#found this one half finished deep in the folders here you go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsawhumpsideblog · 9 months ago

Text

The Safehouse, pt. 18

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, medical setting, surgery, panic attack, flashbacks, broken bones and treatment of same

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

Given the percentage of rescuees who enter a safehouse with one or more injuries or illnesses which will require medical attention, it is probable that you will be accompanying rescuees to medical appointments early in their time with you. Obtaining medical care can present unique challenges for rescuees and it is important to exercise complete patience with them in a doctor's office or hospital setting. Be aware that the atmosphere in such facilities may bring up difficult memories or even trauma reactions. Be prepared to help rescuees through anxiety or panic attacks, even flashbacks.

The surgery took longer than Angie had expected, or hoped and as it entered the third hour, she was glad that she had gone to get lunch right after they took Mikey. Finding the cafeteria, eating the sandwich, and getting lost on the way back had taken almost an hour and a half; a call to Tim and a chat with the rest of the household had taken another half hour. Since then, she had been sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair, watching the clock and fidgeting. Not for the first time, she opened a game on her phone, played for a few minutes, closed it, and then opened it back up.

Angie tried the TV and found that it was showing an infomercial trying to delude senior citizens into converting their savings into gold bars. She fiddled with the remote, couldn't get it to work, and turned the TV back off. Then she played a podcast she couldn't concentrate on.

She was tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair and staring into space when the door finally opened and Wanda came in, holding some paperwork and smiling. Angie jumped up, fighting down a sudden surge of nervous, excited energy.

"It went great," Wanda said, before anything else. "He did just fine and the doctor said she thinks the procedure was a success."

"Oh, fantastic," Angie said. "That's amazing. I'm so glad to hear it!"

"Me, too. Now, let's go over some paperwork while they finish getting him in a cast and then they'll bring him back here to wake up a little bit. We want him awake and... well, usually we would say talking. But let's go with 'alert' this time. Once he's feeling a little more like himself, we can send him home."

"Sounds great!" Angie could have giggled in sheer relief.

"Okay, so there's no discharge paperwork, as such." Wanda flipped through the papers in the folder. "Not for the hospital, anyway. We've got a form here that should go to your Network contacts, detailing what the surgery was, the cost of it- not that Dr. Silva is charging, but just so their accounting folks are aware- and some discharge instructions." She handed the folder to Angie. "We should be done with him in the next half hour."

"Thank you so much!"

"Of course!" Wanda smiled and let herself back out.

Angie sank back down into the uncomfortable chair in relief, grinning to herself. Then she remembered her other responsibility and picked up her phone.

"Tim?" she asked, when he picked up.

"Yup, I'm here and you're on speakerphone."

"Oh, super, thanks. Hi, guys! I just heard from the nurse. She says Mikey did really well and they're going to bring him back in a few minutes. We'll give him some time to wake up and then we should be on our way home in a couple hours. Just wanted to let you know."

"Did they give you the instructions and everything?" Tim asked.

"Yup, all the paperwork we need. I'll hand it off to you when we get back."

"Excellent, thanks. Text when you're on the way and I'll meet you outside, okay?"

"Yup, will do."

"Thanks for calling, we'll see you soon."

"See you soon!" She hung up, took a deep breath, and sat back to wait.

Mikey was unaware that he had woken up, the first time it happened. He had the impression of being somewhere soft, softer than the garden had ever been before, and warm, too. For the first time he could remember- the first time since the drugs had taken his memory away- there was no pain. He felt like he was floating in a warm cloud and his head was light and sleepy. He let the clouds carry him gently away.

Angie watched Mikey as he lay in the hospital bed, waiting for the anesthesia to wear off and for him to start coming around. He was totally still, which he had been for much of the past week, since his fall, but it felt different this time. He wasn't holding himself rigid, nervous and braced against pain. Instead, he just lay quietly, slightly slack-jawed as he slept. Once, his head stirred and a faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth before he sighed in soft contentment and his breathing slowed and evened as he drifted back off to sleep.

He was still sleeping when Dr. Silva came in with post-surgical information for Angie, outlining instructions for monitoring Mikey's recovery, acceptable activity levels, and a basic plan for continuing treatment.

"He did well," she said at last. "I know we really kept you waiting but-" she shook her head. "There was a lot to fix. He's going to be in the casts for a long time and some sort of brace for even longer. I'm not sure I can say exactly how long it'll be, not until we see how his healing is progressing. We're talking months, though, not weeks. The scarring is likely to be extensive, although we did our best. And his joints will probably always ache a little, especially that shoulder." She sighed. "I really wish it was all better news. But there is some good news, which is that when this is all said and done, eventually he'll be able to use his hands and arms. And he won't be in nearly as much pain, which is the important part. The process won't be pretty, but when it's done, everything will be much, much better."

"Thank you," Angie said. "He would thank you, too, if he could." She looked over and smiled at Mikey, still resting peacefully.

The peace did not last.

When the anesthesia wore off, Mikey woke suddenly and completely, the way he had done when he slept every night outdoors and needed to respond instantly to his Master. When his eyes snapped open, he realized that something was very, very wrong.

All he could see were white walls and a white ceiling with bright lights that seemed to shine directly into his eyes. The brightness stung and Mikey squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, as if, when he opened them, he might find himself somewhere more familiar.

But when he gathered his courage for a second look, nothing had changed. He was still in the strange, monochrome room with the blinding lights and he was lying down. Nearby, something was beeping ominously and Mikey felt his heart speed up and adrenaline dump into his system, like it did when he heard those first footsteps cracking a stick somewhere in the dark at the edge of Master's property.

His mind was still hazy from the drugs and not really awake yet, and Mikey had the terrible, foreboding sense that he wasn't supposed to be there- wherever "there" was.

It never occurred to him to be frightened by the fact that he did not remember having come to the strange, white room. Mikey lacked memories of so much that this new gap in his life was barely meaningful. What was very meaningful was that Master was going to wonder where he had gone.

Then, suddenly, Mikey had a flash of memory of another Pet, tall and thin and dark-haired, bringing him fruit wrapped in a towel, and his stomach clenched. If he was here, what had happened to the other Pet? Was he here, too, or had he been sent... Mikey could not even imagine where else the other pet might have been sent. But he knew it would be bad.

All these thoughts crossed Mikey's mind within seconds, a collection of fears and memories and associations that came to him automatically and without larger context. Then he realized, again, that he was lying down on a soft surface and he broke into a cold sweat.

Soft surfaces were not for Pets. He must not be found here. He had to move, whatever it cost him. The cost would be so much higher if they caught him like this.

But when Mikey tried to sit up, he couldn't. Something tugged at his face- a muzzle? It was blowing cold air into his nose. And he couldn't seem to bend his body to begin sitting, or force his aching muscles to lift him. Mikey looked frantically around but without actually taking in his surroundings.

He dropped one leg over the side of whatever the soft surface was and tried again to sit up and found that was impossible. When he swung his right arm up to try to shift his balance and rise, he was horrified to find that it was restrained, tied up in some kind of cloth, and he couldn't even see his fingers properly, only the very ends of them. When he tried to wiggle them, pain shot down his fingers and they didn't even move.

Even worse, his left arm was immobile. He couldn't see it under the blanket, but it was probably tied to something, strapped tightly down to keep him from doing what he knew a good Pet should do. He strained every muscle trying to sit up, kicked his legs to shift his balance, threw his right arm forward in almost grotesque exertion. But he barely moved.

When the door opened, if Mikey had been able to make a sound, he would have screamed. As it was, his eyes widened, his fight-or-flight response in full activation, and he tried one last time in futile terror to right himself.

"Oh my god," Mistress gasped. "Mikey, what- I was only gone for a second- I'm so, so sorry." She hurried over to the bed. "Hey, hey- careful, you- oh geez-" She put a steadying hand on his right shoulder and finally Mikey's eyes landed on her face.

It all came flooding back to him in a rush, like being struck. The terrible beating they had given him the night his old Master died; the time in a cage; the journey to live with Master and Mistress.

Then, even better, he remembered everything that had come since. A comfortable bed he was meant to use and enough food to eat and a television to watch; Nathan's cheerful company and the joy of being re-united with someone who had become a friend; gentle Francis who told him stories when he couldn't sleep and who held his head when he had fallen and was hurting.

Best of all, he remembered that Master smiled and laughed and spoke softly, and that Mistress talked to him like she enjoyed his company and she had kind hands and Master and Mistress looked after them and never, never hurt them.

Mikey remembered all these things in a flash of knowledge, the same sudden wash of memory that only moments before had caused him such terror, and then he realized that Mistress was standing over him with her hand on his shoulder. If it had been any of his old Masters, Mikey would have been frightened but he found that even now, standing like that, Mistress didn't frighten him at all. She didn't look angry, only dismayed and- maybe even worried.

He looked up at her as if he was searching for answers to many questions and she smiled comfortingly at him. "Do you remember where you are?"

Mikey wasn't sure and didn't know whether to nod or shake his head, so he simply waited and watched her.

"You're in the hospital," she reminded him and now he did nod, a little uncertainly. That might be true- he might remember the morning, if that wasn't a dream.

"You had surgery, to fix your shoulder and your hands and everything. You won't remember that, because you were asleep for it, but it's over now." He nodded again. "The doctor says you're going to be fine- your hands and arms will be a lot better when you're done healing."

He gave her another nod, since she probably expected it, but he wondered if she would explain why they had tied his left arm down. Mikey felt that there must be a reason for it, but something was making his head feel fuzzy and it was hard to think. Hoping she would understand, he raised his bound right hand and looked questioningly down at it.

"Yeah," she said, as if she was continuing a conversation. "I know that probably feels weird. And it's going to be hard, not having your right hand to use, even a little bit-"

Wait. What did she mean, he wasn't going to have his hand anymore? Forgetting the strange stiffness holding his left arm and the way he was restrained from sitting up, Mikey tried to raise himself and looked frantically from his hand to Mistress. His hand was still there, wasn't it? He could see his fingertips, a little bit, under the heavy bandages and surely it wouldn't hurt so badly when he tried to move it if he didn't have a hand-

Mistress made a face that Mikey didn't realize was guilt. "You don't remember what happened at all, do you?" she asked. He shook his head, a little frantically now, starting to feel his heart speed up and beginning to sweat.

"Oh geez. I'm sorry," she said, and he was surprised to find that she actually seemed to mean it. "I'll start from the beginning. So, during the surgery, they basically put all your bones back where they're supposed to be, right? So they can heal and they won't hurt all the time." Now Mikey nodded again as the memory slipped through the fog in his head, of Master explaining this at home last week.

"And now that it's done, they have to hold all those bones and joints and whatever still, so they can heal. So everything will stay where it's supposed to be. Right?" A nod. "And to do that, they put on some casts. The one on your right hand is like what Nathan had on his leg when he first came home. Remember that?" Mikey found that he did.

"They need your whole hand not to move for- I don't know, a long time. Like a couple months, at least. And they did the same thing to your left arm and your shoulder, but that was a lot worse and it's kind of an awkward spot, so they put the cast over your whole arm and then they attached it around your body to hold your shoulder still."

Mikey just stared. So he wasn't actually tied to the bed? But he couldn't move his arm at all. Well- he hadn't really been able to before, either. Maybe in some ways, this wouldn't be so different.

"Do you want to see it?" Mistress asked. She almost sounded nervous and Mikey wondered if he should be nervous, too. Very gently, Mistress drew back the blanket that covered Mikey from his shoulders down, except where he had thrown it off trying to get up.

When he could see it, he stared at his left arm. The cast was blue and covered his shoulder and then went all the way down over his fingers, just like the one on the right. His arm was bent at the elbow so that his forearm was parallel to the floor and angled across the front of his body. There was a band of the same material around his chest, holding his arm still.

"Does it feel really weird?" Mistress asked, and he didn't even bother to nod. Somehow, he felt that she would know his answer.

"Don't worry," Mistress told him, but it sounded more like an offer than an order. "We'll take care of you. You're going to be just fine."

Mikey nodded, but he thought that getting used to this was not going to be easy.

Next Time: Mikey comes home from the hospital, to his housemates' great relief.

Master List

Notes: These keep being longer than I expected, so I'm adjusting the previously listed summary to account for that. A good problem to have!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000 @whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump #whumpee #the safehouse #pet whump #surgery whump #medical whump

50 notes · View notes

forget-me-maybe · 6 months ago

Text

Snippet Sunday/WIP Monday/Am I late to the party?

since i missed that the lovely @kimberbohwrites tagged me yesterday we're doing this today!

i've seen that most of us have already done this so i'll just do an open tag for anyone who wants to share something!!!

anyway, the truth is that the last week(s) my writing has been... slow... nonexistent...

SO i looked through my wip-folder to see if i had anything to share and i found this wip that i wrote a while back but never finished (ehm).

it's a modern band au kind of. there's boobs but not anything more nsfw. cw lorroakan related abuse. also i write this as someone who doesn't know shit about music more than listening so warning for incorrect things. also warning for overuse of changing pov and strange pacing.

(and it's not completely done either but i need to throw something out here or i might just lose my mind. also here's to hoping it'll light some fire under my ASS)

here's chapter 1, maybe (it's long, like 4,5k words so buckle up):

~*~

Tav is late. It’s a normal occurrence, it just can’t be helped. She and time have never been in agreement with each other. But today she’s extra late. She’s already texted the band’s group chat to let them know she’ll be in the rehearsal space in fifteen minutes, but that was twenty minutes ago and she’s got at least another ten blocks until she’s there.

It’s early Eleint and the heat still hasn’t seized its grip on Baldur’s Gate. Sweat beads on Tav’s forehead as she all but jogs through the streets, the straps of her bass case rub uncomfortably against her bare shoulders.

At least she can find some comfort in the music blasting from her headphones. Polar Apes just released a new album and while it’s not their best (their first one is), it’s definitely not their worst (their fourth one is).

Perhaps she’s distracted by the music, or perhaps it’s the harsh light from the sun that blinds her enough to run headfirst into something. Or someone.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man snarls.

The man she got a faceful of chest from scowls deeply at her, his tail swooshes irritably behind him. He’s tall and dressed elegantly in a turtleneck and a blazer. His shoulder length hair is tied back in a half-updo, a pair of browline glasses sit upon his long nose. He’s rubbing his chin, probably where one of her horns hit him. She should perhaps feel sorry, but his snarl didn’t make for a good first impression.

“Well, fuck me I guess. I could say the same to you, fancy boy,” Tav bites back.

Though one might not think it possible, the man’s scowl deepens. Tav doesn’t stop to think about it anymore, she’s in a hurry and makes a point of bumping his shoulder with hers as she passes by to continue her journey.

“Wait!” the man calls out behind Tav, and against her better judgement, she actually stops. Not without releasing a deep sigh, though.

“What?” she snaps and turns around with her arms folded over her chest.

“I – zurgan – I’m looking for Ramazith’s College,” he says. Tav glares at him in return, of course he’s one of those arrogant snobs. The school is known all over Faerûn for its classical music programme. The headmaster, Lorroakan, has a reputation of being a piece of shit and nowhere near as talented as he makes himself out to be. But still, it produces some of the best musicians on this plane. “Could you, perhaps, point me in the right direction?”

“If you say please.”

“Excuse me?” he blurts out. Tav continues to glare at him, her tail taps impatiently at the cobblestone. The man looks like he’s going through all five stages of grief before he resigns and says the magic word. “Please.”

“Alright, fancy boy.” She feels the side of her mouth curl into a lopsided smile, the man’s shoulders drop ever so slightly. “I don’t know how you ended up in Brampton, but you’re on the wrong side of town, so to say.”

“Well, I’m fully aware a prestigious college like Ramazith’s wouldn’t be located in a wretched place like this.” He gestures around him, the rundown buildings of Bramton are decorated with colourful graffiti. The area has suffered some gentrification the last couple of years, but it still carries that rugged charm Tav loves with her home. “How do I get to the right side of town?”

“The nearest metro is down that street.” She points to the street in question. “Hop off at the Wide and the college will be just a street down. It’s a huge tower, you can’t miss it.”

“And… If I were to walk?”

“Then you have a forty-five minute stroll in that direction,” Tav says and points… in the same direction she’s going.

Zurgan, indeed.

She weighs her options, either she walks with the arrogant man for another ten blocks or she takes a detour and actually risks getting kicked out of the band once and for all. The rapid buzzing from her phone in her front pocket makes the decision for her.

“I’ll walk with you.”

“There’s really no need.”

“Not the whole way for gods’ sakes,” Tav explains. “I’m heading that way.”

“I guess that’s acceptable.”

Tav huffs, which is the only sound any of them make for their whole walk. Tav keeps a fast pace throughout the streets but the lanky tiefling has no problem with keeping up while she’s dripping with sweat in her shorts and tank top.

When they finally arrive at the entrance of her rehearsal space. She should probably not lead him directly to what could be considered her second home but she figures she could send Karlach on him if he were up to any funny business.

“This is me,” she says and points to the building. The man scowls as he takes in the scenery, clearly not impressed by the rundown property but at least he doesn’t say anything. Tav repeats her directions once more to make sure the man finds his way and with an awkward wave, he heads off.

Tav shakes her head as she unlocks the old door and heads down to the basement. In the small room they call their studio Tav finds her friends, Lae’zel is behind her drums as usual and Karlach and Shadowheart are crammed in the small sofa.

Tav puts on her most apologetic smile.

“You’re late,” the githyanki says. “If you are not on time, how am I to trust you to be on beat?”

“Have I ever disappointed you, Lae?” Tav smiles.

“Yes,” Lae’zel deadpans. “Many times.”

“Easy now, rockstars,” Karlach interjects, knowing full and well the smaller tiefling and the githyanki can get at each other’s throats if not interrupted.

~*~

When Rolan arrived at Baldur’s Gate’s main station he had expected smooth sailing to his goal at Ramazith’s College. Getting the acceptance letter was a dream come true and he felt like his luck had finally turned. He’s always loved music but there was never enough money in the household for tutoring, just the old piano in the living room. Many evenings had been spent trying to get the hang of the sounds and make them sound beautiful together. Even more evenings had been spent learning how to read notes.

He had not expected to get lost in a rugged part of the Lower City. He had not expected to run into that little tiefling carrying a guitar case. She had almost pierced his skin with her horn as she collided with him. In all honesty he hadn’t been paying attention at all, he was busy trying to read the street signs and figuring out where the hells he came from.

Now she’s disappeared into a rundown building that doesn’t look safe at all. But her pierced nose, stretched earlobes and tattooed arms give the impression of someone who can handle themselves so he shouldn’t worry at all.

Wrong. He shouldn’t worry because he doesn’t care.

No, he’s got a forty-five minute walk in scorching heat, wearing too many layers to look forward to. He was just trying to look professional and now he’s going to have to get changed before he meets with Lorroakan.

Damnation, he’s already late.

He’s practically dripping with sweat as he arrives in the Upper City, but his thoughts are consumed with the magnificent tower in front of him. Pride and confidence flows through him, he’s finally where he’s supposed to be.

~*~

It’s just fucking typical that her strings were to break three days before their gig. It’s also fucking typical she has no spare ones and hardly enough coin to get her through the month. But, at least they’ve been promised some drinks for the gig. It’s not a huge gig, just at their local in Brampton, but still they’d like to make a good impression. Who knows who might be listening?

For such a big city as Baldur’s Gate, it should be considered strange that there’s really only one place for musical equipment - Sounderous Sundries. Tav doesn’t mind though, the building is as old as the town itself and the glass dome creates a colourful light around all the instruments that are on display. Especially the Gondian bass she’s been eyeing since the moment she was old enough to reach over the counter.

This time her attention isn’t turned to the instruments, but to the man tending the front desk. It’s the same man that Tav helped find his way to Ramazith’s a month ago. He looks a bit worse for wear, a bruise marks his cheekbone, perhaps he just runs face first into people all the time. He notices her just moments after she notices him.

“It’s you!” he blurts out.

“It’s me,” Tav concurs. “What are you doing here?”

“Working, I have to earn my keep somehow.” He straightens his back and clears his throat. “Welcome to Sounderous Sundries, how may I assist you today?”

Tav can’t help but snort out a laugh at the pretend sincerity.

“I need strings,” Tav says and points to her case on the back. “Gave up on me yesterday and we have a gig in three days.”

“One should always have spare strings at hand,” he mock-scolds. Tav rolls her eyes.. “Please, follow me.”

Though Tav is fully aware where the strings are located and which ones she wants she decides to indulge him. He leads her to a shelf, one arm folded over his chest and his other hand under his chin. He’s kind of cute like that, she thinks.

“You should come,” Tav says and gets a questioning look from the man. “To the gig! Could be good for you to listen to some real music instead of that pompous stuff you do at your school.”

“Excuse me, classical music holds depth and intricacies no other can capture. You’re just uncultured.” He frowns. “But please, enlighten me, what sort of music do you play?”

“Well, it’s kind of indie rock but with a garage feel and Shadowheart’s voice gives it a bit of a shoegaze vibe,” Tav explains.

“You’re just making up words.”

“Ugh, come see for yourself.” Tav digs through her pocket for her phone and opens a blank text. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details. I might even draw you a map!”

“Alright,” he mumbles and types in his number on the phone.

“Cool.” Tav grabs her usual pack of strings and heads towards the counter.

~*~

After a long day at Sounderous Sundries, Rolan finally gets back to his small dorm room. It doesn’t hold more than a bed, a desk and a small drawer for his clothes but he doesn’t need more. Between school, work or getting “tutored” by Lorroakan he doesn’t spend much time there anyway.

He pops down on his bed right away and looks through the messages he’s missed during the day. Twenty-five unread messages in the family chat, something about Danis’ birthday. He makes a mental note of sending him a happy birthday later.

There’s one message from an unknown number, contrary to his better judgement it makes his heart flutter a little bit.

”hey, it’s tav! the girl from the store n the street. we’re playing at the nightowl, moss promenade 42. on stage at 11pm (we hope). bring friends if u like. see u there! ✨ ”

Oh, she writes like a teenager. His pulse stabilises.

And bring friends? He hasn’t had time to make any friends. But it would seem strange to show up by himself, if Cal and Lia were here he’d ask them, of course. He could ask the chatty trombonist in his musical history class. He’s a bit annoying but at least he won’t be sitting in the pub alone like some creep.

