#his neck and hands are super detailed so I imagine the bits under the Holy Order uniform are as well!

[golden-stag]

Good GRIEF he’s NAKED

[loveinterestcastiel]

erosion

I wrote some endverse fic based on a @lateral-org post asking a FANTASTIC question:

When/why/how did endverse! cas get rid of the trenchcoat and what was dean's reaction?

Rated M. Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence. Word Count: 4.1k

tagged some mutuals and people I thought might be interested in this under the cut, if you want tagged in this/future fic or want me to remove your tag dm me!

erosion

Of course, Sam said yes in Detroit. So why dream about that? He lived it every day. The redundancy was irritating at best.

Where the fuck did I leave my boots last night? Cas cursed under his breath and embarked on a thorough search of their cabin, the coarse words warm and familiar on his tongue as he yanked on his socks. I really am starting to sound like Dean.

Dean’s boots were already gone, his gun and thigh holster absent too. He’d left his green jacket behind, tossed carelessly aside last night and hidden under the trenchcoat on the floor at the foot of their bed. He slipped his coat on over his clothes and shoved Dean’s jacket into their pack- he knew he’d want it later, even if it was just for the drive back. He slipped on the worn coat, habit- he’d stopped wasting Grace on its upkeep a while ago, but it was still important. It felt like comfort, in some strange way, so he kept on wearing it despite the worn-through elbows or the stubborn little bloodstained spot on the hem.

He’d dreamed of Detroit, last night, again. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to dreaming, as unsettling and involuntary as it was. It felt like the unfair hijacking of an otherwise enjoyable human bodily function, and he resented it altogether. He snagged a bit of weed from his stash and tucked it in next to his flask, sweeping out the cabin door and into the frigid morning sunshine, giving Chuck a lazy wave as he ambled past his cabin to the truck lot, kicking little pebbles across the packed dirt at imaginary targets with a super-human precision that grated strangely on him today.

“Big run today,” Chuck said with a tentative smile, his hands clasping a chipped mug filled to the brim with his ridiculously indulgent tea, wafting a cascade of steam out over the railing of his cabin porch before dissipating into the air. “Don’t forget the perishables if you can get at them, ok? We’re seriously low on-”

“Toilet paper, milk, cheese, butter,” he interrupted, “plus sugar, flour, canned fruit, hygiene products, toothpaste, toilet paper, coffee, meat if we can get it, .35 and 9mm ammunition, mechanical oil, gasoline, propane, rubbing alcohol, gauze, surgical tape, toilet paper, paracetamol, and oh, toilet paper again!” Cas recited dryly, rolling his eyes. “You gave us a written list yesterday. Twice. Couldn’t fuck up blackout drunk.”

Chuck snorted, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Just doing my job, Cas.”

“We’ll do ours,” he called over his shoulder, continuing down the central path briskly. “We’ve all got our part to play.”

What was it Lucifer had said to Dean, that night Zachariah stole him out from under Cas’s nose and threw him into the future? No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter… we will always end up here.

It certainly seemed like he was right. Most days, it seemed like they were all hurtling towards the exact same place Dean had caught a wretched glimpse of, once, with the brakes slashed and emergency failsafes offline, and no indicator that the impossible choices they were making every day were anything but inevitable. He knew that Dean still had nightmares about his ending, but he didn’t know much else about Dean’s nightmares anymore but what little snippets he could garner from what Dean mumbled and cried out in his sleep. He’d lost the ability to dreamwalk a while back. Three nights after the Croatoan virus wiped out Fort Worth and they were forced to fall back, he tried to enter Dean’s sleep to watch his dreams in the dubious refuge of a closed down Motel 6 off of interstate 70 as they ran west, to see if there was some piece of information they’d missed, some new choice they could make one day that could change the path they were on.

It simply hadn’t worked. He mourned the loss of one more skill in the darkness of their room that night as Dean slept uneasily in the bed beside him, one more thing which, in its absence, made him ever more useless to Dean, much like the loss of his ability to time travel, or to smite their enemies with ease. Flight was becoming difficult by the day, and he knew in some part of his mind that his wings would be the next to go, and he would be grounded, permanently, on Earth and not in Heaven.

And so it goes.

Anyway, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice about anything these days. Once Michael had taken Adam, they lost their only trump card. Heaven didn’t need Dean anymore, but Hell desperately needed Sam. It was a shame, it really was, that Sam’s gamble hadn’t paid off.

It was a miracle Lucifer let Dean go. He had brushed him off as a non-threat. Unimportant on a cosmic scale, however important Dean was to the vessel. To Sam. So Dean walked out of that run down building alive, and he was the most beautiful, terrible thing Cas had ever seen. His soul shone brighter than even an archangel’s grace in his rage and trembled with the fierce sharpness of grief, and it was glorious, righteous.

Godly.

Even as Cas’s memories softened and blurred, becoming tinged with a mortal haze, that memory of Dean remained in a sparkling clarity. He could imagine no life, no moldable version of the past, in which he did not choose Dean. From the very first moment his soul had reached back to cling to Cas’s Grace in Hell, Cas had fallen, was falling, would fall, for Dean. It was inevitable, his love. They were inevitable. They fell together in the time after Detroit, into battle, into bed, and into cosmic obscurity. Soon, too soon, their losses began to outnumber their wins, and they had to make more and more certain regrettable sacrifices just to stay alive. Cas was used to collateral damage, far more than Dean was, but whatever the other humans in their ragged camp believed of him, he wasn’t unaffected. Just the opposite, in fact. He had never felt anything before, not for billions of years, an incomprehensible existence of light and intent and obedience and war, and now he felt everything. That- not Dean’s disappointment, or the slow loss of his Grace, or his Father’s unyielding silence- was undoubtedly the worst part of becoming something like human.

Some days were better than others, of course. Some days he took precious little blue or white or green pills, all different shapes and sizes and he felt good. Numb, pleased, far away. Quiet. Others, fewer than the days he had his pills, he took shrooms, LSD. Molly, twice. Often he took nothing at all, craving the wicked pain and emptiness it created in him as his sobriety enhanced the ache his dwindling Grace left behind, needing the punishment to feel real before forcing himself into a tumultuous sleep after days spent horribly awake with half a bottle of rotgut sloshing in his stomach. He still liked joints, rolled meticulously, their verdant smoke curling up deliciously in his lungs and setting him up on a lovely little metaphorical cloud the best, and then, they were even more so lovely when he shared them with Dean. There was nothing, nothing like passing it between them, before transitioning into trading hit after hit between their mouths, brushing against his soft lips, breathing his air, watching Dean’s cheeks flush a stunning pink and holding tight to his deep golden hair, dragging him down into slow, languid kisses that desire deepened and turned into a precious sort of holy consumption as the high hit its stride in them both.

He was sober today, mostly, just riding out the last of some gorgeous pink pill from a nearly full bottle he’d just scavenged out a few days before. It made him feel floaty, focused, fearless. He felt almost like he did two years ago, before his reeducation stint in Heaven. Angelic. It was nice. He’d take another, later. Maybe Dean would want to take one, too, and they could fuck high out under the stars on their quilt again like they did last October and feel like the real Gods of this stupid little planet, on top of the world, on top of Dean, cradled in the soft embrace of his thighs, and worship each other.

Take that, brothers. Castiel smiled viciously at the sky. You’ll never fuck God like I have.

Standing impatiently among their motley caravan of vehicles in the sickly yellow light of a midwestern April morning sun, his back to Cas, Dean’s silhouette and the flashing imprint of his soul- the only one Cas could still see clearly- caramelized into a sweet union of tangible and not that pulled at his stomach and swept him into the siren song of Dean’s being and woke up the hungry creature that lived in his heart and craved DeanDeanDeanDean.

No one else was there yet, probably all still dicking around at the camp mess and drinking shitty chicory. His feet fell silently on the earth, leaving behind the sound of the universe and the vibrant humming of Dean’s soul- and oh, he hoped he could always hear that symphony, even when all the rest of his powers had run dry.

Just as he reached out to take Dean by the shoulder and turn him around, Dean moved with a sudden burst of energy, like a coiled snake striking out. He whirled around and met Cas’s eyes, took him by the neck and the waist, and kissed him. His lips moved with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity of the grip of his cold-fingered hands as they worked their way into his hair, wormed their way under his trenchcoat, and touched the bare skin they found where the hem of his t-shirt met his jeans. He met the kiss eagerly, licking teasingly at the seam of his lips, biting down gently and coaxing Dean into opening his mouth. He pushed Dean back until his back hit the nearest rusted army-green truck with a small thudding noise, pressing himself up against Dean and tugging on his hips so they were pressed flush against each other, the contact sending and electric thrill racing up his spine.

“Cas,” Dean gasped out at the sensation of their bodies meeting, the air punched out of his lungs.

“Mmm, morning,” Cas murmured between kisses. “You’re out here early.” Dean’s neck was uncharacteristically bare above the neck of his rough brown sweater, creamy and invitingly unmarked. Cas indulged in the impulse to change that, working his way over the tender skin, sucking and biting until a bruise began to bloom below the junction of Dean’s jaw and neck, worrying it with his teeth until it was a deep reddish-purple.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean whispered, letting his head fall back against the truck window, baring his throat further, and closed his eyes. He seemed almost happy, today. He seemed to light up in the lead-up to their more dangerous missions, and Cas didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Didn’t want to wake you up,” Dean elaborated.

