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heli0s-writes · 4 years ago

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IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud.

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again.

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

“She was one of a kind.”

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses.

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay. “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.”

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.”

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

#marvel #stucky #stucky x reader #pacific rim au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #fanfiction #reader insert #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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sunshinespear · 4 years ago

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paradise found

oneshot (might become a part of a series??)

pairing: established reader x ellaria sand

rating: explicit

word count: 2,177

summary: you and ellaria sand find yourselves in a sept. however, rather than worshipping the gods somehow you find yourself on your knees worshipping something much better

warnings: uhhhh god okay so public sex sort of, public nudity, religion kink? it’s in a sept, slight overstimulation, an*l play (it’s mild), fingering, oral (fem receiving, fem giving), softness, fluff, teasing, begging, you’re topping in this one, shamelessly loud sex, woo yall aint even trying to hide it, let me know if i missed anything

a/n: this really does just jump straight into the action lmao. i might do a sequel to this. i really want to write a larger story that’s reader x oberyn x ellaria with a very equal poly dynamic between the three (my bi heart cant pick a favorite). if this is like... good/popular-ish maybe i’ll look deeper into doing that lol this is me dipping my toe in the water. that fic would obviously be explicit throughout. like. c’mon. but so yeah let me know if that’s something anyone would be interested in.

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Seven marble statues stared down upon the center of a magnificent open room. They stood exalted atop stone platforms laced with lapis lazuli and mother of pearl, unlit candles scattered at the feet of six of the tall figures. Vaulted ceilings were covered in clear glass panes, bleeding brilliant sunshine into the sept. Covering almost every inch of the walls were colorfully painted glass windows in gold-plated lead panes, depicting scenes of the Seven in their glory. A peaceful stillness was contained within the empty sept. You were sprawled on the floor behind the statue of the Father, out of his watchful eye but barely hidden from the massive double doors at the entrance of the empty sept.

It was not unusual for the septs in Dorne to be empty at most times of day. The Faith was present here, but not many were strongly devout in their following. A long time ago, if anyone had asked if you were the religious sort you might have laughed at them. Sure, you knew what you were taught about the Seven Gods, the Seven-pointed Star, the Seven whatevers. You’ve prayed a few times. Seven Heavens, Seven Hells. But over time it was all drowned away. Do you think you’re going to a heaven? Any of them? You don’t think anyone could ever be certain of where they were going. What you do know is this: heaven can also be a person. It could even be two. And to be alone with them, that can be like salvation. Right now, it’s only two of you alone in this holy place. You’re sprawled on the marble floor, still mostly clothed, fervently worshipping a naked goddess laying under you.

There is a special paradise to be found with your head between her thighs

You lick one long stripe over the entirety of Ellaria’s cunt, parting her wet folds with your tongue. She tastes like kiwis and cherries; fruit that’s sweet with zest, just like she is. You flick your tongue over the top of her clit. She shivers at your touch, makes a sharp gasp, and you’re exactly where she wants you. Now you burn to hear her plead for it.

You circle around her clit with your tongue. Teasing against her edges, you barely brush against her – almost at that spot, so close – over and over. She struggles faintly, trying to push her hips down against your evasive mouth. She wants you to touch her there so much. You grip her waist to hold her still. You move downwards instead and lap up more of her along the way. When you reach the center of her cunt you find her so incredibly wet. Even her thighs are smeared with her slickness. Her folds are slippery under your tongue as you take long drinks of the sweetness she’s pouring out for you. You revel in the taste, moaning into her cunt as you drown in it.

Ellaria groans then, mumbling something softly under the gravel that you can’t quite hear.

“Hm?” You hum, intentionally obtuse. You give her another long stroke with your tongue.

“Please,” she exhales, shaking in a lust-drunk daze. You smirk like you’ve won. She always told you that you and Oberyn were too similar in that way.

You know what she’s begging for, but where’s the fun in giving it to her so immediately? She wants your tongue flicking her clit, so you push two fingers inside of her soaked cunt instead.

Ellaria cries out and bucks her hips, trying to take in all you have to give her. You watch as she shuts her eyes, mouth agape in pleasure, and she is like all seven of the heavens. She is dripped in gold, brown skin glittering in the sunlight like the goddess she is. Her dark, coiled hair is splayed out all around her, a halo for her most heavenly body. You ease your fingers in and out of her slowly at first, watching her face the entire time. Gods, that face. What a beautiful face to have underneath you as it climbs to the height of pleasure. You could see those same perfectly plush lips part and gasp a thousand times and it will always strike you straight to the core. You fuck her faster and she moans louder, echoing throughout the sept. Her eyes are tightly shut but if she would ever open them, you would be met with the most beautiful charcoal gaze you’d ever seen. Each and every time Ellaria looked at you was a spell being cast and it plucked the strings of your heart like a harp, playing exactly to her tune. It was as musical as the salacious moans she was making now with each curl of your fingers against that good spot inside her.

You suck on the thumb of your other hand, coating it thickly with saliva, and sink it inside Ellaria’s other entrance.

Her eyes pop open as she groans. She takes gasping breaths as you work on her, eyes wide open now. Ellaria looks at you and she can’t help but let out a breathy laugh at the mischief in your glittering eyes.

“Ugh, you-mmm… I-” She grasped for words like her hands grasping her hair. “You know exact-t-ah… exactly what you’re doing- hmph. Fuck.”

It’s you laughing now, reveling in how difficult you’re making this for her. Her gaze catches yours and in her eyes you find the sweetest, most frustrated adoration. You stay with your eyes locked with Ellaria’s while you fuck her from both places. Your fingers and thumb drag in and out, curling them exactly where she needs it, going at just the pace she likes it. Ellaria’s eyelids are heavy now, opening slower with each moan you drag out of her until she’s so swept away by pleasure that they close entirely. Beads of sweat dot her concentrated brow, dripping down her temple into those curly dark locks. You thrust your fingers into her once, twice, three more times before she makes a sound like a sob. Ellaria reaches out for you, hands aimlessly searching for something to grip. She settles on her own thighs, holding them more open for you. Her chest rises laboriously with each breath. There is a burning desire in your chest to see her come undone. You wonder how much more teasing she could take, or you for matter, when her eyes flutter open and find yours once more.

There it was. That pinning stare she had mastered on you. Ellaria held you captive with every bat of her eyelash. To see that look in her eyes, weighed down by ecstasy and foggy in lust, was the most divine feeling you’d ever known. It was entirely enthralling.

“Love, please.” Her voice cracks as she begs, barely above a whisper, her body writhing against you. “Please, please, please, my love.”

Of course you’ll do as she commands.

You keep thrusting your two fingers into her with your one hand. In your other, her ass sits in your palm with your thumb still circling inside of her. You lean your head down and give her exactly what she needs, and exactly where she needs it.

First, you lick her clit softly. The kind of noise she lets out at that contact.... It is the most intoxicating sound. Her hands knot themselves into your hair in an instant, her nails desperately scraping your scalp. She pulls you closer, as close as she can possibly have you.

You press your tongue against her sweetest spot, circling her over and over. She was so close, you could tell. Just a little bit more. You close your lips around her clit, enveloping it in the warm wetness of your mouth. With your lips you suckle on her, kiss her, poke your tongue out and use it to caress. You use your entire mouth to fuck her good. You take your tongue out and flick it against her, fast and feather-light. One thrust of your fingers deep inside of her again, working in tandem with the rapid movement from your tongue, and you feel her orgasm tightening around your fingers.

Ellaria’s body spasms as she comes hard. Her entire body shakes with the weight of it. Her legs wrap around your back, her walls – from every place your in – squeeze your fingers tightly, her hands pull you by your hair to drag you closer, her hips grind against your mouth.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Of course you obey. Your tongue continues fervently flicking against her clit, all the way through her high, until the violent tremors dissipate into soft shivers and her fingers are a little less tight in your hair. She tries to catch her breath desperately as if she’d just been drowning. You pull back your head slightly. She’s so sensitive now, squirming under you even though you’re barely touching her.

You can’t ever leave well enough alone. Not when she looks so damn good like this. You pull your hands out of her body. She lets you, weakly melting into the floor without your support. You clutch her thighs and push her legs open a little further. You put your head back down there again, sore tongue aching to give her more. She catches on to your antics far too late. You’re already sliding your tongue around her when she starts pulling your hair back and squirming her hips away. You clutch her thighs tighter, holding her steady as the overstimulation transitions back to ecstasy. She can’t stop shaking, but the way she presses deeper into your tongue tells you she’s ready for it now. You work her back up again with your hot tongue. You give her this one quickly, not fucking around this time.

As the second wave of pleasure sweeps through Ellaria, her mouth hangs open with a mute cry, unable to summon the strength to croak out even a single moan. She comes with eyes closed tight, mouth wide open, her shaky breathing the only noise she can make as tremors overtake her. You lick and roll your tongue all over her cunt as she melts into you. She gets so damn wet when she comes, and you are determined to drink all of her. You don’t want to waste a single drop, tasting everything she has to give.

She lets out a moan, soft as lamb’s wool. It fades into a breathy laugh as she pushes your head and desperate tongue away from her numb body. She cups your jaw and tries to pull you up to kiss her, but you find detours along the way. First you must stop to kiss along her hip bone. You leave wet kisses on the sharp contours of her body here. Then you move up her stomach. You gently press your lips to the beautiful stretch marks earned from the daughters she’s born. Continuing up, you graze your teeth over her ribs. At her nipple, you dart out your tongue and lick. She shivers at that and makes a soft grunt, so you stay there and lick some more. Now you have to give the same treatment to the other. When you move past her breasts, you kiss up to her collarbone and leave a mark there.

The kisses continue softly up her neck until finally, your face meets Ellaria’s. It is the most beautiful face and you’ve just made it come entirely undone for you. You take your hands to cup her cheeks before you kiss her on her sweat-dampened hairline and along the smoothness of her forehead. Ellaria shuts her eyes in bliss. You take the opportunity to kiss each of her delicate eyelids softly. The ghost of your lips trail down the bridge of her nose, to the tip, and over her cheeks that cradle a perfectly contented grin.

You pull back, staring down at her most peaceful state. A powerful ache strikes you right where your soul rests. You love her. You know you do. As she opens her eyes and meets your gaze, you know you would die for her. You know that there was no life to live without her.

Ellaria smiles softly at you lost in your reverence. She wraps her hand around your neck and pulls you down to kiss her. You meet her lips and kiss her like how a man lost in the desert drinks water. Fervently, longingly, never getting enough. You could kiss her for an eternity and it would never be enough. She giggles against your mouth and you take her smile in with the same enthusiasm, kissing wherever your lips land with devotion, even if you end up kissing her teeth.

She pulls you back by your hair at the same time she moves her thigh between yours, pushing against your core. You let out a tiny noise of surprise, mouth popping open and she takes the opportunity to put two fingers in there. You close your lips around them immediately, tracing your tongue over her fingertips. It’s impossible to resist grinding against her thigh, rubbing your wet core against her warm skin. Ellaria’s eyes are low and sparkling, her smile turned devious.

“Hmm. Your turn.”

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whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

If The Lord Don’t Forgive Me

Bi!Hotch returns

I brought Charlie around for round two because sometimes you just need sweet, wholesome gay love. And it’s sweet baby (okay sweet like sour gummy worms but it is sweet and, hey, I cut the whump out just to keep it that way so you’re welcome)

There is cussing, the slight implication to sex (but not graphic and far more like “men sometimes have sex”), homophobia (I know, I know why can’t I let them live in peace?? but I have to get something out of this too and I LOVE angst), child abuse (ugh... :( sorry Hotch but if you’re showing that pretty face in a fic, I’m gonna bring up the fact that your dad hit you...), and probably something else but I doubt it’s that bad

Anyways-- cut to the gay shit but let me hit it off with some “Work Song” by Hozier because... I’m the author and I can do what I want

My baby never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the Lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

Despite it only being eight o’clock in the morning, Aaron Hotchner feels today has aged him immensely.

The morning started with Emily knocking over an entire bookshelf. The decision to move her into his apartment was stupid and on a whim but he’s never truly felt the consequences of that until today. Which is good considering she’s been living there for nearly three years (straight from “dead” in London to living in his house) but that is not where the focus should be placed. No, it should be placed on the fact that the crash caused him to jump. A normal, knee jerk reaction but not good when in the middle of shaving.

