#he IS winking i rendered the other eye and then. the hair covered it entirely. LOL

[maximkischin-e]

Sorry for asking again but your art is too good <3 Isaac, 10, 2A?

thank YOU i'm really happy you think so! :D these are great practice for me so i appreciate the requests!

sorry i forgot his face tattoo please forgive me 🙏

[ done for the palette meme! ]

[mari-writes]

👻🦉

“Keiji! Oh my gosh, Keiji! You made it!”

Akaashi looks up to see Koutarou’s sister, Kana, hurrying towards him, a drink in one hand and her phone in the other. She takes the front steps of her family’s large house two at a time, an impressive feat in her high heels.

Knowing full well the force of a Bokuto Hug™️, Akaashi braces himself for impact. “Oof,” he grunts as the woman pulls him in. She’s tall—with her shoes she matches his own height. His face is firmly pressed into a nest of monochrome hair. 

“Hello, Kana,” he greets, returning the embrace. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You too!” She pulls back, grinning. Akaashi takes a moment to take in her appearance. She’s dressed up as a ghost of some kind, wearing a tattered grey dress with pieces falling off the sleeves and a long slit up one leg. Her makeup is powder white with black around her eyes and lips.

“Come in, come in!” She links their arms, pulling him towards the house. “The party’s already started!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here early to help set up,” he says. “This is incredible.”

The Bokuto home is decorated like a proper haunted mansion. The outside is covered in lights and tattered cloth, with creepy faces in each of the many front-facing windows. The inside is even more elaborate, with candles everywhere, spiderwebs and dark drapery.

“That’s okay! Kou told us you were at the office late.” Kana pokes his side with one finger. “You work too hard, Keiji!” 

His laugh is hollow. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t even have time to find a costume…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She winks. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, but before he can question what she means, she’s leading him into the fray.

The event is indeed in full swing. There are guests everywhere. He recognizes some other Bokutos—the eldest sibling, Kai, waves as they pass by—as well as a few professional volleyball players, influencers, artists and politicians.

Akaashi knew that the Bokuto family were influential in Tokyo, but seeing it in person is something else entirely.

When they make it to the bar, they find Koutarou on the other side, shaking up a cocktail. His eyes light up when he sees Akaashi. A beaming smile splits his face. “Babe! You’re here!”

Akaashi can’t help but gawk. His boyfriend looks amazing. The man wears a similar costume to his sister, with ripped grey clothing and ghoulish makeup. Koutarou’s t-shirt is torn at the sleeves, showing off his biceps, and a slash in the front shows off a delicious strip of abdominal. The pants are tight. Very tight.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Akaashi smiles back. “H-hi, Kou.” He allows Koutarou to lean over the bar and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Wait for a bit, okay?” He bumps their noses. “My cousin said he’d take over bartending for me soon. Then I’m all yours!”

Akaashi nods, trying and failing not to blush. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to his boyfriend’s unabashed displays of affection. It used to make him nervous, at least a little bit, but these days it just renders him dumbstruck.

Ugh, Keiji is so in love with this man.

He settles onto a barstool as Koutarou whips him up a strong, whisky-based cocktail. Kai eventually makes her way over with her husband, Yuto, in tow. They converse about books, art history and Kai’s latest stint with the Australian Ballet.

It’s not until the Bokuto parents show up that Akaashi realizes: The family is doing a group costume. All of them are wearing the same ghostly clothing and makeup. Their father’s outfit is similar to Bokuto’s, and Kai and their mother are wearing dresses like Kana, though each has its own unique flair. Even Yuto had adorned a matching yukata.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Akaashi says, bowing his head. “You all look wonderful. I apologize for my late arrival, and for not dressing up.”

Koutarou's mother chuckles and shoves his arm playfully. “Oh, Kana didn’t tell you?”

“Huh?” Akaashi blinks. He glances at each of the Bokutos and Yuto, all of whom are wearing identical grins. He spins to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, which are full of mischief. “Kou, what are they…” 

“C’mon!” Kana is suddenly pulling him off his stool and back through the crowd. Kai is hot on their heels. Akaashi barely has time to hand off his drink glass to a random passerby as he’s guided upstairs.

“Where are we going?” He asks, only slightly nervous. Both women laugh. Kai’s small hands press into his back eagerly.

“To change into your costume, of course!”

Twenty minutes later, Akaashi is staring at himself in the mirror, astonished. The costume consists of a pair of high-waisted pants and a tight, long-sleeved shirt that dips below his collarbones. It matches the Bokuto family; muted grey and white and tattered in various places. His makeup is similar to the others in the group, with dark, sunken eyes, but there’s an extra emphasis on his lips and cheekbones.

He has to admit, it’s a very cool look. "Thank you," he breathes as Kana finishes working his hair into a properly tousled style. "Truly. You guys didn't have to..."

"Of course we did," Kai replies, gently touching his forearm. "It's a family costume, after all."

Akaashi finds his boyfriend waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs as he rejoins the party. He silently delights in watching the man’s eyes bulge and jaw drop.

“It’s not often our little Kou is rendered speechless,” Kai giggles, lightly slapping her brother’s arm. But Koutarou pays no mind, instead reaching to help Akaashi down the last two steps.

“You look so hot, babe,” he rasps. “It’s not fair! How do you look so good in that?!”

Akaashi snorts. “You’re one to talk...”

Together, they head outside to where Kana has set up a tripod and camera. Apparently, the idea is to take a family Halloween portrait.

And they all want Akaashi to be part of it.

It’s strange, the warm feeling that seeps into Akaashi as he stands there, surrounded by the entire Bokuto clan. This big family, as close as they are, have pulled him so effortlessly into their unit. Too often has Akaashi felt like he doesn’t belong—but not tonight. Not with them.

He only hopes that Koutarou will be welcomed as warmly into his own family someday.

The party rages on until early in the morning. Akaashi dances, drinks and eats a bit too much, but so does everyone else, so he doesn’t feel too embarrassed. 

Its nearing 2am as he and Koutarou stumble upstairs. They rub most of the makeup off their faces before heading to Koutarou’s childhood bedroom, where they strip out of their costumes and slip under the bedclothes. Keiji giggles as his boyfriend burrows into his neck, hot breath tickling skin. 

“Koutarou,” he chides, “your parents are right outside.”

He feels the man smile. “They wouldn’t care. I mean, we’re all adults here.” 

Keiji scoffs, pushing him back enough to duck down and lock their lips. The kiss lingers, then deepens, but they are both too tired to go very far with it. Instead, they settle into each other’s embrace, sleep creeping into their bodies slowly.

Keiji feels so content here. So safe. So happy. “Thank you for inviting me tonight,” Keiji mutters into his boyfriend’s chest. The man shifts slightly, tucking his chin over black curls.

“Happy Halloween, Keiji.”

“Happy Halloween, Koutarou.”

//

Hope you all enjoyed this silly little thing. I am only posting it to Tumblr, as I do not want to clog the Twitter timeline with a long thread. So PLEASE help me out with a reblog!  Likes and replies are appreciated, but a reblog allows this story to reach another possible reader. Thank you and Happy Halloween! 🎃🖤

[chuckbass-love]

hii! I have a request for prompt 71 with Andy or ransom ☺️

Hey lovely, thank you so much for waiting this long for me to post this and i really hope you enjoy reading it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Prompt #71: "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, unprotected sex, rough sex, ass spanking, vagina spanking, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, daddy kink, breeding kink and angst.

Word Count: 3,486

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @sergeantbuckybarnes go check them out💜

In The Mirror

Standing in the middle of the master bedroom, you start to fold the freshly washed clothes before putting them away neatly in the closet. You start off by putting shirts away, Andy’s and then yours before moving on to jeans. Sometimes you wonder how he even has the room for his own clothes since you take up the majority of the space. But you just put that down to shopping trips he's so insistent on treating you to.

As you’re just finishing up, you hear the front door open before it slams shut so hard that the anger fuelling the slam of it can be felt even upstairs where you are.

Looks like Andy is finally home...

You decide to finish up with what you’re currently doing, taking your time before approaching your husband with caution. It was probably another run in with Neil, something you’ve grown accustom to dealing with ever since you met him. Doesn’t mean you don’t run out of ways to handle it occasionally though, your best option is to just allow him to vent before you distract him. Usually distracting him requires an old movie and takeout but other times it requires rough and needy sex.

“Andy” you call out as you pad down the stairs and into the kitchen, only to find him practically chugging a beer way to quickly. It must be bad if he couldn’t even wait until dinner to drink alcohol.

“You know sometimes i think why do i even bother going to work. I mean, Lynn sure seems to enjoy screwing me over for that fucking prick Neil and i’ve had just about enough of it”

Okay, now he’s really angry. You have no idea what to do or even what to say to him, you’re rendered speechless by his cursing and boiling temper.

“I was just about to make dinner, uh, lasagne perhaps. Or maybe we could order takeout again and rent that movie you were telling me about. It’s up to y-“

“Did you not listen to a goddam word i said? I don’t give a shit about dinner, do whatever. I’m going to take a shower” his decibels rise, his tone scolding as he storms past you and up the stairs taking two at a time until he reaches the top. You hear his heavy footsteps stomping to the bedroom and then suddenly it all turns quiet until the shower water starts to run.

Rather than leaving him to cool off, you decide to head up to check on him.

In a way, he was right. You practically ignored his annoyed state and changed the subject, in fact you couldn’t have changed it fast enough. But that’s only because you didn’t know what to say. When he gets like that, there’s not a lot you can say.

“Andy, i’m sorry” you squeak, stepping into the master bedroom to find him stood with his back to you as he removes his dress shirt and tie. His back muscles tense as he stands still for a second before turning around and tossing his clothes to the floor before starting on his belt.

“Andy” you mumble, desperate for him to acknowledge you.

“What?” he snaps, slipping out of all clothes until he’s in nothing but his birthday suit, his impressive size dangling between his legs.

“I’m sor-“

“I heard you”

You gently step closer to him, examining his face for any tell tale signs of discomfort before you rest your hand on his right forearm, “please, just talk to me. What happened today?”

“Like you care, all you seemed to give a shit about was dinner, so how about you go focus on that like a good little house wife and leave me to deal with the tough shit... does that sound like a deal?”

“That’s not fair, Andy. I didn’t know what to say to you, that’s all. You’ve had that many run ins with Neil lately that i lose sight of how to help you. But i’m here now, just talk to me. Tell me what i can do to make it better”

Silence.

His hand pulls from your touch, but before you can even understand what’s going on you’re back is already touching his toned tatted chest. His arms rest on your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.

“Well, there is one thing...” he starts, moving your hair to the other side of your neck, freeing up some skin for him to feast on. His mouth nears closer, his hot breath fanning you torturously as his nose nudges at you. That’s when you feel his hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt teasingly, slowly lifting it up your torso with ease. You lift your arms in the air, allowing him to remove it before he discards it behind him without a care.

“Such a beautiful body, honey. Be a shame to waste it fretting away about dinner in that kitchen” you gulp in response, feeling his lips barely grazing the nape of your neck, the action causes a shiver to dance down your spine as his beard scratches you.

“Andy” your voice is nothing but a breathless whimper as you turn to face him, his hands instantly rest on your waist at the band of your booty shorts. Of course when he tugs at them, you know what he’s after now and you also know that no matter what you do or say, he’ll take it regardless.

He drops down to his knees, surrendering to your body and dragging your shorts down your legs as he sinks to the floor. You step out of them for him, even going as far as to kick them to one side before he pushes you back to the wall.

The palm of his hand gives your calf a soft squeeze as the other lifts your leg up to drape over his shoulder, your aching sex on show for his lustful orbs to focus on. The insatiable hunger is starting to drown out his mind, body and soul, he’s incapable of thinking of anything else but you, craving anything else but you.

He’s starving, desperate to taste you.

A couple more minutes pass with him peppering kisses along your ankle at first before moving up to your calf and then your thigh. You try to push him away due to the sensitivity there but he only forces you off him, he’s so much stronger than you could ever be and you know now that you’ve lost.

He presses another chaste kiss to your bundle of nerves before pausing and feeling your body react to his touch. Your shaking body begs to be worshipped and devoured whilst he begs to drink and breathe you in like you’re his only lifeline.

“Smell so good” he coos, poking his tongue out to give your clit a kitten lick as his nose nudges at your mound, the action causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head. Whatever you did to deserve this agonising torture, you will make sure to never do it again. This is teasing at its peak.

“Please, Andy. I need you”

“Oh you’ll have me, alright” his response is quick yet snappy as he dives into you. His mouth latches onto your sex aggressively, sucking, slurping and biting. His beard scratching your inner thighs and it's sure to leave a burn there.

The tip of his tongue points all the more as he winds it around your clit rapidly and even with one hand gripping your hips roughly whilst the other strokes your leg up and down before settling on your ass, you still feel unsteady as if the smallest wave of pleasure could knock you to the floor.

His mouth right where you want him comes and goes as he takes breaks in between to come up for air, but right when you feel yourself getting lost in the feeling, it comes to a complete halt.

You glance down at him, eyelids heavy, chest rising and falling, only to find him rising to his feet.

“What the hell, Andy?” you ask, your entire body heating up.

“You sound angry” he cocks his head to the side as he grazes his hand across your hardened nipple.

“I am”

“Now, that’s exactly how i felt when i came home. Yet instead of comforting me like a good little wife should do, you made me feel worse. So therefore, you don’t deserve to cum”

What the hell is wrong with him tonight?

He shoots you a wink before padding into the bathroom, the shower water still running and steaming up all of the mirrors in your eye-line until he closes the door, locking it to prevent you from entering and leaving you standing there perplexed at his actions.

He did all of that on purpose. He built you up to the edge of ecstasy before leaving you to come crashing down all alone, all in the name of proving a point.

You reach for your robe off the hook on the bedroom door before storming out, brimming with frustration as you make a start on the dinner. Lasagne will do for tonight.

You prep it as fast as you can whilst the oven preheats to the correct temperature before putting it in and setting the timer. Now you can relax.

As soon as you throw yourself down onto the couch and flick the tv on, you hear the bathroom door open. You’re almost certain that he expected you to wait for him like a lost puppy dog but you refuse to play into his petty games of revenge. All because you didn’t comfort him. It was silly and unnecessary.

So for now, you’ll indulge in some reality television whilst you wait for dinner to cook and if there’s one thing that’s for certain, it’s that you are most definitely not putting out for him tonight. No matter what he says or how much he sweet talks you. It’s not good enough for him to treat you like that.

Whatever Neil did or said, that’s a work problem.

Andy can’t believe his eyes when he comes back into the bedroom only to find it empty. He wraps his white towel around his waist, covering up his modesty before heading out into the hallway and down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom of them, he spots you watching tv in the lounge, giggling away at whatever The Kardashian family are doing now, but whatever it is, he doesn’t care.

Instead of leaving you be, he stomps over “what do you think you’re doing?” he inquires, voice bellowing more than he intended “i’m waiting for the lasagne to cook, it’s in the oven. Enjoy your shower, honey?” you probe sarcastically, a rhetorical question. However your sarcasm infuriates him further as he picks you up with ease.

“Andy, put me down. NOW” you shout, kicking your legs and slapping his upper back as he drapes you over like you weigh nothing.

“Dinner is in the oven” you remind him, desperate to avoid burning it. But that’s when he puts you down before walking over to the kitchen and turning the oven off.

Your eyes widen as he approaches you once again, picking you up and carrying you up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he always does.

“Andy” you groan until he places you back onto your own two feet, his hands practically rip your robe off to expose your naked body before he does the same to the towel covering his manhood up.

“I’ll tell you what’s about to happen, honey and you’re going to listen” he informs you, stepping closer and moving you to stand in front of the mirror. You correct your abysmal posture as you look back at him in the mirror. A sinister glint in his eyes becomes crystal clear as a wicked grin graces his handsome face. His beard full, his hair still wet from the shower as droplets of water drip down his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me” the pure filth has you holding your breath in shock before exhaling dramatically.

He’s always been kinky but sometimes he still manages to leave you shocked. Although it’s times like these that you love him the most, the whines and whimpers he draws from you so effortlessly, the way he causes your body to tremble raggedly and most of all the way your entire world stops turning as he brings you to that cliff edge, pushing you off of it with his two large menacing hands.

He kicks your legs apart further before pulling your arms to the back of you. He hooks his arm inside of them to prevent you from moving away from him whilst his other hand massages your puffy petal like folds before circling your dripping entrance.

Once his tip is resting directly at the tight hole, he proceeds to move forward, the skin around your entrance catching onto him as your walls welcome him inside.

“Oh, fuckkk” he draws out the word, groaning and gasping for air as he drives home, the feeling overwhelming you to the limit.

How can one man have such a firm and tight grip on you like this?

How did you end up here, unable to utter out a single word as his pace picks up before he’s fucking into you so violently, snapping his hips with no signs of slowing down.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, honey, do as i say” he warns, and the moment you look up at him, you see the darkness and it causes you to look away, focusing back on yourself just like he instructed you to do.

The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls so fast is enough to cause the knot in your stomach to tighten painfully. The pleasure is almost too intense to bare, too much for your fragile body to handle. Yet you continue to take it, allowing him to fuck away his anger, channeling it into this moment.

His arm and hand tightens around your arms, holding you in place as he keeps his sights on you, watching as your mouth hangs open in the perfect O shape. Fuck, you look perfect like this with him bending you to his will, using you for the sole purpose of his pleasure and his pleasure only.

How did he get so lucky to be graced with you’re beauty?

The harder he snaps his hips into you, the more the coil tightens and the all too familiar feeling builds all the more inside of you. An ongoing reminder of your impending orgasm.

“Andy, i-i’m gonna c-cum” you tell him, begging for him to allow you the privilege of releasing, the privilege of creaming all over his rock hard cock.

A dark chuckle erupts from his throat, mocking your pleas for a release before tutting at you, the torment continuing.

“Please” you beg once again, only to be reprimanded with the harsh sting of his hand landing on your ass cheek “keep your eyes on the mirror, honey. You’ll come when i tell you to, quit being a brat”

The need to release is almost unbearable, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes and drowning out your vision before you blink, allowing them to stream down your innocent looking face for him to see. It only spurs him on more as he moves his free hand in from of you, kicking your legs further apart before smacking down on your sex brutally. Your body jerks in response before somewhat relaxing at the feel of him rubbing briskly at your pulsating clit.

“That’s it, honey. Taking that cock so fucking well”

“I need to c-cum, A-Andy” your voice trembles frantically in hopes of him taking pity upon you.

“Shhh, baby. Just let daddy fuck the frustration away, gotta fuck it all away” his words are pure filth but his tone is gentle and needy. He just wants to take his anger out on your body, channel it into something.

You can imagine that with the field of work he’s in that he finds it hard to keep his cool with Neil every day. Which is a shame because they used to be close.

Granted that was back when Neil first started and Andy mentored him, whipped him into shape and taught him everything he knows. And Neil is a better lawyer because of it. However, it also means that he’s just rude, obnoxious and cocky towards Andy, pushing him to the edge and taunting him a little more every day.

“Hold yourself back for daddy, you’ll cum when i give you permission to. Is that clear, honey?”

“Yes” you mumble, barely audible.

“What was that?”

“I mean, yes daddy” you correct, watching his eyes intently, searching for any sign of him letting up his tight hold and hard thrusts.

“Good girl, being so perfect for daddy and taking this fucking like a pro, huh?”

“Yes daddy”

Your eyes glaze over as you struggle to keep yourself in tact, the hold you have on your orgasm is slipping from your control slowly but surely and you know that if he doesn’t give you the go ahead soon then you’ll end up breaking the rules.

Something that will surely earn you a painful punishment.

“God, fuck. I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum with me, honey?” he asks, gasping. You throw your head back onto his chest, arching your back into him further. You nod your head as quickly as you can as you feel your knees turning weak.

“Count down with me”

“10’ you say in unison, his fingers rubbing furiously at your sex.

“9” the sound of your skin slapping together bounces off of the walls.

“8” the feel of his mouth latching onto the sweet spot on your neck, pearly white teeth sinking in to mark you up.

“7” the moans he’s eliciting are now flowing out of your mouth uncontrollably.

“6” deep grunts escape him as he pushes you against the mirror, causing your cheek to push up against it.

“5” the feel of him fucking into you tightens the coil for the final time, the feeling agonising.

“4” you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars as you arrive at the cliff edge.

“3” you say in unison as his thrusts turn from fast and rough to slow and hard.

“2” his cock twitches inside of you, your walls flutter around him over and over.

“1”

“That’s it, baby, cream all over that cock for me”

You let go, body shuttering as you stand up onto your tip toes. His grip on your arms lets up, causing you to fall forward, hands resting on the wall either side of the mirror.

“Oh god” he growls, hands splaying across the soft globes of your ass before he fills you with hot ropes of cum, breeding you unofficially.

He remains seated deep inside of you for a minute or two whilst the two of you struggle to regain control of your breathing, both of your hearts beating so fast that it feels as though they are on the cusp of exploding out of your chest.

“How are you feeling now?” you ask as he pulls out, turning to face him.

