head away in distaste, “That is, if we let you go at all.”

You swallowed thickly at the threat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your mind scrambled to come up with a solution, a way out, something. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes when each avenue came up blank. You couldn’t think of anything and suddenly, you felt so terribly alone in this shithole of a town on a faraway planet far from anyone who gave a bantha crap who would actually be able to help you.

Their laughter only grated on your already frayed nerves and pissed you off even more. You had fought too hard and suffered too much to let these assholes take the one thing you owned, your freedom. Your eyes flashed with anger and snapped back to the Twi’lek, ready to pull the trigger because if you were going out, it would be on your terms.

Their laughter suddenly ceased then, and you blinked. Had they copped that you planned to take at least one, maybe two of them out with you? Before you could figure it out, your arm was shoved away. You raised your now free hand to steady the blaster as you aimed it at them, but they were backing away, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You growled, hiding the waver in your voice.

They said nothing in reply as the Twi’lek bared his teeth and made towards you again. One of the humans grabbed his arm and hissed something to him. You couldn’t make it all out, but you swore you heard a name you never thought you’d hear again.

Teff.

With one last growl and glare, the Twi’lek conceded to the advice of the humans and all three of them melted back into the crowds of Mynock leaving you to release a heavy breath as you lowered your weapon, replacing the safety with ease as your eyes continued to scan the street. You wanted to be certain they had really left.

“Huh, maybe they were smart after all.” You muttered to yourself, proud that you had dealt with the situation somewhat and holstered your blaster against your hip again, “Still got it girl.” You commended yourself as you stooped to pick up your dropped groceries.

A snorted, “I beg to differ” had you blinking up over your shoulder at the familiar, cocksure figure of the Mandalorian; a hand only grazing the blaster at his hip as he stood casually behind you, his head tilted down to look at you and a resounding sigh leaving his helmet when you smiled.

“Mando?”

An incline of his head was the only greeting you received before he crossed his arms across the wise expanse of his armored chest.

“One sec.”

You got back to your feet and, as if by instinct, ran your eyes over his body, “You didn’t poison yourself again, did you?” You teased lightly, realizing that you were seeing him uninjured for the first time. Well, the second time. But walking into a cantina to do battle with a Houk didn’t could in your estimation.

It gave you pause to notice things about him that you didn’t usually; the way he stood, leaning his weight back on his left foot that gave him an air of lazy arrogance that wouldn’t be misplaced in a loth-wolf relaxing in the winter sun. The strength of his thighs seems to be accentuated by the posture; one hand placed securely at his blaster. If you didn’t know any better, his stance was like an open challenge to every male around him; submit or suffer. But you did know him somewhat, and you knew that he didn’t need to lay down any challenge. He had already won the second he stepped off his ship. The wide breadth of space given to him by passers-by only highlighted that fact.

Even with every patch of skin covered, you could feel the raw power rolling off of him, or was it testosterone? Whatever it was, it tugged at a more primal instinct and ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you that made you both embarrassed and intrigued.

Okay, so you were attracted to the way the man stood. That was fine, that was acceptable. You were a warm-blooded woman in her prime who knew her desires and embraced them. Finding how a Mandalorian… stood, was just another interesting thing to add to your list of things you found attractive.

Along with a raspy baritone and penchant for trouble…

You know what, it was probably just a fantastic indication that you hadn’t been laid in a while, so you made a mental note to deal with that particular issue later.

“I never poisoned myself.” That same low, gruff voice rose to your bait so easily and you had to bite your lip not to laugh, his hand fisting at his side before he unclenched it. Probably thinking about strangling you, honestly. Now there was a thought, for later. Nope, it was definitely the recent dry spell that had you like this. And the sun. The sun always had a part to play in these delusions.

Mando seemed to figure out your game of teasing him however, when you couldn’t fully mask your smile and responded in kind,

“You’re welcome, by the way.” His voice rumbled and you were certain that if you were only a few inches closer, you would be able to feel the vibrations brush against you.

“For what?” You laughed in disbelief, “I had everything under control before you decided to strut into the fray.”

You tried to prevent the frown from creasing between your brows when you thought a little more on the situation. You had a blaster literally pointed to the neck of one of those thugs and they didn’t care. It didn’t even seem like Mando had drawn his weapon and all three had scarpered? Was there any fairness in the galaxy? Obviously not.

The unpainted helmet tilted, the impassive T-visor giving away nothing of its wearers feelings beyond the sigh that left him, “What did you plan to do? Shoot the son of a mudscuffer and have an entire gang out for blood in less than an hour? Yeah, that’s smart.” He snorted.

Your mouth fell open in incredulity, “Talk about the Jawa calling the Ewok short, you’d have done the exact same thing!” You cursed your short temper, especially when it came to the stubborn mule of a man in front of you. The fact that his voice never once rose frustrated you. It remained gravelly but soft, like the sound of pebbles and stones being pushed and pulled by the ocean you could hear from your bedroom as a child.

You were a mature person; you were proud of how you dealt with most things. But in this instance, you allowed your immature side to rear her head momentarily as you began to stalk back to the practice. A piss poor option since the Mandalorian scoffed and kept up with you easily, obviously not content with you having the last word.

“But I wouldn’t be so reckless to not think it through before shooting them.” He tipped his helmet back a little, as if he dared to look down his nose at you. Frustration simmered in your blood as your eyes narrowed at him sideways.

“I was wrong, you obviously are injured. A blow to the head this time was it, Mando? Must be hidden under that kettle you call a helmet” You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head, “I’ve no cure for that unfortunately.”

You could have sworn you heard a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, but it was so quiet and the streets so noisy that you were certain you were wrong.

When the door to the practice-come-living quarters for yourself and Biran came into view, you stopped short. How did you get back here so quickly? Looking over your shoulder, you realized you had led the Mandalorian on a merry chase to nowhere he needed to be. He didn’t look particularly fazed, but the small voice of guilt that sounded an awful lot like your mother had you opening your mouth before you could think twice,

“Do you want to come in?”

What possessed you to invite him in?

It was obvious from both the stilted way you asked and the drawn out, deeply awkward silence that followed. You were about to tuck tail and run inside, slam the door, and pretend you weren’t as mortified as you knew you were when he cocked his head. The movement made you pause in your escape, opening your mouth to tell him to forget about it before the words got lodged in your throat.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and that was how you found yourself staring at a fully armed Mandalorian taking up two thirds of the small settee in the living room to the back of the practice, his hands placed on each thigh as they spread a bit when he sat.

Biran, bless him, took up the last third of the same settee, unfazed by the type of man in his living room and chatting merrily about the last Mandalorian he had met over fifteen years ago.

“And that wasn’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah maybe someone you know then!”

“Maybe.”

Mando’s conversation skills were abysmal.

You didn’t have very high expectations in the first place, but watching it without being a participant, was downright comical. You hid your smile behind the glass of water you had fetched for yourself but the slight tilt of his helmet in your direction told you he had caught your amusement. For someone whose face you couldn’t see, you could practically feel his eyes narrow at you. It made the giddiness from being equal parts anxious and entertained from watching Mando try make nice with the elderly Mirialan rise again and you had to physically bite your lip to stop.

Mando wasn’t listening to Biran anymore, that much was obvious. He wasn’t even looking in his direction, more comfortable blatantly glaring at you instead. Biran was unfazed. Truly, the Mirialan didn’t need a response to have a conversation. A listening ear was sometimes all he wanted. It was a characteristic that endeared you to the him in the first place. The elderly were so often overlooked and written off, but when one only cared enough to listen, they would find themselves enriched with experiences no history book could ever compete with.

“…So how do you two know each other?”

Your attention was dragged back into the conversation so fast you might have given yourself whiplash. You blinked a few times as the Mirialan watched Mando with a clueless smile on his face, completely ignorant to the stiff body beside him.

“Coercive medical attention.” You choked a bit on the sip of water you had taken to buy yourself some time to think; coercive? That rotten---

“Ah, you were a difficult patient, were you?” Biran chuckled, knowing your methods well, “Sweet as pie if you do as your told, but the minute you resist she’ll go for you like a sand panther. I can’t imagine there was much room for bedside manners in the Rebellion, but thankfully that attitude works well in cities like Mynock.” You spluttered again, putting the glass down since it was out to get you too apparently.

Of all the treacherous--, why were you so nice to this old sod again? You would show him a sand panther when you ‘forget’ to buy his favorite tea next time you went shopping.

You seethed to yourself, leaning back in the armchair you had perched yourself on earlier, flyaway hairs from the breeze outside falling into your face which you blew away with a frustrated breath.

“Hm, a panther?” Your eyes rose as the low baritone filled the air after Biran had finished having his laugh at your expense. Mando cocked his head pensively to the side as he looked at you briefly, “More like a kitten, I’d say.” And with that, he looked away.

He didn’t bother saying anything else after that, content with letting Biran’s laughter fill the room and smother the tense silence the two of you were sitting in.

You could feel your cheeks heating up once more as you glared daggers at the tin can in front of you. Why did it feel like you were being simultaneously insulted and flirted with? You couldn’t make the distinction, so you didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, you decided to poke at a different part of the conversation.

“For someone who was coerced, you sure do find yourself on my table quick enough when you need treatment.” Your eyes ran up and down the length of his body candidly when he looked back at you, “and when you don’t need treatment, evidently.”

You smirked when the Mandalorian clenched a fist on his thigh, the third occupant in the room seemingly forgotten as Mando hissed,

“I never asked for your help.”

You scoffed and decided not to deign that with a response.

“Besides, I only stopped over for supplies and fuel.” He admitted and a treacherous part of you sunk a bit at the honesty in his voice. Seeing you was just a coincidence, like always. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air and you fought the twinge of sadness that chased you because of them.

Biran looked between the two of you before standing shakily and patting the Mandalorian on the shoulder with no hesitation, “Allow us to provide you with something extra for your travels then.” He turned his wrinkled face towards you with a smile, the deep groves of his crow’s feet increasing as he nodded to the bags of forgotten groceries, “I think our guest should try the crab. Knowing you, you bought too much as usual.”

You flushed at being caught out, were you really that predicable?

“There’s no need. I got what I came for so, I’ll be going now.” Mando stood fluidly despite his armor, and you were once again struck with how different it was seeing him injured as opposed to healthy. You felt you needed to get used to his presence all over again, with how much it filled the room.

“Thank you, for your hospitality.” He tipped his helmet towards Biran, his voice still rather gruff but laced with a polite softness uncharacteristic to him. Biran waved him off and started making his way back out to the practice when he heard the binary from his medi-droid welcoming a new patient.

That left the two of you standing in a room that suddenly felt much too small for the tension that hung around you both like a blanket. You moved into the kitchen to separate the food you would keep and the food you would give to Mando on one of the countertops, tying the bag tightly by the straps so that it stayed clean and fresh when you were done. You couldn’t hear him move, but you could feel the slight disturbance of the air when he leaned his shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed enticingly once more as he watched you.

“So… what did he call you again? A sand… kitten, was it?”

“Oh, shut up.” You growled over your shoulder at him before turning and shoving the bag with two of the Berbersian crabs and some herbs you knew went well with them, into his hands.

“I don’t need these.” He held the bag out, straightening his stance as he pushed himself from the doorframe. You wisely ignored him.

“All you need is a pan. And water. And heat. Boil them and actually give your body some proper nutrients, would you?”

You explained as you began leading him out towards the private entrance of the residence, through the small kitchen and out into an alleyway that gave you an immediate sense of déjà vu the moment Mando stepped outside. The sun was still beating down and it glinted across the helmet that was becoming as recognizable as a face to you.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m perfectly healthy.” He replied smoothly, getting his bearings as he examined the alleyway and noted the sounds from the nearby street as the direction he needed to go.

“That’d be a first.” You griped at him, but there was no venom in your words, and he knew it.

You knew he was about to leave, and the suddenness of his departure was as jarring as his arrival. You didn’t know why you felt the need to stall, and you pushed that urge down rapidly in the face of the warrior when he looked back at you from assessing the street not a few feet away.

You sighed and let out a chuckle, wondering again how this man constantly came barreling into your life, disrupting the precarious peace you had brokered while here. You might have said it was a nuisance, but deep down, you knew that he brought a breath of life back into yours every time he crossed your path, reinvigorated the aimless routine you found yourself in. It was unsettling, the way this man had wormed his way into being such a… significant presence in your life. Even after only meeting him three times and always under less than pleasant circumstances.

Part of you wanted to tell him he could stay longer if he wanted; but you knew he would refuse.

Part of you wanted to tell him to be safe; but you knew he wouldn’t be.

Part of you wanted to tell him that you would see him around; but you knew that you probably wouldn’t.

So you settled on a lackluster, “good luck on your hunt” with a small smile as a peace offering for the fraught bickering you always seemed to fall into with him. A peace offering, he seemed to accept as he lifted the bag silently and looked inside,

“Pan. Water. Heat. Right?” His own attempt made your smile grow as you chuckled and nodded,

“You got it, sunshine.”

He nodded once in affirmation while you moved around him back towards the door of the practice. For some reason, you didn’t want to watch him walk away this time. It was easier for you to leave instead. A rumble of your name from the Mandalorian had you looking over your shoulder at him questioningly, the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips not lost on Mando. He had turned back towards you when you moved and after a beat, spoke again.

“See you next time.”

And just like that, your chest hollowed, and a warmth filled you. The weight of his words were like an embrace, a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. Had needed, for longer than you probably knew. It was something secure and encouraging in these times of change and uncertainty, and you felt yourself cling to those words like a lifeline.

The placid nod you offered him with a gentle smile was all he stuck around for. Spinning on his heels, he took off towards the streets of Mynock once more, disappearing in a flash of beskar and steel and for once, you didn’t ponder about possibly seeing him again. You knew you would.

Din settled back into the pilots’ chair of the Razor Crest twenty minutes later, running through the familiar process of flying the ship out of the atmosphere and into the comfort of space, eager to escape into hyperdrive as soon as he was clear enough from Dandoran.

See you next time?

He groaned leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he frowned. What possessed him to offer that promise, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the way your eyes had dimmed slightly when he was about to leave, or when you had wished him luck on a job he was still so uncertain about. Maybe it was the way you blushed when he said your name.

Or maybe it was just because he wanted to see you again too.

And that was the most troubling reason of all.

Din didn’t do friends, he had acquaintances and colleagues even if the term was tenuous. He had the covert and the foundlings, but he didn’t have people he actually wished to see. Never trusted anyone beyond what they could each offer one another. You hadn’t looked for anything from him, and it was unsettling. He didn’t know if he could trust you, years of training and experience told him otherwise. But from the old memories of you pressing Raquor’daan poison from his wound to the teasing friendship you displayed with the old Mirialan, his resolve softened a little.

His eyes flicked to the rapidly shrinking planet he was leaving.

Trust was too strong a word right now, but respect… he could admit that he respected you. And that alone put you on a very short list of people, one he was sure you would never truly understand the importance of.

And he was right.

You would never know the significance of being on that very short list of people, but in that moment, Din’s grudging respect for you set both of your lives on a very different course than either of you ever anticipated; one that revolved around a very special, very small, green child.

Once Dandoran had faded sufficiently behind the Razor Crest, he keyed in the co-ordinates to the far reaches of the Outer Rim and entered hyperspace and after several days of travel, he finally struck beskar when the tracking fob starting beeping as he coasted through space. He smirked behind his helmet as he changed direction and noted the closest planet on his navicomputer where his bounty was hidden.

Arvala-7.

Gotcha.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @nova646 @pychedelic-rainbow

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin #mando x reader #mando fic #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

529 notes · View notes

tommyhollandaisesauce · 4 years ago

Text

Let Me Do The Work [t.h.]

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k idk how

Posted: 11/19/2020

Warnings: Fluff, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral sex (f receiving), maybe too much plot? and definitely a whole lotta lazy sex sue me you’re welcome.

Summary: Tom thinks you deserve a reward after a hard few days at work.

A/N: uhhhh I mean I think I covered all the bases lol. I rly hope you guys like this I think I started it over a year ago and only recently had the motivation to finish and post it. This is basically my brain baby so please lmk how you guys liked it and if you would like to be added to my taglist there’s a google form linked in my bio. Enjoy horn dogs!!

When Tom got home on Wednesday night the last thing he expected his girlfriend to say was “Wanna have sex?” He had asked a few times before if you could and your response was usually something to the effect of “Sorry babe, another time, I’m just exhausted.” He knew your job was taxing and took a lot out of you and, frankly, Tom could survive the work week without getting any. He also knew that once Friday night rolled around it was all systems go; the weekend was yours to fool around as much as you wanted. And he was willing to wait.

Asking never hurt, though. Tom wasn’t annoying about it, at least he hoped he wasn’t. And for all the times you’d asked to have sex after he had a particularly exhausting day on set and he agreed, he didn’t feel super guilty about asking now and then.

It was unusual that Tom would be so exhausted from working that he didn't have any energy left to have sex. There had been some rare days when Tom could barely keep his eyes open even though you were right there, naked and sweaty, and riding his cock right on the living room couch. Your hands would be resting on his broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscles beneath his freckled skin as you bounced on his cock and his hands could barely stay put on your waist or hips to help you move. Sure, he liked watching you rise and fall on his lap and he liked seeing himself disappear inside of you and he liked the way your tits bounced with every movement and he liked watching your face. God, he loved your gorgeous face.

Your eyes would flutter open and closed the closer you got and you’d look at him with your big, beautiful eyes that were dark and lust blown and your jaw would go slack and you’d throw your head back in pleasure. Your movements would get sloppier as you’d start shaking and convulsing while you came. His arms would lazily wrap around your waist to pull you closer and you’d nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing hard against his skin as you came down from your high. But Tom couldn’t find it in himself to even worry about his own orgasm, he just wanted to sleep.

So when he came home to your shared flat around 7 pm from walking Tessa on a particularly boring Wednesday, now that he had a break, and saw you lying on the couch with a glass of red wine in one hand and your other arm thrown over your eyes, he figured it was pointless to ask. You had gotten home sometime while he was out, didn’t bother changing out of your blouse and jeans just yet, popped a bottle open, and poured yourself a glass.