“Hi Tav! Good to finally put a name to your face. I’m Rolan by the way. Though I should focus on my studies, perhaps experiencing this “real music” of yours will broaden my knowledge. I shall see you there.”

It doesn’t take long for his phone to buzz again. Is she one of those people who are always on their phone?

“nice to meet u, rolan! 🌸 grab a drink with me after the show? 🍻 ”

Cal has been on about that he shouldn’t answer people right away, but Rolan’s never really understood the meaning of that. Making someone wait just seems impolite.

“Nice to meet you too, Tav. I could be persuaded to have a drink or two.”

“betcha i can make it three 😏”

He grins to himself, and types before thinking:

“Now, now, don’t be greedy.”

Hells, did he just send that? Yes, message sent. No little red exclamation mark. No divine intervention to make his phone dysfunction at this very moment. He throws his phone to the end of his bed and groans into his hands.

The phone buzzes again and he considers throwing it out the window instead, maybe even throwing himself with it. Avoid whatever scolding she’s got coming for him, change jobs, move to another town.

But, his curiosity can’t be sated. With a flick of his tail he retrieves the phone.

“haha maybe i will be 😈 ”

Oh.

~*~

They’ve set up, sound-checked and warmed up. Everything is as it should be. Still, Tav is nervous. It’s stupid, they’ve played here a couple of times before and they always have a great time. Yet tonight she can’t help but glance out at the crowded bar.

She doesn’t want to admit she’s searching for a certain face. But she’s definitely searching for a certain face.

They’ve texted every evening since she got his number and she really thought he’d be here. He gives the impression of enjoying their chats at least. Perhaps she’s just naive.

“Stop your senseless pining,” Lae’zel scolds her.

For once in her life, Tav actually agrees with the drummer. She sits down on the sofa in the crowded backstage space that can’t be more than a repurposed cleaning closet. Shadowheart flicks away Tav’s tail that was tapping impatiently against her knee and Karlach shoots her a comforting smile. It’s just a couple of minutes until showtime and she has to get her nerves in order.

Finally, it’s go time and Tav all but bounces out on stage. In a corner she couldn’t see from the angle backstage, she spots Rolan and a brown haired human by a table. He raises his tankard to her and she shoots him a grin.

She’s ready.

Lae’zel counts them in and then they’re off. Tav’s fingers move across the strings at what feels like their own accord, it’s instinct to her and it seems the same magic is working at the rest of the band. Shadowheart’s voice has never been clearer, Karlach solos rip through the whole locale and Lae’zel doesn’t miss a single beat.

They’re fucking tight.

Time stops and moves too fast at the same time. Tav is so lost in the moment she doesn't notice their thirty minute gig has run its course until she hears Shadowheart’s voice.

“We’re Last Light, thank you all for coming!”

Tav pants and takes a bow toward the cheering crowd before she turns to her bandmates. Even Lae’zel has a hint of a smile on her face.

“Ladies, you fucking slayed out there!” Tav blurts out and pulls them all into a hug once they’re back in their little cupboard.

“Right back at ya, rockstar!”

“You did not disappoint me today.” Lae’zel deadpans.

“Next time we should play somewhere bigger,” Shadowheart adds. “And for money.”

They all agree and share one more hug before they make quick work at taking down their equipment. They receive compliments from some of the regulars at the bar and then finally, <i>finally</i>, Tav can get her promised drink for the show they put on. The bartender is even happy enough with their performance to promise them a second and third round.

Tav gulps down the beer while avoiding other patrons as she manoeuvres herself to the table in the back corner. The men at the table are busy with some discussion that Tav just can't figure out for the love of her life. They seem to be in disagreement though, deep frowns on both of their faces. Tav makes herself known with a small laugh and golden irises turn to her.

“That was noisy,” Rolan states as a matter of fact.

“Always a charmer,” Tav teases and sits down next to him.

“I enjoyed getting a new experience under my belt,” Rolan continues in the same tone.

“Oh, so close to a compliment.” Tav pats Rolan’s shoulder condescendingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time.”

“You’re talented.” A smile spreads on his lips and one of his canines gets stuck on his lower lip. Tav almost chokes on her ale from how utterly adorable it is.

“Thank you,” Tav mumbles, a blush creeping up on her face, probably turning her usual blue hue into an embarrassing shade of plum.

In order to regain some decorum she turns to introduce herself to the other man by the table. Within seconds chatter fills the air around. The three of them share stories and laughter. Tav talks about Baldur’s Gate, recommending places to visit and which tourist traps to stay away from. In return she gets to hear about Waterdeep and Elturel.

When the rest of the band joins the table (“Scoot, everything else is full.”) Rolan wraps an arm around Tav’s waist to pull her with him as he slides down the bench. She tries really hard not to think about how his hand stays on her hip as the night continues on.

When the last call rings she doesn’t want it to end.

~*~

“Wanna get a nightcap?” Tav asks. She and him have fallen behind the others on their hunt for a late night meal.

“I would like to,” Rolan says, furrowing his brows. “But everything is closed.”

“Oh, I meant at my place,” she says, her face getting that lovely plum hue he noticed earlier in the pub. “But I get it if it’s too forward.”

Too forward? He’s been too forward all night, holding onto her waist like he owns her. When he had noticed what he had done it was too late to apologise without it getting even more awkward.

“Okay,” he says, not fully pleased with how pleadingly it comes out. “I mean, yes, I’d like that.”

“Fantastic! Prepare for a bit of a hike.”

She grabs his hand and pulls him down a side street. Though it technically isn’t a hike to her flat, just a three minute walk, there are five flights of stairs to climb before reaching Tav’s home. Rolan is panting once he gets to her floor but she doesn’t seem fazed at all. Must be used to it by now.

Her studio flat is small but charming, cosy even. There’s just enough space for a sofa and a small dining area, and a bed with what seems like an excessive amount of pillows. Posters of different bands he doesn’t recognise decorate the walls. In one corner her bass and an amplifier stand in a messy nest of cables. A thick, maroon carpet fills the floor and she’s extremely stubborn to make him take his shoes off before venturing further into her home.

The nightcap in question is a choice between a bottom shelf whiskey and an equally low-shelved red wine. He lets her choose for them and releases a small sigh of relief when she grabs two wine glasses.

Once the glasses are filled, she leans against the kitchen counter. A comfortable silence falls between them as icy blue eyes stare into his golden ones.

“I think I should thank you,” he muses.

“Whatever for?”

“For inviting me tonight.” He takes a step closer to Tav.

“Hm.” She chews her lip.

“Hm?”

“I think you should kiss me.”

“Ah, with pleasure.”

With one hand placed just above her tail he pulls her flush to his chest. Their lips meet carefully at first, exploring and testing out each other. It doesn’t take long for mouths to open, she tastes of the cheap wine and something he can’t place, something that’s just her.

Careful steps lead him backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits down, bringing Tav with him, her legs ending up on each side of his thighs. He can’t help but grin against her lips. Eager hands pull at all layers of fabric separating them, Tav’s tank top disappears first, then the zipper of her high-waisted shorts.

He lies back to admire her plump breasts and soft belly that he wants to run his tongue all over. At the same time she works with the buttons of his shirt and all blood must’ve been redirected to his cock because he doesn’t remember what he looks like underneath the thin cloth before lustful eyes turn into pitying ones.

“Rolan,” Tav whispers. “What happened to you?”

His blood freezes.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he tries to brush it off but his voice catches ever so slightly.

“I am many things but I’m no fool.” She gets off of him and sits down to the side of the bed. “I know a beating when I see one.”

He doesn’t want her to look at him like that, with pity, like he’s some wounded animal she needs to take care of.

“I said it’s nothing for you to worry about,” he snaps, standing up and buttoning his shirt back up.

“Please, Rolan.” She grabs his hand. “Who did this to you?”

He yanks his hand back.

“I said leave it,” he hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

And with that, he leaves Tav’s flat. Slamming the door behind him with a force that invites no argument.

The streets are empty and cold as he heads home, the metro stopped running an hour ago, but his fury keeps him warm. How could he let his guard down like that? Allow her to within days tear down walls he’s worked hard on to build up.

No, he’s going to have to rebuild those walls, higher than ever before. He needs to be strong. And he’s stronger alone.

~*~

She fucked up. Utterly and completely fucked up. Tears stream down her face and it’s so fucking stupid, she’s only known him for three days. And she shouldn’t be crying, he’s the one who’s getting hurt, clearly not ready to talk about it, and she kept prying and prying.

Fuck!

She buries her face in her pillow and screams for all she’s got. Somewhere along the night either the alcohol or exhaustion from sobbing claims its victory and she falls into sweet oblivion.

As she rolls out from her bundle of blankets to slam down on her alarm clock, it’s not only her head that hurts. Her chest aches from how things were left off last night. Without even rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sends the first text.

“rolan i'm sorry. i shouldn’t have pried like that”

She gets no answer. She doesn’t really expect one either but she’s still disappointed.

“i get it if u don’t wanna talk i just need to know if ur alright and got home safe”

Of course he won’t be alright.

“i’m sorry”

“please just let me know ur safe”

As safe as he can be.

Shaky hands prepare coffee as she steals glances to the phone on her bed, hoping for the screen to light up before she has to jump into the shower.

But it doesn’t. It doesn’t light up as she gulps down her coffee and chews down a dried up croissant. It doesn’t light up as she dresses herself for the day. It doesn’t light up as she makes her way to the bistro where she waits tables.

Tav doesn’t hate her job, she doesn’t like it, but it’s work and she needs the coin. Today’s different though, she can’t even blame it on the hangover she’s rocking, she usually finds work a good distraction to a pounding head. But still the hours drag themselves by and every time she glances at the clock, she finds that no more than a couple of minutes have passed.

At her lunch break, as she sits in the alley behind the bistro, she finally has time to see if Rolan has answered. Her heart stings to see the only message she’s received is from Karlach.

“HOW DID IT GO WITH FANCY BOY? 👀 ”

Tav sighs and types.

“not well, he walked out. my fault tho”

“I’M SORRY TAV. WANNA TALK ABOUT IT?”

“idk i have to get my thoughts in order”

“I GET IT BABES <3 LEMME KNOW IF U CHANGE UR MIND”

The hours crawl by for the whole day, once she gets home she tries to pluck some lines to a new song they’re working on but nothing sounds right. She tries to listen to the latest Rana De Frey to see if she can feel something else, but even her usually patient neighbours are tired of her bullshit and shut her down with a couple of loud bangs to the wall.

Just as she’s about to give up for the night, she gets the text she’s been waiting for.

”I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

~*~

Rolan isn’t sure what he did to set off Lorroakan this time and why extravagant boots keep hitting his abdomen. Every time he thinks he’s got the man figured out something the headmaster takes an unexpected turn and punishes him for something new.

Perhaps he will never figure him out.

Perhaps that’s the point.

Something clicks. He almost feels it physically in his mind.

He’s either going to die in the hands of Lorroakan or he has to get away.

He knows he’s gambling his future, but he at least he’s not stupid enough to gamble with his life.

The problem with being in a new city where he hasn’t had time to make any connections is that there’s no one to ask for help from. There was someone who wanted to help him once, but he ruined that chance a month ago.

Perhaps she’ll forgive him if he just talks to her. Hah, he doesn’t remember getting a blow to his head but he’s clearly not thinking straight.

But what other choice has he got? He just needs somewhere to go to recover a bit and then he’ll figure out the next steps.

Though every part of his body aches and pain surges through him with every raspy breath, he stumbles across town. People send him looks, ranging from pitying to pure disgust but no one lends a hand. Bloody Baldurians, he thinks.

It takes him three attempts to remember the code Tav pressed in. He ignores the iron taste in his mouth and is probably running purely on adrenaline as he makes it up the stairs to her flat. He bangs on the door.

No one answers.

And he’s so godsdamned tired. He could go look for her at her rehearsal studio, but his legs won’t carry him any further. He slides down with his back against the wall.

He’ll wait here for her. He just has to rest his eyes for a bit.

#forget writes #rolan x tav #wip whatever

11 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 2 years ago

Note

what really happened between margaret and chris? has he always been this grumpy?

pairing: bar owner destroyer!chris x reader

masterlist - cheers

Chris liked being alone, he’d always enjoyed his alone time since he was a child. He would never consider himself an introvert, but at the same time, he didn’t really enjoy it when he didn’t have those periods of alone time. He couldn’t really describe what he did, it was hard to explain really - the best way he could explain what he did was through a single word, obsidian. His mind was blank, dark, and he just got lost in the sounds surrounding him. It was almost like losing himself and disappearing from reality for a bit; yet, lately, he was failing to disappear. His mind had oddly found a way to go back to Margaret. Despite how much he disliked her now, how much of a seated deep hatred he shared towards the woman he once loved, he could still see some memories. He looked towards the front door of the bar, ghosts dancing around in his mind.

They’d been travelling for one of her work trips, they’d been driving for what had felt like 10 hours when the bar he currently stood in appeared in the horizon with a massive “for sale” sign. They’d walked in and Margaret had immediately started talking about making it into a bar with a little hostel up on the top half, yet Chris hadn’t even remembered to listen to it, he’d been so enamoured with the idea of his future wife and him owning a business that he didn’t notice it. He didn’t notice how she didn’t hold his hand, how she referred to it as a business and not their business, how she’d avoid his gaze. He considered himself smart yet he hadn’t noticed what was blatantly clear - she didn’t love him, or at least, she had stopped loving him at some point. After being dumped at the altar, he’d immediately bought the place - a move some of his family had called desperate, as if he was clinging at straws to keep Margaret. However, the truth is, he’d never finished it. He was almost frozen at the one month mark after his wedding being called off, washing and cleaning glasses as time went by with dust covered bedrooms upstairs and stained wood down stairs.

- Hey. - Y/N interrupted those ghosts, her figure crossing through them as she made her way to the bar carrying a few stacked folders. - Bill here?

- Not today. He went to this bike expo to show his off.

- You ever been?

- I usually go with the guys but I’ve had some work to do.

- Clearly. - she looked around, making a point that the bar was empty.

- What’s all that? - he changed the subject, pointing at the folders she’d laid across the table.

- Some of the cases I brought from my old firm into my new firm. Mostly pro bono and some loyal clients but I have to sort out some paperwork before I can call it a day.

- ‘Ya stealing cases, Diane? - he chuckled, the idea of this woman running from her old firm and still taking customers with her quite amusing.

- They were mine to begin with. - she smiled.

- So why are you here if you’re so busy? - he turned his back to her to polish the glasses of the bar. - You would be more comfortable home.

- I thought you might want some company. You’re always here by yourself ... with the guys.

- I have a life outside of this bar, Diane. - he rolled his eyes. - I’m not that tied up to this place.

- I didn’t mean to offend you. - she took a metaphorical step back, looking at him and almost wondering if he was about to start an argument.

Chris now wanted to be alone. He was unsure about why that had suddenly flown to his brain but he had this overwhelming need to be alone now. He turned to her, watching as she looked through her folders and papers and then to the clock on the wall. The pointers moved slower than before, mocking him for wanting to be alone. Truth was, Chris needed to be alone, he had this overwhelming need to be alone, something which was usually triggered.

- I need to close, Diane. Get your ass back to New York. - he muttered, taking her by surprise. He usually never kicked her out, after all he was lord of the time his bar opened and closed. Maybe he was tired.

- Should I come back next week? - she asked as she tidied up after herself.

- Do whatever.

A tight smile spread across her face as she mumbled a shy and low ‘okay’. She was not in the mood to fight and she was not gonna be angry about someone not wanting her presence. Instead, she looped her bag over her shoulder and walked off the bar.

Chris was used to being alone, he liked it. He could talk to himself for hours, albeit never out loud. He could do all things other people did with one another and spare himself the pain and hurt that came with human interaction. Perhaps he was wrong, but he’d rather be wrong than heartbroken. Besides, he found comfort in the quietness of his bar, of the plans that never were. Yet, tonight, as he sat on his bed, surrounded by everything he built, his brain, affected by the one too many whiskey shoots he’d had, echoed the last words of that damned letter. That damned letter which he still kept in his bedside table, with the faint smell of the perfume he’d bought Margaret for her birthday. That damned letter which he’d read time and time again, those last words - ‘I don’t know what you want. What do you want?’.

The room morphed into something different as those word rang for the hundredth time in his mind, keeping him awake into the long nights. Standing in front of him, a result of drunken whiskey minds and a lack of sleep, was her, that run away bride which kept coming back to his bar, back in that god damn awful dress, holding a child against her side. Chris knew the answer to that question, he knew it for the first time since he read that letter - he didn’t want to be alone forever.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #destroyer!chris

60 notes · View notes

the-dragon-grasp · 1 year ago

Text

The Forest's Wrath

Hello everyone! I hope you’re doing well.

Today, I wanted to share more about a monster we previously revealed on other socials but not around here - the Sylvan Drake (or maybe the Forest’s Wrath? Or maybe both?).

As with all artwork revealed so far, @halybs worked on it! And as with all concept artwork revealed so far, please keep in mind it’s an early concept art and anything, really, is subject to change or cuts as we go through the preproduction.

This monster has been one of the first monsters that came to be. I think I had their concept in mind back in 2017? Wandering on FurAffinity, I remember a large, hulking dragon designed with features reminiscent of trees, rock, almost everything that’d make a mountain base covered by a forest. It ingrained in me this concept of a large drake creature, found deep in the woods. Everytime I see this creature, I realize how long it’s been since their ideation. Back then, it was…

…

It was another time, really. I was still a student, doing an internship in a big video game company that didn’t go very well, to be honest. I had pushed hard to work in video games, because I was convinced of the amazing storytelling power of games, but also that other, better working conditions were possible for video game workers. I finished my studies, got another internship in another big company, which went better, although not for all my colleagues and despite the large amount of working hours. I found my first “real” job (as if internships weren’t real jobs?) at a video game publisher, where I worked hard for three and a half years, probably too hard. I kept holding on to this dream - that one day, things would go better, that one day, games would be done in a respectful way. That one day, we could have a game about caring for monsters, too.

As we were working on the project, as I was spending many hours working on and dreaming about it in my free time, I eventually sent that folder to apply for a grant, and we got that positive reply. This game idea was worth it, they said ; it was something interesting to see. Other people, knowledgeable people in video games, were suddenly encouraging us, and we weren’t the only ones to believe in it and see the potential anymore.

That convinced me to leave my job, to estimate how long I could leave on unemployment benefit, if I could really bet on building a company, which I knew nothing about, if I could bet many years of savings on this project. I still discover a lot of things about it every day. How do people build this much confidence, learn that much in so little time, how do I still believe in everything? I often thought that it was frightening how so many things were suddenly up to me. I had to do everything, tell people about it, while for so many years, I felt like no one would care. It only asked for me to decide to give up for everything to stop. I could look for a new job tomorrow, and leave all that behind.

However, the more we’ve been sharing the project around, the more we’ve been getting support. Even from our Ko-fi supporters - I thought we’d have so much difficulty gathering people. It’s of course not much compared to the expenses building a company asks for, especially when you’re alone, when you don’t come from a wealthy background, and when you’re learning along the way (what to do? Who to trust?). But now, knowing that even a few people support us, actually give us some money to show their support and help as much as they can - I have no choice but to give it all and carry this project as far as we can.

I’m meeting more and more people willing to help us. They tell us this is a great idea, this has potential. They tell us it’s ambitious, it will be hard, it will be difficult. They tell us it’s necessary, it’s an important game to make.

It feels great to share what you have had in mind for so many years and confront it to reality. To realize people are excited about it. To realize you’re not alone.

I won’t lie that working on this project and building this studio in these dire times for many people on the planet sometimes feels foolish. Just looking at the news makes you wonder about what you’re doing. But then I’m trying to hold onto what motivated me in the first place - the storytelling power of games. How, through them, we can tell stories of hope, of people doing their best against adversity, how to work for peace and respect in a world of conflict, how societies could change, together, hoping for the better. It feels like such a grand dream sometimes.

I’m not sure how far we’ll make it. It depends on so many things. I’m not sure how good it will be. It depends on so many things. But maybe the most important thing is to try.

…

Since the week started, we've been working on reviewing our lore and worldbuilding. So many things change and can still change - even this monster that’s been existing for so long and going through so many reworks - who they are, what they do, how important should they be, or not. It’s weird, exhilarating, sad, and fun. What to tell you in these posts supposed to share more about creatures and people and our world if anything can change depending on all the feedback we’re now getting? I’m not sure. I can at least remain transparent and talk about how this project is going, where it comes from, and what we’ve been up to - as people, too.

Thank you everyone for your support, and until next time :)

#fantasy #dragon #furry #scalie #indie game #indie game dev #indiedev #lgbtq #video games #queer #concept art #the dragon grasp #devblog #we carry on

8 notes · View notes

eiirisworkshop · 1 year ago

Text

I am currently feebly shaking my Star Trek OCs, Bryn and Leryk in my mind like rag dolls, but the next fic they appear in is no where near finished—

(it's a sequel to the TOS 5-year-mission-era fic, Chiaroscuro, I introduced them in)

—so there's not much for me to do but mentally shake them like rag dolls.

But! I found, buried deep in my fanfic folders, the first thing I ever wrote of them! It's an old version of what is now their shared backstory (as referenced in Chiaroscuro and explored some in the OC-tober fills I did for Leryk a few years back). It's not quite 100% canon to them as they now exist, but I still think it's cool to see where they started (and to remember that I changed how I spell Leryk's name, and see my Trek lore errors from lack of research lol; I think this was written during class, I couldn't readily check Memory Alpha or Beta).

Anyway, I figured I'd share it.

Warning for parts of the story below the cut containing consent issues due to pon farr and characters not knowing what's going on with that.

-----

Baliel Alpha VI, 2251

A seven year old boy sat cross legged in the gravel of the main street, his back against the corner of a building cobbled together from bulkheads, his dark blond hair catching the sunlight as he built a small castle out of the powdered bluish stone that gathered at the edges of the road, stuck together with meltwater from the remnants of the last ice storm. A scuffle down the street at the shuttle port caused him to look up.