So, he’d come running out of the bathroom-- face stinging because he’s just jerked a razor across it-- to find the living room in shambles. Emily standing on the other side of the room looking to the point of tears but only managing the barest morsel of containment and Jack, school clothes covered in milk from his cereal, lower lip trembling, and little fist clenched for some semblance of control over the tears pouring down his face.

Standing there, the three of them each taking each other in, had felt surreal. Bit by bit, they all came together. Emily wiped her nose and rubbed the tear that fell off her face. She went to get him a band-aid and he went to Jack. That setback was only a step in the wrong direction.

Truthfully, that old bookshelf needed replacement about twenty-years ago when he built it. Its bitter fall was only a matter of time and he has yet to mourn it. The mess of the shelf was easy to clean up. He’d need to take the larger pieces to a dump or ask Morgan if he knows what to do with it. The books just got stacked on the floor and the wood splinters swept up and Jack advised to stay away from there until he or Emily could really go at it a little better and make sure there was nothing left.

The hard things came afterward.

Fighting with Jack to wear other clothes. He’d picked his current milk-soaked clothes out and Jack is reliant on a schedule. Changing clothes is a deviation and no matter how patient Hotch had tried to be, he was finding it hard to keep his cool. So he’d caved rather than lose his temper over something as simple as a second grader’s clothes. So, Jack went to school today in green overalls and blue rain boots that are a little too big. He’d looked silly but he’s seven so it’s technically still cute for him to do.

As for the nice cut he’d dug into his jaw, Emily had come to inform him that the only band-aids in the house are scooby doo. So, he has wood splinters in his living room, blood all over his shirt, Jack in poorly matching clothes, and a fucking scooby doo Band-Aid on his face.

Coffee is the only thing he knows can fix this.

“Uhm--” Leave it for today to also be the day he is confronted head-on with the very repressed sexual attraction he feels for men. “Can I--” his palms are embarrassingly damp. “Can I just get a-- a large black coffee?” The muscle in his forearm flexes and he can’t really force his fingers to grasp his wallet.

The man in question raises his eyebrow but takes the order. “Alrighty,” he answers. “Do you want creamer? Sugar?”

Hotch can feel his throat tightening in and his face heating up. Thank God he’s never been the type to flush visibly or else he’d be in some trouble. He forces his eyes on to the nametag pinned to the apron over the other man’s chest. Charlie, it reads. Hotch glances back up. “Yes-- Yes, please.” If he were a blusher, he’d be beet red.

Charlie smirks at the stammered manners. It’s cute. “You got a name, suit?”

“Ho--Hotch.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow at that but he’s not going to comment. It’s unprofessional and Hotch is more than likely a nickname. He lets it go. “Hotch” comes in enough that Charlie gets used to the strange nickname but to the staff of his shop he refers to the cute stuttering agent as “suit” and it’s easy to understand why.

“A-- A date?”

Charlie is gay but he’s not sure what “suit”/”Hotch” is. He’s thinking at least a little curious because getting the poor man into a stuttering puddle of anxiety and stammering is as simple as deviating from their typical “cream and sugar” discourse.

Charlie smirks, he thinks the stammering is cute. “Suit” is such a composed guy that it is cute. “Well, yeah. Unless the terminology has changed, yeah, suit, a date.”

Hotch’s throat feels impossibly tight. He’s aware of Charlie, very aware of him and his jaw and how hard the pads of his hands are and-- “I’m--” I’m not gay “Ugh, wh-when?”

Oh. Well, he wasn’t expecting it to be that easy. “Hmm, good question. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Charlie sucks his lip into his mouth, thinking. He snaps his fingers with a sudden idea. He bites the Sharpie’s lid off (the one he uses to write names on the cups) and hurriedly scribbles something on a napkin. “Here’s my number. Text me and we can work that out.”

That was… months ago.

Things have been steady. Good.

Pulling in a deep breath, Aaron Hotchner plunges his head under the luke-warm water of his bathtub. Goosebumps have broken out across his skin but the cold kills the ache in his overworked muscles. Besides, he’s entirely too distracted by two things: (1) he’s too fucking big to fit comfortably in this bathtub. Knees bent, his thighs are out of the water making this bath entirely useless. (2) The very unnervingly attractive coffee shop barista who’s shop he goes to, all the time. Who just so happens to be on his way over right now, for dinner.

“Wow.”

Startled by the sound, Hotch jerks and gets a mouthful of water and suds. Coughing and pulling at his burning nose, Hotch scowls at the intruder. None other than Emily Prentiss standing at the side of the tub, one hand on her hip, and the other extending a towel to him. “Emily!”

She raises an eyebrow of indifference as if he’s the one acting oddly. “You can hold your breath for an impressive amount of time,” she says. She moves the towel in front of him, trying to get him to take it from her. He won’t move his hands from where he’s placed them over his groin.

“Emily, get out!”

“Why are you making this a big deal?” she groans, rolling her eyes. “Hotch I have seen you naked!.” She puts the towel near the edge, where he can reach it without it falling into the water or to the floor. She makes a show of planting her hand over her eyes and turning her back. “Such a baby,” she mumbles. “What is the big deal?”

He ignores her.

She hears the water moving with him as he stands, large splashes as he disturbs the surface. “You’re welcome by the way,” she mumbles. She’d thrown the towel in the dryer so it would be warm for when he got out. Contrary to his dramatics, she does love him. He’s her friend and in the same ways that he takes care of her, she makes sure someone takes care of him. “Besides,” she says, turning around despite his disapproving huff of a sigh. “I came to tell you Charlie is here.”

Hotch freezes. Ah… that’s why she’d come in. That deer in the headlights look that she doesn’t see nearly enough of. It’s silly, if not endearing, that Hotch gets so nervous for these dates. Charlie is pretty clearly head over heels for him and it’s a little surprising. Charlie all bright and cheery, a hard extravert. Perfect, always early to their dates, Charlie.

“He’s early,” Hotch stammers.

Emily nods. The date is at seven-thirty and it’s not quite six. “He knows,” she informs him, settling her hips back against the sink. She’s not watching him throw on his boxers but she’s just… standing there, talking as he drops the towel and makes quick work of drying himself off and pulling his legs into pants. “He also knows you’re in the bath so don’t go breaking your neck. I don’t want to tell your seven-foot-tall, beefcake of a boyfriend that you’ve managed to kill yourself in here.”

Hotch huffs, rolling his eyes. It would be just his luck that he breaks his neck in here while buck ass naked, with Charlie in the living room no doubt. Though, that is a bit of a ridiculous thought to care about. Here Emily is standing, casually watching him pull jeans over his boxers, having already seen him in his full glory. Charlie, even, has seen all of what he has to offer. He’s spent the majority of his life in the company of Jessica. She’s seen him in hospital gowns, bare assed which is strangely humiliating (and there’s the bonus of the repressed memories of Jessica catching him and Haley multiple times).

They’ve all seen him naked but that’s still not something he wants to deal with.

“You really do look strange in jeans,” Emily informs him as he’s shrugging on his shirt. Charlie had warned him against his more traditional polo. Evidently, he’d look like a “stiff” if he chose to wear a polo to the park. He shoots her a glare but it’s true. No matter how many times she sees him in regular clothes… she just can’t get used to it.

Charlie isn’t mean to him when he wears jeans though.

“There you are,” Charlie greets when Hotch steps out of the bathroom. The strange, beautiful thing about Charlie is that he doesn’t really care that Hotch’s life is crazy. He’d been unsettled by the grisly things that seem to occur so brutally to Hotch but he was quick, startlingly so, to remind Hotch that none of what Charlie had just been told sounded like it was Hotch’s fault. Despite Hotch’s swayed narration.

He’d thought it might be a bit strange to have Emily living in his apartment but Charlie also knew about the details leading up to that decision. The loss of Haley putting a strain on Jack’s independence and pattern of life. Being a single parent and a federal agent pulling Hotch every which way. Haley’s father, Roy, falling ill and commanding more of Jessica’s attention. Then, the fateful fall out with Ian Doyle, Emily moving to London, and the internal bleeding that had almost killed Hotch.

The last of which had been the end all be all. Emily came home and she found herself drawn back here by the less than stellar track record of her family. The abrupt decision landed her here, with Hotch, and it’s been beneficial for everyone involved.

Charlie feels a little safer knowing that when he has to go back to his own apartment, Hotch has his own apartment full of Jack and Emily waiting up for him. Even though he’s only been with Hotch a short while, he’s becoming more and more aware of the trouble that seems to follow his partner.

“Your hair is still wet!” Charlie kisses Hotch, fingers slipping easily through the soaked hair at the back of his head. “I won’t take you out in the cold until you’ve dried it. The last thing I need is you getting sick on me.”

Jack nods seriously hearing this. He’s seated beside Charlie on the couch, the two having been discussing superhero comics. It was turning into an argument when Hotch had come out (who would win between Batman and Ironman-- Charlie says Ironman and Jack Batman). “You can’t get sick,” Jack informs him firmly. “You promised you’d make pancakes for breakfast Saturday.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “All I’m good for to you people is my cooking skills.”

Charlie sucks in a breath, making a I don’t know about that, sort of face. “Just your pancakes, Aaron.” Charlie pats Hotch’s thigh the opposite of tender just downright taunting. “I love you but you can not cook or bake. You literally burn everything.”

The chorus of grunted seconding of that statement behind him feels like a betrayal but he really is bad at cooking. And math. And remembering general the most basic things. So, true but hey! “I’m going to go dry my hair,” Hotch announces, shaking his head. Sure, laugh it up now. They all need him. It’s funny now… brats.

“Get some gloves! There’s a wind chill!”

Emily huffs a laugh and Hotch turns around to catch it. He smirks at the sight of his living room, melancholy swelling in his throat. His family genuinely looks like his lesbian best friend, his ex-wife’s older sister, his son, and his 6’5 ex-college football player turned coffee shop owner boyfriend. It’s a little crazy and yet… comforting because at eighteen when he’d packed up his meager belongings to go to college, he didn’t think he was capable of having any of this.

As Charlie pulls him out the door-- hair dry-- Jack’s actively talking to them both. Something pointless but childish and so, by reason, very important. Emily’s reaching into his jacket and stuffing a pair of gloves into his pocket, throwing a scarf at his head. Jessica’s calling after them too and as soon as the door shuts Hotch pulls in a deep breath.

“They’re smothering,” Charlie informs him as they step off the porch. He offers his hand out to Hotch, scowling down at the icy steps.

Hotch hums in agreeance taking Charlie’s hand out of necessity for touch not help. “You’ll get used to it.” The implication of his statement comes to hit him centerfold but Charlie seems unaffected and Hotch is reminded that not even ten minutes Charlie had said that he loved him. “I love you but you can not cook or bake. You literally burn everything.”

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Aaron? Did you hear me?”

Hotch blinks stupidly, looking up, and shaking his head. “No,” he mumbles regretfully.

Charlie shrugs it off. “I asked if you were hungry, yet.” Though a year is not altogether that much time, especially when compared to their ages, Charlie would like to think he has an understanding of Aaron. He does know that for certain, actually. He squeezes Aaron’s hand within his own and smiles over at him. He’s got layers, Aaron, and you have to pay a price to understand each and every one.

Somehow, that enchants Charlie. He loves it. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give up to have another layer.

“No need to pretend to be,” Charlie explains as they separate to get into his car. “You either or you aren’t. I just wondered if you wanted dinner now or after the walk.” Charlie wants his opinion. He desperately wants to understand what is going on in Aaron’s head. The thoughts he has when he gets silent like this, his restless fingers digging and rubbing.

Hotch hums, reflexively drawing his arms to his chest after he buckles himself into the car. He fidgets anxiously as he tries to figure out the correct answer. What it is that Charlie wants to hear. Charlie likes to eat early, that’s something he’s noticed. However, if Charlie’s asking him then maybe he doesn’t want to eat early. Would Charlie be hungrier after a walk? If they eat now it’ll be cold outside by the time they can get to the park. Then Charlie’s going to be mad at him because it’ll be his fault for having chosen to eat early and go to the park late. Maybe then Charlie will finally realize how stupid this whole relationship is, that he can do better, someone who isn’t like him, and--

“Hey.” Charlie doesn’t reach out and touch him. That’s a lesson he’s learned over the last few months. Hotch doesn’t mind physical touch but he’s easily unnerved by it when he doesn’t know it’s coming. Considering how lost in thought he just was, there is no way he would have seen it coming. “We can just go after, okay?”

