#is actually HARDER on the body than lifting heavy weights. I find the pink weight stuff to be boring and tedious. I want to get in | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baepsaetan · 3 years ago

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Novocaine Enough | Yoonseok | Part 3

Amazing banner credit to @joonscore

Part 1 -> Part 2

Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok

Wordcount: 8k

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, smut

Rating: 18+

Summary: Four years later, and Yoongi is still an itch under his skin. Hoseok is trying to move on, from his past life and his past love, but there are some voids that can’t be filled. Some needs that can’t be met. And when Hoseok enters a club and hears the music of the man he left so long ago, he realizes that some addictions can’t be healed by anything as simple as time.

Warnings: Swearing; implied, mentioned and past drug use/abuse (cocaine, ecstasy, weed, alcohol); past overdosing; mutually unhealthy relationship dynamic; explicit (kinda angry) sex, including biting, oral, gagging, rimming, edging, marking, barebacking, thigh riding.

Ao3 Link: here

A/N: Part three! Which I totally forgot to post before now, lol. Not sure if anyone hasn’t seen this on Ao3 already, but if ya haven’t, feel free to give a like. :)

They collide a little too hard, a little too combatively, and Hoseok's lips tingle when they find Yoongi's. He embraces the pain, even as his arms are wrapping around the other man, caging him in like he's afraid Yoongi's going to suddenly disappear. It's a little awkward, but Yoongi squirms in his embrace, gets himself into a better position, and then they're actually kissing.

This is a moment when they both freeze, as if the reality of what they're doing has suddenly crashed into them. Hoseok's muscles lock, and he's abruptly in the back of his mind, wondering if this is the right thing, doubting it is, knowing it isn't, and maybe he shouldn't –

Yoongi's tongue parts his lips and the acrid taste of smoke and beer slams him back into the moment. Hoseok gasps, released, and his arms tighten spasmodically, a bodily rejection of his mind. Yoongi tastes like he remembers, and this is suddenly easy, natural, and the worry dies, smothered beneath the nostalgia slipping across his tongue. Warmth floods his face, and he can't help but dig the tips of his fingers into Yoongi's shoulders, proving to himself that the man is there.

His eyes are closed and the reddish hues dart under his eyelids, flurrying in time with his spiked heart rate. Yoongi is the first to pull away, but only to nip at the edge of Hoseok's lip and then move lower, kissing along the length of his jaw with just a touch of teeth. The fluttery pressure lasts for only a moment, and then the other man is kissing him again. This time Hoseok gravitates into the contact, leans even further until his weight is pushing Yoongi back.

With a low hum that Hoseok can feel resounding through his own mouth, Yoongi allows himself to be shifted backwards until he's laid out on the couch. They break contact long enough for Yoongi to swing his legs up, and Hoseok straddles his hips, knees pushing comfortably into the cushions. He pauses, then, to stare down at the man under him.

Yoongi's skin is unusually flushed, his lips already swollen from their fierce contact. It's his eyes that catch Hoseok, though, deep and dark and so demanding they rip a sense of urgency from somewhere at the base of Hoseok's throat. His hand impulsively rises to cup Yoongi's face – and Yoongi turns away, just a little, avoiding the touch. It leaves an emptiness heavy in the pads of Hoseok's fingers, an ache in his heart, and he has to drive the feeling out somehow.

Tracing his hand down Yoongi's neck is almost enough, and when Hoseok hunches over and presses kisses into the other man's collarbone, it gets even better. Burying his face into the crook of the man’s neck and inhaling the scent of his citrusy cologne overwhelms Hoseok’s senses, drowning the bitterness in a wave of comfort and desire. Yoongi's breath is a harsh pant, and his voice is harsh, too, when he insists, "Come on."

Hoseok is abruptly aware of the fact that he's eager to do more. His next kiss lingers on Yoongi's collarbone, and so does the next, and when he moves to Yoongi's throat, Hoseok bites him, a little nip that nonetheless draws a sharp inhale from his partner. He does it for a second time, just to hear the overwhelmed sound again, and Yoongi is quick to oblige him. Relishing the taut groan, he pulls away to admire the man underneath him.

Just for a moment, but Yoongi's eyes, previously drifted closed, snap open and he makes an inquiring huff.

Not quite willing to admit how much he'd love to just stare at the sweat that's beginning to trickle down Yoongi's face, Hoseok smiles. "You mind some marks?"

Yoongi's lip curls, but his gaze is intrigued. "You want to?" Before Hoseok can reply, he snickers, head falling back to bare his neck more fully. "Sure. Why not?"

Hoseok doesn't need to be told twice. (But he does want to ask again, just in case this isn't what it should be, just in case –)

Ignoring that, he dips his head and his lips are soft when he starts sucking on Yoongi's throat. They don't stay that way, not when he increases the pressure, and under him the other man shifts, arches up like he's desperate to close the space between them. Hoseok indulges, grinding down with his groin as his mouth relents for a moment, placing lighter kisses around the area he'd been sucking on. Yoongi bucks his hips, seeking more friction, and Hoseok finds himself grinning, a wolfish expression that doesn't fade even with his softer contact.

He doesn't give Yoongi too much of a break, anyways; before too long he's back, sucking on the abused skin harder than before. It feels good to press his mouth against the other man's neck, to know that he's leaving a mark that nothing but time will scrub away. Yoongi bruises easily and long, Hoseok remembers that, and so for at least the next week he's going to be bearing a sign, a clear flag to anyone who dares to believe Yoongi is anything but taken.

Even if he isn't actually taken.

The thought has heat prickling across the nape of Hoseok's neck, and it takes him a second to realize it's pissed him off. His next nip is sharper and Yoongi hisses in mild protest. He goes mostly ignored, because though Hoseok tries to soften himself, tries to gentle the way his mouth crushes against Yoongi's throat, it's still hard enough to inspire another grunt from the other man.

And yet, for all that Hoseok knows he's actually hurting his partner, Yoongi doesn't make any move to shove him away. Doesn't even voice a protest beyond the first light objection. In fact, he keeps tilting his chin further up, giving Hoseok even more space to work with, and his hands are digging in just above his waistband, anchoring Hoseok with a grip that's on the razor edge of pain. The pressure grounds him and he needs it, needs an anchor against the dull anger that’s trying to flare to life amidst the hollowness in his chest.

It's not until Hoseok bites Yoongi for the umpteenth and an iron tang fills his mouth that he realizes the fire is more out of control than he’d thought.

Immediately he draws back, guilt and blood on his tongue, although the taste isn’t quite strong enough to expunge his surprisingly possessive anger. The skin isn’t broken too badly, just a slightly more pronounced red among the splotches of pink littering Yoongi’s neck, but he can’t make himself look away.

His companion asks without opening his eyes, “Admiring your handiwork?”

Setting his teeth over the impulse to say something breezy – and avoid the truth – he answers honestly. “You’re bleeding a bit.”

Yoongi lazily opens an eye. “Seriously?” His voice is so unfazed it subdues some of the remorse threaded through Hoseok’s ribs; it can’t have hurt too bad if he hadn’t even noticed. “I’m not bleeding on the couch, am I?”

Hoseok dutifully inspects the dribble, barely deserving of the name. “Nah.”

The eye closes. “Good. Bite me too hard again and I’ll bite you back.”

He’s so relieved it makes him flippant. And sharp. “Is that a promise?”

A hoarse laugh, and Yoongi’s hands tighten around his waist. “Only if you want it to be.”

Leaving it there, Hoseok leans back down. Much more gentle, he actually spends more time skimming his lips over the marks, mouthing the tender areas rather than kissing them, let alone biting. It doesn’t last long, though. Energy simmers through his core, an awful agitation that only grows with each taste of sweat, with every low exhale that the man under him makes. Yoongi is also impatient, shoving up Hoseok’s shirt as he runs his fingers along his sides, the warmth of his touch leaving Hoseok shaky with anticipation.

Before too long, he folds to the pressure of that wordless touch. Taking off his shirt is, in the haze of the moment, only slightly nerve-wracking. The dregs of alcohol still in his system help matters, swamping any second thoughts Hoseok might have had and leaving him dizzy and expectant.

Yoongi doesn't whistle at the reveal like Hoseok had, but his eyes are keen with admiration as they skim across Hoseok's upper body. The considering look is back, and after a moment of mute appreciation that leaves Hoseok flushed and simultaneously more relaxed, he commands, "Get off, 'kay? I wanna try something else."

Scrambling to do as bid, he lifts himself off of Yoongi. "Just sit there," Yoongi says, gesturing at the couch as he gets to his feet. Hoseok suffers a pang of disappointed confusion at the lack of immediate attention, but all his companion does is shove the table back further before returning. And then he's settling onto Hoseok. More specifically, he nudges Hoseok's legs open and then sits on his right thigh, his legs nestled on either side.

Automatically Hoseok tenses to support the added weight, and Yoongi's tongue slips across his lower lip as he settles more firmly onto the hard muscles. He rubs against Hoseok's thigh and lets out an approving breath, and Hoseok can already feel himself hardening in a way that marking up his ex hadn’t quite managed. Yoongi notices – of course he does – and his hand drops down to caress Hoseok's free leg, thumb starting near his groin and then dragging down against the leather of his pants. "Didn't I say you should take these off? Too late now, I guess," he comments with a smile that's too pointed to be anything but provoking.

The touch is enough, and the smile is entirely too much. With a grunt, Hoseok grabs Yoongi at the hips, both keeping him steady and pushing him down a little. A second later and he starts to bounce his leg, nothing jarring, just a smooth motion that Yoongi grinds himself against. Flexing his thigh at the same time gets the other man to groan, so Hoseok does it again, and then again, relishing the husky sound and the feeling of Yoongi heavy on his body.

This is – almost – familiar. When Yoongi wraps his arms around Hoseok’s bare shoulders to balance himself, it’s that much closer to what he remembers, but… not quite. Not quite, because the small man doesn’t press his forehead against Hoseok’s. Doesn’t look him in the eyes as he rides him, but looks past him, the pleasure crossing his face a removed and distant thing.

Hoseok’s own pleasure feels disconnected, too. The throbbing from his cock is quickly becoming a heated intensity that radiates through his gut, and his movements become rougher, hips jerking with the need to chase the feeling of Yoongi grinding against him. It’s good, great even, but there’s a desperation in his urgency that he suspects won’t be satisfied by coming.

He’s chasing a peak, and it’s not even the height he wants to hit.

Eyes closing against that knowledge, swallowing back the gritty taste of it, Hoseok is caught off guard when one of Yoongi’s arms drops and his fingers find Hoseok’s nipple. Inhaling through his clenched teeth, his eyes fly open and then widen as the other man lightly twists the sensitive nub.

“Fuck, Yoongs,” he spits, and Yoongi grins like a cat who just spotted some cream.

“Mmm, this still gets you, hey?” his lover asks. Given that Hoseok gasps a moment later, Yoongi’s thumb rolling the stiffening nipple, he hardly needs a reply. He takes that as an answer and his other hand joins the fun, and Hoseok’s taut frame is shortly shaking with the flames being produced by those dexterous fingers. He’s always been overly sensitive in his chest.

He lets himself be pleased that his ex remembers, but nothing more than that.

A particularly callous tweak makes him jerk, his leg jumping hard into Yoongi’s groin, and Yoongi yelps – which, honestly, karma – before biting back the sound and scowling instead. “You dick,” he mutters without heat, but his fingers become even more ruthless as they play with Hoseok’s nipples. That, of course, does absolutely nothing to still Hoseok, and before too long he can’t focus on helping the other man get off on his thigh, his nerves shot through with spastic jolts of pleasure that have him barely able to keep together.

After another probably too hard bounce, Yoongi eases off with a light scoff. “God, you’re as bad as a prep school virgin. Been a bit of a dry spell for you or something?”

It’s true that they used to be able to edge each other a helluva lot longer and more intensely than this, but Hoseok reddens at the implication of that question. And at the nerve of asking it, too. He tries to keep his voice level, but it gets higher as he says, “Is that any business of yours?”

Yoongi looks away, but not before his smug expression crumples. He does a much better job of keeping his tone even, though. He’s always been better than Hobi at that. “Guess not.”

The reminder isn’t totally a mood killer, but it does inject something stiff and uncomfortable into the air. With a hard exhale, Yoongi shakes his head, apparently trying to physically throw off the bleakness. It doesn’t work for Hoseok, and it doesn’t seem to work for the other man either, judging by the somber cast that’s taken over his face.

With Yoongi, though, the deeper and darker he gets, the hungrier he gets, too. The more desperately he reaches for what he wants, the more he craves it. It’s always been like that; whether he aimed for money or fame or skill or a high, he’s always wanted it too much.

He wants this too much, too. Whatever the hell this is, between them. That becomes obvious as Yoongi rolls his shoulders, lips pressing together, and then gets off of Hoseok’s thigh, only to kneel between Hoseok’s legs a second later. When his hands fall to Hoseok’s belt, Hoseok knows he’s being driven by that greed. And – maybe – by a desire to make up for what he’d said. He won’t apologize, not in so many words, but he’s gentle in unbuckling the strap, and his eyes are inquiring when he pauses and looks up at Hoseok, silently asking for permission.

The sight of the small man on his knees in front of him has Hoseok’s throat closing and he can’t make himself speak. The defensive anger from Yoongi’s stupid remark hasn’t left, but neither has his own need, and he, too, sometimes wants things too much. Way too much.

His nod ends up being jerky, but he lifts his hips to help Yoongi pull the belt out of its hoops. With an ease that suggests he, at least, hasn’t been through a dry spell recently, Yoongi unbuttons Hoseok’s pants, undoes the zipper, and then his hand is wrapped around Hoseok’s cock and pulling it out of its confines. It’s already hard and leaking. It only takes one light stroke, made slick by his precum, to have arousal surging up Hoseok’s veins, quieting the longing that’s humming in his head.

This feels so good, it’s almost enough. Hoseok throws back his head, eyes hardly seeing the ceiling, breath and words tangling in his trachea and escaping as barely more than an incoherent plea. Yoongi’s always been good at this, at spreading ecstasy with the mere palms of his hands, and today he’s overdoing himself. Sensitive to Hoseok’s every gasp and whine, his hands sculpt around Hoseok’s dick with just enough pressure, just enough friction to have Hoseok writhing in his seat, thrusting into that pressure with wild abandon.

Panting breaths away from coming, he manages to choke, “Ah, fuck, fuck Yoongi, I’m –”

And abruptly the hand is gone.

He lifts his head, something like a whimper emerging from his lips. It makes his attempt at a glare more than a little feeble, but he does try to glare, because Yoongi is sitting back on his heels and flashing a shit-eating grin that’s so self-satisfied it would have been funny if Hoseok wasn’t currently aching with sodden dissatisfaction. He moves to grab his cock and finish himself, but Yoongi catches his wrist, stopping the movement.

It’s probably possible to break the hold, yet Hoseok just limply drops his arm, caving in to the light grip.

“You’re an asshole,” he exhales, and Yoongi bobs his head in unrepentant agreement.

Still wearing that smug smile, he pushes away the hair from his sweat-soaked forehead. “Yeah. But you should be thanking me; this’ll just make it better when I blow you.”

With his cock still throbbing, a handjob now seems preferable to a blowjob later, and Hoseok snorts. “Better? Maybe your tongue technology is outdated.”

The reference to the original song he’d created makes Yoongi laugh. It’s probably the most carefree – even joyful – he’s sounded the entire night. “Nah man. That shit is upgraded and it’ll keep you elated.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows jump up disbelievingly and he stares. Too fast for him to contain, a rusty laugh suddenly barrels up his throat and bursts from between lips that can’t press hard enough to hold it.

A blush floods Yoongi’s face, cheeks bunching as his flustered smile and barely suppressed giggle scrunch his eyes into narrow crescents. It feels like Hoseok’s heart literally misses a beat as it stumbles over itself, a screechy sort of delight building in his throat, and he has to throttle the urge to reach out and squish the adorable face in front of him. In the past, doing that would make Yoongi even more embarrassed, maybe even pouty, and it would be that much more hilarious and cute. Which, of course, had made it entirely worth doing.

Now, however…

Well, now Hoseok keeps his hands to himself, but he can’t hold back the raucous cackles that keep exploding from him. The laughter is so boisterous it actually hurts a little, but he can’t keep it contained. Maybe he’s just that relieved to have something to laugh at, or maybe in Yoongi’s absence he’s become more sensitive to just how charming the man is when he’s abashed and simultaneously pleased with himself. Regardless, Hoseok is helpless to stop the explosion of hilarity, and Yoongi’s failed attempt at sulking doesn't help.

In fact, seeing his companion struggle to latch a frown on his flushed face, only to drop it seconds later and subside into loud laughter, has him almost howling with mirth.

His amusement drains more quickly than it might have – and honestly, the still-hard state of his dick might have had something to do with it – but Hoseok’s chest is just a little lighter when his cackling abates. It’s – he’d thought he’d never laugh like this again, not with Yoongi. It feels so good to be proven wrong.

Lips still curved upwards, hurting his cheeks, Hoseok can barely get himself together when he tries to talk. “Oh-kay,” he gasps around the lingering laughter, shallow annoyance at Yoongi’s antics totally forgotten. “Okay. Fine, fine. Mr. Updated, I’m ready to be elated.” A pause, and then he’s found enough air to add, “Do I need to read the warning label?”

Yoongi got a hold of the hilarity more quickly than Hoseok did, quickly enough that his voice is almost back to sardonic when he replies, “Nah. I’m not the one with a choking hazard.” His eyes deliberately flick down.

Hoseok chokes at that – and at Yoongi’s hand, once again sliding up his cock. Give it to him, once Yoongi’s decided to do something, he doesn’t hesitate to get it done. They don’t bother discussing condoms, a holdover from older days; both of them are pretty meticulous about getting tested, and shared that conversation years ago.

That makes it easy to relax at the feeling of Yoongi fisting the base of his cock, and then Yoongi is licking his head while his hand rubs the shaft in long, languorous strokes. The soft, wet heat flows straight to Hoseok’s lungs, to his head, a blanket of stifling pleasure. His breath is abruptly heavy, staggering, and automatically Hoseok curls his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, needing to feel something under him, to have some measure of control.

That’s a bit of intimacy that the other man allows, gaze sultry enough to set Hoseok’s skin aflame... if his mouth weren’t doing that already. Hoseok meets the heady scrutiny with an unwavering look, and there’s still a trace of laughter evident in the creases around Yoongi’s eyes. Affection courses through his arteries and he doesn’t know if this is poison or an antidote. All he knows is that he’ll take what’s given, whatever the results. No questions asked.

Yoongi is offering him an answer to his emptiness, and all Hoseok wants is to drown in it.

And drown in it he does, in the thick sounds the other man makes around his cock, in the feel of his fingers settled into Yoongi’s soft locks, in the geyser of aching incandescence that’s fountaining through his stomach and erupting in his chest.

“Yoongi,” he mumbles, and the syllables are perfect in his mouth. “Yoongi, you’re… ah … so, so good . Fuck me, you’re...”

This is part of what he’s wanted so desperately. And even if it’s only half, a third, a decimal of what he’s been longing for, Hoseok soaks in the sensation and, in the moment – right now – convinces himself that this is enough.

This is enough, but – but his fingers still tighten, hips jacking forward faster and harder to chase the warmth that Yoongi is giving him. The man on his knees grunts at the added force, and his hands fall from Hoseok’s cock to brace against Hoseok’s thighs. Not a sign to stop, not yet, and Hoseok wants so badly, wants to come in Yoongi’s mouth, wants to spill himself for something more than absolutely nothing at all.

