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queenshelby · 3 years ago

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The Concubine - Part Eight

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Graphic Torture, Blood, Angst, Violence, Loss of Pregnancy, Smut

Words: 2,656

One week has passed since you miscarried and your life had changed quite significantly. You were sharing it with Tommy now and he was very different to Steven. To your surprise, he was gentle and caring and this wasn’t something you were expecting from a man in his position and with his standing.

You knew what he did and what he was involved in. The murders, the killing, the drug trafficking. You weren’t blind and business was always on his mind. In fact, his mind never rested. He couldn’t rest. There was too much to do and he still craved revenge.

Whilst you had never spoken about it again, the beatings and causing you to miscarry, you knew that he wanted to see Steven suffer for what he did to you. But, Steven was nowhere to be found until that very cold Sunday evening where everything changed with a phone call from Arthur.

‘Fucking got em Tom’ Arthur said through the phone and Tommy was quick to put on his jacket and coat, making his way through the door and to his silver Bentley.

‘Where are you going Tommy?’ you asked surprised as you followed him through the door. He seemed to be in a mad rush.

‘I’ve got work to do Love. Don’t wait up, eh’ Tommy said, turning around briefly to give you a kiss.

‘Tommy, you promised’ you pouted, knowing that tonight was the night your abstinence and hunger for him was to come to end.

‘I will make it up to you, eh?’ Tommy said with a grin before you pulled him in for another kiss.

‘You will?’ you asked, biting your lip seductively. Whilst you were still bruised and hurt, you were desperate for him to take you. You loved being intimate with him.

‘Yes, I will, and you won’t be able to walk straight for fucking days, eh’ Tommy winked before getting into his car, causing you to laugh.

***

When Tommy arrived at the factory building where Arthur and Michael held Steven captive, the anger within him was building and so was his rage.

He knew what Steven had done to you and he knew what he had done to other women, including several working girls at establishments owned by the Shelby family while using an alias.

‘At last, we meet, eh’ Tommy said harshly as he sat down on a chair across from Steven who was bound to a pole with a with rope. A white piece of fabric was tied around his mouth to keep him quiet while he was sweating profusely.

‘It was fucking hard to find you. But now that you are here, your father can go free, get on with business or, more so, start over again because you fucked up, eh’ Tommy said as he removed the white fabric from Steven’s mouth.

‘I haven’t done anything to you. What the hell do you want from me?’ Steven asked, shivering and crying as he did. He was fearful and believed that Tommy was there to kill him.

‘I don’t want anything from scum like you. All I want is for you to pay for your fucking sins, eh’ Tommy growled, pulling Steven up on his shirt as he did.

‘If this is about this whore your brother saved, she fucking deserved it’ Steven then said, unable to hold back his emotion and, just as he did, Tommy pulled off his razor cap and slowly dragged it across Steven’s face, causing him to bleed profusely.

‘Listen to me you little fuck. I have made a deal with your father not to kill you but if you disrespect Y/N again, I will end you in the most painful way possible’ Tommy then said louder as Steven’s screams.

‘She cheated on me and I should have beaten her to death’ Steven growled in anger and pain.

‘He didn’t fucking listen to a word I said’ Tommy observed with a chuckle. ‘Did he fucking listen Arthur?’ he then asked, looking at Arthur.

‘No Tommy. He didn’t listen’ Arthur confirmed.

‘Pull him up, put him onto the table and start with what he did to his fiancée and the whores he visited at our establishments’ Tommy growled, handing one of his men a belt and they were quick to comply with Tommy’s request while Tommy watched.

‘She did fucking cheat on you, didn’t she, eh’ Tommy then said as the tenth stroke hit Steven’s back.

‘Because why would she be with someone like you...’ he went on to say as the twelfth stroke came down, causing Steven to cry in pain.

‘He is enjoying this too fucking much. Hit him harder’ Tommy then instructed before he continued on.

‘Now, I tell you a little secret Steven. The man she cheated on you with was me. Unlike you, I didn’t force her to do anything, treated her with respect and, if it wasn’t for you fucking animal, she would still be carrying my child. You killed my child and you can be grateful that I didn’t know that she was pregnant before she lost the baby, eh. Because if I would have known, you most certainly would die tonight’ Tommy then said, pulling on Steven’s cheek with anger as the 20th stroke hit him.

‘How does it fucking feel, eh? Being treated and abused like this’ Tommy growled when the final stroke came down on Steven’s back and he told his men that this was enough.

‘I am sorry please…please just stop’ Steven pleaded as tears were running down his face.

‘So that you can go back and rape more prostitutes, beat more women or take your anger out on anyone else who is not equal in size to you?’ Tommy asked.

‘I promise, I won’t hurt anyone…please just let me go’ Steven pleaded.

‘No, you won’t. I will make sure of that’ Tommy then said, pulling his face close as the blood from Steven’s cheek-stained Tommy’s clothes.

Then Tommy pulled Steven of the table and, whilst the blood from Steven’s back now also covered Tommy, he forced him to turn around and sit on the chair in the corner.

‘If you come near Y/N, or her family or any of my establishments, I will have you killed and I will also have your father and brothers killed. Do you understand?’ Tommy asked, causing Steven to nod.

‘Good’ he growled before turning around, facing his men.

‘Finish it’ he then ordered before lightening himself a cigarette and handing one of his men a hot piece of metal.

‘This will hurt’ Arthur then said as he followed Tommy to his car and, just as they left the building, they could hear the screams in the distance as Tommy’s men were branding Steven’s skin with the word ‘Rapist’ as a warning for any women who would cross his path.

‘See that the women in our establishments receive compensation for what he has done to them. Also, I am taking a break for two weeks. I trust you can handle matters without me, eh’ Tommy then said to Arthur, causing Arthur to nod.

‘A break? Arthur asked surprised.

‘I promised Y/N a holiday when this is over. And now it’s over’ Tommy then said.

***

It was at around midnight when you heard Tommy’s car pull up in front of the house and, whilst he told you not to stay up, you did and waited for him in the small reading room leading to his office.

‘You waited up, eh’ Tommy said somewhat surprised when he saw you wearing nothing but black and very seductive lingerie as he hung up his jacket and gun holster.

‘Tommy, are you alright? Your clothes are covered in blood’ you said with worry as you quickly walked over towards him.

‘Yes Love, it’s not my blood’ Tommy said, reassuring you before kissing you gently.

‘Then who’s blood is it?’ you asked almost unbothered by it.

‘Steven’s’ Tommy said carefully, leaving you speechless.

‘I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t. Yet, he got what deserved and he won’t be hurting anyone else’ Tommy then said, sighing as he did and, just like that, you crashed your lips onto his in haste.

There was something wrong but yet sexy about all of this, Tommy covered in blood, the man you loved seeking revenge on the man you hated with all your heart.

‘I need you to fuck me, right here and right now’ you said. Your crimson lips curled, taking on a sinful countenance as your ever hungry tongue slithered forth before whispering ‘I need you Tommy’.

‘My clothes are stained with blood Y/N, I should…’ Tommy said, holding back and, before he could finish his sentence, you responded.

‘I don’t care’ you said with urge and Tommy was quick to return your kiss.

You felt small as he towered over you but you drew up to your full height and boldly ran your hands over his chest.

You then stepped back just far enough to let your nimble fingers glide over Tommy’s tie and shirt, unbuttoning his vest and releasing the loose knot of his tie.

‘Fuck’ he simply growled and you watched his eyes crawl from your encased feet, up your stocking legs, to the clasp of the garter...following the garter straps up and noticing what the frame job was doing to your immaculately bare pussy.

You couldn't help but shiver as Tommy took in the sight of your mound. You could tell just how excited he was by your swollen glistening pussy lips and clit peeking out from under its protective hood. Tommy’s eyes only pulled away reluctantly, to continue the sight-seeing journey they started until your eyes met.

What you saw there made your heart skip a beat. Gone was the selfless man that saved you as he once again transformed into a predator ... and you were his prey.

The smile that your face sported grew with a devilish delight. Finally, the week of abstinence was coming to an end and you would get to experience the beast within Tommy again.

You had no time to react as Tommy stepped close, pushing you back against the wall with a resounding grunt, his hands moving to the lace barely covering your breasts and tugged the flimsy material down.

‘Tell me if I am hurting you, alright? Your back is still bruised’ Tommy said caringly and you nodded before pulling him closer again.

‘I need you to fuck me, Tommy. No holding back, please’ you demanded, causing Tommy to chuckle.

Your breasts were fully exposed now with the prickly lace under the tender flesh, your nipples extended and aching. Tommy used this moment to exert his prowess, as strong fingers captured the taut buds, pinching, rolling and tugging them until he heard a familiar moan.

His lips quickly and fiercely covered yours in a consuming kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, finding yours and battling with it. You knew the demanding kiss was intended to keep you as quiet as possible with the maids around but you couldn't help but return it with equal urgency and demand.

You felt one of Tommy’s hands release your aching nipple and slither down to your fiery pussy. His fingers rough as they worked between the slick folds and against your erect clit. You cried out, his mouth the only thing keeping the sound to a minimum, as your hips bucked against his questing fingers. You ached for those same fingers to worm their way into your seeping hole and give you the slightest moment of relief, but no ... that was not his plan at all.

Your own hands were not still, as the nails of your left hand raked harshly against his shoulder, while your right hand found the buttons of his pants and tore at them. You needed this just as much as he did and were rewarded with little "pops" as the buttons released. You fished your hand behind Tommy’s briefs seeking what you had hoped was his throbbing cock and were again rewarded as your fingers wrapped around his steely member and began to stroke.

Tommy groaned and broke the kiss, panting heavily, nostrils flaring and you saw the darkness in his eyes deepening. His fingers still danced between your thighs and your own hand continued to stroke his hot cock all the while you dared to whisper, ‘I need you inside me Tommy, please’

With each word spilling from your lips, you squeezed his cock in exclamation. There was no doubting your words or purpose.

Tommy needed no other prompting as he pulled his hands from your needy body and worked his pants and boxers down just past his ass, his beautiful cock sprang into full view now, swollen,

Some pre-cum was glistening at the deep red tip and though you longed to tongue bathe that precious organ, Tommy again decided the outcome of this particular adventure.

His hands cupped your ass, lifting you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, your back hard against the wall, your left-hand clutching at him while your right was positioning his cock at your seeping hole. Tommy’s eyes never left yours as he thrusted forward, burying his cock easily into your lava-like cavern.

‘Oh god yes, fuck Tommy’ you moaned before you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down, wanting so badly to cry out in pure pleasure as Tommy quite literally took you. Each thrust was more powerful than the last and you knew that you would most definitely be sore in the morning.

Tommy’s fingers curled painfully into the flesh of your ass, holding you tightly as he roughly drove his member into your spasming pussy. It didn't surprise you when you felt the index fingers of his hands work their way to your wicked hole and pry before pushing them inside the sinful star.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned as you bit down harder on your lip, tasting blood but managing to squelch the whorish moan that threatened to burst forth.

Tommy worked his fingers in deeper and though you tried, you couldn't gain enough purchase to meet his pounding thrusts. Tommy pulled back just far enough that his swollen tip rubbed the hidden bundle of nerves within you and sent you flying over the edge.

He saw how your eyes widened, how your own nostrils flared and knew you were about to cum. His mouth covered yours possessively again, drinking in the scream of utter bliss and complete orgasmic delight. Your pussy rippled down Tommy’s length, pulling his own release from him.

Your hand left his shoulder and found Tommy’s head, pulling his mouth tightly to yours. It was your turn to devour his guttural growl and devour you did. You drank his pleasure down as his cock spit his precious seed deep into your mound, painting you.

It all happened so fast with an urgency born of intense need. As Tommy’s cock slipped free, he looked into your eyes.

‘Fuck’ Tommy huffed, letting go of you slowly before kissing you again passionately.

‘I missed this Tommy’ you said just before Tommy pulled up his pants and lifted you up.

‘Where are we going?’ you asked as Tommy carried you upstairs.

‘The bathtub for round two, then the bed for round three and I haven’t decided where we will take round four yet, maybe my office…’ Tommy smirked and your eyes widened in disbelieve.

‘I told you, you won’t be walking straight for days, eh’ he then grinned, causing you to giggle.

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theshelbyclan · 4 years ago

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Not Alone

Summary: You’ve just gone through a very difficult breakup and feel lonelier than ever. But with the help of Ada’s wise words and some family traditions, you start feeling just a little better

A/N: A sweet anon requested: hi luv!! can you maybe do a bit of the brothers or maybe ada helping the shelby sis after a very hard breakup? i'd kinda appreciate the words right now 🥺🤍 Hope this helps you in any way and if it did happen to you, much love from me also! Also, I am in no way an psychologist or an expert on what to in break-ups, because they simply suck, but I tried to do the best I can. I hope you like it

Words: 2328 *** “What’s with Y/N?” John asked out of the blue over dinner. Arthur looked up, mouth filled with potatoes, “What? Why?” “She doesn’t eat,” commented the brother who never ate himself.

So Aunt Polly fixed him with a glare, “Must be a family thing…” “She never even touched her pie,” John continued, “She always eats pie.” “Finn?” Tommy asked, “Tell us what’s wrong with her, eh?” The youngest brother evaded his family’s looks and mumbled something along the lines of, “Why are you asking me?” “You know everything that goes on with Y/N,” Polly now shifted to the other brother and said in her characteristically low voice, “Spill.” “Remember that boy from down the road?” Finn started carefully. “There are lots of boys down the road…” “You mean the Irish kid, blonde, tall, went to school with Y/N?” Polly caught on quicker.

Finn hesitated, “Yeah… well, Y/N’s been kind of seeing him?” “Arthur, John, you kill the Irish kid,” Tommy was already standing up, “I’ll deal with Y/N.” “Sit down, Tommy,” Ada sighed, “Finn isn’t finished yet, is he?” “How the bloody hell would you know?” Arthur questioned. “Because seeing an Irish kid won’t make Y/N go off her food,” their sister explained, “But breaking upwith an Irish kid will, right, Finn?” “Right…” Tommy sank back down into his chair and sighed deeply. “Should we still kill the Irish kid, Tommy?” John asked innocently. “Hang on, John boy,” his eldest brother stopped him, “I’m the oldest. I should talk to Y/N first.” “You really shouldn’t…” Polly mumbled. And when Arthur got up, nervous but certain at the same time, Ada quickly pushed him back down in his chair again. With this, a certain sibling rivalry awoke in the Shelby household. With Ada up the stairs, the brothers quickly followed and even Finn was hot on their tails. All except Polly, who knew none of this would actually help. And while you’d locked yourself in your room, planning to spend the evening on your own and feeling particularly sorry for yourself, the bursting in of five siblings didn’t exactly help. “Fucking hell,” Arthur said, as soon as he saw your tear-streaked face, his nostrils flaring in sudden rage. John looked more helpless than ever, mumbling, “Why are you crying over that bastard…” Tommy stayed back and lit a cigarette in de doorway. But Finn looked from you to Tommy and his face was getting redder by the second, until he finally hissed, “Can I do it now, Tommy?” “Go,” his brother gave him permission, “but take Isiah.” Only Ada responded directly to you, as she sat down next to you on the bed and pulled you into a warm embrace, “What’s happened, sweetheart, you can tell us, eh?” “He left me…” you mumbled into her hair. “That’s it, I’m going to bloody shoot his balls off!” “Arthur, calm down, Finn is taking care of it,” Tommy soothed, but it didn’t comfort you at all. Ada looked at her unhelpful brothers full of scorn and almost shouted, “Well, is anyone going to add something that might actually help Y/N? Because if not, kindly get the fuck out!” “What can we do?” John asked gently. But you just shrugged, still locked into Ada’s arms.

“Well, you’re the fucking oldest, right? Go on!” John urged Arthur on.

So Arthur started, with all the best intentions in the world, which was the only thing that could calm him in this very moment, “The thing is, we human beings are made up of different things…”

You send a look of uncertainty across the room towards Tommy, who returned your gesture with one lifted eyebrow that said: yeah, I have no idea either.

“Like, when we lose someone, it’s like your head, it’s out of balance. So you need to balance it out again.”

“Arthur,” John asked bluntly, “What the fuck are you on about?”

“Like when John here lost Martha! He had to learn to live without her and it took him a lot of time, also because he has fifty kids, but mainly because he had to balance his head out again. And that takes time!” Arthur got more enthusiastic in his speech with each sentence, “It’s a chemical thing, like… like with cocaine!”

“Cocaine?” you repeated, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, cocaine,” he looked nervously around the room filled with incredulous faces, “Cocaine brings you up, while whiskey brings you down, right? You need both. You understand? You need to find the balance.”

“Are you suggesting our baby sister does cocaine?” a harsh voice suddenly asked.

“No!” Arthur called out, “Fucking hell… I’m just saying, accept that it takes time, because the chemicals in your body need time to adjust and that takes a while…”

Deep down, you knew Arthur meant well. Hell, he even had a point in a way, but he wasn’t great at getting his point across.

So John tried, “When Martha died, I did grieve. And I had to rethink life without her, you know? And especially with four, that’s four, kids. It was like I had lost a part of me.”

“So how did you do it, John?” you asked, looking up at your brother.

“Honestly, I was drunk all the time.”

Tommy rolled his eyes almost audibly and sucked on his cigarette in the doorway.

So you fixed him with a stare, “What about you, Tommy? Any brilliant advice from you?”

“Nope,” he simply said.

And a sudden anger flared up in you, “None at all. So, you don’t even care, do you?”

Tommy stared at you for a few moments and then he turned to John, “Go out to the fields near the Black Patch, where the vardo is. Get a fire going. I’ll be there in an hour. Go on, John!”

Being emotional in front of your brothers was one thing, but feeling like they were ignoring you made everything even worse. As you felt the tears welling up again, you got so annoyed and mad at yourself that you needed to take the anger out on someone. So you turned to Thomas again, but before you could open your mouth, he’d turned around already and was making his way out the room.

Completely defeated, you slumped on your bed and seriously considered throwing yourself out the window.

“How do you feel,” a softer female voice asked and you realised you weren’t actually on your own.

So you frowned and tried to explain, “You know that feeling when you drop a glass of water and within seconds it splashes and then just…disappears?”

“Yeah,” Ada said gently.

“That’s how I feel.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Tell them?” you scoffed, “Well, you just saw how well they handled it…”

Ada nodded for a second, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to,” you shook your head, “I have no idea what to do with myself now.”

So Ada sighed, lit a cigarette and gave it to you, “You’re not going to do anything, except listen to me now, alright?”

And you nodded meekly as your sister spoke.

“Polly is going to tell you this: fuck men. And in a way she’s right, but in others she isn’t. Men are a common nuisance and we would have no need for them if we didn’t like them so much, did we? In fact, I’m guessing you might even love this one?” Full of sisterly concern she stared at you.

As your head fell down and you started crying again, a loud bang sounded and John barged into the room once again.

“Oh shit, sorry Ada… Uhm…” he stood there, cap in hand and having no idea how to hold himself, “I just wanted to quickly give… Y/N, thought you might need this?”

Ada took the bottle of whiskey John had brought from his hands and started opening it up at once. Then she looked at her brother and demanded, “Don’t you have a fire to get to?”

Clumsily, he left the room quickly.

“They try,” your sister waved a disinterested hand.

And finally you spoke words that had burned in your throat for the last couple of hours now, “I did love him.”

“And that’s okay!” Ada urged, while rubbing you back softly, “That’s what happens and it’s fine. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not allowed to love someone or that you should be strong and independent all the time. You’re allowed to love and you’re even allowed to need someone, just like you’re allowed to grieve right now,” she opened the bottle and traded it with you for the cigarette, “and if you ever tell him I said this I’ll deny every word of it, but Arthur was right: it is a little like grieving over the death of someone. It fucking hurts, but it has to be done.”

“Okay, so what the fuck do I do now?”

“Well… you cry, which you’ve already done, good for you,” your practical sister continued, “Then you plan his funeral, which should be easy because I’m guessing Tommy is arranging that as we speak.”

You had to laugh; you couldn’t help yourself, even through the tears.

And Ada called out, “That’s it! And then you laugh.”

“So that’s today covered,” your smile faded a little, “What about tomorrow and the day after that?”

She took a large swig from the bottle and spoke while choking on it slightly, “Sweetheart, if I had all the answers I wouldn’t be a single mother right now, but it’s about learning to live with yourself. It’s about being alone and suddenly realising you’re no longer lonely.”

“Why though?” you almost whined, “What if I don’t want to be lonely? Maybe I could still get him back? We weren’t that bad…”

“Yes, you were.”

“Yes, we were,” you admitted, taking the bottle from her.

“Listen,” Ada took your hands in hers and locked eyes with you, “You deserve better. This doesn’t help you at all right now, but maybe it will in a few weeks time. You deserve a man who loves you, adores you and worships the ground you walk on, and at the very least you fucking deserve a man who stays. Now, you may not understand now, but a few weeks from now, you will love yourself again. It will all make sense then. Right now you need to let go and you need some distraction.”

“What if I want to be on my own?”

“To do what? Cry?” Ada could be horribly blunt.

So you frowned full of irritation, “Well, maybe I do.”

“You already did that. You need to be with someone you love. Doesn’t have to be me, but don’t go wallowing on your own too much. It doesn’t help.”

“Right, okay…”

So the two of you sat in silence for a long, drinking the whiskey and smoking. And while you didn’t speak, it was good. You’d always been a child that was drawn more to her brothers than her only sister, but right now, the sister proved invaluable. For the first time, it was like you felt the ground beneath your feet again. That solid feeling of family always there kept you sane and it made you just a little bit less lonely.

And then, just like that, Tommy was back. With a painfully direct way, very similar to Ada’s, he announced, “It’s ready. Come on.”

“What is?”

“Just bring his stuff,” Tommy said quickly, “whatever he gave you, and come with me.” He was already out the door when he called from the hallway, “And bring Ada too!”

So after a lot of complaining and ranting about brothers, the two of you left the stuffy bedroom and followed Thomas out the door. He hoisted the both of you in his car and drove out into the fields, above which the sun had already started to set.

Finally, he brought you to the fire, and explained, “We gypsies are used to a lot of pain, but we’re no good with it. It’s a bit like the darkness; we live in it, but it’s where the trouble is too. So, we light fires.”

“How’s the fire going to help?” you asked sarcastically.

“It’s not,” he said, “But sitting here with us might. You used to sleep outside whenever you felt trapped, thought maybe we could do it again.”

You nodded slowly. This didn’t sound like a bad plan at all, actually.

“What about his stuff?” you questioned, “You told me to bring it.”

“If you want, burn it. If not, keep it. For now.”

So you sat down by the fire and it awoke something old inside of you: something you had missed intensely.

“So is this the gypsy cure?” you asked Tommy, a small smirk playing about your lips.

“You can ask John in a minute. It’s what he did, after Martha.”

And suddenly you remembered, “That’s why he left for five days.”

“Am I expected to sleep here as well, out on the grass, all wet and dirty?” Ada asked sharply.

Tommy pointed at his older sister playfully, “Yes. Y/N gets to choose. You however do not. You’ve forgotten where you’re from, Ada.”

“I fucking haven’t,” she protested, “I remember these fields. We used to come here with mum, after the fairs.”

Your other three brothers joined you one by one and like second nature, they huddled around the fire and you weren’t sure if it was the fire or them that kept you warm. Until well into the night, they brought up stories about traveling, family and horses. You hardly spoke, but it was good to listen.

At one point you did whisper, “Maybe you were right, Tommy. Maybe this is the gypsy cure…”

“There’s no cure sweetheart, just patience. But you won’t be alone.”

“No?’ you asked vaguely.

“We’re here,” Arthur said.

“We’re your family,” John added quickly.

And Ada pulled you close to her once again, saying, “And we’re never leaving you.”

***

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marvelsbetch · 4 years ago

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Peter Parker’s field trip. Part 1

Warnings: Trans!Peter, Spidypool, sex references, superfamily, transphobia, supportive avengers

Tony POV

I was in my lab waiting for Peter, my newly adopted son, to come home from school when Friday told me I had an email from Peters school. Turning to my phone I opened the email and was completely annoyed. The email read

'Dear Parent/Carer of Patricia Parker,

We are delighted to inform you that we have a surprise field trip for the student to none other than Stark Laboratories. The trip with be a residential starting on March 7th with a trip to Stark Tower, staying the night there with Mr Tony Stark-Rodgers and then having a trip to the Avengers Tower where we will have the opportunity to meet the Avengers and ask them questions. This is a once in a life time opportunity and we hope you allow your daughter to attend. Also, we would like to keep the trip as a surprise for the student so we urge you not to tell them the destinations of the trip.

Yours Sincerely,

Mrs Robbins.'

I was livid. My child Peter is a boy. I do not have a daughter I have a son. I couldn't believe the nerve of this teacher so I stormed out of my lab and in to the main living area of the penthouse and saw my handsome husband lay on the couch watching tv. He looked so calm and collected but I feel this might change.

"Honey, I just got this email from Peters school that I think you should have a look at." I told him handing him my phone.

He looked confused at first but then the anger set in and by time my phone was placed back in my hand he had an evil smirk on his face. I had an idea of why he had that smirk but just to be sure I asked him,

"What's the smirk for?" I asked.

"Tell the teacher our son can go on the trip while I make a few phone calls. Nobody purposely misgenders my son and gets away with it." He is trusted before grabbing his cell phone and walking down the corridor to one of the training room. Probably going to blow off a little steam and anger. Might watch in a little while.

After a second I simply responded to the email stating'

I as Peters legal guardian allow my son to attend this field trip. Is there any additional information that we should be aware of?' It seemed like the appropriate response.

In all honesty I had Pepper invite the school to the towers as a reward for how well they did at the decathlon competition. I was not expecting to receive an email like this.

-5 hours later-

Peter arrived home shortly after the email incident and was greeted to everyone being in the room. Everyone being Me, Cap, Bucky, Nat, Banner, Pepper, Sam, T'Challa, Shuri, Rhodey, Wanda, Vision, Thor, Loki, Clint and Strange along with the Guardians on a Skype call on the tv. We told him it was a spur of the moment gathering as well all missed each other, not an entire lie, but in reality we were plotting to a) embarrass Peter as much as possible on the field trip and b) get back at the teacher for what they did.

We decided to order enough pizza for an entire 3rd world country and discuss Peter's school life as we ate.

"So Peter, has anyone been giving you trouble lately in School? You can tell us the truth." Steve, Peter's other father and my husband, asked.

"No everything just fine." He terribly lied.

"Come on kid. I've known you for almost two years now, don't try and lie. If there's anyone giving you any type of shit for whatever reason please know that you can tell us." I explained to him all of a sudden getting very serious. I could see him fighting with himself on weather to tell us something or not but decided not to as he then said he had homework to do and went to his room.