“I appreciate that.” Satisfied with the rather outrageous hickey he’d created on Dean’s neck, Cas pressed it with one last kiss. “How’d you know I was behind you?” he asked, pressing their foreheads together and slowly grinding their hips together lazily, just breathing Dean in.

“Felt you,” Dean said, bringing their lips together again briefly. “Always can.” One more little kiss.

“Dean, last night, when you couldn’t sleep, I dreamed again about Detroit-” Cas started to confess feverishly, almost against his will, Dean stiffening up at his words in his arms, and was interrupted by the sound of people approaching, footsteps, voices, and an earsplitting wolf-whistle directed at their compromising position.

Dean’s face shuttered immediately, and Cas felt every scrap of easy bliss flee his body.

He pulled back with more than a little reluctance, his stomach twisting as a fakely jovial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Let’s go, fearless leader. We’ve got a mission to run, don’t you know?”

“Don’t start with that fearless leader shit,” Dean said tightly, rolling his eyes away from Castiel’s face and fixing on a point somewhere over Cas’s shoulder. “Who’s driving?”

“Looks like Cas is driving,” Joe called out mischievously.

Risa smacked him in the chest. “Get in the truck, idiot.” She turned her gaze to Dean, an odd glint in her eye. It felt sticky and wrong in his core but Cas stamped the feeling down. “Group brief over the radio on the way?” she asked.

“Yeah, at 8,” Dean said, sliding into his unshakeable militaristic persona with a firm nod. “Should be fairly straightforward in and out supply grab. Intel says the Croats cleared out of Roanoke a couple days ago, left major infrastructure and commerce sites relatively untouched. It’s a good thing too,” he added, “we were getting spread a little thin with most goods.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

———————————————————————

It was not, in fact, easy.

Their intel was wrong, so wrong, and Cas didn’t know how the fuck it happened, but they were fine, they were almost finished, closing up the trucks in the alley behind the supermarket and waiting for Dean and Trish to return from sweeping the perimeter, when out of what seemed like thin air and with no more than a broken shout for warning there were more Croats swarming them than he’d ever seen in one place before, and Joe and Maya and Kris were dead, and Dean was nowhere to be found.

The Croats had the remaining seven pinned down against the main truck, snarling and screeching and reeking of blood and gore, strips of flesh and clothing that once adorned their companions now dangling from their teeth. Their single-minded need for the endless consumption of human flesh and that it was currently being denied drove them to a terrifying frenzy, but the hunters were starting to push back, and the Croat numbers were thinning slowly but surely. Cas thought he saw Allen get bitten, but next he glanced at him he looked fine. He’d need to check on that if they made it out alive. He resigned himself quickly to the idea of killing the man before they got back to Chitaqua- Allen was a nice enough man, quick-witted and skilled with a blade and a loom, but nothing was worth bringing a Croat back to camp. He owed it to the man as a human being to grant him a swift death if he’d been infected before Allen himself could realize it. A shot to the back of the head, unawares, had to be better than a clumsy battle and inevitable stab to the chest (Cas knew he would always have the upper hand against a human, even when he had fallen in full) with fear in his heart.

He buried his angel blade to hilt in yet another Croat’s throat, yanking it out and ducking out of the way of the spray of blood that followed in a well-practiced motion uncanny in its speed. They would win this one.

But still no Dean.

Cas felt a bubbly panic rise up in his chest through the haze of battle as it became clear to him that Dean wasn’t coming back. Even from the other side of the building or from inside, there was no way that Dean had not heard the commotion of such a large fight.

Something was stopping Dean from coming back to him.

“Risa,” he shouted over the din to the woman on his left. “Dean and Trish-”

“I know,” she interjected tersely, hacking the head off of a skeletally thin Croat in a tattered suit. “Retrieval? We’ve got this handled here as long as this all the fucking bastards around.”

“I’m going in,” Cas said quickly, slicing at a particularly bold (stupid) Croat trying to charge him. It crumpled to the ground and twitched once, and was still. Some of its companions fell on the body ravenously, and were subsequently cut down in turn as they began to tear at the corpse. “Leave as soon as you’re able; I’ve got the keys to the main truck. Cover your right,” he warned Risa, and, sensing an opportunity in the parting sea of Croats before him, ran.

He was through the service doors of the building before the Croat hoard could even begin to respond to his escape, and their noises were quickly muffled by the service door as it locked automatically behind him, leaving him in relative quiet.

There were a surprising number of crates and boxes remaining in the storage and unloading zones, either empty or nearly so, and he quickly ascertained the area was, apart from himself, devoid of life or anything of interest to the camp.

Cas.

Dean's sudden prayer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Aisle... his mental voice trailed off for a second into indistinct sounds, colors, and waves of pain. Aisle seven. It's bad.

Cas shoved through the access door into the freezers, and out into the store with a recklessness he would have been ashamed of had he been so terrified.

He turned down aisle seven and skidded to a halt, frozen at the sight that greeted him, and tried to make sense of the hideously macabre tableau.

Trish's decapitated body lay the furthest from him, her ribcage torn open, her organs spilling over her arms and scattered in pieces over the floor. Three dead Croats, all headshots, around her remains. Then a bloody lake on the cheap linoleum tile, thick and viscous and so, so red, two more dead Croats, clearly more hard-won victories, their arms hacked at, heads partially removed, and nearly blocking the last body from view, wedged up against the shelves and bloody as it was.

"Cas," Dean wheezed, lifting his head laboriously to meet his eyes, blood bubbling up between his lips and staining them. "Cas, I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, don't talk like that," Cas said desperately, kneeling beside Dean. He took their pack of his back with shaking hands and shoved his angel blade somewhere inside. "We can fix this. You'll be okay."

"Cas-"

"You will!" he said, too loudly and startling himself.

"My ribs," Dean panted out in pained little gasps. "Broken. There's something in my back." He twitched minutely as if to show Cas the problem and immediately convulsed involuntarily at the pain the movement caused him, a horrible rattling moan in his throat. "My leg. Right one. Broken too." His jaw was clenched so tightly it was a miracle he could speak at all through the teeth-grinding pain he was in.

"Okay," Cas said faintly.

Cas...

Oh, he hated feeling. Sometimes he thought it made him useless. He missed being cold. Brutal, uncaring about pain or death. But this was Dean, and he'd never actually been particularly good at being a machine, anyway. "Okay. Dean, I need to see your back," he warned him, before moving him as gently as he could and angling his body so that he could get an unobstructed view of his back.

There was a crude metal stake wedged just an inch to the left of his second and third thoracic vertebrae, rusted, twisted and cruel-looking.

"Dean, I- I have to try to heal you," he said slowly, knowing that Dean wouldn't want him to be wasteful with his Grace. But this was beyond what human field medicine could help.

Dean didn't respond. He'd fallen unconscious.

"Oh no, no, no, baby," he babbled under his breath, trying to figure out the best way to extract the bar of metal. "Hold on," he muttered, grasping the stake firmly and bracing Dean's body against his own, trying to avoid fucking his broken ribs up more.

"Father, please, if you're still here, if you're listening, if you care at all," he begged, "help me."

Of course, his Father didn't answer. Gritting his teeth, Cas yanked out the stake and tossed it aside, immediately covering the wound with his hand. He summoned his Grace together and it responded sluggishly, but his hand was glowing and Dean's back was knitting back together.

As the skin merged into a puckered, raw-looking pink scar, Cas dropped his hand away from the wound and found himself utterly breathless, gasping for air and drained.

Dean was still unconscious.

He leaned Dean back up against the shelving and took a moment to figure out what to do next. Dean was still dying. He was still in danger. He couldn't be moved, nor could they stay put. He quickly opened up their pack and realized in horror that all the medical supplies were with Risa and AJ on the trucks and so, so far away by now.

He yanked his coat off with a twinge of regret. It was bloodied and worn and what he was about to do with it felt like a milestone he was loathe to reach.

He shredded it into long, wide strips, not letting himself think of how it was the last piece of Jimmy Novak, or how he had repaid the man's sacrifice by being party to the end of the world they both wanted to protect, or how Claire Novak had stopped praying to him weeks ago, now. He got on with the job, this is just a job, I can fix this-

He managed to wrap Dean's leg up decently tight, straight and stiff, but he had quickly discovered it was broken in several places. He didn't know what he could do for Dean's ribs, and he felt, as if from a distance, how Dean's breath was coming shallower and shallower, and he made his choice.

He laid his left hand on Dean's broken leg, as gently as he could. Leaning forward, he smoothed the wispy little baby hairs he loved to tease Dean about back, off his sweaty, pained, precious face, and, placing his right hand on Dean's crushed ribs, near his heart, touched their foreheads together. He looked at Dean's soul, his shining, beautiful (fading) soul and knew.

"I love you," Cas whispered, his voice wrecked. With that finally said, he grabbed his exhausted, weary Grace, and though it fought him and slipped through his grasp, he got hold of it and he pushed everything he could, everything he was into his hands, into Dean.

When he had done it, when he had drained himself down to mists and vapors, and had saved Dean, he gathered him in his arms, and carried him back to the truck on numb feet, leaving the scraps of Jimmy's coat behind in aisle seven.

