#i swear to god she’s been edging us on speak now tv for so fucking long

[jewishrizahawkeye]

are we getting a speak now announcement???? more speak now set list????? nothing new surprise sing????? wtf is she doing?!

[captain039]

PART 2 Predator grounds (Cooper Howard)

Alpha!Cooper Howard (pre-war)x omega!reader

Warnings: AOB dynamics, vault tech things, forced heats/ruts, eventual smut, age gap, angst? Experiments, needles, drugs, talks of pregnancy, first times, anxiety attacks, anxiety, forced claiming

Previous part <-

Has it even been a day down here? You remember falling in and out of sleep on the edge of the bed, almost falling off at one point. You know the lights went dim twice so far and the music stopped when it did. You wish you could put those damn speakers up the vaults overseers ass if he was even around. Hell the only person you saw was the man bringing the food everyday. His overly cheery voice making you want to reach through the food slot and choke him. You think you’ve used too much water considering you’ve had five showers now, well you weren’t really washing yourself more like sitting on the floor in despair trying to relieve yourself quietly so the alpha outside didn’t hear. He hasn’t said a word, he’s been quietly brooding in the corner for the last few days. You’re worried about him, he always looks tense, you swear he never sleeps and he’s always twitching at every sound he hears. You feel sorry for him, feel sorry that he isn’t with the one person he married even if they did seperate he deserves that familiarity. He wouldn’t be in this harsh rut too, someone to take the ease off. God you’ve imagined too many times about how he could take you in every single inch of this vault room. He’s moved the couch to the corner, pushed the TV out of the way, he moved it while you were in the shower the second time.

You haven’t drawn the curtains back so you can’t see out into the hall way, hell you don’t want to, that couple across from you probably still going at it. You sit on the floor on pillows and a towel reading a crappy book they supplied on the book shelf. You haven’t explored all the shelves and cupboard, hell you probably wouldn’t mind watching a movie but it’s on his side of the room. You’ve never seen Mr Howard like this, so tense and caught up in his head, he’s usually a care free, kind, charcmismic man. Guess being frozen for 200 years will do that to a man. You glance at him hesitantly and gulp a little.

“Mr Howard?” You finally speak and he hums looking to you. His stare makes you falter and you nervously glance at the wall behind him before focusing back on his eyes.

“Are you- are you doing ok? Do you want a book? I think the Video tapes are on the bottom shelf too” you gesture to the light brown shelf filled with books and tape holders.

“I’m ok, sweetheart” he says his lips twitching slightly and you just nod a little saddened. You say against the wall head leaning on the mattress cursing the ache in your lower stomach.

“Room 236” a woman’s voice calls over and you frown.

“You’re not completing your functions!” She says cheerily and you raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Go fuck yourself and do it yourself asshole” Cooper yells and you flinch a bit at the tone but smile to yourself.

“If this continues we will seperate you to more appropriate partners! We want to save the America and you can help!” Coopers statement goes ignored and her words make your whole body tense and into a panic. You can’t go to someone else, you can’t be with someone else you’ve never done this, what the hell? They can’t just move you to get impregnated. You don’t want kids, the thought of a baby terrifies you.

“Sweetie look at me” you can hear Coopers voice briefly but your heart is pounding in your ears. He yells your name and you flinch and look at him.

“You’re alright, they’re not gonna take you from this room ok, I promise” he says so sincerely but he can’t control them, can’t control if they do take you, they’re in control here.

The lights dim signalling night time and you’re curled up hiding under the covers like it’d save you. The speakers words scare you to death, this whole situation seems to be dawning on you. Tears roll down your face silently and you suck in a small breath. You don’t hear the footsteps till you feel the bed dip and your heart rate rockets into panic.

“It’s me” Cooper mutters and you let out the breath in a shudder that you were holding.

“I keep my promises you know this” he speaks softly in the darkness and you nod your head despite him not being able to see.

“I know” you croak cursing yourself silently. He always did, he was that kind of man.

“Get some sleep” he mutters after some silence and walks back to his side of the room.

Morning comes, the lights turning on brightly making you wince. You didn’t sleep well at all last night, tossing and turning, fleeting nightmares. Alarms blare and you’re suddenly wide awake and standing up by the bed on wobbly feet. Your door is opening, Cooper is up quickly as well. You see two men in hazard suits and two people behind them with guns. You tense realising they were here to take you away. You see a scared woman being held behind the four people, she’s cuffed and held by two others in hazard suits.

“You aren’t fulfilling your duties in room 236, we are to remove the omega and replace her” his words sound automated and suddenly you’re wrapped up in strong arms.

“You won’t take her” Coopers voice is low, his breathing is coming out almost in a harsh snarl, he’s got one arm across your upper chest the other over your stomach.

“Sir, let the omega go” the people in the hazard suits are unbothered by the smells and tone he’s using.

“You. Won’t. Take. Her” he breathes harshly between each word and you swear he’s a man possessed.

“I’m so sorry” he whispers softly in your ear and suddenly there’s like an electric shock of pleasure going through your body as blunt teeth clamp on your shoulder. You let out a strangled noise as a mating bond clicks into place, you’re flooded by him and feelings making you stagger but not fall in his embrace.

“You won’t take my mate away” he challenges after he stops biting and you’re in a daze. They halt there advances, a mate bond is strong, he won’t touch another omega now. They step back hands up and the door slides shut. You breathe deeply, having held your breath majority of that time as you finally process everything that happened. You place a hand on your neck feeling where he bit and stutter. You hear him apologising feel him move in front of you but you’re in overload right now. You don’t look at him, you turn, grab a chair and head to the bathroom. You force the chair against the door and collapse to the floor in a heap. What just happened?

Next part ->

NOTES:

To continue Wasteland heat I gotta watch the episodes again I think I got like episode five? While writing and then had this idea xD but I’ll continue Wasteland heat after xD

[hopingandwishingjs5]

Connor Gallagher x Reader.

Blurred Lines - A girls night out just causes a little blurring to the edges of their world.

18+

Some smut. Did he? Didn't he? Jealousy.

It's taken a small village to help me get this here.... so thank you to my villagers, you know who you are. 💙💙

"But why do you need to go and watch some random blokes taking their clothes off? I can do that for you here babe."

She felt his hands easing up her short skirt and gently roving towards her underwear.  This was hard, she knew he wouldn't like it, he hadn't liked the idea when the other girls had booked it months ago and she knew he was hoping she'd back out.  But she wasn't, she wanted to see what all the fuss was about and a day in Central London would be fun with the girls, not to mention the alcohol and entertainment.

His fingers finally reached their 'destination' and she twitched a little at his touch, she saw the smirk flash across his face and it just confirmed her decision for her as she took a small step backwards. 

"I'll be home before you know it Con, just, go on your X Box with the other lads, pretend I'm still here watching TV"

She didn't mean for it to sound like a dig at him and his normal routine, but if that was how he was going to take it she wasn't going to argue. This was a rare 'girl only' night out for her and she had been looking forward to it for ages. Bending down she went to kiss him and saw his shoulders stiffen, he was so pissed off at her right now..... 

"I'll be back before you know it Con, will let you know when I'm in the car back, ok?"

Her lips met his and he once again tried to change her mind by grabbing her arse and bringing her into his lap, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue deep into her mouth. She moaned and eased her hands into his hair, slightly longer than normal and she was loving it. The sound of her phone alerting her of the Uber outside made her break the kiss, wiping a thumb across his lips to remove her lip gloss.

"I've gotta go Con, the girls are here in the car, but hold that thought for me yeah?" 

She locked eyes with him and her heart sank a little as he huffed out a breath and broke the stare.

"I'll probably be asleep when you get home drunk, messy and late! If I am, don't wake me, I have training tomorrow."

He watched as she slipped from his lap and walked to the door, never turning around, just grabbing her small bag and exiting the house.

"FUCK!" Conor, threw a pillow across the floor and stood up, stomping into the games room and signing onto his X Box reluctantly.

"Hey! Conor, you a stripper widower too?" Mason laughed as he spoke, making the statement for the small group of friends on the game.

"It's not funny Mase, you not servicing your missus right or something so she has to go watch men she doesn't know take their clothes off and grind all over random women? I'm not fucking happy, what if they pick Y/N up to fucking grind against? I swear to God Mase make you suffer first then I'll hunt the bastard down, dirty fucker!"

Conor could feel himself getting more and more wound up and as he stopped speaking he heard the other lads sniggering on the call.

"Con mate, it's only like us going to a strip club, or going on the lash for the night and having all the fit birds playing up to us, calm down, Y/N will be fine but just a note to yourself eh? Maybe spice it up a bit when you're together if you're feeling this threatened."

Conor adjusted his headset and huffed out a breath. 

"We don't need to spice it up thanks mate (he emphasised the word mate), it's spicy enough, just set the game up and look after your own missus and leave me and mine alone."

Conor spent the next few hours immersed in the world of COD occasionally checking his phone hoping Y/N would hate the whole thing and come home early, no such luck!

"Con? Con babe?"

Conor woke to kisses being placed on his lips, two hands in his hair and his dick standing to attention like it was on patrol. His eyes couldn't focus quick enough as he realised he was awake and Y/N was straddled across his hips as he lay on his back, her mouth now tracing down his lips and his neck.

"I reeeeeeeeeally need you, reeeeeally need to ride you"

Her hands were scratching lightly across his body and he was loving the attention but he wanted to try and take part himself.

"Babe," he took hold of her hands, "Y/N let me just, let me move a little first, you're still dressed and ...."

She giggled against his neck.

"I've taken my panties off, feel" 

She grabbed his hand and placed it between her legs, forcing it as close as possible and sighing as it touched her centre.

"Just, yeah, there, just, please use your fingers." She was grinding against his hand and Conor gave up, who was he to argue.

Flipping them over he raised himself above her and dragged her skirt higher to give himself full easy sight and access to her, he had to swallow down the thought that she was dripping wet and he presumed this was the result of the night out entertainment, but he'd worry about that later.  Now he wanted to make the most of her being extremely horny.

He ran his finger through her dampness, hearing her sigh and feeling her buck against him, she was now biting at his neck and he knew, he just knew she would have marked him and he'd get shit tomorrow from the lads.

He felt her begin to shudder, her legs shaking slightly and her hands beginning to grip at his shoulders, 

"I wanna ride you Con, wanna make you feel good, wanna feel everything"

She looked at him and Conor noticed her eyes were glazed, he knew she wouldn't remember a fucking thing about this tomorrow when she woke with the hangover from hell. Rolling them around again he lay back and watched her struggle to grab hold of his dick, almost falling off him as she tried to grab it and then ease herself onto it. 

He sighed, the thrill of having her wake him horny as hell was quickly dwindling.

"Y/N let me help." Sitting her atop his hips he eased his hand between them, stroking himself a couple of times and then easing her down, swearing as she slipped down easily and she groaned out a long swear word as he thrust up into her. 

"Con, you're so fit, I wanna ride you forever, want you to make me raw, make me scream."

She was messy in her attempt, hands on his chest then into his hair, pulling at it and her lips everywhere, he was loving it, but hating it at the same time.... was it the alcohol? was it the strippers? He wasn't sure but when she leant down and slurred the words "I wanna come all over your dick," Conor was lost, gripping her hips he drove into her, loving the way she was chanting his name, the way her head dropped back and she exposed her neck for him to nibble on and lick as sweat started to appear on it.

Again, he felt her tighten around him only this time he was in full control.  

"Come on Y/N, give it to me, you know you want to, come on, now, let it go."

As he finished whispering into her ear she straightened up and moaned loudly, her hands grabbing at her breasts and squeezing them together, her body covered in a sheen of sweat and Conor thought she'd never looked more gorgeous.

He pumped into her a few more times and then felt his own high hit, gripping her hips until he was sure they'd be bruised as he raised her and dropped her onto his dick, swearing up a storm as he did so. He felt her slump down onto him and he eased her onto the bed, slipping out and making his way into the ensuite to grab a cloth to clean them with. 

On returning to the bedroom the sight that met him made him shake his head, she was star fished across the bed, unconscious, actually drooling onto his pillow! Using the cloth he tried to clean her the best he could, ignoring the weak slapping arm as she tried to move him away, slurring something into the pillow about leaving her alone. Shaking his head, he walked back into the ensuite, cleaned himself up and made his way to the spare room. He was a mixture of emotions, glad he'd got laid, hurt that she wouldn't remember how good it was and angry that it had been another man / men that had got her wet in the first place.  Running his hands through his hair he lay down and tried to sleep, if he struggled in training tomorrow Mase was getting an earful.

"Jesus, Last night was wild in ours, Sarah jumped me the minute she got in!"

Conor could hear Mason's voice as he got to the locker room door,

"I couldn't fucking keep her off me, what about you Ben?"

Conor heard Ben laugh and knew, just knew he'd be agreeing, it seemed like all the girls had gone home the same way..... feral!

"Con mate, did Y/N wake you up? Bet you were glad she'd gone then weren't ya?" 

Mason's teasing was doing nothing to alleviate Conor's mixed feelings about the previous night / early morning. He just grinned and started to get changed, glad when the coach came in and ordered them all into the gym.

Arriving home Conor was amazed the blinds were still closed, but as he entered the living room he saw Y/N lying prone on the sofa, a cloth across her eyes, painkillers and bottles of water strewn on the coffee table he knew why, just as he'd predicted. 

The hangover from hell had landed.  He placed his bag down and removed his trainers, he knew he had two ways he could play this..... 

"Con? Is that you babe? Can you bring me a bottle of water from the fridge please?"

Her voice was croaky and she looked like shit. He sighed and walked towards the kitchen, option 2 it was then.

"Here you go Y/N, you feeling rough? Have a good night did ya?"

It killed him to sound so okay with it but he had to suck it up, all the other lads were loving the fact their other halves had arrived home steaming, demanding rough sex and then passing out, but he had always liked it to be more, to mean more. He couldn't help it, he loved her, it was their thing, they'd only ever had each other and he loved that, he loved he was the only one who knew what she looked like when she came, and he was thrilled his was the only dick she'd ever had her mouth around.  Last night though, something about it was so good it kept replaying in his mind, but the fact she was reacting to someone else getting her excited, that was just too much for him. He knew he sounded soft, but he couldn't help it, and he wouldn't apologise for it ever.

Sitting down next to her and gently lifting her legs, placing them across his lap he started to gently rub them and heard her let out a slow breath.

"I think I may be dying Con" she croaked. "Everything hurts, and I do mean everything." 

He smirked as her eyes glanced down to her own groin and then back up to his face and then closed again as if it had taken all her energy to move her eyeballs.

"You were, well, a bit wild last night when you got back. I was, well, you wanted it, well demanded it that way so I had to, didn't I? Sorry if it's uncomfortable"

She moved the cloth from her eyes and tried to sit up, groaning as her head lifted from the cushions.

"Was I horrid? I didn't say anything cruel did I?" Was I just, like, desperate? Ya know, all over you?"

Conor watched the pinkish flush give her face it's only colour and he nodded slowly, raising his hand and lowering his t shirt collar to show her the love bite on his neck which he'd had his arse ripped for today.

She slunk back onto the cushions and dropped her arm across her eyes. 

"Oh my god! How old am I, 13? I'm so sorry Con, I know we don't do that, I'm just.... I have no idea what I did when I got home. I swear once the fresh air hit me I have no recollection." She removed her arm and looked at him, "Thats fucking scary isn't it? I'm such a twat, I shouldn't go out alone" She made to shake her head and as she did the motion made her heave, bending forward and vomiting into a bucket next to the arm of the sofa, the sound and the smell made Conor's stomach churn, he hadn't even noticed the bucket, but now he couldn't keep his eyes off it.  He waited until she'd finished then stood up, taking it into the toilet, emptying, rinsing and cleaning it out before returning it to her smelling and looking fresh. She at least looked sorry so he couldn't be angry with her, after all, it wasn't anything he hadn't done himself and she'd returned the favour of looking after him.

He leaned down and stroked her hair softly.

"Shall I run you a nice bubble bath, make you some cheesy scrambled eggs and a nice cold vimto?"

She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears, " I love you so much Con, that would be lovely."

He wiped a thumb under her eyes to stop the tears from falling and made to kiss her but the smell of her breath made him retrace his movements.

She covered her mouth and blushed "Sorry, I stink, been being sick and also last night's breath, I seriously couldn't stand and brush my teeth.... I'm minging aren't I?" 

As she finished speaking, she burst into tears and wailed. If she hadn't looked so unwell, Conor would have laughed at the dramatics of it all, but he locked it all away in his memory bank for next time she giving out to him calling him a drama llama.

Y/N lay in the bubbles, she’d seriously never felt so bad after alcohol and the lost time from getting into the Uber and waking this morning was worrying her.

Her phone rang, the noise causing her to clench her teeth and curse.

“Hello!”

“Good God what bit your arse? Or should I say, did you enjoy your arse being bitten?”

Sarah's laughter down the phone wasn’t helping Y/N's hangover at all.

“Ugh, I’m fucking dying, I swear, I have no memory of the last part of the night or getting home, it’s bloody scary. What about you?”

Y/N hated the sound of the laughter on the other end of the phone, she knew it was going to lead to something she really didn’t want to hear…

“Oh My God Y/N you were off your head, you kept trying to climb on the stage, trying to grab the legs of the tall blonde, shouting just let me touch you, I have skills, you’d love them!”

"We were howling at you and you were loving the attention. You kept saying you’d never seen anything as sexy in all your life, that Conor was gorgeous but this, was a whole new level for you. We knew it was just the tequila talking, and before you start beating yourself up, you weren’t the only one, Annie was dragged up and loved every minute of it, dunno how she’ll explain all the oil on her clothes to Ben!!”

Y/N remembered Annie and how they'd all encouraged her, but she had no recollection of her own behaviour.  She’d die if she thought Conor would ever find out, their sex life was amazing, he was gorgeous, everything she ever wanted, what the fuck was she saying stuff like that for.

“Are you not rough today?” Y/N felt like she would never feel normal again.

“Rough as toast, but the sex last night when I got home helped sweat most of the alcohol out, my god, it was amazing. Mase has said he’d be up for us going again, lol, dirty fucker…. I honestly was feral…. Mind you, you were desperate to get home yourself, the things you told us you were going to do to Conor, we literally feared for him. We honestly didn’t expect him to make training today, but Mase told me he made it and that he was sporting quite the love bite!!”  Sarah's loud laughter made Y/N cringe.

“Yeah I err…. it’s not really something….. well…. I know I’m aching all over, but to be honest, I have no memory of it, I feel so bad, but Con hasn’t said anything so maybe he’s good with it.”

“I hope you didn’t tell him what you told the guy on the stage last night,” Sarah replies, still giggling.  

Y/N felt her body cover in goosebumps, “Oh shit, what did I say?”

“You were trying to video him on your phone and the security man came over and said no filming the act and you shouted that you needed to film it so Conor could learn how to take his clothes off like Blondie it was turning you on so much. Honestly Y/N you were up for anything!”

Y/N gulped. “You haven't told Mase this have you? I’d die if Con found out, it’s just not…. I don’t need him to…. Fuck!”

Realising her words had created anxiety for her friend Sarah's tone changed, “Honestly Y/N it’s okay, we’re not sharing anything with the lads, they don’t need to know, it was a girls night out, don’t worry. Get rested, clear the hangover, give Conor some loving and just put it into the back of your mind, it’s done, okay?”

Y/N said her goodbyes and hung up the call, groaning as her arm slipped back into the bubbles, glad she had kept the phone on speakerphone instead of holding it to her ear, that would have taken far too much energy. Remembering the last part of the conversation she huffed out a breath, and let herself slide under the water wishing it could wash away the information she’d just been given.

Outside the bathroom door Conor stood with the bath sheet in his hands that he’d had warming in the tumble dryer and was bringing up to wrap around Y/N when he helped her out of the bath, but as he arrived at the door he heard the conversation in mid flow, his heart dropping to his feet at the thought that some random bloke taking his clothes off turned his girlfriend on more than him doing it.  This, exactly this was what he was dreading when she went out last night.  The rational part of his brain knew stripping and dancing was what these guys were trained in, but still, he didn’t want his girlfriend forever comparing his undressing to some bloke she saw on a drunken night out doing it. He gripped the towel to his chest and pushed the bathroom door open,  laying it down on the nearby ledge and nodding towards it, “Thought you’d need this.” He didn’t mention that it had been warmed, because whilst he had been listening to the conversation and then mulling over the information afterwards it had gone cold again.

“Awwww thanks babe, I love you” Y/N looked at him and smiled the best she could whilst her head was imploding and her heart was heavy, she did not deserve this wonderful man.

Conor just swallowed, “I’m errr, I’m going over to Ben's, see you in an hour or so okay?” He watched her nod and close her eyes….. Probably thinking about Blondie stripping his clothes off Conor thought, it made his stomach flip and his head begin to ache.

Conor sat in his car, his phone to his ear, the constant ringing annoying him until eventually it answered and he began the conversation, stuttering at first then easing into it when they talked him down and calmed his nerves.

2 days later

“Lots of men feel like this first time, you’d be amazed.”

Her voice was honey sweet and dripped from her lips and Conor couldn’t get enough of hearing it, even though he knew it was wrong to be enjoying it so much, but hadn’t Y/N enjoyed her time with the strippers.

“I’m not the most expensive, but I’m far away from the cheapest so you’ll get what you pay for I can guarantee and it definitely won’t be a chore with a good looking bloke like you, I feel guilty charging you.”

Her eyes were raking over his face and his hair, she’d already looked him from toe to head when he’d walked in smiling at him like the cat that got the cream.

Conor averted his eyes and looked around the cafe then back at her, “Errrr thanks?”

He watched as she raised a manicured polished long nail to her red lips and looked at him, “I seem to feel I should know you, but I have clue where from, have we done business before?”

Conor shook his head so fast his hair fell from behind his ears and he tucked it back feeling like a virgin again. “No, definitely not done anything with you before, honestly, I’m a first timer, I mean, not a first timer,  but, first time doing this, errr, this kind of thing, not doing it…. I’ve done it… Lots, done it so many times…. I’m…. errr”

She smiled at him and placed a soft hand on top of his,

“It’s so refreshing to see someone so nervous, they’re usually full of bravado and all Johnny Big Bollocks. This is going to be so much fun Colin”

She stroked his hand and then let a small laugh escape her lips as he slid it from under her hand.

“S’pose” He wanted to die…. right now…. 

“You’re late, I thought you’d be home a couple of hours ago”

Y/N looked up from her laptop and smiled at Conor as he came into the lounge.

“You okay? You looked a bit washed out?”

She placed a hand against his cheek then his forehead,

“Want me to run you a shower, help you relax a little?”

Conor just nodded and dropped onto the sofa, he couldn’t speak, he knew she’d read him and know something was wrong, not quite right…. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, he really couldn’t do this …. he just had to stop it now, before it went too far, before he got sucked in….

“Con, shower's warm, come on babe”

He trudged up to the bathroom and stood stock still in the doorway as he saw her naked, under the water stream, waiting for him.

Lying on the bed she looked at him as she carded her fingers through his wet hair,

“That, was amazing”

She leaned up and over his chest, kissing him and licking at his lips afterwards.

“You always know just what to do”

Conor looked at her and returned the kiss, he loved her so much, he wanted to be everything she ever needed, ever dreamed of, ever fantasised about.

“I love you so much Babe, making you feel good is what I’m here to do, it’s what I love doing, I just…." He paused, clearing his throat.  "Do you think there’s anything I could do, you know, more? Like something we don’t do, haven’t tried?”

He knew he was rambling, he quickly shut his eyes and took a breath then watched as her eyes scanned his face, but her tell was the way she swallowed and licked her lips before answering. 

“Nope, it’s all perfect for me Con, how about you?”

In that moment he knew, he just knew she wasn’t satisfied, maybe she’d faked it, maybe she was focusing on Blondie, maybe she was even thinking about going again but not telling him.  

“Well? Anything you’d like me to do?”

She was now lay full length on him and her lips were grazing his neck, he knew he’d normally be throwing her back onto the bed and starting round 2, but his mind was relaying the conversation from when she was in the bath, then what he’d learned today, he needed to pace himself.

Easing her up from him he stood from the bed and walked towards the bathroom again,

“Think I’ll take a quick shower, feel a bit sticky.”

Y/N watched him disappear and lay back down staring at the ceiling, was he still pissed about the other night? She followed him into the bathroom and sat on the toilet watching him shower. 

“Are you pissed off at me about the other night Con?”

He turned and looked at her and shrugged his shoulders then shook his head.

“Nothing to be pissed off about, is there? I mean, you had a good night out didn’t you? You came home, gave me the best sex we’ve had in ages and passed out on me, what’s to piss me off?” 

He half laughed at the end then turned to wash his hair again realising it was gonna be like baby hair tomorrow after being washed twice within hours.

Y/N did a slight nod of her head and left the bathroom, he was definitely still pissed off, this was something a blow job and sex wasn't going to clear up.

“What do you fancy doing tonight after tea? Go for a walk? Cinema?”

Y/N was busy clearing the breakfast dishes as Conor gathered his gear together. 

“Probably best not to make any firm plans until I get back if that’s okay with you?” He hated lying to her, hated all this secrecy, but it was doing wonders for his confidence and it wasn’t hurting her, she knew nothing of it and Marsha was very discreet.

“You going to be late again? What you doing after training? You seem to be doing loads more training and social media than you’ve ever done”

Y/N stood up from bending down to the dishwasher, dirty dish in her hand, eyebrows raised at her question.

“Yeah, it’s cos of all the new lads, they’re trying to up the stuff on line, you know what they’re like.”

He walked towards her and kissed her cheek, his arm wrapping around her waist and smiling as she turned, locking lips with him and sighing into the kiss as she deepened it.

He moved his head back, breaking the kiss and giving her a smile

“Sorry babe, got to get to Cobham, the boss will have my balls if I’m late.”

Y/N stroked his hair and nodded, “See you later, don’t work too hard.”