Hotch immediately calms, “okay.” His shoulders fall from where he’d slowly, stiffly brought them up. He nods his head, looking down to his lap, while Charlie drives. He has to calm down.

He looks over, catching Charlie’s smooth movement. His arm is on the center console, palm up in a common gesture waiting for Aaron to take his hand. He blinks for a moment, mind slowly turning over exactly what this is. Glancing at Charlie, Hotch slowly lifts his hand up and shyly slots his fingers between his. Smiling when Charlie doesn’t even react much more than a pleased grin.

Oh, he thinks calmly. He likes holding Charlie’s hand. He likes Charlie. The way that he just fills the silence without ever expecting Hotch to return the vigor. Simply requiring Hotch remain engaged with the occasional hum of understanding or scowl of confusion. And Hotch loves that so much more-- that he never has to find the words to explain that he doesn’t understand. Charlie just knows.

“You can’t.”

Charlie frowns, turning to glance at Hotch. “What do you mean?” That’s where the compensation occurs-- Charlie is awful at remembering things. He forgets his dry cleaning, appointments that he set up, holidays, birthdays, weekend plans-- everything. Hotch seems to forget nothing.

Hotch looks out the window of the passenger side, feeling the cold seeping in from the door, but docile and contently closes his eyes to narrow his attention to Charlie’s thumb rubbing lazy patterns on the back of his hand. “On the twenty-third you have interviews for waiters. Your morning, at the very least, is packed.”

Charlies frowns, well shit. “You know,” he says, giving Hotch’s hand a little squeeze. “If you just came to work with me, I wouldn’t have to have those interviews. It would fix so many of both of our problems.”

Hotch turns his head, smirking at Charlie. Not true. It would fix some of their issues-- how much time Hotch’s job steals from them, Charlie’s need for more staff. However, Charlie just wants him working there because Charlie thinks Hotch would look hot in the apron (actually, he knows Hotch is hot in the apron).

They arrive at the park and the two get out. Charlie immediately regrets coming out in this weather.

The grass crunches under Hotch’s feet but he enjoys the way the snow muffles so much of the noise around them. Leaving nothing but the few courageous birds watching them from their perches. It’s a safety Hotch finds entirely enrapturing. Enough to not mind the cold at all and how Charlie’s been fussing with his own clothes since they set off.

Hotch is just walking along. His hands are cold but not enough to ache and with Charlie’s covering the majority of his right hand, he can slip the left into his pocket. It’s not until Charlie squeezes his hand to get his attention that they stop, that Hotch pulls his attention to his partner and away from the scenery.

Charlie pulls him by the lapels of his dark jacket, turning him so that they’re standing facing one another. The toes of their shoes bumping together. “Come here,” Charlie instructs, words a cloud of condensation around them. He wastes no time in pulling the hat off of his own head to pull it down over Hotch’s. Smiling when it smushes his overgrown bangs against his forehead. “I don’t want you getting an ear infection out here. Gotta keep you healthy.”

Hotch shyly grins, looking down at the ground, “I’ll be okay.” He still turns his cheek into Charlie’s palm, letting him wrap that hand around the back of his neck, turning his chin up to kiss him. His lips are cold and the tip of his nose feels frozen. “It’s not that cold.”

Charlie shrugs and Hotch doesn’t pull the hat off.

“You outta be disgusted by yourselves.”

Hotch flinches, recoiling from Charlie and bowing his head rather than to look up and see who it is shouting at them. But Charlie is not new to this little game and he straightens his back and raises a questioning brow. “Oh? Should we?” He glares down at the woman on the track, it’s clear she’d been running before she decided to come nosing her way into their business. “I’d appreciate it if you left us alone, ma’am. We aren’t hurting anyone.”

She scoffs.

Charlie stands still, unwavering. They’re big men. Hotch may be a force to be reckoned with but Charlie is not, by any means, small. They’re the same height and the woman in question is a petite blonde. They’re intimidating. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head disgusted but stalks off. Whispering under her breath about hell and how their time will come.

“What a hag,” Charlie grumbles, rolling his eyes and reaching down between them to take Hotch’s hand. He steps to move on but he feels the resistance in Aaron. His hand now loosely holding on to Charlie, fingers lightly hooked together. “Aaron--”

Hotch forces himself to take a steadying breath-- drop his shoulders, unclench his jaw, inhale slowly. His eyes peel up off of the ground and he knows he hasn’t moved fast enough. Creases of worry have broken up Charlie’s handsome face, tension that doesn’t belong there. “I--”

Charlie shakes his head, discouraging Hotch’s lame excuse. “What she said…” Charlie can’t tell Hotch that what she said shouldn’t affect him. That he should brush it off and not worry about what a small minded bitch has to say about them but that’s not fair. None of this ever really is. Not when it comes to Aaron. “She doesn’t matter, Aaron. You. You matter to me, okay?”

Hotch furrows his brows, letting out an aggravated puff of air as he fails to work through the shame burning his chest.

Charlie looks around them, tapping his fingers as he contemplates what he should do. “Do you--” How, in all of Virginia did he manage to get the one DILF, Unit Chief with the inability to make a decision or admit what he needs? He means it fondly, of course, but sometimes he’d like to lovingly shake some sense into this man.

Taking a calming moment, Charlie knows that his ability to play out this next scene is vital to his afternoon. If Aaron detects even a fraction of impatience, anger, or frustration he’ll shut down and then Charlie is going to have to spend days if not weeks working Aaron back to where he is now.

“It’s cold out here,” he states calmly. Aaron glances at him, sniffling and rubbing at his wind burned nose. “I’m hungry, I-- I forgot my lunch at home this morning.” Even though Aaron bought him a bright, hunter’s orange lunch box that sits painfully on his kitchen counter so that he has to see it. “What do you say we turn back for the car and surprise Jack with an early return? Order pizza? Watch some Scooby Doo?”

Aaron sniffles again, glancing at Charlie and then to the path they’re clearly meant to be headed on. “But…” he clears his throat. He can’t stand being like this. The anxious partner. The fucked up partner. He was with Haley. Now he is with Charlie. And, well, everyone knows how Haley played out. “You-- You wanted to walk.”

Charlie shakes his head, smiling and playfully poking Hotch’s chest. “No, I want to spend time with you.” Though he’s terrified Aaron will recoil from it, he makes the careful decision to touch him. Smiling when Aaron just looks back at him, searching for something but Charlie isn’t mad so Aaron won’t find what he’s looking for. He strokes Aaron cheek, “I’m cold. You’re cold. We can walk if you want but…”

Hotch looks back down the trail and shakes his head. No, he doesn’t want to walk.

Charlie feels pretty proud of himself. He’s pretty good at this.

And Jack is thrilled to have them back.

Hotch feigns hurt when Jack runs straight past him to Charlie. “Am I chopped liver?” But his light, fluttering chest betrays him and he can’t help a soft smirk as Jack holds Charlie’s hand. Charlie nodding, listening to Jack as he kicks his shoes off.

Emily appears at the mouth of the hall, frowning at the sight before her. She’s in different clothes from when they left. One of her dating apps having finally come through and delivered her plans for this lovely evening. She was just about to call Hotch to tell him she was going to have to call Jessica to watch Jack. “What are you doing back?”

Before Hotch can overthink the question Charlie smirks and motions over his shoulder, “it’s like ten degrees out there. Way too cold for a walk, don’t know what I was thinking.”

Good enough excuse for Emily, she doesn’t care. She has other things on her mind. “I have a date.” Both Aaron and Charlie look surprised. Which is annoying but she won’t engage them in conversation because she’s better than that. “So, I will be out of your hair this afternoon.”

Well, kind of. She steals some of their pizza before she leaves. Even sits down for an episode of Scooby Doo before her date texts and says she’s ready.

“Well, boys,” she leans down and kisses the top of Jack’s head. Wishing him a good night and a whisper to make sure he’s extra good for his father when Hotch puts him down tonight. “I’m off. I will see you in the morning.” She offers Charlie a cordial head nod and Hotch gets his hair messed with as she passes.

“Be careful,” Hotch calls as she shuts the door.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to fall asleep and Hotch can feel himself slipping with Charlie leaning against him, his hand on the inside of Hotch’s thigh. Warm and comfortable, he doesn’t want to get up. But he manages to get Jack to bed with minimal fighting-- they agree to keep his nightlight, the hall light, and the bathroom light on. Emily even sends a text to confirm that she hasn’t been murdered by her date, he rolls his eyes but appreciates the sentiment.

It’s a good night, all things considered.

For a while, at least.

He’s in bed. Boxers shifted low on his hips as lays atop his beaten, threadbare comforter. The thick, heavy heat of an August night settling thickly over his bones. A blanket of sweat shining on his chest, just barely visible from the light of the hallway peaking into his cracked door. Downstairs, his parents roar on. He can make out every word spoken but if he hums just enough and presses his fingers into the thin mattress until it hurts he can numb out the world.

Nothing.

He thinks about Scott from his biology class. His booming laughter, already having hit his growth spurt and though only sixteen standing over them all in a man’s body. Thick with muscles that Aaron had felt when Scott had pulled him in for a tight, jovial bear hug. Perhaps he’d imagined it but for a split second Aaron had seen a flash of something-- warmth that he, himself, still can not name.

Closing his eyes, he brings back the heat of his stomach. A smile pulling at his lips as he thinks about how it felt pressed to Scott’s chest. Swallowed by the other’s boy’s body. The ache between his hips increases. It’s bad and it’s ugly but it’s Scott that he thinks about. It’s Scott that he wants.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Aaron scrambles upright, both hands planted on the bed as he scurries away from its edge and anywhere near where his father might be able to grab one of his frantically moving limbs. Still, a rough hand is thrown out and Aaron yelps in surprise as his body is yanked to the edge. He can’t hear the words being thrown at him, just looks at his drunken father screaming. Sees his mouth move but knows nothing of their meaning.

He’s wrenched up and out of bed, scrambling to keep up with the direction in which he’s pulled down the hall. To the large, cast iron clawfoot tub in the bathroom. He’s thrown chest first into it’s cold edge, his fingers wrapping tightly around the biting cold of the rim. He knows his fate long before his father’s broad hand grabs onto his hair and hauls him up just enough to push him down into the cold, soapy water.

His ringing ears hearing the slurs being thrown at him. Faggot. He screams as his father punches his exposed chest, causing him to gasp, the bubbles of air hitting his face. He’d used that word before. Thrown it at another boy the way rocks had been thrown at him for doing the same thing-- being too small, wearing weird clothes. He wonders exactly how it is that he can change because he tries. Good Lord, he tries so hard.

“Aaron.”

His vision blacks out for a moment and he’s lifted from the water. Everything feels strangely familiar. He can’t feel the cold water. Can’t feel the water dripping down his face.

“Aaron!”

He can’t expel the water in his throat. The hand on the back of his head tightens as water and his dinner come up, hot and wet against his chest as he’s moved mid-choke. His head goes under and he screams, grabbing frantically at his father’s hand on his head.

“Aaron--”

Screaming Aaron fights weakly against the hands touching him. It takes a moment for the uncoordinated sweeps of his arms to connect with nothing. For him to get a proper amount of space to breathe. The ringing numb of his ears slowly dies and he feels the world creeping back in around him. He blinks into the darkness, chest heaving First, the dull clicking of fan in the corner of the room. It sweeps left to right, pauses, and comes back right to left. Then the hobbling, swinging of the fan above him. Cold air.

He’s not there in that tiny, suffocating town. In that too-big house with too many places to be seen and not nearly enough to hide.

“You fucking scared me,” pants someone behind him.

A large hand plants itself between his shoulder blades, the bed dipping as weight is moved across it’s top. His body flinches but he’s only minutely aware of the physical movement and, slowly, the rest of him leans into the warmth of the palm. Tears swell as he turns over his shoulder, eyes closed, and going blindly where he knows arms will enclose him. Protect him. “Charlie,” he finally recognizes. His face finds the other man’s shoulder and he feels, rather than hears, the sob that leaves his grimacing lips.

Charlie wraps his arms around Hotch’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

Hotch gives himself over, leaning completely into him. Gently, Hotch feels Charlie moving parts of him to adjust them back onto the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” Charlie lays back, pulling Hotch’s knee so his hips cant against Charlie’s. The inner side of Hotch’s thighs lies laying across his. There’s no need to open his eyes, to fight. He knows he’s safe.