"So, he's either lying or the teacher isn't as bad as we think." Loki observed.

"No, he was lying. I could feel his conflict and pain in remembrance of what people have said to him. I'm not one for violence but someone needs to pay for what he's been dealing with." Wanda told us with tears in her eyes.

Cap and Barton walked over to comfort her and hopefully stop her crying. My blood started boiling, Wanda was a strong person and if what Peter's going through brings her to tears then that's a lot for one person to go through. What else has this teacher or student done? Why won't he tell us? Does he not trust us? That last question broke my heart.

"Baby, you okay?" I hear Steve ask moving towards me and holding both my hands in his.

"No. I'm pissed. I'm pissed at any one who hurt my son. I'm pissed at us for not making sure he knows he can talk to us. And I'm pissed at the world for making his go through all of this." I told him with tears coming to my eyes.

Steve pulled me close to my chest and held me tight. He stroked his hands through my hair as he tried to calm me down. I could tell he was mad to, we all were, but he was trying to hold it in despite everyone being here to essentially punish this teacher was his idea. Embarrassing Peter was mine.

"Right, so what do we do about this? I'm not letting anyone hurt my nephew and get away with it." Nat said sitting up and pulling a knife from who knows where to sharped her nails. That women scares me so much.

"How about we just drop in during the day and make sure one of us is always with him. If he has one of us always there and we make it apparent that we know and support him the I doubt even someone as bigoted as his teacher is going to say something. Then we can embarrass him when we're with him." Sam suggested.

"I like that. Where are we all going to be stationed?" Loki asked.

"Well if I speak to the tour guide I could get Banner to give them a lesson on Gamma radiation as the first. Then, Barton or somebody drops in. After that they will be taken to a different lab with Shuri and T'Challa. By that time it should be lunch where Thor and Loki could drop in and the guardians land near the level 7 outside cafeteria. Then we can have Sam drop some stuff from above like a water balloon or something and Bucky bake his favourite cookies to bring to him. After Lunch they're looking around some other labs where Shuri could also be along with Banner. I think they're also going to be visiting the training rooms so Nat, Cap, Bucky and T'Challa could be fighting and Wanda, Vision and Strange could be training their magic." I suggested feeling better now that we were planning this.

March 6th

-Peter's POV-

I was in Chemistry faintly heading the teacher, Mrs Robbins, drone on and on about ionic bonding and how it differs to covalent bonding. It was something I already knew so I didn't need to listen until Ned started hitting my arm. Turning to look at him he simply nodded to the direction of the teacher. I turned around just to catch two words that made my heart drop.

"-Field trip!" Our teacher cheered with a big smile on her face.

Field trip? To where and why?

"That's right, we have organised a surprise field trip for you all as a reward for how well you've all done on your recent exams. Only the top 20 student of the entire school will have the privilege of going. The destination will be a surprise but I will say to bring an overnight bag and money for food and such. You're parents have already got an email consenting for your attendance and the bus will be leaving at 8am tomorrow so don't be late." She further explained.

The whole surprise field trip thing made me nervous beyond all belief. I may not technically be a Parker anymore but the luck definitely followed me and the idea of having to go on an overnight field trip made me terrified. Also, our parents got an email. This means that either Dad (Tony) or Pops (Steve) knew about this probably weeks ago and didn't tell me, this only fulled my anxiety.

Soon the bell went signalling the end of the day and our temporary liberation from this educational prison. On the way out Mrs Robins pulled me aside. It confused me at first until she put our most recent test infront of me. My name circled in big red circles, I know what's about to happen.

"Patricia, you must stop this. You're name is not Peter, you're not a boy. You were born a girl and therefore are, there is no picking and choosing with what God gave you. You must understand this by now. This little joke has gone too far that you're name has been requested to change on our register. Get it through you're head that you are not a boy and you will go to hell for thinking otherwise. One more incident like this and you'll have detention for the rest of the year. Got it?" She basically shouted at me pointing to my circled name on the test.

"No. My name is Peter and I am a boy, I don't care what God assigned me because he got it wrong. I am a boy and my name is Peter as we have gotten it legally changed." I rebutted getting impatient with her ignorance.

"Don't speak to me like that young man. You have no right to change Gods idea and destiny for you. Just thing, you're a girl meaning you can have kids and spread God's message to others and have many kids. Just what God planned for all women." She told me trying to sound sweet but came off and incredibly patronising.

At this point I was too angry to listen to her bulls**t (Gotta keep it Steve friendly people) so I stormed out the room. She started yelling for me to come back to the classroom but I didn't listen and continued walking till I reached the car Happy was in to take me home.

I got in the car and started telling Happy about my day while playing classic songs on my phone such as Highway to Hell, You gave love a bad name and Living on a Prayer. He pretended like he didn't care but I could tell he was listening and hanging onto every word I was saying. I love that about Happy, he acts like he doesn't care but in reality he does and he does a lot. He once caught Flash saying stuff about me and threatened to hit him with the car, he almost did as well but we were running late to a meeting I had to go to with Dad. Of course that didn't stop Flash as he still likes to torment me daily but he now does it more secretly making it more bearable.

We soon made it home and I found all of my dysfunctional family,minus the guardians who were on a Skype call, sat in the living room watching a movie on the tv. I quickly set my bag down on the kitchen island and settled right next to Tony (Dad) who was cuddling Cap (Pops). Everyone was asking me questions about my day and school life in general. They focused mostly on if people were bullying on me. It worried me a little because as much as I know I can go to them, I don't want to because I know that if I tell them everything that's happened they'll kill people and I don't want that for my family. Half of them only just got pardoned and I don't want the governments to revoke that.

"Sorry guys but I got homework. The pizza was delicious, is it okay if I invite Wade around?" I pleaded with Pops knowing he's more likely to say yes.

"Yes but that door stays open hound man. Do I make myself clear?" Pops asked in a stern voice.

"Crystal." I responded before taking out my phone to call Wade, grabbed my bag and walked to my room.

"Hey Baby Boy, what's up?" Wade asked after picking up his phone.

"Not much, Pops said you could come around." I told him making him slightly squeal.

"Okay Baby Boy, I'll be there in 10 minutes. I love you." Wade informed.

"I love you to Babe." I said before hanging up with a smile on my face.

-10 minutes later-

I was sat at my desk finishing my algebra homework when I heard someone knock on the window. Knowing it was Wade I turned with a smile on my face and let him in.

"Hey Baby Boy, how was your day?" Wade asked making himself comfortable on my bed.

"It was fine, quite boring if I'm honest. We did get told about this residential field trip tomorrow though. Sorry I won't be here for most of the weekend. I'm sure my Dads will love having you around." I joked sitting on his lap and cuddling into his chest.

"It's fine Pete. I'll just have to savour our time together now." He said wiggling his eyebrows and kissing me passionately.

"My Pops said to keep the door open." I told him pulling away with a massive blush spread across my cheeks.

"Does that rule apply to your en-suite?" Wade asked.

"I don't believe so." I answered getting up from his lap and dragging him into my en-suite, which is where we stayed for the rest of the night.

To be continued...

#adopted peter parker #bi peter parker #gay peter parker #peter parker #spidypool #superfamily #supportive avengers #gay steve rodgers #steve x tony #steveony #ironfam #lqbtq #lgbt pride #trans peter parker #wade wilson #deadpool #pansexual deadpool #field trip #peter parker field trip

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artsninspo · 4 years ago

Text

Bubblebath (Erik x Reader)

Masterlist

Erik X Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: After some time a part you and your oldest friend Erik reconnect and reminisce before creating some new ones.

“Do you remember it?” You ask Erik smiling as the memory comes back to you. Only Erik could successfully rope you into something so risqué.

“Yeah I do, that nigga had you fucked up” he nods shaking is head. He breaths in licking his thick lips at the memory. “Can’t believe we fit in that small ass tub” he says examining the photo intently. Looking intently through the lenses of his gold framed glasses.

“Can’t believe we took that picture” you reflect. It was unlike you to do something so ... liberal? Free? Careless? But Erik had always been good at pushing you. Challenging you, getting your out of your comfort zone.

“Well it worked on ole boy you were trying to make jealous didn’t it?” He comments and there’s judgement in his expression.

“Broke his heart” you agree.

“You wouldn’t let me break his neck” he reasons getting up. His home now is something out of architectural digest. Decorated with purpose, adorned with ornaments and sculptures that represented Erik to the tee. Furnished with things that embodied his wildest dreams. A mix of dark and light like his personality, depth with the blue hues used and glass for a modern touch. Also because Erik never hid, not from anybody. He’d been gone a little over five years, doing top secret work - going through personal stuff on is own.

“You got all that out of you yet?” You ask

“What?”

“The rage?”you respond remembering how angry he used to be. First it scared you, then it was a mirror. You felt the exact same way but never showed it. Guess you both had different ways of coping - Erik hurt others. You let it simmer only hurting myself.

“Still working on it” he says motioning for you to follow. The stairs are floating and the walls house black canvased art. The geography of African States and different drawings. You follow him to a room that’s nothing short of a modern hotel suite.

“Bedroom, closet, bathroom” he comments walking around the large space. You both smile seeing the size of the free standing tub. A lot changed after that night. There was a distance between you and Erik. He’d filled the tub with water and bubbles while you sniffled sad about your ex who broke things off to see girls who didn’t have so much reservations. Your ex who wanted to be friends but really he just wanted in your pants. What couldn’t be seen through the bubbles was your biker shorts. Or your oversized off the shoulder top. Eriks boxers were unseen too.

Erik always had a soft spot for you, polite, smart enough not to fall for his games, an all around good girl. Opposites attract. While the other kids steered clear of his temper you were drawn to it. As kids it was sitting on park benches to cool off. As adolescents it was silently in his car while he fumed or you cried and I’m college it was over the phone or in each others space. He had every intention of breaking your exes neck. Then he had every intention of making him regret his actions. But the more tears that fell the worse things felt.

“Stop crying” he whispered softly, gently, and concerned with eyes attentive to every tear.

“Why can’t I just shut it off Erik? Stop thinking so much and just go with it? Dean is a good guy” you reasoned speaking stupidly.

“He’s a piece of shit and your head knows it.” He commented wiping away your tears. It always amazed you the way he turned into this caring man when the two of you were alone. “When you’re ready, you don’t need a jack-rabbit motherfucker, he can’t wait now I bet his foreplay is shit” Erik commented making you look up at him and smile a little. He smiles too leaning down to kiss you, the perfect picture for an intimate moment.

“Thanks for always being here for me, I mean it Erik” you admit looking up at him. You deeply regretted that it was as far as things went all those years ago. He was noble which was unlike him, he didn’t even take a peak at your goodies, kept his hands to himself and kept his other head calm. He only nods at your thanks.

“Nothing to thank me for, I’m about to head into the jacuzzi if you need me” he says disappearing down the hall and you take the opportunity to freshen up before exploring his mansion. He promised wealth would be apart of his future. Somewhere between the end of college and early adulthood the two of you had lost touch. You find him outside in the jacuzzi and get in beside him.

“This place is incredible” you admit and he nods in agreement. One day when the nostalgia was too much you decided to just give I’m a call. The two of you spoke for hours before he asked you to come visit and see the life he had built for himself.

“Check this shit out” he smiles pressing a button and a tv comes out of the floor. You shake your head amused with the little things.

“Did you really keep a box of all our memories?” You ask looking up at him and he nods.

“Yeah, you were the only good part about home” he swallows and you scoot closer giving him a hug. He holds you there against him. You rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“How long can I stay?” You ask

“You make the rules with your bossy ass” he chuckles making you smile.

“So you’re just going to listen to me?”

“Don’t I always?” Erik asks looking at you with his deep brown eyes. If rebellious was a person Erik would define it perfectly. But as you rack through your brain you fail to recollect one time where he didn’t do your bidding.

“I guess”

“You guess” Erik scoffs. “When haven’t i?” He asks defensively.

“What?” You ask surprised.

“You better not lie on me?” He sits forward closing the space between the two of you again. He’s right, you can’t think of a time he’s disappointed.

“You’re right, your record is spotless” you admit feeling stupid and excited at the same time. Your excitement builds its the perfect opportunity to test the waters.

“Be my first then Erik” your words come out more confident then you imagined. You’d been waiting 27 years for the right time that just never came. Your brain always did the same thing as always. Aborts any viable opportunities.

“First what?” He asks and his tone says he doesn’t believe you.

“My first first” you explain using the quintessential black form of description and he chuckles.

“When you gonna learn that you always turn chicken first “ he asks untying the top of your triangle two piece. It was true; from childhood to now you took special care trying to find Eriks limits only to realize he had very few. You feel the waters unrestricted tickle on your breasts and your toplessness. Eriks no stranger to the female form but he always averted his eyes to yours.

“Turn around” he demands.

“No” you pout too chicken to face him and the asshole chuckles ridding you of the back knot of the triangle bikini top. He pulls the swimsuit off and you hear it flap onto the poolside concrete.

“You done yet YN?” He asks sounding almost bored with the game of chicken. You swallow and so does he with concern in his mind. He had to shake the indecent thoughts of you out of his head too many times. “Hey, I don’t want to play with something like this” he cracks after minutes of silence. Possessed with want or maybe the night caps and nostalgia from earlier have done their damage. You take his hand and run it against your bare skin until his palms hold your breasts and he squeezes gently fondling them. He pulls you closer sitting you on his lap and kissing your neck. You can feel his heart racing as fast as yours.

“I’m not playing” you admit breathlessly and he kisses your shoulder before finding your lips.

“I’m bout to poke you in the ass, I’ll put you out topless of you playin” he snaps before going back to the soft kisses. But he never would, no matter how upset. He lifts you onto his lap in a straddling position made easy by the water to make the kissing more comfortable. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed. But it’s the first time it’s been so long. First time you’ve let yourself be turned on. He turns you back around removing your bikini bottoms wit rugged breaths.

You feel yourself throbbing with anticipation of it weren’t for the pool there’d be no hiding how wet you are. His fingers find their way inside your centre with ease. Both of you sighing in pleasure. He doesn’t go deep, teasing you with shallow strokes.

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, you’re lucky we’re in the hot tub cause if we weren’t I’d put my face in it until you begged me to stop” he breathes as his carnal man takes over. But I gotta take my time play with all of you until your clit is nice and swollen” he whispers making you feel incredible. His words and his fingers gripping your breasts, sliding in and out of you while he kisses your neck.

“Erik” you moan trying to remember to breathe against him.

“Am I the only one you let touch you?” He asks nipping at your ear and stroking you a little faster a little deeper. Goosebumps cover your body the rush flows in. There’s nothing to hold onto but his arm so you do. He brings it up holding your neck as your heart beats out of your chest, his dick rock hard and ready to go. “Answer me” he urges gently despite being in full control.

“Yes” the words barely escape your mouth before he’s kissing you through your first climax. Your body trembles as the pleasure reaches its peak. You feel it everywhere -sensory overload in the best way possible. The kiss never breaks and his strong arms keep you close to him containing the orgasm and making it an even more of an unforgettable. You both pant breathlessly by the end of it, resting your head on his shoulder and his head on yours as your breaths sync.

“You gonna punk out and give me blue balls or go somewhere more?” He asks with a slightly cocky grin like it’s still a game. He’s big from what you can feel but literally no one could care for you like Erik. Your entire lifetime proved it. You spent your lives keeping healthy boundaries only for life to solidify there was a reason you’d become one atoners safe space.

“I’m not playing Erik” you admit and he swallows, his rough demeanour chipping away second by second until he nods with a triumphant smile.

“Waited long enough” he laughs stepping out of the hot tub and holding out his hand for you to follow. This time he doesn’t avert his eyes. He looks with your permission. His eyes are full of excitement like he doesn’t know what to do next. It’s your favourite part about him. A guaranteed good time.

He walks you to the poolside furniture in a sunroom taking off his trunks and stroking his length before shaking his head and leaning in for another kiss.

“I’m gonna eat it it until you come, until you’re nice wet and wide open for me. Then you’re gonna taste yourself on me. Throat might be sore from screaming and swallowing. Your pussy definitely will be and I’ll probably want seconds before I let you sleep” he says being the impossible jerk you’ve grown to love. “If you wanted something different you’d go to someone else” he says frankly knowing you best. A sense of mischief and confidence wash over you. His words are empowering, you feel like a woman, sexy and unstoppable.

You peck his lips in response daring to stroke his manhood at the same time. You can see the fire in his eyes as you lay back into a comfortable position.

“Let’s get started” you comment and he smiles upright with his knees at your feet. His defined abs brown eyes and that mind of his towering over you before he strikes fast grabbing your ankles. It’s startling when he pulls you closer to him so her perfectly between your legs. His eyes darken as he looks over your body biting his bottom lip before he gets started. His thumb swipes your fold feeling the wetness and his aura lightens from his daze.

“Let’s” he agrees.

_________

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy 💖feel free to send in requests, comments, questions & feedback. Look out for more stories - I am clearing out my drafts.

TAGS: @determinednot2fall @twistedcharismaaa @l-auteuse @chaneajoyyy @thickemadame @longpause-awkwardsmile @klaylakayblack @amelatonin @just-juicee @xo-goldengirl @ljstraightnochaser @itsjustyazz @soufcakmistress @nijajoha @iamrheaspeaks @4tprincess @justgetitoverwith0 @queenflaws @abeautifulmindexposed @coveredingodiv @nahimjustfeelingit-writes@champagnesugamama @heavensangelxo @bugngiz @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tip222u @keiva1000 @doublesidedscoobysnacks @shalynn-m @bakarilennox @tyees

#Erik Killmonger #Erik Stevens #erik x black reader #erik stevens fanfiction #michael b jordan #michael b jordan imagine

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cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

Text

Dear anon,

Here’s the Second Part to the request you made about Billy watching Steve masturbate! I would link the first part but then this post wont show up in the tag because that’s how it works, apparently

I think this might be one of my favourite things I’ve written, and yes I know I say that quite often, but there’s nothing wrong in enjoying your own stuff!!!

And I hope that you all enjoy it just the same~

The second time, he sits in a very expensive chair, specifically the one Mr Harrington occupies whenever he’s actually home and dealing with work from his office, the room covered in mahogany furniture and shiny leather seats.

He spins around a few times, taking in the grand paintings on the walls, none of them of the family whose house this is, the glamorous curtains, the small and tasteful plants, and the head of a stag hanging in all its grandiose above the fireplace. Expensive, fancy, ostentatious. A showroom of importance and wealth.

Any one piece of furniture in this room costs more than Billy’s own house, and there is nothing Billy loathes more than rich assholes that think they can buy the world. Which just makes him defiling the heir to this fortune all the more fun for him.

The leather creaks underneath him as he stops spinning. From atop the desk he brings a glass of scotch to his lips, and gives it none of the respect Mr Harrington would believe it to be deserving of; simply bottoms out like it’s a shot of vodka. He licks his lips clean and swallows a few extra times to really enjoy his stealing of the oldest bottle in the liquor cabinet.

Then finally he stands up, slams the glass down with almost too much force on the dark wood, and walks around the desk to sit down in another leather chair, this one facing a couch on where Steve lies naked.

“Enjoying yourself, daddy?” he asks with a smile that runs from one ear to the other, on the verge of cracking his sexy facade.

And Billy laughs heartily at it, throws his head back a bit. “Oh don’t start on that, pretty boy! I am not ready to explore either of our daddy issues just yet.”

Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, then settles it into something more smooth and delicate, teasingly so, as he runs a hand down his side, from chest to hip where it rests. He’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his front turned fully toward where Billy admires the view - still dressed from head to toe - Steve’s cock hard from attention alone, the flushed head resting against the leather. And he waits patiently for whatever Billy has in mind.

When Steve had come home today, Billy had done the whole Marco-Polo charade till Steve found him pouring a drink from the glass bar behind the large desk. He hadn’t bothered complaining or asking any questions about why Billy is in his father’s office, simply sat down when commanded, and stripped without any hesitation when told.

Now they’re looking at one another in silence. Billy spreads his legs as wide as the armrests will allow, and runs his hand rough up and down his girthy cock trapped inside denim still, and Steve’s dark and lustful gaze follows the movement attentively.

“You look amazing like this, Stevie,” Billy mutters, voice thick and salacious as he touches himself through too many layers. “I wanna watch you.”

Steve hums pleasantly and slowly starts slipping the hand on his hip down toward his full erection.

“You said last time you love watching me…” Fingertips graze against his cock, teasing and gentle and slight. “You ever watch me jerk off in private?”

Billy swallows hard, contemplating whether he should tell the truth or if that would be too intrusive to admit. But Steve has yet to get upset at Billy for any of his deviant behaviour. “Yeah, a few times.”

And for the truth he’s rewarded with Steve wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly moving up and down, squeezing around the head that leaks into his hand.

“Ah-h, good,” Steve’s voice starting to waver as he strokes his dick; wetting it with his own pre. “I think about you a lot when I masturbate, fuck, thinking about you at all gets me hard.”

Billy blinks slowly, wanting to meet Steve’s gaze but finds it impossible to look away from how Steve’s hand moves a bit faster. He removes his own hand from the bulge in his jeans and grips the armrests of the chair.

“Do you ever finger yourself when you think of me?”

Steve licks his lips at that, and smiles with certain intent, although Billy doesn’t notice as he’s mesmerised as always by the way Steve touches his own throbbing prick.

“Not always, but whenever I do finger myself, I only think of you.”

“Show me,” Billy demands without hesitation - softly, but with no hint of ‘if you want to.’

But Steve wants to. His breath hitches at the stern tone to Billy’s words, the restraint in his movement clear as he slows down and eases his grip.

“You want me to finger myself in front of you, here, in my father’s office, on his expensive couch?” Steve asks, incredulously, feigning reluctance, yet doesn’t stop the now lazy caress of his lengthy cock, keeps smiling, stays posing on his side.

Billy sits silent, doesn’t respond right away, instead he pulls up a small, inconspicuous, clear plastic bottle from the pocket of his shirt, and tosses it onto the couch.

“Yes.”

Steve looks at it; there’s no labels or text or anything, really the most boring and ordinary little container, but there is no doubt in his mind what it is.

“How do you want me?” he asks and finally meets with Billy’s eyes, a fire there burning hotter than the sun could ever dream of.

“However you do it when you’re alone - when I’m not here to fuck you into your mattress. Show me just how badly you want my thick cock.”

And as is often done in situations where words aren’t needed anymore, Steve simply bites his lip, keeps the bottle firm in his grasp, and gets up on his knees. He turns around on the couch, angling his perfect ass towards where Billy sits patiently like a statue, then bends forward; arching his back and spreading himself before his audience to grant a good look of everything. His leaking prick hanging between his legs, hole exposed fully.

“Fuck, Steve…” Billy nearly gasps at the view - didn’t expect to be this affected by it as he shuffles around in his seat, almost overwhelmed by the urge to just shove his tongue through Steve’s rim and eat him out till he’s cumming and crying. Billy adjusts the taut fabric of his jeans before settling in his place.

The cap of the bottle pops off loudly, lube drips onto Steve’s fingers, and with a careful motion, as to not waste a single drop, he brings his hand behind himself. He runs three digits flat and slick over his entrance, getting himself proper wet, staring straight at how attentively Billy watches, the self control damn impressive as those bluest of eyes twitch at the sight of Steve slipping in his middle finger.

Steve coos and keens, perhaps a bit excessive, perhaps egged on by the way Billy’s knuckles turn white as he strangles the leather armrests. He holds one hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady as he quickly finds an all too pleasant rhythm that leaves him craving more.

Billy hasn’t been this turned on, this painfully erect, since the first time he saw someone play with themselves, back when he was 13 and stole a porn tape from a thrift store in Cali. He still has it hidden away, mostly for sentimental reasons now, because nothing can compare to watching Steve finger himself open, moaning and dripping worse when he adds a second finger.

“Ah-h, mmh- Billy,” Steve teases with his name on that lascivious tongue.

And every sound that escapes makes Billy’s lust boil hotter, bubbling under his skin, the urge to touch like a strong current pulling him under. Touch himself, touch Steve.

It takes all of his strength not to stand up, close the short distance between them and drive in two fingers past that gorgeous clenching ring of muscle, opening up Steve faster so that Billy can fuck him hard into the leather of daddy’s dear couch, press his face against the cushions and have him cumming in less than a minute.

Steve pushes in a third finger, thighs trembling as he moans out, “Shit, oh-” with an overt shudder running through him as he hits just the right spot.

“Feel good, baby?” Billy asks softly, voice husky and smooth, as he unbuttons his shirt slowly.

“S-so good, ah-” Steve’s prick leaks onto the seat, between his knees, fingers pumping fervently in and out leaves him writhing as he abandons any sense of rhythm, and Billy recognizes the way he’s calling out, cursing, close to mumbling his words.

Knows that it won’t be too long now.

“Fuck, Billy! Billy- Billy-”

“Yeah?” Billy groans out, pleased with how erotic his name can sound when it comes from such a pretty mouth.

“I’m- I’m close.” Fingers go as deep as they can, as quick as they can, it’s almost kinda impressive how rapidly he moves those digits, and it all goes to show that this might be something he does more frequently than originally suggested.

Billy unbuckles his belt, flicks free the button of his jeans, and lets the zipper run loose, immediately bringing some sense of relief to his own pent-up, aching cock. He then removes his hands again, one elbow on the armrest, chin in hand as he continues to simply leer at how Steve fingers himself, how his brows are pulled high and tight, how his eyes can barely stay open as they fight the urge to roll back.

“Think you can cum untouched like this?” he asks, impatience apparent in his rumbling tone.

“N-no, fuck, ah-h-” Steve cries and bucks his hips onto his fingers.

“Hmm…” Billy hums like he’s dissatisfied with that response. “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Mmhn, ahh, yes, yes- in your ha-ands, not- not on my own,” Steve whines and meets Billy’s gaze with all too sincere eyes.

And fuck if that doesn’t make Billy’s full erection kick and leak in its entrapment - to know that he can make King Steve cum on his fingers or dick alone is empowering, strokes his ego just right.

“Fuck, Stevie, baby,” Billy growls with exposed teeth all predatory and lecherous. "Touch yourself. Cum for me, all over daddy's expensive leather couch."

Steve doesn't waste time before he brings his other hand to his weeping prick, and as he wraps his fingers around it to eagerly jerk himself, Billy grunts lightly as his own cock twitches with overwhelming jealousy.

It really doesn't take more than a few strokes till Steve buries his face against the backrest, crying out loud as he moves his fingers hard and precise, back arching in the most beautiful curve, spilling all over the dark seat as he pumps himself dry of every drop, thighs visibly tensing and quivering.

“Gorgeous,” Billy breathes out, convinced that his grip on the armrests will soon tear the leather apart, his underwear completely soaked with pre.