She watched him walk out and resumed her task, her mind running a million miles an hour.   Conor just wasn’t himself, he wasn’t acting like him, wasn’t reacting to her like he always had done. She leaned against the worktop, her worst fear played out in her mind and she felt her heart rate increase, she knew Conor wouldn’t do that, but she knew something was off.

“Come on Colin, you can give it to me harder than that! I’m meant to feel like you’re actually wanting to eat me out, not just trying a taster snack at Tescos!”

Marsha was sat on the chair, legs spread, a bored look on her face and Conor was kneeling in front of her, soaked in sweat and blushing from her words.

“I’m sorry I just, this is all, like, doing this with you, it’s just …. different”

Marsha laughed loudly and patted his wet hair.

“Colin, if it wasn’t different you wouldn’t be here, now are we doing this or are you giving up?” She looked at her wrist and tapped the face of her watch “Only 15 minutes left and you wanted to try out something new didn’t you?”

Y/N looked over at Conor, he was flat out, fast asleep again on the sofa, what the fuck? 

Surely they couldn't be training that hard, they'd be knackered before the season started...

1 week later

“Oh my God! Yes Colin, Oh Yes! Just let me … I can’t fucking breathe….”

Conor looked down at Marsha, she was a hot mess, lay on the floor, panting, sweating and her hand gripping onto his hips.

Conor strutted out, today had been a good day.

“I tell you, he’s knackered when he gets home, Poch is working him way too hard, it’s not fair. I know he’s young and gorgeous but where does Poch get off keeping him late almost every night and fucking working him so all he’s fit for when he gets home is a shower, food and sleep?”

Y/N was on the phone to Sarah, she knew she shouldn’t complain about Conor being tired, she’d most likely find Mase was the same, someone needed to have a word with the Coaches over at Cobham.

“Y/N, Mase’s been home normal time.  You know what they’re like, trying to lure in the young girls to follow them on Instagram and everywhere, then the club will be complaining about instahoes, they can’t win.”

Y/N felt better just speaking to someone about it, obviously in the past Mase had been subjected to the same regime and she’d never heard Sarah complaining about the work load, she should keep quiet and  be grateful he was still at a club he enjoyed.

Conor walked into the house and Y/N was sat on the sofa, phone in hand scrolling through pages of something and the TV was playing quietly in the background.

“Babe.”

Conor dropped onto the sofa next to her and immediately slid his hands under her sweatshirt,

“No bra, bonus for me.”

He ran a thumb over her nipple and felt it harden under his touch, Y/N arched her back and moaned at the sensation from his thumb.

“Connnnnnnnnn”

She turned her face and started to kiss him, her hands going straight into his hair, it felt damp, like he’d showered recently, but she couldn’t think any further as he’d lifted her sweatshirt higher and had now latched his lips onto her breast.

“Have missed these so fuckin much.”

His mouth played with the soft skin, his tongue rolling over and over the erect nipple before he sucked it into his mouth again.

Y/N was so tempted to say they’d been there for the last week but she knew not to spoil the moment, she was desperate to feel him, have him on her, in her, all over her, she’d missed him so much…

She mewled as his hand dropped into her pants and his fingers entered her gently, softly rubbing at her, teasing her and bringing the reaction he wanted from her. Immediately her wetness coated his fingers and her thighs squeezing his hand in place.

“Someone's needy.”

He kissed along her neck and up to her ear, his tongue dragging around the shell then he spoke slowly and lowly,

“Need to fuck you, need to fuck you slowly and watch you come unravelled under me.”

Conor felt the whole of Y/N's body lift towards him as his fingers continued their task and his mouth assaulted her ears with filth.

“Gonna let me fuck you babe? Let me make you scream my name? Want to turn you into a bad girl, make you naughty, make you let me do anything to you I want, you up for that babe? Letting me rail you into the bed?”

Y/N was losing her mind, his fingers were bringing her closer and closer to the finish line and she’d never heard him talk so much filth, it was blowing her mind. Her hands grabbed at his hair, pulling his face to hers as she kissed him, all open mouthed and sloppy.

“Do it, anything, yeah, just, yeah, rail me Con”

She moaned as he removed his fingers from her, lifted her from the sofa, and waited until she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom, his mouth still assaulting her ears and her mouth fixed to his neck, licking and nipping, being careful not to leave any marks…

Y/N lay, coated in sweat, hair stuck to her neck and forehead, panting, mouth dry, eyes squeezed shut.

“Con, please, please, just let me…..”

She felt his mouth on her core again, his tongue again teasing her, lapping at her clit and then sucking it into his mouth, his fingers were dragging in and out of her, she’d already orgasmed three times and she felt like her lower body was on fire from his constant attention.

“Give me one more babe and I’ll leave you alone”

Conor watched as she panted, he’d seriously never edged her or brought her to orgasm so many times together, nor in so many ways as he had tonight, all that was left..

“Turn over babe, come on”

He eased her over, her body almost limp with how he’d been working her,

“Spread your legs babe, further, lift for me.”

He placed his dick to her core and eased himself in, hearing her moan as he entered her fully, she was bound to be sore, but he needed to do this, wanted to finish properly. Letting her get used to him there for a few seconds he then lifted her body so her back rested against his chest and he started thrusting into her, his tongue running along her neck, her shoulder, nipping and licking.

“Want you to come on my dick again babe, just this last time, come on. You’re so good, so wet still, still full of me and all my licking, you enjoy that did ya? Liked me eating you out, bringing you off with my tongue and my fingers, such a dirty girl. Come on, come on babe.”

He was panting between words, sweat running from his head into his eyes, his hair hanging lank with sweat, his arms sliding against her sweaty body.

“Con, Con…… Oh My God….. Oh Jesusssssssssssssssss”

She exploded all over him, her body shuddering with the intensity and he  held her in place as she rode it out and he drove himself to his own finish line, breathing her name as he came, hugging her that impossible centimetre closer, swearing no one, no one could make him feel like she did.

Standing in the shower he washed her hair and then gently soaped her body, letting the water sooth her sore skin.

Lifting the towel from the shelf he wrapped her in it and lifted her up like a baby, carrying her to the bedroom and laying her on the bed, brushing loose hair from her face.

“Take a nap babe, I’m gonna go make some food.”

He bent down and kissed her forehead as her eyes closed. He couldn’t understand how he wasn’t asleep himself but somehow he had more energy, as he passed the mirror on the wall in the hallway he caught sight of himself and smirked, ‘thanks Marsha’.

Y/N opened her eyes……. Who the fuck was Marsha and why did she deserve thanks? Her heart fell and she felt her stomach lurch but she couldn’t move, he thought she was asleep and she needed to keep the pretence up.

“Hi Sarah, is Mase home?”

Y/N felt sick making the call.

“Yep, home and out doing something in the garden, probably practising his golf swing, it won’t be anything useful, why?”

Y/N took a deep breath

“Do you mind if I pop round, just to speak to Mase for a few minutes?”

“Course, will Conor be with you? Do you want to stay for some food?”

Sarah heard a soft sob at the other end of the line, “Y/N you okay babe?”

Y/N gulped a sob down, 

“I just need to speak to Mase”

Mason was sat opposite a distraught Y/N who was now being cuddled by Sarah to try and help ease the sobbing,

“So let me get this straight, for a couple of weeks he’s been coming home late some days, knackered, blaming the media team and training?”

Y/N nodded and watched as Mason flicked a look at Sarah.

“Has he been working with anyone in particular? Doing something in particular?”

Mason was baffled.

Y/N shook her head,

“Just stuff, media, club wanted more content for on line due to all the new guys”

She looked at Mason and felt her fear increase

“He’s lying isn’t he? He’s not at work is he?”

She looked from Mason to Sarah and both just stared back at her.  Mason paused before he spoke.  

“Look Y/N this is Conor we’re talking about, the man doesn’t even look at the Instagram girls when we’re at SGP, he’s solid.”  Sarah locked eyes with him and huffed out, “And you do?”

Mason swallowed and waved his hand “We’re here helping Y/N out, don’t make it about us.”

Sarah opened her eyes wide and mouthed ‘later mister’. Mason nodded then wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Well, he’s going somewhere, who’s Marsha?”

Y/N watched Mason for any reaction at all.

“Huh?”

He just shrugged and looked at both Sarah and Y/N.

“Not a clue, who is Marsha?”

Y/N started crying afresh.

“I dunno, but last night he thanked her after we’d had probably the most intense sex we’ve ever had since we’ve been together. He doesn’t know I heard him, but as he walked through the hallway upstairs he said ‘thanks Marsha’ and went downstairs”

Mason cursed under his breath and rubbed his stubble,

“I’m sorry Y/N, I have no idea and the last thing I want to do is start asking the lads because someone will most likely blab about it and then well….”

He shrugged.

“So basically he’s shagging about and came home last night to share all his tricks.”

Y/N was shaking with temper now as she cried,

“I knew eventually this would happen, I knew he’d listen to all the chat in the locker room, he’d hear how such a girl did this and how such a bloke did that, he was bound to get bored of me, bound to want more of the other stuff.”

She completely broke down and leaned into Sarah who looked at Mason over her head and mouthed ‘you’re all dickheads’ to which he mouthed ‘I haven’t fucking done anything’ and Sarah mouthed back ‘yet dickhead’ which caused Mason to stand up, grab his golf club, pat Y/N on the shoulder and storm outside. He’d fucking kill Conor when this got sorted.

“I seriously can’t thank you enough, whatever you’re charging is not enough, you need to double it.”

Conor leaned forward and placed a kiss on Marsha's cheek, smiling as she closed her eyes quickly as he did.

“You are an absolute darling and if you ever find you need help again with, you know, anything, my door is always open, at an agreed price obviously.”

She laughed as she watched him gather up his clothes and place them in his bag, then running his fingers through his hair to make sure it was straight. She wished all her clientele were as handsome and nimble as he was, her job would be an absolute dream.

He turned and gave her that perfect teeth smile,

“Thanks Marsha.”

And he walked out, leaving her a little damp between her legs…..

Y/N sat on the sofa, her back was ramrod straight and her eyes were fixed on the door. She’d been sat like this for the past two hours and as time ticked by her temper was rising to boiling point. 

She may not be the prettiest, the slimmest, the funniest, have the most hair extensions, biggest lips, longest lashes, but what she did have was a kind heart, a good brain and her integrity and no one, not Conor Gallagher, not even the King of England was stripping her of that. If Conor wanted to shag about then so be it, but she wasn’t the type of person to sit at home and take whatever scraps he threw her way, he could just fuck right on off if he thought that was going to happen!

“Hey!”

Conor closed the door behind him and dropped his bag on the floor, kicking off his shoes and walking into the lounge only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of Y/N sitting like his old school headmistress.

“Babe?”

Y/N felt her insides bubble up and she fixed a hard stare on Conor's face.

“Don’t you fucking babe me, where have you been?”

She watched Conor's adams apple bob in his neck.

“Work.”

His eyes never left her face, she took a shuddering deep breath, he was now lying to her face!

“Liar!”

Conor's eyes widened and he went to take a step forward but Y/N stood up and put a hand out in front silently telling him not to move.

“Don’t you fucking dare take another step forward Gallagher, I’m calling bullshit on everything you’ve told me the last couple of weeks and until you start giving me the truth you can just get your skanky trainers back on, pick up your stinking bag and piss off from our house.”

She could feel herself shaking, knew he’d be able to see it, but she was so proud of herself for not crying.

“Ba….. Y/N, please? What the hell is all this about?” He couldn’t let this happen not after last night,  not after… “Please.”

She shook her head,

“Fuck off Conor, I’m not playing second fiddle to no Instahoe, I’ve booked an appointment at the STD clinic for tomorrow, I need to make sure you’ve not infected me with anything, I at least still have some morals”

“STD…? Ba (she raised her eyebrow) Y/N, please, honestly, there’s no need, I’m clean, you know we get tested all the fucking time, how can you….?”

“You get tested but does she?”

She spat the words out as she folded her arms trying to stop them from shaking.

Conor swallowed again, confused, upset, sweating….

“She? Who the fuck is she?”

He was getting frustrated too and his voice was rising.

“Marshaaaaaaaaaaaaa”

Y/N elongated the name and watched his face blanche.

“Marsha? Ah, I can explain tha…..”

“I bet you fucking can, I tell you what Conor, explain it to someone who wants to listen because I’m bored of your bullshit. I thought after all this time the least you would have done was tell me you were wanting out of the relationship, but oh no, not Conor bloody goody two shoes Gallagher, oh no, he decides he’ll just fuck about and act as though nothing is happening. Twat! I hate you.”

She felt the first tear spill from her eye and as she went to wipe it away another appeared, then another, and she huffed out an angry breath.

“Just piss off Conor, I’ve contacted an agency and I’m viewing some places tomorrow, once I’m out you can move back in, until then can you please go bury yourself under a rock somewhere so I don’t have to see your sickening face any more.”

Conor watched as she walked upstairs stopping halfway to say, 

“Leave your keys on the table, I’ll let Mason know when I’m out so you can come in and collect some stuff until I leave”

Conor was numb, he’d never seen her so angry, so direct, so distraught and he was the one who had caused it. His heart broke…. It was meant to be fun, confidence building, then he was meant to make her feel better…. but he hadn’t, he’d destroyed everything.

“Are you shitting me mate?”

Mason was sat across from Conor nursing an orange juice which he wished was a large vodka.

“If I help you out Sarah will not only castrate me she’ll probably throw me out too. She almost destroyed my golf clubs when I mentioned Instagram girls the other day, I swear, I feared for them and me, so no mate, I can’t help you. Why not ask Chilly, he loves a bit of danger, he lives with Annie for fucks sake!”

“Yeah course mate, when d’ya want me to sort it, Y/N always liked me, she’ll be happy to have me help her out.”

He wiggled his eyebrows as he finished and Conor felt his stomach flip, Ben was so not the person to help out. A woman in distress to Ben is like an open invite to a garden party he just has to RSVP to and ‘hello’ said woman is riding his dick….. 

“Look it’s okay Ben, I’ll get someone else to help out, I’m trying to save my fucking relationship here, not offer my girlfriend up on a plate for you to dick her and dump her”

Conor could feel his temper rising, he just needed a small favour was it really too fucking much to ask?

“Easy boy! I can help without any messing, I’m smooth when I want to be”

Ben smiled and Conors heart dropped, he really had no other option…. God Help Him!

“I’m really sorry for calling you darling but Conor was adamant I bring this specific shirt and for the life of me I can’t find it, or his bloody special long hair shampoo, what the fuck kinda bloke has special hair shampoo… I’m losing my fucking mind here in your bathroom, I’ve never seen so many products.”

Y/N listened to the frustration in Ben's voice, he’d told her Mason had taken Conor golfing and so Ben was sent with a list of items to collect so there was no chance of Conor and Y/N running into each other.

Y/N was out for lunch with friends who were all being sympathetic and understanding which is just what she needed just now, so Ben's call was just about as inconvenient as it could get.

“Look Ben, just leave the list, I’ll get it all together and you can collect it all tomorrow, okay?”

Ben heard the reply and his heart sank, Conor hadn’t told him what to do if she suggested this, only what to say to get her to the house.

“Errrr, what about, I come and pick you up, bring you here, get the stuff together then I drop you back… 30 minutes max and lucky me I’ll get to see that fit blonde friend of yours, yeah, that works for me, is she still single by the way?”

Y/N sighed down the phone,

“She is single, you aren’t, you have Annie in your house Ben, remember?”

Ben half laughed.

“You say potatoes, I say patatas.”

“Benjamin! This! This is why Conor is a lost cause! Just hurry up and get here, do not get out of the car, do not look at any of my friends, do not make contact with any of them via Instagram, do you understand  me?”

Ben nodded then realised she couldn’t see him down the phone so he answered her 

“Understood, and on my way.”

“Just sit there and I’ll go get the bag from upstairs now we have everything and I’ll take you back to your friends, who I have to say, all looked lovely today,”

Ben smiled at Y/N's frown and made his way upstairs, sending the text on his phone and removing the headphones as instructed from his pocket, switching on the music he stepped into the guest room and closed the door.

Y/N sat on a dining chair, the silence was killing her.  She looked at her watch, she really needed to get back to her friends.

All of a sudden Blurred Lines started playing through the music system and she made to stand up but two hands rested on her shoulders and eased her back down.

His mouth was as close to her ear as it could get without actually touching, the song words dripping from his lips and despite her best judgement she felt her thighs clench and her pants become damp, her eyes closing at the sensation of his breath on her. 

His hands were slowly massaging her shoulders and easing their way down to her breasts finally resting just above her low cut top, her skin tingling under is touch and her breathing becoming more rapid.

If you can't hear, what I'm tryna say

If you can't read, from the same page

Maybe I'm going deaf

Maybe I'm going blind

Maybe I'm out of my mind

OK, now he was close

Tried to domesticate you

But you're an animal 

Baby, it's in your nature

Just let me liberate you

You don't need no papers

That man is not your mate

And that's why I'm gon' take you

She saw his leg swing around from the back, straight in front of her and between her own legs, and in one movement he was stood there, all white button down shirt and the tightest denims she’d ever seen him in, her eyes travelled up and down him twice before she reached his face, his eyes were dark and they were fixed on her face.

He gyrated his hips towards her, his hands back on her shoulder but stroking up and down her chest, teasing her with the promise he was going to touch her breast, but he didn’t.

She watched as he bent his legs at the knees, bringing his crotch so close to her body she was sure it touched her, but he moved it back and repeated the move, ghosting her body with his groin, silently asking her to meet him half way with her own, she ran a tongue along her lips, suddenly realising how dry they were, or was she salivating looking at him moving like liquid sex in front of her. He continued singing the song, his mouth close to hers as he said the words. Telling her he knew her, knew what he was doing, knew this would be driving her crazy with want...

Good girl!

I know you want it

I know you want it

I know you want it

You're a good girl!

Can't let it get past me

Me fall from plastic

Talk about getting blasted

He spread her legs with his hands, running them up to her thighs and back down again, his eyes boring into hers as he did.  She gasped as he ducked his head, making a wave motion with his body as he face dived into her groin then back out, his hands resting on the side of the chair as he repeated the action, his legs spread out at the back of him, resting on his toes and his thighs straining against the denims.

Y/N bit her lip, she was sure any minute now she was going to come and he’d smell it, she was shameless.

I hate these blurred lines!

I know you want it

I know you want it

I know you want it

But you're a good girl!

The way you grab me

Must wanna get nasty

Go ahead, get at me

He dropped to the floor and writhed with his back on the floor and his hips rising and falling as he sang the words, his hands rubbing up and down his thighs and his eyes closing slowly as he breathed the words out.

Fuck she wanted him, she wanted to slip from the chair and just take his dick into her mouth she was so turned on, but as she thought about it he knelt up quickly in one move and placed his hands on her thighs, keeping her legs apart an d slowly rising up on his legs until he had moved his body in one wave up towards her face and his groin sat just below her chin. Y/N wanted to poke her tongue out and just lick, just a small taste, just something to ease the frustration she was feeling now.

His hands came up to his shirt and he slowly ran his fingers in and out of the buttons, his eyes never leaving her face, his mouth still breathing the song out.

What do they make dreams for

When you got them jeans on

What do we need steam for

You the hottest b**** in this place!

I feel so lucky

You wanna hug me

What rhymes with hug me?

Hey!

He lifted her hands to his shirt and ran them down, watching as she closed her eyes and her tongue again licked at her lips, he wanted to kiss her, devour her, lay her down and just fuck her….. but not yet.

He dragged her hands slowly, so slowly down the cotton shirt, letting her feel his toned body underneath, letting her imagine the sweat she could feel on the fabric.

As she sighed at the feel of his body he upped the anti -

Standing bolt upright he thrust his hips forward with his hands over hers he eased them from his shirt onto his denim clad hips, down the side of his hips, along his thighs, then briefly, ghosted them over his groin so she could get a very short very slight feel of his erection being held captive within the tight denim.

OK, now he was close

Tried to domesticate you

But you're an animal

Baby, it's in your nature

Just let me liberate you

You don't need no papers

That man is not your mate

And that's why I'm gon' take you

Good girl!

I know you want it

I know you want it

I know you want it

As she watched her hands being led along his lower body like an artist with a paintbrush, he whipped around and her hands were suddenly caressing his firm buttocks, oh god, she wanted to sink her teeth onto them, wanted to leave a mark and then lick over it, stroking it whilst he thrust into her.

He bent forward, keeping his legs straight and then straightened himself up, moving his hands up his legs and letting them rest on his waist, spinning back around and letting her see where his fingers sat, how they were teasing the button through on his denims, how they eased the further buttons open, parting the end of the white shirt so she could clearly see within his pants,  revealing no underwear, just a light covering of hair that she knew led to the holy grail...

You're a good girl!

Can't let it get past me

Me fall from plastic

Talk about getting blasted

I hate these blurred lines!

I know you want it

I know you want it

I know you want it

Her eyes widened as she watched his fingers slowly popping one button at a time, then they stopped and they came to her face, slowly easing her mouth closed she wasn’t aware was gaping, and he lowered his head and ghosted the softest of kisses against her lips and she melted….

And she came…..

A long low moan leaving her mouth and a shudder running through her body as she felt the fluid run from her centre…

And he hadn’t finished yet!

His hands travelled to his shirt and he started at the top, opening first one button, then two, then as if he lost patience he just pulled and the buttons popped off or ripped open, Y/N gasped as his body was at last there in all its toned glory for her to see, she wanted to run her fingers over his ribs, down to his V line and follow the trail, she wanted him so badly.

Two hands dragged his shirt from his denims, letting it hang from his shoulders to the side of his sweat coated body.

A taste was all she wanted, she wanted to lick along the line of sweat she was following from his breast to his hip, she leaned forward, tongue starting to peep from between her lips, but her movement caused him to step back, wagging a finger at her as he continued with the song, which she now hated, how many fucking verses did this thing have!?

But you're a good girl!

The way you grab me

Must wanna get nasty

Go ahead, get at me

Shake your rump

Get down

Get up

Do it like it hurt, like it hurt

What, you don't like work?

Hey!

Baby, can you breathe?

I got this from Jamaica

It always works for me

Dakota to Decatur

Bending down he picked something up and she heard a low pop, allowing her eyes to deviate from his body she looked at his hands and her mouth made an O as he rubbed his hands together and then started to smear baby oil over his torso, leaning his head back as if standing under a shower, biting at his lip as his own fingers ran across his nipples and down towards his waist then back up easing his shirt from his shoulders and letting it pool on the floor, her eyes followed it and wished she were it and he could fall on top of her.

His eyes flashed open as Y/N whined at his actions, her hands splayed out on her thighs which were rubbing together trying to give the friction she was desperate for after having come once already.  He stopped and lifted her hands, placing them on his skin, letting her rub along his body, the oil oozing through her fingers.  Turning slowly he let her rub the little oil from her hands onto his back, then turning back again he bent his body, placing his hands either side of her onto the chair and lowering his face towards her groin, smelling her personal scent at the same time as she continued to massage along his shoulders.

No more pretending

Cause now your winning

Here's our beginning

I always wanted a

Good girl!

I know you want it

I know you want it

I know you want it

Stepping back he shifted his stance, legs closer together, hands atop the waistband of the denims, the last few buttons were flicked through quickly and Y/N bit her lip, she may combust by the time these denims were removed, she knew what lay within and God she wanted it so badly.

You're a good girl!

Can't let it get past me

Me fall from plastic

Talk about getting blasted

I hate these blurred lines!

I know you want it

I know you want it

I know you want it

Slowly, so slowly, he eased the denim down, the oil on his hands leaving a trail along his thighs, his knees, his calves, she followed every centimetre of the journey, watching his fingers pry the fabric along his limbs, watch the material bunch and fold as it exposed his body, his legs that ran miles every day, that allowed her to ride him, took her weight when she got tired on top, allowed her to sit on him to enjoy a cuddle.  Those legs were priceless and they felt so good under her body, behind her or either side of her when they shagged.

Then he was stepping out of his jeans, lifting them and dropping them to the side, standing up, naked, hard bodied, hard erection, and hers.

His eyes met hers and he licked his lips, running a hand along his shaft and emitting a low moan letting his eyes close lazily.

But you're a good girl!

The way you grab me

Must wanna get nasty

Go ahead, get at me

Everybody get up

Everybody get up

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

The words had stopped coming from his mouth and the last verse was sung from the speakers and she stood up and covered his hand with hers, the oil making the journey up and down his erection easy and he sighed as she leaned forward and kissed him. His hand went into her hair, then down to her dress, lifting it over her head and making short work of removing all underwear.

Dropping to the floor he eased himself between her legs, teasing her with the tip of his dick and licking along her lips.

“Don’t tease”

She tried to thrust herself up to slide him inside her, but he shifted his hips back and licked along her jaw,

“You love the tease, that’s what's got you wet, that’s what you wanted, isn't it?”

He kissed up to her ear and breathed across it.

“I heard your conversation, you’re not the only one who can overhear things. Marsha taught me how to strip, how to tease, how to please you without touching. She’s 60 if she’s a day but she’s good at her job.”

He was speaking so quietly against her ear, she was struggling to hear him over her own panting and his breathy words.

“I’m sorry”

She almost got a sentence out but his finger rested against her lips,

“Stop, let me love you.”

He lowered himself onto her and into her, his hands taking her and holding them above her head as he slowly thrust in and out of her, feeling her building to her peak as he nibbled along her neck, down to her breasts and all the while telling her he loved her, only her, only ever her and then she fell, a long deep moan slipping from her as she tightened around him bring him along with her, how could she ever doubt him?

They lay side by side, clothes strewn around them and rig full of oil from Conor's body, oblivious to time or changing temperature, but then

“Can I come down yet? I’m bloody starving and I need to get home”

Conor looked over at Y/N and they both laughed, grabbing something to cover certain body parts they watched as Ben held his hand against his eyes at an angle so he couldn’t see them and left the house.