His tears have slowed but there’s no denying something big has happened. Lately, Hotch has noticed Charlie pushing for him to open up more but Charlie and Hotch’s childhoods are nothing alike. It’s hard to tell him about the dozen times his father put him in the hospital, each time with a better story than the last, and always Hotch’s fault. Had the whole town believing Hotch to be some miscreant kid.

And he was bad but not the sense that was ever true. He’d smoked and drank but that was small-town stuff. Everyone gets into that sort of thing one way or another. He’d had sex but no one he and his partners knew about that, his male partners, anyhow. The first time he’d slept with Haley he’d been proud to have fallen for a woman.

There was an old run-down barn that he’d take boys out to. There was one wall, facing the woods, that was strong enough to support weight and you could lean up against it. He’d been caught only once and the old farmer had beaten him with the wooden end of a rake. The other boy had managed to run off. Hotch’s pants had pooled against around his ankles and the other boy hadn’t taken his completely off his hips. That was a mistake Hotch only made that one time. Not that it would have mattered.

After that day, everyone knew what he was.

Which is what bred his nightmare. Though, that night had gone nothing like his dream. He’d come home with welts and broken ribs from the beating that old farmer gave him. As soon as he opened the door, he knew what was waiting for him. It was from the first floor that his father had dragged him, by his hair, to the second floor. Where Sean’s dirty bathwater sat cooling all afternoon.

But Hotch won’t tell Charlie about that day. It’s not worth it. So he changes the subject. “We need to clean the sheets,” Hotch finally sniffles. His voice is rough from the night’s activities and he remembers what they’d done before he’d fallen asleep and knows that surely did not help. Under his left hip, there is dampness to the old cotton sheet, like something wet has been drying. Sheets probably should be replaced but these are the back-up sheets and the goods ones are in the dryer.

Charlie hums, a vibration that Hotch can feel all the way down to his toes. “That would be your mess,” Charlie informs him matter-of-factly. Pressing his lips to Hotch’s forehead. “I did try to clean you up if you recall.” Charlie’s fingers have wrapped protectively around Hotch’s body, thumb lazily rubbing back and forth over his bare hip. “You told me to fuck off so…”

He remembers. He was still sensitive, shaking with exertion, and hadn’t taken kindly to Charlie dragging a slightly too cold wash rag over his ass. First of all, it was way too wet and secondly, it was cold. What was he to do other than protest?

Charlie’s chest shifts underneath his head as he bends to look at the clock. Yawning deeply Charlie pulls the blankets back over them both, rubbing at Hotch’s hip. “Let’s get some sleep,” he mumbles around another yawn that manages to overtake his breath. “Don’t be afraid to wake me up,” Charlie mumbles. “I want you to wake me up, capeesh?”

Hotch closes his eyes and turns a little more into the warmth of Charlie’s body. Trying to think of nothing. To slow the rapid progressions of his thoughts. There is no way that this was a good idea. A relationship. A life. He brought Haley into his world and looked at what happened. He’s a swirling storm of trouble, sucking in the best parts of the world and ruining them. He’s a liar.

“I love you, Aaron,” Charlie whispers, straining his neck to kiss the top of Hotch’s head. His hand holds Aaron still against him. “I don’t want you to be lying here suffering afraid to talk to me.”

I love you. I love you. I love you. That’s not good. It can’t be. He’s not worth that. Charlie is great. He’s gentle and he’s kind and he’s loving and Hotch can’t even decide when they should eat. If a walk in the park is better than a movie.

“You have not tricked me.” He wonders how Charlie sees so clearly into his mind. It’s not mind reading, Charlie can feel his pounding heart and tense muscles. He’s always so tense. “I love you completely, entirely, enchantingly by choice.” Charlie sighs softly. Content. He wishes desperately to bring Aaron the same peace that Aaron brings him. It's a content, pleased sigh that leaves his mouth and that confuses Aaron so much. No louder than a whisper, seemingly more to himself than to Aaron Charlie whispers. “There are worse life sentences than to be tricked into falling in love with you.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jack hotchner #bi!hotch #tw homophobia #tw child abuse #criminal minds fanfiction

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crystalized-cove · 5 years ago

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【Trapped Beneath】

[ Jade Leech x Reader x Floyd Leech ]

NSFW : You’re warned, little guppy

Stumbling along, she gripped the energetic twin’s hand tighter as they hurried through the corridors to outside in the courtyard. Heading past the statutes to head to the backwoods, often their little hiding space away from Octavinelle and the rest of the academy. Adrenaline pumped through her. Floyd had convinced her to actually skip Flying lessons that day to hang out alone with him [mostly because she was afraid of heights on such a flimsy stick]. Giggling softly, she tugged on his hand a bit to have him slow down, only able to run so fast for so long with her stamina. His head turned to look at her, slowing down at her request, yet he still briskly walked as he tugged her along with him. Flashing his usual lazy grin as he squeezed her hand in reassurance.

“Come on, Koebi-chan~… You’re too slow.”

“I-I’m just here as your guy’s support, so I don’t need such impatience! What’s with the rush anyway? We got past the professors.” She shakes her head a bit with a small smile uplifting her lips. Moving closer to his side as they continued to walk alongside the dirt path. Soon getting to the backwoods where they usually went during the break, even to relax. Though it was hard to go there during a school-wide event, it was now free to them once more. The two head through the woods and shrubbery as they get pretty far in, stopping at some point as she giggles. “Floyd, isn’t right here fine?”

“You’re right. This is a ‘fine’ spot, dear.” Her eyes end up widening a bit as she turns around, noticing Jade walk up to the two of them. Her brow raised a bit in confusion at the other twin before she could feel Floyd wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. Leaning down, he bites her ear causing her to jump a bit, trying to hide that side of her face.

“I-I, well, uhm...” she began to sputter out, not sure of what to even say. That fell deaf upon their ears as that didn’t even matter, she quickly had to hide her other ear with Floyd biting it as well. Moving his lips to her jawline, her cheeks were dusted pink. His arms tightening his grip as he pulled her flush against him.

Jade moved closer as he grabbed her hands and kissed one of her wrists. His gaze moving to her as he leans over, seeming to pause over her lips. Smiling his usual smile, yet it seemed to not reach his eyes this time. Her hands moved to rest on his chest, gripping his blazer for some stability between the two. Tilting her head up for him to kiss her, expecting this. Yet this was where she made the mistake of exposing herself. Jade took the incentive and dipped his head down, kissing her neck and drawing his teeth against her skin. Feeling her tremble between them and gasp at the sudden sensation. Biting the inside of her cheek to not make a sound, to not give in to their whims. Yet as they ran their lips or teeth against her skin, it was all just making her feel dizzy and hot. Floyd moved her shirt a bit as his fingers had been toying beneath the fabric, tugging it down to expose her shoulders more as he suddenly bit down. Drawing his tongue against her skin as he felt her roll her head back against him. Not minding her lean against him as it was cute in his eyes. Moving to bite down on her skin again as Jade watched for a moment, a very slight frown coming onto his face as he then shifted against her form. Both usually marking her with any kind of markings or bites they were allowed to. Jade pressed down into her and kept a knee between her legs. Leaning down close as he drew his tongue around the shell of her left ear before nibbling on it. Hearing her mewl in delight like a kitten before he blew inside lightly. Chuckling to himself.

“You don’t know how much we missed you, dear. The feeling of your soft, supple skin underneath our fingers,” he hums as he draws his hands down her sides, “Dear brother of mine had to find other ways to please himself when you left us. Don’t do it again.” His eyes narrow as he smiles. Noticing her body tense up at his words before she squeaks as Floyd bites her skin again, wanting her attention on him. The other twin chuckled at how obsessive he was with the girl. “You’ve kept us waiting impatiently. Usually, that goes with punishment, but... I think this is out of your element, which is punishing enough for you,” he murmurs as he draws his tongue down her neck. Eliciting a sweet, tiny moan from her. The two shuddering as they felt a pleasant chill run down their spine from the mere little sounds she made.

Moving themselves a bit against her, she felt Floyd begin to grind against her arse as Jade moved closer, kissing her jawline and back down her neck. Her head rolling back against Floyd’s shoulder as she felt trapped between them. Unable to run from their kisses and sharp bites; even if she wanted to she felt absorbed by the two. Unsure what to say or do as she could barely move to tug on their clothes or catch the other’s attention. Feeling her shirt tugged down once more as she turns her head, “F-Floyd, s-stop… you’ll stretch the shirt…” she whispers beneath her breath, a little scared to even stop him now as she could tell how needy he was. How unforgiving his own strength was. But she felt him rest his hands back on her waist, rubbing his thumb in slow circles as he kisses the back of her neck. Moving to take her bra strap between his teeth, pulling it back and letting it snap against her skin. Chuckling at the way her back began to arch as a reaction.

“Ko. E. Bi. Chan~,” he purrs into her ear, gripping her waist tighter as he slides a hand beneath her shirt, feeling her soft skin. “Did you miss us? Did you miss me? I’m sure that first-year was just a snack for you, right?” His tone was lowering after each question, causing her to breath a little heavier each time. Her mind racing as she failed to see Floyd began to unbutton her shorts and have Jade draw them down.

“A-Are you talking about Ace?...” She turns her head up to him now, her eyes meeting his gray one as he grins and kisses her nose.

“You’ve been with him an awful lot lately… Are we not good enough for you?” He seems to mock a pout. Gaining attention from his brother who chuckles and draws his fingers now against her exposed thighs, kissing her collarbone and slowly moving down. Allowing himself to kneel down between her legs as he knew Floyd had a firm grip on her. Her gaze moving down now as her shorts fell against her ankles, watching Jade remove her underwear as well to set to the side. Shifting on her feet as she looked around the area, anywhere but on the man in front of her.

“I-I don’t think r-right here is the best spot-!” She gasps as the one behind her sucks on the pulse of her neck. Gripping some of his hair now and tugging on it, biting her lower lip to not just cry out loudly. But this caused him to suck even hard, drawing his teeth down against her skin. His hands running higher up her torso as he stopped once he was able to elicit a moan from her. Chuckling into her ear as one hand rested against a breast, giving a small squeeze to feel her up.

“Koebi-chan, don’t hold back from us… You know what happens if you do~” His tongue slides down her jawline and neck as she gasps again, her fingers moving through his teal locks. Letting out a soft squeak as her legs were soon lifted up, feeling picked up by the both of them as Jade had moved closer. Floyd let out a loud whine as she slowly registers what was happening. The twin in front of her had already undone his pants to around his thighs as he held her up with his hands on her ass. Positioning himself already against her entrance. Floyd clearly being jealous as he shifts and drops his own pants, rubbing himself against her arse now and grinding against her. Peppering her ear and neck in kisses as she was suddenly sandwiched between the Leech twins. Unable to move on her own as her feet didn’t even touch the ground, her arms moving to wrap around Floyd’s neck for some stability.

Smooth hands grip her arse tighter before beginning to have her more exposed for his brother. Leaning down as Jade smiles, kissing her lips briefly. “Just relax and let us do the work, dear. Nothing but our names should come out of those delicious lips of yours,” he muses against her lips. Rubbing his tip against her lower lips for a moment, sliding against her as he could easily tell how turned on she was. Both twins know how to have her melt easily as Jade nods to his brother, Floyd smiling now and kissing her cheek. Her gaze went between the two before she squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling them both push inside her at the same time in different entrances. Her body hot and tight around them as Floyd was the first to let out a breathy moan, having to hold himself back from just going at it behind her. Subtly placing more kisses over her neck and exposed shoulder as she slowly sinks against both their hips. Taking the both of them completely as Jade rolled his hips, lifting her up a bit by her ass so they could all be closer. Her legs a bit bent around his lower back, interlocking her ankles as she was afraid of falling. Slowly opening an eye suddenly to see Jade rest his forehead against hers, giving a small smile. Her cheeks slowly burn up as she slides a bit against Floyd. Biting her lower lip when he started to move first. Jade keeps them stable as he hushes her from her whimpers, gently kissing her lips.