Steve’s arms fall till his palms rest against the leather seat, his entire being pulsating and shivering with every heavy breath, sounding like he just ran a marathon. But as he moves to change his position, perhaps get more comfortable, Billy intervenes-

“Didn’t say you could move,” there’s barely a hint of play to his tone, “Stay just like that for me.”

So Steve does just that - shuffles around a bit on his knees to kneel better, swallows thickly, and hangs his head low to look at Billy from between his legs.

Billy in turn finally pulls his pained cock free with a loud and telling grunt of relief, the air almost sharp in its coldness, but it’s soothed by his firm hand running up and down his slick erection. Already he knows that this won’t last nearly as long as he wants it to; feels it in the way the coil twists pliantly, thighs and abs flexing at his every move.

“Mmh- shit, arrh, baby I- I want you to show me- fuck- spread your ass out for me.”

And Steve obeys all too readily, moving his hands back to grab a full cheek in both to spread them as far apart as he can, exposing his fluttering hole, puffy and well loved.

The sight of it makes Billy’s hips buck off of his seat, an interrupting moan punches the air out of his lungs, his cock spurting pre something horribly, the sounds of his jerking motion obscene and loud and overwhelming as he grips himself harder- tight like how Steve’s ass would feel right now, wrapped around him, sucking him in, milking him dry, right here in his father’s office, soiling the leather, defiling the high and mighty importance with moans of the heir’s hole getting ravished-

Just the mere thought of what Billy might get to do with Steve in every single room of this house, all goddamn 12 of them, has him cumming in near record time - a loud and unexpected orgasm that crashes through him as he lifts up and into his hand, cursing loudly towards the ceiling, cum shooting all the way up his chest to clash with the sweaty tan skin, painting him in white, pumping till he’s sore and lets his cock go with a hiss.

Suddenly so exhausted he could probably fall asleep right here, eyes closed and struggling to catch his breath as he slumps in the chair. That is until hands land on both his knees, squeezing gently and caressing him, and when he opens his eyes to look down there’s Steve, kneeling between Billy’s legs, a slight smile and the most adoring gaze, a glorious vision that shoots straight through Billy’s heart and overstimulated cock simultaneously.

Before Billy gets to make the next move, Steve crawls closer, brings out his tongue to run it hot and flat over Billy’s flaccid dick, pulling forth a pained, “shit, ah-h!” then continues with soft kisses up his stomach, across his abs, till he reaches where cum has been splashed across Billy’s pecks. And under the watchful stare of blue skies, Steve lets out his tongue once more, licks a stripe through the white pool and swallows with an almost delighted little hum.

A whole show that Billy will play over and over in his head those few nights Steve isn’t around.

And Steve finishes his climb straddling Billy’s thighs, kissing him deeply and passionately, as if he’s not satiated quiet yet, mixing the taste of them with dancing tongues, sweet and salty and strong still with an aftertaste of scotch.

#Harringrove #My Writing #lemon #part 2 of that one request I responded to a few days ago #2.4k words #I should start tagging how many words #so that people know how long it is before clicking #Read more

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galaxycosplayart · 3 years ago

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A Man on a Roof

A simply short story I wrote heavily inspired by a dream I had. I tried my best to do research on 1920's fashion and culture, as well as try to make the New Orleans theme authentic. Constructive criticism is appreciated! (There's also some lgbtqia+ representation in here since I'm basing this off my dream where I was the narrator and I am in fact LGBTQIA+) ---

The sound of jazz resonated throughout the rather extravagant hotel venue, loud and upbeat. People swung along: dancing to the sweet melodies like there was no tomorrow. The band’s performance was booming with energy, passion and life; the colourful music painting a perfect picture of the ‘20s in all of the attendee’s minds. The dance floor was packed of all different shapes, ages and sizes. This gathering was one you wouldn’t forget. The sights, the sounds, the feeling; this 1920s themed extravaganza surely did live up to that title. I would know. I was smackdab in the middle of it all.

I’m going to be honest: I don’t really like parties. Too populated, too loud, too obnoxious – but I can’t say no to some swing. This party really was worth coming to, and for once I have to say I had the time of my life. Something about the general aesthetic, the beaming faces of everyone there, the historical backstory, it just made me swell up with joy (and excitement!). I was on my own, my parents were probably off making friends with other adults. In my hand was a glass of non-alcoholic champagne. I am but 13-years-old, after all. I continued to sway, careful not to spill my drink, when I happened to notice a boy leaving the party. He caught my eye, not for attraction, but intrigue. He looked to be a young man, around 16 or 17, but he was somewhat tall and lanky. Unfortunately, I didn’t get enough time to take a proper gander. Fortunately, nothing stopped my compelled urge to follow.

---- He was going to the roof. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry. No, he trotted nonchalantly to the elevator, his footsteps in sync with the music. He seemed to caper with the pleasant melodies coming from the venue. As he entered the elevator car, he lingered on to the tune with each step. The door closed before I could join him, and I watched the floor-level indicator above the gate gradually flicker to the roof of the building. Now, I know tailing people isn’t very polite, but I had taken a liking to the man’s... energy. Once taking a separate car up and searching a bit, I spotted the man near the edge of the flat roof. He continued to tap, now bathed under the glow of the full moon, illuminating his dancing figure. Since I could finally see his face, I can tell you he certainly was a rather attractive man. His warm amber skin basked splendidly under the moonlight; his eyelids shut. His low-ponytail of curly black hair swayed with him as he stepped, the music taking control of his body and mind. His outfit was truly vintage: a neat white dress shirt beneath some dark brown suspenders, the shirt tucked into his black dress pants. He also wore a dark chocolate-coloured bow tie and a light-grey longshoremen cap. Strong jazz could be heard, slightly muffled from the floors below, but that didn’t stop the young tapper from Charleston-ing his way around the roof. Listen, I’m no professional dancer, but I like to have a bit of knowledge in any given topic. My little knowledge prompted a question in my head, “Aren’t you supposed to have a dancing partner for this particular swing?” I said nothing aloud though, for my focus was on observing this man’s joyous pep. I leaned against the wall, quietly enjoying the stranger’s strut, when the moment was cut short by the sound of giggles. He opened his eyes, revealing mahogany brown irises, only adding to his beautiful appearance. He and I both turned to see a group of young women, looking to be around his age, goggling the boy. I mean, you could say I was too, but I didn’t interrupt or jest at his actions; I merely gazed politely. The nearest girl walked up to him and began to chat, which ceased his dance. This disappointed me, he seemed to be enjoying himself and they decided to throw off his rhythm. He appeared uninterested in talking too, giving the girl a bored look and responding in short answers. From what I heard, she was clearly chatting him up, probably attempting to make a move on him. However, this encounter was also interrupted; for it was his turn to spot me. We made eye contact; his line of sight aimed downwards at my short figure. I immediately panic, thinking, “Crap. How am I supposed to explain why I’m here? ‘Hello sir, I followed you upstairs, I liked the vibes?’ Hell no.” As I ran through all the possible excuses or justifications for why I decided to basically stalk this man up the hotel, I didn’t notice him making his way towards me. Nor did I sight the annoyed look of the girl he just left behind. He comes up to me, and soon realizing I was lost in frantic thought, gently places a hand on my shoulder. I snap out of my frenzied state, jumping at the touch and looking up once more to see him a lot closer than he was a couple of seconds ago. “Hey, you alright? You seemed frozen in time, dere,” he said with a gentle smile. His accent was faintly reminiscent of downtown New Orleans, which explained how his energy matched the parties so perfectly. It was smooth and peppy; an endearing tone. “Oh, yeah, of course,” I say quickly, still trying to find the right words. “I- uh- I liked your dancing,” was all that came out of my mouth, and I mentally facepalmed with the awkwardness that came with the broken statement. Instead of cringing at this display, however, he instead laughed. “Thank you, cher. And what are you doing, all alone on this here roof?” he asked kindly. “Just... exploring. I happened to notice you dancing when I got to the roof, so I kind of... watched for a bit,” I replied sheepishly. I mean, I wasn’t lying. I did explore the roof a bit before I found him, and I did spot his Charleston when I did. I just happened to omit the details of following him up the elevator car. And through the lobby. From the party. No biggie. “That so? Well then, can you dance?” he asked, extending a friendly hand and dishing out a genial grin. I panic again, but this time for a different, more trivial reason. “Oh, no, no I’m not that good at dancing-” “Really? Ya seemed to be enjoying it down there at tha’ party.” “...You saw me there?” “I watched you follow me, sha.” “...” Well, this was incredibly embarrassing. If I wasn’t already blushing from this whole ordeal (which I incredibly doubt – my face felt very hot), I most definitely was now. I should be thankful for his carefree attitude, because when my spluttered apology attempted to vocalize itself into comprehensible words, he simply waved it off and laughed once more. “Oh, it ain’t nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he assured light-heartedly. “Still, I wouldn’t mind if you joined me. It’s fun to have a dancin’ partner, ya know?” “I- well... I guess a bit of dancing wouldn’t hurt,” I admitted. He extended his hand once more in invitation. I hesitantly accepted, and as soon as my palm fit into his, the grip strengthened as I was whirled to his side in the open area near the edge. As the next song started to play, and we couldn’t help but get lost in the music, I heard one phrase be exclaimed from the still-anonymous boy beside me, “Laissez les bons temps rouler!" ---- I had easily resumed my cheerful demeanour by dancing with the man, enjoying our time to the fullest. Despite my lack of expertise in cutting a rug, we enjoyed ourselves quite a bit. It was more of feeling out the music and letting the rhythm take you, relishing a fun stranger’s presence. Sadly, this enjoyment was often interrupted by a third party, who continued to loiter around on the roof; each individual taking their turn in attempting to woo the boy. Louis, as I now knew him, also kept up his trend of giving the girls a cold shoulder, and we exchanged a cheeky grin each time one would storm off huffing. However, something did confuse me slightly. Well, the women were exceptionally beautiful. They also didn’t seem rude, or arrogant; they actually seemed rather kind and friendly. Some even referred to Louis by name, meaning he was probably familiar with the ladies. They simply were shooting their shot, and Louis would keep refusing one after the other. Obviously, he wasn’t obliged to humour any of their advances, but it’s like he didn’t even acknowledge the idea of dating them. I am a curious – and frankly, unfiltered – soul, so as the last dame trudge off to the group, I turn to my new friend and say, “Hey, mind if I ask you something?” “Sure, what's on your mind, cher?” he replied smoothly, as we both watch the gaggle of women finally exit. “You know em’? The group there, I mean,” I clarify, though there wasn’t such a need for it anyway. I just have a bad habit of... shedding light on things that aren’t as dark, you feel me? “Yeah, they’re good friends of my brother’s. Why?” “Oh, well, they seem awfully interested in you.” “Yeah, they do that now and then. I’m used to it.” “Can’t take a hint, huh?” “Yeah, you right.” I decide to sit down as the current song begins to fade out, allowing myself a small break before the music resumed. Louis takes a seat beside me, sighing. I press further, while simultaneously pondering why I was so curious about his decision to dismiss these dates. Looking back on it, it was really none of my business, but something about the rejections just felt oddly... familiar. Still, I probably shouldn’t pry into other people’s matters. “May I ask why you constantly say no? I mean, they seem like lovely ladies. Are they just not your type?” He doesn’t reply at first, so I immediately jump to the conclusion that I upset him in some way. He’d be justified in feeling so, but I soon come to realize he was thinking of how to answer. After a few moments, I got the reply. “Sort of. I mean... in a way? They don’t know that though,” he says with a smile, to which I respond by giving him a quizzical look. What was that supposed to mean? I’m pretty embarrassed I didn’t realize it sooner when he sees my expression, and states, “Oh. I’m gay.” I stare at the boy for a few moments, blinking. I then burst out into laughter. What a heteronormative approach I took to my questioning. Me, of all people! He was amused with me, and we share a joyous laughing session to the realization. “Ah... no wonder I related to your rejections,” I say with a cheerful grin. He quirks an eyebrow, and asks me with a curious twinkle in his eye,“Hm? What are you talking about sha?” “I’m bi. And non-binary. That’s partially why I found it so ironic that I didn’t get that sooner.” We chuckled once more, now aware of how hysterical the situation was when the final song of the evening began. He gets up first, helping me up, and we find ourselves dancing our way into the night.

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lovebitesimagines · 5 years ago

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London Girl- Two.

The second instalment of London Girl. Lets give Arthur Shelby some love!

[1] [2] [3]

Tag list: @power-of-words23 @igottagetmyselftogemina @therightcupoftea @midnattheir @the-makingsofgreatness @deaflikehawkeye @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @lettersshapes @yoheyyosup

Wanna be on the tagged list? Just drop me a message x

Warnings: swearing, implied smut.

Will you ever see Arthur Shelby again?

ARTHURS POV

If it wasn’t for the slight imprint left upon his bed sheets, or the way your perfume lingered faintly within the air, Arthur could have sworn that the previous night was a creation of his drunken imagination. He could still taste you upon his lips, fighting the urge to run his tongue across them, to savour every last trace. He groaned slightly as he sat up, ignoring the way his crotch instinctively stiffened as your perfume stirred around him at the movement of the sheets. His head lightly pounded, as the remains of whiskey fought to escape his system.

Arthur slid off the end of the bed, internally cringing as his feet met the cold floor. The bed sheets laid discarded behind him, as he made his way to the sink in the corner of his room. He turned the tap, cupping his hands underneath, splashing the ice, cold water on his face. Arthur ran his damp fingers through his hair, freezing as his eyes met his reflection in the mirror in front of him. His fingers gently ran down to the purple marks upon his neck, his cheeks turning a faint shade of beetroot red as the memories returned to him.

“Fuck” he mumbled.

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Arthur pulled his collar up around his neck as he made his way downstairs, reaching up to grab his cap from the stand near the kitchen door. He haphazardly placed it upon his head, looking down as he entered the kitchen, where his family sat.

“There he is! Man of the hour!” John laughed, clapping in mock celebration. Arthur frowned slightly, feeling the heat rise slightly upon his skin, as he pulled out a chair to sit upon. Pol pushed a plate of toast towards him, a faint smirk playing upon her lips.

“Now now John. Let him eat in peace” she stated, placing a cigarette in between her pursed lips to light. Arthur reached forward to grab a slice of toast, taking a large bite. He was glad for the distraction, pushing down the memories of last night into the crevices of his mind.

“How was it brother?” John continued to talk, ignoring their aunts instructions. “You both disappeared quite prematurely last night”. Arthur swallowed down the toast, a frown creasing in between his brows.

“We were just talking” Arthur responded, resulting in raucous laughter to escape from his two brothers mouths.

“I’m sure you were” Tommy retorted, breaking his silence with a smirk. “Must have been a fucking interesting conversation. You were gone for hours”.

“She’s a talker Tommy” Arthur stated, wishing his brothers would just shut up. He glanced in the direction of them, raising his eyebrows slightly. “You know how these women are”.

“Please enlighten us” Ada stated, as she made her way into the kitchen. She placed a kettle upon the stove, before folding her arms to look at her brothers.

“Arthur shagged a bird last night” Finn smirked, leaning forward to steal a slice of toast off Arthurs plate.

“That girl from London?” Ada chuckled lightly, bringing the hot kettle to place in the centre of the table. “You struck gold there Arthur”.

“I didn’t shag her” Arthur mumbled lightly, feeling his ears turn a deep shade of red, pulling up his collar a little higher, as he shrunk underneath Ada’s inquisitive gaze.

“What is with those purple marks on your neck then?” Ada asked, as she sat down beside him. Arthur groaned lightly, as his brothers burst into laughter.

“Good on you Arthur. About time you shared your bed with a woman” John smirked, giving his brother a teasing nudge.

“You’ll like my news then Arthur” Tommy stated, leaning back cooly within his chair. “Pack a bag. We’re heading off to London today. Got a meeting with an Alfie Solomons”.

London.

Arthur wasn’t stupid. He knew that London was home to far more people than he could count.

Yet if meeting you last night was fate, he hoped it would be on his side again.

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The journey to London took far longer than Arthur desired, his discomfort increasing by the minute. Tommy had insisted on bringing the car, despite Aunt Pol’s advice to take the train. That was typical of his brother, wanting to show off their newly found wealth. It would prove their status, Tommy had argued.

Arthur looked out of the window, noticing how crowds of people parted at the sight of the car, weaving its way down the streets. London was similar to Small Heath- dirty and full of people. He sighed lightly, placing a cigarette in between his lips, attempting to mask the nerves he felt. He often felt like this, during business meetings. Arthur was aware that he was famed for his untameable temper, and often thought his brothers only included him within family meetings as a way of intimidating others into agreeing with them. The car came to a stop, as Arthur inhaled in the cigarette smoke.

“Here we are lads. Let’s go do business” Tommy stated, stepping out of the car.

Arthur pushed open his door, throwing the cigarette upon the floor as he stood outside. The building that stood in front of them was a dark shade of grey, the once red bricks tainted by thick, black smoke. Green paint flaked off the wooden door, the sign above it precariously swinging in the slight breeze. Tommy moved forward, slamming his fist upon the door. The brothers waited briefly, before it swung open.

“You the Peaky Blinders?” a dark-haired man asked, his face framed by messy curls.

“Do you wanna fucking prize?” John spat, raising his eyebrow in distrust. The stranger appeared unphased by his reaction, turning his back to them.

“You’re late. Follow me” he ordered, making his way inside, closely followed by the three brothers. Arthur blinked as he adjusted to the darkness inside the factory. A strong smell of alcohol poisoned the air, as the sound of men shouting mixed with faint explosions, danced in his ears. He followed the group up a set of stairs, the wooden floorboards creaking preciously underneath each step.

“Peaky Blinders are here sir” the stranger shouted, as he pushed open a door. He stepped aside, allowing the three brothers to walk in.

Alfie Solomons sat in front of them, hunched over papers that were strewn across his desk. He did not acknowledge the brothers arrival, as they made their way into the room. Arthur lowered himself onto a wooden chair, grunting slightly as he placed his hands in his pockets, wrapping his fingers around the cool metal handle of his pistol. He couldn’t care less for these sorts of meetings, the formalities that came with developing a new business arrangement. He left these sorts of things to Tommy.

“Hello Mr. Solomons” Tommy greeted the man, as he sat between Arthur and John. Alfie glanced up at them, sitting up slightly as he lowered his glasses.

“I hear ya’ gypsies wanna do business”.

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Even in his waking moments, you haunted Arthurs thoughts. The image of you in your dress, how your smile lit up at the sight of him, hell, how you even listened to him. You were different, he knew that from the very second he laid eyes upon you. It wasn’t just the fact that you were from London, it was the fact that you were interested in him.

The door swung open, crashing against the brick wall. Arthur’s heart stopped, as a familiar sweet smell filled the room. He must be dreaming.

“You left your lunch at home again. Fucking useless you are”.

Your voice sang out around the room. Arthur drew his eyes up to look at you walk towards Alfie, placing a brown, paper bag upon the desk in front of him. Your beauty lit up the room, a significant contrast against the dark backdrop of the factory. You ignored the company within the room, as you leaned down to place a soft kiss upon Alfie’s cheek. Arthur could have swore that the sound of his heart dropping to the floor, could have been heard from all the way back home. It was impossible. You mentioned no lover, there was no ring placed upon your finger when he met you. You couldn’t be. Arthur felt his brothers glance at him, their frowns evident upon their faces.

“What have I told ya’ about bargin’ in when I have meetings?” Alfie grunted, leaning forward to peek into the contents of the paper bag. “Kids. They never listen ‘ey?” Alfie glanced at Tommy, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“No. My son is the same” Tommy chuckled lightly in response.

Arthur swallowed hard, the realisation dawning upon him. You were Alfie fucking Solomons daughter. He watched as you frowned in response to the conversation, throwing a glance in Tommy’s direction, before your eyes met his.

Time stood still, as he looked into your eyes. He ignored the way his heart beat rapidly increased at the sight of you. Arthur watched as your lips parted slightly in shock, your skin beginning to pale, a small frown creasing your beautiful features.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

***************************************************************************

YOUR POV

Hangovers were the worst, and this one was absolutely no exception. The fact that you had woken up in Arthur’s bed, brought you little comfort. You had opted to leave early, to avoid the awkward morning conversations with his family. To avoid the morning conversations with him. This was unlike you. You had never jumped into bed with a man so easily before, the only ever sexual experience you had a couple of years previous. Men where too scared of your father, to ever get too close to you. Arthur was different. He had intrigued you, drawing you in. You wanted to know more about him, to know the origins of his mysterious last name.

The cab journey home had somehow increased the intensity of your hangover, the windows providing little respite from the glaring morning sun. You were grateful when the cab had finally pulled up outside your home. You tossed a few coins in the direction of the driver, muttering your thanks, as you stood outside. You ran your hands down your dress, in a fruitless attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. In the daylight it appeared less elegant than it had the previous night. You made your way to the front door, silently turning the key in the lock as you pushed it open, hoping that your father had already left for work. You stepped inside, quietly turning to push the door shut behind you.

You paused by the door briefly, holding your breath for a second. Silence. Thank fuck. You made your way down towards the small bathroom, that you shared with your father.

Twenty-one years ago, Alfie Solomons had opened his front door to a small bundle of cloth on his doorstep, you hidden within the various pieces of fabric. You had always known that you were a result of an affair, your mother passing away shortly after childbirth. Her family had always known of your parental origins, and refused to raise a bastard child, leaving you upon your fathers doorstep. It had been you and him for twenty-one years, and you were absolutely fine with that.

You watched as the bathtub slowly filled with warm water, the steam rising up towards the ceiling. You slipped out of your dress, the fabric pooling carelessly around your feet, as you lowered yourself into the bath, submerging yourself in the water. Arthur danced behind your closed eyelids, his dark grey eyes prominent within your imagination. You remembered the way his stubble lightly scratched against your skin, as his lips fluttered against your flesh.

You remembered the way he made you feel alive with his words. He was the first person you felt truly listened, who completely understood you.

And you didn’t even know his last name.

You sighed slightly in frustration, grabbing a bar of soap to wash away the remains of last night. You were stupid to become fixated upon a man that you knew you would never see again. You roughly scrubbed at your skin, your flesh turning a light shade of pink in response. You and Arthur would never happen, and you were an idiot to entertain the possibility.

You stepped out of the bath, grabbing a towel to wrap around your frame, as you made your way towards your bedroom. You flung open your wardrobe doors, snatching a ruby red dress from the hangers, before slipping into it. The fabric clung to your slightly damp skin, falling just below your knees. You ran a comb through your hair, glaring angrily at your reflection in the mirror in front of you.

You were only a child, barely turned twenty-one years of age. Arthur could have his pick of any woman from Small Heath and London. Why the fuck did he bother with you?

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

A pair of sunglasses framed your eyes, barely providing shade from the afternoon sun. The noise of the city rang in your ears as you stepped outside, clutching a brown paper bag, filled with lunch for your father. You were aware that he had a business meeting with the famed Peaky Blinders gang this afternoon, and you were desperate to get a glimpse of the feared Birmingham men.

You rarely visited your father at work, an unspoken ban placed upon the area. You knew that your father preferred keeping his work separate to the life he shared with you, and you knew that he had his reasons for doing so. Your father led a dangerous life, his reputation proceeding the outskirts of London.

You pushed open the door to your fathers factory, grimacing slightly as the stench of burning alcohol filled your nostrils. It was a scent you were somewhat familiar with, the scent often clinging onto your fathers clothes. The men around you fell silent, stopping mid-shout, as they noticed you enter the factory, hurriedly turning their backs away from you. You were their bosses daughter, and even the newest recruit knew to keep both his hands and his eyes off.

“Miss?!” Ollie ran towards you, panic evident in his voice. You smiled warmly at your fathers right hand man, as you continued to make your way through the factory, Ollie closely following at your side.

“Hello Ollie. Father forgot his lunch” you explained, slightly lifting up the bag to show him.

“He’s in the middle of a meeting though miss. I’m afraid you can’t go up there”

“And I’m afraid Ollie, that I am choosing to ignore that” you stated, making your way up the stairs to your fathers office. You paused briefly outside the door, turning to face him, guilt softly spinning in your stomach. You didn’t want him to get into trouble with your father, for your actions.

“I’ll tell him I ignored you” you flashed a quick smile, before pushing open the door. It slammed against the brick wall, loudly announcing your arrival, as you made your way into the room.

“You left your lunch at home again. Fucking useless you are” you chuckled lightly, ignoring the men who sat in front of your father, as you placed the paper bag in front of him, lightly placing a kiss upon his cheek.

“What have I told ya’ about bargin’ in when I have meetings?” Alfie grunted, leaning forward to peek into the contents of the paper bag. “Kids. They never listen ‘ey?”

You frowned slightly at your fathers words, glancing towards the men who sat in front of him, your skin slightly flushed in embarrassment.

Grey eyes locked with yours, your skin paling as you met with those you never thought you’d see again. Arthur sat in front of you, shock painted just as evidently upon his face, as it was on yours. Your heart raced at the sight of him, the hands which had lovingly caressed your skin not even a few hours ago, were clasped tightly upon his lap. You swallowed hard, painfully tearing your gaze away from his.

“You’re such a fucking asshole” you laughed lightly, hoping your father hadn’t noticed the nerves that tainted the sound. “I’ll see you when you get home”.

You didn’t look back at Arthur, as you made your way out of the office.

You both had some explaining to do.

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The sun was starting to lower in the sky, by the time the factory door opened again. Your head shot up at the sound, swallowing nervously as you watched Arthur and his two brothers exit the building. You anxiously smoothed down your dress, as you made your way forward from where you had been sat, waiting for him.

“Arthur?” you softly called out, watching him stop in his tracks and turn to face you. “Can we…can we talk?”.

“She’s a fucking Solomons Arthur. You can’t” John hissed, loud enough for you to hear. You chewed nervously on the inside of your cheek.

“Wait in the car” Arthur grunted, dismissing his brothers with a wave of the hand. He made his way towards you, placing his hand on your arm as he guided you out of ear shot. “You never told me, that he is your fucking dad”.

Sadness rang in Arthurs voice, his hand not moving from your arm. You ignored the way your skin had ignited at his touch, how your cheeks had flushed a light shade of pink.

“You never told me, that you’re a fucking Shelby” you whispered, swallowing hard. Arthur chuckled bitterly, shaking his head slightly.

“Who would have thought that last names would have been such an issue?” he spat, his eyes meeting yours. His grey orbs were tinged with a silent sorrow, your own reflected within his.

“They don’t have to be” you whispered lightly, slipping your arm out of his grip, and placing a small slip of paper within the palm of his hand. “Meet me here later. When the clock strikes midnight”.

Arthurs forehead creased in confusion, briefly glancing down at the paper within his hand, before meeting your eyes once more. Silence settled uncomfortably between the pair of you, the tension evident.