Y/N ran a finger down Conor's torso,

“You know, you could always strip for a job if your football doesn’t work out but they do 2 shows a day at weekend you know, and today is Sunday so come on, get dressed, time for the main event”

Conor laughed and picked her up, carrying her towards the stairs

“I’ll give you a main event missy and I don’t need to be stripping to do it...”

[wh6res]

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person. 

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve. 

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun. 

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings. 

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll. 

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections. 

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to. 

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail. 

but you weren’t as lucky today. 

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin. 

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you. 

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing. 

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too. 

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold. 

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale. 

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you. 

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn. 

she reminds you of yourself. 

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck. 

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job. 

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again. 

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you. 

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine. 

you look over your shoulder. 

no one’s there. 

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way. 

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding. 

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night. 

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea. 

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government. 

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted. 

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. 

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes. 

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin. 

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight. 

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force. 

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud. 

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green. 

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak. 

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer. 

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply. 

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them. 

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?” 

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape. 

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent. 

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries? 

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life. 

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake. 

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls. 

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault. 

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house. 

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day. 

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless. 

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate. 

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can. 

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside. 

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again. 

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice. 

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there. 

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with. 

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan. 

you almost collapse against the brick wall. 

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose. 

until you saw who it was. 

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday. 

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try. 

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma. 

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down. 

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times. 

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left. 

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes. 

three times you’ve cheated death. 

but time is up and your luck has run out. 

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch. 

naeun is nowhere to be seen. 

good. 

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare. 

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience. 

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it. 

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket. 

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances. 

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper. 

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you. 

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder. 

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you. 

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings. 

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you. 

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke. 

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone. 

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath. 

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase. 

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium). 

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin. 

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them. 

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory. 

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball. 

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

taglist !!

@hoeartchoke @donghyukcore @stopknot @greenish-taro @zhongriot @lmaoskz @zephyr-abyss @anonymous-stuff @josuke8 @jaemotel @winwiniee​ @dundun-baby @nakamotocore @hcwurld @alaeddis @recs-for-later @jaehyunssslut

wanna be added to my taglist? click here!

‎

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[bibbawrites]

Can’t Keep My Hands Off You - Owen Joyner x Reader

Request:  there’s not enough owen content on this site so i’m begging u to go write for him!! fluff, smut, angst whatever you want! i’ll take any crumb! 

Word Count: 1527 words

Summary: you had never been a terribly touchy feely person, until you fell in love with Owen and everything changed...

Warnings: swearing

A/N: couldn’t help myself i had to give you guys another fic tonight lol, i’m smashing these out!  not much else to say other than enjoy! 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @molinaroberts​ @joynersgoatblog​ @courageous-she​ @littlemissaddict​ @gloomybrieyxb​ @itsyagorlemmalyn @jatpxmultifan​ @moneybagmgk​ @emeliii1​ @mybradforddream​ (the strike through means it wont let me tag you)

“Can you stop playing with my hair, I’m trying to concentrate.” You sighed, removing your hands from your boyfriend’s hair. You were sat in a hotel room, on a JATP cast trip to New York, Owen’s head in your lap, watching some musical on the TV. Owen had been chattering non stop about the musical being shown, so the two of you had turned down an offer from Kenny for a cast dinner and instead ordered Uber Eats to the hotel and had curled up to watch the musical.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was being annoying.” You responded after a moment of silence. Normally Owen loved having his hair played with when you were relaxing.

“I’m just trying to concentrate and I can’t do that with you braiding or whatever you were attempting to do.” Owen sighed, sitting up. “It wasn’t that you were being annoying baby.”

You nodded, ignoring the look that your boyfriend gave you. A look that made you feel like you were a child who had been reprimanded and Owen was your parent who was feeling slightly guilty for being harsh. But then again, he should feel guilty. You weren’t doing anything wrong.

You picked up your phone as Owen laid back against the headboard. You had a missed text from Savannah, asking you if you wanted to meet up, so you sent a quick text back to say maybe later, before turning your phone off and lying down.

“You tired?” Owen asked. You made a noise in response. You weren’t really, but all you wanted to do was sulk in peace. Owen rolled his eyes, knowing how you could be.

“Hey, I love you.” He said, reaching out and rubbing your back. After a moment of silence you sighed.

“I love you too O.”

And with that you shut your eyes, forcing yourself to fall asleep.

-

A few days later you encountered an issue again. You and Owen had been sitting in the lobby of the hotel along with Charlie, Jeremy and Carolynn. You and Owen were curled up on a chair, and you were absentmindedly playing with Owen’s hair with one hand and his fingers with the other.

You were completely tuned out of the conversation, and didn’t focus until Owen announced he was going to get a drink. The remaining four watched as he walked away, before Charlie spoke.

“You know you don’t have to touch him all the time Y/N, we’re not gonna try and steal him.” He teased, turning to face you. You rolled your eyes.

“You of all people can’t be commenting on being clingy, Gillespie. Besides, I don’t touch him that much.”

Jeremy and Charlie laughed.

“You sure about that?” Jeremy said between laughs. You didn’t respond.

“Come on Y/N, you’re basically attached to him at all times. If you’re not holding his hand, you’re touching his arm or playing with his hair. He’s not gonna run away if you let him go.”

“Oh hush, I think it’s cute how touchy the two of them are.” Carolynn defended.

You glanced across the room to where Owen was stood, waiting for his drink.

“Do I really touch him that much?” You asked, turning your attention back to the group. They nodded.

“He asked me to stop touching his hair the other night, said it was because he couldn’t concentrate. What if he thinks I touch him too much too?” You could feel your brain beginning to explode with thoughts. Were you being too clingy? Maybe Owen didn’t like being touched... Had you ever asked him that? Were you just invading Owen’s personal space constantly and making him uncomfortable and you hadn’t even asked permission?

You zoned back in when you heard your name.

“Huh?” You asked, noticing Owen had returned.

“I said, do you want to go to the pool now?” Owen repeated.

“Yeah sure.” You stood up, grabbing your water bottle. “You guys coming?” Jeremy, Carolynn and Charlie shook their heads.

“Looks like it’s just you and me then babe.” Owen smiled, reaching out to grab your hand. You pulled your hand away, ignoring the confusion and hurt that appeared on Owen’s face. Clearly you were too hands on, and you needed to take a step back. And if that meant no touching, then so be it.

-

The indoor pool was empty as you walked into the room, the smell of chlorine filling your nostrils.

“Where should we put our stuff? The place is packed.” Owen joked. You bit your lip, ignoring him. Owen frowned, muttering something under his breath.

You put your stuff down on the nearest chair, pulling your shirt and shorts off and jumping straight into the pool. You let yourself be submerged in the water, before kicking up and glancing at your boyfriend, who was still standing next to the chairs.

“You coming in or are you going to stand there all day?” You asked, treading water.

“Oh so you do know I exist, that’s good to know.” Owen spat, throwing his bag down. You frowned.

“Did I do something wrong?”  Owen rolled his eyes.

“The fact that you have to ask that clearly speaks for itself.” He spoke, sitting down on the edge of the pool.

“Okay so tell me then.” You said, trying not to get agitated. Fighting wouldn’t solve anything. Owen was silent. You sighed.

“Or don’t.” You muttered. There was a moment of quiet.

“Why didn’t you hold my hand?” Owen asked, his voice barely loud enough to hear. You paused.

“Because I’m too touchy.” You mumbled.

Owen looked up, frowning. “What?”

You climbed out of the pool and sat down next to your boyfriend.

“It’s because I’m too touchy. Everyone knows it, I can’t keep my hands off you. You said yourself the other night that you didn’t want me touching your hair, and then Charlie told me that I touch you too much and Jeremy and Care agreed, so I decided that I would back off.” You said. Owen rolled his eyes and grabbed your wet hand.

“Y/N, I love you but god you can be a huge fucking dumbass sometimes.” You looked up at him, frowning. Owen smiled.

“I love it when you touch me. When we’re out somewhere and you grab my hand. Or at a meal and you put your hand on my thigh. Or if we’re chilling and you play with my hair or my fingers. I love every minute of it. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression the other night, I just really wanted to concentrate, and when you’ve got your hands in my hair my brain goes to mush.” He lent closer to you. “All I can think of is how much I love you, and how much I want to do this.”

He pressed his lips to yours gently, before pulling away.

“So what I’m hearing is keep touching you?” You whispered softly. Owen nodded.

“Never stop.” You moved away, smiling.

“Can we go in the pool now?” You asked. Owen didn’t respond, he just stood up and pulled his shirt off, tossing it in the direction of the chair, and jumped into the pool. When he resurfaced he looked up at you.

“You coming in or are you going to sit there all day?” He grinned, repeating your words from 5 minutes earlier. You laughed, sliding into the pool and swimming over to Owen, who had moved into the shallower section of the pool where you could stand up with the water reaching your shoulders.

“I love you.” He whispered once you arrived.

“I love you too O.” You replied, leaning in and kissing Owen again. Your bodies pressed together under the warm water, hands roaming each other’s backs.

“God can you not have sex in the pool, other people have to use this thing.” A Canadian voice broke you apart. You looked up to see Charlie, Jeremy and Carolynn standing there, smirks on both of the boys faces.

“Okay, first of all fuck off.” Owen said, his tone sounding annoyed but the glint in his eye giving him away.

“And second of all, clearly you don’t know what sex is if you say this is sex. This was barely first base.” Charlie jumped into the pool with a splash, Jeremy not far behind, leaving Carolynn to curl up on one of the lounge chairs, not wanting to swim just yet.

“Keep telling yourself that bro, but there were tongues in mouths that they do not belong in.” Charlie joked back.

“Oh yeah?” Owen asked, before splashing water at Charlie. The Canadian gasped playfully.

“Fuck that’s it, you’ve started a war Joyner.”

“Bring it Gillespie, you don’t scare me.” The two began splashing again, Jeremy now getting involved in the fight.

You swam over to the shallow end, before climbing out and sitting on the lounger next to Carolynn.

“Do you think they’ll ever grow up?” You asked, as the three boys began wrestling, trying to shove each other under the water.

“No, I don’t.” Carolynn laughed. “But that’s why we love them, right?”

You nodded.

That was why you loved them

[draco-spencers-paramour]

congrats for 300 followers! can I request a 🖤 with draco they have a sort of arrangement where everyday after work he goes to her house eats her out and have sex and then he leaves. they never talk but are catching feelings so one day when he comes as usual. Instead of him going down on her she gives him head and asks him to stay the night when they talk and finally confess?

This description is dirty af.....i love that😉

What you don’t know can’t hurt you

You never expected that after the war the person who helped you forget about the painful memories was the one and only Draco Malfoy.

You had spoken a few times, nothing serious. It was evident that you were both attractive people and there was a mutual awareness of that. Nothing really happened until after the war when school ended. Both of you were left broken and sad, ending up at the 3 broomsticks and then fucking back at yours an hour and a half later after at least 4 drinks about 6 weeks since you’d left hogwarts.

Draco had a job as an auror and you were a healer. Your arrangement was simple. He enjoyed going down on you much to your delight, and sex. But he never gave you the opportunity to do oral on him. Being the gracious person that you are, you wanted to return the favour but no. Because then it was over and he’d leave.

This had been going on for 6 months straight. You and him both trying to find some kind of release and comfort. The only issue was that you both became absolutely head over heels for each other but you had a fear of messing things up and ruining your arrangement which stopped your confessions of love. He longed for you, silently pining in desperation for one of you to just say something. Whereas you thought he just needed someone to use to fulfill his sex life, like his own personal fucktoy. Not that you minded but it did make you feel like shit after he left.

However, would you even call Draco your friend? Or was he just a lover..a regular hookup? you weren’t sure but you wanted more than oral and sex. It was mind-blowing but there was not much interaction though just whining of names, moaning and curse words. Even when you’d see each other in the street or at gatherings, you’d exchange the soft hello and not say a word to each other for the rest of the night but would probably leave together to go and fuck at yours.

Tonight was the same weekday routine. You finished your shift at St. Mungos before coming into your apartment in Godric’s Hollow. You got undressed had a shower and put a robe on before sitting on your couch with a mug of tea practically waiting for the boy you loved to knock on the door. And he did.

You swung the door open to see Draco looking rather upset. ‘You alright?’ you asked. He nodded before entering the room and you swiftly shut the door. He placed his work bag down before turning around and immediately placing his lips on yours. You became dizzy and light headed from the emotion he was pouring into the kiss. He must’ve had a really bad day you thought. He picked you up and pinned you against the door, lips never leaving yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you submitted full control to him, the bottom of your robe hiking up around your legs almost exposing you bare as his hand travelled along your thigh.

Draco carried you to the bedroom like it was second nature and laid you down on the bed. He began to kiss down your neck as per usual trailing down to your panties. You really wanted to give him full pleasure tonight so you stopped him at your navel by tapping him on the shoulder. ‘Could we switch tonight? maybe i go down on you instead?’ you bit your lip nervous at his reponse. He gave a small smile ‘If you want.’

You smirked and flipped you both over so that he was against the bed lying down. You slowly and teasingly removed your robe. Draco’s icy eyes were over taken by his pupils and his lips parted at the sight of your beautiful naked body. You removed his shirt before sinking to your knees, on the carpet, below the bed and began unbuckling his belt. You took of his trousers and boxers in one swift movement so that he too was now naked. Draco’s dick was prominently standing up against his stomach when you then slowly wrapped your hand around his length and licked up from the base to his tip.

He threw his head back and moaned ‘Oh god y/n, good girl’ this encouraged you to slip your lips around him and slide his cock in and out of your mouth. Draco kept moaning, grunting and swearing as you explored different pressures and boundaries. ‘Fucking hell..i’m gonna-.’ he said as you took him all in and sucked lightly. He gave a long low moan as he came in your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it.

you came up to kiss him which he gladly accepted and flipped the dynamic again with him on top. he pressed your hips into the mattress as he slotted his body in between your legs whilst his mouth was still on yours. He looked at you with an expression you’d never quite seen before. It was soft, curious and lustful almost bordeline loving. He then looked at you as to say ready?

you nodded and smiled before feeling the tip of his cock rub against your clit making you moan softly. Immediately after, you felt what you had been waiting for. Draco. His dick entered you slowly and he set a slow pace. He put his head in the crook of your neck and began kissing and panting. The pressure of the pleasure was too much for you both. The slow pace was absolutely fucking heaven. You were both on cloud 9, involuntarily clenching around him with every thrust. This was not sex, he was making love to you.

‘Oh Draco. Yes...yes..more.’ you whined. He moved his head to suck on your tits as he was fucking into you. That was what pushed you over the edge and you screamed out a string of expletives along with draco’s name as you orgasmed and clenched around his cock. Seconds later he met with his own release cumming inside you, pulling you into a kiss as he came.

Draco slumped on top of you waiting to catch his breath. You knew it would be about another 30 seconds before he got up dressed himself and left. Just as you predicted he stood up, out of the bed and went to the carpet where his clothes were and began to put his trousers back on. No you thought you couldn’t go on like this any longer.

Before your brain could even stop you the word fell out. ‘Stay’ you said, terrified. He blinked and look at the ground and then back up at you and it was simply ‘Okay, sure.’ He removed his trousers being naked once more and climbed back into your bed with you. Draco’s arms instantly came around your waist and you put your leg across his stomach, rested your head on his chest and put your arm across too. You were cuddling Draco Malfoy post-sex.....this does not happen ever **The beautiful boy laid there looking up the at ceiling as you just looked at him

Your eyes finally met ‘You know, we don’t actually speak very much, if at all. Everytime we see each other we say hi but then we don’t talk.’ Draco pursed his lips ‘I don’t know how to speak to people. Especially if i’m fucking them.’ you looked at him confused ‘But the only person you’ve been fucking for the last 6 months is me and when we were in school it was pansy in 5th year and you spoke to her ’ he nodded ‘I know but she was terrible and I didn’t and don’t even like her. It’s just different with you.’

you removed yourself from him and sat up and furrowed your brows ‘Why? Because I’m worse?’ he sat up also and put his hand on the small of your back ‘Merlin, no you’re the best I’ve ever had. But it’s not because of any of that.’ you looked at him even more puzzled ‘Then why?’ you questioned again. He sighed before looking down ‘I love you.’ he admitted. Your eyes widened ‘What?’

Draco frowned ‘Im sorry. I do. I love you. I see you at gatherings laughing so carelessly with your friends and I wish it was me making you laugh. I time exactly when I’ll get to yours so that i know you’ve had enough time to get ready and settled before i come over. I know that you have green tea always and you enjoy watching the rain and having baths. You hate anything orange flavoured and you like muggle TV for who knows why. I know a lot more than you think I do because I want be the person who you feel like home with because I love you and i’ve just ruined everything.’ he put his head in his hands.

You carefully took his hands away taking in his broken hearted expression ‘I love you too Draco. So much’ you held your hands in his. He gazed at you in shock before tackling to you to the bed and kissing you. ‘So how about we get to know each other a little better?’ you suggested ‘Like a date night?’ he beamed. You laughed ‘Yes but right now I had more of a ‘round two’ situation in mind considering our current state.’ you looked between you two to see that you were still both naked.

He smirked ‘Read my mind Y/l/n.’ You kissed him again ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you more.’ he said

well....thank you anon. I enjoyed writing this far too much 😁

[heavenbarnes]

when it’s that time of night

Jim Hopper x Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, fully clothed sex, implied age gap, canon-typical spookiness

Word Count: 3.4k

i finally finished stranger things and i’m just as hot for hawkins chief of police as i was when i started, so here we are x

Gathered around Joyce Byers' kitchen table, your gaze flickered between the comotion unfolding in front of you, and Hopper. Things had undeniably changed since that evening, and those same things had only seemed to get, well, stranger. A silly part of you hoped that if you glared at him hard enough, things would start to become clear.

"I wouldn't normally do this, but you're about one of the only people I can trust."

Jim stood on your doorstep with three of the neighborhood kids, and one young girl you'd not seen before. This was not something you anticipated when you started seeing Hopper, but nevertheless, you stepped aside and let them in.

Maybe that was why he had brought them hear, because it was in your nature to care more about their safety than what made sense. You let the kids have your TV remote and flick through your records, before you turned back to Hopper with a kind of expression that said "you do this with all the girls that let you sleepover?"

And after that, in all hushed tones in your very small kitchen, Jim divulged tales of disappearing children and ones that could move things with their mind.

"I just need you to keep them safe for a few hours, then I'll explain even more."

As much as he did explain, you felt like the more you saw and heard, the less you knew. Listening to these kids, try to tell you that Joyce's son had been kidnapped by the monster from their boardgame? You felt like you needed to lay down a while.

Your skills ranged from serving diner meals on rollerskates, and driving the neighborhood boys crazy in the process. You weren't sure how you'd fear as a monster hunter. Young Jonathan Byers snapped you from your thoughts by throwing a theory out to the group.

"So for us to strike whilst the iron is hottest, we'd just need to know when it will all start happening again?" 

Everyone murmured in agreement but Hopper wasn't having it.

"Ok, so when exactly would that be? Are you going to tell me there is just a time that these things are all going to kick off?"

Your ears pricked up and suddenly your mouth was opening before your brain could catch it.

"Three in the morning." That had everyone's eyes on you.

Not used to hearing you join in on these things, Hopper prompted you to carry on.

You pushed up off the wall you were leaning against and spoke again. "Three in the morning, the witching hour."

"What is the witching hour?" Jonathan pressed you further.

"My Grandmother used to tell me about it, in folklore they say that three in the morning is the witching hour." You stepped further towards the table where they had all congregated.

"It's when the veil between this part of the world," One of your hands lay flat beneath your chin, whilst the other lay palm turned up in line with your belly "And this part of the world,"

"Like Australia?" Dustin questioned, receiving a smack in the arm from Mike.

"No, like the underworld or what you guys call the upside down, it's when the veil between the two is at it's thinnest allowing the unforgiving to travel through."

They all looked from each other and back to you, beginning to fear that you might be onto something.

"Believe me, I work in a 24-hour diner, if things are going to get strange it's going to be at three in the morning."

"What kind of strange?" Joyce spun round at that comment, a sort of pleading in her eyes.

"The lights will pulse, and the machines will start to get these electricity surges, I hate working the nights in there." The look she gave you began to prick the hairs on the back of your neck. "Why are you looking like I've just laid the last piece in your puzzle?"

"Because I think you just have."

Ever since you spoke the witching hour theory into existence, you hadn't been able to get it off your mind. That very next day, your boss called the house and told you that you'd be on the night shift, and Veronica's kid had mono so you'd be doing it alone.

Something told you that you'd made a mistake speaking it outloud, that now this- well whatever this was, but now that it knew you knew it's secrets, it was onto you. However that could've all been crazy, and maybe Hawkins was getting lazy with it's electrical and it just got screwy when they thought everyone was sleeping.

Regardless, it was now 1.41am and there wasn't a customer in sight. It was just you, the empty diner, and the fast approaching witching hour. For the first time in your life, you actually wished one of the town's teenage boys would come in and hound your for a date, just so you had some company.

You resorted to wiping down the counter for about the 30th time that night, a spot of mess at the one of the back booths catching your eye. Leaving the counter, you roller-skated down the back of the store and cleaned up the leftover baskets and napkins. You were bent over the table, flicking the the cloth over the surface when you heard it. The bell on the door.

Your blood rain cold and just about every hair on your body stood on end. An unexplainable feeling drifted over you, that feeling when you know it's all gone wrong, but there just isn't anything you can do about it. That feeling enveloped you and it took over you, you couldn't even bring yourself to turn your head.

Heavy, heavy steps were heading your way and you knew it was do or die. You could try shoot the gap to the backroom, that or beat whatever it was with your bare hands. As it got closer you geared up all your strength and spun around on your skate in an instant.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING-"

"GOD, PUT YOUR ARMS DOWN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Hopper gripped your wrists and stilled you moments before you lay your fists in his eye sockets. Your breathing slowly came back down to a normal pace, but you could still feel your pulse rattling around in your body. Of course it was just Hopper, of course it wasn't a boardgame monster stopping by for a snack.

"What are you doing here?" You still sounded exasperated as you pulled your arms from his grip and threw yourself into his chest.

He brought both his arms around your shoulders and pulled you further into him, giving you a moment to calm yourself down. "I came in to keep you company, I know you've been a little on edge since you brought up that shit at the Byers' house."

"God, thank you so much, I'm sorry for trying to beat you to death." Voice muffled by his chest, your sentiments were still appreciated.

He brought you back down to the front of the shop and you took one side of the counter each. Fixing him a coffee as a half-hearted apology for the near miss, you slid it across the counter to take place of an olive branch. He accepted with a grin, unable to stay mad at you, even when you're trying to knock his teeth out.

"I am actually so sorry, I really have been on edge, I don't know why." Your head fell into your hands, gently tugging at your own hair.

"Hey, hey come here." He called you around the counter, turning around in his stool as you got closer.

Pulling you between his spread legs, you settled back into his hold, allowing those big hands to rub down the spanse of your back. Even his touch alone could soothe you, even when you were still a little terrified of a time on the clock. His hands moved to your lower back, gently rubbing away all the tensions you'd held inside you for sometime.

There was something about Hopper, from the moment you finally let him drive you home after a shift, giving in to his multitudes of compliments about your roller-skates and your coffee pouring and your little uniform. He was warm and he was kind, he made you laugh and he felt good when he wrapped himself around you. Oh, and it couldn't be forgotten that the Hawkins Chief of Police was unbelievable in the sack.

"You got any customers tonight?" His voice rumbled against your whole body, sounding from deep insdie his chest.

You pushed back from him, letting his hands fall to your waist and your eyes meet, your fingers played with the buttons of his uniform.

"Not since 11.30, and I won't see anymore, I never do." You sighed, tipping your head back with a petty groan. "I still don't know why they have me here so late."

Hopper's hands drifted lower, ever so slightly, until his fingers were toying with the hem of your dress. The gentle touch pricked your skin up, understanding from a touch alone exactly what his intentions were. You kept your gaze fixed on his, a look in your eye that almost seemed to say "go for it."

One of his hands took yours, long fingers slotting between yours as he pulled you out from between his legs. Your roller-skates glided you easily along the linoleum floor, putting you out in front of him.

"Do a twirl for me?" His mouth quirked up into a smirk, making a heat rise up your neck and settle at your cheeks.

You didn't so much agree as he did it for you, lifting your arm and twirling you around on the wheels of your skates. If your dress wasn't so tight, it would've spun around you, but your apron did it for you. An unmissable grin spread across Jim's face, watching your little pose at the end as you both giggled.

"I believe they have you here so late to keep you in this little uniform just a bit longer." His voice was gruff, pulling you towards him again.

"Oh is that what it is?"

"That is what it is," His hands went back to the hem and seemed to sneak under it. "It's to make life harder for me."

"So, this is about you?"

"All about me, it's so I have to sit at home and just think about your pretty ass skating around in this tiny fucking dress, and there isn't anything I can do about it."

It got hotter in the diner, right in that very moment, you could feel it spreading across your body as you lent into him. Your lips ghosted just moments above his, so close he could feel your breath on his skin.

"Well you aren't at home now," You whispered, very nearly placing your lips on his. "What are you 'gonna do about it?"

He didn't have to tell you, it was rather a display to show you what he'd do. His lips came to yours, his signature was a domineering kiss that left you reeling an unable to think of anything else afterwards. His kisses left a hold over you, the way his tongue felt against yours, the way his hands moved against you. This man had you good.

Standing up from the stool, he wrapped one hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him in one swift movement. Your hands went up to his jaw, feeling his coarse beard under your fingers as you pulled his face closer to yours. One of your hands took his hat from the top of his head and hung it off the register beside you.

Hopper kept his hand on your waist, and left the other go beneath your thigh. In one swift motion he lifted you, placing you down on the counter before pushing the skirt of your dress up your legs. With a hand on each knee, he spread them apart and pulled you right to the edge, pushing himself between them to get even closer.