Frantically Hoseok fucks Yoongi’s mouth, his thrusts deep and heavy, gaze focused on Yoongi’s face. The other man has his eyes closed, and he takes the hard jerks with a bobbing throat and squeezed eyes. A bit of saliva has escaped from the corner of his mouth, and his sweat is plastering his darkened hair to his forehead in a straggling mess. Like this – choking and gagging on Hoseok’s cock, fingers feebly curled into his thighs, face strained with the effort of keeping up – Yoongi looks… fuck, Yoongi looks good. He looks… like how Hoseok wants him to look. Barely keeping it together. Wrecked.

Hoseok comes with a muffled groan, the sound tearing out of him like there’s a wound in his throat, pleasure coursing through him in jagged strips of lightning. Yoongi chokes more harshly, and then his hands are pushing firmly against Hoseok’s legs. Taking that cue immediately, Hoseok relaxes his grip, letting the other man pull off of him with a wet noise.

Still gasping, Yoongi nonetheless keeps his face near Hoseok’s cock, and the last few spurts catch him on the lips, the cheek. Pearly white fluid trickles down his chin, mixing with his saliva, and the sight is abruptly so overwhelming Hoseok has to look away.

Yoongi’s breath is ragged, interspersed with coughing, and it takes several minutes to smooth out. In that time, Hoseok... drifts. The sexual satisfaction drapes across him, smothering in its weight, and he makes no attempt to disentangle himself from it. In a different time he would have pulled Yoongi into his lap, caressed his back and pressed gentle kisses along his shoulders until he recovered his breath. Maybe he would have gotten him a glass of water, or joined him on the floor.

Now… Now Yoongi rests on his haunches, recovering alone. Hoseok recovers alone, too. By the time Yoongi’s caught his breath, the painful ecstasy has faded, leaving a worn out ache that’s nowhere near his groin, but somewhere higher, just above his sternum.

He’d… shit, had he really wanted to see Yoongi choke? Wanted to see him struggle to keep up, to take it, just to please Hoseok? Because… what, because he deserved it?

Guilt invades his head, dispelling the satisfaction like mist in a heavy rain. Hoseok shifts uncomfortably, forcing himself to turn his eyes to Yoongi.

The other man is looking at him, and when he sees Hoseok’s gaze, he flushes. He doesn’t glance away, though. Face still slick with cum and spit, his cheeks stained red from effort and from coughing, he shouldn’t look as soft as he does. As tender. “How was it?” he asks, like it’s not already obvious, and though his voice is hoarse, it isn’t mocking.

“Good. Really good.” Hoseok’s hands are on his thighs, rubbing at the fabric, and he can’t seem to make himself stop. “I – If I went a bit overboard, or –”

“Did I tell you to get off, except at the end?” Yoongi slowly rises, turning the motion into one long stretch. His neck and collarbone are marked with a mottled collection of the fresh hickeys that are beginning to show. “Nothing’s changed with that, Hobi. I can take it.”

That doesn’t mean you should have to. That’s something Hoseok doesn’t know how to say. Why are you taking it, is another collection of words that won’t leave his tongue. The biting, the bruises, the facefucking… It’s not that they’d never done it before, but this is a further extreme, and more than that, it’s not mutual. They liked pushing at each other, straining limits, but this –

This isn’t that.

“Well – I’m still sorry.”

“Didn’t I tell you to leave off on that shit?” Harsh words, but said mildly, and Yoongi shakes his head. “I’ll be right back.” He slips away, leaving Hoseok to the shame that’s fighting with his justifications. A stalemate. He really can’t remember where his pleasure had begun and his resentment had ended in the stifling thrill of fucking Yoongi. If there even was a beginning… or an end.

Yoongi comes back too quickly for the question to spiral into something blacker. He’s got a Kleenex box in one hand, a bottle in another, and sets both on the table unceremoniously. Snagging a tissue for himself, Yoongi starts wiping off his face while using his other hand to turn the bottle so that the label’s facing Hoseok.

Lube, as if he couldn’t have guessed.

Somewhat surprisingly, though, Yoongi doesn’t immediately pop the question. To Hoseok’s relief, he’s quiet as they clean up a bit. Then Yoongi settles back on the couch, his limbs sprawled in a lazily casual pose. Not right next to Hoseok, but close. Close enough to reach, if Hoseok wanted to.

He wants to.

His hands remain at his side.

Working his jaw, his thumb gently massaging his throat, Yoongi smiles faintly. “Mmm, that’s gonna hurt in the morning.” When Hoseok grimaces, he shakes his head. “In a good way, Hobi.” Yoongi pauses, leans a little away, like he wants to get a better look at his companion. After a moment of quiet that draws out thick and uneasy (at least on Hoseok’s part), Yoongi says softly, “You know I’m good, right? This didn’t, like, kill the mood for me or anything. I just couldn’t quite finish you off, at the end. Not your fault.”

It didn’t kill the mood for Hoseok, either, and that might be part of the problem. Shoulders hunched, he replies tersely. “I didn’t – I don’t wanna hurt you, Yoongs.”

“Really? Coulda fooled me.” When Hoseok huddles even further into himself at the lightly teasing note, Yoongi hums, a chastised sound. “Nah, I’m kidding. Besides, maybe I want you to hurt me. Ever think of that?”

Hoseok skirts a glance at him sidelong, and Yoongi raises a sardonic eyebrow. “You’re not gonna kinkshame me, are you? I still remember the mirror thing, with–”

“How are you so okay with this!?” The demand bursts out, more of an appeal than a question, and Hoseok can’t stand how relaxed the other man looks. How easily he’s accepting how Hoseok has been going at him tonight. Hoseok had disliked how cutting Yoongi was earlier, the insults and taunts sinking in like barbs, but he’d take that before – before whatever the hell Yoongi is doing now.

Yoongi examines Hoseok for a long moment before he replies. “I… forgot,” he eventually says, the words slow but not uncertain. “How good it feels, how… how whole I feel, to be near you. So you’re rough, so what? As if I give a fuck about that, after… everything else.”

There’s too much in those words. Too much hope, too much joy… and too much permission granted when it shouldn’t be, or at least for the wrong reasons.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He repeats it because he has to drive the words through his own skull, convince himself of them. “Not like this, Yoongi. Not…”

“So don’t.” He jerks around to stare at Yoongi head on, and the other man is smiling, just a thin twist of amusement. “Whatever else, you’re not an asshole, Hobi. I haven’t known you in years, and I still know that’s true. If it’s bugging you this much, it’s not your thing. At least not tonight.”

Hoseok doesn’t reply. He can still feel that bloom of pleasure, that wave of satisfied vindication that had struck him so forcefully at the sight of Yoongi choking. With that in his head, he’s not so sure that Yoongi’s right about him not being an asshole.

“Hey.” It’s Yoongi that bridges the gap, reaching over to give Hoseok’s bare shoulder a gentle shake. “It happened. I’m fine. Hell, I didn’t mind it.” His free hand steals up to caress the many marks Hoseok had left scattered across his neck. “Might even learn to do more than that. But…” Now his exhale is harder, closer to frustration. “For now, forget about it, okay? If you’re done, that’s fine, but I’m still good to go.”

That’s one of Yoongi’s greatest strengths. When he makes his peace with something, that’s it. He’s not someone to gnaw on a problem, to mull it over until it’s stripped to nothingness; he’s too blunt, too firm in himself, to bother with that.

Hoseok… does not have that strength. However, with Yoongi’s grip warm and secure on his shoulder, he thinks that maybe… maybe he could lean into his companion’s strength. Borrow a little of that certainty. At least for now.

Another bandaid. At this rate they’ll be covered with them.

It’s better than bleeding out. Hoseok makes himself smile; he makes himself chuckle. The sound is strained, but it still fills the air with something other than oppressive tension. “If you’re still good to go, old man, I am too.”

A long-time joke that makes Yoongi laugh. “You won’t be calling me that later,” he promises, and closes the distance between them.

They make out again, messier and deeper than last time. Physically at least, Hoseok was absolutely not lying when he said he was good, and as Yoongi strips out of his pants and underwear, it quickly becomes obvious that the other man wasn’t lying, either. Hoseok follows suit, yanks off the pants that hadn’t quite made it all the way off before.

Everything about this is slower than before, and it’s also softer. They kiss for a long time, hands busy exploring each other’s bodies, running over the canvas of skin with careful precision. A rediscovery.

Hoseok feels abruptly – timid isn’t quite it, but hesitant. Uncertain. Yoongi easily steps into the gap left by his misgivings. He’s gentle when he kisses Hoseok, but his hands are firm as they guide Hoseok to bend over the arm of the couch, bracing himself with his forearms. Those hands are no less certain when they cup Hoseok’s ass, spreading him wide.

Yoongi kisses the back of his thighs first, tender presses that still have the air seeping out of Hoseok’s lungs. Everything after that is a landslide of languorous sensation. The feel of Yoongi rimming him is a silky sort of pleasure, inspiring a tingling bliss that has his eyes drifting shut. Yoongi’s tongue flicks against him, slow strokes that tease his nerves, and he keeps at it until the languor becomes hotter, more urgent. His hands are busy too, playing with Hoseok’s balls and sliding along his stomach, and the touches are liquid heat added to a vessel that’s already overflowing.

Hoseok finds himself whining, subdued little sobs that he can’t quite hold back. The first time Yoongi adds lube to the mixture, the slick coldness of it being worked between his cheeks makes Hoseok stiffen and nearly yelp. Behind him Yoongi laughs, his fingers stilling for a moment, giving Hoseok a chance to relax. “Bear with it, yeah? Just a little more…”

Then his finger is penetrating Hoseok, still slow, almost too slow, and Hoseok moans. “Good boy,” Yoongi murmurs, dragging through the motion with maddening control. “You take it so good, Hobi.” He adds another finger shortly after, and the pressure quickly becomes staggering.

“More,” he groans, pushing back against Yoongi's hand.

The need floats through his stomach, so light it’s almost separate from him, but Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Nuh-uh. We’re going my way now, Hobi.”

Somewhere in the midst of the fluttering pleasure, Hoseok has just enough brain capacity left to suspect this may be some kind of revenge. Yoongi strokes his ass while penetrating him more deeply, and another wave of bliss drowns the thought.

Didn’t matter. This is a kind of revenge he could get behind.

The first time Hoseok finds himself about to come, the orgasm gathering force at the edge of his groin and his voice pitching up into raw breathlessness, he’s severely disappointed. Abruptly Yoongi’s fingers are gone, and even worse, his other hand is wrapped around the tip of Hoseok’s cock, lightly squeezing. Hoseok’s orgasm rises – hovers – and then falls away, back into a simmering intensity that has him writhing petulantly.

“Yoongi,” he gasps accusingly when he’s found enough breath to get anything out.

“So impatient,” Yoongi drawls, fingers dragging against Hoseok’s ass cheek in teasing circles – but doing nothing more than that.

“You are such an – ah. ”

Yoongi doesn’t move his fingers much once he’s slid them back in, just mild motions, enough to keep the fires in Hoseok’s gut stoked but no more than that. “Do you wanna beg me, Hobi? I’d probably let you get off if you did.”

A memory. Yoongi leaning over him and Hoseok so strung out he’s almost delirious. Strung out on Molly, yeah, but on feelings, too. A tsunami of sensations. An affection that’s so keen it hurts as he gazes into Yoongi’s blown pupils. The words, falling from his mouth in a nearly incoherent stream. “Please, Yoongi, please, I want you so bad, I want – I want – Please.”

He drops his head, presses his face against the forearm that’s braced against the couch’s arm. “Such an asshole.” The words are muffled, but Yoongi clearly hears them because he huffs, caught between a chuckle and a scoff.

“Suit yourself.”

When Yoongi’s fingers leave Hoseok, he has just enough time to be extravagantly dissatisfied before the other man puts one hand on his hip, the other sliding up his spine to rest on the nape of his neck. From that position Yoongi leans over him, hips pressing into his ass, breath tickling his face. “You ready for something a bit more?”

“Only if it’s actually more,” Hoseok retorts.

A hard breath and then Yoongi gently nips at the outer shell of his ear, a teasing rebuke. “‘Course it will be.”

Though he takes his goddamn time with this, too. Settles back and preps himself with more lube, to judge by the tense sounds he makes, and Hoseok glances back a few times to enjoy the sight of Yoongi stroking his cock. After some time – more time than is needed, Yoongi’s eyes alight with wicked amusement when Hoseok squirms – he guides himself to Hoseok, the other hand returning to grip the back of his neck. Enters him with a gradual thrust that’s slick and easy because of the lube. Almost too easy, leaving Hoseok panting for more.

Yoongi’s not a liar, though. At least not about this. He gives Hoseok more, and then some.

His dick is more than enough to fill Hoseok, a swelling force that only grows as Yoongi pushes himself in more deeply. The heat builds, swelters, sweeps across Hoseok’s muscles until he’s trembling with the intensity of it. His partner’s sounds – guttural grunts that pitch into tantalizing breathlessness – just enhance the feverish frenzy.

Yoongi is as deliberate as before, but – thank fucking God – he picks up the pace before too long. His tempo is jarring in its relentless drive, and he hammers into Hoseok with so much force that it becomes hard to hold himself up on the couch arm.

A particularly strong thrust spills Hoseok off his balance, and he pitches forward and finds himself hanging off the edge of the couch, the arm pushing into his lower chest. The sudden change in position puts Yoongi at just the right angle, and his next stroke has Hoseok crying out with the burn of pleasure. The other man slows, but Hoseok manages to croak, “No, Yoongs, keep – keep going,” and Yoongi obliges.

At last, and too soon, he comes. The tidal wave of electric heat surges from Hoseok’s groin, splashes against his nerves and sends waves of shuddering release through his trembling body as his back arches. Hoseok shakes with the intensity of his peak, whining gasps escaping his lips, his vision white around the edges. He can feel his cum trickling down his leg, and the sensation makes him sag. It takes all he has not to collapse completely, to just let the pleasure overwhelm him.

But Yoongi’s still going, so Hoseok does the best he can to keep upright. After the initial flurry of gut-wrenching fervor, it gets easier, and he rolls his hips a bit, pushes back, trying to return the favour. Yoongi’s hand never left his neck, and it tightens now as Yoongi’s strokes become faster, shorter, more erratic. “Fuck, Hobi,” he’s panting, the words a slur of feeling. “You’re so – perfect. So much ...”

Hoseok feels Yoongi’s orgasm as a pulsing at the base of his cock, buried in Hoseok’s ass. As, seconds later, an increased wetness pooling inside. More vivid is Yoongi’s voice, huskily crying out, his tone a tapestry of gratified colours.

He can read that tapestry, and to hear Yoongi elevated to those blissful highs makes something in Hoseok’s chest tighten and lighten simultaneously. When Yoongi slumps against him, rubbing his face into Hoseok’s shoulder, the exhilaration just soars, a sweet joy that they still have this. Can still leave each other spent in the best way possible.

The past wavers against the future like a mirage rising from the road, difficult to separate, but for this moment, with Yoongi a warm weight against his back, Hoseok ignores the presence of the illusion. He flops onto the couch, and Yoongi falls partially on him with a grunt of agreement. They lie there for several minutes, and the other man barely moves, his breathing deep and steady as it spills against Hoseok’s skin.

It doesn’t last forever. It can’t. But while it does, he closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the careless way Yoongi slouches into him. Like it’s natural. Like they’re both exactly where they’re supposed to be. He lets himself believe in the reassuring burden at his back. Lets himself believe, for now, that it won’t suddenly disappear.

Yoongi lifts himself up after a while, but not before nuzzling against Hoseok’s shoulder a final time. “Time to clean up,” he whispers, and then he’s pulling out in a gush of sticky warmth that stains Hoseok’s thighs and probably the couch, too.

The next few minutes are all business, though this, at least, isn’t caused by whatever alienation is between them. Yoongi’s always been very no-nonsense about clean-up, and Hoseok is enough of a neat freak to jump on that wagon with wholehearted purpose. They don’t talk, and at first that’s fine, the familiarity of the tasks before them settling naturally into the silence. They wipe themselves off, fix the squished cushions. As Hoseok pulls on his pants, Yoongi disappears and then reappears with cleaning supplies.

By mutual agreement, Hoseok scrubs the floor and Yoongi tackles the couch. It’s as his knees are pressed into the floor and he’s briskly wiping at the puddle left by the blowjob that discomfort starts to creep up on him, and the quiet begins to grate.

Even when they’re done and Yoongi’s flipped the worst of the cushions with nonchalant disregard for whoever turns it over in the future, the silence stays. They settle back onto the couch – Yoongi in a new set of clothes he’d recovered from his room down the hallway, black sweats and a grey T-shirt – and this is different than the agonizingly tense stillness of before.

It’s more tired, less hostile. But no less bewildered, for all of that.

Hoseok wonders how stupid it is to wish that, just once, a bandaid could cure gaping wounds and broken hearts.

At least Yoongi isn’t sitting much apart from him. As they recline, Yoongi with his feet up on the table, the smaller man is close enough to touch. Hoseok, made greedy by everything that’s gone before, too drained to be afraid enough to stop, holds out his hand. After a moment of hesitation, Yoongi settles his hand on top. Not quite holding – his fingertips trace fitfully across Hoseok’s palm, a ticklish series of swirls and lines.

Yoongi seems content to sit as they are; his eyes are half-closed, and he doesn’t stir like Hoseok does, every few seconds shifting and tensing. Yoongi is good at accepting the things in his hands, especially if it’s what he’s wanted all along. For Hoseok, though…

The anxiety grows, and if it isn’t anywhere near strong enough to displace the satisfaction and almost-wholeness of the last hour or so, it’s too stubborn to totally dislodge from his mind.

He steals a look at Yoongi, at his long lashes lazily fluttering over his dark eyes, at the slight curl of his mouth, an unconscious expression of contentment. The sight has Hoseok’s throat closing with yearning, and he honestly can’t tell if it’s a longing for the man or his ability to exist in the moment. Hoseok used to be good at that – he used to be the best – but it’s something he’s lost over the years.

Just like so much else. How much of it can he get back? How much should he get back?

What if he wants it all?

He stirs for the umpteenth time, but more forcefully. When he withdraws his hand, Yoongi’s eyes slide open, head tipping to consider him. His expression is watchful and solemn, so much so that Hoseok realizes he hadn’t been as at ease as Hoseok had thought.

“Tired?” Yoongi asks wanly.

“Something like that,” Hoseok replies, just as faded.

There isn’t a window in this room, but there must be one in the kitchen because Yoongi says, “It’s almost a fucking snowstorm out there. Not much point in you going home in that.”

There’s a pause, and Yoongi’s gaze drifts to the hallway leading to his room. He hadn’t offered the space for them to fuck around in – a hurt that Hoseok buried deep in his chest when they began – and he seems to be struggling now. Furrows appear between his fine eyebrows, an eloquent testament to the conflict going on in his head, a return to the tension of before. Hoseok abruptly can’t bear to see it.

They both want so badly, but sometimes – for just today, or maybe forever – they have to accept that they can’t have it all.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Yoongi stills at the declaration Hoseok makes, his hand coming up to press against his neck like he needs reassurance.

It’s such a lost, lonely look. Hoseok swallows, and then smiles. One of his better pieces. “It’s fine. You always get those rocks for pillows, I’ll be better out here.”

“They’re good for my neck,” Yoongi mutters, but his hand doesn’t leave his throat and he still looks unsure. Like any second he might blurt out the invitation that neither of them are really comfortable accepting.

“I still move around like a psycho in my sleep, Yoongs, ‘specially in an unfamiliar bed. Believe me, it’s better if I’m out here.” He meets Yoongi’s gaze, tries to reassure with eyes alone that he is okay with this.