“Close your eyes and just relax…” he whispers as he rolls his hips. Testing with a small buck of his hips as her body jolts. Her knees lightly pressing into him for a moment as he looks at his brother. The two shifted once more before Floyd pulled out almost all the way. Confusion creases her brow before she squeals as he pushes back in, Jade pulling out as he did so. Her body began to tremble a bit as they started to synchronize their movement, continuing this inside her. Her soft pants getting heavier and heavier as they moved, listening to the moans pass her lips grow louder. Both brothers gradually pick up the pace after a few minutes, moving harder and faster. Her body rocking between them as she had no control, tugging on Floyd’s hair and mewling out his name. Jade rolls his hips as well as he moves over and slides his lips over hers. Muffling any sounds she made to keep her attention on him. His brother’s eyes narrowing at this as he snaps his hips, nipping her shoulder to make her cry against Jade’s lips. Though Floyd meant to make his brother jealous, his own eyes widened a bit as he took this chance to slide his tongue past her lips. Interlocking the warm muscle against her and drawing it out. Wrapping around and teasing her as he had a full view of the two French kissing. Her small pants and mewls muffled by his tongue teasing her, unable to pull away. Both continued to move their hips in a rhythm that made her head spin. Jade is the first to feel her begin to tighten around his member and throb. Shifting his hips as it just felt too good. Almost wishing his brother wasn’t there to have her all to himself. Floyd notices their movements as he moves his hands and squeezes abreast again, licking her neck as he moves faster than Jade now. Whispering huskily in her ear as she was forced to listen to any naughty thing he said. Her breathing quickens as she turns her head to the side now, breaking from Jade as she cries out. Tightening around the two as Jade could feel her climax. His movements suddenly stopped as his heart almost leaped from his chest, the feeling almost euphoric. His lips resting on the top of her head as he rolled his hips and slowly started to move through her climax. Using her other ear to whisper sweet nothings as she felt both twins try to reach their own sweet release. Her body rocking between the two as her mind was foggy and completely muddled in bliss. Not even able to notice until it was too late Floyd released inside her as Jade pulled out to have her stomach covered in him. Her cheeks a dark shade of red as soon they all stood there catching their breath.

Peppering her neck and shoulder in soft kisses, he kept a grip on her arse so they could stay close. Kissing her skin as Jade continued to whisper sweet nothings. Floyd shifting and resting his chin on her other shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment as he huffs. “When we get back, you’re not leaving me for a second…” his voice had lowered to an almost childish whine. Jade notices this as he looks up at him.

“Us, Floyd. She won’t leave us.” His eyes narrow now as he smiles. Soon unentangling themselves as Floyd helps her dress first. Jade fixes himself then letting her lean into him as Floyd pulls his pants up. “But you can just stay in our room. We have some studying to do, and I don’t think we both would deny a reward for after,” he chuckles. Floyd moved and then picked her up in his arms, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as he kept her there in a bridal carry. The three of them head to the Hall of Mirrors to the dormitory.

#twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #octavinelle #floyd leech #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader

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masc-reader-insertss · 4 years ago

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fuck labels- kai anderson

tw// mentions of abuse, bullying, manipulation, suicidal thoughts and murder, and smut too hehe

i'm trying to get requests done but i just needed to write something to get my creativity going again

i'll double check for spelling/grammar tomorrow:)

this one is for you leo, ceo of cheeto kink

———

y/n had never really learnt how to stand up for himself. his entire life he'd been pushed around. at school, it was rare for him to leave without bursting into tears on his way out, he'd never had a single friend, and it was only worse when he got home. nothing he did was ever good enough for his parents, no matter what he tried he could never make them proud. they'd always end up finding something to yell at him over, and when they had finally had enough and kicked him out when he was nineteen, he was completely broken. with no money, and no one he could turn to, he was alone. he felt worthless, and he'd even contemplated taking his life. he had nothing, till he met kai.

y/n had never known what it was like to feel cared for till kai had walked up to him that day on the street to ask if he was okay. he had been so sad, scared and vulnerable that he'd fallen right into the other mans trap. for the first time in his life, y/n finally had someone. kai gave him everything he'd been missing. y/n was so easy to read, anyone could tell what it was he needed, and that was what had made it so easy to lure him in. all kai had to do was tell him how special he was, and he had him wrapped around his finger. compliments were always the way for kai to get y/n to do whatever he wanted. the first time he'd killed, he'd been terrified, shaking so much he could barely hold the knife, but as soon as kai had come up behind him and whispered to him "you can do this, i believe in you", y/n gripped the knife like it was a life line, and sunk it into the chest of their victim.

kai had noticed the way y/n would look at him whenever he thought he wasn't looking, and it seemed some of the other cults members had too, because when kai had come downstairs looking for y/n, he found him curled up on the couch near tears as a few of the others surrounded him, all laughing at him. "it's not funny! i'm not gay, i told you already" y/n hissed out as he buried his face even deeper into his arms. kai sent the others a glare, and they all quickly hushed at that, scattering as kai knelt down to face y/n.

"hey, y/n, look at me" kai spoke softly, placing a gentle hand on his knee. y/n sniffed quietly and slowly lifted his head, looking up at kai. "i'm sorry for getting upset again, i just.. they kept teasing me, it's not fair. they always do this to me" kai hushed y/n quietly, bringing his other hand up to cup y/n's face. "you don't need to apologise, remember what i told you? they only go after you because they're jealous of how special you are" like always, that was all it took to make y/n feel better, his face heating up as he bit his lip. "yeah.. i think they know i'm your favourite" he let out a small laugh as he spoke, looking down for a moment. kai grinned, reaching for y/n's hands to hold them gently. "exactly, and since you're my favourite, i have a special job, just for you" y/n's face lit up at that, and he smiled so wide it almost hurt his cheeks. "just for me?" he questioned, and kai nodded, giving y/n's hands a gentle squeeze. "you're the only one i trust enough to do this, i know you'd never betray me" he kept his hold on y/n's hands as he pulled him up to stand, leading him to the bathroom.

y/n always felt special when he was around kai, he was the only one who could make him feel like he really mattered, like he was needed, and he would do anything for him. "what do you need me to do?" he asked, tilting his head a little as he watched kai search through the bathroom cabinet. after a moment kai turned around, and he was holding an electric razor in his hands. "i think it's time for a change, don't you?" he asked before he plugged in the razor and handed it to y/n. "you want me to shave your hair off?" he asked as kai pulled in a stall to sit down on. kai nodded, watching y/n through the bathroom mirror. "i'm a councilman now, if i want them to take me seriously, i need to look a bit more professional, don't you think?" before he'd met kai, no one had ever really asked y/n for his opinions on anything, it felt nice to know someone actually cared about what he had to say. "i think it shouldn't matter. you're obviously the smartest person on that whole board, they just don't see it yet" he hummed quietly as he began to shave kai's hair, smiling at him gently through the mirror.

as the hair began to pile up on the floor kai watched y/n through the mirror, and he didn't miss the way he would blush whenever they would meet eyes. soon, the floor was covered, and kai brought a hand up to feel his head. "did i do good?" y/n asked, smiling wide when kai turned around to nod at him. "there's one more thing i need you to do.." he reached back to the cabinet again, and when he pulled out a cut throat razor, y/n tensed up. "i- i don't know if i can do that.. what if i hurt you by accident?" y/n looked down, digging his nails into his palms. kai stood up and reached a hand out, lifting y/n's face up by his chin. "you could never hurt me, i trust you" he spoke so softly that y/n couldn't help but give in, and he gave a gentle nod, taking the razor. "okay.." he murmured quietly, looking down at the razor in his hand and biting his lip a little.

this was much more close than before, y/n was in full concentration as he focused on making sure he got this done without accidentally hurting kai. "what were they teasing you about?" kai spoke up out of the blue, and y/n was so startled that he nearly slipped and cut kai, taking a moment to steady his hand again before he continued. "it's.. it was stupid, doesn't matter anymore.." he mumbled with a shrug, but he knew kai wouldn't drop it. "why'd you have to tell them that you're not gay?" kai asked, and this time y/n paused. "because i'm not.. but they think i am, because of how i look at you.." kai raised an eyebrow at that, taking y/n's free hand. "you don't have to justify yourself to them. there's no such thing gay or straight or bi, it's just people loving people" he squeezed y/n's hand again, and y/n just sighed again. "i don't like men though.. i just.." y/n was cut off by kai standing up to pull him into a kiss. y/n stayed still for a moment before he kissed back, closing his eyes. kai pulled back after a moment to look down at y/n, keeping his hands cupping his face. "how did that make you feel?" he asked, and y/n stayed silent for a moment before he finally spoke up. "good.." he spoke quietly, looking up at kai. he'd never kissed anyone before this, and kissing kai just felt so right. before he could speak up again kai kissed him again, and y/n set down the razor, bringing his hand up to cup kai's face.

kai gripped y/n's hips as he backed him up against the sink, pulling back to look down at him again. "no reason to let them get to you now, is there?" he hummed quietly before he spun y/n around, making him face the mirror. "they don't understand you the way i do.. they don't see what i see. when they look at you, they see some weak pushover, but when i look at you.. i see who you really are. you're so special, you're stronger than any of them will ever be, i know the real you" y/n gripped the sink tightly, his face burning a bright red as he listened to kai. "you really think all that?" he asked as he watched kai through the mirror. "i don't think, i /know/ kai murmured before he began to press gentle kisses to y/n's neck, gently biting and sucking at his neck. y/n let out a breathy whimper at the feeling, and his grip on the sink tightened even more as he felt kai grin against his neck.

"you can't let them push you around like that any more. you have to show them how strong you are, how /special/ you are" kai murmured against y/n's neck, and y/n closed his eyes again, biting down on his lip. "i don't feel special.." he spoke softly, opening his eyes to watch kai again. kai pulled back from y/n's neck to look back at him. "then let me show you how special you are" y/n gave a small nod at that, though he had no idea what kai had in mind. before he had a chance to question kai, a hand came down to fumble with his belt, and y/n looked down quickly only to be met with another hand coming up to grip him by the jaw and lift his head back up. "just watch" kai pressed a kiss to y/n's jaw before he continued, and y/n let out a shaky breath as their eyes locked through the mirror.

y/n had never had a friend before let alone a boyfriend, so he was knew to all of this. he had no idea what to expect as his pants were pulled down, and when kai brought his hand up to wrap around him y/n nearly jumped at the feeling, letting out a whimper of pleasure as he leant into his touch. "kai-" he gave a moan of the others name when he began to jerk him off, bucking his hips up to follow the sensation. his mind was racing as kai trailed feather light kisses along his neck, and he closed his eyes only to open them again moment later as kai pressed up against him. y/n could feel his hard on pressing against his ass, and it made his face heat up. "tell me how it feels" kai started, running his thumb over the tip of y/n's sensitive cock and grinning at the sound it pulled from him before he continued to speak. "tell me what you want" he finished, pulling his hand from y/n much to his disappointment. "i.." y/n trailed off, biting his lip a little. he was still trying to get used to this, he'd never been in this type of situation. "i want you to keep touching me.. i want you to fuck me" he spoke so quietly kai almost couldn't hear him, but he still smirked at his words, one hand moving to undo his own belt while he brought the other up to press two fingers against y/n's mouth, giving a small hum of approval when he took them into his mouth with ease, running his tongue along them as if they were his cock.

it was a strange sensation at first as kai pushed his first finger into him, and it took y/n a few moments to get used to it but once he did, he was quickly moaning out for kai to add in another, arching his hips back when he did. when kai drew his fingers back y/n gave whine of disapproval before kai hushed him again and spat into his own palm, wrapping it around himself. the moans that he let out as he jerked himself off for a few moments made y/n give a few moans of his own, though he quickly fell silent when kai pressed up against him. the slight pain that came when kai pushed in made him tense up for a moment, but kai was quick to comfort him just like he always did, whispering gentle praises to him and pressing soft kisses to his neck and shoulders. y/n was so deep in his trap that he had no clue kai was only ever kind to him for his own gain, he didn't know this was all part of his manipulation, gaining his trust so he would follow him without question, and it was already working perfectly.

once y/n had finally adjusted, he gave a small nod, and kai ran his hands down to grip at y/n's hips as he gave a few gentle thrusts, and y/n let out a gasp of pleasure at that, squeezing his eyes shut. kai grinned at that, leaning forward and pressing his lips right against the shell of y/n's ear as he whispered "open your eyes, i want you to see". that made y/n let out one of the most heavenly moans kai had ever heard, and he began a quick pace at that, letting out quiet grunts of pleasure every now and then. y/n was in complete bliss, the feeling that came with kai staring straight at him as he pounded into him making it all even better.

