#i want him to SLAM me into that rock wall and BANG me until neither of us can breathe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohbuckie · 4 years ago

Text

FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT

college!bucky x reader

summary: bucky fucks you on his bedroom floor.

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 2.3k

masterlist

Bucky’s room is at the end of the hall. It’s decorated simply—white rug in the center of the floor, a desk sharing a wall with the door, a few posters littering the walls, a dresser across from the bed in the corner of the room. His bed frame is metal and cheap; flimsy, to say the least. He holds onto it while he fucks you—arm outstretched above your head, trying desperately to keep it from slamming against the wall and using the leverage it gives him to pound into you harder.

His friends’ rooms are both attached to his, with their common wall being the front one that the door is on. Sam and Steve have gotten used to banging on the walls of their bedroom in protest of the loud sex happening on the other side, or even sitting in the hallway and knocking on the door. Of course, this means nothing to Bucky, who could probably ignore a category seven earthquake in order to finish. He’s nothing if not thorough.

He tries to be considerate. He plays music loudly—something with lots of bass, to drown out at least a little bit of the sound—but it renders itself useless in between every song, when both of the guys can hear every sound the two of you make. Good sleep is a lost cause in apartment 4B.

Arriving home from a double date with your roommate, you let your jacket—Bucky’s, actually—fall from your shoulders, and you catch it in your hands to hang it up by the door. You kick off your shoes, run your fingers through your hair, find your boyfriend who scurried away to the kitchen, plant a kiss on his lips.

“That was fun.” You say, running your hands up his chest, remembering how he kissed you in the cab on the way here. He smiles and leans on the counter with the heels of his palms, with you in between his arms, in front of his chest.

His lips find yours, and you cup his cheeks in your hands, accepting the tongue that he runs along your lower lip. He tastes like the red wine that he had with his dinner and smells like the expensive cologne that you gifted him last Christmas.

“I don’t think the guys are home.” He says against your mouth, and you smile, breaking the kiss and practically running down the hallway.

He follows you to his bedroom, his hand making contact with your ass, leaving it stinging while you twist the knob and push the door open. He beats you to the bed, sitting on the edge with his legs open, waiting for you to climb onto his lap. You straddle him, feeling his arms wrap around your waist and his lips attach to your neck, delivering wet, hot kisses to your throat and collarbones. He runs his hands over your body—along your shoulder blades, down your spine, across your lower back—appreciating the figure-hugging black minidress that you’re wearing.

You lean forward to push him onto his back, catching yourself on your hands, which are positioned on either side of his head. You grind against his lap and he flips you onto your back in response, rolling his hips into yours.

You kiss like pornstars, swapping saliva between your mouths through tongues and clashing teeth, sucking and biting at plush lips. With his hips between your thighs, your dress inches further up your legs, making your red thong visible.

Your hands are free, and you use this opportunity to pull his shirt out of his pants and unbutton it until it’s open. The two sides hang down, exposing the top of his prosthetic arm and the outrageously defined muscles of his torso.

“Bucky.” You breathe, lips wetly separating from his.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Just want you.”

He chuckles teasingly, nudging your chin upwards with his nose and kissing down to your chest. You arch your back into him, pushing your fingers into the hair at the base of his head.

The room is dark, except for the animated screensaver of the open laptop of his desk and the moonlight that pours through the blinds perfectly, casting rigid bars of light across the wall opposite the bed. You reach to the nightstand beside you, pulling the cord on the lamp and wincing when it turns on as you’re staring at the bulb.

He pulls away and gathers himself, licking his lips and pushing hair from his forehead while he catches his breath. He looks up at you and smiles sweetly, kissing your cheek before standing from the bed and unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his slacks, pulling the zipper down, shoving them past his thighs. His belt hits the floor with a jingle and he steps out of the pants that are now pooled around his ankles. Dark gray briefs are revealed, and you appreciate how nicely they cling to his legs and ass. You remember an earlier comment from him about “fancy underwear,” and you giggle to yourself when you realize that this is what he was talking about.

“What’s funny?”

“‘Fancy underwear.’” You repeat to him, and he cracks a smile before he steps over to you to get back to business.

Instead of removing your dress, he pushes it up past your hips, harshly pulling your panties down and out of his way. He kneels in front of you and kisses your inner thighs, moving up to your pussy, ghosting over it with his lips for a moment before pressing a delicate kiss to your clit, his eyes trained on yours. His gaze remains unwavering when he licks a stripe up your entire pussy. His tongue pushes between your folds and applies pressure to your sensitive bud, and you both moan—you at the sensation and him at the taste.

“Buck.” You whine. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me.”

He sighs, disappointed that he can’t eat you out. Not that he isn’t excited to fuck you.

He stands and steps out of his underwear, tossing them behind his right shoulder. His cock stands against his stomach, seemingly thrilled to be freed from its fabric prison. You can’t take your eyes off of it—pretty and pink, fairly long and definitely thick enough.

He spreads his large hand over your lower stomach and lets his thumb hover over your bundle of nerves, keeping it still, for now. He gives his cock a few pumps, holding it just below the head to line it up with your entrance. He looks at you while he pushes in, because he loves the way that your eyes squeeze shut and your hips wiggle to get more comfortable with his intrusion.

He chews on his bottom lip, waiting until you stop clenching and fluttering around him before he moves. When he does, you reach to the hand on your stomach and hold his wrist tightly. He uses his other hand to put your right leg over his left shoulder, the cold metal of his mechanical hand at variance with your hot skin. You take the initiative to put your other leg up on your own.

His movements are less of a rhythmic roll and more of a pistoning in and out of you, giving you what you begged him for only a moment ago. At first, the thrusts are shallow, but after about a minute he can’t help himself anymore. With every jerk of his hips, his cock slams against a spot inside of you that only he has ever reached—although you’d never tell him that, because you’re too proud to admit that he can make you feel better than you ever could yourself.

When you let go of his wrist, he withdraws his hand, licking his thumb before putting it back where it was and putting it to use. He draws small circles into your clit, just like you taught him to do when you first started dating. You buck your hips up and it makes him smile, and you want to smack that look off of his face. You hate that he knows exactly how good he makes you feel.

You tighten around him when you study his concentrated face—how his brows furrow and he licks his lips.

“Feel good?”

“Yes.” Your voice is strained by desire.

“Good.” He mumbles, and starts to put a little more behind every thrust. He pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in, and the slapping noises that your skin makes upon contact with him is obscene. The bed frame squeaks as it rocks, and it hits the wall over and over again, at a moderate-but-still-annoying volume.

Loud knocking on the closed door startles you, but doesn’t phase Bucky.

“What?” He asks, not stopping, or even so much as looking in the direction of the interruption at the door.

Sam’s raised voice is on the other side. “At least put on the music, man. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Go away.” Bucky replies. Footsteps descend and a door closes. Bucky pauses his movements, clearly annoyed, to lean over and fish his phone out of the pocket of the pants that he let fall to the floor earlier. He thanks God for Bluetooth when it automatically connects to the speaker that lives on his desk, and all he has to do is press play. He tosses the phone onto the mattress, lets it bounce behind your head, and picks up where he left off.

The music is loud enough to drown out the squeaking and the slapping, but definitely not the bed hitting the wall. You can’t bring yourself to care, because the circles against your clit are growing bigger and faster, and your eyes are rolling back into your head.

“Fu-u-uck.” You moan, syllables choppy from the way that you’re being fucked.

“You’re so hot.” He mutters, letting a breathy moan slip out after his words.

Something hits the part of the wall that Steve’s room is behind, and you both can hear shouting. “Shut up!”

Neither of you respond.

A familiar feeling pools in your lower stomach, tightening and threatening to spill. “I’m so close, Buck.”

You tense around him, squeezing his cock and surely bringing him close, too. He pulls out suddenly, but quickly replaces his dick with two of his fingers, curling them against the upper wall of the inside of your pussy. It shoves you violently over the edge, and you cum with a moan that rips through your chest and leaves your throat burning. His fingers continue to move through your orgasm and he watches your legs tremble, kissing your calves that are still rested beside his head.

“You good?”

You only nod.

“We’re being too loud on the bed. Get on the floor.” He orders, and you breathe through your nose, exhaling through your mouth before you stand on wobbly legs. Before you lower yourself to the floor, covered by his pristinely clean, white rug, he clarifies, “Hands and knees.”

The bass of the music booms through your chest, reverberates through your bones, echoes through your head. You feel him kneel behind you, putting one foot onto the floor for balance. You wish you could see him right now—shirt open, sweaty chest heaving, cock standing at attention, ready to fuck you to completion for the second time. He tilts his head down and you can hear him spit onto his dick before shoving it back into you, exercising no restraint.

Your head bows between your shoulders, and you try not to be too loud, because Sam and Steve hardly ever let you hear the end of it when you do, but Bucky’s making it extremely difficult. He’s taking what he wants now, since he’s already made you cum.

His hands hold your hips like they’re handles, yanking your body backwards onto his cock at the same time that he’s ramming into you. His breathing is heavy, and you close your eyes to picture his face right now. A piece of hair over his forehead, fallen from the gelled mass atop his head, jaw tight, abs tensing. That’s what he usually looks like, anyway, when he’s fucking you into oblivion. It’s an image that’s forever burned behind your eyelids.

His hips are moving bruisingly fast, bringing you closer to another orgasm. It’s actually more like you’re being dragged behind a pick-up truck that’s approaching a cliff and is showing no signs of stopping.

It takes only a hard clench to throw off his rhythm and have him cumming inside of you, scrambling to blindly locate your clit with only his fingertips so that you can finish together. He rolls it between his fingers, rubs haphazardly, and gets lucky when you cry out that you’re there again.

“Bucky! Oh, fuck!” Your knees sting from the rug beneath them, and your hands make a fist around the strings between your fingers. “Oh my God.”

He pulls out slowly, kissing down your spine while his warm seed spills out of you, trickling down your leg.

You lay on your back on the floor, much too tired to stand, and watch him pull his briefs back up, on a mission to dampen a face cloth to wipe you down with. He comes back with one, and wipes the cum from your legs and pussy, leaving small kisses in the wake of the warm water that refreshes you.

He gives a final kiss to your lower stomach before he tosses the cloth in the direction of his hamper. He lays beside you on the floor, taking your face in his metal hand and pressing sweet kisses to your cheeks and forehead and chin.

It's silent for a moment, before he decides, "I need to invest in a sturdier bed."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff

2K notes · View notes

miss-smutty · 4 years ago

Text

A/N- I've been dubious about writing Thor but I just had to do this, it's been running around my mind for weeks 🙈 I'll be adding this to my Valentine's One-Shot series

Summary- You've been stood up, on valentine's Day or all days. At least you won't be spending the night alone, now Thor finally has you to himself.

Word count- 1, 806

Pairing- Thor x you

Warnings- Swearing, smut, unprotected sex

18+ Only!

Posted: 10th February 2021

⚡ Bolts of Pleasure ⚡

You leant your head on the cold, marble worktop - the coolness easing the pressure of the already lingering tension head ache. How could he stand you up? Today of all day's.

Somewhere in the distance, over the sound of your own thoughts, you barely hear the sound of the main door sliding open. Nonchalantly wondering who it could be, you knew it wasn't Tony because he was out at dinner with Pepper and you knew this because you were supposed to be there too - a double date.

Something Pepper had organised because she was the one who set you up with that prick in the first place - you can't even bring yourself to say his name. You should've known dating anyone who wasn't involved in anything within the headquarters would end in trouble anyway.

You assumed the other couples would be out doing other romantic bullshit while you were sure all the other guys were on a mission. So who the hell could it be?

The kitchen doors opened behind you and by the sounds of the unmistakably heavy foot fall, it was definitely Thor. Neither of you said anything for a noticeably long pause, you didn't even bother to move your head off of the kitchen worktop.

"You do know it's the day of the valentine's, don't you?" Comes Thors booming voice from behind you, trust him to state the obvious.

"Valentine's Day and yes of course I do, why do you think I'm here? Alone. Banging my head against the counter."

"Please don't do that, I don't want you to hurt yourself" he says with a sincerity in his voice.

"Sarcasm just goes straight over your head doesn't it?" You say, finally standing up to face Thor just so he could see you rolling your eyes at him. You know the statement would be lost to him if he couldn't see your facial expressions.

"Not much can go over my head without me seeing it first, but yes if you say so" ok so even seeing your facial expression didn't work this time. You laugh out loud at his lack of understanding.

"Oh Thor, you do know how to cheer me up"

"Good. Now you may proceed with your head banging if you so wish"

Have you always found his ditziness to be so cute or is this a new occurance?

"I'm going to put my head back down but only because I have a banging headache, these pills should kick in soon. Besides now you're here you might as well keep me company" This made Thor smile from ear to ear as you resumed your earlier position.

Unbeknownst to you Thor had walked in to the room to find you bent over, your delicious ass accentuated by those tight leather trousers you were wearing. He'd been hoping to find you here alone, once he'd heard about you being stood up, but wasn't quite sure how to handle how he found you. If he had his way he would have just walked over and made his move straight away but he'd been taught how things work differently here and he's been working so hard on his restraint.

Now you're bent over again and it's making his mind go blank, all he can think about is how he wants to shove his dick into you while he grabs on to those voluptuous cheeks.

"Thor?" You ask wondering why he's still stood by the doors.

Fuck, the way you say his name makes his fingertips tingle with bolts of electrical current. He wants to hear you scream his name while he's pulling your hair back and slamming his dick between those cheeks until he's balls deep.

"Your trousers are very tight" You hear Thor's footsteps stop behind you and before you can mutter something about him stating the obvious a moan escapes your lips as a slight bolt of electric soars through your core. Where did that come from?

Thor still hadn't quite got to grips with controlling his power while he was in the moment - maybe something to do with all the testosterone. His eyes widened, shocked by your reaction but the way he elicited that moan spurred him to continue.

Thor's hands were still gripping your ass as you got your bearings, realising where the shock came from and not hating the idea. You wanted more.

Moving his hands to your hips as you pushed yourself on to his straining cock, gripping on tightly while he pushed himself against you - his head hanging back as he bit his bottom lip and felt the lightning electrify his body.

Fuck me. If you knew sex with Thor would be this amazing you would've made sure it happened a lot sooner. You could feel his body tingling, like a vibration as the currents circulated through his veins,

flowing with the blood into his rather large appendige.

Thor slapped your ass again, accidentally catching your slit with his fingertips. Your pussy clenched as another bolt of pleasure went through you.

"Shit, Thor" you moaned deeply making him groan with desperation.

He's wanted to hear you saying his name, like that, for a while now and isn't disappointed with the way it sounds falling from your lips. Now he won't stop until your screaming his name, begging for him to fuck you into oblivion.

You pushed yourself against his now rock hard cock craving the feel of him inside of you. The vibration hits your clit and sends you over the edge, making you tremble and your knees go weak as you come, hard. Feeling dizzy as you come down.

Thor catches you as you buckle, turning you around and pushing you up against the counter. Your eyes are hooded with need as he handles your body, gripping at your curves with his electric fingers.

Your body jerks everytime he touches you, little does he know that with every touch your pussy clenches building up that deep orgasm once again. Thor's powers leave other men at a major disadvantage, how can anyone ever live up to this. Even worse, how can you now be around Thor without thinking about what he can do to you every time you see him.

His hand travels hungrily up your top, straight to your nipples while his lips attach to yours. You can feel his facial hair tickling your upper lip, a whole new sensation to your already tingling body.

Thor takes your tender, erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Squeezing gently as he emits tiny shocks and watches as you convulse around him, small, soft whimpers leaving your mouth involuntarily.

"Mmm, Thor. Fuck" you can't stand the tension much longer.

He's in awe with how much he can pleasure you with just the touch of his fingers. If he'd known it would be this easy to make your usual fiesty self, submit so easily, he wouldn't have been quite so intimidated by you. Look at you now, quivering under his touch, he's pretty sure your seconds away from fully giving yourself to him. He stops touching you, waiting to see how you'll react, testing his theory.

"Don't stop" you moan, pushing your heat against him as his hands grab your ass.

"Tell me what you want, my love" he whispers seductively against your ear, almost making you come.

"Oh god, do that again" you whine into his neck, wrapping your arms around his neck and savouring the other worldly scent of the god of thunder.

"Do what? My sweet - " his breath tickles your ear as he whispers again, he knows exactly what you want. Nibbling gently on your earlobe as you struggle to hold up the weight of your head, crumbling beneath him. " - Now, tell me what you want"

"I want you. Fuck me Thor, fuck me hard" leaning back on your hands with your lips parted.

"I thought you'd never ask" he growls, his voice becoming impossibily deeper.

Trying to pull down those tight trousers is going to take way too long and he doesn't have the patience for that. Instead he reaches out and effortlessly slits the gusset in half. Unable to contain himself when he sees how wet you are.

You reach down to unbuckle his belt, he's watching you intently, his cock straining against his trousers. You pull them down, just enough to watch his cock spring up, with a weapon like that he has no need for the Mjolnir. You instinctively want to take it in your mouth but there's no time for that now. You lean backwards, watching as he lines his cock up with your entrance. He stops, pausing for an agonisingly long time, watching your face screw with need.

Thor can see how much you want him and he's savouring the moment, relishing in it. Not forgetting how he wants to hear you beg for him, waiting patiently.

You look at him expectantly, grinding yourself forward until you can feel the tip of his cock.

"Thor, please!" You plead embarrassingly, desperately.

That's all he needed to hear before he painfully, slowly eased himself into your tight pussy. Inhaling deeply as your walls clamped around him. Finally feeling the warmth of your insides, a feeling he's been craving since the first time he met you.

You laid back on to the counter while he gripped your thighs, holding them up as he slammed his cock deep into you, the pressure building as he relentlessly pounds you. Those bolts of pleasure sending shocks shooting through your veins, with every thrust.

Thor held onto your thighs tightly, gripping his thumbs into your flesh while he ravages you. Months and months of pent up frustration finally being released. Grunting as he thrusted the brutal strength of his passion into you with force, loving the way your face contorts with every hit of your spot.

"Thor!" You scream his name as you gush all over his cock when he hits your spot, hard, repeatedly.

Your finally screaming his name, hopefully not for the last time. He watches the way your third orgasm builds, clenching around him as your legs shake in his hands.

How could it be the only time, when this is what he does to you? You're a dripping mess by the time he's ready. The gripping sensation rising as your climaxes peak again, releasing sparks of lightning all around you. Pushing his cock deep inside you as he shoots his warm, powerful load into you.

Your hair clings to your face as you fall back onto the counter, your body feels like jelly and you can't move just yet. Your eyes are closed but you can feel Thor still holding your legs while he waits for you to recover, gently tickling your thighs with his thumb.

"I've wanted to do that for such a long time, would you be willing to make love with me again?" He says smiling widely, hardly breathelss at all - the stamina of a god!

"You can do that again?" You say breathlessly, impressed with his enthusiasm.

"I can go all night, my love. I am the god of thunder" he says proudly, puffing out his chest.

"You certainly are"

#thor series #smut #mcu smut #thor x you #thor x reader #thor smut #thor odinson #thor odison x reader #thor odison imagine

470 notes · View notes

calif0rnia-lovers · 4 years ago

Text

Lover of Mine #5 | Angel Reyes

part I | part II | part II | part IV | series taglist

Title: A Heavy Heart to Carry

Thought that I would change, but I'm the same guy Blamed it on my youth, but I know I've had time

a/n: split this original part into 2. the second half of the couple's retreat will be in 5.5

warning: a character experiences a panic attack

rating: 💔

Sum: Angel Reyes doesn't fear much, but he's scared to face you once it's set in that he's broken your cardinal rule. He must decide what's more important: maintaining a lie or sharing a secret that will change the way you look at him forever.

Words: 9.4k

“Take him home, Ezekiel. Now. I’m serious. I am going to fucking kill him if he tries to stay here tonight. And then, I’m going to kill you for letting him.”

These are the words that stopped Angel Reyes in his tracks. Left him standing on the front steps, afraid to move past the threshold of the front door to his own house.

When he pulled into the driveway, exhausted covered in a mixture of dirt, sweat and blood, Angel was met with a sight that somehow managed to wring the knots in his stomach tighter.

The light from the living room cast a golden hue across the dark lawn.

He knew the odds of you being asleep upon his arrival were slim to none. You haven’t waited up for him in years. There’s no need to wait up when you know his whereabouts.

At some point in the evening, the attempts of communication stopped. Angel isn’t sure why, but he knows it isn’t a good sign.

He’d pushed against Ez’s shoulder prompting him to step up to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” Ez had shocked his older brother, stepping into the war zone to calmly produce some sort of explanation. “We had to go down south, and shit got--we lost track of time. By the time we got finished, we--”

“Now that I know that neither of you is lying dead in a ditch somewhere, you can leave.” Despite your words, Ez didn’t move. He glanced over his shoulder towards Angel. “Or stay outside, I don't care, but he's not stepping foot in my house. Tell him I said test me.”

Needless to say, he didn’t.

Angel heeded the warning allowing his brother to drive him home. He didn’t bother calling you.

What’s the point of calling to apologize when you’ve just spent half the night ignoring the calls from the same person?

Hours have passed, and Angel hasn’t slept.

Although he’s now freshly showered, the cut on his hand poorly wrapped, Angel Reyes finds himself in the same predicament. Outside of your house.

Scared shitless.

Only this time around, Ez isn’t willing to risk his life for the sake of being collateral damage.

Both men remain in the driveway, eyes on the sunflower yellow-painted door of 1101 Rock Creek Avenue. Each is resting against the hood of Angel’s car. Waiting, silently willing the other to bravely ring the doorbell.

Angel releases the smoke in his lungs before reaching up to remove his sunglasses.

“You gotta go in at some point,” Ez glances over at his brother.

Angel doesn’t respond. He drops his cigarette bud to the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his shoe.

“Especially since we’ve been out here nearly an hour,” Ez continues, a tiny smile finding his lips as the sight of Angel’s rolling eyes. “Neighbors are probably gonna put in a call--”

“I’m checking the windows,” Angel responds. The humor in his voice falls flat as his eyes search the front of the house. “Gotta make sure she doesn’t shoot me the moment I touch the driveway.”

“Shouldn’t have taught her how to shoot.”

The daggered stare sent his way causes the youngest Reyes to chuckle. Shaking his head, Ez takes a step forward.

“Angel. It doesn’t matter if you go in now or later.” He sighs. “If Y/N's gonna shoot you, she's gonna shoot you-- regardless of the time.”

“Yeah.”

Getting up, Angel crosses the lawn to the front door. Although he now has a key, he reaches forward to ring the doorbell. For a brief second, he considers turning around and heading back to his car.

His stomach tightens as the door swings open. He lets out a sigh of relief when he’s met with the sight of a smiling Isabela.

Her smile slips, her eyes narrowing as she stepped outside. She waits until the door is shut securely behind her to speak.

“What the fuck, Reyes!” She shoves hard against Angel’s shoulder, not blinking as he stumbles a step back. Angel massages his shoulder as she lowers her voice. “I orchestrated the perfect week for you two. All you had to do was show up with a packed bag, and you somehow managed to fuck everything up. Where the hell were you last night?”

Although he’s had all night to come up with an excuse, no coherent words come out when Angel opens his mouth. Isabela’s eyes roll, her attention shifting to a quiet Ezekiel standing just beyond his brother’s shoulder.

“And you. I thought you were the smart one.”