You moaned into his mouth, the feeling of him handling you like his brought a wave over you, making your legs shake around him. One of his hands traveled higher up your thigh, making it's way past the bunched fabric and between your legs. Two fingers pressed firmly against the seat of your underwear and it was made apparent, just how wet he'd gotten you.

"Fuck, little lady you are always so good for me, aren't you?" His voice was nearly a bark, lips moving down your jaw and to your throat.

"I try my best, chief."

His motions stopped at the sound of that name, and within in instant he was pulling your underwear down your legs. It hung around one of your roller-skates as he pushed both your legs over his broad shoulders, leaning you back till you were perched up on your elbows.

Hopper's mouth found the meeting of your thighs, his tongue coming out to lick a fine stripe along your heat. Your mouth fell open and your hands flew to his head, fingers threading into his hair as he began to move his tongue against you.

Gasps and nearly pathetic whimpers fell from your lips as he worked against your clit, rolling it against his tongue with unreal precision. The only word leaving your lips was his title, the sound of chief filled the diner and bounced off the windows.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding them apart as your body willed you to clamp them around his head. Your hips rolled forward, pressing you further into his mouth as his tongue moved down further before coming back up to that one spot.

So quickly, you could already feel that tension building inside you, a fine line of pleasure that was ready to snap. His eyes rose up to you, locking with you and making about every muscle inside you tighten. That look in his eye, it could've killed you the way you knew exactly what it meant.

He had a sweet tooth only you were pretty enough to sate.

One of his hands left your thigh and moved below the counter, you listened to the sound of his belt buckle as he haphazardly undid it one-handed. You heard his fly next and it was incredibly apparent that he was palming himself as his tongue still moved against you.

The thought, the image in your mind, the sounds he made as he moaned against your wetness it was all too much. Your head tipped back, fingers tightened in his hair as you cried out for him. You felt that line snap as your release washed over you.

Hopper never let up, lips still pursed around your clit as you rode out your high, nearly overtaking you. He never went to far, always new the line and he pulled back as he stood to full height. Your legs fell to his sides and you looked up to see him grasping himself in his hand.

His other hand trailed against your sensitive heat, two fingers dragging through the wetness that remained there.

"You have the sweetest fucking pussy I've ever got my hands on." He growled as he dove in for a kiss, the taste of you ever present on his lips.

He took that hand from between your legs and used it to slick up his cock, twisting your wetness around himself as he lay his head at your entrance. He dragged it along your sensitive cunt, before slowly pushing his way in.

The gasp that fell from you was iminent, Jim had a stretch like nothing else. Your body relaxed into this kiss and into him until he was hip-deep within you.

"And your pussy is so fucking tight, I can't believe how lucky I got." 

"It's all for you, chief, fuck me like you mean it."

So he did, his hands slid to the other side of the counter and gripped the edge before he delivered the first incredible blow. Your back arched up and a cry was ripped from within you as he pumped his hips quickly against your own.

Your hands shot up to grip his arms, feeling the muscles tensing beneath the cotton of his work shirt. Legs tensing up around his hips, moans and whimpers still steadily coming from you, it only seemed to spur him on like he was listening for the way you fell apart for him.

"You look so good taking my cock, pretty girl." He huffed, one hand leaving the counter to come and grip your hip.

He pulled you back against him with every thrust, striking deep inside you and rolling your eyes back in your head. Still on edge from the flood of pleasure he had just dipped you in, you felt like you were right there, teetering on the edge and waiting to be pushed over.

Always knowing exactly what he was doing, exactly what would drive you crazy and have you falling apart around him. Maybe this is what it had all been about, that talk about being with an older man, you'd heard the stories and he'd proven them all right.

From the moment you'd started sleeping over with each other, Hopper had changed your life. You didn't know if you could go back to nights without getting your back blown out by Jim Hopper. He would always talk about how he couldn't believe he got a pretty young thing like yourself, but you didn't know how you'd lucked out on someone that made you feel the way he did.

Gripping onto his uniform and crying out for him, you felt that hand on your hip slip down to your clit, rubbing furious circles against it. Another moan of that name, that title that until you had said it, was nothing more than a work give name. Now, the way that you said it gave it a whole new meaning.

It had gotten so bad that he had to stop asking you to call him that in front of people, after he'd pitched a tent the day you visited him at the station. Now that was reserved for teasing.

The way he touched you, how he knew your body, it had you dangerously close to coming undone for him once again that evening. Your heat clenched around him, dragging him in with a raw cry ripping out of your throat and rising above the both of you.

That line snapped once more and you couldn't help the way your hips rose from the counter and your body twitched under the mountain of pleasure. Over the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears, you could hear the words of encouragement coming from Hopper.

He rode out your high with you again, pulling you back against him and refusing to let up as you felt him faltering slightly. "That's my good girl, 'gonna make me come."

You reached your hands up his chest, pulling against his shirt as you arched your back for him again. Your lips pursed as you mustered the strength to call out to him.

"Come for me, chief."

And that was enough to do it for him, his hips stilling tight against you as he came deep in you. Grunts and chopped cries of your name could be heard as he pulled you flush towards his chest, arms wrapped under your back as his heart hammered against both of your chests.

He let you back down from the counter, fixing himself as you pulled up your underwear and smoothed out your uniform. You placed his hat back on his head as he sat back on the stool, before you slotted back between his thighs.

As he wrapped his arms back around you, you heard, and then you saw it. That electrical pulsing, that buzzing that seemed to come from the lightbulbs. Right as your heart-rates had just come back as they should, you physically felt yours pick up again.

"Baby, what'd you call that damn time again?"

Your eyes moved from the flickering lights to the big clock on the wall, the one you usually focused on for your breaks. The hands were pointing clear as day, three in the morning.

"The witching hour."

[petalsrdead]

LOVE WITHIN VILE RICHES

pairing: tobio kageyama x female reader (hinata, yachi, tsukishima, tadashi, two original female characters, and parents of both you and kageyama featured)

word count: 2,209 words

summary: your fathers are business partners, so you two have known each other forever, but have always hated and competed to see who was the best. high school graduation has come and gone, and you and tobio decide to face any feelings and hatred you have for each other one on one

warnings: 18+, smut!!, arguing, angst, swearing, bully!kageyama(kinda???), underage drinking (for americans, not those with 18+ drinking ages), kageyama is smart unlike in the manga & anime, oral (f receiving), praise kink, praising in general, some fluffy aftercare,

a/n: this is my piece for @bakugohoex ‘s rich boy collab. read everyone’s pieces here! congrats on the milestone ria! also thank you to @fallxngstarr for helping me with the title for this and beta reading! also if this seems rushed im sorry! work has been kicking my butt.

the idea of another party between your two families had your head reeling. tobio kageyama was your worst nightmare, and even though your fathers were business partners and friends since junior high, their two children couldn’t get along to save their lives. kageyama always picked on you when one of your mothers watched both of you. he pulled your hair, took your toys, ate your snacks… your mothers joked it was just a way of showing that he liked you.

as the two of you got older and went to school together, you competed academically. the two of you were born four months apart, kageyama being the eldest, so you were in the same class quite often. you both wanted to prove you could be the heirs of the business your fathers worked so hard to build, and you just had some unspoken competition with one another.

you’re both 18 now and having a joint high school graduation party. you were head of the class, tobio right behind you, so everyone was ecstatic. the party was both of your families, friends, and business partners.

it’s a hot summer day, lemonade and watermelon set out for the guests to enjoy. you smooth down your sundress and stand at the door of the kageyama’s mansion.

though your fathers are the heads of the business, kageyama’s dad is the technical ceo, and since he already came from money, it made sense that they lived where they did. kageyama’s mother greets your family at the door, pulling everyone in for hugs.

“(y/n)! you look so stunning! that dress is beautiful!” his mother beams, smiling at you.

“thank you mrs kageyama! i bought it just for today!” you run your hands down the front of it again and smile.

“tobio is in the game room if you’d like to see him.” his father says.

‘that’s not really a suggestion.’ you think to yourself, but nod and excuse yourself, heading into the game room down the hall.

you can hear him yelling, probably at hinata as you walk through the open door. he’s playing some type of combat game.

“dammit hinata! im down!” he yells, slamming his controller against his thigh.

you stand behind him as he sits on the couch and look around the space. he’s got every gaming console a boy could ever want or need, a huge tv, and an amazing surround sound system. a large sectional fills up the room with a mini fridge in the corner.

you walk towards tobio, your nerves kicking in as you step into his view.

“fuck. gotta go hinata. the bitch is here.” he mumbles and throws off his headset.

you wave and smile softly at him, trying to be friendly. “congratulations tobio… i heard about the volleyball commitment—“

“shut up. gods you’re really annoying you know that? why are you even in here? i don’t want to see your stupid face.” he huffs and stands up, walking out of the room.

your smile instantly falters, as you fall into the couch where he was sitting. you play with the hem of your dress as you try and hold back tears. memories of him pushing you off the swings or into his pool when you couldn’t swim without a life preserver surface your mind.

“why is he so mean to me…?” you whisper.

——————————————-

everyone’s family and friends finally arrive, the adults in the kitchen and on the patio drinking wine, and the kids in the pool. shoyo, yachi, tadashi, tsuki, and kageyama are swimming, splashing each other and playing cliche pool games. you’re sitting in the jacuzzi, relaxing along with two of your friends.

“do you think kei will let me suck him off tonight?” your friend chizo whispers, staring at the blonde in the pool.

you scoff. “i doubt it. he’s as much, if not more of an asshole than tobio…”

“well, i think tadashi and i have a shot before summer ends!” your other friend namiko beams.

“i can’t believe kageyama actually agreed to both of you coming over here…” you say, sliding out of the jacuzzi and sitting on the edge of it, sliding your feet back in.

“well, we are your friends and this is a joint graduation party…” chizo mumbles.

“hey guys!” yachi yells, waving and running over to the jacuzzi.

“you wanna play truth or dare and spin the bottle with the rest of us?! i didn’t think it was fair being the only girl…” she mumbles.

namiko and chizo are practically flying out of the hot tub to dry off and get dressed. you just shrug. “i guess were in.”

yachi jumps up and down and claps. “yay! okay everyone’s meeting in the game room in ten minutes, see ya!”

she runs off again, most likely into the house to go make out with hinata.

————————-

“namiko, truth or dare?” tsukishima asks, expression as hard as always.

your group is downstairs in the game room, bottles and cans of alcohol scattered around, playing the first round of truth or dare.

“um! dare!” she bites her lip as she looks at the blonde.

“i dare you to make out with tadashi.” namiko and tadashi both gasp, cheeks flushing as they look at each other.

they’re sitting next to each other and their lips desperately collide, the desire for each other obvious through their actions.

“okay. you two can stop now…” chizo mumbles, rolling her eyes.

tadashi and namiko laugh, looking at each other. “okay, (y/n)! truth or dare?”

you shrug and smirk. “how about a dare?”

namiko smirks and looks at you, then kageyama, then back to you. “i dare you to spend seven minutes in heaven with kageyama. in his bedroom…”

“woah!”

“namiko are you serious?!”

“she’s bold… bolder than i thought…”

kageyama’s nostrils flare as he stands up from the floor. “a dares a dare. let’s go (y/n).”

you nod slowly, still in awe of namiko’s dare. you get up and follow tobio. you’ve been in his room before, but it’s been a while. there’s volleyball trophies and certificates all along dressers and pinned to the walls, there’s not a single object out of place, which is shocking for a teen boy’s bedroom.

his expression is harsh as he motions to his bed. “sit.”

you sit, watching him pull out his phone and set a timer at seven minutes. he sits next to you, tossing the phone on the bed.

“we’re not doing anything except sitting here… cool?” he mumbles, glancing at you.

“i was thinking the same thing.” you say, glaring at him.

“what’s that face for?” his brows furrow.

you sigh and shake your head. “i-i’m sick of you being mean to me! you’ve been mean to me since we were little! why?!”

tears peek at your eyes and he shrugs. “i don’t know! maybe i was jealous of you!”

you stand up and move in front of him, glaring once more. “jealous?! of me?! what on earth are you on about tobio?! i should be the one that’s jealous!”

he stands up now and looks down at you, cheeks flushed red with anger. “you’ve gotten to do whatever you wanted! it was practically set in stone that i was going to be the one to take over the company and you were going to go to college. in fact i overheard our parents deciding that once! i don’t want to take over the stupid company (y/n)! i want to play volleyball!”

“y-you heard them say that?” you whisper, looking down at your feet.

tobio’s hand grips your chin so you look up and into his eyes. “yes. that’s why i was an asshole to you all these years. why i never wanted anything to do with you. because you were free to make your own decisions and i wasn’t. it’s not fair.”

you shake your head. “i don’t want to go down the path i’m going either.” you say. “i’d rather run the company than go to college, at least for something other than a business degree.”

his eyes widen at your words, dropping your chin. “you’re serious? when did that decision come to be?”

“only a few nights ago. you should too. maybe we’ll run it together some day. if we both have business degrees, then…”

“i don’t care about the stupid business!” he practically screams.

you flinch away from him and against his bedroom door, hand going to the knob. tobio notices this and sighs. “shit… sorry… sorry i scared you…”

his expression softens and he sits at his computer desk now, putting his face in his hands.

“our lives… they’ve always been planned for us by our parents. you and i getting married, you going to college for like… a doctorate degree in something, my degree in business so i can continue to run the business… i thought… i thought being mean to you would change things, so i could write my own story…” kageyama lifts his head to speak, before placing it in his hands again.

your eyes widen. “y-you’ve… you’ve never really hated me?”

he looks up and opens his mouth to speak, but the phone alarm goes off. you walk over and stop it, staring at him. “kageyama…” you whisper.

he nods. “i… i like you… i really do…”

your cheeks flush and you step over to him, bending down to his level and kissing his lips deeply. he’s in awe, but wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you back. he soon pulls you into his lap, and you knot your fingers in his hair, continuing to kiss him deeply.

the two of you pull away, gasping for air as you look in each other’s eyes. “s-shit… tobio…” you whisper.

he smirks and picks you up, carrying you to the bed. he lays you down, gently, sliding his hands under your sundress. “(y/n)...”

you nod. “g-go ahead…”

he pulls your dress over your head and looks over your form. “beautiful…” he mumbles, large and calloused hands trailing down your stomach to your clothed sex.

he slides his thumb over the material of your panties, catching your clit which causes you to gasp out. he smirks and runs his thumb over it again. “t-tobio!”

he stops and holds a finger to his lips, shushing you. “we have to be quiet…”

you whimper at his words and nod. his brows furrow as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to him. you cover your face with your hands, embarrassed at the predicament you’re in. “this is to make up for all these years, okay?”

you peak down at him through your hands and see him sliding his tongue along your folds. you whimper and he does it again, faster and faster he flicks his tongue through your slit. you push the back of your hand down on your mouth and moan, eyes rolling back into your head.

“feels good? you’re doing so good for me baby…” he whispers against your skin.

he dives back into you, lapping at your clit this time, suckling and teasing it with his tongue. you moan louder this time, bucking your hips up into his face. he then wraps his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking at it harshly. you can’t help but yell out, a hand gripping his black hair tightly.

“t-tobio!! it’s too much!!!” you yell out.

he pulls off and wipes his lips on the back of his hand. “c’mon baby… cum for me… let it out…”

as if he couldn’t get more aggressive, his tongue slips between your folds and inside of you, lapping at your juices that come out once again. you pull his hair and he thrusts his tongue in and out of you.

kageyama takes a moment to stare at you. your hair askew and face contorted in pleasure. one hand over your mouth and the other in his hair. he smirks and continues his quick pace.

“t-tobio!! i-im—!” you gasp out, creaming all over his face and tongue.

he slowly licks at you through the orgasm, helping you down from your high. he pulls away and licks his lips, savoring every last drop of your essence.

he takes a finger and collects the rest from his face, then sliding the finger into his mouth and sucking at it. you sit up on your elbows, watching him closely.

“do… do you need me to…?” you mumble nervously, looking to the tent in his shorts.

he shakes his head. “it was all about you… i’ll be fine…”

you nod and reach for your dress, pulling it over your head. he watches you carefully, unsure of what to say. “we should… we should do that again. not now! but sometime…”

you shrug. “i mean we don’t have long until uni starts… so i guess that’s cool…”

“not just that… i-“ he sighs and yanks at his hair. “let me take you out tomorrow? okay!?”

your eyes widen, but you slowly nod. “sure tobio. just don’t bully me…”

he lays next to you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and pulling you back into his chest. “no promises i won’t tease you, but i won’t be an asshole anymore.”

tags: @lustforyuu @beelziee @bummie @missuga @ultimate-astridwriting

[boymeetsweevil]

SS6 - MYG, FLUFF, 2900w

For @bangtancentricsblogsmain​ because i wanted her to suffer :)

At 3pm, on a Thursday, there’s a knock on Yoongi’s bedroom door. He had come through that very same door not an hour earlier to lock himself away from the world after a particularly draining day. After dropping his bag somewhere on the ground, he showered, removed his contacts, and pushed the laundry waiting to be folded over to the other half of his bed in record time.

Normally he would have joined his roommate and their mutual friend circle who were seated on the couch in the communal living room, eating snacks and watching a game. But this time he begged out with a quiet mumble about needing rest.

When Hoseok knocks, Yoongi makes a feeble sound to signal he’s still, unfortunately, awake.

“What,” Yoongi grumbles. 

He attempts to sit up on one pale elbow and then decides against it. Hoseok’s lips twitch up at how cranky Yoongi is pre-nap before sinking back down as his expression darkens into a pitying and somber mix.

“She’s here. And, uh, she’s asking for you.” Hoseok’s eyes dart back to some unseen spot in the living room.

“Tell her I’m asleep.”

“I know you’re not asleep, Yoongi!” Your voice rings from outside the bedroom and Hoseok cringes sympathetically.

“I’ll just leave,” Hoseok says when you shove your torso through the crack in the doorway.

You wait to start speaking until the bedroom door is shut and the noises from the TV outside wash away.

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” is all you get.

The backpack you carry drops unceremoniously to the ground with a thud and any dregs of sleep cloying to Yoongi’s brain vanish with the sound. It’s with a valiant effort that he shoves his face deeper into his pillow. You cock your head to look at your best friend and snort at him.

Yoongi’s glasses are skewed across his face. There are thin pink lines marring the left side of his face from lying pressed to the wrinkled sheets with glasses on. The platinum blond waves of his hair, normally coiffed styled, are squashed flat against his forehead. Rarely ever does he look this rumpled and it’s hilarious.

“That’s okay, I’ll just tell you what I wrote in the texts,” you say as you make your way further into Yoongi’s small room. 

A look down at your feet shows him that you’ve shoved your feet into the pair of bunny slippers he got for guests you when he and Hoseok first moved in almost a year ago.

“Basically,” you continue. “There’s good news and there’s bad news. Pick one.” You help yourself to his desk chair and swivel it so it faces him.

“Bad news first,” Yoongi says after some deliberation. He pulls the covers up to his chin more securely.

“Smart choice,” you nod sagely. “The bad news is I’m gonna have to paint your face.”

“What the hell,” Yoongi barks.

“But the good news is that I have a new job as a face painter at the kids’ section of the farmer’s market this season!”

“How is that good news for me?”

“It means I’ll be slightly less broke and I can stop asking you to buy me breakfast before our 9am.”

Yoongi doesn’t really know whether to laugh or to cry. Firstly, there’s no way in hell he’s letting you paint his face. You’ve always been shit at drawing and letting you showcase that on his skin doesn’t do him any favors. Secondly, he’s in his twenties and he doesn’t even go to the farmer’s market. There’s no reason for him to set foot on the town commons during sunny Saturdays for local produce, much less to get his face painted next to a pen full of smelly goats and screaming kids. He’s just not seeing the connection between you getting this job and him getting his face painted. He stares at you with the hope that you’ll back off but he finds that you’re just blinking back at him with a huge, proud pretty grin.

For a moment Yoongi wants to smile back like things are normal. He wants to put on a groan and act like he’s annoyed that he’s been “forced” to order you sugary coffee drinks and muffins using his own money for longer than he can remember. He wants to gently muss your hair to see you make that cute shocked face you always make. But he can’t. 

Because if he does all that, he might slip up again like he did last weekend. 

At 10:24pm, Friday of last week, Yoongi told you he loved you while one small bottle of liquid courage was sloshing away in his stomach. After seconds of silence ticked by like the bangs of a gong, you replied. A sing-songy ‘Aww. I love you too, Yoongi’ and a light pat on the arm. Your words were basically the mirror image of his, but somehow also starkly different. Disappointment walked him home early that night and embarrassment laid him low the following week.

But it was just a week, he’d reasoned with himself, you’d hardly notice anyway...

“Yoongi? You okay?”

“No,” he hisses and shakes his head gently to dislodge memories of that pathetic weekend.

“Are you sure?”

“Why do you need to paint my face?”

“For practice! The market doesn’t open for another month but I need to get good. Jungkook said that if I do it really well the parents will leave bigger tips.”

“So Jungkook is behind all this.”

“Yeah,” you chirp. “He’s been really helpful in the last week. Usually I’d vent to you about how broke I am but since you were so busy, I ended up hanging out with Kook. He’s honestly really resourceful and he got me the job really fast.”

The hairs on the back of Yoongi’s neck bristle at the mention of the younger “peer”. Jungkook was a constant presence at group hangouts for a long while but Yoongi could only ever think of him as a friend of a friend. There was something smarmy about the guy’s smile that he didn’t like. And the way he was always draping himself over you, teasing you, buying you food that was all his job. He can’t put his finger on what it is exactly, but something about Jungkook always put Yoongi in a shit mood.

Yoongi curses under his breath. “Why couldn’t he get you a job at the cotton candy station or managing the photo booth or something?”

“What’s up with you lately? Do you really hate the idea of helping me that much?”

“It’s just annoying,” Yoongi huffs childishly from under the blanket.

“Fine, I’ll just ask Jungkook, then.”

“No! Wait!” Your eyes flash with hope. “I’ll do it. Just—don’t bother him. Since he already gave you the job, I mean.”

“Oh, thank god. I felt really bad about asking him for even more help.”

You turn around and pull out a face painting kit from thin air and begin scooting the desk chair towards the bed. When you’re close enough, you frown.

“What?” Yoongi sniffs at his sheets for good measure. All clean.

“Nothing. It’s just...” You look down at the ground and then the chair and then at Yoongi before looking at the chair again. “I usually practice on shorter surfaces so I can get used to working with the kids.”

“Oh, just pull the little lever underneath the chair. Raising and lowering the chair is Hoseok’s favorite thing to do when he comes in here, I swear.”

You reach under the seat like Yoongi instructed, find the little lever, and tug. There’s a low hissing sound before the seat suddenly drops 5 inches. You let out a yelp while Yoongi tries to stifle a laugh at your terrified expression.

“I guess—I guess Hoseok pulled the lever too much,” Yoongi’s voice creaks with laughter. Even when you flick him in the forehead he keeps laughing.

“Yoongi, this isn’t funny. I need to practice.”

“Just so you know there’s no way I’m getting on the floor. I’ve changed my clothes and I’m actually in the bed.”

He knows he’s being a bit of a dick at the moment, but he’s only trying to rile you up. He’s not expecting you to start to get up on the bed after flipping him off. The laundry he placed on his bed that morning to force himself to fold now laughs at him from its position shoved against the wall.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I need to be higher than you to paint your face. And you’re not getting up, right?”

“Well, no. But—”

“So this is where I’m gonna work.”

You shrug like it’s not a big deal that you’re straddling him. Like it’s not a big fucking deal that your soft thighs now rest on either side of his torso, that you casually rest a hand on his ribcage while setting up the painting kit along his sternum. He hopes your hand stays further south only to prevent the rapid beating of his heart from being discovered under your palm.

“What design do you want,” your voice is quiet now that you’re closer. 

Makes sense. No need to yell. But it still drives Yoongi crazy that you’re basically whispering in his ear as you lean over him to grab at the unused cup of water behind the bed frame. You revive your paints with the water while he tries to keep his breathing in check, lest he cause your paints to tumble off his torso and stain his sheets in a pastel rainbow.

“Uhh, how about an old style tiger?”

“Really,” you deadpan, “I tell you I’m just starting to learn to paint and you ask for a tiger?”

“Fine. Stars, then.” He gulps when you look right at him, face flushing to create the perfect pink canvas.

“Oh, I can do that. No reference needed.”

It seems deadly quiet in Yoongi’s room. The sounds of the living room long since died down when a crowd favorite started playing and captured everyone’s attention. Now there’s only yours and his intermingled breathing and the sound of your brush tinkling against glass.

You lean down from your perch to focus on carving out a swatch of night sky to blanket Yoongi’s stars. Your breath softly puffs low against his left cheek at the same moment the wet tip of the paintbrush hits his skin. His breath hitches a little and he’s not sure which is the culprit.

“Hold still, okay?” Your words come out in a whisper. 

“Okay,” he whispers back.

Minutes pass and two shaky stars are born on Yoongi’s cheekbone. You shift around on his chest to stabilize yourself and in your movement you lose your footing a little, your right leg slipping off the edge of the mattress.

“Ah—”

“I got you,” Yoongi grunts a little as his hands fly to your hips.

He easily stops your momentum and your paints, clutched desperately in your hands, remain safe from the ground. The pads of his fingers are still dug lightly into the meat of your hips and waist. In that moment you remember just how big Yoongi’s hands are.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem.” 

A slow grin spreads on Yoongi’s face when he notices that suddenly you can’t make eye contact like you were just a few moments prior.

You do your best to continue, but your gaze keeps flitting to his, only to find that he’s already looking at you. It sets something hot aflutter in your chest. The points of the stars that you thought you had a handle on turn soft and wobbly once more. 

“Look up,” you ask when you’re out of other options and keep having to paint over your work.

Yoongi has to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling at how jittery you seem. It feels good to know that the effects of this proximity are mutual, that you’re feeling just as lightheaded from sitting in his lap as he is from having you sit in it.

“You almost done?” He drawls. He’s been counting the small irregularities in the paint on his ceiling to keep entertained.

“Uh, yeah, almost.”