Tom unclipped the leash from Tessa’s collar, allowing her to run free around the flat. Immediately, she trotted over to you, nuzzling your legs with her nose until you caved and gave her a few scratches behind her ears. Tom slipped off his sneakers, padding over to you, causing Tessa to run off in search of her favorite toy. The couch sank under his weight as he sat down next to your head, your eyebrows raised at the shift.

“Hey, stranger,” you muttered, removing your arm from covering your half-lidded eyes. Your eyes sparkled in the dim living room lighting as you looked up at Tom. He couldn’t remember a single time they looked dull. Not during a fight, or when you were sad or tired or sick, never. They reminded him of stars. No matter what, they kept shining.

“Hi love,” Tom leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your wine-stained lips. The upside-down angle was slightly awkward, but you’d be lying if you said you two hadn’t done the Spider-Man Kiss before, per his request.

You smiled up at him as he pulled away and closed your eyes. Tom threaded his fingers through your messy locks and you relaxed, even more, leaning your head into his hand.

“Long day?” He asked, continuing to run his fingers through your hair.

“Don’t even get me started,” you huffed out, dramatically throwing your arm back over your eyes, which made Tom chuckle at your antics.

“Tell me what happened?” He asked lovingly, and as you lowered your arm you raised a single eyebrow at him.

“You sure?” You asked cautiously, “Because I wouldn’t wish the shit I dealt with today on my worst enemy.”

Tom scoffed, shrugging his shoulders, “Try me.”

You sighed before beginning your story. Today had been insufferable. From the minute you clocked in, to the minute you clocked out, it had been hell. One coworker in particular, with whom you were not super close or friends in any way, kept nagging you about your relationship like she did every single day.

The incessant questioning and probing was getting old and, quite frankly, rude. The questions started out harmless, like everyone else’s when they found out the Tom Holland was your boyfriend. Some asked for autographs or pictures and you declined, saying that if he ever came in Tom would be more than happy to do that. And Tom agreed; you playing messenger was weird and not the type of thing either of you wanted people to get accustomed to. And most people understood; except for one.

The more she asked the worse they got. Personal questions were the norm now. Questions about family members and life together and sex. God, the sex questions never ended. ‘Is it good?’ and ‘What are you guys into?’ were some of her favorites. Sometimes she’d get creative with them and switch them up. And every time, you refused to answer. And you relayed this information to Tom like you did most days, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance at her ignorance before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead when he saw you were getting riled up.

You softened immediately and sighed. Tom had a calming effect on you. Just being around him was relaxing. After so long together he still could calm you down. And he was cheaper than your copay for therapy, so hey why not vent to him?

“Just forget about her for now, babe,” Tom sighed out, continuing to stroke your hair, “she’s not worth your energy.”

“You're right,” you exhaled, “I’m home, I got my wine, I got my boy, I can relax.”

“Exactly,” Tom said, laughing at your words. He didn’t feel the need to say anything else as you both relaxed, his fingers still threaded in your hair, until a few more minutes went by, your eyes opened, and you turned your head to make sure you were setting down your not yet empty glass on the coffee table.

A soft “hey” escaped Tom’s lips as he watched you use your arms to lean up and turn to face him. He would’ve spoken more but was cut off as your lips pressed to his, the kiss awkward since you had caught him as he was speaking. His lips were slightly chapped and he tasted like spearmint gum as you hovered over him and moved your lips against his.

Tom sighed into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. You clumsily clambered into Tom’s sweatpants clad lap to straddle him and his other hand sat high on your thigh. The kiss was slow and passionate, neither of you in a rush to go further just yet. You melted into the kiss as his tongue slid along your lower lip to ask for permission to enter. You parted your lips immediately, allowing Tom access. After a few moments of lazily making out like teenagers, you pulled away to catch your breath. You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against Tom’s as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.

“Can we go to our room?” You mumbled, just loud enough for Tom to hear. Your voice was low, soft, and a little shaky from being so tired. His eyes opened at your words and his ears perked up. Tom pulled his head away from yours and your eyes returned to their half-open state.

“I thought you were tired?” He questioned teasingly, tucking some strands of hair behind both your ears and resting his hands on your cheeks. You reached up and wrapped your fingers around Tom’s wrists, smiling sweetly at him. He was sure his heart damn near melted in his chest at the sight of his sleepy girlfriend asking to have sex with him.

“I am,” you said softly, smirking as Tom ran his hands down your sides and settled over your hips, “why do you think I wanna go to our room?” You joked, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and ducking your head down to place soft kisses along the side of it. He sighed, tilting his head in the opposite direction to give you more room as your fingers carded through the short, soft curls at the back of his head.

“You sure?” Tom asked breathily, as you continued laying kisses across his jaw and below his ear, “Because I don’t want you to do it just because I want to-“

“Tom,” you huffed, pulling away from his neck, your hands migrating to rest on his shoulders. He straightened up and opened his eyes as the feeling of your soft lips disappeared from his neck. “I’m sure. Now shut up and take me to the bedroom.”

He smiled up at you as he snaked one of his large hands around your waist and the other under one of your legs before shakily standing up. You yelped at the jerky, clumsy action and wrapped your arms tighter around Tom’s neck and your legs around his waist. Tessa jumped up from her bed where she had been lying from the sudden movement as Tom carried you down the hall to where your bedroom was, the door ajar. You giggled as he almost smacked both of you into the door frame and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. Tom kicked the door gently to push it open before entering the room, turning around, and kicking it closed again. Tessa scratched at the door for a few seconds before giving up and trotting off back to her bed.

The room was cool and dimly lit by two bedside lamps and the computer monitor on the desk, which had yet to go dark and was emitting a hazy, red-orange glow on everything in the room. The window was cracked open to allow some fresh air in and the sheer, white curtains fluttered every so often due to a random gust of wind.

The room still smelled like Tom though. Sure the scent of your lavender body wash and coconut and vanilla hair products and the eucalyptus candle you occasionally burned was lingering, but it was predominantly Tom scented. It was a clean and fresh smell, not shoe polish or sandalwood or, god forbid AXE. It was a perfect balance of pine and rain and laundry detergent. God, if you could bathe in Tom’s smell you would. It was intoxicating. And having the direct source of the smell pressed against you did little to quell the ache that had appeared between your thighs.

However, Tom never closed doors behind him. The door to the walk-in closet you and Tom shared was halfway open, as was the bathroom door. He always left them just open enough where he could get in and out without having to touch the door. You had no clue when the habit had started. It was only mildly annoying, one of those things you find out about a person only after you start living with them, and you always went and closed them after him. As much as you reminded him to close them, and as much as he promised he would, he never did. Tonight, however, was an exception. One, you were far too tired to do so, and two, there were far more pressing matters at hand than some open doors.

When Tom walked over to the bed until his knees hit the edge and he gently laid you down on top of the soft covers, all thoughts of open doors were immediately forgotten. You relaxed instantly into the comforter, one of your legs propped up and bent at the knee, your arms up by your sides, with one hand absentmindedly scratching at your shoulder. Tom settled his hands at your ankles, rubbing soft circles into the exposed skin with his thumbs as his eyes raked over your body.

You took this time to admire Tom. There aren't enough words in the English language to describe how gorgeous Tom Holland is, even in sweats and an old t-shirt. Everything about him made you crave him more. His loose curls and warm brown eyes and soft smile and broad shoulders and, god, everything about this man drove you wild. You knew that what was hiding under his tight, white t-shirt and grey sweats was worth the many minutes — maybe hours — of sleep you’d lose tonight.

“God, I love you so much,” Tom broke the silence, as he crawled up your body to rest directly on top of you, between your parted legs. His hand trailed up your legs and sides before it settled on your waist and the other on your cheek. Your own hands snaked around his neck, and you pulled him down for a kiss, both of you closing your eyes as your lips collided, melting into one another. Tom quickly picked up right where you left off on the couch, swiping his tongue against your lower lip. Just as quickly, you opened your mouth and his tongue slipped inside, running against your own. Tom wrapped one arm tightly around your waist and with his other arm, he picked you up and pulled both of you higher up on the bed, gently placing you back down amongst the soft pillows.

“Now,” Tom spoke into the kiss after a few moments, “let’s get you outta these jeans.”

“What?” You mumbled against his lips, feigning offense, as his nimble fingers popped open the button on your dark grey, straight leg jeans and pulled down the zipper, “You don’t like my jeans?”

“No, I love your jeans,” he responded, still kissing you, “but right now they’re in the way.”

At that, Tom stuck his fingers through the belt loops on either side of your hips and broke away from the kiss, sitting back on his legs and pulling the denim down your legs. Once you were free of your jeans, he repositioned himself above you and attached his lips to your neck, just as you had done to him earlier. His fingers reached for the buttons on your blouse and clumsily began to undo them. Your hands were in his hair as he left open mouth kisses along your neck and jaw, occasionally biting down a little before running his tongue over the spot to soothe the skin. You could already tell there’d be some dark marks on your neck Tomorrow, but at this point, you didn’t care. You’d just wear a turtleneck the next day.

Eventually, Tom was able to undo all the buttons on your blouse. He pushed the creamy white satin down your shoulders and arms, tossing it somewhere in the room, his lips never leaving your skin. You were now only in your underwear, the chill from the cool air seeping in from the window causing goosebumps to form across your body. Soft, quiet moans escaped from your lips as Tom continued his attack on your newly exposed collarbones and chest. One of his hands came up to massage your breast through the light blue, lace bra you were wearing as he left sloppy kisses over your chest, and you could tell that you were completely soaked watching him do this. He looked up at you from between your breasts, one hand still resting on top of your left one, a cheeky smirk gracing his thin lips at the noises you were emitting.

“I like this color,” Tom said, his voice low and husky but he was grinning. As he spoke, he snapped the band of the bra against your ribs, the sting causing you to flinch a little, “it suits you.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to know that I’m matching today,” you whispered, still heaving slightly. Tom furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down and sure enough, you were wearing matching lace bottoms, not entirely unintentionally. Beaming up at you, Tom traveled down your body, his fingers grazing gently over your skin and his hot breath tickling you as his lips left soft kisses across your stomach, sparks dancing across your flesh in their wake. Slowly, he settled between your legs, your thighs thrown over his shoulders with your feet planted on the mattress on either side of his torso. His own hands were on your hips, holding you down against the bed. He pressed a few gentle kisses on your inner thighs as he began pulling the sides of your underwear down your hips.

Raising your butt off the mattress to help, Tom was able to carefully pull the delicate lace completely off your legs. There had been one prior occasion where he had tugged at your underwear just a little too hard and ripped the fragile material and you had not been too pleased with him after that. From then on, regardless of the nature of the activity, he was very careful in removing your underwear.

Once your underwear had been discarded, he resumed his place between your thighs, his hands finding yours and resting on your stomach just above your hips. Tom continued laying gentle kisses on your hips and inner thighs, everywhere but where you needed him most, each one followed by a soft exhale from you. After a few moments of teasing, he pressed a soft kiss directly on your clit, before licking a long stripe up between your folds. Your breathing hitched as Tom started working on your clit, alternating between gently pulling and sucking at it and circling it with his tongue. It didn’t take long before your back was arching off the bed and your legs began squirming around his head, the familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. Soft pants fell from your lips as Tom pulled away for a second to breathe, eyes fanning over your body, before diving back in, your hands squeezing his own as he reconnected with your pussy. Soon after, your legs began to shake and you bucked your hips upwards, Tom following your movements. As he continued applying firm pressure to your clit, you felt the knot snap, your toes curling and your head falling back into the pillows as you came. White-hot pressure flowed through your body as you rode out your orgasm, a string of soft moans and curses filling the room.

Tom’s tongue rolled lazily around your clit as you exhaled heavily, your body jolting forward and sharp gasp leaving your throat when he lightly pulled on it with his lips. You felt another shock roll through your body as he continued massaging your clit. He slipped his right hand out of your grip, the other laying flat against your lower abdomen, holding you down as you bucked your hips again. He lifted his head, making direct eye contact with you. His stunning brown eyes beamed up at you through his long eyelashes, clouded over with lust and reflecting the faint light of the lamps on either side of the bed. His breath fanned over your heat, sending chills down your legs.

He was giving you a break. Just because you were tired did not mean Tom was, and after a few days with no action, he was ready to show you just how desperate he was for some.

“More,” you begged, pushing some damp curls that had fallen away from his forehead back. His free hand lowered to between your legs, his touch feather-light as he ran his index finger through your folds, soaked with your own arousal as well as his saliva.

“More?” he questioned teasingly, moving his finger in a figure-eight motion around your clit and your opening, dipping in just for a second before retreating. You nodded quickly to answer him, not trusting yourself to use your voice. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you choked out as he circled your clit, “please, more.”

“Thought you were tired?” Without even looking at him, you knew he was smirking. You could hear it in his voice. You exhaled in annoyance, groaning quietly as he continued to torment you. He chuckled at your reaction, finally giving in and placing his lips back on your core, as well as slipping a single finger inside, and very soon after, a second. You inhaled sharply at the new feeling, hands darting down to run your fingers through his soft hair, tugging at the curls as if you could control him like a puppet. Either that or he just knew exactly what you wanted, circling and pulling on your sensitive clit while simultaneously pumping his fingers inside you, curling them up ever so slightly to graze your g-spot.

Reaching your second orgasm took mere minutes, leaving you spent and panting harder than after the first. You knew that unless you pulled him away, he’d continue his assault on you. Breathing heavily with parted lips, you tugged harder than before on his hair until his lips left your body with a quiet pop, his own breathing heavy as well. You pushed your fingers through the dark curls that had fallen over his forehead again, attempting to smooth them down. Fortunately or unfortunately, you weren’t sure, but they refused to settle, instead sticking up in odd angles from your constant tugging. Either way, he looked beautiful, all messy hair and lust-filled eyes. Glancing down at him, his glistening lips pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and another, and another, working up your body until he was eye level with you. His hand settled on your ribcage and yours on the back of his neck as he kissed you roughly on the lips, teeth clashing together, letting you taste yourself.

Tom hovered over you as your lips danced with his for a few minutes, rough and passionate, his large hands grasping at and exposed skin he could find, which was quite difficult considering you were still wearing a bra. His arms coiled around you to get to the clasp, forcing you to wind your arms tighter around his neck and arch your back to create enough room for his arms to pass under you. You could feel him tug at the clasp with one hand, unable to undo it, too distracted by your teeth grazing his bottom lip to adequately focus on the task at hand, which was to get you fully naked.

He just wanted to see you, why was this so fucking difficult?

“Tom, just let me-” you began to say, but Tom quickly cut you off with a firm “no” before fully sitting back on his heels, still leaning over you. His other hand now joined the first in trying to unclip your bra. Propping yourself up on your elbows, your head rolled back, an exaggerated sigh leaving your mouth. You weren’t sure why he insisted on always taking off your bra for you, but boy did he need the practice. As many times as he has tried and you demonstrated, it always took him a few moments, his fingers fumbling with the delicate clasp.

“Oh, for fucks sake-” you snapped, giving up and scooching up to sit up straight, Toms hands falling from behind you and settling in your knees. You didn’t have time for this tonight. His back straightened as he sat up to watch you work your magic, the outline of his thick cock on display under his grey sweatpants catching your attention, all but making you drool. You reached your hands behind you, swiftly undoing the clasp and beginning to tug the delicate straps down your shoulders.

“I almost had it,” you laughed as Tom attempted to salvage what was left of his ego, causing him to pout at you. Why was he so darn cute?

“Maybe on a day when I’m not as tired,” you said, fully pulling the bra from your body, “you can finally get it right, but right now we’re on borrowed time. Head can only boost my energy for so long.”

Tom rolled his eyes briefly before redirecting them to your chest, his hands traveling up from your knees to your shoulders to push you back onto the bed. He resumed his position above you, still fully clothed while you lay under him, completely exposed. His legs settled on either side of one of your thighs, his cock pressing firmly into your leg, straining against his pants. Another wave of chills, which Tom noticed, ran down your body as a gust of wind blew into the room, the cold causing your nipples to harden immediately.

“You cold?” he smirked, bringing a hand up to pinch your left nipple, rolling the bud teasingly between his thumb and index finger. You squinted your eyes at him, which caused him to chuckle.

“Yes, actually-” before you could finish, Toms’s fingers stilled and he gestured over to the open window, his head turning to follow his hand, asking if he should close it. Cupping his cheeks between your hands and turning his face back to you, you exclaimed, “No, oh my god, just fuck me already!”

The look of surprise on Tom’s face at your outburst was that of pure shock, as he very evidently did not expect you to be so desperate. Alternatively, the look on your face was one of slight annoyance as well as desperation and it set Tom into a frenzy. Your eyes were stars again; deep and dark and gleaming with desire. He swore he could see every constellation, every supernova, every inch of the cosmos in your beautiful eyes. After a moment, he whispered, “As you wish,” before leaning down to capture your lips in a softer, slower kiss.

Tom relished this moment. He was with you, the most important, precious person in his life and he got to see you like this. Which reminded him: he was still clothed. You seemed to have had a similar thought, as he felt your delicate fingers graze the sides of his torso as you searched for the hem of his shirt. Finding it, you started pulling it up, allowing Tom to break away from the kiss to pull the t-shirt over his head and chuck it somewhere into the room before reconnecting his lips with yours.

You raked your nails down his pecs as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips. The sensation caused Tom to exhale into the kiss, eliciting a giggle from you. He broke away from your lips, ghosting over your jaw before settling on your neck in a spot he had yet to leave a mark on. You traced your hands down his muscular chest and over the prominent grooves of his abs, settling on his waistband and undoing the loose bow he’d tied. Pushing his sweats and boxers down at the same time, he kicked them off, letting them fall over the foot of the bed and land on the ground with a soft thud. His cock audibly slapped against his lower abdomen, the head red and already leaking precum. Reaching down with one hand, you wrapped your fingers around his length, spreading the sticky fluid around his sensitive tip with your thumb causing him to rut into your hand. You pumped your hand a few times slowly, using your fingers to press against that one extra sensitive spot right under the head, making Tom gasp against your neck.

You could feel Tom’s hands reach down to push your legs open for him to settle between them, the tip of his dick mere inches from your entrance. He was now out of reach, and he hissed softly at the loss of contact between your hand and his very erect cock. His arms rested on the bed on either side of your head, hot breath fanning over your face. His eyes were half-open and glossy as he looked down at you, writhing under him, waiting for him to fill you.