And he is. Insofar as he’s been okay with anything tonight.

At last Yoongi relents and his hand falls. “‘Kay. I’ll grab you some shit.”

Blankets, a pillow, some oversized sweats, a toothbrush, they’re all unceremoniously dumped onto the couch. Yoongi – somewhat belatedly – gives him a tour of the small apartment, though it doesn’t include his room. It’s essentially to point out the bathroom and where the chipped glasses for water are in the kitchen. As he’d said, it’s snowing hard outside, and when Hoseok returns to the living room he actually feels grateful to be able to curl into blankets instead of straggling outside in the cold.

The rest is just cleaning up, fastidiously making a bed for himself, throwing on the sweatpants Yoongi provided, and then reclining on the couch. It’s just a bit too small, and he might or might not find himself falling off it at some point during the night – he was being honest about the restlessness thing – but nonetheless Hoseok grins at Yoongi, hovering nearby.

“Perfect!” he declares, stretching out his arms and wiggling his toes under the blanket.

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow at the enthusiastic and totally not excessive display. “You look like a kid at your first sleepover,” he observes with a snort that does nothing to dispel the affection in his voice.

Hoseok squirms his way deeper into the blankets in reply.

Smiling faintly, Yoongi shakes his head. “Night, Hobi. You want the light off?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

The living room is abruptly dark, leaving just the light spilling from behind the door to Yoongi’s bedroom, left slightly ajar. Hoseok wiggles a few more times, finding a more comfortable position. It’s as he’s sinking into the cushions with a sudden sense of exhaustion that he realizes Yoongi isn’t in his room; his silhouette is breaking up the light coming from there.

He cranes his neck, can’t see anything but Yoongi’s dim outline down the hall, and gives it up as a bad job. Instead Hoseok just stares up at the ceiling he can’t see, listening to the sound of his own steady breathing. He waits.

“Hey, Hobi?” Yoongi’s voice eventually slips through the dark room, diffidently calling for Hoseok’s attention, and he murmurs a quiet question in return.

“I missed you, too.”

It comes to Hoseok as Yoongi’s door softly closes that he’s holding his breath. Like a sudden exhale might release the thrumming in his chest. Like he might spill the nebulous joy if he sighs too hard. His thoughts are fragile with uncertainty. The elation is a shivery, delicate thing, and he knows if he holds it too hard in his head it’s going to go to pieces under the weight of the past.

So Hoseok doesn’t hold the words hard. He breathes. Breathes and closes his eyes and pushes his face into the pillow that smells like Yoongi. He follows those words as he slips into sleep, and he couldn’t have said where they were leading him.

#yoongi x hoseok #yoonseok #sope #yoonseok smut #yoongi #hoseok #my fic

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iminlovewithaprettygirl · 4 years ago

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After his eyes closed (1/?)

Arthur’s eyes closed and his world ended. He could feel it in every nerve of his body. His chest was cold and tight and he couldn’t suck in a single breath. He was left fumbling with Arthurs limp body, the cold armor brushing against his skin and the weight of him against his chest never felt heavier. Full sobs were wracking his body and as the minutes grew longer he held on tighter to Arthur. He couldn’t let him slip away.

He couldn’t.

He’s spent what felt like his whole life with this idiot. This brave, loyal, strong idiot. He couldn’t be gone.

He slammed his hand down on the earth below him. He couldn’t see straight through all the tears and he couldn't think and he couldn’t breathe and everything was too much. He needed to throw something. He needed to punch someone. He needed to run into the lake and swim till his body couldn’t function and he sunk like a rock. He slammed his hand down onto the dirt again.

He wanted things to go back. He just needed another chance. Arthur needed another chance. He hugged Arthur even closer to his chest. He would give everything for him to reach his arms up and pry Merlin off of him. Why couldn’t he have that.

He slammed his hand down again with his eyes closed tight. He needed to fix this. He had to fix this.

He slammed his hand down again and again and then he felt someone tug on Arthur. Honest to god tug on him. He would not let anyone take him away. How dare they. He would fix this. He held on tight with both his arms and then he heard the most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his goddamn life. A coughing fit. His arms slacked and he blinked through the water in his eyes.

“Arthur?”

“Mer-,” Arthur paused to cough again, his voice audibly scratchy, “Merlin?”

Merlin, who had finally cleared his eyes enough to see, looked at his friend's face. The man who he was positive just died in his arms. He saw it happen. He knew that he saw his face slacken. Heard his breathing stop. Felt his skin slowly grow icy and his body grow heavy.

But here he is looking up at him with open confusion.

All Merlin could do was stare at his friends' suddenly healthy and lively face and be dumbfounded. His skin was flushed a healthy pink rather than tinted with blue. He brought his hand down and lifted up the layers of chainmail and fabric on Arthurs chest to reveal the bloody bandages, but the skin was smooth and slowly rising up and down in time with Arthur’s breathing. Merlin's hand traced the skin where the wound should be and he could feel his friend’s eyes boring into his skull.

He rested his hand on Arthurs chest and looked him dead in the eye.

“You’re alive.”

The returning smile was blinding.

“How’d you do it?”

“I, um, I don’t think I did?” Merlin answered honestly, he automatically moved his hand to scratch the back of his head, but paused when he realized that would mean he would stop holding Arthur. He was not ready to do that yet. Or ever.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice much harder and expectant, drawing out the r in a very familiar way that made Merlin’s chest loosen a bit more.

“No really, I didn’t do anything! You just- you just died and then you were very much not dead. Are very much not dead. I’ve just been sitting here!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Useful as ever then.” The king still held tight in his arms, brought his hand up and nudged Merlin’s fingers to the side to feel what should be an openly bleeding wound. “How’d you explain this then? I thought you couldn’t heal a wound that was made by a dragon sword. That’s why we were going to the lake.”

“Forged in a dragon’s breath,” Merlin corrected. “I can’t. No one can, even this trip was a shot in the dark.”

Arthur flopped his head back onto Merlin’s chest and made a noise of exasperation. Then there was a moment of silence where Merlin finally took a full breath, he hadn’t been able to breathe properly for days. No, weeks. He thought he might just pass out from the weight lifted off of him. Arthur was alive, everything would be okay.

“Morgana is dead,” he said in a soft voice, almost quiet enough for the wind to carry it away.

“Yeah. She is,” Arthur responded in the same tone, Arthur cleared his throat and picked himself off of Merlin. Merlin moved to help him stand, but instead found a hand reaching down to help him up. He stared at the outstretched hand then at Arthur’s face, framed with the warm light of the slowly rising sun before he took him in a firm grasp and pulled himself off the ground.

“You’re really okay then? You feel fine? No dizziness? Tired at all?”

Arthur took a moment to look down at himself, apparently just as surprised as Merlin. “I feel fine. Actually no, I feel great.” Merlin could only stare in wonder as Arthur started to stretch himself, arching his back, rolling his neck and shoulders until he paused. Arthur rolled his right shoulder again, slowly and deliberately.

“Arthur?”

“My shoulder, it feels great.” He dropped his hand down and felt along the side of his thigh. “And my leg.”

Arthur reached to start undoing his armor and Merlin stepped forward to help him, automatically brushing his king’s hands aside, and Arthur easily let him. Once he slipped off the chainmail, Arthur pulled off his red tunic and traced his fingers over where there should be a shiny white line. A silly mistake years ago, the sword sunk about an inch into the meat of his shoulder before another knight kicked the bandit away. Took months to heal properly and he can still feel it stretch with every swing.

“Merlin. What did you do?” He searched his arms and torso and found none of the scars of a battle worn king. The only mark was a small sliver of white on his forearm. You couldn’t even see it if you weren’t looking. It was when he and Morgana were little and Arthur had helped her learn the beginnings of swordsmanship. They did it in the dead of night so Uther wouldn’t find out. Morgana had accidentally swiped him with a dagger and he cried all the way to Gaius’ chambers.

“Arthur. I swear I didn’t do whatever this is.” Merlin grabbed onto Arthur’s arms and looked him in the eye. His face was resolute, he had something to say, but hesitant on the same time, like he was terrified of the response. When he spoke, his voice was steady. “Arthur. I am sick of lying to you. I hate it. You are my best friend, and I- we’ve been given this second chance. I don’t deserve it, but I need you to hear this. I need you to know that I will never lie to you again. I’d sooner die. I swear.”

Arthur looked at him. Searched his eyes. Agravaine told him he would never lie to him, said he was his most trusted. His father lied to him everyday of his life about Morgana and his mother, not even in death did his father tell him the truth. Mordred swore an oath to him, pledged his allegiance to Camelot and to him, and then he stabbed him through the chest. Morgana was his sister, they grew up together, he taught her how to ride a horse and how to swing a sword and he let her destroy him. So, when he looked into Merlin’s eyes, the man who had lied to him from the day they first met. The man who deceived him countless times. Merlin, who could probably kill him in seconds flat if he wanted. The man who he had rode into battle with, who he trusted with his life. The man who he ate with and rode horses with everyday for years, who tripped over his own feet when he had to carry more than two things. The man who would give everything for him and proven it time and time again.

He looked into this man’s eyes and he said, “Okay.”

#merlin #arthur pendragon #fix it #time travel #fic #fanfiction #current wip #first draft #let me know what you think!#eventual merthur

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yugyummygot7reactions · 4 years ago

Text

Behind the Curtain - 7

| Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue |

Updates are Sundays at 5pm PST! Next week is the end!!!

Characters: Jaebeom x You

Genre: Smut

Warning(s): Breath Play, Light Name Calling, Size kink? sort of not really

Word Count: 2,248

You were turning the final corner to your room when you slammed face first into a wall of a human. Im Jaebeom.

“I’m sorry!” You said as you stood up and tried to catch your breath. “

My office.” He said as he walked past you, “NOW!!”

Dealing with the situation inside of you would have to wait. It was time to face the fearsome leader.

He’s twice your size. Easily. He’s nearly a head taller than everyone but Yugyeom and is built with the shoulders of a linebacker. You fidget uncomfortably, wondering why your stomach insists on flipping like a gymnast at the Olympics. JB’s eyes settle on you, anger seething from them and for some reason you blush and quickly avert your gaze.

Jaebeom paces around the room while you just awkwardly stand there, waiting for whatever storm was about to come your way and his arms keep brushing yours as he paces. Whether it was accidental or not, it was sending shivers down your spine. He pushes a button on his desk and then finally stops to turn and face you.

“Did you know what was coming and not tell me?” He finally asked, his voice is loud in your ear, his head so close that you are occupying practically the same space in his large office. You have to fight the flush crawling up your neck having him this close. “The raid?” You ask innocently, “Why would I have known before you?” “That is the true question Y/N.” He paces again before pulling his face hairs away from yours, his eyes piercing your soul. “Why did you know before us? Are you involved?” “I didn’t know.” You said firmly, trying not to falter as your heartbeat began to race. He might seem soft to those who know him, but he isn’t the gang leader for nothing. “Ahhh…I thought we didn’t lie in this gang.” He said as he pulled back a little. “I’m not lying.” You try to convince him and a smirk overtakes his lips. “That’s impressive.” he says, taking a sip of the water you just now notice is on his desk. “You must practice a lot.” “Practice?” You asked, confused at the statement. “Yeah,” he says, slyly, “Practice keeping your life story straight, your lies straight, keeping us complacent with your nearly flawless work only to have it all come crashing down in the end.”

You were looking anywhere but him. If you make eye contact, you’ll die. Literally and metaphorically.

“Someone has to work hard to make a good girl out of you.”

His voice has dropped an octave with that comment. You feel it in your core, but have to remain calm and collected on the outside. Does that mean he is letting you live? That he has some kind of plan that will assure his victory?

“Sometimes you need direction to find your way back to where you belong, a heavy hand, maybe?” He asked as he began to come closer again. “Do you like it when someone’s strict with you? You seem to not tremble as much as I thought someone like you would.” “Someone like me?” You asked, swallowing harder than you meant to.

“A traitor.” His hand comes up—hot, searing fingertips ghost against your jaw before carefully sliding back so that his thumb hooks under your chin and the rest of his fingers can put heavy, pressure on your throat. His fingers span the entire width of your neck easily and the pressure on your windpipe quickly hits you. He leans down until his face is directly in front of yours again. You can feel your knees start trembling when you realize that your life is literally in his hand and he knows your secret. “I wish you would look me in the eyes instead of looking away all the time.” He tilts your head up, almost forcing your eyes to lock on to his. You stare fiercely, emboldened by his dare. You look at his lush eyelashes, his moles above his eye, the stubble he missed on his chin, the way his skin creases at his eyes. Most of all, you look down at his mouth—pink, soft lips that he wets with the tip of his tongue before he speaks. If this was the last thing you ever saw, you wouldn’t be too mad.

Jaebeom quickly swapped places with you and pushed you up against his desk. His one hand reaching your waist to hold you still. He squeezes, a fingertip ever so gently gliding under the waistband of your pants. It drives all of your blood south, making your clit throb against the seam of your pants. In the craziness of earlier with Jackson, your underwear had disappeared.

You yelp as JB releases your throat for a moment, grabs you around the middle and completely lifts off the ground with a pair of arms as immovable as iron shackles. You squirm, nearly managing a kick where it hurts the most, but you are pulled back tight against a warm, solid body.

“I kinda like you scared,” he counters, squeezing you. “seeing the look in a traitor’s eyes before death always gives me a rush.

“I’m not a trait-“

His hand is around your throat again in an instant. It makes your whole body dizzy, it makes you feel vulnerable as hell and you can’t help but want to melt into the arms of the man who is about to kill you. The weirdest thing is that you can breathe easily—his fingers only squeeze on the sides, effectively cutting off the blood flow to your brain, instead of your windpipe. He is trying to weaken you for information instead of just outright kill you and you realize just how skilled with his hands this man is. The effect is like a live wire to your cunt.

“Why is it you only listen when you have to be manhandled into it?”

He sets you down on your feet again and you gasp for air, the blood rushing back to your head. It sends a trickle up your spine.

His hand sneaks up your shirt to squeeze your breasts hard enough to make your whimper. “Gonna fucking devour these tits. If you’re going to lie, you’re going to die, and I might as well have some fun first.“

“Jaebeom,” you accidentally moan, sounding pretty needy.

He pulls back, wiping his mouth where spit has practically dribbled onto his chin from his forceful talking. It should be gross, but instead you want to lick him clean.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

He pushes you down on the hard wood. “I always knew you were a little slut,” he mutters, undoing his belt. “Christ, the things I’ve thought about doing to you— and yet you went to everyone else but me for relief over the last few days.“ You watch his zipper with a concentration usually reserved for combat.

His cock springs out, hard and heavy under its own weight. It’s nearly as thick as your wrist.

“Fuck,” you whisper. It’s so much better than anyone else in the gang you had seen. You knew It was your last fuck and you couldn’t be happier it was with this dick.

“You’re going to suck me off until I come in that pretty little throat, right? You have to swallow, okay? Obey one last order before it’s time to go.”

You nod, entranced by the throbbing tip, where he’s leaking pearled drops of pre-cum.

You lean forward and lick the flat of your tongue up his shaft to taste him.

Immediately, he grabs a fistful of your hair, which normally you would break someone’s finger for, but you kind of like being held like this. It just shows his dominance and proves that no matter what, you can’t get away.

Your open your mouth and ease the entire head in as far as you comfortably can on the first try, but when you gag yourself a little, he makes sure to force himself in more, if only a notch deeper.

His cock suddenly jerks to draw your attention, tightening up a bit, as if trying to get harder than he already is. He begins moving your head back and forth and your jaw is already edging on its way to soreness, but somehow feeling the tip hit the back of your tongue, tasting each time more pre-come leaks out of him, feels good.

His breath becomes more labored as you suck on him more. You learned you love the way his chest heaves, the fabric of his shirt stretching across his pectoral muscles. If only you really were on his side, you both would make a great power couple both in and out of the bedroom.

One of his feet slide forward, settling between your thighs. “Good girls get to grind their pussy on my boot while they suck cock,” he growls. “I’m not even that cruel to deny someone release before their death.”

You moan around his length when your clit meets the friction of the shoe through your too thick pants. You roughly hump his leg and leave a clear puddle of evidence. Would he smell it tomorrow, your pussy on his clothes, and think of you on your knees? Crying with a cock between your lips? Would the raid happen as planned and he won’t even make it to tomorrow?

Suddenly his hips find the will to move urgently. His cock fills your throat up enough that you can’t breathe, the hand on the back of your head presses you further into the stretch, and you feel his cock push forward into your gag reflex.

You feel tears leak out of your eyes. It feels like you have been caught in a perpetual choke.

“Good girl,” he groans out. “Swallow. I want to feel it.”

Your mouth quivers. He seems too in control to come. That seems to be the theme with Im Jaebeom though, In control until the last moment.

He groans loudly, hips stuttering. “Feels so fucking good. Knew you could take the whole thing, my messy, drooling slut.”

He slides out and you launch into a coughing fit, doubling over. He gives you a second to catch your breath before tugging at your scalp again, pulling you back up on your knees. “I.. can’t.. take it, please, fucking do it already ...” you begged, not knowing at this point if you wanted him to just fuck you or kill you already. “Do what? “ he said coyly, as he slid your pants down and moved you up onto the desk, pushing his still hard tip slightly into your folds. “Kill you? No. you are too valuable for that. I need more details before you can have this suffering end. I know you aren’t on our side and that your ‘mother’ who you write to is actually your handler. I’m smarter than you clearly give me credit for.” With that, he lined himself up and quickly thrust himself into you. You couldn’t contain your loud gasp as his cock filled you up so quickly. The stretch was painfully blissful. Jaebeom began to pound into you, keeping up a consistent rhythm, hard and quick. He was going to fuck you silly so that he could get all of the information he needed. You were starting to lose focus, but you had to stay coherent. He slowed down as he felt himself come close to climaxing, his breathing becoming heavy again. “Tell me when the raid is.” He said as he slowed his pace, stopping your pleasure in its tracks. “No,” you panted, trying to keep your cool. His hands found your neck this time, cutting off airflow. “Tell. Me. Now.” His teeth were clenched and he was clearly ready for this game to be over. You shook your head as best you could. The lack of airflow and fullness of his cock inside of you was bringing you to your climax without him needing to move at all. You knew you wouldn’t last too much longer. You might even black out first. “TELL ME!!!” he screamed as he grabbed your neck tighter. Your orgasm hit you hard with his rush of anger and much to his surprise, the way you clenched around him caused his focus to slip and an orgasm hit him harder than he thought it could. He grip tightened again as he came, and before you could black out and accept your fate, the door to the office was kicked in and the special forces were there to save you. Jaebeom let go of you out of surprise and you fell to the ground coughing. The agency made it in the nick of time. “Who?” Is all you were asked by the lead; you recognized the voice as your former partner. “I’m glad you got my message to move up the raid. A second later and I would’ve been a goner.” You barely got the words out your throat was so sore.

“We can talk about that later. Who?” He asked again. “Mark, Bam Bam, Yugyeom.” You said, rubbing your neck to rid the feeling of JB’s hand trying to force the life out of you, still working on catching your breath. “What does that mean?” JB asked angrily as two men ran forward and restrained him. “Mark,” you stood up, “Bam Bam,” you fixed your pants, “and Yugyeom.” You took a gun from your former partner put it right between Jaebeom’s eyes. You heard the agency spread the word on who to save while you quickly removed the safety from the weapon. “I’m glad I was able to let you cum one last time before the end.” You smirked. “I’m not even that cruel to deny someone release before their death.”

You pulled the trigger.