“Hungry for Chinese takeout and a night filled with fucking that tight cunt”

“Was that not enough?”

“I’ll never get my fill of you” he says, pulling your naked body flush against his “i want you all of the time and besides, that was just to channel my anger into something. The next time will be to make a baby”

“W-what?” your voice shaky as you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You heard me, i’m gonna spend all night breeding you, honey. Gonna make you all nice and round with my child. Gives me a chance to take my mind of that cunt Neil”

You nod your head, humming your agreement before pressing your lips to his.

Sure, you’ve had chats about kids before but this is the first time he’s openly suggested trying and even after his outburst, your love for him remains.

You can’t wait to spend the night tangled up in the crisp white sheets of your bed, filled with his cum.

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

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @candlefics @yassspose @randomsevans @fanficforfun

Just Chris & Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @sheofthegarden @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @mrsbbarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @dwights-new-plague @whxre4cevans @cherry-gemz

LMK if you want to be added to my tag lists...

[rocorambles]

Mission: Seduce Kuroo Tetsurou

Pair: Kuroo x Reader

Genre: NSFW, Slight Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Warnings: Degradation, Master/Pet Dynamics, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Cum Play, Nipple Play

Prompt: "Guess I'll just have to cum inside you."

Summary: You really should have just spoken to Kuroo about your insecurities instead of letting everything spiral out of control. But that’s okay, your husband is more than happy to thoroughly remind you that you’re the only woman he’ll ever want.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt. (Masterlist goes live Monday 31st August 11:30pm U.K. time!) 

You stretch your arms over your head as a big yawn rumbles throughout your entire body. It’s too early for any sane person to be up, even the sun is barely creeping in through the windows of your apartment, but your husband has hardly been sane recently with the crazy amount of hours he’s been pouring into work. You’re lucky that you even woke up before he left and you smile as you hear your overgrown house cat rustle around your bathroom and bedroom, getting ready for the day. 

“Tetsurou, hurry up so you have time to eat at least a little breakfast before you head out! You’ve been skipping it too much recently. You wouldn’t want me to leave you for one of those pro-athletes you work so closely with when you become just stick and bones, would you?” 

You bite back a laugh when your husband’s messy bed hair peeks out from around the corner and hazel eyes narrow at you, but you’re not laughing when he finally saunters over to you in his suit and traps you against the kitchen counter between his long arms, leaning in so close your noses are brushing and just when you relax and close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you, you rapidly blink your eyes open as he gives you a quick light peck before ambling off to pour himself a cup of the green tea you’d brewed. With a pout, you warm up the rice balls you’d bought last night and place them on the dining table, wrinkling your nose in displeasure at the smirk on Kuroo’s face, but it’s all forgotten as the two of you lightly chat over breakfast, Kuroo’s long legs spreading into your space across the table, your calves gently rubbing against each other as you laugh and eat. But all too soon it’s time for him to go and he gives you another loving peck before racing out the door and with a sigh, you wash the dishes before getting ready to leave for work yourself.

You love Kuroo with all your heart. Your feelings for him have only gotten stronger over the years and even after tying the knot with him, you can’t help the way your heart flutters and warmth fills your chest whenever the two of you lock eyes. But when your mind replays the teasing scene from this morning, your thighs clench and you bite your lips. Kuroo’s always been a tease and you love it as much as you hate it. No one knows how to rile you up like he does and he uses that to his advantage, rendering you a desperate, needy mess before finally making good on all his dirty promises. But lately, he hasn’t been following through. You can’t even remember the last time you’d done anything more than heatedly make out. 

At first, you had tried to be patient. You know far too well exactly why he hasn’t been in the mood recently. It’s so obvious to you. It’s obvious in the ever growing and darkening circles underneath his eyes. It’s obvious in the way he can barely stay awake when you do manage to spend some time together when he comes back home from work. It’s obvious in the way he immediately passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow. Hell, even his messy bed hair that usually defies gravity seems to slump more and more with every passing day. He’s exhausted. You’ve always loved how dedicated and hardworking Kuroo is. It’s one of the many reasons you’d fallen for him and you know how important his job is to him, but you wonder if it’s time to intervene as you watch your husband walk around your shared apartment like a zombie. Also, more selfishly, you have needs and it’s been months since you’ve been stuffed full by him and really, this is all Kuroo’s fault for training your body to constantly yearn for him after all the years he spent pleasuring you over and over again. With a determined glint in your eyes, you begin to scheme. Let Mission Seduce Kuroo Tetsurou begin.

You scan yourself in the mirror pleased with how you look in a strappy lingerie set you know drives Kuroo crazy. It’s a delicate and intricate creation of lace and ribbons that barely covers you, only accentuating the curves of your figure, but you know it’s the one strip of ribbon that travels in a single bold line between your breasts and leads up to a delicate lacy red collar wrapped around your neck that will specifically catch Kuroo’s eyes. Checking the time, you excitedly perch yourself on the bed, positioning yourself seductively, candles flickering and enhancing the mood as you wait for him, but a hour passes and you unwillingly succumb to sleep, ignorant of the way your phone buzzes with an apologetic text from Kuroo, letting you know he’d be home even later than usual. Blearily you open your eyes and wince as daylight sears your vision. Wait...daylight? You scramble to sit up and check your surroundings and your shoulders sag in frustration when you find yourself still in your lingerie set, but carefully tucked into bed, blankets wrapped around your body, Kuroo’s side of the bed empty and cold. You reach over to look at your phone, getting up to get dressed for work, when you see a new text from your husband. 

Sorry, kitten. You must have been waiting a long time for me last night. You looked absolutely beautiful. Look! I even took some pictures so I could remember. But maybe next time try not to fall asleep while the candles are still lit ^.^  

Your face heats up at the lewd pictures he’d taken of you while you were fast asleep and your heart warms at his compliment, but you stubbornly shake your head. There’s no time to be distracted. You’re still a woman on a mission. 

Attempt two takes place that weekend and you watch your husband from the shadows, lurking behind him before finally pouncing on him as he sits at his desk, answering a work phone call. You saucily wink at him as you saunter into his view and you smirk at the way he clears his throat and gulps at the sight of you dressed in nothing but his old Nekoma jersey and black thigh highs. And when you sink to your knees and arch your back just so, you almost snicker at the way he hisses when his jersey rides up and your bare ass is displayed. But he collects himself enough to firmly, but gently shove you away from him as you try to pull his boxers down and despite a few more attempts on your end, you instantly stop when he puts his phone on mute and sternly says your full name. 

But Kuroo’s always been weak against your puppy dog eyes and with a slight roll of his eyes, he beckons you to sit on his bare thigh and as he calmly and professionally continues his call, you heavily pant with your tongue lolling out, drool dripping from your mouth as you grind against his strong muscles like a bitch in heat, smearing your arousal everywhere until you’re almost sliding back and forth against the taut surface. And as he clenches his muscles and digs his leg further up into you, your body convulses and he barely has time to end the call before you loudly moan as you ride out your orgasm. He whispers filthy praises into your ear about what a good slut you are, what a desperate pet you are, what a mess you’ve made all over master’s leg, but when you finally exhaustedly slump onto his chest, he peppers butterfly kisses all over your face and holds you for a few minutes before carrying you to the bathroom and washing both of you off despite your protests that you still want to play more. 

He at least has the decency to apologetically kiss you for ending things so abruptly as he throws on slacks and a button-up before rushing off to work to take care of the emergency he had just been on a call about despite the fact that it’s a weekend, but you can’t help the growing insecurity that begins to eat at you as you spend the rest of that Saturday alone. Were you not as attractive as you used to be? Was Kuroo getting tired of you? Why does it feel like you’re trying so hard to get his attention? Does touching you feel like just a husbandly duty for him now? Thought after crippling thought sears through you and you have to hold back the tears that threaten to spill when Kuroo returns late that night and, thinking you’re already asleep, turns on his side with his back facing towards you and instantly falls asleep.        

You muster what little resolve you have left with the last few scraps of your self-confidence for a final attempt. Raking through your mind for memories of what would hopefully bring some passion back between the two of you, you perk up as your eyes scan a black box crammed underneath the bed. Kuroo hates it when you masturbate, when you touch yourself, when you make yourself cum without him being physically present or at least on a call with you to hear all the pretty sounds you make. Surely this would be enough to finally have him fuck you senseless like he always used to. But when you purposefully time everything so that Kuroo enters your bedroom and finds you stuffed full with your favorite dildo, a wand vibrator pressed against your clit, and your back arched as broken cries fill the room, he just gives you a tired smile and sits on the edge of the bed before helping you by thrusting the dildo in and out of your gushing cunt. And it feels so good, but when you see how dull and lifeless Kuroo’s sleep deprived eyes look despite the fact that you’re laid out in an erotic display of lust, you can’t stop the sobs you let out as you climax. 

Thinking you’re just crying from the overwhelming pleasure and too tired to dig further into it, Kuroo absentmindedly tosses the toys to the side and cradles you in his arms as he falls asleep, finding comfort in your familiar scent and figure, ignorant of the way your body continues to tremble as you cry yourself to sleep. And as you try to keep your sobs and sniffles as quiet as possible, you decide to abort this mission, deeming it a complete and utter failure and you struggle to fall asleep that night as self-deprecating thoughts claw at your insides. Of course Kuroo didn’t find you sexy anymore. Your body has changed a lot since your younger days. You should be grateful that you still have a loving husband, a husband who works tirelessly to help provide for the two of you, a husband who always takes care of you, a loyal and devoted husband. And despite the longing pang for something more, something primal, for your base desires to be filled, you tentatively turn in Kuroo’s arms until you're face to face and you nuzzle into his toned chest and finally find peace in the rhythmic rise and fall of his sleeping figure. 

Life goes on normally after that. At least for Kuroo. He's too distracted and exhausted to notice the way your smiles are a little more forced, the way you're more hesitant about touching him, the way you wear more clothes to cover your body as self-consciousness plagues your mind. So it's just business as usual for him to excitedly tell you about the Japan Volleyball Association's annual summer beach party, but he blinks in confusion when you don't return his enthusiasm, mumbling a feeble excuse about not having a swimsuit for the occasion. Brows furrowed, he digs through the drawers of your wardrobe and triumphantly holds up a black bikini set you still have, waving aside your worries that it won't fit and that it won't look good on you anymore and that's how you find yourself a few weeks later, exiting Kuroo's car and walking side by side with him in said bikini, feeling like an ugly troll next to your stunning husband whose lean and toned muscles are on full display with him just sporting a red pair of swim trunks. 

But your insecurities are pushed aside as a loud "hey, hey, hey" echoes even over the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and you can't help but grin as Bokuto runs over slapping Kuroo hard enough on the back to leave a red mark before picking you up and spinning you around as he hugs you. "Alright, that's enough, stop manhandling my wife, you big dumb owl!" Kuroo pretends to grumble at the two of you, but you can tell by the amused glint in his eyes as Bokuto finally lets you go and the reassuring hand he places on your lower back as the three of you mingle with everyone else that he doesn't really mind. But as soon as you reach the thickest part of the crowd, Kuroo quickly kisses your forehead before running off to network with some players and coworkers, leaving you alone with Bokuto. 

The two of you have fun. Bokuto has always been the life of the party and you laugh the hardest you've laughed in a long time. But many drinks later and unable to keep up with his crazy stamina, you excuse yourself and find a quiet corner, drinking a glass of cold water to cool down and sober up a bit. It's been hours and you still haven't seen Kuroo since he separated from you and you're so focused scanning the venue for him that you don't notice the person drawing near you until you feel movement right next to you. Surprised you turn around and are met with a vaguely familiar face. Blond dyed hair. An ever present smirk. You don't realize how long you've been staring, trying to remember where you recognize him from, until he snorts and waves a hand in your face. "I know I'm good looking, but don't you think it's a little rude to just stare at me silently?" 

You try to stutter out an apology as you finally come back to your senses, but he laughs it off and introduces himself. Atsumu. Yes, now you recognize him. Bokuto's teammate. You've seen tons of pictures of him on Bokuto's social media accounts. He's a little rough around the edges and you can feel your face heat up as he blatantly looks you up and down, eyes lingering a bit too long on the swell of your breasts, but you can feel your confidence growing, feeling truly desired for the first time in months. What's the harm in a little flirting? 

The two of you banter back and forth and maybe it's the heat of the sun mixed with the alcohol still running through your veins, but you don't notice the way Atsumu inches closer to you until your thighs are pressed tightly against each other or the way he rests one arm behind you, slyly pressing it against your upper back. And you definitely don't notice how he suddenly swoops in to crash his lips against yours and you move to shove him away from you only to be interrupted by a flurry of motions and you stare in shock at Atsumu sprawled out on the ground and your husband furiously glaring down at him, fists clenched so hard his knuckles are turning white. 

You react just in time to lunge at Kuroo and you tightly wrap your arms around his tense figure as he takes a step towards the blonde setter, holding him still as realization finally dawns on Atsumu when he spots your matching wedding bands and he scampers off with a rushed apology. But even when he’s long gone and nowhere in sight, you still clutch your husband, not letting go until you feel his muscles relax. You let him shake you off as he turns around to tower over you and you whimper at the fire burning in his eyes, hazel eyes almost glowing as they pin you down. You’re thankful for the loud music and lively atmosphere, ensuring no one’s paying any attention to the two of you as he tightly grips your chin and forces you to maintain eye contact. 

“Someone’s been a naughty kitten. I leave you alone for a few hours and you let some other man just place their dirty paws all over you? Let them taste your pretty little mouth? If I hadn’t stopped him, would you have let him fuck your tight cunt too? Mark you up inside and out?” 

You hate the way you grow wet at his words, trembling when Kuroo notices your growing arousal and narrows his eyes in disdain. But it’s the brief flicker of hurt in his eyes that finally has you digging your hands into his waist as denial and reassurances come pouring out of your mouth. 

“Tetsurou, I had no idea he was going to kiss me. It happened so fast. I’m so sorry. Of course I would have stopped him if you hadn’t stepped in! I love you. I only want you.” 

You stare intently into his eyes, trying to portray all your love for him through your gaze and you sigh in relief when his eyes soften at your words, but your breath catches in your throat when his eyes sharpen into a familiar gleam and a dark smirk curves onto his lips. He finally releases your chin and leans down until his hair brushes against the side of your face as he purrs into your ear. 

“Prove it to me.” 

Kuroo has a reputation to uphold and, not wanting to risk anyone seeing what’s about to happen, he grabs your hand and guides you through the dancing crowd, laughing and greeting a few tipsy faces he recognizes in passing, but not once does he stop leading you towards the exit and you’re quivering in anticipation by the time the two of you reach the parking lot and he roughly shoves you into the back of his car. The door has barely closed before he pulls your bottoms down, not even bothering to fully remove them as he also hastily shoves his boxers down just enough for his cock to swing out. And you almost moan at just the sight of what you’ve been lusting for all these months, a small part of you taking pride in the fact that he’s not as unaffected as he makes himself seem behind his angry facade as you unconsciously lick your lips at the sight of his already fully hard length. 

You attempt to sit up and move towards him, desperate for a taste of the pre-cum leaking out of his tip, but you yelp when you’re shoved back down by a hand on your chest and you whine, only for that to quickly turn into a wail as Kuroo slams two of his fingers inside of your throbbing cunt. He growls as he rapidly pistons his digits in and out of you and you should be embarrassed by the way your cries of ecstasy and the sound of your squelching wet pussy fill the car, but you can’t bring yourself to feel any shame as you lose yourself to the delirious pleasure of your husband’s long fingers filling you, stretching you, always sure to rub against that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. But when your hand instinctively reaches down to rub your clit, you’re startled back to reality when it’s slapped away and his fingers are yanked out of you. 

He sneers down at you, a wicked smile twisting his face as he shoves his drenched fingers into your mouth and you obediently suck, making sure to clean every remaining drop of yourself that coats his skin. Satisfied, he finally removes his hand from your mouth and he quirks an eyebrow in amusement as you beg and plead for him to fuck you.

“Tetsurou, please. I need your cock inside of me. Please, I want it so badly. Please fuck me. Please please please. I miss it so much.” 

He mockingly coos down at you as desperate tears well in the corner of your eyes. “Aww is my little kitten crying for my cock? You’re such a fucking whore. You want my big fat cock inside of you so badly that you’d cry and beg for it like a desperate slut? You sure it’s my cock that you miss? I think you’d be happy with any cock fucking you. You’d let anyone stuff you full and moan like a whore, wouldn’t you?” 

And the tears finally fall as you sob and shake your head rapidly. “Only you, Tetsurou. Always only you. Please please please.” You’re still crying and incoherently babbling as he slams his entire shaft inside of you in one swift motion and Kuroo darkly smiles at the way your crying instantly turns to wanton moans at the sudden intrusion. But it’s been far too long since either of you have done this and both of you are so worked up that he knows he doesn’t have much time before you both reach your ends. And sure enough after just a few strokes he can feel your body begin to tighten and he grits his teeth at the sight of your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your head shaking back and forth, and your mouth wide open. But even as dazed as you are, when you feel the way your husband’s thrusts become uneven, you try to voice as much reason as you possibly can, fully aware of your husband’s tendency to paint your body with his fluids. 

“Tetsu-Tetsurou AH- Feels so good. Hngh D-don’t cum on me. Don’t have anything to- AHHH clean it up with and- OH we need to go back to the party.”

Kuroo grunts in displeasure at your words, but he knows you’re right and as much as he loves to see you covered in thick spurts of white, the thought of anyone else seeing that incites rage in him. You get ready for him to pull out and cum down your throat like you always do when you mess around in similarly inconvenient places, ready to swallow down any evidence of your sinful deeds, but you scream when his thrusts get even harder and faster. 

"Guess I'll just have to cum inside you."

And those words are the final shove you need to fall over the peak and Kuroo follows shortly after you as your pussy walls clench and milk his cock. He stays buried inside of you for a few more moments, wanting your tight walls to soak up as much of him as possible, but when he slides out of you, he quickly pulls your bottoms up, not letting a single drop escape, and you whimper as he purposefully tugs them up just a tad too tightly, teasingly wedging the fabric between your folds before finally having some mercy and letting you rearrange them. He opens the car door and steps out first, offering a hand down towards you and you grab it, gingerly standing up only to be pulled swiftly towards him and you stumble into his chest. But before you can fully find your balance, a large hand tugs your hair until you’re forced to stare up into cat-like eyes. 

“I want you to keep my cum inside of you for the rest of the party. I’m not anywhere near done with your punishment. I’ll be checking at home tonight to see if your pretty little pussy is still painted white.”       

The rest of the party is torturous. Kuroo doesn't let you step even a foot away from him as he continues mingling with the crowd and in any other scenario you'd love the attention he showers you with as he affectionately introduces you to countless faces, but not today. Not with your pussy desperately clenching in order not to spill a single drop of the white liquid coating your insides. Not with your touch starved body only yearning for more after getting a taste of what you've wanted all these months. And Kuroo only makes things worse with his subtle teasing. 

You know better than to think any of his touches are accidental or innocent and your body is so in tune with his that it reacts to every single bit of contact he dishes out. His arm grazes over your nipples as he reaches over to grab a drink. He leads you with a hand that just happens to slip from your lower back and land squarely on your ass. He wipes your mouth for you, claiming you have a piece of food on the corner of your mouth, but that doesn't really explain why his fingers briefly slip past your lips. But all hell breaks loose when he reapplies your sunscreen for you and his hands blatantly slip under your bikini set, teasingly close to where you want him most, but always just missing your clit and nipples and when he reaches your neck, a moan escapes you at the feeling of his hand subtly wrapping and tightening around your throat. 

"Tetsurou, stop teasing me! Can we go home? Please take me home. I need you inside of me again. I want you to ruin me." 

Kuroo's the one who's turned you into a needy slutty mess, but it's his turn to feel flushed at the sight of you lewdly begging him to do whatever he wants to you in broad daylight, in front of hundreds of people and finally losing his self-control, he brusquely grabs your hand and once again the two of you are leaving, but this time for good. The car ride is silent, the atmosphere thick and tense between the two of you as you clench your thighs together and Kuroo tries to ignore the growing bulge in his shorts. It's silent as both of you enter your apartment and Kuroo seats himself on your couch. But you break once you close and lock the front door and Kuroo impassively stares at you as you drop to your knees in front of him and beg him to fuck you again. You know you're barely making any sense, fueled only by your cock hungry thoughts, but you pause when Kuroo raises a hand to silence you. 

"Let's see if you were able to follow the one rule I gave you today, kitten." 

Eagerly you nod your head and you raise yourself on your knees, spreading your thighs apart before pulling your bikini bottom to the side and you think you could cum right there and then just from the way Kuroo unabashedly stares at the white trail dripping down your inner thigh as he pushes down his shorts enough to languidly stroke his cock. 

"Good girl. Did you like being my little cum bucket today? Did you like being filled by me? Bet if it were possible, you'd always want your little cunny to be drenched in my cum, right? Come sit on master's lap." 