“Ready?” he whispered against your lips. Since day one, Tom always asked for explicit consent before, always making sure that you were comfortable. You loved it. It was never a mood killer, in fact, it made the whole interaction that much more intimate.

“Yeah,” you whispered breathlessly as you gazed up at him, nodding slightly. You tilted your head up to catch his lips in another kiss, full of passion and desire and love. God, you loved this man so much it would surely be the death of you.

After a few moments, he pulled back, looking you directly in the eyes and whispering a quiet “okay”, one of his hands moving down to hold his dick, running the tip through your soaked folds, grazing your clit, and causing you to jump at the unexpected feeling. Guiding himself in, he slowly slid into your drenched core until his hips were flush with the backs of your thighs. Tom’s eyes fluttered shut, and his eyebrows furrowing as a exhale of pleasure left his lips at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. “Fuck...” He grunted through clenched teeth.

He waited like that, buried inside your tight pussy, letting you adjust to the feeling of his cock inside you. And he’d wait like that until you would tell him to move. While he waited his lips ran over your neck and shoulder, leaving soft, loving kisses in their wake. After a few moments, you tugged on his messy hair, signaling him to look up at you. “Move,” you pleaded quietly before he pressed his lips to yours and adjusted himself to begin moving. Your eyes fell closed as he pulled his hips back slowly, until he was almost out, then snapped them forward in one fluid motion, causing you to yelp. He eased into a steady rhythm, rocking his hips, hitting that one spot deep inside you that made you yelp every time the tip of his dick hit it.

“Y/n/n, open your eyes.” He whispered sweetly against your skin as he left soft kisses on your cheek and jawline. You complied, letting your eyes slowly flutter open and look up at the ceiling, Tom soon emerging from the crook of your neck to meet your gaze, smiling. You took this opportunity to admire him as he hovered above you. His short hair was a sweaty, tousled mess, sticking up in odd directions from your fingers tugging at it earlier. His thin, pink lips were now swollen and darker from your fervent kisses. His freckled cheeks were flushed a deep pink. His dark brown eyes made you melt, looking down at you in a way that made you forget about everything else going on in the world. It was just the two of you, in the home you shared, making love.

You snaked your arms around Tom’s toned body, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents on his shoulder blades, pulling him as close as you could get him as his thrusts sped up, becoming sloppier. His hand slipped between your bodies and rubbed rapid circles around your already overly sensitive clit. Gasps and moans fell from both of your lips. You could feel the familiar knot already tightening in your abdomen as his thrusts became more erratic. He knew you were close, your walls clenching around him as he relentlessly pounded into you, chasing his own high to catch up to you.

“Tom- Tommy I’m close.” Your words were music to his ears, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. He dropped his head back into the crook of your neck, littering your skin with kisses to muffle the loud moans that threatened to spill from his throat that he knew would certainly annoy the neighbors. One of your hands traveled up the base of his neck into his hair, closing your finger in his curls, pulling on them gently the way you knew drove him crazy.

“I know,” he panted against your neck, “me too.” His fingers never stilled, continuing to rub fast, tight circles against your clit until you crashed over the edge, the knot in your stomach snapping for the third time that night, pleasure-filled spasms racking your body, and loud moans spilling from your lips. A few more rough thrusts and the muscles in his shoulders tensed, his body lurching against yours as he came, releasing inside you. His lips found yours as you both tumbled over the precipice in unison, one of his arms wrapping around your waist and snaking up your back, his hand settling between your shoulder blades. He held you up like that, your back slightly arched and your breasts pressed against his chest as he continued to sporadically buck up inside you, riding out both your highs until he couldn’t support his weight anymore and he collapsed on top of you, still inside you.

You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gently placed his forehead against yours, both of you panting as if you had just run a marathon. You both stay like that for a few moments, chests meeting with every inhale, breathing the same air. Groggily, your eyes open only to find Tom already looking at you, his dark chocolate eyes soft and a small smile gracing his lips as he admired you in your post-orgasm bliss. Your cheeks were flushed, dark eyes hidden behind half-closed lids, and lips a deep pink and kiss-swollen.

"What?" You asked, placing your hand on the side of his face, stroking his cheekbone delicately with your thumb. He leaned deeper into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your soft hand caressing his face.

"Nothing," he muttered, "You're just amazing."

"Amazing in bed?" You asked sarcastically, a cheeky grin spreading across your lips, "Thanks, I try."

"No-" he starts, before seeing the bewildered look on your face and correcting himself, "well, yes, you are, but I meant in general. I love you so much Y/n, I don't know what I'd do without you."

You looked up at him in surprise. Moments of vulnerability like this were not uncommon between the two of you. You both frequently told the other how much they meant to you, how you couldn’t imagine life without the other person. And yes, this did usually occur right after sex, when both your emotions and hormones were at a high. No matter how many times he said things like this you could never get used to the sound of his voice saying those words to you.

“How did I get so lucky?” You wondered aloud, continuing to run your thumb over his cheek.

“Dunno,” he said cheekily, shrugging his shoulders, “good karma?”

Your melodic laugh filled his ears, your eyes closing as you giggled at his stupid joke. He leaned down to kiss you, cutting off your laughing. Your arms wound around his neck again as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips, making you groan. After a moment he pulled back, placing a kiss on your cheek and gently pulling out of you, flopping onto the bed next to you. He pulled you into his side, holding you in his arms. You nuzzled your head against his chest, his heart still beating rapidly under your hand. You two laid like that for several minutes, sweaty and warm, stuck to one another.

Your eyelids began getting heavy and you almost slipped off into a deep sleep before Tom shifted under you, gently rolling you off him and getting up to go to the bathroom. You could hear water running for a few seconds before shutting off and Tom emerged from the doorway holding a washcloth. He sat down on the edge of the bed and used the warm towel to clean up the mess between your legs before setting it down on the bedside table. He leaned down, kissed your forehead, and mumbled something against your temple. "Wanna go again?"

Your eyes shot open. He flashed you a crooked smile, raising his one messy eyebrow suggestively. Is he serious?

“Tom, I’m so tired-” you started, but he cut you off with a peck on the lips, short and sweet.

“That’s not what I asked love,” his voice was lower, seductive, as he maneuvered to hover over you again, his head dipping into the crook of your neck to lay more kisses down on your already heavily marked skin. He is serious, oh my god.

You hesitated for a moment before caving in, “Yeah…” you trailed off as he nipped at your collarbone, “but I have no energy anymore.”

“That’s alright darling,” he whispered into your ear, sending chills down your spine at the pet name that he knew would drive you crazy, “you just relax and let me do all the work.”

A/N: The amount of times Grammarly told me I had errors when I was writing this when I didn’t was ridiculous oml lol but hey it’s done!! I’m really proud of it obviously I will keep writing and will get better, but hey my first fic and I don’t hate it. anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this, requests are open right now so if you would like a short lil blurb feel free to send me something!

Tags: @hollandprkr @itstaskeen

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #tommyhollandaisesauce

353 notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Drop off Point | SPN Brothers

Warnings; language, anger, arguing

There was no place like home, but the thing was, that you didn’t have one. Each day, you went from motel room to motel room, sometimes you would even sleep in the back of the impala, whist your brothers sat in the front, somehow gaining rest in those uncomfortable, upright positions.

Dad was gone, and left you primarily in Dean’s custody, and with having Sam back, he managed to get your brother to cut you some slack. Dean was a wreck without John, he was desperate to discover your father’s whereabouts, and his decisions made you feel as though you were not as desperate to find where he had gone.

Being a Winchester came with plenty of perks, you got to see so many places in a short span of time, it made it feel as though the world was underneath your fingertip. However, having the attributes of being a teenager, and a girl, didn’t mix well with your suggestions or desires to hunt for the parent that had raised you.

And that left you here, cruising in the backseat of Dean’s beloved vehicle, taking the turns to reach Bobby’s. The elder of your brother had said he needed to stock up on supplies, such as dead man’s blood and so on, in case he picked up on any monsters on his journey.

But the travel was not just his, you and Sam were there too. He had even gone to nab Samuel from his escape, and drag him into the putridness of this life once more, all for the man that spawned you all.

“Hey kid.” Bobby stepped down from his porch, his shoes crinkling upon the gravel. He greeted the boys with hugs, and a set smile occupied his face as he looked at you, it almost screamed relief. “I got everything you boys need, come on.”

The lot of you trailed after the elder hunter, who adjusted his baseball cap as he escorted the three of you into the main room, the devil’s trap brandishing the floor, and scurried piles of books taking up the rest of the space.

“Cool, you got the good stuff.” Dean clapped his hands together as he dug through the small arsenal, dragging out a small blade.

“That there was smelted with dead man’s blood, it’ll murder those suckers straight away.” Bobby spoke, watching as Dean pocketed some items. Sam dropped a bag on the floor, a guilty, disobedient dog expression clouding his face.

It wasn’t any bag, it belonged to you. The satchel contained a few articles of clothing that were clean and a couple of books that you had nabbed from libraries that you had passed through. “Why’d you bring that in?” You asked suspiciously, having an inkling of a feeling as to the reason.

“Sorry.” Sam muttered, he had truly missed you whilst he had been away, and he hated the idea of being subdued into saying goodbye. But this wasn’t his complete choice, your other sibling had entirely taken control of the decision.

“You’re staying here (Y/N/N), at least until we find dad.” Dean admitted, coming to walk closer to you to strangle you in an embrace, however, you were keen to take a step back, denying his request.

“This is ridiculous.” You scoffed, face red from hurt and anger. He had no right to swerve you from the path that you were hellbent on, it was not up to him. “I want to go with you!”

Perhaps it was a peculiar ambition, but in this life, family was everything. It was the code that you had been raised to, and you’d be damned if you were to insult it by giving it nothing but disregard. If it were you that were missing, everyone would be searching, Dean would send everyone out to enquire and look, no matter their gender or age.

And just because you were his sister, he thought that he could put his foot down. It never changed, he was continuously overprotective, it felt as though you were consistently travelling in a cage, a child lock on in the back seats of Baby, rather than being giving a sense of free will. Instead there was no freedom, only constricting bars that kept you in the line of sight and knowledge of your brothers.

“Well too bad sweetheart, you’re staying put here under Bobby’s supervision.” He retorted sufficiently pressing the sole of his shoe upon the wooden flooring on this matter. Dean wised not to argue, but it was where his conspiring opinion ended up taking the pair of you, Bobby scratched his head agitatedly, understanding the reasons for Dean’s red anger, however it was inevitable that one day, you’d be old enough to make your own decisions, and no doubt you would go head first into these dangerous situations. It was how he could tell how related you were to your brothers, even if you had a different mother from the infamous sons of John Winchester.

“Screw you Dean! You’re supposed to be the one looking after me, and here you are, loading me off to someone else. I hate you so much right now.” The words couldn’t be restrained, they tumbled out, and currently you couldn’t care less. Anger was taking the driver’s seat, and it was veering into a crash, one that Sam could see without his ‘psychic’ abilities.

“Don’t say that (Y/N).” Another order, how Dean like. It was such a typical trait that he reverberated from his chest, as though he was constantly the one in charge. The way he bossed people about was far too familiar, and it repulsed you. He was acting as another man in your life, the one that dragged the lot of you around like dogs, pulling on the leashes to keep you all in line.

“You’re not dad, so stop trying to be him!” Dean could only freeze upon receiving your words, as you heavily breathed, wound up from the spitting of conflicting interests. Another instant spewing of hurtful comments were attempting to be catapulted from the void of your mouth, but Sam hissed as he came to stand in front of you, clearly disappointed in your behaviour.

“You know (Y/N), I told Dean that he should give you a chance, although you deserve a life better than we got. Not because it could raise our chances and hopes of finding dad, but because it was what you wanted. But I’ve changed my mind, and I think you should stay here a while, until you are grown up enough to be on the road with us.”

His scolding made you bow your head down, almost ashamed of yourself, before you glanced at the trio of men in the room one last time, grabbing your man and escalating upstairs to a spare room. Sam gulped, knowing that he had silenced the poison in the blood you all shared, however he could only hope that you would understand why he was so inclined to get involved.

It caused him pain, knowing that you, his baby sister wanted to be neck deep in this chaotic life, when he had wanted out. The logic of it didn’t feel right, it only showed as evidence that you too had been brought up loved, yet in a toxic childhood. The inclination, the loyalty you had for fighting was a flaw, it was not something that hunters wanted to do, but instead rather something that they had to.

Sam sighed as he put the phone down in his lap, Dean was in the driver’s seat, his jaw clenched. “No answer?” He asked expectedly, to which the eldest received an affirmative nod. It was frustrating to know that this all uprose from them wanting to keep her safe.

“Bobby said that she’s okay.” Sam spoke in the music of the air con. “She’s actually getting pretty good at combat, hell it’s been six months. Her head is on straight, she knows that she’s good at what she’s doing. But-“

“She still refuses to speak to us.” Dean completed his sentence, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. His knuckles grew white from the pressure he held onto the remote with, his tongue clicking as he pushed away the guilt. That was only permitted recognition when he was alone, he’d never admit to anyone that he may have made a bad decision, all because his sister was alive and breathing, (Y/N) was okay, even if she refused contact with them.

“We should see her Dean.” Sam stated. He had wanted to for so long, he hated how absent the backseat was, and how there seemed to be a lack of the scent of female deodorant.

“Next stop, Bobby’s.”

#spn imagine #spn x reader #spn x Y/N #spn x you #spn fanfiction #spn one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural x winchester reader #dean winchester imagines #dean x reader #winchester x reader #supernatural #imagines #spn reader insert #spn requests

115 notes · View notes

lilallama · 4 years ago

Text

Valentines Day

TW: Obsessive behaviour, mentioning of stealing and slight homophobia, proceed with caution!

"Taehyung sweetie, wake up.~"

I groan and turn in my sheets, slowly regaining consciousness. "I've prepared you breakfast. Get dressed and come downstairs." The clacking of my mother's heels echoed through the hall as she went away. Groggily I sit up and stretch. I push my bangs out of my eyes I stare towards the window to my left. The sun shines through the thin curtains casting an orange light on my bedroom wall. I yawn and stand up, pulling the curtains aside and flooding the room with light. I take a moment to look outside, admiring our beautiful garden before remembering what day it is. Today is Valentines day! My God/Goddess asked me to meet up with them. Oh, spending Valentines with my saviour is the best thing to have ever happened to me!

I rush to pick out a white dress shirt, a khaki sweater vest with a black pair of slacks. After also brushing through my hair to untangle any knots I opened my secret Y/n shrine. The picture of their smiling face makes my heart pound so fast. They are otherworldly, absolutely ethereal! I take out a shirt of theirs which I borrowed a while ago. If I close my eyes it still smells like them, it's addictive.

Just to make sure that no items were robbed from their place I go through all items once again. Five chewed on pencils, a small box of empty wrappers, my 20 most favourite photos of them, the candle they accidentally bit into because they thought it was edible, the borrowed shirt, a pair of their underwear, a bunch of pins and hair ties they touched, the bundle of 36 hair strands I managed to collect (I only collect the hairs that have fallen out, I would never dare to cut or rip out my God's/Goddess' hair) and my water bottle which they drank out of (I had to buy a new one to keep this in my shrine but it was so worth it). All my items were there.

Suddenly I hear clacking and a small thud. I turn around in confusion, what just happened? But then I hear Yeontan's bark from the other side of the door. He ran against the door again. I can't help but laugh as I go to open the door for him. He jumps up a bit so I kneel down to pet him. "I'm meeting up with Y/n today, isn't that exciting!" Yeontan immediately started yapping, he loved my God/Goddess almost as much as I do. It's really incredible what an effect Y/n has on everyone, they all seem to love them. Well, then again that is expected to be the case considering Y/n is such a godly being.

"Taehyung!" "I'm coming!" My mother called me again. "Come on, boy." I hurry downstairs with Yeontan following me. "Good morning, Ma. Good morning, Pa." My father nodded at me while my mother beckoned me to sit down and eat. While I finish my breakfast my mother was talking about a lot of stuff. "Have you heard, they're trying to make gay marriage legal here. That is complete nonsense! God created a man and a woman for a reason." I have no clue what my mother was raging about. I concluded that she's probably just misinformed, Y/n said that being part of the lgbtq community is completely natural and alright. I know they know better than anyone else. "What's so bad about it, Ma?" My mother looked at me with horror. "They can't help who they're attracted to. It's all natural, isn't it?" My mother shook her head. "No!" She exclaimed, "Being gay or trans or something is inherently selfish! Gays are selfish! Men and women were created by God to conceive a child and stop the human kind from getting extinct. Trans are selfish! God gave you a body and you chose to change it in it's entirety! Such behaviour is unacceptable." "But I thought God loves everyo-" "Where have you even gotten that idea? Maybe you should go back to homeschooling. Clearly these other kids are having a bad influence on you." I look over to my father who just continues reading the newspaper. I respect my mother but she clearly isn't ready yet for the wisdom Y/n has bestowed upon me. Not everyone is as lucky as I am. "Look at the time we'll have to go now." Right, it was Sunday which means we're going to church. I always like going there, the windows astound me everytime. And the pastor is always so welcoming and friendly. I vividly remember asking him about the lgbtq community after Y/n had told me about them. He said that God loves everyone regardless of their sexuality or gender identity. He truly is a wise man.

As soon as we returned my father got a call from a business partner. They said they'd have to go now and want me to take Yeontan with me to my meet up. While I was a bit saddened that I couldn't be alone with my God/Goddess I decided it wouldn't be a problem.

Yeontan excitedly trots besides me as I make my way to the place where my saviour and I would meet up. I debated getting them a bouquet of red roses for Valentines day, but figured that the 20 letters, 12 stuffed animals and 18 bouquets I gave them during the past week would be enough, for now. As I make my way there I couldn't conceal the excitement I felt. Getting the chance to spend time with my Master/Mistress was something I believed I'd only ever dream about. The euphoria I feel from the mere thought of getting to see them today is dizzying.