"does it feel good?" kai breathed out, the sound of skin against skin filling the silence. y/n nodded, arching his head back and crying out when kai hit something inside of him that made his vision blur for a few moments. "so good- right there, harder- please" he pleaded, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping at the sink. kai was quick to oblige, becoming even more forceful with his thrusts as he pounded y/n against the sink. "does it make you feel special?" he continued with his questions and when y/n only nodded he gave a small hum and continued talking. "good.. you're not gonna let them push you around any more, right?" y/n gave a quiet mumbled response, but that wasn't enough for kai. he halted his thrusts for a moment, staring back at y/n before he repeated his last question. "you're not gonna let them push you around anymore, /right?/ he spoke lowly, trailing one of his hands to wrap around y/n's neglected cock, giving it a few gentle pumps. y/n nodded quickly, speaking up quickly. "n-never again" his voice was shaky as he spoke, he was just desperate for kai to continue, he'd never felt pleasure like this in his life, and it was so overwhelming.

kai shook his head a little, pulling his hand back and keeping his eyes locked on y/n as he pulled out of him. "you're only telling me what i wanna hear so i'll keep fucking you.. if you really mean it, prove it" y/n spun around and looked up at him with such desperation in his eyes as he quickly shook his head, reaching out to grab his hands. "you know i would never lie to you, i promise i mean it, i'll never let them hurt me ever again" the desperation seeped into his voice as he entwined his pinky finger with kai's. "i promise, i'll /never/ let them push me around again, i'll make sure they all know how special i am" he swallowed gently and gave a small nod, looking up at kai. kai looked back at y/n, bringing his hand up to press a kiss to the back of it. "this is why you've always been my favourite.. i can always trust you" he spoke against y/n's hand, and without another word he gripped y/n by the hips again and picked him up, setting him against the sink before he pushed into him again, pulling y/n into a heated kiss as he went back to slamming into him. y/n wrapped his legs around kai's waist, digging his heels into his back and throwing his arms around his shoulders as he moaned into his mouth. the pleasure was so overwhelming, and when kai wrapped his hand around him again it was too much for y/n. he pulled back from the kiss to arch his head back and let out one last moan of kai's name before he finally came over his and kai's stomachs, nails leaving angry red scratch marks down his back.

kai moaned out at that, and gave a few more hash thrusts that had y/n squirming before he came too, stilling for a moment to regain his breath. y/n slumped forward and laid against kai's chest, nuzzling his face into his neck. he was so completely tired and blissed out that he could barley stand on his own when kai pulled out and pulled back, reaching down to pull his pants back on. kai came up behind him as he cleaned himself up, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of his forehead. "remember what you promised" he spoke quietly, and y/n gave a small nod, turning to look at him. "you're the only one who's ever cared about me.. why do you care so much?" he asked, tilting his head a little. kai brought a hand up to cup his cheek gently, looking down at him. "because i've always been able to see the real you, i know what you're really like, now you just have to show the rest of the world" he stroked y/n's cheek with his thumb gently before he pulled away to pull his own clothes back on. y/n really was completely under his control now, there wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for kai after this, and that was exactly what he wanted from him.

#kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x male reader #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x male reader #ahs #american horror story #american horror story cult #ahs cult #achillian #achillian fanfiction

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elliestarvengers03 · 4 years ago

Text

A Walk After You’re Gone

Hi! I’ve never posted one of my writing works before so I hope you like it!

A little backstory on my OC, Ellie: She is a triplet to Wanda and Pietro but was separated from them when she was 8 and became an Avenger after working with HYDRA and attempting to kill Captain America during the time period of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

Key: Italics = flashback

Hours after Steve returned to the current time, Ellie found herself wandering around the woods. The same area she and Steve would walk around in after rough missions.

She pulled her hands into her sleeves, looking around the empty woods. She spotted a tree that reminded her of something.

“But really, what is your favorite ice cream flavor.” Ellie asked as she squeezed Steve’s hand.

“I already told you, I don’t like ice cream.” He chuckled.

“I still don’t believe you! Even people who are lactose intolerant like ice cream!”

Steve pulled Ellie around to the tree, pressing her back lightly against it, “I really, truly, don’t like ice cream.” His eyes stared desperately into hers.

She looked between his eyes, trying to read his thoughts without doing it literally, “You really don’t like ice cream?” She said in a higher pitch.

“I really don’t like ice cream.” He said softly.

She smiled and squeezed his hand again, “Weirdo.”

Tears started to grow in Ellie’s eyes as she pushed the memory away and kept walking. Only a few feet further, there was a circle of trees that reminded her of one particular night.

Ellie ran into the woods, breathing heavy and crying. She didn’t stop until she found a circle of trees, perfect to sit by. She leaned her hands onto the rough wet bark of one of the trees as it continued to pour.

“Ellie?” Steve yelled from a distance.

His voice caused Ellie to cry more, millions of emotions going through her head. She slowly leaned her knees to the muddy ground and pressed the top of her head to the tree in front of her.

“Ellie?” Steve yelled again, sounding closer. The panic in his voice had increased, “C’mon baby, where are you?”

She kept her head down and stayed as still as she could with tremors of fear rushing over her body.

Steve’s heart pounded in his chest as he continued searching the woods for her. In the near distance he saw a circle of trees with a small, drenched body kneeling at the foot of one. “Ellie!” He exclaimed and ran up to her, kneeling down beside her. He carefully pulled her into his arms, pressing her head to his chest, “You scared me.” He whispered into her head.

“I can’t be an Avenger,” She cried, “I can’t do this. I’m not built for it.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Ellie sat back on her heels, noticing he still had his uniform on. They hadn’t been back for long, “I’m not a fighter like you all are. I can’t,” she tensed her hands, “I just can’t.”

Steve lowered her brows in confusion, trying to understand what she was thinking, “Who told you that?”

“No one told me anything, Steve!” She dropped her head, “I’m not the right person for this job.”

Steve still didn’t believe it.

“It’s not like my abilities are unique,” She mumbled, “Wanda and Pietro have the same abilities as me so you’ll be just fine without me.”

There it was. Steve almost smiled in relief, “Ellie, sweetheart, beautiful and wonderful light of my life.”

Ellie kept her head down and laughed.

“Stop letting your siblings determine your confidence. You can’t let them shake the ground you have tried so hard to build for years.”

She nodded.

Steve reached a hand out to lift her chin, “You are strong enough to be an Avenger. You’re needed on this team.”

She sniffled and nodded the best she could with Steve’s hand holding her face.

He pulled her towards him, meeting her in the middle for a kiss.

That memory made Ellie’s heart sink to her stomach. She thought about turning around to go back to where Sam, Bucky, Bruce, and a now old Steve was but she wasn’t ready for that yet. She continued forward a little longer, until she started to hear running water from the creak that peaked in and out of the woods. She turned her head to look at the water and stopped dead in her tracks when her heart fluttered.

“Where are we going?” Ellie giggled.

Steve held a hand over her eyes and guided her through the woods to a very specific spot, “We’re almost there.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Rogers,” She tried to use her remaining senses to figure it out, accidentally smacking Steve right in the face, “Oh my god I’m sorry!” She gasped, trying not to laugh.

He smiled and shook it off, “I can’t tell you where we’re going if you kill me before we get there.”

“Sorry.” She whispered with a small giggle.

A few more steps and he removed his hand from her eyes.

In front of her she saw a small creak of water and in front of it a red blanket with a basket of food on it, “Steve,” She whispered, “This is amazing.”

He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “You like it?” He mumbled against her shoulder, pressing small kisses up to her neck.

“Yes, I like it. It was kinda implied when I said ‘This is amazing.’ Steve.” She smiled, holding onto his arms.

He took a step in front of her, holding out his hand to her, “Shall we?”

“We shall.” She said, taking his hand, letting him lead her to the blanket and sitting down together.

After eating, Ellie sat with her eyes closed, letting the wind brush over her skin.

Steve admired her, “How did I get so lucky?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“I should be asking the same question.” She smirked.

Steve’s heart fluttered with the thought of the reason he brought her out and away from the compound, “Ellie?”

The sudden worry in his voice caused her to open her eyes and turn her head to him, “What’s going on? Are you okay?” She asked quickly. Her hand reached out for his, squeezing it tight when she found it.

“Everything is fine, amazing actually. I...I need to tell you something.”

She swallowed, “You can tell me anything, Steve.”

“I… I uh,” He looked right into her eyes, squeezing her hand, “I love you.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up, and a smile grew on her lips.

“I love you, Ellie Anne Maximoff.” He whispered.

Ellie moved her hands to the sides of his face as she crawled closer to him, “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers.”

His facial expression went from a sick puppy to a man in love. He smiled, pulling at her waist and forcing his lips to hers.

That did it. Ellie stood, holding her arms and sobbing. Had she really just lost the first person she’d really love to the woman who broke them up? With her mind filled with regret, she slowly turned around and walked her way back to everyone, crying the whole way.

Bucky spotted her as she came out of the forest. He stayed still but smiled softly as she approached him, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She sniffled and brushed off the tears on her face, “Where is he?”

“He’s talking with Sam over there.” He pointed to a bench by the water.

“Thanks.” Ellie huffed as she started walking again.

“You gonna tell me about her?” She overheard Sam say as she grew closer.

“No, no I don’t think I will.” Was Steve’s response.

Sam looked over his shoulder to Ellie and his smile dropped, “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, Sam.” She stood beside him, looking out to the water.

Steve sighed and laid his hands in his lap.

“You guys seem like you have some catching up to do...I’ll be over there,” Sam pointed towards Bruce and Bucky, “Be nice to each other, please.” He slowly backed away from the bench.

Ellie sniffled, “So you went back in time?”

“I had a dance to get to.” Steve said calmly.

“Right, a dance.” She looked down and picked at her hands.

Steve looked up at her, “Ellie?”

Her jaw tensed, “What?”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re old...and gross looking.”

He chuckled, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He patted the spot on the bench next to him, “Sit, please.”

Ellie looked carelessly over at the empty spot and took a deep breath before quickly sitting down where he’d asked.

“I may not be able to read minds but I can tell that you’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset,” She tensed, looking out at the water again, “The first person to ever make me feel safe just went back in time for another woman.”

Steve sighed, “Yeah, I see how that hurts.”

Ellie sniffled again, “Did you ever love me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Did you?” She finally tilted her head to look him in the eyes. They were still soft and blue, like they were when he was younger.

“Of course I loved you,” He looked to the water, “Even after we broke up, I loved you. I still love you.”

Ellie shook her head and scoffed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going back.”

“Apology not accepted.” She pressed her back against the bench.

“I was going to but then I saw you and Buck kissing in the hall so I assumed you’d be okay without me.”

“You assumed wrong!” She said loudly, sitting up again, “Steve, you were my first friend, my first love! The first person to make me feel like it’s okay to be myself! You helped me find my confidence, you taught me how to drive, you taught me all the ways to avoid pissing Tony off, you taught me how to fight and most importantly how to love.” She hung her mouth open, trying to read any response on his face, “It doesn’t matter if Bucky and were kissing, or what context it was under. What makes you think I’d be anywhere near okay with this?” She gestured to him.

“Because you don’t need me,” He looked back to her, “You don’t need anyone to show you how to be confident, or how to love.”

Ellie dropped her head as tears formed in her eyes.

“Ellie, I didn’t teach you anything,” He tilted his head to the side, “Well I did teach you how to drive and how to avoid pissing tony off.”

Keeping her lead down, she laughed softly.

“But you taught yourself how to be confident and how to love. That was all you.”

“I don’t know how to love without you.” She whispered.

“Yes you do.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, just like old times.

Her eyes shot over to their hands, remembering what his hand used to feel like compared to now. Before his hands were big and almost muscular but soft and gentle when he touched her skin. Now they were cold and thin, fragile.

Steve reached his other hand under her chin, lifting her face to his, “I love you and I always will.”

Her bottom lip quivered, “I love you too.”

He smiled as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

His touch was so familiar and foreign at the same time, it scared her. A single tear rolled down her face as he pulled away and let go of her hand, “So uh, got any kids named after me?”

Thank you for reading :)

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years ago

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Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x reader (Chapter Summary- Picking up immediately after their first kiss, Y/n and Keanu spend a night together) Warning-NSFW/SMUT

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter4

Chapter 5

Her lips tasted like booze and the ocean and her skin was cold from the water. “Why didn’t you come?” Y/n’s voice was a breathy whisper as her lips were still pressed to his.