He feels the cold kiss of the brush tip once, twice more before it returns to its makeshift home of the water glass with a clink.

“Do you...wanna see what it looks like,” you sit up then. 

There’s a small hand mirror across the room that you’re eyeing. But he stops you with a squeeze to your hips, reminding you that his hands have been resting there this whole time.

“Just use my phone,” he nods to the device lying abandoned in the sheets. “Take a picture.”

“Okay.”

For some reason, your hands are shaking even with the paintbrush gone and the need for focus lifted. Mechanically you wake Yoongi’s phone from sleep and access the camera app to take a photo, shifting your weight to your knees to get above him and snap a pic. Curiosity makes you open the photo album app to see the photo you just took instead of showing it to him first. The result takes your breath away. 

Yoongi looks blissfully content, almost smugly so, as he gazes up at the camera. The stars under his eyes and on the bridge of his nose look like glowing yellow freckles amidst the banner of deep navy and rich purples you used to craft the sky across his cheekbones. The paint looks good and it’s probably even your best job yet, but you can’t help yourself from looking elsewhere.

Yoongi’s tousled bed head, soft sleep shirt, and dreamy eyes bring a cloud of butterflies to your stomach. The final killer touch of the photo is the fact that your knees just barely enter the bottom of the photo. Yoongi’s hands rest on each one like they belong there.

“Yoongi.” You breathe his name like a sigh and that’s when he surges up, as if to catch his name on your lips.

The kiss takes you by surprise and you tumble down to him in a soft pile of limbs. He hums a long, pleased sound when your weight settles on top of him. The hands he had on your knees suddenly grow restless and they amble up your thighs, up your waist, around your back. His hands are ever busy gliding over as much of you as they can in the moments that you let your lips press firmly against his.

Idly you pick out the details you notice with your eyes drifting closed. Yoongi’s breath leaves his nose in puffs against your face and his sighs echo quiet in your ears. His hair is soft between your fingers and so is the collar of the worn shirt that he’s wearing. The sheets that have raised around you like makeshift linen mountains smell just like Yoongi’s sweet soap, warmed with sleep.

“Shouldn’t we—”, he plants a kiss on your mouth, “shouldn’t we talk about this,” you mumble against his lips.

Yoongi’s hands stop in their tracks along the midpoint of your spine. The sigh he lets out is long suffering.

“Sorry. I just—I got carried away.”

“I mean, you don’t have to apologize for it. I just...thought you saw me as a friend.”

“Do friends confess their love for each other? That’s new.”

“L-love?” Your eyes turn wide and starry. “When have either of us ever confessed our love?”

“Well, I did. At the bar. Or did you have to block that memory out?”

Your brow furrows at the self-deprecating turn his smile takes and you clasp one of his still-wandering hands.

“You mean—Yoongi, I thought you were just being mushy. I thought you meant, like, ‘I love that we’re all here together as friends right now’. If I had known that was a real confession,” you trail off.

“You what?” 

Yoongi’s mood elevates once more, enjoying the sudden turn your rambling is taking. Teasingly he bucks his hips under you, startling you out of your bashful silence and forcing you to press two hands to his chest for balance. A cute little sound leaves your lips and he’s tempted to do it again.

“You were saying,” he grins up at you and his hands start to wander once again.

“I would have—”

“Baby, speak up.” He’s all coos but there’s a little venom in his voice. He likes how embarrassed you are.

“I would have left with you that night. If I had known.”

His shirt wrinkles up where your fingers twist anxiously. Normally you trample through Yoongi’s space, no shame or hesitation in the way you leave him on his toes. It had always been a fun game for you to see how close you could get before he’d have to draw a line, before his besotted smile would become too hard to hide. But now you’re not so sure you can handle it directed at you in all its glory.

“That’s a nice idea,” he says. 

In one moment he looks like he’s really weighing the idea, serious in his appraisal. The next moment he’s tugging you down when you least expect it, bringing a corner of the blanket to envelope you both. Under the cover of weak darkness, he threads a hand through the hair at the base of your neck. 

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

[yespolkadotkitty]

Fighting Blind, pt 19

Masterlist here ~ thank you @heatherbel​ for the beta!!

Warnings: shameless angst.

I sleepwalked back to my apartment. The noises of London made me jump at first, my movements jerky. Had I locked up the storeroom? The museum staff entrance? I didn’t know.

I didn’t much care.

I had lain on the floor of the storeroom for some time, clutching the axe. Sobbing my throat raw. Willing it to send me back to before. Willing it to let me look into Pero’s eyes just one more time.

Willing whatever magic that it had before to let me hold him, just for a moment, feel his heart beat, bury my face in his neck. Hear his voice.

Just one more time.

I didn’t remember taking off my filthy robes and changing into the spare outfit I kept in my locker for nights out. The nylon fabric felt incongruous; I’d become used to thick, soft robes. My bra chafed.

I let myself into my apartment. Everything was where I’d left it. 

My phone chirped in my bag and I pulled it out to see a text from Emma: Don’t stay too late! Reality TV beckons.

It was our little joke since she had introduced me to Ru Paul’s Drag Race, six months ago.

It felt like five lifetimes ago.

I put the phone to sleep, dropped my bag in the kitchen, and dragged myself to my bed, looking ahead of me but not seeing.

I lay down, fully clothed. The date on my bedside clock showed that here, almost no time had passed. I’d been deposited back to almost the exact moment I'd left.

My gaze was unfocused as I stared at the ceiling. My eyes reported back a view of the plain plaster, but in my mind I saw Pero’s last moments. The length of thick red ribbon around my wrist felt unreasonably heavy. I twisted the fraying ends with my right thumb and forefinger.

If I could have cried some more, I would have. 

I felt wrung out, a cloth squeezed too hard and then left out on the line until it sagged, dry as bone, moving only at the whims of the wind.

Eventually, I slept, and when I did, I dreamed of my husband’s big, soulful brown eyes, his scarred hands on my skin, the whisper of his melodic Spanish accent in my ear.

*****

I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking. My arm spread out across the cool, crisp sheets, reaching for the warmth of a broad Spaniard who had been killed in battle thousands of years ago.

I clutched desperately at a pillow that did not smell of him, and I waited for dawn to come, silent and dry-eyed, a husk of myself.

The next day, I called in sick. 

Emma left me six texts and three voicemails. Marco tried to call all afternoon. I ignored them both, and I stayed curled up on the bed, staring at nothing, hardly moving except for water and bathroom trips. 

Eventually, I slept. 

No dreams came.

*****

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a sharp rapping on the door jerked me from my half-sleep, half-grief stricken stupor.

“Fuck off,” I moaned to the empty room, my voice paper-dry, cracking. “You’re not Pero. He’s gone.”

The clock showed a whole day had passed. It was just after ten a.m.

The pounding got louder.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, got up wearing yesterday’s clothes. Walking felt like dragging my feet through a carpet of molasses.

I yanked open the door without checking to see who it was.

Emma stood on the other side, and she took me in with wide eyes, her lips parting.

“Um, oh my God,” she breathed, taking in my wrinkled clothes. I probably stank. “What happened? Flu?”

I gazed at her, my very best friend, trying to summon joy at seeing her face again, when I never thought I would. Instead, I just shrugged.

And then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around me, and I let my face fall into the familiar feel of her shoulder, and I cried.

Two cups of tea later, I had unloaded the entire story to Emma, who had listened without interruption, various expressions parading across her elfin face, but, who now almost certainly thought I had experienced some sort of intense mental break.

I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t.

“Well,” she said finally, with the tone of someone speaking to a very infirm person or a  baby; “You can’t go back to work in this state, can you?”

I gaped at her. “You want me to go back to work now?”

She tugged my hand until I reluctantly stood up from the sofa. “You’ve not got a lot of choice. There’s a man in the staff waiting area and he says he won’t leave until he sees you. Came all the way from America.”

My heart sank further still. I just heard America, not Spain.

Emma herded me into the bathroom, stripped me off as I stared sightlessly at the wall, turned on the water, shoved me under it.

I watched, unfeeling, until the spray hit the red ribbon around my left wrist, and then a cry raked up my throat, and I slid down the tiled wall, curling in on myself, pressing the damp wedding bracelet to my lips, wishing myself back in China. Back in Pero’s arms.

Wishing I could hold him just one more time.

Just one more time.

*****

Emma didn’t say much on the way to the Armouries. What could she say? From her point of view, her colleague had called in sick one day and  appeared to have suffered an intense psychotic episode.

I half sleep-walked off the tube, up to the museum. People passing probably thought I was taking very strong drugs.

Emma made me a very strong cup of tea, so strong that perhaps the spoon could have stood up by itself, and steered me to my desk chair. “Sit. I’ll bring the visitor.”

I stared into the mug. “Do I have to? Please don’t make me.”

Emma set her hands on her hips, her face creased in sympathy,  brow pinched with worry. “You can go home right after. I swear. Okay? You get one more day of whatever... this is, and then I’m taking you out on the town. London at our feet. Or, you know, twelve hours on the sofa, with popcorn and Ru Paul. Okay?”

I nodded, just to get her to leave.

Time passed; I wasn’t sure how much. I stared at my PC’s Welcome to the London Armouries screensaver, and wondered how much trouble I would get in if I hurled my computer out of the window.

Then I remembered I didn’t even have a window in this office. 

I smiled without humour.

A soft knock at the door made me look up. “Come in,” I called, with zero enthusiasm.

The handle turned, and I expected to see Emma, but I didn’t. What I saw made me topple off my chair.

A man with Pero’s face stood in the open doorway. His hair was lighter, cream caramel kissed with autumn, tousled. Scruff adorned his upper lip and the same strong jaw as Pero’s.

The same soulful, deep brown eyes.

The same striking profile, same nose I’d loved the hook of.

I stared at him as all the noise was sucked from the room. My ears rang.

He hurried over to me. “What the- Are you okay?” he asked in a husky-edged, drawling baritone, California with just a lick of Texas.

I stared at him wordlessly. My mouth opened and closed, until I finally squeaked out, “is this some kind of joke?”

The man stepped back, brows furrowed. “Funny. I’m pretty sure that's my line.” He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw, and that was when I saw it.

The circular mark on the root of his thumb. The depiction of infinity; the spiral, the serpent eating its own tail. Not black, like ink, but the colour of melanin.

My heart lurched into my throat.

This time when he offered me his hand, I took it. 

Our palms touched, and something electric chased down my arm. The stranger jerked as if I’d struck him, slapping his hands over his face as he reeled back, hitting the wall and sliding down it. I rocked back on my heels, staying on the floor.

He held his hands over his eyes for a moment that stretched, shaking, his shoulders hunched in.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes had changed. Darker, somehow. His mouth just a little scowly.

My heart jumped like it had been supercharged, because there was my Pero. I was frozen to my spot.

“The dreams,” the man said, very slowly. “I’ve been having these crazy dreams. But they’re.. memories, aren’t they?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

“They’re my memories. But also… not mine.” He stared into the distance for a long moment, his face pale, wonder sketched on his features. “And this.” He ran the index finger of his right hand over the birthmark on his left thumb. “You did this.” His eyes sparked hazel fire, accusing me of this insanity.

And he was right. I had done this to him.

I held his gaze, my heart in my throat, heavy. “I gave it to you. Before.”

The stranger’s hand eased over his abdomen, resting where Pero had been gored open by Tao Tei teeth. “It feels… fuck, it feels real.”

I swallowed, my eyes burning, stomach bottoming out.  Tears streaked down my face and I let them come, my stomach cramping, and for an agonising moment, it was like losing him all over again. In my mind’s eye I saw the blood pulse from him, his life slipping away and me crouched over him, helpless to stop it. “It was real.”

We sat together in silence for, I don’t know how long. I both ached to touch him and feared it. Feared the modern texture of his open-flannel shirt over a white t-shirt. Feared the rough denim of his jeans.

And how would he smell? Not of lemon oil, leathers or woodsmoke. How could he?

“I’m Zach,” he said into the dragging silence. “Zachary Pero Wellison.”

My mouth dropped open.

Zach smiled lopsidedly, pushing a hand over his face. The face that was Pero’s, and yet, not. “So… I guess with the addition of…” He waved his hand between us. “...this, I’m sort of…. Both of us? I’m Zach, but I somehow have the memories of….. Pero.” He pressed a fist to his head and then popped his fingers in a “head exploding” reference. “Is this really happening, do you think?”

I laughed, without humour. “At this point, I don’t think I know.”

Zach huffed out what might have been a laugh. “The shrink sure as hell didn’t cover this in PTSD counselling.”

His deadpan delivery made me smile for the first time since I’d woken up back in 2019.

Footsteps sounded outside, followed by voices that lingered and then, after a minute, moved on. My gaze flicked over Zach, my stomach heartsick. Pero, my Pero, was in there, and yet, he wasn’t.

This was impossible. Everything I had ever learned told me what Zach and I were experiencing just did not happen.

But.

“You’re military?”

He nodded, shrugging off the shoulder of his flannel shirt and pulling up the right sleeve of his t-shirt to show me the bottom half of an intricate tattoo on his shoulder. “Semper Fi. Marines. Buzz cut grew out.”

I ate up the extra view of his body, greedy to know where he would be the same, and where he might be different.

“Glad I never saw anything like… the Tao Tei in Afghanistan,” he said shakily, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips.

I held his gaze. “It was an experience. Are you.. I take it you don’t still serve?”

“Nope. Three tours and an honorable discharge, two years on the street, but for the past five I’ve had a steady job. A roof over my head.” He summed up his life so flippantly; his delivery really reminded me of Pero’s nonchalance about death.

I sell my sword for coin, I sleep when fighting has exhausted me, and one day I will die and return to the earth. Simple, don’t you think?”

“Um, so... can I get you a coffee?” I asked, swiping my hands over my eyes. It felt like a monumentally banal thing to say seeing as this man now seemed to hold every memory my dead husband had ever clocked up, but I didn’t have anything else.

“Got any whiskey?” he half-laughed.

“I wish I did.”

“I’m good. Drank about a gallon of it at the hotel. Nerves. I, um…” He lifted those cocoa eyes to mine, and for a second, a heartrending second, it was Pero looking at me. My pulse tripped. “This is... fuck, this is a lot. I really…” He clenched his hands into fists, drawing my attention to that birthmark, the same lines, lines I had drawn, only in that brown shade of skin pigment. “I wanna touch you. Or he does. I don’t know. But… can I? Is that okay? I can’t think about anything else.”

Twin zings of excitement and fear skidded up my spine. “Um… okay.”

Neither of us moved.

Zach laughed nervously, standing. He towered above me as I sat in the corner next to my computer chair. I let my gaze travel up his body, long legs in faded blue jeans, a flat stomach under that white t-shirt, the lines of his torso delineated by the open plaid shirt.

His eyes were soft as he offered his hand again, palm out flat.

This time, when I took it, no lightning. Just a warm touch. His fingers sure and confident around mine.

He tugged me gently to a standing position, until we were only a foot apart, then he let our joined hands fall to our sides. We stood together like that for goodness knew how long, looking into each other’s eyes; his so familiar and yet so new.

Zach lifted his free hand to gently skim his thumb along my jaw, and just like that, the air changed. Each breath I took seemed supercharged as I gazed into his big, soulful eyes. “Zach,” I whispered, and it didn’t feel wrong.

He slowly lowered his head to mine, his eyes constantly flicking to meet mine, checking it was okay. Checking I was okay.

And then just before our lips met, a shudder went through him, and he whispered, “Cielo,” with just a hint of Spanish melody, and there was no way in hell he could have known that word unless-

And I yanked him down to me and kissed him with all the love and yearning and grief in my heart, and he kissed me back. His hands came up to spread over my back, and the warm, solid wall of his chest felt divine. 

Perfect. 

Bliss.

I opened for him, and he licked into my mouth, his teeth scraping just a little, and I welcomed the tiny hurt, pressing closer into his body. His lips were Pero’s lips, his little shaky inhale the way Pero would sometimes suck in a breath when we kissed. I shoved my hands beneath his open plaid shirt, felt the play of muscle on his back, under the soft t-shirt, and it was like holding Pero. I sobbed into Zach’s mouth and he drew back, frowning.

“Sorry,” I choked out. “I’m sorry. I -”

“I know,” Zach whispered, stroking my hair back. “I was there. He - I - loved you … He loved you. More than anything.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my lips together to stop them from trembling. “This isn’t happening. I would give anything to have him back. Anything. But this is… it can’t be real.”

Zach cupped my cheek, his eyes dark, stormy, and for a moment it was my husband looking at me. “Ask me something only he would know.”

I opened my eyes again. This was like living in an alternate reality of the film Ghost. But real. I felt the floor under my feet. I felt Zach’s palm against my skin, gun-callused, the same way Pero’s had been sword-callused.

“What did he say to me, when we... when I…” The words dried up on my tongue. Suddenly I didn’t want to share, which made no sense. “The first time,” I finished lamely.

Zach dropped his gaze from mine, a flush stealing over his cheeks. “Cielo. Heaven. I will not last,” he murmured, that Spanish melody sneaking, incrementally, into his tone.

My pulse spiked. 

No one could know that.

He met my eyes again. “Fuck. I know. This can’t be happening. But it is. Unless we’re both suffering the same delusion.”

I half-laughed. “Unless. God, Zach. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about…. all this.”

“I’m not. I wanted answers to these insane dreams, to the burning feeling on my birthmark, and however absolutely batshit those answers are... I had so many moments over in Afghanistan, wondering what I was fighting for... where my life was going. Always thought - it’s so stupid, but always thought I was just waiting for something. And maybe that something is you.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh, Zach.”

He smiled lopsidedly. “Whatever this is, it doesn’t feel like just my twisted little secret anymore.”

“I-” My heart pounded. “Secret. Oh my God, secret. The axe.”

Zach’s gaze shot to mine, wonder sketched on his handsome features. “I know how to open it.”

*****

I’d never run so fast before. I skidded out of the office, Zach on my heels, past some very surprised visitors and down to the artefact storeroom. I could only hope that no one had been there since the day before yesterday.

Zach stood silently by, but I saw his hands clenched into fists by his side as I swiped my keycard.

It was still there.

The door slammed behind us as I lurched on to the floor, picking it up, uncaring about being without cotton gloves.

Zach held out his hands, and I passed it to him. He gazed at it in wordless awe, his eyes poring over it, fingers stroking reverently.

Then he turned it over, pressed his thumbnail into the slice representing Pero’s scar in the carving on the bottom, and the handle turned, loosening.

I gasped in shock, surprise, joy.

Zach gently pulled the haft loose to reveal a shallow compartment in the metal handle, two pieces of parchment and a loop of crimson lying inside, like the finest of treasures.

With hands that shook, I took out Pero’s handfasting bracelet. The edges were frayed, the fabric so old it had discoloured, but it was his. I lifted it to my lips, felt my heart wrench from my body.

Zach had set the axe down and held the pieces of parchment in his palms. His eyes were wide as he breathed, “I wrote this. I mean, he did. But I remember writing it.”

I paused, the dusty, faded bracelet pressed to my cheek. “What?”

He showed me the yellowed parchment, the writing faded beyond recognition. “The words are almost gone. But I was there. I - he - wrote it while you slept. On the handfasting night.”

The world spun. I braced myself up on one arm. “Would you read it? Please.”

Clearing his throat, Zach closed his eyes, and to my amazement and joy, to my sadness and gratitude, Pero’s voice left his lips.

Querida

You sleep as I write this. My wife, in our bed. Your body and soul more beautiful than I could ever have wished for, in this life certainly. I am not good with words, mi vida, but you must know that you hold my old, scarred heart in your hands.

I think perhaps, you always have. 

If you are reading this then I have gone with God, but whatever He may have planned for my old bones, I will carry you with me always.

Until we meet again,

Yours,

Pero 

When he’d finished, tears streamed unashamed down my face, wetting my jeans. I couldn’t have cared less.

Zach’s face was drawn, too. He set the two pieces of paper aside and opened his arms, and without a second thought, I crawled into them. He rocked me gently, and I pressed my face into his neck, breathing him in; he didn’t smell of Pero, he smelled of rosemary and sandalwood and coffee, but it wasn’t wrong.

“Thankyou,” I whispered into his shirt. “Thank you, for letting my hear his voice, just one more time.”

Zach said nothing, just nodded. He understood. He always would.

We sat that way for I didn’t know how long. Eventually I roused myself. “Zach?”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “It’s still me. I think,” he drawled, American again, but that husky-edged voice curled its way into my heart.

“What’s the other piece of paper?”

He lifted one arm to pluck it from the floor. “It’s… what is this language?”

I recognised the penmanship. “Oh my God, it’s Gaelic.” I scrambled off his lap, reaching for my phone. This piece of parchment had been wrapped inside the other, and the words had been mostly preserved. I took a picture of the text, uploaded it to the translation app a colleague at the British Museum had developed. While still in beta, it nevertheless contained many ancient languages.

Within a few moments, a translation appeared, and Zach and I gazed down at the screen as I read aloud:

Jade

The thought that this message may find you in a future many, thousands of years from now gives me pause, I must admit, but since fighting those… Monsters, I find nothing surprises me.

We gave your husband a warrior’s wake. That I swear to you. Lin saw to many of the details personally. After your rooms were cleared I found a note in his hand and I enclose it here.

We captured a Tao Tei in the days following Tovar’s death. We fed Ballard to it. A fitting end for such a waste of air, I think you’ll agree.

And after that, the strategists found the Queen. We think we’re halfway to learning how to be rid of them. Once and for all, I pray.

A year has passed since you and Tovar left me. As I write this, Lin sits beside me with our twins, Jade and Pero, named for the man who saved Lin’s life, and the woman he loved beyond the boundaries of time.

I don’t know what will happen when we die, but we will keep Tovar’s axe in our family as best we can. Lin says she trusts the spirits to take care of it, and after all I’ve seen here, I can’t disagree with her. 

She wouldn’t listen even if I did.

We miss you.

With love,

William Garin

*****

A/N: One more chapter to go on this journey. Thank you, thankyou, thankyou for all your love, comments, messages, reaction gifs, theories, THANKYOU x 1000000000. Thank you for indulging my insanity.

Tagging: @babybelou​ @theravenreads​ @vanillabeanlattes @alienprincesspoop​ @knittingqueen13​ @lackofhonor​ @holographic-carmen​ @thewayofthemandalorian @buckstaposition​ @thegreenkid @agirllovespasta​ @chews-erotically​ @apples-of-february​ @mstgsmy​ @songsformonkeys​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @buckysalefty​ @readsalot73​ @restingnurseface​ @opheliaelysia​ @emmy-dandiliom918​ @prdsdjarin​ @a-seeker-of-imagination​ @havenforafrazzledmind​ @badassbaker​ @thewaythisis​ @kindablackenedsuperhero @keeper0fthestars​ @starlight-starwrites​ @agentpike​ @alldatalost​ @littlemissthistle​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @stylelovechild​ @maryan028​ @seawhisperer​ @emesispo​ @beccaplaying​ @hdlynn​ @jaime1110​ @marydjarin​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @mrsparknuts​ @pinkzsugar​ @cutepurplehedgehog​ @ksgeekgirl​ @skdubbs​ @roxypeanut​ @usernameistooshort @tortles​

[pennyserenade]

CHAPTER ONE : act one : damn your love  tags : female, nameless oc x javier peña rating : e ( explicit ) warnings : smut, language tags: angst, fluff. word count : 1.5k+ notes : hello ! thank you for taking time to read this ! this is the very first thing i’ve written in a hot minute, so do keep that in mind while reading this. i don’t know what this is gonna flesh out to be, but i think it’s gonna be a series! if you’d like to be tagged in the next installment, shoot me a message !

gif originally posted by: @javierpcna​

God, he was everything she did not need right now. He was complex, messy, and connected to a dangerous job that put her at risk just as much as it did him these days. Javi always was dancing with death no matter how much he protested he wasn’t, too, and his history with this place ran deeper than just his occupation; Javier Peña knew nearly every brothel, every stripper, every prostitute—hell, maybe even every waitress in Colombia as far as she knew. He was too much, not something she wanted to fill her time because he brought so much uncertainty, but when he kissed her like this—rough and determined—she could not deny him. Never had been able to, not since that night she had met him in that dingy little bar in Bogotá.  

Javi places his hand on her leg, beginning to calculate his movements. His brown eyes watch her features with priority as his fingers dance lightly on the inside of her thigh. She stares back at him, her own brown orbs pleading with him—though she’s not sure what battle she’s asking him to release her from. Her head tips back as his fingers dip beneath her dress, and she widens her legs, permitting him the access he’d hoped she would.

“Don’t—“ she gasps as his fingers slide into her underwear. Eyes train onto his, and she begins again, “Don’t come back here again after Javi. I mean it.”

His fingers, at once eager to begin pleasing her, stop. “Say you don’t mean it, baby.”

She remains silent. This is a game to him, something he thinks he’s going to win because she’s let him every other night.

“No,” she responds. She tugs at his wrist, taking his hand away from her underwear. He looks at her, shocked (and perhaps a little wounded, too, but she can’t tell for sure).

“Are you mad at me?”

“Javi.”

Javier reaches for her cigarettes on the coffee table, stealing one for himself as he leans back into the couch. “I’m sorry I keep coming back but I—“ He lets out a billow of smoke from the side of his mouth. “—fuck, I don’t know, sometimes I miss you when I’m gone too long.”

She reaches forward, taking the lightened cigarette from his mouth. Taking a drag from it, she tries to register the impact of those words. He hadn’t ever been so brave as to mutter words of affection at her before. They’d taken this too far already, it seems.

“You miss sex with me. You can’t miss me because you hardly even know me, Javi.”

“Don’t be so unkind, baby.” He scoffs, taking the cigarette back from her. “It doesn’t suit you, pretending like you don’t care.”

“I’m not pretending I don’t care, I’m just telling you I can’t afford to anymore.”

He shakes his head. Silence falls over them, uncomfortable and tense, and she lets it, hoping one of them will tell the other that this was it, they’d part ways now, but neither of them does. They just sit, staring blankly at the flickering tv set in front of them. Javi finishes the cigarette.