_______________________________________________________________________

Hello My Lovelies!!

So that was the last smut chapter!!! What did you think??

Were you surprised on who was light or dark?

Let me know!!! Epilogue is coming next week.

Until Next Time,

~LoLo

#Behind the Curtain #yugyummygot7reactions #jaebeom #im jaebeom #got7 #jaebeom smut #jaebum smut #got7 smut #jaebum #im jaebum

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ladyteacups · 5 years ago

Text

Experienced

GIF NOT MINE

Summary: Smut with a hit of plot... idk how much more you want.

A/N: I hope this don’t suck. I don’t write much smut but I was just inspired I guess. Some language is offensive probably so... don’t like it, don’t read it. I only read through it once so.. idk man. I just wanted to share.

Warnings: It’s dirty smut my guy. age gap. cursing, and again offensive language. don’t like, don’t read. unrequited crush. bad spelling, sorry I didn’t wanna spellcheck. breeding kink. gettin dirty in public.

Y/N was practically drooling on the training mat as she lay on her belly, her cheek propped up against her hand. Her best friend was right next to her, in the same position. They unintentionally gawked openly.

“He’s so beautiful,” Danny commented next to her.

Y/N nodded her agreement as Bucky’s muscles flexed with each rep he did.

“I wanna pull his hair so bad,” she said back.

Danny sighed. “You think he likes that kinda thing? Like… rough?”

Y/N nodded so fast she feared whiplash. “A hundred percent.” Her gaze shifted to Danny and it was returned at the admission.

“I bet he could really break me in, ya know what I mean?”

They both looked at him as he switched to pull ups. His back faced them and they both gasped at the scratches scattered across his back.

Danny giggled. “Some lucky girl really enjoyed herself.”

Y/N had to admit her jealousy. She wanted to be the one to put those marks on his skin. To give him a reminder of their passion.

“What I wouldn’t give to put my own mark on him.”

Y/N looked over at Danny with a smirk. “Where would you put it?” She wiggled her brows at her.

Danny blushed slightly. “Right on his-

“Hey guys.”

They both looked up to see Peter walking over. Reluctantly they wiped at the drool and stood to meet him.

“Hey Pete. What’s up?”

Peter answered Danny’s greeting but Y/N was still lost in Bucky’s heaving chest as he sipped his water and sent her a wink.

Good. Lord. Her face tinted pink, but he just went right back to work. Arms and pecs day, she noticed.. Nice.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

Her gaze snapped back to Peter.

“Huh?”

He looked nervous.

“I said, me, Ned, and his girlfriend are all going to the carnival in town. I asked if you wanted to go?”

She nodded absentmindedly. “Uh, sure Pete. Sounds good.”

He smiled brightly but she was hardly paying him any mind. Her eyes were trained on Bucky’s arms, and wait a second.. Was that a tattoo she caught sight of? Swoon. Y/N wondered what it was. Something hot probably. Like a skull, or a spider, ooh or a pinup girl that looks an awful lot like her somehow.

“Cool so I’ll text you the deets.”

Peter’s smile was bright and drew her attention back. She just nodded.

When he walked off and Y/N expected her and Danny to go back to talking about the sexy man grunting as he lifted weights. Heavy weights. Like twice her body weight kind of weights. Damn, now she’s wondering what else the serum gave him.

“Y/N, why did you just agree to a date with Peter when you know you’re not into him?”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s not a date.”

“Uh, yes it is. A double date actually.”

“Well so what? Agreeing to go out doesn’t make him my boyfriend.”

Danny wanted to press the issue. She knew Peter was crushing hard on Y/N, but she wouldn’t look twice at him. He wasn’t nearly old enough to catch her eye. But Y/N was right. Plus maybe indulging the kid would make him see that Y/N wasn’t the one for him.

“Just don’t let him get his hopes up.”

Y/N agreed and they took a break from Bucky watch to go see a movie.

Y/N returned a little later than expected. Her head was thrown back in laughter as she walked down the hall. Her attention fully on the phone call she was currently engaging in with her friend Matt.

“No way if I had the balls to seduce somebody I’d wear the little black number hiding in my closet. I think I’d die if anyone saw me in it though. Could you imagine me showing off my ugly birthmark? I don’t think so.”

Matt laughed and said something back, but she wasn’t paying attention anymore.

Bucky Barnes stepped into her path quick and quiet. She nearly stumbled, and hurried Matt off the phone when she saw the look in Bucky’s eyes.

Sticking the phone in her pocket she stood straight as a rod under Bucky’s scrutinizing gaze. He smirked at her after he looked her over.

“Well Y/L/N, how’d you enjoy your movie?”

She got the faintest impression that he didn’t actually give a shit, but she didn’t want to leave him.

“It was really funny. I’m already ready to see it again.”

“That’s great.” He looked her over again and asked suddenly, “So… this birthmark… where’s it at?”

She blushed deeply.

“Because, I’ve never seen one and I know I’ve seen plenty of your bare skin before.”

“Well it’s. Ya know. I- that’s personal.” She crossed her arms.

He wanted to laugh at her upset expression. Damn she’s cute.

“I guess I’ll have to find it then.”

Before she knew it, Bucky had grabbed her shirt and pulled her flush to him as he attacked her lips with a hunger she never witnessed before.

His hands roamed her belly, just above the hem of her skirt and she pulled him closer.

“Not here,” he said without looking.

Y/N shook her head, agreeing with him. Nope, definitely not there.

His hands moved upwards, caressing just below the wire of her bra.

She wrapped her leg around his waist, pulling him closer. She felt his hardness through his sweatpants, and she was suddenly thankful for the skirt. She grinded her core against him and he growled into her mouth, “not here either.”

She wanted to laugh. Y/N was sure she was gonna like this game.

He cupped one breast through her bra. “Maybe here?”

He pulled it down to play with her tits. Teasing one nipple, then the other.

She moaned against him when he dipped his tongue into her hot mouth. She groaned out his name when he pressed their lower halves together harder. Then she pulled away completely.

He wasn’t even panting but she was sure she looked a mess. She straightened her shirt.

She could still taste it on her tongue. Meeting his questioning look she said clearly, “Bucky you’re drunk.”

He shook his head. “Angel I only had a little, it’s fine.”

He tried to pull her back to him but she resisted. His pout made her melt a little but she wouldn’t do this.

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight Bucky.”

And she walked past him without hearing if he replied or not.

At least she got one thing though. The tattoo was a bird.

Y/N couldn’t stop thinking of her brief moment with Bucky in the hallway. His hands touching her, tugging her, teasing her. Fuck. That’s it! She was completely fucked. She needed to get him out of her system. Y/N was sure that would work. Indulge a little and everything will go back to equilibrium.

She painted on her lip gloss and waited for Peter.

He was taking her out tonight for a double date with his friends and Y/N wasn’t sure how to act. She didn’t exactly mean to agree to a date but she did it.

She stepped back for a final look when she heard the knock at her door. Cute and not too flirty. Hopefully safe.

Y/N opened the door expecting Peter but coming face to chest with Bucky Barnes.

“James! What are you doing here?”

He looked her over. “Going out?”

“Uh, yeah. Peter’s taking me to the carnival tonight.”

He nodded as he eyed her sexy black heels.

Peter walked up just then and Bucky was quick to excuse himself. He disappeared quickly, leaving the two alone.

Pete certainly looked excited as they walked the carnival grounds together. He was a perfect gentleman. He offered his coat when he thought she shivered. He rode the ferris wheel with her. He even stayed with her when the ride threatened to make her sick. She really hated heights.

When the four of them sat down to eat, she realized she liked Peter and his friends. They were nice. Not quite her crowd, but they were sweet. She laughed at all of Ned and Peter’s jokes and Ned’s girlfriend told her where she got her really cute top. It was all going pretty ok.

Y/N hoped she wasn’t getting Peter’s hopes up. She really did like him just… not like that.

When Y/N decided she wanted to ride the roller coaster, Peter had to opt out. He almost looked sick so she didn’t push or tease him.

She stood in line and waited till the gate opened. She took a seat in the back but wasn’t expecting someone to get in right behind her.

Y/N looked up into Bucky’s beautiful eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, leaning in to whisper, “I was wondering about the little black number in your closet.”

He looked thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I still haven’t found that birthmark either.”

She sighed. Y/N had been embarrassed enough that he kissed her because he was drunk, without needing the reminder of her birthmark.

“Are you asking me where it is?”

He shrugged. “I thought you were having fun letting me find it.”

Just then the cars lurched forward. She hadn’t even noticed the guy come around to check on everyone.

“I don’t remember you actually looking. More like feeling me up in the hall.”

Bucky chuckled. His hand wrapped around her and his fingers brushed lightly over her neck. Shivers traveled through her body at his touch.

She thought for a moment about how big he felt pressed against her center. He was definitely hung. That much she could tell. Remembering his thickness had her biting her lip.

She nearly forgot Bucky was right here next to her until he grabbed her chin, made her face him, and kissed her.

Y/N stuttered briefly. Her thoughts interrupted and her panties dampening seemed to be exactly what he wanted.

Before she could collect herself, his hand started up her skirt. She bit his lip almost painfully and he growled at her. His hand went higher, caressing her soft skin and moving towards the treasure between her legs.

“You were right angel.” His voice was husky at her ear. “I do like it rough.”

It took two seconds for him to reach her panties, yank them down and plunge two fingers into her heat. She gasped and gripped his arm as he felt her insides.

One hand was removing her panties from her ankles and placing them in his pocket, while the other was torturing her slowly.

The roller coaster stopped climbing and zipped down the first big dive.

Y/N moaned against his mouth like she had the night before in the hall. “You don’t think I’m too young?”

He blinked at her, his fingers halting for a moment.

“What, you think I’m too old?” He questioned her.

She shook her head and he gladly resumed pleasuring her.

“No. I think it’s so hot. An older man touching me. Knowing exactly what he wants. Teaching me just how he wants his cock sucked.”

Bucky groaned. “Angel you can’t talk about sucking cock with that sinful mouth of yours or I’ll explode.”

“Just like that Bucky.” She encouraged his movements and tried to meet his pumping hand. “Feels so good. Are you this good with your tongue too?”

He smirked. “You wanna ride my tongue Baby? You want me to make you see stars as you cum all over my face?”

His fingers hit that spot and she was nearly there. Just a bit more.

“Fuck James. I love the way you talk.”

“You like it dirty honey?”

She moaned out a, “yes,” before he continued.

He stuck his metal fingers in her open mouth and ordered her to suck. “Get ‘em nice and wet baby.”

She did as she was told and sucked his fingers. She swirled her tongue over the plates in his hand and he tried to hold back the feelings that surfaced.

He pulled his fingers from her mouth and gave them a lick before he brought them down to her heat, flicking them across her clit.

Y/N’s orgasm hit instantly and Bucky was quick to capture her lips and swallow every moan she let out. He was absolutely relentless. Even as she came down he finger fucked her sensitive hole. Y/N clutched his arm, her nails digging in as she begged him to stop. Bucky could only smile, pulling his fingers from her and licking them clean of her cum. Her blush was bright and he faintly heard her yelp. Lord help him, he wanted this girl again and again.

“I’m taking you home with me,” he said as the ride slowed.

She was looking around and snapped her head up to look at him. “Bucky my panties are gone.”

“I’ll get you new ones. Come on.”

He pulled her from the car and she fixed her skirt to not give wondering eyes a show. She was still eyeing the ground around the coaster, but Bucky was looking at the picture from the ride. His laugh distracted her from the search and her eyes went wide when she saw what he was looking at.

Y/N’s face pink, her eyes lusty, and her mouth open in shock, as Bucky sat next to her tasting his fingers. The fingers that were knuckle deep inside her seconds before.

She stared at the picture for a long second, studying the look on Bucky’s face as he looked at her. Damn if he isn’t the sexiest man she’s ever seen. His soulful eyes are so beautiful and his smile. She’s such a sucker for a nice smile, and Bucky has the best. She loves his smile. He gave them out freely now, but she cherished each one he offered to just her.

Bucky walked over, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulled her to him. “Come on honey. I’m taking you to my bed.”

She let him lead her to the car but couldn’t help asking. “What are you gonna do with me?”

Bucky chuckled. “I’m gonna spread ya open, eat my fill of your wet pussy, and fuck a baby in you.”

She nearly tripped at his words. Fucking hell.

A fresh wave of arousal hits her and she silently curses her missing panties for not being there to keep her thighs clean.

The car ride was silent. Bucky’s fist clenching the wheel and Y/N’s leg bouncing in anticipation. She quickly made an excuse to Peter over text to keep herself somewhat busy. She felt bad. Peter deserved more and she knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to care when she had Bucky next to her.

Arriving home was both freighting and exhilarating. She was biting her tongue to stop the shy grin when he opened the door for her and helped her out.

Y/N could hear Seethers ‘Careless whisper’ play in her head like she was in a movie, as she followed him inside and down the hall. The hall they were grinding in just under 24 hours ago. She occupied her mind with assigning a movie to the situation. 50 shades of gray? No… ok, so maybe that’s the only movie she could come up with. Then she tripped over her own feet and the record in her head scratched to a stop. Never mind. She knew exactly which one. Bridget Jones’s Diary.

Bucky turned at the sound of her epic fail and he rushed to help her up. “Jesus doll, you ok?”

She wanted to hide. Briefly she realized the roller coaster should have made her think the movie would be ‘fear’, but she was praying not.

“Yes. Fine, just embarrassed beyond belief.”

He chuckled. “This way babe.”

Damn that sounds good coming from him.

He opened the door and Y/N turned to look at the empty hallway. She imagined that it was the blue pill. She could leave and not let Bucky ruin her for any other man… or. She could take the leap and hope her amateur sex skills make him fall in love. decisions, decisions.

“You coming?”

She could hear the innuendo drip from his sexy full lips and she gulped that red pill down like she promised herself she’d do to his cock later.

When the door closed behind her, she heard the lock click in place and she turned to him. He pulled his jacket from his muscled body, and ordered her with one word.

“Strip.”

She only hesitated for a second but he still gave her a stern look. She stripped her clothes and waited for further instructions.

“Get on the bed beautiful and show me that pink cunt.”

She was quick this time. Nearly jumping on his bed and looking at him as she spread her legs for his perusal . He looked so long she wanted to close them again, but his shoulders were holding them open just as the thought crossed her mind.

His tongue touched her center before she could blink and she threw her head back. The sound was obscene as he licked and sucked her clit like he wanted to bruise her. His fingers were quick to resume their previous job of occupying her empty hole.

Y/N gripped his hair. It was all she could do seeing as his arm was holding her down. She was screaming his name and she could tell he loved the sounds. His tongue and fingers worked harder with each meaningful moan.

“Give it to me,” he commanded her.

And how can you argue with that? Right when she came seeing stars and chest heaving, Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled her panties out for her to see.

“James you- Holy shit!”

Bucky lapped at her, collecting every drop of cum and groaning at her taste. “I’m gonna have you like this at least two more times before I smack your ass as you leave my room.”

She snatched her panties from him when he laughed at her angry face.

“It’s not funny Buck. Who knows who got to see whats up my skirt.”

“Me, and that’s all that matters. And you’re not keeping those either.”

She wanted to argue but he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. He seemed to not give a single fuck as he pulled his dick out. He didn’t even care enough to finish taking his clothes off.

His shirt was wrapped tightly around his muscled chest, his jeans were just under his ass, and his biker boots were still laced up. Damn she felt like a five dollar whore and she wondered why she loved it. She considered briefly, asking him if he had five dollars. She’d accept her panties back as payment though. They came from the bargain bin and she’s pretty sure it was around five.

“You on the pill?” He questioned her, and she thanked god that the answer was, “Yes.”

“Good, cause I’m about to turn you into my own personal cum slut.”

And he sunk into her. Spreading her wet heat to his size and groaning at the tightness.

“Damn girl. Does all young pussy feel like this or just the ones that come with such fantastic tits?”

He hammered his point home by grabbing her tits and teasing the nipple. Sucking one into his mouth, he made her nearly cum again.

“I love the way you talk to me Bucky.” His hips started a smooth rhythm. “Makes me wanna give you all my holes to use up.”

He bit her nipple and gave her harsher thrusts. “Doesn’t matter if you give ‘em to me baby. I’m gonna take whatever I want from you.” He pulled one leg up to lay on his shoulder. “When I get done with this pussy, and I ain’t nearly there yet, I’m gonna see how soft and hot you pretty mouth is. I want that lipstick staining my shaft when I get done fucking your lips.”

She sent a thank you to her best friend for talking her out of liquid lipstick tonight, because damn she wanted to see that too.

“Fucking hell honey. You’re so tight I might cum already.”

“Don’t you dare leave me like this.”

He laughed. “Two orgasms and you get demanding? I’m gonna have to watch out for you.”

He pulled out, flipped her over, pulled her ass up and plunged back in.

“There’s that birthmark,” he laughed out loud seeing the patch of dark skin like a splatter of paint hit her ass. Sure enough right on her left ass cheek was a birthmark. Bucky wanted to kiss the cute mark but he held back. Choosing instead to give it a smack with a big ol’ grin on his face.

She decided to ignore that comment, and her pink cheeks, when he started to move inside her again. His thrusts were bruising and he grabbed her hair into a ponytail to pull her back on his cock. Her back arched when he pulled her hair. She was god damn loving it. The stretch, the way his balls slapped her, and most of all the fucking dirty words he was spouting.

“You look like a bitch in heat right now, letting me fuck you like animal.”

“Bucky,” she groaned into the air and she felt the release creeping up. “I’m so close James. Please let me have it.”

He was stretching her like never before and the pulse of his hips against hers was mind numbing. She could stay like this forever. Letting James fill her over and over. She’d happily be his breeding mare if he just kept fucking her like this.

He smacked her on the ass again and she didn’t wait for permission. She came with a loud scream and a fresh surge of cum coating his cock. Bucky fucked her through it then pulled out and pulled her hair to position her just how he wanted.

“Push those sexy tits together baby. I want my load right there.”

Y/N did as she was told, pressing her breasts together and up for him to fuck. And he did just that. Fucking her tits till he emptied his balls on her face, and breasts. She was all painted up like a freshly fucked cock slut and he wanted to take a picture, to keep under his pillow.

“I thought you said you were gonna fuck a baby in me,” she questioned as she sucked his cum from her fingers like he had earlier in the night.

“We got all night little girl.”

He began to strip (finally) but stopped to pull something from his pocket.

“That means we can talk about how you shouldn’t gossip about how someone fucks when they’re in the room with you.” She blushed. “And… we can also figure out where to hang this.”

When he unfolded the paper and showed her the picture from the carnival, of him savoring her cum on his fingers, she exploded into laughter. She was relaxed now. Feeling comfortable with him enough to let go of the embarrassment.

He bought the damn picture. She couldn’t believe it.

“You could have told us you heard us you asshole. And I know exactly where that picture is going.”

“And ruin all the fun?”

He was nearly bare before her. His shirt gone, boots off, and jeans around his ankles. She faintly caught a glimpse of that tattoo again.

“Tell me where it’s going honey.”

She only smiled a devious smile.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier smut #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #james barnes #james barnes imagine #james barnes x reader #james barnes smut

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

Text

Ladrien/Marichat: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Thirteen

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Thirteen: The Revelation

“Here we are. Safe and sound,” Ladybug announced with forced chipperness as she set Adrien back down in his room.

Reluctantly, he removed his arms from around her and stepped back, doing his best to put on his own fake smile.

“Today was really fun,” he remarked with a lightness he didn’t feel.