Suddenly Yeontan starts barking and storms off. He never leaves my side, that's why he's not kept on a leash. To see him run away from me like that was surprising at best. But then I notice the reason for his behaviour. The puppy ran towards Y/n who was waiting for me a few metres away. How could I have just ignored my saviour like that! What I did was unacceptable. I would punish myself, but it would likely ruin Y/n's day, I can't let that happen. So I run after Yeontan, towards my God/Goddess.

"Good morning, Y/n! I'm sorry about him." I look down at Yeontan who's still getting pet by Y/n. He better cherish that they're even looking at him. It's bad enough that he practically demanded pats from them. So disrespectful. "No worries. He's so adorable!" At least Y/n seemed to enjoy his behaviour. I doubt it would work if I behaved that way towards them, but that's for another day to find out. "I dearly hope you didn't have to wait too long." They smile up at me. Oh, their smile is to die for. So incredibly perfect! I feel my knees getting weak. "Don't worry about it. I just arrived too." Yeontan started barking again and was noe excitedly jumping around, making Y/n laugh. "Awe! Yeontan is so adorable. I didn't know you'd take him with you." "It was unexpected for me as well." They stand up and take my hand. My heart is beating so fast, I feel as if I'm about to explode. It's getting harder to breathe. "Let's go now!" We start walking along the path with Yeontan rushing after us.

We sat outside a small café and each ordered our desired dessert. "Have you ever been on a date?" That question caught me off guard. "Oh, no. I haven't." I believe that much was quite obvious, but perhaps I was mistaken. They look surprised, shocked almost. "Really? How come? Aren't you getting asked out left and right?" "I suppose I just never had interest in anyone. I barely know those who ask me out. They're all so shallow to confess without knowing anything about me." Just then the waiter returned with our desserts. We thank him before we start eating.

Both of us watch as Yeontan is running around and playing in the snow. I look over to see Y/n smile at him, leading me to also smile. I adore their smile. Everything about them is so perfect. I could stare at them for hours and never get bored. Each detail is something new, something beautiful to discover. Unable to take y eyes off them I-

"Excuse me." Who dares interrupt my special time with my God/Goddess?! Two girls stood next our table. One almost cowering behind the other and mumbling something along the lines of, "Oh my god, no. Jess, don't." But I really couldn't care less. "My friend thinks you're really cute and was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with her." So annoying. I eye them down and make one thing clear. "I'm not interested." The girl cowering behind the other looked disappointed, perhaps ashamed. Good. She should be. After they interrupted my date with the Y/n they can go burn for all I care. "Have a good day." After the girls back away with the other girl exclaiming, "What a jerk!" I turn my attention back to Y/n. "Uhm, wasn't that a bit harsh?" They looked unsure. "Was it? I thought it was reasonable. Better to tell the truth than lead them on, am I correct?" They took another bite of their dessert. "I guess you're right."

We had a grand time strolling through the park, even having a snowball fight. They won. Obviously I could not compete with my God/Goddess, no one could ever. Yeontan was also very entertained as he kept trying to catch the snowballs as they flew over his head. Soon the sun began setting. It was incredible how fast the time flew by. Both our clothes were slightly damp due to the snow. I didn't think much about it untill Y/n began shivering. No no no no! My saviour could get sick, or die! I couldn't let that happen. I take off my jacket and gently place it over their shoulders. "But, won't you be cold?" I give them a reassured smile. "Don't worry about me, my God/Goddess. If I may, I'd love to accompany on your way home." They let out a bashful chuckle, making me melt. I feel my entire body heating up from that gorgeous chuckle. Their power over me is simply astounding.

All the way home I keep my arm atound them in hopes of providing some form of warmth for them. I cannot bear knowing that they're freezing. Never would I be able to forgive myself if they'd catch a cold. Yeontan was also slowly getting tired, which was by bo means a surprise considering how he played and jumped around all day. "Thank you for bring me home, Taehyung." Hearing them say my name makes my entire body tingle and flutter. "You do not have to thank me, Y/n. It was an honour!" Whatever I expected, it was not feeling their lips against mine. My mind went blank and I could barely stand. I felt dizzy, yet so so good! They gave me my jacket back after the short peck and laughed. "Goodnight!" Then they went inside and closed the door. I stood there for a moment, shocked at what had happened yet freling absolute bliss. After a minute or so I manage to finally pull myself together. I put on my jacket, it smells like them! And then I picked Yeontan up and walked home.

Oh, this day was the best I've ever had!

If you liked my work please reblog! 💌

#yandere bts #cooking club #yandere taehyung #yandere v #valentine week

74 notes · View notes

mustangsgloves · 3 years ago

Text

rain check

listen, I've started this rather angsty Captain America AU for Royai years ago, and finally got around to finishing it...so I hope you enjoy

CW: angst ahead, and what seems like character death, but I promise it's all ok (I'll write it being ok, if you want!)

Summary: With the fate of Ishval at stake, Roy makes the only decision he can...landing the plan in the expanse of the desert before the bombs reach the population. As soon as he makes his choice, Riza radios in...

Read on AO3

----

Roy placed his state-issued pocket watch on the dashboard of the plane. Despite it being the symbol of his leash to the military – generally something that he’d rather not always be reminded of – Roy had made it his own.

Opening the watch, he adjusted it so that the photo placed carefully inside of the top half was facing him. His lips curved upwards softly as Riza’s smiling face, slightly hidden by her own hand – a result from trying to hide from the camera – looked back at him from the small circular frame. All parts of this decision were easy ones…all except for her.

Static fissured through the plane’s intercom.

Riza’s voice broke through, “Colonel Mustang? Do you read me?”

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” Roy replied airily, ignoring the way his stomach flipped and his heart screamed at him to save himself, if only to spare her from pain. “So nice to hear from you.”

“What’s your status, sir,” Riza asked, dismissing his nonchalant comment.

After a few moments, Roy sighed. “I’m going to have to put her in the sand.”

He continued talking, trying hard to ignore the quiet gasp from the woman on the radio.

“If I don’t, a lot of innocent people are going to die. I can’t let that happen Hawkeye…not after the war. I can’t let this man win. Ishval can never go through that kind of horror again…I won’t let it.”

“Sir, we can figure this out,” Riza replied, her voice tense. “There has to be another way. Just wait, I’ll get Fuery on the line, he’ll know what to do.”

“It’s too late, Lieutenant.”

Roy banked the plane slightly, headed for a wide swath of sand several miles to his right. He could make it there, he had to make it there…

“Sir, please. Just let me notify Fuery. He can… maybe he can tell you how to hardwire something to make the plane go down by itself and give you a chance to get out safely. I’m sure that –”

“Hawkeye,” Roy tried again, chest tightening at the growing fear in her voice.

“Fuery is already on it, I’ll talk to Havoc…Breda too, they’re already searching for a safe landing site, just hold on a few min–”

“Riza,” he breathed.

She stopped, and through the static Roy heard a shuddering breath.

“I don’t have a few minutes, Riza. I have to put her down now, otherwise I’ll miss my window and the bombs will reach Ishval.” He held back tears as he eased the plane downwards.

“Colonel, I…”

Roy exhaled, gazing at the photo in his pocketwatch. Instantly, he felt at peace. “I’m going to need a rain check on that dance.”

A beat of silence before a quiet, “I thought rain made you useless, Colonel.”

Roy gave a small puff of laughter. “Sure, but with you around I’m sure I’ll be able to manage.”

Roy remained quiet as he listened to her fight down a quiet sob.

“Though the more I think about it, the last time we danced, I think we were just kids.” He knew his voice would be barely audible through the growing static as he approached the ground. “I think I’ll need you to remind me how, go over it a bit, nice and slow…I wouldn’t want to step on your toe –”

The plane crashed into the sand, and the world went black.

As they screeched to a halt on the airfield, Riza let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. They had finally tracked down the man behind the scheme to bomb Ishval earlier that day, and Roy, of course, had done something reckless in the heat of the moment and boarded the plane mere seconds before the doors closed.

Riza had tried to convince him otherwise, or to at least let her go with him, but there had been no time, and he was set on his decision. However, the dark-haired man had somehow found time to lean down and give her a swift kiss on the lips.

Understandably she had been floored. Roy had given her his sly, trouble-maker smile before saying, “I should’ve done that years ago. See you soon, Hawkeye.”

With that, he had leapt out of the parked car and sprinted towards the plane, which was quickly gaining speed, given her one last look, and then disappeared into the small aircraft.

Sitting in the driver’s seat beside her, Lieutenant Havoc had remained quiet through their small moment, simply chewing on his ever-present unlit cigarette. The man was now watching the plane with a smirk, but Riza could see the concern clearly in his blue-eyed gaze.

“Damn,” Havoc chuckled. “If I had known all it took for him to get the courage to kiss you was to have a bomb threat and an airplane, the men and I would’ve arranged this years ago.”

Riza sighed and rolled her eyes, but she was thankful for Havoc’s attempted distraction. His unsaid words hung heavy in the air. They both knew it: this was practically a suicide mission. But they refused to say it…say it and it becomes all too real.

It was the same as when Hughes had fallen from that train, just two months before. Riza had watched as Roy avoided declaring his friend dead for weeks before he was forced to do so by a commanding officer. Roy had told her that as long as he didn’t say it, as long as those words never left his mouth, then it wouldn’t feel real.

But in the end he had had to say them. “Hughes is dead.”

Roy had felt responsible for Hughes’ death, Riza knew. She knew that he beat himself up over it for those many painful weeks, thinking about how he should have realized he was going to fall earlier, should have grabbed him sooner, should have held on tighter… So many should haves, but should haves wouldn’t bring him back. Hughes was dead, and there was nothing they could do about it.

As Havoc put the car in gear and pulled off of the airstrip, beginning to head back to their makeshift base a few blocks away, Riza found herself remembering what Roy had told her right after he had reported the news of Hughes’ passing to the base. Take care of yourself, Hawkeye, please…I can’t afford to lose you too.

Did he know? Did he know that she couldn’t afford to lose him either?

She swallowed down the growing unease in her throat. Roy would be fine. He would take out the man on the plane, Lyle, and land the plane safely. He would come back. She would tell him, remind him that she couldn’t lose him either. Everything would be fine…

So why did she feel so sick?

Upon entering the small base they’d set up, Riza immediately took charge. “Fuery! I need you to patch me through to Colonel Mustang right now!”

Fuery looked up from his makeshift communications desk and nodded, immediately going to fiddle with different knobs in order to connect to the intercom in the plane that Roy was currently flying.

“Havoc, Breda,” Riza continued, spinning around to look at the two men. “I want you to get specs on the plane and try to locate a safe landing zone for the Colonel, as quickly as possible.”

“Falman, I need you to get as much information on the bombs in the plane,” Riza said after Breda and Havoc saluted and exited the small room. “We need to know if there’s a way to disengage them.”

Falman nodded and disappeared out of the door that Breda and Havoc had exited.

Breathe, Riza told herself. Stay calm…

Listening to the static of Fuery’s radio as he scanned channels, she tried to calm her racing heart…and ignore the flood of memories that had, unbidden, entered her mind.

Roy, several years younger, laughing as he leaned nonchalantly on a standard issue Amestris Military car in which Maes Hughes sat in the front seat, pretending to drive.

Roy, a few months before, sheepishly handing her a pair of earrings he’d bought for her at the local market. He was blushing and her own cheeks flushed as well.

Roy, over the years, spending the day slacking off from his paperwork and duties, making jokes and laughing with the rest of his team.

Roy…almost a decade ago, holding her a little more closely than could be considered proper while they slowly danced, and him gazing down at her with a look that she didn’t dare give a name to.

“Ma’am,” Fuery’s voice interrupted her quickly spiraling mind. “I’ve made it through.”

Riza felt her stomach twist. “Thank you Fuery,” she managed, quickly grabbing the proffered phone.

“Colonel Mustang? Do you read me?”

A beat. Riza could feel her blood rushing and panic rising in her throat.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” came the staticky response. “So nice to hear from you.”

Riza’s chest tightened.

“What’s your status sir?” Leave it to him to try to lighten the mood.

For several moments he stayed quiet, and Riza knew…she knew that he wasn’t coming back from this.

“I’m going to have to put her in the sand,” Roy said quietly.

It was all she could do to keep the growing sob in her throat contained that the gasp that escaped seemed inconsequential. She barely registered what he was saying as he continued.

“…Ishval can never go through that kind of horror again…I won’t let it.”

Riza’s mind went blank, simultaneously overstimulated and empty. Of course he was right…but all of her selfishly, desperately wished it didn’t require losing him.

“Sir, we can figure this out,” she began. “There has to be another way. Just wait, I’ll get Fuery on the line, he’ll know what to do.”

““It’s too late, Lieutenant,” Roy said softly.

She kept talking. If she kept talking he couldn’t tell her nothing would change what was about to happen. If she kept talking…he wouldn’t leave.

“Sir, please. Just let me notify Fuery,” Riza said, not even trying to hide the desperation in her voice. “He can… maybe he can tell you how to hardwire something to make the plane go down by itself and give you a chance to get out safely. I’m sure that –”

“Hawkeye,” Roy interrupted. Riza kept talking.

“Fuery is already on it, I’ll talk to Havoc…Breda too, they’re already searching for a safe landing site, just hold on a few min–”

“Riza.”

All of her defenses broke with that one word, uttered softly and almost reverently.

Riza managed a shuddering breath. Roy’s voice left no room for argument.

“I don’t have a few minutes, Riza. I have to put her down now, otherwise I’ll miss my window and the bombs will reach Ishval.”

“Colonel, I…” Riza tried again, the lump in her throat making breathing, let alone speaking, increasingly difficult.

“I’m going to need a rain check on that dance.”

Riza felt the tears that had begun to gather in her eyes start to roll slowly down her cheeks. She swallowed hard. “I thought rain made you useless, Colonel.”

His laugh, as comforting and reassuring as it usually was, only made the tears fall harder. “Sure,” he said lightly, “but with you around I’m sure I’ll be able to manage.”

She fought down the sob fighting to leave her throat.

“Though the more I think about it, the last time we danced, I think we were just kids.” His voice was barely audible over the growing static. “I think I’ll need you to remind me how, go over it a bit, nice and slow…I wouldn’t want to step on your toe –”

The comms cut off, and so, it felt, did Riza’s heart.

Static.

“Colonel?” Riza croaked, “Colonel Mustang! Sir? Colonel do you read me? I need you to come in, sir…”

Static.

“…Roy?”

There was nothing but static.

“…Roy?” Riza’s voice cracked. Havoc fought back a flinch at the desperation in the word.

Havoc watched his superior officer from the doorframe, having come running as soon as he heard her raised voice. His stomach twisted at the way her face screwed tightly with unbridled emotion. It hurt to watch the tears flow without restraint. Havoc tried to ignore the way that she had pleadingly said “Roy,” and the way that her knuckles went white as she desperately grasped the phone and the desk it sat on…he tried to ignore the tears pricking his own eyes.

Riza let out a ragged scream as the static laden silence on the other end of the comm grew louder. Fuery looked away from where he stood nearby, eyes screwed shut and defeat written clearly on his features. Havoc clenched his jaw, strode forward quietly, and went to place a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder, but the woman flinched away, falling to her knees. She choked out another cry – shorter than before but no less painful. Swallowing back a sob of his own, he let himself crumple to the ground beside her, simply sitting there for several moments. Letting his tears fall freely, Havoc gently maneuvered Hawkeye into his arms, and she collapsed into them, sobs raking her small frame.

Whatever else had happened, even if the world had been saved, their team suffered an insurmountable loss today…she had suffered an unimaginable loss…

Roy Mustang was gone.

#this hurt to write but also??? I think it works idk #royai #royai fanfic #captain america au #fma #fma:b #it's be SO long since I've written for FMAB I miss it #my fic #um idk what else to tag but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!!

23 notes · View notes

mqfx · 1 month ago

Note

I let you put a collar on me because I knew you would die if I didn’t. Because you needed me, and I hoped your feelings would at least keep the leash slack! AGH you keep mentioning it in carefully spaced out intervals so i never recover

BABES IM SOURRY IT'S JUST SO

#hewwo #asks #anonymous #legitimately i have never EVER been jealous of any singular piece of writing except that one GODDAMN #i got to rant about it drunk as funk on my birthday thats how crazy it makes me

2 notes · View notes

redstainedsocks · 5 years ago

Text

The Pet Store Pet

I’ve been perfectly content being a reader of all the Box Boy Universe content – first posted by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and then @shameless-whumper – happily just enjoying the fics people have been tirelessly putting out (though I’m sure I’ve missed a few out there, you’ve all been busy!). Partly because I’m new around these parts and partly because I had no ideas of my own.

And then yesterday this one ask and reply from @ashintheairlikesnow pretty much slapped me across the brain with a fully formed idea… so now I have this fic, and several character ideas and a plot. So I guess this is me adding my hat to the ring?

TW: dehumanization, modern slavery, memory loss, loss of identity

Kit watched the clock hands turn and listened to the radio, ignored the quiet shuffles of the products on the shop floor and went through his mental checklist for the day.

Cleaning was done. Restocking done. The cash box was out — ready for the money from the till to be transferred in — as were the account books. The front window display had been straightened and the front step swept clear of leaves and rubbish.

The products had had their midday water and the evening “meals” were ladled out in the back, ready for them once they were put to bed. The back entrance was clear for the late-night shipment that was due.

Had he missed anything else? He looked down at his hands and saw how grubby they were and a thrill of panic shot through him. Was there time to clean them before the owner — his owner — came back? Hopefully, maybe. He had to try. He rushed to the back room and scrubbed until his hands were red, heard the tinkle of the bell on the shop door at the same time his owners footsteps clunked down the stairs. He scurried as quickly as he could on quiet bare feet but his owner reached the front of the shop first.

The customer only wanted a new leash and the transaction was done and over in minutes as he stood and cursed his slowness in the dim doorway that led to the back of the shop.

“Kit!” His owner sounded impatient, a layer of fury underneath the one syllable name. He closed his eyes in a moment of weakness, taking a second to enjoy the calm behind his eyelids, before slinking from the backroom and around the counter.

His owner pulled him close by the ring on the front of his collar. “Were you slacking off?”

“No sir, just checking on something in the back, sir.”