“I’ll understand if-“ you had begun to talk, before you were silenced by Arthur hungrily pressed his lips up against your own. His fingers entangled in your hair, as you pressed your chest up against his, his heartbeat dancing with your own.

You were both breathless as you reluctantly pulled away. Arthur lightly pressed his forehead against yours, sighing gently.

“You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me”.

#Peaky Blinders #by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #Arthur Shelby #arthur shelby imagine #Arthur Shelby x oc #arthur shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby imagine #Alfie Solomons #shelby x solomons

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nayutai · 5 years ago

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Sleep Walker

⇢ Genre fluff (this nearly killed Jesus Christ fluff authors are powerful)

⇢ Pairing Jimin x OC

⇢ Word Count 4251

⇢ Summary Jimin finds himself wandering into a 24-hour coffee shop after his efforts to sleep have proved unsuccessful where he finds more than just the caffeine boost he needs to get through his day

⇢ Notes this goes out to my love bug @tae-tae-drives-me-kray

Working the night shift at a 24-hour coffee shop makes for a very boring shift. Most of the customers clear out by the time that two o’clock rolls around and those who do pop in are on their way to their own early morning shifts and generally don’t stay long. They also don’t usually start arriving until at least 4:30. For Amira, this means that she can eat snacks and binge watch Supernatural until the day time people show up for the most part. At $11 an hour it’s a pretty cushy gig if you don’t mind the fucked up sleep schedule.

The sound of the bell above the door tinkling loudly just before three sends Amira flying from her perch on a stool behind the counter. Whoever it is giggles melodically at the flurry of creative curses that come out of her mouth as she rises to your feet dramatically. She gives them a dirty look that softens at the way their eyes twinkle even in the low light of the cafe.

“Are you okay?” At least they have the decency to ask about her well-being after nearly giving her a heart attack. The lower half of their face is covered in a mask and a baseball cap sits low on his head. If it weren’t for the fact that this person’s eyes look so friendly she’d be standing a lot closer to the silent alarm and the baseball bat that her manager allows her to store under the counter.

“Just peachy for someone who was on the verge of death. What would you like to order?” He rattles off the name of some frappuccino thing with an assload of ingredients and Amira has the sudden urge to beat her head against the granite countertop. Being that she works night shift, most of her barista knowledge circled the memory drain a long time ago due to the fact that the most complicated thing the early morning demographic orders is flavored iced coffee. A walk in the park compared to the science experiments that the daytime crew is required to mix up throughout the day.

“I’m gonna keep it real with you, chief. I forgot how to make this but I don’t have the authorization to do refunds so if it’s bad you’re stuck with it.”

“At this point, it could be dishwater and I’d drink it as long as it’s got caffeine.”

And yet he ordered one of the froo froo drinks Amira thinks to herself. Those drinks have the least amount of caffeine out of everything on the menu. He’ll be asleep before he even finishes his drink.

“Well if caffeine is what you need, this drink isn’t what you want. I’ve got just the thing though.” You put away the clear cup for the frappucino with his consent and reach for a regular coffee cup. “What’s your name? I know you’re the only one here but it’s against store policy for any cup to leave this hellhole without a name on it.” He seems to panic at the thought of giving up his name, a wary look morphing his gaze. Her brows creases as she watches him contemplate how he wants to answer what she thinks is a very simple question.

“Jimin...” He says after a minute.

“Ha, that’s cool. There’s a guy in BTS with the same-“ Amira’s hand freezes halfway through writing his name as her drowsy brain starts connecting some very important dots. The news lady on channel six had said they’d be in town this weekend but never in a million years did she expect something like this to happen. She peeks at him from beneath her lashes. He looks ready to bolt out the door at the slightest provocation so she do her absolute best to remain calm for his sake.

Alright, sis you can do this. Just stay cool, calm, and collected. Mama ain’t raise a loser you can do this.

Jimin visibly relaxes when Amira starts writing again and turns to start making his drink. It’s a special concoction she makes for her fellow graveyard peeps. It’s strong enough to knock a donkey on its ass which is why it’s such a hit. One of her regulars, a long haul trucker, tells Amira all the time that he doesn’t know how he’d make it through his long drives without the liquid defibrillator that he practically orders by the gallon. Definitely doesn’t seem safe but he’s got an incredible driving record and he always brings her a fistful of the soft peppermint candies she’s partial to.

“Thank you for not freaking out. I’m not really supposed to be here.” Jimin mumbles as he accepts his drink. He loves interacting with fans but not at two a.m when he’s barely able to stand up from his lack of sleep.

“I gathered as much. Not many global superstars stroll through here at this hour or at all really.” Amira give him a smile that she hopes puts him at ease and, judging by the way his lips turn up a bit, it may have worked.

“Couldn’t sleep and we’ve got interviews all day so at this point I don’t have time to sleep hence the desperate need for caffeine.” He takes a cautious sip of the drink in his hand. She wasn’t kidding when she said that it would help. The caffeine hits his veins with the force of a speeding bullet train and Jimin already feels more alert just a few sips in.

Somehow, talking about his sleep troubles snowballs into a conversation about Disney movies and why Maleficent is the baddest bitch in the Disney realm when the blaring of his ringtone cuts her rant short. A heavy sigh escapes him at the interruption. He’d much rather listen to the adorable barista in front of him continue her impassioned argument, but duty calls.

“Guess that’s my cue. Thank you for the drink and the company.”

“No problem! If that shit starts fucking with your heart rate though you did not get it here. I refuse to be attacked by your twitter army for giving you heart palpitations. I ain’t built for that type of guerilla warfare.” Jimin full on belly laughs, nearly dropping the rest of his drink in the process. He couldn’t get rid of the goofy smile on his face even if he wanted to.

He grips the door handle in his hand but something is holding him back. Something feels unfinished and his feet refuse to move any further until that changes. Jimin turns around to see the source of his frozen feet standing behind the counter again, staring at his still form curiously. Before he can stop himself, Jimin crosses the short distance, snatching the pen stuck to the top of her apron to scribble his phone number on a nearby napkin. The gagging noises she makes when she realize what he’s just done make him feel justified in his rash decision. This time when he backs away, the smile on his face is one of mischief.

“Don’t let this be the last time I talk to you or I’ll never forgive you.” Jimin’s steps feel lighter as he treks back to the hotel to face the wrath of his manager. He hopes desperately that she texts him later. A frown replaces the grin behind his face mask at the prospect of his new crush not contacting him after tonight. His steps falter slightly as he processes the fact that he just met her not even a full hour ago and has already developed a full-fledged crush on her. Oh, Amira, so powerful and yet so unaware of it.

[Amira]: best friend

[Amira]: rise from the dead

[Amira]: I have a story to tell and before you even ask no it can’t wait until a decent hour

[Pomegranate]: if this doesn’t involve you meeting BTS or you hitting the lottery and paying off my crippling student loan debt I promise I don’t care

[Amira]: ….sometimes I swear you’re psychic

[Pomegranate]: BITCH DID YOU HIT THE LOTTO?????

[Pomegranate]: I BEEN YOUR BEST FRIEND FOR 13 YEARS DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME

[Amira]: shut up I didn’t hit the lottery but I did meet someone from BTS…

[Amira]: Jimin to be more specific

Incoming call from Pomegranate

“Well look what we have here. A traitor.” Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung’s dramatics but his best friend and bandmate is having none of it. “How dare you go traipsing off into the concrete jungle without me? We’re supposed to cause mayhem together and you left my ass in the middle of the night like I’m some side chick.”

“It’s really not this deep, Tae.”

“To you. Which is exactly why I snitched to Sejin.” Of course, Taehyung was the one to rat him out to their manager. He could be quite vengeful when he felt that he’d been wronged and obviously he took not being invited on his late night coffee hunt as a personal affront. The Capricorn energy coursing through his veins absolutely could not let that stand.

Jimin opens his mouth to respond when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He ignores it for the sake of pacifying Taehyung but when it vibrates twice more his curiosity gets the best of him.

[Unknown]: uhhhh hi?

[Unknown]: ew that was awkward as hell pls forgive me

[Unknown]: shit I didn’t even tell you who I am wow anyways this is the barista you tried to kill earlier also known as Amira

Jimin snorts at Amira’s messages which piques Taehyung’s interest in a major way. He can’t recall a time when his friend has ever looked so disgustingly happy over a text message from anybody. Just as he’s about to lean over to look at the screen, Jimin shoves the sleek iPhone right in his face. He’s babbling on and on about how funny and cute this Amira person is which only serves to further confuse Taehyung.

“I just want you to know that none of that made sense to me.”

Taehyung is almost sorry that he asked as Jimin launches into an impassioned retelling of the beautiful girl that made him a drink that is sure to keep him up until the end of time. A slow smile spreads across Taehyung’s face as he connects the dots. Jimin has a crush. A big one. He can’t wait to tell the other members that their precious Jiminie has finally found someone that meets his incredibly high standards. Out of all the idols back home, both male and female, that have practically thrown themselves at Jimin’s chelsea boots and it’s a random cafe employee that manages to make him totally enraptured.

“So let me get this straight,” Amira’s eyes follow her best friend Cameren as she paces back and forth across her living room. “It’s a regular degular night at work until some guy in a mask walks in and scares the shit outta you. Lo and behold that guy is fucking Park Jimin from BTS and you make him drink that god awful elixir of the damned you insist on serving to people and he actually liked it?”

“Not just that.” She fishes the napkin with Jimin’s number on it out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and carefully unfolds it so that Cameren can see the string of digits scratched into the napkin. The creative string of curses that fly out her mouth would make most people blush but after more than a decade of impassioned screaming, Amira doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes widen comically though when she notices Cameren reaching forward as if to snatch the napkin out of her hand. She thanks God for gifting her with reflexes quick enough to keep it out of Cameren’s reach.

“Bitch! Let me see it.”

“No! He gave me this because he obviously trusted me not to pass it around and I don’t plan to disappoint my future husband this early in the game.” She replies indignantly.

“Look at you. All delusional and shit but whatever I respect it.” Cameren declares as she props herself on the coffee table in front of her best friend. “So, did you text him?”

“Of course I did. Who do you think I am?” Cameren opens her mouth to respond with what is no doubt going to be some witty quip about exactly who she thinks Amira is, but she’s interrupted by the tell-tale ping of her phone receiving a text message. The shocked look on Cameren’s face is perfectly mirrored on Amira’s as she slowly picks her phone up from the couch cushion she’d sat it on.

[Kristoff Hater]: you’re too adorable to be awkward

Amira sits frozen in place as she reads and rereads his message. There’s no way he just said that. There is absolutely no way in hell that the Park Jimin himself just called her adorable. Have the heavens finally opened up? Did God decide that today is the day that she secures the biggest win of all? She’s in such a state of shock that Amira doesn’t even notice Cameren trying to get her attention until she starts physically shaking her shoulder. Amira’s voice box is still refusing to function so she simply hand over her phone to let Cameren see the message for herself. Her friend’s answering shriek perfectly voices Amira’s own feelings.

“He’s typing again!” Cameren thrusts the phone back into Amira’s hands just in time for another message to appear on the screen but she quickly close the conversation when Jimin starts typing once more. It takes longer than expected but the tell-tale ping from her phone makes Amira’s heart skip a beat at what he could possibly have said this time.

[Kristoff Hater]: speaking of you being adorable I need a contact picture so go ahead and hand one over and no one gets hurt

[Kristoff Hater]: or don’t because you’re an autonomous human being and that’s totally up to you but I would really appreciate a picture of your face because I think you’re you’re cute and wow I’m rambling over text which is super embarrassing so I’m going to stop typing now byeeeee

This time, Amira is the one screaming.

“It’s official. You scared her away.” Taehyung claps Jimin on the back from his spot behind him in the van. Jimin continues to stare dejectedly at the stagnant conversation with his mystery woman. It’s been hours since he’d went out on a limb and asked her for a picture with not even a hint of a response. He’d originally thought that he’d eventually get over it and go back to normal but now he’s not so sure.

“Leave him be, Tae.” Namjoon pipes up from Jimin’s left. “It’s important to fully feel and process your emotions no matter how depressing they are.”

“Oh, so now the wannabe philosopher is going to preach to me?”

“It was probably too good to be true any-she texted me back!”

[Coffee Almost Bae]: I’m so sorry 😭

[Coffee Almost Bae]: In the interest of total transparency I had a meltdown because you called me cute and I’ve spent the last fourteen hours trying to psych myself up to respond

Jimin nearly melts into puddle of feelings right where he sits. This girl is entirely too cute for her own good and she doesn’t even realize it. His fingers start flying in response, but his frantic typing is interrupted by another message.

[Coffee Almost Bae]: I believe you asked for this {image attached}

He’d thought that Amira was cute when he’d first met her at the coffee shop but seeing her in this picture is making his heart race. She’s clearly at dinner with friends judging from the crowded table full of food behind her. He’s incredibly appreciative of the way her jeans snugly hug the hourglass frame that her work uniform hides. His eyes are then drawn upwards to her face and he finds himself getting lost in the sheer brilliance of her smile. Eyes bright with a playful energy. Jimin is sure he’s never seen anyone more captivating.

“Yeah I’m definitely in love.” He proudly shows off Amira’s picture to the rest of the group, relishing in the comments about how pretty she are. Jimin chooses to ignore Yoongi’s comment about how he wasn’t sure that she actually existed until he saw the picture. His heart flutters in his chest as he stares fondly at the picture on his screen. He’s so caught up in her beauty that he forgets that you have to actually reply to the text messages in order to keep a conversation going. Until his phone vibrates in his hand.

[Coffee Almost Bae]: OH MY GOD YOU THINK I’M UGLY DON’T YOU I KNEW THIS WAS A MISTAKE I HATE IT HERE

Jimin’s eyes go wide as he realizes the unforeseen consequence that his awestruck staring has resulted in. The concerned questions from the other members roll off his back as he tries to fix the mess he made. The two extra concert tickets that he’d been holding for two of his friends suddenly come to mind. Frustrated with the way he keeps misspelling words in his haste, Jimin throws caution to the wind and hits the call button. He doesn’t know why he’s so desperate to fix this, especially since he just met this girl less than forty eight hours ago but he can’t deny the nerves coursing through him as he waits for Amira to answer the phone.

“Cameren, he thinks I’m ugly. I just know he does.” Amira whines and it’s nearly Cameren’s breaking point. She sighs frustratedly over the phone as she does her best not to yell at Amira for overthinking and sending herself into a panic.

“This man saw you in an unforgiving barista uniform, bare-faced, at three in the morning and still somehow thought you were cute.” Cameren can hear Amira inhale to interrupt her but she powers through, giving her no option but to listen. “If he saw you looking like that then there’s now way he thought the picture you sent him was ugly so stop overreacting. He’s a fucking international superstar someone probably stopped him for an autograph or something. Or maybe he thinks you’re insane for losing your shit because he took more than five minutes to respond.”

On a more rational level, Amira knows that Cameren is right, but it’s not every day that a girl actually gets to live out their fantasy like this. So naturally, she’s insecure and full of nervous energy that is near impossible to get rid of. What if his sleep deprivation made him delirious? What if fully awake Jimin thinks he made a mistake? Cameren is still ranting when Amira’s phone beeps with another phone call. She pull the device away from her ear to see who it is and nearly choke on her own spit.

“He’s calling me! I gotta go.” She ends the call with Cameren and answer Jimin’s before her overactive nerves can convince her not to. The second Amira accepts the call, all that can be heard is Jimin apologizing profusely. Somewhere in there he mentions something about concert tickets and soundcheck and her brain decides to finally kick in to get some clarification.

When he finally starts speaking slow enough for her to understand him, Amira is stunned even further into silence. Front row tickets to their next concert with a primo soundcheck position? Yeah, there’s no way she could pass that up, but there is one issue. Their next concert is in Toronto. As if he can sense what she’s thinking, Jimin immediately offers to fly Amira and whoever she wants to bring with her to Toronto. The sound of raucous laughter in the background drowns out his next sentence, so she can only assume the rest of the group is giving him shit for that.

“I can’t let you do that, Jimin.” Amira already knows that Cameren is going to kill her for this when she fills her in later, but she doesn’t want him to feel like she’s using him for free stuff. He tries his absolute best to change her mind but Amira doesn’t let up.

“At least promise me that last night won’t be the last time I see you.”

“I promise. Now go to sleep before I tell army you’re neglecting yourself because I can hear the exhaustion all in your voice.” Jimin laughs at her playful threat which makes her heart swell with pride at being the one to make him laugh like that. After being a fan for so long, Amira can perfectly picture the adorable way his eyes have probably scrunched closed as he laughs with his whole body. The reluctantly bid each other goodbye after Jimin makes her promise once more that they’ll meet again.

Months have passed since the day Jimin turned Amira’s life into a wattpad fanfiction and since then life has changed in numerous ways for both of them. Amira has gotten a new job. A new dog. A new house. Meanwhile, BTS has hopped from country to country playing to sold out stadiums. Broken fistfuls of records that established western acts admittedly balk at. And yet, despite all these changes, Jimin and Amira’s presence in each other’s lives has remained constant. Whether it be a funny meme he saw online, a FaceTime call at an indecent hour because time zones are weird, or even a postcard from whatever part of the globe BTS has ended up in. Despite their best efforts though, their late night conversation over coffee did not get the follow up that they’d promised to have.

Amira is on her way back to work after meeting up with Cameren for lunch when she gets a text from Jimin. It’s a picture of what looks like a schedule for the upcoming month and it looks pretty empty save for a flight to LA on the fifth. The image is accompanied with several eye emojis and Amira connects the dots immediately. The second she returns to the office, she submits a request for two weeks of leave time. After snapping a picture of her screen, her fingers fly across the screen with a quick message to Jimin.

Amira hasn’t seen Jimin in person since that night at the coffee shop and that thought keeps her up at night as the days fly by. No matter how much careful planning they put in to try and see each other something always seemed to come up and foil whatever plans the two of them had concocted, but this time feels different. Like everything might actually fall perfectly into place. That brings up the question about how Amira is going to handle being face to face with Jimin again. All of his flirting and little pet names have been hard to handle over text but to be in the same room with him and keep her cool is going to be a new kind of challenge. He’s been very direct about what his feelings are and though she feels the same, Amira has been hesitant to reciprocate his romantic sentiments in fear that what she feels is rooted in her love for BTS as a fan. Cameren has been Amira’s saving grace with her pep talks but nothing could ever truly prepare her for the force of nature that is Park Jimin spending two uninterrupted weeks in her house.

Jimin arrives in a whirlwind of designer luggage that he quickly tosses aside in favor of peppering kisses all over Amira’s face while she playfully attempts to fight him off. Her terrier Luna runs circles around the both of them in a frenzy at having a new friend to play with her. Amira’s heart is beating erratically in her chest as Jimin switches tactics, choosing to simply hold her close to him.

“Hello to you too, Ji-” His lips pressing against her own stops Amira’s sentence in its tracks.

She’s always admired how soft his lips looked but to find out just how soft they actually are sends a rush of endorphins coursing through her. All of the qualms she’d had about falling for him melt away like ice cream in the summer sun. Her insecurities suddenly seem so significant as his lips mold against her own like they were meant to be there. A deep groan rattles Jimin’s chest when she gets over her initial shock and reciprocates. He tastes of strawberries and the faintest hint of mint when he explores her mouth with his expert tongue. Amira decides then and there that she would gladly die of suffocation if it meant she could kiss Jimin till she croaked.

They could’ve remained locked together for an indefinite amount of time if not for Luna tugging on Jimin’s pant leg with her teeth, demanding her fair share of his attention. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop the energetic fur ball into his arms, scratching behind one of her ears as Luna practically vibrates in his arms.

“I think this is the part where I tell you I’m in love with you and want to be your boyfriend.” He lifts Luna next to his face and Amira knows she’s in trouble. “Don’t you want to wake up to us every morning? At least for the next two weeks?”

“Kiss me again and you’ve got a deal, boyfriend.”

#bts writers guild #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin fanfiction #jimin scenario #bts #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #jimin x oc #jimin x poc oc #writing fluff is hard as hell #had to stop myself from making somebody whip out a tiddy #if this is trash mickey did it

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kirishibi · 5 years ago

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Drunk

#tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki #mha #bnha #mha x reader #mha fluff #amajiki fluff #togata mirio #bnha mirio #mirio togata #amajiki #amajiki tamaki #kiri writes

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yeeter-parkor · 5 years ago

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Training is hard when you don't wanna hit people...

peter is to pure for this world.

read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610966

summery: Peter Parker is too strong for his own good, and he holds himself back so much that Natasha and Steve have no idea what he is really capable of. Natasha decides she needs to fix that.

“Peter, come here a moment,” Natasha said, her voice commanding, causing Peter to tense slightly. They had just found out about him being Spiderman after the bridge incident, and they hadn’t seemed to be thrilled about it. To be completely fair, they were perfectly nice to him, but they hadn’t been the most forgiving of Mr. Stark allowing him to join as they might have let on if the dead frogs in the lab were anything to go by.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, scurrying over to where she was standing and looked at her, searching for clues as to what they were about to do.

“Me and Steve have decided that, contrary to popular belief, we will not be killing Stark, yet.”

“But,” Steve interjected, “you are going to have to prove to us first that you can keep yourself safe out there.”

“But sir I-”

“No but’s, your sparring with me first, then Steve, okay. If we don’t beat you to bad then we will consider letting you go out on your own again.”

“Have… Have I not been?”

“No. Go get changed and meet us in the training room.”

He scampered off, socked feet sliding slightly on the tile floors, which he was sure wasn’t helping them take him seriously, but he was honestly so excited he didn’t care. He knew he was stronger than both of them, so he would have to hold back quite a bit, but at least they would have to take him seriously then. He threw on a black tee and shorts with leggings underneath, helpful when you do a lot of flips, and hurried back down, trying to set his face to look as grown-up as possible, he didn’t want them holding back because he was a kid.

Clearly, his attempt at looking mature hadn’t worked as well as he had hoped, because Steve chuckled when he re-appeared.

“What?” He asked, probably sounding majorly winey.

“I like your socks.” Was all the soldier said, reminding him that he was still wearing Spongebob socks. He cleared his throat, trying his hardest to not blush, which he had a feeling wasn’t working, as he slipped on his sparring shoes.

“Peter, are you ready?” Natasha asked impatiently from the mat.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, scrambling over to her, and ignoring Steve’s laughter.

“Good. We’re going to start easy, alright? Just try to block this time, no need to attack, okay? We’ll go for three minutes. ” “Got it!” He exclaimed, resisting the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. He couldn’t help being excited, he loved sparring. The chance to get moving and work out some pent up energy, without the chance of being shot was great.

“Go!” Steve yelled from the side.

Wasting no time, Natasha took a jab straight at his head with a high roundhouse kick, which he leaped away from with ease. She was holding back, but clearly not my much, and allowed her swings to carry more weight as the fight went on. Not that it affected Peter though, he hadn’t even gotten close to being hit.

“Peter, keep your feet steady!” He heard Steve call, a worried tilt to his voice. Peter just grinned. Because of that, he was going to do everything in his power to stay off his feet. He flipped and spun and dogged for the whole three minutes, and Natasha hadn’t even gotten close to hitting him. He could see a mix of pride and frustration on her face as the bell rang.

“Okay Peter, this time you attack me. Remember, I spar with Steve all the time, I can take a hit.”

He looked at her dubiously. He wasn’t positive he could kill her with one hit, but he was, and he could.

The bell rang again before he had time to protest, and Nat jumped into a defensive stance. Reluctantly, he started the match, being sure to pull his punches as much as possible without them noticing, which wasn’t really working all that well.

“Come on Peter, you need to get a hit in,” Steve called again.

“Hmmph.” He huffed, putting most of his focus on not hurting his friend, but he did speed his swings up enough to startle the assassin, who was having a difficult time blocking all of them. By the end of the round, Peter had albeit unintentionally, gotten almost a dozen hits in.

“Okay Nat, you ready to switch out yet?” Steve called. Peter watched as she seemed to weigh her choices for a moment.

“Peter, if I spare with you again, will you actually try and hit me?” She asked.

“I um, I don’t think I will hit either of you.” He said honestly.

“Yeah, let’s switch.” She called, climbing over the mat rail.

Peter watched silently as Steve took her place, shifting anxiously. He saw Natasha pull Steve’s ear to her lips and whisper something.

“Don’t go easy on him, he’s stronger than he’ll let on. I want to see him really attack.”

Suddenly, Steve was in Natasha’s place, staring at him with icy (Ha) blue eyes, analytical and hard. It was his fighting face, not angry, but by no means soft ether. Peter had only a second to register the ring of the starting bell before Steve was lunging at him. Aiming straight for his head. Peter’s spidey senses screamed as he flipped away, dodging and ducking only slightly faster then Steve was swinging. He had learned it a few months ago, when a petty criminal got wise, after seeing Peter operate at his full speed. He ended up okay but had a massive scar on his side. He almost matched Steve’s pace, making sure that he still didn’t know his real speed.

“Come on Pete, you gotta punch back,” Steve grunted, already sweating.

“I think I’m good, thanks.” He said, trying and failing to sound tired.

Peter ducked, allowing Cap to make contact with his shoulder for a moment, seeing the frustration growing behind his eyes.

“Peter, stop letting him win, we need to see what you can do if you expect us to let you out again,” Natasha said from the sidelines.

“He is not letting me win,” Steve said indignantly, “I’ve barely hit him.”

“Look at him Steve, Pete, you haven't even broken a sweat, I need to see how capable you are or this will be a waste of everyone's time.”

Her words stung a bit, so Peter revised him plane of tiring Steve out. He caught Natasha’s eye, and she nodded approvingly, seeming to understand his silent request for permission. The next time Steve swung at him, he didn’t duck, but instead caught his fist and used to flip himself over Steve’s back and kicked him hard. Not hard enough to kill him, obviously, but hard enough to send him flying across the gym. Everyone was silent for a moment, Peters eyes wide. “I am so sorry!” Peter exclaimed, running to where Steve had landed. He was already picking himself up, wincing.

“Don’t apologize, Peter, that was exactly what I wanted,” Natasha said. Her expression never changes, but Peter swore that he saw pride in her eyes.

“You wanted that?” he asked, pointing to the (rather large) crater that Steve had made where he collided.

“Well, maybe not that specifically, but I wanted to see how hard you could hit, although I am guessing by your appearance you are still holding back.” She amended.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, indignantly.

“You aren't tired or sore at all, and you seemed way to calm when you kicked him over here, almost bored.” Peter paled at that, he hadn’t wanted to offend them.

“I-I’m not bored, I swear.” He said.

“Yeah, sure. Steve, will you get Thor, and Tony please, I want them here.” Natasha said, directing her words to Steve, who had sense picked himself up from the floor, although looking slightly worse for the wear. Peter winced at the bruise blossoming on his temple.

“Yeah yeah, I’m on it.” He said, turning.