Kuroo chuckles at the way you clumsily stumble in your haste to reach him as you blather affirmation after affirmation in response to his questions and he lowers his head to affectionately kiss you, lightly nipping your lower lip before he pulls back. He moves one hand to his cock to angle it as his other hand grabs your waist and urges you to move, but you hardly need any encouragement and you both groan as you sink down on his length until you're completely bottomed out and sitting in his lap once again. Immediately you try to bounce, but you whine when strong hands hold you still and you can feel tears of frustration forming as you pout at your husband's smirk. But any annoyance is forgotten when his hands fondle and pinch your nipples through the fabric of your top. 

"Look at you. I've barely done anything and you're already so worked up. Stop moving! Just sit there and take what I give you." You yelp when he roughly pinches your nipples and you cease your attempts to ride him, but you can't help the way your hips roll and grind as he continues. 

"Your nipples are already so hard, kitten. Look how obvious they are even beneath your swimsuit. Were they like this all day? Is that why Atsumu couldn't take his eyes off you? You think every player there saw how slutty your nipples are? Realized what a horny desperate whore you are? I bet they all wanted to get a taste." 

You wail when Kuroo shoves the fabric aside and latches a mouth onto one of your sensitive nubs, while experly flicking and rolling the other between his fingers. He alternates between the two sides and your frazzled mind can barely keep up with his actions as he switches up the motions of his fingers and mouth. He pulls off briefly and sharply tugs at your nipples. "Think you can cum just from your nipples?" You try to deny it, pleading for him to at least rub your clit, but your protests are ignored and you gasp when he dives back down and harshly sucks at one of your puffy nubs. Kuroo knows your body even better than you do and he continues to stimulate your nipples even when you topple over into an orgasm that takes you by surprise and you tightly clench around his cock as your back arches and only when you weakly paw at him to stop does he release your nipple with a lewd pop. 

You playfully smack him when he teases you about what a slut you must be to be able to get off from just your nipples and you hide your face in his neck as he shamelessly thinks out loud about all the nipple clamps, suctions, and vibrators he can use on you to train you even more. But you raise your head in alarm when you feel yourself being repositioned, Kuroo's erect cock still inside of you as he lays you on your back and hovers over you. 

"Tetsurou, st-stop NGH TOO SOON!"

"What did you say, kitten? Sorry, it's hard to understand you when you're moaning like a whore. Weren't you begging for this all day? Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

Kuroo thrusts sharply into you with every word and you can't think of anything other than how well he fills you, how perfectly he fits inside the cunt he's molded and shaped for himself after years of using it, how amazing the drag of his cock against your insides is. You babble thank you, thank you, thank you mindlessly over and over again, incapable of doing anything else as your breasts bounce and your body writhes underneath him. And when his hips finally stutter and he furiously rubs your clit as he adds to the mess inside of you, you break apart once again, your mind going blank as you feel the warmth of his cum sloshing inside of you.

But exhaustion slams into you as you come down from your climax, exhaustion from your third orgasm, exhaustion from being teased all day and all the barriers you’d put up finally come crashing down and Kuroo stares in horror as you sob, nothing like the pleasure filled sobs he usually wrings out of you. No, these are heartbreaking anguished cries for help and he immediately answers the call by tightly clutching you to his chest, your lower bodies still connected as he murmurs words of praise and love into your ear. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart? I love you. You know that, right? I love you more than anything or anyone else in this entire world. I’m so lucky to be your husband. You’re so good to me, so loving, so supportive, so loyal, so beautiful.” 

The last word catches your attention and with a sniffle you hesitantly remove your head from his torso and look at him through watery lashes. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” 

Kuroo flounders for a second, disbelief choking the words in his throat, unable to understand how you could think otherwise. But when he sees the insecurity and doubt flooding your eyes he gently cradles your face in his calloused hands. 

“Of course I do. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, inside and out.” 

Your heart flutters at the sincerity you see in his eyes and that’s all it takes for you to break down in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tuck your head under his chin, and he silently listens as you reveal all the internal suffering you’d put yourself through over the past months as you let your anxiety and worry mix with your doubts and insecurities, letting them fester and ferment into a self-destructive time bomb. A slow-moving process he’d been too daft to notice, that you’d been too scared to talk to him about for his sake, not wanting to be a bother or another item he needed to check off his to-do list. And while you continue shyly speaking, tears stream down Kuroo’s face and his heart clenches at the thought of how long you’d quietly suffered, putting on a happy facade for him, taking care of his every want and need during the few hours of the week he was home and awake. 

Surprised to feel liquid drops plop down on your face, you quirk your head upwards and panic when you see your husband’s teary eyes and the two of you become a blubbering mess as you both try to wipe each other’s tears and soothe each other. It’s so silly to see two adults trying to out comfort each other that you accidentally snort at the strange image the two of you must make and there’s a slight pause, but then your laughter is joined by Kuroo’s trademark cackle and before you know it, the two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the rumble of each other’s laughter through your connected bodies. 

Yes, there’ll be serious conversations later about being more open and transparent with each other when something’s troubling either one of you and discussions on how you can both work on your communication. You’ll jokingly complain that Kuroo is hovering over you too much for weeks after this breakdown as he practically scrutinizes you with those perceptive eyes of his, always making sure you’re really fine. And he’ll never give you any more opportunities to doubt how much he loves every part of you when you’re screaming his name on every surface of your home. But for now, feeling infinitely lighter with all your burdens finally shoved off your shoulders with the help of your husband, you’re content to close your eyes and relish in the warmth of the lean body pressed against you.     

[mothandpidgeon]

REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

let me know if you'd like to be tagged (or untagged)!

@pascalslittlebrat @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @221bshrlocked @danniburgh @pedrocentric @miscellaneousfangirling @blackmarketmummy @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedropastelpascal @hiitsmaegen @feelmyroarrrr @raspberrymama @fangirl-316 @mandosmistress @littlebopper96 @originallaura @cheekygeek05 @fairytale07 @casualpalacebagelrascal @miranhas-art @purplepascal042 @sleep-tight1 @tuskens-mando @rebel-soldat

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

It Had to be Witches

Dean and Sam are on a hunt at Rowena’s request. When Sam is out of commission, Dean has to work with you.

Warnings: Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!) male oral receiving, fingering, mention’s of witchcraft, brief mentions of ritual style murders, brief mention of animal sacrifice, Dean is a sad boy.

Word count: 3567

All written and proofread (poorly) by me. All mistakes are my own. Please don’t copy or repost my work. Likes are great and I’ll love you forever if you repost and comment. Thanks for reading.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam and Dr. Philips examined each of the women’s bodies. Carved into their limbs were runes consistent with the ones Rowena described. She said she was sending an expert who lived in the area but the boys hadn’t made contact yet.

“The other agent who was just here asked the same questions. Don’t you guys talk to each other?” Dr. Philips covered the bodies. Some of the women he knew personally.

“Different departments. You said he was just here? How long ago?”

“She. Her name is Diana Luna. She’s down at the evidence locker. All the women had the same necklace. She went to check it out.”

Sam thanked the doctor and set off to find you. First he called Dean. “Looks like Rowena’s story checks out. Her expert was just here. The bodies were marked with runes and all of their tongues cut out. And, get this, they all had the same necklace. Maybe a coven?”

“Of course. Of course it’s witches, Sam. Look, don’t go far. I’m on my way.” Sam was sitting on a bus bench reading coroner's reports when you approached him. Due to the nature of the case, Rowena insisted the elder Winchester carry out the task at hand. “Use Sam as bait.” she instructed.

“Agent Cornell? I’m agent Luna from the Lansing office.” You extended your hand. “Director Macleod sent me.”

“Yeah, I bet she did. Bring me up to speed.”

“Sure. I’ve got what you’re looking for right here.” You blew a very potent powder in his face knocking him out. You put the lankier Winchester into your truck and sped back to your house. Getting his dead weight up the stairs was a task but you did it. “Sweet dreams, Sam.”

Dean searched the entire town square for Sam with no luck. He tried his phone again and it was going directly to voicemail. Sam could hold his own against any witch but Dean was still worried. As he unlocked the door to the Impala, he heard you call his name over his shoulder and turned his head to see who was speaking. You blew the dream dust into his face rendering him unconscious.

He was heavier than he looked. You shoved him into the back seat and pried the keys from his hand. Baby growled angrily when she started but you had her purring for you in no time. You drove him back to your house and dragged him inside where you intended to tie him up. Rowena coached you on all their tricks. You took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and divested him if anything sharp. With his wrists and ankles bound in a pretty decent slip knot you splashed his face with water to wake him.

“Morning, handsome.” he smirked as you wiped his face.

“Big mistake, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re the one we’re looking for.”

“Pretty and dumb. Rowena was right and you would be guessing wrong. Her name is Teresa Wilson. She came seeking asylum with our coven a few months ago. Said her whole order was obliterated. Turns out, she wasn’t exactly who she said she was.”

His face split into a cocky grin, “They never are. What do you want with me?”

“You need to help me find her. Rowena gave me a locator spell. When I cast the spell, I’ll need your fancy bullets. Problem is…”

He laughed heartily, “Problem is you can’t touch ‘em, am I right, sweetheart?”

“You would be correct.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

You took a step back just out of his reach just in case, “If you help me I’ll let your brother live.”

He strained against the ropes veins bulging in his forearms. “If you touch one hair on his head I’ll rip you apart myself. You hear me, witch?”

Your nails dug sharp into the meat of his cheeks so he would look at you. “Relax, baby. Your brother is safe. He’s asleep upstairs dreaming of puppies and rainbows as we speak. But if you don’t help me, he’ll never wake up. And, Dean, when I kill someone, it sticks. No resurrections for Sammy this time.”

You’ve never seen a human man snarl before. It was pretty cute. Rowena warned you not to be mesmerized by his sweet face and his Disney Princess eyes but you couldn’t help it. The man looked like he would, in fact, rip you apart. And, Hecate help you, you wished he would. You traced a finger along his sharp stubble covered jaw. His eyes turned up to look into yours, throwing daggers at you. “Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re angry?”

“All the time. Get to the spell so I can take my brother out of here.” he growled.

“It’s not time. If I untie you, are you gonna be a good boy or do I have to hit you with my knock out dust again?” You couldn’t take your eyes off of his perfect lips smiling at you.

“Sure, mommy, I’ll be a real good boy.”

You knelt in front of him and parted his knees slightly to undo the first knot. “Such a smart ass.” He growled low in his throat when you peered at him through your lashes. His dick grew painfully hard against his jeans as you slid your hand up his legs to maintain balance. Of course you noticed though he tried to squeeze his thighs together to hide his arousal. “Do you like me like this, Dean?”

Of course he did. You were just his type. A little bratty but you had a good heart. Rowena told them about you. The little warrior for the Grand Council. They constantly sent you to do their dirty work and you did so without question like a good soldier. No wonder Rowena paired the two of you. You were the female version of him. “Like what?” His voice was low and dripping with need.

“On my knees for you. Looks like you do.” You winked at him but he looked away embarrassed.

It had been a long time since he felt a woman wrapped hot around him. Everything in him wanted to follow your siren song and happily crash. He couldn’t do it. This story always ended bloody. “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.” He peered down at the bulge in his pants. So did you. Your core heated at the thought.

“Is that a dare or a double dare?.” He spread his legs and licked his lips inviting you to take what you wanted. You shook it off and focused on the task at hand. “Well in any case, I made you dinner. Pot roast, potatoes, peas and carrots. Eat if you want.”

It did smell amazing. His stomach growled remembering that all he had was coffee this morning. The living room and kitchen were well lit and warm. He felt at peace in this place. More so than the bunker where it could sometimes feel clinical and cold. “You got a pretty nice place here. You all alone?”

A sly smile played on your lips, “Just me.” You sat the plate down in front of him with a cold beer and a bottle opener. The oven timer dinged and, when you opened the door, the aroma of cinnamon and spice wafted through the air.

“That pie?” He sounded choked up.

“Apple. I have an orchard in the back. Rowena filled me in on how to keep you happy.” You sit it on the windowsill to cool while you ate. “I can’t have you bashing me over the head and running off before we kill this bitch.”

He shoveled a fork full of potatoes and gravy into his mouth humming in appreciation. “Why me? You had Sam here. He’s much better at this witch stuff than I am. Why drag me out here?”

“You’re more reliable when making difficult decisions. You’re what I need. Another beer?” He nodded breathing in the soft floral scent that wafted off of your skin as you moved.

You didn’t offer any further information and Dean thought that was probably for the best. If he got in his head about the situation he would lose his nerve and that can’t happen. That’s how people die. As of late, Sam has had a lot on his mind. Dean would have to shoulder this burden. At least Sammy was getting some rest.

The two of you shared a comfortable silence only marred by silverware hitting ceramic. “Well that was delicious. Thank you….umm…I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I didn’t give it to you. I’m Y/N. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept calling me sweetheart. Pie?”

Dean's heart beat hard in his chest at the thought of calling you sweetheart “Maybe a little. So when do we do this thing?”

“Eat your pie then meet me outside. I have to prepare.” You slipped out the back door down a dimly lit path to your cauldron. You threw in the mandrake and tobacco. Last was the chicken that you had to slaughter. You grabbed a hen from her coop and stabbed her with your athame. It made a terrible sound which sent Dean flying through the back door ready to fight.

“What the hell was that?”

“Chicken.” You allowed the rest of its blood to drain and discarded the carcass. “periisti. lates. Ego te quaero. I vestrum adprehendet vos.” You chanted over and over until a glowing beacon appeared. “We have to follow it.” The orb circled the two of you then floated towards the Impala. You retrieved his keys from your pocket and started off for the car.

“Whoa whoa whoa. What are you doing?”

“Following the orb.” He grabbed your arm as you started to slide into the driver’s seat.

“No one drives my baby but me. You sit shotgun.” He impatiently waited for you to scoot over. When you reached for the radio he slapped your hand away. “Are you serious?!”

“What? There were other decades besides the 70’s.” He bit his lip and flared his nostrils letting out an unsettling growl. “Driver picks the music.”

“You are a child. Just drive. The spell won’t last forever” you huffed.

“So, just you huh? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” You didn’t answer keeping your eyes trained on the orb. “Yeah me neither. Maybe later we can grab a drink.”

“My god. Can you keep it in your pants until we’re done? It took a left!”

He sped up taking off after it, “I see it. So that’s not a no.” That was all the invitation he needed. The truth was you would have given it up the moment those green eyes stared into your soul.

“It’s not a no. Let’s focus.”

Baby ate up miles of dirt road before reaching the highway. A couple of miles ahead the orb sped for an exit into town. You were led to the motel where the boys were staying. The door to their room was wide open and there Teresa stood bathed in the light of the orb. You bid it a job well done and sent it on its way.

Teresa, caught off guard, quickly muttered a spell pinning Dean to the wall, sending the gun skittering away. You faced each other down while Dean struggled. “She’s a kid!” he groaned in pain.

“I’m nineteen thank you. You don’t have to do this Y/N. Come on. We’re sisters. We share the same DNA. Let’s take them on together.” Tears welled in your eyes. You may have been blood but you weren’t sisters. She grew up far out of the Grand Council’s reach while you were their trained lap dog.

“Only half little sister. You’re hopped up on enough stolen magic to power the entire city. The Grand Council sent me to take you down. Adiuro te in nomine Hecate. Adiuro te in nomine Dianae. Tuae vires cum luna decrescant.” you chanted. She fought back but the binding spell was powerful. She didn’t have enough magic to hold Dean and fight you so she let him go. When he regained composure, he dove for the gun.

Without warning, Teresa gained the upper hand. She held out her arm and used all of her might to pull you towards her. Blood stained tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breath. With every last ounce of strength you had you doubled down on the binding spell long enough to hold her so that Dean could put her down. The blast of the shot filled the small motel room filling your ears with a high pitched whining. You collapsed onto the floor where Dean scooped you into his arms.

“Hey, Y/N. Wake up. Stay with me. Shit.” He carried you to the car and gingerly set you down next to him. The drive back to your house felt long. When he got you inside he placed you on the couch and called Rowena.

“Is it done then?” she asked in her thick Scottish brogue.

“Yeah but your girl’s unconscious. She’s breathing but she used a lot of magic. A lot. I don’t think you’ll be calling on her anytime soon.”

“Keep her warm, Dean. I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead. He sat on the floor in front of you and brushed your hair from your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you need to wake up. We were supposed to grab that drink, remember?” He pressed his lips to your temple lingering there for a moment when he heard Rowena’s laugh trill behind him.

“I should add matchmaker to my long list of talents. Out of the way, Dean. I’ll get your girl fixed right up.” She patted his hand and pushed him aside.

His face flushes hot burning all the way to his ears. ”She’s not my girl.”

“Of course. Now, what seems to be the trouble, dear?” She placed her hands on your head. Her eyes glowed as she spoke over you. Your lashes began to flutter and you woke up. “There she is. Good as new.” You and Dean exchanged a look. “That appears to be my cue to go check on Samuel.”

“Thank you, Rowena.” your voice was hoarse barely above a whisper.

“Not at all, dear.”

Dean pulled you into his lap rocking you gently, “You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

“I had to stop her. She hurt too many people.” You felt guilty for ending her but even guiltier for letting her go as far as she did. Guiltier still for not pushing harder to be in her life. “It was my fault.”

“Hey, no it wasn’t. What? You think you should have been a better big sister? You didn’t lead her down this path, Y/N.” You rested your head on his shoulder “All these years and all the stupid fucked up shit Sam and I did, I blamed myself. I took on that burden. Alone. It’s a lonely awful place to be. I’m begging don’t do that to yourself.” He held your face in his hands forcing you to look at him. He wanted to kiss you. You would have let him if he leaned in. Instead he brought you back down to his chest just to hold you. He saw so much of himself in you. You were headstrong and self righteous but your intentions were altruistic.

You melted into his arms so lost in him that you didn’t hear Sam and Rowena slip out. Dean offered his brother only a small nod to let him know you were ok. He had several texts from Eileen anyway. Happy to see his brother didn’t have to spend another night alone, he went back to the bunker.

You sat in silence for a while when you started yawning. “Shit. What time is it?”

“After midnight. I should get outta here.” You untangled yourself from his grasp but didn’t stand. His hands stayed respectfully at the small of your back. You locked eyes with him. Your core tingled as he brushed errant hair from your forehead.

“Or you could stay. We haven’t had our drink yet. Though, you don’t need to get me drunk, handsome.” You kissed his jaw and down his neck working your way to his collarbone. A soft moan escaped his lips when you nipped at his neck. “I mean you enjoyed me on my knees and all.”

“As pretty as you looked,” his voice was low and gravelly, “And, I mean you looked gorgeous. We really shouldn’t.”

You genuinely pouted your lips backing off of your ministrations, “Why not? I want to. And you clearly want to. You’re a fucking legend, Dean. Show me just how legendary you are.”

He arched a brow at you and smirked in the way that only Dean Winchester does. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.” Finally his lips were on yours. The force of his kiss took your breath away. It wasn’t predatory or greedy. It was slow and sensuous bordering on hunger. His whole body was hungry for you. Dean Winchester was hungry constantly looking for something to fill the hole inside him. For the moment, that was you. He felt like he was floating and was suddenly very warm. If he stopped kissing you he knew he would just stop breathing. He couldn’t bare the thought.

“What are you doing to me?” His chest heaved. “I feel like I’m on fire.” Surely this must be a spell or enchantment. He pulled you back in for more but this time his hands strayed from your back. They traveled to your hips then under the hem of your shirt to feel your flesh warm against him. He had to feel you. To be inside of you. Deft fingers unbuttoned your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he stroked your clothed core working up a rhythm that flooded you with arousal.

“Touch me, Dean. Please” you cried. Pushing your panties aside his fingers explored your dripping pussy. His pace is maddening. Your hips snapped fucking back hard. “Fuck, Dean. So good. I need your cock. Want you to split ne open.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Princess. Come for me and I’ll give you what you want.” And so you gushed around him moaning like a witch on fire. When your heart slowed to a normal rhythm you stripped naked. Before he could get undressed he took a moment to kiss and touch every inch of you. If this was only for tonight he wanted to savor you. “God you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” You pulled him up and undressed him, never once breaking eye contact. His cock was red and weeping just aching to be touched.

On your knees in front of him you took the whole burning thing in your mouth. To Dean, you were the most stunning creature to exist. You swirled your tongue around the head while you hollowed your cheeks sucking him in deeper still.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Fuck that feels good.” His hands grasped the back of your head keeping you steady while he fucked your face. It started feeling too good like he would blow his load in your mouth. He had to feel your sweet cunt. “Let me feel you, baby. Fuck I need you.” You pulled off with a pop and climed into his lap. Both of you whimpered when you sank onto his length. The stretch was exquisite. Your pussy held him so tight. You ground your clit over his pubic bone while he fucked into you with a brutal pace. “You feel so good. M’not gonna last. Come for me, baby. I need it.” Your twat fluttered around him, milking him for all he was worth. You kissed once more fighting to hang on to the last tendrils of tenderness and warmth that you could.

“Stay. Please. Just for tonight” you whispered.