Ez looks away from a flushed Angel to find Isabela’s glare on him. He opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly Angel’s inability to speak has washed over the youngest Reyes.

“You didn’t think it was smart to drag him home in time for his son's recital?”

Angel’s voice has returned. It comes out lower than he’s intended. His eyes briefly shift to the front door.

“She’s--”

“Pissed.” Isabela sighs as she turns to the door. “I’d thank Bishop next time you see him. He talked her down last night.”

Isabela pauses just as Angel steps forward to follow her inside.

“Angel, she lied to Jeyson for you,” she says. “You need to talk to him.”

“I know.”

“Hey, lego master,” Isabela smiles as she steps back inside. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Jeyson is on his stomach, lying in the center of the living room floor. Chin resting in his hands, he is studying the progress he’s made on his lego set.

A grin brightens his face as Angel steps inside. He scrambles to his feet, pulling a chuckle from his father as he nearly crashes into his legs.

“Hey, lil man. You good?”

Allowing him a quick hug, Jeyson takes Angel’s hand in his. He tugs him towards the living room. He motions towards the legos on the floor.

“I finished all the escape pods! Now, you can help me with the left-wing--”

“Hold up,” Angel diverts Jeyson’s attention, lifting him off the ground, forcing him to silence. “I wanna talk to you about something--”

“Last night?” His question silence his father. Jeyson reaches forward, his fingers tracing the patch on Angel’s chest. “Mom talked to me already.”

“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to apologize. To say I’m sorry for not being there to see you play.”

“It’s okay.” The smile he offers tightens Angel’s throat. It is a smile that matches his words perfectly. A smile of forgiveness often comes when a child is willing to look past moments of a letdown if that means they can still spend time with that person.

“It’s not okay,” Angel admits. He watches as Jeyson’s gaze lifts to meet his before dropping to patch. “I broke a promise, and I’m not supposed to do that. I’m sorry.”

Jeyson studies his father’s expression. A smile slowly spreads across his face as an idea sets in.

“I can play it for you now.” He suggests, his attention moving to the piano across the room.

That’s where you find the two when you step into the living room.

Jeyson has finished playing and is giggling as he watches Angel try to match the series of keys he just showed him.

“What’s so funny?” Angel’s brow arches as Jeyson attempts to stifle his laughter. “I think it sounded pretty good.”

Jeyson shakes his head.

“You weren’t paying attention.” Reaching over, he moves Angel’s hand into the correct placement. “Your fingers aren’t in the right place.”

Angel’s gaze falls to his hands. To him, they seem to be in nearly the exact same spot. But he knows better than to argue with your son. He watches Jeyson’s fingers, trying to match the same tune. Only he can’t, the smile on his face growing once he realizes the tempo has changed. Jeyson plays at a cadence that seems hyper speed to his father but is nothing out of the normal for him.

“It’s not nice to show off,” Angel chuckles as he tickles Jeyson’s side.

Angel glances over his shoulder, his smile dampening as he finds you waiting patiently by the door. Jeyson’s smile does the same, his eyes widening once your conversation from last night sets in.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” you nod, watching as he gets up, his head hanging forward as he crosses the room. “Remember we talked about this last night?”

Jeyson waits until he’s standing before you to speak. With his arms wrapped around your middle, face pressing against your shirt, his words come out muffled.

“But, I want to come with you.”

“I know, but you have to stay and keep Isabela company. You guys are going to the carnival tomorrow. You're going to have so much fun.” Your fingers brush through his hair, a smile finding your lips as Jeyson tips his head back to look at you. “Besides, I won’t be gone long.”

“Five days is a long time,” Jeyson pouts. “You’re never gone that long.”

He’s right. The longest you and Jeyson have been apart being two days. For the weekends when he would spend the majority of his time at his father’s house.

“You can call me whenever you want,” you remind him as you squat down in front of him. “And then, I’ll be back before you know it.”

Tommy Flores currently stands at the front of the line. The weight of the metal door causes it to slam shut with a loud bang.

The echo vibrates through his chest, the force doubling him over. The dialed-up pitch brings Tommy’s hands to his ears.

He’s stopped in his tracks. His silent plea, to stop the ringing in his ears, sparks a slew of grunted protests from the inmates behind him.

Officer Rogers stands near Tommy, his shoulder resting against the wall. Each time an inmate is escorted through the secured door, the guard slams it shut with as much force as he can. He watched as Tommy flinched each time, the sound louder with each step he got closer. Now that Tommy stands directly in front of it, the sound is too loud.

Rogers steps forward, his lips turning up into a sneer.

"You alright there, Flores?" The lack of concern in his voice is amplified by the soft chuckle he releases. "You look like shit. Rough night?"

It's a question, Rogers knows the answer to. Better than anyone--well almost anyone.

He was the one who woke Tommy, in the middle of the night, the glare of his flashlight blinding the inmate. He yanked Tommy from bed, hand-delivering him to the showers. He stood guard, watching as Tommy took each blow and kick sent his way. He hand-delivered Tommy back to his cell, denying his trip to the infirmary.

Rogers would never admit it, but he was initially shocked when saw Tommy shuffle into the visitation line. He knew Tommy had a scheduled visit but didn't expect him to have the strength to bother trying to attend it.

"Your girlfriend coming today?" Rogers continues as he watches Tommy's fist clench. "Must be. That's the only reason I could think you'd get up this morning. Maybe I should let your friends give you another round tonight. How's that sound?"

Tommy's body is bumped forward—a silent warning from his cellmate to move. The shove to his shoulder clenches his jaw shut. But Tommy knows better than to hold up the line any longer than he already has.

Each step he takes is slow, sending a jolt of searing, white-hot pain down his spine.

The swelling of his right eye limits his vision, but he’s able to recognize a familiar face in the crowded room.

Each grey table is occupied by anxiously waiting loved ones. Tired from the extensive process of being cleared for visitation day. Hopeful their time won’t get cut short due to the delay of the inmate's arrival.

As he’s shuffled forward, Tommy’s gaze is fixated on his feet. It’s easier to ignore the look of pure rage directed his way.

“Stop staring.” The smile on Tommy’s lips is a good attempt. No matter how much he wills it, it can’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Leonardo Flores's gaze slowly studies the man before him. He knows his younger brother better than anyone. The blue Stockton uniform covers most of the damage but judging by Tommy’s walk and shallow breathing, he’s nursing a broken rib.

Leo doesn’t speak until Tommy’s gaze lifts. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but it seems you’re still getting settled.”

His observation prompts his brother to shrug. Tommy winces as he shifts to bring his hands to rest on the table.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Tommy smiles.

“I thought this lawyer you got was supposed to be good—"

“She is.” Tommy’s sigh goes unnoticed. “She's good.”

“If she’s so good, why the fuck are you in gen pop?” His brother’s eyes roll, Leo’s head shaking once he gets no response. “Huh? She doesn’t seem too concerned about doing her job. If she was you wouldn’t have been nearly beaten to a pulp—"

Leo’s rant slowly fades out, blending into the surrounding conversations. It takes all of his concentration for Tommy to drown out the sound. Tommy’s eyes are shut, his left hand massaging his brow. The throbbing in his head seems to be getting worse. He flinches as Leo’s boot scrapes his shin.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say, Leo.” Tommy laughs dryly, the throbbing in his head pumping irritation into his voice. “She could pay off the entire fucking city of Santo Padre, it’s not gonna mean shit.”

His eyes open to see Leo’s jaw clenched. He presses on as Leo opens his mouth to speak.

“They put me here because they’re hoping I don’t make it to trial.”

“Judging by how you look, you won’t.”

Tommy shakes his head, dismissing the observation.

“I’m fine. I need you to do something for me.”

An uneasy wave washes over him at the sight of Leo’s rolling eyes.

“What?” Leo chuckles, his arms crossing over his chest. “Your brothers can’t help you?”

“I don’t trust the club with this,” Tommy admits.

No matter the amount of truth behind his statement, Leo’s expression doesn’t change.

Probably because Leo knows the truth. With the number of years he’s facing, Tommy will soon be forgotten by his fellow Horsemen. You’re only worth remembering if you’re valuable to the M.C. Tommy’s not valuable rotting in Stockton. It doesn’t matter if the charges he’s acquired were at the expense of the club.

“Leo—"

Leo’s sigh drowns out the plea in Tommy’s voice.

“What is it this time, Tommy?”

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat. His voice drops, his eyes briefly passing to the guard nearby.

Angel forgot what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your silent treatment. It’s brutal. Probably because you stick to it, religiously. The silence isn’t the worst part. He knows you’ll have to talk to him—eventually. He also knows that once you do, the words you’ve prepared will cut him to the bone.

When it comes to arguments, Angel operates on pure emotion—always ready to fight a war. He says the first thing that comes to mind, often trying to hurt whoever he’s arguing with before they can hurt him. He wishes you were the same.

You have an incredible ability to walk away from an argument on a whim. He can count on his left hand the number of times you’ve raised your voice at him. In all the time he’s known you.

You don’t see the purpose in having a screaming match. It never gets you anywhere. One of you has to operate on the side of logic. Angel has learned that once you’ve had the chance to get your thoughts together he’s in for a world of trouble.

He’d foolishly tried to get the conversation going the moment you both got in the car, but you beat him to the punch.

“I’m not talking to you right now.”

The declaration had come out just as Angel opened his mouth to speak. It also made him close his mouth, his brow furrowing.

“We’re about to drive for four and a half hours, Y/N,” he sighed, his eyes rolling as he sticks the key in the ignition. “You’re really not gonna say anything to me the entire ride there?”

He waits for you to respond, his eyes dropping to the bouncing of your knee.

“And then what? You’re not going to go speak to me at the hotel? What sense does that ma--”

“Trust me, Angel. You do not want me to say what’s on my mind right now.”

Angel’s not certain if it’s the admission itself, or the look in your eyes, but he silently redirects his attention to starting the car.

The four-and-a-half-hour car ride ironically turns into a six-hour trip of stop-and-go traffic. Six hours of Angel left to fiddle through the various radio stations while you silently scroll through your iPad.

At the three-hour mark, your voice breaks the silence, peaking Angel’s hopes. At this point, he’s willing to take you yelling at him if that means you’ll eventually talk again.

He glances away from the bumper-to-bumper traffic to find you holding up your iPad. The screen facing him, you ask. “Have you seen this before?”

He leans over the console for a better look at the image on the screen. His stomach drops as he takes in the jet-black stallion, his mouth going dry as his gaze passes over the red eyes.

“Thinking about getting some new ink?” He jokes his throat clearing as your eyes roll.

“Nevermind.”

Redirecting your attention back to your iPad, you don’t catch the nervous glance Angel sends your way. A few minutes of silence pass before he glances back in your direction.

“What’s it for? The uh--tattoo.”

“Work.”

That’s all he’s able to get out of you. Even after you arrived at the hotel, where you discover that Isabela has booked the two of you for the hotel’s honeymoon suite. Which comes with a complimentary package that Angel is almost certain you won’t partake in. He gets nothing out of you when you are both informed that your introductory session with the couple therapist on sight is in less than an hour after your late arrival.

The counselor, Dr. Mallory, currently sits across from the two of you. The smile on her face remains in place, even as she watches you put as much distance as possible between you and Angel. The task is nearly impossible with the small sofa she’s sat you both on.

Angel's eyes roll to the ceiling before he lets out a deep breath.

Dr. Mallory’s question breaks the silence.

“How long have you two been married?”

Angel’s eyes shift to you. He answers as your gaze remains focused on the pillow in your lap. “We’re not.”

“Divorced?”

“Seven years.” A dry laugh escapes his lips as he softly shakes his head. “To do the date...actually.”

“Oh, I see.” Dr. Mallory’s smile widens as her gaze passes between the two of you. “You’ve decided to join our retreat, as a means of reconnecting. Hoping to bring back, and foster, that love that brought your two beautiful souls together all those years ago.”

“Uh...yeah.” Angel nods slowly as Dr. Mallory’s hand shifts to rest over her heart.

Her eyes close, her smile softening as she lets out a sigh.

“Love is such a beautiful thing,” her eyes open as she continues. “And I am so happy to see the two of you are willing to give it another try. But, more so, I am honored that you have elected me to help guide you through this journey.”

“What exactly does this ‘journey’ entail? We’re not about to go sit in the desert and sing kumbaya or some sh--”

The elbow that digs into Angel’s side swallows the rest of his sentence. He glances over at you.

“It’s a serious question,” he coughs. “I didn’t realize we signed up for some journey that has to do with...souls traveling together…”

Dr. Mallory’s eyes had brightened at Angel’s question. Angel’s words trail off as he realizes Dr. Mallory is no longer seated. She is not standing directly in front of both of you. Holding two orange sheets of paper.

“I have accumulated a list of activities that will allow the two of you to get in touch with your inner selves this week.” She beams, not noticing the uneasy look that washes over Angel’s face as she continues. “One cannot love their partner wholeheartedly until they truly love themselves.”

Angel’s eyes quickly scan the list, realizing that it's more than a list of suggestions. It's a checklist.

“This week, the two of you will work on opening the airs of communication,” Dr. Mallory continues, motioning between the two of you. “Which I can sense are bogged down at the moment, by anger and mistrust. We want to take the time to open them back up--”

“No offense, Doc, but this isn’t going to work.”

“Mr. Reyes, I ask that you don’t speak that way this week. Everything that you put into your relationship can work.”

“It’ll be hard to work on our…” It takes all Angel has not to roll his eyes. “...airs of communication when she’s not even speaking to me.”

Dr. Mallory returns to her seat, her attention focusing on you.

“Angel is right. Ms. Reyes, care to share what’s on your mind with him? He seems eager to listen.”

Angel watches silently as you keep your gaze on the sheet of paper before you.

“Last night was the first night that I have wanted to kill you. And I mean it in the most literal sense, Angel.”

Angel’s throat tightens, his gaze dropping to his hands.

“You’ve done a lot of shit, Angel. But last night you didn’t see your son’s face when he realized that you were not showing up. You promised that you would never do that again.”

Angel attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. He shifts in his seat, his gaze briefly looking towards you.

“I know.”

“I had to get a call from the school telling me that you decided not to pick our son up. You could have picked up the phone, and called me.” The calmness in your voice does nothing to ease the knots in Angel’s stomach. “Since you’ve forgotten, Angel. You don’t get the courtesy of falling off the face of the earth. Club business, or not. You have a son.”

Angel doesn’t offer up a response. Primarily because he knows what’s coming next.

“What could possibly have happened that you disappeared off the face of the earth last night--and don’t say club business. Bishop is not that great of a liar.”

Angel swallows, his eyes briefly drifting across the room to where Dr. Mallory sits.

He can feel your expectant gaze on him, but he can’t bring himself to look at you.

He can also feel it rising in his throat. Words he hadn’t planned on telling you. His eyes drift shut as he sighs.

“I uh...I followed Samuel to this bar downtown.” A silence falls over the room. Angel looks up from his hands, watching as your eyes widen. “Aiden, he told me what he did to you--and I just wanted to talk to him.”

“And that’s all you did?” The look of skepticism sent his way causes Angel’s jaw to tighten.

“Yeah. I told him to leave you alone.”

Dr. Mallory interrupts the silence, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Samuel? Who is he?”

“Nobody.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “He’s her boss.”

“I went on a few dates with him,” you sigh. Your fingers massage your temple.

You already know where this conversation is going.

A smile finds Dr. Mallory’s face as she watches Angel shake his head.

“No, this is great.” An encouraging smile finds her face. “You see, you two are already past the most difficult part. Starting the conversation. Angel, tell Y/N how you feel about this situation involving Samuel.”

“You shouldn't have dated other people.”

Your brow furrows as his statement sinks in. “Did you miss the part where we got divorced?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying? Do you know how many women I had to hear that you slept with? Half of the time from you!” The sight of Angel’s rolling eyes is enough to make you shift in your seat. Turning to face him, you watch his jaw clench. “So you can fuck anyone you want, but it’s a problem when I go out on a date with someone?”

“Yeah.”

You blink, a humorless laugh escaping your lips. Clearly, you’ve heard him wrong.

“Do you know how hard it is watching you fall in love with someone else?”

“Oh my goodness!” Your voice comes out muffled against the palms of your hands. “What is it with you and Samuel putting more stock in this situation than it deserves? I wasn’t falling in love with him, Angel--”

“But that’s what you were looking for?” He cuts you off, the raising of his voice causing your hands to drop. “Why else do people date? Yeah, I slept around, but you never had to worry about me trying to replace you with someone else. For years, I’ve had to watch you go through relationships, bringing other men around my son like you were auditioning them for the role of his father--”

“You know I wouldn’t do that--”

“Yeah, well, we all do things we don’t think we’re capable of.”

“Well, Dr. Mallory. Congratulations. You have just witnessed the one thing Angel Reyes is always capable of doing.” You shove the pillow in your lap towards Angel. “Trying to make me feel guilty for something that he’s done. This time, I’m not apologizing to you for anything. And I’m not saying 'thank you' if that’s what this whole woe is me act is about. I didn’t ask you to go see Samuel. Just like I didn’t ask you to sit here and lie to my face.”

“I’m not lying to you--”

“You may have gone to see Samuel, but that’s not where you were last night. I know you, Angel. You didn’t skip out on our son for Samuel.” It’s an observation that gets the response you’re looking for. It’s a look that lasts for only a brief second. A look in Angel's eyes that tells you that you’re right. It disappears as quickly as it had come. “And until you’re willing to stop lying to me, I’m not staying here.”

Angel’s jaw sets. “Since we’re talking about capabilities, her specialty is walking out. She walked out on me seven years ago, and she’s doing it now.”

“Maybe this time, you'll actually stop and ask yourself why,” you mumble as you step over his feet.

Ez is sitting on the living room sofa. He’s not in the most comfortable position but hasn’t been able to move for the last hour. He’s drinking a beer, his eyes on the television playing quietly across the room.

He’s not even sure what show he’s watching. A series Isabela had roped him into. The room is pitch dark--apart from the glow of the screen--the house quiet. Jeyson has been asleep since his 9 pm bedtime.

Despite her need to catch up on her favorite tv show, Isabela is also asleep. With her head resting against Ez’s shoulder, her body curled up against his, Isabela has been asleep for the last hour. If asked, she’ll blame it on Ez. The second he allowed her to share the blanket with him, his body heat acted as a furnace. One that pulled her right to sleep.

Ez is currently debating on the best way to transfer her from the living to the bed when his phone lights up.

He knows who is calling before he checks the caller I.D.

Angel has been texting Ez non-stop.

Angel’s voice comes out low through the receiver. “If I don’t call you back tomorrow it’s because she’s stabbed me in my sleep.”

“You better take the couch tonight then.” Ez brow furrows, wincing as he double-checks the time on his brightly lit screen. “Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in the bathroom.” Angel quickly dismisses his brother’s question. “Listen, it wouldn’t make a difference. Trust me. She hasn’t been talking to me--except for when she ripped me a new one in therapy today--”

“Therapy...hope you tipped the doc.” Ez chuckles. “Having a witness might have saved your life.”

“...she knows about Samuel.”

Ez releases a sigh, his hand running down his face. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

“I had to tell her,” Angel mumbles. “It's not like I could tell her about last night. I figured…”

“Give her something else to be mad about?” Ez shakes his head, sparing his brother the laugh. “Angel--”

“I’m working on it.” Angel’s side goes quiet for a moment. His admission is an admission of truth. He has been thinking about it for the last twenty-four hours. “I'm gonna tell her, I just need the right moment...besides, don’t rush me. She’s gonna be mad at you too when she finds out you helped.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how I always end up in your shit.”

“That’s what brothers are for,” Angel chuckles. “Remember what I said. If I don’t answer tomorrow--”

“Bye, Angel.”

Hanging up, Ez pushes his phone aside.

He carefully lifts the blanket covering him and Isabela. He successfully carries her down the hallway to the bedroom and has finished tucking her in when she stirs.

She watches as he removes one of the extra pillows from the bed before taking a step towards the door.

“I know it might be extremely difficult for you to stay on your side of the bed,” she yawns, rubbing at her eyes. “But I’m willing to share it with you, as long as you let me take the left.”

A smile spreads across Ez’s face as he watches her pat space next to her. He lifts the pillow in his hand. “Bed’s all yours tonight. I’m gonna take the couch.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he chuckles. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Okay,” Isabela’s eyes are already drifting shut as she yawns. “Well, just know the offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“Besides, I gotta at least take you out on a date before we start fighting over sides of the bed.”

“Give me the time and place, and I'll be there,” she giggles, her face nuzzling against her pillow. “Just know I’m a tough negotiator.”

Since when has knocking become so difficult?

It is the question you ask yourself as you stand outside the bathroom door. You quickly knock before you can change your mind.

“Yeah?”

“Um--are you decent?”

Your eyes grip shut as you let your own words sink in.

Are you decent?

The bathroom door opens to reveal a freshly showered Angel. He stands on one side of the double sink. His phone is in one hand, a towel in the other. He wears just a pair of briefs, his hair still dripping from the shower.

“What are you doing? You’ve been in here forever.”

“I've been done for a minute,” he responds, his eyes glued to his iPhone. “Didn’t know you were waiting on me.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t go to sleep until I brush my teeth.”

“You could’ve just come in.”

“You were taking a shower.” Your response is automatic.

It is also the same thing that has kept you waiting patiently on the bed for the past thirty minutes.

“You’ve seen me naked before, querida.”

He glances away from his phone to find you still hovering in the doorway. Toothbrush in hand. Your weight shifts as his eyes linger on the black satin sleepshirt you wear. His gaze returns to his phone once he realizes he’s still staring.

“You can enter since apparently, you need the invitation,” he responds, a smile finding his lips. He doesn’t need to see your face to know your eyes are rolling.

Angel may be silent as you start your nighttime skin routine, but he’s panicking inside. Panicking might not be the right word. Paranoia has begun to set in.

From the moment he and Ez made it stateside Friday night, the realization of his actions began to set in. The realization that he has somehow managed to tie himself to Tommy Flores for the second time. The note he'd shoved into his pocket was now in the trash back in Santo Padre. The message, however, was seared in his mind.

Always get insurance.

You were right to ask what Angel has been doing for the last thirty minutes. He’s been searching for information on Tommy. From the moment he started the search, Angel realized this was a terrible mistake.

Now that you’re standing next to him, the cut on his hand seems to throb. He glances down at the bandage. It’s bled through and needs to be removed.

You’re brushing your teeth when you glance up to the mirror before you. You pause, watching Angel's reflection as he studies his right hand. Strangely, it’s the first time you’ve noticed the bandage.

You wait until you’ve rinsed your mouth to face him.

“What happened to your hand?”

Instinctively, Angel moves his hand out of sight. He drops it to his side.

“Nothing,” he responds, suddenly focused on toweling his damp hair.

“It was bleeding?” You reach around him, ignoring his silent protest.

Angel knows there’s no point in fighting you on it. He turns to face you, allowing you to get a better look at his hand. Unwrapping it, you feel him flinch as the cool air hits the open cut. He drops the towel to the floor, resting back against the sink as your brow furrows.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Before he can respond, you’re already out of sight.

Angel stays where he is, waiting patiently for over five minutes. His brow rises when you return, a black bag in your hand. It is one he’s known you to carry for as long as he can remember. He always teases you for carrying the first aid kit, but always seems to need you to use it on him.

A tiny smile finds his lips as he watches you sit the bag on the sink. “You packed this in your suitcase.”

“No,” your eyes roll as you reach forward to cut on the water. “I keep it in the trunk. Let me see your hand.”