“Earth? Like hell! You're lucky I'm dumping you here instead of blasting you out into space, you stowaway rat!” a man, probably a cargo captain, yelled. He had another boy—older than the one sitting at the roadside—by one pointed ear, and was shaking him. The boy was grimacing but didn't cry out, he just stared up at his assailant with pale, clear eyes set under sharply angled brows. The man pushed the boy to the ground and stomped back into the port.

Carefully, with more grace and dignity than any Human would have expected of a child his age, the pale-eyed boy got to his feet, dusted off his thin, travel worn clothes, and crossed his arms against the cool air. He didn't move, just stood in the middle of the street, doing a pretty good job of not looking lost. None of the adults around paid him any mind, they were all used to out of place children showing up without warning. The other little boy, noticed though. He abandoned his half built castle to take a few steps toward the newcomer. “Hey!”

The dark haired boy looked around. One side of his short, black hair was sticking up in a way clearing indicative of having slept wedged between cargo crates.

“Hey,” the younger boy walked closer, “you just got here, huh?”

The older boy nodded.

“Yeah, I saw. I'm Bryn.” Bryn smiled.

A silent moment passed. “Leryc.”

“That your name?”

Leryc nodded again.

Bryn nodded too. “You look cold.”

“It is cold here.”

Bryn frowned then shrugged out of his own heavily patched jacket and held it out. “Don't think it'll fit you but put it around your shoulders?”

Leryc hesitated then carefully reached out to wrap long, thin fingers, angry green with cold, around the collar of the coat.

2257

Bryn fell face first into his hammock with a sigh. Curled up with an old, bound paper book in the mound of blankets that passed for his bed on the other side of the room, Leryc quirked an eyebrow at his shack-mate. “Still Eila?”

“She kissed me now she won't talk to me,” Bryn said into the thick fabric of his hammock. He sat up. “I don't understand.”

Leryc turned a page. “Well, I don't understand any of it so I doubt I can offer you any help.”

“You're like eighteen right?”

“In Terran years, yes.”

“So why is it that I have girl troubles and you don't?”

“I've not interest in girls.”

“Boys?”

“Nor in boys.”

“Whatever Rhi is?”

Leryc made a face of disgust. “Definitely not whatever Rhi is. The kid has a great personality but the slime sacks still make me a little sick.”

“Is there really nobody you like?”

“Bryn,” Leryc set his book on his knees, “if I'm like my mother's people, I've still got another two terran years before my sexual development catches up to where yours is now. Besides that, I don't see what concern it is of yours who if anyone I consider a potential mate.”

“We're friends and we live together. According to every single story I know of about roommates going back some four centuries, 'potential mates' is something we talk about.��

“You've only been a teenager for four months, you have plenty of time to talk about plenty of things.” Leryc blew a puff of breath at a lock of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

2262

Bryn sprawled on the mat floor of his and Leryc's common room—it had once been their shared bedroom, but over the years they'd been able to add onto their one room shack enough for them each to have their own bedroom and a proper bathroom to share. He chewed absently at the rind of a local fruit. "Eila dumped Markel." "Oh?" Leryc didn't look up from the old terminal he was repairing. Bryn handed him a laser driver. "For the same reason I did last year: he's a self centered ass." "Glad you and Eila are in agreement." Leryc poked at the interior of the terminal and frowned, slanted brows contracting. "This thing is thoroughly fried." Bryn sat up and flicked Leryc's tiny tuft of a ponytail. "Not gonna be able to fix it?" "Oh no, I will fix it." "I believe you." "Old lady with the birds still trying to match you up with potential partners?" "Yes." Bryn sighed. "And she's running out of humanoids." "Shame." Bryn snorted but he didn't say anything. He just watched Leryc work. Graceful fingers combing through tangles of wiring, icy silver eyes narrowed in concentration. Deliberately, so Leryc could see what he meant to do and prevent it if he wanted, Bryn reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind one of Leryc's elfin ears. Leryc allowed it. Bryn grinned. He knew Leryc's strict maintenance of his personal space generally didn't extend to him but confirmation still made him feel good. Leryc glanced at him. "What?" "Nothing." Leryc nodded and returned to his work. Bryn didn't know – he couldn't, Leryc had let him believe for years his Vulcan blood hadn't brought with it any of his mother's people's Disciplines – but that touch, so near his temple, sent a spark into the base of Leryc's brain. Not for the first time, he felt what Bryn felt for him: a wary admiration and affection beyond their friendship, different than anything Leryc had ever felt on his own. He didn't say anything. Acted like he didn't know. Certainly never let on that he knew Bryn knew that somehow he knew how he felt. The next morning, Bryn—always a later riser than Leryc—trudged out of his room to find, for one thing, the terminal fixed, for another, the bathroom door open showing Leryc clutching the edges of the sink while he vomited.

“Leryc?” Bryn hurried to his friend's side and carefully held back his hair. “Are you okay?”

Leryc retched again, shook his head, grabbed the towel off its hook, and wiped his mouth. “I don't know,” he said hoarsely.

“I've never seen you sick.”

“I know, I—” Leryc lowered himself to the floor and pressed a hand to his flank at the bottom of his right-hand ribs where his heart was beating as though he'd been running. He took a deep breath. “Maybe I ate something bad.”

“I ate everything you did.” Bryn crouched next to him, frowning.

“Could be bad for me and not for you.”

“I guess.” Gently, Bryn smoothed back the front of Leryc's hair. His skin was unusually warm, about as warm as Bryn himself. “I think you have a fever.”

“I should go back to bed.” Leryc pulled himself to his feet.

“Yeah.” Bryn stepped out of the way. “Maybe—maybe try to meditate?”

Leryc glared at him. “I don't do that.”

“I know but maybe you should, just a little. It's partially a regulatory thing, right? And I know you were there long enough to be taught how.”

“Yeah.” Leryc scrubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe.”

Bryn watched his normally graceful friend trudge back to his room. When Bryn returned from the day's chores and errands that evening, the door to Leryc's room was still closed. When he tried to check on him, Leryc snapped at him to go away. The same thing happened the next morning. That night, having noticed that none of their food had been touched, Bryn put together a plate and carefully let himself into Leryc's room. “Hey,” he said softly, blinking to adjust to the dim, “don't think you've eaten in a couple days so I brought you something.”

Leryc uncurled from the ball he'd wound himself into on top of his blankets. He was shirtless, unusual for the perpetually cold desert creature living on a planet prone to spontaneous ice storms. Bryn took another step toward him. He lashed out, knocking the plate out of Bryn's hands and sending it flying across the room. He grabbed Bryn by the wrist and pulled him down, causing him to yelp. Suddenly on his back, Bryn gaped up at his friend. “What the—? Are you okay?”

Rather than answering, Leryc rubbed his face against Bryn's cheek then pressed his mouth to the pulsepoint under his jaw.

Bryn jerked away. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Leryc gripped his shoulders to keep him from moving, fingers like iron near painfully tight. He looked down at Bryn, breathing ragged, the silver of his eyes reduced to a slim ring around wide, black pupils. “I need this,” he said, voice hoarse.

“'This?' What is—” Bryn looked away from Leryc's face to how he was crouching over him, pinning him inescapably to the bedding. “Sex?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Leryc pressed his face to Bryn's throat again and inhaled deeply.

“What?”

“Now.”

“Now?!” Bryn heard his voice jump an octave as one of Leryc's hands released its hold on his shoulder and went instead to the closure of Bryn's trousers. “I—” Bryn took a breath that filled his lungs with sandalwood and copper “Okay,” he closed his eyes, “okay,” reached up and ran his hand along Leryc's side to where his heart beat against his ribs, “okay.”

Bryn woke naked, curled around what might have been a pillow or might have been a wadded up blanked, feeling vaguely like he'd been dropped from a height onto the rocky wasteland to the north of the colony. Slowly, he unbent his spine with an achy groan and peeked out from under the blanket that covered him. He could see Leryc wrapped in another blanket, sitting next to the trash can, head bowed behind crossed arms propped on tucked up knees. Bryn sat up, wincing as his did, and saw, as he wrapped his own blanket close around himself, that there were bruises gripped into his arm. He figured he had bruises elsewhere as well.

“Leryc?” he asked quietly.

Leryc flinched and curled tighter around his knees. “I'm sorry.”

Bryn frowned. He looked under his blanket. Bruises on his hips, a few lighter ones on his ribs, and he thought he could feel some on his shoulders. He was sore but nothing seemed too bad. “I think I'm okay.”

Leryc looked up. “That's not—” He looked away. “I'm sorry.”

The whites of his eyes were tinged green and there were deep circles beneath them. Bryn wondered if he'd slept. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Leryc's brow creased with confusion. He shook his head. He put a hand over his eyes and took a shaky breath. “I— Why are you asking if I'm—? I r—” He turned quickly to retch into the trash can but nothing came up. He finished in a ragged whisper, “I raped you....”

"What?! No!" Bryn instinctively lunged forward and immediately regretted the action. "Oh, owe.... No. No, no, no, no, no. That is not what happened." "Look at you!" "Rough sex does not equal rape!" Bryn pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "Look I don't know what the fuck last night was about and I hurt in places I didn't know I had nerves and I'm kinda freaked out right now for several reasons but I told you okay, I said you could." He sucked in a sharp breath. "I said it and I meant it." Leryc blinked several times, looked down at his hands, and shook his head. "I don't remember that." Bryn rubbed at his forehead between his eyes and sighed. "I told you okay." "I hurt you." "Yeah, that wasn't exactly the most pleasant fuck I've ever had and I'm seriously gonna want an explanation but I'll live." He grimaced. "Might need a chiropractor but I'll live." Bryn stretched uncomfortably. "Are you okay? Have you slept? When's the last time you ate? Were you high or something? 'Cause you seemed pretty damn strung out. I hope you weren't high, I really don't want to have been your first just because you were toasted. That was your first time wasn't it?" Leryc looked away and nodded once. "It was." "So for twenty four years you've done absolutely nothing then out of nowhere you just have to fuck me?" Bryn asked with far more bite than he'd expected. "Yes." "You bastard, you've got to know I have feelings for you!" "Yes, I know, I've known." Leryc fisted his hands in his hair. "I never said anything because I didn't return them." "Now all of a sudden you do?" "I honestly don't know, Bryn," Leryc snapped. "If you don't know then what was last night?" Leryc closed his eyes, leaned back against the wall and let out a long breath. "Pon-fahr." "I don't know what that means Leryc. I'm sure I've heard it but I've heard a lot of things and I don't know what any of them mean." "I don't know how to explain." "You better fucking try." Bryn swallowed past a lump forming in his throat. "I like you, a lot, you're my best friend and I think you're gorgeous. I am all kinds of okay with having sex with you, but I wasn't counting on the bruises and what I'm starting to think is a pulled muscle in my back and I'm not gonna just be okay with that for nothing." "Pon-fahr is, well, for one thing it's not something that gets talked about." Leryc sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's like heat I guess." "Heat? Like a cat in heat, heat?" "Yes. I don't know all that much, what I do know is the knowledge of a child about something he's not supposed to know exists yet." "Oh come on, you left when you were twelve." "Vulcan boys don't hit puberty until nearly twenty, things like this weren't of any immediate concern to me at twelve!" Leryc slammed his fist against the wall. He stopped and looked at his hand as though he'd never seen it before. His knuckles were grazed, a viridescent drop oozed from from the torn skin of one of them. He folded his other hand over it. "Starting in puberty, Vulcans—and apparently I—experience pon-fahr once every certain number of years. I forget exactly how many. Symptoms include aggression... I don't know exactly. Not vomiting though, I'm sure of that." "You've been puking for days." "I know. I don't know why that is." Leryc propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. "The thing about pon-fahr, first thing you know about when you start to learn what it is before ever bring told, is it's you mate or you die." He looked up. "Bryn, last night, I really wasn't myself, and I'm so sorry, but I had to. I don't remember you saying it was alright and I don't think it would've changed anything if you hadn't."

For a long, stunned moment, Bryn said nothing, then he laughed darkly, shook his head, and got stiffly to his feet. “I can't believe this. I'm going to go take painkillers and go back to sleep.” He made for the door but paused to put his hand on the top of Leryc's head. “Eat something.” He left the room.

Bryn spent most of the rest of the day in his hammock, reading, trying not to think—or feel his body's protests of the previous night's rough treatment. He only left occasionally to use the bathroom and once that evening to get himself dinner. He noticed with some relief that a package of fish sticks had absented itself from the freezer. By the next morning, he was less stiff and his bruises had started to fade so he pulled on a long sleeved, high collared shirt and set about his usual routine. He barely caught a glimpse of Leryc all day; when Bryn got back to the house in the evening from making his rounds, doing various odd jobs—fixing a heater, helping install a skylight—Leryc was in the common room. The moment Bryn opened the door, Leryc stood and made for his room without so much as trying to disguise his fleeing as anything other than what it was. Bryn was perfectly content to let him go. When the pattern continued the rest of the week, however, Bryn's attitude started the shift.

“Leryc.” Bryn had come out of the bathroom after showering to find his housemate rooting through the cupboards. He looked up quickly and made to bolt but Bryn, hair still dripping, stood between Leryc and the door to his room. “Leryc, you haven't spoken a word to me in ten days, can we talk?”

Leryc stared at a point on the wall, jaw set.

“We need to talk.”

“I'd like to point out that you're the who walked out.”

“Because you'd just told me you would have raped me if I hadn't consented, that's not an easy thing to take in stride.”

Leryc shut his eyes. “Could you please step aside?”

“Leryc!”

“I've asked you to step aside.”

Bryn bristled, then obeyed. “Is this it it now, then?” he asked as Leryc passed him. “We're gonna just live in the same house and not talk? Is that how you want things?”

Leryc stopped but didn't turn. “No, that is not how I want things.”

“Then let's talk!”

“Not now, Bryn.”

“Then when?”

“I don't know.”

“For fuck's sake, Leryc.” Bryn stomped over and took one of Leryc's hands in both his own and didn't let him flinch away. “The longer you hide more freaked out I get.” He hesitated a moment. “I love you and last week was not how I ever would have wanted to change our relationship from friends to something else so, I guess, I want to—” He let go of Leryc's hand with one of his own, ran his fingers along Leryc's jaw. “I want to try again. Get it right.” He leaned up to kiss him.

Leryc turned his head away. “Bryn,” he said carefully, “prior to ten days ago I was essentially a prepubescent child.”

“I know.” Bryn smoothed his hand against Leryc's cheek only for him to jerk away again.

“Have I mentioned the touch telepathy thing?”

Quickly Bryn clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, I'm sorry.... This is not going how I meant for it to.”

“I cannot deal with this, Bryn.”

“You're going to have to learn to.” Bryn shook his head and took a breath. “There's no going back to before last week, for either of us but especially you.”

Leryc closed his eyes. “You're my friend. I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't hurt me.”

“I already did.”

Bryn made a sound of exasperation, grabbed Leryc by the jaw and kissed him firmly, warmly. Leryc stiffened. Bryn traced a finger along the shell of his ear then pulled away. “The rape thing freaked me out—”

“I know,” Leryc breathed.

“And the avoidance thing is starting to piss me off—”

“I know. When you touch my face I can sort of feel your thoughts.”

“I know.” Bryn nodded and traced the line of one of Leryc's brows making his breath catch. “So you know I love you, as a friend and also in a distinctly not prepubescent way.”

“I don't know what to do with that.”

“I do!” Bryn thumped his hands flat on Leryc's chest then curled his fingers in the fabric of his shirt. “I mostly know what I'm doing. Last week, that sucked in a lot of ways, I don't want that to be all I know of what we could be.”

Leryc nodded slowly. “So you want to try again.”

“So I want to try again.” Bryn smiled faintly. “Maybe have you remember it this time.”

#eiiri made this #fanfic #star trek tos #OCs #star trek oc #old writing #Leryk and Bryn

2 notes · View notes

novaiya · 3 years ago

Text

Good Things Come in Three - Arthur/Reader/Sadie (NSFW)

Summary: You and Arthur skip the gang's celebratory party in favor of some alone time, barely closing the door of the hotel room before freeing each other of your clothes. Naked and on the bed, you almost get down to business when Sadie knocks on your door, asking if she could join the fun. You didn't expect the night to take such a turn, but that's not to say you're opposed to what she's suggesting.

Words: 5,157

Warnings: threesome, girl on girl kissing, face sitting, honestly, nothing too out of the line, just some good ol' F/F/M

A/N: I've wanted to write an RDR2 threesome for months now, and finally, it happened! Hopefully there'll be more to cum (lol) I actually have a rough draft of a Arthur/Reader/Charles sitting in my folder, so maybe I'll do something with it soon. Also, I'm going to horny jail.

AO3 Link.

With successful completion of a big score came a big celebration. The job was two weeks in the making and involved half a dozen members of the gang, you included. A small bank in a cholera ridden town, though heavily guarded with lawmen both inside and around it; you knew there was more to it. After a little bit more digging, you discovered that one of the residents of town struck gold and was keeping his findings there for the time being. It took careful planning and rigorous preparations but on the chosen day, you were all ready.

Contrary to how the gang’s plans often went, this one went rather smoothly (probably due to inclusion of you and Sadie, women’s touch as they say) and not a day later the gang was about $40,000 richer, a few gold bars heavier and miles away.

The spirits were high; Not only did the job go smoothly, but nobody got hurt or caught. Dutch was ecstatic and decided that celebration was in order. As soon as you came upon a town with a functioning saloon in it, all the horses and the wagons were stopped and everybody went inside.

The saloon, which only a few minutes before was quiet and deserted, with only the barman standing and polishing the empty glasses, quickly filled with two dozen of the gang members and their combined laughs, cheers and songs.

“What’s your name, mister?” Dutch said to the barman as the gang filed into the saloon.

“Howard, sir.”

“Howard,” Dutch repeated as he shook Howard’s hand and inconspicuously slid a few bills into his hand. “These people,” he said and motioned to the members that had already scattered themselves around the saloon, some at the poker table, some by the bar stock. “They had a rough go at it. Can you please make sure they have a pleasant evening?”

“Well, of course, sir!” Howard beamed, already putting the bills in his back pocket. “I’ve been serving drinks at this saloon since before the war, sir, I know what people need.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Dutch said, patting Howard on the back. “Now, people,” he turned his attention to the gang, his voice raising a few octaves. “Tonight, we celebrate. I want all of you to enjoy yourself. Drink, eat, gamble and do whatever else you want, as much as you want. You deserve it.”

Dutch’s address was met with loud cheers and long applause and thus, the night began.

The last time Howard served so many people so quickly was in ’65 when the war ended. Yet, even then he didn’t remember having to go into the basement to bring more stock and having to wake up his sons so they could help serve the patrons quicker. As he filled each glass to the brim, he wondered how people could drink so much.

You wondered too as you watched your fellow gang members down one drink after another after another. Some fared better than others. Dutch and Hosea, preferring to enjoy their liquor rather than get wasted, sat in the corner of the room by the fire, nursing their whiskey and already planning their next move. Lenny, still being young and inexperienced, was already dancing hand in hand with Sean, who despite not being new to drinking, couldn’t hold his liquor. Pearson, along with Uncle, started playing their instruments and added live music to the mix of singing, laughter and talking that already filled the saloon. Even Charles joined in on harmonica a few times.

Howard wondered what the lot of you did to call for such a celebration, but he knew better than to ask questions. The money was paid and the drinks were sold; that’s all that mattered.

To say that you were tipsy was an understatement. Perhaps drinking a shot of whiskey and chasing it with a beer was not a good idea, but good ideas rarely made their way into your head, especially when running with the Van Der Linde gang. You were sitting in Arthur’s lap, your arms draped lazily over his form, your head on his shoulder. The two of you were sitting at the poker table, with the other players being Javier, John and Micah. All four of the men were far too drunk to make the right moves or plan their strategies, yet it didn’t stop them from gambling their share of the bank job and hoping for the best.

Unsurprisingly to you, Arthur was winning. Out of all the four men, he was the least inebriated (no thanks to his big size and ability to hold liquor), and even when the drinks were not in play, Arthur was generally a good player, knowing when to hold, to fold, or to walk away. Each time he won some, you’d land a kiss on his neck or his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Good job, love.” The stoic, ruthless gunslinger would turn into mush at your words and your touch, and with a pink blush on his cheeks would say, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Despite enjoying a game of poker from time to time yourself, you found yourself a little bored and were looking forward to when the game would finish. As you sat in Arthur laps, waiting for the men to call it a night, your eyes traveled over the saloon, taking in the scenery around. It was a nice change to see the gang members so happy and carefree, the only thing on their mind, their next drink.

As you scanned the room, your eyes met with Sadie’s. She was leaning against the bar stock with a drink in her hand. You couldn’t read the exact look in her eyes; it was fierce, determined and hot. Hot. That’s exactly how you felt under her gaze. You shifted under Arthur, suddenly too aware that you were sitting on his lap. He groaned a little, one of his hands coming up to your hip to stop your movements.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he said under his breath, loud enough only for you to hear. You could still feel Sadie’s gaze, could see it from the corner of your eyes. His hand massaged your hip a little and he added, “I’m almost done here. Wanna go upstairs?”

A salacious smile, fueled by the alcohol in your veins and Arthur’s body against yours spread on your lips, and you hid your head in the crook of his neck, whispering, “You know I do.”

Arthur chuckled, before turning back to the game.

“All in,” he said.

Javier dropped out, but John and Micah went along, going all in.

One card up, second card up.

“Yes!”

You almost jumped out of Arthur’s lap as he roared, scooping up his winnings in no time.

John groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a loud thud, already preparing himself for Abigail’s wrath as soon as she would find out. Micah, on the other hand, was fuming, and his face was almost as red from the rage as his shirt. “Stupid game,” he said as he got up from the table and went to the barman, getting himself another drink.

“I got lady luck in my lap,” Arthur said before turning his head to you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You moaned against his lips and waved your fingers through his hair, not caring even a bit at the John and Javier present, the latter even whistling at your display of love. One of his hands was on your hip, and the other started to make its way up your leg and under your skirt, dangerously close to the hem of your drawers.

You broke the kiss, panting slightly, and said, “How about we get a room?” you said before kissing his jaw and adding, “Unless you want to take me right here at the table.”