When the truck broke down thirty miles from Chitaqua, and their radio too, he turned to Dean, pulling on a blue-ish jacket they'd picked up earlier during the run. It fit well.

"It's a good look for you," Dean said gruffly, staring at Cas with an expression he could not recognize. There was blood still smeared on his cheekbone, he noted absently.

"Oh. Yes. Well, thank you," Cas answered, adjusting the sleeves.

Dean tugged at the tan fabric strips on his leg, wincing at the pressure.

"You did a good job, Cas. With this fabric splint from your coat-"

"I know you won't be able to walk it," Cas said quietly, unable to meet his eyes even as he interrupted him. "I did what I could, but you'll be weak for days. You need time."

"You can leave me, Cas," Dean said, a strange, pinched guilt-pain-tenderness on his face. "You can come back for me."

"No," Cas said, smiling, and choking, and took Dean's cheek in the palm of his hand with a terrible ache rising in his throat. "I can't."

April 19th, 2012, under the peak of the Lyrids meteor showers, Cas flew for the last time, right up to the gates of the camp.

When they landed, a millisecond and millennia later, his wings burned away into nothingness in a wave of electric, minty-white pain that forced him to the ground. In the aftermath, panting and sweating and shaking in Dean's arms and clutching at his handprint on Dean's shoulder, he realized his Grace, or what was left of it, anyway, had consolidated into a bright little ball in his chest. Like a soul.

The realization was followed by another. Despite his earlier conviction that it would one day be lost to him, he could still see Dean's soul- behind his teeth, in his chest, radiant like a halo around his head, and worth, a million times over, and a million again, falling for.

Tagged:

@heller-jensen @sunforgrace @rambleoncas @adhdeancas @evermorecastiel @holmesemrys @plantdadcas @good-things-do-happen-dean @jeanne-de-valois @autisticandroids @sonder-stars @yana125 @faithcastiel @cascreamtiel @seffersonjtarship @i-sing-for-me @purgatorybi @bibelphegor @cowboyslikedean @gracefuldean @dimples-of-discontent @judaskissdean @wafflehousegothic @icaruscastiel @67chevyimpala67 @lesbianjenderenvy

[hongism]

Hi~ I'm super soft for Mingi these days so could u please write an imagine/scenario(??) about him and the reader having a movie night cuddling on the couch and he's complaining about being tired bc of schedule and then you try to make him feel better by giving him the best suck in his life~ I'm sorry if that's too specific, but feel free to write it as you like tho! ^^

alright yoit this took way too long for me to do, but i finally cleared out most of the big stuff in the inbox so i’m finally gonna get around to writing the imagines :D also boo don’t worry about it being too specific, it’s actually nice for me to have lots of details so i know what to write and how to write it as best i can so hehe i’m glad you gave lots of deets onwARDS WE GO

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: blowjobs

Title: Tired

…

Eyes transfixed on the screen before you, you slide further against your boyfriend on the couch. One hand slides over his stomach as you sink your head onto his shoulder, the other lingering near the nape of his neck and combing through the ends of his hair.

“Mingi,” you mutter as a small snore escapes his lips. You bring your hand further down and squeeze his side gently. “Baby, do you wanna go to bed?”

Mingi shakes his head when you speak, eyes fluttering open and coming to rest on you. “Huh?”

“Do you wanna go to bed? You feel asleep.”

“Oh, did I? No, no, no. I wanna stay up with you, we barely get any time together as it is.” You frown as Mingi looks down at you. He slides his hand across yours, mimicking the little frown on your lips. “I want to stay up,” he repeats.

“You need to sleep though, Mingi. You have to be up early again tomorrow for practice. I can’t keep you up, okay?” You press your chin against Mingi’s shoulder, glancing up at his face and offering a weak smile.

“I just feel bad. I do this every time we’re together, and that’s not really fair to you, you know?”

“I’ve told you before that I don’t mind, Mingi.”

“It bothers me though.”

“You work a lot, baby. I understand that you’re busy, and I’ve told you time and time again that it’s okay.” Mingi blinks down at you, the movie on the TV forgotten and ignored as his gaze slips down your face to your lips.

“I-I…” He trails off. The bob of his Adam’s apple catches your eye. You smirk at the sight, then pull away from his shoulder.

“Can I convince you to rest?”

“W-What?”

You laugh at Mingi’s confusion, straightening your back and pressing your hand to his thigh. “Can I take care of you, Mingi?” You don’t wait for an answer before you’re sliding off the couch and onto your knees before Mingi. And it’s a good thing at that, because Mingi can’t seem to even get words out as he looks down at you. You nudge his knees apart and scoot forward a bit more, eyes not leaving Mingi’s. As your fingers trail over the waistband of his sweatpants, you hesitate, teasing the fabric by slipping the pads of your fingers under to brush his skin. He shivers under you, body stiffening and jerking under you. “Use your words, Mingi. Do you want me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” he spits out without hesitation. You dig your fingers further into his skin at the words, and his whole body jerks again. “Fuck yes.”

You hum in response then bring your gaze off his to focus more on the growing tent in his pants. With a small tug, you bring the band of his sweatpants down, and Mingi helps you pull them further down by pushing your hands to the side and yanking them himself. You laugh at the eagerness in his actions, hands coming to rest on his thighs once he’s settled back against the couch again.

“Can you suck me off?” Mingi asks as you run the blunts of your nails up and down his thighs.

“I’m getting there, baby. Be patient.” Shifting your fingers to the blue fabric of his underwear, you leave a trail of feather light touches over the outline of his cock. You’re barely touching him and yet he’s writhing under you already, thighs tensing. “Mingi~” You sing under your breath. 

You place your palm directly over the bulge in his underwear, squeezing gently, and when he groans at the contact, you grin. Part of you wants to tease a bit longer, play a bit more and send Mingi into a frenzy. The brat in you wants that at least, but as much as you want to be put in place, Mingi deserves a good reward for working so hard all the time. With a small hum, you decide to put Mingi out of his misery and pull back the elastic of his underwear. His breath hitches as the cold air hits his dick. 

You lean forward, hand wrapping around the base of his dick, and you bring the tip to your mouth. Mingi exhales. 

“What’s wrong, Mingi?” You ask as you press a kiss to his head then linger there, warm breath over him. “Want me to stop?”

“No, please don’t stop. Please.” Mingi’s small begs egg you on. You flatten your tongue against the head of his cock then slip the whole tip between your lips, offering a small suck as soon as he’s in your mouth. “F-Fuck, Y/N.” You give him a few seconds to relish in your small sucks before pulling off and dribbling a line of saliva over him. “Fuck, that’s hot. Holy sh–ah!” 

You don’t give him time to breathe or finish the thought, instead you drop your lips over him once again, this time taking half of him into your mouth. You hesitate there and massage the flat of your tongue against the underside of his dick while looking up at Mingi through heavily lidded eyes. 

“God, you take me so well. Fuck, look at your pretty little mouth around me.” Mingi groans as he watches you work, your cheeks hollowing around him as you bob up and down. “Baby, can you take me deeper? Please?” 

You hum around his, the vibrations sending a trail of goosebumps across his skin. Still, you do as asked and slip him further into your mouth, and as much as you try to bottom out, he hits the back of your throat before you’re able to take him all in. You go to move off of him, tongue already curled and twisted around his dick, but Mingi brings a hand to the back of your head instead and holds you there for a few more seconds. 

“Hold on, baby, hold on. I just wanna–I wanna–ah fuck, you feel so good.” The distraction of pleasure allows for you to pull off of him, dick slipping between your lips with a loud pop. 

“Hm? What’s wrong, baby?” You curl your fingers around him tighter, squeezing the base of his cock until he’s whining. “I just wanna make you feel good.” A laugh slips between your lips before you take him back into your mouth, sucking harshly at him until he welps under you. 

“Ah! Ah, Y/N, hold on. Hold on, wait, ah I don’t wanna cum yet!” Mingi squirms, and the slight desperation in his tone gives you incentive to pull off and slowly jerk him instead. Your spit is slick against him, helping you jerk him. As you slow your strokes, he whines and tries to relax his muscles. 

“Mingi,” you say a moment later.

“A-ah, ye-yes?” You glance up at Mingi’s face, finding his brows furrowed in concentration, and he doesn’t look down at your face; rather, his focus is on the hand around his cock that slowly curves and strokes around him in an all too teasing manner.

“I want you to cum in my mouth. I wanna swallow it.” The words have a visceral reaction on Mingi, his whole body tensing the second he relaxes, and you feel his dick twitch under your hand. You bite back a laugh at his reaction, and honestly the desire to laugh leaves you immediately when you see the glint in Mingi’s eyes. He pushes your hand off him, one of his own taking it’s place, the other still on the back of your head. 

“Suck,” he demands as he pushed his cock closer to you. 

You don’t hesitate in taking him back into your mouth and flattening your tongue against him. Mingi guides your head across him which leaves you to simply suck away at him as asked while he bobs your head up and down. Either you’re sucking him better than you thought or something about the whole image below him is really getting to him, because only a few moments pass before he’s quaking under your mouth. The grip on your hair lessens the closer he gets to orgasming, and that honestly only prompts you to suck harder. And then, moments later, he’s letting out a low groan that quickly drifts into a high-pitched whine. His cum is hot as it spills down your throat, and you nearly choke around him before swallowing the rest of his load.