Offering it, Angel watches your expressions as you take the time to study the cut. Whatever questions are on your mind, you don’t share them with him. You don’t say anything else. You silently clean and wrap the cut.

“Thanks.”

The kiss he presses against your cheek halts the washing of your hands. He doesn’t linger to leave a second. He picks up his phone before leaving you alone.

When Angel wakes, he finds you quietly moving around the suite. Cell Phone in hand, one shoe in the other.

“You’re leaving me?”

His question causes you to jump.

“Yeah,” You release a sigh as you turn to find him watching you from his makeshift bed. “I was hoping you’d sleep through my getaway.”

Sitting up, Angel glances over as you take a seat alongside him. He silently watches as you slip on your shoe, his eyes passing over your leggings and sports bra.

“Where are you going?”

“Yoga. Figured you wouldn’t want to come. It’s not really your thing.”

“Yeah, but it’s a couples class…”

He doesn’t add anything to his previous statement. Instead, he stands.

“So, you’re coming?” You ask, watching as he pauses to stretch.

“Yeah, it’s just yoga.” He yawns. "Besides, Dr. Mallory said we gotta do things to nurture our souls."

You’re not sure if Angel tagged along to make a point or because he honestly thought it would be easy.

At the moment, you’re concentrating on keeping your breathing controlled and steady. Your eyes are closed, the only blinders you have for the man on the mat alongside yours.

Although you can no longer see him, you know Angel is in the same state as before.

Struggling.

The hushed “shit” he releases, as he wobbles, brings a tiny smile to your lips.

Angel’s eyes shift from the instructor, who is slowly making her way around the room, towards you. He readjusts his posture, trying his best to mirror your stance. But it seems no matter what he does, it doesn’t look like yours.

He wipes at the sweat on his brow. “I thought we were starting with the easy stuff.”

“This is a beginner’s pose,” you note. Your eyes open, a giggle escaping your lips once you take in the look of skepticism on his face.

“You sure?” Angel watches as you effortlessly move into the next pose. He releases a huff, his neck rolling before he tries to follow your lead. “Seems like you signed us up for the advanced class. Just so you could torture me.”

“I didn’t even know you were coming.”

Angel knows your statement is one of pure truth, but that doesn’t stop him from chuckling, “feels like a setup.”

“You know you can always do the modifications,” you nod towards the front of the room. “It’s easier.”

Angel follows your gaze to where an elderly couple is demonstrating the modified version of the pose.

“Easier?” Angel scoffs. “I don’t need easier, I’m doing pretty good--”

He speaks too soon. His weight tips forward, the sight causing your concentration to break. Before he can fall, you catch his left hand pulling him upright.

Angel blinks. His widened eyes move to meet your gaze. A sheepish grin finds his lips as your grip remains tight around his hand.

You eye his less than steady stance. “Are you okay?”

Angel nods. The grin on his face begins to morph. The sight of his smirk causes you to drop his hand.

“Shit, for a second, I thought you were mad enough to let me faceplant.”

“Shut up,” your eyes roll as you redirect your attention back to the instructor. “I just have good reflexes.”

Halfway through the class, Angel gives up trying to follow along. He spends the remainder of class distracting you. When he’s successful in making you smile, he complies with your request “Angel, please focus. You’re going to get us kicked out.”

He settles back into participating. He sticks solely to the modifications. When the class ends, he manages a few steps before collapsing on your mat.

He rests his head on your lap, preventing you from standing. His eyes drift shut as he lets out a deep breath.

“Angel, get up.”

“I can’t,” he sighs. His right-hand rests over his heart, the dramatic change in his breathing causing you to shake your head. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Your eyes roll as he remains where he is. Head resting against your lap, eyes closed, a tiny smile on his lips. It grows into a familiar grin as the warmth of your fingers brushes against his skin.

Your touch lightly brushes through his hair. You watch his eyes open to meet yours.

“I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing,” he chuckles.

“I’m relaxed,” you smile, your touch drifting to his jaw. “You’re not relaxed.”

“Now I am. It’s what you owe me, after that hour of torture.”

“You get an A for trying.”

He smiles falters as he watches you let out a deep breath. The smile on your face is gone, the sight letting him know his plan hasn't worked.

"Can you get up now?" You ask as your eyes follow the couples filing out.

A red 1964 Chevy Impala turns onto Rock Creek Avenue for the second time this Sunday morning. Windows rolled down, music playing low, it comes to a stop alongside the light blue fire hydrant marking the end of the street. Although its idling engine has been cut, the gear shift in park, its driver remains inside.

Dressed in a worn leather jacket, too hot for the already humid morning air, Leo releases the smoke in his lungs. He had committed the address to memory when Tommy had whispered it to him the morning before.

He stops to double-check the home’s number as he returns his cigarette to his lips.

1101 Rock Creek Avenue.

The house itself is nothing special. Apart from the sunflower yellow-painted door, it is nearly identical to the other single-story homes which line the street. A street that is strangely quiet for the hour.

The impala’s dash clock reads 11:35.

Leo leans across the console tugging the latch from the glovebox. Shifting the Ruger, which lays inside, he retrieves the folded newspaper. He pauses long enough to close the glovebox before settling back against his seat.

He stays that way, finishing off his slowly dwindling cigarette, scribbling on the paper in his hand.

The Saturday edition of the Daily Imperial Gazette has a newly noted license plate number written in its top-left corner. The crossword puzzle for the day, ninety percent complete.

Focused on the black and white squares before him, Leo lets out a breath.

An eleven-letter word for satisfaction?

“...vindication…” he mumbles, scribbling the answer into the boxes. His gaze shifts to the watch on his wrist.

12:01.

A shift in his peripheral causes Leo to direct his attention elsewhere.

The sunflower yellow door opens, a woman stepping out. She has a black BB-8 backpack slung over her left shoulder, the eye of the orange and white droid catching a glint of sunlight. Her long dark curls are pulled into a high ponytail. She wears a purple tie-dye sundress and white platform sneakers. She turns back to the door, smiling at the man who steps out after her.

Although Leo has never met Angel, he knows this is not him. The prospect patch stitched across the back of Ez’s kutte, the indicator he needs.

“I can’t wait to see you have some actual fun,” Isabela giggles as Ez stops before her.

Ez’s brow furrows, the corner of his lips turning up slightly, as he meets her playful gaze.

“You make it sound like I’m boring.”

“Uh-uh, don’t put that on me. I did not say boring, you did.” Isabela’s nose scrunches in concentration. Her smile widens as she settles on a more fitting word to describe the man before her. “You’re always so...serious.”

“Serious…” Ez echoes. He watches as Isabela bites her lip, suddenly wondering if her word choice was taken on the offense. As she opens her mouth to add an explanation, Ez shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m just saying, I think I’ve seen you crack a smile maybe once since you’ve been here,” Isabela adds. “You don’t laugh at any of my jokes--”

“Maybe they’re not funny.” Ez glances up from the sunglasses in his hands. He watches Isabela’s hand find her chest, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “Besides, I didn't realize you were trying to impress me.”

For once, in their time together, Ez is able to render Isabela speechless. The smile that brightens his features, causes Isabela’s eyes to roll as she steps around him.

“Wait, can we go back a second? Did Ezekiel Reyes actually crack a joke?”

“I do it from time to time.”

“Well, you should do it more often because you have a cute smile, Zeke,” she teases. “Can’t blame a girl from wanting to see it more often.”

Ez fails at stopping the smile on his lips from morphing into a grin as he slips his sunglasses over his eyes.

Isabela takes a step back inside. “Jeyson Iván Reyes! Let’s go!”

With Isabela no longer before him, Ez’s gaze passes over the street coming to a stop on the red Chevy Impala. Aside from being illegally parked, the car would catch the attention of any passerby. It’s not every day that one sees a vintage car, in pristine condition, riding through the streets of Santo Padre.

He steps forward, giving the car a closer look. But he looks away once he gets the look at the driver’s seat. A man focused solely on flipping through a copy of the Daily Imperial Gazette.

Leo lowers the newspaper slightly. His focus moves past an unsuspecting Ez to the little boy who bolts out the front door.

In his Lakers jersey, Jeyson Reyes is nearly a blur of purple and gold. His laughter drifts down the street as his uncle catches and lifts him into the air.

“Someone’s excited,” Isabela giggles as Ez lowers Jeyson back to his feet.

“I wanna try the bumper cars!” The grin on Jeyson’s face is wide. His entire body radiates with anticipation as he impatiently watches his uncle lock the door. “And the ride that spins you around really really fast so that you’re dizzy—and the mini golf!”

“Yeah?” Isabela’s fingers brush through Jeyson’s curls. Her playful eyes drift to Ez, the smile on her face grows as Jeyson follows her gaze. “I think you and I can beat Ez over here. What do you say, J?”

Ez’s brow arches, his eyes briefly meeting hers before moving to Jeyson’s.

“We can beat him. Easy.” The confidence in Jeyson’s voice is almost enough to break his uncle’s facade.

Ez’s eyes study both pairs of brown eyes focused on him, his head shaking softly.

“I don’t know,” he winces as he steps towards the car. “What are you willing to bet on it, J?”

For a moment, Jeyson is silent. An endless amount of possibilities rush through the eight-year-old’s mind. His round eyes widen as he settles on an answer.

“Funnel cake.”

“Good choice.” Ez squats down before Jeyson. He offers him his hand, pulling it back slightly once Jeyson reaches for it. His gaze lifts to Isabela, his resolve finally cracking, a smile slipping through. “You two can’t back out when I win.”

Folding the newspaper, Leo tosses it into the passenger seat as he watches the truck back out of the driveway. As the truck rolls to a halt, before the stop sign at the end of the street, the engine of the 1964 Chevy Impala rumbles to life.

“When can we go on the Ferris Wheel?” Jeyson groans, the impatient whine in his voice causes his uncle to smile.

“In a minute.” Ez ruffles Jeyson’s hair before reaching into his kutte for his vibrating phone. “We gotta wait for Isabela.”

“Where is she?” Jeyson pouts. Standing on his toes, he releases a huff once he doesn’t see her. “She’s been gone forever!”

In reality, it’s only been five minutes. But five minutes can seem like a lifetime to a kid waiting anxiously to continue his exploration of the carnival.

Two hours in, and Ez has learned that Jeyson doesn’t tire easily.

“I thought you wanted ice cream?” Ez chuckles, glancing over to watch Jeyson shake his head.

“Not anymore,” Jeyson sighs. “I want to go on the Ferris Wheel.”

“We will the second Isabela gets back. Okay?”

Despite the pout on his lips, Jeyson nods as he meets his uncle's gaze.

The text that holds Ez attention is from you. It is a question that has been on your mind for the past few days.

Zeke, need that brain of yours. PLEASE tell me you know of a club with a stallion patch?

Ez’s brow furrows as he reads over the message. He types the first thought that pops into his mind. Followed quickly by the second.

Horsemen.

Don’t know much about them. Prospect...limited information. Gotta ask Angel about that stuff. He was at the table Friday.

He glances up from his phone at the burst of laughter coming from a passing group of teenage girls. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he takes it forward once he realizes that the insistent voice of Jeyson is no longer there.

“Jeyson?” Ez’s brow furrows as his gaze passes over those closest to him.

He has no sight of Jeyson, his stomach dropping as he takes another step forward.

The second time he calls Jeyson’s name his voice is louder, a slight tremble slipping in.

Despite it being a Sunday afternoon, the carnival is packed. The Ferris Wheel is on the last round of its current cycle. This has ushered in a shift in the crowd. People are rushing to make it to the line, excited for a seat on the upcoming cycle.

“Jeyson?”

The cheers and music drown out Ez’s voice. Between the bodies pressing against him and the breath that seems harder to pass than the previous, Ez can't quite remember the way he’s just turned from.

The tightness in his chest causes him to stumble forward. The thought of finding Jeyson slips away with each painful squeeze of his heart. It becomes painfully loud, drowning out the same cheers and music that had blanketed his voice mere seconds before. He can’t focus. His mind is useless, unable to bridge the disconnect to the rest of his body.

No matter how hard he tries to get air, Ez chokes on each breath he takes. No amount of air that he swallows can be caught by his lungs. He is left breathless, his feet blindly searching for a break in the crowd. His vision is blurred, the images blurring as his focus scrambles.

Through the crowd, he catches sight of a disfigured BB-8 backpack.

“Thank you! Have a great day.” Isabela’s smile widens as she accepts the two ice cream cones from the vendor. She drops the change into the tip jar, carefully sidestepping the couple running past her.

She stops to take a lick of her ice cream, her eyes scanning the crowd. She starts to move forward, in the direction of the designated meet-up point. A tall green pole, that houses a baby blue flag at its top.

Through the break in the crowd, she catches sight of Ez’s kutte. Her steps slow once she realizes he’s bent over, the cones she holds slipping through her fingers.

Ez can’t hear his name on her lips, but he can feel the heat of her shaking hands as they cup his face. Her body shifts with his, as Ez’s back presses against the pole. His lightheadedness dragging his body to the ground.

Despite the trembling of her hands, Isabela’s voice is calm as she lowers herself to her knees before him.

“Ez--hey, look at me. I need you to breathe. Okay?” The softness of her voice lifts Ez’s gaze from his trembling hands. A smile finds her lips, the sight forcing him to take a breath. “Good. Here.”

Taking his left hand in his, Isabela gives it a gentle squeeze before moving to place it over her heart.

“It’s okay, you and I can do it together.” Isabela takes a deep steady breath, Ez’s hand rising and falling with the motion.

It takes a second breath for him to follow suit. The harsh intake of breath comes in slightly smoother than before. His right-hand finds her waist, his eyes drifting shut as he tries to push out another breath.

The grip on her hip is painfully tight, but Isabela remains in place. Resting her forehead against his, she continues to breathe, her fingers gently brush against his cheek. With each passing second, her heart slowly anchors his forcing it to match the steady rhythm beating against his palm.

“Shit--” Ez’s voice comes out hoarse, shaky as he opens his eyes. “I’m sorry--”

His body tips back. Isabela’s weight pressed against him as her arms wrap around his neck. The hug she gives is tight, causing Ez to blink.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I uh--I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Ez.” Isabela shakes her head, pulling back to get a look at Ez’s face.

The look of concern on her face drops Ez’s gaze to his hands. The slight tremble that remains causes him to clench his fist together.

He attempts to swallow the lump in his throat, but it remains. His voice comes out thick, as he shakes his head slightly.

“I haven’t had one of those in years,” he speaks quietly. “The first year in Stockton…”

Isabela nods, not needing him to finish the thought. Instead, she wraps her arms back around him. This time, Ez returns the hug, his face resting against the warmth of her neck briefly.

It’s not until she has him steady and on his feet that Isabela lets out a deep breath.

She looks around when a realization sets in.

“Where’s Jeyson?” The look on Ez’s face causes her to take a step sideways.

As she turns around, she stumbles forward nearly tripping over a grinning Jeyson.

“Oh my god--” Isabela lets out a deep breath, her hand finding her forehead as her eyes drift shut. “Jeyson, where did you go?”

Jeyson’s words come out muffled as he attempts to speak through a mouthful of hot dough.

“We went to get a funnel cake.”

“What?” Isabela’s eyes open.

Jeyson stands with a large plated funnel cake in hand. He wears a grin.

“You can have some,” he offers as Isabela brushes at the powered sugar dusting his cheek.

She blinks. “You don’t ever walk off without me or Ez. You don’t go with strangers, you know that--”

“He wasn’t a stranger.” Jeyson glances up from the piece of funnel cake in his hand. “He was daddy’s friend. He knew my name. He said it was a gift for doing good at my recital.”

His brown eyes widen as he takes in the look of confusion on Isabela’s face.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks. The possibility causes Jeyson’s smile to falter.

“No,” Isabela shakes her head, wrapping him in a hug. “You scared me, that’s all.”

You can learn a lot about a person from their home. Leo discovers all he needs about you the moment he enters yours.

Your son is the center of your universe.

Leo stands in your living room, his eyes passing over the incomplete Millennium Falcon set in the middle of the floor. Overstepping the abandoned legos, he moves closer for a better look at the photos hanging on the wall.

Jeyson is in nearly every photo. Spanning from baby photos, holiday shots, candid moments of fun, to yearbook photos, they allow Jeyson to grow up before Leo’s eyes.

He pauses at the latest hung photo.

Taken in September, it shows Jeyson standing between you and his father. The smile he wears matches Angel’s to the tee. It was taken on the first day of third grade. Jeyson is wearing his Gilman Prep uniform.

Leo lifts his phone, delaying long enough to snap a photo before moving on.

He starts his trek through the house. Sifting through recently delivered mail, abandoned on the kitchen counter. The piano holding the sheet music for Jeyson's recently passed recital. Studying the neatly printed schedule written across the whiteboard on the refrigerator door. The fully stocked bookshelf in Jeyson’s bedroom. The password-protected laptop on the desk of your office. The gun safe in your bedroom closet.

As he returns the closet door to its original position, his eyes pass over the room. They land on the dresser. The wooden, hand-carved jewelry box is smaller than he would anticipate from a woman. The first item to catch his attention is the oval cut diamond of your engagement ring, paired with the matching wedding band. He lifts both, pausing to study them in the sunlight peeking through the bedroom window. Returning them to their original resting place, he lifts the tiny velvet red box nearby. Inside, he finds a pearl necklace.

The necklace itself is simple. A single pearl embellished with a small, round white stone. It is a necklace you rarely take off. It was gifted to you years ago at a high school graduation dinner by Marisol.

Closing the box, Leo pockets it before leaving. The only sign he was ever there is the unlocked front door. It gives Ez a brief moment of a pause upon his return. He’s almost certain he locked it when they left. But with the high-speed rate Jeyson is talking at the moment, he chalks it up to his mind spacing.

series taglist: @angelreyesgirl89 @holl2712 @relaxing-najee @thedeviltohisangel @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @amorestevens @witching-hour @seize-the-droid @rosieposie0624 @sesamepancakes @est1887 @queenbeered @ticosas @blessedboo @helli4nthus @katjusja @melanicia @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @moneteguiza

mayans taglist: @lilacyennefer @pedropcl @holl2712 @rae-gar-targaryen @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @henrycavill19 @silverstarsandsuns @chellybear98 @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @noz4a2 @wiccanmetallicrose @crxssourbones @kimljn @starrynite7114 @richonne4life @themarkblues @mariaxliliana @thelovelyleo23 @hail-horror-queen @gemini0410 @binooo98 @the-jer-bear @abbiesthings @losolvidad0s @helli4nthus @babaohhhriley @futureleo1678 @whatupitshuff @trhett21 @trulysuccubus @minnicelli @sillygoose6969 @capnsaveahoe @leahnicole1219 @crashbarbie @cyka1312 @zoovent @lakamaa12 @keithseabrook27 @vir-tually @awkwardtayler @rawrlittlepanda-95 @irenne-stans @pearlkitten33 @ezs-baby-angels-whore @sesamepancakes @toni9 @vannabanana1995 @queenbeered @shawty-fenty @kaystacks17 @thesandbeneathmytoes @anactualcaseofthetruth @star017 @cant-decide-at-this-moment @cocotheclown @watsonwise @ilovebey2018 @oscars-wifeyyy @rosieposie0624 @jennisdirtyimagines @ughdontbeboring @jjwriter23 @briskywalker @peoniarose @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @partypoison00 @making-starsdance @claytoncardenasbabymama @myakai13

#let me know what you think?#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #lover of mine #mayans mc fic

198 notes · View notes

bluesfortheredj · 4 years ago

Text

The spy who loved me.

Smut ahead. Like, seriously. Smut.

It had been a long time, a very long time, since seeing Eggsy. Even professional spies weren’t immune to the restrictions and rules when it came to lockdown. The daily texts, phone calls, and video chats had satiated your need for contact with him only so much, and you were both desperate for some intimacy with one another in person. At this point even the thought of holding his hand was enough to make you feel giddy; those slender fingers of his linked with yours again before exploring your body… it was positively breath taking.

Eggsy had stayed in London with his mum and sister in the new house he’d purchased for them only a couple of weeks before the world turned upside down and finally, now that lockdown was being lifted and you could form bubbles with other households, you were on your way to join them thanks to your job allowing you to continue to work from home; not that you were planning on working too much when you arrived. Butterflies were fluttering around your stomach as you pull up on the driveway and see his car parked half in and half out of the garage, and when you knock on the door your heart leaps as you see his familiar shadowy figure walk towards it.

He opens the door with a breathy ‘hey’ and you immediately fall into his chest before his arms wrap themselves around the body he’d missed so very much the last few months. The two of you stand there for what seems like hours yet minutes all at the same time, only separating when you shiver from the cool breeze blowing around both of you in the doorway. His hands stay on your arms as he leans away with a smile to take in the sight of you standing there in person finally, then he bends down to scoop your suitcase up and leads you inside, kicking the door shut behind you both.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he sighs in disbelief as places your luggage down at the foot of the stairs before taking you through to the large lounge, “is this actually real?”

You press your lips to his in what begins as quite an innocent kiss but ends as a desperate, sloppy, heated embrace as he pushes you against the nearest wall before his hands begin to explore every inch of skin he can possibly touch underneath your top. Your hands grab at his jeans blindly, trying to find his belt so you could set him free from the confines of his underwear, and the two of you are freely moaning at the heightened feel of touching one another after so long. Neither of you hear the front door open and then close again, and Eggsy’s mum has to loudly clear her throat for the two of you to even notice that someone else was in the room.

“Shit!” Eggsy gasps, facing away as he does his jeans up.

“Oh my god,” you whisper with hot cheeks as you smooth your clothes down, “I’m so sorry Mrs. Unwin.”

“Sorry mum!”

“I think it can be forgiven under the current circumstances,” she chuckles, “good to see you again (Y/N)!”

Daisy sits in her pram giggling at her own foot and your heart melts at the sight of her, “it’s lovely to see you both, Daisy’s grown so much!”

“She’s eating us out of house and home!” Michelle exclaims, “she’s going through the longest growth spurt I’ve ever known of!”

“Well that’s lucky, because a little birdie told me that she’s partial to a certain dinosaur shaped biscuit, and I happen to have a couple of packs of them in my suitcase.”

“You’re a life saver,” she sighs in relief, “Eggsy, why don’t you show her around the house? I guess you didn’t quite get that far...”

“Will do mum,” he nods as a blush creeps up his cheeks, “this way.”

He picks your suitcase up and leads you up the floating staircase as you take in the very modern and expensive surroundings you now find yourself in.

“Bloody hell Eggs, this house is amazing!” you exhale in disbelief as your fingers glide along the wall.

“Nice, init?”

“Nice? Bit of an understatement!”

“Wait until you see our room… the walk in shower is to die for,” he says with a wink and a light bite of his lip, “plus we’re the opposite end of the top floor so we don’t need to be too quiet.”

You give his arm a playful slap and he takes your hand as the two of you head to his side of the house and the more than generous bedroom he got to call his own until life could continue as normal. It felt as if you were in an episode of Grand Designs with how modern and clean everything was, and you walk through the wardrobe space with long rails either side of you filled with variations of the same suit to the extravagant en suite with charcoal tiles lining the floor and walls and the biggest walk in shower you’d ever seen in your life; only one sheet of glass slap bang in the middle of the room to separate the shower area and the toilet and sink.

“This is literally bigger than my flat,” you groan, “I think I need to become a spy as well.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Eggsy scolds as his brow furrows, “anyway, you’ve got me, and what’s mine is yours.”