He moves towards her again after he’s stamped the cigarette out, lips pressing onto her neck gently. When he notices that she doesn’t protest, he repositions himself on the couch, letting his body face towards her. His hand gropes her though the fabric of her dress and she moans delightfully against his lips as they fall onto hers.

She’s not letting him win this one, this is hers just as much as his, this is just pleasure—whatever she has to say to get her through the fucking night for this one, she will.

She allows him to direct her body to lay down on the couch, and continues to kiss her, hard and passionate, as his fingers travel between their bodies. She gasps into his lips and he lets out a soft chuckle as he undoes his belt. She feels the cold buckle hit her thigh and she wraps her legs around his waist, urging him to not tease.

“Tranquilo.” He speaks. Rough digits run down her curves and she presses her pelvis upwards, rolling her hips into his in a way that makes him unravel the way he’s begun to make her to. “Forget spanish, huh?”

Javi presses a few more kisses against her exposed chest before pulling back. Before he works to undo his own jeans, he allows his eyes to take her in. The room barely holds any real light, aside from the soft flicker of the television and the dim light of a lamp in the corner of the room, but it illuminates every part of her that he adores. She’s beautiful, ravishingly, and he can’t stop thinking about her, no matter how much they would both benefit from that.

“Javier, please.” She lifts herself up by her elbows, a scowl on her face. She wasn’t ever this impatient, but something in her feared that if she thought too much about sleeping with him this time she wouldn’t.

He lets her begin taking off his jeans, laughing at her urgency before she brings his hardened member to her lips unexpectedly. He twitches because of the sudden sensation of her flesh against his like this, and a soft moan falls from his lips as his hands work to pull her hair back from her face. His eyes peer down at her and he swears that if she flutters her eyelashes up at him, it’ll be the end of this encounter.

“Let me take off my pants, baby,” he manages to say, despite that his entire body wants nothing more for her to continue. She releases him from her mouth and wipes the slickness she’s created from her lips.

He begins to perform at her pace, taking his pants off with urgency and pushing her to lay flat on her back. His hands lift the skirt of her dress and his fingers tug her underwear. When she lifts her hips to assist him in taking the garment off, his mouth finds her clit and she gasps as he had when she put her mouth on him. One hand focuses on keeping her hips down as he licks at her core and the other finishes taking off her underwear.

His eyes lift to meet hers, but he’s delighted to find not her gaze, but a portrait of pure ecstasy before him; her head is thrown back and her lips part slightly, soft moans escaping. A red tint has begun to form on her cheeks and he can’t help but think about how wrong she is about him not knowing her. He knows this, knows the curves of her body, the way she likes him to press his tongue against her, knows that red tint means he’s on the edge of bringing her to orgasm. He continues to suck her clit with intent, watching her features in the soft light for guidance, and he feels the heavy blanket of his own lust hit him as she writhes beneath him. When she says his name—Javier—sweet and sharp and meaningful, it takes everything in him not to stop and tell her he loves her.

When he knows she’s overstimulated from the pressure of his tongue (another thing he just knows now), he rises from his position between her legs and he wipes her off of him. His cock is hard and throbbing between his legs and he is quick to fill the spot again, hovering over her. She puts her legs around him again and he squeezes her thighs gently so she’ll release him.

“I’ve gotta get a condom,” he reminds and she nods, letting him go. He shuffles to his discard jeans and pulls one out. An expert at this, he’s quick to take it out of the package and wrap it around his member, returning in between her legs as if he’d never left. He lifts them back around his waist like they were before and he leans in to kiss her as he positions himself before her entrance. To his surprise, she uses the position to her advantage and she wraps an arm around his neck for leverage while she pushes him into her. He cannot help the moan that escapes him when she does this.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, fingers digging into her hips. He’s yet to move inside of her, focusing on not cumming just yet. She feels so good and she looks so good, and God he doesn’t ever want this to end.

“Move inside of me,” she tries to instruct, but it comes out as more of a plea. He’s happy to comply after a bit though, sliding out of her tantalizing slow and returning with a speed that makes her gasp. He begins to find a steady pace, soft moans escaping his lips as he focuses on her.

“You feel so good,” he tells her. His fingers reach up to squeeze her breast, and he’s angry with himself for not taking off her dress. He loves how she looks now, but he wants to see all of her. He didn’t want this to be the last time. It couldn’t be.

“Marry me.”

Eyes, which have been watching him thrust in and out of her, rise to meet his. He leans down again and presses a kiss onto her lips, though this one is more gentle. His hips continue to thrust forward, uncaring of the intensity of the words that just had split from his mouth—and perhaps even encouraged by them. “I want you, baby. I want you, I want you, I want you.”

She says nothing, but lifts her hips to match his thrusts. It’s not long before he ejaculates inside of her and his tired body leans into hers after he rides out his high. She lets him, smoothing back his hair.

His chest rises and falls quickly for a bit, before tapering off to normality, and when he catches his breath, he looks up at her.

“Are you gonna do it?”

“What?” she asks.

“Marry me?”

“Javier, maybe you should get out of me before we talk about that. I don’t think you—“

“I do know,” he responds, pulling himself out of her, though not taking his body away from hers. “I know exactly what I said and what it means and it’s what I want.”

She sighs. This wasn’t fair of him. She didn’t want him, she didn’t want this, but she very much did. Her body, her soul—every part of her that didn’t listen to reason wanted him in her bed forever.

“Are you even allowed in Catholic churches?” she smiles at him.

“Are you?” he teases back.

She shakes her head. “Probably not.”

“Well.” He shrugs. He won’t say, won’t try to push it out of her, but his eyes beg with her to give him an answer.

She smiles. “I’ll marry you.”

She will too, even though he’s dangerous. Even though he’s complex. Even though her mind tells her not to because it's not going to end good.

She will because there’s no other place in the world she wants to be than right here, pressed against him like this.

[raleighcarrera]

34 FOR ZIG PLEASE !!!!

34. “i know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

50 NSFW starters 

it’s a rare luxury, being home alone.

most of the time it seems like there’s always someone in the house with them. they hardly ever get a moment of privacy with the amount of people coming and going through the house, banging on her door to ask for advice or help with their homework or to borrow an outfit or accessory. 

even when she does manage to flip the lock and shut the lights off, it’s almost impossible to set a mood in her bedroom. the walls are so thin they pretty much always hear kaitlyn’s music or chris’ tv or zach talking on the phone. 

and it isn’t like they can meet up at zig’s. his situation is more or less the same, worsened by the fact that the school-issued dorms are even more cramped and loud.

so -- a roommate-less house is certainly something to celebrate. and make good use of.

which they are, if the way zig’s been going down on her for the better part of the last thirty minutes is any indication. he’s been stopping each time her hips rock up too quickly to pull away and kiss her thighs, working intermittently on sucking the world’s largest hickey into the crease by her left hip while his fingers keep her on edge.

she has an arm thrown over her face while she arches up against him, her cheeks flushed beneath it while she squirms on the bed.

old habits die hard, so -- she’s not exactly making much noise, even though she knows they’re alone. even though she could.

and zig is zig, so -- he’s watching her with every last bit of his attention, his eyes fixated on the way she’s twitching under his touch, on how her body responds to the lightest kisses and scrapes of his teeth. he seems pretty pleased with himself, actually, for how easily he’s been able to wind her up.

though that’s not anything specific to tonight. her body is always quick to go into total meltdown mode for zig and his dirty mouth and self-assured smile and that thing he can do with his hands. 

“ask me for it,” he implores against the inside of her thigh, when her kicking in the sheets has grown just a touch too restless, “go on.”

“zig.” her voice is a breathless moan, her free hand slipping through his hair in an attempt to get his head lined back up where she really wants it. “please, just -- don’t stop this time.”

he laughs a little, the sound quiet and intense, sending a shiver down her spine. “erica,” he says, an edge to his words this time, “ask me for it.”

“jesus christ.” her face scrunches up, flushing red with embarrassment. still, she can feel herself tighten around his fingers as she slowly sighs and mutters, “will you please make me come?”

this time, when he laughs, she feels the ghost of his breath over her center. he’s so close it takes everything she has not to cry out, her teeth digging into her bottom lip with restraint. “what was that?” he asks, like an asshole, “i didn’t get all of it.”

“zig,” she repeats, twitching desperately in the sheets, “come on --”

“you come on,” he corrects, and without even looking at him, she can picture his grin perfectly. “i know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

true, her mouth has gotten them caught plenty of times. she’s pretty much the sole reason his roommates give her weird looks when she sleeps over and her roommates bang on the walls and call out to her to shut up or ask seriously, erica? when they’re trying to enjoy some time alone.

“now’s your chance to do it,” zig goads further, his face dipping in closer and closer towards the persistent and worsening wetness between her legs, “while there’s no consequences. there’s no one home. so -- let’s hear how loud you can get, yeah?”

without warning, he shifts his hand out of the way to replace it with his mouth, his tongue delving between her legs to lick a wet stripe through her where her arousal has her soaked. his tongue flattens against her and when he moves just a touch too roughly over her clit her hips jerk forward and she groans loudly, more loudly than even he was probably hoping for.

“zig,” she moans, her hand tightening his hair, her squirming in the sheets renewed, “oh, god. oh, fuck --”

he doesn’t let up. each brush of his mouth is relentless, and she can feel herself rapidly approaching that edge again, until it’s all too much and there’s no holding it back. 

zig doesn’t stop this time -- thank god. he only gets sloppier with his movements, his strong hands holding her thighs open to give him room to work. each swipe of his tongue is more pointed than the last, as he uses everything he’s learned about her body in all the time they’ve been dating to drive her completely out of her mind with pleasure, until she’s shaking apart with a whine so loud her roommates probably can hear it, wherever they are tonight.

he kisses up her body quickly, pausing to nuzzle his face first between her breasts, and then into the side of her neck. “you’re so sexy when you say my name, babe.”

her vision’s slowly returning to her, along with the realization that she had screamed his name, somewhere in there, intermixed with all the swear words and demanding sighs and sharp groans. “ugh.”

zig’s laugh winds up swallowed by her as their mouths meet for a kiss, a shiver tripping down her spine as soon as she tastes herself on his tongue. his cock is still hard where it’s pressed against her, and she shifts against him encouragingly, letting her legs fall open again where they’d clamped shut tightly around his face mere moments ago. 

they’re lucky no one’s home, because the way he starts fucking her feels too good to keep quiet, and she knows she’d be teased relentlessly for the way she’s gasping with every thrust, clinging to zig’s broad shoulders so tightly she’s probably hurting him.

but each movement is heightened by the way he doesn’t stop looking at her, not even for one second. their eyes stay locked as he grips her hips and pushes forward relentlessly, his perfect hair flopping into his equally as gorgeous eyes and framing out his handsome face when he mumbles, “fuck, erica. you feel so fucking good.”

“you, too,” she moans, flushing deeper under the weight of his gaze and the intensity in his touch. part of her feels so overwhelmed, but she couldn’t turn away even if she wanted to, she’s pinned so securely under his hands and the wild look in his eyes. “zig.”

“that’s it, baby, say my name,” he encourages, just as the headboard starts to bang into the wall behind her. each rhythmic slide against the hardwood floor is a reminder that they’re blessedly alone, for once, and that she doesn’t have to hide a thing; she wraps her legs around his waist just as his hands hold onto the bed behind her for purchase so he can move faster against her, until everything feels dizzyingly perfect and her vision starts to blur at the edges, her cunt pulsing around him.

“zig,” she gasps obligingly, “zig, zig, zig, please, i’m going to --”

“go ahead. let me see that pretty face --” his own voice breaks halfway through the word, a gratifying shudder wracking his frame. “-- fuck, erica. you’re so beautiful. you’re so -- you’re perfect, i swear to god.”

that’s all it takes. her eyes finally snap shut and squeeze tight when zig swings his hips forward forcefully, pushing her up the bed and slamming the frame into the wall; her vision whites out as everything around her fades away, all thoughts of the empty house and her roommates disappearing from her mind in favor of zig, zig, zig, the weight and shape of him above her the only anchor she has to keep her from falling apart completely.

she’s so lost in her own pleasure that she’s only distantly aware of him following her over the edge and subsequently gathering her into his arms, his hands shifting to smooth her hair off her face while his soft lips press gentle kisses to her pink cheeks and bare shoulders to help her calm down.

when she finally speaks, she realizes her voice is hoarse from screaming, and blinks in surprise -- she’d been so out of it she hadn’t even realized how loud she’d gotten. “that was amazing.” she licks her lips, then clarifies, “you’re amazing.”

“only because i’m always trying to impress you,” he answers, so that she can feel the shape of his grin against her collarbone. another flurry of sweet kisses rain down against her skin. “is it working?”

“i’ll let you know when i feel up to standing again,” she mutters, warmed by the answering sound of zig’s warm laughter.

his hands slide over her body soothingly, pulling her in as close as she can get. the sound of the both of them still working to catch their breath is loud in the stillness of her bedroom, but not loud enough to cover the commotion that comes when the front door jangles open abruptly downstairs, her roommates’ voices and laughter floating up and under her closed door.

“we brought pizza!” kaitlyn calls out, and though her stomach rumbles almost immediately, she can’t stop herself from turning her face into zig’s chest with a groan of discontent.

there’s no telling when they’ll get the chance to enjoy the quiet again. 

they share the same sentiment with just a look, zig’s smile turning sympathetic as he presses one last kiss to her forehead.

then, his eyebrow quirks, and he drops his voice low. in a whisper, he suggests, “we could always pretend like we’re not here.”

his lips spread into a smirk. “if you think you can be quiet, that is.”

[havenoffandoms]

Geralt x Female!Reader - Jealousy

This is my first attempt at a Witcher fic, more specifically the first attempt at writing Geralt. Hope you guys enjoy it! I haven’t written reader inserts in a while, so sorry if it seems a bit rusty. 

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: swearing, hunting (just in case someone doesn’t like that kind of topic), female!reader insert

Fandom: The Witcher (TV Series)

“… so in many ways, a bard also goes on hundreds of adventures. Only they’re less messy, and definitely safer!” Jaskier argued, causing you to huff in indignation as you tried to hide the amused smile that was tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“Is that so? And on what marvellous adventures have you been, Sir Jaskier?”

“I am glad you asked, Lady Y/N,” Jaskier stood up and went to grab his lute, which he used to improvise a new song to impress you, “In a faraway land, many years ago, I was walking on beaches of sand, and dark caves below…” 

You leaned back against a tall tree, watching the bard’s performance with a raised eyebrow and your arms crossed before your chest. You knew that Jaskier wanted more than just your friendship, but you never had the heart to tell him that your heart belonged to someone else. You knew it would break Jaskier’s heart to know that Geralt had claimed you as his, especially when the bard felt like he would never be a match for the witcher. 

“Then one night as I ventured through the forest, in the dark and the cold, I prayed to the gods of old, and made my way on the path obscurest…”

“The path obscurest? Not your best work, Jaskier,” you told him, laughing slightly at his mock crestfallen expression. Despite your comment, the bard did not give up his spontaneous serenading. 

“I’m a bit rusty, but you haven’t heard my chorus yet… ahem… Toss a coin to your Jaskier, o’ valley of plenty, o’ valley of plenty. Toss a coin to your Jaskier, and maybe add a kiss in there, too.”

“Not in your wildest dreams,” you told him, throwing a stick at him which he managed to dodge. If your words hurt Jaskier, he did a good job at hiding his emotions. “Not to mention that you completely fucked up your rhyme game…”

Just as Jaskier opened his mouth to defend himself, the two of you heard a sound coming from the woods. The snapping of twigs and the sound of crunching leaves had you both on high alert. You instinctively grabbed for your two daggers, ready to defend yourself against your attacker. The gods knew that Jaskier would not be very helpful in case of an attack. When Geralt came into view, you instantly relaxed while Jaskier let out a relieved sigh. 

“Geralt, you could’ve announced yourself,” Jaskier chastised the witcher, but you instantly noticed that something about Geralt was off. He had an unreadable expression on his face and acted even more distant than usual. 

“Sorry for interrupting your poor attempts at serenading Y/N, but don’t worry I was just about to go hunt our dinner,” Geralt announced, his voice cold and shut off. Your frown intensified when you realised that he was avoiding your gaze.

  “I’ll come with you,” you announced more than asked, only earning yourself a dismissive grunt from the witcher, “Jaskier, how about you start a fire while we’re hunting?”

Jaskier looked ready to argue, however his protests died on his lips when he met your glare. Geralt seemed unaware of the exchange, and after feeding Roach an apple out of his bag, he disappeared into the woods again without waiting for you. You grabbed your bow and quiver and almost ran after him, leaving a disgruntled Jaskier behind. 

“What was that all about?” you asked him when you had caught up with Geralt. He ignored you, which only confused you more. “Was it something I said?”

“Quiet, you’ll scare away the prey.”

Geralt’s tone was sharp, which took you by surprise. You decided to remain silent as you scanned the area for prey. It did not take long for you both to stumble upon a lone deer who had stopped to drink out of a spring of fresh water. You stopped dead in your tracks and crouched behind a tree as you nocked your arrow as quietly as you could. You noticed how Geralt had taken cover behind a tree as well, and was now watching you. Even though you felt his gaze on you, you made a point to ignore him. The deer suddenly looked up, startled by the nearby rustling of leaves. You and Geralt both held your breaths as you tried not to scare your dinner away. When the deer finally let down his guard, you pulled the string of your bow all the way back and took three composing breaths before letting go. You and Geralt both watched as your arrow wheezed through the air and hit the deer right in line with its left leg, about halfway up its body. 

Geralt still refused to speak to you as he got up and went to inspect the deer. He slit the dying animal’s throat with his sword to give it a quick death before lifting its dead body onto his shoulder and walking back towards the camp. You grew more and more suspicious of his behaviour, and you started to feel irritated by his silence. You had done nothing wrong, so why would he give you the silent treatment? 

“Geralt, what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked him as you jogged to catch up with him again. 

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me! If I’ve done something wrong, at least have the balls to tell me to my face!”

Geralt unexpectedly came to a halt and dropped the dead deer to the ground. His actions were so sudden that you collided with him hard, letting out a pained groan as you brought your hand to your nose. Despite his grumpiness, your lover still cupped your face and forced you to look at him to make sure that you were not hurt too badly. The thought warmed your heart, but you knew that Geralt still had not forgiven you for whatever it was he reproached you. 

“I’m fine,” you snapped as you reluctantly pulled away from his grip, “you need to get your head out of your arse, witcher! I haven’t done anything wrong-“

“Haven’t done anything wrong?” his deep voice echoed you, disbelief lacing his tone, “why don’t you ask Jaskier, maybe he’ll enlighten you.”

“Come again?” It took you several seconds to understand what Geralt was getting at, “Is this what this is all about? You’re jealous of Jaskier?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, of course I’m the ridiculous one here…”

Geralt stared at you, his nostrils flaring as he tried to contain his anger. You easily held his glare, unwilling to back down and lose the argument. Geralt was the first one to look away, sighing heavily as he heaved a resigned ‘fuck’ under his breath. He raked his fingers through his greasy hair before turning around to face you again. His other hand came to cup the side of your face, pulling you closer so he could rest his forehead against yours. His voice was hoarse as he whispered his next words into your ear: 

“I hate the way he looks at you. You’re mine.”

“If you want him to stop looking at me that way, maybe we could stop hiding our relationship like it’s a crime!”

Before Geralt could reply, you pulled yourself away from him and headed back to the camp, not heeding him as he called out your name. 

OoO

“Hey Y/N, where’s dinner?” Jaskier asked as soon as he spotted you through the trees, but you were in no mood to entertain him. 

“Fuck off, Jaskier!” you snapped before retreating inside your tent. You were glad that you had set up your shelter for the night early, for you did not feel like dealing with Jaskier’s shit. Or Geralt’s, for that matter. As soon as you were out of sight, you let the tears of frustration run down your cheeks. You angrily wiped them, hating how weak you felt when you let your emotions get the better of you.

“Geralt, what happened out there? Y/N seems pissed…”

“Y/N?” Geralt called your name, ignoring Jaskier’s question. You refused to acknowledge him, but Geralt was stubborn. “Y/N, please…”

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you…”

“Jaskier, do us all a favour and shut the fuck up” Geralt snapped at the bard, which was what made you come out of your tent. 

“Leave him alone, he’s done nothing wrong!” You coming to Jaskier’s defence was what pushed Geralt over the edge. Without a word, he took several long strides towards you and grabbed your wrist in his large hand, pulling you close to his chest and crashing his lips onto yours in a hungry and possessive kiss. Your eyes widened comically at the public display of affection, but your arms instinctively wrapped your arms around Geralt’s neck for support. The proximity of his warm body, and the feeling of his taunt muscles under the layer of clothing he wore drove you crazy, and despite the anger you felt, you found yourself melting into his embrace. You were about to deepen the kiss when you both heard Jaskier clear his throat loudly. You felt slightly guilty when you broke away from Geralt, but the way the witcher held you close to his body as he acknowledged Jaskier made you feel giddy inside.

  “So, how long have you guys been a thing?” the bard asked, not allowing his voice to betray how hurt he was, but you knew better. You gave him an apologetic look, and even Geralt looked slightly contrite. 

“A while,” you finally admitted, sensing the way Geralt’s hold tightened around you possessively, “I’m sorry for keeping you out of the loop, Jaskier.”

“Just…” Jaskier took a deep breath and managed a forgiving smile, “Just don’t hurt her Geralt, okay? If you do, I’ll… I’ll hurt you back… somehow!”

You were surprised when you heard Geralt chuckle at the comment. 

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

“And if you guys ever get married, I’ll be singing at your wedding,” Jaskier told them, and it was your time to laugh when you heard Geralt utter another ‘ ah, fuck’ under his breath. 

END

[j0elmill3r]

In The Flesh

Sebastian Stan x Daughter!Reader

Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Warnings; this is really short omg, fluff, swearing [not quite sure if there is],

word count; 1.2k [yikes what the fuck]

A/N; the anon that requested this enjoys it! And I’m sorry that it’s so short too!

--

Zoom classes were going to be the death of you. You were outraged at the fact you still had to get up early so you could make yourself look alive for your online class, you weren't physically going anywhere, so why did you need to get up so early? Your dad told you that since it wasn't technically a break, and you still had to get up and do other school work for classes that didn't use Zoom. You told him specifically not to come into your room while you were on the chat because you knew that everyone would freak out that Sebastian Stan was on their screen. Everyone knew, of course, you were the spitting image of your dad, only more feminine, obviously.

-

"Up and at 'em, Y/N. Your class starts in an hour!" Your personal alarm clock, your dad, said as he walked into your room. You groaned and turned away from him as he opened the blind.

"Dad," You whined. He laughed and sat on the edge of your bed. "It's 8 am, why do I have to get up? Especially if my class isn't for another hour," You complained as you sat up and faced him.

"Because you have to have something to eat, then you need to shower and make yourself look alive, sunshine," He said. "And anyway, I thought you loved getting up early so you could more time with your dear old dad," He said. You scrunched up your face got out of bed.

"Whatever you say," You murmured. You walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where you grabbed the cereal and the milk. Taking your cereal, you sat at the breakfast bar and tried to fight the sleep taking over you. Sebastian walked down the stairs and sat down across from you.

"So, another 3 am round? I thought you would have learned by now," He said as he took a drink of his coffee that sat on the counter. You gave him the best bitchface you could muster. Sebastian laughed and ruffled your hair. "Y/N, you are adorable when you try to be mad. You make me laugh," He said. You huffed in annoyance as you put your bowl in the sink.

"I'm gonna go get ready since it would apparently be inappropriate to wear my old Captain America hoodie onto a zoom call that most people don't pay attention to," You said. Sebastian laughed and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Well, I'd hope that you aren't apart of the 'most people' that don't pay attention to the call and you are, this stuff's important, Y/N," He told you. You scoffed.

"Oh yeah, because I'm definitely gonna need to know how to analyze a poem when I'm like 35  and about to buy a house for the first time," You said. Sebastian sighed and shook his head.

"I don't know how many times I'm gonna have to tell you this, it's only because-"

"It's part of your coursework," You cut him off. "I know, you've only been saying since I started High School. I'm gonna go shower now," You walked up the stairs and into the bathroom. After you showered and got ready, you texted your dad to tell him that if he came into your room in the next hour, he would definitely regret it after. Your class had been on for about 45 minutes, and you were counting down the minutes until the class would end, you still had another 15 minutes.

"Y/N, what themes did the movie Trainspotting  explore?" Your teacher asked. She had assigned you the movie as part of a movie and book review, but you were still waiting on the book coming in the mail. You watched the movie with your dad on Saturday so you could still remember everything for your class.

"Well, it looked at heroin addiction, obviously. But it looked at crime and death too, and how the characters really never cared for each other, except how Renton cared for Spud," You told the class.  Your teacher nodded and wrote something down.

"And how did the character of sick boy take the death of his infant daughter?" She asked you again.

"Well, as Renton put it, he had no way to explain that moment, and that part of him died with the baby, and-" Just as you were about to finish, the door of your room opened and at that moment, all time seemed to stop and you knew you were fucked, your class was as good as finished when your dad walked in. "Oh God," You said quietly. Your dad must have not seen that you were still at your computer, or that all of the Marvel fans and obsessed fangirls were either crying or squealing, you didn't know which category your teacher fell into. Your class was freaking out, Sebastian Stan was there, in the flesh, in their classmates bedroom. And most people in your class had met your dad at Parent’s evenings, but it never stopped them from being any more shocked than they were at that moment that they saw him in your bed room behind you, completely unaware of what he was causing.

"Oh sh-" You turned around in your chair to warn your dad about what you knew he was going to say. "-oot. Sorry, Y/N. I forgot what time it was," He said. You nodded and glared at him, causing him to laugh nervously.

"Hello, Mr. Stan!" Your friend cheered through the camera. Sebastian peered around you and saw your friend, Katy.