“And get some ice, the kid gave you a good bruise.”

“Sorry!” Peter shouted after the grumpy soldier as Natasha chuckled.

“Don’t apologize, Peter, someone needs to bring his ego down a notch.” The redhead said with a smirk. “Besides, he can take a hit. Tony’s wall, however…”

He was about to apologize when Steve returned with the other two in tow.

“Okay, guys, come here,” Natasha said, walking over to a screen near the far right wall from Peter. “FRIDAY can you play the footage of Peter and Steve from 3 and a half minutes ago?” Natasha asked. FRIDAY obliged, showing the two of them sparring on the screen for about 30 seconds before Peter kicks him. He snuck a glance at Tony, trying to gauge his reaction, he at least didn’t seem mad they were sparing, if anything he looked amused. Onscreen Natasha nods, and screen Peter kicks screen, Steve, causing Tony to laugh in a not-very-professional fashion.

“Look mid-guardian, the child kicked you!” Thor said happily.

“Yes Thor, I am aware,” Steve responded.

“Aw, why so salty Cap? You finally believe me that Pete can kick your ass? Or just past your bedtime?”

“Boys!” Natasha interjected. “The point of this exercise was to get a good idea of Peter’s abilities, but it was made clear that Cap was not as good a match as we had hoped he would be, so I was hoping that Thor would be willing to spar with him.”

“Are you sure that is wise, women of spiders, I do not wish to harm him.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Tony said, “He may not be an even match with Thor, but I think he will be fine.”

“Good enough for me.” Natasha said, “Just try not to kill him, will you Thor.”

“I would never kill a child.”

“Okay, still not a child,” Peter said quietly.

“You’re 15 Peter, that is child aged,” Steve said.

“Weren't you applying to the military when-” Peter started, only to be shoved onto the matt and hear the bell ring.

“Okay go!” Steve said loudly, causing a laugh from Tony and a suspicious glare from Natasha.

Thor swung at Peter with almost twice the force Steve had used, and Peter immediately realized that Thor would beat him if they used pure strength, although not by much. He could tell the Asgardian was holding back still. Of course, Peter still had the advantage of his speed and sticky-ness, which he planned on using to his full potential. They fought for a solid half an hour before he could sense the others getting bored. Peter hadn’t been hit once, but he hadn’t hit his opponent ether. Thor had also grown frustrated, letting more and more of his power fall into each missed blow.

Finally, Peter was starting to actually feel tired, which was nice. He actually enjoyed not having to constantly be monitoring his strength in a fight. Except by now Thor was panting, and clearly fed up, and Peter had a feeling that they were moments away from a hurricane if this fight didn’t end. He glanced at Tony and Natasha again, making eye contact as they both nodded their approval, Natasha looking stern, whereas Tony was downright gleeful. With their approval, Peter aught Thor's next missed punch before he had been given a chance to recover, using in to swing himself over, causing Thor to lose his footing and get launched over Peter’s head. He landed with a residual thud and everyone stood quiet for a moment, the only sound being Peter and Thor's loud breaths. Until they heard a ding coming from FRIDAY

“Footage saved” Which sent all of them into laughter.

“Good job, man of spiders, you fought well. I am glad we are on the same side in battle.” Thor said, rising from the floor which was now definitely dented . Peter looked up at the other three, smiling slightly at their expressions. Natasha was smiling, Steve looked completely dumbfounded, and Tony- Well Tony looked happier then Peter had seen him since Clint accidentally ate a frog head. “So… can I go out on patrols again?” Peter asked them hopefully.

“Yeah kid, I don’t think there’s a criminal in the city that could take you,” Steve said, almost causing Peter to bring up Rooms, but he bit his lip.

“Hey FRIDAY, you saved both those fights to my training file, right?” Tony called to the ceiling.

“Yes, and the first one can also be found in ‘Capsicle Is Melting’”

“Good. good job kid.” Tony said. Peter didn’t think he stopped smiling the rest of the day.

#bamf peter parker

19 notes · View notes

jojosbizarrewriter · 5 years ago

Text

Have this filthy work that I made at six in the morning because sleep is for the weak and I’m also v weak for Risotto okay???? So here is a little bit of lovin from this big tiddie boy ;3

Risotto x Reader (n/s/f/w)

tags: cunnilingus, belly bulge, thigh-fucking, 18+ content, f!reader

words: 2600 (Not proofread!)

(N/S/F/W CONTENT BELOW THE CUT!!!!)

The‌ ‌way‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌straps‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌outfit‌ ‌sit‌ ‌snug‌ ‌against‌ ‌his‌ ‌chest‌ ‌makes‌ ‌your‌ ‌thighs‌ ‌squeeze‌ ‌together‌ ‌with‌ ‌just‌ ‌the‌ ‌thought.‌ ‌Would‌ ‌there‌ ‌ever‌ ‌be‌ ‌a‌ ‌day‌ ‌when‌ ‌you‌ ‌can‌ ‌let‌ ‌your‌ ‌hands‌ ‌touch‌ ‌and‌ ‌roam‌ ‌over‌ ‌his‌ ‌body,‌ ‌tracing‌ ‌every‌ ‌scar‌ ‌and‌ ‌kissing‌ ‌every‌ ‌inch‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌strong‌ ‌jaw‌ ‌while‌ ‌he‌ ‌takes‌ ‌your‌ ‌innocence?‌ ‌Your‌ ‌devious‌ ‌little‌ ‌mind‌ ‌pondered‌ ‌and‌ ‌toyed‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌idea‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌capo‌ ‌pounding‌ ‌you‌ ‌mercilessly‌ ‌into‌ ‌any‌ ‌surface‌ ‌you‌ ‌two‌ ‌could‌ ‌find,‌ ‌the‌ ‌thought‌ ‌of‌ ‌being‌ ‌caught‌ ‌by‌ ‌any‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌teammates‌ ‌enticing‌ ‌you‌ ‌further‌ ‌into‌ ‌this‌ ‌daydream‌ ‌scenario.‌ ‌It‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌hard‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌of‌ ‌a‌ ‌special‌ ‌someone‌ ‌that‌ ‌may‌ ‌just‌ ‌find‌ ‌the‌ ‌act‌ ‌very‌ ‌erotic‌ ‌though‌ ‌that‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌stop‌ ‌the‌ ‌mental‌ ‌train‌ ‌from‌ ‌stopping.‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

That‌ ‌was‌ ‌until‌ ‌you‌ ‌heard‌ ‌an‌ ‌all‌ ‌too‌ ‌familiar‌ ‌voice‌ ‌yelling‌ ‌out‌ ‌from‌ ‌the‌ ‌kitchen‌ ‌“OI!!‌ ‌Hurry‌ ‌the‌ ‌fuck‌ ‌up!‌ ‌If‌ ‌it‌ ‌weren’t‌ ‌for‌ ‌Formaggio‌ ‌sleeping‌ ‌in,‌ ‌then‌ ‌we‌ ‌may‌ ‌have‌ ‌had‌ ‌this‌ ‌mission‌ ‌over‌ ‌by‌ ‌now!”‌ ‌Ghiaccio‌ ‌seethed‌ ‌through‌ ‌gritted‌ ‌teeth,‌ ‌his‌ ‌brow‌ ‌twitching‌ ‌as‌ ‌everyone‌ ‌but‌ ‌Risotto‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌coming‌ ‌through‌ ‌the‌ ‌entryway‌ ‌and‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌door.‌ ‌

Melone‌ ‌had‌ ‌seen‌ ‌you‌ ‌sitting‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌couch‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌approached‌ ‌you‌ ‌nonchalantly,‌ ‌crouching‌ ‌down‌ ‌while‌ ‌flashing‌ ‌you‌ ‌a‌ ‌smirk,‌ ‌inevitably‌ ‌catching‌ ‌your‌ ‌full‌ ‌attention‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌cleared‌ ‌his‌ ‌throat‌ ‌“You‌ ‌know,‌ ‌bella,‌ ‌daydreaming‌ ‌those‌ ‌lustful‌ ‌little‌ ‌thoughts‌ ‌of‌ ‌yours‌ ‌out‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌open‌ ‌is‌ ‌quite‌ ‌the‌ ‌sight-”‌ ‌he‌ ‌expressed,‌ ‌sighing‌ ‌deeply‌ ‌but‌ ‌a‌ ‌little‌ ‌soft‌ ‌moan‌ ‌rolls‌ ‌right‌ ‌past‌ ‌his‌ ‌lips‌ ‌quietly‌ ‌“-but‌ ‌you‌ ‌aren’t‌ ‌mine‌ ‌to‌ ‌play‌ ‌with.”‌ ‌He‌ ‌whines,‌ ‌his‌ ‌bottom‌ ‌lip‌ ‌sticking‌ ‌out‌ ‌in‌ ‌a‌ ‌pout.‌ ‌ ‌

“Wait,‌ ‌is‌ ‌it‌ ‌really‌ ‌that‌ ‌noticeable?”‌ ‌you‌ ‌question‌ ‌all‌ ‌too‌ ‌quickly,‌ ‌your‌ ‌face‌ ‌in‌ ‌return‌ ‌had‌ ‌heated‌ ‌up‌ ‌with‌ ‌embarrassment‌ ‌and‌ ‌Melone’s‌ ‌not‌ ‌so‌ ‌subtle‌ ‌chuckle‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌help‌ ‌“No,‌ ‌”‌ ‌he‌ ‌says‌ ‌with‌ ‌his‌ ‌tongue‌ ‌sticking‌ ‌out‌ ‌past‌ ‌his‌ ‌mouth,‌ ‌licking‌ ‌his‌ ‌lips‌ ‌gently‌ ‌to‌ ‌elicit‌ ‌some‌ ‌sort‌ ‌response‌ ‌from‌ ‌you‌ ‌”But‌ ‌I‌ ‌now‌ ‌know‌ ‌that‌ ‌my‌ ‌suspicions‌ ‌are‌ ‌true,‌ ‌however.”‌ ‌his‌ ‌smile‌ ‌only‌ ‌grew‌ ‌when‌ ‌your‌ ‌frustrations‌ ‌built‌ ‌up‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌throat,‌ ‌cheeks‌ ‌stained‌ ‌a‌ ‌wine‌ ‌red.‌ ‌ ‌

“You’re‌ ‌a‌ ‌pretentious‌ ‌pervert,‌ ‌Melone!”‌ ‌You‌ ‌hissed‌ ‌at‌ ‌him,‌ ‌though‌ ‌he‌ ‌only‌ ‌stands‌ ‌when‌ ‌everyone‌ ‌has‌ ‌left‌ ‌to‌ ‌go‌ ‌outside,‌ ‌giving‌ ‌you‌ ‌both‌ ‌a‌ ‌moment‌ ‌of‌ ‌privacy‌ ‌and‌ ‌something‌ ‌about‌ ‌this‌ ‌new‌ ‌atmosphere‌ ‌sends‌ ‌the‌ ‌hairs‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌back‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌neck‌ ‌straight‌ ‌up‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌leans‌ ‌over‌ ‌to‌ ‌whisper‌ ‌into‌ ‌the‌ ‌shell‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌ear.‌ ‌ ‌

“The‌ ‌capo‌ ‌would‌ ‌like‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌you‌ ‌now.”‌ ‌ ‌

Thus,‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌left‌ ‌behind‌ ‌with‌ ‌that‌ ‌little‌ ‌bit‌ ‌of‌ ‌knowledge‌ ‌and‌ ‌if‌ ‌you‌ ‌remember‌ ‌correctly,‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌seen‌ ‌everyone‌ ‌but‌ ‌your‌ ‌cap‌ ‌leave‌ ‌just‌ ‌moments‌ ‌ago,‌ ‌right?‌ ‌As‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌gotten‌ ‌up‌ ‌from‌ ‌your‌ ‌seat‌ ‌and‌ ‌made‌ ‌your‌ ‌way‌ ‌to‌ ‌what‌ ‌everyone‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌house‌ ‌knew‌ ‌as‌ ‌Risotto’s‌ ‌‘office’,‌ ‌the‌ ‌silence‌ ‌made‌ ‌it‌ ‌feel‌ ‌like‌ ‌forever‌ ‌until‌ ‌you‌ ‌reached‌ ‌the‌ ‌mahogany‌ ‌door‌ ‌that‌ ‌was‌ ‌the‌ ‌last‌ ‌piece‌ ‌shielding‌ ‌you‌ ‌from‌ ‌what‌ ‌was‌ ‌to‌ ‌come.‌ ‌Every‌ ‌nerve‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌body‌ ‌had‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌worked‌ ‌up‌ ‌to‌ ‌this‌ ‌moment,‌ ‌your‌ ‌fingers‌ ‌wrapped‌ ‌close‌ ‌as‌ ‌you‌ ‌knock‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌door’s‌ ‌surface,‌ ‌the‌ ‌echoed‌ ‌sound‌ ‌bouncing‌ ‌off‌ ‌the‌ ‌walls‌ ‌all‌ ‌around‌ ‌you.‌ ‌ ‌

“Come‌ ‌in.”‌ ‌spoke‌ ‌a‌ ‌deep‌ ‌tone,‌ ‌your‌ ‌chest‌ ‌tightened‌ ‌up‌ ‌and‌ ‌you‌ ‌could’ve‌ ‌swore‌ ‌your‌ ‌heart‌ ‌stopped‌ ‌beating‌ ‌for‌ ‌a‌ ‌split‌ ‌second‌ ‌which‌ ‌warranted‌ ‌you‌ ‌to‌ ‌push‌ ‌through‌ ‌the‌ ‌door.‌ ‌ ‌

‌Soon‌ ‌you‌ ‌understood‌ ‌where‌ ‌all‌ ‌that‌ ‌tension‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌coming‌ ‌from‌ ‌when‌ ‌your‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌caught‌ ‌his,‌ ‌the‌ ‌lump‌ ‌that‌ ‌was‌ ‌stuck‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌throat‌ ‌had‌ ‌soon‌ ‌been‌ ‌swallowed‌ ‌when‌ ‌you‌ ‌moved‌ ‌forward,‌ ‌closing‌ ‌the‌ ‌door‌ ‌behind‌ ‌you.‌ ‌ ‌

“You‌ ‌wanted‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌me,‌ ‌Ris-”‌ ‌your‌ ‌words‌ ‌ceased‌ ‌when‌ ‌you‌ ‌noted‌ ‌his‌ ‌brow‌ ‌knitting‌ ‌together,‌ ‌his‌ ‌large‌ ‌form‌ ‌was‌ ‌leaning‌ ‌over‌ ‌the‌ ‌desk‌ ‌his‌ ‌arms‌ ‌folded‌ ‌atop‌ ‌it‌ ‌like‌ ‌a‌ ‌predator‌ ‌watching‌ ‌its‌ ‌prey‌ ‌and‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌to‌ ‌play‌ ‌your‌ ‌cards‌ ‌right‌ ‌“-Capo?”‌ ‌you‌ ‌corrected,‌ ‌earning‌ ‌a‌ ‌gentle‌ ‌hum‌ ‌from‌ ‌your‌ ‌leader‌ ‌who‌ ‌had‌ ‌now‌ ‌sat‌ ‌back‌ ‌in‌ ‌his‌ ‌seat.‌ ‌ ‌

“Yes,”‌ ‌he‌ ‌states‌ ‌quite‌ ‌simply,‌ ‌his‌ ‌right‌ ‌index‌ ‌finger‌ ‌points‌ ‌to‌ ‌you‌ ‌before‌ ‌said‌ ‌hand‌ ‌turns‌ ‌over,‌ ‌his‌ ‌thick‌ ‌digit‌ ‌curling‌ ‌in‌ ‌a‌ ‌motion‌ ‌that‌ ‌said‌ ‌‘come‌ ‌here’.‌ ‌You‌ ‌obey‌ ‌the‌ ‌wordless‌ ‌command‌ ‌like‌ ‌a‌ ‌puppy‌ ‌running‌ ‌to‌ ‌its‌ ‌owner‌ ‌though‌ ‌when‌ ‌you’re‌ ‌met‌ ‌with‌ ‌his‌ ‌desk,‌ ‌he‌ ‌lets‌ ‌his‌ ‌hand‌ ‌open‌ ‌all‌ ‌the‌ ‌way‌ ‌while‌ ‌stretching‌ ‌his‌ ‌arm‌ ‌out‌ ‌to‌ ‌you.‌ ‌With‌ ‌every‌ ‌bit‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌body‌ ‌working‌ ‌for‌ ‌you‌ ‌without‌ ‌thinking,‌ ‌you‌ ‌keep‌ ‌your‌ ‌gaze‌ ‌locked‌ ‌with‌ ‌his‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌guides‌ ‌you‌ ‌around‌ ‌the‌ ‌rest‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌table‌ ‌his‌ ‌chair‌ ‌turning‌ ‌as‌ ‌you‌ ‌go.‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

Once‌ ‌at‌ ‌his‌ ‌side,‌ ‌Risotto‌ ‌turns‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌chair‌ ‌so‌ ‌that‌ ‌he’s‌ ‌completely‌ ‌facing‌ ‌you,‌ ‌his‌ ‌hips‌ ‌slid‌ ‌down‌ ‌the‌ ‌seat‌ ‌to‌ ‌accompany‌ ‌his‌ ‌long‌ ‌legs‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌spread‌ ‌them‌ ‌oh‌ ‌so‌ ‌slowly.‌ ‌He‌ ‌knew‌ ‌exactly‌ ‌what‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌doing‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌made‌ ‌this‌ ‌display‌ ‌and‌ ‌when‌ ‌your‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌suddenly‌ ‌adverted‌ ‌themselves,‌ ‌a‌ ‌soft‌ ‌chuckle‌ ‌fills‌ ‌your‌ ‌ears.‌ ‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌know‌ ‌exactly‌ ‌what‌ ‌you‌ ‌want,‌ ‌tesoro.‌ ‌Yet‌ ‌you’re‌ ‌so‌ ‌innocent‌ ‌and‌ ‌naive.”‌ ‌he‌ ‌lets‌ ‌his‌ ‌head‌ ‌tilt‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌side,‌ ‌your‌ ‌hand‌ ‌was‌ ‌released‌ ‌and‌ ‌you‌ ‌almost‌ ‌wanted‌ ‌to‌ ‌tell‌ ‌him‌ ‌to‌ ‌wait‌ ‌but‌ ‌nothing‌ ‌could‌ ‌formulate‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌mind.‌ ‌Risotto‌ ‌made‌ ‌you‌ ‌feel‌ ‌lost‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌moment‌ ‌every‌ ‌time‌ ‌you‌ ‌were‌ ‌alone‌ ‌around‌ ‌him,‌ ‌yet‌ ‌he‌ ‌never‌ ‌directly‌ ‌approached‌ ‌you‌ ‌until‌ ‌now.‌ ‌“I‌ ‌want‌ ‌to‌ ‌give‌ ‌you‌ ‌exactly‌ ‌that.”‌ ‌ ‌

It‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌take‌ ‌but‌ ‌a‌ ‌single‌ ‌look‌ ‌back‌ ‌into‌ ‌his‌ ‌red‌ ‌irises‌ ‌that‌ ‌you‌ ‌felt‌ ‌your‌ ‌body‌ ‌succumb‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌dominating‌ ‌aura‌ ‌he‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌putting‌ ‌off.‌ ‌You‌ ‌wanted‌ ‌to‌ ‌drag‌ ‌this‌ ‌out‌ ‌for‌ ‌as‌ ‌long‌ ‌as‌ ‌you‌ ‌could,‌ ‌to‌ ‌play‌ ‌dumb‌ ‌and‌ ‌see‌ ‌if‌ ‌this‌ ‌is‌ ‌truly‌ ‌happening,‌ ‌but‌ ‌you‌ ‌knew‌ ‌your‌ ‌capo‌ ‌was‌ ‌smarter‌ ‌than‌ ‌that.‌ ‌Was‌ ‌he‌ ‌messing‌ ‌with‌ ‌you‌ ‌like‌ ‌Melone‌ ‌had‌ ‌been?‌ ‌Regardless,‌ ‌you‌ ‌couldn’t‌ ‌deny‌ ‌that‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌obvious‌ ‌tastes‌ ‌in‌ ‌Risotto‌ ‌and‌ ‌even‌ ‌the‌ ‌team‌ ‌had‌ ‌often‌ ‌teased‌ ‌you‌ ‌for‌ ‌it,‌ ‌so‌ ‌if‌ ‌anything,‌ ‌this‌ ‌is‌ ‌a‌ ‌dream‌ ‌come‌ ‌true.‌ ‌

You..you‌ ‌aren’t‌ ‌playing‌ ‌with‌ ‌me,‌ ‌are‌ ‌you?”‌ ‌You‌ ‌question‌ ‌him,‌ ‌which‌ ‌isn’t‌ ‌normally‌ ‌something‌ ‌you‌ ‌would‌ ‌ever‌ ‌think‌ ‌of‌ ‌doing,‌ ‌but‌ ‌those‌ ‌were‌ ‌the‌ ‌chosen‌ ‌words‌ ‌that‌ ‌forced‌ ‌their‌ ‌way‌ ‌out‌ ‌and‌ ‌internally‌ ‌you‌ ‌winced.‌ ‌ ‌

“Mia‌ ‌bella,”‌ ‌he‌ ‌began,‌ ‌his‌ ‌voice‌ ‌rolling‌ ‌out‌ ‌in‌ ‌a‌ ‌purr‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌shifts‌ ‌to‌ ‌stand‌ ‌up,‌ ‌instantly‌ ‌his‌ ‌height‌ ‌towers‌ ‌yours‌ ‌and‌ ‌your‌ ‌gaze‌ ‌is‌ ‌now‌ ‌forced‌ ‌to‌ ‌look‌ ‌up‌ ‌at‌ ‌him‌ ‌“The‌ ‌only‌ ‌thing‌ ‌I‌ ‌will‌ ‌be‌ ‌playing‌ ‌with‌ ‌is‌ ‌your‌ ‌clit‌ ‌with‌ ‌my‌ ‌tongue‌ ‌if‌ ‌you‌ ‌allow‌ ‌me,‌ ‌hm?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌whispers‌ ‌out‌ ‌while‌ ‌lifting‌ ‌you‌ ‌to‌ ‌sit‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌desk.‌ ‌ ‌

You‌ ‌felt‌ ‌yourself‌ ‌fall‌ ‌back‌ ‌a‌ ‌little‌ ‌so‌ ‌that‌ ‌you‌ ‌were‌ ‌resting‌ ‌on‌ ‌your‌ ‌elbows,‌ ‌your‌ ‌cherry‌ ‌red‌ ‌cheeks‌ ‌were‌ ‌so‌ ‌heated‌ ‌that‌ ‌not‌ ‌even‌ ‌White‌ ‌Album‌ ‌could‌ ‌cool‌ ‌you‌ ‌down.‌ ‌With‌ ‌Risotto‌ ‌now‌ ‌pressing‌ ‌your‌ ‌legs‌ ‌apart,‌ ‌his‌ ‌hands‌ ‌move‌ ‌so‌ ‌that‌ ‌is‌ ‌thumbs‌ ‌rub‌ ‌small‌ ‌circles‌ ‌to‌ ‌your‌ ‌inner‌ ‌thigh‌ ‌and‌ ‌there‌ ‌was‌ ‌no‌ ‌resisting‌ ‌a‌ ‌shaky‌ ‌inhale‌ ‌of‌ ‌air.‌ ‌The‌ ‌sight‌ ‌alone‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌very‌ ‌leader‌ ‌between‌ ‌your‌ ‌legs‌ ‌made‌ ‌you‌ ‌weak‌ ‌and‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌pressed‌ ‌his‌ ‌clothed‌ ‌erection‌ ‌against‌ ‌your‌ ‌aching‌ ‌core‌ ‌you‌ ‌gave‌ ‌in‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌temptation‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌offering,‌ ‌the‌ ‌moan‌ ‌he‌ ‌received‌ ‌made‌ ‌his‌ ‌mouth‌ ‌part‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌soaked‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌purity,‌ ‌his‌ ‌head‌ ‌rolled‌ ‌back‌ ‌until‌ ‌he‌ ‌couldn’t‌ ‌take‌ ‌it‌ ‌anymore.‌ ‌ ‌

“What‌ ‌is‌ ‌your‌ ‌answer,‌ ‌(y/n)?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌urges‌ ‌you‌ ‌to‌ ‌respond‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌brings‌ ‌himself‌ ‌forward,‌ ‌hips‌ ‌grinding‌ ‌in‌ ‌yours‌ ‌roughly‌ ‌now‌ ‌and‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌gotten‌ ‌yourself‌ ‌tripped‌ ‌up‌ ‌in‌ ‌a‌ ‌whimper‌ ‌“Yes,‌ ‌please‌ ‌yes,”‌ ‌you‌ ‌breath‌ ‌out‌ ‌quickly‌ ‌and‌ ‌in‌ ‌an‌ ‌instant‌ ‌his‌ ‌hands‌ ‌have‌ ‌already‌ ‌worked‌ ‌your‌ ‌pants‌ ‌off‌ ‌and‌ ‌onto‌ ‌the‌ ‌forgotten‌ ‌floor.‌ ‌ ‌

Sinking‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌knees,‌ ‌Risotto‌ ‌takes‌ ‌a‌ ‌finger‌ ‌and‌ ‌traces‌ ‌it‌ ‌over‌ ‌the‌ ‌wet‌ ‌spot‌ ‌he’s‌ ‌had‌ ‌a‌ ‌hand‌ ‌at‌ ‌producing‌ ‌and‌ ‌pulls‌ ‌the‌ ‌garment‌ ‌aside‌ ‌revealing‌ ‌your‌ ‌soaked‌ ‌folds.‌ ‌With‌ ‌one‌ ‌hand‌ ‌holding‌ ‌your‌ ‌underwear‌ ‌aside,‌ ‌the‌ ‌other‌ ‌hooks‌ ‌around‌ ‌your‌ ‌thigh‌ ‌as‌ ‌your‌ ‌leg‌ ‌hung‌ ‌over‌ ‌his‌ ‌shoulder‌ ‌loosely.‌ ‌Without‌ ‌a‌ ‌second‌ ‌guess,‌ ‌his‌ ‌tongue‌ ‌slides‌ ‌out‌ ‌to‌ ‌lick‌ ‌up‌ ‌your‌ ‌slit,‌ ‌only‌ ‌stopping‌ ‌to‌ ‌give‌ ‌your‌ ‌sensitive‌ ‌bud‌ ‌a‌ ‌quick‌ ‌suck.‌ ‌Looking‌ ‌up‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌your‌ ‌euphoric‌ ‌expression‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌continued‌ ‌to‌ ‌roll‌ ‌your‌ ‌clit‌ ‌in‌ ‌figure‌ ‌eights‌ ‌made‌ ‌him‌ ‌feel‌ ‌some‌ ‌kind‌ ‌of‌ ‌way‌ ‌that‌ ‌was‌ ‌unexplainable.‌ ‌All‌ ‌while‌ ‌watching‌ ‌you‌ ‌when‌ ‌your‌ ‌head‌ ‌falls‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌side,‌ ‌Risotto‌ ‌moves‌ ‌the‌ ‌arm‌ ‌holding‌ ‌your‌ ‌leg‌ ‌down‌ ‌so‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌can‌ ‌release‌ ‌his‌ ‌confined‌ ‌erection,‌ ‌his‌ ‌hand‌ ‌wrapped‌ ‌around‌ ‌it‌ ‌to‌ ‌give‌ ‌it‌ ‌a‌ ‌few‌ ‌pumps‌ ‌while‌ ‌he‌ ‌continued‌ ‌to‌ ‌eat‌ ‌you‌ ‌out.‌ ‌Your‌ ‌soaked‌ ‌cunt‌ ‌was‌ ‌becoming‌ ‌even‌ ‌more‌ ‌evident‌ ‌when‌ ‌you‌ ‌heard‌ ‌a‌ ‌wet‌ ‌“shlick”‌ ‌come‌ ‌from‌ ‌between‌ ‌your‌ ‌legs,‌ ‌your‌ ‌now‌ ‌wide‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌find‌ ‌your‌ ‌capo’s‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌rises‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌feet.‌ ‌ ‌