“Fuck,” Mingi mutters as he watches you swallow around him, popping of his cock with a small smile. “That was hot as hell, baby.”

“Hm, I’m glad to hear it. Are you ready to go to bed now?” You sit back on your heels. Bringing a finger to your lips, you wipe away the excess saliva dripping down your chin. Mingi’s gaze stays on you, eyes carefully following the movements of your fingers across your lips. He leans down and tilts your chin upwards to press his lips to yours. He hums into the kiss then swipes his tongue across your bottom lip.

“I think I have a few more things I’d like to do to you first.”

…

a/n: hi goodbye i’m leaving YEEHAW can’t believe i wrote this trash

also ignore this pos imagine it’s my first time writing smut EVER

[soda-drabbles]

Doodle Break | Arin x Reader

Request by @nonsense-on-main : Tiny lil x reader thing where Arin finds a drawing of him that you did and you get super embarrassed about it but he absolutely loves it (and possibly gets a lil flustered but like in a good way)?

Type : Fluff

Pairing : Arin x Reader

Art was always your passion. Growing up, your sketchbooks and pencils were your best friends. During recess, instead of playing with other kids on the slide or playing tag, you sat on the ground with your pencil and paper and doodled whatever you liked. Nothing about it has changed much since then other than you just don’t draw as much since you’re an adult now and working a full time job.

That still never stopped you from bringing your sketchbook and a pen during your spare breaks, drawing whatever was on your mind. The break room was your preferred and perfect place to get some good sketching done while you ate. You even had your own special spot, one farthest away which worked well since you were a little insecure about others seeing your art.

Thankfully, the room looks fairly empty today. You assume your co-workers went out for lunch this time and with a ding on your phone, your suspicions were correct. A message notification was staring you back in the face, from Jory specifically.

‘We’re gonna get some McDonald’s so let us know what you want. ‘

With your free hand, you type out what you want and hit send. Afterwards, you place your phone back in it’s pocket. Although you’ve been to the break room plenty of times, it never ceases to satisfy you with how peacefully quiet it can be. Which is honestly laughable, considering that rooms over Dan and Arin were probably giggling themselves shitless right now.

Thinking about it now, your mind drifted to Arin. Nothing that unusual nowadays, as he took over most of the thoughts.

His name pops into your head and you can’t help but sway a little. As cheesy as that was, nothing was cheesier than the fact that you actually ended up drawing him more. It sounds like it’d be better suited for some high school Disney movie. Yet here you were, flipping through many already drawn pages to a new clean one.

Your pencil traces out the features you can remember. His broad nose, those delicate eyes, his warm soft smile. Things that for some reason you can’t forget, the little details. Sometimes you found yourself getting annoyed after drawing, as if somehow drawing him over and over will make you forget about him. Of course it doesn’t, and sometimes you’re glad for that.

“Holy shit, where is everybody?”

Speak of the devil.

“Uh, I, they-“ Your words nearly trip over themselves, an underlying guilty tone in them as if you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. “They went out to grab something.”

“Shit, really?” He groans, as if he’s been betrayed. Your eyes watch as he brought his hand through his hair in a frustrated manner, the blonde streak and brunette being pushed back. Your throat dries, the muscle under his arm clenches and you notice. “You didn’t go with them?”

“Nah,” You clear your throat, tapping the table repeatedly with the eraser of your pencil. “Jory texted me like, five minutes ago, asking me what I wanted. I thought he would’ve texted you or something.”

His hand falls from his face to his pocket, the once held up ball of hair falling back around him. Arin’s once frustrated expression settles into a relieved one, one that is also a little annoyed with himself. “My phone was on silent,” Another Arin groan. He quickly texts them back and his phone returns to his pocket. The attention is back on you now, as he walks over. “What’s on the drawing menu today?” He takes it upon himself to lean over the table some, elbows resting on the table. It wasn’t unlike him to ask something like that. Working at the Grumps office for nearly a year brought you guys close, a lot closer since video games and art were something you had in common.

Still, in this case, this art was on the secret menu for your eyes only. Your arms were over your work nearly instantly, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. You can’t imagine how red you must look right now.

Arin’s eyes slightly widen and he teases, “Dude, if you’re drawing hardcore porn, at least let me give an opinion on it.”

A soft crack fell on your flushed face, lips curving into a bit of a smile. Maintaining your serious look was hard, especially when Arin decides to crack jokes like that. Jokes that were meant to fluster you. “It’s not porn, Ar. It’s not really anything bad but..”

He laughs and puts on a dramatic scrunched pouty face that made you snort. “Not even if I say pretty please?”

“Especially not that. God, don’t ever make that face again.”

His face falls back to a neutral yet pouty face. Your heart is practically heaving in your chest but the relief settles in. You think that you may have ceased his curiosity or at least put it off. Now though, his eyes were practically setting on you and the gears in his head were turning. Problem was that they’re looking more curious than before.

“Ah!-“ A light feathery poke near your side was all it took for your arms to jolt downward, drawing a sharp gasp from you. You were hugging yourself at this point, to defend yourself from any new attacks. “Arin!-“ Your scolding falls short, eyes landing on your now bare sketch of Arin for all to see. Your eyes fart away and the heat that fills your cheeks is immaculate.

Thankfully, with your head turning the other way, it was impossible to see how he looked right now. You really weren’t sure if you want to either. Sure, he was a popular Internet personality and yeah, you were sure he’s seen his fair share of fan art (some dirtier than others) but still, this held a much more deeper meaning to you. Especially since you have a crush on the guy. At some point, you gather to courage to finally look at him. Instead of the look you expected him to have, Arin was seemingly stunned. About what is something you’re unsure of.

“When did you draw this?” He asks, bringing the sketchbook a bit closer to him. “Is this me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes ago.” You find yourself murmuring now. “Yeah, it’s uh, it’s you. Why?”

Arin breathlessly chuckles, in awe. “Dude, this is fucking amazing for five minutes. I also gotta say, I look hella handsome in your style~.” Although he’s teasing you right now, you turn to get another look and he looks sort of, what’s the word, flustered? It’s a look you’ve only seen Arin have once or twice.

“So you like it?” You ask, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. “If it’s weird, you can tell me. Seriously, I-“

He shuts you up by giving your shoulder a firm pat. “I think it looks awesome. Seriously.” He smiles, a light tint of pink dusting across his face. A part of you knew he wasn’t lying and the relief dawns on you once again. Another part of you knew that you probably shouldn’t worry as much as you do, as things usually went the opposite from what you assumed they were.

“McDonald’s train coming through!” calls Jory, who comes bustling through with a bag of McDonald’s that holds yours and Arin’s order.

Arin’s hand leaves your shoulder to grab the bag, leaving the spot warm and tingly. “Thanks, Jory.” He says, sitting the bag on the table.

“Woah, that’s really good, (Y/N)!” Jory exclaims upon seeing your ‘doodle’. “I knew that you drew in your free time but— wow.”

You awkwardly laugh, not being as flustered as you were when Arin got to see. Arin smiles again, sounding like a proud dad. “They’ve got talent. No other artist has been able to capture the Hanson essence like (Y/N)~”

“...Anyways.” You say after letting Arin’s cocky comment sit a moment of silence, which brought the burliest of laughs from him. Your heart sort of flutters. The fact that you can make a man like him laugh like that kind of brings you hope about your little love situation.

[unicyclehippo]

ollie holy shit!!! i NEED a follow-up to that one. you know the one. beau overhearing jester talking to her mama. please and thank you

by the time she returns to the chateau, beau is pleasantly sore all over and the warmth of exertion has burned away any remnant of a hangover. she swipes a bead of sweat from the tip of her nose as she climbs the front steps of the chateau, only to stagger back when the door is flung open before her.

‘whoa!’ is all she gets out before jester is pulling her inside with a force that nearly pulls beau clean off her feet. she staggers into the bar, hand slipping wet on the wood. ‘warn a girl or somethin’, jes, god! what was that for?’

‘where have you been?’ jester demands.

there’s a note in her tone that catches beau’s attention—worry, just the faintest strain of it but beau looks over to her and then around the hall, searching for any signs of a fight or blood or anything because, fuck, yeah, maybe she shouldn’t have left them alone, not when they have seen for themselves how fucking creepy and batshit fireball happy caleb’s old crew was, and they know about marion, about the chateau and—

‘is everyone okay? what’s wrong? who—is everyone okay?’

jester’s glare sharpens to a point before abruptly ending. ‘everyone’s fine, beau,’ she says, incredibly gently. ‘i just went to my room and you were gone. i couldn’t find you anywhere.’ her eyes skim over beau and she’s imagining the purpled flush that dusts jester’s cheeks, definitely, as she lingers on beau’s arms and exposed abs.

‘like what you see?’ beau teases. she leans back against the bar. slips with a, ‘ah! fuck!’ as her sweat makes posturing hazardous, makes her elbows slip from holding her up and cracking her shoulder against the edge of the bar. ‘ow!’