“Yeah,” she agreed enthusiastically, but the joviality didn’t make it to her eyes. “I had fun too. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”

“I did,” he affirmed earnestly. “It was really great, and I seriously appreciate you going to the trouble of organizing all that for me. I’m never going to forget today.”

“Me either,” she whispered, a bit of the false cheer wearing off, revealing the bittersweet melancholy hiding below the surface. “I had such a good time getting to know you better.”

“Me too.” He braced for impact as he added, “We should do it again sometime.”

She winced, averting her eyes. “Adrien… I’d love to, but we can’t. It was madness for me to even think of dating you as Ladybug in the first place.” She looked back to him with pleading, desperate eyes. “This is too dangerous. Like I said before, I don’t know what all Papillon is willing to do to get to me, but…I would never forgive myself if my selfishness and carelessness got you hurt. We’re lucky no one recognized us today and posted pictures where Papillon could see and start targeting you.”

“I know,” he sighed, gaze dropping to their shoes. “I don’t care about the risk for myself, but…I would never want to bring that kind of guilt on you if something did happen…. This wasn’t a good idea.”

“No,” she agreed softly, stepping in closer and taking his cheeks in her hands, making him look at her. “But today was the best mistake of my life, Adrien Agreste, and I can’t bring myself to regret it.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, letting himself get entranced by her swirling, sea-like eyes.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, smile infused with light and warmth and love.

“Well,” he chuckled, taking heart in looking on the bright side. “At least you can still ask me out as a civilian. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

Her smile flickered and faded as her brow pulled into a conflicted frown. “Adrien…I don’t think that’s possible now.”

Her words were like a cold shower, sending a jolt through his system.

“Wait. What? Why not?” he demanded, a whine creeping into his voice.

She gazed at him sadly, shaking her head. “What are you going to think the next time some black-haired girl comes up to you and asks you out for coffee? You’ll know it’s me right away, and that can’t happen. I have to keep my identity secret at all costs, not just for myself and my own safety but for the safety of all of Paris and the Miraculouses and kwamis in my keeping. I have to think about the bigger picture,” she informed him ruefully, feeling the weight of her yoke of duty then more than ever. “I can’t just think about myself…so this has to be the end of this. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

It occurred to him that he could simply ask Marinette out, but the unfairness of the entire situation agitated him.

“If you’re not allowed to think about yourself, who’s going to?” he challenged. “This isn’t right. It’s not fair that you have to bear such a heavy burden alone. I know what it’s like to have to keep secrets from everyone, Ladybug. It’s exhausting and isolating, and, after a while, it makes you feel like a bad person because you feel like you’re always lying to everybody in your life. I don’t want that for you.”

He eyed her pleadingly, willing her to relax her guard and let him in, let him be there to help support her.

“I don’t really want that for me either,” she admitted with a tired sigh, tears beginning to build at the corners of her eyes. “…Sometimes it just can’t be helped, though. I’m sorry, Adrien, but I can’t do this. Please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she begged, just barely managing to resist the temptation he offered.

He could see her on the edge of breaking, but pressing her further felt wrong and manipulative. He didn’t want to push her into something she would later regret, so he backed off with a soft, “Okay. Sorry.”

“Me too,” she whispered, her hands dropping to take his and give them a squeeze. “…Maybe the stars will align and we’ll get to date someday.”

“Maybe I’ll find you and ask you out first,” he hummed impishly.

“Please don’t try to find me,” she entreated, feeling sick with worry. “You can’t know who I am.”

He bit his tongue, knowing that it would only scare her off to tell her he already knew.

“Kiss me,” Adrien pleaded.

Ladybug blinked, startled by the urgency in his voice. “What?”

“If this really has to be the end of things between us, can’t you at least kiss me? You said that you wanted to earlier. If we can’t be together, can’t we at least have this much?” he reasoned. “Give me a kiss to remember you by.”

She worried at her bottom lip as she studied him carefully, weighing her options.

“Please, Nelle?” he whimpered, and his yearning gaze nearly did her in.

Reasoning that one kiss couldn’t hurt, she stepped in, taking his face gently in her hands and bringing it down to hers.

She’d intended the kiss to be brief and sweet like cherry blossom petals floating on a river, but she did not anticipate the spark she felt inside of her when her lips met his.

It was like an electric zap radiating through her body from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair, and, judging by the way he gasped into the kiss, Adrien felt it too.

What Ladybug had intended to be a chaste brush of lips quickly devolved into a sloppy, hungry crush of lips and tongues and teeth and hands.

Before she could really think through what she was doing, she’d pushed Adrien back and down onto his couch and was on top of him, seeing what kind of noises he made when she bit, licked, or sucked on different parts of his neck and throat. She quickly found out that he purred when she massaged his scalp, and the sound only encouraged her.

“Wait,” Adrien gasped, getting a hold of himself several minutes later.

She lifted her head and blinked blearily down at him, mind hazy with hormones. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t lie to you anymore,” he groaned. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you want, but things have gone too far and gotten out of control. I can’t keep secrets from you anymore, My Lady.”

She opened her mouth to seek clarification, but he alleviated the need by calling, “Plagg, transform me.”

In a green flash of light, it was Chat Noir beneath her on the couch in place of Adrien.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, eyes begging for her forgiveness. “I shouldn’t have agreed to go on a date with you right after we’d just talked about waiting to start a romantic relationship until it was safe, but…when you showed up to ask me out, I figured that Adrien must have been your mystery boy all along, and it was just a dream come true, so…I should have said no, but I didn’t. I’m sorry. You know I think with my heart far more often than with my head.”

Ladybug did not respond right away. She was too busy gaping at her partner with her mouth hanging wide open as her mind bluescreened.

“Please say something,” he pleaded through a grimace, starting to feel ill. “I can tell you’re not taking this well, but—”

She cut him off with a guttural curse.

He blinked at her for a moment, and then a sly grin slowly curled up the corners of his lips. “On a first date? I’m sorry, but I’m a little old fashioned. You’ll have to marry me first.”

“Oh my God,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands as she had a mental meltdown.

He winced. “Sorry. I really am sorry. …On a completely serious note, are you okay?”

A muffled, “No,” leaked out through her fingers along with very Marinette-like sounds of despair.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just…I really did understand earlier when you were talking about it being unfair to Adrien, him not knowing your identity. I felt guilty for keeping this from you this whole time, but I knew you didn’t want to know, so…” He shook his head. “But I couldn’t keep lying to you. …Sorry for messing things up,” he summarized dejectedly, ears drooping.

“…Do you hate me?” he whispered, half afraid to learn the answer.

She dropped her hands down to her sides and looked at him with eyes full of sorrow, compassion, regret, and love. “Chaton, I could never hate you. Ever,” she stressed, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “In fact, I think I love you now more than ever before.”

“O-Oh,” he choked, so happy it was hard to breathe.

“And you didn’t mess anything up,” she assured with a cloudy smile. “I did.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Detransformation.”

In a swirl of pink, Marinette appeared, wearing the same blue dress as she had their last movie night.

A broad grin stretched across Chat’s lips as he sat up, taking her face in his hands.

She hesitantly peeked one eye open and was surprised to find him beaming at her like she had arranged the stars in the night sky. She blinked, noting, “You don’t look surprised. Or angry.”

“Because I’m neither, Princess,” he chuckled, running a hand down the side of her face, neck, and shoulder. “What better outcome could I hope for than for the two girls I’m crazy about to be the same person?”

“And, let me guess,” she snickered. “You’re not surprised because you were able to see Ladybug in your ‘Everyday Ladybug’?”

He bit his lip. “Actually…it was more like suddenly seeing Marinette in Ladybug earlier today when we were browsing in the Place du Tertre.”

The grin dropped off her face. “What?! Wait. What?! You figured out my identity?!”

He made a half-hearted, wobbling gesture with one hand. “I mean…sort of? I didn’t know for sure until just now, but…”

“Oh my gosh. All those questions you were asking!” she gasped as she mentally reviewed their day from that point.

He winced. “Yeah, well…I mean…”

She slapped his arm, and not in a fun, playful, joking away. “I can’t believe you! You were purposely trying to figure out my identity!”

“To be fair, I had already figured out your identity,” he reasoned, hoping she magically accepted this loophole and decided not to be mad at him. “I was merely seeking confirmation.”

She smacked his arm a second time, clearly not amused at his semantics.

“Hey, you’ve been in love with me for years and never said anything,” he whined, trying to shift the focus off of himself. “To Adrien or Chat Noir. If anyone has the right to be upset, it’s me.”

“I had my reasons,” she spluttered indignantly, hoping he wouldn’t ask for the receipts. “It’s not like you told Marinette you had a big, ridiculous crush on her either!”

“I’m sorry,” he snorted. “I just thought it was painfully obvious to anyone who listened to me rant regularly about how amazing and talented you are. If you’d shown interest in return, I would have gladly confessed to my gigantic crush on you, but, unfortunately, someone has been lying to my face the past seven years about how they’re not interested in me, they’re just a fan of my father’s work,” he returned with a sour pout.

“You are literally a model,” she whined in her own defence. “I thought you’d laugh in my face.”

“Princess,” he cooed, reaching up to stroke her face. “Who could say no to you?”

He leaned in to give her hair a reassuring nuzzle. “Marinette, you are the most awe-inspiring woman I know. You’re kind and brave and funny and gorgeous, and I would have to be a bigger fool than I already am not to fall deliriously in love with you.”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Minou.”

“Shhh,” he comforted, pulling her in closer. “I’m sorry too. Maybe…can we try to accept that we both screwed things up and attempt to move beyond this?”

“…Yeah,” she decided, giving a little nod. “What’s done is done, so let’s just try to do our best going forward.”

“Sounds good,” he agreed, savoring the warmth of her body pressed to his, her sweet scent.

Earlier, he’d catalogued them in sorrow as she carried him back home, wondering if he’d ever get to experience them again. Now, he took stock in joy, planning to appreciate these sensations for years and years to come.

Suddenly, Marinette pulled back with a gasp and stared at him wide-eyed. “What are we going to do about akuma fights?! We just talked last week about how every second counts and how romantic feelings could cloud our judgment and get in the way in battle. What are we going to do now?!”

He grimaced, beginning to massage her shoulders in hopes that it would help her calm down. “My Love, I’ve had feelings for you for years now, and you just told me the other night that you’d loved me for almost as long. We’re going to have feelings that could potentially get in the way no matter what. We’ve had those feelings all this time, and I think it’s been pretty okay. I mean, I know I’ve sacrificed myself more times than you’re comfortable with, but the point is that we’ve managed all this time, haven’t we?”

“I guess you’re right,” she reluctantly agreed, slowly coming to see that what he said was true.

“Yes, we could have a fight or, God forbid, break up, but I’d like to think that our friendship and our partnership is strong enough to see us through, so…we’ve gone years suffering through trying to suppress our feelings, I, for one, would like to try making a romantic relationship work,” he suggested timidly, mentally crossing his fingers. “Who knows? Maybe when we stop holding ourselves back, we’ll be a better team than ever before. Want to give it a try?”

She didn’t need to think about it. “Yes. Definitely. Yes.”

“Really?” he laughed in joy and relief as his wildest dreams came true before his very eyes.

She nodded enthusiastically, joining in his laughter. “Yes. Really, really.”

He surged forward, capturing her lips once more in an exuberant kiss of celebration.

This one was more playful, less heated, but still full of fireworks and emotion.

Several minutes in, Marinette pulled back and glared at Chat Noir. “Heeeey. You sneak into my bedroom. Adrien Agreste sneaks into my bedroom.”

He quirked an eyebrow, wondering at the relevance of this revelation. “Technically, you invite me in. I always knock, even when the skylight is open.”

“Adrien Agreste has seen the inside of my bedroom,” she groaned in embarrassment, covering her face with her hands and letting out a moan of misery. “You’ve seen me in my laundry day sweatpants!”

He rolled his eyes fondly, gingerly taking her hands in his own and prying them away from her face. “Princess, look at me.”

She did so, her cheeks stained red as realization after realization informed her of all the unflattering sides of her he had seen.

“It’s just me,” he soothed. “Just your big, stupid cat, and I think the world of you.”

She pursed her lips, considering this for a moment. “…Yeah. You are, aren’t you?”

He nodded encouragingly. “Remember that time I got my tongue stuck to that lamppost?”

She burst out laughing, accidentally spraying him with spit which he gracefully wiped off, not minding in the least.

“Oh my gosh,” she giggle-snorted. “You did. You’re such a dork!”

“Your dork,” he confirmed.

“My dork,” she hummed and went back to kissing him.

They didn’t make it ten minutes before the next outburst.

“I tried to give you the Snake Miraculous!” she gasped.

Chat’s ears flattened. “We’re going to be having moments like this for years to come, aren’t we?”

“What the hell were you thinking?!” she demanded.

He shrugged. “You said you needed Adrien. I’m stupid in love with you. Emphasis on the stupid.”

She frowned, debating on her reaction. His reasons weren’t exactly good, but they were flattering, so maybe she could forgive him.

He took the liberty of kissing the crinkles from her brow. “Later, you’ll have to tell me how you pulled Multimouse off because I’m dying to know, but, for now, could we maybe kiss and snuggle? Maybe watch some movies?”

She instantly perked up. “Can we have a Disney singalong? I’m sort of in love with your voice.”

“Just the voice?” he asked again with a teasing eyebrow waggle.

“All of you,” she informed softly, leaning in to press a butterfly kiss to his lips. “…But your voice in particular.”

“I can live with that,” he cackled, pulling her back down onto the couch with him.

Alya and Nino were lounging on her bed watching X-Men: Apocalypse when her phone buzzed.

“Why are you grinning like you just got the biggest scoop ever?” Nino inquired cautiously, lifting a suspicious eyebrow.

“My ship has sailed!” Alya cheered, nearly jumping for joy. “Adrien and Marinette are dating! Aaaaaahhhh!!! This is the best day ever!”

Nino frowned, pausing the movie. “Wait. Adrien’s dating Marinette or Ladybug? They should still be at the Eiffel Tower, right? Did she tell him her identity? Did he tell her his?”

Alya’s mood immediately plummeted. “Hold on. Let me figure this out.”

She shot quick texts to Marinette and Adrien, asking if they’d revealed their respective identities and who was dating whom.

“Okay. Full identity reveal. Everybody is dating everybody,” Alya reported with a contented sigh, sinking back down onto the bed. “These two are exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” Nino snorted. “Why do they have to be so complicated?”

Alya shook her head. “Thank God Marinette locked us in the panther cage, right?”

“We never really thanked her for that, did we?” Nino snickered.

Alya shrugged. “Meh. I’ll work it into my maid of honor speech at her wedding. I consider my debt paid in full after all the identity shenanigans I’ve had to put up with getting her and Adrien together. I single-handedly defeated the Love Quadrilateral. My job here is done.”

“Awesome work, Al,” Nino chuckled, leaning in to give her temple a light peck.

The

End

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everstarry · 5 years ago

Text

veiled

words: 2029

summary: Din meets a dancer.

warnings: touchstarved!mando, lap dances, technically over the clothes sex ?? also, swearing

notes: this is my first time writing any kind of smut (or something that is even remotely steamy) so that’s a warning in on itself.

It’s almost as if the stars were looking down on him.

He can feel their kaleidoscopic glare as it penetrates his armor—no, his very skin even. It was almost as if those celestial bodies that hung in the night sky knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going. The bounty hunter couldn’t escape their shame filled stare as he sunk further and further into himself, mimicking collapsing stars and long-forgotten societies.

A hard slap to his back made him straighten, muscles slowly loosening, as they approached the rundown establishment. “Don’t be so tense, Mando,” Cara grinned, eyes twinkling with something he had never seen in the woman before.

“Never done this before,” Din nearly wheezed out, his armor had never felt as heavy as it did now. The weight of his way of life never more apparent.

“I find that extremely hard to believe,” his friend rolled her eyes. “I know for a fact that you’ve caught a bounty here,” she corrected.

“That’s different,” he protested because it was different. “That was just for business.”

“And this is just for pleasure,” she teased as they stepped inside the club. The air seemed different from outside, almost as if this place had an atmosphere of its own.

The stars were gone but he felt other eyes burn into him, curious stares from both occupants and dancers as Cara guided him through. He felt like he was going to suffocate, crumple to the dirty floor before he could help himself. His cheeks flush, and his heart pounds, and he can’t help but avert his eyes when a dancer brushes past him. Yet, the glimpse of flushed sparkly skin seems imprinted on the back of his eyelids and he can’t get away from it. The Mandalorian’s knees feel weak—threaten to actually buckle—as he continues the walk to the dimly lit corner.

He sags into a chair, breath coming out shaky from the modulator. Din’s skin pricks beneath all his layers as he tries to chill the fuck out. Cara is grinning at him from her spot next to him. “I’m going to be sick,” he barely manages to get out past his clipped and uneven breaths.

“You’re not,” she promises, barely looking at him as she searched the room for something. “Besides, if you get sick it’ll just go everywhere in your helmet.” The horrid image is enough for the Mandalorian to try to calm his breathing. He was a grown man, a grown bounty hunter at that. He could handle a club, handle even the tempting visions of exotic dancers. He had handled much worse before.

“Right,” he nodded, scanning the room before he could help himself. Din’s embarrassed to admit that he’s not looking for a girl, but rather an exit. Mind already concocting an escape if he needed one. A habit that had been instilled into him when he was much younger than he was now.

“Can you not act like I’m physically torturing you,” Cara scoffed. “This is supposed to be fun!” A playful shove of his arm made him nearly bump into a patron who was leaving with a giggling dancer. The Mandalorian cleared his throat uncomfortably, feeling a faint heat coming from under his helmet as he flushed.

“I can’t drink,” he pointed out. The other issue that he wanted to bring attention to was the fact that he was covered in armor and couldn’t take any of it off to enjoy himself. Din decided to keep the sentiment unsaid, hanging in the silence of barely-there breaths, he knew Cara would catch on eventually.

“I’ll just have to drink for the both of us,” Cara stood from her chair brushing her hands on her pants. “Be back in a bit,” she promised with a wink and was gone before the Mandalorian could protest.

Din sighed at her absence, eyes traveling the room again. The initial shock of having an armor-clad bounty hunter enter the club seemed to have worn off. The patrons of the seedy place had gone back to what he supposed they were originally doing before he arrived. There was drinking and loud conversation barely being drowned out by the music, the dancers weaved in and out of the crowds finding new customers. He was so caught up in studying his surroundings he hadn’t noticed your approach.

You’re sitting in the spot Cara had been not moments before. He’s taken back by the brightness in your eyes and the gentle curve of your lips. You’re seraphic, a creature so exquisite that the minuscule longing he felt before suddenly explodes. He momentarily thinks that the stars would be envious of the light in your eyes. Din is so caught up with comparing you to the skies that he almost misses your question. “Was that your girlfriend?”

The Mandalorian loses all his breath at the sweet sound of your voice, you lean close to him to make sure your voice carries over the chaos around you. He looks down at your chest as you do so. He nearly chokes at the sight that greets him.

Your veiled outfit leaves nothing to the imagination. You’re both covered and completely exposed at the same time, and Din feels like he’s losing his mind. Reality and time slip through his very fingertips as he tries to memorize the sight of you, someone who wasn’t really his to have in the first place.

“Well?” you tease, bringing the tips of your finger down gently on his shoulder, tracing the Beskar that rests there. He nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin because he swore a sort of electricity worked its way through his system. It doesn’t make any sense because you’re not even really touching him yet he feels so much, too much.

“No,” he manages to spit out, body almost on autopilot like some part of him knew he needed to respond to your question. The modulator hides the awe that somehow seeped into his voice. The smile that graces your features makes his heart nearly stop.