He tightened his grip on you. “Of course, sweetheart. All night.”

He hated to leave you but the sun rose like a beacon calling him away. If he didn’t leave then, he wouldn’t have ever left. Last time he stuck around and fell in love, he had to learn the hard way that he could never have this. Maybe he would call you the next time he swung through town. Maybe you’d spit in his face for bailing. He brushed the hair off your forehead and kissed your temple. “Bye, sweetheart.”

You woke when you heard the Impala roaring to life in your driveway. He left a square of paper with a phone number scrawled in pencil “I’ll always answer. -DW” You put on your robe, went down to your cauldron and threw it in with a few bundles of sage and some witch hazel to sever any feelings. On the next full moon, you’d do a cord cutting to make sure it sticks.

“See you around, handsome.” In his eleven hour drive back to the bunker, any feelings that you have would slowly fade. The two of you would go back to being too afraid to feel and far too afraid to fall in love. Dean wouldn’t hear from you again. He wouldn’t really remember where you lived. But, every time he drove through Michigan, he’d feel a twinge in his chest. And, no matter how many rituals you did, you’d feel him too.

[ikeromantic]

Friends and Frenemies

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - approx. 2800 words. This scene takes place after the events of the romantic epilogue. Mostly fluff, slightly spicy.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Kitsune's Day Out

Mitsuhide sat on the floor with his little mouse in his lap. His fingers stroked the nape of her neck as he listened intently to Sarutobi.

Sasuke and Miyake sat across from them on the edge of the bed. Miyake’s expression was somewhere between awe and exhaustion. He wasn’t saying much, just staring into empty space with a confused grin.

The ninja looked mildly pleased as he talked. “My professor took a little convincing. We had to call in the history department chair to talk to Miyake.”

“What did he want to know?” The chatelaine’s eyes were heavy with sleep. They’d spent the day walking around Kyoto, looking at historical sites - things Mitsuhide should recognize.

Of course, everything was so changed from his time that the places they visited may as well have been new. Even if they were the same structures, what lay around them had changed so much as to render the buildings and monuments unrecognizable.

Sasuke shrugged. “Details. It was like watching a verbal exam in a master class. And then he made Miyake pick out his own sword from a room of Sengoku period weapons. It was impressive watching him look each one over.”

At this, the warrior chuckled. “I almost didn’t. It was strange to see Kichihiroe looking so old and worn.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “But you did. So all is well.” He turned his attention back to Sasuke. “What is the benefit of bringing these men in on our secret?”

“Well, first off, this.” He handed Miyake and Mitsuhide campus ID cards. “You are both now officially visiting professors, with a stipend and everything. There was a small . . . additional favor they requested from you.”

“Which is?” Mitsuhide raised one eyebrow.

Miyake answered. “They want you to come in and answer questions. A lot of questions.” He wiped his brow. “They started in on me today and there is just no end!”

Sarutobi nodded a confirmation.

“So . . . they want to pay you to answer questions about the Sengoku era? And that’s it? That doesn’t sound so bad.” The chatelaine grinned.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “I am not sure it’s so simple. This interaction - couldn’t it cause -” he thought for a moment, trying to find the words. “A complication? If I let slip something they don’t know, or they tell me something that will happen?”

“A paradox.” Sasuke’s mouth curled up in the slightest smile. “I considered that. But we are already living in a parallel timeline. One in which you and Nobunaga live, as well as some other changes.”

“So the things they tell us, those aren’t things that will happen?” Miyake sounded a little tense as he asked the question.

“Right,” Sarutobi replied. “Or, mostly right. We can’t be sure how far apart our timeline is from the original, so I encourage you to forget anything you may hear.”

Mitsuhide snorted. “Once a truth is heard, it cannot be so easily forgotten.”

“True enough. Can’t unring the bell, as they say. But are you willing to take that chance and talk with the history professor anyway?”

“I will.” Mitsuhide stroked his little one’s neck with gentle fingertips. “It will be interesting, regardless. And you have gone to a lot of trouble to arrange things. It’s the least I can do to play along.”

“I appreciate that.” Sasuke gave a little bow. “So what did you two do today?”

Miyake elbowed him and gave the two lovers a knowing wink.

Mitsuhide’s little one blushed and covered her face. “No! Nothing like that! Miyake! We just went shopping. Oh - and there were these men -”

“Who kindly helped me pick up our bags when I dropped them. We were very appreciative.” Mitsuhide interrupted her before she could give away any more information about their run in with the modern day bandits. Not that he didn’t trust Sasuke and Miyake. He did - as much as he trusted anyone. But it was always wise to keep information to yourself until there was a reason to share.

Sasuke blinked. “Ok. Well. Tomorrow, I’d like to take you up to the university, Mitsuhide. If that’s alright. You can both come if you want to.”

“Oh! But I needed to run by the office for my job tomorrow! I wanted to give them my apologies for disappearing so suddenly, just when they offered me a position.” She bit her lip. “I guess it can wait though.”

“I can go with her to do that, if you want me to,” Miyake put in.

Mitsuhide nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. You two can run errands tomorrow while I satisfy the curiosity of some modern scholars.”

“Are you sure?” The chatelaine looked uneasy.

“I am.” Mitsuhide kissed her cheek. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?”

After they made arrangements for the coming day, Mitsuhide and his little mouse trekked back to her flat, leaving Miyake and Sasuke to themselves. It wasn’t that he minded the company, but he wanted to have her to himself tonight.

They stopped at a ‘small’ grocery on the way home to pick up something for breakfast. While Mitsuhide had noticed the number of foodstalls, he had not considered an entire store with shelves full of food. He wanted to ask if this was normal, but one look at his little one’s face gave him the answer.

She was not surprised at all. With barely a glance at the stacks of fresh vegetables and fruits, she led him further into the store.

There were at least five types of vinegar, he noted. An assemblage of noodles that defied sense. Several types of rice. Beans. And a variety of things with names he couldn’t identify as food, all wrapped in bright packages. “Masamune would love this place,” Mitsuhide murmured.

“You think? Maybe we should bring him something back.” She smiled. “I’m surprised you thought of him just now.”

“He’s a -” Mitsuhide paused at the realization he was about to say friend. Not ally. Not colleague. Friend. He bit back the word and finished with, “man who loves his food.”

His little mouse didn’t appear to pick up on the omission. “He really is. And he wants everyone around him to enjoy it too.” She picked up a package of rice, then added, “I wish I was such a good cook.”

“I think you’re amazing.” Mitsuhide settled his palm lightly on her low back, reassuring.

She smiled wryly. “Says the man who doesn’t taste his food.”

“Kyubei thinks so too. And his taste buds work fine.”

“Mhmm. Kyubei would eat a pile of rocks and tell me it was delicious if he thought he was supposed to. But I appreciate the compliment.” She leaned against Mitsuhide and sighed. “I wonder how he’s doing right now.”

Mitsuhide considered. There were a number of things he wished he’d had time to tell Kyubei. And of course, he hadn’t counted on Azuchi being attacked but, “I’m sure he is well. Kyubei is resourceful, talented, and I’ve left him the tools he will need. You should worry less about him, and more about yourself.”

“What should I be worried about?”

He grinned and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. With his lips almost touching her ear, he murmured, “You should worry about what I will do if I don’t get you alone soon.”

His little one inhaled sharply, cheeks heating. Her eyes were bright and full of desire as she replied. “Then we’d better hurry.”

They got back to her flat soon after, and unpacked the groceries. With the last items put away, she sat in a kitchen chair and looked up at Mitsuhide shyly.

It never failed to amuse him how innocent she could be in moments like these. As if she couldn’t admit what she wanted no matter how badly she wanted it. Of course, he’d take full advantage.

“How should I use your bath, little mouse? Can you show me how it works?” Mitsuhide already had an idea, but what fun was that?

“Oh! Yes. Sure. It would be good to clean up.” She led him to her small bathing room. “This handle is hot. This one cold. And if you press this, it will activate the shower. Just be careful where you point the nozzle.”

Mitsuhide leaned over her, pressing close. “So this one is hot?” He turned the handle.

“Umm . . . yes but, I should probably . . . get out of the way . . . the bathroom isn’t big enough-”

“And this one is cold?” He turned the other handle.

She nodded. “Yes. So. Ah, first rinse off with . . . with the shower. And . . . and th-then fill . . .”

Her distraction was deeply amusing. Possibly caused by his breath on the back of her neck and the way her hips met his. Not that he was unaffected. The press of her hips against him was maddening. The slight friction of cloth, the denial of skin to skin touch he ached for. But this was his game, and he knew what came next. Delay only made victory all the sweeter. Mitsuhide pressed the shower, and water fell like warm rain over them.

“Mitsuhide!” She gave a little shriek as he pulled her to standing under the flow. Her clothes clung to her skin, revealing as much as they hid. He could not wait to peel them off her.

“Oh dear. What have I done? Now you’re all wet!” He smiled widely and slid his hand under her shirt, popping the buttons open one after another.

She playfully swatted his other hand as he reached for her skirt. “You totally did that on purpose! I know you did!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” Mitsuhide slid her shirt off and enjoyed the sight of water pearling over the rise of her breast. Her soaked bra looked a deeper blue than it had when dry. A good color for her. His hands slipped around behind her, reaching for the clasp.

“You know, if you wanted to bathe together, you could have just said so.”

“Mmm, but this was more fun.” His fingers fumbled with the odd hook-and-eye catches, finally releasing them. Her bra fell away. Mitsuhide relished the sight. “You should probably help me get the rest of these clothes off. I’m fairly certain you don’t bathe wearing them in this age.”

She laughed softly and reached up to cup his cheek. “My wicked kitsune. No. We don’t.” And then she kissed him.

***

Kyubei frowned at the short, dark-haired man in front of him. “You can cut the act, Ranmaru. I’d recognize you anywhere. Besides, your work on that scar is atrocious. Who taught you disguises? Were they blind?”

The page - spy and ninja as well - sighed and set down the basket he was carrying. “I thought the scar was pretty good. It really changes my face. What gave it away?”

“Your fingers are still stained with beetjuice, for one. And you didn’t blend the edges well enough. I can see bits of raw paste at your hairline.”

“Well damn. Alright. You caught me. Are you here to kill me?” Ranmaru’s tone was light, joking, but there was nothing funny about the way his fingers curled around the hilt of the short blade he wore at his hip.

Kyubei rolled his eyes. “If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead. I came to find out what you know - and how you know it. Are you willing to have a conversation with me?” He left out the alternative, which was knocking the page senseless, dragging him back to Azuchi, and putting him in the dungeon. He wanted to avoid that outcome. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Alright. Fine. But you’re buying us something to eat. I’m starving!”

“I can do that.” He led the page out of the alley they were in - a spot chosen in case things got ugly - and back into a market street. Kyoto was full of people selling things. He had his pick of at least a dozen stalls and shops for food, but made a beeline for one in particular. The proprietor was one of Mitsuhide’s informants, someone Kyubei could trust if this chat went sideways.

The two men sat down at a back table and ordered sake and food. Ranamru’s preference for sweet things had not changed in his absence. They were getting stewed peaches, peaches with rice, and peach-jelly stuffed mochi. Not to Kyubei’s taste at all, but then, he hadn’t come here for the food.

“What do you know about the attack on Azuchi?” Kyubei wasted no time getting to the point.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Would you believe I didn’t know it was going to happen?”

“No.”

The page giggled. It was a high, false sound with no real mirth. “Well, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t believe me either. But I really didn’t know that was coming. I knew something was . . . my - my Master was working with some people. And they were coming to Azuchi so I knew they had something in mind. I thought . . .”

Ranmaru’s throat bobbed, stuck on the words. He looked away and wiped at his face.

Kyubei sighed. “So you weren’t sure what was planned. What did you think might happen? Is that what made you run?”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and he hadn’t looked up. “I thought . . . maybe they would try to kill him. Nobunaga. A direct attack. Or, poison? I - I didn’t want . . . but I was . . .”

“You were afraid they might ask for your help. Or participation.” Kyubei’s voice was pitched low, for Ranmaru’s ears only. This was not a subject to be discussed lightly.

The page nodded.

“So you ran.”

He nodded again.

Kyubei rubbed the short growth of hair on the top of his head. It was coming in, full and dark, but it itched some days. Especially after spending time on the road, with no rest. Touching it had become a habit for him when he was anxious or unhappy. This conversation was not making him happy.

“I didn’t want to be the one to - you know. Nobunaga has - he’s always been good to- to me. I thought, let them do their own dirty work. I would g-go back to Kennyo. Offer to be, to do a-anything else.” Ranmaru finally looked up. His expression was one of abject misery.

“I don’t blame you. It can be hard to serve two masters. Even when their goals usually align . . . often the methods do not.”

Ranmaru smiled bleakly. “I guess you understand a little.”

The tea and sweets came, and for a brief few minutes, the two men ate and drank in silence.

Finally, Kyubei asked, “So why aren’t you with Kennyo now?”

“I can’t find him. I know he’s working with . . .” Ranmaru’s jaw clenched. “I can’t say. But, I don’t know where they went. Or what they are planning next.”

“I need you to tell me the names, Ranmaru. Assume that I already know them, and from you, I only need confirmation.”

“Fine. Then you say them. I’ll nod if you’re right.”

Kyubei smiled. “Kicho.”

Nod.

“Motonari.”

Nod.

“The ‘shogun’ in exile.”

Nod.

“I was hoping the last one was a no. We worked so hard to set that boy up, but I suppose Yoshiaki’s allies got to him.” Kyubei took a deep breath. “And you really have no idea what they will do next?” He watched Ranmaru for tell-tale signs of a lie.

“I wish I did. I’d find Kennyo and get him away from those stray dogs.” The page almost spat.

“So what will you do now?”

Ranmaru tugged at his darkened locks, twisting them around his finger. “I don’t know. I am afraid to return to Nobunaga’s side. Afraid they will ask me to betray him. But that makes me a traitor to my Master. I am damned either way.” His voice was flat, empty of self-pity or any other emotion.

“You could work for me.”

The page raised an eyebrow. “You know I turned on both my masters. That I am a coward. What would you trust me with?”

“Well, not disguises, clearly.” Kyubei caught the curl of a slight smile on Ranmaru’s lips. “I’d want you to gather information from the daimyo loyal to the shogun. Nothing to do with either of your masters directly. No need to dig yourself a deeper grave.”

“I’d report everything to the Ikko Ikki too.”

Kyubei shrugged. “I’m fine with that? If Kenny’s monks act on the information, I doubt it will be to prop Ashikaga up further.”

Ranmaru chewed at his lip, thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “I guess I can do that. Just until I find where Kennyo has gone and what he needs of me.”

“Then we have a deal. But I do have one more question before I leave you.”

“What?” The page eyed him, suspicious again.

Kyubei tapped his finger on the table, almost afraid of his own question. Asking it would be giving information away, but he needed to know. “Have you seen or heard from Akechi since the night of the attack on Azuchi?”

Next: Uncomfortable Questions

[moonofiron]

I saw this one panel in the manga and lost my shit.

He looks so 🥵 here. This is the panel that has inspired this smutty fanfic. I also wanted to draw something related to this piece so I've thrown in an illustration between the story as well! Enjoy!

Jujutsu Kaisen, Chapter 78

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Characters: Geto Suguru x (fem)reader

Genre: smut, bondage, kinbaku, edging, overstimulation, explicit sexual content, visual content thrown in too 🥵

Rating: M

Synopsis: Geto shows you his skills at kinbaku

Word count: 2.4K ~

Minors, dni.

Geto Suguru ties the last knot near your ankle. You whimper from the rope chaffing your skin but ease into the burn and position yourself the way Geto wants.

It has taken months for you to get to this point. 8 months back you had casually asked him where he disappears to for hours at end every Saturday. You couldn't hold it in and he couldn't bring himself to lie to you.

"I..I practice kinbaku love. It's to destress, really."

//

"Oh, what's that?"

"Umm, it's the art of tying knots. It's derived from the act of tying prisoners during the war but now it's a...a form of art."

"I see." After a moment's pause, you had asked, "So what do you tie knots with?"

"Three strand jute ropes. On manequins."

You didn't really get it and had pouted slightly.

To break the awkward silence, you had asked him, "Will you show me sometime, Suguru?"

His face had clouded and he had looked the other way. "Maybe. Maybe, someday I will."

//

"There, all done," says Suguru joyfully. He puts his hand under your chin and pulls your face up so you can look at yourself, his artwork, in the large mirror in front of you.

You gasp at how helpless you look. You're naked and your hair is tied up neatly in a bun. Suguru did your hair earlier and decorated it with the delicate pin he bought for you on your second date. You're pretty much bent into a ball and perched on the futon you both have fucked on on so many nights that you've lost count now. Your hands are tightly tied behind your back and your ankles are tied to your thighs. The knots go down from your neck all the way down to your clit and then climb up your spine. Your breasts perk up from the pressure around them. The knots are elegant and look complicated, and you can see your cunt swelling from the pressure of the tight ropes around your inner thighs.

Please do not repost or plagiarize.

Years of practicing kinbaku has rendered him into a master of this art that he's extremely private about. His passion leaks in the way his long fingers tackle the ropes around your body, almost as if he's making love to them.

You meet his eyes in the mirror and see him looking right back at you as he bites his soft lips. His eyes are dreamy and lustful, and he wears a look of pride that pushes all the buttons for you.

He takes out a small black ball from his kimono's left sleeve and your eyes widen. He walks around and sits in front of you so his face is inches away from yours.

"Open your mouth, love," he whispers.

You do as he says without even giving it a second thought. He pushes the ball-gag in your mouth gently and you close your eyes as you envelope it with your wet mouth. He moves closer so your nose buries into his chest as he clamps the ball-gag strap at the back of your head. When done, he sits back and strokes a finger across your jaw.

“I'll be back in sometime, baby. Be good. I'll be watching." He winks and kisses the ball in your mouth gently, his gaze never leaving yours. A soft gasp escapes his lips. And then, just like that, he's gone.

You panic. 'What? I thought he'll just be showing me how it's done. What does he mean he'll be back in sometime? When? How long?' you think. A flash of fear makes your stomach drop. But then you calm down.

The first few minutes are easy. You spend them admiring how beautiful you look, how lovely Suguru has made you. But, after a while you get bored and start looking around. There's nothing to do except wait for Suguru to come back. Perhaps he ran out of ropes. The thought excites you but you don't know how long he'll take. You don't know if he's locked the door. There's no way to tell how much time has passed. All you know is that there's a warmth spreading in your stomach from the anticipation of his arrival. You try to bend down to take a peek at your cunt and see that you've formed a small pool of wetness on the futon. And, you notice a strange little cube embedded in the knot on top of your clit. You instinctively reach with your hands for your clit forgetting you can't and let out a small moan as the ropes dig into your wrists. You look back at yourself in the mirror. You notice the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead and that your nipples are plump and hard. You look around frantically before you give up and enter a kind of peace that you've never known before. You look up at the ceiling, close your eyes, and hear yourself make a gurgling noise. The small cube has suddenly come alive and is vibrating against your clit, making you squirm and lose balance. Your entire body jerks and shivers as you moan out Suguru's name unintelligibly, the ball-gag stopping you from forming coherent sentences. You feel a wave of pleasure coming and then, just as suddenly as the cube had come alive, it dies, leaving you on the edge, helpless and slick and frustrated from being denied release.

//

Geto Suguru absolutely can not wait to get back home to you. He watches you through a curse, a little eyeball, he's placed in the corner of his room. He struggles to keep still and loses patience in all his meetings. He wants them to get over as soon as possible so he can focus on you. He finishes mission reports and some pending tasks as he watches you struggling and squirming, wet and waiting. His cock twitches at the absolutely stunning sight of you, wriggling on the floor, helpless and vulnerable.

//

//

You don't know how many hours it has been. All you know is that it's the 12th time that the small cube has come alive and you can't take it anymore. The threads of the ropes are wet and cold, the futon is completely ruined, you're hot and extremely bothered. Your thighs are sticky and slick. You need to cum. You can't take the teasing, the absolute relentlessness of this thing that's refusing to let you cum. You're not in an elegant stance anymore, either. Suguru, without even being here with you, has made you fall face-first into the futon, your back arched so your hips are in the air. You're uncomfortable and all you can think about is Getou's cock buried deep inside your throbbing cunt. Your hair has almost come undone and strands stick to your breasts. Your jaw aches and your neck and chin are covered in drool. You're focused on your release. You'll definitely get there before this damned thing shuts off again. But, you know that's wishful thinking.

'This is getting out of hand,' you think as you feel tears dripping down your flushed cheeks. You try to get a sense of balance but you're so disoriented that you can't think anymore. You breathe heavily and are about to close your eyes when you hear the low buzz of the vibrator again. You're grunt and moan and your entire body buckles again and again. In all your frenzy, you don't realise when Getou comes back and quietly sits on the floor behind you.