He could feel himself stiffen at your words, and without wasting anymore time, got up from the chair and took your hand in his. No one paid you and Arthur any attention as you traversed through the saloon, everybody too busy with their own conversations or drink, except for Sadie. You could feel her eyes the entire time as you walked across the room to the stairs, and your mouth felt dry when you walked right past her, her deep, brown eyes staring right into your soul and calling out to something. As you walked up the stairs, you turned back one last time, and saw her sending you a warm, though hinting, smile.

The two of you giggled and laughed as you tried to undress each other, the alcohol doing its job at making your fingers nimble.

He pushed you against the door as he ravished your mouth, making your head feel dizzy and your need for air almost as strong as the need for Arthur. When he broke away from your lips, his mouth turned to attacking your neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all up and down the column of your neck as his hands worked on undoing the buttons of your blouse.

“Oh my god, Arthur,” you moaned, your eyes closed as Arthur finally discarded your blouse and revealed your chest to him, his mouth landing on one of your nipples while his fingers worked on the other.

“Been hard since the moment you sat your pretty little ass down on my lap,” he groaned against your chest. He sucked on one of your nipples, covering it in his spit before adding, “Thought of taking you right then and there when I felt your nipples brush against me.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, your fingers in his hair as he placed his mouth back on your chest, giving your other nipple the same treatment.

“You sure were as good with them cards tonight as you are with your mouth,” you said breathlessly when he released your nipple.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice dropping an octave and having a dangerous edge to it, “There’s a lot of things I’m good at.”

“Then show me, cowboy,” you said as you pushed him a little before dropping your skirt together with your drawers on the ground, presenting yourself to Arthur in all your naked glory. He could feel his mouth go dry upon seeing your body, illuminated by a faint light from the lantern. No matter how many times he saw you naked, you always managed to take his breath away and wonder what he did to deserve a creature as marvelous as you.

He picked you up effortlessly and carried you to the bed. The cotton sheets felt cool and soft against your skin as Arthur laid you down before covering your body with his, his mouth on yours in seconds.

“Too many clothes,” you mumbled against his lips and pulled on his suspenders, the strap hitting him with an audible slap when you released it.

He didn’t waste much time, pushing his suspenders to the side and pulling out his shirt before throwing it on the floor, revealing his golden chest and torso to your eyes. You ran your hand up his torso, through the light blonde hair that covered it and up to his chest where you could hear his heart beat wildly. His hands were on his pants, ready to pull them down and reveal his leaking cock when a knock on the door froze both of you. You both darted your heads to the door, wondering who and for what reason would knock on your door. Perhaps it was one of your drunk friends, lost and trying to find an available room.

When neither of you answered, keeping still and quiet despite your breathing hard and heavy, a voice spoke from behind the door.

“It’s Sadie,” she said as if mentioning that it’s her and not one of the drunken boys would make a difference and by god, it did.

Her intense stare flashed before your eyes and you once again felt the weight of it over you. Perhaps the alcohol was doing it’s job, making you bolder and daring, but you turned your eyes at Arthur, searching for something in them; a visible ‘no’, a confusion or some sort of opposition, but when none came, you turned back towards the door and said, “Come in.”

You saw the doorknob twist before the door opened with an audible creak. As soon as Sadie passed through the threshold and closed the door behind her, her eyes landed on the two of you on the bed.

Arthur was just in his pants, situated between your naked, spread legs. Her eyes raked over his golden chest down to the bulge in his pants before darting to you, your nipples perky and at attention, your chest rising and falling each time you took a breath. It didn’t miss you when she licked her lips, her eyes still on your naked body.

“I…” she began, sounding just a hint sheepish, “I’m interested in joining. If it's okay with the two of you that is.”

You could feel yourself clench around nothing and your heart rate pick up a few beats upon hearing her words. From the way she occasionally watched you and Arthur engaging in some PDA and the looks the two of you would often share, you could feel something more than friendly feelings floating in the air. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t curious; Sadie was a beautiful woman; from her piercing brown eyes, to her full lips and her dirty blonde hair. You caught yourself thinking that she reminded you of Arthur in some ways, both of them having a similar, burning fire in them, bravery that could rival anyone else’s in the gang as well as a softer, caring side. Maybe that’s why you liked her and weren’t opposed to what she was suggesting.

You licked your lips and was more than ready to say yes, but turned to Arthur. After how long the two of you had been together, you didn’t need to use words to communicate. You looked at him, raising your brows slightly, silently asking, “Are you okay with this?” He gave you a lopsided grin, nodding his head just a tiny bit, his way of saying, “If you are, I am.”

You smiled before biting your lip and turning your head to Sadie. Arthur moved to the side, making room for you so you could get up from the bed. “Join us,” you said when you came to stand next to her, taking her hand in yours. She flashed you a smile, the one that was making you weak in the knees, before one of her hands made its way to the back of your head, bringing your head closer to hers. You could feel her breath against your lips, could smell the strong scent of whiskey on them. It felt that just by inhaling the scent, you were getting more intoxicated.

Her lips were soft and warm as she pressed them against yours, stealing your breath away as she kissed you. You tangled your fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss and moaning against her mouth when she slipped her tongue in. All tongue and teeth, the kiss was desperate and needy, as if the two of you were starving for each other. Arthur could do nothing but watch as the two of you kissed, his mind on fire at looking at one of the most erotic things he’s ever seen in his life. He could feel himself become rock hard to the point of pain, and palmed his erection through his pants, trying to relieve some of the tension.

Her clothes dropped on the floor in a pile as you helped to disrobe her, your lips not leaving her for more than a few seconds as you helped her pull her blouse over her head and her pants down. Your lips were swollen and wet when the two of you finally broke apart, lazy grins on your faces. You turned around to look at Arthur; he looked desperate and needy as he sat on the bed, his cock already in his hands, rock solid, leaking and red at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and you smiled at Sadie before the two of you made your way to Arthur.

“Ladies,” he groaned as the two of you got up on the bed, making your way to Arthur like panthers to their prey. You pushed his hand aside, replacing it with yours. If there was heaven, then this was certainly it, Arthur thought when he watched the two of you bring your lips to his cock, your mouth on his tip while Sadie’s on his base. He fought back the urge to snap his hips forward, pushing more of himself in your mouth, and decided to simply take what the two of you were giving him. While you sucked on his head, popping the head in your mouth from time to time before sucking on it, Sadie was kissing up and down his cock, making a mess as her spit covered him from the base to the middle. Arthur couldn’t help but twitch when she took one of his balls in her mouth, and you took his cock deeper, the head hitting the back of your throat. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he moaned loud, perhaps too loud, at all the attention he was getting.

Thankfully, the two of you didn’t torture him for too long or otherwise he was sure he would’ve been cumming down your throat within minutes. As Sadie popped his balls from her mouth, and you took his cock out of yours, you kissed once again. Neither of you minded the taste of the man on each other’s lips, perhaps even chasing it as your tongues clashed against each other.

You turned to look at Arthur, your eyes almost completely black and full of lust, and said, “Arthur, I want you to fuck Sadie.” Your hands ran up his cock, giving a few slow, sensual strokes and earning a groan from him before adding, “I want her to feel how good your cock is.”

To say that he was expecting the night to go down like this would be a lie, but that’s not to say that he wasn’t enjoying it. He didn’t trust his words, so he simply nodded his head and pushed his hips a little for emphasis.

Sadie’s hand was in yours as she moved to straddle Arthur, his cock right against her nether lips. He could feel her witness coating his member, the heat from her lips already spreading over him. Arthur held himself in his hand as Sadie lowered herself on his cock, moaning at the stretch of being filled by him, pleasure bordering on pain from how thick he was. You kissed her all over, her neck, her cheeks, her lips, her chest, as she took him inch by inch, her breathing ragged and her eyes closed. When he was all the way in, his pelvis flush with her, it was as if everybody breathed a sigh of relief. Sadie felt full, unbelievably so, and without even moving, she could already feel unbelievable pleasure filling her.

You lowered your head to Arthur’s, kissing over his neck before bringing your lips to his ear and said, “Make her feel good, Arthur.”

The first pull and push of his cock had Sadie cry out in pleasure, her face contorted in ecstasy as Arthur pushed deep inside her. His hands were on her hips as he held her in place, pistoling his cock in and out of her wet channel. You could feel your wetness run down your legs as you watched her, so lost in pleasure and so beautiful as she moaned.

With his hands still on her hips, he turned his face to you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You could feel his hunger and desperation as his tongue danced around your’s, making your head spin from the intensity of the kiss.

When he broke away, a spit connecting your lips just for a moment, he said, “I want to feel you too.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. With excitement and lust and arousal coursing through your veins, you sat up on the bed before swinging your legs over Arthur’s head and bringing your soaked pussy over his mouth. He removed one of his hand’s from Sadie’s hips (who was now riding him in earnest herself, taking her pleasures from his cock) and placed it on one of your thighs to bring you down over his mouth.

Your moans joined Sadie’s as Arthur sucked on your sopping lips, before diving his tongue right into your hole. The room filled with nothing but sounds of moans, groans and skin slapping against skin. Perhaps, if someone looked up a definition of hedonism, a picture of the three of you would be there, indulging in your most basic carnal desires and chasing your pleasures.

With your eyes closed and your mouth open, you could do nothing but shake with pleasure as Arthur ate you out, his skillful tongue working between plunging itself into your hole and sucking on your clit. The feeling of Sadie’s hand on your cheek made you open your eyes. She was completely debauched, her face flush from arousal, her pussy wet and dripping as Arthur fucked into her. She brought your face to hers and kissed you, her tongue pushing past your lips right away. From Arthur tongue in your pussy to Sadie’s in your mouth, you could feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Fuck!” Sadie cried out, breaking away from your lips as her orgasm washed over her like a tsunami. Arthur didn’t let up for a moment, pistoling his hips in and out of her quivering hole until she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt herself gush all over him as he brought her to the peak of pleasures to the point where it was becoming all too much and she had to stop. She breathed heavily as she recovered, sitting to the side and waiting for the ringing in her ears to pass.

Satisfied with making one of the women happy, Arthur turned his full attention to you, both of his hands on your thigh, bringing you impossible close to his face, so much so that you wondered how he breathed.

“Arthur,” you moaned as he fucked you with his tongue and brought his thumb to play with your clit.

Sadie was at your side then, kissing down your neck till she reached your nipple and sucked on it.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, tears welling in your eyes as all the sensations were becoming too much. “You’re gonna make me cum,” you said to both of them, and not a moment later, you did.

You kept riding Arthur’s face as you chased your orgasm, crying his and Sadie’s name as they kept bringing you higher and higher. After a few more moments, you finally came to a stop, your thighs still shaking as Arthur helped you from his face down to the bed, laying at one of your sides while Sadie laid at your other. He kissed up and down your neck, leaving small bites and hickeys all over, while Sadie kissed over your chest, marking you as well.

Only after a few moments did it dawn on you that despite making the two of you cum and see stars, Arthur still hasn’t, his cock rock hard.

As if thinking the same thing, Sadie looked up at your from between your breasts, saying, “I wanna watch him fuck you,” before licking your nipple.

You moaned at that, your pussy twitching in anticipation, and looked at Arthur.

You were still sensitive from your orgasm, but you wanted to watch Arthur cum, so you spoke against his lips. “Arthur, please.”

He could never say no to you, not when you spoke his name with such a need in your voice. He smiled against your lips, brushing his nose against yours before saying, “Anything for you, darlin’.”

You parted your thighs to accommodate him and licked your lips when he took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few pumps before pushing just the head of his cock in. There was more than enough preparation, your own wetness and Arthur’s spit running down your pussy and your thighs, yet you still felt that familiar burn as he split you open, pushing more of himself in.

Inch by inch, he filled you, taking a pause here and there to let you get used to the feeling of him filling you to the brim. When he was all the way in, the head of his cock pushing so deep inside you you could practically taste it, you sighted his name, your head rolling back on the pillows and your fingers clawing at the sheets.

Sadie’s hand was on your lower abdomen, right where she could feel Arthur push in you.

She licked her lips before turning to him and said, “Fuck her proper, Arthur.”

The drag of his cockhead over your insides had you clench around him, the tears in your eyes coming back as your sensitive walls spasmed over him. One of your hands was clawing at the back of your pillows, the other at the sheets under you, and you could do little more than simply take Arthur’s pistoning, his cock reducing you to cries and moans of his name.

Sadie turned your head towards her, capturing your lips in her once again before speaking against them. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel,” she said.

You tried to speak, but as you opened your mouth, a moan came out as Arthur delivered a particularly rough thrust, hitting that special place inside of you. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see him smirk.

“So good, Sadie,” you finally managed. The bliss you were feeling had your mind going haywire as Arthur’s thrusts pushed you closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. “Fuck. He’s fucking me so good,” you moaned, your words no doubt feeding Arthur’s ego, making him puff out his chest more and fuck you harder into the mattress, “He’s gonna make me cum.”

Sadie smiled before kissing you once again, alternating between sucking on your tongue and delving hers into your mouth.

Arthur was at the end of his rope. He was holding out his own release, hoping to deliver you to yours first, but it was proving hard when your cunt spasmed over him each time he pushed inside. It didn’t help either that you and Sadie were all over each other, your lips against one another, your hands exploring each other’s bodies. Not even in his wildest dreams or fantasies had he seen something like this.

He placed both of his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them up so your legs hung on his shoulder, kissing one of your ankles as he did so. Your legs twitched each time he slammed back in, the new position making him go in even deeper if that was possible, and if it wasn’t for Sadie’s mouth on yours, you were sure your scream’s would’ve definitely alerted somebody.

Delicate and slow, her hand traveled from one of your breasts, down your stomach and to your wet pussy. She could feel where Arthur was entering you again and again, the wetness around your walls making for an easy, though loud with sloppy sounds, entrance. Using two of her fingers, she started to add small circular motions around your clit, making your toes curl.

With the combination of Sadie’s fingers on your clit and Arthur’s cock in your pussy, you came, arching your back from the bed as pleasure coursed through your veins, so hard you thought you were gonna blackout from it. Sadie kissed you through it, muffling your cries and moans and screams with her mouth. The orgasm swept over you like a hurricane, leaving you completely boneless as you laid there, managing to do nothing more than keep taking Arthur’s cock.

The feeling of you spasming and tightening over him was too much for Arthur. “Fuck, darlin’, I’m close,” he said, the sweat on his face making it shiny.

With Sadie’s mouth away from yours, you managed a broken cry and a small, “Yes” moving your hips just a little to help Arthur to his release.

Sadie moved her hand from where it was near your clit to where Arthur was entering your sopping pussy again and again. With a mischievous smile, she took his balls in her hand and fondled them before saying, “Fill her up, Arthur.”

Arthur came with a heavy groan, his pace all out of rhythm as he kept pushing his cock into you, stuffing you full of his cum until you could feel it running down your thighs.

At last, he stilled, his breathing heavy as he pulled out of you and lowered your legs from his shoulder to the bed.

You could feel Arthur’s sweat drop from his forehead to yours as he bent down to kiss you, slow and tender, before dropping to your side. His head was on the pillow as he stared at the ceiling, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. On your other side, Sadie was catching her breath too, the activities you just engaged in making her previously clear complexion looking a tad bit pink. You could see a satisfied smile on her lips as she raised herself on her elbows to look at you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face before laying back down on the bed, one of her hands under her head.

As you laid there, well-fucked, satisfied and bemused, you wondered how you’d look Sadie in the eyes in the morning, when the effects of alcohol and lust would vanish, and you’d have nowhere to hide as the sun would illuminate every corner of the room. You remembered Dutch’s words, telling all of you to enjoy yourself. “As much as you want,” he specified. You’re not sure if he had this in mind when saying that.

Sadie, however, decided to not wait for the morning and spoke up now, saying, “Might I say that the two of you sure know how to fuck.”

The ease with which she spoke eased your restless nerves, and you felt yourself relax as you laughed at her words. At your side, Arthur couldn’t help but shake his head, a small smirk playing at his lips.

You knew the next morning would still bring the awkward laughs and pink blushes, but you decided you could deal with that later. Right now, you were happy to enjoy the warmness of the two bodies pressed at your sides.

447 notes · View notes

honeybunchesofbucky · 3 years ago

Text

Are you mine?

Bucky x F!Reader-smut

Bucky has to leave on a business trip, but he’s determined to have something to remember you by in the loneliness of his hotel bed.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie, some cum play, dirty talk, being photographed during sex(consensually), fingering, oral-female receiving, possessiveness, mentions of male masturbation.

18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! BY SELECTING MORE YOU ARE CONFIRMING YOU ARE OF AGE! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION

Okay so here’s the thing:

Bucky Barnes has barely had anything he could call his own in what felt like ninety years. He went to war, spent the rest of his life up until this point with the bare minimum. So when he got an apartment, a stable job working with Sam, and you, he easily became possessive. And no, we’re not talking about the toxic kind of him saying you can’t go out half naked or no other person with a penis can speak with you, we’re talking about subtle things. His dog tags found their way around your neck six months into living together, his home was filled with things you’d bought him, and you often times never walked around his apartment without one of his shirts clung to your body over a pair of wet panties from what just happened in the bedroom.

He liked to ask you things when he was balls deep inside you, fucking you into next week like “Who’s pussy is this baby girl?” “Who’s making you feel so good?” “Say my name.” And it made you a soaked mess.

It was the kind of respectable hotness that made you burn. Wanting to be needed by him. He treated you like you were the only thing he had, the one thing he couldn’t lose. He made sure you felt loved and showed you his appreciation every day.

One thing he also liked to keep hidden in a secret folder on his phone, was the hundreds of NSFW photos he’d taken of you. Bucky went on long trips with Sam, and when you two were apart, you liked to send him little reminders of his pussy, or how much you missed him. He loved it, he lived for it.

And he was on a hunt to collect more.

Bucky was expected to leave for a four day trip to DC to help Sam with some logistical meetings. He had just finished zipping up his small carry on bag when you came out of the shower; water dripping down your freshly exfoliated legs, the smell of your soap making his stomach fill with butterflies. He watched as you applied your various serums and creams to your beautiful face he’d hate to leave. His eyes trailing down your damp chest, beads of water dripping into the towel tied tight around your breasts. You were heavenly, a sight he could only describe as his best dream, and also his wildest fantasy.

He swallowed when you bent over to grab the small jar of lip balm that had just tumbled from your manicured hands. The angle exposing your wet-no, soaked pussy to him, and he audibly groaned.

“Enjoying the few, Sarge?” You caught him red handed, a smirk on your face as you smeared the mint flavored gloss onto your lips, looking at him in the refection of the mirror. You could see from the few feet distance, even through the foggy glass that his pants were tight. His hand absentmindedly palming his cock though his jeans.

He stood, straightening his aching knees from kneeling on the hard floor for so long. His bare feet padded across the floor to the bathroom, the cool tile under his soles as he stalked over to you. His hands quickly found your hips and his lips brushed against the side of your neck, inhaling your scent.

It made you shiver, not only from the ticklish breathes fanning across your skin, but the way his oceanic eyes darkened when they met yours in the mirror. He was thinking devious thoughts, surely bending you over the sink and fucking you in his daydream.

“You’re killing me, gorgeous.” He growled, sending heat rushing between your thighs. “Look so pretty, all wet and smelling like fresh fruit. Good enough to eat.” His fingertips sunk into the damp cotton towel, into your hips and you gasped.

“Something tells me you’re about to make me need another shower, Sarge.”

He huffed a laugh, sliding his hand up to where the towel was tied and letting it fall to your feet. “Gotta get my lovin’ in before I leave you.”

Before you could reply, even open your mouth to speak, he had you spun around and thrown over his shoulder. A breathless giggle erupted through you when he smacked your ass, before carefully plopping you onto the freshly made bed.

“You better get to work then, baby.” You gasped when he roughly pushed your legs apart and trailed open mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, reveling in the smooth skin.

“Oh I plan on it. Need my fill of my pussy before I leave.” He slid his flesh hand between your open thighs and his fingers found your lower lips, spreading them apart. His hungry eyes fixated on sight before him, memorizing the way your hole clenched around nothing, wetness pooling around your entrance just from his light touch. “Oh doll…” He sighed dreamily, leaning in and flattening his tongue before running it from your slit to your clit, shutting his eyes as he savored the taste. “Prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

His gaze sent heat up to your face. You instinctively wanted to close your legs, shy away from the intensity, but you knew better than to hide his pussy. Your back arched off the bed when two of his thick fingers effortlessly slid into your dripping hole, stretching you open.

“Mind if I take some pictures for my trip doll face?” He slowly pumped his fingers in and out, stroking your velvety walls.

“G-go ahead,” You answered breathlessly, your mouth falling open as his thumb brushed over your throbbing clit.

“Good girl.” He reached over to the nightstand beside him and grabbed his phone, unlocking it and opening the camera app. The lighting in the room was picture perfect. The Brooklyn sunset shining through the sheer curtains, illuminating your glistening body. He swore he was photographing living breathing art.

He held the camera between your legs as he fingered you, and you could hear the sound of the camera shutter. The thought of you living in his phone like this, knowing he’d be looking at them in his hotel bed when you weren’t there made your heart do flips and your pussy clench around his digits.

“Mm, baby. You like being photographed? Like knowing I’ll be looking through these…” He slid his fingers out and spread the wetness over one of your erect nipples, snapping a few photos of your heaving chest. “My hand wrapped around my cock, wishing it was your pretty cunt.”

“Yes,” The words rolled off your tongue breathlessly, barely even registrable. But he heard it, and a satisfied grin formed on his lips as he leaned down to latch his mouth around your nipple. His tongue swirled around the hardened bud, sucking the taste of your arousal off. He relished in the way you writhed and whined under him, your hands anchoring themselves on his shoulders.

“My pretty girl. Always so so good to me.” He reached down and unzipped his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers. “You want my cock baby? Want me to fill you up real good before I leave?”

“Please, Bucky!” You hated when he teased, his patience was something you didn’t have. And he loved watching you squirm.

“Alright baby girl.”

You felt the leaking tip of his cock nudge your entrance before he pushed into you; slow and deep, making you feel every inch. He smiled when you gasped, his lips finding your neck as he stilled, letting you adjust. He brushed his teeth over your throat, savoring the way your walls fluttered around him. “Always take me so good, doll. No matter how many times I get to sink into this pussy, I never cease to be amazed at how perfect I fit. Like you were made for me.”