‘very sexy,’ jester confirms, laughing. ‘do you want me to—‘

‘no, it’s fine.’ beau hauls herself up. twists to try and see how bad it is, though the placement of it makes that impossible. she untwisted—and sucks in a surprised breath to find jester standing no more than ten, fifteen centimetres from her. ‘uh. hi.’

jester smiles, slow and warm and the smile grows until it crinkles the corners of her eyes. ‘good morning, beau. turn around.’

‘uh.’ she thinks about arguing. but jester letting her smile drop and arching a brow in its stead is both surprisingly scary and super hot so beau nods. ‘yup. okay.’ she spins in place. arm brushing against jester as the other girl steps in again, seeming to want to peer closely at beau’s skin for a bruise. ‘are you going to breathe on it or heal it?’ beau asks jokingly, craning her head to see what exactly jester is doing.

‘why?’ jester asks, a warm curl of amusement in the word. she looks up from the bruise, eyes glittering as they meet beau’s over her shoulder. ‘do i make you—‘ the glint in her eyes brightens. ‘uncomfortable?’

beau rolls her eyes. ‘no.’

‘hmm.’

jester’s hand comes up, strokes over the flat plane of beau’s shoulder blade. her skin is very cold against beau—who feels superheated after her run and now that she’s standing in what has been perhaps featured in a few dreams before, trapped between jester and a hard surface—and it makes her shiver.

there’s no way that she could have missed it, or the way beau tenses afterwards. there’s an apology on the tip of her tongue but she loses it on a shaky exhale when jester flattens her whole palm against her shoulder. murmurs a word, and pushes the prickling, itching, warmth of her healing magic into beau.

‘better?’

‘It was a bruise,’ beau says, almost scolds.

jester clicks her tongue. ‘better? where are you manners, beau?’

‘must’ve forgot to pick ‘em up before my run,’ beau laughs, and she rolls out her shoulder to test it. it doesn’t ache at all. it tingles, because jester’s hand is still fully on her and she had somehow forgotten that, pressed her entire shoulder back into her. she covers her mistake with a, ‘thanks, jes. feels good.’

‘uh huh.’

beau frowns back at jester. ‘can i move?’

‘please.’

‘i mean, like, move. like leave? i need to shower.’

‘you’re fine,’ jester tells her, voice certain and strange. ‘you’re, like, super muscly. i can see all of them when you move like that.’ she sounds—beau swallows. breathless? she is an artist, so maybe— ‘that’s hot.’

beau swallows again. cranes her head back to see dark eyes fixed on her back. she presses her shoulders together—it’s an experiment, she’s a scholar, her whole thing is figuring things out, right, and she’s never wanted to know anything more than she wants to know what’s going on in jester’s head right now—and jester’s eyes widen. her fingers slide over the compact, powerful muscles. she doesn’t seem to mind the sweat.

beau rolls her shoulders out, grimaces when she hears the click of everything sorting itself out.

jester makes a small sound, skates her fingers over the sensitive line of beau’s spine and steps away.

‘okay then! i’m going to finish packing up and caleb is going to take us to home real quick and don’t forget to pick up those ribbons mama found for you, i know you thought they were froufrou-y but they’re really very cute and um - you should shower and i will get some pastries okay bye!’

jester is halfway up the stairs before beau finishes turning around. she looks thoughtfully after her friend and follows more sedately, climbing the stairs one at a time instead of her usual two.

passing marion’s chambers, she finds the door ajar and she raps her knuckles upon it, presses it further open when marion calls out.

‘ah, beauregard. good morning. won’t you come in?’

‘nah - i mean, good morning. i’m all sweaty, i don’t wanna mess up your rooms. just came to say, y’know, thanks for having us and—‘ she hesitates.

marion lowers her quill, catches beau’s eyes in the reflection of her mirror. ‘and?’

beau cuts her eyes away. returns after a moment. ‘for taking the time off. to spend with jester. i know you’re busy, but she really appreciated it. she loves you a lot, so. just. thanks.’

‘you needn’t thank me for spending time with my own daughter. of course i’ll make time for her.’

beau wonders how much jester has told her about kamordah, about her own family. a lot, probably, so she only feels slightly queasy when she shakes her head and says, ‘not everyone would. jes is lucky to have you.’

‘thank you, beauregard. that’s very kind of you.’

marion sets her quill aside then and stands in a flurry of rustling skirts. she mustn’t be wearing shoes yet, or at least not anything dramatic, because beau can’t hear the tap of heels, and she smiles. there’s something oddly sweet about the image in her mind, the woman dressed to the nines and barefoot still.

‘at least have some tea. the baths are engaged at the moment,’ she says, a little apologetic.

‘ah. alright. if you don’t mind.’ beau flushes under marion’s amused stare—the only reminder she gives beau that she had invited her in only moments before—and pushes the door more fully open, steps inside. she accepts the fine cup marion gives her but doesn’t sit with her, well aware of how sweaty she still is. ‘thanks. thank you.’

they sit—and stand—in companionable silence for a short time. the sound of morning rises from the kitchen, pots and pans clattering, knives chopping on heavy boards, and from above in the groan of pipes and faint singing. beau’s eyes slide up and to the east, to where jester’s room sits; she recognises the voice, of course, and can’t help but smile.

‘jester was up very early this morning,’ marion tells her. beau nods. ‘she came to me under the guise of not wanting to miss a moment with me.’

‘i dunno that it’s much of a lie. she misses you heaps.’

marion inclines her head. ‘but surely you have noticed that jester can do one thing and intend another.’

‘you mean have i noticed she’s a sneak?’ beau snorts. sips her tea. ‘yeah. i’ve noticed.’

the dry words elicit a laugh from marion; she smiles over her own cup at beau. then says, quite cheerfully, ‘she wanted to talk about you, as it turns out.’

beau pales. grips the handle of her cup tight and the delicate thing snaps, spills hot water over her fingers. ‘i don’t—think you should tell me this.’

‘and why not? you heard at least some of it.’

‘i—no—i didn’t mean to,’ beau says as clearly as she can, which is hard when her chest has closed up tight around her lungs.

marion’s smile curves. her eyes gleam. ‘so it was you.’

beau squeezes her eyes shut tight. ‘you’ve got to be kidding me. oldest trick in the fucking book—yeah,’ she bites out. ‘i heard a bit. i—don’t—i didn’t mean to, i just came to tell jes to pick up after herself—‘

‘i don’t figure you as an eavesdropper,’ marion assures her, waves her hand dismissively. beau grimaces and marion corrects herself. ‘not when it comes to jester, or your friends, in any case.’

that...is a little more accurate. beau nods. her neck feels tight and hot.

‘how much did you hear?’

‘enough.’ marion doesn’t seem to count that as an answer so beau sighs. ‘enough to know i need to...reel it back in.’

‘pardon?’

‘you know. stop making a fool of myself over her. i don’t—i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable.’

‘ah,’ marion says. ‘so you didn’t hear everything.’

‘huh?’

‘never you mind.’ she cocks her head to the side. ‘the bath is free.’

beau sets her now empty and broken cup back down. she walks from the room stiff-backed and up to the baths, not taking in any of the detail of the mosaics or the lush products. she scrubs and washes mechanically and tries not to think, because it hurts when her mind feels split in two between the knowledge that she should never and can never tell jester how she feels, and the strange morning she has had that seems to imply that both lavorre women disagree.

[aatsms]

My Turn To Fix You (Connor x Reader)

This is my first fanfic that I have ever written so pls be nice! I know it’s long but tbh I wrote this mostly for myself lol. It basically follows the story of a CyberLife engineer (the reader) and our boy Connor! I plan to write multiple chapters for this if anyone actually becomes interested lol!  

Chapter 1

Work at the station had been more intense than usual these past three weeks. Protesters  had been extra violent  in Detroit, protesting against the manufacturing of androids. They usually took their anger out on the police androids in the streets. You guess it made them feel more powerful to rough up an android that was supposed to act as a type of authority. You thought it was kind of pathetic and pointless to cause so much damage to android simply doing its job. It also gave you a shit ton more work than usual since you were the CyberLife engineer working at the Detroit PD to repair any police android that might need it. Police androids are only used for basic police work, such as giving tickets, stoping pick pocketers on the street, and staying alert of anything that might be suspicious or threatening. They don't even carry a gun or weapons, serving more as an extra eye for cops on duty. Connor, the RK800 that works with Hank, is the only android that acts as a fully working detective, able to have a weapon and upgraded with CyberLife's most advance technology.

 You had to admit, he was incredibly impressive. When you had received the blueprints and manuals on his wiring before he first arrived at the station, you found yourself actually a bit overwhelmed. He barely used any parts that were similar to the ones that most androids used, and his wiring was so intricate. He was the most advanced model of android you had ever seen. It took you a few days to get comfortably familiar with his systems so you would be prepared to fix him up if ever he needed it once he arrived. You figured you would be seeing him a lot since he was the only android in the front line of  dangerous work. 

Tonight is the first Friday in a long time you can remember being able to actually leave work on time. It was honestly a miracle. It seemed there was always paper work that needed filling out or an android that needed tending to. It was nice to be home on your couch, under a warm blanket, with food that wasn't takeout for a change, and all by 11:30. You were swiping through an article on the debate of weather android police dogs should also be used in police departments. It seems unlikely. At least until it is confirmed by CyberLife that they are reliable; that they can't disobey their orders or even go deviant. (If that's even possible for android animals.) You were thankful either way because android animals would require you to become familiar with a whole new type of engineering. Learning the ins and outs of Connor was enough. 