“I’m glad.” You shift until you're in his lap, chest to chest, and he exhales quietly. Your arms drape languidly behind his neck, effortlessly caging him to you. He can feel the breath hitch in his throat as he looks at you. “That means she wouldn’t mind if I…” You roll your hips down, creating a sort of delicious friction for you both. You give him a second to relax, seeming to realize that he needs a fucking breather. When he nods you move slower, teasing him into a sort of heated comfort so he finds himself craving your next movements.

The Mandalorian feels like he’s on fire.

Something burns through his every capillary. The heat that blazes under his skin feels almost foreign to him. He can’t think of anything but you, hands coming down to grip your waist, pressing down to feel more of you through the cloth that covers his groin. Din doesn’t know if he’s being too rough but he can’t seem to stop himself. You let him, teeth sinking into the plush skin of your bottom lip as a soft sound escapes you. “How much?” he croaks, voice dripping with need. The Mandalorian doesn’t want you to stop. He doesn’t care how expensive you might be, he just knows he needs this. It’s been so long.

“Enjoy it,” you urge, hips circling him in a way that makes his breathing stutter. “Price after.” Your coy smile makes the inferno inside him roar. There’s something so captivating about your eyes and the embers they hold. Their mesmeric color drenched in both longing and desire and he can’t seem to look away. He’s fucking throbbing as you drag your core against him.

You lean back to grind into him, eyes focus on his lap and his growing arousal. There’s something about the expert way you move against him that makes him ache. It takes every ounce of self-control to not rip the sheer pink slip that clings to your body so sinfully and just take you on the floor. The Mandalorian lets you rock against him, imagines he can feel the puffs of air that leave your parted lips on his face as you lean your forehead against his helmet. Your fingers grasp onto his shoulder, nails digging into the spots where his undershirt doesn’t meet Beskar for any purchase. Din actually groans, jerking into you as he tries the impossible feat of burying himself inside your clothed heat.

He doesn’t care if someone’s watching your performance or that he’s getting off to a simple lap dance. There’s this throbbing need inside of him that doesn’t seem to relent. He’s getting higher— winding up tighter—as he tries to roll his hips into yours. He’s so frustrated that he can’t really feel you, he wants to cry.

The tight circles that you draw in his lap seem to stimulate you just as much as they do him and he feels like he’s melting when the sounds you softly make reach his ears. His hands grip your hips to get you to still as he tries to catch his breath. “I’m gonna…” he can’t finish, too embarrassed to admit to someone as heavenly as you, that he’s about to cum in his pants like some inexperienced kid.

Your big eyes blink at him, once then twice, before it seems to click for you. A curious tilt of your head is all the warning he gets before you continue grinding into the obvious bulge in his pants, slow at first to get the pressure just right. A strangled gasp leaves his lips but that only seems to spur you on. Lifting your hips faster and bringing them down harder, giving yourself a moment to linger, mimicking the act of love without truly committing to it.

Your hand rests on his shoulders as you basically ride him through his clothes. His eyes want to shut but he fights to keep them open, trying to focus on the erotic image that you’ve painted for him. He isn’t sure if it's the low lighting or his own thoughts projecting onto you but to him, you look like you’re blushing. “It’s okay,” you nod, sounding so wanton and so breathless that he nearly whines.

He can feel a sort of a shame ignite in him, the fact that he was going to cum in his pants was mortifying. “I can’t,” Din shakes his head, chest constricting, jaw clenching. He’s shaking as he digs his fingers into your hips.

“You can. Please let go for me.” Your smile is so serene, and the sight of you bouncing on his lap and smiling so sweetly at him makes the heat finally devour him whole. It’s incredible, nearly indescribable. The pleasurable fire rolls over him, waves that threaten to drown him in you but he lets it wash him away. You slow to a stop in his lap, letting him twitch and hold you as he came down from his first orgasm in months. He catches his breath as you trace the Beskar that adorns his chest.

He feels sticky and gross, crotch uncomfortably damp. “How much?” Din asks, chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you.

Your eyes lock with his and for a frightening moment, he wonders if you can see through his visor. “Get me out of here.” Your voice sounds quiet and broken as if you were too scared to even mutter the five words aloud. Helplessness fractures the color of your irises as a whispered plea reaches his ears. He realizes you’re begging him, he notices the way you subtly shake against him and something breaks inside of him at that.

It’s sobering, and Din suddenly feels immensely guilty.

He wants to push you off his lap so you don’t have to continue to feel the aftermath of his lust but you cling to him. Tears slowly gather in your eyes as you take his silence as a refusal. “Okay,” he nods and that seems to freeze you, eyes widening slightly at his response. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Permanent taglist: @fanfiction-trashpile

#mando fanfic #everstarry #mando x y/n #mando x reader #din djarin x reader #mandalorian fanfic #exotic dancer!reader #din is very touched starved #also I overuse fire as a symbol oops #technically mando smut #the mandalorian x reader

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duskholland · 4 years ago

Note

I was really debating if I was gonna send u angst or not but u know my brand so what about the enemies to lovers “i know i’m an asshole, but my life really is better with you in it.” with stiles 👀👀

omg love this krystal, thank you so much! I actually combined this with another cheeky request I got, which follows the lines of - Stiles and y/n are rivals at high school and at the start don’t really like each other (or so they think ;)) but then y/n faints/gets minor hurt and stiles has to take her to the school nurse - and they fit together really well so ! here we are ! I hope that’s alright :D

masterlist

[-----]

“You’re an idiot, Stiles.”

“Yeah? Well, at least I’m not a selfish know-it-all!”

“A know-it-all? Seriously? That’s the best you have?”

“Oh, trust me, I have plenty of insults I could use for you, Y/N, but that would just be a waste of breath.”

“Fuck you!”

You slam the door of your locker shut with a rattling clang and clutch your books to your chest, glaring at the boy in front of you. The edges of your vision tint a bright, pulsing red as his beady amber eyes stare you down. Somewhere deep within your gut, you feel a tight ball of hatred stir. Stiles Stilinski has been the bane of your existence ever since your best friend Lydia decided to get involved with Allison and her friends, and ever since, he’s been making your life a living nightmare.

Stiles’ deep frown shifts into an expression of humourless amusement as he follows you down the hall. “I don’t know why you’re running away,” he calls after you, voice light and irritating. “You know as well as I do that this is the only time we have to work on that project for chem.”

You stride outside quickly, knowing you can’t out-walk him, but hoping that it riles him up even further to have to chase you through the crowds. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a kick out of his yells.

“Project for chem,” you imitate, drawing your voice up into a high-pitched imitation of his voice. “I’m Stiles Stilinski and I like to be a teacher’s pet.”

He finally catches up to you when you’ve stalked out to the lacrosse fields. His fingers wrap around your arm and his touch burns against your skin as you spin around, your face warm from irritation. He looks at you, frustration pulled tight over his skin, and you smirk beneath his withering gaze. “You don’t have to be such an asshole, Y/N,” he mutters. He quickly lets go of your arm and scratches at the back of his head, the light of the sun beaming out over his freckly skin. “Can’t believe Ms Hook partnered us together for this. Does she want to kill me?”

You bark a laugh. “Kill you? Seriously, Stiles? This is ten times harder for me.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Really? How come?”

The nearby yells of lacrosse players mix with your disgruntled sigh. “You’re annoying,” you begin. “You always try so hard to be the best and that competitiveness is exhausting. You also always think you know everything. Well, newsflash, Stiles, you don’t.” You’re really digging for it now, feeling your entire body fill with a flushed heat as you stare at the boy who’s made the last six months of your life a nuisance. “You think you can just- just walk around, looking like that, acting all cocky, and that people will fall at your feet. Well, not me.”

“Looking like what?” Stiles echoes, confusion falling over his face.

You gulp as embarrassment twists in the pit of your stomach. Curse your big mouth. “Oh, uh, nothing?”

Stiles opens his mouth to speak, but before you can focus on his words, there’s a loud yell from the lacrosse field. There’s a large smack as you feel the heavy weight of a lacrosse ball hit the side of your face, and then you’re on the ground, vision blurry, face throbbing.

“Holy shit Y/N, are you- oh, fuck, that’s a lot of blood, oh my god.”

You stare at the sky blurrily, Stiles’ concerned words drifting in one ear and out the other. You remain dazed as Coach Finstock joins the growing crowds around you, and flinch deeply as he starts barking out instructions. Nothing really registers until you’re being pulled off the ground and as your feet leave the ground, you realise someone’s carrying you.

You fade in and out of consciousness, but you’re focused enough to realise that you have your cheek resting up against Stiles’ plaid shirt. His musky pine-wood scent fills your nose and you relax into his arms, allowing yourself to loosen up as you try to focus on anything but the throbbing pain stemming from your face. You glance up and see his face pulled into an expression of nervous determination, and let your eyes trail across the pink expanse of his plump lips, and even though it feels like your face is about to melt off, you can’t help the weak throbbing of your heart as you take in just how utterly adorable he is.

Once you’ve reached the nurse’s office, he places you gently down on the examination table and is then quickly ushered from the room by the doctor. But he glances at you, eyes concerned and worried, and your gaze meets for just a second before the door shuts behind him, and in that second, your heart throbs again.

Trying not to think about these new - and very confusing - feelings, you let the school doctor patch you up. Apparently nothing’s broken and all of your teeth are intact, and the bleeding from your nose stops after a few minutes of applying pressure to it. You’re given a large stack of painkillers and told you can go home early, and then the doctor exits the room and leaves you to sort yourself out.

As you begin to pull yourself together, the door into the office creaks open. You look up and see it’s Stiles, a guilty expression on his face. “Can I, uh, come in?” He asks, eyes skittering around nervously. You nod slightly and he slips inside, pressing himself up against the wall as he stares at you. “I’m sorry for being an asshole, Y/N,” he sighs. “I guess… I guess you aren’t that bad, and maybe I just act like such a dick when you’re around because I’m intimidated by you.”

Your mouth falls open in surprise. “Going soft on me, Stiles?” You say, voice soft. That hot, angry heat from earlier has fizzled out completely, and now it’s as if you’re looking at him through fresh eyes.

He shrugs, not even trying to deny it, and takes a tentative step towards you. “When you got hit by that ball, I dunno, I just froze, and it was like every insult I ever gave you ran through my head and I realised I was being…”

“An asshole?” You supply, grinning softly.

He laughs. “I know… I know I’m an asshole, but my life really is better with you in it,” he admits.

You pat the spot on the examination table beside you. “Well, I’ve not exactly been the nicest to you, either,” you admit. Stiles tentatively sits beside you, your legs brushing up against one another. Now he’s nearer, all you can think about is how nice he looks, and how kind it was of him to sweep you up into his arms and carry you to safety. Now, it’s as if a veil has been lifted, and all your feelings of frustration have faded away, leaving you with what was truly hidden away under them, all along: attraction.

“We’re just too similar,” Stiles reasons.

“Yeah,” you agree. You give him a pained smile. “We should probably try to get on better now. For the sake of the pack.”

“Yeah, yeah, for the pack…” His eyes trail around your face. Instead of lingering on the rising bruise and the way you have plasters sticking from your hairline, he focuses on your eyes, and it’s as if his whole expression softens. You feel his hand wrap around yours, and the breath hitches in the back of your throat. “You’re a pretty cool person, Y/N.”

You’re near him now, your forehead closing in, his fingers gripping yours, and it feels like your heart is bursting against your rib cage as you close the distance. When you’re a mere centimetre from his mouth, you let your free hand drift up to settle in his dark brown hair. “You’re pretty cool too, Stiles,” you mumble. And then you kiss him, and it’s like nothing else really matters. The pain ebbs away and the anger fizzles out, and all you can focus on is how fucking nice it feels to have his mouth on yours and your fingers in his hair.

When you break away, Stiles gently leans his forehead to yours, his amber eyes blown wide with a warm sort of softness. “Let me take you home?” He asks.

The smile that finds your lips is genuine, and for the first time, you wonder if your relationship with Stiles is destined to be more than just an angry friendship.

“I would love that.”

#kicking off blurb night with a hurt/comfort fic...simply the best #thanks krystal!!! <333333333 #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski blurb #stiles stilinski x reader #my blurbs #blurb night #stilesblurbs #myblurbs #why tumblr decided to fuck up that read more placement i have no idea but i am very angry about it hjkfhdjkfhd

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darlinrogue · 4 years ago

Note

It had been a long time since an argument had made him feel such a way: exhilarated even in his exhaustion, trembling with adrenaline even as his body ached. He and Adam had argued, and he and Adam had brawled, strikes to the jaw, fists and knees—Adam’s knuckles colliding with Kenny’s mouth, and Kenny simply smiling at him with bloodstained teeth. Pinned to the wall, Adam against him. Like electricity. Kenny kisses him hard, blood staining Adam’s lips. And for once, The Cleaner is ashamed.

Sol Finished Her Essay.txt >:3c

Adam and Kenny AKA Omegaman

A swipe of his thumb and the twitter feed blurred. Post-after-post, oh, that kitten was cute, he did not care about this person’s problems, holy shit, Adam did not want to read about politics right now. Bright blue and white fluorescents burned his eyes, blurred his vision. Adam blinked and wiped his hand down his face. He dug his fingers into the bridge of his nose to alleviate the pressure of a building headache. An open beer, three sips deep, rested on the bar counter at his right elbow. Adam picked-up the bottle. He swirled the contents and watched the amber liquid and brown glass disperse the light. Molten, dark, and shifting, a tiny kaleidoscope in his hand that captured his brief fascination-- haha, dumb monkey brain like pretty colors. He brought the rim to his lips but didn’t tilt a swig back. His phone vibrated. The bottle returned to the counter and with a couple taps he opened the message app. Mom had sent him a question, will he be home this weekend? She’s making tex-mex for dinner Saturday.

With a little :-) emoji at the end.

For a second, Adam stared at the little green bubble of white text.

As a professional graphic designer, he always thought the Iphone text function was ugly as hell, plain and near unfunctional. The colors were plain and unappealing-- and there was no fucking search bar. That line of thinking didn’t help him answer the question. Adam pressed the power button and the screen blackened. He laid the phone face down on the bar counter. Adam leaned back and pressed his hand against his thigh. The stool creaked beneath his shifting weight. He threaded his fingers through his hair and swiped sweat dampened curls from the back of his neck. An ache worked into his muscles, a little bruised, a little sore, but not yet satisfied. Not yet— Both elbows now pressed on the counter, a sigh racked his shoulders.

Tucked into a corner of the arena, this small bar probably served executives and cultured peoples during the day. People who wore like, a tie everyday, the poor miserable bastards. This late at night it was empty. Crystal glasses lined the back shelves and fractured the golden glow of the light bulbs. The black marble countertop reflected back Adam’s face and hands. The curve of his IPA. It was quiet and it was lonely, exactly how he liked it. The hour was ticking way past late, he had to get back to his hotel. Right here, on his own, though, post-match, he was content for the night. This was it, this is what he asked for. He took a swig of his poison, the grain had a good flavor, smooth but with a bite. The bottle returned to the counter, and with a nudge of his finger, Adam pushed it just out of reach. His stomach churned, heart constricted in his chest. His forehead fell into his hands and stayed there when the door pushed open. Footsteps shuffled across the carpet. The stool legs next to him screeched as it was dragged across the tile. The newcomer settled down.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” the coarse voice observed.

Adam leaned back, hand gripping the edge of the counter to balance himself as his gaze peeled to his left. His twisted heart found new contortions-- like dislocated shoulder, levels. Kenny sat next to him, within touching distance. A heavy, dark leather jacket draped over his broad shoulders. A thin sheen of sweat coated his bare chest. Adam’s gaze studied the seams of the coat, the lines of Kenny’s throat, and then the features of his face. The light had a way of softening his rounded features, the thin, pinkness of his lips, and the fullness of his cheeks. He wore dark, aviator sunglasses, obnoxious because they were in a well lit room, inside— at night. Adam turned back on his stool, facing parallel with Kenny. Looking at nothing in particular. His entire skin was on fire, cheeks warm, hands shaking. He tucked his fingers under his armpits.

“Yeah,” Adam said, he rolled his palm over his forehead. “At least I’m consistent.”

“How long are you going to do this, man?” Kenny demanded, his leg propped against the stool spindle. “Wasting time, getting drunk— you know how many calories are in that?” Kenny did not look impressed when Adam twisted the bottle to check the label. “You think what you’re looking for is at the bottom of that bottle? Think again, man, think again. All you’re doing is drowning your braincells, you know you need those, right?”

“Yeah, and how do you know what I’m looking for?” Adam grunted, his eyebrows lifted, glancing at Kenny.

Kenny was all grins because Adam took the bait-- hook, line, and sinker. From his side, Kenny lifted the belt and laid it on the counter to his left. Kenny smirked, with smarmy, stupid, self-confidence. Adam hated that his arrogance was hot as hell. His eyes darted from Kenny to the AEW World Championship Belt. That big strap of black leather, gold, and silver, glittering like the Stairway to Heaven. A muscle tightened in Adam’s jaw and his hand fisted. Adam scoffed and he sought solace in his drink, swallowing, relishing the burn of alcohol down his throat. A year or more, with all sorts of detours, divergences, side-paths, distractions, an entire run as one-half of the tag-team champions, and he was still chasing that damn belt. Adam had everything, it was supposed to be his for the taking. Yet, twice now, it’d slipped his grip. It was an illusion, like a pond screwing with his depth perception. It was always a little deeper than he thought. Much like someone else at this counter.

Kenny’s head laid on his chest. A mop of curled, unruly blonde hair, that tickled Adam’s lips and chin. He buried his face against the top of Kenny’s head and smelled the plain soap, the cheap shampoo he used, floral, rosemary, something aromatic. Kenny breathed slow and even, and Adam could feel each inhale and exhale through the connection of his hand against Kenny’s back. Proof that was he real and present. He was warm, contrasted to the cooled hotel room. Adam tucked Kenny against himself, drew him closer, terrified to let go-- knowing he’d escape in a heartbeat. That moment was as fleeting as the kiss laid on Adam’s forehead like a reverential gift. Adam awoke in the morning, alone and cold. He grasped at the still warm mattress and felt Kenny fall through.

“You’re too easy,” Kenny chuckled, he tapped his forehead with his finger. Like he was some kinda conniving mastermind. Dude, watched way too much Anime. Adam only barely remembered Kenny being this annoying in Japan. He’s seen the videos of Kenny singing his own damn theme song during his entrances. “You let people in your head, they get to you— it’s an excuse, Page. You’re just too pussy to do anything, that’s why you sit there and get fucking wasted, ‘cause that’s all you can do.”

The beer bottle shattered. Slammed against the counter on the perfect sweet spot, crushed in Adam’s hand. The glass fractured into dust and piercing shards that buried in his palm. Beer spilled onto the counter and dribbled onto his jeans. Blood, red and crimson, mingled with the stinging alcohol, and seeped between the lines of his callouses. Adam snatched Kenny’s lapel. Hand fisted, Adam dragged him in, the tendons and muscles of his bicep tight. Kenny was all teeth, eyes obscured. Once again, Adam had taken the bait. Kenny was in his head and he lived there rent free. Adam wasn’t sure if he could evict him.

“You mad bro?” Kenny queried. “Because I’m right? You couldn’t beat Chris; You couldn’t beat Maxwell; and you couldn’t beat me. You got it, you got everything you need, but you keep wasting it. You lose, and what do you do? What you’ve always done. Take a beer from some stranger that has God knows what disease and mope. You think I was fucking cool with it? Dealing with your drunk ass all the time?”

“You’ve been a real dick since you won that belt,” Adam growled. He laughed to himself, chin ducking to his chest. His attention focused on Kenny, “You know I’m going to take it from you.”