His owner made a disgruntled noise and surveyed him up and down. “Well. Everything seems to be in order. Close up, will you? Brandon’s coming round ready for that new shipment and I wanna set up for a card game.”

Kit nodded. The restriction of the collar tugged on his neck, the ring still hooked on his owner’s finger.

“You just need to do the money sir, I can’t.”

“I know, don’t tell me how to run my own store.” He was shoved sideways and the corner of the counter dug into his hip.

His owner grumbled through the process of sorting the money, locking away the credit card reader and putting everything into the safe upstairs. Kit busied himself tending to the other pets, the unsold ones, the litters his owner liked to call them.

Turn around was always slow and they were usually here for a few weeks before being sold. Every day he would bring them from the crates out back and put them on display, pretty them up in the hopes a sale would be made. Putting them away again was harder. Crueler. He felt dirty with it, closing them up in cages — crates — every night, cramped and squashed on rusty bars in a too-cool room.

At least on the shop floor they had cushions and gilded cages to lounge in, were given soft collars and pretty accessories to wear to entice customers. Out back was bleak, void of colour and comfort.

Most of them went without a fight now, the punishment — corrections, he reminded himself — received for fighting back enough of a deterrent. He unleashed them one by one and supported them to the back. Some with limbs gone numb from hours in the same position, some muddled after the doe eyed reverie of staring at nothing all day. He let them stretch, use the bathroom, held their hands as he guided them into their crates. Some looked at him pitifully, mournful, pleading. He tried to reassure them.

“Any day now, someone will come in and want you. Any day, keep being good. Look there’s food, you can sleep. Nothing else to worry about, hmm?”

He was their keeper, and their charge, and their comfort and he envied them. They’d be gone soon, he would not. Not that this was a bad life for a pet, there was stability in the sameness of the shop, the customers and the constant new products that they advertised.

But… but that was the hard thing. He watched pets come and go, never knowing if the life they were going to was a good one, or a safe one; if they’d be hurt or touched or loved or loathed or or or, his mind always throwing up new nightmarish possibilities. He’d look at the customers and try to imagine them in their homes with a pet at their feet and see if he could glean any insight into what kind of owner they would be.

He had no idea whether he was ever right. He didn’t understand humans at all, couldn’t fathom why they wanted pets, why there was any status in it or anything to like about it. His only real knowledge of people were his owner, owners friends, and the customers. He never spent enough time with the latter to really get what people were like outside of the interactions between buyer and seller, and the former… they just seemed to tolerate him for his usefulness and be constantly irritated by his failings.

And he hated them for it. He wasn’t supposed to, probably. And he didn’t ever do anything about it, but it festered inside him. Soured him. He wondered why anybody would bother with such an ungrateful, wilfully obstinate being living in their house.

And then there were the others. The Box Boys (and Babes, and Buddies) the proper pets, the ones with real shine and promise. He saw the adverts on T.V or heard talk of them on the radio, how revered they were, how plush and sophisticated their lives were. With their pristine delivery boxes and high end accessories, tailored training, stunning looks. The way the company had the best reputation, the highest honours, everyone knew they were offering the best quality of product and the most thorough training.

It was infuriating, to be on the wrong side of the divide between the products. To be less. To be messier. To be brutalised more regularly because his training didn’t cover the things his owner expected of him. He remembered very little of his initial training, just dark rooms and beatings and the sharp-bright sting of electricity that obliterated everything so they could start from the ground up. Start with kneel, and obey without question, and be afraid and really… not a lot else.

His owner could pretend to his middle class clients that everything was above board, everything sourced reliably and safely, but he knew it was all a lie because the leaflets they pushed on people with spiel about good facilities and happy pets… he printed those off himself on the printer upstairs and he knew he’d never been anywhere like that.

But the private trainers they could recommend to people — for a hefty price— they were all too real and all too good at their jobs. He knew that from experience, his Owner had used their services enough times to get him in line that he shuddered at the mere thought.

“Kit, are you done yet? Get your ass up here.”

The shout startled him and he soothed the last pet into her crate and clanged the door shut too loudly, made her jump and he apologised under his breath.

He took the stairs two at a time and slowed down just as he pushed open the door to the office space above the shop.

“Brandon will be here soon, but I think there’s time for your daily meditation before he gets here.”

“Yessir,” he bowed his head and sucked in a lungful of air. His meditation, as his Owner liked to call it, was just a time each day that he was supposed to kneel, leashed, and ruminate on his place — so that he wouldn’t forget, even when he walked around on two legs with his head held high and his manners neatly presented for the customers — where he really belonged.

“Any problems today?” His owner asked from the small kitchen counter.

“No, sir. Everything was quiet.” Two pets had fallen asleep in the store front, but there hadn’t been any customers in the shop who’d noticed, and they’d woken without fuss a couple of hours later so he didn’t feel the need to mention it.

“Good, good. Shirt off, you won’t be needing it.”

He took off the tight fitting tank top that was his “uniform” and folded into the small wicker basket that contained all his belongings. Or, more accurately, all the belongings that his owner set aside for him to use. He kneeled in place at the foot of the large floor bed that served as his space in the building, and clasped the metal rod into place between his collar and the hook embedded in the wall. It was a short restraint, he almost had to press his nose to the wall to not strangle himself and he had to stay kneeling with a straight back to be remotely comfortable.

He placed his hands behind his back and tried to slip into the mindset his owner wanted him in. Cool hands circled his wrists, left smooth worn leather behind and locked the cuffs together.

“Sir?” He said, voice higher than usual with surprise. Usually the short leash was all that was expected of him during mediation.

“Just want you lookin’ good for Brandon, you know how he admires you.” His Owner ran a rough hand over his head and scratched at his short hair, and then knocked him aside, playfully. He choked briefly before he could right himself. “Did you eat yet?”

No? Of course, no. He hadn’t had time, he’d been run off his feet. “Na-huh. Sir.”

“Well, either you’re gonna go very hungry or we’ll have to feed you later if we remember,” his owner chuckled. “Could make you eat right off the floor, that’d be a show for Brandon wouldn’t it?”

Kit had no idea why his owner wanted to impress Brandon so much, he was only the body-mod guy they used for tattoos and alterations. He was only coming over to put barcodes on the new shipment. But his owner was always desperate to make a good impression when Brandon was around; laughed too loud, drank too much, let Brandon touch whatever he wanted…

He shook his head and realised he hadn’t answered the question. “Sorry, umm, yes?”

Owner laughed again, “Look at you, already getting deeper into your meditation. Carry on little Kitty, I need you on best behaviour tonight.”

[Part Two]

#I hope this isn't too long #or too not interesting #my word whump #box boy universe #BBU #box boy multiverse #pet whump #people as pets #dehumanization #slavery #memory loss #defiant whumpee #it's small but it's there #I love Kit and I barely know him yet #OC whump #Kit's Story

179 notes · View notes

bellaireland1981 · 5 years ago

Text

Lights, Camera, Coffee in LA Part 2

Ok! Here’s part 2!!! I hope you all like it! I’m really loving writing this one, so I may do more, but we shall see!!

Thank you again to @denisemarieangelina for bouncing ideas around with me and for reading it over!

Characters: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Minor angst (if you squint) FLUFF

After breakfast, I went to grab a shower and get dressed while Michael and Chris discussed the movie project.

Thirty minutes later, I felt more awake and energized. I was excited about being able to spend more time getting to know Chris better. I wrapped my long brown hair up into a towel to soak up some of the excess water before I attempted to wrangle it into any kind of style. While it was towel drying I looked through the clothes I brought with and decided on a pair of boyfriend style cropped distressed jeans with a white v-neck, buttoned down loose fitting tank.

I tackled my hair next, deciding to just comb out the tangles and allow it to air dry. When I didn’t take time to blow it dry and flat iron it, I had a natural wave to my hair. Sometimes it was a nice change of pace to leave it natural.

My phone chimed alerting me to a new text just as I was finishing my makeup. I set my mascara down and picked up my phone to see who had text me.

C: (10:34) I just wrapped up the meeting with your brother, I’ve got a few other things to do this morning, then I’m free. Want to meet at Caffe Luxxe in Santa Monica around noon? It’s close to the pier…

L: (10:35) Sounds great! I’ll see you at noon! I may have to check out the pier after we get our beverage. I’ve never been there. ;)

C: (10:36) Wow! I’m not living that one down. You’ve NEVER been to the PIER?? That’s it...we’re going.

L: (10:38) You’re probably not wrong about that! And you obviously can’t see it, but I’m doing a happy dance right now about seeing the pier!

C: (10:39) So… only happy to see the pier? You can’t see it, but I’m crying over here.

L: (10:41) Wow...needy much? LOL Don’t cry, I’m more excited to see YOU again! ;)

C: (10:42) That’s better! ;) See you soon!

Smiling, I tucked my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and headed downstairs to find my brother again.

It wasn’t hard, he was out on the patio where I’d left him and Chris earlier. He was finishing a phone call as I sat down in the chair Chris had been in.

“So, figure out what you’re doing today?” Michael asked after hanging up the phone.

“Yup!” I replied beaming at him, “I’m meeting Chris for coffee at Caffe Luxxe in Santa Monica and then we’re going to go to the pier. I’m trying to tame the inner freak out before I go meet him so he doesn’t realize I’m a complete dork.”

“Dork or not he’s the lucky one to get to spend time with you, Little Bit.” Michael replied looking worried, in a way only a big brother could. “Just be careful. I don’t know that you know what exactly you’re getting into here Lena.”

“I thought you liked Chris, Mickey.” I said, frowning at my brother. “Why are you now cautioning me against him?”

“I do like him, Little Bit” He explained, “He’s a great guy, but he’s not just some random guy you met on a plane with a “normal” job. He lives in the public eye, and has a very large fan base. Dating a celebrity isn’t easy. Not to mention, he seems to have commitment issues.”

“Wow” I replied, annoyed with my brother. “I admit that your concerns about him being a celebrity have some merit, only from the standpoint that you’re right, I’ve never dated anyone famous. Not that I’d call going for coffee and hanging out at the pier necessarily “dating”. I don’t even know if he is interested in me that way or if he simply wants to be friends. But you’re not in any place to talk about commitment issues, Michael. Before you met Talia you were a manwhore and said often you didn’t want to be “tied down”. Obviously, people can change and what may be true of someone when they’re younger, may not be the case as they get older.”

I got up from the table to head back into the house. I loved my brother, but he’d always been overprotective of me and never really seemed to get that I’d grown up.

“Lena,” Michael called after me, “I’m not trying to piss you off, I just want you to be careful is all. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m a big girl, Mickey.” I replied glancing back, “I don’t need you to protect me. I am capable of deciding who I am friends with and even who I date.”

“I know that, Lena” He replied, “I’m just trying to look out for you. It’s my job.”

Thankfully, Lia walked out onto the patio at that moment, having just gotten back from her meeting. I needed her to run interference with Michael and give me a chance to breathe.

“She’s not even here for a day, and you’ve already pissed her off I see.” Lia commented, eyeing us both as she sat down in the seat I had vacated. “Does it have anything to do with a certain Captain Hottie?”

“Not you too” groaned Michael, scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration, “You’re not even Team Cap!”

“No, but I’m Team Lena” Lia said, looking at Michael with a raised eyebrow, “And I like Chris. I think they could be good for one another. Now stop being an overprotective brother and tell your sister to have fun today!”

“Have fun, Little Bit.” Michael parroted his wife, “I’m still planning on grabbing stuff to grill out tonight… maybe see if Chris would like to come for dinner?”

I knew he was trying to smooth things over so I cut him some slack for now. I walked back over and gave him a hug.

“Now was that so hard?” I asked, smiling. “I can check to see if he’s available, and I’ll text you to let you know.”

“Have fun, Lena!” Lia said, winking at me. “I can’t wait to hear all about it!”

“Thanks, Lia!” I laughed, hugging her, “I’m so glad you married my brother!”

I left them on the patio and went back inside to grab a drink and head up to my room to finish getting ready.

________________________

A few minutes before noon, I arrived at the coffee shop as luck would have it found parking close by. I pulled my phone out to send Chris a quick text to let him know I’d arrived. He’d text me twenty minutes ago letting me know he was headed back towards the cafe, but that traffic was heavier than he’d anticipated.

L: (11:55am) Just got here, I’m going to head inside. No rush, please drive safe!

I headed inside not expecting a reply as he was driving. I found a quiet table in the back corner where I figured we’d be able to blend in a little more. The cafe wasn’t overly crowded, being noon, so we’d have some semblance of privacy.

My phone pinged with a new message as I sat down. I quickly pulled it out to check it.

C: (11:58am) I’m about 5 minutes away. Be there soon!

L: (11:59am) STOP TEXTING AND DRIVING CHRISTOPHER!

C: (12:01pm) Voice to text, I swear! I kinda like it when you yell at me lol.

L: (12:02 pm) You’re a meatball. You can’t see me right now, but I’m rolling my eyes at you. Just be safe. I found a table in the back corner to the left as you walk in.

L: (12:02pm) Gonna order drinks, whatcha want?

C: (12:03 pm) Hold on, walking in now!

A couple seconds later the cafe door opened up and Chris strolled in, eyes scanning the room. A smile lit up his face once he saw me and he headed back to the table I had claimed.

“That was a very accurate time estimate” I said teasingly, “5 minutes on the dot.”

“Do I lose cool points if I admit it’s what my GPS told me?” He asked, laughing.

“I’ll give it to you this time.” I said, smirking at him.

“I’ll go grab us some drinks,” He said, still smiling. “What would you like?”

“Iced mocha, please!” I requested, “Too warm for hot coffee.”

“It’s never too warm for coffee.” he said, giving me the cocked eyebrow look and failing to look stern.

While Chris went to the counter to get our drinks, I glanced at my phone and saw a missed text from Talia.

T: (12:06 pm) Don’t forget to invite Captain Hottie for dinner!

L: (12:08 pm) LMAO, does Mickey know you’re continuing with that nickname? And I will ask him…if you promise to keep my brother on a leash ;)

T: (12:08 pm) DEAL! And he knows my heart belongs to him...and Iron Man.

I laughed at my sister in law as I tucked my phone away.

“One blasphemous iced mocha for you.” Chris said, and set the drink in front of me, “One normal and perfectly perfect coffee for me.”

“Blashphemous coffee, huh?” I asked, laughing at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard coffee referenced in that way.”

“I mean, I just call it like I see it.” He replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “What had you laughing when I was walking back?”

“Lia text me” I said, suddenly nervous to ask him over for dinner. I didn’t want to appear over eager or assume too much about our new friendship. Of course, Chris was perceptive enough to catch the change in my voice.

“Hey,” he said smiling, “I can hear you thinking over there, everything ok?”

“Yeah” I replied, taking a deep breath. Deciding the worst that could happen would be he’d say no, I forced myself to ask him. “She was reminding me to ask ‘Captain Hottie’ over for dinner tonight. My brother is grilling.”

Chris threw his head back and grabbed his chest, laughing. It gave me a rush to know I’d accomplished making him laugh hard enough for the left boob grab twice now since meeting him. I had to laugh with him, because his laugh was actually contagious.

“There’s so much to unpack there” he said, once he got himself under control again. “First, I’d love to come to dinner, it sounds great. Second, I’m not sure how I feel about the new ‘Captain Hottie’ title… at least from your sister in law… I could be open to it from a certain new friend… and finally, were you really nervous to ask me? You’re adorable when you get nervous by the way.”

At a complete loss for words, I took a moment to collect myself and took a sip of my coffee. I wasn’t sure how to handle Chris flirting with me. Was he flirting? Ugh!

“I don’t even know what to say to any of that.” I admitted, blushing. “So, I’ll just let them know you’ll be coming to dinner.”

Chris laughed again, and winked at me as he took a drink of his coffee.

“So, how did the rest of the meeting go with my brother?” I asked, changing the subject.

“It went well, actually.” He smiled, knowing what I was doing. “It looks like I’ll be in LA most of the summer.”

“That’s great!” I exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically, “I mean, since it was a project you were wanting and all.” Smooth, Lena, not at all obvious here.

“It is great!” He agreed, “I’m very excited to do this movie, but I’m also really interested in spending some more time with this fun, gorgeous, wicked smart, and hilarious girl I met on the way out here.”

“This person sounds pretty great” I replied, melting at his words, “You’ll have to introduce us! I could use some friends to hang out with this summer. And did you seriously just use “wicked” as an adjective? You’re so Boston.”

“Alright, Miss sassy pants” he said, tossing a balled up napkin at me, “Let’s head to the pier, see what kind of trouble we can find.”

We spent several hours hanging out at Santa Monica Pier. We rode the roller coaster, ferris wheel, played a bunch of games, ate way too much junk food, and I swear, I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. I really enjoyed spending time with Chris.

After we finished exploring the pier we decided to head down and walk along the beach for a bit before we needed to head to my brother’s for dinner.

“I had a lot of fun today, Chris!” I said beaming at him. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”

“It was fun seeing it as new through you,” He replied, causally reaching out to hold my hand in his as we strolled, “It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I think my nephew Miles was three the last time we were here.”

I enjoyed the feeling of his strong fingers laced through mine as we walked along the beach. I always loved being by the water, but being here with Chris made it even better. It was like we were in our own little bubble.

We walked a little further down the beach lost in each other’s company, laughing, and just enjoying the afternoon. Suddenly, Chris stopped walking, his hand squeezed mine tighter, causing me to stop walking and turn towards him.

“Everything OK?” I asked seeing that he had tensed up, a frown on his face.

“Yeah” he replied, his voice full of tension mixed with what sounded like anxiety. “We should head back.”

I wasn’t sure where the abrupt change in him came from. Had I said something wrong and upset him? I frantically went back over the conversation, not sure what could have upset him.

“Chris?” I started softly as we walked back towards the pier and his car. He had dropped my hand and was moving at a faster pace. I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me. When he didn’t reply, I decided to keep quiet and follow his pace.

It only took a few minutes to make it to the parking lot where Chris’ car was parked. He unlocked it remotely and walked over to the passenger side to open the door for me. Even now, he was a complete gentleman. I quietly got in and buckled my seatbelt waiting on him to walk around and get in on the driver’s side. I kept quiet on the way back to the cafe where my car was parked, trying to figure out what to say to him.