“Yeah but that’s not fair for me to rely on you like that, plus I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

“Uh… I would disagree with that statement…”

“Huh?” you question as you look up at the square shower head and wonder what it must feel like underneath it.

You’re so transfixed by the fitting you don’t even notice Eggsy creep up to you until his sultry breath flows over your ear, “you have plenty to give me,” he whispers.

You shiver involuntarily as his fingers creep their way around your hips before walking along into the waistband of your jeans. Your head rolls back to lean on his shoulder as your hands grip firmly onto his forearms while his fingers tease your lips apart and stroke along your hidden folds gently, and you can feel his own excitement at the intimate touch against your backside.

“What would you two like for dinner?” Michelle shouts up the stairs, tearing you both away from your quiet moment and forcing you back to reality with a jolt.

Eggsy groans in frustration as he reluctantly retracts his hands from your body and you find yourself now completely worked up and more than ready for him to show you exactly what you’d been missing the last few months. A sigh escapes your lips as you steady yourself on the shower screen and Eggsy can see just how desperate you are to continue what he’d just started.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s fine, I just didn’t realise how much I missed that.”

What the two of you needed right now was, quite simply, a fuck; something that would just purely release the initial tension that had built during lockdown. You had plenty of time to make love romantically now that you were staying there, and you could take your time with it hen Michelle and Daisy were out doing the food shop or something, but what you needed at this precise moment was a quick and messy release. The two of you look at one another, knowing exactly what was going to happen, and Eggsy quickly runs downstairs to give his mum an idea of what you wanted to eat that would take at least half an hour or so to give you a small window of opportunity.

“Right,” he exhales as he shuts the bedroom door behind him when he returns, “oh…” he pauses as he sees you’re already in his bed, your clothes and underwear in a pile on the floor next to it, and he discards his own clothing on his way over to you.

“How long have we got?” you ask as he settles on top of your body and adjusts the duvet accordingly.

“Like half an hour I think?” he grins before removing his glasses and leaning down to kiss you.

He’s almost pressing his entire body weight onto you as your mouths move around one another’s in a sloppy kiss that’s more teeth and saliva than anything else in all honesty, and your hands are grabbing at every inch of skin you can get a hold of as he manoeuvres himself between your legs hastily and carefully guides his length inside your already slick walls that had been waiting for him for what seemed like so long. The sensation of him inside you and his body on top of yours once more is overwhelming, and it doesn’t take you long to fall into a fast and needy rhythm as you two of you moan unashamedly while the bed rocks beneath you. This is exactly what you both needed; passionate, hot, fast, handsy, loud sex. It was purely to scratch an itch that was in desperate need of attention, and as the need to orgasm heightens with each deep thrust you find yourselves going out of rhythm as the aching for release takes over.

“Eggsy… Eggsy!” you moan as his lips attempt to kiss your neck.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I ain’t gonna last,” he pants against your skin.

The sound of your bodies slapping against one another in quick succession drifts up from underneath the duvet and the two of you are truly lost in the haze of impending orgasms just as Michelle opens the door while asking a question that isn’t even distinguishable to either of you until there’s a gasp at the doorway which shocks you both to stillness.

“Mum!” Eggsy shouts, “get out!”

She quickly retreats and slams the door shut before you hear her practically running away down the landing towards the stairs. You look up at Eggsy who slowly turns to face you, then his lips land on yours within seconds as his hips start up again; his stiff member filling you with ease as your legs wrap around his backside.

“You know I love you,” he breathes heavily between intermittent pants.

“I know,” you nod, “I love you too.”

“Good,” he smiles, then leans his head down and bites onto your breast so he can flick his tongue over your nipple.

You cry out with pleasure at his sudden move and your hands weave their way through his hair to keep him where he is as your muscles begin to tense inside, ready for the much needed release. Before you can get to yours though, Eggsy lets out a hot, stuttered breath over your chest and his entire body tenses as he finally lets go with the longest groan you’d ever heard him make. He soldiers on after his climax and with some encouragement from his thumb rubbing over your sweet spot, you soon clench around him and release to the sound of whispered pants of his name which are emanating from your throat without you even realising. You blink away the stars in your eyes and finally look at his satisfied face hovering above you, then he flops down next to you and takes your hand in his as you both catch your breath.

“You do realise I will never be able to look your mum in the eye again, right?” you chuckle after a few moments of silence.

“Same,” he grimaces playfully, “I think we’ll just hide up here the rest of the night.”

could you make it as smutty as possible with some fluff, there visiting his parents back home and they can’t keep their hands off each other and his parents notice but don’t say anything until his mum walks in on them on the sofa in a very heated and handsy make out they apologise and try forget what happened but then she walks in on them the next evening in his room having sex there embarrassed again but still continue after she has left as they just can’t get enough of each other – Taron or Eggsy – @sarahegerton96

#eggsy x reader #eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy unwin fanfic #eggsy unwin x reader #taron egerton #eggsy unwin smut

777 notes · View notes

jeonqqin · 4 years ago

Text

man up. [m] | pt. 2

h. jisung x reader | netflix teen rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNINGS: nopee, well ji looking at readers butt?

A/N: are u team Chan or team Han?

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

After your afternoon class with Jisung, he quickly noted that you were absent for the rest of the day.

Sure, you didn’t have any other classes, but normally you would be hunkered down in the library with your nose stuffed in some sort of book, or wandering around campus with Felix at your heels. You were either cramming due to your procrastination or roaming around procrastinating. Jisung also knew you weren’t a fan of staying in your small dorm room since your roommate loved flaunting the fact that she had a boyfriend and how she wasn’t shy about anyone witnessing their ‘acts of love’.

So he really had no idea where you were, and it bugged him a little more than he would like to admit.

But outwardly, he didn’t want to show just how worried he was. You were his best friend’s sister, it wasn’t his job to make a fuss about something so trivial. It would be weird if he went looking for you… but if Minho just so happened to get word of his little sister’s sudden disappearance, Jisung would have to help his dear friend search for you.

It was only common courtesy.

“Minho, I think Y/n was kidnapped.”

“You WHAT?!”

Okay, starting the phone call with that probably wasn’t the best choice, but what other choice did he have. Jisung was an impatient guy.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened.” He replied casually, already able to hear the panic on Minho’s end of the call. “She was here and then she wasn’t.”

Not only was he impatient, he was a(n idiot) songwriter; his words articulate and poetic.

Minho was silent for a second before cutting back for the call.

“I texted Changbin and he said she just ran off.”

Jisung frowned. “Do they know where she went?”

“Apparently to beat some sense into me.”

The two friends knew then where you were and a rush of panic filled their chests all at the same time.

“Fuck—”

“—Chan.”

Jisung nearly dropped his phone in the process of hanging up, immediately taking off towards the familiar apartment.

His worst nightmare was coming true—Chan was an unknown in Jisung’s mind. He was handsome, charismatic, and an older guy, so it was realistic to imagine you falling head-over-heels if you were to ever meet him. Unfortunately, it seemed like fate wasn’t in his favor and he was in deep shit if you were really at the apartment alone with Chan.

Alone with Chan.

He shivered at the thought.

The only brightside to the ordeal was that Minho was also aware of the dangerous situation. Out of everyone, he would be the only one to prevent any feelings from sprouting between you. Jisung counted on Minho every time and he never once failed to preform.

Dear god, he hoped he didn’t decide to stop now.

Arriving at the complex, he almost rammed full speed into Minho, who was also going as fast as his legs could take him. They only shared one glance before trampling over their feet to get up the stairs, no doubt bothering the neighbors along their way.

Minho was the one to swing the door open, his head on a swivel as he walked in. He was ready to break up any inappropriate business with as much force necessary—he didn’t care if Chan’s bicep was twice the size of his head, he had leg power on his side. And if he saw your tongue anywhere near Chan’s, Minho was going to be swinging.

“Chan?”

“Y/n?”

Thud.

There was a crash behind the closed door of the office, and both heads perked up at the sound.

Minho hurried forward, arm outstretched to grab the door, “No. No no no—”

Jisung never wanted in his life to see you involved with someone else. With your pretty eyes hooded and shining with desire, and your chest heaving heavily against the tight fabric of your blouse. It had been difficult enough to watch you fill out and grow into an attractive woman, he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you were old enough to meet other guys and moan their names.

He certainly didn’t want to hear you moan Chan’s name—of all people, why Chan?

“Shit, Chan—”

Jisung felt his face heat up as Minho pushed the door open, ready to pull his friend away to avoid the scene on the other side.

“—get your head away from my ass! The power strip isn’t even near there you prick!”

“Hey,” Chan defended with a laugh. “In my defense, all you said was it was over here somewhere. How do I know that somewhere isn’t next to your ass?”

The position that the two of you were in was compromising—though not in the way that Jisung had originally expected. It caused the two newcomers to freeze, their brains struggling to really understand what was happening.

The two of you were surrounded by thousands of cables and wires, black foam scattered across the floor as well. You were on your hands and knees, the only visible part of you was your bottom half with your head tucked underneath Chan’s mixing table doing who knows what. As for Chan, he was crawling around same as you, on his hands and knees with an extension cord wrapped around his shoulders.

“Uhm…” Minho gaped, eyes unable to focus on one part of the scene.

Jisung had no trouble at all, his eyes locked solidly on your raised ass.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder, eyes locking with Jisung’s and immediately widening. You couldn’t be in a worse situation—fucking hell.

In your haste to get out from under the table, you slammed the top of your head against one of the sturdy table legs and winced as Chan cracked up from your side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class—Jesus, ow…” You asked, your hand moving up to rub the forming bump.

“What’s going on?” Minho asked, his eyebrows brushing his bangs.

“Y/n wanted some help with her stats class and I needed someone to help me upturn this room and make it into a recording room.” Chan snorted at your little dramatic groans, completely unfazed by the growing frustration on Minho’s face.

But before Minho could say anything to Chan’s statement, Jisung stepped in.

His lips twisted sourly, “I thought Seungmin was going to help you with your stats stuff?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I will not subject myself to that kind of torture and I refuse to let anyone convince me otherwise.”

“Well you could’ve asked me.”

Defeated and jealous; Jisung could no longer hide it.

The two older boys could see it clearly in the way he looked at you with big sad eyes, though neither of them said anything. Chan’s brows furrowed in thought, it looked like you had someone else infatuated with you.

You laughed. “Uh-huh, because you’re the resident genius here. Jisung, you dropped two of your classes last semester because both professors were minutes away from giving you an administrative failure.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jisung’s head is full of rocks—” Minho dismissed, unsympathetic towards the scandalized boy next to him. “Why the hell are you turning my storage room into a junkyard?”

Chan finally stood, pulling the cord from his neck and throwing it to the side in favor of helping you up.

“It was already a junkyard, bundle-boy.” You said, voice clipped and annoyed. Who wouldn’t be after smashing their head against a solid piece of metal? “We were renovating.”

“Like hell you were. I thought I said no to the recording room?”

Minho’s rage was just about completely directed towards Chan, but to your surprise, the guy gave minimal to no reaction. His face stayed indifferent, wide shoulders relaxed and eyes set.

You’ll be dammed, the fucker wasn’t scared.

Chan wasn’t afraid of your brother.

There was someone on the planet who didn’t go running when Minho looked at them funny, and he was standing right next to you in his beautiful sleeveless glory. If you weren’t currently suffering from a possible concussion you would be dropping to one knee and popping the question then and there.

“Oh, so what you said earlier was a no?” Chan (very unconvincingly) feigned innocence. “Sorry, the phone connection must’ve been bad.”

“I was yelling to you from the other room.”

“These walls are very thick, Minho. It’s your apartment, you should know that.”

“Do you want to be homeless?”

“Define; home.”

That was it, he was your one true love.

As Minho began to cross his arms over his chest, squaring up to Chan with the glare of a certifiable killer, you slid out of the way to avoid the oncoming fist fight.

Or explosion, whichever route Minho decided to take.

But then the unthinkable happened—Minho sighed, dropping his arms to his sides and turning towards you.

Both you and Jisung stood speechless, because you just witnessed someone give Minho an attitude and not get beat down afterwards. Hyunjin had once attempted the same thing and had been chased around the quad for a good forty minutes until the taller man had gotten tired and your brother had become uninterested.

Felix told you that they were both reemed during dance practice that night for being too tired to execute their choreography.

Minho shook his head, “You and Changbin were probably going to convince me anyway. Might as well save the wasted time and get it done now.”

Either your brother had a fat crush on Chan, or the Lee Minho was afraid of someone.

You knew Chan was older than him, but someone had to have some sort of super power to keep Minho from kicking their shins and shoving a knee in their face.

“What is happening…?” Jisung wondered, eyes wide and mouth open.

Chan smiled, striding over to clap Jisung on the shoulder, making the shorter boy jump in surprise.

“Good news. We’re getting a recording studio.”

And you would like to get married to one Bang Chan please.

You joined Chan’s side.

“Now you can finish that song you were working on.” You said, nudging Jisung’s shoulder.

He was just going to ignore the sudden wave of excitement at the fact that you remembered that he was working on a song.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Jisung laughed tensely. “Looks like I’ll be around more often.”

“Yeah, definitely…”

You nodded absentmindedly, eyes locked on the exposed skin of Chan’s arms. Chan himself didn’t acknowledge your stare, but couldn’t help the smug smile that slid onto his face.

Jisung watched the exchange and groaned, looking over to glare at Minho for failing him the only time it truly would end badly for him. Because of course Minho had to be soft for Chan and of course Chan had to be moving in.

Why couldn’t Chan just be ugly?

“Okay,” Chan sighed, placing all the wires he held into a pile on the floor. Suddenly, he turned to you, “You held up your end of the bargain. Let’s work on some stats, huh?”

Your eyes widened for a second, caught in headlights.

“Oh,” was your smart reply. “But we didn’t get to finish?”

Chan waved it off. “The only reason we tried to get it all done was to make sure Minho couldn’t say no. Now that he’s accepted it, we don’t have to rush.”

As much as it bothered him not to finish a project.

You laughed at the little punch Minho threw at Chan’s shoulder on his way out of the room, mumbling something about “going to bed before Changbin comes home to beg for food”. He also made sure to pinch your cheek before leaving.

After swatting at Minho’s hand, you grinned.

“Okay, well… Let’s figure out how we’re going to do this.”

Chan mimicked your smile with a nod.

No way, Jisung thought as you followed his older friend out into the living room, no fucking way.

You just left him without an acknowledging glance his way, and all of a sudden he had a really terrible feeling about leaving you and Chan alone together. Anything could happen—kissing, fucking, god forbid you talk to him. You could become closer and gain feelings for the guy, which would not be a hard task considering Chan was basically the human embodiment of the sun and every damn person seemed to be pulled into his orbit after the first meeting.

Dammit, it was even difficult for Jisung to be mad at him. The guy was too lovable.

Cursing under his breath, Jisung all but ran into the living room to prevent any and all touching or deep talks, because heaven knew how much Chan talked about deep shit.

Ew, he sounded like Minho.

“You don’t have any notes at all?” Chan asked, eyebrows raised. “What do you even do in there?”

You let out a sigh.

“Stats is where I usually do my biology work.”

“Then what do you do in biology?” He questioned bluntly, his eyes skimming all the lost files on your computer that you had given up on ages ago.

“That’s where I write all my essays. The teacher—”

“—never stands up from his chair.”

With wide eyes, you laughed in surprise. Your mouth formed many words but nothing stumbled out, perhaps for a good reason because what you had in your head wasn’t very coherent on its own.

So you just pointed at the snickering Chan, “You…?”

His head shook and your mood dropped.

“I don’t do work for other classes,” he corrected, the mischievous smile slowly sliding onto his lips giving you a little hope back. “I actually produced a whole song in that class.”

Was Jisung dreaming or were you looking at Chan with those big bewildered eyes? Was that what was happening right in front of him? Could he be seeing things?

For once he really hoped he was going insane.

“I knew I wasn’t the only one that slacked off in that class!” You chirped, bouncing a little in your seat.

“And I still got a one-hundred on my exam.” He told you pointedly before passing on the laptop and leaning back on the couch.

Normally, smugness wouldn’t have been attractive to you but on Chan it was something else. His eyes lit up in a way that was almost pretty.

There was a pull towards him as he just sat there and looked at you. It was something that set you on edge in the same way it put you at ease, he just had such a conflicting presence and you really didn’t know how to process it. So your body pushed you forward on it’s own, and with no complaints from him, you felt your hand come to rest on his knee—

But out of the fucking blue, Jisung was throwing himself between you two, his thinner body fitting snuggly in the unfilled space. You sputtered and Chan nearly yelped, holding his hand to his chest to placate his thudding heart.

“Jisung—what the fuck?”

“Did you just jump over the back of the couch?” Chan frowned looking over his shoulder to really determine the path Jisung took to get there.

Jisung smiled obnoxiously, “I just figured I’d help you guys out. Considering I’m also in that class.” He wiggles a little more to separate the two of you even more. “And three brains are better than two.”

“Not when yours is nonexistent.” You quipped, feeling your lips pull into a pout at the intruder.

“Ah, how I love your humor.”

Jisung poked your nose with a tight lipped smile.

Sending Chan a look of apology, he shrugged, falling back further into the couch.

“Sure, why not?” Was his response, shoulders lifting up and falling back down with a huff. “Let me help you set up some proper notes.”

Jisung brought his hands together once to create a near deafening sound that had you even more irritable. His happy-go-lucky mood wasn’t funny when you were on the receiving end of the annoyance.

One nice thing—you couldn’t have one single nice thing ever.

Between your brother and his dumb best friend (that you may or may not have sorta feelings for) you couldn’t do anything. Your prime years were being wasted on sucky romance movies with Felix and Hyunjin and cat fights with Jisung. You couldn’t afford such bullshit for much longer.

“You know I love you, Y/n.”

“Stuff your love up your ass.”

The rest of the week passed by smoothly with minimal conflict on your end and grades that didn’t have you contemplating slamming your face into a wall. On weekends you usually spent most of your time at Minho’s apartment while Changbin dicked around at the gym and your brother slept for the forty-eight hours that he had to himself. You could watch movies and finish your homework with no distractions.

That was until Chan decided to move in and steal your attention every moment he could. You were even starting to suspect that he was doing it on purpose after the time he walked out of the bathroom in only a bath towel and responded with a “oh, I didn’t notice you there”.

You also concluded that Felix was a snitch and no longer deserved your friendship, because once you shared with him your encounter with Chan, everyone in your group of friends was wired in to everything that concerned you and Chan.

Especially Jisung. Which eventually caused—

“Jisung why the hell are you following me?”

The boy in question didn’t bother to acknowledge you, instead he simply continued to walk at your side, hands stuffed deep in his pockets and hair just a little messier than usual, “What do you mean? This is how I get to my next class.”

You snorted. “Last time I checked, you had dropped your two-thirty class. And even then, it was on the other side of the building.”

Jisung couldn’t help but roll his pretty brown eyes.

“Stalker…”

“Says the guy who’s been up my ass all day.” You chirped, taking pride in the way he glared at you.

Jisung threw his hands up in frustration. He knew what he was doing was out of character, sure. But did he want to be called out on it?

“Can I not hang out with you? God, Y/n. We’ve known each other for years, I’d think you’d get used to me being around.”

You merely shook your head with a laugh, continuing forward.

“You’re really something else.”

He snorted, “So you’re being an adult now?”

“When am I not the adult when I’m with you? There’s no room for stupid energy with you around.” You replied cheekily

“Well I’m sorry for hogging all the ‘stupid energy’, damn…”

The way that Jisung held up the air quotes for “stupid energy” had your cheeks aching from how hard you smiled.

“Well, I’m going to lunch with Felix and Hyunjin right now. So unless you want to be subjected to their combined stupidity, I would suggest you go back to your dorm.” You sent him a small smile over your shoulder, just barely missing the way he tripped over his feet because of it.

Felix had called you in a rush right as you were getting out of your last class of the day and asked you to come eat lunch with him and Hyunjin. It was a one sided conversation that lasted almost ten seconds but you figured you had no other choice but to comply. Whatever reason he had for being in such a hurry was enough for you to listen.

“But you can come if you want, Sungie. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

Sungie.

It had been a while since you last called him that nickname—possibly way back when you were in primary school. It sent chills down his spine to hear you call him that again.

Jisung caught up to you easily, slinging his arm around your shoulders just as he used to when you began calling him Sungie. Over the years it had started to put a strain on him since he found it hard to differentiate what was friendly and what was too friendly. He had a girlfriend after all, and there were only so many things he could do with other girls that was acceptable.

But of course you were just Y/n. The little sister that bothered them all day and called him Sungie.

He didn’t have to feel embarrassed to hug you or tease you or hide his insecurities behind stupid pick up lines. Now matter how much it made his heart pound in his chest, you were still Minho’s baby sister—you were Jisung’s baby sister.

“I’d like that, my dear.” Jisung said, stuffing his free hand into his pocket and pulling you closer.

So close that it almost felt domestic.

Y’know, as domestic as it could get with someone who was like a little sister to him. He had a beautiful girlfriend too, so the domestication was more like a… family comfort and less like how it would feel if you were married and he was allowed to hold you as close as he wanted—

“Ah, you’re warm,” you hummed, making a small fuss of tucking yourself further into his hold. “It always looks like it’s going to be nice outside, but it seems like the weather changes its mind just as much as Hyunjin.”

You didn’t notice but Jisung was completely lost to everything you said after “you’re warm”. He just continued to hum and nod as if his brain wasn’t completely fried.

Jisung was in the midst of a mental breakdown when you somehow managed to lead him to the small restaurant right outside of the university. It was a popular place since it was so close and dolled out cheap food in a matter of seconds, which definitely appealed to its main demographic.

You spotted Felix’s head of purple hair immediately, a bright smile etched onto his face as he spoke animatedly to the waiter standing at the ready. The boy was cute, black hair and pretty dimples that made him appear younger. He also looked friendly with Felix with how he spoke with a wide smile that showed his perfect teeth.

You approached the table, shrugging Jisung’s arm off of you and ignoring his whine in protest.

“I made it,” you announced, gaining the attention of your friends—

And fuck.

You met eyes with Seungmin sitting in the seat beside Felix, and felt your shoulders slump as he flashed you a smirk.

“Glad you could come, Y/n.” Seungmin all but sang at your visible distress.

But Felix had a hold on your arm before you could respond with attitude, tugging you dangerously close to the waiter at your side.

“Y/n, this is Jeongin—” Felix gestured towards the boy who lifted his hand to wave. “He’s a school friend of Hyunjin’s.”

“It’s my last year.” Jeongin added with a shy laugh.

Peeling your eyes away from Seungmin, you got a good look at the boy in front of you. The unexpected cuteness both startled you and made your stomach flip. You really had to withhold from squealing and pinching his cheeks. He was so cute.

You smiled genuinely, “It’s nice to meet you, Jeonginnie.”

A small wave of red covered his ears at the sudden nickname, his long eyelashes fluttering in surprise.

Jisung just about combusted in his spot. He was getting pretty sick and tired of keeping tabs on all the boys you managed to hook around your finger, it was starting to get out of hand. Okay, maybe he was the stalker.

In a bout of frustration, Jisung grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, sliding into the booth beside Hyunjin and tugging you after him. You made a noise of surprise as your ass connected harshly with the cracked red cushion of the booth, sending Jisung a glare.

Though, he kept his eyes on the table, avoiding the amused looks on everyone’s faces, even going as far as swatting away Hyunjin’s poking fingers. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to release your hand from his.