Your fingertips trailed down the fabric of his shirt, pushing the material up to dig your nails into his back and leave some scratches to remember you by. It was a shared experience of claiming each other. Truth be told, you felt possessive of him too. And that made him melt.

He started to thrust slow and deep, his hip bones pressing into yours, his hand wrapped around your waist. You could feel the veins of his throbbing cock sliding against your walls, the delicious stretch of his girth stimulating every nerve ending. It didn’t take long before he got greedy and started to speed up, shallow quick thrusts out of desperation, wanting to feel you scream and cry his name out. To remember the sound of you falling apart under him.

And you did.

Your nails surely leaving crimson red streaks along his skin, your legs clamped around his waist, heels digging into his tailbone as you gripped him closely, equally as greedy for him too. Your shared pants filled the room between his grunts and your moans. The sound of your squelching pussy sucking him in was music to his ears, and the smell of sex deliciously filled the steamed up room.

He lifted his body for just a moment to glance down at where you were connected, his mouth falling open at the sight of his cock glistening with your wetness, your thighs trembling. “Oh fuck, look at that,” He rasped, “Pussy’s so damn wet for me.” He slid his hand under your body to your lower back, lifting you just enough to pound into you deeper.

The angle made you scream, his name rolling off your tongue in a chant, a plea, begging him for all he could give you. Your hand found its way between your hot bodies to your clit, rubbing the soaked bundle of nerves in tight circles, pulling a groan from him as your walls tightened.

The pressure built hard and fast in your abdomens, both of you chasing your release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby girl? Can feel you squeezing me, sucking me in. Cunt’s so desperate for my cum. You want that doll? Want me to pump you full of me before I go? Leave you dripping?” His filthy words made your jaw go slack, a weak nod is all he got as an answer.

“Gotta give me more than that doll. Know you’re fucked silly right now but I wanna hear you scream it. Tell me what you want.” He grunted, his pace fast and unrelenting, making you buzz with pleasure.

“Please, Bucky! Please give it to me, I need it.” You whined, giving him what he wanted, desperation heavy in your tone.

“Good girl.” Was what you got before the pressure snapped and you fell into a dizzying wave of intense pleasure, shocks vibrating through your core, dopamine rushing through your bloodstream as your walls clamped around him, keeping him inside you hungrily as you screamed his name.

He groaned at the feeling, your sounds driving him over the edge as his thrusts became sloppier and his hips stuttered, his huffs of air and grunts making you impossibly wetter as he chased his release. His head fell to your shoulder when he thrusted once, twice, then once more before he emptied himself inside you. Hot spurts of cum painting your convulsing walls, filling you to the brim. That was one thing about super soldiers you never thought you’d get the pleasure of finding out, they produced a lot of cum. And you could feel it overflowing and spilling out as he stilled inside you.

The both of you heaved and panted, bodies relaxing and his weight pressed you into the mattress. A blanket of Bucky draped over you as your hands trailed up to the back of his head, your nails raking over his damp scalp.

“That was amazing, Bucky,” You praised breathlessly, feeling the high fade, leaving you in a haze of relaxation.

“Love you so much, baby girl.” He lifted his head and slotted his lips over yours, his tongue slipping into your open mouth, claiming you in a lazy kiss. His hand brushed up and down your side soothingly before it went to your thigh. He smiled into the kiss when he felt the muscle trembling. “Shh, I got you baby.” He soothed, awakening the dormant butterflies in your stomach.

“So good to me doll.” He looked into your dilated eyes, memorizing the different shades of color. He was truly infatuated, so deeply in love it hurt. He hated leaving. As fun as these goodbyes were, he never wanted to be apart from you.

“You gotta get going honey. You’re gonna be late for the plane.” You hated to remind him, cupping his stubbled blushing cheeks.

He sighed, kissing you one more time before he pushed his upper half up with his metal arm. “Alright. One more picture?” He smirked, making you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“One more picture. Make it quick.” You shoved him playfully, already knowing what was going through his horny brain.

“You’re the best.” He grabbed his phone and slowly slid out of you, his heart breaking at the sound of your whine. It made him want to stay even more, to keep you full of him all night.

His thoughts got derailed when he looked down at your cunt and saw his cum flowing out of you, dripping out deliciously. He felt himself get turned on again at the sight. He tapped the camera app on again and pushed your shaking thighs apart, running his cool vibranium fingers through your sensitive folds, making you shudder. He smiled deviously as he took a few pics, one with the flash to truly capture how wet and fucked out he made you. It was filthy, and he knew they’d come in handy later.

“So pretty all filled up, baby.” He pushed some of the cum back into your aching hole with his fingers, biting his lip when your back arched off the bed, pushing your overstimulated pussy towards his hand. “Damn,” He shook his head in pure amazement. You truly were a work of art.

He got off the bed and looked at you one more time before he went to the bathroom to clean up.

(Bonus)

A few hours later, after he landed in DC, had dinner with Sam and found himself in the bed of the hotel he was in, he pulled out his phone, missing you already. The thought of your glistening, sunbeam kissed body never left his mind that day. And when he opened the locked folder, his eyes widened at the sight of a video he didn’t take.

He pressed play and his jaw went slack.

It was a video you’d taken while he was in the bathroom, the camera following your delicate hand down your body to your leaking cunt, two of your fingers dipping into your cum soaked hole and bringing them back up to your lips, sucking off his release with a wink.

“Come home soon, Sarge. I love you.”

As if he couldn’t fall any deeper in love.

A/N thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, reblogs are appreciated! Check out my masterlist for more! Link in bio.

#Bucky x reader smut #Bucky Barnes x reader smut #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky smut #Bucky x reader #honeybunchesfics #Bucky fic

212 notes · View notes

chocominnie · 4 years ago

Text

Wasted Times- Pjm.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: A lot of Fluff, Angry Sex, Slight BDSM, Dom!Jimin, Jealous Reader, Fuckboy!Jimin, oral sex, Penatration, Foot Job?, kissing, spankings, seriously lots of jealousy and tension, use of the word ‘’whore’’, exhibitionism, cum in pants

Word count: 5.8k

Authors Note: So this is a draft of mine from way long ago. It was also posted on another account I used to be apart of, but no longer am. It’s an oldie but goodie.

Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken.

Summary: Two weeks, five days and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.

If it wasn’t for Hoseok that whole night wouldn’t have happened. Despite you already knowing of Jimin, what you didn’t know is that looks can deceive. Oh yes, they deceived you very well. When you met him it felt like it was unreal? It felt as though you were talking to an angel. The butterflies in your stomach whenever he spoke made you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. So unreal.

A cute cheeky smile and a squeaky laugh. Someone’s who’s kind hearted, as what you previously had heard from Hoseok himself. Oh, but did he leave the major detail out from you.

He’s a fuckboy.

One that knows exactly how to play his cards right. Knows how to get into a girl's pants and make them melt with the sweet and dirty things that pout out his mouth like honey. He has the looks and charms for it. The hand he runs through his hair constantly, those pink full lips begging to be touched by someone else.

You’ve only recently found out about most of the girls he’s slept with. It wasn’t a lot but enough for him to qualify to get tested every month. All because he can’t keep his god damn dick in his pants. And you, the fool, fell for it. You fell for his ways.

Yet he pretends to know nothing. He pretends like he didn’t break your heart by saying he can’t commit to a relationship. He was just a one night stand. He fucking acts that nothing happened between you two prior to having sex.... and it hurts.

Now you’re sitting in your office stuck in-between whether to let that night go, or to bring it up with him. Because surely, he felt something too when you guys made love for an hour and a half right? Right?

‘‘Y/N. Did you hear me?’ ‘

You quickly snap back to reality to the nagging voice beside you. Taking a sip of your peppermint tea, you turn towards the young girl. Her full bangs compliment her perfectly shaped face. Her long, straight hair that curls at the end a bit is jet black with no sign of split ends or damage. She holds a blue folder tightly to her chest with a cheeky smile upon her face.

‘‘Mrs. Jane would like to see your work for this month’s upcoming project. Do you have the rough draft done?’ ‘

You nod, ‘’ I’ve finished it already. Are you collecting?’’ The girl nods her head and holds out her dainty pale hand. Next to you is your documents drawer which you rummage through for a good minute or so before finding your pink folder with all the information and sketches.

‘‘Thanks..’‘ She smiles, then walks away to her next prey. You let out a big sigh and place your hands in-between your head. Never have you had someone constantly be on your mind.

It was killing you.

‘‘ Child are you okay?’‘

You turn towards the voice to your left which sits next to you is your best-friend. Her smirk lets you know she knows what you’re thinking about. She knows. She also knows about that one night stand that you couldn’t shut up about two weeks ago.

You try to hold back your laugh, ‘’ I’m. fine.’’ You manage to choke out. She shakes her head again with that damned smirk on her face. ‘’ Was he that good that he has you sitting here contemplating life honey?’’

Your eyes go eyes go wide and soon enough you find yourself swatting her thigh while trying to cover your face of embarrassment. ‘’ Stop! Geez I shouldn’t have even told you about it.’’

‘‘ I knew about him before you even did. Once you told me after the fact, I automatically recognized who he was by the way you described his features so well.’‘ She shrugs, swiveling her chair around to face you. You do the same.

‘‘ What?’‘

‘‘ I went to high school with him. Park Jimin right? He was a ladies girl. Everyone wanted him. Plus he was a former dancer.’‘

Former dancer? It all makes sense. The way his body was nicely toned, not to muscly but noticeable. The way his hips moved every which way making sure his sinful area poked and pried at every nerve inside your walls. Made you let out strings of moans and whimpers because of how good he felt inside you. You’ve never felt something like that before. How dare he.

‘’ Well he has a cute friend. His name is Tae... Tae something. I don’t know but they were also friends in highschool. He was a handsome boy as well. If you would like to you know... tap that.’‘ She giggles.

Who does she think you are? Some type of person who gives away sex for a living? Definitely not. By the looks of your face she quickly abandons the subject. You decide it’s best to get back on task before your whore of a boss comes back around.

Only before that petite girl, with the bangs and perfectly trimmed straight hair, comes back with your folder and a ton of papers for you. As if this this day could get any worse.

‘‘ No I don’t want to go tonight.’’

It feels like you’ve said this on the phone more than ten times. You’re sure of it. He just doesn’t want to give up. You’d rather be in the comfort of your home cuddled up in a blanket watching Netflix all day. After-all, it is a Friday night and it has been a very stressful week for you in the office. A nice hot bath and a binge worthy tv show is all you want right now. It’s what you deserve.

‘‘ Come with us it’ll be fun. You can invite your hot best friend too.’‘ He says, and you know he’s smirking on the other line. ‘‘ Hoseok for one, you will not hook up with my best friend understand? Two, i’m tired. I want to sleep.’‘

‘‘ Oh come on Y/N it’ll be fun. It’s just a night out on the strip. It’ll be fun. I’m bringing Jimin.’‘ He tapers off at the end to wait for your reaction.

Could this be it? Another chance to see Jimin. Your chance to ask him.. if that night he felt something. Surely he did right?

‘‘ I’ll come. But that doesn’t mean i’m coming for Jimin. I’m bringing Scar with me as well.’‘

A few seconds of silence fills the other line. Which you know that Hoseok probably muted himself to scream in success. You take this time to think about what you’re going to wear. Something that’s eye catching? Or something that’s casual yet classy since it is just hanging around downtown. Why not do both?

Hoseok come’s back to the line and you notice he’s more cheerful. It makes you smile to yourself, how cute. ‘‘ Be there in 45 minutes. We’ll be waiting by Krystal okay? Meet us out front of that place.’‘

You two say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. Anticipation runs deep through you lacing your blood with it. Just the thought of seeing him again rubs you the right way.

Going into your closet, you take a good look at it and decide on a casual yet classy outfit. One that will surely catch his attention but very presentable as well. You hope that it’s going to pull through. Taking out your phone, you send a text message to Scarlet telling her all the details and to meet you here.

‘’This will be one hell of a night.’’ You smirk to yourself as you pull out the accessories to your outfit.

It wasn’t until you heard the doorbell constantly ring that broke you out of your trance of admiring yourself in the mirror. You look ravishing. Delectable. Every thing in the book. Surely you must have been admiring for quite some time because twenty minutes had passed and you didn’t even know it.

The doorbell ringing comes to a halt once you open the door forcefully. Scarlet greets you with a smile and a hug before coming inside.

‘’ Okay does this make my ass look bigger than it already is?’’

You glance over at Scarlet who’s posing in-front of the hallway mirror, earning a small chuckle from you. ‘’ Yes, that dress always look’s good on you.’’

Scarlet grins at you, ‘’ Thanks. I try I try. You look sexy Y/N. Who’s getting it tonight? ’’

You giggle once more before adjusting your black dress ‘’ You look so good Y/N i’m not lying. Did you put some make-up on?’’

You shyly nod your head yes, ‘’ Just a little. Not one of my dramatic looks.’’

‘‘ It suits the mood for tonight. Nothing to dramatic, more neutral.’‘ Scarlet says, picking up her purse again. ‘’ The dress does bring out your curves.’‘ She steps back and pulls out her phone for a snapchat picture.

The two of you pose in the mirror for a quick second then giggle afterwards. Scarlet brings her phone back down as her fingers begin to type at a rapid speed. ‘I’m going to caption it; Going out with my babe!’’

You on the other hand were to busy into the hearts snapchat filter with Scar in the background of your video. You tap her with a smile and she looks up with a smile as well. ‘’ We are so gonna be late Scar. ’’

‘‘ Okay. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.’‘

You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. The cool breeze is enough for you to handle. Not to cold and not to hot of a breeze. Downtown is busy tonight, especially the strip. The neon signs blare into your vision, the cars speed past with drunk laughing people. Music plays coming from each store or bar you two pass. There’s a jazz man who’s playing some cool tunes next to the giant water fountain. You drop a ten dollar bill into his case hoping to brighten those tunes up a bit. Couples are everywhere you look. You haven’t been downtown in such a long time. Everything feels so brand new to you. It’s so lively.

Scarlet walks confidently in-front of you, hips swaying naturally. You see Hoseok down the sidewalk waiting at the entrance for your arrival. Behind him is Jimin who looks fine tonight. He wears a long sleeve white Stussy t-shirt with black distressed jeans that show off his thighs. The same thighs that flexed with each thrust two weeks ago. The same thighs you wanted to ride because they had you soaking wet. Oh geez.

‘‘ Y/N! ahhh you look so good tonight!’‘ Hoseok grabs your hand and twirls you around a little. ‘‘ You’re right. Wow Y/N.’‘ A voice comes from behind him.

Part of you just wants to melt right into his arms right then and there. Keep it together.

‘‘ You don’t look bad yourself Jimin.’‘ It’s like your eyes refused to make eye contact with him. You want to, but can’t pull yourself to do it. ‘‘ And this is my best friend Scarlet.’‘

‘‘ Hello I’m Scarlet or Scar for short. Nice to meet you.’‘ She smiles, Jimin takes her hand and gives it a kiss. His eyes never leaves hers when he does so.

Scarlet lets out one of her nervous giggles as he lets her hand go. ‘’ How sweet.’’ Jimin smirks at her, ‘’ No worries. I’m Jimin, Park Jimin my love.’’

You almost choke at those last two words. My love? Seriously?

‘‘ Okay enough now that you’ve met my flirty friend who doesn’t know boundaries...’‘ Hoseok glares at him, earning a shrug from Jimin. ‘‘ .. I’m Hoseok. I’ve seen you on Y/N’s social media.. and I must say you are very pretty.’‘

‘‘ Thank you Hoseok. You are handsome as well.’’ She says.

You decide to end this introduction and start off the night. ‘‘ Alright enough of the talking. Can we have some fun tonight?’‘

‘‘ I agree, let’s get some drinks first.’‘

Only one hour in and you’ve only had one long island ice tea that you haven’t even finished yet. Somehow you’ve got tricked into third wheeling. Hoseok and Scarlet seem to be hitting it off very well walking in front of you. But walking next to you is a quite Jimin. He’s to busy scrolling and typing on social media for him to even notice you. Oh so you thought.

‘‘ Y/N...’‘

The butterflies in your stomach begin. What could he want? ‘’ Hmm.’’

Jimin locks his phone and places it in his pocket. He then looks at you with that oh so familiar warm smile. ‘’ They seem to be hitting it off well yeah?’’

Oh. ‘’ Yeah. I ship it.’’ You giggle, crossing your arms.’’ How have you been? Haven’t seen your pretty self in weeks.’’

‘‘ I’m fine. You know, work and stuff.’‘

‘‘ Yes I can say the same. I’ve got some things going on as well.’‘ His eyes shift back towards the busy city. ‘‘ I’d be lying if I didn’t say I missed you.’‘

You stop dead in your tracks. He missed you? All this time you had thought he didn’t care but he does? ‘’ Missed me huh. Or did you miss the idea of me.’’

He smiles, ‘’ Can it be both?’’

You decide to let that comment slide. ‘’ Well Jimin. I missed you too.’’

‘‘ Great so I can do this.’‘

You’re caught off guard by his lips connecting with yours. Both of you move in sync with each other. Jimin open’s his mouth more so his tongue can move more freely inside of yours. Both of your tongues fight for dominance making you moan inside the kiss. His hands cup your face, sending chills up your spine. Soon you find yourself whimpering for more, but you can’t let it go this far so you break away first.

‘‘ Hmm I missed those lips on mine. Sorry if I spooked you my love.’‘ Those dark brown eyes look deep into yours. ‘‘ I missed us talking constantly before we..’‘ He trails off, looking away from you smiling shyly.

‘‘ Yeah me too. We spent a lot of time texting and calling each other before that. But after that night we sort of.. stopped? I’ve been meaning to bring this up without it being awkward.’‘ You bite your lip, fiddling with your fingers.

Jimin looks around you guys. Scarlet and Hoseok are nowhere to be found. As he expected. ‘’ Well it looks like our friends ditched us. Have you eaten?’’

‘‘ I munched on something before I came here with you guys.’‘ You say, eyes shifting towards the city again. ‘‘ Well if you’re up for a little bit more of a walk I know this good place on the boardwalk. We are getting closer and closer to the beach.’‘

‘‘ Is this you asking me on a date Park Jimin?’‘ You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. ‘‘ It can be considered our first friendly date. I would love to take you out some other time where it’s not last minute my love.’‘

‘‘ Stop saying that.’‘

‘‘ Saying what?’‘

You roll your eyes playfully, ‘’ My love. Stop saying it.’’

Jimin raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, ‘’ Did you just roll your eye at me.. my love?’’ Your cheeks have never hurt this much before from constantly smiling, but tonight you just cant stop them. ‘’ And if I did?’’

‘‘ I suggest you don’t do that again.’‘

The walk wasn’t as far as you thought. Jimin had linked his hand in yours on the way there. It surprised you for a minute but you let it happen. He hasn’t let go since. The two of you are sat down at a table outside by a waitress who cannot keep her eyes away from Jimin. Only if she knew how much of a sex god he was. Then she really wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes away.

‘‘ The moon looks beautiful tonight.’‘ He nods his head over towards the sky. Your eyes gaze over the sandy beach and waves that crash onto the shore. The moon lit sky peering over it looks beautiful.

Jimin brings both of your hands onto the table and intertwines them with his. A smile appears on his face when he sees you shyly try to hide your smile from him. Jimin’s most favorite feature of you is your smile, and moans of course, but your smile brings him happiness. It’s something about the way your lips curl up into a smile and your eyes narrow a little bit with it. Or when you laugh at one of his comments or jokes. It makes him happy inside and out.

‘‘ So, what were you saying earlier my love?’‘

You playfully roll your eyes again at that nickname. Before you can roll them again, Jimin’s smile drops and he let’s go of your right hand. You furrow your eyebrows at him for a second until you’re caught off guard with a tiny slap to the inside of your thigh. You hiss at the pain.

He says, ‘‘ Stop rolling your eyes at me. playful or not my love, I don’t like it.’‘

‘‘ Fine but stop calling me that nickname. You said it to Scarlet. Now I don’t want it anymore.’‘ You say, attitude high with your arms crossed.

Jimin chuckles and lets his tongue swipe across the inside of his jaw, ‘’Someone’s jealous.’’

‘’ I just see the name is useless is all if you’re calling other girls that.’‘

‘‘ Hmm jealous now aren’t we?’‘ He smirks, leaning back in his chair. ‘‘ Says the one who was all over me that night. Practically craving me. Now, what If i let someone else do that hmm? Equivalent to you calling other girls that name.’‘

His smirk never lets up. You know you trying to act all tough isn’t going to last. It’s just not in you. But what you can do is make him jealous and tease him for a while. You consider it a payback for those two weeks of hell you went through.

‘‘ I’m enjoying our night out Jimin. Thank you for taking the time to catch up with me tonight.’‘ Your face is innocent as ever, sipping on your water.

His expression changes when your foot travels up his leg and onto his crotch and slowly grazes over the tip of his dick. Jimin glares and bites his lip at the constant friction between the head and your foot going in agonizingly slow circles. He let’s both of your hands go to try and pry your leg away but you increase pressure making him choke out a small wince.

‘‘ Aww. Cute.’‘

Jimin’s head pops up with a death glare on his face, ‘’ Don’t call me that after you just tried to pull some type of stun-’’

Your foot begins it’s slow circles again. It’s fun watching him stop his sentences. The way he holds in his moans and bites his lip. It turns you on very much.

“Fuck,” He grunts, eye’s closed.

You stop once your food arrives. The same waitress that can’t keep her eyes off of Jimin. She makes eye contact with her, and he winks as she places the food in-front of him. Your face drops into a stone cold expression. Once the waitress leaves his head slowly turns towards you with his famous sly smirk. He knew just how to press your buttons.

You start back up again, going at an even faster pace at this point. He curses at himself and his eyes close again. You smile when he starts to shake his legs and breathe heavily. Only for Jimin’s eyes pop open with a devilish smile that confuses you. He grabs your leg and makes sure that your foot is positioned right ontop of his dick. He rolls his hips to the movement of yours, looking you dead straight in the eyes. You go along with it for now. But your eyes almost buck out of your head when he starts letting out moans and grunts as he throws his head back.