It was pouring rain as you were reading. The occasional crash of thunder and lightning was almost comforting to you. You began to dose off to the sounds of the familiar Detroit weather outside. You were suddenly jerked awake by a loud crash of thunder. Or at least that's what you thought woke you up. Standing in the frame of your front door was the RK800 android from the station. He had forced open the door, breaking the lock, and was completely soaked from the rain. He was hunched over, clutching his torso. His LED was flashing bright red. 

"Connor?! What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Sorry for the unannounced visit y/n. I hope it's not an inconvenience."

  You were suddenly aware of the massive flow of blue blood seeping from his midsection. He could barely stand. You rushed over to help him stay upright. 

"Oh my god Connor what happened?!

"Do you think maybe we could talk about the details once i'm not losing an unsafe amount of thirium?" 

"Right, right, right." You were trying to take deep breaths and not panic. He really looked like shit. "I have a  room in the back with a workbench and a whole bunch of extra android parts and emergency thirium. Let's get you back there fast."

You put his right arm around your neck to help him stand and used your other hand to apply pressure to the general area where he was bleeding. Based on the amount of blue his shirt was drenched in, you could tell he was wounded in multiple places. You quickly helped him as he limped to the back room.

 You shoved aside half finished diagnostic reports and old projects off the work bench and helped Connor onto it. His entire shirt was now covered in blue blood. 

"Connor, you're going to need to take off your shirt for this one. I can't even tell where the hell you're bleeding from!" He began to undress as you frantically searched for your crate with supplies to perform a blue blood transfusion. You were not used to having to repair androids at your own house. This was the first time anything like this had happened. You were wondering how the hell Connor even knew where you lived. 

Finally, you found the crate with the supplies you were looking for. Quickly, you turned around, looking directly at a shirtless Connor on your work bench. You weren't sure why, but you felt yourself freeze for a moment, taken aback by the android sitting in front of you. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about him that was so intriguing in that moment. Maybe it was the fact that he was in such incredible shape. You weren't sure why you weren't expecting him to be so ripped. "I mean of course he is." you thought.  "Why wouldn't CyberLife give their newest super weapon abs y/n??" You chuckled to yourself a little under your breath at your own thoughts.

"Is everything alright y/n?" He seemed more concerned about you than the flow of thirium leaving his body.

"Ya sorry, I just... I don't know. Let's get you fixed." You shook away your thoughts and began to focus on the task at hand.

You immediately began work on him, having to use his shirt to wipe the blood from his abdomen so you could get a sense of where all the blue blood was coming from. You discovered 4 bullet holes. "Holy shit Connor what were you doing?"

"Well, my mission didn't go exactly how I expected" he managed to huff out. You could tell the loss of thirium was starting to catch up to him. God only knows how long it took him to find your house after he was shoot. 

Once you cleaned up enough of the thirium to see what you were doing, you began to work on assessing the damage and removing the bullets. You also decided to try to get some answers.

"You must have really pissed someone off for them to have shot you 4 times."

 "Well I imagine getting caught while dealing 20 pounds of red ice would be rather aggravating."

"20 pounds?! How do you even come across 20 pounds if red ice?"

"That's why I was put on this case. They want me to find out where exactly these dealers are finding so much red ice."

"Alright Connor, i'm removing the first bullet now. Be ready to apply pressure."

His LED flashed a quick red as you removed the first bullet. He barely flinched, letting out nothing but a silent grunt. You proceeded to the next bullet.

 "You're lucky you got here so quickly. Any longer and there would have been nothing I could do. How did you even find my apartment?"

"I knew I wouldn't be able to find you in the precinct because I overheard you talking to detective Reed that you were planing on getting home early tonight. I knew my mission tonight was dangerous so I saved your address in my database in case of emergency."

You let out a small laugh and smiled up at him. "You're lucky you were listening in." 

"My programming requires me to be listening to any conversations happening around me within a 20 foot radius."

You thought about what he just said as you finally reached the second bullet. You and Reed were on the other side of the precinct, opposite of where Connor's desk is, when you told him your plans of leaving early. Connor was at his desk, definitely farther than 20 feet away, when you were talking to Gavin. Was Connor....trying to listen to your conversation? Why? You shook the thought from your mind.

"Okay, next bullet out in 3..2...." You removed the second bullet right under his rib. This time he had to brace himself slightly by grabbing the edge of the bench. You put your hand on his shoulder.

 "You good?"

"Yeah" he huffed as he placed his hand over yours on his shoulder. "Move onto the next bullet, i'll be fine." 

You were amazed by how calm he was, considering you were on the edge of having a full fledged panic attack. Quickly, you moved to the spot of the third and fourth bullet. They were relatively close to each other.

"Thank god they didn't hit your thirium pump. It's hard to find those parts for a standard android, let alone an RK800. I don't think I even have one that would fit your model here in my office." 

"You're smart y/n. You would have figured something out."

You tried to convince yourself you believed that statement. Connor seemed to have a lot of confidence in you. Probably too much you thought.

"Last two Connor. I'm gonna take both out at the same time since they're right next to each other. Get ready." You pulled the bullets from his waist with one last tug. He let out a sharp whine, clenching his eyes shut and grabbing your wrist as you removed the last bullets. His grip on your wrist was surprisingly gentle and warm. You forgot that the flow of thirium through his body allowed for him to give off at least some body heat. CyberLife really knew how to make these androids seem so human. 

He slowly let go of your wrist, as his LED circled from a wild red back to yellow and then to blue. You let out a sigh of relief. Finally the hard part was over. All that was left to do now was transfuse some blue blood back into his body, and check to make sure none of his parts or wiring was damaged from the shots. He's able to heal over the wound himself with prosthetic skin.

"My diagnostics program is telling me that there doesn't seem to be any major problems. Only minor motor function issues that can be fixed with a system reset."

"You're lucky Connor. You could have been done for shit." You finished setting up your equipment for the transfusion. Thank god you were done. It was now that you realized that you were sweating. You were used to being under  intense pressure, that was part of your job most of the time. But never had it made you this stressed. Connor could have been gone....and it would have been your fault.

You sat yourself down on the center on the floor, laying your legs straight out in front of you and placing your hands behind you for support. For what felt like the first time in the past 20 minutes, you were finally able to catch your breath. You shut your eyes and began to take deep breaths. It was finally over.

"y/n, I noticed that the situation has caused your heart rate to increase rapidly. I'm sorry for any distress I might have caused you. It wasn't my intention." Connor was not knelt down beside you on the floor. His LED was circling yellow from scanning you.

“Of course you didn't, it's not your fault Connor. If anything i'm thankful you got here before it was too late."

He now sat down across from you, sitting perfectly in a criss-cross position. You both sat in silence for the next few seconds, taking the opportunity to rest after everything that just happened.

"Thank you y/n."

You lifted your head to look across at him. It felt like he was staring right into you. You knew he was an android, but the sincerity in his eyes seemed so real. You couldn't help but feel like he meant it. You gave him a warm smile. "No problem Connor." You started to get up from the floor. "And besides" you smirked, "it's kinda my job to save your ass."Connor looked up at you from the floor, the little light on the side of his head circling with blue. "So" you sighed. "What now?"

Connor swiftly stood up from the floor.

"I learned some critical information for Hank and I's investigation tonight, however I doubt he would appreciate a visit from me so late."

You started to clean up the supplies, parts, and thirium from your workbench as you talked to him. "The precinct is always open, you could go there and file everything in the database until tomorrow morning.

"I need to conduct my system reset before I do anything. If too many of my basic functions are down, my programming won't allow me to do much."

"How long does this reset take?"

"Four hours." Connor seemed annoyed with his answer

. 

"You could just do your reset here. If for some reason anything goes wrong or I somehow missed something when fixing you up, you're right here."

He seemed to be considering what you were offering, his LED flashing yellow. "That would seem to be my best option. I hope you don't mind" The sincerity was back in his eyes.

"It's not a problem at all. Plus I'd rather be able to keep an eye on you for the night."

Connor made his way toward you at the workbench, reaching for his jacket. It was then that you realized Connor was still shirtless. You weren't sure why, but you felt slightly embarrassed as he come closer to you. He seemed to notice something was off. He turned to look at you, his face only inches away from yours.

"Is everything ok y/n?" he asked with genuine curiosity in his voice.

You turned your head back to look straight in front of you instead of looking at Connor.

"Ya sorry I...I was just thinking that maybe we should get you some clothes until I get yours washed." You glanced at him with a nervous smile, trying not to look at his bare chest. Even though he was an android, you still felt you needed to be respectful for some reason. Connor turned to look at his once crisp white shirt now covered in a milky blue.

"I would definitely appreciate clothes that aren't covered in my own thirium."

[assbuttyourlife]

When We Were Young - Chapter Nine

Pairing : Misha/OFC

Warnings : Fire, trauma, PTSD, family members’ death (including child), therapy, flashbacks (not in every chapter), injuries, cheating. Long fic. Angst, fluff, Smut (yes, it’s finally here, I’m nervous)

Words : 4265

Summary : After her grandmother’s funeral, Lily must return to the place she lived in when she was young and has to confront the ghosts of her past. She will run into an old friend that she thought was lost forever.