Jisung’s palm was sweaty in your hold, but strangely enough it was something that you didn’t mind.

Jeongin looked between you and Jisung for a moment before quickly coming to some sort of realization that only Felix seemed to understand. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and a small smirk was suddenly on his lips as he asked what drink you would like.

Whatever that was about, you didn’t like it.

“I’ll just have a water.” You answered skeptically, finally managing to pull your fingers free of Jisung’s grip.

“Water for me too.”

Jeongin didn’t bother to write down your orders, instead he just nodded and left with that same goofy smile on his face.

Why did your friends have to corrupt the poor kid?

You sent a glare towards Felix, ready to grill him about what the hell just happened but his eyes were on something else above your head, his lips forming into the same smirk that Jeongin had on. Whatever what’s either above you or behind you was either a stupid compilation video of League of Legend funny moments or your next victim.

“Care for one more?” Came from behind you.

And both your and Jisung’s heads swiveled around at a dangerous speed to see the beautiful image of Chan, and damn was he beautiful. He was dressed for the weather, arms now covered in a long black sweater that hugged every one of his muscles so so nicely, and instead of sweatpants, he was wearing jeans. You could definitely tell the difference between a casual day around the house and one where he was going to be seen out in public—was that makeup?

And Jisung frowned. It had been going so well.

It was his turn to send Felix a glare.

The purple haired boy mouthed something along the lines of “girlfriend”, but Jisung couldn’t (could) really make it out.

“Sit down.” You managed to choke out, motioning toward the table.

“Hey!” Felix greeted, standing up to fully embrace Chan in a hug.

You were floored.

“You know each other?”

Felix’s eyes flickered towards you, “We both grew up in Sydney.”

And you thought your eyes were going to pop out of your skull.

“You’re Australian?” You gaped, watching Chan as if he had sprouted a new head.

He then proceeded to spout off some heavily accented words that you could barely make sense of, and you could feel your heart practically flutter in your chest. After meeting Felix, you never thought you’d ever find an Australian accident sexy as hell—but Chan’s was, in fact, very sexy as hell.

“Wow,” Hyunjin whistled. “What does it take for one to become Australian, because fuck.”

You didn’t think you would ever agree with Hyunjin so much in your life.

Chan snorted. “I think you have to be born in Australia unfortunately.”

“Or you know,” Felix tossed sarcastically. “Live there.”

“Damn. Always the catch.”

You sighed, almost going as far as face-palming yourself and/or slamming your forehead against the table.

Instead you just sent Chan an embarrassed smile. “You can sit down if you aren’t planning on running away.”

“Thanks.” He laughed.

Unfortunately for you, there were already three people in your booth and he wouldn’t be able to fit beside you.

Fortunately for Jisung, there were already three people in your booth and Chan wouldn’t be able to fit beside you.

But when Chan began to slide in the seat next to Felix, Hyunjin suddenly jumped with a yelp, glaring at the suspicious looking Felix in front of him. The two had a very strange conversation with their eyes before Hyunjin was huffing a sigh and maneuvering himself to slip under the booth and (clumsily, you may add) pop out on the other side of Seungmin, ignoring the spectacled boys' complaints as he sends Chan a smile.

Stupid plotting assholes.

“Just wanted to sit next to my… uh—”

“Boyfriend?” You supplied, blinking at him dully.

“Yeah, my boy—hey, fuck you!”

“Sorry, were you waiting to tell people?”

He took the liberty to be the kicker instead of the kickee and sent his foot into your ankle, making you hiss with a glare.

Felix nudged Chan’s hip to direct him into the spot beside you, his mouth open in a wide smile as you are further squished between both Jisung and Chan. With one boy being very broad and the other being very clingy, you barely had any room at all.

“Y/n, you look a little cramped, why don’t you scoot over here a little more—?”

“Jisung, if I get any closer to you, I would be on top of you.”

Hey, he wasn’t completely opposed to that plan.

Jisung certainly would rather have you on his lap than Chan’s. He couldn’t even think about that without grasping for your hand again, though you were too fast and managed to wiggle out of his grip.

“Yeah, Y/n. Why don’t you just scoot over?” Hyunjin sang, his mouth curled up in a coy little smirk that he always had carved onto his face.

“You scheming little—”

But your words were cut off by the clearing of a throat.

Seungmin leaned over the table, and the way his sleeves were rolled to his forearms was suddenly very noticeable. He looked at you with the intention to kill, and had he not been a prudish reincarnation of the devil, you would’ve thought he looked hot as fuck.

“Do you want me to retell the little incident that took place at last year’s Christmas party?”

A collective gasp went around the table, Chan being the only one who was absolutely clueless.

Felix whispered something under his breath about how “that was sworn to secrecy”, and Hyunjin’s wide eyes stuck to the side of Seungmin’s face like glue.

Even Jisung broke out of his jealous stupor to gulp.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

That was the true form of Kim Seungmin.

“What? Do dinners like this happen all the time?” Chan asked. “Do you ever actually eat?”

As if on queue, Jeongin stepped up to the table, notepad in hand and wide eyes sparkling. “Are you guys ready to order—?”

But Felix was dragging the boy down to his height, whispering something quickly into his ear, causing his eyes to widen. After enlarging, his gaze flickered back and forth between you, Jisung and Chan.

“I… will give you guys a few more minutes.”

Jeongin scurried off and you wanted to kill everyone at the table.

“Well, I’m going to answer my own question here and say no. There will be no eating food today.” Chan hummed, tossing his menu onto the table similarly to a petulant child.

You huffed. What did you ever do to deserve any of this?

With both boys at either side of you, it seemed to create a visual representation of the conflict in your mind. And Seungmin looked like he was ready to pass out with how hard he was trying to hold in his laughter as Felix and Hyunjin simply smiled your way.

To say that the two boys were completely clueless, would’ve been an understatement—

With Chan too busy thinking about all the food he wouldn’t be eating and Jisung preoccupied trying to grab ahold of your hand, they didn’t once notice the way that the three little devils stared holes into their heads.

“I literally can’t stand any of you.”

1K notes · View notes

there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

Text

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging.

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here.

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story.

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me.

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this.

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk.

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’”

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.”

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?”

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly.

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?”

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?”

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.”

“You’re on.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp.

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks.

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.”

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.”

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red.

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type.

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path.

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat.

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers.

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.”

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.”

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?”

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise.

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.”

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat.

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily.

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them.

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down.

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back.

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple.

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms.

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own.

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin.

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve.

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.”

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head.

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?”

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him.

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.”

She’s not fucking kidding about that part.

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan.

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear.

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up.

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes.

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle.

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.”

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily.

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.”

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word.

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles.

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.”

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?”

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?”

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now.

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this.

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair.

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.”

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?”

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.”

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart.

“Poughkeepsie.”

“Gesundheit.”

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.”

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you.”

“Really?”

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.”

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”

“I’m not.”

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.”

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.”

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.”

“Tryna be a tough guy?”

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.”

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…”

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something.

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark.

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close.

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest.

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless.

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human.

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick.

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks.

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.”

“Tell me what you want, Faith.”

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm.

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…”

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains.

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone.

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent.

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly.

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it.

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?”

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.”

“Faith.”

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.”

“What do you think I want from you?”

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?”

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button.

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue.

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?”

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.”

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.”

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?”

“What do you want?”

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.”

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely.

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin.

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter.

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?”

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.”

“It does. I picked the lock.”

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly.

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins.

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.”

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable.

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away.

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks.

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.”

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?”

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.”

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up.

“Faith?”

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?”

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling.

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting.

“Sammy?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line.

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs.

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?”

“No, I’m busy.”

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream.

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in.

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?”

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand.

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.”

There’s a long, weighted pause.

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.”

“Faith…”

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.”

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?”

“Dorchester.”

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms.

“Good girl.”

“Well?”

“Be patient.”

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily.

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.”

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles.

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing.

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans.

“Harder,” she grits out.

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs.

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him.

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?”

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?”

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him.

“Need you,” she pants. “More.”

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet.

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place.

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.”

“What did I say?”

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain.

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke.

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table.

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —”

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries.

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out.

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too.

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists.

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.”

“Anything you want.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge.

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks.

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.”

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?”

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.”

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.”

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…”

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth.

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer.

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his.

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.”

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.”

“At your service.”

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date.

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy.

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there.

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time.

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability.

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this.

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief.

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy.

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic.

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine.

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.”

“I like the sound of that.”

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll.

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp.

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers.

“Little bit. I like it.”

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that.

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead.

This feels like a form of worship.

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers.

“More?” she murmurs.

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit.

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.”

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes.

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time.

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight.

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.”

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers.

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths.

“Gorgeous like this.”

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.”

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows.

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too.

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her.

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back.

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful.

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?”

“Yeah.”

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven.

* * * * * * * * * *

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here.

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand.

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles.

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?”

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed.

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.”

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress.

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops.

“You know how to get back from here?”

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising.

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.”

“If things were different —”

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.”

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ”

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?”

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go.

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.”

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong.

#1kclassicrockchallenge #sam winchester fic #sam winchester #faith lehane #btvs #spn #supernatural #spn x btvs #supernatural x buffy the vampire slayer #crossover fic #sam winchester x faith lehane

117 notes · View notes

lovely-angst · 4 years ago

Text

time for you

09.03.2020

this is a whole mess

Rocking the small bundle in your arms to sleep, you stare off into the slightly opened door as you waited for your husband’s return. As each day passed, you saw your husband less and less; you had seen him three times in the last week and it was starting to get to you.

You understood that with a job like his, he couldn’t prioritize you. It seemed as if he just didn’t care anymore.

It wasn’t long before he was home, setting his haori aside while unbuttoning the top of his uniform to officially end the night. “Welcome back, honey,” you state as you take his top for him.

“Where’s Hibiki?” he asked with a roll of his shoulders as you set his uniform down. “I put him down before you came home, would you like some tea?”

With a nod, you stepped into the kitchen to start on the tea, your mind going a hundred miles a minute. You had to tell him what was on your mind. It was now or never.

It was quiet between the two of you as you stared down at your cup of tea. Giyuu eyed you carefully before you let out a sigh and spoke.

“Giyuu, I know how that as a pillar, you have to devote yourself to the job and I understand the priorities it comes with,” you start, your fingertips running along the sides of your cup, “but you’re never home anymore. I miss you and Hibiki misses you.”

“I get that we have to be second priority, but if you could at least put more effort into the family? It feels like it’s just me right now..” you finish, slightly flustered.

Your eyes were focused on your fingers as you pressed your lips together nervously.

“(Name), if I could, I would. I thought you would have understood that,” Giyuu replies, voice laced with slight irritation.

“I do understand, but I’ve only seen you three times this last week, Giyuu, and when you are home, you barely even acknowledge me. It’s like I’m just your maid!” You hadn’t meant to start an argument, but you wanted to get your point across.

Giyuu ran his hand through his bangs, “enough of this, (Name), I’m tired from today.” “No, Giyuu, we need to talk about this; we need to get this figured out.”

“What more is there to figure out? My job as the water pillar requires all my attention. Demons could be out there killing other people. I don’t have time to sit around when they need our help,” Giyuu explained, standing up, causing you to cross your arms at him.

“How can you be spending all twenty four hours of the day as a demon slayer? There are nine of you guys, I’m sure you could spare some time to visit your family or spend a day at home.” The tension was thick as neither of you would agree to the other. In your eyes, you were right.

“(Name), stop being selfish! You don’t know what being a pillar is like. I can’t just abandon my job like that,” he says and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not telling you to abandon your job! All I’m saying is that I wish you could at least act like you’re part of the family,”

“You’re getting mad at me just because I am doing my job? I am working to keep us safe, to keep Hibiki safe when he grows up into this world. (Name), what don’t you understand about me not having the time to be home all the time?” Your eyes begin to sting as the argument continues. You hated arguing, especially if it was against your husband.

“If you’re not going to try coming home more often, then don’t bother coming home at all!” You shout furiously as you stare at Giyuu.

It was the wrong thing to say, and you knew it, but with so many emotions running around, you couldn’t stop yourself. You had hoped that Giyuu could overlook your terrible words.

Only he didn’t. His brows furrowed, he walked to grab his uniform top and haori before walking towards the door. “Fine, have it your way.”

Hibiki stared at you curiously as he reached his arms out towards you, a sniffle escaping your lips before you smile at your adorable baby boy. “I’m sorry, Hibiki, mommy can’t stop crying,” you say as you lean forward to press a kiss onto his forehead.

Glancing outside at the bright sunny day, you let out a sigh before turning back to watch Hibiki play with his toy. “Giyuu was right, I was asking for too much. I just want him to come back,” you confess as you run your finger along his chubby cheeks.

“Papa,” Hibiki coos as your smile widens with a nod, “Yep, papa.” Your tears began to flow out once more before picking Hibiki up to hold. “I’m sorry.”

Meanwhile, at the demon slayer grounds, Giyuu was not having a great day. Sitting on a bench against a building, he glanced up at the clouds the moved along the crystal blue sky, trying to empty his thoughts.

The only day I get no assignments, (Name) and I had to have fought,’ Giyuu thought frustratedly as he tried to think of things to busy him. He would have loved to go home, but because you had practically kicked him out and with his dumb self agreeing, he couldn’t bring himself to come back.

“Yoo-hoo! Tomioka-san!” Hearing Shinobu’s voice, Giyuu irritably turned over toward her as she practically hopped over. “The pillars and I couldn’t help noticed you brooding over there.” He rolled his eyes from her words before looking away. He was in no mood to getting teased again.

“Oyakata-sama has given you no assignments today, why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be heading off to (Name)-san by now?” She asked curiously, watching Giyuu.

“We got into an argument yesterday,” he mumbled, causing Shinobu to raise a brow. “Well, I got time to listen if you don’t mind telling,” she replied as she sat down beside him.

Side eyeing the girl, Giyuu let out a sigh before continuing, “(Name) wanted me to be home more and I’ve told her I’ve tried my best to be home more, but she doesn’t seem to understand,” Giyuu shuts his eyes with a sigh, it wasn’t pleasant thinking back on the memories.

“Well, I don’t think (Name) is entirely wrong here,” Giyuu frowned at her response, “I don’t need more scolding from you either.”

“No really though! You pick up every assignment from Oyakata-sama when you can just hand it off to us. I get that this job as a demon slayer is very important to you, but you have (Name) now,” she finishes off and as much as Giyuu would hate to admit it, she was partially right.

“See, (Name) has to understand that you can’t give her all your time, but you also have to know when to let your friends help you too. This doesn’t have to be a one man job Tomioka-san,”

“What, you consider us friends now?” Giyuu questioned and Shinobu gave him her signature smile before standing up to walk away.

Staring back up at the sky, Giyuu now understood where he went wrong. It wasn’t selfish of you to want him home at all, he was your husband and the father of your beautiful child.

Maybe it was fate that he had gotten this free day, and now he can spend it with you.

The journey back home took a little over an hour, but he couldn’t wait to see his beloved family. As Giyuu walked closer to the home with each step, he couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to say to you—how would he apologize?

All thoughts vanished from his mind when he heard faint screaming, the scent of blood directing from inside of the home. Giyuu’s blood ran cold as his hand immediately gripped his sword before sprinting off in hopes that you and Hibiki were safe.

As he entered the home, he quickly searched the house until he slammed the door into the bedroom opened, revealing a horrific mess. Blood splattered along the shoji door panels and walls as blood seeped from the back of your yukata as your body crouched on the ground.

Before the demon could sense a new figure in the room, Giyuu decapitated them in a split second before he dropped to his knees beside you, carefully turning you over.

Underneath your beaten, bruised and bloody body laid a perfectly unharmed baby before Hibiki’s cries slowly filled the room.

“Giyuu, please take Hibiki,” you whispered hoarsely as you powerlessly moved your hand towards your son’s cheeks, staining them red. “The demon wanted him, please keep him safe.”

“Don’t talk like that. We are going to raise Hibiki together,” he scolded as he gently set you down before grabbing a cloth to wrap Hibiki safely and securely behind his back before carrying you in his arms as he ran for the butterfly estate.

As he ran though the forest, he mentally thanked himself for securing the cloth over Hibiki’s head, so the bumpy journey wasn’t so terrible, but it seemed to lull the infant to sleep instead.

Giyuu quickly glanced down at you to make sure you were still doing okay, but his heart dropped upon seeing your unconscious body, had he ran out of time?

“Please, please let my wife be okay,” Giyuu prayed silently as a tear slipped down his cheek. “Please let her live.”

Feeling soft hair tickle your cheek, your tired eyes opened to see Hibiki asleep right beside you, cuddle close into you as your heart melted from the sight. Snuggling into your baby, you felt your hand being squeezed gently.

Turning your head gently, your eyes landed across your husband before your eyebrows arched sadly, “Giyuu,” you say before he brings your hand to his forehead, clutching it dearly.

“I was so scared you’d never wake up,” he whispered, “I prayed and prayed and prayed in hopes you wake up. I should have kept you safe.”

“Giyuu, don’t blame yourself,” your eyes shut before letting out a long sigh, “I should have never told you to not come back. I just missed you so much, you have no idea,” you whisper as tears filled your vision, leaving wet trails along your cheeks.

“I’ll do better for you, (Name),” leaning over, he rests his face against your temple gently before pressing a kiss to your head. “I’ll do better for our family.”

Smiling up at him, you mouth his favorite words to him before he shyly mouths them back,

‘I love you’

#tomioka #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyuu x reader #kny tomioka #giyuu tomioka scenario #giyuu tomioka #giyuu tomioka scenarios #giyuu tomioka x reader #tomioka giyuu scenarios #giyuu x reader #kny #kny x reader #Kimetsu no Yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba tomioka #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer tomioka

544 notes · View notes

dubersbutt · 4 years ago

Note

Leon and Connor fucking you in the shower?

1.4 K

There is some explicit mlm in this one so if you don't want to read that then skip this one

If you want to read the rest of this series then look up "poly fic" on my blog

When Leon wakes up he’s alone in the bed, which is strange. He’s usually the first one to wake up out of the three of you but he hears the shower on in the bathroom and figures you must have woken up, and while trying to wiggle out, you woke up Connor as well. He hears a clang from downstairs and assumes Connors attempting to make breakfast again.

He takes a minute to wake up, running his hand through his hair before he pushes open the door of the bathroom. He’s frozen in place when once walks through the door.

Connor has your pressed against the rock wall of the shower, clearly visible through the glass doors, one leg wrapped around his waist the other barely supporting your own weight as he fucks you. Your head is resting against the wall, eyes shut in ecstasy as Connor fucks into you. The little moans falling from your mouth have him stripping off his clothes and joining you under the hot spray instantly.

Neither you or Connor notice him until Leon places his hand on Connor’s waist, kissing the pulse point on Connor’s neck that he enjoys so much. He jolts in surprise, dropping your leg and your eyes spring open when you realize there’s someone else.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Leon murmurs, reaching one hand to toy with your clit and using the other to pinch Connor’s nipple, “I was just wondering why I wasn’t invited to the party.”

“You were sleeping,” Connor said, leaning his head back to rest against Leon’s shoulder, reaching up for a quick kiss, “you were busy last night. Wanted to let you get rest.”

“So I score three goals and I don’t get morning sex,” Leon hums, “That makes sense.”

“ ‘M sorry Leon,” you respond, batting you eyelashes as him the way you know he can’t resist, “you were so tired last night.”

“I take it this was your idea,” he chuckles when you nod. It was no question that Leon was the most dominant of the three of you, often the one calling the shots in every situation which neither you or Connor minded. However, sometimes you felt the need to push your luck.

Leon dropped his hand from Connor’s chest to his ass, sliding between his cheeks and lightly teasing his hole with one finger. He’s barely one digit deep when Connor moans, burying his face in Leon’s neck.

The lube catches his eye from the shower shelf, still there from his last shower escapade with Connor, and he grabs it, generously coating two fingers with it before he slides them in. Connor groans, deep in the back of his throat, before Leon crooks his fingers just right and did fingers dig into your hips.

You look up at him eyes wide. Connor’s still inside you, but not moving, just enjoying Leon’s pumping in and out. Connor lets out a breathy Leo, and you move to try to get your fingers on your clit to give yourself any sort of stimulation but Leon’s hand wraps around your wrist to stop you.

“No babygirl,” he says and you know he’s added a third finger by the way Connor slumps against him, “you don’t get to decide when you get off.”

You whine and he laughs. He’s still holding your wrist as he opens up Connor. Connor’s mumbling I’m ready, I’m read but it’s a few more minutes before he slowly slides in. Connor groans with each inch. His fingers flex into your hips almost painfully and he pushes deeper into you as Leon buried himself to the hilt.

“Ride me, baby,” Leon grunts in Connor’s ear.

Connor obliges, fucking himself on Leon’s dick slowly. Each time he pushes forward he fucks into you but he’s a bit too focused on Leon to really pay attention to you.

“Leo please,” you beg wanting any type of stimulation, “I’m sorry, I want to cum.”

Leon doesn’t acknowledge you, just uses his body to push Connor forward, filling you up, but holds him there, pulling out before slamming back into him quickly.

“Leo,” Connor lulls, his voice deep and throaty. You clench around him, smirking as his neck goes limp.

He’s barely moving in you, but the small thrusts are teasing as Leon continues to rock into him.

“Leo I’m not gonna last long,” he pants and you squeez around him again, reveling in the groan that you rip from his throat.

“That’s okay, Con,” Leon moans, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, “cum for me, babe.”

A few thrusts later Connor cums with a shudder, spilling into you. You run your fingers through his hair as you wait for him to catch his breath. His breath hitches and you realize that Leon’s pulled out his still-hard dick from Connor.

“Go wait on the bed,” Leon commands, and you don’t know if he’s talking to Connor or to you but you both listen, drying off quickly before getting cozy on the still unmaid bed.

When you’d started dating Connor you never would have pegged him as a cuddler but as soon as he flops next to you he’s pulling you into his arms and lazily pressing his lips to yours.

You try to get his hand between your legs neuf he refuses, probably not wanting to piss of Leon. The coward.

Suddenly you’re being ripped away from Connor and flipped over on your stomach before Leon enters you roughly. You lurch back as a swift smack falls on your ass.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” Leon grunts hand coming down again, "Couldn't even wait for me to wake up, had to bother Connor."

"It defiantly wasn't a bother," Connor mutters and Leon's head snaps to look at him.

"Really?" his thrusts come to an immediate halt and you can picture the annoyed look on his face, "If you don't shut up I'll spank you too."

Connor lets out a brief chuckle, "Leo, you're hot enough that that is not a threat from you."

You can feel Leon's eyes roll before he starts back up. One of his hands comes down to keep your chest down to the bed. You dig your nails into the sheets. Leon gets his finger on your clit and you cry out, grinding back against him.

"Fuuck," you groan, "Leo, fuck, you fuck me so good."

You feel a hand tip your chin up and Connor is rubbing his cock in front of your face. He moves your hand on his thigh so you can dig in and tell him to stop if you need to. You prop yourself up on your arms, before you open your mouth, allowing Connor to fuck your face. You're finding it extremely difficult to keep your teeth tucked but you know that Connor doesn't mind it.