"Hello, Katy," He said. "I'll go," You nodded in approval as your dad hurriedly made his way out of your room. As soon as you turned around, your classmates started bombarding you with questions and various other requests. You clicked off of the class and closed the zoom app, that was enough of that for the day. Sighing, you stood up from your desk and walked out of your room and down into the living room. "You're done already?"

"You broke my class, I wasn't sitting through ten minutes of people only liking me because of who you are," You told him.

"I'm sorry," He said. You smiled and nodded.

"I know, but seriously, if you do it again you'll be figuring out Instagram on your own from now on," You threatened him, making him laugh.

"I'll find someone else to help me, Y/N," He told you. You breathed in through your teeth and shrugged your shoulders.

"Not if you can't DM them on Instagram, that'll be it, you'll never be able to speak to another single person again other than me," You said dramatically.

"Are you done or do you have more left in you?" He asked. "Because guessing by the time I heard you turn your TV off this morning, you haven't slept any more than 2 hours sleep," You had to admit, your dad knew you better than you probably knew yourself. You sighed in defeat and sat next to him on the couch.

"Mid-morning nap?" You offered. Sebastian laughed and put his arm around you, pulling you close.

"I'll have to pass, sweetheart, but by all means go ahead. I'll assume the usual role of being your personal pillow," He said. You nodded and hummed in agreement as you closed your eyes.

-

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[the-peachpit]

Sons Of A Crow

DSMP AU: Wilbur, Tommyinnit, Technoblade are siblings with an absent Father

Warning: Major Character Death

Summary: Philza left to defend L'manburg, Technoblade left to bring him home, Wilbur stayed and watched Tommy grow on his own. Too young to watch over himself and suddenly watching the struggles of others something broke inside Wilbur. his family reunion wasn't what he wanted, but maybe- what they all needed.

In this story L'manburg was a city that always existed and was ready to erupt without the help of Wilbur or Tommy.

Also consider following me on Twitter for more insights on stories! @Thepeachpit_

Orange leaves danced through the sky when Wilbur said goodbye to his father watching his back become a silhouette against the sun. It was fall, a crisp chill in the air when Tommy ran from the top of the stairs his little yellow wings puffed behind him as he missed a step tumbling down. Wilbur turned his face fell watching Tommy scramble to stand ignoring the blood on his knee and hands. Wilbur wrapped a scarf around Tommy’s neck as he screamed for his dad to come back in shorts and a t-shirt. Wilbur could see his own breath as he held Tommy down from trying to fly telling him it was alright.

“Why is he leaving!” Tommy sobbed, “I told him I’d learn how to fly! I’d learn to fly to keep him here! I can do it!”

Wilbur hugged his brother closer whispering into his wheat-colored hair, “Please, Tommy it’s not your fault.”

“It’s everyone else’s,” A voice growled.

Sun beamed through the high windows of the wooden home, but Techno stood in the shadow that day. Sulking, tricking himself into thinking Wilbur couldn’t see his tears. Wilbur would never say a word about the way Techno’s mouth twitched and his shoulders shook. Being the oldest Wilbur knew Techno would carry too much on his shoulders, but he was no father figure. He was no unfeeling weapon, as much as he pretended. Their father had rescued Techno from an auction, and Techno repaid that kindness by being his shadow. Learning everything their father had to offer. A piglin with the dream to be equal to men. Wilbur couldn’t imagine what Techno thought watching their father spread his wings without him.

The day dragged on as Wilbur sat with Tommy on the couch drilling it into the young boy’s skull it wasn’t his fault their father left- he had to. Their father’s situation was delicate. He wasn’t just a crow hybrid but a godly being of sorts, though he never advertised it. Their father had taken Wilbur and Techno to his shrine when they were a little older than Tommy. People worshiped him when they were in need. He looked after those who needed protecting. He wasn’t born an immortal god but was given the right after giving so much of himself to the world that the universe had to reward him. An immortal life with the curse of mortal children with the universe herself. Now people expected him to fight in the war of L’manburg a nation that had been teetering on the edge of revolution for years. Philza would be the hammer ending it all. Wilbur shifted his white wings when Techno came in the whites of his eyes red, his cheeks puffy. Wilbur wouldn’t utter a word.

Taking on the role of a caretaker wasn’t unusual to Wilbur having done it before even when their father was home. Before Tommy was born. Growing up with a piglin brother who still had basic lessons to learn in over world customs was fun but came with challenges. Especially when Techno started learning the art of the blade. Wilbur was tasked with keeping his brother from scrapping with every kid who laid eyes on him with a sneer.

Tommy had finally fallen asleep to something on TV and Wilbur had noticed Techno slip out hours ago. Walking out onto the back porch Wilbur watched his half piglin brother whack at dummies with an axe. His blows were messy- unusual for the calm and collected fighting state his brother usually took on. With tight moves and precision.

“You want to talk about it?” Wilbur sat himself on the stairs.

“Not really,” Techno huffed.

Wilbur leaned back on his palms, “You can’t keep it in forever, better to get it out now right?” he looked up at the sky, it had gotten cloudy.

“Bet I can,” Techno landed another blow.

Wilbur sighed, “Come on.”

Techno spun around his long pink ponytail lifting from his shoulders, “What the fuck do you want me to say Wil? Philza just left us here with no warning, who knows how god damn long he’ll be gone. L’manburg’s been fighting itself for years now. Suddenly he has to do crowd control.”

“If you keep swearing like that Tommy is going to get a sailors mouth,” Wilbur smirked.

Techno rolled his eyes, “You remember what he was like after the last war he was called to don’t you? Swearing is the least of Tommy’s worries.”

How could Wilbur forget, the man who came back was not their father. He was cold, distant, quick with a fist. Techno scrapped with their father a lot after he came home, sometimes protecting Wilbur, sometimes Tommy who was too young to remember the in-house violence. Too young to know to keep away from his own dad. Wilbur never blamed Philza he had seen a travesty; he’d taken lives and there’s no coming back from that casually. To return to a family after finding blood on your hands couldn’t be easy. The thought of that happening to Technoblade haunted Wilbur, to see his brother’s eyes look empty and dazed. He hopped Philza would never let Techno join him, as much as Wilbur knew that would tear Technoblade apart.

“Maybe this time will be different,” Wilbur sighed watching the clouds roll in.

Within the first week Tommy’s golden feathers were scattered around the house. Wilbur found a few in the bathroom at first thinking nothing of it. Then more popped up in the kitchen, living room, and a whole pile on the front porch. Wilbur had always respected his brother’s privacy, but out of pure panic he burst into Tommy’s room without knocking watching as Tommy pulled a handful of feathers from his wings. Wide blue eyes filled to the brim with tears starred at Wil-pleading. Scooping Tommy into his arms Wilbur tore down the stairs yelling for Techno.

It was noon on a chilly fall day a storm was rolling in the thunder rumbling deeply as it shook the old house. Wilbur was clutching Tommy’s hands as the boy sniffled at each tug of the bandage Techno wrapped around the bald spots. Pouring oil to heal and hopefully deter Tommy from plucking anymore.

“He’s stressed out,” Wilbur sighed finally feeling like he could breathe.

“Really,” Techno said sarcastically.

Wilbur ran his hand through his brown wavy hair-it was getting long- “I’m serious what are we going to do?”

Techno shrugged, “Our best I guess?”

Wilbur was already doing his best.

After plucking his feathers and being banned from flying on Dr, Techno’s orders Wilbur made sure to never let Tommy leave his sight in fear of his depression getting worse. If the wings were the worst of it Wilbur was sure he could deal, but things could always get worse. The curse of the Crow god hung heavy on the odd family. Weeks passed with the weather oddly warmer for the middle of fall. The trio was outside regularly soaking up the sun or hiking into town casually speaking with others. Techno hated the small talk, but Wilbur insisted it was for Tommy’s sake, keep him socialized. He reminded Techno how important it was to socialize him and was met with a swift whack to the back of the head. Ignoring every bit of war talk they could. It finally felt like it was all stabilizing- like they could hold out until Philza came back.

“You know we just got some new candy in I thought you’d like to try,” A girl smiled coming out from the back of the grocery store.

“Hell yea!” Tommy pumped his fist in the air.

“You’re spoiling him Niki,” Wilbur shook his head putting his groceries on the counter.

“I got some new books too,” Niki put three books on the counter, “Free of charge of course, “She winked.”

A month ago, Wilbur had resented Niki’s kindness as if they couldn’t care if themselves without their father. He hated thinking she was right. With time he realized that wasn’t it at all. Niki was genuinely kind, enjoying the company of the brothers. She wasn’t full of sympathy, but compassion. Giving where she could, but never overly so.

“What, nothing for me?” Technoblade put on a show of pouting.

“Sorry,” Niki shrugged, “My boss still thinks weapons in a general store is a bad idea.”

Techno shook his head, “He’s missing a whole customer base.”

“Maybe I can-“ Niki was cut off as a crowd gathered around the TV in the corner of the store.

Coming from the back the store’s owner turned up the volume on the news broadcast. It was a warm fall when the footage of fires ablaze in homes that viewers were assured had been abandoned was shown to the public. People whispered and gasped, but no one saw him-except Wilbur. A shadow in the corner of the screen wings close to his body, his stance tight, sword sheathed at his side-the Crow in all of his glory. Was that his handy work? He wouldn’t. L’manburg was in flames. Something silently snapped in Wilbur that day, watching his father do nothing as a city burned to the ground. Seeing that scene alone may have started the spiral but knowing Philza watched over the pyres of family’s- Wilbur grabbed the groceries rushing out of the store.

He didn’t speak to his brothers the whole walk home. It had gotten chillier.

Winter dropped two snowstorms back-to-back, during the second Wilbur picked up smoking to keep himself warm. The clouds that escaped from his lips as he sat under a hazy sky while Tommy played in the snow were thick. He watched the smoke curl and join the sky. It started with a smoke outside int eh morning and night. His hands with nothing more to do just kept lighting until he found himself at a pack a day. There was a numb comfort as he lit a second cigarette while Tommy rolled snow into a ball. His mind felt distracted, distant floating away with the smoke. His chest felt lighter, like the weight he’d been carrying found its peace-it never lasted long enough.

“Come on Tommy,” Wilbur put out his cigarette butt in the snow, “It’s cold out here,” He stretched out his wings, “Techno has a nice fire going inside.”

Rolling his eyes Tommy groaned, “Fiiiine,” he pouted his golden wings puffed behind him.

He’d healed perfectly and Wilbur had taken Tommy out for flying lessons a few times over the fall, but winter was hard for flying. The weather changed fast and the cold hurt inexperienced wings. Wilbur had been so happy there was no permanent damage he cried to himself in his room, not unusual, but this was different. He was so happy.

“Wilbur,” Tommy rolled on the floor by the fire, “Can you make hot chocolate?”

“Sure thing,” Wilbur smiled heading into the kitchen.

Techno stomped in trying to get the snow off his boots. Wood stacked under his arm.

“Well, we won’t freeze to death.” Wilbur joked pulling out a small pot.

“You’re welcome,” Technoblade stuck his tongue out.

A knock on the door stopped Wilbur’s quip dead in his throat. A knock at the door. Their door in the middle of nowhere. They weren’t expecting anyone. Would he have knocked after all this time? Wilbur shared a glance with Technoblade who was holding his breath.

The sound of the door creaking open sent Wilbur to the front entrance.

“Tommy, dude you can’t just open the door for anyone,” Wilbur scolded him.

“Oh, come on Wilbur,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was a familiar face in a light blue hoodie. The man would have almost disappeared amongst the snowy landscape if not for his tan complexation.

“Hey Skeppy, what brings you out here?” Wilbur asked the ice mage.

“Mail believe it or not,” Skeppy held out a disheveled letter, “Niki said you guys don’t go to the store during bad weather and asked me to deliver it.”

“Thanks,” Wilbur nodded, “Would you like to come in and warm up?”

Skeppy shook his head, “This weather is my natural element I am as comfortable as can be,” He assured him, “Plus Bad is expecting me back.”

Wilbur chuckled, “Have fun in the nether, don’t melt.”

“Ha-ha,” Skeppy rolled his eyes waving goodbye.

Closing the door Wilbur looked at the letter in his shaking hands. It was tattered and must have had a long journey to his cold fingers. Walking back into the kitchen where Tommy and techno stood Wil looked between his brothers unsure what to say. Opening his mouth, he wished he had a cigarette to give him an excuse to stay silent. There was no other choice as he slowly slipped a finger unto the fold of the yellowed envelope ripping it open. Pulling out the letter Wilbur gasped.

“Who is it from,” An urgency in techno’s voice.

“Dad,” Wilbur whispered his dark eyes scanned the letter again, “He says he’s coming home soon.”

“Let me see,” Techno ripped the letter from Wilbur’s grasp, “Holy fuck,” he breathed out.

“Dads coming home!’ Tommy threw his hands up in the air running around the house.

Spirits were high as the sun shone over glittering snow.']

The letter hadn’t stated when their father would be back, just soon. The days rolled like molasse with everyone especially Tommy, checking the windows to catch a glimpse of their father landing. The days and nights were all becoming bitterly cold, and the thought of delayed travel started to creep into Wilbur’s mind. To clear it when cigarettes weren’t enough, he snuck out at the dead of night through his window. The air was brisk, it shook him to his bones. Extending his wings with a powerful downward thrust Wilbur took to the starry skies. The wind hurt his wings-burned them with frost, but Wilbur had never felt so alive as his lungs froze inside. He was reminded of living as he soared against the inky night. He remembered his first winter flight with Philza. He fell towards the ground unable to deal with the brutal temperatures. His father had been there to catch him- support him- swearing to Wil he’d only have to fly in the winter if he were every in trouble. He wondered if he was in trouble now.

Technoblade was off, it had snowed again in the middle of the winter season. Wilbur would catch Techno staring out the window at nothing for far too long. Putting his hand on Techno’s shoulder would jolt him back to reality. His brother’s long pink hair that was usually tied so neatly in buns, or ponytails was in a knotted braid that hadn’t been maintained in days. He looked pale. Wilbur was worried about illness.

“Hey Techno,” Wilbur stood form the floor, “You mind playing this round with Tommy? My knees are kind of sore.”

Techno shrugged sitting across from Tommy who shuffled a deck of cards.

Wilbur at on the sofa behind Techno taking in the site of his older brother. Techno had purple marks under his eyes, they looked slightly puffy as well. He missed his turn and Tommy had to keep pulling techno from his fog. Slowly Wilbur reached out picking up the long braid and pulled the hair tie free. He brushed through his brothers matted hair surprised Techno was being a willing participant.

“I’ve always been jealous you had the patience for all of this hair,” Wilbur started braiding noting it was messier than anything techno had done.

“I’m going to grow my hair as long as techno,” Tommy proudly declared, “My braid will be ten times better.”

“You know I bet Techno could braid your hair now,” Wilbur suggested getting no response from his distant brother, “Techno,” Wilbur prompted.

“Oh-yea,” Techno shook his head, “Tommy come here.”

With quick fingers Techno braided Tommy’s short blonde hair before moving to Wilbur’s brown wavy mess. They were bonded the brothers of misfortune. Techno was getting worse, forgetting things, spacing out for hours, losing blocks of time. Wilbur kept asking him if he was okay but, Techno kept deflecting. Wilbur knew it was better not to push when it came to his brother. Techno would sort it out on his own, maybe it was a weird Piglin thing. Tommy stated asking again when their father was returning home as the snow melted and spring was on the way. Wilbur had no answer and it added onto the pile of anger he had been harboring. Seeing news cast after news cast about the war. How L’manburg was falling, how they didn’t just end it. He kept catching glimpses of their father at horrible sights, but nobody else seemed to catch him. Wilbur had given up months ago on the man he knew.

Cutting vegetables for dinner Techno put his knife on the counter leaning forward heavily panting.

“Hey you,” Wilbur started before Techno slumped to the ground.

“Techno!” Wilbur fell to his knees to comfort his brother only to be slapped away.

“Don’t touch me,” Techno growled.

“You need to rest something’s not-“

Slapping Wilbur’s hovering hand away Techno’s piercing green eyes shot through Wilbur, “I said fuck off, don’t touch me,” he growled. Standing on shaky legs Techno stumbled away and up the stairs leaving Wilbur to worry about his piglin brother. Techno locked himself away for three days, Wilbur left meals outside his door.

“Tommy!” A voice roared from down the hall, “I told you a hundred times to stay out!”

A scream sent Wilbur charging up the stairs, “What happened,” his voice died in his throat.

Cowering in the corner was Tommy his arms in front of his face to protect himself while Techno brandished a blade in front of him. Charging into the room Wilbur pushed Techno and his brother swung the weapon at him instead. His eyes red and angry his features more piglin than man.

“He’s just a kid what the hell is your problem?” Wilbur yelled.

“I’ve told him a hundred times to not touch my weapons and he was in here playing with my crossbow,” Techno growled.

“Is it broken? What is your deal, you don’t threaten him!”

“He doesn’t even deserve to be our brother, Philza raised us to be strong, and Tommy’s always been pathetic,” Techno spat.

“You’re a monster!” Tommy stood stomping his foot before taking off.

Slowly Techno lowered his weapon blinking frantically as his red eyes faded to the familiar green.

“Wil,” Techno swayed before collapsing to the floor.

Wilbur wasn’t sure which mess to pick up first. Deciding his brother on the floor would be priority. Getting leverage under his arms Wilbur hoisted Techno onto his bed glad the man passed out in his own room. Putting his hand on Techno’s forehead he felt the sheen of sweat on his hot skin. Biting his lip Wilbur took off to tend to Tommy. As he ran down the stairs, he pictured a flurry of gold feathers littering the halls. Of irreversible damage. Wilbur felt like his lungs were collapsing in on him as he checked every room to no avail. There was a chill in the air from an open window in the kitchen, Tommy had left. Wilbur felt himself gag when he realized. Tommy had taken off into the winter sky on the verge of darkness alone. Fuck and Wil knew he hadn’t taken time to put on any warmer clothes besides his thin long sleeve shirt. He had to go out and find him quickly throwing on his brown trench coat, scarf, and knit hat before running out and taking off to the sky.

“Tommy!’ Wilbur screamed until his voice was hoarse scanning the sky and land.

It had been two hours since he started his search, and his heart was pounding in his ears from a mixture of cold and panic. The sun had set behind the mountains leaving only a faint blue glow to the sky Wilbur knew would fade in time. Then Tommy would be out there alone overnight with no way for Wilbur to spot him. Tommy wouldn’t make it.

“Tommy!” Wilbur screamed.

“Wil,” A small broken voice made its way over the rushing wind.

Through tear frozen eyes Wilbur spotted him a small dark red speck in the white winter night. Immediately landing hard enough to stumble like he did when he was a child Wilbur scrambled to the lump on the ground. He couldn’t tell who was shaking more, himself or Tommy. In the darkness it was impossible to get a read on what was wrong, but the young boys breathing was shallow, and Wil begged for him to tell him what was wrong as he wrapped Tommy in his coat. A feeble effort to warm him. Holding his brother tight Wilbur prayed something he’d never been a fan of even being the child of a man akin to a deity. He prayed to his father to guide them safely through the night.

“Wilbur,” Tommy croaked, “I miss dad.”

“Me too,” Wilbur whispered holding his brother closer.

Miracles could bless those in dire need as the wind died down and the sounds of horse hooves crunching on the snow echoed through the trees. Wilbur’s ears perked at the sound of his name.

“We’re here!” Wilbur shouted with every breath he had left in his shivering body.

A horse sent by a prayer appeared before them with a familiar pink haired figure riding on top. He pulled off his red cape as he dismounted wrapping it around the shaking shoulders of the man who was trying so hard to have all the answers and hold it together.

“Let me see him,” Techno’s voice a faraway whisper with hands outstretched.

Wilbur hesitated knowing those hands caused destruction and started the argument that lead down this path. However, he was weak using all of his stamina while flying and holding Tommy tightly to his chest trying desperately to protect him from the elements. Slowly Wilbur handed over the shivering boy. Techno looked over Tommy nodding to himself Wilbur knew he was using his superior night vision to check Tommy over.

Standing on unstable legs Wilbur hoisted himself on the horse holding the red cloak around himself tightly apologizing in his own mind to his brother quietly endured the bite of the frost. Letting his dark eyes slowly close Wilbur continued his prayers to his father-pleads to come home.

Waking slowly with a pounding headache Wilbur propped himself on his elbows. He was in his bed int eh same clothes he’d worn last night. Looking down he saw red splotches on his shirt feeling his skin crawl. He wished it was his. Rolling out of bed he hissed at the pain in his knees, that landing had done more damage than he thought. Leaning against the wall for support he limped his way out into the hallway where a savory aroma hit his nose. Soup- a familiar soup- a dish his father had made a hundred times when one of them had been injured or sick. The stairs creaked causing Wilbur to hold his breath.

“Oh, good you’re up.”

Wilbur’s face fell, “Your hair.”

Techno stood in the hallway with a tray carrying two bowls of soup. His long hair had been hacked away into a short messy style. His long braid discarded.

“I’m leaving Wil,” Tehcno’s voice was cold, “I need to find Philza.”

Wilbur shook his head feel his braid, “We don’t need him we’re doing fine without-“

“I need him!” Techno shouted, “You don’t get it! I’m a danger to you two without Philza here! He keeps the voices away; they demand blood, and it doesn’t matter whose. Wilbur if I did anything permeant to you or god- fucking Tommy almost died last night!”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t try to spare me, you sugar coat everything thinking it’ll all work out, but it’s not working Wil! So, I’m going to drag dad back here by the scruff of his wings.”

A creak of the floorboards.

“A branch went through Tommy’s leg, its broken. I set it the best I could.”

“Techno please, we can beat this without him.” Wilbur felt his throat tighten.

“I’ll be back before summer.” Techno set the tray on a small table in the hall.

Without another word Techno walked down the stairs with Wilbur at his heels begging the man not to leave. Not for him but for Tommy, he would beat himself up, he wouldn’t survive if Techno just up and left. He’s a child who doesn’t deserve anymore disappointment. Nothing could deter the determined look of the piglin as he secured a travel bag to his horse and double checked the saddle. With a stern glance Techno left his axe shinning in the sun on his back.

Wilbur went inside a numbness overcame him as he pulled his heavy legs up the stairs grabbed a bowl of soup went into Tommy’s room. The boy laid eyes closed leg elevated the wrapped. Bloody scraps of cloth laid all around the room. Setting the bowl on the nightstand Wilbur felt his world crush him falling to his knees and sobbing his chest heaving. He apologized over and over to no one who could hear him. He apologized for being weak, unable to protect anyone, for letting things slip through his fingers. When Wilbur felt his heart snap months ago watching the fires he ignored it, took up smoking, and retreating into himself hiding what he thought he knew of his father from his brothers. If L’manburg was supposed to fall Wilbur wanted to push-someone had to push. It was the only way to bring everything back.

It was the first day of spring when Tommy finally awoke disoriented and Wilbur cried again holding his brother close to his chest. A warm wind rustled the grass that was returning when Wilbur had to come clean about Technoblades absence. He watched Tommy’s curious blue eyes become cold and steely. He wasn’t inconsolable, but as the earth thawed Tommy became icy. Going into town wasn’t as fun without Tommy chatting to everyone instead, he stood by Wilbur avoiding eye contact. Wilbur made a point to take Tommy out more hoping he would just spring back even on his crutches. After a while Tommy started saying he was too tired to hobble to town on his busted leg.

“That leg will heal in time Tommy, before you know it, you’ll be bouncing around again,” Wilbur encouraged.

Tommy pouted silently.

“I’m at my wits end Niki,” Wilbur leaned on the counter, “I can’t bring him back from this.”

The sweltering summer weather was on the way Wilbur had gone to buy ice cream realizing it was just another feeble attempt at fixing something impossible. “He’s been through a lot; the cast just came off didn’t it?” Niki pointed out, “All spring he’s been trapped, maybe take him for a flight! He’s always so happy to come back from those and tell me what he saw,” She giggled.

Wilbur shot up, “You’re a genius!”

A crash stopped Wilbur and unknowingly changed the ever-evolving family of unfortunate crows. A boy stood there wide brown eyes shooting between the knocked over display and Niki and Wilbur. His breathing was heavy.

“Sorry,” he stuttered out.

“It’s okay Tubbo,” Niki quickly assured him, “Accidents happen.”

Wilbur crouched down next to the boy spotting two stubby ram horns poking through his thick brown hair, his bangs were practically covering his eyes. He had long floppy ears and black nails. A hybrid.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Wilbur observed.

Tubbo said nothing staring back with big doe eyes.

“You just move in mate?”

Tubbo shrugged.

Niki gave a sad smile to Wilbur, “His situation is a lot like yours, except it’s just him.”

Wilbur’s body jerked like electricity had shot up his spine. A situation like his huh, an absent father fending for himself. All alone though he was just a kid couldn’t be older than Tommy, that was cruelty. Without hesitation Wilbur offered the kid a place to say welcoming Tubbo into the misfit pack. How he wished he’d met that kid sooner. At first Tommy was apprehensive until Tubbo burned himself on the stove. He wouldn’t let Wilbur go anywhere near him to help cowering like an animal in the corner. When Tommy approached though slowly Tubbo offered his hand. From that day forward the boys were inseparable as Tommy showed Tubbo things the ram boy had never seen and swore to protect him. Wilbur smoked a cigarette on the porch watching the boys climb trees in the backyard. Sometimes when he blinked, he saw himself and Techno climbing those trees. When did Techno go from the scared unsure halfling to a warrior? All Wilbur did was blink.

Running an errand in town the boys were chasing each other as usual when Tommy’s golden wings sprung out, somehow Tubbo had yet to see them.

“Wow!” Tubbo beamed, “Can you fly with those?”

Tommy shrugged, “Kind of.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur raised a brow, “You’re a splendid flyer.”

Tommy gave his wings a flap shrugging again.

It hit Wilbur; Tommy hadn’t flown since that night in the snow. Hadn’t even attempted all summer to stretch his wings.