He pulled in next to my car and put his in park, turning to look over at me. I could see the wheels turning in his head. Deciding to let him off the hook and get out of this before my emotions got the best of me, I turned towards him and tried to paste what I thought was a genuine smile in my face.

“Thanks for today, Chris,” I said softly, not trusting my voice, “I had a lot of fun.” I quickly unbuckled the seatbelt and reached over to open the door.

“Lena” Chris jumped out of the car and quickly caught up to me. He reached out and gently grabbed my hand, turning me around. “Wait.”

“It’s OK, Chris” I reassured him, my resolve quickly leaving me, “We can hang out another time…. If you want that is. If not, I had a really great time getting to know you.”

“Lena, stop” He replied, thankfully stopping my babbling. “I had a lot of fun with you today, I like being with you. It’s easy to forget the rest of the world exists when I’m talking to you…. I just got so caught up in you, I let my guard down and forgot to be on the lookout for paparazzi. They followed us on the beach, and I’m pretty sure they got pictures of us together.”

“So, it wasn’t something I said or did that upset you?” I asked quietly, hating that I was feeling so insecure.

“Fuck no,” He replied instantly pulling me towards him and engulfing me in a hug. God, this man could hug, and he smelled amazing, even after being in the hot sun all day. “Lena, I doubt there’s anything you could say or do that would upset me. It’s just that in the past, my relationships often tanked because of the media or over-critical fans hounding whoever I was dating. It would kill me for you to be hurt by that.”

“I’m made of tougher stuff than that,” I replied, “Today’s insecurites aside, that is. I guess I just wasn’t really sure what this was, and didn’t want to assume anything. I thought we were having a great time and then after the beach I thought you wanted to get away from me as fast as humanly possible...or that you were wishing you had some of Cap’s super speed. I’m going to shut up now.”

Chris laughed and dropped his head down so that his forehead was now resting against mine, which brought me up against the solid wall of his chest again.

“This,” he started pulling away slightly to look me in my eyes, “was definitely a memorable first date. That is going to quickly be followed by our second date, which is dinner at your brother’s. Then, being as it’ll be our second date and all, I’m hoping to get to kiss you goodnight after making arrangements to meet up for our third date. I’m thinking Disneyland for that by the way. After that, I plan on continuing to date you until I eventually wear you down and you agree to be my girlfriend. How’s that for transparency?”

“I got stuck on the second date and mentions of kissing.” I smiled up at him, biting my lip, “Is that a hard rule for you… waiting for the second date? Because then I can make the argument that coffee was technically the first date then, the pier was our second and dinner tonight would be third.”

“That’s where you got hung up?” He asked laughing, “Ok, what about the rest that whole spiel?”

“Dinner, kiss, Disneyland, more dates, girlfriend, got it.” I answered, “So back to the second date thing.”

“As long as we’re on the same page.” He joked, tilting my face up towards his. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine gently before pulling back again way too quickly.

“You’re killing me Smalls” I groaned at the teasing kiss. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Great movie!” He laughed, “I promise to make it up to you, Sweetheart. After our third date.”

“I plan to collect.” I replied smiling.

“I look forward to it.” he said then leaned in and brushed another quick kiss on my lips, “See you in a bit. Drive safe please, precious cargo and all that.”

“Ditto.” I said getting into the car. “I’m really glad I had an early morning flight to L.A.”

#chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans

59 notes · View notes

sr-023 · 4 years ago

Text

Feeling the Big Decay v 0.6

Despite her position of seniority within Valorant it’s rare that Viper leads operations in the field.

Command naturally falls to Brimstone, and in his absence they’re seldom without one of Sage’s calm and steady judgement, Cypher’s peerless intelligence or Breach’s hard-hitting tactics and bullish confidence to pick up the slack. There’s enough accumulated experience and competence between them to allow Valorant’s co-founder to consolidate her stranglehold on R&D, and Viper all too gladly leaves them to divvy out the grunt work. Why should she waste her efforts on trivial matters that someone else can handle?

It takes something more exceptional to draw her onto the battlefield: a desire to document and further refine her latest toxins; close-quarters engagements that demand her ability to clear a room at minimal personal risk, third-parties more receptive to those like herself and Reyna than their more clean-cut peers. Atlas.

Today it is Atlas, and so, with Brimstone offering support from reserve, she leads.

---

Smoke rising from the blacksite is still high on the horizon even though they’ve left it long behind. Raze’s work is messy in its artistry but undeniably effective, and any rebuilding effort is bound to be costly, slow. That enough of their records survived the fireworks to give Cypher something worth poring over is just the cherry on top. It’s about as ‘clean’ an operation as one can hope for with the Brazilian on the team, and that’s notable enough to be a thing worth celebrating. Small wonder then that Brimstone caved and let her choose the in-flight soundtrack for the journey home.

Her music thunders through the hold - Se o papo é racista, dedo médio, fuck you – almost loud enough to have Viper gritting her teeth behind her mask. There’s no escape from the noise even far back by the cargo doors, and were she not well acquainted with working under extreme duress it would be all but insufferable. If anything it’s worse than the chaos of the battlefield. At least there she’d have objectives, a gun in her hand, and licence to give someone else a short sharp splitting headache.

Viper slips her bag out from beneath her chair, takes out her toolkit and sets to tinkering with her emitters. She knows well enough that they’re in no need of maintenance but it isn’t necessity guiding her hand. It’s a simple rote activity, calming in its familiarity, and between it and the steady rattle of breath through her respirator she slowly lets the world fall away.

Perhaps it’s no surprise then that she doesn’t even notice Brimstone’s approach until his steel-toed boots enter her vision.

“Viper. This a good time?”

Warm as ever, but it doesn’t take a genius to recognise that he expects to be heard out. She’s about the last person anyone would turn to for small talk.

Viper leaves him hanging. Her work is delicate and she can hardly down tools a moment’s notice. She makes sure that everything is properly secured before looking up, considering, and finally directing him to the seat adjacent with a slight flick of her head.

Though he sits himself down heavily, Brimstone keeps his arm tucked in to offer her a wider berth. He glances to the front of the plane, to where Phoenix, Raze and Jett have set themselves up with a deck of cards, a crate for a makeshift table, and a few cans of ungodly cheap soda, and in that instant he wears all his years and more. He sinks further back into his seat with a sigh. It’s more a sound of satisfaction than exhaustion.

“Young blood did good today,” he declares, leaning a little Viper’s way. “Sometimes I wonder whether they’re even listening in the briefings, but then they go and find a way to surprise me. Maybe it comes with being Radiants; give someone an arsenal like that and they’ll always be one step ahead even if they don’t take the time to look before they leap. Not much normies like us can do against that kind of firepower. Not when they don’t even see them coming.”

Brimstone huffs a dry little laugh. “Wouldn’t think they used to be civvies, or that Raze was home taught. Would’ve been glad to have her in...”

The words die on his lips as he turns to find acid-green eyes boring through him. At some point during his little spiel Viper has slipped her respirator free and now it hangs loose and dead around her collarbone. Even now he still can’t help but let his eyes flit down to her sharp jawline, almost as if it’s still a surprise to him that there’s but mortal flesh and blood behind that mask. Her lips are tight and thin and anything but amused by his rambling.

“Spare me the sentimentality, old man. We both know you’re not here to play proud parent.”

Guilty as charged, Brimstone can only offer her a tired smile. As long as he’s known her Sabine has never had never had much patience for anything that cuts into her valuable brooding time.

“If that’s how you want it” he cedes. A click of the tongue. “Today was your op: your plan, your command. You’ve heard enough of what I think of the newbies, so give me your review. I want to hear it from someone I know won’t go soft on them just for putting on a good show.”

There’s a clear scepticism in the look Viper gives him, like she’s still searching for some ulterior motive behind the question. And then there isn’t. The tension doesn’t fully leave her – it never seems to – but she scoffs and lets her arms hang a little looser at her side. “Where to start?”

“As one they’re arrogant. Jett thinks she’s fast enough to always take the first shot, and one day she’s going to be dead wrong. We need her on a leash. Phoenix believes his own hype. He considers his abilities an excuse to show off because no one mistake will keep him down. They’ll both take any foolish chance you let them, and when they come out alive they’ll laugh off any lessons they should have learned. Idiots with the power of gods.”

“As for Raze, calling her a liability would be too kind. She was more of a threat than anything Atlas could bring against us - no subtlety or sense of self-preservation.” She leans forward to look past him at the three down the other end of the dropship, and while her expression doesn’t exactly sour Viper hardly looks pleased with what she sees. Something like scorn finds her tone. “You should be glad my toxins scare them more than bullets. The same walls that screen their flanks keep them from taking stupid risks. None of them understand the value of patience and care.”

She leans back and can’t help but bristle just a little at how closely Brimstone is watching her. If anything she’s said has left any real impression then it doesn’t seem to have reached his face, but Viper knows him more than well enough to sense the wheels turning. After a moment he shrugs her words off.

“That may be so, but you made it back without a scratch. Shows what a firm hand can do with that raw talent. Give them time and you’ll-”

“Save it,” she cuts in coldly. “This mission was nothing. I could have handled it myself if you had only authorised it.”

He levels her with his gaze. “You know that was never on the table. Not after Venice.”

It’s enough to immediately get her back up.

That operation is a still-raw wound, one that has been slow to heal even with their tacit agreement to leave it well alone. Certainly it marked Valorant’s first true high profile failure, a city ‘saved’ in only the loosest of terms, but beyond that it forced those long-buried faults to the surface and exposed the cracks in their show of unified purpose. That the true fault for that particular catastrophe lies elsewhere hardly matters. Brimstone hasn’t forgiven her and Viper has yet to show even a sliver of remorse.

3 notes · View notes

silkkpopbonnet · 5 years ago

Text

7 Nights of Monsta X

Night Two

Alexis went home shortly after breakfast with Hyungwon. Tonight was his night and she wanted to unwind and relax before whatever he had planned for the night. As she relaxed into a soothing bath, curls of steam floating up around her, she leaned her head back against a pillow. Her spring twists piled on top of her head, secured with a scrunchie. She placed a silk wrap around her edges, and now rubbed her sore thigh muscles gently as music hummed in the background. Her phone chimed from its position on the floor, a text, it could wait. When the call came through, Alexis grunted sitting up from the rose and neroli scented water to see who it was.

Her benefactor.

He was a demanding man, he liked to call himself a dom, but frequently she was the one who put him in his place.

“Stop calling him a trick he only buys your food.” That’s what Meg thee stallion said and this man was more than that, but definitely no more than a walking wallet.

A player but not on her team.

“Hello.” No need to pretend not to know who it was.

“What have you been doing all night?” The benefactor’s voice chimed anxiously through the line.

Alexis grunted, he wanted something but whatever it was she’d make him wait. “Have you needed something?”

“You.”

At least he was to the point about it.

“Details, Jaehyun, I’ve told you about that.” Setting the phone on a bar near the tub, Alexis relaxed back into her water.

“I want to feel you in my mouth, tonight, I’m back for a few days and I thought that maybe we could play tonight.”

“Not interested.”

Alexis had enough of a reputation and skills to rely on that she could do as she wished. He knew that and to demand more of her was definitely out of their play spectrum.

“Alexis,” His attempt at chiding her was futile. “Please, sweetheart, what are you doing tonight? Probably nothing, come let daddy-”

“Jaehyun, listen closely.” Standing out of the water, Alexis wrapped herself in a thick towel. “Tonight, I’m going to have some fun with a few acquaintances. I am going to relax, and enjoy myself. Don’t ruin my good time with your incessant whining, am I clear?”

She put on a strict tone, clear enough that he would revert to his submissive nature. True to his nature, that’s exactly what he did. Alexis rolled her eyes, he played his role well, why couldn’t he stop faking the dominant?

“Of course, beauty, can I see you soon?”

“Yes, when I want to see you, I’ll call you. Now be a good boy and go look at some of my pictures. Touch yourself and show me the results.”

She hung up without another word, clicking the red end call button quickly. He’d do exactly as she asked because her attention was all he wanted in this world. If she gave him a scrap he’d survive for months. It was these kinds of men that kept her afloat and living as well as she did. It was a game, and Alexis always won.

As she sat in the car that would take her to the guys apartment, she smoothed her hand over the faux leather mini dress she wore. It was off the shoulder and boasted a zippered front. Underneath this she wore a bra and panty combo that would be enough to make Hyungwon choke on his tongue. If she was lucky, she’d be choking on his dick by the end of the night, the man boasted some serious big dick energy. It was his mannerisms, he was confident and attractive and knew that. A man who stood tall in a room with other men on his level and still believed himself to the best looking was a good thing. He answered to no one, at least only one of them. Alexis chuckled at the remembrance of what Wonho said.

(WARNING: These scenes will contain some elements of pain with sexual pleasure and cross-dressing. It’s tame but if it’s not your flavor please skip!)

Her gold Louboutin heels clacked neatly against the pavement, as she wrapped her faux fur around herself, and entered the building. Up to the elevator and onto the floor that belonged to her lovers. How long would they get the privilege of calling themselves that? She had no idea, but so far the conversation and intrigue were enough to keep her here.

The door opened before she arrived, and Alexis smiled at Minhyuk, who eagerly took her hand and led her inside.

“You look amazing,” He kissed her cheek gently, not wanting to overstep. “Smell even better, is that amber oil?”

The action surprised Alexis and stroked his chin. He didn’t take without asking, by now some of her clients would assume so.

“Thank you, and yes it is.” Minhyuk took her coat and hung it gently in the closet.

Taking her hand once more, he helped her to sit on the hall bench as he removed her shoes and placed them high on the closet shelf.

“Hyungwon is in the shower, the rest of us are playing Mario Kart, would you like to join us? He’ll be doing his hair and that might take a while.”

“I would love to.” One hand on her lower back, Minhyuk gently caressed her, Alexis could feel the itch in his fingers.

The hesitation in the way he moved, it affected his aura. Just before they stepped into the living area, Alexis stopped placing one of her hands on Minhyuk’s chest.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” He kissed her fingers. “I’m excited to spend time with you, it’s not often we get private time with a beautiful woman.”

“Really? Could have fooled me, I bet hundreds would be dying to be here.”

“For reasons, I don’t care to talk about. Singing, dancing, my career. You are here because you like us, like me. If you didn’t want to there’s nothing holding you from leaving.”

He was right in a way, but that’s not what was on his mind. “Tell me what else Minhyuk.” Alexis turned her body into his, forcing him into a small corner in the darkness of the hall. “Something is on your mind.”

Minhyuk looked around nervously. He tried to be objective in all things, but he was wondering how’d he’d compare to Hyungwon and Wonho. Not that he wasn’t confident in his abilities, but there was a weakness in comparing yourself to others and that’s what he was doing now.

“I hope to be good for you is all.” Rubbing her chin, Minhyuk was awed by the way the light of the living room captured the highlight on her cheekbones.

“Trust in your own ability.” Alexis tapped his nose before kissing it. “Be yourself, that’s all I ask.” Before moving away she thought about something. “What is it that you like? Want to show me a little?”

Heat rose in Minhyuk’s gut as he felt her breasts press upon his chest. Gently, he held both sides of Alexis's face as he rolled his body into her, turning them so she was pressed against the wall.

“I want to fuck your face until tears stream out of those pretty, brown eyes.” He kissed her gently, biting her bottom lip. “I want to hear you gag on my cock, and feel your nails in my thighs while I’m sliding down your throat.” Minhyuk buried his face in the crook of her neck, while his hand placed hers on top of his hardening shaft.

Slowly, he nibbled along Alexis collarbone until he was back at her lips, begging for entrance. She obliged, unzipping his slacks enough to wrap a hand around his hot length. Easy strokes in her hand that had him moving his hips if he wasn’t careful he’d spill his seed right here. He was so turned on that the sound of his members just feet away were drowned out. The thrill of someone walking over and catching, Alexis hand around his exposed length was enough to make him spill against her thighs.

Tongues wrapping around one another, Alexis let him go, pushing his cock slowly back into his pants. She pulled him close, teeth on his earlobe as she spoke gently.

“Go to the bathroom, and squeeze your dick as hard as you can until you cum on your chest for me. Clean up and you’ll get a kiss when your return.”

He was breathless, heart beating in a hurry in his chest. Minhyuk hurriedly took Alexis hand and led her into the living room, helping her to sit next to Kihyun before he excused himself.

Sighing happily, Alexis turned to Kihyun with a smile as she kissed the corner of his mouth. “Hello handsome, what course are we on?”

Sitting on the couch after she lost to I.M. Alexis looked at the video Minhyuk sent her. His glorious chest on display, fine lines of his abs clenching as his hand pumped his cock furiously. It was the way that he looked directly into the camera and slid his thumb over his tip that almost made Alexis moan out loud. He knew how to work his angles. Now as he returned to the living room, never worse for the wear and sat next to her, Minhyuk’s hand slid between her legs, his fingers gently rubbing Alexis panties while they kissed.

“Back off,” Hyungwon finally made his appearance. A red silk shirt opened to the chest, and black leather pants. He looked like a vampire, the slightly pale skin of his chest against the deep red. The layered gold necklaces he wore tapping lightly against his collarbone, as he leaned in front of Alexis and kissed her forehead. “Waiting long for me?”

“Yes.” Kihyun decided to answer. “You’re going to take your clothes off, why spend so much time putting them on?”

“Nice to know you’ll just be naked, Kihyun.” Jooheon shook his head. “One more race, Alexis. If I win, I get a kiss.”

She laughed, watching Hyungwon’s dark eyes as he moved Minhyuk over to sit next to Alexis. “Just one, I have plans that Alexis will be thoroughly pleased with.”

In the room, Hyungwon was lighting a few candles. Moving around he flicked a light switch and turned on a purple light around the bed.

“Praise me, that’s what I ask for. Command me to be your slave, and tell me what a good job I’m doing.”

Alexis noticed a collar around Hyungwon’s slender neck now, in his hand was a leash. Placing the end of it, in Alexis's hand, he kneeled on the floor and waited.

“Command you?” Sitting on the bed, Alexis crossed one leg over the other and smiled down at him. “Oh baby boy, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“I assume my mistress likes then?” Gentle fingers traced up her foot, massaging a calf.