The sensations are too much and you tumble over the edge with no warning. Spit and premium are falling from the corners of your mouth but neither Connor nor Leon stopped. Leon pushes forward one more time and cums with a shout, running his hands down your back soothingly. He waits until Connor shoots down your throat before pulls out slowly, watching your pussy clench around nothing.

You lay there, panting, as Connor flips you over onto your stomach and Leon reappears with a damp washcloth. Connor settles himself behind you, letting you lean against him. Leon comes back and tucks himself on the other side of you, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

"Don't let me fall asleep yet I need to pee soon," you say as you close your eyes.

Leon chuckles, lightly running his hands through your hair, "I'm not gonna lie, I thought someone was going to bring me breakfast in bed today."

"Why would you think that?" you crook an eyebrow.

"Because I had a hat last night and deserve to be spoiled."

"I had a goal and 2 assists, thanks for asking," Connor pipes up.

"No I mean why did you think the worst chefs in Canada would make attempt to make a meal without adult supervision," you say, ignoring Connor.

Leon shrugs, "I don't know, I heard a loud bang and thought someone dropped the pot."

"You heard a loud bang?" you question

He nods, "And you didn't think 'Hm, I haven't seen the puppies all morning I wonder if they're doing something they're not supposed to do.'"

Leon groans, "Whose gonna check?"

"Not me, my legs don't work right now," you say with a smirk.

"Neither do mine," Connor laughs and the two of you high five.

"Fine," Leon signs, "I guess I have to do everything in this house."

Leon shucks off the blanket and you hear him pad down the stairs. A few seconds later -

"Connor!" Leon shouts, "Lenny broke the blender."

"You have no proof that Bowie's innocent!" Connor yells back.

#connor mcdavid #leon draisaitl #poly fic #ran rambles #nhl smut

113 notes · View notes

dapandapod · 3 years ago

Text

Sing with me

This one is for @jaskierswolf, my last entry for mermay!

Please enjoy some Jaskier x Mer!Valdo with some fairytale feels to it. Thank you a billion to @kuripon for being my beta! (go give her fics a read too, they are amazing)

Here on Ao3. Please enjoy.

Lettenhove is beautiful in spring. Buds breaking into leaves, flowers forcing their way out of the frozen ground, the sky clear and blue. Jaskier loves it, and he wishes he could be out and enjoy it. But here he sits, listening to his tutor going on about the great wars of the continent. He used to be interested, but his new tutor is a right bore. He is never allowed to ask questions, or move about. And Jaskier is nine, he wants to move a lot.

What makes it better though, is the view. The room the tutor claimed for their studies has a view of the bay below. It lies undisturbed, the harbor being built in safer water with far less protruding rocks. If Jaskier focuses really hard, he can hear singing from down there.

He shuts his eyes real hard, ignoring the howling wind, ignoring his whining tutor, and focuses on the splash of waves and rich voices harmonizing along the cliffs, bouncing off the stone. It earns him a slap on the wrists most times he is caught, but it is worth it. Sometimes he sneaks into the classroom after bedtime. He sits down in the alcove in front of the window and opens it. Propped up on his elbows, he looks down below, the height making the underside of his feet tickle, and the wind is blowing gently in his bangs. More than once he falls asleep there, lulled by the singing below and the splashing of waves.

One day he will go down there and meet them. The sirens.

Jaskier gets a new tutor. She is younger, brighter than the last one, and she smells like the sea. Her eyes are the deep grey of angry skies and her smile as soft as seaweed. He likes her a lot. She teaches him to sing, and the lilt of her voice reminds him of those below, those hiding in the crashing waves. She teaches him the ways with a lyre, and she lets him ask every question that pops into his mind.

But something goes wrong. He isn’t sure what happens, but one day after their studies, she kisses his forehead and bids him goodbye. “It was nice knowing you, little Julian,” she whispers, like it is a secret. “Come visit us some time.”

The day after, a stern, thick man takes her place. The man frowns when he sees the lyre, decorated with seashells, but lets him keep it and doesn’t tell his father.

And when night falls, Jaskier creeps back into the classroom. Elbows propped against the window, he sings. He knows their songs now, their words, and he knows she is down there.

Jaskier is thirteen when he braves it for the first time. The climb down there is steep, loose rocks and wet grass under his feet keeping his heart in his throat.

But he wants to meet them before he leaves. He has been accepted to Oxenfurt for his studies, and he is leaving before his fourteenth birthday. He stumbles and falls on his butt, sliding down a few paces before he finds his feet again, scraping his knee. It stings, and the leg of his trousers is ripped, but he keeps going.

It's not until he stands, watching the water churn among the rocks, that Jaskier allows himself to breathe. Small droplets of salt water hit his cheek, his nose, and he blinks. They watch him, as he watches them. Jaskier can see them in the middle of the bay, settled on the rocks sticking out of the water. None look like the other. One's skin is rich gold, another a deep brown. Another is pale white, shimmering like a pearl. Their hair is sticking to their bodies, long and dark. Only two of them seem to favour a shorter hairstyle. Not all of them even have fish tails.

Jaskier takes a tentative step closer to the water, knowing full well he will die if he falls in. Maybe he will die anyway. All of the stories he has been told about sirens end with humans dying.

But they came to him. She kissed his forehead and sang him good night.

He won’t believe it.

One siren dives beneath the surface, her tail green and red. He waits for her to approach, and when she is close enough, he recognizes her. Her eyes are still the color of angry skies and her smile is still as soft as seaweed. She greets him with warmth, and bids him sit.

They sing together, and it takes all of his concentration to remember the words. It’s been years, after all, but he falls back into it easily enough. The others join them after a while, their curiosity peaked by a boy by the sea, learning their language. Those with legs come sit with him, and he blushes at their nakedness when their bodies are revealed.

That summer, for every night he is able, he sneaks down to the bay. He learns their names and their singsong way of talking. When he tells her about the lyre, how he has it hidden from his father, she is delighted. She teaches him more about music than any tutor he has ever had ever, and her way of telling stories is like poetry.

When fall comes and Jaskier is put in a carriage to Oxenfurt, he doesn’t cry. He has needled from his mother and older sister that they have the song there too. It may be in a different form, but he has sworn to her to bring it home to them.

Jaskier is seventeen when he meets Valdo Marx.

That boy is like no other in Oxenfurt. He is wild, rude, funny and absolutely beautiful. He sprays himself with thick and expensive perfume, but Jaskier smells it on him anyway.

The sea.

Valdo's hair is thick and dark, just like theirs. Jaskier watches him in the lazy hours in the morning when they sit in the library. If a ray of sun hits him just right, there is a vague shimmer to his skin.

Jaskier knows.

And he is besotted.

But approaching Valdo Marx is harder than anything he has ever done. Their ways of singing are much alike, and Valdo takes great offence at that. Where Jaskier tries a tentative smile, Valdo sneers. Scoffs, mocks and pushes him away.

Jaskier doesn’t understand it, but he accepts it. If their rivalry is all he can get, he will take it. So it's song duels, poetry battles, drinking games, anything to get his attention. Valdo keeps the act up, but sometimes when they part, Jaskier thinks he can see the hint of a smile.

The water near Oxenfurt is so very unlike the water at home. It is calmer, for one, and the water is so very clear.. Jaskier likes to go down there in the early mornings. He avoids the harbor as it is a busy and dangerous place at times, and these nights he wants peace.

He longs for them. His friends. People call him songbird, but no, that’s not it. Jaskier follows the beach and when the weather allows he takes his shoes off. At home it was dangerous to step into the water, but here the waves lap at his feet, hiding them under a thin layer of sand. It is harder to find a good place to sit, so he is far from town when he reaches his chosen spot. He leans back against a tree, watching the sun slowly rise above the water. Gulls cry over him and dive into the water for breakfast.

Jaskier likes to sing here.

Not as he does in school, nowhere near that. Here he sings in their language, far from prying ears. No one sings with him, but that is alright. It’s been years since he went back there. He probably won’t ever go back there again.

His father is not a kind man.

Jaskier sings his sorrows away. It feels like he is calling to them, a lonely cry over the waves, asking for someone, anyone to join him. It would be nice if Valdo sang with him. Maybe, if he is patient, he will win him over.

Things change when Jaskier gets in a fight. He didn’t mean to, he is shit at fighting and the sight of blood makes his head spin, but here they are. And he is losing too.

A fist slams into his ribs, making him bend awkwardly around the pain. Jaskier grunts, but straightens up, or at least he tries to. His feet are kicked from under him, and next thing he knows, feet are raining down on him.

They kick his hip, his already aching ribs, his shoulder, his fingers.

Jaskier doesn’t see Valdo in the tavern. Doesn’t notice those ocean eyes on him, his silence and his observance.

Only when the blows stop, and Valdo is taking a swing at the offender does he notice. Turns out Valdo is bad at fighting too, and they run from the pub together, bruised and swearing. They stop in an alley, hidden far enough away from the street, catching their breath. Only when they are sure they are not being pursued does the laughing start. More like giggling, actually. Neither is completely sober, adrenaline rushing through their veins, and the sheer absurdity of it all has them hiccuping and wheezing, leaning against the wall for support.

“Why the fuck would you pick a fight with that guy?!” Valdo wheezes, wiping tears from his cheeks. ��He was huge!”

"He was being an asshole!” Jaskier defends himself, but he agrees. Maybe not his brightest idea. They sink down against the wall, catching their breath. The ground is a little muddy, but his trousers are already dirty, so it doesn’t matter.

When they sit side by side, Jaskier watches Valdo’s profile in the semi-darkness. He doesn’t usually get to see him up close, and with the light spilling from a window somewhere above them. Valdo is beautiful. And in this low light, Jaskier can see the hint of scales again. He knows Valdo is probably wearing a glamour, so he isn’t supposed to be able to see it. Valdo looks back at him, eyes still glittering with humour.

“What?” He asks.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

Valdo looks at him searchingly for a long moment. Then he nods, as if he has made up his mind.

“You are welcome.”

They sit in silence for another few moments, letting the buzz of Oxenfurt nightlife surround them. Jaskier is looking up over the rooftops, trying to see the stars, when Valdo speaks again.

“You know what I am, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You sing like we do.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Now it is Jaskier who turns his head and finds Valdo watching him. He blinks fast a few times, trying to chase away the flutters that rise in him.

“One of my tutors came from the sea. My father didn’t like her, so she didn't stay, but we found each other again. She taught me songs and words and stories.”

Jaskier can’t tear his eyes away, watching Valdo watching him.

It is a strange sensation, having Valdo’s attention like this.

“Is this why you keep going to the water to sing?” Valdo asks, surprising him. It must show on his face, because he smiles gently at him, and Jaskier feels like he could melt.

“I hear you sometimes. When I’m out swimming.”

Jaskier has to swallow hard before he can reply. He would love to see Valdo in the water. He remembers how graceful they are back home, how they moved in the water, strong muscles playing under the skin.

“It is,” Jaskier confirms when he has himself under control. “I miss them.”

“I don’t know where my family is,” Valdo says after a while. “I left to come here. But I will find them again. Some day.”

Jaskier stares at his boots for a moment. He wants to ask, he wants to ask so badly. He is a little afraid to do it, seeing that they just got on speaking terms.

“Would you uh…”

Valdo is still watching him as if he is trying to figure him out.

“Would you sing with me some time?”

There. He said it.

Valdo opens his mouth. Closes it. Tilts his head.

“Do you know what it means to sing together?”

Jaskier shakes his head. He doesn’t. But it always meant a lot to him, and Valdo holds a special place in his heart. He wonders how their voices would sound together.

“It means belonging. Is this what you are asking of me? To belong?”

Oh.

Oh, that puts warmth in Jaskiers heart. To have found belonging with his people in the waves, to be accepted, chosen and loved.

And it flusters him greatly that he is now asking the same of Valdo.

Because he is, he realizes. He would like that very much.

“If you’d like. Some day. I’m not asking for it now. I just… I would love to see you in the water sometime.”

Valdo doesn’t reply. He stands up, dusts off his trousers.

“We’ll see. Maybe.”

Then he stretches out a hand to help Jaskier up.

Valdo's hand in his is soft, warm, firm. When they are both on their feet, Valdo doesn’t let go of his hand immediately.

“I think I can see what they saw in you,” Valdo says slowly. Jaskier doesn’t really understand what he means, but he loves it all the same. They make their way slowly across town, following the ebb and flow of its inhabitants. Valdo is still holding his hand.

It takes months, years for Jaskier to see Valdo swim. His tail shares the color of seaweed, scales sparkling in the evening sun when he breaches the surface. Jaskier watches from the bay, far away from prying eyes. Valdo is every bit as magnificent as he thought he would be. Their journey here was long. A tentative friendship growing and growing. They still have their rivalry, are still at each other's throats most of the time.

But tonight, when Valdo offers to bring him to the sea, Jaskier know that too is about to change. Jaskier is wading out into the water, and Valdo swims to meet him. When the water comes to his chest, Valdo wraps his arms around him. It is cold, but Valdo pulls him in close and pushes their foreheads together.

“Will you sing with me?” Valdo asks, stealing Jaskier's breath away.

“Yes.”

#mermay #mermay 2021 #valskier #valdo x jaskier #mer!valdo #sirens #the witcher #the witcher au #julian alfred pankratz #oxenfurt #lettenhove #dapanda writes #i am so tired #i don't know how to tag anymore

36 notes · View notes

intoanotherworld23 · 2 years ago

Text

Dreaming About This

Pairing: Reader x Bradley Bradshaw

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY DNI, this whole one shot is just pure smut and sex and absolutely filth so be warned everyone

Summary: Things get physical in Bradley’s office

✨Please do not copy and paste my work or steal my work or publish my work as your own or I will have you reported✨

"Shhh sweetheart don't want anyone to hear you now do we?" Bradley groaned into your ear as you laid sprawled across the desk.

"Mhm." Whimpering through tight lips as he slowly rocked his hips into yours teasing you breathing heavily with your mouth parted open.

"Been waiting to do this all morning." He confessed to you unable to speak so all you could do was nod, and he smirked widely.

Neither one of you predicted something like this was ever going to happen. Never thinking someone as good looking as Bradley would take notice of you, but he did. Glad that he made the first move and you didn’t stop him. His kisses and touches were intoxicating that you felt you were up in the clouds.

"Your cock feels so good." Grinning like the Cheshire Cat at your words feeling his ego being stroked.

"Yeah?" Swirling his hips around just to tease you loving the facial expressions you were making. "Wish I could hear you scream my name."

If it was just the two of you here he would be banging you into this desk so hard you would actually be screaming his name. Although it was a major turn on to watch your face contort as you tried to keep in your moans.

"Just like that baby." Praising you as he lifted your legs to wrap them around his waist. "Taking the bosses cock like a good girl."

The desk rocking back and forth with Bradley’s rough movements. Unbuttoning you're blouse as he tugged your bra down to expose your breasts into his hungry view. Practically drooling at the sight of you.

"God I knew this pussy was tight." Groaning through his teeth as he looked your body up and down licking his lips.

Bradley leaning forward to attach his lips to your nipples sucking on the nub until it was raw. Leaving a trail of saliva as he moved to the other one. The cold air brushing against it causing goosebumps to appear on your skin.

Hands attached to your hips as he guided you towards his cock to feel more of him. Your walls squeezing around him as several little growls grumbled in his chest. He was waiting for this day since you first starting working for him. Dreaming about this for such a long time.

"Such a good girl for me." Mumbling into your neck feeling how heavily he was breathing against you. "All mine baby."

Hands reaching up to grip onto his back your nails racking across his shirt hearing a tear in the fabric. Your toes curling into his back as he slammed his cock deeper inside of you. Little whines slipping out of your parted mouth trying to control the urge to scream his name.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as he continued to whisper absolute filth into your ear. Praising you every time he would snap his hips sharply into yours. Skin slapping against his the sound of your wetness echoing around the room.

"Gonna take you like this every day on my desk." Feeling your walls clench around him at the thought of how sore your body would be taking him like this every day. "Have you suck my cock while I talk to one of the other pilots."

"Oh god." Moaning as you bit down on his shoulder hoping that nobody heard.

"Such a greedy little whore for my cock." His tone cocky but he wasn't lying about what he was saying. "Pussy was made to take me."

Your orgasm was swiftly approaching and you knew you weren't going to last much longer. Your back arching off the desk hands gripping both sides of the desk to keep your body steady.

"Admiral Bradshaw?" A voice called outside the door both your heads snapping in that direction.

"Y-yeah." He replied with a strained voice his thrusts slowing down.

"I've got your conference call on the other line." Bradley sighing loudly completely forgetting about this call, but you were more important right now.

"Tell them I'm busy and I'll have to reschedule." Groaning as his eyes focused on where you two were connected.

"But you've already rescheduled with them sir." He sounded nervous but Bradley could have cared less.

"I don't care there gonna have to wait another day." He snapped at him as he snapped his hips into yours placing a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Yes sir." Seeing his shadow disappear from the doorway Bradley sighing with relief.

"Bradley he could have walked in here." Turning your head to look at him your heart racing at the thought of being caught.

"Then he would have gotten a free show." He grinned rolling your eyes at him.

Seeing that only resulted in him grabbing you, and flipping your body so that you were now bent over the desk. Slipping his cock back inside of you both of you gasping at the new angle.

"Wanna feel you cum around my cock baby." Pulling your hips back into him with such force you felt a sting on your skin. "You are absolutely dripping baby."

His cock drilling deep inside you hitting your sweet spot. Biting your bottom lip so hard you were drawing blood. Bradley spreading your cheeks apart as he watched your pussy swallowing him whole.

"Oh god right there Bradley." Moving your hips back against him driving him crazy.

"Gonna soak my cock with your cum baby?" He teased you as his hand moved up your back tracing your spine. "Wanna feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

"Harder Bradley please." Begging him feeling your stomach tightening as you knew you were so close to release.

"You want harder baby?" Slowing down his thrusts on purpose making you whine like a baby. "Wanna hear you beg me to fuck you harder."

"God Bradley please fuck god fuck me harder." Whispering as you started to move your hips on your own to feel more of him. "Fuck me harder Bradley please I need it."

Bradley loving the way you were talking to him since you were always kind of shy around him anyway. He was bringing out a side of you that he wanted to see more of. The way you were talking to him had him seething with lust.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum Bradley." You tried warning him as you felt that familiar coil in the pit of your stomach.

"Yes that's a good girl." He gritted through his teeth as he felt your pussy clenching around him tightly. "Cum hard for me sweetheart."

Feeling your legs shaking and trembling as he never slowed down. By now there was probably a puddle of your sweat mixed with juices that were pooling under you. The smell of sex and lust filled the room and entered into your nostrils.

Your body was moving all over the place your legs feeling sore from the position they were in. Your entire body felt like it was in flames, and you knew you were close. The room was filled with your whimper and his groans. Both of you sounding and looking like porn stars right now.

Pulling you up by the waist so your back was to his chest. Leaning your head back as you felt him taking full control of your body now.

"Let me feel you cum around my cock sweetheart." He whispered as he leaned his forehead against you and sharply drilled deep inside of staying still. "Let go baby."

Your orgasm smacking you in the face as your entire body clenched, and your pussy tightening around him. Gripping onto his wrists as you tried to control your breathing. Your chest heaving up and down as you were coming down from your intense orgasm.

Leaning your body forward on your hands as you felt sweat dripping down your neck. His hands massaging your skin so delicately and in a comforting way.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asked breaking the silence.

"Nothing why?" Bradley pulled away his cock slipped out of you making you hiss suddenly feeling empty.

"I was just thinking you and I could grab a couple drinks and finish this back at my place." He looked worried about your answer like you were going to say no.

"Yeah I would love to." Smiling at him as a huge grin appeared on his face.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #miles teller #miles teller smut #bradley bradshaw #miles teller x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #miles teller fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagines #miles teller imagines

359 notes · View notes

infinitebells · 4 years ago

Note

Good evening! Thanks for always writing Moriarty stories 😊I really like them and this series needs more recognition 😊 Do you think you could write story about sex with William resulting from some unexpected feelings reveal? Thanks 😊 😘

oh thank you so much! and yes of course i can!!

“you know you’ll have to talk to him eventually right?” you roll your eyes at albert, even though you know he’s right. you have your head in his lap, his hand resting gently on your forehead for comfort. your legs are resting in moran’s lap with his glass of whiskey resting on your shin.

“i don’t want to though,” you whine out, shifting your head on his lap. his hand moves to your hair, brushing your hair out of your face. moran scoffs, taking a sip of his drink before setting it on the table next to him and turning to look at you.

“you know he was flirting for the mission and nothing more, just go tell him how you feel,” moran slaps your ankle for emphasis, and you lift it up to kick his hand before he grabs your leg and sets it back down on his own.

“no because he probably doesn’t like me like that,” you know you should stop this self pity party, but you really can’t help it when you’re so in love with william james moriarty that the sight of him having to flirt with a noblewoman to complete a mission makes you want to throw up.

“how would you know you haven’t even asked him,” albert speaks again, and you sigh because you know he’s right once again.

“i just know!” you’re growing frustrated, and the boys know that, which is why albert secretly signals for louis to get william while your eyes are closed.

“hey whiny baby, stop complaining and just be honest, what’s the worse that can happen?” moran’s voice pipes up again, and you groan again.

“i confess my undying love to him, get rejected, fall into a pit of depression, and then have to see him everyday and live with the fact that william will never ever love me,” you say completely seriously, and you hear moran snicker. frowning behind your closed eyes, you sit up and open your eyes, about to yell at him before you see william standing before you, staring with his eyes wide and jaw dropped slightly.

“oh my god,” you whisper, hand flying to your mouth. time freezes and you fly off the couch, flying off the couch and upstairs without looking back, shame burning on your face. you slam the door behind you once you reach your bedroom, screaming into your hands. you’re mortified, embarrassed beyond belief. you stand in the middle of your room, hands shaking badly. you barely hear the door open, but when you do you fly around and face william, who still has that same shocked look on his face from downstairs. your hands start shaking even more, and your face flushes bright red as he closes the door behind him.

“oh my god, oh my god i-i’m so sorry will, i never meant for that to happen-” his hand raising to stop you from talking anymore. your mouth seals shut, and your hands keep trembling as he walks closer and closer until he’s inches away from you. his hands reach down to envelop yours and cease your shaking, but your face stays bright red.

“you’re in love with me?” his voice is level, and his eyes search yours. you shyly nod, not being able to answer him. you feel his fingers rest under your chin and pull your face up to his so you can meet his eye again. “well, i’d like you to know that i’m in love with you too,” he whispers. he doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips are on yours, and you’re floating off into heaven. every ounce of insecurity flowing out of you as you melt into him. your eyes flutter closed as his hands find your waist and yours wrap around his neck to keep him close. he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours.

“please can we do more of that?” you’re breathless, but he nods, shedding himself of his suit jacket as you fumble with the strings of your dress. once you finally undo them, he’s already shirtless and undoing the belt of his pants. you’re in awe of how handsome he looks. when his pants are pushed down to his ankles and he’s kicked them off, he looks up and his eyes lock on your now exposed body. the shame returns and your hands move to cover your bra and underwear, but he grabs your hands away from you and pushes you onto the bed, crawling on top of you so his hips hover over yours and his face is centimeters from you.

“please don’t hide yourself, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” he says before he’s on you again, tongue sliding over your own as his hands wander across your body. you bring one leg up and over his waist, pulling his hips into yours so you can very clearly feel his bulge. you whimper into his mouth, and he grips onto your sides tighter, one hand dipping past the waistband of your underwear. your stomach clenches in anticipation as his pointer finger finds your clit easily, rubbing slow circles on it.