When the vibrator stops, you scream an unintelligible, "No, please!!" and drop face-first on the futon again. Your laboured breath makes it hard to concentrate on anything. When you finally calm down, you feel his presence. You look back and see his kimono loosly wrapped around his waist, the sleeves are halfway off his shoulders as he gently strokes his cock, already rock-hard and glistening. He watches you intently. You let out a sigh of relief and arch your back to let him know he can use you anytime. Amused and greedy at once, he pulls you to himself, and unclamps the ball gag. He shoves his cock in your mouth, grabs your hair, and maneuvers your head just the way you like it. He moans and grunts out loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He's extremely vocal today and this is new.

He suddenly stops and kisses your mouth hard.

“Such a pretty babe today. Eh? You look stunning.”

"Su..Suguru, pl..please fuck me. Please. Please. Please." You break down, you can't bring yourself to speak coherently. You start to lower your head so you can taste his cock - anything to have him inside you - but he pulls your hair hard and stops you.

He pushes you back and makes you lie down. He carefully unties only the knots near your inner thighs. His cool fingers give you shivers. He cups your nipples with his mouth and licks, nibbles, and bites his way down to your clit.

“Who are you so fucking wet for?”

“Suguru! You!”

“Yeah?"

“Uhun, please, just please, take me already."

“Yeah? How?"

“Suguru, I am begging you. I cant-"

Getou comes back up in a flash. He squeezes your face with his hand and roars, “I asked, how?"

You're crying again and he can't stop thinking how gorgeous you look, sweaty and flushed, begging for his cock.

You take a sharp intake of breath and say, “Getou I want you.”

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't let your face go.

“I want you inside me, I want your cock inside me. I'm throbbing and dripping and so ready for you. Just for you. For you to use and love and fuck. Please Daddy." you say, in a trembling voice.

Suguru lets go of your face and removes his kimono. He's naked underneath. He can't believe he gets to ruin a goddess like you. He starts to lightly flutter his tongue across your swollen clit. You're trembling and it doesn't take long for your whimpering to turn into screaming. You're so close to cumming, finally! Your eyes roll back as you feel his long and thin tongue lapping up your wetness. He licks it like a fucking dog before kissing it sweetly and moves back, leaving you on the edge again and you have such a violent reaction that he lets out a strong grunt.

You've never felt so helpless before. You realise that he's enjoying himself a bit too much seeing you struggle, at your body so bent before him. You're sobbing now, and he hovers over you.

“You're making me lose it with all this begging and squirming, baby," he whispers and thrusts into you in one deep stroke. You immediately bite his neck hard and moan deep into it. Clenching around his cock hard, you take in as much of him as you can. His touch on your arms and lower back is electrifying but he soon holds the ropes around you for leverage. He moves in a quick pace and it doesn't take you long to gush around him, giving him a cumsleeve that he bends down to look at. Your release is so so sweet, your toes are curled, your calves are flexed, your back is arched, and your teeth have left Suguru's neck with spots of blood.

“Please...do..don't stop, Daddy,”

“I won't baby, you've been so good. We've got all night.”

“Night?! How long were ...uhh..were you gone?” You pant.

“6 hours."

Suguru looks at himself moving in and out of your plump cunt as his long hair tickles your breasts. It makes his cock twitch and harder inside of you. He pushes your knees back and the ropes dig into your lower back. He grabs your hair and bends your head to your stomach.

“Look at me moving in and out of you.”

The sight turns you on even more. You didn't know that getting so hot amd bothered was even possible. It seems like you've been cumming for a while now and you're overstimulated.

Suguru pulls out. You gasp and your head rolls back. He turns you around and spends a moment to admire his rope-work, and, of course, your plump and throbbing slick cunt that he's going to fuck again.

“Look at how gorgeous you are," he gently holds your chin and pulls it up. You can see yourself, your face is flushed a deep red and you're bruised everywhere. Suguru towers behind you, holding his cock that's glistening with your cum. You can't believe how good he makes you feel. You wiggle your hips at him, inviting him.

He positions his cock to enter you but starts to rub it on your clit instead. Sensitive from all the edging before, your clit blooms from the rubbing and the warmth. You moan.

"Fuck, I love how noisy your cunt gets."

“Oh, oh, please don't stop. Let me cum all over your cock again."

Suguru bites his lip and doesn't take his eyes off you in the mirror. He can't help but admire how sexy you sound and look. He continues to rub his cock slow but hard against you and you collapse on the futon again, cumming. You've squirted all over the base of his cock and stomach and your screams are drown out everything else.

”Such a good girl. Cumming all over Daddy like that."

He thrusts his cock inside of your swollen cunt and continues to move inside you for what seems like an eternity.

"Daddy's gonna paint you so pretty, love," he whispers as he pulls out, grunts, and cums all over your back, on the ropes, in your hair.

He collapses on your side and looks up at the ceiling and then at you. He's out of breath as he gently plays with his drained cock.

You're completely spent and about to pass out when you feel him untying all the knots quickly. His face is tinted with concern. When you're finally free from the ropes, he tries to massage you lightly and helps you lie down properly. He brings you a bottle of water right away and kisses your forehead.

“I'll run you bath, princess. And then I'll get you something to eat. Okay?"

"Hmm," is all you can manage.

You hear the bath running and he comes back, picks you up and takes you to the bathroom. He bathes you and shampoos your hair, kissing you everywhere with sweet pecks. When you're both finally in bed, you snuggle up close to him and dare to ask -

"When will you tie me up next?"

[vivianweasley]

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 4)

Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley. 

In this chapter: Christmas at the burrow!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Fem!Reader. slight mention of Ron X Hermione.

Warnings: mention of food, the reader’s shampoo smells apple (cuz i love the smell of apples and this will be useful in later chapters asfdjgk)

Word count: 1.6k

disclaimer: all pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Pride and Prejudice Series Masterlist

You were sitting under the tree outside of the Burrow, making little flower rings and crowns. That was when you saw someone running towards you, and before you could recognize who it was, that shadow already climbed up the tree.

“Fred Weasley!! You say sorry to Ron right now!” Then you heard Mrs. Weasley’s voice shouting and coming your way. Beside her was a crying four-year-old boy, covered in paint. He was crying, but his state somehow made you chuckle. 

“Y/N, dear, did you see Fred?” Mrs. Weasley stopped when she saw you and tried her best to put on a smile when she asked.

Maybe it was because Ron was crying in such a hilarious way. Maybe it was because you were interested in meeting the person who did this, so you covered for Fred, “I didn’t, Mrs. Weasley.” 

Molly has always heard from your parents that you were a well-behaved kid, so she didn’t doubt a word you said and walked away. 

The little prankster finally climbed down the tree after Molly went back into the house. He held out his hand to you, “Thank you for helping me! I’m Fred! What’s your name?”

You shook his hand, “Y/N.”

“Brilliant! What’s the word again-Ah! Since you just covered for me, we’re officially partners in crime now!”

You chuckled at his silly wink. You didn’t have any siblings, and you weren’t very close with your cousins either. So you were happy that you were making friends. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“Making flower rings.” The flowers in your hand suddenly reminded you of something. You took a flower ring you just made and slipped it onto his left ring finger. He blinked and looked at you confused.

“I saw it somewhere that partners in crime wear matching rings. So here’s yours,” you explained and showed off the matching ring on your left hand, “and here’s mine.”

“Wicked!”

~

You were at the Burrow, nervously playing with the little silver flower on your wedding ring. This was actually the first time you were back at the Burrow even though you married Fred months ago. After all, it was a fake marriage, so you weren’t obligated to go to each other’s family gatherings. But it’s Christmas, and Molly insisted on having you at the Burrow, so your fake marriage would look more realistic.

So here you were, fidgeting at your husband’s childhood home. It wasn’t the first time you were at the Burrow, but for some reason, you were suddenly nervous that you won’t make a good impression. What if Molly spent time with you and realized this fake marriage was a mistake? What if the other Weasleys didn’t like you? What if-

“What are you thinking?” Fred’s voice startled you.

Of course, you weren’t going to tell him the truth, “Nothing.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t ask more questions. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and started bringing you to the door, “Well then, let’s go!”

“To where?”

“Quidditch game! I need you to cheer for me and my team!”

“Okay, but I’m only cheering for the winning team!”

You and Hermione were sitting under the tree, watching their game. You had to admit that today’s game was indeed very intense. It was no less exciting than the school quidditch matches.

Hermione was watching carefully with her fists clenched. She would cheer when Ron successfully hit away the quaffle. And she would chuckle and whisper, “Idiot,” when Ron put on a silly face as he cheered.

You brought a book to the match, but your eyes were on Fred the entire time, following him wherever he goes. You noticed how his forearm muscle would tense up and how serious he looked when he’s focused. How come you never realized that your fake husband looked this good when he was playing quidditch. 

Before you even realized what you were doing, you started cheering silently when Fred hit the bludger and gasping when the bludger almost hit him. You turned to look at Hermione when she was cheering for Ron again, and you realized you were just doing the same thing. And at this moment, you felt like you were really Fred’s wife, instead of just playing the part.

The game came to an end with Ron’s team winning and Fred’s losing. Everyone was cheering for Ron, while Fred just sat next to you quietly, with defeat written all over his face.

“I think you were brilliant out there,” you commented.

“I thought you were reading a book.”

“I was watching the game, too,” you continued, “Ron was pretty good, but if you didn’t save him, that bludger could’ve broken his arm.”

Fred turned to look at you with his eyes widened, looking very surprised, and you continued, “And I saw you hitting the bludger away three times more than George did.”

“So you were paying attention to me?”

”Of course,” you rolled your eyes to cover for the fact that your cheeks were heating up, “I was paying attention to you because you are my only friend here. Plus, you are my husband. It would be a little embarrassing for me too if you weren’t doing good.” You blurted out all the excuses you could find and went back inside with the others.

But Fred found himself unable to move. Growing up with six other siblings, it seemed like no one ever paid attention to him and only him. Sometimes he felt like even his mother would just treat him and George as one inseparable group collectively. 

But now, you were only paying attention to him. And the way you said “my husband” worked like a spell that rendered him motionless. He was unable to do anything except for blushing and smiling like an idiot.

~

“Your mum’s cooking is so much better than yours,” you mumbled after you swallowed your food and took a sip of your drink.

“Yea, but my cooking is still better than yours,” Fred said as he dumped a spoonful of your favorite dish on your plate. 

Molly smiled with adoration when she saw you and Fred helping each other to your favorite dishes so naturally without saying a thing. The last time she saw you two sitting at the same table, you were still rolling eyes at each other.

You glared at Fred, trying to think of a smart comeback. But Ginny spoke first, “You know how to cook? How come you never cooked for us?”

Fred smiled at his sister, “Yea, that’s not happening.”

“I can cook for you! I’m better than him, anyway,” you offered as you glared at Fred one more time.

“Okay, I’ve only known Y/N for less than a day, but I already like my sister-in-law better than you.” 

“At least I won’t burn my toast twice in a morning.” 

“I was in a hurry!” you protested, “At least I didn’t almost burn the kitchen down with a roast chicken.”

Ginny laughed at how you two were bickering like an old married couple. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said she liked her new sister-in-law. She always thought you were pretty cool back in Hogwarts, especially after seeing you comforting and protecting a few younger students when the death eaters were controlling the school. “Y/N, where are you staying tonight? You can stay in my room if you want.” But she soon realized something, “Or are you staying in Fred’s room?”

You blushed at Ginny’s question and immediately looked away, trying to search for a good response. 

“Don’t worry about it, Ginny. They are pretty used to sharing a bed, right?” George raised his eyebrows as he teased.

“Oh shove off!” Fred glared at George, but you could feel your face heating up like an oven. Luckily, baby Victoire started crying, distracting everyone, and saving you from further questions.

~

After the dinner, Fred stayed downstairs to catch up with Bill, and you went upstairs on your own. The twins used to share the same bedroom, but George moved to Charlie's room since you were here for Christmas, leaving their childhood bedroom to you and Fred.

When Fred went upstairs, he saw you reading by the windowsill. It was strange having a girl here in his childhood bedroom. But watching you sitting there and reading so intently with your lower lip between your teeth, Fred felt like it made sense for you to be there. It felt natural, like you were the owner of this room. 

“What are you reading?” Fred asked as he approached you.

“Pride and Prejudice,” you replied without looking at him.

“Never heard of it. Who’s the author?”

“You say it like you’ve read many books,” you finally looked up to mock him, “The author is called Jane Austen. She’s a muggle writer.”

Fred was surprised, “You’re reading a muggle book?”

“Yea. As long as it’s a great book, muggle or wizard, I will read it. Unlike you, not reading anything at all.” you glared at him, for you knew he was assuming things about you again.

Fred wasn’t offended by your comment. Instead, he propped up his head with his hand and looked at you, “How about you read it to me, so I could say I read it too.”

You rolled your eyes but still picked up the book and started reading. Fred always loved your voice. Now listening to you reading a book to him, your voice felt like a soft lullaby, calming him down and soothing his soul.

Fred smiled and decided to rest his head on your lap. You rolled your eyes again but didn’t stop him. Your fingers soon started combing his hair absent-mindedly. Fred closed his eyes contently, taking in the smell of your apple shampoo. This night was just perfectly peaceful and tranquil.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“One year later, after we got a divorce, if you still want to come here during Christmas...I think my mum would be happy to have you.”

“That would be lovely,” you replied as a warm feeling spread through your body. You had a feeling that you understood what he was trying to say.

(to be continued.)

Chapter 5

~

series taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @theweasleytwinsgirl @bookworm06 @unabashedbookscollector @txtdreamss @sagittarius-flowerchild  @rsheridan @ovrwd @anywherebuthere @allaroundaddict @jeminila @secretsofageek @magical-spit @freddieweasleyswife @lilypad-55449 @hufflepuffzutara @honey-honey-5644 @kyloren-peterparker @treblebeth @kyloren-peterparker​ @fred-sux​ @rodrickmalfoy​ @liliputbahn​  (message me if you want to be added or removed!)

(General taglist in reblogged post)

Taglist Form!

[oneletteredwondered]

Insulted

Sum: Virgil works at a coffee shop and Remus is annoying. Annoyingly pretty.

Pair: Virgil/Remus, Dukexiety

Written for @dukexietyweek! Day 4: Coffee (Shop)

Warnings: Lots of swearing, mentions of the word pedophile in reference to Remus’ mustache, insulting remarks towards customers, some awkwardy mild panic feels, mostly stupid interactions.

--

Roasted is a fairly popular coffee shop. If only for the tourist attraction aspect of it that the employees are allowed to be as mean as they want to you and insult you with every order. They’re snarky and rude, and unless they actually get your order wrong, which they don’t, they don’t apologize for shit. They’re delighted when new-comers enter the shop unaware of the rules.

And whatever deity believed in above help the poor soul who asks for the manager because they are worse than the employees with a wicked wit and sharper tongue. 

The rest of the employees would be scared of the manager because of this, but they have seen the man have a panic attack over potentially not having enough straws for the day even after three separate employees offered to go to the store and buy some. They’ve also seen the manager cry because they saw a video of a spider that was too cute for words which renders him pretty unintimidating. Besides, the manager has always been on their side of an argument anyway.

It’s a slow day and Virgil knows Missy hasn’t been sleeping right, or eating right, or feeling like she’s been doing anything right. So he packs her a muffin and a hot chocolate, and tells her to fuck off on home for the day. She doesn’t say thank you but the relief is clear in her shoulders so he knows it was the right thing to do. Besides it’s dead right now and he can handle a few customers for the time being until another employee shows up.

He serves a few people, some very eager to be insulted, some coming in with gaudy outfits for the sole purpose of being insulted, he has fun with those.

“What do you want?” He asks the next person in line, not even looking up from the register.

“I’ll have a large cup of whatever you are.” The person says and Virgil narrows his eyes and looks up. He stares at the stranger for all of three seconds.

“You have a pedo mustache.” Is what he says. The stranger breaks into a wide grin.

“Why thank you!” They sound far too delighted by that. Virgil continues to glare at them while writing the word ‘pedo stache’ on a large cup.

“What do you want?” He asks again more forcefully. The stranger hums in thought and Virgil would snap at them for taking too long but they are the only one in line right now.

“Hello?? Hurry up?” Screw it. He snaps his fingers in their face. Stranger man gives him a wicked smile and Virgil hates the little lurch in his chest because holy fuck and wait stranger is actually kind of pretty. Even with a fucking thin line mustache. Their eyes are bright green and streaks of white are layered in their hair. And Virgil always was a sucker for people with piercings and this dude sure has some to spare.

“Well if you’re not on the menu, I’ll have the raspberry lime tea. Hot as you please,” They say. Virgil writes cold on the cup.

“Anything else you fucking weirdo?” Virgil asks cause seriously it is kind of rude to be flirting with employees while they’re working but in the worst way Virgil kind of likes it cause it means he can say shit like that.

“Oh shit uhm, fuck.” Stranger man says and Virgil glares at them. Both for not being ready and also he kind of likes the way they say fuck which is not what he was expecting to deal with today.

“Jesus Christ dude were you not ready to order like why are you wasting my time?” Virgil demands. A few patrons of the place snicker into their cups and stranger just smirks at him.

“Sorry I don’t have a brain to mouth filter and it gets worse when I see a pretty person,” They wink and Virgil glares harder to will away the attempt at a blush on his cheeks.

“What else do you waaaaant.” He whines at them. Stranger laughs and pulls out a piece of paper. Virgil can already see the long list of items on it and groans.

“Relax it’s all one order,” Stranger says and Virgil scoffs.

“That’s so much worse!” He says. Stranger laughs hard at that.

“Well it’s not mine, princess back at the office is a picky bitch.” Stranger says with comically wide eyes and Virgil hates himself for it but he snorts. He schools his face back to neutrally angry and refuses to give the stranger the satisfaction of seeing him smile just yet.

So stranger man rattles off a long winded order that Virgil groans at with every new direction. He can easily make the drink of course that won’t be hard but he can complain about it so he will. He writes ‘princess’ on this cup.

Stranger man pays and Virgil sets about making the drinks very aware of the other watching him from the waiting counter.

“You just gunna keep staring at me like a stalker or what?” Virgil snips at them, pausing for dramatic effect. Mustache dude grins at him and leans on the counter with his head in his hands.

“I like the view,” He says. Virgil makes a retching sound and keeps making the drinks in question. He does his damn best with them and hands them off.

“Get the fuck out of my establishment,” He says and turns away. Stranger laughs and takes his drinks.

“Thanks for the buzz baby!” He calls out as he exits. Virgil flips him off.

As soon as the dude is out of sight, Virgil collapses on the counter in a heap of nerves and embarrassment. The only reason he was able to keep his cool was because he could hide it behind a massive amount of snark and spite. But stranger man was super pretty and wild and Virgil almost wishes he did something about it.

“You okay?” Parker asks when they show up for their shift.

“Do I fucking look okay?” Virgil asks them desperately. Parker just laughs and that’s good enough of answer for him.

--

“Hello gorgeous!” Virgil snaps his head up from the counter he’s cleaning.

“Oh hell no,” He says and walks away from the front to the back office, leaving his employees to handle Mr Mustache in his stead. He can’t handle it right now. Not when they’re wearing a fucking leather jacket and wild smile. He just can’t do it. So he hides in the back for as long as he can. Which ends up being about a whole ten minutes.

“Uh boss man?” Virgil groans cause that’s him. He’s boss man. Fuck. He drags his hands down his face and looks over at Todd. Todd shifts from foot to foot.

“There’s uhm. I just. Can you-” They don’t have to finish. Mom friend override has been activated and Virgil is heading to the front no questions asked. It’s not a rush right now thank goodness, but they lady at the counter is giving her all in 'entitled customer'.

“This is an outrage, I want to speak to the manager.”

“The fuck you want bitch?” Virgil says without thinking. The lady gapes at him openly.

“This is the worst shop I have ever been in.” She says as if that’s supposed to hurt. Virgil shrugs at her.

“You’re the worst customer that’s ever been in, did you want coffee or not?” He asks her and she gapes again and walks out. 

“Put another ten in the draw for walk outs.” Virgil tells Todd who beams and takes the money from the register to put in a jar near the back. Once it’s full they have a party of some kind.

“That was beautiful,” A voice says and Virgil whips around and comes face to face with Stranger Man over the counter. They’re smiling at him crookedly and Virgil's mouth drops because he was not prepared to see them here still or this close to him or so damn pretty.

“Fuck you,” Is his reflex response.

“When and where darling?” Stranger angles over the counter to leer at him and Virgil squeaks. Full on, flat out, squeaks in embarrassment. The entire room seems to pause and watch. Virgil is frozen in shock and stranger looks like he just saw light for the first time which is absolutely unfair.

Virgil dips, and dips hard. He spins on his heel to lock himself in the office. He makes it there only to realize he can’t handle being in such a small space with his anxiety overriding him. He snatches his jacket off the back wall and catches Todd’s eye before he slips out the back door and into open air. 

Once outside he leans against the wall, puts his head in his hands, and lets out a very pitiful whine as he sinks to the ground. That has to be one of the softest things he’s ever done in regards to a customer in his life and it will haunt him for years to come he knows it.

He spends a few minutes running through his breathing exercises which goes directly to shit when he hears footsteps approaching.