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CHAPTER NINE - BACK TO FRANCE

Lily and Katie were ready to fly to France. Katie was so excited to see her family again that she could have cried. She planned to stay with them the whole weekend while Lily would join Misha in Rome on Saturday, and they'd both be back on Tuesday for work.

“Do we have I direct flight?” Lily asked nervously. “Yes ma’am.” “I hate flying...” She whined, fidgeting on her seat while waiting for the plane to start moving. “Poor baby. Brace yourself, it's gonna be a long trip!”

And it was indeed a very long flight. It lasted almost fifteen hours, but Lily had been smart enough to take sleeping pills with her so she was all fresh when they arrived in Nice on Friday morning.

In the taxi driving them to Katie's place, Lily turned her phone back on and was startled to hear it buzzing constantly. She had tons of Twitter notifications and was suddenly very suspicious. When she opened her Twitter app, she turned to look at her best friend with a furious look on her face. If looks could kill, Katie would be dead by now.

“What the hell did you do?” She sneaked at her phone innocently. “What? I was bored and couldn't sleep.”

Of course she had to take a picture of her while she was sleeping in the plane, looking totally ridiculous and gross with her mouth wide open, and post it online, tagging Misha who retweeted and replied back!

@mishacollins What a stunning piece of art! Isn't she cutest when she drools? @lilyhagen

“People are freaking out now! They wanna know who I am!” “Relax! He'll probably explain. They won't bother you… maybe. Can we please enjoy this weekend?” A spark of mischief appeared on Katie's face when she thought deeper. “Orrrrr.... You could reply something super embarrassing about him so he will have to explain that to his fans in Rome and you’ll be fine!”

Lily rolled her eyes but considered it for a few seconds before shaking her head. “No, no, I... actually I have a revenge to take but... no, no I can't do that. You're a bad influence Katie, shut up now!”

Katie giggled happily but didn’t protest, knowing it was completely true. If Lily had to compare her to someone else, she would probably say that she was the female version of Darius, always getting her in trouble for something she usually didn’t do or wasn’t responsible for. She hadn’t thought about Darius for something like twenty years, he was her and Misha’s friend when they were young, but she sadly never kept in touch with him after she moved to Europe, and she suddenly wondered where he was or what he was doing at this moment.

“Alright, so let’s embrace my bad influence on you… What would you actually say if you had to find an embarrassing story about Misha?” “Are you trying to extort some dirty gossip from me or something?” “Nooo! I would never do that... You didn't answer the question though... I mean you probably have some stories about him that he wouldn't be proud of... considering you were young I assume he was your first... you know... and the first time is often... well...”

Lily's eyes widened when she understood what Katie was suggesting. “Who do you think I am? We were fifteen; of course he was the first!”

Katie shifted a little closer to her friend, very interested in this conversation. “How was it?” she whispered, winked and nudged at her with a dirty smirk on her face.

Lily had to roll her eyes at that typical demonstration of Katie's boldness, always putting her nose in others life, especially when it came to the naughty details. Lily tried to remember and pictured the scene in her mind though, and Katie didn’t miss the smile appearing on her face when she did. “It was... not as bad as I expected.” “What? That’s it? Oh, come on, Lily, you gotta give me something, it's me! You know I won't tell anyone! At least... where?” Lily sighed deeply but complied, trying not to give too much away. “In the barn you saw at the farm.”

Katie clapped her hands, almost bouncing on the car seat. “Oooh, not even in a bed, that's dangerous for a first time! I like! So... How fast was it? Did you... enjoy?” “Holy shit, Katie! That's personal, I won't say more, you know too much already, you perv.”

Katie leaned back in her seat, crossed her arms and pouted.

Good. Now she'll be quiet.

Lily leaned her head on the cab window, remembering that day while looking out absentmindedly.

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

October 1989 – Northfield.

Misha offered his hand to help her climbing up the ladder.

It was already late that day, and the sun was gone, so it was quite dark inside the car barn. Only a few weak bulbs were lit, giving the place a nice warm and cozy atmosphere, which was perfect for the occasion.

He wanted to give something to Lily, but he didn't want to be disturbed by his or her family. He originally planned to give it to her up on their willow tree, but as it was raining and a little chilly outside, he decided climbing inside the barn would be alright too. It was the end of the day, so he knew nobody would come here.

She sat on the hay and winced. “Oh, damn! It stings!” Misha laughed. “That's why I planned everything!” He showed her the patchwork blanket that she always had on her bed. He took it with him, knowing he would have to use it because it was a bit cold, but he actually laid it on the hay so Lily could sit comfortably.

“So... I needed some privacy, because I made something a while ago with your grandfather and now I want you to have it.” “Oh... That's sweet. What is it?”

Misha searched his pocket and got out a braided wooden ring from it. Lily's eyes widened. “You're giving me a ring? What's the occasion?” “Well, we've known each other for years and I never gave you anything while you and your family gave us everything... It's almost ridiculous compared to what you did for us, but I thought it would also... I don't know... symbolize our relationship or something.”

When she didn’t move or say anything, he thought maybe he would need to explain a little bit more. “Don’t worry, I’m not proposing or anything. I just wanted to thank you and that’s all I can give you. I just thought maybe you’d like it.”

She gave him a tender smile, touched by the fact that he was always so nice with her. He had this particular way of showing people how much he cared, just with small attentions like those, and she actually felt special.

She extended her right hand. “Does it fit?” Misha smiled back, relieved to see she was accepting the gift. “I don't even know.”

He slid it on her right middle finger but it was too large. He did it again on her index finger, then on her thumb, but it wouldn’t fit, it was definitely too big for her long and thin fingers. She saw a glimpse of disappointment in Misha's eyes.

“It's fine, I'll wear it as a necklace. I love it!” She leaned forward and placed a quick but tender kiss on his lips. “I love you.” She whispered.

When she realized what she’d just said, she looked down at her new ring, a little embarrassed. They had been dating for a few months now, but they hadn't said that to each other yet. She didn’t even know why she said it, she just didn’t think about it, it just slipped through her mouth like it was natural, but she suddenly wondered if she’d scared him.

She couldn’t even look at him anymore, which was a shame, because if she did, she would’ve seen Misha's smile couldn't be wider. He placed his index finger under her chin and raised it up a little bit, so he could look at her in the eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

Good question… Did she? She never really thought about it before, they knew each other for so long, it felt so good every time they were together, and it was so natural that she never had to deeply think about those things. It was just normal for her, he was here, and she felt good, happy and complete.  When he was away, she felt sad and empty, like some part of her was missing.

Was it love? Was it supposed to feel that way? To be honest, it probably was. She didn’t know a lot about this, but she couldn’t think about something stronger. She could easily imagine him being by her side for the rest of her life, and it was probably how true love was defined.

She sank into his blue eyes. “Yes… I mean it.”

Misha’s face lit up again with a huge smile that reached his eyes. “I love you too, Lily Hagen.” She didn't even have the time to smile back before he crashed his lips on hers.

That kiss was different. They had kissed a million times before, but this one was full of passion, and now she knew, full of love. Misha licked her lower lip, silently asking her to open her mouth, which she gladly did, and they explored each other's tongue eagerly.

Lily wrapped her arms around his neck while she laid back on the blanket, bringing him down on the floor with her, and they soon found each other lying down, still kissing hungrily.

Misha's hand traveled down her side, and he didn't even realize his hand had slid under her shirt, but he heard her moan softly in his mouth when he caressed her rib cage.

He broke the kiss, his hand not moving, and he observed her for a few seconds, not doing anything.

“I'm the luckiest guy in the world.” He stated, still eating her with his sparkling eyes. “Kiss me again.” She whispered. She couldn't get enough of his touch; she wanted him to touch her everywhere while kissing her.

He hesitated a second but finally leaned his head down and brushed his lips on hers. One of his hands was gripping her hair at the top of her head, the other still under her shirt, first caressing her stomach, then he slowly moved it up to play with her clothed breast.

They were used to that, it was not the first time they were that intimate, but something changed that day, and Lily wanted more now that she knew he loved her back. She needed to feel him closer to her. She wondered if he felt the same, so she tried something new, boldly placing her hand on his waistband and playing with his jean's button to open it.

Misha's body reacted instantly and he broke the kiss to grab her wrist. “What... what are you doing?” She stared back at him with a hungry look but blushed a little, thinking maybe she had been too harsh. “I... I want you, Misha... Please.”

Again, Misha's whole body reacted and she saw him twitch a little, definitely turned on by the fact she just begged him. They’d never been shy around each other, but she had never been that bold before and he sure liked it a lot. He was a little nervous though, not wanting to mess this up, he knew she wanted more than the usual touching.

The hand that was in her hair caressed her forehead tenderly as he leaned down to kiss her passionately. His mouth traveled to her jawline this time, leaving open wet kisses as he moved on top of her, trying not to crush her under his weight.

Instinctively, she slowly spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist, moaning loudly when she felt his clothed erection against her. She couldn't help herself, she ground her hips against his crotch, feeling the need for pressure growing, and it was Misha's time to moan, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Lily felt her breath quickening. Her head fell back and she grabbed a hand full of his hair and pushed his face deeper on her neck. She needed to feel his heat and his kisses all over her.