‘‘ Mmm fuck Y/N you do this so well.’‘

You’re at loss for words. The risk of being caught mixed with the sight you’re seeing now has your panties becoming wet.It takes all your might not to just jump over the table and devour him when he sighs in relief. You watch his body convulse of the aftershocks. So fucking sexy.

And as if nothing had just happened, he picks up his fork and begins to eat his pasta. The rest of the night is silent. You both eat in silence but in the inside you want to say something but you know better. The stunt you just pulled has something coming for you. Maybe payback wasn’t such a good thing after all.

After Jimin comes back from the restroom, assuming he cleaned himself up well down there, he sits back down at the table with a warm smile. It confuses you.

‘‘ Do you want to leave now? We can go to my place and just chill for the night. Looks like the two love birds might have already went back to one of their place’s.’‘ He says, grabbing your hand once again.

You nod your head dumbfounded at what you didn’t know that was going to happen at his place. But you agree to go. What can go wrong?

The moment you guys enter his luxurious apartment, he pins you against the wall and raises your hands above you head. He tilts your head and nips at your neck, alternating between kissing and sucking. He hit one of your sweet spots that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

‘‘ Please Jimin.’‘ You cry out. Slowly pulling away, he pulls you from against the wall and bends to dip an arm under your legs to lift you up bridal style.

He deeply chuckles into your ear, ‘‘ You have an eventful night planned out for pulling that stunt at the restaurant sweetheart.’‘ His words sends shivers down your spine.

Jimin closes the door behind him, giving you a taste of comfort before he has his way with you. He places you on his bed and you stare into those dark brown eyes that you love oh so much.

‘‘ Face down, ass up now.’‘ He growls.

You nod your head and do as told. Soon you feel your dress being unzipped and thrown to the floor. You’re in nothing but your bra and baby pink lace thong. His hands run up and down your spine, then to your ass.

‘‘ You ruined my pants today. Made me cum inside them since you wanted to feel like you had control over me.. babygirl.’‘ He says, hands stopping right above your ass.

‘‘ Count for me Y/N.’‘

You don’t even have time to take a breath in when the first hard impact comes. It wells tears in your eyes but you love it. You love every smack and every second of it. And so you count for him, you count all fifteen hits to your sore,red ass.

‘‘ You’ve taken your punishment well.’‘ Jimin says soothing the pain by rubbing over it softly. ‘‘ You looked so pretty doing what you’re told my beautiful girl. You deserve every inch of me. You deserve all of me.’’ His voice is soft and low. It intoxicates you.

Jimin shifts you onto your back, his hands tracing every inch of your body. You prop yourself up with your shoulders and you don’t jerk away, instead you let him lean in and kiss you passionately. The lewd sounds of the two of you sharing a wet, sloppy kiss can be heard throughout the apartment. You whine in his arms wanting more than just the kiss. He growls in return, yanking your head back to mark up that pretty neck some more. His hands swiftly makes their way towards your nipples, you moan out in response.

“mmm so cute and hard for me.” He flicks your hard nipples with his index and middle fingers on both your breasts. The way he speaks is sinful. Your panties grow even more wet as he pinches your nipples to make you whimper. “ Making pretty sounds for me hmm? Got you all wet baby?’’

With his hands dropping to your hips, he pushes you to lay down on the bed. Your breasts look so captivating to him. Your back arches when his lips connect to your right breast and soon to your left.

“Jimin...’’ You whimper, tugging on his hair to get him to look at you. He pauses the swirling of his tongue on your breast and looks up with lust filled eyes.

“ Yes sweetheart?” He coos.

‘’Off... t-take it off.’’ You whine, moving your hands towards his clothing and tugging on it firmly.

Jimin smiles before balancing on his knees to lift off his shirt. You watch him strip his shirt off, revealing his beautifully toned stomach and sharp v-line. You want nothing more than to run your tongue across him, leaving hickies behind.

Once he takes off his shirt, he dips back down to you to kiss your lips once more. ‘’ Your reaction was instantaneous, your back arching as your hands flew to his hair in shock at the pleasure it gave you. You really were sexually frustrated. Just him kissing you was all too much for you to handle.

As if he could tell what you wanted, his hand found its way to the hem of your lace thong. He feels how wet you were with his index finger sliding up and down your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slid them off with his teeth.

Your mouth instantly falls open when one thick finger slides inside you, your wetness pouring out beneath his finger. Once his finger is coated in your juices, he pulls out of you leaving you whimpering at the loss of friction. You watch him slide his wet finger into his mouth, his eyes close as he hums around it.

“You taste so fucking good. Let me have more of you yeah? He says, waiting for some type of consent from you.

You nod, wanting him more than ever.

Jimin props both your legs up onto his shoulder, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening core. You are left exposed to his lustful gaze as he took in the appearance of your swollen lips. Your lips spread apart to expose your clit that desperately seeks attention.

And so he provides it. His head dips down to get to work on your cunt. The pleasure you feel is outrageous, it has you clawing at his back, not even letting up, before letting out your never ending moans. You knew for a fact that Jimin’s tongue was a work of art when put to the test.

“Oh fuck! ” You yell out, arching your back when his lips begin to suck harshly on your clit, that bubbly feeling in your stomach appears.

“Do I make you feel good ? Hmm, use your words.” He encourages, using two fingers to spread your folds apart to lick and suck on your clit.

“It feels so good Jimin, oh my gosh, please don’t stop. Fuck!” You cry out, tossing your head back as you clutch onto the sheets once more, leaving his hair alone. As soon as he hears that, he seemed to lose control. His fingers start abuse your g-spot in sync with his sucking on your clit. That’s all you took for you to explode around his fingers. Your body spasms when you close your eyes. You can practically hear your heartbeat pounding in your head.

That doesn’t stop Jimin though. He continues to abuse your hole but you can’t handle the over-stimulation. You grip his wrists to stop him in which he obliges. He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and shows you them before sucking on them harshly.

“ Such a naughty girl now aren’t we.” He coos, rubbing your thighs that shake endlessly. “Want more princess?”

You nod your head, to busy lost in a trance. His words always get to you. A boy who knows his way with his words. The things that come out his mouth laced with either sweet venom or sugar. Damn him. Damn him for making you feel like this. Damn him for letting you fall under his ways.

You don’t realize all of his clothes were off until the head of his cock is sitting at your entrance. He’s a nice size, as you remember, but it’s the thickness that gets you. He has a lot of girth and it damn sure stretches you out.

“Shit, oh my gosh.” You moan, letting your head fall back as he starts easing into you.

“ Mmm babygirl,” He growls, using one of his hands to spread your lips, giving him the bes view of you taking him all the way. “Fuck just look at that baby. Your little pussy stretching to take my thick cock. Feels good yeah?”

“ Yes Jimin, fuck, it feels so good please. ” You whimper, wanting to feel all stuffed and full. Finally he bottoms out and you definitely feel it in you.

Jimin’s hands grip your hips as he starts to move inside of you. Since your previous orgasm residue was still there, mixing with your fresh juices, every time moved in and out your juices would drip.Lewd, wet slaps filled the room as the pace quickened, wanting to get you to cum again.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room. There was no point in hiding them now. With his hips moving at a fast pace, and his dick murdering your g-spot, it makes you feel that familiar feeling again.

“My good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” Jimin smiles, praising you as you become undone around him. Your hole spasms around his length and it feels like heaven for him. Jimin holds himself up on his elbows, resting his face against yours while he gently eases you through your orgasm.

“You don’t know the things your body does to me Y/N. The faces you make when i’m fucking your brains out. You look like you’re in pure ecstasy because of me and only me, baby.” He whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. You nod and press your lips against his. Smiling into the kiss, his hips begin fucking you again, getting up to his previous pace.

Your body is automatically put into over-stimulation mode. “Are you going to cum again for me?”

“Mhm, oh my god!” You whimper, closing your eyes shut harshly. Jimin pulls out of you, and starts to slide his cock up and down your folds to bring you to another orgasm. You let out a scream as Jimin watch your juices fly and soak everywhere around you both. Your death grip on the sheets havent left and your back is arched so high from the bed that he has to bring you back down.

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re squirting princess.” He praises you, smiling as he doesn’t stop movement, juices everywhere. “You’re squirting so much baby look at you.’’

The feeling is too much for you so you shut your legs around him. Jimin smiles at you when you finally open your eyes. They hardly stay open but long enough for you to see him get himself off using his right hand. You open your mouth to say something, but he interrupts “Shh princess, you’re too sensitive. Maybe next time.”

You nodded with a small pout on your lips. You want him to cum inside you. To feel his hot sperm coat your insides. Your body says otherwise. You are spent, exhausted to the max..

Just as he is about to cum, you sit up and climb over to him. Your mouth quickly finds it’s way to his length and as if a habit, you begin to suck. ‘’You don’t have to princes- fuck.’’ He groans, releasing his load inside your mouth while you deep throat all his length.

Soon you pull away from his cock after he cums. You open your mouth to show him and then swallow it all down. ‘’ Filthy whore.’’ He smirks, pecking your lips.

Jimin kisses your forehead once more, before lifting up and disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a warm, wet towel to clean up the mess between your legs. Your eyes flutter open and close. You catch a glimpse of his nicely toned back when he turns to disregard the towel. He comes back again with a green t-shirt which makes your heart flutter as he pulls it over your head. Another forehead kiss, then those nose, then the lips.

‘’ Jimin?’‘ You coo.

He climbs in bed beside you, ‘’ Yes?’’

‘’ We never discussed what we are...’’ You say quietly, picking at your fingers.

He laughs softly, ‘’ You know I can’t commit right now. I have too many things going on and-’’

‘’ Excuses Jimin.’’ You pout, turning away from him. ‘’ Aww come on don’t be like that. Listen, if I ever get my life together and the ladies off of me you’ll be the first one I run to, my love.’’

‘’ Promise?’’

‘’ I promise.’’

Oh so you had thought. Another two weeks had passed and the same thing happened. Now you’re stuck in your office again contemplating life, as Scarlet would say. The only difference is, he texts you more often. Usually good morning and goodnight texts. An occasional ‘how was your day.’

You can’t help but to wonder what he’s probably doing with other girls. Feeding them empty promises. Saying sweet nothings in their ears. Letting them hear what they want to. It’s no doubt he knows what he’s doing. No doubt.

Only if he hadn’t wasted your time.

Two weeks and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.

541 notes · View notes

keigelsss · 4 years ago

Text

Hard At Work - Kuroo Tetsuro

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!!! it’s really bad. i struggled. i just wanted to get it over with but this idea weighed heavily on my mind for so long and i cant seem to get it out the way i want so this is the bare minimum with what i was trying to go for sorry :/

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, timeskip!kuroo, dom!kuroo, language, teasing, literally half the fic is foreplay oops, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love y’all), kuroo smacks your ass once, sir kink?, SIZE KINK, belly bulge, overstim, squirting, creampie, as always my shitty writing. *thoughts in italics… if i forgot a warning pls lmk*

Summary: you never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, let alone with the man in charge of your paycheck. luckily those files weren’t that important.

word count: 4.7K

You’ve only been working in this position for about two months now, assistant to one of the smartest sports promoters in the country. It’s a wonderful job and you get to meet star athletes almost every day, but what wasn't in the job description was the super hot promoter that you would be working under literally. If you thought it was hard coming into work with someone so damn attractive, the amount of teasing that went on in and outside of the office was insufferable.

Your day began like every other; come in, bring Kuroo some coffee, a full list of the day's meetings and tidy up in his office. While setting the coffee on his desk, you anticipate what comment he’ll make about the lack of a baked good to accompany his beverage.

“Awe Y/n, looks like you forgot to bring something to munch on again,” he was currently going through emails while twirling a pen in his hand. That scheming smirk that you’ve come to recognize all too well plastered all over his smug face.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo, they were all out at the café.” You placed your belongings on the small desk located in the corner of his office, spending some time to go over today's schedule as well as sort through a few contracts and client files.

“It’s all good,” he let out a soft chuckle. “You could always let me eat you instead, shortcake.”

You gave a pointed glare to the man before sighing and closing the file cabinet you just finished sorting. “I think it’s best if we get to work, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, sir.” he sends the smallest smirk in your direction then returns to his tasks. Shit... Did I mean to make it come out like that? Whatever he always teases the ever-living hell out of me so it's about time I had my share of the fun too, it’s only fair. Right?

Most of the day was uneventful, the typical routine coming and going without any interruptions. At around 4 pm though, you found yourself swamped with far more paperwork to go through than usual as well as having to scan and digitally file. We didn't have this many meetings today, did we? I just did a stack like this… Most of these need Kuroo’s signature, they shouldn't be on my desk.

Raising your head you shifted your gaze, letting your eyes land on him. He’s seated only ten feet in front of you behind his desk but today it seems like an entire mile. Did he always look that good going through his messages?

While gathering the papers that were wrongfully in your pile and saying a quick prayer to anyone out there, you walked over to sit in one of the matching seats opposite him. Placing the folder down softly to not mess up the flow of his work. He instinctively moves his elbow away to make room for the file and side-eyes it momentarily.

“Just give me two minutes here and I’m all yours sugar,” he says with a quick smile in your direction.

Humming your response and relaxing into the chair you take the time to admire his features. The messy but somehow put together hair that, according to his long-term clients and friends, has been that way since childhood. The sharp features of his cheeks and jaw, his pink lips permanently resting in his signature smirk that can mean an infinite number of things as you’ve come to find out. A muscular neck that is far too appealing for your taste, broad shoulders leading to strong arms, and an equally muscular chest. It’s no doubt that he is built like a god under that dress shirt, it fits him so perfectly it's almost offensive.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of the man in front of you that you don't even notice how he moves his body, giving all his attention to you.

“Stare any longer sweet girl and you're gonna start drooling all over that cute outfit of yours.” His deep chuckle vibrates through you, definitely causing something to happen deep in the pit of your stomach. Your body was so hot and your throat was so damn dry from the way he was looking back at you. Is he undressing me with his eyes? Fuck! I’m one to talk, I’m doing the same thing.

“Uh it looks like some papers of yours got in my pile, if you can sign them, I’ll finish scanning and get out of your hair.”

You sat up to hand him a pen then rest your palms against the desk. Those pieces of paper are the only thing separating the two of you and it helps you keep a grasp on reality for the time being.

He toyed with the edges of the folder, lifting just the corner, not even bothering to read over the contents. “Yeah, I put them there thinking it would keep you in the office just a bit longer but you caught on to my plan faster than I thought.” He met your gaze with a semi defeated smile.

“You thought I wouldn't notice at all? Kuroo, I thought you were supposed to be the mega genius here because I had just filed all of those this morning.” A sudden boost of confidence ran through your body and your hands found their way to the folder and started mimicking his previous action that, hopefully, would drive him just as crazy as it did you. Your cold fingers delicately traced above his watch then to his forearms, stopping right where he cuffed his sleeves. A small hiss escaped him through his teeth followed by an airy laugh.

“Call it an experiment.” You couldn't help but giggle at his response.

He suddenly moved back, completely reclining and relaxing in his chair. He went to loosen up the tie around his neck and even went as far as to open two buttons on the restricting shirt. Cheeky bastard.

Kuroo cleared his throat. Resting his elbow against the arm of his chair, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “I bet I can tell what you're thinking right now, shortcake,” he continued to roll his chair back slightly.

Without giving a second thought you moved around to his side of the desk, sitting and leaning on the end farthest from him. You conjured up the best comeback your normally shy and reserved self would never think of, but right now, it's war.

“Oya oya? Tell me, boss, what am I thinking right now?” you finally turned your gaze towards him, pulling off the most convincing innocent eyes you had.

He stood up from his seat, taking the slowest steps toward you and stood right beside your small body. His large hands are dangerously close to the edge of your skirt. If he could feel how hard your heart was beating in your chest you’d be done for.

That contagious laughter of his booming throughout the room once more. He’ll never admit it but your teasing words sound a lot like him.

“Well if the way you're clenching the hell out of your thighs right now isn't the biggest sign.” His calloused fingers finally make contact with the exposed skin on your legs and slowly rise to trace the curves of your body. Finding a place to rest on your jaw with his thumb gripping your chin forcing you to look directly at him. “I’d say you're thinking of all the different ways I could make you cum on my desk,” his thumb began to slowly trace your lower lip.

You were barely aware of the small moan you let out while fluttering your eyes closed. “Let's say you're right Kuroo,” you nearly choked on the lack of saliva in your throat. “What else am I thinking?” your response barely above a pathetic whimper.

He let out a happy sigh as he placed his thumb between your lips, pressing slightly to signal you to open up. That sigh quickly turned into a small moan when you let your tongue slip from your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit. Years of hard work and skill evident in the sensation of his thumb pressing against your tongue.

“You’re probably thinking about my cock filling every inch of your tight little pussy,” he moved to stand between your legs, his other hand finding residence on your hip and squeezing the clothed flesh possessively. “Or maybe you’re thinking you might just have the upper hand here because you caught on to my little trick,” he began to mess with the hook and zipper on the side of your skirt. Lowering the piece of flimsy metal agonizingly slow.

“If that’s the case then you're seriously mistaken sweetheart also when it's just us, call me Tetsuro,” he whispered his name in your ear and if you weren't trying to match his teasing energy, you would’ve made the first move but the build-up was so much better.

He finally let go of the zipper on your skirt and began to pull it slowly down your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. He slowly removed his finger from your mouth and trailed any lingering saliva along your bottom lip and down your jaw before his hand found comfort around your neck, offering the softest squeeze, eliciting yet another breathy moan from your lips. If only you knew how much those sounds of yours were causing him to short circuit.

“Tetsuro. If there’s anything I know very well, it's my place in this office.” You kept steady eye contact while attempting to squeeze your thighs together.

Kuroo noticed your struggles and continued to strip the skirt from your body. Your lower half was beginning to burn with anticipation. His long fingers then traced the outline of your panties, if he looked any closer he would see the little wet spot forming right at your entrance. He lightly pulled on the thin material and snapped it back against your body, a small chuckle rising from deep in his chest because of how cute and responsive you are to his actions.

“And where is that exactly?” He can't help but tease you, even though his cock is absolutely suffocating, he still wants to make sure you know who’s in charge.

“I'm an employee on your payroll, aren't I?” your voice was so soft, focusing more on steadying your breathing. He began to run the back of his hand along your hip and grazed his knuckles against the area that you ache for him the most, a throaty sigh escapes you and some of that newfound confidence as well. Where the hell did she come from?

“It only makes sense that my position is under you.” Kuroo is slightly surprised by your response but he can tell that you’ve had enough of his teasing just like he’s had enough of having to come up with new ways to fluster you. Now it seems that all his prayers are being answered, he finally has you to himself all alone in the office, and there’s only one thing on his mind after hearing the words slip from your lips. “That’s definitely the right answer, but I hope you don’t mind if I spend some time on you first?”

His fingers were now pulling the fabric of your panties down and off your body, he never breaks eye contact, rubbing his hands all over your legs and occasionally squeezing your soft skin. He finally returned to eye level and placed both hands on your cheeks, bringing you in for a hot and desperate kiss. He managed to push you further onto the desk so you can rest comfortably, the cold sensation of the wood on your bare skin forced a tiny gasp to escape.

Kuroo began to play with the buttons of your blouse, pulling on the material. By the time he gets to the last button, you’re halfway done removing his, finally seeing the strong body underneath it all. Hot. Once he had you completely undressed he took a single step back. Biting his lip and admiring your body.

“You’re so god damn sexy.” He came back to you, hot mouth leaving kisses all over your neck and chest. He spent some time on each of your breasts, sucking and biting on your sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hands hooked under your knees and spread your legs. You're practically dripping onto his desk by now and can’t help but grind your hips against nothing, desperate for some sort of relief.

“Someone's a little needy, huh?” his breath was hot against your stomach and fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. Once he got on his knees in front of you, his fingers found their way to your throbbing center. Slowly parting your folds and massaging your sensitive hole with perfect pressure. “Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ wet too,” with his other hand he used his thumb to play with your clit. You threw your head back, letting out a soft moan as you made contact with the desk below.

Kuroo wasted no time putting your legs over his shoulders, leaving wet kisses along your thighs and placing several on your hips. He finally placed a kiss on your clit, causing you to yelp and buck your hips against his face. “You taste better than I imagined baby girl,” he licked a stripe through your folds, then sucked on your clit softly. “Mmm it feels so good!” you’re a moaning, whimpering mess already. Kuroo has to use his hands to keep you still but he’s humming happily while lapping up all you have to offer him and you can't help but shake. “Am I making you feel good, pretty girl? Your cute little pussy is so sensitive huh?” his tongue was replaced with one of his fingers gathering up your slick and slowly entering you.

“Yes yes fuck I love it. I want your cock. Please.” you looked at him through lidded eyes sucking your bottom lip harshly in between your teeth. He can't help but smile at how cute you look begging for him. “Relax baby girl, we’ll both get what we want but I gotta work you up a bit more.” He added another finger curling them a little to find your sweet spot, while sucking on your clit. He knew he found it when you squeezed your thighs around him and called out his name. Your walls twitching around his fingers, reaching your first climax of the day.

He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, sucking off every bit of your juices, moaning in sheer delight. Another kiss was placed on your clit before he began a trail of them to your neck and jaw, teeth sinking into your skin. One of his hands caressed your cheek as he kissed you on the lips, your taste and his hot breath sending another wave of arousal through you and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna make you cum with my tongue one more time okay sweetheart?”

You wanted to whine and throw a fit but his mouth was magical and you weren't one to complain. With a small ‘okay’ and another kiss on the lips he made his way to your pussy once more, already swollen and ridiculously sensitive. He began with the same rhythm as before, soft groans of satisfaction driving you wild. The grinding of your hips against his face only became more violent when he added his long fingers. Finding that same spot as earlier.

“F-fuck oh fuck I’m gonna cum!” you arched your back off the desk and brought a hand to your chest massaging squeezing your nipples. The only thing you hear before your orgasm rips through you is the loud squelching of fingers inside your pussy and his moans of praise. When you open your eyes and finally come back to earth, you see Kuroos face, hand and wrist covered in your juices. “I haven't even fucked you yet and you squirted just like that? You're gonna be the death of me Y/n.”

You giggled a little, hiding your face in embarrassment, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Of course that smart mouth of his is sinfully skilled. He moved your hands out of the way, intertwining his with yours, lifting you and pulling you into another kiss.