“I’m fine Todd go back to work,” He snaps.

“The name’s Remus actually.” Virgil jolts and looks at the stranger standing over him. Stranger, or well, Remus, gives him a small sheepish smile and pulls at a random strand of his hair. Virgil sinks lower in on himself.

“You’re a lot different in and out of shop.” Remus says after a sufficiently awkward silence. Virgil grumbles and hides his face in his arms. His entire body tenses when he feels Remus slide to sit beside him.

“I am uh. Like, legit sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Remus mutters. Virgil groans.

“I was not ready to deal with your stupid pretty face today.” He whines. Remus laughs at that.

“You think I’m pretty?” He asks and Virgil realizes his mistake in word choice. He glances up to Remus in panic cause now that he's admitted it, Remus looks even more pretty.

“Well I just- you know it’s- I don’t- Whatever!” Virgil word vomits all over the place. Remus continues to smile at him infuriatingly.

“Even with the pedo stache?” Remus continues to tease. Virgil decides he’s had enough and elbows Remus hard as he can. Remus lurches a little but he’s laughing. They lapse into an easier silence.

“Silver tongue ain’t so shiny out of work is it?” Remus asks him then but not meanly. Virgil snorts and covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

“I have to get passed the awkward first,” He says. Remus hums in thought and snatches Virgil’s hand away from his face. Virgil lets out a dignified noise and snaps his jaw shut so hard it clicks when Remus places a kiss on his palm... then licks him.

“Gross what the fuck!” Virgil yanks his hand back and wipes off the slobber and decidedly not looks at Remus’s blinding grin.

“There! Now it’s not so awkward!” Instead of an answer, Virgil stands up and heads back inside the shop, leaving Remus cackling in the back. Virgil leans up against the door to hear him walk away and finds himself smiling at the interaction.

--

“Welcome to Roasted, or not welcome because we close soon I don’t actually care, what do you want?” Virgil is looking through receipts, making sure the till is all correct for the money they made today.

“I want your number.” Virgil freezes. He blinks dumbly at the papers in his hands and then up to Remus standing casually at the counter. His hands are in his pockets and he looks for the world unbothered but more subdued than Virgil has seen him before.

“Numbers not on the menu,” Virgil says dumbly in attempt to cover his frantic feelings. Remus shrugs and looks around the empty shop.

“Yeah but it’s what I want.” He says it so plainly. Virgil glares at him.

“Order something or get out.” That causes Remus to smirk. He orders a small tea and Virgil makes it silently, adding the receipt to the pile to check on. He pauses before handing the drink over, looking over his shoulder at Remus who is preoccupied with some of the decorative things on the walls. Virgil writes his number on the cup.

“Get your shit and get out,” He says and puts the cup on the counter, going back to his papers and ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest at what he just did. Remus gives him a sad sort of look and leaves with his drink leaving Virgil wondering if he did the right thing.

Only for his stomach to swoop pleasantly when Remus swoops back into the shop 3 minutes later with a wild smile on his face and refuses to leave until they work out the plans for a dinner date.

--

“Go away.” Virgil greets.

“Never.” Remus smirks back at him.

[ashes-and-ashes]

"I wish you could just admit you made a mistake" "I didnt make a mistake, I like it with salt" *while stirring coffee*. Any pairing you want and it doesnt have to be romantic.

I had a blast writing this!! Some domestic!drarry for the soul :)

Coffee

~

Harry wakes to the smell of coffee and the sound of clattering in the kitchen. The light streaming in from the windows makes him blink blearily, the blankets warm where they wrapped around his legs. He reaches groggily over to the other side, where Draco usually slept and touched only air.

For a heartbeat, just a heartbeat that old panic comes back, of waking up and finding the other person gone. Harry’s spent too many mornings like that; Draco having slipped away some time before dawn, the bed cold and so, so empty. He clenches his hands, fists slipping on the sheets. It always took awhile for him to calm down, to be reminded that he was here, in their apartment in Diagon Alley, all old windows and exposed brick.

Draco had picked the place out, half-forgotten on a small side street, the windows boarded and the door locked. Harry had thought he was crazy at first, crazy for wanting an old wreck like this was.

But they had cleaned it up nicely: exposed beams and huge windows with emerald shutters, hard wooden flooring covered in soft rugs. Pansy had done most of the decorating - Harry wanted too much red and Draco wanted too much green. The flat was now a comfortable amalgamation of them both - broomsticks on the floor, Harry’s coffee mugs and Draco’s crystal wine glasses, a Muggle television and an old pensieve that Draco had bought from god knew where.

It felt like home. Harry’s never really felt like that before, having a place to truely call home.

He gets out of bed slowly, wincing at the bright lights. There’s a mess of clothing dumped on one of the chairs; he grabs something at random (Draco’s - only he would bother to buy a sweater this nice) and pulls it on, padding into the kitchen.

Draco’s perched on the counter, a newspaper in hand. Harry watches him, all tousled blonde hair and long legs and the faintest edge of a rosy blush on his cheeks. The sun hits him from behind making him look like he was glowing, the entire room lit up by the beauty of his smile.

Harry remembers a time long ago, back to the War and the fighting. Draco had been colder, harder, painted in shades of grey instead of gold. Still beautiful - he always had been beautiful - but nothing close to what he was now.

He could have watched Draco for hours, flipping through the Prophet idly, the smell of warm coffee in the air. Draco notices him before long though; he rolls his eyes, tossing the newspaper over Harry’s head and onto the sofa behind him. “Creep,” he says, though there’s no venom behind the words. “How long have you been watching me?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t bother to hide the smile on his face, like he might’ve so long ago. He’s long learnt that Draco was Draco - he never needed to hide anything around him. “Few minutes. You know we have a couch right?”

“Oh really?” Draco says in mock surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Maybe you’re just stupid,” Harry says and Draco lets out a long laugh.

“Bitch,” he mutters and flicks his wand. The mail comes soaring into Harry’s hands, the door swinging slightly behind it. “Here’s all your precious fan mail by the way.”

Harry scowls, examining the parchment in his hand. “How do they keep finding us?”

“Probably a tracking spell or something. How come I never get any fan mail?”

“You have the fucked-up Death Eater guy.”

Draco pours. “Yes, but he’s a fucked-up Death Eater guy. You get all the admirers. No one has ever sent me a condom before.”

Harry shudders. “Oh please no,” he says, dropping the stack of mail onto the coffee table with a groan. “That was one time! One time!”

“It was an extra large!” Draco calls out as Harry shoves his way into the kitchen, slamming an empty mug onto the counter. Ron had gotten it for him as an 18th birthday present - one of those tacky souvenir ones that seemed to have sprouted up everywhere after the war. The Bae Who Lived was stamped on one side, along with a lipstick mark that did not resemble Harry’s lips at all.

Draco had now stretched himself out on the counter, legs dangling idly over the edge. His arm was out and bare next to him, the Dark Mark covered up by beautiful flowers, rendered in soft purples and blues and greens. It was a Muggle tattoo for the most part, with the exception of one single hydrangea - in ever shifting colours of pale pinks and soft teals. Draco had designed it himself - they still had the parchment sketched on the wall in the bedroom.

“Move,” Harry grumbles, unceremoniously shoving Draco off the counter. “Why are you even up so early? It’s not like we have practice or anything.”

Draco gives him a disbelieving stare. “It’s almost 8.”

“Too fucking early.”

“Go to bed earlier then.”

“I did!” Harry shakes his head. “You’re the one keeping me up all night.”

“Well,” Draco says, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I’m sure I could wake you up by - “

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Harry scowls into his empty mug, running a hand through his hair. “The only thing I want to be woken up by today is the Lord and coffee. I need coffee.”

“Pot,” Draco says, gesturing vaguely towards the coffee machine. “My boyfriend. The handsomest idiot in the world.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Harry grumbles as he pours himself a huge cup. Draco had an unusual talent for making incredible coffee, despite not knowing how to use a french press about 6 months ago. “I defeated Voldemort, right? That’s got to count for something.”

Draco laughs. “Please. You’re an idiot.”

“Am not,” Harry scowls. He finds the milk in the fridge, adding copious amounts to his coffee. “Where’s the spoons?”

“This is your fucking loft too,” Draco mutters. He hands Harry the spoon from his own coffee mug, smirking as he did. “Honestly. Remember that headline a few weeks ago? ‘Harry Potter; the Hidden Mysteries of the Boy Who Lived?’”

“Vividly,” Harry mutters, now rummaging around the cupboards for the sugar. “Made me sound like some sort of bloody celebrity or something. Anything Skeeter writes is trash.”

Draco hums. He kicks his feet out in front of him idly. “True. It’s a load of bullshit anyways. Hidden mysteries my ass.”

Harry flips him off. He finds the sugar in a jar next to the stove and adds a few heaping spoonfuls to his coffee, the rich scent already helping with his headache. “I’m mysterious!” he protests. “And handsome. And attractive. And devastatingly intelligent.”

“Apparently not,” Draco says, “Seeing as you just put salt in your coffee.”

Harry freezes. He turns back towards the stove. For the first time he notices the small black letters on the side of the jar. Sea Salt.

He inwardly groans, turning back to face Draco, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. “No. I meant to do that.”

“I wish you would just admit you made a mistake,” Draco sighs, watching as Harry serenely stirs his coffee. “Gryffindors.”

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Harry mutters, clinking his spoon against his mug. “I like it with salt.”

“Oh really?” Draco says. Harry sees the glint in his eye and gulps. “Then you wouldn’t have a problem with drinking it?”

Harry swallows, hard. Shit, he thinks. Draco’s eyes are full of challenge, that streak of competitiveness that made him fall in love in the first place.

Harry slowly raises the mug to his lips. “Fuck you,” he says and chugs the whole thing. Halfway through he regrets it - it’s burning hot and excruciatingly salty, like drinking warm ocean water. He never could turn down a dare though, draining the cup to the dregs.

“See?” he says, slamming the cup down in front of Draco. “Delicious.”

Draco gets to his feet, smiling wickedly. He crosses over to the stove, picking up the jar of salt. “Delicious?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, trying to hind the grimace and the lingering taste still in his mouth. “I could drink this all day.”

He regrets the words as soon as it leaves his mouth. Draco grins, his face turning evil. “Well then,” he says. “It’s a good thing I love my boyfriend so much then.”

Fuck.

“Draco - “ Harry starts, but Draco just winks.

“Love you,” he says, and then dumps the entire pot of salt into the coffee.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 21

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Welp. We finally got to the scene that inspired this fic. Vaguely NSFW and uhh... yeah. Okay, love you all. 

Rowan feels nauseous, and it’s not just because of the vibrations of the coach bus they’ve chartered to take them deep into the Seaghorn mountains for the weekend. Or the swaying of the tall vehicle as it makes its way through the small winding roads as they climb into higher altitudes. No. There’s a general anxiety, a real nervousness that’s settled over him in the last week. Each day that ticks down renders him more stressed. The summer is almost at an end.

This weekend marks the beginning of the final week of summer – of his job at Playland and Aelin’s summer vacation – and he still hasn’t thought about what happens next yet. He’s not ready.

Luckily, the crowds at Playland have only become worse with each passing day, so he’s barely had time to think about it. But now, with a four-hour bus ride, climbing up into the mountains, he has no more excuses. He needs to think about what he’s going to say to her. He can’t let her go back to Adarlan without saying anything. He just can’t. And if her behavior has been any indication, he’s hoping his thoughts are going to be well-received.

He looks over at the girl sitting across the aisle from him. Aelin’s golden hair falls over her shoulder, blocking her face from him, as she whispers things into Elide’s ear that color her pale cheeks pink. Rowan can only imagine what’s being said between them.

On Rowan’s other side, a different blonde head rests on his shoulder. Fenrys’s eyes closed about five minutes into their journey, and he hasn’t stirred since. Rowan hasn’t had the heart to move him; it’s been a long week, and it’s going to be a long weekend.

The excited chatter on the bus is enough to inform Rowan of how much this weekend is anticipated by the staff. He’s unsurprised to learn the overnight is less of a camp out and more a mountain resort vacation. The Ashryvers spare no expense when it comes to thanking their employees – treating them to a bonding weekend in a luxury lodge with a lakefront view. He’s heard about the upscale catered meals, the extravagant views, the midnight bonfire, all followed by a day hiking to the peak of Mount Terrasen, and going through a team building ropes course to make their way back down.

Rowan is ecstatic; he’s going to be with Aelin for forty-eight uninterrupted hours, and he doesn’t plan on wasting a single second.

He reaches across the aisle and runs his finger up Aelin’s arm. She turns to him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wild.

“You didn’t hear that, did you?” she breathes heavily, and Rowan stares past her at a flustered Elide.

“…no…”  he answers. “Should I be concerned?”

Aelin smirks. “Absolutely.” Rowan furrows his brow in silent question. “I was just… giving Elide some last-minute tips.” She bites her lip. “About some new things. I learned I enjoyed. Physically. This summer.”

Rowan’s ears burn as he thinks about what Aelin could have possibly said, and he feels the need to apologize to the tiny brunette. “Aelin…” His voice is a low whisper.

Elide fans herself and laughs. “Please, it’s all old news. Remember I saw the hand-shaped bruises on your hips?” she asks Aelin, and Rowan’s eyes practically bug out of his head.

“Can’t you two talk about anything else?” he practically begs. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy that Aelin is clearly pleased by the things they do together in bed. He loves nothing more than bringing her to that precipice over and over again, honestly. But… he’s stressed enough as it is. He doesn’t need Elide talking about his sexual prowess on top of everything else.

Aelin pats his arm and smiles. “Sure. Like what?”

“Like, what happens at Playland today?” Rowan finally asks, curious as to how the place is able to shut down for a full weekend.

“Oh. They rent it out for weddings.”  Aelin explains that the overnight was actually born out of guilt for shutting down the park the last weekend of summer, and not wanting to deprive their staff of any pay.

Elide then waxes poetic about her favorite parts of the overnight. She gives a wistful sigh as she remembers the summer they all went skinny dipping in the middle of the night.

“That was the first time she ever saw Lorcan’s butt,” Aelin says, her eyes crinkling with her wide smile, and Rowan brings his hand to his face to cover his pained smile.

“I don’t need to hear about Lorcan’s butt.”

“Why not, Whitethorn?” Lorcan quips as he walks down the aisle between their seats. “It’s a good butt.” He winks at Elide, who leans over Aelin to watch his backside as he saunters to the front of the bus.

Rowan looks out the window as he barks out a loud laugh, spotting the sign that tells him they’ve arrived at the resort. His stomach grumbles, right on cue. It’s been a long day of sitting, and he’s ready to enjoy the catered meal he’s been promised. Unfortunately, fate has other plans.

Instead of the bus continuing up the narrow driveway, it pauses at the entrance, idling.

Rowan tries to move to get a better look, and a loud snore escapes Fenrys’s mouth, startling him awake.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, groggy. Rowan is about to tell him he missed the entire ride when Lorcan whistles to get everyone’s attention.

“Listen up!” Lorcan shouts, and the bus quiets down appropriately. “I’ve just been informed that we aren’t going to be able to make it up to the lodge.”

Upset murmurs start to rise in pitch as Lorcan explains that they experienced heavy rainfall this morning, and that the driveway has been completely blocked by a mudslide. Rocks, felled trees and an electric line need to be cleared before the bus can safely make it to its destination.

“How long’s that going to take?” Gavriel calls from the back of the bus.

Lorcan tugs at his ponytail and sighs. “We’re going to need to come back tomorrow.”

A chorus of angered “No!” and “What?!” and “Why???” can be heard throughout the bus, and Rowan’s stomach sinks. He can’t believe they drove four hours, just to drive four hours back to Terrasen. What a nightmare.

“We’re not going to drive all the way back home, are we?” Connall asks, voicing Rowan’s internal conflict.  Lorcan holds up a finger, asking everyone to wait as he listens to someone on the other end of a call.

Lorcan hangs up finally and pulls at his hair nervously. He sighs, clearly upset with the situation himself, but he’s trying to keep it together for everyone else. Rowan doesn’t envy his position.

“There’s a motel about forty-five minutes back down the mountain, and a local diner we can have dinner at.” The chorus of grumbles rises again, and Lorcan silences them with a loud whistle. “I know it’s not what you all imagined for this weekend, but it’s better than nothing, right? And the path should be cleared by morning, so tomorrow will be just as good as you remembered.”

Everyone nods sadly, and Lorcan begins to read room assignments as the bus makes a large turn and heads back down, away from the luxury vacation of their dreams as the sun begins to set.

The bus groans as it comes to a stop in front of the faded sign of the motel. This place has definitely seen better days. In fact, Rowan thinks it looks like the scene of several thousand gruesome crimes. He’d imagined making love to Aelin in a plush bed with down comforters or in a brightly lit tiled shower with marble counters and a jacuzzi tub, not… this.

He pushes the door open to room number 17 and feels his chest tighten uncomfortably. His appetite disappears as he takes in the queen-sized bed, which sits at the center of the room, covered in a maroon floral comforter, contrasting with the dark teak walls. A sad brown lamp sits on a rickety nightstand, and as Rowan takes his first step across the threshold, the dark green carpet crunches beneath his shoe. It makes him cringe.

He drops his bag down on the bed and immediately closes the thick curtains. He ignores a spotty dark stain on the hem, and sighs deeply. The musty smell of decaying wood and old cigarette smoke invades his senses, giving him an immediate headache.

Aelin drops her bag behind him and kisses his shoulder. “I’m so glad neither of us have a black light with us,” she says with a laugh.

“This is so not funny,” Rowan whines, but he’s momentarily appeased when Aelin wraps her arms around his stomach and tugs him closer, spinning him in her arms, so he’s looking down into her amused blue-gold eyes.

“It’s kind of funny,” she says with a small smile, and he can’t resist leaning down and kissing her curled lips. He intends for the kiss to be soft and sweet, but Aelin deepens the kiss immediately, knotting her hands in his hair and twining her tongue with his. She pulls away, panting, and smiles again as she pats his chest lightly. “Now, let’s go get food. I’m starving.”

“Me too,” he groans, meaning something incredibly different. How she’s able to get him so worked up over one little kiss, he’ll never ever know. But he wants to strip her down and be inside her immediately.

Aelin understands and gives him a saucy wink, tossing a “Later” over her shoulder as she makes her way out of the room. She opens the door and stumbles into someone.

Fenrys gapes as Rowan appears behind Aelin, his steadying hand placed on her lower back. Fenrys begins apologizing profusely, but then snaps his mouth shut.  

“Oh!” he exclaims, his dark eyes flicking between Aelin and Rowan at a rapid-fire pace. “You… Uh… Cool…”

Aelin holds up her index finger to her lips and whispers a long conspiratorial, “Shhh.”

Fenrys nods, his flicking eyes never stopping moving between the pair, and zips his lips with his own finger.

Aelin links her arm with Fenrys’s and walks to the front of the hotel where the large group is heading over to the diner down the street. Rowan enjoys watching her in front of him. Her hips swaying with the promise of “later.”

The diner is something out of Twin Peaks, with lacquered vinyl booths and waitresses in dark green uniforms and delicious smelling pie and burnt coffee.

Rowan slides in, and Fenrys makes room for Aelin to squeeze between them. Elide and Lorcan sit across from them, and Rowan notices how deflated they look. He knows for sure this is not what they envisioned for their own weekend, and he feels oddly comforted that he’s not alone in his disappointment.

Aelin orders coffee and a large stack of pancakes with extra crispy bacon, and Rowan shakes his head as she digs into her plate.

“How do you look like you and eat like that,” he asks as he shoves part of his veggie omelet into his mouth.

“I find creative ways to burn off the calories,” Aelin quips, turning both Rowan and Fenrys’s faces a dark shade of red. Aelin delights in their discomfort, her innuendo becoming progressively more blatant with each bite of her food, until Gavriel stops by their table to ask if they want any alcohol.

He spotted a nearby gas station, and is going to create his own party – shitty circumstances be damned. They might not have their fancy catered dinner or midnight bonfire, but the motel has a pool and a hot tub, and they have all night to celebrate. Fenrys jumps at the occasion to party and begins rounding people up.

“Should we join the pool party?” Rowan asks as they begin their walk back to the motel, but Aelin shakes her head.

“We don’t have to interact with anyone else for ten whole hours,” she says, leaning into his side. “And I want to make the most of it.” Her eyes twinkle with devious promises, and Rowan increases his pace, anxious to get her alone as quickly as possible.

Aelin heads to the bed as soon as they’re behind closed doors. She strips the dirty comforter off the bed and tosses it into the corner of the room. She examines the thin pink blanket below it and pulls it off as well, throwing it on top of the comforter, leaving just the starched white sheets on the thin mattress.

“Better,” she states. And as if to mock them, loud cheering comes from the pool, voices of their friends sporadically piping up to yell obscenities as they crash through the water.

“Music?” Rowan suggests, and Aelin nods. Rowan scrolls through his phone, pulling up a playlist he’s covertly named – AA.  All songs that remind him of Aelin Ashryver. All sappy love songs that he needed to put in one pathetic place. The music quickly drowns out the outdoor noise, leaving them in a magical world, just the two of them.