“We‌ ‌aren’t‌ ‌going‌ ‌to‌ ‌worry‌ ‌about‌ ‌me‌ ‌right‌ ‌now,”‌ ‌he‌ ‌reassures‌ ‌you‌ ‌when‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌tried‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌tend‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌own‌ ‌needs‌ ‌as‌ ‌well,‌ ‌his‌ ‌twitching‌ ‌cock‌ ‌was‌ ‌an‌ ‌intimidating‌ ‌size‌ ‌and‌ ‌you‌ ‌feared‌ ‌that‌ ‌maybe‌ ‌he‌ ‌wouldn’t‌ ‌fit‌ ‌all‌ ‌the‌ ‌way.‌ ‌“I’ll‌ ‌take‌ ‌care‌ ‌of‌ ‌you.”‌ ‌he‌ ‌says,‌ ‌removing‌ ‌his‌ ‌entire‌ ‌top‌ ‌gear‌ ‌so‌ ‌that‌ ‌you‌ ‌could‌ ‌see‌ ‌him‌ ‌in‌ ‌his‌ ‌full‌ ‌grace‌ ‌before‌ ‌turning‌ ‌to‌ ‌you‌ ‌but‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌already‌ ‌done‌ ‌the‌ ‌pleasure‌ ‌of‌ ‌removing‌ ‌your‌ ‌shirt‌ ‌and‌ ‌bra‌ ‌for‌ ‌him.‌ ‌ ‌

“Eager?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌teases,‌ ‌licking‌ ‌his‌ ‌index‌ ‌and‌ ‌middle‌ ‌fingers‌ ‌before‌ ‌leaning‌ ‌over‌ ‌top‌ ‌of‌ ‌you,‌ ‌his‌ ‌digits‌ ‌daring‌ ‌to‌ ‌enter‌ ‌you‌ ‌but‌ ‌they‌ ‌wouldn’t,‌ ‌even‌ ‌when‌ ‌you‌ ‌bucked‌ ‌your‌ ‌hips‌ ‌into‌ ‌them‌ ‌wantingly.‌ ‌ ‌

“You‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌too‌ ‌if‌ ‌your‌ ‌most‌ ‌wet‌ ‌dream‌ ‌came‌ ‌to‌ ‌life.”‌ ‌you‌ ‌nip‌ ‌back‌ ‌playfully,‌ ‌teeth‌ ‌biting‌ ‌into‌ ‌your‌ ‌lower‌ ‌lip.‌ ‌Finally,‌ ‌now,‌ ‌you‌ ‌let‌ ‌your‌ ‌hands‌ ‌feel‌ ‌his‌ ‌abdomen‌ ‌and‌ ‌his‌ ‌chest,‌ ‌fingers‌ ‌tracing‌ ‌every‌ ‌muscle‌ ‌line‌ ‌and‌ ‌scar.‌ ‌

Clearly,‌ ‌you‌ ‌were‌ ‌distracted‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌own‌ ‌little‌ ‌personal‌ ‌world‌ ‌while‌ ‌admiring‌ ‌his‌ ‌body,‌ ‌it‌ ‌was‌ ‌as‌ ‌if‌ ‌serenity‌ ‌had‌ ‌manifested‌ ‌into‌ ‌a‌ ‌human‌ ‌being‌ ‌and‌ ‌that‌ ‌was‌ ‌something‌ ‌about‌ ‌you‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌truly‌ ‌cherished.‌ ‌He’ll‌ ‌tell‌ ‌you‌ ‌that‌ ‌another‌ ‌time‌ ‌because‌ ‌right‌ ‌now‌ ‌it‌ ‌was‌ ‌time‌ ‌to‌ ‌unravel‌ ‌a‌ ‌tale‌ ‌that‌ ‌has‌ ‌long‌ ‌since‌ ‌been‌ ‌needing‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌told.‌ ‌Very‌ ‌slowly‌ ‌he‌ ‌lets‌ ‌his‌ ‌fingers‌ ‌slide‌ ‌into‌ ‌your‌ ‌hole,‌ ‌walls‌ ‌instantly‌ ‌clenching‌ ‌around‌ ‌this‌ ‌new‌ ‌feeling‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌takes‌ ‌your‌ ‌lips‌ ‌against‌ ‌his‌ ‌own‌ ‌and‌ ‌you‌ ‌can‌ ‌taste‌ ‌yourself‌ ‌on‌ ‌him.‌ ‌ ‌

“Say‌ ‌my‌ ‌name,‌ ‌tesoro,”‌ ‌he‌ ‌pants‌ ‌after‌ ‌pulling‌ ‌away‌ ‌from‌ ‌your‌ ‌labored‌ ‌and‌ ‌rough‌ ‌kiss,‌ ‌only‌ ‌returning‌ ‌it‌ ‌again‌ ‌due‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌impatient‌ ‌sex‌ ‌drive‌ ‌which‌ ‌made‌ ‌you‌ ‌wildly‌ ‌insane.‌ ‌The‌ ‌fact‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌wanted‌ ‌you‌ ‌just‌ ‌as‌ ‌much‌ ‌as‌ ‌you‌ ‌did‌ ‌him‌ ‌was‌ ‌a‌ ‌fact‌ ‌that‌ ‌baffled‌ ‌your‌ ‌currently‌ ‌cloudy‌ ‌thought‌ ‌process.‌ ‌ ‌

His‌ ‌fingers‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌curling‌ ‌up‌ ‌against‌ ‌every‌ ‌single‌ ‌sweet‌ ‌spot‌ ‌your‌ ‌cunt‌ ‌had‌ ‌to‌ ‌offer,‌ ‌to‌ ‌pressing‌ ‌and‌ ‌rubbing,‌ ‌he‌ ‌made‌ ‌sure‌ ‌every‌ ‌moan‌ ‌that‌ ‌came‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌throat‌ ‌was‌ ‌full‌ ‌of‌ ‌unbridled‌ ‌sexual‌ ‌tension.‌ ‌It‌ ‌was‌ ‌a‌ ‌build-up‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌preparing‌ ‌your‌ ‌unknowing‌ ‌mind‌ ‌for‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌kept‌ ‌that‌ ‌very‌ ‌plan‌ ‌in‌ ‌mind‌ ‌while‌ ‌scissoring‌ ‌his‌ ‌fingers‌ ‌back‌ ‌and‌ ‌forth,‌ ‌his‌ ‌hips‌ ‌thrusting‌ ‌his‌ ‌cock‌ ‌against‌ ‌your‌ ‌thigh‌ ‌needily.‌ ‌It‌ ‌seemed‌ ‌as‌ ‌though‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌the‌ ‌only‌ ‌one‌ ‌of‌ ‌you‌ ‌both‌ ‌who‌ ‌was‌ ‌willing‌ ‌to‌ ‌drag‌ ‌out‌ ‌a‌ ‌plan‌ ‌of‌ ‌some‌ ‌sort.‌ ‌ ‌

“Ri-...Risotto,‌ ‌I‌ ‌give‌ ‌myself‌ ‌to‌ ‌you.”‌ ‌you‌ ‌muster‌ ‌up‌ ‌from‌ ‌all‌ ‌the‌ ‌previously‌ ‌failed‌ ‌attempts,‌ ‌especially‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌ones‌ ‌lost‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌need‌ ‌to‌ ‌press‌ ‌his‌ ‌fingers‌ ‌deep‌ ‌inside‌ ‌your‌ ‌stretched‌ ‌walls.‌ ‌“Fucking‌ ‌take‌ ‌me‌ ‌already.”‌ ‌you‌ ‌demand‌ ‌out‌ ‌with‌ ‌a‌ ‌heavy‌ ‌breath‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌pulls‌ ‌back‌ ‌to‌ ‌look‌ ‌at‌ ‌you‌ ‌with‌ ‌a‌ ‌shocked‌ ‌expression‌ ‌that‌ ‌turns‌ ‌to‌ ‌a‌ ‌smirk.‌ ‌ ‌

“That’s‌ ‌all‌ ‌I‌ ‌needed‌ ‌to‌ ‌hear.”‌ ‌he‌ ‌muses,‌ ‌standing‌ ‌up‌ ‌fully‌ ‌and‌ ‌dropping‌ ‌his‌ ‌pants‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌floor‌ ‌the‌ ‌rest‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌way,‌ ‌you‌ ‌hold‌ ‌your‌ ‌legs‌ ‌up‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌positions‌ ‌the‌ ‌head‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌length‌ ‌at‌ ‌your‌ ‌centre,‌ ‌pulling‌ ‌back‌ ‌his‌ ‌uncut‌ ‌skin‌ ‌he‌ ‌pushes‌ ‌into‌ ‌your‌ ‌wetness‌ ‌with‌ ‌ease‌ ‌though‌ ‌his‌ ‌girth‌ ‌did‌ ‌prove‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌a‌ ‌bit‌ ‌bigger‌ ‌for‌ ‌you.‌ ‌ ‌

That’s‌ ‌when‌ ‌looks‌ ‌down‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌how‌ ‌much‌ ‌of‌ ‌him‌ ‌you’ve‌ ‌taken‌ ‌and‌ ‌he’s‌ ‌stunned‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌you’ve‌ ‌only‌ ‌taken‌ ‌half‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌feels‌ ‌the‌ ‌head‌ ‌brush‌ ‌your‌ ‌cervix.‌ ‌Both‌ ‌of‌ ‌you‌ ‌let‌ ‌out‌ ‌sighs‌ ‌of‌ ‌relief‌ ‌and‌ ‌you‌ ‌wiggle‌ ‌your‌ ‌hips‌ ‌forward,‌ ‌your‌ ‌whines‌ ‌and‌ ‌pleas‌ ‌to‌ ‌go‌ ‌on‌ ‌were‌ ‌like‌ ‌a‌ ‌song‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌ears‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌answered‌ ‌with‌ ‌a‌ ‌similar‌ ‌rhythm.‌ ‌When‌ ‌he’s‌ ‌finally‌ ‌hilted‌ ‌deep‌ ‌within‌ ‌you,‌ ‌your‌ ‌wandering‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌peered‌ ‌down‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌your‌ ‌belly‌ ‌poking‌ ‌out‌ ‌and‌ ‌your‌ ‌face‌ ‌lit‌ ‌up‌ ‌like‌ ‌a‌ ‌fire.‌ ‌Risotto‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌aware‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌small‌ ‌bump‌ ‌being‌ ‌created‌ ‌by‌ ‌his‌ ‌cock‌ ‌but‌ ‌seeing‌ ‌your‌ ‌reaction‌ ‌was‌ ‌enticing‌ ‌to‌ ‌say‌ ‌the‌ ‌least,‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌won’t‌ ‌ever‌ ‌forget‌ ‌it.‌ ‌

“Like‌ ‌what‌ ‌you‌ ‌see?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌asks,‌ ‌both‌ ‌of‌ ‌you‌ ‌know‌ ‌that‌ ‌it‌ ‌was‌ ‌a‌ ‌rhetorical‌ ‌question‌ ‌and‌ ‌your‌ ‌continuous‌ ‌nodding‌ ‌was‌ ‌the‌ ‌best‌ ‌answer‌ ‌you‌ ‌could’ve‌ ‌ever‌ ‌given‌ ‌him.‌ ‌In‌ ‌turn,‌ ‌this‌ ‌only‌ ‌fueled‌ ‌his‌ ‌want‌ ‌to‌ ‌make‌ ‌you‌ ‌his‌ ‌and‌ ‌his‌ ‌alone.‌ ‌ ‌

Ris‌ ‌stopped‌ ‌talking‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌pulled‌ ‌out‌ ‌after‌ ‌a‌ ‌minute‌ ‌of‌ ‌letting‌ ‌you‌ ‌adjust‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌huge‌ ‌size‌ ‌because‌ ‌the‌ ‌last‌ ‌thing‌ ‌he‌ ‌would‌ ‌want‌ ‌is‌ ‌for‌ ‌your‌ ‌insides‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌ripped‌ ‌in‌ ‌half.‌ ‌You‌ ‌gasp‌ ‌when‌ ‌you‌ ‌feel‌ ‌how‌ ‌empty‌ ‌he‌ ‌made‌ ‌you‌ ‌feel‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌made‌ ‌up‌ ‌for‌ ‌it‌ ‌by‌ ‌bringing‌ ‌his‌ ‌mouth‌ ‌to‌ ‌your‌ ‌right‌ ‌breast,‌ ‌sucking‌ ‌and‌ ‌leaving‌ ‌little‌ ‌love‌ ‌bits‌ ‌around‌ ‌your‌ ‌skin‌ ‌while‌ ‌he‌ ‌pushes‌ ‌himself‌ ‌inside‌ ‌you‌ ‌again‌ ‌but‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌intention‌ ‌of‌ ‌carnal‌ ‌fucking.‌ ‌ ‌

His‌ ‌hands‌ ‌find‌ ‌your‌ ‌hips‌ ‌and‌ ‌his‌ ‌grip‌ ‌tightens‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌lets‌ ‌his‌ ‌rhythmic‌ ‌thrusts‌ ‌take‌ ‌the‌ ‌lead,‌ ‌his‌ ‌gritted‌ ‌teeth‌ ‌pressed‌ ‌out‌ ‌a‌ ‌growl‌ ‌when‌ ‌your‌ ‌walls‌ ‌gripped‌ ‌his‌ ‌member‌ ‌and‌ ‌for‌ ‌a‌ ‌second‌ ‌his‌ ‌sheathed‌ ‌deep‌ ‌into‌ ‌your‌ ‌pussy.‌ ‌With‌ ‌your‌ ‌arms‌ ‌finding‌ ‌their‌ ‌way‌ ‌around‌ ‌Risotto’s‌ ‌neck,‌ ‌your‌ ‌nails‌ ‌scratch‌ ‌his‌ ‌back‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌grinds‌ ‌his‌ ‌hips‌ ‌into‌ ‌yours‌ ‌mercilessly,‌ ‌the‌ ‌head‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌cock‌ ‌pistoning‌ ‌against‌ ‌your‌ ‌cervix‌ ‌was‌ ‌enough‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌considered‌ ‌a‌ ‌total‌ ‌knock‌ ‌out‌ ‌as‌ ‌you‌ ‌moan‌ ‌out‌ ‌sweet‌ ‌nothings‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌sex-filled‌ ‌room.‌ ‌

“Risotto‌ ‌I’m..”‌ ‌you‌ ‌sentence‌ ‌trailed‌ ‌off‌ ‌into‌ ‌a‌ ‌cry‌ ‌as‌ ‌your‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌had‌ ‌watered‌ ‌up,‌ ‌your‌ ‌orgasm‌ ‌was‌ ‌rushing‌ ‌up‌ ‌on‌ ‌you‌ ‌without‌ ‌a‌ ‌single‌ ‌warning‌ ‌and‌ ‌the‌ ‌internal‌ ‌coil‌ ‌wound‌ ‌up.‌ ‌ ‌ ‌When‌ ‌you‌ ‌went‌ ‌to‌ ‌cover‌ ‌your‌ ‌mouth‌ ‌he‌ ‌pulled‌ ‌your‌ ‌hand‌ ‌away‌ ‌and‌ ‌kissed‌ ‌your‌ ‌lips‌ ‌while‌ ‌the‌ ‌other‌ ‌free‌ ‌hand‌ ‌had‌ ‌massaged‌ ‌at‌ ‌your‌ ‌breast,‌ ‌switching‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌other‌ ‌every‌ ‌once‌ ‌and‌ ‌a‌ ‌while.‌ ‌The‌ ‌needs‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌body‌ ‌were‌ ‌being‌ ‌constantly‌ ‌satisfied‌ ‌by‌ ‌the‌ ‌male‌ ‌above‌ ‌you‌ ‌and‌ ‌there‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌a‌ ‌single‌ ‌doubt‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌fireworks‌ ‌were‌ ‌about‌ ‌to‌ ‌begin.‌ ‌Que‌ ‌the‌ ‌last‌ ‌step‌ ‌of‌ ‌this‌ ‌endeavor‌ ‌was‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌felt‌ ‌your‌ ‌legs‌ ‌wrap‌ ‌around‌ ‌his‌ ‌waist‌ ‌bring‌ ‌you‌ ‌both‌ ‌closer‌ ‌together‌ ‌and‌ ‌unfortunately,‌ ‌there‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌very‌ ‌much‌ ‌thrusting‌ ‌room‌ ‌but‌ ‌he‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌about‌ ‌to‌ ‌deny‌ ‌you‌ ‌something‌ ‌that‌ ‌your‌ ‌body‌ ‌clearly‌ ‌wants‌ ‌and‌ ‌it‌ ‌was‌ ‌ruling‌ ‌over‌ ‌you.‌ ‌With‌ ‌one‌ ‌last‌ ‌call‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌name,‌ ‌you‌ ‌had‌ ‌yelled‌ ‌his‌ ‌name‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌ceiling‌ ‌as‌ ‌your‌ ‌orgasm‌ ‌had‌ ‌washed‌ ‌over‌ ‌you‌ ‌and‌ ‌the‌ ‌coil‌ ‌had‌ ‌snapped.‌ ‌ ‌

Risotto’s‌ ‌grinding‌ ‌pattern‌ ‌had‌ ‌become‌ ‌very‌ ‌sporadic,‌ ‌his‌ ‌breathing‌ ‌had‌ ‌shifted‌ ‌to‌ ‌that‌ ‌of‌ ‌an‌ ‌unstable‌ ‌one‌ ‌and‌ ‌in‌ ‌a‌ ‌quick‌ ‌attempt‌ ‌to‌ ‌save‌ ‌both‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌dignities,‌ ‌after‌ ‌releasing‌ ‌your‌ ‌legs,‌ ‌his‌ ‌hands‌ ‌grab‌ ‌both‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌thighs‌ ‌and‌ ‌brings‌ ‌them‌ ‌together.‌ ‌Pulling‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌you‌ ‌abruptly,‌ ‌you‌ ‌yelp‌ ‌and‌ ‌feel‌ ‌him‌ ‌thrust‌ ‌between‌ ‌your‌ ‌thighs‌ ‌slowly‌ ‌a‌ ‌few‌ ‌times‌ ‌before‌ ‌his‌ ‌own‌ ‌release‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌met‌ ‌shortly‌ ‌after‌ ‌yours.‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

“Aah..fuck…”‌ ‌he‌ ‌heaves,‌ ‌still‌ ‌nestled‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌thighs‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌notices‌ ‌the‌ ‌strings‌ ‌of‌ ‌white‌ ‌he’s‌ ‌left‌ ‌all‌ ‌over‌ ‌you,‌ ‌though‌ ‌you‌ ‌only‌ ‌giggle‌ ‌which‌ ‌brings‌ ‌himself‌ ‌down‌ ‌to‌ ‌kiss‌ ‌your‌ ‌cheek‌ ‌while‌ ‌asking‌ ‌what’s‌ ‌tickled‌ ‌your‌ ‌funnybone.‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

“Not‌ ‌gonna‌ ‌lie-”‌ ‌you‌ ‌breath‌ ‌out‌ ‌from‌ ‌coming‌ ‌down‌ ‌from‌ ‌your‌ ‌climax,‌ ‌one‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌fingers‌ ‌reach‌ ‌down‌ ‌to‌ ‌swipe‌ ‌up‌ ‌a‌ ‌little‌ ‌bit‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌cum‌ ‌and‌ ‌then‌ ‌you‌ ‌lick‌ ‌it‌ ‌off‌ ‌your‌ ‌finger‌ ‌all‌ ‌while‌ ‌maintaining‌ ‌Risotto’s‌ ‌lustful‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌“This‌ ‌has‌ ‌been‌ ‌a‌ ‌dream‌ ‌come‌ ‌true.”‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

#if there are typos i am very sorry lol #i am passing right the fuck out after posting this hahaha\#risotto x reader #risotto x reader n/sfw #jjba x reader n/sfw #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #reader insert #fanfic #jjba fanfic #risotto oneshot #risotto n/sfw

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fandomtrash465 · 5 years ago

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Time Fluff: Chapter 7

A/N: Hello again lovelies!! You guys are being so freaking sweet with all of the feedback for this series, I seriously love you all so much! Extra special thank you to you guys that have been commenting/reblogging/liking parts of this series, you honestly have no idea how happy it makes me when I see that you guys are actually enjoying what I’m writing, and if any of you guys have ideas for what I should write next feel free to leave a suggestion in the comments or message me! Luv you all so much!!! <3

Summary: Bucky x reader. Bucky and reader have liked each other for a long time but they’re both in denial of the other’s feelings. What will happen when Tony’s new invention accidentally brings 40sBucky and 40sSteve to the present? If this were to go in the actual MCU timeline it would probably be sometime before infinity war and before they actually figured out time travel. And for anytime that 40sBucky or 40sSteve are mentioned I used * to make it less confusing for which Steve or Bucky it is.

Word Count: 1405

Warnings: I think one swear word, minor drinking, truth or dare, I think that’s all?

Other Chapters: Time Fluff Masterlist

“What games do you have in mind, Tony?” I ask him once everyone is done eating. I get up and take my plate to the sink, along with several other people’s.

“I was thinking we could start off with a good old fashion game of truth or dare” He told everyone casually, though several of us gave him dirty looks for suggesting this game.

“Come on guys, this could be fun” Natasha says and looks pointedly between Bucky and I but I pretend that I don’t notice. “As long as everyone plays fairly that is” She shoots a sharp look in Steve’s direction.

“Okay, you know what Romanoff? I’m sorry that the idea of running down the street with nothing but my shield didn’t sound very appealing” He fires back defensively.

Wanda rolls her eyes softly “Relax Steve, we all know that you can back out of one dare a game but you’ll just be teased relentlessly for it. It’s just the way it works”.

“Now that we’re done with convincing Capsicle, can we move to the living room and start the game?” Tony ushers impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on people, let’s get this over with” Bucky says with a sigh and stretches as he gets up, which I can’t help but notice makes his shirt ride up just a little and his abs peak out a tiny bit. I quickly look away when I feel a pair of eyes on me, realizing that it was only Sam, thankfully, but I can tell that he is smirking and I fight the urge to scoff as he goes off to inevitably tell Natasha and/or Wanda.

As we all start filling up the living room I strike up a conversation with Steve*, realizing that he is a lot like his older self. The resemblance is made even clearer when that latter joins in and starts talking with us. “So you seriously thought that ‘fondue’ meant-“ I snicker out.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I was just a little jealous all right?” Steve explains coolly as his younger self continues to blush like crazy.

Once everyone is situated on the couches, me being in between Steve and Bucky, Tony stands up to begin the game. “Alright, everyone knows the rules of truth or dare, correct? Good, I’ll pick who goes first since I decided that we should play this game” He announces without waiting for much of a response. “I say that either Tin-Man or Yet-To-Be-Tin-Man should go ahead and ask someone a question first, I don’t care which one” He says with a certain excitement in his voice before he sits down.

“Are you sure that since you were the one that suggested the game you shouldn’t be the one to ask a question first?” I ask with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes Y/N, that’s how the game works when I come up with it” Tony responds with a tone of finality.

I just shake my head and look over at the two soldiers sitting next to each other on my right, both of whom look slightly confused. “So I guess I’ll ask Steve” Bucky says.

“I’ll go for truth” Steve answers, none of us are particularly surprised seeing as Steve is usually the one to play it safe and answer a question instead of doing a dare.

“Out of Sam or me, who is your best friend?” He asks and laughs at the disappointed look on Tony’s face.

“Yeah Cap, who is your best friend?” Sam asks, suddenly seeming very interested in the game.

“Well if you’re both making me choose” Steve pretends to contemplate his choice for a moment before deciding “Y/N, or maybe Nat, seeing as they’re the ones that aren’t making me choose between the two of you” He answers with a playful glare at the two of them. Steve*, Tony, and Bucky* all start laughing their asses off while Natasha and I chuckle lightly.

I give Bucky a sympathetic look and rub his shoulder playfully “Sorry Buck, if it’s any consolation I’m sure that you’re at least in his top five” I tease him and start laughing again when he gives me a glare in response.

“Alright traitor, you ask someone else a question now” Sam urges Steve to get on with the game.

Steve chuckles and looks around the circle of furniture for a victim “How about I ask Natasha” the corners of her mouth turn up and she picks dare, again not much of a surprise. Steve grins “Payback time, Sam and I get to go into the kitchen and make a blend of something for you to drink, we’ll set a five-minute time limit just to make sure that we don’t spend too much of the game doing this one” Sam also starts grinning as he listens to what Steve has in mind.

Nat shows her distain by wrinkling her nose but agrees to the terms nonetheless. “I guess that I should have known that you two would get revenge, just remember that Wanda also helped” She calls after them just before they disappear into the kitchen. Steve* and Bucky* look a little confused about what the payback would be for but the rest of the tower had heard about the incident from at least one of the people involved.

Five minutes later the pair come back into the room with a glass full of an odd colored liquid (if you could even call it that with all of the visible chunks) and very gleeful expressions. “Are you seriously going to try to drink all of that?” Bruce asks and plugs his nose from the apparent smell of being too close.

“I’m never one to back away from a challenge, you all know that” Natasha said and took a deep breath before tipping back the drink and chugging the entire glass like a champion. Once the whole thing was gone she coughed a little and handed the glass back to Steve with her eyes squinted shut.

“Poor Nat” I say under my breath with a low giggle.

“She had it coming to her” Bucky says and nudges me with his arm gently, surprising me a little because I didn’t think that anyone had heard me.