“I love it,” Alexis pulled gently on the leash, pulling Hyungwon until his face was against her leg. “You’ll want me to treat you like my good boy?”

“Yes,” Hyungwon’s breath was becoming shorter, not because of the leash but his impending arousal. “What shall I do to please you?”

“Kiss my feet.”

Always eager to do more, Hyungwon began massaging them. Bringing lavender painted toes to his mouth as he placed gentle kisses on them.

“Good boy.”

His mouth opened and enveloped a toe, sucking gently, while hands massaged the other. His tongue moved around the digit and up her ankle. Sneakily, he pushed himself higher on his knees and while he was kissing her thighs, he rubbed his aching cock against her foot.

“Ah, ah.” Pushing him away, Alexis stood up. “Who told you to help yourself?”

“No one.” Hyungwon grinned a cheeky side smile. He liked to push limits. “I simply thought.”

Snatching his jaw, Alexis licked his cheek. “Who told you to think outside of what I tell you? You’re my pretty fucktoy, aren’t you?”

Hyungwon turned his face, in her grasp just as she was about to lick him again to connect tongues. “Always, mistress.”

A sizzle went down Alexis's spine, she pushed him over. Hyungwon continued to lay on the floor. “I just want to please you.”

“You’re being naughty.”

He reached his hands up, placing both on Alexis's thighs. “Let me make it up to you, I can obey.”

Pulling on the leash, Alexis lifted him higher, he was breathing hard. He wore the leather for a reason, the sizeable bulge between his legs was straining against the zipper of his pants.

“Unzip my dress, slowly.”

Shaking hands did as they were told, pulling down the zipper until the dress hung off her body. Wide hips tapered their way to a natural waistline. Hyungwon fought the urge to kiss her stomach. Feel the softness against his lips.

Instead, he fell to his knees and bowed his head. “I am unworthy.”

“You are, slut. I’ve heard about your escapades. How you’re mouthy, need to be put in your place.”

Hyungwon chuckled, lifting his head slightly so he could look at her. “Wonho has a big fucking mouth, kind of like his cock but you enjoyed that right to? I should be no issue.”

Alexis fought the urge to smile, god, he was so much more than she expected. Reaching out she pinched his nipples. Dropping the leash as she rolled and pulled them between her fingers.

A soft yell left Hyungwon’s lips, as Alexis grabbed his face kissing him. Hard, not asking just taking, she bit his bottom lip and pulled. One hand on his throat, she squeezed gently and pulled him to a stand.

“Take it off.”

The dress was pulled from her body. Tossed onto the floor, as Hyungwon still dressed, still ached to touch something other than clothes.

“The panties and bra, take them off.” Mouthwatering he reached around Alexis and watched the dark green material fall from her breasts like a wrapper from candy. Oval-shaped breasts stood at attention in the cool air of the room. He desperately wanted to take one in his mouth. Licking his lips, he glanced at Alexis for approval but received a glare. She stood tall, wide stance as his hands came to her hips and began to slide her panties off her ample bottom. He should have told her that a slap here and there would be sufficient and really turn him on. He was musing with the idea when her voice pierced the quiet.

“What are you thinking?”

“Slap me.”

“You haven’t earned it.” She half-wondered if he meant his ass.

“Strike me, when I’m out of line. Rush will be our code word.”

“Rush,” Alexis repeated, just as she stepped out of her panties.

Without a word, Hyungwon brought them to his nose and breathed deep. “I can smell your arousal, just tell me to fuck you. I’ll do it how you want.” He stuffed the silk underwear into his mouth, savoring the taste.

Pulling on the end gently, Alexis smiled at him. Her slit was dripping, she could feel the moisture between her thighs, coating her skin. She’d have to wait though. Taking the panties back, she placed them behind her on the bed and delivered a smack to Hyungwon’s cheek.

Breathing hard, Hyungwon moaned, letting his hands fall to the floor as his cheek glowed rosy.

“Don’t do that again, am I understood?”

“Yes, mistress. I overstepped.” Forehead on her feet, Hyungwon kissed Alexis’s ankles.

“You did, and now you’ll have to be punished.”

Grabbing his arm, Alexis pulled Hyungwon to a stand while she undid his pants. “Take them off, briefs as well.”

Eagerly he moved with a quickness and grace, standing before Alexis in a red shirt that only covered the tops of his thighs. His cock, long and hard stood tall and commanding. Straining toward her, with a pink-tinted tip that begged to be sucked, touched and fucked.

Reaching out a hand, Alexis tugged on his member, pulling Hyungwon closer to her. “Look at this pretty thing. Long and hard, you want me don’t you Hyungwon?”

“Yes.”

“Move yourself in my hand,” He began his thrusts with an earnest as she tried to hold onto her wrist for stabilization. “Slowly.”

Forced to slow down, Hyungwon stared Alexis in the eyes, opening his mouth slowly into a small ‘o’ every time she squeezed his shaft.

“Do you want to cum my beautiful boy? Spill in my hand? Watch my rub it on your face and lick the excess from my fingers?”

“Please!” Hyungwon gasped, pleaded, as his eyes closed, he could feel his orgasm building.

“I could squeeze you harder with my cunt, milk you all night, and you’d clean your mess from my pussy wouldn’t you?”

“Every drop,” Hyungwon whispered, his moans growing.

Alexis watched as his Adam's apple moved up and down in his throat. Dark hair plastered with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, she removed her hand easily from his dick and watched as he continued to hump the air.

“Don’t Alexis-”

Another slap.

“Mistress, I can be a good boy.” Dropping to his knees, Hyungwon pleaded with her.

“Put these on.” Holding out the panties, she grinned, watched as he took them from her hand.

They were tight, fitting snug against his ass, and the ever-present strain from his cock pressed the fabric to its limits. Alexis grinned, sitting down on the bed, she opened her legs wide.

“Come, please me and perhaps when you’re done. I’ll let you think about cumming.”

On his hands and knees, Hyungwon approached her temple. Legs open, falling to either side, Alexis watched as he placed his hands on her thighs and just like this morning, he devoured her. Mouth open, licking and sucking with wild abandon, he thrust his tongue into her, around her. Hyungwon ate her pussy like it was his last meal before his death sentence. Like, he’d never get this opportunity again and his life depended on it. Across her pearl and up her slit, he lapped his tongue hard over her and used the tips of his canine teeth to nibble on her clit. He needed to rub himself on something, precum leaked from his cock and soiled the front of the panties. He groaned and breathed deep, before diving back into the sweet substance that was Alex’s pussy. Her first orgasm was upon her heavy and deep, it rolled over her like an ocean wave as she held his face to her core and held her breath.

As she finished, Hyungwon stood, hands behind his back, as his body strained towards her. Alexis made a motion with her hand for him to remove the panties. Off them came with a snap.

“Fuck me, boy. Slow, and gentle. Slap your cock on my pussy.”

His teeth ached, getting onto the bed, Hyungwon did as he was told and slapped a thick cock against her clit sending shocks into Alexis’s brain.

Stretching her, filling her, he pressed deep and pulled out slowly. Fighting the urge to groan and simply fuck her like the whore he was. (Yes, that he was)

He could show her all his tricks, every move he learned and please her until she wanted no one but him, however, she asked for slow.

“Hyungwon?” Pulling his hair, Alexis pulled his mouth toward her kissing him. Tongue flying, she lifted her body into the air and fucked him. “Lay on the bed.”

With much force of will, he pulled himself from her body and laid down. Alexis on top, Hyungwon watched as her fingers gripped the red silk shirt he still wore as she rode him.

“That’s my boy, let me soak up your cock.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your pretty cock, it sits so heavy inside me, don’t you like that?”

“I love it.”

Back and forth, up and down, Alexis swiveled her ass around and pulled on his shirt.

“Such a good toy, letting me use you like this.”

“I want to please.”

Hyungwon couldn’t take it, not the way she was holding him, her chest to his, her ass bouncing on his pelvis and thighs.

“Hyungwon?” Alexis's voice rose in pitch.

“Yes?” It was a struggle to open his eyes, it was almost impossible to answer her.

“Cum for me.”

She placed his hands on her hips, head was thrown back as Hyungwon slammed Alexis down on his cock, pumping his hips inside of her until he screamed her name and shook.

“What a good boy. Such a good job, that’s my toy. My favorite toy.”

As he caught his breath, and the shivers faded away, Hyungwon breathed deep and watched as Alexis pulled her body free from his and lifted her ass in the air.

“Time to clean up.”

Night Three: Jooheon

#7 nights series #7 nights is back #7 nights of monsta x #7 nights of shownu #7 nights of pleasure #monsta x #shownu #I.M.#hyungwon #jooheon #joohoney #wonho #minhyuk #kihyun

42 notes · View notes

tommyhollandaisesauce · 4 years ago

Text

Let Me Do The Work TEASER [t.h.]

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ?k

Posted: 11/16/2020

Warning(s): Fluff, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral sex (f receiving), maybe too much plot? and definitely a whole lotta lazy sex sue me.

Summary: Tom thinks you deserve a reward after a hard few days at work.

A/N: First smut in the bag lets go. Also, the point of view makes no sense but continuity is not in my vocabulary so. Anyway, the full part is almost finished so lmk how you guys like this!

You smiled up at him as he pulled away and closed your eyes. Tom threaded his fingers through your messy locks and you relaxed, even more, leaning your head into his hand.

“Long day?” He asked, continuing to run his fingers through your hair.

“Don’t even get me started,” you huffed out, dramatically throwing your arm back over your eyes, which made Tom chuckle at your antics.

“Tell me what happened?” He asked, and as you lowered your arm, you raised a single eyebrow at him.

“You sure?” You asked cautiously, “Because I wouldn’t wish the shit I dealt with today on my worst enemy.”

Tom scoffed, shrugging his shoulders, “Try me.”

You sighed before beginning your story. Today had been insufferable. From the minute you clocked in, to the minute you clocked out, it had been hell. One coworker in particular, with whom you were not super close or friends with in any way, kept nagging you about your relationship like she did every single day.

“Just forget about her for now, babe,” Tom sighed out, continuing to stroke your hair, “she’s not worth your energy.”

“You're right,” you said quietly, “I’m home, I got my wine, I got my boy, I can relax.”

“You sure?” Tom asked breathily, as you continued laying kisses across his jaw and below his ear, “Because I don’t want you to do it just because I want to-”

FULL PART

A/N: AAAHHHH ok I mean I definitely put words on the page lol. Fr tho this is the first time I’ve ever posted anything so lmk if y’all want the rest! Feedback is always appreciated! <3

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #tommyhollandaisesauce

219 notes · View notes

sosthemortalcoil · 5 years ago

Text

KoFi Request: Michael and Family Dinner (Dark F!Gabriel)

This is a sort of follow-up to a previous NSFW KoFi request.

Tone: Awkward, funny, black/edgy humor

Same Gabriel as the previous KoFi

Synopsis: Family dinner where Gabriel and Michael announce that she’s expecting their child.

A good relationship with Daniel and Lucifer

Bonus: She originally tried to shank Daniel

Humor isn’t my forte by any means, but I hope you enjoy it anon! Total word count is 5,223 words and if you would like a pdf or word document copy, let me know via private messages here or on discord! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael keeps looking back at you with wide, pleading eyes, tweaking the tie you had talked him into. He keeps complaining that if you wanted him collared and leashed there are more pleasant ways to go about it. You insisted on the tie; as fun as the other option is, it’s really not a topic you wish to broach with your father. Besides, he should know by now that you always get what you want. The color of his wings proves that your control over Michael is greater than even Heaven’s pull had once been.

“This seems like a bad idea,” he protests, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last. In the end, however, he’ll participate. Grumbling and fretting are how Michael shows he cares, even if it does occasionally grate on your nerves. The day he does something without some sort of token protest is the day you start to truly worry.

You reach up and retighten the tie, pointedly doing it with more force than you had previously. “Stop fussing.” The tone of your voice dares him to disobey.

Michael grimaces. “This is a cursed invention of humans,” he complains, flirting with the idea of disobedience without fully engaging with it. “Why would they wish to feel like there is a noose around their neck? Who decided that should be part of formal dress? At least cravats had some elegance to them.”

It’s your turn to pull a face. If you left Michael to his own devices, you don’t doubt that there would be some terrible mishmash of clothing from different eras and regions. And you’d only just disposed of the last Miami vice style outfit he had squirreled away. Falling hadn’t improved his fashion sense, sadly.

Rather than indulge him in his whinging, you simply say, “Relax,” and stroke over the back of his hair, noting that the locks are almost down to his collar. He’d chopped them off on an impulse, but since becoming involved with you was trying to grow it out again. Turns out Michael has a bit of a kink when it comes to having his hair pulled, which suits you perfectly. “It’ll be fine,” you reassure him.

He leans into your touch. “You say that, but I remind you that based on my previous encounters with your father, fine is an exaggeration.” Considering everyone came out of it relatively intact and not too burnt, you think fine is an apt description. You didn’t have to replace any dishes or chairs, which was a fortunate event; no matter how recently you seemed to have acquired belongings, the moment you needed a replacement you could never find the exact item again.

There’s one sure way to distract Michael from his concerns, however, a recent development you have been using and abusing to your advantage. You take one of Michael’s hands and pull it to your stomach. “What do you think, sweetheart? Think your daddy is overreacting? I know I do,” you coo down at the faint bump.

It’s amazing how effective this behavior is at getting Michael to agree with you and stop all forms of whining. Being pregnant is an automatic win to every argument, not that you need it, but it’s amusing to see Michael turn into soft, gooey ball of emotions, unable to help himself. It’s endearing.

“They aren’t capable of that level of thought yet,” Michael grouses, even as he gets to his knees and presses his ear to your stomach. A grin creeps over your face, and you tousle his hair again.

“But they’ll be like daddy, I’m sure, and admit that mommy is always right,” you murmur, fingers trailing down to stroke over his cheek.

Michael grumbles some more, turning to press a kiss to your belly. You’re barely showing, but you want to tell the rest of your family before it gets to the point that it’s obvious it’s not just a few extra of Persephone’s cookies.

Especially because you’d rather no one level a city block upon finding out. The amount of paperwork that humans generate sometimes makes Heaven seem like an efficient machine in comparison, and that isn’t a compliment to either institution.

A timer starts going off, and you clap your hands together. “They’ll be here any minute. Daniel!” There’s a clatter, and your adopted son appears on the spiral staircase, dressed up in black slacks and a gray-green collared shirt that brings out his eyes.

“Yes mom?” You’ve come such a long way to have him call you that, from trying to remove what you thought was just another satanspawn from the earth to calling him your son.

“Help me set the table, please,” you call as you bustle into the kitchen, hiding a fond smile. He’s a good boy, and often times more mature and dependable than Michael. Not that Michael doesn’t try, but if you want something done without twenty questions Daniel is your man. Not to mention, sometimes Michael still gets caught up in ‘that’s not how Heaven does it.’

While he understands that he’s yours, utterly and completely, he fails to understand that this city is under your dominion as well. The only higher power that rules here is you. Perhaps the difference is that Daniel has always used you as his moral compass, so adjusting to your laws is easy enough.

Michael had spent so long picking fights with you over the slightest issue that sometimes he would still balk at the way you handle problems. He’s learning, though, coming around to your way of view. It’s harder to teach a millennia old angel compared to a boy, but then again Daniel has always been an exceptional child.

That thought makes you pause. He is a young man, now, isn’t he? Not the scrawny, terrified boy you’d met that fateful day. Growing up and going out into the world, ready to make his mark. Your eyes flit to your stomach. Don’t humans have a word for this feeling? Empty nesters? Oddly accurate for Fallen, too. Idly you rub your stomach. Maybe you have grown accustomed to having a little one around.

Daniel enters the kitchen a moment later, moving carefully around you. He already knows about your pregnancy as it’s been impossible to keep Michael’s behavior from giving it away, and Daniel is far more perceptive.

However, it’s made it so that between the two of them, you’ve barely been able to lift anything lighter than a book without them fussing over you. At least Daniel listens to you without arguing when you insist on doing things yourself. You’re pregnant, not an invalid, and barely pregnant at that. If you don’t put your foot down now on the special treatment it’s only going to get significantly worse later. You know Michael. Going overboard is his modus operandi.

“You really think a dinner party with this family is going to go well?” Daniel asks as he pulls out plates and silverware, balancing them with a grace he’s only recently grown into.

“This family? You’re a part of this family, need I remind you,” you gently chide as you pull out the casserole and set it on top of the oven. The top is a light golden brown, almost as good as the picture next to the recipe you’d followed.

“Yep. Which is why I can call it a functional disaster,” Daniel retorts, gliding out of your reach as he moves to the dining table, setting out six place settings and flashing you a cheeky grin. “Things get done, sure, but rarely the way you expect them to or without something nearly catastrophic happening. Not to mention we’re like a bad joke setup.”

“Excuse me young man,” you call, hands on your hips, one eyebrow cocked in a pose you’ve coined as ‘disapproving mother.’ Even without saying anything, Daniel and Michael recognize they’ve done something wrong when you strike it, though depending on his mood, Michael has known to persist.

Turns out someone enjoys a little punishment, but now is not the time to be thinking about that. Definitely not with your father and siblings coming over.

Daniel gestures at Michael, who is standing poised like a statue in front of the front door waiting for the doorbell to ring, giving you a raised eyebrow in return. “Tell me I’m wrong. Satan, his daughter, and three angels—”

“Fallen,” Michael corrects, the word still full of a bitterness you haven’t shaken him out of yet.

You glance at your lover. “Just remember you’re stuck with this family,” you respond, avoiding the topic. Michael is a walking disaster all on his own and everyone knows it, even you. Of course, he’s your disaster and he has made great improvements. It’s a wonder what happens when you listen to others instead of stubbornly defending your position even when it’s glaringly obvious you have no ground to stand on. Only a few years, however, doesn’t quite begin to make-up for millennia of bad behavior.

Falling helped take him down a peg or two. He’s been much better behaved without an entire Heavenly Host watching him, ready to criticize any perceived weaknesses. Plus, you’ve learned ways to keep him leashed and obedient.

“For better or for worse,” Daniel chimes, smile soft. “Though, when your granddad’s the Devil, hard to top that.”