Aelin tosses him a shy smile as Leon Bridge’s “Coming Home” starts playing. She walks to Rowan slowly, and the look in her eyes renders him speechless. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he grins as she begins swaying her hips back and forth, dancing to the slow beat of the song.

Baby baby baby. I’m coming home to your tender sweet loving.

You’re my one and only woman.

The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl.

You’re the only one that I want.

His arms reach around her waist, pulling her close against him, and he sighs. She leans her head against his chest, and he’s sure she can hear the heavy beat of his heart pounding at her proximity. He loves how perfectly she fits against him. Always.

They stand there, swaying, dancing, pressed against one another until the song shifts. The music courses through Rowan as he leans down and tilts Aelin’s chin up to meet his lips. She never stops swaying as they kiss. The sultry rhythm pulls at them both, their tongues sliding against each other lazily and softly until their bodies start to warm.

Aelin’s hands tug at the collar of Rowan’s t-shirt, and they struggle to remove it together without separating their mouths until the very last second possible and reuniting immediately. Her hands skim his naked chest, and he groans into her mouth.  

He doesn’t know if the party is still raging outside, he can’t hear it; he’s completely immersed in Aelin. Drowning in her.

Delicate fingers unbutton his shorts, palming him through his boxer briefs. And Rowan pulls her closer, his own hands skimming under the hem of her short dress. They both step out of the remainder of their clothes, and a soft laugh escapes Aelin’s lips as she falls backwards onto the   bed, making them both bounce. It creaks loudly, but Rowan ignores it, letting his mouth explore every inch of her exposed skin.

Her laughter disappears quickly, much to Rowan’s delight. She whimpers softly as his tongue and teeth and lips trail down her stomach, coming to rest between her thighs. Rowan moans against her, his tongue lapping and sucking and worshipping at the altar of her hips. Her fingers play with his hair, tugging him closer and scratching at his scalp. He barely has time to insert his fingers into her before she’s clenching and shaking around him. It seems like he wasn’t the only one incredibly wound up.

She breathes his name between gasps as he guides her through her orgasm. As her legs fall open, Rowan kisses back up her body, and she’s already waiting with a condom in her hand. He lets his nose skim against her neck as she rolls it on, moving against her gentle touch.

Rowan’s entire body feels on fire as he enters her. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him further inside her. As far as he can possibly go. He’s never been closer to her. Ever. He cradles her head in his hands, leaning down to brush his lips against hers with every deep thrust of his hips. He pulls back and stares at her. Her turquoise eyes are trained on his, staring into his deeply as the chords of some song from his playlist swirl around them.

It’s never been like this before. He sees his feelings returned so clearly in her gaze, and as he moves inside her again, he can’t stop himself.

“I love you,” he moans and moves again. His eyes unwittingly close, so relieved to finally have said the words, to have released them into the world, that he almost doesn’t hear Aelin’s soft reply.

“What?” she pants, and Rowan flexes his hips, feeling on top of the world as he repeats himself.

“I l—”

Aelin’s hands press against his shoulders as she releases her legs. He can feel her pulse quicken below him. “No, I heard you… I just…”

Rowan finally opens his eyes as he thrusts again, and he feels Aelin push against his chest again as her eyes widen in panic. “Rowan, get off me.”

Now it’s Rowan’s turn to ask, “What?”

“Get off of me. Please.” Her voice raises in pitch, breaking at her final word, sounding nearly hysterical, and Rowan immediately rolls off of her.

She’s breathing hard as she sits up and covers herself with the sparse sheet from the bed. Rowan stares at her heaving back and his stomach twists. He reaches out to touch her shoulder, and she jumps, startled. She springs off the bed and reaches for her dress, pulling it on quickly.

Rowan sits on the bed, stunned, in silence. He wants to ask her if she’s okay, but it’s so clear that she’s not. And he’s finding it hard to say anything with his heart shattering into a million pieces.

“Why would you say that?” she asks, pained.

“Because I do?” he whispers into his hands. This wasn’t what he wanted to happen. Not at all. He didn’t think this through, but it’s too late now. Rowan deflates as she starts pacing around the room, like a caged animal.

“You’re not supposed to say that,” Aelin whispers back, horrified, and Rowan swallows the pain in his chest as he stands and faces her.

“Why are you looking at me like this is the worst thing I’ve ever said to you?”

“Because it is!” she shouts, and Rowan is shocked when he sees the beginnings of tears start to trickle down her cheeks. “Just take it back,” she pleads, and Rowan staggers backward with the force of her plea. “We only have one week left. Rowan, this has been the best summer, but it’s almost over. There’s no future for us. Love just doesn’t make sense. Let’s just pretend you didn’t say it and go back to normal.”

“No.” Rowan’s heart breaks as he continues, knowing he’s ruined everything, but he reached his capacity for pretending. He doesn’t want to do it anymore. More than that, he can’t do it anymore.

“Everything about this—” he motions between them “—has been on your terms. The secrecy, the sneaking around, when we meet, where we meet. Who is allowed to know, who we’re allowed to spend time with… I haven’t even been allowed to take you on a date. And I’ve gone along with all of it. Because I respected your feelings.”  He takes a deep breath. “But you can’t control how I feel. I fucking love you, Aelin.”

Aelin cries in earnest now. “Don’t,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

The words are a knife to Rowan’s chest, but he takes comfort in the fact that he knows they’re completely false. But it doesn’t matter. Aelin has made up her mind. He put himself out there, and she rejected him. She doesn’t want him around past this summer, that much is clear. A temporary distraction is all he’ll ever be to her. He feels like he can’t breathe, the room suddenly much too small for the both of them. He needs to get out of there immediately. He can’t face her pity eyes.

He finally pulls on his clothes and heads to the door. When his hand wraps around the doorknob, he hears Aelin’s panicked voice speak up again.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“Why does it matter to you?” he asks, chuckling humorlessly. He slams the door behind him, leaving her behind.

Rowan walks down the dark street, his heart pounding and anger coursing through him. His skin prickles with it. He didn’t think she’d really deny her feelings like this. He refuses to accept her words at face value. He’s seen her lie to herself and to everyone around her all summer, and he knows now he’s just another person she’s passing falsities to. That doesn’t make it hurt less, though. He feels as if he’s just ripped a limb off, and he’s slowly bleeding out.

His feet take him deeper into town and Rowan finds himself back at the diner with a cup of burning coffee in front of him. Head in his hands, he slumps over the table and feels the dejection take over. He’s disappointed. No, he’s more than that – he’s defeated. He’s been deemed nothing more than a plaything for a girl he gave his entire heart to. He doesn’t think he’s ever done that before.

He sits in the diner until his coffee turns cold and finally makes his way back to the motel. The party still rages by the pool, and Rowan finds a seat to watch his coworkers knock back bottle after bottle of booze. He cracks open his own beer and joins in the fun. He doesn’t bother plastering a smile on his face. He scowls as he drinks, realizing he made zero friends this summer. He was too involved in whatever was going on with Aelin. A wasted summer, he thinks to himself, as he sees the groups of friends splashing and laughing in the chlorinated water.

Rowan waits until most of the party has cleared out to head back to his room. He’s hoping to avoid talking to Aelin, hoping she’s asleep. But as he walks up the stairs, he spots her in front of the motel vending machine. Her face glows eerily in the fluorescent light of the machine, making her eyes look sunken in and sallow. He can see tear tracks on her cheeks and wants nothing more than to comfort her, but he knows he can’t. Not anymore.

Instead, he walks past her and heads into their room alone. He gets under the sheets, which still smell like the remnants of their sex, and closes his eyes, needing this day to end. He doesn’t know how long he waits with his eyes closed for her to return to the room, but he knows it’s late. The bed dips and creaks as she gets in with him. She smells like peanut butter and chocolate, her comfort foods.

She perches herself on the far edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible, and Rowan’s body vibrates with the sensation of her being so near and not touching her.

Tension radiates between them as their harsh breaths fill the small room. Rowan is still so wired, he’s still up when the sun starts peeking through their curtains, unable to shake the pained expression of her rejection from his mind. He feels like an idiot. So wrappe up in his own hurt, he doesn’t even notice that Aelin is still awake, too, her breath strained and tears pooling beneath her cheek.

~*~*~*~

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters – ask me HERE

tag list:

@thewayshedreamed​

@b00kworm​

@alifletcher2012​

@aknymph​

@the-third-me​

@mymultiversee​

@superspiritfestival​

@empress-ofbloodshed​

@http-itsrebecca​

@queen-of-glass​

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​

@westofmoon​

@rowaelinforeverworld​

@iliketoasterstrudels​

@bamchickawowow​

@hizqueen4life​

@faerie-queen-fireheart​

@giorgia-the-trashpanda​

@acourtofmoonlight​

@m-like-magic

@rolltide7​

@wordsafterhours​

@amren-courtofdreams​

@alserath​

@tswaney17​

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@joyceortiz13​

@itsme-malin​

@aesthetics-11​

@keshavomit​

@yingyingbearbear

@alxanxah​

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​

@minaidss​

@meowsekai​

@deepdarktrashhole​

@samotita​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@ehazzard7​

@cursebreaker29​

@flourishandblottsx​

@maastrash​

@nishlicious-01

@sailorsassley​

@aelin-queen-of-terrasen​

@pine-and-snow

@anunforseeablereader​

@galyxsy​

@greatwombatblaze​

@queenofbumblebees​

@kaitlynn1216​

@januarystears​

@officialasianbitch​

@jewel334​

@justgiu12​

@df3ndyr

@l0sts0uls1128​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@annejulianneh111

@readstudyhike

@sjmships

@studyliketate​

@iammissstark​

@maybekindasortaace​

@dean-winchesters-impala-1967

@heirofthenightcourt​

@sleeping-and-books

@acourtofmarauders

@cmoff1

@stardelia

[stardew-vxlley]

terrified of losing you

summary: you and shane get into an argument, and in the heat of the moment he confesses something you never thought about before 

pairing: shane x farmer

word count: 1k

requested by: @le9in7s1

a/n: a cute little blurb that had me in all tons of different feels. hope you guys enjoy! and thank you for this prompt, @le9in7s1 i’m always a sucker for angst and fluff mixed into one 

You awoke to the soft, gentle feeling of kisses being placed along your jaw. Opening your eyes groggily, you registered the wooden slats that made up your ceiling, and as you sleepily turned your head to the side, you were greeted by those big, puppy-dog eyes you had fallen in love with so easily.

“Good morning,” you murmured, scooting closer to Shane as he pulled the covers up around the two of you. You nestled your head in the crook of his neck, arms snaking around his warm torso. He slid an arm underneath your shoulders to wrap you even tighter against him, pressing his face into your hair and inhaling. 

“Morning,” he mumbled into your hair. “I got up a little early and fed the animals for you.” 

“Did you really?” you asked, lifting your head up in surprise. “Thank you so much. That freed up extra time in my day!” 

He watched you through lazy eyes as you shimmied out of his embrace and stretched at the end of the bed. “I figured you could use some help,” he said as he watched you get dressed. 

“That’s very sweet,” you said to him as you pulled on a fresh pair of overalls. “How did I get so lucky?” 

Shane chuckled and sat up against the headboard, folding his hands behind his head. “You drowned me in pepper poppers, remember?” 

“That’s right.” You flashed him a wink and smile as you leaned down and put your boots on. “I might be a little late coming home tonight, so don’t wait up.” 

“Where are you headed?” 

You straightened up and scratched your nose. “The...um, oasis. Figured I’d go visit Sandy.” 

“The oasis, huh?” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Babe, we’ve been together long enough for me to recognize your telltale sign of lying. You always scratch your nose.” 

“Damn it,” you cursed under your breath, shoving your hands into your pockets to avoid any other dead giveaways to your secrecy. “Fine. I was going to the mines.” 

“[Y/N],” Shane groaned as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Why would you lie to me about that?” 

“Because you always get angry with me every time I go,” you protested, crossing your arms. “I can handle myself. I’m not helpless.” 

He shook his head and got out of the bed, standing in front of you. “I know you’re not helpless, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still incredibly dangerous. I don’t care what Clint or Marlon says.” 

You stared at him, mouth agape, fists balled at your sides now. “We’re really going to do this now?” 

“I don’t want you going.” 

“I don’t care what you want,” you shot back, stabbing a finger into the center of his bare chest. “Going down there isn’t some hobby or ‘fun’ activity for me, it’s to gather necessary resources we need to run this farm. Trust me, I don’t like it either--but it has to be done.” 

Shane looked down to where you had prodded him, jaw set tightly. His heavy brows were furrowed together in frustration, as if trying to find the right words to say. However, he was silent. 

“I’m going,” you said firmly, slinging your pack over your shoulder. As you moved to leave the bedroom, Shane’s hand shot out and grabbed your arm before you could take another step. You whirled around to face him and demand he let go of you, but there was something in his eyes that rendered your voice useless. 

“What?” you finally snapped, a little more forcefully than you intended. “Let go of me, Shane.” 

“I’m terrified of losing you!” he exploded, his words shaking the entire farmhouse. Afterwards, silence blanketed the room as the confession hung in the air, the only other sound in the house the ticking clock on the opposite wall. 

His hand released your arm and fell limp at his side. You stared at him in shock as he went to sit down on the edge of the bed and put his face in his hands. 

“I had no idea,” you murmured as you studied him, taking a step towards where he was sitting. You sighed and bumped his knee with your own, prying them apart so you could stand in between them and wrap your arms tenderly around his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know you need to do it,” he spoke into your torso, words muffled. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you when you do.” 

You chuckled softly, leaning over to place a kiss on top of his head. “You won’t lose me, Shane. I promise.” 

“Is that something you can really promise, though?” he asked, leaning back to look up at you with eyes that shimmered with tears. 

You took his face in your hands and caressed his cheeks with your thumbs. “Yes,” you whispered fiercely, and placed a gentle yet passionate kiss to his lips. “No force in heaven or on earth can take me from your side.” 

Shane’s mouth curved into a smile, and he pulled away to rub at his eyes. “Alright, no need to get poetic on me. I get enough of that from Elliot.” 

That broke the two of you into laughter. He stood up and wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug, until he released you with a sigh. 

“Come home in one piece, okay?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll keep the bed warm for you.” 

You hummed in approval and nodded. “I’ll be quick. I’ll see you in a little while.” 

He saw you out and watched as you skipped down the dirt road, pausing to turn back and wave to him before you disappeared around the corner that led into town. Shane stood on the porch and sighed, running a hand through his hair again in distress. But he remembered your words, and remembered that he trusted you completely. He knew you’d come back to him. 

You always came back to him. 

[angel-fire]

set my soul alight

summary: loki finally has you right where he wants you.

warnings: slight dubcon, very very nsfw. knife play, enemies to lovers because if you’ve ever spoken to me you know i’m about that shit. as always, don’t read if you’re under 18. 

A/N: okay this is like... almost pure filth i don't even know what to say. but in honor of no nut november being over imma share what i finished writing the second i had an orgasm for the first time in a month. title from supermassive black hole (yes the one from twilight!!)

---

You’ve done plenty of stupid things in your life. Chasing whiskey with wine coolers, texting back people you probably should have blocked – deciding that yes, working alongside the Avengers seemed like a perfectly reasonable career path for the rest of your life.

You could deal with the spies, the weapons dealers, the abandoned Hydra bases you’d raided for intel from time to time. You’d made peace with the fact that at any moment, you could be summoned for a mission you wouldn’t return from. And, well, it’s hard to regret your decision when it’s more than just walking the line between life and death. It’s the bonds you make with your teammates, the lifelong friendships you know will last with people that leap into the abyss right alongside you.

Oslo, Norway. It was supposed to be simple. You weren’t supposed to get caught. Taken. The question of how you got here is unnecessary, simply chalking it up to just another ill-advised decision you’d make in your life. If it lasts.

The God of Mischief stands before you, clear blue eyes raking over your bound form as he observes you. Your wrists are tied up above your head by what feels like silk, your ankles tied with the same material, bound to what feels like a post attached to a wooden beam. You’re upright, head lolling around on your shoulders as you rouse into consciousness. You become extremely aware of the fact that you’re still in the jeans and top you were wearing while you were supposed to be undercover earlier. Undetectable. So much for that.

“You’re awake.” Loki remarks, taking a calculated step towards you. No shit, you think. You drink him in, clad in an all black suit with his hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He’s still disarmingly attractive, which is an in-fucking-convenient thought for you to be having considering he’d kidnapped you about – from what you can assume by the absent sun outside the window to your left – one or two hours ago. “Good. I’ve missed you, darling.”

“What the hell are you doing?” you mumble, tired limbs struggling against your bindings in a futile attempt to free yourself. At least it isn’t rope, you muse. Being tied up with thick ropes and subsequently tased until your bones rattled under your skin had been the least fun you’d had six months ago in Venice. The most fun… well. That’d been involving the god before you, teasing him into a frenzy ending in a hushed whisper of salacious promises detailing the things he would do to you if he got you alone. You suppose decision making is definitely not your strength, because after you’d rebuked his filthy whispers with a mere smirk accompanied by a wink, you expected that to be the end of it. Flirting with the enemy can only get you so far.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that day?” Loki inquires, ignoring your question entirely. “When you’d begged so sweetly into my ear for me to fuck you, to take you in the most filthiest of ways? I’ll admit, you rendered me speechless.” He chuckles to himself at the memory as your face flushes.

“I was not begging, and I didn’t mean it,” you respond automatically, the lie tasting like ash as it slips off your tongue. Loki only smirks, making you internally cringe at yourself. No matter how good a liar you might be to any other enemy, your teammates, your friends - you knew you couldn’t lie to him. Not to the God of Mischief.

He’s not just your enemy, a small part of you whispers. You shove the thoughts down before they can gain any traction.

“I should punish you for trying to lie to me,” he glides closer to you, eyes trained on your heaving chest at having him in such close proximity. “Shouldn’t I?”

There’s an unmistakable sound of a blade being unsheathed, your eyes flicking down to his right hand and widening when he produces a dagger from his wrist. It’s long, sharp, the light of the moon reflecting along its blade as it glints at you. You shudder instinctively, fear and arousal licking up your spine the longer your stare lingers on it.

“You were always my favorite,” Loki muses, standing a breath away from you as he draws the knife closer and closer to your body. “So headstrong. Unbreakable. I do look forward to seeing you fall apart for me.”

“Fuck off, Loki,” you snap, pulling against the silk ties at your wrists once more, realizing that they’ve likely been spelled to stay put. You would have been able to break free by now if they weren’t. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. “I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Oh, you’ll beg for me, I know it,” he chuckles darkly. “I can practically smell your fear. The way your body responds so deliciously to it. You’re dripping in spite of it, because of it.  And if I did this-“ he raises the sharp edge of the knife up to the base of your throat, dragging it across the length of your clavicle to where it meets your shoulder. You shiver in anticipation, toes curling, and his eyes flash. “-you wouldn’t be able to hide just how much it excites you.”

“Shut up,” You gasp, watching the tip of the blade travel over your shoulder and, with a quick maneuver of Loki’s wrist, tear through the fabric of your top. “God, Loki, what the fuck?”

“Don’t act like you’re not aroused by the feeling of the steel against your skin alone,” he counters, dragging the blade clean through your top all the way down to its hem, effectively exposing your left side. “Knowing I could hurt you so easily if I applied just-“ he presses the knife’s tip into the delicate skin of covering your rib cage ever so slightly, drawing a shaky breath from you as you feel the rush of arousal flood between your legs. “-the right amount of pressure. Your body betrays you, little mortal.”

“You’re sadistic.” You breathe, unable to deny the urge to clench your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“Maybe,” Loki simply chuckles, pulling the knife away from you and flipping it between his nimble fingers in a way that makes your eyelids flutter and your heart race. His left hand travels up your other side, drawing your top above your breasts, gathering the material in his hand as he yanks you close. “But you love it, don’t you?”

You have no time to answer before his lips connect with yours, teeth biting at your lips and tongue curling around yours as you gasp into his mouth. The taste of his tongue sends you into a tailspin, wrists straining not just to escape, but to bury themselves into his raven hair and drag him closer. You chastise yourself for feeling this way, but when Loki pulls away and promptly lowers to his knees before you, your mind goes blank.

“Fuck,” you whisper, watching with wide eyes as he takes his knife and cuts straight through your flimsy jeans, waistline to ankle. You hope he doesn’t notice the way you tremble in excitement ever so slightly, but when you hear him hum quietly in approval, you realize it’s useless to try to hide it from him. Well, he is a god, you muse.

“There it is,” he murmurs, lithe fingers teasing at your skin as he cuts your jeans completely off of you, tossing the remaining scraps of it somewhere to his left. “You’re lovely when you give in, darling.”

“I won’t, you bastard,” you curse, shutting your eyes tightly and tilting your head back in an effort to delay the inevitable.