You let go of his hands running yours along his toned chest, leaving small scratches, quickly removing his belt and slacks. You squeal at how big he looks in his boxers, his cock begging to be free. Pulling the waistband down and letting it drop to his feet, you moan at the sight. A small bead of precum forming at the tip, now an angry red from being neglected for so long. “I wanna make you feel good too Tetsu.”

Before you can drop to your knees for him he puts his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles. “Next time gorgeous, I wanna feel you right now.” he lifted you off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist and lips meeting in a sloppy mess of teeth and tongue. One of his hands made their way to your ass, squeezing softly before landing a smack. You moaned in response and ground your hips against his throbbing member, the tip creating glorious friction against your folds. He finally placed you back on the desk then fisted his cock a few times, running the tip against your folds and teasing your entrance.

“Want you inside me now Tetsuro. Please.” your chest was heaving in desperation and he loved that he made you like this. “Okay sweet girl. If it’s too much let me know.” You gave him a small nod and he kissed you while letting himself slip inside your warm walls. You were already so wet from before but he was so long and thick that the intrusion was slightly painful.

“Holy shit! you’re so damn tight.” he says through gritted teeth.

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tugging softly on his hair when you feel him bottom out inside you. He lets out a few puffs of air because it's taking all his willpower not to cum with the way your pussy is gripping onto him right now. You let out a few whimpers and he checks your face for any signs of discomfort before retracting his hips and thrusting into you. You make eye contact with him, he’s absolutely mesmerizing with that lusty look in his eye and a small layer of sweat on his forehead.

“S-so big Tetsu. It feels so good.” you squeeze your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to you and he groans in response. He begins to thrust into you slowly, still trying to keep his cool but finding that sweet spot inside you every time. “Oh you're gonna make me cum with the way you are clampin’ down on my cock like that sweet thing.” he shifts the angle of his thrusts and cages your head between his arms. His large upper body casting a shadow over you that makes you shiver. You can see the way the muscles on his forearms and biceps are flexing with every thrust. How he’s looking down at where you two are connected in pure fascination, tugging his lip between his teeth.

Using his arms to push off the desk, he tugs your hips to the edge and keeps his fingers embedded in the soft flesh, meeting each of his thrusts. You lift yourself as well, resting on your elbows and watching him. You notice a small bump on your belly each time his hips meet yours and it's enough to have you roll your eyes back. Holy fuck now that’s different. Kuroo noticed your surprise and pressed a hand against your tummy, making you feel him even deeper if possible.

“I’m right there baby girl. Can you feel it?” You feel as though you're being split open but it hurts so good. His stare and dominating aura so sinful and addictive, you know you're in trouble. “Yes it feels so good. I love your cock.” He feels you fluttering around him and picks up his pace. The sharp sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the office along with his animalistic growls.

“Is that right. You gonna cum on this cock, like a good girl?” his thumb found your clit, working small circles. “Make a mess all over my desk? Let me cum inside this tight pussy?” his thrusts were reaching deep, that bulge in your tummy only looking bigger now. You tried meeting his thrusts halfway, your hand gripped his wrist and you neared another orgasm. “Y-yeah, oh fuck. please. I wanna cum so bad. wanna make you feel good too, sir.”

At the last word you said he thrusted into you once more. your walls fluttering around him bringing his release as well, he hunched over with a groan and found your lips as he spilled his seed inside you. The warmth filling you up and making you feel nothing but bliss. Your ankles locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, keeping him buried inside you while you caught your breath’s.

He pulled away first, watching as his cock slipped from your tight hole, both of you letting out a sharp breath from the sensitivity. His cum followed right after, dripping down onto his desk. The sight of your clenching pussy and the mess was enough to get him hard again. He wants as much as you’re willing to give him. Lifting your upper body he pulls you in for another kiss, this one a bit sweeter.

You pulled away and began kissing his jaw. “I want more.” You said looking up at him with bright eyes. Your makeup is messy but you still look delicious as ever.

He gave you a playful grin and a peck on the lips. “You read my mind gorgeous.”

He spun you around and bent you over the desk, pressing your body into the wood but not enough to hurt. His fingers slowly ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You turn your head slightly so you can see him, right now he looks intimidating as ever. Large muscular body towering over you, one hand gripping your ass and the other teasing the head of his cock along your folds. He can see how your dripping hole is clenching around nothing, your frame trembling from previous orgasms. He's so damn overjoyed that he slips right inside you, not wanting to waste another second outside of your tight pussy.

The stretch that he provided was nothing you've felt before, he was definitely the biggest you’ve been with. You felt every ridge and vein, every twitch, you still feel him in your stomach. Nothing beat how warm he is though, flooding every nerve with heat and electricity.

He set a brutal pace, balls slapping against your clit each time, making you cry out and moan incoherent versions of his name. His left hand gripped your thigh and hitched your leg on the desk, the shift in position causing him to drag the tip of his cock perfectly against your g-spot. “Right there Tetsuro, feels so fucking good.” you ached your back in ecstasy.

The hand he had hooked under your knee creeped up your thigh and rested on your hip. He used the other to raise you off the desk and wrap around you. His warm hard chest pressing into your back and his large, rough palms massaged your tits. You can feel his warm breath on your ear and you shiver when he groans. The deep rumble of his chest crashing into you like a wave.

Hearing his moans right in your ear was like heaven, the feeling of his cock twitching inside tells you he's close. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard. Your little cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside again?” his rough pounding turned into slow, deep strokes. Slamming into your sweet spot with pin-point accuracy.

“Please. Feels so good and I want your cum. Want it in me so bad.” his hand moved to your jaw turning your head, squishing your cheeks and leaving a sloppy kiss against your lips. You brought your arm up, grabbing his face, pulling him closer. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and he growled in response, slow thrusts gaining some more speed.

The hand he had on your hip made its way in front of you, fingers trailing softly against your swollen clit. Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes from overstimulation but you loved every second of it. “I want you to milk my cock, take all your filling like a good little shortcake and make a mess on this desk. Can you do that for me?” you only nod and moan your answer.

The intense eye contact between the two of you, mixed with his hard thrusts and rough fingers, make that tingling feeling in your core seem like the first one all over again. Your head falls back against his chest as your body locks up and shakes uncontrollably, the tight fluttering of your walls brought his release as well.

You can feel his warm load inside as he keeps fucking into you, allowing you both to ride out the intense wave of pleasure. All while massaging your clit, only bringing on another orgasm, making you squirt once more on his hand and desk. Feeling it drip down your legs, surely his too.

Once the rush of euphoria passed, you both fell forward, his cock still inside you as you both caught your breath. You were still quivering with aftershocks of pleasure when he slipped out of you, a mixture of both of your cum spilling onto the floor and down your thighs.

He stumbled back onto his chair and took a deep breath. Hypnotized by the way you’re still spread out for him to see, the beautiful sight of your plump ass becoming something he wants all the time. You finally sit up slowly turning to lean against the desk, legs feeling like noodles. Both of you catching the other staring and letting out a fit of laughter. He reached for your hand and pulled you down on the chair with him to relax, wrapping his strong arms around you.

“So, I was thinking, maybe I should give you a promotion.” he kissed the top of your head and you pinched his nipple teasingly. “Stop fucking around Tetsu.” he smirked and gave you a knowing smirk.

“We just did, sweet heart.” you rolled your eyes and nuzzled into his neck.

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

After resting for a while the two of you got cleaned up and dressed, tidying up the office so it didn't look like two people just fucked in it. Once you were done you both stood and looked out the window of his office, watching the sun disappear and the stars start to shine. He made a sound like he just remembered something.

“Do you wanna go out to get something to eat?” he looks at you while putting his coat on.

“I’d love to, I’m starving,” you grabbed your purse and put on your coat as well. “Oh, uh what time is it?” you ask him.

He lifted the sleeve of his jacket, looking at his watch and raising a brow. “That’s weird. My watch is stuck at 4:45.” you look at him in confusion.

A sudden burst of wheezing laughter echoes through the walls and you’re still wondering what’s so funny. He turns to you and looks at your face, melting at how cute and innocent you looked.

“I think you ruined my watch, Y/n.” he brings a hand up to your face moving a piece of hair that was out of place. You can't help but blush at his words, instantly turning away from him and opening the doors to his office.

“Well we’re even now because you ruined any other man for me.” You walked ahead of him in annoyance but he knows it won't last long.

He’ll have you screaming his name again in his bed in no time.

I wonder if he was joking about that promotion though…

———————————————————————

✨stay sexy my friends✨

Taglist: @bobabybo

a/n: if you made it this far... yooo... im so sorry you had to read this. it didn’t tickle the brain the way i wanted and i trashed it like ten times only to go back with what i originally started with but if you liked it and you feel a lil sum ;) lmk i would love feedback or what I could’ve done better. i don’t know what I want to do with this blog just yet but for now its just my thirsts and writings. i reply and like on @keigohoes im just stupid lol.

592 notes · View notes

sunder-soul · 4 years ago

Text

𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter One: There's just something about those Riddle murders that doesn't quite make sense... Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Permanent Taglist: @jujugentle @weirdowithnobeardo @pearlstiare @fromthehellmouth @whoevenfrickenknows @moatsnow @voidmalfoy @lucys-brain @sunles @arana-alpha @tallyovie @expectoscamander @nothinghcppens @itsjustfics @mikariell95 @suicide-sweetheart636 @toasterking

Name: MORFIN GORMLAITH GAUNT

Age: 46

Wand: fir, 10 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring

Residence: Gaunt Estate, Little Hangleton, Yorkshire

Marital status: -

Offense charge: three counts of murder in the primary degree

Date of charged offense: 1st July, 1943

Offense Detail: prisoner entered the residence of the Riddle family (Muggle, IM-00) and inflicting the Killing Curse (UC-001-1717) upon the three members of the Riddle family present; Thomas Riddle (63), Mary Riddle (60), and their son Tom Riddle (37). Use of the Killing Curse has been confirmed by Prior Incantato (see report DMLE-619-1951-BLE, SA: Robert Odgen).

Date of Testimony: 3rd July, 1943

Prisoner plea: guilty

Sentence: Azkaban, 360 years

Date of Sentence: 3rd July, 1943

You frown.

It’s very late, the candle your desk is barely a stub, the little flame hovering nervously on the surface of a broad pool of wax, and you’ve been copying over these stupid reports to the new, tamper-proof parchment forms for seven hours now – but something is extremely odd about these dates.

“McCollin,” you say slowly. “Did you work this case?”

“Hmm?” McCollin doesn’t look up at the desk beside you, head resting heavily on one hand and his spine curled into a perfect and truly concerning C-shape over his own stack of files. He looks close to passing out right there and then, salt-and-pepper hair a little greasy, scruffy five o’clock shadow, eyes bleary and shadowed.

“Gaunt,” you read, “1943. You were working with Odgen then, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I remember that nutter.”

“What happened?”

“Guy was from one of those ancient pure-blooded clans, you know, one of the real fanatical ones, inbreeding and liquidated assets and all,” McCollin yawns, dragging his hand down his face and smearing ink across his whiskered cheek. “Hated Muggles like nobody’s business."

“Yeah he killed three Muggles, right?” you peer at the report.

McCollin nods at the form he's copying. “Went off the deep end one day. Walked right up to their house and murdered ‘em. When they brought him in he was ranting and raving about how they’d had it coming for years.”

“He was arrested, charged, and sentenced within three days,” you say slowly.

He finally looks up at you. “So?”

“That’s the fasted processing I’ve ever seen.”

“The guy admitted to it, kiddo,” McCollin says in deadpan, “he had snakes nailed to his door and his family tree was basically a Christmas wreath.”

“Yeah, but… what made he snap?”

He laughs again, shaking his head despondently as he returns to his form. “You got a lot to learn.”

His tone wants to be fond but it just strikes you as patronising, especially considering the amount of times people have said that exact same stupid line to you. It’s like half the bloody department think being Muggle-born makes you incapable of understanding the subtle and unique intricacies of wizarding culture – as if bigotry and supremacists and assholes are exclusive to the magical world. “What?” you say a little too defensively.

“Families like that… guys like that… they’re not right in the head. Hate Muggles just to hate ‘em, reckon they’re all that’s wrong with the world. Honestly it’s a miracle he didn’t do it sooner.”

You look back down at the report, suspicions anything but assuaged. “Yeah,” you say quietly, “it is.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Did you ever watch Gaunt’s testimony?”

“You’re still going on about that?” McCollin drawls, heaving the towering box of finished files up a bit as he heads for the lifts.

“I looked him up in Records and the memory’s only available with supervisor permission,” you push, following him quickly. “If you signed me off then I could get Owler to –”

He slams the button and stares at the little golden arrow above the elevator grate slowly sliding towards the basement floor. “And why in Merlin’s name do you want to watch the Gaunt trial?”

You slip your hands into the pockets of your purple Ministry robes. “I’m interested.”

“Interested,” he echoes, shooting you a look. “Is that so?”

“He was processed in three days, McCollin. If it was that obvious he was guilty, it must have been one hell of a trial.”

“It was,” he scoffs as the lift dings and the grate grinds to a noisy open. “Fine, but only if you finish Johan’s quota by five.”

The triumph is impossible to keep off your face and McCollin rolls his eyes at your immediate glee. “I’m on it,” you grin, spinning around and racing back to your desk to get started.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Merlin’s beard,” McCollin mutters, shaking his head at the stack of completed transcripts. “I gotta hold stuff over your head more often.”

“Just sign the slip, McCollin,” you smirk.

He sighs and grabs the quill from your hand, and you hold your breath as he scribbles his initials on the slip. “You’re obsessed,” he drawls.

You seize the slip and round on the lift, heart racing with excitement. “I’m interested.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

The trial is absolutely insane.

Morfin Gaunt looks like a Witch Weekly cartoon caricature of a fanatical blood-purist and he rambles in a manic-edged, ceaseless torrent about how much he enjoyed murdering the Riddles as the Wizengamot mutters and blithers disapprovingly for about three hours – but something catches your attention right near the end. Something you can’t help but ask Owler about the second the memory ends and you’re thrown back into the Records Room.

“Who’s Merope?”

Owler’s sallow face looks about as thrilled at your question as he was at your request for the memory in the first place. “Merope Gaunt,” he says in a flat, nasally voice, waving his wand at the Pensieve and sending the memory swirling back into its phial.

“Merope Gaunt?”

Owler’s thin, anaemic lips downturn even more. “His sister.”

You stare at him. It is not at all what you’d expected. “And why did he call his sister a mud-soused, scumsucking slut?”

“Ask your supervisor.”

“He seemed to be saying he killed those people because of Merope, why on earth would his sister be why he –”

“I keep the records, I don’t conduct the investigations,” Owler interrupts with not inconsiderable disdain. “Now if you could please –”

“Did they bring Merope in for testimony?”

Owler gives your continuing presence a very dirty look. “No.”

“Why not?”

He pushes the door to the Records room open and stares at you.

You try to hold your ground but Owler is unrelenting, and you're forced to step past him with a curt sigh. “Right, well, good afternoon, Owler, thanks for –”

The door slams shut behind you.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Get what you wanted?” McCollin smirks as you collapse stony-faced into your chair.

“I forgot how impressively unpleasant it is to talk to Owler,” you mutter, resting your head in your hands. “Did you know about Merope?”

“Merope?”

“Yeah, Morfin’s sister.”

“Didn’t know he had one,” McCollin says disinterestedly.

“He was saying some stuff that made it sound like she’s why he killed those Muggles.”

“Uh huh.”

You lift your head, giving him an incredulous look. “He said she’s why he murdered three people, McCollin. How does that not interest you?”

McCollin throws down his quill and sighs sharply. “Look kiddo, the guy’s rotting in Azkaban, he admitted to the murders, they found the curses in his wand, and he had a memory of the whole thing. What exactly are you hoping to achieve here?”

You can barely believe it. “Why isn’t Merope Gaunt mentioned in any of his trial documents?” you say sharply.

“Either she wasn't relevant to the proceedings, or she's dead, or he made her up,” McCollin shrugs, “like I said, the guy went off the deep end.”

“But why doesn’t it say –”

“Just drop it,” he sighs impatiently, “you have work to do, and I won’t have you wasting clocked time on some case from nearly a decade ago.”

“Come on, McCollin, can’t you admit that it’s weird that –”

“I said drop it,” he says sharply, “don’t make me be the big mean supervisor here, you know I hate it.”

You glare at him. “Fine,” you say through gritted teeth.

It’s almost too easy to pull Morfin’s old file from where it’s still sitting in the refuse pile and subtly charm a copy of it that evening.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Merope Gaunt, as far as you can tell, fucking vanished off the face of the earth in 1925.

There’s nothing, no addresses, no marriage or death notice, no registered Floo connections, no DRC calls for gnomes or doxies or even the odd kappa, not a single trace of her after Morfin and their father Marvolo had a stint in Azkaban for assaulting Bob Odgen back in the 20s.

It seems like the second they were locked up, she scarpered.

You sit back in the Archives Hall and let out a long breath, flipping the folder shut dejectedly. Morfin’s file is a thick wad of anti-Muggle hate crimes rivalled only by his father’s, and closer inspection had revealed that the Gaunt family estate sat a cool twenty minutes' walk from Riddle House where the murders had occurred. If Morfin had lived so close to some of the Muggles he hated so much, he’d been sitting on a clear motive for murder for years.

So why suddenly snap?

What had pushed him over the edge?

Why did he cite Merope in his deranged testimony?

Why talk about her in that way?

Where the hell did she go?

There are endless questions and zero answers. Plus, you kind of get the feeling that if McCollin saw you hunched in the Archives after-hours trying to find those answers, you’d get your pay docked.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

That night, you sit bolt upright in bed with a surge of electric realisation.

Mud-soused… scumsucker…

You’ve heard that language before. You’ve processed about four hundred case files of harassment with that language.

“Idiot,” you breathe, smacking your forehead and falling back onto your pillows with a thump. “Idiot, of course…”

Because that’s the way Pure-blood extremists talk about witches and wizards who've fallen in love with Muggles.

Suddenly, you have a pretty good idea where Merope might have disappeared to the moment her blood-obsessed brother and father were out of the picture, and a pretty good idea of where you might be able to look to find her. Because you’ve been looking in the wrong place.

You’ve been looking for her in the wizarding world.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I have the craziest news for you,” you grin, slamming a silver Sickle on the counter and taking your seat at the bar.

“You say that twice a month,” Mori grumbles, setting your drink down and sliding the coin into his huge, calloused hand.

“It’s true twice a month.”

“It’s true half as much as you think.”

“I found her.”

Mori’s dark brows raise. It makes his gruff face look slightly less intimidating. “The lady from that old case you're into?”

“Yeah,” you beam, seizing your drink and leaning forward. “Started going through marriage certificates, and –”

“You’re telling me that your big-shot Ministry intern arse has been working this thing for a month and you didn’t even check marriage certificates?”

“Not Muggle ones,” you smirk.

Mori takes a glass off the bar and starts to clean it as he peers at you. “Go on.”

“She married the same guy her brother murdered, Mori,” you breathe, glancing around to make sure none of the shady denizens of Moribund’s are listening – it’s not like the bar's regular patrons are so welcoming to your big-shot Ministry intern arse on the best of days considering you’re half-way down Knockturn Alley in the dead of night. “They fucking ran away together!”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Mori mutters.

“Exactly!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink and feeling supremely pleased with yourself.

“What, you spent that much time investigating this thing for no reason?”

“Nah,” you say quietly, lips still in a smile. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than this. I still have to find out what happened to her after they got married and her brother murdered his new in-laws.”

“And what’s this guy’s name again?”

You give him a dry look. “You know I can’t tell you names, Mori, I’m pushing the bounds of my contract telling you this much already.”

He shrugs his massive shoulders, casting a wary look around the dark bar. “If you’re looking for people who might know a thing or two about murderers and Muggle-haters, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I’m here to talk to you, Mori, not the murderers and Muggle-haters.”

“You’re here to drink cheap and rant to someone who won’t rat you out to your boss,” he growls.

You give him another grin. “Cheers to that.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You find Merope’s name in a record tome of an old church parish almost by accident. There’s barely any information there, just one name on a huge list of those buried in the pauper’s graveyard less than ten blocks from where you’re sat amongst the looming shelves of the Muggle public archives at that exact moment.

But there is something.

It says she died in a place called 'Wool’s Orphanage' on New Year’s Eve in 1926. It’s not hard to guess why she might have been there, and how she probably died.

Merope Gaunt had a child.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Reply/message me to get added to the tag list! 💖

298 notes · View notes

tom-holland-parker · 4 years ago

Text

No Body No Crime

Summary: Tom knows you had something to do with the victims disappearance and its driving his crazy that you don’t crack easily

Pairing: Detective!Tom x reader

Warning: Murder?? Sexual innuendos, Cops

Word Count: 1412

Note: Based off the song no body no crime by Taylor Swift. This idea came to me in the shower and like I do with all my writings I wrote this when I was half asleep. Anyway ACAB

Masterlist

////

You sat in the dark room. The only light coming from the small window to your left. They had you seated facing the mirror, but you knew they were watching from the other side. Just waiting for you to crack. One small slip up and this case would be solved.

Thankfully you were smart. You kept your composure as you waited for the two detectives to come in. It wasn't long till their return. Talking amongst themselves as you sipped your water.

Soon they turned to you getting ready to start the interview. "Ma'am my name's Tom and this is my partner Harrison" he was eager to start the questioning you could tell by his rushed introduction. "Let's just get to the point I know you had something to do with it" He spoke. His British accent was exceptionally rare for the small southern town you lived in.

Your eyes shifted to the man beside him who was hesitant compared to his partner. You could tell he didn't entirely agree with Tom. "Im sorry detective but you call me up here at 9 in the morning and tell me I have something to do with a crime that I'm completely unaware of" you faked your voice trying your best to sound completely oblivious to what was happening.

He scoffed looking as his partner before looking back at you. "Oh please. You're telling me you have no idea about Gus Armstrong's disappearance"

"Oh that" you sighed, "well then you're wrong because I had nothing to do with it". You wanted to smirk but kept a straight face.

"Mr. Armstrong's wife went missing a couple months back" his partner finally spoke. His British accent matching his friends, "I understand Tom here questioned you about that case as well"

You watched as he opened the small folder in front of him. His eyes scanned through the interview manuscripts. You nodded your head as he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Tom.