Her delicate fingers clung to a fistful of Keanu’s shirt and he used his own stocky fingers to brush away some hair from her face, “I don’t know,” his voice was low and now, more than ever, he regretted not going, she remembered.

“It doesn’t matter now,” one of her arms went around his neck and her front was pressed to his and she kissed him again, Keanu’s tongue sliding into her mouth; another person had never tasted so good.

“We should go to my room,” he offered, hoarse, between kisses. Keanu’s hands gripped her waist and he was already walking backwards to the shore. Waves lapped at their legs, but they were too distracted to care.

Y/n struggled to keep up with Keanu, his longer legs offering larger strides, “We should,” she confirmed breathily.

It had taken longer than actual walking would have. One of them had tripped, someone else had nearly bumped into a bellman and finally, they had both almost slipped on the shiny tiles of the hotel’s lobby. But when they had made in too Keanu’s room, he barely had a minute to slip his key card into the designated slot before Y/n’s lips were on his again.

Inside, neither of them even bothered with the lights, fumbling through the darkness on their way to the bedroom. In one fluid motion, after they had knocked over one vase too many, Keanu easily hoisted Y/n into his arms, her legs going around his waist. His lips found her neck and Y/n’s fingers tangled in Keanu’s hair, her cheek pressed to the side of his head as she moaned into his ear.

Like the rest of the suite, there were no lights on in the bedroom, but the drapes had been pulled open earlier in the morning, before Keanu had left and pale moonlight filtered in, painting the room with a cool blue hue. When Keanu set Y/n onto the floor, her drying feet hit the rug with a soft thud and in the low lighting, he could see the way her dress clung to her skin, the thinner parts of the white fabric, almost translucent. Y/n’s wet her curled with dampness, framing her face.

Hurriedly, they haphazardly undressed each other, articles of wet clothing falling wherever was convenient and as soon as the last bits hit the floor, he was pushing her onto the made bed, not caring if the sheets got wet. Y/n laid, wanton in the center, letting out a breathy moan when Keanu started kissing her neck again, groping her breasts in the process. Her skin felt so soft under his calloused palms and as her legs rubbed against his encouragingly.

Y/n’s hand travelled downwards between their tangled bodies, her fingers circling Keanu’s arousal , her thumb grazing his head before she started pumping slowly. With his lips pressed to the warm skin in the valley of her breasts, he groaned, the sound low and throaty as he bucked his hips forward. Her other hand palmed his back, the tips of her nails digging into Keanu’s shoulder blade.

Using the tips of her toes, Y/n pushed his boxers down, losing her own lacy underwear in the process. “Keanu,” she moaned breathlessly, accompanied by a plea for more.

Pressing his forehead to hers, Keanu lined himself up with her sex, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the nagging thought out of his head. The one that kept screaming; “this is a dream.”

It couldn’t be, not that time; it felt too real. Every time his mind had conjured her up, it had been purely sexual. But that night, Keanu could easily recall things from their day together; the way her hair whipped forward when a gentle gust of wind would pass over the city, how her hand had felt in his as they walked; delicate, small, cool. The color of her eyes, the way her body felt pressed to his; her breasts pressed to his chest, her breath fanning over the top of his chest as they stood in the water. He could so definitely make out her curves, run his hands over them, tangle his fingers in Y/n’s wet hair. She had to be real.

“This can’t be a dream,” he mumbled, his tip edging her slick folds, his bread rough against her smooth cheek.

Keanu couldn’t see it, but Y/n’s brows furrowed in confusion, her heavy breathing slowing, “What?” Her fingers journeyed carelessly along his back, dragging gently.

“Nothing,” Keanu returned his lips to hers, crashing his lips to hers once again as he entered her fully. Y/n moaned loudly into his mouth, her back arching so their chests could meet. One hand remained cradling the back of her neck while the other was planted on her hip, holding it in place as he started a pattern of rough, controlled thrusts.

The feeling of Keanu inside of her was enough to have Y/n’s eyes slipping shut, her hands stopping at his shoulder blades, her long nails sinking into his skin. As he moved, she could feel everything; every vein brushing against her walls, the way his length was buried deep inside, stretching her, offering the most pleasurable pain. Sighing loudly, she pleaded, “Faster,” her hot breath caressed his ear, shivers running up his spine, “God Keanu, fuck me faster.”

After deep rumble in his throat; sounding like a carnal cross between a grunt and a growl, Keanu picked up the pace; nearly exiting her fully before slamming back into her violently. Y/n’s legs closed in around Keanu’s waist, trying to squeeze him to her as her heels dug into his thighs. “Fuck babygirl,” he groaned between little nibbles on her neck,“You’re so fucking tight,” just like he had imagined.

“Keanu,” Y/n whined after a while, “I’m gonna….” she couldn’t even finish, so overcome with the feeling with her impending orgasm that her words were gone; her mind a blurry mess.

“Do it,” he commanded through gritted teeth, going faster and harder on purpose, “Come all over my cock baby.”

Her cries were garbled and her eyes rolled back into her head as Y/n’s legs quaked around Keanu, clenching around him as warm stickiness rushed out of her, spreading on their thighs.

She had barely settled from her high when Keanu started taunting; “That can’t be all babygirl, you can do better than that.” With no signs of slowing, Keanu kept up his hash movements, his hand moving from her hip to brush against her already sensitive cilt.

Barely regaining some semblance of strength in her legs, Y/n urged Keanu onto his back, her knees sunk into the mattress as her hands were braced on his chest. In the near darkness, Keanu stared up at her, a half smile tugging at his lips as he admired how Y/n looked in the new angle; her breasts bounced enthusiastically as he guided her into a steady pace and her perfect curves were illuminated in a way that exaggerated the dip on either side of her waist.

Slowly, Y/n rolled her hips against Keanu’s and when one of his rough palms pressed firmly to the center of her back, Y/n leant down, pressing her sweaty chest to Keanu’s. As she moved, soft whimpers escaped her lips; fighting to prolong the experience. Meanwhile, Keanu eagerly roamed Y/n’ s back, eventually settling to grope and knead her ass, bucking his eager hips too meet hers.

Y/n’s lips found the crook of Keanu’s neck, sucking and kissing on the warm skin like he had done to her before. Their new, leisurely pace was slowed even further when Y/n squeezed her legs again, “Y/n,” Keanu moaned, his voice husky in her ear as he reveled in how she cocooned him perfectly, “Fuck baby,” the words accompanied Keanu’s hips going stiff and rigid as he shot the hot product of his arousal into her. Y/n was bubbling over too, her second orgasm creeping up on her without warning, spilling out; drenching their thighs.

Both breathing heavily, it took a while before either Y/n or Keanu could come to their senses, but when they did, she winced as she lifted herself off him, only to collapse onto the sheets. Keanu turned on his side, pulling her close, caressing her side lazily. Heavy eyes and tired bodies fought sleep, fumbling for words to fill the near silence, though, they soon failed and the only thing that joined the distant crashing of waves were the sounds of even breathing and soft snores.

*********

Tagging- @baphometwolf666 @a-really-bi-girl @paanchu786 @harrisongslimited

#Keanu reeves #Keanu reeves x reader #Keanu reeves x you #Keanu reeves fanfic #Keanu reeves fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick x you #lullaby #lullaby chapter 5 #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #Keanu #reeves

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staytiny-angel · 7 years ago

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Becoming Elite 4/?

Tags: @toosweetme @theworldiscolorful @panic-angel3314 @panda-girl1999 @unabashedwwesmut @athoughtfulmindwrites

Rating: M

Warning: SMUT. All of the smut.

Pairings:

past Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins

Kenny Omega/Seth Rollins

Chapter Summary: Kenny comforts Seth after their confrontation with Dean.

Author’s Note: Warning! This is the first time I’ve written any kind of slash smut in years. Please forgive me if I’m rusty as fuck.

Kenny and Seth’s Hotel Room - Still Monday night after Raw

After walking Kenny and Seth to their hotel room, Marty and The Bucks said goodnight, each hugging Seth to show their support. Kenny locked the door behind them and went over to where Seth was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring off into space.

Kenny sat on the bed beside his friend putting his arm around him. The act of kindness seemed to trigger something in him. Seth buried his face in Kenny’s shoulder and sobbed “It’s n-n-never going to change. I’m b-b-broken. Hunter and Stephanie broke me.”

Kenny looked up at the ceiling with a broken look in his own eyes. It was so hard to see his friend suffering. “What do I keep telling you? You are NOT broken, Seth! Yes, we are not society’s vision of good but we have standards and morals where Triple H and Stephanie are pure fucking evil and have none. I’m not going to lie to you or sugarcoat things for you, babe. You fucked up. Letting yourself get sucked into their bullshit was the dumbest thing you’ve EVER done but you know that now. You’re not that spoiled, entitled bratty princess that I watched walk around here with the WWE Title for the better part of a year anymore. I hate to say it but you ripping your knee to shreds was the best thing that ever happened. It made you start to realize that they were destroying you not helping you and when you realized it what did you do? You took them out. YOU DID, Seth Rollins. You slayed the King and his Queen and they haven’t been seen here since. Did you make mistakes? Absofuckinglutly. Did you try to fix them and make things better? YES! You may not be a good man Seth, but you ARE an honorable one and in my book that matters more.”

Seth’s eyes had grown wider and wider throughout Kenny’s passionate words. “You really think that, Ken?” Seth said quietly with a look of surprise on his face. “Have I ever lied to you, Sethie?”

Seth silently shook his head he knew that Kenny almost never lied. It just wasn’t something he saw the point in. It was simpler for him to just tell the truth.

Seth impulsively leaned forward and kissed his friend. Kenny sank into the kiss for a minute before pulling back. “Woah, Sethie. We haven’t gone there in quite a while and you’re upset. Are you sure you want this? I won’t take advantage of you when you’re this in this kind of emotional state.”

“I need you, Kenny,” Seth said shakily

“I need to be touched by someone who loves me. I know we’re not in love in the same way that I am with Dean or you are with Kota but we do love each other and I need you.”

Kenny winced internally at the mention of the reason he had moved to America.

‘Nope, not going there, Omega not right now, probably not ever. This is about Seth. This is a new beginning. It’s not about you and Kota’s neverending soap opera bullshit.’

Kenny leaned in and pressed his lips to Seth’s, after a passionate kiss that left both men breathing hard Kenny pulled back “All right Seth, come on babe” he said pulling the smaller man further onto the bed. “I’ve got you.” The two men laid side by side still fully clothed passionately kissing, hands moving everywhere.

Bright blue eyes looked deeply into soft brown ones. “C-c-clothes Ken, off,” Seth said with a stuttered moan. Kenny immediately stripped both of them of their shirts, then went for Seth’s belt buckle. “Why do you always wear these fucking skinny jeans,” Kenny said breathy and impatient. “Because they make my ass look amazing.” Seth returned with a smirk. Kenny laughed “God knows that’s the fucking truth.” Working together they managed to get Seth’s too tight jeans and Kenny’s slightly baggier ones off, along with their underwear so that both men were naked “How are we doing this baby?” Kenny asked his voice filled with lust “Fuck me, Ken.” Seth sighed “No one’s wanted me like that in so fucking long.” Kenny moaned softly at the thought of sinking his cock into Seth’s ass.

Kenny took a deep breath and croaked “Lube? Rubbers?” “Your side of the bed, top drawer.” Kenny rolled onto his other side to retrieve the items only to let out a shouted moan as Seth pounced on him in a flurry of movement “Sethie!” Seth looked up at him, brown eyes wide with fake innocence as he grinned around Kenny’s cock. “Oh fuck Seth, so fucking good at that babe. All the way baby, suck me all the way down your throat.” Seth immediately obeyed, almost gagging himself on Kenny’s cock causing the blond man’s eyes to almost roll back in his head.

“Fuck, you’re too fucking good at that Sethie. You better stop if you want that pretty ass filled tonight.” After a few more minutes of teasing Seth finally let go of Kenny’s cock, drool and precum dampening his beard. Kenny mock scowled at him “You are gonna pay for ambushing me like that Sethie baby.” Seth shook his head, bi-colored hair flying everywhere as he grinned impishly.

“You know you like me when I’m hungry for your cock.”

“I like you period, Sethie. Your expert cocksucking skills are just an amazing bonus.”

Kenny smiled at him happy that Seth was smiling again, that he could help his friend feel better if only for a little while.