“Why don’t you guys buy some candy form Niki,” Wilbur handed the two boys money watching them run off.

Wilbur went to a different store to buy his cigarettes. It smelled of cheap smoke and alcohol lined the shelves. It also played the news Niki had stopped showing because she thought it was bad for Tommy to see. Wilbur didn’t totally disagree, but he couldn’t play it at home either. The store was dim and none of the faces looked friendly, besides the slick man who worked at the counter. Tall with a close buzzcut, he wore glasses with two different colored lenses. Wilbur had spoken to Jackmanifold a few times, never in depth, but he knew they shared the same view of L’manburg-it had to end. The conversation had started that summer if you could call it innocently. Now it was becoming real tangible plans with a syndicate closer to the city.

“They’re starting to move the dynamite,” Jackmanifold slid a pack of cigarettes across the counter, “It’s a slow process, but when it’s done the war will end.”

Wilbur scowled; it was for the best. It was a complicated plan and included p6eople sneaking around to plant large undetectable stacks of dynamite around the city. The hardest part would be building the kill switch mechanism from what he understood. To set off he explosives untraceable.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag Wilbur walked towards the exit, “Keep me updated Jack.”

“You got it boss,” Jackmanifold saluted.

Exiting the store Wilbur’s shoulders sagged.

“Wilbur!”

Two boys ran towards Wilbur showing off their spoils from the general store smiles bright and unafraid, unaware of the world crumbling around them. Wilbur returned their bright smiles he was doing this for them.

Summer was hot and the only cooling relief came in the form of a small inflatable pool Wilbur pulled from the basement. The boys got a kick out of splashing each other and Tommy had gotten more comfortable letting his golden feathers flap around like he used to. Wilbur had taken up journaling writing down every insignificant detail of days that dragged on through noon until lunch when suddenly the cool nights went much too fast. He wrote down the day he took the duo fishing, how Tommy never wanted to go again seeing fish struggling was too much for the young boy. How Tubbo tried to show Tommy it wasn’t that bad and trying to eat a raw fish. He wrote about taking Tommy back to the sky the poor boy was practically shaking at the thought.

“Tommy avians weren’t meant to spend so much time tethered to the ground,” Wilbur had said one day.

Tommy shook his head, “Wilbur I can’t last time it was.” He stuttered.

“Last time it was cold and dark,” Wilber gripped Tommy’s shoulder reassuringly, “Today’s perfect.”

Tommy shook his head, “Look Wilbur.”

“I’d like to see it,” Tubbo chirped, “I’ve never seen you fly! Could you take me?”

Tommy looked at Wilbur.

Wilbur nodded, “When he’s older he can.”

The thought of taking Tubbo into the sky was all it took for Tommy to follow Wilbur back into the open air. It really was a perfect day; Wilbur wrote in his journal about how there was no clouds in sight that day. He wrote about Tubbo wanting to get into music after seeing a traveling band in town. Wilbur spent the end of the summer teaching the boys guitar. Tommy snuck into Technoblades old armory in the shed and started to take blades seriously. Wilbur was hesitant but figured Tommy should know how to defend himself. Sending him to learn with Jackmanifold who was sworn from talking about L’manburg. Wilbur wrote about watching the boys grow for two years they turned into brave young men, and for a moment he was proud. They’d had ups and downs but the young men who stood in front of him now were admirable. Wilbur wrote letters his father would never see, and apologies Technoblade deserved.

Fall was right around the corner and Wilbur had given his trench coat to Tommy last winter. He was in town looking for warm clothes for himself as well as Tubbo. The boys were milling about the isles on their own while Wilbur hummed to himself going over his coat choices. When the crowd around the TV caught his eye Wilbur already knew it would be L’manburg coverage. Noticing Tommy and Tubbo at the back of the store Wilbur slowly made his way through the crowd. His heart shattered and his breathing became ragged at the sight of the news coverage, hey were speaking of a beast of pure rage that had knocked down a whole wall in a single blow. Wilbur knew who they meant deep down in his aching bones he knew-but it couldn’t be he went there to bring their father back not join in the bloodshed. They must have been talking about Technoblade as they mentioned his blood red cape and crown on his head- a prince of destruction.

Wilbur ran, he left the boys as he sprinted down the street to the sketchy store on the corner where he bought the cigarettes that started to make him cough. “You have to blow it!” Wilbur slammed his fists on the counter.

“Wil, we can’t,” Jackmanifold tried to calm him, “There’s only a fail-safe button if you were to press that you’d die.”

Wilbur laughed, “It’s almost been three years Jack! What is taking so long!”

Jackmanifold raised his unusually even tone, “It’s not exactly easy sneaking tons of explosives into a maintain and rigging them outside of a war zone!”

“Tell me where,” Wilbur ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mate,” Jackmanifold looked pale.

“Tell me Jack or I swear I’ll burn this place to the ground!” Wilbur grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt his wings spreading far enough to break bottles as they fell off shelves. Jackmanifold spilled the beans and Wilbur spiraled that night packing all of his belongings hastily into a suitcase. Hurrying down the stairs in the dark only to be stopped by a man at the door with blonde hair and arms crossed.

“Where you going Wil?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy, I have to,” Wilbur trailed off.

“Have to what huh?”

Wilbur winced, when was the last time Tommy had raised his voice in true anger.

“Fucking leave? Like Techno? Like dad?” Tommy raised an eyebrow, “Want to leave me here alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Wilbur was trembling, “You have Tubbo.”

“You’re my brother! You’re all I have left of my family Wilbur!” Tommy slammed his fist into the door, “Tell me why you’re leaving! Tell me why Technoblade really left! Tell me if you knew dad was leaving and why nobody gave me any goddamn warning! Why am I the last one to know anything in this family? I. am. A. part. Of. This. Wilbur! Stop treating me like I’ll break if you talk about them! It’s been three years and I haven’t heard you mention them once, just slowly break!”

“What’s going on?”

Wilbur turned he felt lightheaded as he saw Tubbo those same wide brown eyes shining in worry like the first day he saw him.

Tommy was laughing, “Welcome to this shitty family Tubbo! We’re fighting because your brother thinks your nothing!”

Wilbur felt his stomach twist at Tommy’s laugh-he was becoming more like Wilbur- Tommy was better than that. Wilbur thought he had been sly all these years, but Tommy was wise and knew he was falling apart.

“That’s not true Tommy,” Wilbur reached into his pocket pulling out a leather-bound journal holding it out to his brother, “If you don’t believe me then read this, but not yet. I’m going to L’manburg, and you might as well come with me. I hear there’s a safe zone outside of the city. You can read that and all of the books in the desk in my room after this trip. Okay?”

Tommy snatched the book looking at it, “Why would you go there,” he scowled.

“Techno went to get Philza back, but something went wrong. Now I’m going to end this story and get them both home.”

“Fine,” Tommy nodded, “Let’s pack our bags Tubbo.”

Renting a cart all Wilbur could think about was the outburst Tommy had, years of resentment had built inside of him Wilbur had never seen coming. Years of pain and confusion as his family fell apart around him. He was feeding off of Wilburs poor energy it seemed as well. Tommy was better than Wilbur-he had a bright future ahead of him. When they stopped for the night on the first day of their trip Wilbur snuck the leather journal from out of Tommy’s backpack. He wrote an apology letter, for the past present and future. He deserved at least that much.

When they got to the encampment Wilbur felt electricity spike through his body. He jumped from the cart running past confused by standers before his fist collided with a familiar face.

“I deserved that,” A gruff voice spoke.

“You deserve more than that,” Wilbur growled his fist still at the ready.

A tall figure with a muscular build stood before him, an axe at his hip, pink hair growing out to his shoulders. A blood red cape fluttered around his ankles and it looked like he’d broken a tusk.

“You’re right,” Techno nodded.

“Technoblade!” Tommy shouted running through the path Wilbur had carved out of the crowd.

Colliding with the tall man there was very little give as Tommy threw his arms around his chest. Techno looked at Wilbur in a pause his arms in the air palms out. Wilbur sighed giving a nod.

Technoblades face was soft as he smiled bending down to hug Tommy, “You’ve gotten so big.”

Wilbur wondered what it was like for Techno, the last time he saw Tommy he was critically injured, a busted leg, hypothermia now he had a full wingspan. Tubbo slowly came to stand next to Wilbur silently watching Tommy hug another hybrid.

“Who’s that?” Techno asked spotting the ram boy.

“My mate Tubbo,” Tommy moved to the boy slinging an arm around his shoulders, “basically part of the family.”

Tubbo gave a small wave.

“He basically saved Tommy after you left,” Wilbur narrowed his eyes.

“Wilbur,” Techno started.

Wilbur walked away without another word into the crowd back to the cart. He pulled it out of the commotion of the tents and stalls to an open part of field. He tied it to a tree and found a large boulder to sit on watching the crowd mill about. Looking at the sky he saw it, the mountain he would be climbing that night. After the sun went down Tommy would get the life he deserved.

As the time wound down Wilbur made sure to spend the day with his brothers even softening up around Technoblade. They ate good food and met better people caught up in a tragedy Tommy slowly realized he didn’t know much about asking Techno question after question to Wilbur’s dismay.

“How sheltered did you keep him?” Techno half joked.

“I just wanted him to be happy,” Wilbur looked at his reflection in his beer, night had fallen he had to leave, “If something happened to me,” he swallowed thickly, “Would you look after both of them?”

“Of course, I would but nothing is going to happen to you out here, it’s safe,” Techno assured him.

“Come home Techno,” Wilbur asked. His answer would change everything. He was the last string holding him together.

“I can’t until this is done,” Techno shoot his head a new braid done by Tommy swished around, “These people need me to keep them safe right now.”

It snapped.

“Right,” Wilbur nodded pulling his knit cap over his ears, “Have you seen Philza out here?”

“A few times, he was trying to be positive, but,” Techno took a drink, “He’s losing himself Wil, it’s bad. If this doesn’t end soon, he won’t be Philza much longer. I’ll get word out you’re here though; he’d rush to see you.”

The thought made Wilbur smirk, he had so much time to rush to see him, it was too late now.

Wilbur squeezed Techno’s shoulder as he said he was going to bed. He hugged Tubbo and hugged Tommy for far too long. He heart was aching; he thought this operation would be easy and as he hugged his youngest brother who had been through the ringer, he second guessed himself. He had to remind himself this was bigger than Tommy, this would stop a whole war. He had come this far-it was for more than just himself.

Lighting a cigarette on his torch Wilbur started to climb the mountain, it was steep, and rocks slid and tumbled with every step he took. How people could be stealthily on this trail he’d never know. He was sure the whole city could hear him scheming. He had his white wings out to help him balance and for comfort-if he fell, he would catch himself. He cursed his white feathers if they were black like his fathers he could have flown up.

Getting to the crest of the mountain the mouth of a cave greeted him. He entered with no hesitation his heart pounding in his chest as he noticed the writing on the walls. The anthem of L’manburg. In the center of the writing was a button-the button that would end it all.

“I knew I’d catch one of you eventually if I waited long enough.”

The voice behind Wilbur turned his veins to ice.

“Turn around slowly,” They demanded, “And come with me. I have a few questions.”

Slowly Wilbur turned to a shocked face holding a shaky sword.

“Wil,” Philza whispered into the dark, “What are you doing?”

“Philza,” Wilbur’s voice cracked.

“Why are you here?” Philza dropped his sword his long blonde hair braided to the side.

Wilbur wondered if Techno had done it. He smiled feeling his mouth wobble, “I want to bring you home.”

“Wilbur I promise to come home as soon as-“

“I’m ending this tonight!” Wilbur shouted, “It’s been three years Philza! Do you know what any of went through? Did Techno tell you how he ran away when Tommy almost died?”

“What?” Philza’s green eyes were wide, ‘I didn’t-“

“What do you still know about us!” Wilbur backed towards the wall, “We’ve grown and changed, and you haven’t been there! I can’t believe you even recognized me!”

“Of course, I recognize you! You’re my son!” Philza shouted.

Wilbur smirked, “I used to proudly tell people I was the mortal son of the crow. Now I say I have a dad somewhere. Except I’ve known exactly where you were all this time. I saw you on TV when no one else seemed to be able to! Causing atrocities. You even brainwashed Technoblade into it because he’d follow you anywhere.”

“Buddy I’ve been,” Philza hesitated.

“So, help me if you say doing your job, I’ll slit my own throat,” Wilbur spat.

Philza stood straighter, “I’ve been helping people, I’ve been a relief effort I’ve only raised my sword to defend.”

Wilbur hung his head, “I wish I believed you,” He looked at Philza with blurry vision tears welling up, “Do better for Tommy.”

Wilbur hit the button.

“NO!” Philza screamed rushing forward as the earth shook and rumbled.

Wilbur closed his eyes waiting for the crushing pain he deserved of mountain debris. Nothing came as the sounds of explosions rang through the night and sparks brighter than the stars lit up the night before the fires. Opening his eyes, he saw black wings extended over him protecting him from harm. Heavy breathing was the only sound as Wilbur looked into his father’s soft eyes and saw fear, panic, and anything but disappointment. Wilbur felt tears fall down his cheeks, but they weren’t his own. Looking to where the small mouth of the cave used to be he saw a gaping hole with crowds of people gathering to see the monster dwelling inside.

Tommy, Techno, and Tubbo stood out, their mouths a gape as they saw Wilbur pinned by their father in a tragic twist of fate. Slowly Philza stood turning to see the same crowd.

“You brought them here,” Philza looked panicked.

Wilbur clutched his own chest, “Philza you have to kill me.”

“What?” Philza whipped back around.

Wilbur stood kicking Philza sword towards him, “You have to kill me. They’ll arrest me.”

“Wil,” Philza shook his head, “We’ll work this out, I’ll talk with them.”

“Your reputation will be ruined.”

“I don’t care about me reputation! I won’t have to keep doing this if I lose it!” Philza stepped closer his hands out like he wanted to comfort Wilbur, but they were shaking.

“Philza they’ll torture me, you know they will.” Wilbur spoke like a dead man.

“I won’t do it in front of them!” Philza screamed, “You’re my son! I won’t kill you in front of your brothers! My children!”

“They’re so much stronger then you know now,” Wilbur picked up the sword from the ground slowly walking towards Philza. He put the hilt in Philzas open palms closing his fingers into fists holding his own clammy hands around Philzas warm ones, “Dad.”

Wilbur whispered his final word as Philza stepped forward and Wilbur hugged his father for the first time in a very long time. He cried silently while his father sobbed onto his shoulder his black wings encircling them as if to make it more private, to spare his brothers from knowing. As Wilbur succumbed to the pain he smiled, they knew, he bet Techno knew all along he came to L’manburg to die. It hurt more then he thought it would, physically or emotionally he couldn’t tell though. The pain in his abdomen was fire, but hearing Philza wail, and Tommy’s voice ringing in his ear Wilbur closed his eyes feeling cold, and warm against his father and his feathers.

“Wilbur, my strongest son,” Philza whispered.

They were the last words Wilbur heard. ------- Traveling in silence a day later Tommy was flipping through the journal Wilbur had given him, it was all of Wilbur’s personal thoughts. Tommy felt like a fool saying Wil hadn’t cared about him. He’d documented everything, several times he talked about how brave, and strong Tommy had gotten two summers ago. Their first winter flight together- how impressed Wilbur was. Tommy was a fool, he wrapped Wilbur’s old coat tighter around his shoulders trying not to cry where everyone could hear. If this was just one journal he wondered how many were in Wilbur’s desk, what they all said. At the end of this one Wilbur mentioned getting the family back together. He looked up at Philza driving the cart- he held Tommy so tight last night. It reminded him of the forest when he broke his leg. Idly flipping through Tommy noticed writing he had missed on the front cover earlier.

Dear Tommy,

You were served a rotten hand in this life, with a father who disappeared and brothers who were broken. Techno and I tried our best I promise you that, but we weren’t equipped to bring you up still being kids ourselves. We were scared- I was scared- of letting you down. I’ve written a journal full of apologies to Tehcnoblade, and I was a fool to think after Tubbo showed up you weren’t owed anything. You are owed a dozen apologies from three people, but I hope I am sufficient. If you’re reading this at all there’s a good chance I didn’t come home okay, or I didn’t come home at all, and I’m sorrier than you could ever know. This life wasn’t for me Tommy, I am in pain and I don’t know how else to stop it. You dulled this pain for so long I almost forgot I was suffering. I never realized how it was affecting you, and you were right, you’ve bene in the dark for a long time, because no one wanted ot hurt you- instead we did the opposite. Don’t be mad at Philza – our father never wanted to be a figure head, he wanted to be a man who made his family proud, and you should be proud of him. He would do anything for us, he just hasn’t had a lot of choices when it’s come to fate. If he could leave it behind, I know he would just to spend every day listening to you catch him up on what he missed. Be gentle with Technoblade, under his tough exterior out brother is soft and scared of what you think of him. When he left it was with good intentions to bring our father back. He gets caught up in his own head and becomes a danger to himself more than others. If you see him start to clam up don’t let him- bother him every day. He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but he wants to talk about it, he wants to feel something. Protect Tubbo when this is all over. Our family will be fractured and hurt, Tubbo has only ever had a broken family, he’ll hurt watching the pain work its way through your hearts differently. He’ll fell like an outsider with no right to mourn, but I believe Tubbo became just as much of a brother to me. I know he saved you from yourself, you might need to save him in return. Just remember not to be too strong, let yourself feel. We as a family hid our emotions for too long. Lastly, I have a large request I may not even know comes true, but don’t be mad at me. If I could have, I would have done this differently, but there was no more time. I needed to be free, you needed to be free. Tommy you’ve grown into a brilliant, gentle, curious soul who puts others before himself. Who is afraid to put himself first, listen to yourself more, trust yourself more. You are important and deserve to take care of you. I would have loved to see you continue to grow as you come into your own, but it wasn’t meant to be. Remember avians weren’t meant to be on the ground too long. Find me amongst the clouds on your next trip to the sky. Your brother forever, Wilbur.

Tommy hiccupped grabbing the ends of Wilbur’s jacket tight as he dropped the book, curled into a ball and sobbed, not for himself, but his brother whose hurt he never got to understand.

[gyll-yee-haw]

Motivation

Jake Gyllenhaal smut

Hiii! Look at what I accidently wrote!

Requested by annon: the reader is trying to work, but Jake keeps distracting her.

Warnings: here we go... Dirty talk, oral (male receiving), spanking, daddy kink. It's the traditional Maria fanfic.

Like 1.8k words.

---

You hated bringing work home, but if you had to stay in the office until you finished all you had to do, you'd have to stay there forever.

You were sitting on the sofa, focused on your laptop, while Jake watched tv from the other side of the sofa, because he promised he would let you work in peace. And he really did. For the first one and a half hour.

"Are you hungry?" He said, moving closer to you.

"Not really." You said without taking your eyes off the screen.

"But shouldn't you take a break?" He insisted.

"Jake."

"Yeah?" He casually rested his hand on your thigh.

"I really have to finish this today, okay?" You sighed.

"I don't like to see you this stressed." He leaned down to give your face a few kisses. Then he moved on to your neck.

"Then why are you stressing me more?" You tried to be strong.

He stopped everything and straightened himself on the sofa.

"Do you know what's funny, Y/N?" He said in a serious tone. "When I'm busy, you don't care that much, do you? You get on your knees begging me to fuck you like a little whore. You undress in front of me. You unzip my pants without my permission… And I always give you what you want. Maybe things will change from now on."

He was right, you didn't always allowed him to work. But you knew what he was doing and you couldn't give in. You tried to focus again, but those words on the screen didn't even make sense to you anymore.

"You know what I'm gonna do next time?" He continued. "I'm gonna tie you to the bed until I'm done. Put a gag in your mouth so I don't have to hear your filthy voice calling for daddy. Would you like that? Oh, I know you don't like to wait. And neither do I."

Okay, there was no way you could resist him talking like that.

"Then fuck me. I won't make you wait anymore." You said, closing your laptop.

"Do you think you deserve to be fucked now?" He chuckled. "Just because you're afraid I will treat you the way you treat me?"

You placed your laptop aside and got on your knees in front of him.

"I'm sorry, daddy." You said. "You're my priority, always."

"Am I a fucking joke to you?" He leaned closer and grabbed your face hard, speaking in your ear. "Do you think I'm not being serious?"

"No…" You melted under his grip. "I'm serious, daddy. Please, use me, take what you need."

He smirked and let go of your face.

"Alright, princess." He said, starting to unzip his pants. "Are you going to be a good girl now? Show daddy that you're sorry and that it won't happen again?"

You nodded eagerly as you saw him holding his hard cock and stroking it a few times. He didn't have to say anything. You automatically moved closer to him and opened your mouth widely.

"Aren't you a well trained little girl?" He smiled and sat on the edge on the sofa, placing his dick inside your mouth, and you closed your lips around it. "I did a very good job here."

You shut your eyes and started to take him deeper and deeper, until you gagged.

"Easy, babygirl." He began to stroke your hair. "Take your time, we both know how much you love to have my cock in your mouth, but don't be so eager."

Your eyes met and you started to suck him slowly, moaning just like you knew he loved. As time passed, his hand wasn't there just to stroke your hair, he started to command your rythm and how deep you were going.

Soon, you had to hold on to him thighs and shut your eyes again as he fucked your mouth extremely fast, moaning like crazy as he did.

He came deep in your throat and quickly removed himself from your mouth, making you cough and now his cum was all over your chin.

"It's okay, honey." He collected the cum on your face and you sucked it off his fingers. "You did such a good job, I'm very, very happy now."

"Thank you, daddy." You remained on your knees, waiting for what he was going to do next.

He put his dick back in his underwear and zipped up his pants again. You watched him patiently.

"You can go back to work now." He sat back and looked at the tv, ignoring your presence.

"But…"

"No, it's fine." He didn't bother looking at you. "Go back to work, I know you need to finish it."

"Now I don't want to." You said firmly.

"Take off your clothes." He said dryly.

You stood up and started stripping, but he wouldn't look at you. After you were completely naked, you approached him, but he gestured you to stop, finally taking a look at your whole body.

"Such a beautiful girl." He smiled. "Now you're going to sit down beside me and finish your-"

"I said I don't want to." You interrupted him, watching his smile disappear.

"You don't want to?" He raised his eyebrows at you. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes." He tried to hold back your laughter.

"I already said this once, Y/N." He stood up, towering you. "I'm not a fucking joke. And I don't like to repeat myself. Go to the back of the couch and bend over."

"Daddy…"

"Y/N, I swear to God…" He took a deep breath. "You're not doing anything I tell you to. I must have been too nice lately and you forgot what happens when you act like that."

You walked to the back of the couch and bent down, keeping your eyes glued to his.

"And don't you dare moving." He said before leaving the room.

Oh, you wouldn't. You had to rub your thighs together in antecipation, feeling your heart about to explode. Maybe you really had forgotten how fun it was to disrespect him.

He came back with something in his hands. When you saw it was a belt, you almost came right there. But you had to pretend you weren't loving that, even though he knew you were.

He stood behind you and grabbed your butt, stroking it with his thumb.

"Before I punish you, darling, I have to make sure you know why I'm doing this." He said. "I hate to be obliged mark your pretty skin, but you leave me no choice. I've never seen such a little brat in my entire life. I know you're better than this. I know you can be a good girl when you want to. But why wouldn't you want to be a good girl all the time? When I'm such a good daddy for you."

He barely finished that phrase and you felt a sharp pain in your butt. He hit you with the belt.

"Isn't that right, baby?" He said.

"Yes." You replied. "You're such a great daddy for me."

He hit you again.

"God, why are you moaning so much? You love this, don't you?" He hit you another time.

"I deserved it."

He was about to hit you again, but after he heard that, he stopped and placed the belt on the sofa, right beside your head. He gently touched your lower back, gesturing for you to straight up yourself. After that, he turned you around and brought you close for a hug.

"You see?" He said, holding you lovingly. The feeling of being naked and being held by him fully clothed was amazing. "Only takes a good spanking to bring my good girl back. You won't be a brat anymore, will you?"

"No, daddy. I'll be a good girl."

At least for tonight, you thought. But wasn't worth saying it, you knew how to behave in order to get what you wanted.

"Great." He separated the two of you. "So now I can fuck you. If you want me to."

"Yes, please."

"Bend over."

You got back to your previous position. So did he, standing behind you, but this time, he had his pants down and his extremely hard cock pressed against your entrace.

He put it all in at once. You two loved that feeling. But after that, he had to hold himself back until you adjusted to his size, so he thrusted slowly, squeezing your sore butt right where he marked you, sending shivers down your spine.

When you started to move your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, he understood you needed more. And he would always give his princess what she needed.

He fucked you hard, deep, fast. His moans filling the room, you loved when he was that loud, and at that moment he was losing his mind inside you. He lifted one of your legs off the floor and sneaked his hand under it, starting to rub your clit as hard as he was fucking you.

You came saying all the swear words you knew. Still, he didn't stop. Your clit was painfully sensitive and he kept rubbing it until you came one more time before he did too.

"Fuck." He whispered as he removed himself from you.

You got up and turned to face him. He was zipping his pants, then opened his arms for you to get into them. You gave him an exhausted look and he realized you couldn't stand there for too long, so he approached and picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the sofa and sitting down with you on his lap.

"You're so amazing." He said, kissing your head. "I love you so much."

"Daddy, can I ask you something?" You dared to say.

"Anything, babygirl." He raised his eyebrows curiously.

"I wish you would take off your clothes too." You said in an innocent tone. "All of them."

"And why is that?"

"Because I want to see you, you're so fucking hot." You smiled.

"I believe you have some work to do." He laughed.

"But we can cuddle naked while I do it." You shrugged.

"Since when does 'just cuddle' works for us?"

"You said I could ask anything." You frowned like a kid.

"But I didn't say I would do what you ask." He collected your clothes and handed them to you. "Now get dressed and finish your work. If do your best like a good girl, I'll take my clothes off for you, deal?"

"I guess that's the motivation I needed./