"Yes Este was my closest friend I miss her dearly" They stared at you trying to determine if you were faking it. It was sincere. She was your closest friend, it nearly killed you when she went missing.

"You said that you fully believed it was her husband that was the cause of her disappearance" Harrison stated as he leaned closer trying to understand everything. You nodded your head, "yes I did and I still do. I know he had something to do with it"

Tom chuckled, "what makes you think that?"

You perked up at his sudden interest. He didn't seem to care when you sat in this same set a few weeks ago. "Este knew her husband had been cheating. The constant late nights. The new jewelry purchases. There was no question about it"

You took another sip of your water, "she was a strong woman and so she confronted him. I waited for her 2 hours at the restaurant for our usual Tuesday night dinner and wine. But when she didn't show up I knew something was wrong. When she was reported missing the next day I knew he did it. Gus always had problems with his anger. But no one believed me. No one else seemed to notice the new tires on his truck or even how his mistress moved in so quickly after the case had be closed"

You could still hear the words Tom had said to you the day the case was deemed unsolved.

“So you’re just gonna let him go” You stared at him anger filling all your senses. He sipped his coffee not having the nerve to look at you.

“Sorry Ma’am, No body No crime”

"And that's when you took matters into your own hand" Tom finally spoke. You chuckled in amusement. He truly believed he had you.

"I'm sorry but as far as I'm concerned I'm not even a real suspect. I heard most people believe it was his mistress" They both leaned back in their seats slightly disappointed that you didn't crack.

You played with the chipped polish on your nails. "Yes it really doesn't look good for her. Taking out such a large life insurance policy just days before your new husband disappears"

Harrison rolled his eyes completely irritated that he had even entertained the thought of you being the suspect. "I need some air" he rose from the table and left the room leaving just you and Tom who didn't seem to give up as easily.

"You're good" he leaned in closer to you catching eye contact. "Too good"

You smirked as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. You loved to see a strong man get frustrated. "Tell me Holland" you got up from your seat leaning in closer as your fingers gently drawing mindless shapes over the skin on his arm. "What do you think when you see me"

He took a deep breath shifting around in his seat, "I see a woman who thinks she's in control" he grabbed your wrist pulling you even closer. Your faces are only inches away from each other as he whispered in your ear. His grip on your wrist was firm but not tight enough to hurt you. "I'm the one in charge here now sit your pretty ass down and confess"

You smiled taking your time as you sat down in your chair again. "I'm usually on my knees when I do a confession" you teased loving the fact that you can work him up with just your words.

He took another deep breath wanting nothing more than to see you on your knees. "Where were you two nights ago?" he asked hoping that staying on subject would stop his filthy imagination.

You sighed crossing your arms as you leaned back in your seat. "Like I said before I was with Este's sister"

It wasn't a complete lie. You had been with her that night just not the whole time. "Yeah well im having some officers go confirm that for me" he spoke as he looked through the file once more. You couldn't help but stare at the long bruised covered fingers that tapped mindlessly on the table. Your head fills with lust filled thoughts as you try to regain your composure. Only moving your eyes once he looked at you

The room remained silent as you both stared at each other. You enjoyed watching Tom try and keep his cool. He enjoyed watching how effortlessly you were able to trick everyone. He found it sexy.

Harrison returned shaking his head. "Well her alibi checks out" he turned to you. "I'm sorry for any problem we've caused"

You stood up slowly, your eyes still attached to Tom. "Well officer I'm afraid you've got a mistress to arrest" Tom didn't want to watch you exit, leaving him alone with his filthy thoughts

///

You waited until the case was closed to show your face around Tom again. It was at the town's yearly festival. He sat on the bench sipping his tea watching the floats drive down Main St.

You sat down next to him not saying anything just enjoying the silence. He spoke first, "Case went unsolved"

His voice was blunt yet quiet as if he only wanted you to hear. You took a sip of your own coffee enjoying the breeze. You knew it drove him crazy. You hadn't intended to do it but you did enjoy the way he was so frustrated by the case.

Minutes of silence went by before you decided to end his torture. The case was closed after all. You sighed, "my daddy made me get a boating license when I was 15"

His head shot towards you but he stood silent wanting to hear more, "I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene"

It was sort of comical how the rest of the world seemed to be happy outside of the small bubble you both created on that bench. "Good thing Este's sister swore she was with me"

You took a sip of your coffee watching as his mouth fell open slightly. You both sat quiet as you gave him time to process. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked. If you hadn't been so close to him you wouldn't have heard him speak.

You chuckled finishing up the last of your coffee before getting up. Turning to him slowly, "No body No crime"

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild imagine #tom holland x y/n #peter parker #peter parker x reader #imagine #tom blurbs #detective!tom

498 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Note

hello lovie how u doing? sorry for bugging again but I was thinking.. how about reader lil jelly of the DEAs new secretary hitting on Javi but he's not giving a shh and reader go to the office for a visit with cinnie and kisses javi like out of nowhere and he gets ?????? and she's suddenly shy

Covetous (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: see above

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: jealousy, flirtation, language and innuendos

A/N: HI I hope this was what you’re looking for!! I hope it’s clear enough that reader is insecure and not demonizing Javier or Luisa... you’ll see. Enjoy!

Javier naturally attracts attention. You’re not quite sure what it is about him that does- or rather there are so many things about him that you don’t know which one it is. Is it the tight shirts that show off his broad shoulders and thick arms? His commanding aura? The sex appeal he radiates like humidity on a hot Colombian morning?

You love him more than anything. How can you not? He gives you all of his love, and expects nothing in return from you. His love is a passionate and all-consuming one; Javier fears commitment, but once he’s in, he’s all in. He’s the strong and silent type, but he melts with you, allows himself to be soft and gentle.

You know Javier would never do anything to hurt you. He can, has, and will go out of his way to protect you, especially with the danger of being the DEA agent’s girlfriend. That doesn’t lessen your anxiety, the fear that some poor judgement lapse on his part will lead to a broken heart. You know the man’s past. You’d be lying to say you weren’t a little scared.

When he started mentioning Luisa, you’d brushed it off and frowned. Javier is an adult. He can be friends with whoever he likes. Plus, she works with him. He can’t exactly ignore her. You didn’t know much about the woman other than the fact that she was young and pretty, as Murphy had told you. She was intelligent, a skilled worker as their receptionist. The only reason you had to dislike her was the little demon inside your head named Jealousy. Hell, you’d never even met her.

Javier mentions her in passing, just something she did at work or something funny she said. Never anything to be suspicious, and you know deep down that your Javi would never do something like that. He’s a good man, he loves you. You know it’s irrational, that you have no reasoning at all, but you can’t help but feel insecure when he talks about her.

Javier works ridiculous hours. He doesn’t have time to do much other than work and work and come home to you and do more work on the couch. He loves you for that more than anything: you understand it. You understand the busy hours and that he doesn’t often have the energy to do much when he gets home. You just sit next to him and quietly rub his shoulders, pressing kisses to his skin while he grinds out some paperwork. You don’t always understand what he’s doing at work, but your outside perspective often offers valuable ideas. You’re not just a girlfriend to Javier, but more of his partner. You are his other half, his comfort and relief and love in his hectic life.

If he’s being honest, Luisa bugs the shit out of him. She’s a smart girl, really, but her job is not as an agent. She likes to think she is, but she doesn’t have the training or knowledge to do so. She’s a go-getter, and Javi admires that, but it’s just another problem on his endless pile of them.

The most annoying thing is her flirting. Javier is no stranger to flirtation, obviously, and in any other situation he’d love to play along; she’s pretty and funny and a good conversationalist, but Javier, of course, only has eyes for you. He’s given her signs to back off, clearly, but she hasn’t picked them up. He’s tried to be more blunt, but nothing works. She is dead set on Agent Peña, and she’s a determined little thing.

You don’t visit Javier at work often. It’s rare that you get the chance, since you’re busy yourself. Usually, you’ll coordinate a day with Connie to bring lunch for the boys and sit with them for a while. They obviously both enjoy it, other than the mockery they receive from the other men when you leave. You love doing it, preening under the attention of your boyfriend and laughing at his annoyance with the other men. You’ve been there enough to know some of the other agents, and you know plenty about them from Javier’s annoyance at them at the end of the day.

Planning a day to surprise Javier at the office is fun. You usually do it when you know he’s extra stressed, when he could use the diversion and a little break in his day. That’s why you decided on it last night. Connie has the day off, and she insisted she’ll help you cook something to bring into work; Steve has been a mess lately too. They need it. She was right.

With a fresh tray of cookies out of the oven, you sigh and climb onto the couch to knock on the ceiling. You rap three times; moments later, two come back in response from Connie. It’s easier than using the phone, Connie suggested one night while you and Javier steadily got the Murphys drunker and drunker. It was funny to you at the time, but she was right. You smile remembering it as you put some cookies into a container and walk out of the front of the apartment building.

Connie is in a cheerful mood today. It’s probably because she has the day off; normally, she’d be asleep at this hour, thanks to long night shifts. She chats with you as the two of you drive to the embassy together, humming along to a song on the radio. She tells you all about Steve, the latest recipe she found, her new favorite grocery store. You smile and nod, mind elsewhere. Her blonde head bobs along to the rhythm as she finds a spot and parks.

You are irrational, you remind yourself as you walk in. You know and trust and love Javier. Luisa is nothing to worry about. Then why do you have a painfully tight grip on your container of cookies? “Hey, you’re gonna crack that,” Connie chides and swats your hand. “You okay, babe?”

You shake your head and smile it off. “It’s nothing. Guess I’m just excited,” you chuckle and loosen your grip on the cookies, though your spine is rigid as a board.

There’s a desk and at the front sits a woman, slightly younger than you, writing something in a book. She looks up when she hears the two of you enter through the lobby deeper into the building. “Hola. Soy Luisa, bienvenidos. Necesitá-“

That’s Luisa? She’s sweet, you frown. You’ve been all worked up over this? She’s cut off when Steve walks past. “Woah, hey ladies,” he chuckles as he sees the two of you. He wraps an arm around his wife and kisses her forehead. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Connie shrugs, beaming up at her husband. “We just thought we’d bring you lunch.”

“I made cookies,” you offer weakly, holding up the tupperware. You’re surprised it isn’t shattered into plastic shards on the ground by now.

“Hell yeah,” Steve smiles and snatches the cookies from your hands. “Luisa, this is my wife, Connie.”

She nods. “I could tell,” she chuckles, gesturing to the blonde hair and blue eyes. Who else would she be around here? “And you are?” She asks, turning to you.

“Ah, that’s Peña’s girl, remember?” Steve says for you, which makes you breathe a sigh of relief.

Her smile becomes tight-lipped and passive-aggressive. “Ah, yes. Wonderful to meet you,” she tells you, turning back to her books immediately. “Steve, you will show the women back then?”

He nods. “Thanks, kid.” He steals a candy from the jar she keeps on her desk and leads you back into the bullpen. He and Connie talk about their days, and you trail behind, nervously tapping your fingers against your sides. Now that you don’t have the Tupperware to clutch, you fidget until your heart warms at the sight of Javier. He’s hunched over his desk, shoulders straining against his tight shirt. He’s rapidly banging out a report on a typewriter, and your smile becomes a little bittersweet with how hard you know he’s working.

He’s a jumpy man, but scaring him is your favorite thing in the world. You hold a finger to your lips to the Murphys, telling them to be quiet, and they nod in agreement. Silently padding up behind him, you cover his hands with your eyes. “Boo,” you squeal.

“What the fuck?” Javier jumps, rapidly pulling the hands off his eyes and spinning in his chair. His hand hovers over his weapon, but his anxiety fades when he sees it’s you. “Hijo de puta… cariño,” he smiles softly, laughing a little. “What are you doing here?” He asks as he stands, pulling you into a hug.

His face is all the reassurance you need, his smile and his arms squeezing you making you grin. “We brought you lunch. Wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as you break away, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Got a spare minute?”

He sighs and sits back down at his desk. “Can you give me five? I need to finish this report then I’m all yours.”

“Fine,” you sigh teasingly and kiss him on the head. While he types, you and Connie set up the desks, arranging chairs and plates on top of piles of cluttered papers. Javier’s handwriting is messy, you notice as you look at a folder of information, but legible. Hurried but still nice, looping and arcing.

“Hey,” Javi booms playfully and startles you, snatching the folder from your hands. “That’s classified.”

“That’s about as classified as your dick is to the Colombian population of women,” Steve snorts.

“Stephen!” Connie gasps and scolds, smacking his arm.

It doesn’t matter. You and Javi are laughing, falling onto each other and giggling at the joke. Steve sniggers under his breath, trying to avoid Connie’s wrath from the rude joke.

Straightening up, you take a sip of your water and try to collect yourself, though you’re still chuckling softly. “Does this mean you’re done?” You ask him hopefully.

Javier sighs and signs the bottom of the paper. His signature is beautiful and classy: J. Peña. “Now I am,” he smiles at you and tucks the file away in a desk drawer. “What did you bring us to eat, hm?”

The four of you converse over the meal, waving forks around aimlessly to make your points. The Murphys talk on their own, chatting about plans for the night. The meal is clearly finished and Javier cracks open the container of cookies, winking at you. You know he loves them, adores the little fluffy things. You smile and snag one from the tupperware before he can. He frowns. “I wanted that one.”

“Poor baby,” you tease and cup his face, taking a bite from it.

There’s the clacking of heels on tile approaching before you hear it: “Agente Peña!” a feminine voice sings. You roll your eyes, completely missing the way Javier rolls his too. “Javi?” She asks as she gets closer, about to round the corner.

God, you can’t stand that she calls him that. He’s only Javi to you and the Murphys, to those who love him. Your rational brain is far out of the window, possessed by jealousy as you do the only thing you can to, what, stake your claim? It doesn’t matter. Javier won’t be mad with the tiniest bit of affection. Your other hand cups Javier’s face too and you kiss him.

He’s used to kissing you. The two of you do it all the damn time. He’s just not a big PDA man; never has been. He prefers to keep his passion in private. But he doesn’t care, and cares even less when he knows Luisa is watching. He kisses back, rolling your chair closer to his and cupping your face too.

Luisa huffs at the sight. “Guess you’re busy,” she scoffs in English.

You break away only to find her walking away, and you can’t help but smirk. At least now she knows that Javier is truly committed to you, if she even caught a glimpse of the way he kissed you back. “What was that for?” Javier asks.

“Because I love you?” You chuckle and kiss him one more time, soft and quick.

He knows exactly why you did it. He doesn’t ask again. “I love you too, cariño,” he chuckles and rests his hand on your thigh.

Taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

#javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña

249 notes · View notes

sqoiler · 4 years ago

Text

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue.

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?”

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors.

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand.

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms.

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper.

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school.

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work.

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman.

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards.

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says.

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead.

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that.

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper.

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol.

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure.

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish.

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards!

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?”

Steph whirls around.

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen.

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house.

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says.

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him.

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her.

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him.

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says.

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react.

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully.

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk.

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back.

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

#(posts fathers day fic in december)#stephanie brown #bruce wayne #brotp: slap #my writing #long post

476 notes · View notes

imaginethebeautifulworld · 3 years ago

Note

Hello there! Which country/ countries do you think would love a s/o who is into cottage core? What about dark academia? Ooh! What about some aesthetics that you like??

Hello, Lovely~!

I regret to say that when I first started working on this ask, I was only going to delve a little bit into each of your questions, but my heart insisted on expanding each answer for you, and... Well...

I'll be dividing this into two different posts, as everything together is far too long to put into a single answer. ^_^;

In general, I don't think the Nations would be particularly attracted to someone for their aesthetic per say. In order to approach this, I instead tried to picture which of the Nations would likely mesh best with said aesthetics, and a few scenarios were born.

First up is Dark Academia, which kind of veers a bit more into the gothic/horror vibes than I was anticipating, but came to absolutely love as I went along.

Hope you enjoy!

Dark Academia:

Austria

Roderich has always been a perfectionist, often spends hours practising each day.

He's often finding inspiration for his compositions in seemingly the most mundane moments, has ruined many a journal and napkin with his frantic, sporadic writing, scribbling away in shorthand with almost a manic zeal.

You never fault him for it; he breathes music, each inhale and exhale just another crescendo and decrescendo in an ever-changing, uncharted symphony.

Recently however, he's lost his footing, loses his sense of direction even in his favourite concert halls.

You often catch him falling asleep at the piano, rehearsing long into the night, the calluses on his fingertips broken and crusted with dried blood.

The room is always a mess now; spilled ink coats crumpled, scattered music sheets, wax from the candelabra has melted down and solidified on the runner, one of the chairs has been broken in what you pray was an accident.

In the passing, fleeting, yearning moments when he steps away from it all, those rare moments when you coax him to eat and drink, to bathe, to sleep-

He rambles almost incoherently about the perfect symphony- frenetically, feverishly- pleads with you to help him, to ground him, to rid him of the thrice-damned refrain.

He is haunted- nay, plagued- by the song, obsessively begins to rewrite over-and-over again, cursing himself, cursing his limitations.

It kills you to see him in such a state, a witness to the near discordant harmony of anguish and ambition.

You ache to stop him, to ensure this spectre never haunts another living soul.

But you've heard it yourself, just enough to know you can't stop him.

It took only a few, hypnotic measures for you to succumb to its spell, to this dangerous, intoxicating melody that will do anything to be heard.

Belarus

Natalya is hiding something from you, something that has her constantly looking over her shoulder, has her more guarded than ever before.

You knew from the very start that she keeps secrets, knows things that you can never know- and frankly never want to know.

She drew you in with her layers, a softness buried deep, hidden behind a sharp tongue, guarded by a sharper blade.

At first glance, there is no gentleness to be found, no weaknesses to perceive.

She is quick.

And sharp.

And lethal.

Yet you knew, as you know now, there is far more to her than meets the eye, a quiet kindness and vulnerability that can only be earned with time and patience.

She used to reveal that to you, so often in fact that you had forgotten what that brusqueness even looked like.

To see her resorting to her old habits alarms you, terrifies you, has you glancing over your own shoulders even while running your usual errands.

She sneaks out a lot more these days, slipping away into darkened alleyways, disappearing into the fog and the night.

You follow her, aching for answers only she can provide, only finding more questions with every step.

A sense of urgency and desperation creeps across your skin as you walk faster, and faster, and even faster still.

You have to know.

You have to know what secrets she's hiding, why she's hiding.

In this one instance, you can't let her go on her own, can't risk her shouldering this burden of knowledge alone.

You have to help her; you have to know the truth.

She leaves behind codes written on wrappers of her favourite biscuits, messages and warnings alluding to something she's anxious that you keep out of.

Her fears only fuel your curiosity, and it isn't long until you're breaking into her safe, pouring through half-burned file folders and unmarked floppy discs.

You'll find the truth here somewhere, just as you're sure you'll figure out where she's disappeared to for the past nine days.

You continue your search for answers- both hers and your own- and know they're following you now, just as they followed her.

This is a dangerous game, and the more you learn, the deadlier it becomes.

But she's counting on you, wherever she is.

You will not rest until you find her and- together- finally expose the truth.

England

Arthur teaches you the power of words, a lesson you learn too late.

He lures you in with a bashful smile- always such soft smiles- and the perfect words.

He weaves them with practised ease and expert care, wields them as weapons only whenever truly necessary.

He always knows exactly the right words to say to you, never once stutters or second guesses, always speaks with a soft confidence that is just as beguiling and bewitching as his smile.

He introduces you to older and older texts, pages yellowed from age, the little sunlight entering the room scarcely offering enough visibility to make out each letter, to identify the source of the musty, metallic scent mingling with the dust and ancient leather.

When realisation finally strikes its fatal blow, you nearly drop the book in your alarm, its tawny sienna script striking you violently with nausea.

You frantically rush for the door, only half-aware of the creeping ivy, of the growing mist, focused only on your flight.

You're so close to escape before he's stopping you, crafting the perfect cage with a soft voice, gently luring you back in again-

Again and again as he has always done before.

Always such pretty words, always that soft, knowing smile.

You never think to question his isolation, never think to ask why he only meets you in empty corridors or forgotten rooms, never think to learn why no one else seems aware of him.

Every doubt that does come to mind, any question that arises beyond your obsessive, frantic studying-

Everything fades from thought with just the right words, whispered oh-so-gently.

It's only when you happen across an old, nearly forgotten legend that you begin to pull apart the deception, expose the hidden layers, read between the lines, and finally comprehend the gravity of your circumstance.

Words have power, he has told you- warned you- countless times.

He has always used such pretty words, such perfect words-

Words meant to charm and bind you.

Madagascar

Sakina talks in her sleep, during those few nights when your schedules sync up.

You're used to her long, odd work hours, and have long grown accustomed to her dedication to the Lab.

But she's been... off, lately.

There's a restlessness in her tapping fingers, a sense of apprehension and tension hanging around her as she pours over old reports, haunted eyes constantly drawn back to the shore.

So little of it makes sense; you've learnt enough through your time together to vaguely understand the abstracts from the dozens of articles littering her study, but you don't understand the chaotic mess of half-finished formulas and unfamiliar symbols covering her whiteboard, nor do you see the correlation to the dozens of newspaper clippings she has taped sporadically about the room.

She's taken to reciting equations in her sleep now, constantly has nightmares about... It.

She's sleeping less-and-less, has exhausted your coffee stockpiles, repeatedly begs and warns you to stay out of the water.

You're desperate to understand what is stealing her away from you, desperate for answers, desperate to save her from whatever precipice her research has led her to.

She's so lost to her research that she scarcely notices your presence over her shoulder, never seems to notice when her desk is rearranged from your own reading.

Slowly, you are starting to understand her frantic scribbles, are starting to understand the connection between all the journals that, once, seemed to have no correlation whatsoever.

You have your suspicions, you have your doubts.

Yet you can't argue with the years of evidence, can't argue the facts right in front of you.

You desperately try to convince yourself that you're wrong, that she's wrong.

But the more you learn, the more certain you are of the truth, the more you begin to dread the very thing she's been studying all along.

Thanks for the request, Lovely! I hope you enjoyed, and keep an eye out for some cottagecore soon~

103 notes · View notes