“No, you won’t,” Kenny snapped, a little irritation biting in his tone. “We both know you won’t do shit.” His tone took on a whiny, mocking lilt. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time. Sorry, doesn’t cut it Pizz. What are you going to do, stretch my coat? You’re a coward, you won’t do shit.”

Adam’s bottom lip trembled, his throat dry and eyes locked with tinted glass. “Take off the fucking sunglasses,” Adam demanded, voice cracking. He dragged Kenny a little closer. “Say that to my face.”

Kenny pursed his lips, he pouted.

“Take off the glasses, Kenny,” Adam repeated. “Look me in the eye, you son of a bitch— and say what you just said, again. Show me you actually mean that shit.”

Kenny sneered and Adam read the disgust, discomfort, mockery. And, something else he’d been missing. It was right there, right in front of him. Kenny leaned in the last couple inches, his nose brushing against Adam’s. He whispered: “Make me.”

“HIt me, punch me,” Kenny insisted, sing-songing. “C’mon, do it, prove it— that you can do something. Literally, anything, Hangman.”

Adam’s grip slacked. He released his cinch on Kenny’s jacket. Kenny eased back onto his stool and muttered, “I knew it, I knew you wouldn’t, you’re--”

Kenny didn’t complete the sentence before Adam decked him. A hard and clean right hook across the jaw, that knocked Kenny clean off the bar stool. Kenny stumbled, his hand swiping and reaching for the counter to steady himself. He rubbed his fingers over the site of impact. The skin of his left check now red and swollen, imprinted with Adam’s bloody knuckles. Kenny smiled and giggled, nodding his head with approval. Adam pressed to his feet, jaw stiff. Small sparks of pain coursed-up his arm, like he just stuck his finger in an outlet. Kenny straightened, cocked his hip, and returned the favor. The left smashed across Adam’s cheek and sent him reeling back. A pump of adrenaline rushed his head, throbbed his heart, and burned in his skull. Like a bell ringing clear in the night, unsure of for whom it toiled.

Adam hoped it chorused for him. So, that he might hang for his crimes and his corpse could feed some daisies. Finally, after twenty-nine years he could do something good for this miserable planet. Let the worms make sweet worm love in his brain and maybe then, by the nutrients of his bones, he’d be useful. And despite the grim thought, the certainty of his resurrection filled him. Burry him, return in three days, and he’d be back-- call him Lazarus. He resented the executioner, hated his accusers. Adam was a piece of shit, son-of-a-bitch, with poison for blood and a rock for a heart. He was too pissed, anger filled, frustrated and unsatisfied to stay dead in a shallow grave.

And Kenny’s left hook hurt like hell.

Damn, that felt good, he needed that.

Like he needed oxygen, like he needed water, like he needed Kenny.

Like he needed that belt.

Adam surged and swung with a wide punch. Kenny caught it at the elbow and twisted Adam’s arm. Adam stumbled forward, bending into the momentum. Kenny drove his knee into Adam’s gut. The air rushed out of Adam. His already sore ribs seized like a vice around his internal organs.

Oh, shit, he had not thought this through. Adam had already gotten the crap beaten out of him tonight in a match. Like, put through a table but still won-- crap beaten out of him. This was not good. Adam couldn’t beat Kenny on a good night. What the hell was he doing picking a fight on a bad night? Well, Adam was way past dumb decisions at this point.

Adam drove the heel of his hand into Kenny’s lower stomach, a cheap shot to make Kenny drop his hands. Adam popped a quick jab into Kenny’s face. Nothing but a distraction, to make his eyes water, and stun him. Adam seized Kenny’s jacket by the lapels and drove him him back into the wall. A solid ‘oof’ escaped Kenny as they collided with the solid surface. Kenny wheezed, because he had had a match too. Neither of them had any business picking a fight.

“Damnit! Kenny!” Adam shouted. “Get your head out of your ass!”

Adam growled, a low rumble reverberating through his chest and his eyes darkened. Chest-to-chest with Kenny, he leaned-in, to push and pin him against the wall. He breathed hot and fast, his heart shuttering, beating against his chest. Their pulses mingled so that Adam couldn’t separate the chaotic rhythms. Kenny’s glasses were ajar, hanging crooked off his nose. Adam knocked them off Kenny’s face. They clattered to the floor. Kenny blinked, eyes adjusting to the new light. Tension drained from Adam’s shoulders and he sighed, soft breath over his chapped lips. Blue eyes, like the sky over his childhood home, baby blue, aquamarine, the Gulf when his family took a trip to the beach. Pupils blown-out and black. Breathless, Kenny left Adam breathless. The rage dissipated, draining from him like water. Kenny grinned, blood on his teeth, white and red, their noses an inch apart. It would be so simple to--

Kenny’s lips tasted of iron and him. Everything Adam dreamed of but better. The kiss was all teeth, blood, and spit, ugly and gross. Worthy of something from Adam’s fumbling teenage years. Adam groaned into Kenny’s mouth, lungs shuttering and eyes fluttering closed. He braced his hand against the wall and pushed back, tilting his head for a better angle. Adam kissed Kenny with his blood roaring in his ears and demanding more of whatever the hell this is. He slowed, lingering, in a passionate and deep kiss, relishing the taste of what he had been starving for. Then, Adam slid his hands through Kenny’s hair, cradled either side of Kenny’s stupid, soft and stubbly, chipmunk cheeks. He laid small, quick, fluttering kisses to Kenny’s lips, the corner of his mouth, and Kenny whimpered, wanting more than teasing. Adam smirked and he tangled his fingers into those ashen curls to tilt Kenny’s head back to give more. Darted his tongue past Kenny’s lips to find more. Kenny clutched at Adam and dug his nails into Adam’s shirt.

Then Adam parted, gasping for air. He rested his forehead against Kenny’s and whispered something like ‘holy shit.’ He threaded his fingers in Kenny’s hair to pet and soothe him. Kenny surged forward, looking for that second kiss, but Adam laid his hand across Kenny’s chest and pushed him down. Kenny slumped against the wall, settling on his heels. He looked wounded, like a kicked puppy. It was enough to tug on Adam’s heart strings.

“Adam,” Kenny whined, drawing out the last syllable.

“Kenny,” Adam said, voice firm. “Stop, that’s enough.”

Kiss him again, his inner voice insisted. While Kenny stood there, all pretty and cute, gaping with his brow furrowed. His cheeks flushed and lips almost scarlet. Take a second taste, a third, let the whole night unfold like origami. Except no, this wasn’t what Adam wanted. Whatever the hell this was, it ain’t it, chief. Adam knew what he wanted. He knew what he needed. He knew, he knew, he knew, it was so obvious that this dumbass, pinned beneath his hand, could see it. So obvious, that even Adam was starting to see it. Adam stepped away from Kenny even though it felt like ripping off his own arm. Pure chemistry, the pure need and want of a man dehydrated in the desert. Adam didn’t want to go back to his hotel room alone. He didn’t want to spend another night in a cold bed. He didn’t want to keep playing this game of cat-and-mouse, always guessing, always confused, and lost. He didn’t want to keep his thoughts to himself anymore-- but there was something else he needed more than he wanted.

Something, he’d needed since he was a child, since his birth. Adam was convinced it was inscribed in his DNA. And until he had it, he would never be satisfied. Maybe he was a masochist, always stepping-up to the chopping block like this. Knowing, believing he knew, what came next when the axe fell. Yet, Adam Page didn’t have an ounce of quit in him. He was far too stupid to stop.

Adam eyed Kenny and then reached behind him to find his phone on the counter. Kenny stayed pinned to the wall like a taxidermy bug. Then, Adam turned to leave. He paused at where the belt rested on the countertop. He lifted his hand. Adam curled three fingers to his palm and pointed his index to the sky. Then he took aim at the belt. With a dramatic flourish, Adam took the shot. He left the bar, leaving the door ajar. While the Uber drove him back to the hotel, Adam typed-out his reply on the ugly message app.

I’ll be home this Saturday. Looking forward to tacos I’ll bring tequila. See you soon. Love ya, a lot.

#ofgrief #‘The Hangman’ || Adam: IC #‘Deals with God’ || Adam: Verse #‘Beloved’ || Adam and Kenny

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darkhymns-fic · 4 years ago

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With the Morning Light (4)

Being carried around can be more comforting than Lloyd thought.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: A series of short stories about Lloyd and Colette's journey to gather the Exspheres.

-Carry Me-

With a sigh, Lloyd thought, I didn't want to be a burden this time.

His breath shifted the blonde hair near his face. Colette turned, the sunlight catching off her eyes like on a river’s surface. “What's wrong, Lloyd? Is this uncomfy?”

With a start, Lloyd covered his surprise with a shake of his head. “It-It’s not a problem!” he told her, though he still tried to adjust himself while being carried on her back like this. Her hands held onto his legs tightly, and it was up to him to keep his grip on her shoulders to stay balanced. “Besides, I’m really okay enough to walk…”

“Hm? But you said your ankle hurt, didn’t it?”

“Just a little! I was just too stupid to not see that cliff.” Though he was grateful it had only been him that had tripped down across a long...very long slope and not Colette.

This wasn't exactly the first time he'd been carried; in fact, one of his earliest memories was him being perched on someone’s shoulders, head craned upwards to look at the map of stars overhead. And Dirk would always, always, mention to Lloyd how much he would cry as a little kid and that being held up in the dwarf's arms would be the only way to calm him down. Also, did being carried around by Noishe when he traveled in the morning to Iselia count…?

But what was important was that much of that happened when he was a kid, when he couldn’t walk as far on his own, or when, yes, some things did scare him. But not now! He wasn’t scared of anything, or actually, anything that he could just fight off, at least.

And yet he was still laid over Colette's back like a dejected burlap sack.

“The Professor said it’s important to not put pressure on your foot if it’s hurt," Colette was saying, humming a small tune as they walked. She walked easily over pebbles and tree roots, somehow avoiding all those little obstacles then she ever had. "But I’ll try to get to the nearest town faster if you want me to!”

“Colette, that’s – Whoa!” He flinched a little when pink wings slipped through his body like he was made of air. Mana tingled across his skin like electricity, but warm and comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. “I’m…not sure I should be on your back if you’re gonna fly.”

“Oh… I guess you’re right.” Colette floated back down to the grass. “Sorry, that was silly of me.”

“I mean, it’s fine… But I also feel bad you have to carry me and all our supplies now.”

“It’s okay! None of it feels heavy at all!” Colette shifted again, and her right arm that carried the sacks of food and gels shifted along with her. “It’s all so light.”

“Even with me?” he asked. Sure, Colette did have her angelic strength still, just… “And with my swords?”

“Yeah! They’re as light as twigs.”

“Man, if my swords are twigs, they’re probably useless…”

Colette laughed, still making sure to turn back to give him a smile. “You’re funny.”

While it was true that Lloyd was definitely hilarious and often made good jokes, this wasn’t exactly the time he was trying to be funny. He had seen Colette lift up boulders, tree trunks and muscled men with only one hand – but he didn’t want to just be seen as dead weight like that.

But it was hard to argue that his foot was still hurting a bit, and even smashing an apple gel against his ankle didn’t seem to help. Also, Noishe wasn’t here to lug him around either. It was up to Colette to carry him.

Maybe he felt guilty because, at the same time, he also didn't really mind this.

So close as he was to her hair, he caught the faint shape of a flower petal, still tangled within the blonde strands. Her hair had lost its braid from a few nights ago, but some of the flowers he had put in there before remained. Not always in the exact same place, and some still looked so close to falling away… but they were there.

Lloyd unconsciously moved closer, his thumbs rubbing against her coat. “Hey, sorry if I worried you earlier.” When she had found him, he had been half-covered in dirt and leaves from his descent down the cliff. He remembered when he could simply jump down cliffs easy, not just trip over at nothing. “I feel like I’ve not been paying attention lately.”

“Hm…has the journey been hard on you?” she asked. He thought he could feel her carry him even more carefully now, but he didn’t want that!

“No, not really! Well, I mean finding the Exspheres has been harder than I thought…” He half-expected that just asking people where Exspheres were being sold wouldn’t be that easy, yet he had kinda hoped. “But, it’s been fun traveling together. Just the two of us.”

“Hm, I think so too,” she responded. “On the fun part, I mean! Sorry, that I was trouble in the beginning before we even…”

“Hey, I’m the one apologizing right now!” With that statement, Lloyd leaned over to wrap his arms more around her, getting more comfortable ( it's okay to be comfortable with her ) while leaning into her hair. “You can get your turn on apologizing later.”

“Ah, we have to take turns now?”

“Yep! And since you’re always apologizing, I need to make up for all those lost turns! It’s the rules.”

“I never knew there were rules to this!” Colette asked almost so genuinely if Lloyd hadn’t already known about her teasing ways.

“Heh, well, I did make up the rules just now,” he said back with a grin, thumb and forefinger extended next to his face. “So don't worry if you don't know them yet!”

Colette smiled at him, and that smile drew his eyes to her, made him forget for a moment on what he was about to say next…

“Lloyd?”

“Uh?” He was pulled out again from his thoughts. He'd been so out of it lately too. “What's up?”

“I know you'd rather walk but, I'm glad I can be useful on this journey.” She turned to him again. “I'm happy I can carry you the whole day if you needed me to!”

Yeah, he really didn't mind this at all.

“Well...maybe next time I don't need a sprained ankle for you to do that then..” he said, not sure where his words were leading to. Because sometimes, he just said stuff, said whatever that came to mind. It usually made people annoyed or angry at him.

But with Colette, she smiled so easily, walking with more of a bounce to her step. “Hehe. You promise that I can?”

He nodded, holding her close as she carried him - to stay balanced, to not fall. That was all. “Yeah. Promise.”

#tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloyd #fanfiction

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peterparkerxtrauma · 5 years ago

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studying each other

summary: you like MJ but you’re 94% sure she’s into Peter.

Characters: MJ x Reader, Peter x MJ (unless?)

Warnings: Mentions of studying and exams ew but nothing else

Words: 1806

basically just very fluffy

the large pile of books threaten to spill over the table, taunting you with every tired glance. Learning all the contents becomes more and more unlikely as you realise you’ve been concentrating more on the concept of failing the exam than actually studying. Stress sets in and feeling of despair makes itself at home at the bottom of your stomach. With a heavy sigh, you tip your chair back slightly and stretch, peering around the café and cracking your neck as you decide a short break is very much needed.

The café is quiet, a result of the late hour, the only noises are a couple murmuring a few tables away and what sounds like two workers in the back talking in hushed tones. There is a soft patter of rain tapping on the windows, a calming constant in the background. You draw in a breath, concentrate on chilling out.

“Another one?”, a smooth voice breaks through your thoughts. You focus on MJ in the chair opposite you and raise your eyebrow in question. She gestures to your empty coffee mug and you grin gratefully.

”Would love that, thanks,” you reply to your friend, your attention now on her.

You watch as she takes your mug and hers and makes her way to the counter. Her long hair originally fell in loose waves when you both entered the café earlier that day but 5 hours and three existential crisis’ later, it sticks out of a messy bun, frizzy tendrils hanging out, randomly framing her sharp cheekbones. She blows a piece of hair out of her face and your attention increases, hyperfixated on the pout of her lips as the hair falls back in the same place. You notice the crease between her eyebrows as she blows again, this time fractionally harder and then watch as she sighs, placing the cups in front of her and undoing her hair from its scrunchie.

Your heart rate quickens as she shakes her head, allowing her curls to tumble down onto her shoulders. In front of you stands a beautiful temptress with wild hair and dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater, making her just a little more amazing. Slowly you shake your head and lower your eyes back to your notes that had gotten more unintelligible as the evening went on.

Against your better judgment, you give up trying to decipher what the hell you've written and your eyes flit to your best friends figure once again, only to be met with her thoughtful gaze, her chocolate coloured eyes scrutinizing you. You give a fleeting smile and quickly turn your head back to your work.

After ordering, she saunters back over to the table and collapses in her chair, her hand once again coming up to her hair to tame the mess.

“You look like you’re about to pass out any minute,” she observes quietly, peering at my face. Not in a mean way, just an MJ way, saying things as she sees them.

You shrug your shoulders, “pour the coffee down my throat when I do please, I can’t be sleeping until I’ve at least finished this chapter.” You lean your chin on your hand and your eyes fall on MJs face, momentarily catching your breath, before you focus on the stray hairs that refuse to be tied into the bun.

She reaches over and pats your hand that’s resting on the table and your fingers twitch in want.

“You’re so dramatic,” she jokes, “you should have taken Drama and these meltdown study sessions wouldn’t be so common.”

Although the study dates were something you definitely cherished as it was an excuse to spend hours alone with MJ, you go to agree with her, but before you can reply, your phones buzzes, catching your attention. You read the text and let out a laugh.

“Peter says he’s locked out of the apartment…again”, you inform MJ as she gives you a quizzical look.

MJ raises her eyebrow and takes her hand back from yours to play with the locks of hair by her face, twirling them around and around. Your hand feels wrong without hers and you frown momentarily.

“Vanilla latte and medium Mocha,” the waiter appears by our table and smiles, “have a nice day”. We smile up at him before he leaves. Instantly, you pick up your drink to replace the lost heat in your hand.

“Tell him to meet us here then,” MJ suggests and frowns for a second before taking her drink. The way she wraps both her hands around the mug and brings it up to her face to sip, warms you up as if you were the one drinking it. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face, she truly is beautiful in all small actions.

An odd sense of disappointment sinks into your stomach. Hanging out with MJ alone was a rarity, especially since Peter moved into yours and MJs flat. Not that there was anything wrong with him being with the two of you, you just missed MJ being yours and yours alone. Especially lately, she’s been acting weird when Peter comes around, causing you to worry that she may be catching feelings for the boy. Every time he enters the room, she repels from you, often leaving him to sit between the two of you like a physical barrier. You guessed it was because she wanted to be closer to him, perhaps prove to him that she definitely doesn't like you so he knows she’s available.

Jealousy stung at your eyes.

”I’ll tell him to now.” You answer eventually and shoot him a quick text, making sure to tell him to take his time getting there, “Want to test each other until he’s back?”.

You and MJ continue to study together, working well as a team, just like you had done in high school, until the door of the café rings, signalling Peters’ arrival.

Peter ambles towards your table, managing to trip on the short walk over, causing MJ to snort and catch your eye.

“Hey guys. Sorry to bug you on your date, I can’t believe I left my keys again. I even left them on the table right next to the door just so I wouldn’t. There’s even a reminder on a post it note on the mirror in the bathroom I put there just last night.” Peter rambles as he sits down between MJ and you and takes your drink to sip from, a bad habit he picked up years ago and seems to be keeping.

MJ looks between you and Peter, eyebrows raised, “nobody is surprised, Peter,” she says, “anyway, let’s pack up and go. If I write down one more word my wrist will definitely never be the same again.”

You take both of your mugs this time and head to the counter to leave them there. You’re only on your feet for a second, but when you turn around, Peter and MJ are laughing together over something you must have missed. It causes an uneasy feeling, the two of them so close and once again, you feel jealous of Peter. You turn back to the counter and mentally scold yourself for allowing yourself to be so selfish. As long as they are happy, you should be too.

Later on, when you’re in your room getting ready for bed, there’s a tentative knock on your bedroom door, which is odd because your flatmates have the tendency to waltz into your room unannounced when it seemed fit to them.

“It’s open!” You call and MJ slips into the room. She seems wary as she sits on your bed and begins tracing the flower patterns on your bedsheet.