“You will.” He promises, and you feel the tip of the blade dance up your ankle, over your knee, pausing at your thigh as he brings it inwards towards your femoral artery, before passing over the crevice between where your thigh meets your sex to play at your hip bone. Loki lightly traces indiscernible patterns along your skin with the knife, and your spine alights with pleasure as heat builds in your core. He’s teasing, building up to something else, and you know it by the way he growls as he senses you becoming more and more aroused by the second, trading the knife for both his hands as he pries your thighs apart as far as they can go in your position. Your eyes snap open at the feeling of his hands on you, so close to where you want him, so close to where he’s very capable of making you give in.

The last coherent thought you have is about how you can no longer feel the tightness of silk binding your ankles, but the last thing you feel is Loki’s dark chuckle against your thigh before he dives in.

His tongue plunges deep into your pussy, lithe digits holding you open for him as your thighs shake and your legs ache to be released, to wrap around his head and squeeze in retaliation for this assault of pleasure. He pulls away just enough to raise his dark eyes up to yours, a sly grin dancing across his lips.

“Oh, Agent... Your cunt tastes absolutely divine.” Loki purrs, long tongue flicking out of his mouth to catch your essence spread across his lips. No sooner after, he dives back in, the wet muscle of his tongue flicking against your clit and urging your hips to arch into his mouth. He drinks from you voraciously, hungrily, a man starved of touch for so long that he can’t get enough when he finally has it.

“I wonder if your precious Avengers know just how sweetly you moan for their enemy,” he coos into your thigh as he takes a moment’s pause. “I wonder if maybe I should make them watch, next time. Watch you come apart at my touch, my tongue.”

The feral expression on his face as he devours you combined with the sounds of your slick heat between your legs in response to his ministrations causes you to let out a high pitched moan, jerking your hips wildly, to which Loki simply buries his face further into your folds. He wrenches your thighs even further apart and wraps your legs around his neck, ankles crossed between his shoulder blades as you clench around his tongue while his hands press bruises into your thighs. You’re helpless in resisting, taut body tensing above him as you hurtle towards your peak at an alarming rate.

“I feel you holding back, darling,” he murmurs against you, the rumble of his voice rippling through you like an electric shock. You let out a gasp when he inserts a long finger up and into you, making you tremble with delirious pleasure as you give another sharp moan. “Let go for me. Give in. Let me make you come.”

You squeak when he pushes another finger into your wet heat, stretching you open as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, your body unable to hold your release in any longer as you come apart in a wave of unbridled passion. You’re nearly bent backwards in half, Loki’s arms holding you up by your quivering thighs as you come into his mouth. He laps at you greedily, emitting growls that reverberate against your pussy, drawing whimpering moans from you when it only seems to prolong your orgasm. You’re lost in rapture, hands grasping for something to hold onto in an attempt to stay grounded but coming up with nothing but cold air and the sensation of silk on your wrists.

Loki’s already gazing up at you with darkened eyes, fingers lazily pumping in and out of you as you come down from your high. “Feel good, do you? You sang so beautifully for me, little mortal.”

You huff indignantly, narrowed eyes lowering to meet his blown pupils that surely mirror your own. “Don’t think this means anything.”

“It’s valiant of you to believe you aren’t already mine.” Loki hisses, dragging his fingers out of you and, as he rises from his feet, abruptly shoving them into your mouth. You inhale sharply around his fingers, the taste of yourself on your tongue jarring and intensified by his face nearing yours once more. Your eyes lock, and the challenge in his stare nearly makes you submit completely. Nearly.

Eyes still trained on his, you throw him a salacious wink before circling your tongue around his fingers, lightly sucking them into your mouth as you watch his stare grow darker and his breathing become heavier.

“Oh,” Loki rasps, voice thick with arousal. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

Abruptly once more, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and winks in retaliation as he licks the rest of you off himself, humming in delight as he tastes the mix of your cum and saliva on his tongue. With the same hand, he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back to look up at him. A pang of arousal shoots through you and you let out a quiet whimper, Loki’s breath fanning across your face as his eyes scan your features.

“You want it, don’t you?” He beckons in a low voice, removing his hand from your hair to grip your jaw with bruising pressure. “You want my cock so deep in you that you see stars.”

With your breath trembling, you mutter what you hope comes off as an affirmation in a moment of pleasure-induced weakness. You take his satisfied smirk as confirmation that it did.

“Now,” he purrs into your ear, lips tracing down the length of your jawline and up to your mouth. You’re shaking with it, this need that could only be sated by his touch and his alone. “Are you mine?”

You’re breathless, aching for more – of his tongue, his lips, his cock. You manage to shoot him a sly smirk of your own, craning your neck towards him to whisper in his ear. You know the answer, and he knows it too, but you don’t pass up an opportunity to make just one more ill-advised decision.

“Why don’t you untie me and find out?”

[halfway-happyyy]

Hold You in My Arms

AN: This is short ‘n sweet and soppy as hell, and inspired by this lovely little ask that I got a little while ago. Hope you lovelies enjoy. TW: pregnant reader, mentions of pregnancy.

It is late into the evening when Alexander arrives home and you do not really tend to sleep well when he is gone, so you are already awake when the sound of him creeping his way up the stairs finds you from your cocoon of blankets. He hesitates outside of the bedroom door, deciding whether he is going to risk rousing you from your already troubled slumber. You hear the creek of the opening door a second later, see the sliver of yellow hallway light spill open through the crack and smile softly to yourself. Alexander pads over to your closet, loosening the tie from the collar of his white, starched shirt as he does so. You can tell from the sound of his gate that he’s indulged in a few cocktails this evening; this being his first public event since the pandemic took hold, you aren't at all surprised. He removes the clothing wordlessly from his body, draping them over the chair in there, and disappears into the on-suite bathroom. A second later, the tap begins running and you hear him spit into the sink a couple times. He emerges a few minutes later, the waft of mint toothpaste hangs heavy in the air behind him. He sidles down in the bed beside you, and relief washes over your very being like a tidal wave. Alexander reaches for your hand beneath the covers and grasps it tightly; he’s surprised when you grasp it right back.

“You’re awake?” He asks, sleepily.

“Yes.”

Alexander turns to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he does so. “Mm, it’s good to be home kid.” Instinctively, his hands move to the curve of your burgeoning belly, where they caress the bump slowly growing there. “Hi baby,” He whispers.

It's the little things you'll miss the most when he's back on set.

He peppers gentle kisses around the hollow of your throat. "Is there anything I can get you?"

As if on queue, a ripple runs rigidly along the inside of your belly- featherlight, but definitely the product of a miniscule finger. “You know what I could go for right now?” you ask, and you can almost feel Alexander beam into the crook of your shoulder.

“What's that?”

You rub the roundness of your belly lovingly. "We would kill for a grilled cheese sandwich.”

Alexander lifts his head from your shoulder, expression amused. “You and our unborn child, hey?”

You nod sleepily. “With pitchforks and everything.”

Alexander lets a small puff of air escape his mouth in the shape of a low whistle. “I better get on it then, hey?”

You squeeze his hand gently. “I’ll come down and keep you company.”

Following him down the stairs to the darkened kitchen, you are in mild anticipation for the midnight snack you are about to recieve. Alexander is entirely too gifted a cook and can slap just about anything together, and have it be delicious. “How was your night?” You ask, stifling a yawn.

He sets a small frying pan atop the bottom right burner and heads to the fridge for the butter. “It was good to see everyone again,” He muses while the gas burner flickers to life. “I had forgotten how nice it felt to put on actual clothing and to just be in a completely different setting…” He cuts a large portion of butter from the block and drops it into the pan, the satisfying sizzle of it causes your mouth to water hungrily. “Quite a few people asked about you,” He murmurs as he slices two pieces of fresh, homemade sourdough bread. He sets the first piece into the pan of scorching butter and slices a few pieces of aged cheddar cheese, laying them on top of the crisping bread. He places the other piece of bread on top of the cheese and turns to you, a large smile in place on his face. “Not that I’m surprised in the slightest,”

“Surprised about what?”

Alexander shrugs. “That you were asked about multiple times this evening. You’re pretty fucking awesome.” It is never lost on you how loved he makes you feel; that someone could look at you the same way that he is looking at you now- that someone could love you enough to make you a grilled cheese sandwich at an ungodly hour of the evening, is still an insane notion. “Almost there, kid.” He announces a few moments later. You watch him in the golden light of the kitchen lamp, the way his hair is still done up and full of product from hours before. You notice the way the muscles in his back and shoulders ripple and flex as he flips the sandwich in the pan. His sweatpants, the ones he owns multiple pairs of and has only really worn them during quarantine, hang teasingly low on his hips. He reaches for the cupboard to his left and produces a plate, which he dumps the sandwich onto expertly. Next, he grabs the ketchup bottle from the fridge, squirts a large, squiggly heart next to the grilled cheese and places it gently on the placemat in front of you.

You peer down at the crispy, glistening masterpiece in front of you and rub a thumb over the back of Alexander's hand. "This smells amazing, thank you my love." It's quiet in the kitchen as you sink your teeth into your first bite of food. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you,” You throw a cheeky wink his way.

Alexander leans back in his chair, a small smile tugs at the edges of his lips as he shakes his head in mild disbelief. “Me neither, kid.” He cocks his head to the side, his face brimming now. “Quarantine has offered me so much time with you, and I feel like one of the luckiest men in the world.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I’m not exactly sure why!”

Alexander gestures to the clock above the stove. “It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning on a Sunday morning and I’ve just made the love of my life, who happens to be growing our baby in her belly, a grilled cheese sandwich.” His eyes are wide and glassy, his expression slightly incredulous. “For the first time in my life, I can say honestly that there is no place I would rather be than right here.”

You swallow the last bite of food in your mouth, and curse for the millionth time during your pregnancy, the hormones that have wreaked havoc on your already fragile emotional state. “Alex, I-

“I mean, I have been with you every step of the way for this new journey. I haven’t missed a single doctor’s appointment, or phone call… this is living, kid. This is it.” And there is really nothing you can say at this point because Alexander has succeeded once again, in rendering you utterly speechless. He takes the empty plate from you and deposits it into the sink with a dull thud and then turns and heads into the living room. You follow him wordlessly, watching with a small smile as he turns on the record player in the corner of the room, next to the bay window. Ray LaMontagne’s beautiful voice suddenly comes to life above the muted scratch of the needle. “Dance with me?” He asks, quietly.

“Of course,”

He holds you close to him, his warm hand rests easily against the small of your back, but your bump presses against his stomach and he can’t help but glance down and laugh a little. “Hi baby,” He murmurs, and it causes goosebumps to rise in patterns across your body.

“You’re going to be such a wonderful papa,” You whisper into the warmth of Alexander’s bare chest.

Alexander kisses the top of your head; lets his lips linger close as he speaks. “I can’t wait to meet them…”

You sway like that for what feels like hours, not at all aware of when the record finished. “Thanks for staying up past our bedtime with us, Alex.”

He beams down at you, and your breath hitches in your throat as you watch the way his blue orbs glitter wildly. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, humming contentedly to himself. “Kid, I’d stay up past your bedtime with you a million times if it meant that I got to slow dance with the two of you,” He splays a warm palm against your belly. “A million times, just to feel even an ounce of this happiness.”

It is the little things that you will miss the most; and right now, you are all too content to live in this moment with him forever.

[cosmic-coyote7]

Speed write from suggestions via Twitter

[ Lukanette - Camp Rock AU ]

(Kinda camp rock but sorta touched the second movie more. Oh well. ^^)

~☆~♡~☆~

The sun rose above the cabins that formed a circle around a vast (and currently extinguished) firepit. The cabins were worn with their peeling paint and screen windows with holes in them, but many memories were contained in these structures. Countless lyrics had been written, hundreds of songs performed, and scores of various instruments had been housed here with their talented owners.

A sign at the entrance to the driveway declared this isolated place Camp Rock.

Legends had lived here and learned to find their voices and their talents. Being able to go here was a major opportunity and many worked hard for the chance to perform here.

One such performer was Luka Couffaine. Sixteen years-old and having been playing guitar since he was five, he lived and breathed music.

He hooked up his electric guitar into its amplifier as his fellow bandmate, Ivan, got behind his drums. His sister and bassist, Juleka, copied him in hooking up her instrument that was like another part of her body.

Ivan counted them down as Luke tested his microphone then ran his fingers over the strings, his electric blue guitar pick gleaming in the early morning sun. 

They began practicing, their sound projecting out over the campsite and beyond over the water.

Various campers began waking up and groggily making their way outside. Some people were jamming out with the band and dancing along to the sound, but most just looked annoyed at being woken up by loud rock music.

One of the few who looked grumpy was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She had once admired Luka, but she knew now he was a stuck up pretty boy who thought he was king of the camp because of his talent. 

They were rivals. 

Marinette preferred to sing and play piano. Luka could sing, too, but the guitar was his forte.

After the song was over, Luka jumped down from the stage and grinned broadly at Marinette, his dark and dyed hair already sweaty. 

He looked pretty, she gave him that, but she still didn't like his attitude. 

"How was that, Dupain-Cheng?" he asked smugly.

"It didn't put me back to sleep," Marinette offered. A few people snickered. 

Luka chuckled and backed up, his smirk prominent. "You ready for the battle of the bands tonight, Dupain-Cheng?"

Marinette’s smile was challenging. "You bet. Kitty Section will be blown away by Miraculous."

"That's my girl!" Alya Cesaire, the drummer for her band, stood proudly at her friend's side. 

Luka simply nodded then went back to join his own bandmates.

….

Later that afternoon, Marinette was hanging out with her own bandmates that made up her group, Miraculous. 

Their bassist (and sometimes pianist), Adrien Agreste, watched as she paced around and continuously fidgeted with her hair. "You okay, Mari?" he asked, concern in his bright green eyes.

Marinette scowled as she crossed her arms. "That Luka Couffaine thinks he's so cool and amazing," she huffed.

"I mean…" Alya turned her laptop around to show Marinette Kitty Section's Instagram and website. "They have over ten thousand followers."

"Half of them are simps for Luka," Adrien said dryly.

"He is pretty," Alya said fairly. "Talent and looks can get you ahead of the game."

Marinette rolled her eyes, not wanting to be reminded of Luka's sparkling eyes or his bright smile…

Anyway.

"We need to blow them out of the water at the battle of the bands," she said with determination. 

"Well, we're supposed to do covers tonight," Alya said. "Why don't we just focus on the topic we were given?"

"What was it again?" 

"Julie and the Phantoms," Adrien answered, his eyes twinkling. "We've been practicing 'Finally Free', remember?"

Marinette groaned and flopped down, resting her head in Alya's lap. "I'm so nervous. We need to be perfect tonight."

"I mean we'll be steller," Alya insisted, smiling as she patted Marinette’s head. "But we should just have fun," she continued as she gave Marinette her water bottle and the other sat up to drink. "You should just end this rivalry with Luka and kiss already."

Marinette choked and spat out her water as the fluid got down her windpipe and back up her nose as she coughed.

Adrien snickered, and Marinette threw a shoe at him in retaliation. 

"I do not wanna kiss Luka!" Marinette snapped, her cheeks flaming red like she had a sunburn.

"Mhm," Adrien and Alya said at the same time with twin tones of disbelief.

"I hate you both," Marinette grumbled as she grabbed her keyboard to continue practice. 

….

Luka chuckled as Juleka and her girlfriend, Rose, worked on adding sparkly designs to the instruments and jacket sleeves to look extra vibrant for battle of the bands.

"I'm so excited!" Rose gushed as she fiddled with Juleka’s jacket sleeve. She normally was their lead singer, but a cold had put her on vocal rest. She was already a chatterbox, so the best they could do was restrict her singing. "You guys are going to do an amazing 'Now or Never' cover!"

"Thanks, Rose," Ivan said as he tapped on his drums and adjusted their equipment. His smile was sweet.

"Miraculous is going to be a difficult rival," Juleka murmured in her usual soft tone.

Luka sighed. "We can handle them." His guitar strumming became a tad more aggressive. "The audience won't be able to take their eyes off of us." 

He took a pull from his water bottle, trying not to let the hostility take over and affect his playing. 

Rose smiled brightly as she dropped on the log Luka and Juleka were lounging on. They liked this spot on the shore of the lake. It was quiet over here. Peaceful.

"Yeah, but we know you won't be able to take your eyes off Marinette, Luka." 

Luka inhaled some water down the wrong pipe and choked for a minute as Ivan helpfully pounded him on the back. Knowing that was going to bruise his spine tomorrow, he scowled at Rose.

"You know it's true," Rose said with an upturned nose as she resumed her work with glitter.

Luka harrumphed as he grabbed his guitar and began to play more forcefully. "Come on. We have to practice."

….

"Welcome, rockers!" The head counselor, Clara Nightingale, beamed at the sea of campers that had gathered around the stage, eager faces upturned to gaze at the performers for tonight. 

"Is everyone having a good time?" Clara called. The campers cheered, their voices projecting out over the lake, sounding like a crowd at a real concert. 

Marinette was pacing up and down. She and her bandmates were huddled in a tented area to have privacy for changing and warming up. 

"Mari, will you chill? We got this." His smile was warm and encouraging, but Marinette still felt the jitters of stage fright. She, who burst into song practically everywhere she went, was nervous. It was a weird feeling.

Alya smiled as she finished her make up and put an arm around Marinette. "Don't worry about the competition part. Just rock their socks off, girl!"

Marinette smiled at her two best friends then joined them in a group hug. "You guys are the best."

….

Kitty Section was playing their best. That was obvious to everyone. Luka was shredding the notes and letting the entire camp hear just what his guitar was capable of.

Juleka’s deep bass added a mystical melody to the higher electric cords.

Ivan's drums boomed like thunder amongst the string instruments, their rendering of the opening song for Julie and the Phantoms was causing the audience to scream and jump around.

"We ain't searching for tomorrow..."

Ivan's deeper voice could be heard even over the wailing instruments. 

"Tomorrow," Juleka echoed him, her voice hypnotic. After she came out of her shell, she had found her singing voice.

"Because we've got all we need today,"

"Today," Juleka choruses.

Luka grinned at his sister then got up to his mic. 

"Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins"

Juleka stepped up to her microphone and belted out, 

"We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain!" 

She flipped her hair back as she held the last note, and the crowd went nuts.

They clapped along with the audience singing the chorus then rounded off the song. They took a bow and smiled hugely at their fellow campers. 

Marinette, who was standing off to the side of the stage, couldn't help but be entranced by Luka and how alive he looked up on stage. He was amazing…

….

Her jitters were gone. Her fears a mere memory.

Marinette had never felt so free than when she was performing on stage with her bandmates.

Adrien and Alya added their backing vocals as she sang 'Finally Free' with all the energy she could muster.

"We're all bright now

What a sight now 

Coming out like we're fireworks,"

Marinette giggled as Adrien jumped around and stamped his feet. He was a goofball, and she knew he found his happiness in music to escape his life at home.

"Marching on proud

Turn it up loud

Cause now we know what we're worth"

Alya beat on her drums and smiled wickedly as she sang and added her lower voice to the melody. 

Adrien joined Marinette in a duet, and he winked at her as she drew out the end of the verse and they jumped into the chorus.

Marinette danced over to Adrien and offered her mic. He grinned and sang back and forth with her.

"I've got a spark in me"

(I've got a spark in me)

"And you're a part of me"

(And you're a part of me)

"Now till eternity"

(Now till eternity)

"Been long and now we're finally free"

….

Little did Marinette know that as she danced away to jam out beside Alya's drums that a pair of light blue eyes was watching from the crowd, and they burned with jealousy.

….

Marinette finished the song, drawing out the note perfectly then grinning as she took a bow.

Adrien and Alya jumped up as the campers screamed even louder and applauded them.

Once she was off the stage and Clara had taken over again, Marinette paused as she saw a familiar figure standing beside the bonfire.

Luka was watching her with an odd expression: determination mixed with irritation and maybe… some admiration?

"Hey," Marinette greeted him. She smiled slightly, deciding maybe she had been a little petty. Seeing Luka so vibrant on the stage had softened her armor. "You and your band were spectacular. "

Luka blinked as if he wasn't sure how to react.  He lost a lot of the irritation to be replaced by shock. "Uh… thanks," he said nimbly.

She smiled, and he responded to it with his own. 

"You looked radiant up there." 

Marinette’s cheeks felt hot again. She smiled shyly and said, "Thanks, Luka."

He looked at her, really looked at her. Weeks of being rivals and giving one another a hard time all seemed like a childish waste of time. 

The way her eyes shimmered in the firelight did funny things to his heart.

Marinette walked up to him and leaned up, intending to kiss his cheek and consider them friendly rivals from that point on, but two friends who happened to be watching made their move.

Rose bumped into Luka and sent him right into Marinette while Adrien braced behind her long enough to avoid them hitting the ground.  He slunk away as the pair stared into one another's eyes for a long moment. 

Then they leaned in for a gentle but emotional kiss. They leaned back at the same time to touch foreheads, their smiles as radiant as the rearing fire behind them.

Clara was announcing the winner behind them, but it didn't matter. In Luka's and Marinette’s eyes, they both had won.