“holy fuck,” you moan out, his thumb moving to replace his pointer finger as it moves to run up and down along your slit, slick drenching his finger. he pushes in his finger, prodding at your spongy spot. you moan at the unexpected entrance. he pushes his finger in and out as his mouth moves from yours down to your neck, leaving bite marks all the way down. he leaves bruising marks down your breasts, lingering on your right nipple, biting down as he pushes down farther onto your clit. a cry of his name pulls him out of his trance, his finger leaving your soaked cunt.

“do you want to go any farther? we don’t have to,” his eyes are kind, watching yours to gauge your reaction.

“can we? if you’re okay with it?” your embarrassment starts to creep up again as you realize just how much has happened in such a short span of time.

“i want to. i love you ok?” his voice is more reassuring, and he leans down to kiss you again as your fingers fumble with his underwear, his pulling yours off. once you’ve rid yourselves of any other clothes, you look down to see his throbbing cock, the head a pretty pink as it leaks pre-cum, slapping lightly against his abdomen.

“god damn,” you whisper, and william smirks above you. he positions himself at your entrance, before looking up, kissing you deeply as he slides all of himself in at once. he swallows your moans as he stretches you out, your gummy walls clinging desperately to him. he gently rocks his hips forward, testing the waters. when your eyes flutter shut and a needy whine crawls up your throat, he knows he’s hooked. he wraps your legs around his waist before he starts thrusting in and out, in and out. his pace starts slow, almost grinding into you before he realizes he needs more, needs to hear more of you. he picks up his pace, hips slamming into your own. you’re a writhing, moaning mess beneath him, a thin layer of sweat covering you both. your mouth finds his neck in an attempt to quiet yourself so the others can’t hear you, but you’re sure they’ve already heard you. you suck at the soft skin, marring his porcelain skin with your love. he groans into your ear, biting your ear lobe in retaliation. your head falls back in a scream, your cunt clenching as his cock head pushes into your g-spot. you can feel your abdomen start to tighten as he pushes into you faster.

“you feel so good love,” he murmurs in your ear, and you moan in agreement. in your haze, you pull his face to yours, teeth clashing as your kiss covers you both in drool. when he pulls back to look at you, your eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, and mouth agape in a silent scream. he angles his hips to brush against your clit, and your eyes fall shut and you whimper in pleasure.

“feel good love?” you can hear his voice, but you’re too fucked out to respond. your knot is tightening rapidly, and you steel yourself together to let him know.

“close, so close will,” your nickname for him slips out, and he grins before slowing down a bit to grind into you so his tip is abusing your g-spot once again. that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, and the feeling of your pussy clenching so tight around him he can’t even move, he spills into you, head dropping next to your own. you’re off on cloud nine, vision white as a mixture of his cum and yours leaks out around his cock. he pulls out, collapsing next to you and pulling you into him, fingers threading themselves through your hair. you’re both quiet, not wanting to disturb the peace between you two at the moment. you jump when you hear loud banging on the door and a deep voice behind it.

“told ya to go for it! look at you!” moran’s chuckles bring a blush to your face, and you cuddle into william’s side to hide from the embarrassment. neither of you respond to him, and william turns onto his side as well, pulling you closer to him and tangling your legs together. his lips find the crown of your head, and you smile at the soft gesture. all is silent once again, and you both drift off to sleep, basking in one another’s quiet love.

#yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #william james moriarty #bells responds

50 notes · View notes

kyber-kisses · 5 years ago

Text

Crimson Horror

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: graphic description of blood and wounds, spn level gore, angst, cursing, a little bit o fluff. Cauterization.

Summary: After getting separated on a hunt, the reader and Dean are desperate to find each other, but things don’t always go as planned.

A/N: This one is a bit longer than my usual one shots, but that just happens sometimes. This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile so I buckled down and finished it. Hope y'all enjoy, and my SPN taglist is still open!

Things had gone terribly wrong. Everything had gone to shit so damn quickly that Deans head was having trouble processing it. A hot mess. That’s what this whole thing was. A piping hot mess that he had no idea how to fix.

It was supposed to be a milk run. Just a simple vamp hunt. Everything had been going perfectly until the three of you had stepped into the old distillery. One vamp became two and then two became four, and soon enough it was a three against ten fight. Dean knew you could handle yourself, but he couldn’t help it that he kept trying to keep one eye on you, to make sure you were still standing. He had been back to back with Sam when the inevitable happened.

You were overpowered, your form quickly being swallowed by the monsters and blocking you from view. He had screamed your name until his lungs burned, but that too had quickly been cut short when a blunt object slammed against the side of his head, knocking him out cold. Sam quickly following suite.

And that’s how he found himself in this situation. Weak legs, a throbbing temple, and his wrists shackled above him. He had no clue as to where he was or where the rest of the vamps were, but all he cared about was making sure you and Sam were still alive.

“Dean? Oh thank god, I wasn’t sure you were gonna wake up.” Sam voice echoed through the space, making the older Winchester head whip around as he tried to look over his shoulder.

“Sammy! Are you okay?” Dean breathed, trying to get a good look at the figure slumped against the wall behind him, but the chains around his wrists halted him from doing so.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m all good. A little banged up, but that’s about it. They got me all tied up.”

“Damn it.” Dean paused, eyes scanning the otherwise empty room. “Have you seen Y/N? Do you know if she’s still alive?”

There was silence from the younger Winchester before he let out a shallow answer. “No. I don’t know where she is. The last time I saw her we were getting our asses handed to us.”

And just like that, Dean began to fear the absolute worse. You were nowhere to been seen, and neither were the vamps. Even if you had taken down several of the monsters, he couldn't stop replaying that moment where he saw you begin to drown in a sea of razor like teeth and sharpened fingernails.

“Do. . . Do you think she’s dead?” Says voice broke through the silence, his eyes bearing into the back of Deans head.

“”She’s not. She’s not. . . She can’t be.” He breathed, his head falling forward with exhaustion.

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, the door across the room burst open, and one very angry vampire came stalking into the small space.

“Well look who finally decided to join us.” She smirked, bright red lips twisting into a menacing grin as her eyes lit up.

“Where is she?” Dean barked, pulling against his shackles as he stared daggers into the woman.

“Where’s who?” She lightly questioned, shoving her hands into the leather jacket that clung to her frame, rocking on her heels. “Oh, you mean your pretty little friend?”

Deans jaw clenched, his fists along with it. “Where. Is. She.”

“Right where we left her. She’s probably still bleeding out on the main floor of the distillery, that is . . . If she’s not already dead.” She smiled again, lazily twisting a strand of dark hair around her index finger.

“Why? You’re a vampire, why would you leave a perfectly good meal lying out like that?” Sam spoke up again, shifting in his spot on the floor, trying to look around Dean.

“Why, because she wasn’t what we wanted. We were waiting for the infamous Winchesters. We couldn’t care less about her.” She explained.

Dean swore he could hear the blood pumping through his veins as he struggled against the shackles, the metal clinking when the chains connected. He needed to get to you. He needed to make sure you were still alive. He needed to save you.

“I’m gonna kill you. The second I’m out of these shackles I’m gonna separate your head from your shoulders.” He growled, a new fire blazing in his eyes as he stared at her.

The vampire only grinned, slowly stepping up to him, “Oh, you’re desperate to get to her, arnt you? I can see it in those candy apple eyes.” Gripping his chin in her bloodied hand, she leaned in closer, “I was planning on killing you both now, but now I’m thinking I should wait till her corpse is cold, and drag it in here. See the fear in your eyes before a drain you.”

Dean flexed his fingers, his arms beginning to go numb from being suspended above him for so long. How long had they been here anyways?

“You are seriously messed up in the head, Lady. I’ll tell you that much.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. But just to make sure, let’s have a little fun, why don’t we?” She grinned, her own fingers flexing as her nails glinted in the dim light.

*. *. *. *. *.

Weight.

That was the first thing you felt when you slowly blinked into consciousness. A crushing weight bearing over your chest, almost like you had a cinder block resting atop your rib cage. Mustering you what strength you could find in yourself, you shifted your arms, attempting to move the object off of you so you could breath.

You couldn’t see much, and you weren’t sure if it was due to the amount of force you had hit the ground with or the blood seeping into your vision, painting everything in a red lens. Or maybe it was a combination of both.

Pressing your hands against the object, you quickly realized it was not a block of cement, but actually a body. It was now unmistakable. Shoving the corpse off of you, you inhaled a lung full of oxygen, wheezing at the sharp pain.

You definitely had a broken rib . . . Or two. As you carefully sat up, your senses slowly began to kick back in. Your face felt weirdly stiff from the blood that currently caked it, not to mention- the air smelled heavily of copper. Eyesight slowly following suite, you soon made sense of where you were.

The light from the full moon split through the cracked windows across the large space, Illuminating the sea of vamp bodies you currently resided in, all heads separated from their bodies, the floor painted crimson, much like yourself. Thankfully you didn’t see Sam and Dean among them.

But that was now a whole other question? Where were they? They wouldn’t just leave you here. And judging by how cold the body was that you had touched, you had to have been here for almost a day. The blood on you already dry.

You had to find them. You had to find Sam and Dean.

Taking a deep breath, you braced your hands on the cold floor, attempting to push yourself to your feet.

And that’s when a whole new wave of pain swept through you, a anguished scream leaving your lips as you fell back. Looking down at your leg, that’s when you finally noticed the rather large knife buried hilt deep in your thigh. A Blade that you knew all too well because it was the one you carried with you on every hunt.

But you never expected to see it sticking out of your thigh.

And god was it painful. How you hadn’t noticed it before, you didn’t know. But the white hot pain that you felt had you biting your knuckles to stop the flow of screams and curse words.

You had to be careful. There was a good possibility that there were still vampires somewhere in the building, and if there were- they probably had Sam and Dean.

With ragged breaths, you pushed yourself back into a sitting position, doing your best to look at the damage with the minimal light you had. You shouldn’t take it out. At least not now. If you did, you had a good chance of bleeding out before you found them.

Which meant you only had one choice; you were gonna have to search this place while walking around with a big ass knife sticking out of your leg.

Just another Saturday night with the Winchesters.

Reaching across the floor, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your machete, using the weapon to help push yourself upright with a grunt. As a hunter, you had been bitten, scratched, thrown, punched, and kicked. And all the pain that came with it had sucked, but this? This took the cake.

“Looks like it’s up to me now to save your flannel clad asses, now.” You hissed lightly, your foot practically dragging against the concrete floor as you moved slowly towards what you could only assume to be the basement. “You two idiots better be alive . . . “

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Deans head whipped back as the vampire through yet another punch, the force of her fist vibrating through his jaw. He let out another groan, inhaling through his nose.

“God, you hit like a girl . . . That doesn’t know how to hit.”

Both he and Sam had lost track of how long they had been there. There were no windows, no clocks. Nothing to help them perceive what time it was . For all they knew, days could have gone by.

“You do know I still have a handful of vamps out in the hallway that are more than willing to come in here and help me, right?” She sighed, stepping back.

“Well then, let’s make it a party why don’t we?” Dean mocked, sending her a bloodied grin. He couldn’t help it. There was still something so satisfying about getting under a monsters skin and annoying them.

“With an attitude like that I’m thinking its time I go grab your friends body and drag it down here for you to see. Does that sound like a good idea?” She smiled back, seeing both brothers faces fall at the mention. Two could play at that game.

“You so much as lay a damn finger on her, and I will make sure you wish you were never born.” Dean threatened, once more pulling on the shackles binding him in place. At this point he had done it so much that the skin was basically raw beneath the metal.

“I’m sorry, aren’t you the one that’s chained up here?” She mused, stepping into the doorway before turning to look at him, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Deans jaw clenched once more. His hands itching for his machete which was god knows where.

“I won’t be too long. Don’t you worry.” She grinned again, giving the two a small wave.

But before she could fully turn, the glint of a blade flashed through the air, separating the female vamps head from her body almost silently. The body collapsing like a bag of rocks only to reveal you on the other side.

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Sam breathed, eyes taking you in much like Dean was. . . who had fallen silent with dread.

Of course he was glad to see you alive, but it looked like you had crawled out of hell itself. Your face caked in blood like much of your clothes. A good portion of it also in your hair. But the worse part was the blade buried in your thigh, most of the denim stained crimson and clinging to your leg. Your eyes glazed over like you weren’t fully there. Like you done with everything.

“Y/N.” Dean breathed, now struggling even more against his restraints, desperate to get to you and help, “please tell me you have the keys.”

You nodded slowly, heavily limping across the room towards him, your chest rising and falling as you took in shallow breaths. “Took em off a vamp just a few minutes ago.” Producing the keys, you slightly leaned against Dean, losing your strength to stand as you unlocked the shackles, pausing only so you could give Sam your machete so he could cut his bindings. You managed to get one of his cuffs off before thing went wrong . . . Again.

There was a shout from Sam, and before you could register what was happening, a lone vamp that you had clearly missed came barreling into you, sending you skidding across the floor.

Dean was close to dislocating his wrist as he tried desperately to wiggle his remaining hand out of the metal cuff. “Sam!” He yelled, his brother cutting the final binding from his legs before rushing forward.

Unfortunately before he could reach you, the vamp you were weakly grappling with yanked the blade harshly from your thigh, blood spurting out at an alarming rate and making you scream out in pain once more.

And then Sam ended it with one quick swipe to the vamps neck, his head rolling across the floor and thudding against the opposing wall.

Your hands flew to the now open wound as you gritted your teeth, trying to staunch the blood flow, but it only bubbled up through your fingers, soaking the fabric of your jeans completely and dripping onto the floor. The blade had definitely hit an artery. There was no doubt about that.

“Dammit, Sam! Get me out of this cuff!” His eyes full of fear as he watched on helplessly.

Swiping the keys off the floor, Sam was quick to his feet, unlocking the remaining cuff from Deans wrist and practically vaulting out of the way as his brother moved past him, stripping his flannel from his frame and skidding to his knees besides you.

“God, Y/N. What the hell happened?” He breathed, quickly tearing the sleeve of his flannel with his teeth and wrapping it around your upper thigh, tightening it into a makeshift tourniquet.

“I can’t exactly remember-“ you hissed, the pain making it extremely hard for your brain to think properly.

“Dean, she’s losing a lot of blood-“ butting in, Sam stood over the two of you, watching as Dean quickly tied the knot. But unfortunately the blood just kept coming. The tourniquet not being of much help.

“Yeah, I can see that! We need to call an ambulance- get her outside.”

“We don’t have any cell reception out here. And we don’t even have our phones.” It was like the universe wanted you to bleed out right here on the basement floor. Things were just slipping downhill at an alarming rate.

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of what to do before it was too late. His hands were already dipped dyed in the crimson liquid, mirroring your own.

“Do we still have that blow torch in the trunk from that wendigo hunt we went on a few months ago?” He questioned quickly, eyes moving between you and Sam and a rapid pace.

“Yeah, I believe so-“ Trailing off, Sam suddenly knew what Dean was asking, he didn’t like it, but they didn’t have much of a choice at this point.

Tossing the impalas keys to Sam, Dean gave all his attention to you once more. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay Sweetheart?”

Sam was already out the door by the time Dean scooped his arms underneath you, picking you up with ease, only wincing when you let out a strangled cry, trying desperately to keep pressure on the wound in your leg.

Dean didn’t think it was possible to move that quickly with someone in his arms, especially when he also had to avoid the vamp bodies scattered down the hallway, and even we he had to go up the stairs, his legs never stopped moving, his chest heaving as he burst out of the distillery.

“Sam!”

“Almost got it! You need to lay her down though!” Kneeling next to the trunk of the impala, you could barley make out Sam through your fading vision. The Younger Winchester holding a knife to the jet of fire emitting from the blow torch.

That’s when it caught up to you. They were gonna cauterize the wound. And just like that, you felt like a child in the doctors office. You wanted nothing more than to squirm out of Dean arms and bolt.

But that wasn’t an option.

“No,no,no,no,no-“ you begged weakly, head falling back as Dean knelt down, laying you against the cold gravel.

“I know, I know. But we don’t have much of a choice Y/N. Please don’t hate me after this.” Pulling his arms out from underneath you, he made quick work to tear the denim away from the wound, exposing the skin so they could work.

“Please tell me you at least sterilized the knife-“

“I did, don’t worry.” Sam echoed, using his free hand to hand over one of the washcloths they kept in the first aid kit, allowing Dean to wipe away as much blood as he could, disinfecting it to the best of his ability. (Which unfortunately wasn’t much.)

Out of the corner of your eye you could see the glow of hot metal as the knife finally reached the temperature that was needed.

“Dean-“

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry.” He sighed, blood soaked hands moving to roll up another washcloth, “I’m gonna need you to bite down on this alright?” You nodded, teeth sinking into the fabric as your eyes snapped shut.

“Dean, you’re gonna have to hold her down.” Sam voice rushed as he knelt down on the other side of you. All the older Winchester could do was nod. His hands pressing down on right above your knee and shoulder, keeping you firmly restrained to the ground.

There was no warning. No count down. It almost came out of nowhere, catching you off guard. Sam suddenly pressed the side of the blade firmly to the wound, skin immediately sizzling on contact and successfully getting a series of muffled and agonizing screams. Your back arching as your other heel dug into the dirt. Hot tears were streaming down your face, collecting on the gravel beneath you.

The worst part was that to do it properly, they had to apply the knife in short bursts. It was only for a second or two. If it was held there for too long it would burn into the healthy skin tissue.

Even though the whole thing only lasted a few minutes, it felt like hours. Deans jaw clenching as he squeezed his own eyes shut, turning his head away from vision of the red blade pressing against your flesh. Your muffled shrieks making his stomach flip. Dean could bear his own pain, but yours? It was too much for him to handle. He wished he could take it for you. But it wasn’t possible.

It was only when he saw Sam pull away that he fully turned back, feeling you instantly relax against his hold and go silent.

“Are you done?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done.” Discarding the knife on the ground, Sam fell back onto his heels, running a hand through his hair. “We still need to clean it though. Should be easier now that the bleeding has stopped.”

Finally allowing himself to let out a breath of relief, Dean moved to grab one of your hands, giving it a light squeeze. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He tried joking, hoping it would calm his own nerves as well. His relieved smile falling when he didn’t get a response. Pulling the cloth from your mouth, he let out an exhale. “Y/N?”

“She’s out. The pain probably just knocked her unconscious.” The younger Winchester explained, grabbing the first aid kit from besides him and digging through it for the rubbing alcohol wipes.

Dean nodded once more, chewing on his lower lip. “We should- we should get her back to the motel. Get her someplace safer than this dump.”

“I’ll go start the car.”

*. *. *. *. *.

It was the musty smell of the motel room that immediately told you where you were before you had even opened your eyes. The next was the uncomfortable mattress beneath you. . . If you could even call it that. The oh so familiar drone of the old television turned down low told you that you weren’t alone, and that at least one of the brothers was nearby. You were probably gonna get torn a new one the moment they realized you were awake, but at this point you no longer cared. You were grateful to no longer be on the rough gravel of the distillery parking lot. Anything was better than that.

You let out a groan when you felt the pain in your leg once more, but this time it felt like it had been grazed across the surface of the sun. The pain hot and uncomfortable, mixing with the ever growing soreness beneath the surface.

“Y/N?”

Dean. Thank goodness.

Swallowing thickly, you blinked against the yellow tinted lights of the motel room, eyes landing on Deans silhouette seated besides your bed.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up. Are you okay?”

Dean leaned forward in his chair, a calloused hand rubbing down his face. “You just had a knife wound cauterized and your asking me if I’m okay? Sweetheart we really need to talk about your priorities.”

“But are you okay?” You repeated again. “I didn’t get a good chance to check on you before that vamp body slammed me and took my knife.”

“I’m fine. Wrists are a bit tender from the shackles, and I have a nice black eye, but that’s about it.” His hand finding yours once more and squeezing it.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Y/N! I swear.” He paused, moving from from his seat to sit next to you on the bed. “How do you feel? Sam went out to grab you some antibiotics. Should be back soon.”

“I feel fucking weak, Dean. I passed out earlier because of pain. That’s never happened to me before.”

“Woah, hey. You are not weak. You’re probably the toughest out of the three of us. You were unconscious for almost a day, and then got up with a knife jammed in your thigh and killed a bunch of vamps, successfully saving me and Sam.” Kissing the back of your hand, he looked over at you. “You are the strongest person I know.”

A soft smile took over your features as you watched him. “You keep sweet talkin me like that Winchester, and I might just buy you a drink.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, the amusement on his face clear as day. “If anyone is buying anybody a drink it’s me. I still feel bad about pinning you to the ground while Sam pressed hot metal to your skin.”

“Yeah, well first how bout you take this gimp home to the bunker so she can get some proper rest on an actual mattress, and then we can talk details. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The End.

SPN TAGLIST:

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @neerness @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs

#dean winchester one shot #supernatural imagine #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #bi danvers writing #dean x y/n #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester

260 notes · View notes

lovingmyselfcore · 4 years ago

Text

I don’t belong and my beloved neither do you

youtube

Every time her uncle’s rundown car hit a pothole Elide’s heart lurched into her throat and her mind spiraled.

This is it. He’s even drunker then normal and he’s going to crash and I’m going to die before I get the chance to live my life away from this hellhole.

Her knuckles were white as she clutched her bookbag close to her chest and she was sure that if Vernon was any more sober he would noticed that her bag was not filled for ‘a study session at the local diner’. If only he knew.

Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me? I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones These hunters with cellphones

They pulled up to the diner, it was a standard 50s retro diner, the only thing ruining the picturesque scene being the 13 motorcycles parked in the Employees and Owner parking spots. “This is good, uncle Vernon.” Elide said, reaching for the door handle when her uncle grabbed her arm.

Elide froze, her breath leaving her body so quickly she figured she should be dead. He knew. He knew what she was planning on doing today and he was going to stop her, using whatever he needed to. He was going to ask who she was studying with, and he didn’t like any of her friends, there was something wrong with all of them. He was going to ask why she’d been crying for 2 weeks straight then suddenly stopped. He was going to ask why she was never talking to Lorcan anymore, what had happened to him. He was going to figure out what she was going to do, that he was dropping her off. And she wasn’t planning on ever coming back.

“You can’t get a ride home from me,” He leaned very close to her face, close enough she could smell the stale booze and cigarette smoke. She leaned back as far she could without banging her head on the window.

“That’s okay,” She carefully extracted her arm from his vice-like grip. “I can get a ride from someone else, or I can walk home. It’s only a few miles.” I’ve had to walk much worse when you were passed out and couldn’t take me to school. Was what she didn’t add.