Misha sucked on her neck, right under her right ear, and she gasped, loving the sensation. It would definitely leave a mark, but she didn't care. She laid a hand on his back and gently stroked down to grab the edge of his shirt and lift it. Misha understood and helped her, taking his shirt off.

She laid her hands on his bare chest and caressed down to his stomach, then reached behind to stroke on his back, gently pushing so he would lay down and resume kissing her, but he didn't. He grabbed her shirt and lifted it too. She raised her arms above her head and helped him taking it off.

Misha slowly leaned down and left an open kiss right above her right breast. When she shivered and moaned, he understood she liked that a lot, so he did the same with the left breast, and she moaned once more. God, how he loved the noises she made!

Misha ground his hips and stroked his still clothed erection between her legs, and the whimper that escaped her mouth was so loud that she slapped a hand on it. He wanted to hear it again though, so he grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head. The dark look he gave her when he saw her pinned like that under his own body was full of lust.

Lily put her free arm around his waist and slid her hand to cup his ass, pushing down for him to do it again. He bent down to bite on her earlobe, and pushed his hips forward one more time, moaning in her ear.

When she whimpered again, he almost lost it. He moved back up and knelt between her legs, then reached out for her jean to unzip it. He pushed down delicately, staring at her in the process to check if she was okay with it. When her pants reached her knees, she helped him and took it off completely.

“Your turn.” she whispered as she reached for his waistband once again. Misha was done wasting time, eager to feel her soft and warm skin against his, so he took his pants off quickly, placed his hands on her knees, slowly spread her legs and gently kissed her inner thigh, then her lower stomach. She breathed heavily as he kissed his way up to her rib cage, clothed breasts and finally reached for her neck, licking and sucking on it. When he pressed his body down on hers again, he gasped when he felt her warm wetness through her underwear.

She took his face in both her hands and pressed a wet open kiss on his lips. He kissed her back desperately, and she ground her hips again and again, unable to stop as the feeling of his hard bulge on her sensitive spot was too good.

“Oh God, Lily...” Misha placed his hands on the side of her hips, forcing her to stop moving. “If you keep doing this I will... Ugh!” he didn't have the time to finish his sentence as Lily's hand grabbed his boxer's waistband and pushed down to free his huge erection. “I need you now, Misha.”

It was not the first time she saw him naked, but she knew this time would be different. She oddly felt relaxed though, and she couldn't wait any longer. Every cell of her body wanted him. “I don't have any con-” “I don't care.” She interrupted, placing a finger on his lips.

Now that wasn't very safe... He knew she was a virgin so she was clean, and he was too, but still, he wasn't ready to eventually be a father! “Lily, that's not very-” “Misha, I don't care, don't worry, it's fine. We're safe. You trust me, right?” She almost pleaded and he just couldn't resist her any longer. “Of course I do.” He left a quick kiss on her lips and pushed her black panties down before settling clumsily between her legs, his cock right at her entrance, but he didn't push forward, waiting for her instructions. “Are you really sure about that?” He softly asked her, staring into her green eyes, gently stroking her hair. It was torture not to move, he could feel her wetness on the tip of his now bare cock and that sensation alone was maddening.

“Yes. I'm sure. Just... go slow, okay?” “Of course.” He stroked her hair and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You're so beautiful, Lily.” He whispered. She smiled and placed a soft kiss on his lips, then slid her hand between their bodies to reach for his cock. She nodded and guided him, realizing he probably didn’t know exactly how to do it without hurting her. To be honest, she wasn't very confident at this moment either, and she didn't know what to expect, but she tried to act like it.

Misha slowly pushed to enter her just a bit, and her head fell back instantly, both of her hands clinging to his shoulders. A loud moan escaped both their mouths at the same time when they finally felt their bodies connected to each other. Their hearts were racing, and Misha wanted nothing more than to push deeper and move, but he held back for her sake.

He observed her carefully, she was panting, still gripping his shoulders, and her eyes were closed tightly. “Are you okay?” He breathed, a little worried. She opened her eyes and smiled. “Very...” “Just… tell me if I need to stop.”

She relaxed a bit and nodded, so Misha kissed her one more time, pushing deeper inside of her, still very slowly, afraid to hurt her. He grunted in her mouth, not knowing how long he could keep it soft and slow, his whole body was shaking already. The tightness of her walls around his cock and the sounds that escaped her mouth were enough to make him come right away, so it took everything in him to hold back longer as he knew she needed to adjust to his size.

“God! Misha!” She was shaking too now. He was huge! Or she was too tight, she didn't know... It was a very weird and uncomfortable sensation at first. It didn't really hurt like she thought it would, but she could feel a stinging sensation inside of her lower belly.

As he wasn't moving anymore, she took the time to think about what they were actually doing, and her eyes watered. She had the man she loved inside of her, they were one, he was hers and she was so happy!

Misha froze when he saw she was about to cry. “Oh my God, Lily, what's wrong?” She shook her head slightly and smiled. “Nothing... I'm happy...” The relief was obvious on Misha's face. He exhaled and closed his eyes. Lily laid a hand on his lower back, the other on his shoulder. “Keep going, Misha. I'm ready.” She whispered.

He nodded and slowly started to move out of her, not completely though, and the sensation he felt when he fully thrust back inside her was so overwhelming that he started to shake again. He knew he wouldn't last long, but he really wanted her to enjoy it. He was smart enough to know she couldn't enjoy it as much as he was on their first time, but he certainly didn't want to disappoint her.

She surprisingly enjoyed it though. It was not the best sensation at first but she was getting used to it, and she even moaned again when it started to actually feel really good. She could feel his body pressing and moving against her clit while he was thrusting faster and faster inside of her, and that was absolutely delightful.

Misha shut his eyes and buried his face on the crook of her neck, holding her tight. “Oh God... Lily, I... I need...” She could feel his hot breath against her neck, and she heard the urge in his voice. “It's okay, Misha.” She panted and stroked the hair at the back of his head.

He sped up his pace, unable to hold back any longer, whimpering every time he pounded inside her, losing his steady rhythm. Lily suddenly screamed as she felt a shockwave of pure pleasure taking control of her whole body, making her dizzy. “Please, don't stop!” She pleaded in a high voice, afraid he would think she had screamed from pain. The second Misha heard her begging, he came inside of her, biting on her neck to not be too loud, his body shaking even more.

They were both out of breath when it faded away, and Misha collapsed on top of her. She gently pushed him so he could roll over and stop crushing her down. She almost regretted it the moment he got out of her, feeling empty and cold, but she laid next to him and put her head on his chest.

They stayed like that a few minutes, exhausted and catching their breath, and then Lily looked up at him. He was staring at the barn's ceiling light bulb with a weak smile on his face. “Thank you.” She whispered and kissed his chest. “For what? I feel like I'm the one who should thank you.” She smiled. “For making it perfect.”

He put a golden hair lock behind her ear. “Again... I should be the one saying that.”

He kissed her so tenderly she almost melted on the floor. When he broke the kiss, he looked at her with awe and was quiet for a while, gently rubbing his thumb on her cheek. “What is it?” Lily frowned and she almost thought he was sad, as deep and shiny as his eyes were. “I can't believe you're mine.”

She softly scoffed and shut her eyes. “How can you say things like that to a girl and expect her to not fall for you?”

They cuddled a little more and left the barn a few minutes later, as they started to be really cold. They were very careful to get dressed and clean in case they would run into someone. That night, Misha didn't sleep in the cottage. He sneaked inside Lily's house and they spent the night together, in the warmth and coziness of her bedroom. It soon became a secret routine that they never broke, until the night they were woken up by the smell of smoke.

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

Present day – Nice, France.

They arrived at Katie's parents' place on Friday morning. It was surprisingly good to be back in France. It almost felt like home for Lily who had spent twelve years here.

After some long minutes of hugging and crying to welcome their daughter back home, they greeted Lily, and they all had lunch near the beach in a small French restaurant. They went for a walk along the “Promenade des Anglais” right after. It was still very quiet and soothing as the summer season had not started yet.

They talked a lot, Katie's parents being as chatty as their daughter. She felt a wave of warmth hearing them talk about her grandmother, mostly to remember their best moments together.

It was hard to speak French after so many years not practicing though, but she eventually got used to it after a little while and it all came back easily.

They spent the rest of the day shopping in the old city, and after they had dinner at their house, it was already time for Lily to go to the airport to fly to Rome.

Katie gave her a tight hug before she got in the plane. “You lucky thing! You better take tons of pics and tell me every single detail.”

Lily laughed nervously. It was an awkward situation: Katie wanted to go to the convention really bad but she couldn’t, and Lily was super nervous to go and she had to because she promised Misha. “Yay me! I'm going to a thing I don't know anything about with total strangers!” “You could've watched at least one episode of Supernatural before this weekend, you know!” “Ehhh... See ya on Monday Kat. Be nice!” She winked and walked away.

She indeed was totally clueless about what to expect in Rome. She even felt ashamed to be unable to remember Misha's Character name...

Nobody will notice. I'll fit in perfectly. I’m doing this for Misha.

She didn't sleep on the plane this time, she was too nervous, but also happy and curious to spend a weekend with Misha and his friends in such a beautiful city.