“Still” I laugh a little more “That had to have been horrible” I try to sympathize with my friend even though she did kind of do it to herself.

“Oh, I know that it did, mainly because I suggested to them that they blend up some canned fish to put in it” Bucky tells me with a smirk and I smack his chest with my mouth hanging wide, about to say something when I heard my name being called.

When I look at whoever was addressing me I find out that it was Natasha, now seemingly much better after a glass of water and a shot of some strong alcohol. “Um, I’ll choose dare” I say, almost instantly regretting my choice when I see the Cheshire Cat grin dawning her face.

“I dare you to give a lap dance to the person in this room that you are most attracted to” I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol in her system or just her sheer will to embarrass me out of my mind that gave her the idea to dare me to do this. I hear Tony give a cheer and that’s when I notice how drunk almost everyone in the group is getting.

“No, definitely not. I’m using my one get out of a dare right now, I’m not doing that” I definitively say with an incredulous laugh. I lean back on the couch and take a swig of my own drink, the mere thought of giving Bucky a lap dance making my face burn bright red.

Natasha looks very disappointed with my avoidance of an answer “Fine, Bucky*, truth or dare?” She asks the younger of the two Bucky’s, to which he responds with picking truth, obviously not wanting to get a dare anything like the last two. “Who would you date out of the people in this group?” She asks, not so subtly looking at present day Bucky as she asks this.

“Well obviously Y/N” Bucky* responds without hesitation, which shocks me so much that I sit frozen in place for a moment. I notice that next to me Bucky suddenly tenses, while Nat just smirks with a certain twinkle in her eye.

Taglist: @mc225g @thesweetgoose @vinerlover @vgiselle

(If you want to be added to my taglist for anything you can either tell me in the comments of this chapter or message me <3)

#bucky barnes #bucky #40s bucky #40s steve #steve rogers #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #time fluff #time travel #avengers #marvel #mcu

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lokimostly · 5 years ago

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Home from War (Ch.7/8)

James Conrad x Reader Word Count: 4,521 Warnings: descriptions of injury/blood, needles, character death, angst Fic Summary: One year after you lost the love of your life, a last-minute decision changes everything you thought you knew. Now only one question remains: how to make it out alive, and return home from war?

A/N: None, and that should scare you. Enjoy! <3

Without Conrad, trekking through the jungle was even harder than you’d anticipated. Finding someone to support your physical weight was easy enough. The emotional weight of being apart from him was something different entirely. Your heart was aching at the thought of him: the soft accent of his voice, his sharp jaw and blue-green eyes. The tenderness in his touch despite the calluses of his hands. The curve of his lips when he gave you that small, secret smile only you were allowed to see.

So much lost time to make up for between you two. You silently resolved that if you ever got off this island, you’d kiss those lips for days.

The group stopped to rest. Slivko and Mills to make a splint for your leg, so that you could walk on your own – albeit at a limp. Your mobility wouldn’t be possible without the morphine, either, and you were down to your last dose.

Just one more thing to worry about, you thought.

The sunlight was growing dim as you hiked further uphill. As the sun set, the trees around you turned red and orange. The morphine was beginning to wear off, too, and faster than you desired. Every step became more and more difficult, more painful. Quite frankly, you were sick and tired of pain.

The distorted warbling of the Sea Stallion’s broken speakers echoed through the forest like the voice of a ghost. The closer you came, the louder it got, until finally you spotted the green and orange helicopter through the foliage.

“Gather up everything you can, including those seismic charges,” Colonel Packard ordered. “They got his attention the first time.”

The soldiers got to work. Slivko helped you sit down inside the helicopter, which seemed mostly intact. It was full of crates and barrels of seismic charges and napalm, secured in place by a frayed net. Slivko jumped up onto the platform, stepping through the boxes and looking around.

Mills stood outside and stared at the contents of the Sea Stallion, unenthused. “This is a bad idea,” He muttered.

“Let’s just get on with it,” Cole replied, ducking his head and climbing inside.

Slivko came back with your medical bag– a small, camo duffle with a red cross on the side. You unzipped it and gasped in relief, finding everything exactly where you’d put it: in particular, more morphine. You found the bag of painkillers, acquired a needle, and administered another shot to your thigh with practiced efficiency.

Slivko watched on, pushing up his red headband. “How often do you take the injections?” He asked. His voice held a notable tone of worry.

You glanced up at him. “Every four hours.”

His brow furrowed.“But it’s only been… two and a half since the last time. Maybe three.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sliv,” you said casually, returning the needle to its case and examining the rest of the bag’s contents. There was gauze, antiseptic, bandages, atabrine, and more than enough morphine to see you through until you got off the island. It was an enormous relief.

Slivko put his hands on his hips and watched the soldiers roll the barrels of napalm down the platform, carrying them down the hill. He turned back to you. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the atabrine.

“It’s for malaria. I gave you your shot before we left,” you replied easily. Slivko had always felt like a little brother, for whom you had a good deal of patience and affection, so you didn’t mind his questions.

“And that?” he asked, gesturing to a bottle of clear fluid with an orange cap.

“That’s naloxone. It’s in case of opioid overdose,” you said. You paused, pressing your lips together and thinking for a moment before beckoning for Slivko to sit down. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”

He sat down. You pulled out an empty needle and twisted the naloxone open, handing it to him. “Have you used a needle before?”

“Yeah, but not in my arm, or anything.”

“That’s fine. Naloxone works intramuscularly, so you can inject it into other places. It just doesn’t take effect as quickly as it would through a vein.” You pointed to the side of your leg, where you’d been self-administering morphine, to your shoulder, and other common points of injection.

“Besides,” you added, “I don’t think I want you messing with my veins. You might punch through one. No offense.”

“None taken,” he smiled, before his expression turned more serious. “But…. you’re not gonna overdose, are you?”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry,” You began putting the contents back into your bag. “It’s just good for you to know. I can’t be the only one who knows all this.”

But that wasn’t entirely true. You were cutting it close with the morphine and you knew it.

There were several factors that determined your wellbeing, and very few of them within your control. Pain would only slow you down, and if you were slow, you wouldn’t survive – even more than that, the makeshift splint needed to hold. Any wrong move, bad fall, or general upset could shift the bone out of place and cut off your femoral artery. If that happened, it would only be a matter of minutes before you bled to death.

Even by mediating the pain and treading carefully, you had to face facts. Your chances of survival were at a record low.

Conrad and Weaver stood on the precipice of a cliff, looking down at the river below. Night had fallen some hours ago. The moonlight, bright and cold, illuminated the water through the fog, casting everything in a misty blue glow.

Conrad exhaled softly and forced himself to focus. He was having a hard time distracting himself from thoughts of you, and it showed – he’d taken more wrong turns than he could count, missed and misread signs that led the group in wrong directions. Finally he snapped out of it long enough to find the river, and now tried once more to force his thoughts away from you.

“The boat must be around that bend,” he said, pointing. Weaver nodded, raising her camera. The shutter clicked.

Conrad heard Weaver’s breath snag in her throat and looked over. She lowered her camera slowly and the two of them watched, wordless, as Kong tread slowly past, almost close enough to touch. He paid them no mind. The creature really was a giant – standing as tall as the mountains around him, every step shaking the earth. But unlike Colonel Packard’s thinking, they both knew the truth: that the giant was by no means evil, merely a king in his own domain, in which you were all trespassers.

Breathing quietly, Conrad’s eyes followed the direction of Kong’s path. With a sudden feeling of dread, he knew exactly where Kong was headed: to the bursts of explosions in the distance, lighting up the blue night with fiery clouds of orange and red.

Kong let out a roar of anger, his giant teeth bared. Conrad’s throat tightened in fear. Colonel Packard was trying to draw Kong out, and you were there with him– which meant you were in mortal danger.

Conrad turned and began heading down the mountain. Weaver spun, following him as fast as she could.

“What are you doing?” She shouted, leaping precariously from boulder to boulder, struggling to keep up.

“We have to go– now!” He responded, landing on flat ground and sprinting through the trees. He couldn’t keep himself from you any longer – not when he might be the only one who could save you.

You stood in the grass behind a wall of fire, watching the seismic charges go off in clouds of orange and red. Packard was adamant about drawing Kong out, despite everyone else’s inhibitions. Were you in better shape, you might’ve considered a coup de tat. Now, however, you were in no condition to do anything of the sort.

Despite how anxious you felt, your heartbeat was unnaturally slow. The constant injections were beginning to show their uglier side effects: fatigue, blurred vision, nausea. At the moment, you had no time to worry about it.

Beside you, Mills practically vibrated with fear as Kong came into sight. He roared again once he spotted your group, and stormed through the water just like Colonel Packard had planned. Your hands adjusted their grip on your gun and you resisted the strong urge to flee.

For what wasn’t the first time, you wished Conrad were here with you.

Conrad and Weaver came running down the mountain so fast that they almost tumbled when they reached the rest of the group.

“Don’t shoot!” Conrad shouted to Brooks.

Brooks lowered his with an exasperated expression. “Conrad, where are we going?”

“You three need to go back to the boat,” Conrad said, leaning on his knees to catch his breath. He pointed with one hand. “It’s that way. Wait for us till dawn. If we’re not back by then …” he shook his head, swallowing. “Just go.”

Brooks scoffed. “You ain’t gotta twist my arm.” He picked up his bag and headed down the mountain, followed by the geologist San.

“Wait, where are you two going?” Marlow asked, rising to his feet.

Conrad and Weaver exchanged a glance.

“We’re going to save Kong,” she replied, nodding resolutely.

And Y/N, Conrad thought grimly.

Marlow smiled. “Not without me, pal.”

You watched as trees fell like windblown grass beneath Kong’s feet. He stopped a hundred yards from your company, staring intently at Packard, who stood in front of you with a fiery torch in hand. The air was charged with electricity, waiting for a lightning strike.

Then he charged.

You and the other soldiers faltered backwards as he came closer, stumbling over your feet. Colonel Packard, however, stood still as stone. He watched Kong storm through the water, shaking the earth with his roar, and he waited. And waited.

And then he through his torch into the water.

The napalm that had been poured onto the surface of the water by Slivko and the other soldiers lit up, engulfing the giant monster in flames.

You watched, horrified, as Kong let out a roar of pain. He struggled to fight through the flames before their heat engulfed him and he disappeared from view. Your fellow soldiers had similar expressions on their faces – terror mixed with sympathy. He didn’t deserve this.

Packard was completely enthralled by the Kong’s roars of pain. A mad grin was stuck to his face, stretched from ear to ear and completely manic.

He’d lost it.

Suddenly, Kong came through the fire again with renewed anger, and flung the boiling water at the riverbank. You shrieked and tried to duck away from the flames, falling backwards. You fell hard against the ground as your surroundings lit up in flames. A few of the soldiers immediately succumbed to fiery deaths. Their screams of agony filled your ears as a different fire burned in your leg, burning with renewed pain.

Then Kong fell.

Overcome by the fumes and the fire, his body came crashing down on the shore and the ground shuddered beneath his weight.

You tried to stand and gasped at the fresh wave of throbbing pain as it hit your body. Your bone had obviously shifted. You strained forward and peeled away the bandage with shaking hands, fearing the worst– that your artery had been cut off.

The world didn’t stop for you, and neither did Colonel Packard. “Men! Place your charges!” he shouted. “It’s time to show Kong that man is king!”

“Armed one,” Mills said, as he turned on the charges.

“Armed two,” came another.

You grimaced at the sight of fresh blood on your skin, swallowing another wave of discomfort mixed with relief. Your wound had reopened, but it didn’t look like the artery had burst.

“Armed three,” Slivko said, looking at you with an expression of are you okay?

You didn’t see it. You were entirely focused on unzipping your bag as quickly as possible, finding a roll of gauze and wrapping your leg. Your hands found the fresh gauze when Conrad and Weaver charged through the trees and into the clearing.

“Packard!” Conrad shouted. Your eyes snapped up, and you froze.

Packard looked up slowly, detonator in hand. Conrad raised his rifle, chest heaving, and pointed it at Packard.

The other soldiers raised their guns at him automatically. The sound of several firearms cocking at once made your heart jump into your throat. Your hands stilled, half-finished with their work, as you watched the scene unfold: the man you loved held at gunpoint by half a dozen soldiers.

Slivko stood next to you, his eyes darting back and forth as he struggled to stay composed. Seeing the hesitance in his face and the fumbling of his fingers put him in a different light: he was no soldier. Only a kid.

Marlow appeared out of nowhere, catching Reles and Slivko by surprise. He pointed his pistol at Slivko, raising his eyebrows when Slivko’s aim left Conrad for Marlow instead. “I asked you fellas nice the first time,” he pointed out.

“We don’t want to fight here, Packard,” Conrad said. His eyes flickered momentarily to you before he focused on the Colonel again.

“This thing brought us down!” Colonel Packard argued, pointing the detonator at the lifeless body of Kong strewn halfway up the bank. “It killed my men!”

“Kong was just defending his territory!” Conrad snapped, exasperated and desperate.

“We are soldiers!” Packard’s eyes twitched and his lips curled as the last threads of his sanity unravelled. “We do the dirty work, so our families and our countrymen don’t have to be afraid! They shouldn’t even know a thing like this exists!”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Conrad said, shaking his head and breathing heavily. He took one hand off his rifle, holding it out. “Put that detonator down.”

Time stood still. Slivko sniffed audibly as he struggled to keep his aim straight, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. The moon hung in the sky while the fire burned in patches of grass, setting everyone’s silhouettes in blue and orange light. Nobody moved.

Packard’s face contorted in a snarl and he pressed the button on the detonator. It whined, rising in pitch as the countdown ticked.

“Stop!” Weaver shouted, breaking the terrible silence. “The world is bigger than this.”

“Bitch, please!” Packard scoffed indignantly. “Slivko, get her out of here!”

But Slivko didn’t move. His hands were shaking violently as his eyes darted from face to face, the scales weighing heavy in his mind. He glanced at you in confusion and fear. You nodded, giving him a pointed look: Trust yourself.

“You know it’s the wrong thing to do, son,” Marlow encouraged gently.

Slivko stared at him for a beat of silence. You saw the moment when his eyes solidified, and he reached a decision.

Slivko turned his rifle on Packard. “P-put it down, sir,” he stammered, as bravely as he could.

Packard automatically reached for his gun.

“Packard!” Conrad urged. The Colonel froze, like he’d been knocked out of a stupor, and slowly let go of his pistol.

Everyone lowered their guns, save for Conrad, who kept it pointed at Packard. You allowed yourself to relax by a fraction, gathering up the gauze in your hands.

At that moment, the water in front of you began to bubble and smoke. There was a giant surge from beneath the river. A geiser of water shot up into the air. It evaporated into clouds of mist, moving away with the wind, and revealing the cause of the eruption: a Skull Crawler like you’d never seen, three times larger than the others.

“That’s the big one,” Marlow choked.

So much for a moment of safety.

“Fall back,” Conrad ordered. Nobody moved. “GO!” He shouted. This time, Slivko and the others obeyed, taking off into the trees. Only you, Packard, and Conrad remained.

The giant Skull Crawler’s throat clicked and warbled as its raised its head to look at the night sky, which was turning from blue to rosy with the dawn. It howled.

Conrad’s heart stalled in his chest. He turned to Packard and held out his hand, beckoning for him to run. “Colonel,” he urged desperately. The Skull Crawler howled again, loud enough to burst your eardrums.

“Sir!” He shouted.

Packard didn’t move.

Conrad waited until he couldn’t anymore, his eyes darting between you and Packard until finally he shook his head and left him where he stood. He ran, scooping you up with one arm and grabbing your bag with the other. You shrieked at the sudden movement, clinging to him for dear life.

“Kong’s down, let’s go!”

You broke through the trees and Conrad set you down, chest heaving. You stumbled, holding onto him and blinking hard. There were white specks floating around your eyes, blurring your vision.

Conrad glanced down at your leg: the bandage was half-wrapped and reddening, hanging in tatters. He dropped to his knees, letting you lean against him while he tied it secure. His large hands shook with adrenaline, but they moved carefully so that he wouldn’t hurt you by mistake; Even in the most dire moment, he was tender in his care and conscious of your pain.

He tied the bandage off and lifted you up again, more carefully this time, and nodded to one of the nearby hills. “This is the edge of the island,” he said. “Weaver, get up on those rocks and fire a flare. With any luck, Brooks’ll see it.”

There was the sound of something big coming through the forest behind you, and everyone jumped. Your breath shuddered and you tightened your grip around his shoulders.

“We’ll buy you time,” Conrad promised. Weaver nodded and took off. Conrad adjusted his grip on you and beckoned for the others to follow him, heading into the wetland. “This way.”

You locked your arms around his neck as he ran alongside the bank, swallowing the pain of every jolting step. Behind you, you could hear the roars and crashes of the two monsters coming together in epic battle – but honestly, you didn’t care. All you were focused on was staying awake and hanging onto Conrad as he plunged into the water, wading towards the edge of the island.

You closed your eyes and buried your face in the crook of Conrad’s neck, wishing yourself away from it all. You were so tired: tired of pain, tired of running from things that wanted to eat you, and very tired of hiding your affection for the man you loved. Your heart beat slow and steady in your chest, and you breathed in deep. He smelled like home.

You heard a sudden burst of gunfire and raised your head. Marlow’s boat come into sight around the bend: Brooks was at the helm, firing away at the machine gun anchored to the front of the boat.

“Come on! Let’s go!” Conrad urged, directing everyone towards the boat. The two monsters were fighting too close for comfort, sending shockwaves through the water that made it difficult to board.

Conrad lifted you up onto the deck and you pulled yourself into a sitting position, your legs hanging off the side. You grabbed Slivko’s hand and pulled him up, reaching for Mills. Your bandage was looking worse now – deep red and caked with dirt. The pain was beginning to sharpen like a blade, growing less dull with every stroke against the whetstone.

You had no tolerance for it. Opening up your backpack, you pulled a syringe from its case and injected another dose of morphine without thinking.

Conrad was lifting himself onto the boat, his muscular arms flexed, when the gun stalled and stopped firing. Brooks fumbled with the controls, trying to start it up again.

Marlow pushed him aside. “I got it! She’s temperamental- watch out!”

Suddenly, the Skull Crawler was coming towards the boat, undeterred by the ship now that the gun wasn’t working. You face paled and you grabbed Conrad’s hand automatically as anxiety rose in your chest and your throat constricted in fear. You noticed the absence of Kong to distract the monster from you.

You scanned the wetlands, finding Kong struggling to break free from the wreckage of several freight ships. Their anchoring chains were wrapped around him, holding him down in the water. He roared. Step by step, the Skull Crawler came closer. One by one, the chain links snapped.

Just before the Skull Crawler was within tail-swinging distance you heard Weaver’s flare gun fire again. The flare landed right in the Skull Crawler’s eye socket, exploding on impact. It screamed, raking its own claws across its face to try and dislodge the burning flare.

“Clear!” Marlow shouted, finally unjamming the gun. The rapid fire resumed, and you relaxed slightly.

The Skull Crawler howled in anger and snarled at you, coming towards the boat despite the array of bullets.

You felt Conrad’s hand leave yours. He pushed away from the boat without a word of warning, sprinting through the water.

“James!” You screamed, ripping at your own throat. The Skull Crawler’s massive head turned, and it followed him, leaving you and the boat behind.

Before you could move, Kong freed himself from the chains and threw something – a rusted freight propeller – lodging it in the Skull Crawler’s side. It fell with a deafening screech.

Conrad stopped running, gasping for breath and watching the two monsters resume their fight. They wrestled across the wetlands, dealing blow after blow with deadly intent, but neither could bring down the other.

Your head was swimming. The cacophony of noise constantly vibrating through your body was making you sick to your stomach. Despite the humidity, your skin was covered in a thin, cold sweat.

Kong threw the Skull Crawler against one of the mountains and sent an avalanche of rocks into the water. You heard Weaver scream across the valley and turned, watching her fall through the air before she hit the water.

Your nurse’s instincts kicked in and you felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. “Head for shore!” You shouted frantically, snatching up your bag and bracing yourself as the boat sped up and turned. When it was a few yards away from solid ground, you dropped into the water, moving as fast as you could. The monsters kept fighting, sending huge waves across the wetlands that helped push you forward.

Conrad shouted across the water, catching up to you as you fought towards dry ground. “What are you doing?”

“Helping!” You responded, dragging your bad leg and coming up onto the shore unsteadily, duffle bag in hand. Conrad came up behind you and lifted you up, surging out of the water.

You pulled away from his grasp and dropped to the ground in front of Weaver, who laid unconscious halfway on the shore. You pushed her hair away from her face and checked for vitals.

She wasn’t breathing.

You took a pulse check with shaking hands and began CPR, pumping on her chest. As you tried to restart her heart, your own heartbeat felt dangerously slow. You were seeing double, but it was inconsequential– what mattered now was keeping Weaver alive.

Somewhere in the moment, the fighting had stopped. Everything around you was far too quiet– there was only the sound of your shallow breathing, and Conrad’s footsteps as he returned with Weaver’s camera in hand.

Suddenly Weaver lurched upwards and you caught her, helping her onto her side as she coughed up water and choked on air.

“Easy, just breathe,” you heard yourself murmuring, but it didn’t sound like you – your own voice was distorted and far away in your ears.

Weaver coughed. Her brown eyes blinked and came into focus, looking up at your face. When they did, her eyebrows pulled together.

“L/N?” She asked, her voice laced with worry.

You opened your mouth to respond, but couldn’t find your words. It was like your tongue had turned to lead. You began to lose your grip.

Too little blood, too many injections – and the thought occurred to you too late.

“L/N?” Weaver repeated urgently. Her eyes darted from your face to your leg– the bandage was drenched with crimson. She looked up at Conrad desperately. “She’s falling–”

He caught you in his arms. “Y/N, Y/N, stay with us,” he urged, pushing your hair from your face. Weaver’s eyes filled with panicked tears and she stood up on wobbly legs, waving to the boat. “Help! Over here!”

Conrad lifted you up and ran towards the water. Slivko helped pull you onto the deck and lay you down on the surface. Your breathing was shallow. You could barely feel your heart pumping away in your chest. Your grasp on consciousness hung by a thread.

“What happened?” someone asked.

“I don’t know,” Weaver’s voice came, sounding muffled and distorted. “She ... and then–”

“–lost too much blood–”

“–find the bag–”

“–nalo-something, there–”

“Hang on,” Conrad’s voice came, like a gentle wave over the sand, pulling you back to reality. You could feel him holding you in his lap, the panicked rising and falling of his chest, the tender touch of his hands on your arms. The smell of sandalwood and smoke. Everything about him felt like home.

Conrad watched your beautiful eyes unfocus and come back as you tried to stay awake. You were still fighting, bless your heart. Conrad’s chest tightened and he swallowed thickly, pushing down a wave of emotion. He tightened his grip around you, whispering assurances as Slivko shuffled through your bag. Your head fell back against his shoulder and you let out a shaky, jagged breath.

Conrad slid one hand down your arm and wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling your pulse. He prayed silently to anyone who was listening: not her. Please.

Slivko worked fast as his hands would allow, uncapping the orange bottle from your bag. Weaver helped, pulling away the splint and unwrapping your bloody bandage.

Conrad stroked your hand, feeling the coldness of your skin, the almost-indiscernible slowness of your pulse. Tears filled his eyes and he inhaled quickly, willing them away.

“You remember my promise?” He said, loud enough for you alone to hear. His normally steady, accented voice trembled with emotion. “We’re going home. You and I. Wherever you want to go, I’ll follow.” His lips trembled and he raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your palm.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head and fighting against his tears. His heart felt wrenched and pulled apart. “We’re going home.”

You didn’t respond. Your eyes had closed, your breath scarce and fading fast. You were somewhere far away: somewhere deep and dark and painless, dreaming of the man you’d lost and found again, the man holding you in his arms while you faded, whose voice you could hardly hear. Dreaming of coming home.

But they say no man comes home from war. Not really.

Tag List (OPEN): @tarynkauai, @jessiejunebug, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi, @fire-in-her-veinz, @daylight-swiftie, @un-consider-it, @torntaltos, @majahu, @et-puto, @kinghiddlestonanddixon, @awesomefandomsunited, @damalseer, @uinen-ulmiel, @fire-in-her-veinz, @naspter1129, @fandomdarlings, @embracingtom, @alina-margaret, @bthtallmadge2, @larryspantaloons, @lady-loki-ren, @captainsherlockwinchester110283, @holacherrycola90, @indelwen-of-mirkwood, @marveloushiddleston, @ladybugsfanfics, @egos-r-life

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uncultureddirt · 5 years ago

Text

Day Zero (Part 4/4) - Park Jisung (Post Apoc!AU)

~REQUESTED~

“It’s cold without you here”

Warnings: Language, angst, violence

It was quiet when you woke up. It always was. Your cot was beneath the only window in the room, which allowed the sun to reach you the moment it began to emerge. Your eyes would slowly open and you’d stare at the ceiling, noting every crack in the old grey paint. Some mornings you’d wake up confused, forgetting where you were, wondering why Jisung wasn’t next to you, breathing too loudly, and holding you tightly. You just couldn’t get used to the empty space beside you.

“Good morning y/n,” your glum mood was interrupted by Rosalee. She was an older woman, probably somewhere in her mid-sixties. She was the head director of the center you resided in. Rosalee was a kind woman; her heart was warm and inviting. When she spoke her voice was smooth and gentle, like drizzling honey. She welcomed you in and tended to you as you needed it. You always appreciated everything she did for you, but you were unable to express your gratitude the way you wanted. Your sadness was overpowering, and you could only muster up the strength to respond with few words.

She sat on the edge of your bed wrapped up in a faded pink cable-knit sweater. She was a tough woman, despite her soft and delicate appearance. Rosalee had escaped the claws of Tartix at the beginning of Day Zero, losing her only two daughters during her time spent there. Once she was on her own, she founded a center for children who were alone or lost during apocalyptic times. There were a couple of branches scattered relatively close, the main facility being about two hours away on foot. The branch you were in was a small low profile building, but it was under intense security, ensuring the safety of its inhabitants.

“Some of the girls are cooking breakfast if you want to help.” She smiled and got up. She never expected anything in return from her kindness. She was one of those genuine people who need not receive a ‘thank you’ for their charitable actions. You watched her small frame move into the front room and thought about her offer. After deciding you would join them in the kitchen, you lifted yourself out of bed and pulled up the blanket, fixing it nicely.

Walking through the large room quietly, you were cautious not to disturb any of the younger kids who were still asleep. You were wearing one of Jisungs big flannels. When you first arrived Rosalee urged you to throw it out as it was covered in ash and blood. However, after seeing your emotional attachment to the old flannel she washed it and returned it to you.

“I hope he finds you.” She had said when handing over the freshly cleaned shirt.