He nodded his eyes unfocused and Elide hesitantly reached for the door again. When he uncle didn’t move she pushed the door open and stumbled out, clutching her bag tightly against her, and slamming the door. She walked across the parking lot, waiting until she heard her uncle drive off before opening the door and stepping inside.

~~~~~~~

The first thing she noticed was the smell. The entire diner smelled like paella, her favorite. Despite that nobody currently in the diner was eating it. They were all talking amongst themselves, eating the legendary (At least in this town) food. They had no clue of the raw turmoil turning over inside Elide’s stomach. They had no idea the agonizing pain she was going through. They had no hope of witnessing the raw hope slicing through her and following her every move. They had no idea what she would tell herself constantly. You will see him again. You will. The world owes you this much. None of them had any idea. They were the same people who had made fun of her in middle and high school.

Elide shook herself out of her thoughts and walked to the bar counter, not stopping to hang her coat on the rack or make small talk with any of the staff or customers like she normally did.

Thea was working the counter, talking to a customer that seemed to be getting pretty nasty. Her face was hard and she looked about ready to snap but that all changed when she saw Elide approach. Her face melted into a sad smile and she cut off the customer to talk to Elide. “Manon’s in the back. They’ve made paella, go on back.”

Elide smiled back. It was very much like Manon to make her favorite. Elide could tell it was a last ditch effort to make her forget Lorcan and stay, but Elide knew (And knew Manon knew) that she couldn’t do that. She had to go, she had to find him. They were Romeo and Juliet. He’d already been cast out, and it was her turn to follow him.

She walked into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind her and gasped. Manon had pulled out all the stops. All of her favorite dishes and drinks were scattered across counters and the chefs seemed to be in the process of making more. She saw Asterin and worked her way through the crowd of chefs and plates of food to her.

Asterin, for lack of a better term, looked like she’d walked through a cyclone. She was completely frazzled, and looked only seconds away from either pulling her hair out or having a breakdown.

“Asterin!” Elide called over the clamor and was met with wild eyes. Asterin shoved her way through and grabbed Elide into a tight hug. Elide’s eyes widened. This wasn’t their thing. Asterin didn’t do this. She didn’t show affection to anybody but her husband and son. Elide only hesitated for a moment before melting into it, wrapping her arms around the woman and pulling her closer.

Elide could swear Asterin sobbed as the separated. She held Elide at arms length away from her, looking her up and down. “Is this going to be the last time I’ll ever see you, hermanita?”

Elide sniffled, “I think so,”

Asterin sighed, dropping her arms to wipe furiously at her eyes. “Make sure to stop by one more time before you leave.”

Elide arched an eyebrow and gestured to the food, “What’s all this?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Asterin sighed and just looked at her, “The Thirteen’s last ditch attempt to get you to stay.”

Elide sighed, casting her eyes to the floor. I don’t want to leave you all behind.

“I know,” Asterin said causing Elide to glance up at her. “I know what it’s like to leave everything and everyone behind for the sake of love.”

Suddenly Asterin seemed a lot older then she looked, her eyes had taken on a knowing gleam and although she was fighting tears Elide knew. Asterin understood, Asterin wasn’t judging her. And that made this so much harder to do.

Elide sobbed and managed to get out, “I can’t leave him.”

“I know,” Asterin whispered pulling her into another hug, “I know.”

Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm settin' off, but not without my muse

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Elide got over her little sob sesh, Asterin had shoved a plate of paella in her arms and pointed up.

So now, Elide was eating it as she made her way up to the apartment above the diner, Manon’s apartment.

This goodbye might be the hardest, Elide decided, taking much longer then necessary to climb the stairs.

When she finally made it to the door, Elide didn’t even have to knock before the door flung open and Manon yanked her into a bone crushing hug. The paella crashed to the floor, forgotten as Elide wrapped her arms around the slightly older woman and broke.

She was a mess of tears and snot but Manon didn’t seem to care as they rocked back and forth, neither of them saying anything, but neither of them having to.

Manon’s voice sounded like the crunching of broken glass when they finally spoke, after what seemed like eternities in silence, finally standing inside the apartment.

“Is he worth it?”

Elide made a few gasping noises as she tried to get air back in her lungs so all she did was nod.

“He’s worth it.” She said finally, “He’s worth it all.”

Manon sighed, flinging her head back, smacking is against the wall but not seeming to care, as a few more stray tears slipped down her face.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay?” Her voice was small, childlike and that broke Elide more then anything.

This was Manon Blackbeak, gang leader turned diner owner who had tons of nasty rumors flying around about her and was also casually dating Dorian Havilliard. She didn’t get attached. She refused to. (Side effect of her childhood trauma). So seeing her like this, a mess, desperate and in so so much pain. It shattered Elide.

So all she did was shake her head, she couldn’t speak. The words seem lodged in her throat. There was so much she wanted to say, to this woman that had pulled her out of the darkness, that saved her. But she couldn’t say anything.

But that was the beauty of their friendship, they didn’t need to.

Manon nodded slowly, knowing that despite her protests Elide loved him and she knew he loved her. She surged forward pulling Elide into another trapping hug, both of them only whispering ‘I love you’s into each other’s hair, both of them unable to stop crying.

What should be over burrowed under my skin In heart-stopping waves of hurt I've come too far to watch some name-dropping sleaze Tell me what are my words worth

~~~~~~~~

Elide had managed to make it out of the diner without changing her mind. Giving each member of The Thirteen a hug on her way out. Manon had let her out of the back door so nobody would see her and alert Vernon of her departure.

Once outside into the crisp autumn air, Manon and Elide faced each other.

Elide crossed her arms over her chest as she watched the wind ruffle Manon’s white hair. The afternoon sun reflected and bounced off of Manon’s gold eyes as she quickly blinked away tears she didn’t want to shed. Manon also crossed her arms, deflecting the light from her eyes to the sliver chains adorning her jacket.

They stared at each other in silence.

Manon was the first to break it. She cleared her throat. “You really love him.” It wasn’t a question but Elide nodded anyway.

“Look,” Manon started. “I won’t pretend to understand why you love him,” Elide snorted, “But I know you do. And I know he loves you. That man would steal the moon and stars for you if he could.” Elide smiled softly but Manon plowed on, “I’ve known you for a long time, seen you through all the boyfriends and the broken hearts but I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him.” Elide eyes started getting misty and Manon felt herself follow suit. “I know he’ll take care of you in the way this town, and these people can’t. I know you’ve thought long and hard about giving up your future like this for him. I know you decided that you couldn’t survive without him. I just don’t want you to expect me to happy about you throwing away every opportunity you have and leaving, but at the same time I want you to know that I’m happy for you, that you found this. I really am.”

Elide made a noise, “Wow, okay. I wasn’t expecting that”

Manon laughed, “Yeah me neither.”

“Why don’t you like him?”

Manon sobered instantly, “He’s not good enough for you.”

“Is anyone?”

“No.” Manon stated so matter-of-factly that Elide couldn’t help her short laugh.

Manon grinned, all she wanted was that. To see Elide smile, and laugh one last time.

“Just remember, you’ll always have a home here, with me.”

Something shone in Elide’s eyes, “I love you, Manon Blackbeak.”

“I love you too, Elide Lochan. Never forget that.”

Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm settin' off, but not without my muse

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elide paced along the riverbank, her finger hovering over the call button. She didn’t want to, she was afraid hearing them would break her. And she couldn’t handle another break today.

Elide stopped her pacing, staring down at her phone. Through her tears she saw the name, Aelin 👑💋🎂. She knew Aelin, Dorian and Aedion all hung out every other Thursday, usually it was the four of them but Elide had told them a bullshit lie about why she couldn’t today. So unless they’d replaced her it would thankfully just be the three of them.

They were all childhood friends, Aelin and Aedion were cousins and had first met Elide when they were two, they’d hit it off immediately and when, a few years later, they’d been introduced to Dorian and the four of them were inseparable, going everywhere together, always knowing they could rant or vent to any of the others. Slowly everyone else joined their squad, Dorian had introduced his knew friend Chaol. Lysandra and Aelin had met in 7th grade and became besties much to Elide’s then-jealousy. Aedion and Chaol met Nesryn who occasionally hang out with them, no one really knew where she went when she wasn’t hanging out with them. Aelin and Dorian had a short thing which was weird for everyone, but their friendship came out all the better for it. Chaol and Aelin then had their thing which was cute at the time but they definitely did not belong together. When Elide met Manon, Manon seemed to hate her at first but Elide quickly made herself at home with the Thirteen despite what seemed like everyone’s protests. Chaol met Yrene, when he brought her for the first time Aelin and Yrene realized they already knew each other, and she was in. Then Aelin met Rowan, she started bringing him around more and more until suddenly he was a part of the group. Then they all met Rowan’s friends, and Elide was done for.

She remembered the day she met Lorcan very clearly, it was their junior year of high school and Elide was sitting on the bleachers in Gym class. Her ankle was acting more then usual and it was to the point that occasionally Elide was blinded by the pain. Like usual, Vernon hadn’t signed the slip saying she could sit out but Aelin’s mom Evalin had. Elide was doing what Yrene had told her to do when this happened, rolling the muscles in her leg as much as she could without hurting herself, working her way down to her ankle. Elide stood up, putting the least amount of weight she could on her ankle, and hobbled down the bleachers. She had to walk the gym, or her leg would seize up, which she knew, unfortunately, from past experience.

It was when she was walking that it happened. She didn’t see it until it was in front of her but a basketball went flying, directly at her. All she saw was one of the guys that had been playing basketball sprinting for her before she blacked out.

Lorcan had taken her to the nurse and sat with her the whole times, making sure she was fine. From then on they seemed to have a hate-hate relationship but if anyone insulted one in front of the other, god help them.

Later, when it turned out Aelin was dating Lorcan’s best friend Rowan it was like two of Elide’s worlds collided, nothing was the same.

Now Elide was shaken out of her reverie as she felt a water droplet land on her head. She took a deep breath and finally hit the call button.

I want auroras and sad prose I want to watch wisteria grow Right over my bare feet 'Cause I haven't moved in years And I want you right here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Elliddee” Aelin shrieked as soon as she answered, Elide winced away from her phone but she was grinning anyway.

“Hi, A. Are the boys there?”

“Aedion and Dorian? Yep!”

“Why are you so chipper?” Elide resumed her pacing along the river.

“Because I’ve had two shots of tequila and way too much chocolate cake to be healthy.” Aelin started to laugh at herself, “And, Rowan’s coming over to my place tonight and you know what that means!”

Elide could picture Aelin dancing around wherever it was they were hanging out and she could hear Aedion and Dorian’s retching noises and various exclamations of disgust and protests.

Suddenly Elide remembered why she had called, why she hadn’t hung out with them today like she normally does, and went silent.

Even though Aelin was tipsy and on a sugar high, she was still an amazing friend and could tell something was wrong.

“El? What’s up? Not that I’m not tickled by the call,” Elide rolled her eyes and smiled, That was very Aelin of her, “But you’re very quiet and you said you had something to do tonight.”

“Put me on speaker please, I want to talk to you and the boys,” She managed to get out without crying.

“I-okay, sure.” Elide heard a small rustle and then she heard Dorian and Aedion chime in with ‘hello’s.

“I’m sorry,” Elide started with. “I’m sorry I never told you.” She broke off, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her sob.

“Told us what?” Dorian asked delicately.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you had good reason to hide it.” Aelin added.

“What they said,” Aedion chimed in.

Elide took a deep shuddering breath, she seemed to be taking a lot of those tonight, and decided. She couldn’t tell them all of it. If she got into it she would end up staying too long to talk to them, and might be discovered by Vernon before she had the chance to escape.

“I don’t have time to tell you everything but in short, I’m leaving.”

She heard a thud like Aelin dropped her phone and heard their muffled voices rising above one another.

Finally, someone picked up the phone, “What-what do you mean,” Aedion asked, his voice quavering and Elide blinked furiously. This was just like Manon, Aedion wasn’t supposed to be emotional like this.

“I have to be with him,” Elide said.

She heard the three of them take deep breaths, “Why couldn’t you tell us this in person,” Dorian asked.

“I’m sorry,” Elide repeated.

“Will we,” Aelin broke off.

“Will we see you again?” Dorian finished.

Elide shook her head then realized they couldn’t see her, “Probably not,” She heard Aelin sob.

“He healed you.” Elide heard Dorian say, clearly fighting back tears “After your parents,” Elide closed her eyes, sinking down until she was sitting in in the grass. “When your uncle took you in we all did what we could but he gave something we couldn’t.”

“He proved to you that you aren’t romantically unlovable. And I’ll always appreciate him for that.” Aedion cut in, and Elide heard Aelin’s murmurs of agreement.

“Where are you gonna go?” Aelin asked, her voice pitchy.

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out, we have the rest of our lives to do it.”

:”So then this may not be the last time we see you?” Her voice was so hopeful Elide’s heart shattered all over again.

“No,” Elide explained, “We’re going off the grid, getting new identities, the whole deal.” She swallowed, “This is it.”

“Just remember we love you, yeah?” Aedion said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Aelin said. “We’ll always support you.”

“We hope you find what you’re looking for.” Dorian said.

“I love you guys,” Elide cried, as she hit the end call button.

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground With no one around to tweet it While I bathe in cliffside pools with my calamitous love And insurmountable grief

~~~~~~~~~~~

Aedion, Dorian and Aelin were all standing huddled together in Dorian’s bedroom.

As soon as Elide hung up the dam broke in Aelin. She cried, raw and ugly, sinking down to the floor, pulling the boys down with her.

I want auroras and sad prose I want to watch wisteria grow Right over my bare feet 'Cause I haven't moved in years And I want you right here

Dorian clapped a hand over his mouth, failing to muffle his sobs.

Aedion simply stared at one spot on the wall, his gaze unfocused and his eyes glassy.

“Why?” Aelin screamed at the ceiling, “Why?” Dorian wrapped his arm around her shoulders and Aelin buried her head in his shoulder.

“You know why.” Aedion said.

Aelin turned to look at him, then at the spot he’d been staring at, “Lorcan and I never really got along but he didn’t deserve this, he deserves the choice to stay in town, or run and get a new identity. But he didn’t get it. So I guess I’m just trying to say I get why she’s leaving, why she’s choosing him over her abusive life with Vernon. If it was Rowan,” She glanced in between them, “I would do the same thing.”

“I would do it for Lysandra.” Aedion offered.

‘I would do it for Manon,” Dorian admitted.

Aelin nodded, satisfied, “So we really are going to support her, we’ll grieve but in the slim chance she comes back, we won’t forget.”

Aedion and Dorian agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elide stood up, brushing the grass off her jeans and walked to the edge of the river. She looked down at her phone, tempted to call Aelin back and tell her it was just a sick joke but then she looked up and remembered why she wanted to do this.

She saw his outline in the woods across the river, a dark figure against the dying sunlight fracturing against the trees.

She smiled at him and took a deep breath, looking down at her phone once more before winding her arm back and throwing it as far down the river she could.

It hit the water with a satisfying splash and Elide drew her eyes away from where it sank to him again.

She took one last deep breath, finally ready to start her new life. Finally ready to be happy.

Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm settin' off, but not without my muse No, not without you

28 notes · View notes

senpaistoys · 4 years ago

Text

How you want it?(Taehyung, M)

Hello everyone! So here is a smut based on the song How you want it by Teyana Taylor. I hope you all enjoy it <3 and if you have seen this on A03 it’s because it’s mine. I will be posting stories here and there. I sort of missed tumblr. So, I’ll try it out again. Enough rambling here we go!

WARNING: SMUT, DIRTY LANGUAGE, EXPLICIT CONTENT

Text{🍑}: I’m home alone, come over?

You smiled at the message as you threw your phone down onto the bed. You knew the male wouldn’t respond, he would simply come over, he never missed a moment to be balls deep inside of you and honestly you didn’t care. You sat up and moved to open up your drawer changing into a set of baby blue lace bra and panties with a little bow in the middle of your bra. You put on thigh highs and a pair of heels. You were thankful that your roommate had to work the late night shift, or she would either interrupt your moments with Taehyung or tease you about it and right now you were too horny to deal with either or.

It had been two weeks since your last fix, and the only thing that you could keep concentration on was the male’s ass and his lips. How he played with his tongue, how he gripped at your ass cheeks when you hugged and even how good he smelled. It also didn’t help that one of your favorite songs How You Want It became your song to think about him. And since you found it a bright idea to listen to the song all day it was safe to say he was running through your mind like a relay race. You moved around your room cleaning up things and straightening out only so that it could be fucked up again.

In about thirty minutes there were heavy knocks on your door and you knew exactly who it was. A wide cheesier cat grin was eating onto your features. With quick steps your made your way towards your door swinging it wide open. Taehyung stood there, brown bangs falling into his eyes. He had on a band T-shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. Before he could even speak you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and crashed your lips together. The male groaned in pleasure, his hands gripping at your hips as he kissed you back.

Taehyung lifted you up and pushed you back against the door. So much for being discreet. Your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer to you. Your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled at his hair causing him to moan against your lips. The kiss was heated, your tongue forcing its way into the male’s mouth. He gave you access to control the kiss, his tongue keeping up with yours while he pulled you back so that he could slam the door shut. He placed you back against it, the kiss broke and he instead buried his face into your neck. He started to nip and suck on your flesh, your hips starting to grind against his. He reciprocated your actions, dry humping you and you could feel his bulge starting to form.

Your head rolled back, his name falling off your lips as one of your hands moved down to grip at his ass. The male growled into your ear but you only squeezed harder rutting yourself against him in need. Taehyung kissed up your jaw before he dipped his head down to lick a trail down the valley of your breast. His thrusts against your core was getting quicker, the stimulation against your clit causing you to whine.

“Taehyung don’t tease me.” You protested.

“You love every way I do you, or you wouldn’t call me.” He reminded you before he pulled back to kiss at your lips once more. Your legs were turning to jelly every time his plush lips pressed against yours. He moved his hands down to spread your ass cheeks causing your panties to slip between your cheeks. He let your ass go and you peeked up at him, feeling flustered but aroused by the simplest things. “What do you want today?” He asked you as if you really had a choice. But you indulged him. Hopping down you gripped at his hand and tugged the male towards your room. You pushed him onto the bed and as you shut the door, your favorite part of the song came on. Turning back to the male, you started to dance and sing to him, grinding your hips against the air.

“I want it ass up and face down with the loving. Baby let me know when you need it, four course meal chef down when you need it, make me curl my toes~ what’s the quickest way to turn you on.” You grinned at the male as you reached a hand behind you to unsnap your bra and throw it on to the floor. You walked towards the male and straddled him but you were instantly placed onto your back.

Taehyung gripped at your breast pressing them together, his tongue getting to work on circling your nipples. He bit and sucked on each of your mounds making sure his markings were equal on both pairs of your flesh. His tongue crawled lower licking across the bands of your panties. You sat up and watched him about to kick your heels off but he stopped you.

“I want to fuck you like this, minus the panties.” He chuckled as he stood up and stripped for you. He got onto the bed and laid down. He wanted you to ride his face and you wanted to deepthroat him, so you moved yourself to face his cock with your hips in his face. You gripped at his erect shaft and opened your mouth wide tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. Moaning against tip you started to nibble on the mushroom head of his cock. Your tongue eagerly flicking up and down the male’s slit. He hissed in pleasure and the next sound you heard was the sound of fabric tearing. Taehyung didn’t even rip them off of your body fully, just off one side. He gripped at your hips and pulled your hips back until you were sitting on his face. The male started to suck on your pussy lips, playing with your neither region until he heard you whimper for him.

The moment you took his cock into your mouth was the moment his tongue entered inside of your pussy. The male started to tongue fuck you as you started to let him face fuck you. Your tongue swirling around his heated shaft. Your hips rocked back against your face but his arms trapped you in place, you couldn’t really move much. He let his tongue slide all over your wet cunt, you could hear the sounds of him slurping on your pussy. His tongue slipping out of you and he pulled your hips back so that he could suck on your clit. When he changed you moved to his balls, taking one by one into your mouth. It was always a competition of who could drive the other crazy first. You were determined to win it this time.

You pulled back and pulled with all your strength to let the male let you go. He looked at you with a state of bewilderment but you simply gripped at his cock and slapped it against your slit before you slid down onto him riding him in reverse cowgirl style. Your hands pressed down onto the mattress between his thighs to steady yourself and you leaned your body forward starting to ride him. You bounced your ass onto his hips, lifting yourself so that he could see his cock entering and disappearing between your folds. You bit down onto your bottom lip, holding your moans so that you could hear him curse under his breath and try to stay in control but he was faltering.

You reached a hand down to play with his balls as your hips circled. Your cunt tightened around his shaft on purpose, and you rode the male as if you were fucking him into the mattress. Taehyung gripped at the sheets enjoying the show you were putting on for him, how your back arched and your ass jiggled when you moved on his girth. But not being one for defeat, he sat up and pushed you down onto your stomach causing you to gasp out. He slipped out of you only to pull your lower body up until your ass was in the air.

He positioned himself back behind you and spread your legs wide with his. His hips snapped forward and he started to fuck into you. His hands reaching down to grip at your hands and press them against your lower back. He used his free hand to grip a fist full of your hair and turned your head until he was pressing your cheek down against the mattress.

“Is this how you want it?” He asked angling his hips to fuck against your spot. You cried out loud in pleasure, your toes threatening to curl and he chuckled. “Ass up and face down fits my girl.” He moaned as you clenched around him but that only caused him to push his hips harder against yours as if he was trying to break you. The sound of your hips colliding echoed off the walls and overpowered the song that was playing. “Is this my pussy?” Taehyung asked but you didn’t want to admit defeat too quick.

You didn’t say anything and the male slowed down his hips, slacking up his grip onto your hands to bend over and press his chest against your back. He slid his tongue up your jaw towards your ear whispering dirty words into your ear causing you to shudder. When he pulled back you lifted your body up and gripped at his hands. You started to rotate your hips, pressing your head back against his shoulder feeling your juices slid down his thighs. You were trying to get him to submit but Taehyung was much smarter than that. The male slipped out of you and flipped you onto your back. He straddled your right leg and threw your left leg over his right thigh. He slipped back into you, trapping one leg under his and gripping at your thigh he had you right where he wanted you. He slid deeper into you from this angle, leaning down he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I said is this my pussy?” He asked you once again. When you didn’t answer, he stopped completely only grinding against you but never sliding back or moving just grinding.

“Taehyung! Fuck please!” You cried out but he didn’t flinch. A wicked smile took over his face, any other person would think he was crazy but that was his victory look and you both knew it.

“It’s your pussy!” You finally whined out loud. The male laughed in content, lifting your leg up to throw over his shoulder, he pulled back slightly and lifted your hips up. He started to slam down into your cunt, entering so deep you felt he was going to graze your womb if you weren’t careful. He reached a hand down and started to rub your clit, your body started to writhe under him as you got closer to your release. Your hands reached out to grip at the sheets as he rode you. Your whines and cries become higher in volume and pitch and he knew you were close, so he pushed himself to give you all he had. His hips hurt slightly from the force but he wasn’t giving up, and to him it was all worth it once he saw your face twist in pleasure. His name leaving your lips along with a few curses like a chant. He was rather proud to see your body crumble and sprawl out against the bed. His hips continued to rock forward helping you ride out your orgasm.

When you were done he pulled out of you and crawled up your body until he straddling your chest. Your frowned looking up at his smiling face. Huffing you gripped at his cock a few times before you opened your mouth taking him back in. Your hands gripped onto his ass cheeks as he gripped at your hair and he started to face fuck you. It didn’t take long for him to twitch and slid into your mouth cumming on your tongue. You swallowed it all up and licked the male clean before pulling back with a wet pop. Taehyung fell down beside you and you kicked off your heels snuggling into his body.

“I want a rematch.” You complained lightly finally taking the panties off the rest of the way.

“You always want a rematch when you lose. Where is your sportsmanship?” Taehyung teased as you rolled him onto his back.

“It’s there. It’s me getting my cum on your face this time.” You grinned pinning his hands above his head grinding your soaked cunt against his twitching member. Both of your eyes becoming hooded and full of determination to win.

#smut #bts smut #taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #v smut #v imagines #bts imagines #bts scenarios #kim taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung #v #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

10 notes · View notes