“Can I fuck your brains out now?”

Seth dramatically flung himself on his stomach then lifted up on his hands and knees wiggling his ass at Kenny with a giggle.

Kenny almost fell off the bed laughing. “You’re a fool.” Kenny said still laughing softly “I’m the fool you want to fuck so it doesn’t really matter now does it?”

Kenny finally retrieved the lube and condoms from the bedside table and popped the cap on the bottle soaking his fingers in the slippery substance, he circled Seth’s tight opening with a finger teasing him as a little bit of payback for his earlier actions, Seth moaning at the sensation “Come on Kenny, please don’t play with me. I don’t like it when you play with me.”

“Oh Sethie, don’t lie to me, baby,” Kenny said lightly spanking Seth with his other hand. “You love it when I play with you,” Kenny said slowly easing a finger into the other man. Seth gasped, then moaned loudly as Kenny added another finger scissoring them slowly as he prepared Seth to take his cock.

Seth started slowly thrusting against Kenny’s probing fingers, head hanging down, his cock throbbing with pleasure. “Kenny! Come on, I’m ready! Please, please fuck me now.”

Kenny tore open the silver packet quickly rolling the latex down his aching cock. He slicked himself up with lube before pressing the head of his cock against Seth’s stretched hole, easing himself inside his friend. Seth moaned loudly “F-f-f-fuck Kenny! Feels so good!”

Kenny grabbed Seth’s hips and slowly started thrusting back and forth. “Fuck, Seth…you…..still have the tightest fucking ass.” He started moving faster and faster shifting his hips from side to side trying to find…..“Holy fuck!!!” Seth yelped as Kenny finally found the angle to hit Seth’s prostate. “There you go, babe. Am I going to make you cum baby, just from this? Without either of us even touching your cock?” Kenny rasped. “Yes, yes Kenny! I’m gonna cum..shit…fuck.” Seth let out a long low moan, head dropping to the mattress as he came hard. Kenny moaned himself as Seth’s ass tightened around his cock as he came undone underneath him. Kenny thrust a little faster and harder chasing his own climax. Finally, Kenny moaned loudly as he orgasmed filling the condom as Seth moaned and shuddered again at the feeling of warmth inside him. Kenny pulled out, stroking Seth’s back soothing the man before tying off the condom and throwing it into the trashcan beside the bed. “Feel better Sethie?” “Yeah….” Seth replied still trying to catch his breath. “Just want to lay here with you for a moment, then shower time.” Kenny eased himself behind Seth cuddling the other man before whispering “I’m here now, Sethie. I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

AN: please, please leave me feedback. I’m dying over writing this.

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jockedguy · 7 years ago

Photo

Distraction

Summer explodes. The heat, the sun. The green on the trees. And in its aftermath, things slow down some. After winter’s cold, dark hand bosses everyone down the streets, people want to stop and take in the warmth. It’s no longer necessary to hurry or scuttle through the wind and snow, coats tugged tight against faces - now there are long, luxurious strides, more skin bared with the passage of every June day.

And with it, comes the inevitable douchebags. Showing up and showing off, right down Main Street, chests proud and arms swinging, lats spread beneath the thin white strings of tank tops. Basketball shorts. Somehow brand new looking sneakers, no matter the day, or maybe slide sandals. They do it to be seen, to be watched.

On the outside, Ethan watches, sees. He is scornful, in passing conversation. Sometimes laughs at a meme he sees online, scrolling through Facebook, with a close approximation of that type. Let’s be honest, he thinks. It’s the jock stereotype. The dumbass, muscle-obsessed, sports-ardent jock. And the jocks are on parade. Behind the wheel of shiny, glinting cars with music hammering the air. In uniforms, sometimes, black eye-paint streaked and pants muddy, cleats half-unlaced. Their fresh, aquatic colognes painting the air with invisible, heavy brushstrokes.

And yet, for all his disdain, Ethan watches them. He didn’t always. And in the winter, it almost feels like he gets a bit of a reprieve - but still, his eyes travel, involuntarily, towards them, whenever he sees a Jock. At work, stocking shelves, he sees a Jock go by, and there goes his attention. He sees the baseball cap - Red Sox! - fitted, dark gray, bright red B, flat-brim, over short, dark hair and dark eyes that sort of suck light into them. Red tank-top, showing off smooth, taut biceps and deltoids rounding slowly higher, still works in progress, but growing. Basketball shorts - gray with a bright Nike swoosh like a blinding white grin down the thigh. His calves lead down in tight diamonds to his Nike Roshes, also flame-red, the outsoles nearly sparkling, clearly well-maintained

Ethan’s face matches the Jock’s sneakers as he rips his gaze away from the bro. Fuck, he thinks to himself. It happened again. How long this time? He shakes his head back and forth to clear it of cobwebs and sets back to the task at hand.

But still, he thinks to himself, how fucking cool would it be to have a body like that? Being a Jock aside - he’d never dress like that, no way - just being fit, being in shape. Being in tune with the body, being agile, being corded with muscle. It makes a sort of practical sense, really. He wonders why he doesn’t go to the gym, actually.

(The Jock bro is crossing the parking lot, his shadow thrown back behind him like a long, thick sword. A brief smile dusts the corner of his mouth, and then he reaches up to curl the earbuds into his ears. Music swells up, the same thud and shout that accompanied his lifts not 30 minutes earlier. He stops at the edge of the parking lot, hikes himself up onto the top of the picnic table, head bowed, knees spread, nodding to the music. The Jock bro checks his G-Force watch, chunky and black against his tanned forearm.)

The Jock was wearing a lot of cologne, Ethan notes idly to himself. He doesn’t hate it. It doesn’t smell expensive, but it doesn’t smell cheap, either. The only words that come to Ethan’s mind are swimming pool, locker room, weight room, high school, mall. A splash of color and sound. The cologne is fresh, sharp, clean. That’s it, he thinks. It smells clean. Transparent, almost, like fresh glass. Like ... like a mirror.

Ethan blinks and looks around. He’s in the bathroom. Must’ve wandered in here, he thinks to himself. And there in front of him is the mirror over the sink. “Gonna have to get these blackouts checked,” he says to himself, murmuring, chuckling. Ethan blinks at himself. Not scrawny. Wiry. Dark hair, a little curly, a little fluffy. Time for a cut. Long legs, long arms. Squat torso. Size 10 sneaker, currently a battered, low-top Chuck Taylor, the laces variegated with years. Black-rim glasses and a well-maintained goatee.

He flexes, then, pulls a double bi, right there in front of the mirror. He holds it. He puffs his chest out, he sucks his stomach in. He tenses all of his muscles in the vain, pathetic attempt to somehow envision his biceps inflating, suddenly popping out like found baseballs - or softballs, even! - seeing the veins fill and surge and rise out of his skin like fleshy worms ...

The disappointment is nearly intoxicating, along with the rush of vertigo that hits directly after Ethan relaxes the flex. No, he isn’t fit, muscled. He’s got some wire under the skin, but so little mass.

Need to eat more, Ethan muses, the smallest trickle of a stream of consciousness beginning to flow beneath his thoughts. Protein would help the muscles grow. But because those thoughts are so foreign - they almost don’t seem to belong to him - his brain rejects them as important on a surface level.

Ethan shakes his head. Work, that’s what he was doing. And life outside of work, well, that’s going okay, isn’t it? Nothing too crazy. School, with its accompanying homework, all the flipping of textbook pages and the quick pace of keyboard fingering, face lit by the screen, crafting essays. Of course, sometimes it isn’t as quick a pace. Sometimes, it’s an argument with speed. He struggles. Everyone struggles from time to time. Just need more coffee. And he always has coffee after a good, hard workout. And that’s why he’s tired, of course. Balancing school and work and his workout routine is exhausting, sometimes.

Ethan feels himself slump a little as he turns to exit the bathroom, feeling a dull ache in his shoulderblades, in his neck. He reaches up to rub at them, digging in with his fingers, and issues an involuntary moan, a deep, throaty sound that verges on indecent.

(The sun is setting. The Jock bro cracks his neck from side to side, feeling the pull in his lats, his traps. He tilts his head to look up at the rapidly darkening sky. The first hot breath of night-wind skirls across his face. He tilts to one side, digs in the pocket of his shorts, and pulls out his phone. His fingers tap over the number pad, and he lifts it to his face, skin bathed in the eldritch, electronic blue)

“Fffffuuuuuck,” Ethan judders out, his upper teeth clenching against the lower, his lips pressed tightly together in order to stifle the noise he makes as he bucks back & forth in the bathroom stall. One hand has flung out against the tiles to keep himself steady as the other one jerks himself off, pumping wildly as his seven-inch cock, engorged in his hand, becomes like steel. Ropes of saliva spray from his mouth, his head flung back in the crescendo of the orgasm. It doesn’t once occur to him that he is fucking jerking off in the bathroom at work.

Ethan’s phone rings. At least, he thinks its his phone. Who else would have Turn Down For What as a fuckin ringtone? Well, him and Justin. Shit.

“Yo.” His voice sounds so far away as he picks up the phone.

“Bro! What the fuck, you get lost?”

“Uhhhh ...”

(The Jock bro is laughing silently, knee-slapping. He fuckin loves the first Uhhh.)

“Well, hurry the fuck up. I’m waitin out in the parking lot. Pick me up some eggs, wouldja? I forgot em. Oh, and chocolate milk.”

“Uhhhh ... okay.”

Ethan takes the phone off the side of his face and adjusts his backwards-facing hat. The bathroom is filled with the smell of his cologne, which - even though he’s been told that one spray is enough - he has sprayed on at least five times this morning before leaving the house, and another before work started. Now, of course, it mixes liberally with the strong, earthy musk of his cum, which has splattered all over the toilet and the floor. Ethan stares at it, confused, and then remembers, and a horking, jerking laugh spills up out of his throat and into the air. He turns on an immaculate, white and gray, Nike AirMax Wright, and leaves the bathroom without either cleaning up or washing his hands.

The night air is cool around Ethan’s bare arms. Still too skinny, he thinks to himself. The trickle of his stream of consciousness has suddenly become a whitewater rapid. A constant rising static, flooding out his other thoughts. Need more mass.

“Yo!”

It carries from across the parking lot. The dark has fully descended now, like an eyelid shutting on the world. Ethan feels his Nike Elite basketball shorts swishing around his knees. “Yo!” He cries back, and the sound carries a lot further than he thought it would, surprising even him - but only for a moment.

“Ready, bro?”

“Fuckin course I’m ready.”

“Gonna fuckin hit it tonight.”

The world is breaking up into kaleidoscopic colors. Ethan rubs at his eyes, lifting his Ray-Bans to do it. Something feels wrong. Like two super-imposed images have become suddenly unmounted, and he is looking looking through through a haze of exhaust smoke. “Uh, hang on ...”

Deep down, in the dark miasma of his brain, sullen red Klaxons have surged to life, and the alarm is cranked up to full volume. The clothes on his frame feel suddenly alien, the hat feels too large, the sneakers, too big. He feels like a kid, playing dress-up in an older brother’s clothes. His heart rate surges, and his eyes dart from shadow to shadow.

“Sup, bro?” The Jock bro is looking back at him, vacant eyes slightly curious, mostly bored.

“I’m not your ... bro. Bro.”

The Jock bro moves closer. Ethan would, instinctively, move back, but he doesn’t, not quite, he doesn’t think he does, anyway. The Jock bro is standing so close now, so close that he can smell the entirely unnecessary aftershave under the cologne, so close that he can smell the residue of iron on his fingers, the rasp of slightly fruity pre-workout on his breath. His hand comes up, grasps Ethan’s bicep. His eyes fix, anchoring on something far down inside.

“Bro.”

The anchor is being reeled back in, up through Ethan’s body. He feels giddy, dizzy. It is not an entirely unpleasant sensation, Ethan would reflect later - if he were able to reflect, later, beyond flexing in the mirror ... and well, let’s be honest, every reflective surface ...

“Come on, bro. Let’s go.”

An invisible cloud grows around Ethan as he nods, just once, and then grins, slightly vacantly. “Hey bro.”

“Yeah bro?”

Ethan flexes, as hard as possible, his muscles standing out in relief against his short, broad frame. The night flees from their laughter as they throw arms around each other’s shoulders and head towards the gym. And behind them, trailing a sweet, fresh, clean scent; mildly intoxicating, definitely distracting.

#jockedguystories

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