You walked into the kitchen to find two of the girls around your age working. Both of them were nice, and even though you kept to yourself most of the time, you liked them. One girl, the freckled one with long red hair heard you enter and looked up.

“Y/n, hey!” said Emi.

“Hi,” you smiled lightly. Everyone at the facility understood that trauma caused by the apocalypse varied from person to person, so they never held your quiet manner against you.

You sat at the counter and began to talk, “You guys need any help?”

“No, we’re just about done. Thanks though,” the taller girl with her head shaved, Zola, replied.

You looked down and let the sound of oil popping in the pans fill your ears. The girls began talking again, occasionally asking you questions and bringing you into the conversation. It was hard to occupy yourself when your mind was stuck on him. Each passing day reminded you how alone you felt. What hurt most was the lack of closure. You didn’t even know if he was still alive. You clutched the edges of his flannel as you thought. The sadness would hit you randomly, and apparently, it decided to strike then and there.

“Y/n, you okay?” Zola sat next to you, “How long has it been today?”

“Almost two years,” you paused and rested your chin on your hand, “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No, come on, don’t say that. He loves you and he is out there. Fate will slowly bring you two back together. Okay? Trust me. He is looking for you.”

You soon felt sorry. Zola and Emi had both went through their own set of trauma. They lost their families and had endured their own pain. They were always kind to you, even when you could not look them in the eyes to say hello. You felt embarrassed, how could you be so weak when everyone else seemed so strong? You held your breath as you felt yourself begin to cry. Reaching out her arms, Zola hugged you. Within seconds Emi came over from the sink to hug you as well.

“Thank you,” you cried, and you meant it.

Jisung breathed heavily as he ducked his head under the dense shrubbery.

“Which way’d you see him go?” a voice called out.

“I thought he came over here,” another replied.

He clutched his gun and the cans of food he had just stolen, closing his eyes to internally beg to no one in particular.

‘Pass. Walk past me. Pass.’

His heart was beating loudly, though not out of anxiety. He wasn’t scared anymore; he was tired. This was routine for Jisung. Today, he timed his mission poorly. Right as he was escaping from a window, arms full of goods, the family whose home he had ransacked returned home. Jisung was forced to sprint. He would never let himself get close to the arms of The Reaper. His will to survive was depended on one thing, and that was you.

“No, let’s try back over there,” the first voice called back.

Jisung exhaled deeply. Relief. They were moving away. After waiting a couple of moments, he emerged from the greenery. In the past two years, things had changed, even if only a bit. He was slightly taller and his shoulders broader. His hair was longer now, almost covering his eyes, though still black against his tanned skin. Beneath his changed physical appearance, he remained the same at heart. The biggest change was that he had a new best friend. Thievery.

Thievery slightly hardened Jisung. He knew it did. It made him selfish, forcing him to dehumanize those he was taking from. He wanted to survive. He needed to. And if stealing was the only way, he had to do it.

He began to walk to what he deemed as, ‘his base’. It was a small clearing beneath a useless bridge where he stashed his items. It was hardly a ‘home’, so he wouldn’t refer to it as such. He rarely slept there anyway. Conditions under an old bridge are commonly dark, damp, and musty, and his bridge was no exception. Usually, he’d crash wherever he found himself tired. As long as he picked a spot where he was hidden from a passerby’s view, he’d sleep in abandoned buildings, under trees, old cars...

But he refused to make a ‘home’ out of his ‘sleep spots’. They didn’t feel like ‘home’ without you.

On his way over he felt his foot kick something hard. Jisung looked down to find a tiny handheld radio. It was coated in dirt, and most likely broken. Regardless, Jisung took it. During an apocalypse, kleptomania is arguably justified. When you have nothing, you’ll take anything that might help you survive.

He placed his new items in his collection and then sat down next to one of the piles. Leaning his head back, he placed a hand on his upper thigh. After digging out the bullet with a pocket knife, the skin never healed correctly. He was left with a mangled scar, and it ached when he aggravated his leg muscle excessively. A scar. A collection of recovered skin, sprinkled with tiny nerve endings desperately trying to hide a wound. Jisung’s body was covered in scars. From the thick one on his thigh to the tiny ones etched over his hands and chest, and to the deep one that severed his heart.

Opening his eyes, he decided to check out the radio, dusting off the film of dirt. He flipped it over and examined the back.

“No batteries. Nice.” he rolled his eyes and looked around his stash. He scanned the shelves and piles until he found what he was looking for.

Unscrewing the bottom of a flashlight, he shook out two D batteries.

After reinserting the batteries into the radio, he began fumbling with the buttons. He jumped slightly at the static sound which pierced through the silence of his base, reverberating off the walls. As he flipped through the stations, he silently wondered whose hands touched the dials before his own. ‘Where are they now?’ Oh, and he wished for the painful white noise to subside.

“Y/n.” You were awoken to the sound of a soft whisper. Rosalee looked down at you with her kind eyes. She was wearing a backpack and a baseball cap. You noticed the tiny pieces of silver that poked out the sides of the hat, framing her face gently. She began speaking, quietly though, being cautious not to wake anyone else up, “I’m leaving for a couple days. I guess there’s an issue up at the main facility.”

“An issue at the main facility?” You sat up and rubbed your eyes, slowly comprehending her words.

“Yes. There was an external security violation,” she paused noticing you grow tense, “It’s nothing to worry about. The trespasser is non-threatening. I’m just being called over to direct what we should do with them. While I’m gone, tend to my hydrangeas please.”

“Hydrangeas? Like the flower?” You were confused, why were said plants being prioritized? If they were so important, why hadn’t you heard about them before? You waited for her to change your orders you to a more serious, grueling task, but she left it at that. Her hydrangeas.

“Yes, they’re in my office. They get very thirsty, so I’ll need you to water them and make sure they get sunlight, it can get dark in there sometimes.”

You nodded.

“Okay,” she smiled and began to walk away, “I will see you soon.”

After she exited, you laid in your bed and sifted through the information she gave you. You were staring at the ceiling as you had countless times before, but this time your mind wasn't concerned with the cracks or the old grey paint.

‘What the hell is the deal with the damn flowers?’

Later that day you found yourself sitting outside. Your gaze glided across the metal fence which stood tall, closing you in. It seemed odd to know that you were grounded to one side of the fence and do nothing about it. Sure, the wall of metal surrounding you was there for your safety, to keep the rest of the world on the outside. But it felt funny. The same fence lies around the Tartix base to keep the inside world in.

Leaning back slightly, you rested your back against the building. It felt cool on your skin. You closed your eyes, feeling the wind brushing against you and listened to the sound of peace. The lull of serenity.

“Oh shoot,” you exclaimed, disrupting the silence, “The flowers.” Quickly rising, you made your way inside.

The walls in the narrow hallway to Rosalee’s office were painted a shy shade of blue, appearing almost white in the faint daylight. The window at the far end of the hall was the only source of light, and if you had arrived any later you would have struggled to find your way. You soon found yourself in front of what you knew to be her office, though you’d never been inside.

“Woah. Hello Hydrangeas,” you mumbled as you assessed the room around you.

The office was small and dim. A wood table sat in the middle, paired with a chair home to a faded pink cushion. The table was stacked high with books, photographs, and papers. Turning to the wall on your left, you located a large window next to a tall bookcase. You wouldn’t have known it was a window hadn’t you moved the sheets. They were pinned up with tacks, concealing the window completely. And right in front of the window was a large light, hung over a tiny table of lively flowers.

“So this is how they get their light, huh?” you spoke aloud to yourself.

Crouching down, you observed the plants. There were four pots, each with a large bulbous plant, one pink, one white, and two sister shades of both purple and blue. In a world often depleted of color and life, seeing such vibrant colors was almost supernatural. You tilted your head as you admired them, falling in complete awe. After shaking yourself out of your wonder-struck trance, you noticed a tiny note taped to the light.

‘INSTRUCTIONS FOR MY GARDEN’

You smiled at the word ‘garden’. The table of four plants was humble, but Rosalee cared about it. It was a patch of life in a meadow of chaos. It was her garden.

“Be… days.”

“Huh?” Jisung quickly awoke.

Like a pair of sharp scissors slicing a clean line in a fresh piece of paper, the sound of static tore through his silent morning, waking Jisung up. Digging in his coat pocket, he pulled out the tiny radio he had recently claimed as his own. He stared at it, waiting for it to speak once more.

“Hello? You there?” The voice was that of a woman. Her sentence came through clearer this time. He could make out words and hear her tone. Something about her smooth voice alleviated his restless soul.

“He… oh?” Static again. Once a couple of minutes went by, he sighed and put the radio back into his pocket. He was still tired, and it was still early; he was going to go back to sleep.

“Yes. Yes. I’m here.” It was a man's voice this time.

Jisung jolted up and pulled the radio back out, staring at it. Why was he so eager to hear someone’s voice? Why was it so… comforting? Maybe it was the voice. Maybe it was how the silence was finally gone. Or maybe it was the reminder he wasn’t alone.

“Okay. Did you get that? I’ll… an issue at…” Jisung cringed each time the static broke in, interrupting the flow of the conversation. “I left food in the cellar. Enough for… Send one of the boys over when you’re low…”

‘Food.’ Jisung smiled excitedly. ‘Food.’

“How long?”

“A couple days. I’ll keep in touch. Over.”

“Over.”

Static.

He sat for a while, pushing the buttons on the faded black device. He longed for the sound of a voice, any voice. Loneliness swarmed him like summer gnats. Even when he tried to swat it away, it returned and lingered, hitting him in different places, driving him nuts. He longed for company, for your company.

“Hello?” It was the man's voice again, “Hello?”

Jisung closed his eyes and began listening again. ‘It’s like TV,’ he thought to himself, smiling lightly.

“Hello? I need to send someone over later for…”

“Yes?” The soothing voice returned.

“Where should I send them?”

Jisung sat up and opened his eyes. These woods were vast, but he knew them well. He pushed his hand through his hair, listening as the women drew out a road map, pointing to where her base was.

“...and have them end near full rock circle…”

“Full rock circle. I can get there,” he whispered, almost like he was replying.

Food. Base.

Jisung put the radio down and stood up. He had fallen asleep in a van he often slept in because of the close distance to his ‘stash’. He then began to move, being wary of his surroundings.

Something was stirring in Jisung. Some hate that had boiled over his time in solitude. He had lost everything; all he had had been taken and pried from his grasp. Every waking moment reiterated the pain of his existence. What he owned remained hidden in a crack of cement. It was sad. He felt pathetic.

In moments like those, he found refuge in his only pastime. The only thing that could help him escape the depreciating feeling. Thievery.

Jisung wanted to steal.

He felt like he had to.

It had been three days since you saw Rosalee and three days that you been caring for her tiny garden.

You were sitting at her desk, letting your body sink into her soft pink chair. Your eyes danced over the papers, book covers, and photographs. The photos in the stack at the edge of her table were faded slightly and folded at the edges, almost as if they were frequently shuffled through.

Lifting the stack, you began to flip through them. The first image depicted a tiny girl standing in front of a building. Her arms were positioned outwards, spread wide, like she was showing off the cozy-looking house and rectangular plot of soil behind her. You tilted your head, flipping to the next photo. It was the same girl, only this time taller, her hair now reaching her elbows. She stood in the same spot, smiling again, the patch of dirt now full of green sprouts. You continued to flip through the photos; most of them were of two girls, one being the girl in the first two pictures, and what you recognized to be Rosalee. Assuming they were her daughters you began to imagine Rosalee as a mother until you were met with the last photo. The unfamiliar girl was older now. Her smile was still warm, and it visibly resembled Rosalee’s. She was not accompanied by dirt, nor by stems with small buds hanging off the edge. Instead, there was a crowd of violet, blue, white, pink and every color in between.

“Hydrangeas,” you whispered.

You grabbed the first photo from the stack and placed it beside the last one. Studying the girl, you noticed how she aged slightly, though her smile remained just as lovely and radiant as it had been before. You lifted the photos up and brought them towards the window, so you could see them in the light. As you gently moved the image, and the light penetrated the picture, you noticed something scribbled on the undersides of each.

Flipping over the first one, you read the words under your breath.

‘Mommy and I planted today. I want the flowers to bloom now. She says I have to wait for it to be pretty and that good things take time. I don’t get what that means. Also, I don't like the dirt, it's not pretty. Mommy said our flowers will be pretty. She said this is our garden.’

It was written in childish print, words were misspelled and letters looped messily. For some reason, there was a lump in your throat. Slowly, you turned over the next photo and began to read again.

‘Look at our garden!!!!!! It's so pretty. Mommy is right. Good things do take time. The pink one is my favorite, Mommy says she agrees.’ You stopped reading the swirly childish print and flipped back over the photo. Grazing your finger over the tiny girls face, tears welled up in your eyes.

“Both of my daughters were taken,” you remembered Rosalee’s words pouring out from her like blood dripping from a wound. You remembered the pain in her face as she spoke and the way her voice became choppy.

The first tear slipped down your face as you stared at the girl whose heart was so happy and smile was so warm. Suddenly, you couldn’t hold back your emotions. You dropped down in front of the flowers and cried. You cried for Rosalee’s daughters and the golden future they’d never see. You cried for their garden, which had been reduced to four pots in a dark room. You cried that the evil arms of Tartix stole a mother’s beloved children. You cried that good things take time. You cried hard for your world. You clutched the photographs to your chest tightly, your vision clogging with tears.

This garden was not for Rosalee. It was for the girl who was promised a garden, a garden full of love and rich in color.

It was all planned out. Calculated cleanly. Organized perfectly. Jisung knew how to go about the task. He was ready to steal.

As the sky turned black, Jisung found himself stationed near the high metal fence. He felt like a creature, a beast prepared to stalk his prey. Though being conditioned to steal, there was a deep pang of worry and guilt within him. He wasn’t nervous. He was upset. Upset that Day Zero had degraded him to such filth. Once running through the plan a few more times, he decided it was time.

He climbed his way over the fence, taking out a pair of cutting pliers to cut the jagged barbed wire on top. Jisung then jumped down, landing skillfully on the balls of his feet. The dirt lightly thudded beneath him, but not loud enough to draw any attention towards the intruder.

Entering a field he wasn’t familiar with always got his adrenaline pumping. It made his thoughts race.

‘You’re the odd man out; you’re the reason the fence lay high and security holds weapons. You’re the glint in the shadows and the gentle rustle of leaves. It’s your footprint stamped in the wet dirt and it’s your fault there’s empty space where items belong. You’re a thief.’

He made his way towards the building, staying pinched to any available walls. He moved through the night swiftly, a master at traveling in the darkness.

‘Shit.’ his brain yelled loudly. Jisung stopped his movements. A figure was sitting near the building. ‘What the fuck is someone doing outside right now?’

Jisung moved his hand into his pocket, wrapping his hand around a metal grip. Not to fire. Only to scare.

He moved towards the silhouette, silencing his breath, absorbing his presence into the night. A fraction of a second later, he grabbed the person’s neck, placing the gun against their throat.

They became you, and you began to scream.

‘Fuck.’

The barrel was cold against your neck. Your mind began to race, and you did the one thing you could think to do.

Scream.

You yelled out for help repeatedly, kicking violently and squirming aggressively.

The air getting to you was limited. The person's arm tightened as he pressed the gun deeper into your neck. Right as you thought you would stop breathing completely, they released you, your body falling sideways. You were coughing wildly as the world around you spun.

“Y/n?” the voice was shaking and quiet. It was barely a whisper, but you heard it as clear as day. The hair on your neck stood up as your heart took off, catching up to the panting of your breath.

‘No. I’m imagining things. I must be.’

You couldn't turn around; there was something holding you back from turning around. You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t real; it wasn’t him. While you tried to rationalize your thoughts and regain your balance, you heard yelling, and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

“23! He has a number! Shoot! Now!”

‘23… 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23.’

Your body began to tremble as your mind flashed through memories. You saw him coming towards you at the door, hiding his own fear behind a rifle. You saw him holding you under the cold sky, wiping your tears. You saw him kissing you for the first time, setting fire to every part of your tired heart. You saw him promising you he’d be okay and promising you he’d come back. You heard him tell you he loved you. You began to cry and call out his name. You got up quickly, running sloppily over to the unit of guards holding guns to him.

“DON’T SHOOT!”

“Y/n stay back! He’s dangerous!”

“NO! NO! NO! JISUNG! IT’S ME! I’M HERE!” Your lungs were ablaze and your eyes were soaked. You saw him lying there on the ground, helplessly fighting for his life. The guards wouldn’t shoot with you nearby. They couldn’t.

“Y/n? Y/N?” He began resisting with an increased amount of strength. His neck vein bulging as he kicked his legs tirelessly.

Forcing your way through the wall of tall men, you thrust yourself on top of him.

“Get off of him! Immediately!” guard commanded.

They were shouting, but you didn’t hear it. The loudness of the world had smudged and blurred behind you. All you could see was his face, coated in dirt and streaked with tears.

“Holy shit. You’re here.” he breathed up at you.

“Holy shit. You almost killed me.”

You two stood up together and held each other defensively. All the guards backed away, seeing by your interactions he wasn’t a threat. You held on to Jisung tightly, keeping your face tucked into his chest. You were crying more, being hugged by him, and silently prayed that you weren’t dreaming.

He stroked your hair as complete disorder and confusion unfolded around you. Kids began pouring outside, waking up to the sound of the danger alarm. Security guards stood confused, dropping their guns to their sides. Jisung kissed your head over and over again.

You looked up at him and whispered, “Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t,” he replied. He stared down at your face and spoke softly, “God, I missed you.” He then placed a hand on your cheek and leaned down, kissing you deeply.

There was something unfathomable about the experience. Something you couldn’t explain. You felt as if you were floating over your body, watching yourself rediscover your heart. You watched as your body warmed and your mind cooled. You watched the horizon as you stood on top of the hill, tired from pushing the boulder. You watched a vibrant garden full of light grew around you. You watched it all come together because he was there.

As you slowly pulled away a picture flashed in your mind. A colorful picture with misspelled words that messily danced.

Looking up at Jisung, you saw the warm colors around him.

He wiped your tears as you smiled at him. You couldn’t wait to thank your friends for being patient with you and tell Rosalee how much you’ve truly appreciated everything she’s done.

Things were going to be okay.

‘Good things take time.’

And they did. They always do.

Concluded!

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bookwormscififan · 5 years ago

Text

Mornings

New Swap AU chapter!

Keep watching, next week I’ll hopefully have more for you to read.

Word count: 1655 words

Malvern almost fell off the roof in shock as Juxta appeared beside him. His brother summoned a bottle of whiskey into his hand, holding it out to the hero.

“What are you doing here?” Malvern asked as he took a swig. He stared at his brother, both sighing in relief as the whiskey numbed the pain in his back.

I wanted to apologise, the mute responded, writing his answer in smoke on Malvern’s arm.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to be alone.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Malvern replied, drinking from the bottle again. Juxta smiled, shuffling closer to his brother and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Want a drink?” The mute shook his head, staring up at the sky.

Got it here for you. For your back.

“Thanks,” Malvern mumbled, staring into the bottle before taking another swig.

The morning sun shone down on a couple of brothers sitting on a roof. The blue haired brother had his head on the green haired one’s shoulder, lips occasionally twitching.

The green haired man held a quarter-full bottle of whiskey in a loose grip, blue mask sliding down the tiles slowly. A towel sat beside him, blood drying in patches. He had his head tipped onto his brother’s, and snored softly.

Beside the blue haired man, a smoky ball rolled slowly in circles. Dark wisps occasionally separated from the sphere, floating into the morning sky where they dissolved into nothing. The blue haired man shifted slightly, hair falling over his eyes as he adjusted his position against his brother’s shoulders.

The one in the red shirt shifted, face twitching as he began to wake. He blinked, staring at his setting in confusion before reaching beside him and shaking his brother awake.

“Jux,” he mumbled, trying to rouse the blue haired man. Juxta frowned, changing his position again before cracking his eyes open.

“Jux, you gotta wake up,” Malvern urged, grip tightening on his whiskey as he winced in hungover pain. The mute furrowed his brow, rubbing his eyes before looking around and noticing the sun. Realising it was morning, he moved off Malvern’s shoulder and ran a hand over his dishevelled clothes.

Morning, Mal. What time is it? Malvern pulled an old pocket watch from somewhere in his clothes, starting when he saw the time. I must be very hungover.

“Um, it’s apparently ten a.m.,” he replied, watching as Juxta’s shock made wisps pulse behind him. Malvern tensed, fearful for any consequence of the wisps, then relaxed upon seeing no issues.

Ten? Why haven’t the others looked for us yet? Malvern shook his head, picking his mask and the cloth up and attempting to make his way to the ladder. Juxta rolled his eyes, seeing his brother stumble multiple time, then grabbed Malvern’s arm and teleported them to his room.

Alto was glad his bed was so big.

Four people slept on the bed, sprawled in various positions. Jared curled at the fo0t of the bed, sleeping like a cat and snoring quietly. Beside him, almost completely off the bed, Chase sprawled.

The doctor had an arm over his brother’s back, right half of his body falling off the furniture. His mouth hung open, filling the room with the smell of alcohol. His right arm hung over his eyes, making him oblivious to the morning light.

Lying dangerously close to the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around Alto’s waist, Henrik dozed, face buried in the second pillow. His cap had fallen off overnight, and now sat on the floor amongst blood-stained scarves.

Alto slept normally, head against a pillow and body still. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling tingling as the salve worked on his scars. His feet pressed into Jared’s back, toes grazing Chase’s arm. His hands were folded over his chest, fabric feeling foreign against the pressure of his scars.

His eyes rolled to the side, checking the time. 10 a.m.

“Hen,” the actor said, nudging his cousin.

“…nein, too early…” the vlogger mumbled, hugging Alto closer.

“Henrik, it’s ten in the morning. We need to wake up,” Alto said, nudging the vlogger again, slightly harsher this time. They both started as Chase’s yell erupted from the end of the bed.

“Why am I hanging off my bed? Where am I? Why does it smell like booze in here?” Alto held back a laugh as he lifted his head to look at Chase.

“My room. Chase, roll over to your left,” the doctor turned, groaning as pain surged through his neck. He reached forward, curling around his cat-like brother.

“Jared…” the healer grumbled, moving closer to Chase and scratching his scars. With a fond chuckle, the doctor gently pulled Jared’s hands away and stared into his hazy eyes.

“Jared, time to wake up,” he mumbled, smiling as Jared reached for his mask.

“Jux, I could have made it down just fine,” Malvern slurred, moving away from the mute and stumbling onto his bed. Juxta smirked, then took the bottle out of Malvern’s hands and swept his arm over the hero’s face.

You almost fell off the roof three times, Mal.

“No I didn’t… you have no proof…” Malvern raised his eyes, trying to focus on the words Juxta was writing.

Stay awake, Mal. There are people who need your help.

“They can wait…” the hero waved his arm, almost slapping the mute in the face, then struggled to sit up. Juxta shook his head, snapping his fingers and summoning hot coffee. He held it to the hero’s lips, holding his head steady.

Drink. Malvern drank the coffee, wincing as the hot liquid entered his body. He finished the drink, pushing Juxta’s hands away and spluttering.

“Way too much coffee there, Jux. Next time, less coffee and more sugar, alright?” Juxta shook his head, putting the mug away.

Strong coffee gets rid of your drunken stupor, Mal. Coffee to your liking would still keep you drunk. Malvern shook his head, making a ‘pfft’ sound as he leaned back.

“I’m sober now, aren’t I?” Juxta nodded, folding his arms across his chest. Both turned as the door was nudged open, and Juxta knelt down with open arms when his lions paced inside.

“They can sense you,” Malvern joked, smiling as the lions crawled into the mute’s arms. Juxta looked at the hero, smile wide on his face.

Death connected them to me. They know where I am all the time. They just couldn’t reach the roof.

“Maybe we should ignore our roles for the day,” Malvern said, eyes downcast. Juxta stopped stroking the fur of his lions to look at his brother. What do you mean?

“Let’s be brothers. Go out together, take our pets for a walk,” Malvern said, shrugging as he ran a hand through his hair. Juxta stood and sat beside the hero, looking at him with sympathetic eyes. Why?

Chase stared at the coffee maker, angrily willing it to fill. Jared walked up to him, tying his mask behind his head and humming as he placed his mug beside Chase’s.

“I’m not making you coffee,” Chase said, glaring at the coffee maker. Jared just nodded, joining his brother in glaring at the machine.

“Why are we here?” Jared asked suddenly, making Chase stare at him incredulously.

“What do you mean? We’re waiting for the coffee,” he replied, frowning as Jared shook his head.

“I mean here. The family house. Why are we here?”

“Well, you had to leave your clinic because of the lion. I left because I was kicked out.” Jared nodded, taking the coffee pot and filling Chase’s mug.

“Why did we come back here? We could have stayed in an apartment together. We could have stayed in that cabin you showed me,” Chase sighed, lifting his coffee mug and walking with Jared to the dining room table.

“Something made us come here. It’s a sanctuary,” Chase ventured, watching Jared’s face for his emotions.

“Do you ever think that something was Death? And her deal with Jux?” Jared stared into his coffee, eyes dark in anger. Chase placed a warm hand on his shoulder, looking at his brother with a warm smile.

“All the time, Jar. But if it’s really upsetting you, we could see how living away can help,” he offered, smiling as the healer nodded. He clapped his hands, standing from the table.

“Alright then! I’ll figure out where we can stay, then maybe we can go away sometime.”

“Go where?” Henrik walked into the room, looking at the brothers with curious eyes. His hair hung limply over one eye, in desperate need of a haircut.

“Jar and I wanted to take a small holiday together. Bonding,” Chase answered, sitting back down awkwardly and sipping his coffee.

“Where’s Alt?” Jared asked, looking behind the vlogger for the actor.

“He took the first shower,” the vlogger replied, heading for the kitchen to make his morning drink. Chase and Jared nodded, simultaneously taking sips of their drinks.

“I want to be normal for once,” Malvern stated, falling backwards onto his bed and staring at the ceiling.

“I want to break away from my role, to be a kid again.” He sat up, looking at his brother with a sigh.

“Do you remember when we were kids, before all the stuff with Death happened? When we could have fun, when we were normal?” Juxta nodded, head bowed.

I wish we could have that again. But things are different now. We have our roles, our duties. We can’t just leave them. Malvern nodded, then stood up.

“Well, it was a good idea, wasn’t it?” He forced a chuckle, failing to hide his disappointment. The mute took his brother’s hand, looking at him with a small smile.

Get dressed. I want to go out. Malvern smiled.

#jacksepticeye #jse fanfiction #swap au #Juxta Position #Malvern #Chase Brodsen #Jared the Magick #Henrik von Schnapple #Alto Septicie #platonic sleeping #tw: alcohol #tw: blood mention

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