“You know he hates that moniker,” you scold.

“Not like he cares for Grandpa either,” Daniel replies impishly. Teenagers.

Shaking your head, you grab a few cork trivets and toss them towards Daniel. He catches them, laying them out on the table while you bring the casserole over. Another timer goes off. “Grab the mushrooms and put them on a serving platter please,” you say, heading towards the wine rack. While it’s difficult to get an angel drunk on human liquor, it won’t hurt to mellow moods, though you can’t partake.

You grab an old vine Zinfandel for Lucifer, and a sweeter Orange Muscat for Israfel. The latter isn’t really suited for the meal you made, but Israfel prefers sweet wines. Ramiel will drink whatever you put in front of him, and you have whiskey for after dinner, assuming you make it that far without anyone pulling an Angel Blade.

The doorbell rings.

Michael springs into action, smoothing his crisp ironed shirt once before jerking the front door open. The pleasant smile on his face evaporates as he stares into the chest in front of him.

“I forget you’re shorter in this form,” Ramiel rumbles, eyebrows raised in the precursor to an amused smirk.

“Sadly, while I can change my size there’s nothing to be done about your ego,” Michael snaps. Ramiel chuckles, musses Michael’s hair, and enters, pushing Michael aside.

“And here’s my favorite nestmate,” he says, spreading his arms for a hug. You set the wine on the table, letting Ramiel wrap his long arms around you. He pulls back, eyes going wide and eyebrows again shooting up. “Now I understand what the dinner is about. Got a bun in the oven, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ramiel. Everything is already out of the oven.” Michael sounds petulant, displeased by the brusque dismissal of your fellow Fallen.

“Oh Michael. Don’t ever change,” Ramiel replies, his condescending tone making your lover bristle.

“Anybody breaks anything other than bread in this house and I will kick your sorry feathers,” you threaten, wagging a finger at Ramiel. “And I don’t want to see any wings popping out. Save it for not in my home.”

Your most troublesome nestmate holds up his hands, feigning innocence. “Well, at least with Michael around you’ve already experienced the level of hand-holding and monitoring a kid requires.”

“I am not a child! Point in fact Gabriel is younger than me,” Michael pipes up.

“So that—”

“Ramiel,” you warn, knowing he was going to make another comment at Michael’s expense. “Is it really that amusing to battle wits with an unarmed opponent?”

“Sporting, no,” Ramiel says, pulling out a chair and sitting down, leaning back on two legs, ignoring your sigh. His grin is wide and unrepentant. “Entertaining? Most definitely.”

“Why did you insist on inviting him again?” Michael demands, sitting across from Ramiel and glaring daggers at your prank-prone nestmate.

“Because we can’t choose our family, and he’s part of it,” you say in a voice so sweet sugar has nothing on it. Both Michael and Ramiel appear to stop breathing, turning to look at you with wary eyes. Sometimes, you think, it’s easier to play nice. Makes them paranoid without you having to go through the effort of concocting a punishment or figuring out what to leverage to make them behave. Let their imaginations run wild thinking of what you might have up your sleeve.

“I see I’ve arrived just in time.” You look up to find Israfel has invited himself in, a much quieter entrance than Ramiel’s. He’s dressed with a kind of casual elegance, a long cream cardigan over a white ensemble that on anyone else would look over the top. On his long frame, however, there’s a dignity and grace that makes your attempt to dress Michael up look cheap. You glance over at your lover. At least he hasn’t clawed the tie off his neck yet, and for the most part it’s still straight.

“Israfel,” you greet, letting him sweep you into a hug. He kisses the top of your head, smiling fondly down at you.

“Hello little sister,” he greets. Things had been strained for a while after your Fall, but much of it had been mended when Israfel showed you his own black wings. If you weren’t in Heaven, then he didn’t want to be either. He still doesn’t approve of everything you do, but that’s one of the beauties of being Fallen; you can disagree without there being a wrong and right party, as there’s not much of a governing oversight on Fallen.

And what there is happens to be headed by your father, allowing you to quite literally get away with murder.

“It must be big news you have to share,” Israfel whispers, amusement twinkling in his eyes. Narrowing your eyes, you scowl at him.

“Why do I even bother?” you ask.

He shrugs. “The most oblivious party here is half-responsible for your current state, so I’m not certain. Perhaps you should sit down before your father arrives; I doubt you want him knowing before the food is at least served.”

Rolling your eyes—you aren’t fooled, you know he’s using it as an excuse to get you off your feet—you pull out the chair next to Michael and sit down.

Immediately you catch Ramiel’s troublesome grin, and groan.

“You know, Michael, humans may not be your favorite creature but even they are aware enough to make sure their pregnant mates have, say, their chair pulled out for them.” He swirls the wine he’d helped himself to around his glass, watching it with faux fascination, as if the conversation were of no importance.

Michael’s face goes white, a retort on his lips when Israfel sinks into a seat, hands folded neatly on the table in front of him, head tilted to the side. “Gabriel might not be quite as she once was, but she is no delicate human either,” he comments, reaching out and pouring himself a glass of wine, the color matching his ensemble well.

Daniel glances around, ensuring everything is out where it should be before he takes a seat as well, his eyes darting eagerly to the food.

“Great. We’re all here. Can we eat now?” Michael’s petulance is one of the few qualities that hasn’t markedly improved since falling, and you can practically hear the collective sigh everyone holds back.

“Still never learned to count, I see.” You don’t bother turning around, knowing full well who it is. Lucifer had this building built for you and you’ve long since stopped expecting him to enter through the front door like a normal visitor. He has a flair for the dramatic, and at least it’s not another Hellhound pup.

Speaking of which, you reach out with your foot, encountering other feet but no hound sneaking around for scraps.

Michael pastes a smile on, his hands disappearing under the table. “Lucifer,” he greets. Ramiel gives Lucifer a two fingered salute, once again leaning his chair back. Israfel inclines his head to Lucifer, a gentle smile on his face.

“Oh good. You remember my name. I had feared that your memory might have been going along with your inability to count.”

“Dad, be nice,” you warn before gesturing to the open spot. “You are in his house.”

“A house I paid for, had built, and warded,” Lucifer responds, moving fluidly to his seat, seeming to simply pour himself into the chair without having to pull it out from the table. It’s a little disconcerting to watch but reminds you that he isn’t always so human in appearance.

“If you weren’t Gabriel’s father, she wouldn’t need half of these wards,” Michael points out.

“If I weren’t Gabriel’s father, you wouldn’t be here either,” Lucifer retorts. Israfel and Ramiel takes sips of their respective drinks, one resigned, the other amused. Michael opens his mouth to retort and you clear your throat. This could go on all night and you haven’t even gotten to share your news yet.

“So… can we eat before it gets cold?” Daniel asks, looking at you with large eyes. You give him a nod, and he immediately starts piling food on his plate. A curious phenomenon you had observed with teenagers, or at least the three who frequented your house for a long time, is that they eat far more than the average human, and yet never seem to feel full.

Being pregnant seems to be roughly equivalent to being a teenager, at least in terms of food consumption. You always seemed to be running by the stores, picking up groceries and whatever odd combination of food your unborn child seems to crave. One good thing about having Michael for a partner is that he’s unfamiliar with normal human cuisine and thus sees nothing wrong with combinations such as peanut butter on pickles and cheese with ice-cream.

Daniel has learned to be cautious when he hears the fridge open at odd hours lest his appetite be ruined. Watching him now, it seems like that would be an impossible feat, but you have seen it happen,

The table falls blissfully silent while food is served, everyone respecting the sanctity of a good meal—or the fact that you won’t hesitate to kick any of their asses if they don’t.

“Not that I don’t enjoy getting to sit down to a meal with my daughter,” Lucifer is the first to break the silence, “but I doubt you would get the entirety of the nest together just for family dinner. Something you want to share?”

It’s your turn to play innocent. “What, I can’t just enjoy a family meal? The family that Falls together, stays together don’t you know.” No one laughs at your joke, though Ramiel shakes his head in pity

You glance at Michael. Might as well tell him now, then. In the future you’ll have to schedule more family dinners, if only to prevent your nestmates from being suspicious. Being predictable has never been a compliment as far as your concerned. Predictable is only one step away from complacent, and with the kind of enemies you have, you cannot afford either, especially when you’re about to bring a new life into this world.

Michael shakes his head, jabbing with far more force than required at his food. You tilt your head. Michael flicks his gaze to Lucifer. You roll your eyes. Michael’s fork screeches painfully against the plate.

Lucifer clears his throat, gaze resting on the pair of you.

“I’m going to college!” Daniel’s announcement blessedly drags the attention of the group away from your and Michael’s silent argument.

“It’s not that far,” Ramiel comments. “It’s not like this is your last supper.”

Silence greets his comment.

“Oh come on! Last supper? I mean, sure, there’s only six of us total, but I mean we’ve got the King of Hell himself so it’s like—like some sort of hellish version.”

You reach over and pat his arm. “Ramiel, dear, if you have to explain it… it’s not funny.”

“It was better than yours,” he mutters, retreating behind his wine glass.

“Didn’t you know that human?” Michael asks, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.

“‘That human,’ Michael, was one of the most brilliant minds humanity has ever hosted, I’m sure in no small part to his personal muse,” Lucifer comments, smiling at you. “My daughter is quite the inspiring force.”

“But it’s a rather strange painting don’t you think? First of all, it’s not accurate at all to the region or the time period he’s attempting to paint, and then everyone is gathered on one side of the table—that would be terribly awkward and far overcrowded and—”

Daniel clears his throat. “Anyways, since I’m going off to college, we thought this would be, uh, a nice way to send me off.”

“But you’ll be back,” Michael states, brow furrowed, successfully derailed from his rant but now busy trying to apply his brand of logic to Daniel’s statement. Daniel glances at you for help. Subtlety is not Michael’s strong suit. “It’s not like you’re dying or anything. By my understanding humans can live for a century or so now. And you aren’t human, so you’ll be around for longer than that. I mean, you survived Gabriel.”

The smack to Michael’s arm isn’t gentle.

“And what does that mean?” you inquire, head tilted to one side, a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. Michael’s eyes widen, recognizing danger in the faux sweet smile you flash him.

“Nothing, dearest.” You turn back to your food and manage to get a bite in before Michael opens his mouth and sticks in his left foot, his right foot, and all six of his wings.

“Well, not nothing. I mean, you did try to kill him when you first met.”

You can feel your left eye twitch. “So I did,” you state placidly, taking your napkin and dabbing at your lips.

Israfel reaches for the wine and refills his glass. Ramiel reaches for another helping of food. Lucifer leans back in his chair, though unlike Ramiel he keeps all four feet of the chair solidly on the ground, watching with amusement, while Daniel looks between the two of you as if to play referee.

“And the fact that you can go from nearly obliterating him at first meeting to having him reach the age of legal majority by which human laws state he is now responsible for himself is a feat that should be celebrated. He’s—”

You hold up your index finger. “I’m not the only one who tried to kill him.”

“Well, no, of course not. But you were never very good at the whole loyal to Heaven bit and following orders. I mean, there’s a reason you Fell.”

Israfel drains his glass. Ramiel arches an eyebrow. “There’s a reason all of us here have Fallen,” he points out, for once acting like the voice of reason. “At least Gabriel Fell of her own choice. You were the whipped one who couldn’t stand to live without her. So really, who has the greater reason for Falling? Gabriel because of her beliefs? Or you because of love?”

“Thank you, Ramiel,” you say in a brittle tone. He shrugs, and then continues because he’s never known when to stop.

“Look, I know to knock on your door for a reason now because, well, if you weren’t already Fallen, I don’t know, seeing some of the things you two get up to—”

“THANK YOU, RAMIEL.” Your voice is louder this time. Daniel is staring fixedly at his plate, and Michael is gawping next to you.

“When did he—?” your lover demands, turning to you.

“He’s not the only one,” Daniel mumbles. “If brain bleach were a thing…”

Thoroughly scandalized, Michael turns to Daniel. “I would have noticed if you walked in!”

“I’m pretty sure the time I stopped by you were too busy on your knees,” Israfel adds, one elegant finger flicking out to the side. “Your windows aren’t nearly as one-way as you think they are.”

Michael looks apoplectic, his skin turning an interesting shade of mauve. “Excuse me?” he demands, starting to come out of his seat.

“Oh please, sit down. It’s not like those of us with wings haven’t seen all that and more,” Lucifer replies, sounding bored. “Just because you thought it was kinky to hold hands doesn’t mean that the rest of us live under a rock. Good thing you live on earth; I think Hell would make you combust on the spot.”

“I did—holding hands—I know what sex is!”

“I’m glad you know what sex is. I hope for my daughter’s sake you’re at least passable at it.”

It’s your turn to want to sink into your seat. This is not a conversation that you wanted to have happen. Ever.

“More than passable,” Michael snaps. “In fact, if we—”

“Why is this a conversation for a family dinner?” Daniel asks you with desperate eyes, his voice raised to cut across Michael.

“Because this family is literally from Hell?” Ramiel supplies. He winces abruptly, and glares at Israfel who hasn’t appeared to move at all.

“Not from Hell,” Lucifer corrects, taking a bread roll, completely unperturbed by any of the topic changes. “I might rule it, but we are all from Heaven. Except for Daniel, but he’s the least disastrous one here.”

“Dad!” It’s your turn to be shocked, staring at your father in betrayal.

“You picked him,” Lucifer says mildly, gesturing to Michael with his bread roll. He rips it in half, sets half down, and then rips the half into quarters. “Daniel had no choice in the matter. That, my dearest, makes you a bigger disaster than him.”

“And how did I earn disaster?” Israfel asks, blinking at the King of Hell.

“Guilty by association,” Lucifer comments. “You would think after a few millennia some of your tranquility would have rubbed off on this lot, but they seem impervious to it.”

This time he gestures to you, your lover, and Ramiel.

“Ramiel is like a brick wall; oblivious to almost everything,” you point out dryly.

“If I’m a brick wall, I hate to think what that makes Michael,” Ramiel retorts, lips twitching up. Oh. No.

“Don’t you—”

“I mean but at least he knew he was in love with you. What do you call someone who doesn’t notice that for—”

The rest of Ramiel’s sentence is lost as a bread roll smacks him in the middle of his obnoxious gob. The smirk that he’s wearing as he catches the falling bread roll is almost worse, however.

“At least nothing is on fire?” Daniel supplies with a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“Daniel, if you’re considered normal, it is in spite of all of us,” Israfel informs him drolly.

“Normal is overrated. Besides, next to Josie? I think just about anyone could be considered normal,” Daniel responds.

You preemptively reach over and step on Michael’s toes to prevent something uncouth from pouring out of his mouth.

Michael looks affronted, but it’s better than the alternative.

Lucifer yawns, and shakes the empty wine bottle. “So, are we going to get to the elephant in the room or not?”

Everyone else exchanges glances, you hunting for the source of the leak and finding wide-eyed innocence—Daniel—resigned sibling apathy—Israfel—a mixture of amusement and the knowledge that he’s going to get in trouble no matter what he does—Ramiel—and finally panic verging on stubborn refusal—Michael.

“There’s no pachyderm in the room, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ever predictable, Michael,” Lucifer comments with a sigh, elegant fingers wrapped around the stem of his goblet. That’s not the dishware you had set on the table to begin with, but you’ve been around Lucifer long enough to cease being surprised by his quirks, such as altering his surrounding to suit his aesthetic. The first few times he had visited you had found various pieces of furniture changed, or one time, an entire painting that hadn’t been there before. You kept the latter—Da Vinci holds a special place in your heart, and you were the inspiration behind it.

“How?” you ask.

Lucifer arches one elegant eyebrow. “How? My dear, I have been around since before any of you were even a thought. I’ve observed worlds come into existence and be snuffed out. I’ve even been pregnant before—the signs are not difficult to discern.”

He lifts his glass, liquid filling it from the bottom up, a deep blood red wine. “Not to mention that you forget that the wards on this building keep auras and the like undetectable from those on the outside. I could feel my grandchild the second I entered the building.”

“My child,” Michael corrects, scowling.

“Ours,” you say, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“Hopefully they take after their mother and not their father,” Lucifer says, draining his glass. “And you’ve known I’m Gabriel’s father longer than anyone, Michael. You can’t deny I’m part of the family. In fact, I think humans might even consider me your father-in-law.”

The horror on Michael’s face makes you sigh. Back to zero.

“You’re a Fallen now, Michael. There’s no Host to condemn you for dating the ‘Devil’s’ daughter. Hell, I wager there’s a few Fallen who would envy your position.” Lucifer’s eyes flick to Ramiel.

Ramiel clears his throat and sinks down in his chair.

“Alright, enough. Michael, get over it.” Michael turns to you, and you look at him with narrowed eyes.

“I’m Fallen. You’re Fallen. Everyone here has black wings. Pointing fingers is literally like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Cookware doesn’t speak.”

You can feel an impending headache.

“On the plus side, since Michael is pure Fallen, he doesn’t require sleep like you.” Lucifer’s smirk is wicked. “So every midnight crying, every two am feeding… I think that’s his by default.”

You perk up. “That’s a very good point father,” you say, pleased to see that no one has appropriated the cutlery for a preemptive strike.

Israfel quirks his lips. “Would a onesie with the word’s Little Angel be considered ironic then?” he wonders.

A laugh, perhaps a tinge hysterical, bubbles from your lips. It spreads, Ramiel starting to chuckle, then Daniel, Lucifer, Israfel’s light lyrical chuckle, and lastly even your mate.

“This isn’t funny,” Michael tries to say while trying to contain his own laughter.

You shrug. “Matter of perspective, love. I prefer puns to fireballs.”

“Oh don’t be silly,” Lucifer comments. “I want dessert first, and then I might threaten to introduce Michael to a few of the old, extraplanar creatures that go bump in the night. Burnt feathers is a smell that doesn’t come out of your clothes easily.”

Michael’s laughter stops completely. “That was a joke, right?”

Lucifer tilts his head and smiles. “I guess we’ll see.”

#Michael only ro #Michael Ro #Michael romance #f!Gabriel #ko-fi request #dark!Gabriel #thanks for the coffee!#extra #humor #Kofi Request #Hope you enjoy

76 notes · View notes