“Hey,” she begins, and takes a deep breath before continuing, “I know that it’s not really any of my business but I was just curious because I’ve been seeing some things that mean it but also I could be wrong so I figured to ask and it doesn’t matter really but-“

“Oh my god, MJ, spit it out,” you laugh as you sit beside her on the bed, but alarm bells have started ringing in your ears. Is she on about how you have been seeing her lately? Oh my god, has she noticed you like her?

“Do you like” -oh god- “Peter?”

Wait what?

“Wait, what?” You breathe out.

“I don’t know. I was just wondering… for no reason.” She mumbles and there’s a splash of pink on her cheeks that makes your heart swell.

You nudge up closer to her, “god no, Peter is definitely not what I’m into. Not that there’s anything wrong with him. He’s a swell guy, honestly. He’s just… not what I want,” you say and inwardly cringe at your answer; could you make it anymore obvious?

She furrows her brows and looks you straight into the eyes for the first time since entering the room, “what do you want?”.

Your eyes widen at the straight forwardness and you know that with all her attention on you it will be impossible to lie to her. You bark out a laugh that is way more forced than you intended, “Good question! Um, well, the thing is... Wait. Do you like Peter? Is that why you wanted to know?”

MJ blushes and you feel another spike of jealousy.

“Peter? For me? It’s less likely than you think.” She giggles and it’s absolutely beautiful, a symphony strung together by angels. It’s almost as if you can feel a weight lift off your shoulders and the jealousy whooshes out of you like a cool breeze.

It makes you chuckle, the dismissal of Peter being the butt of the joke, but the laugh dies on your lips as you notice the close proximity of you and MJ. Her curious eyes inches away from your own. It’s too tempting and when she parts her lips slightly, letting out a small breath, you find that you can’t hold back your feelings anymore. In this moment, nothing stands in your way except your own fear and you’ll be damned if you let that stop you from the most extraordinary person you've ever met.

It’s sudden, but your lips meet hers in a rush of bravery. Your heart almost beats out of your chest as your feel her soft lips move against yours. Kissing her feels like everything you had imagined when gazing at her smooth, full lips and more. It’s almost too good and when she eventually pulls away you are breathless. It makes you smile to realise she also seems to be short of breath. Unable to be away from her lips any longer after being so lucky to kiss her a first time, you lean in again and somehow, the second kiss is even more spectacular than the first. You feel tingles begin in your toes and move up your body until it feels like your whole being is alight with this euphoric feeling only MJ can give you.

This time, it’s you that pulls away, much to both of your chagrin. You blush as you stare at her, and you don't think you've ever been so happy.

“So... would you like to go on a date with me? Without Peter and our textbooks?” You ask, unable to tear your eyes from her own starry ones.

MJ laughs, “God, I have been waiting for you to ask me out for the longest time. I would love to,”.

She then leans back in and the both of you smile into the kiss that was much awaited for.

102 notes · View notes

moonlightstars16 · 4 years ago

Photo

Chapter 11 ~ First Encounters

1. I want to personally thank @thepurecinnamonroll who created this beautiful cover for my story. Please check out her amazing work.

2. As I mentioned from the last chapter that I will be taking a break from updating 'Shattered Blood' for the next two weeks. I have sort of lost touch with his story but I want to continue and finish it. I dislike leaving stories incomplete. So I'll be refreshing and taking time to work on more chapters. So I won't hit burn-out. I will return around July 28th(Don't worry I have other works you can check out that I update a bit more on the daily side. Please check them out as well). I also want to thank everyone who has supported my story, left kudos and comments. Ya'll are amazing and I wish you all the best during this trying time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A strucken blow....then another...and another....

Steven barley held on as the pinkish red glow emerged from within. Feeling the rumble and sharp edged from the tree and boulder he was slightly laying against. Coughing up blood trying to regaining his breathing.

"You are just a pathetic human with gem powers. Are you going to take this lying down?! Fight me and prove that you deserve those Diamond powers! Or are you too weak to handle them!?"

"I'm NOT!" Steven shouted, causing a sudden sonic boom like sound from his voice to all the area around him. He jumped up and with a strong kick, knocked Jasper back. The continued to hit her over and over. She just laughed and laughed as his fist made contact with any part of her. The laughter taunted him.

Just like the Diamonds...and he hated it.

Then he punched under her head, with fists forming what seemed to me a small ball with spikes all around, and made her helmet reappear. That made him even more furious.

Where was his helmet? Where was his protection?! Why did he have to suffer without any comfort to fall back on?!

With a loud shout he punched her so hard, it made her stop laughing and more focusing on the fight before her. The determination and worry behind her eyes opened his up. He enjoyed this. He wanted to see this fear... He CRAVED this! So much so that he began to laugh maniacally himself.

Another blow... then another... and another...

He had her up in the air, speed so fast time was becoming more and more irrelevant. He didn't care about anything except fighting- no... shattering her.

Oh yes the thought was glorious. Just the mere idea of it sent a sensation so full of ecstasy that all he saw in his sight was red. Then with one more punch, he sent her down to the ground in a huge pit formed by the impact. Shields of pentagons formed around her, locking her in place like chains. Jasper pulled, kicked and punched trying to break free. But it was too late. A bright red-ish pink light made her look up. Eyes widened from the sight.

A wall full of pentagon shields formed, bending slightly at the sides. Spikes appeared out of nowhere. Aiming only for her. She was the target, and he was excited.

"Thank you, Jasper. These Diamond powers are now mine!" With a villainous laugh he pushed the wall in her direction. Watching as it crushed her...poofed her... and her gem fell apart. Floating slowly down he picked up the shards and smirked. "Looks like I won this fight." He chuckled darkly.

Bubbling, or now in a cage of sorts, the shards and sent it back to the castle. Looking down at the slightly torn up black t-shirt with a yellow star, jeans and his red sandals. Walking back towards his palace. This identity wasn't him anymore. Thoughts swirled in his head as the thought of shattering her again and again. After all, he had the power along with essences of the other Diamonds thanks to a certain Spinel gem. The game had just begun.

Jasper froze in place, gasping at what had happened. A red-ish pink shield came in between her fist and Connie's body. But her gaze was looking at someone else. A familiar pair of glowing, Diamond shaped eyes bore into her own. Both of them staying that way for a while. Finally she pulled back and growled lowly. Bowing before him in defeat. Flashes of being shattered and brought back to life over and over came into view.

"Dismissed, Jasper." With that she got up, head bowed briefly.

"As you command." Trying not to grumble under her breath beginning to walk away.

"And don't you dare, ever fight her again. Unless you want to go back to being shattered." Jasper froze momentarily before walking away without a single word. Steven breathed deeply and put away his shield before directing his attention on Connie. Whose own eyes were widened from the scene that played out right before her. Kneeling down he offered his hand for her own. swallowing hard a little, she accepted and stood up slowly. Though her head was still throbbing from the blow.

"Uh...thank you..." She mumbled, unsure of what else to say to him.

"I thought you were more intelligent than this." The iced tone in his voice crystal clear. "It's very disappointing." His words shook too her core and caused a second wind rising within her... or fifth... Frowning she formed her fists to the side.

"Excuse me?! Oh I must've hit my head against the tree a lot harder than I thought!" Which actually was a bit more true than she wanted to admit honestly. "I'm the disappointing one around here?!"

"Going into a fight recklessly with hardly any strength is probably one of the most dumbest things to do!" His voice much louder and commanding than before. Arms crossed against his chest and back standing up much straighter, out of habit to show his authority and power he held.

"Oh and you're the one to judge what I do?! How very hypocritical your majesty!" Connie bowed mockingly so. "Or have you forgotten about what happened the last time we were in a garden!" It was also frustrating since he wasn't looking any more mad than she was in this moment. Which was odd since he was shouting only moments ago. Her words echoed out until they faded away, leaving only tense silence and cold wind. Eyes locked onto one another's. Until he broke their gaze, looking her over and finally back to her eyes.

"I see Pearl has taught you well for combat." Steven finally spoke, breaking the silence, lowering his voice back into a much calmer tone. Connie had just about enough of his mood swings, annoying her about as much as his arrogance. Her anger blinded her to the reality of her legs shaking and the fatigue quickly setting in.

"Oh no you don't! How dare you sidestep the issue here-" Connie tried to step forward, only to realize her weight wasn't being supported by any strength she had. Which was about nothing. Falling forward she braced herself for the grounds impact. When instead she felt two broad arms holding her up.

Landing against his chest in this moment wasn't entirely ideal in her mind. Steven felt her close presence and the feeling flaring up inside him once more. With an inward and heavy sigh, he lifted her left arm around his neck then supported her back. Leaning down as his other arm wrapped underneath her legs, standing back while picking her up. He could feel her heat from the fight still prominent around her.

"I won't allow you to remain in my court if you're going to be like this all the time." He stated, walking towards the garden gate near one of the castle's few entrances.

'So I'm still important to you're special court huh? Funny, I thought you would rather see me drop dead.' Connie thought, too exhausted to even begin to argue with him. Let alone keep her eyes open. Within seconds she had fallen fast asleep, nothing could wake her until her body was well rested.

This was beginning to be more and more like a pattern between the two. It was right in the middle between intriguing and annoying for them both. Steven brought her inside and to her chambers. Once she was settled in her bed, he brought her hand up to his lips. Letting his healing powers take care of any scratches or bruises while easing her pain. Leaving her alone soon after to get back to his own duties.

Hours passed, Lapis, Peridot and Bismuth all took care of watching over Connie. Making sure she was getting enough rest and back to full health. Pearl informed him of any recent activity and updates before leaving to check on other things around the palace. Steven looked upon the earth cluster project and inwardly sighed.

Having already abandoning feelings towards any attachment for the green and blue planet. Focusing more on the project to find a new home planet for the humans. This was all to win a bet. Not as if he cared one hundred percent. However he had to put forth the effort if needed be. Why not go all the way.

Certainly away from HomeWorld and away from any potential danger. However it was a tad tricky. humans needed certain necessities and while they could adapt in his eyes, it was best to find something similar if not better. Fortunately he had someone already on the job. Someone whose, now immortal, life was changed. Smirking he moved his hand across the control pad interface and watched as a diamond shaped camera came into view. Waiting for a connection to be heard from the other line.

'.........'

"Steven?!"

"Lars"

"What do you want?" Lars grumbled through the communication device.

"An update regarding the search for a plant suitable for humans."

"We are already onto the next sector."

"In other words, you have nothing." The hidden implications of that statement couldn't get passed him. Complimenting with a monotone and subtle hint of impatience in his voice.

"Hey it's not easy! That bitch Emerald has been on my tail the entire time!"

"I'm growing tired of your negligence!" Steven shouted loud as the room shook.

"It's hard searching for a planet when your also running away from the authorities!" Lars countered, seemingly not afraid of the person on the other line. Until he saw a flash of pinkish red in his Diamond shaped eyes.

"I could end it all right now." Suddenly more calm than before as a smirk appeared on his face.

"You can get her off my back?" A suspicious expression clearly written in his face.

"Of course, in fact I can just send Emerald the coordinates of where you are. Have her reclaim the ship I let you steal and capture all of you. Though I'm not sure what she will do to... them." Lars froze and gulped, gripping the arm rests of the sun incinerator captain chair. This wasn't the first time he was blackmailed.

But as his eyes darted around the ship's main deck. Watching his crew as they repaired and mapped their next destination (in a way so they wouldn't be discovered). They were more than his crew, they were becoming more like his family. Sighing in defeat, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't" He spoke firmly, trying his best to remain calm.

"You have three months."

"Three months?! But traveling in space takes longer with no functioning hyper drive engines!"

"Or I could contact Emerald now." Steven spoke, hand above the interface. One move and it was all over for them.

"You'll have a planet by then." He voiced through his teeth. Frustration and anger building up inside him.

"Excellent choice my old friend." He explained before disconnecting the communications. Lars ran a hand over his face, trying to keep from screaming.

"We were never friends."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of days afterwords, Connie was well rested and back on track with her duties. Especially since when she overworked herself she hardly had anything to catch up to. So she took her break and went outside to clear her thoughts. Things were all over the place with her emotions for Steven. Unable to place them in a specific category. One minute he seemed cold and the next minute like who he was before. Well the person he was according to the other gems.

Her heart pounded every time she thought of him. Unable to tell if it was from a sort of comfort she felt towards him or from frustration and fear. Perhaps a mixture of both. Deep within in her mind she began to hallucinate a glowing pure white butterfly. Or thought she was. Swirling around her, grabbing the attention. Connie giggled, smiling and frowning slightly in confusion. "Hey little butterfly, where did you come from?"

The butterfly in question swirled around her once again before flying ahead of her. Stopping ever so slightly as if beckoning her to come. She giggled as this creature had the personality of an excited puppy wanting it's owner to play. Following this mysterious friend of hers, not knowing where she was headed, until they reached a certain door.

Stopping immediately, knowing where this door led. But this flying creature was persistent and like a ghost flew through the door. She gulped and bit her lip, unsure of what to do. Stepping towards the large entrance she placed her hand on the handle.

Once opened she hesitantly walked through. Her eyes widened at the sight, there she saw was looked like to be a beautiful tropical paradise. The trees, shrubbery and all sort of creatures in this ecosystem were full of life. A waterfall was nearby and formed a small lake area with and similar to that of a beach. She smiled from the sight, feeling the sense of her own home in Beach City. Until she felt a hand on her shoulder making her jump.

"Greetings! Oh! I'm sorry I hope I didn't frightened you." A young man, a tad younger than her father, with long poofy black hair, a loin cloth like dress and blue shall vest like material. A brown waistband and purple and pink colored earrings. It didn't take Connie long to figure out he was apart of the human zoo. But he was acting so...normal?

"Oh, no I'm fine, um... what's your name?"

"My name is Wy-six!"

"Um... I'm sorry did you just say Y-6?"

"Yes! It's a special name given to each of us!" Connie was still kinda confused but didn't think about it long when a female with long blonde hair came into view. Dressing the exact same way as the other person. No doubt she knew who these people were.

"Wy-six, who is this new friend?" Connie smiled awkwardly, waving her hello trying to hide her concern a bit. It worked when the woman waved back at her.

"Jay-Ten! Meet my new friend.. um..."

"Uh, Connie." She spoke quickly trying to be polite. "It's nice to meet you... er, J-10 was it?"

"Yes I am Jay-Ten! Nice to meet you Connie. Tell us, where did you come from?"

"Oh well I think I just wandered in here by mistake. I should be leaving now, it was nice knowing you!" While she would've jumped at the chance to save these humans before, something didn't sit quite right with her. It's almost like they don't feel imprisoned. 'Maybe they're putting on a bright smile?'

"What is...mistake?" Wy-six asked in a curious fashion.

"Yes please tell us, Connie." Jay-Ten spoke with eagerness in her voice. Connie froze and smiled. Trying her best to find ways of explaining mistake. Although her gut and red flags were popping up everywhere. The word cult flashed across her mind.

"Um.. well a mistake is an action or judgement that is misguided or wrong." The look on their faces said a lot to her. 'Just like the middle schoolers I tutored.' Opening her mouth to explain again in more simpler terms a voice interrupted her.

"Connie?! What in the world are you doing here??" all three turned to see Greg walking towards them. The others ran off in a sort of angry humph, leaving Connie all alone and even more confused.

"Hi Mr Universe, I actually came here by accident so I think I should just be leaving now."

"Wait hold up" Greg spoke putting a hand on her shoulder. "Would you like to tell me what's going on with my son?" Connie frowned slightly, not liking the fact that she was suddenly his best friend and knew everything about him. 'Shouldn't you be asking Spinel this?' But Steven was his own flesh and blood...and gem. It was understandable for his father to show concern for his boy.

"Forgive me but I don't follow your implication." Greg sighed and showed her the 'Zooman project' in a gem tablet of sorts.

"He was here for a few days. Saying how 'it was time they were needed to be treated like humans, and reintroduce them to earth culture'. Now I think this human zoo project should never have happened in the first place! And getting them back into earth culture officially is way overdue. However it's not like my son to go having a change of heart all at once here." Connie barley could keep up with what he was saying. Her mind not comprehending the apparent truth.

"Wait, you are saying...Steven came up with this idea?" Greg took a step back and raised a brow.

"You mean, you didn't know about this?"

"I didn't think so Greg." A voice popped up, Amethyst walking into view. "Whatssup Connie?" She said smiling.

"Hey, Amethyst. It's been awhile since....um..." Connie realized they hadn't even had a proper conversation since being taken away from Earth three months ago.

"Ya man it has. But I've been busy keeping up all sorts of guard duties and stuff."

"Oh....Well I hope you're doing okay since the....fight?"

"Pshh I should be asking you that question. Oh man Greg you should've seen her! She was fighting so good I almost thought Jasper would poof!"

"I'm assuming by that statement, you saw everything?"

"Uh how could I not! Once I got my 'second wind' so to speak, I ran and watched the entire thing go down! Oh and thanks for keeping me from poofing. Jasper sure would've shattered my gem this time around if not for you."

"You're welcome...." Connie breathed too stunned to think of anything else. Had she really saved Amethysts life that much? After gathering all she knew from her friends and the fight, the reality of that weighed on her more and more.

"So you went head on with Steven's number one solder?" Greg asked before getting elbowed in the gut by Amethyst. Shaking her head out from her apparent shock.

"Just like a rumor, news travels fast around her." Connie spoke in a defeated tone, accepting that fact of this life. "Yes I did fight Jasper... But then he..." Suddenly it became clear to her. When he disappeared, he was actually here planning this the entire few days. 'No wonder he said he was busy, he must've been trying to make time for this.' Besides he was there awfully quick, but fighting beside the human zoo entrance was good luck for her.

"Yeah, we thought you knew what he was planning, though it's not surprising he didn't tell you." Amethyst stated sadly scratching the back of her head. Connie thought of the butterfly that brought her here. 'This must be why it lead me to this place.'

"Um... What exactly is the plan?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"UGH!!!" Spinel shouted. Pushing all the paperwork and a few empty bottles off the table in anger. Glass shattering all over like gems who we're out of line. "I can't believe he's doing all this!" Jasper stood still as Aquamarine and Ruby put together another green, tranquilizing elixir. Spinel breathed deeply and gripped the table. Thoughts whirling in her mind like the circles in her eyes.

"I will shatter her with more pain and torture than that of a lion!" Jasper stated with full determination in his voice.

"No... I think we shall save that for last..." Spinel smiled wickedly as an idea formed in her head.

"Aquamarine! Ruby! Is the old human torture chamber still in good working order?"

"Affirmative Spinel!" Ruby saluted similar to the diamonds but with an upside down heart. "Cleaned off all the red liquid from the previous. Plus I just put in the finishing touches last night!" Then winced when Aqua's wand hit his head.

"You mean we you numb-skull! And that red liquid is called blood. If you're going to mention it just say what it is!" She sighed before flying with her back more straight. "Everything is now in perfect working order. Even better than before when his Diamond used it on the zoomans. All we need is a test subject."

"All in due time. Remember when the opportunity is perfect, that is when we will strike."

"Of course M'lady. In fact I have a certain gem who can help us." Aquamarine smirked, whistling out. "Come on out Topaz!" Two large yellow Topaz's came out from the shadows, forming into one large one. In the process took an empty test tube and forced it to mold into their bodies. though the process was effortless. Like a cage with no way of escape. "And he won't say a word." Spinel was equally pleased.

"Well done Aquamarine, well done." She smiled and rubbed her gloved hands together. Ignoring Aquamarine sticking her tongue out towards Ruby. Jasper just stayed quiet, leaning against the wall with her arms folded. "We do need a trial run... Topaz" She spoke as he turned, saluting and facing her.

"What is it you command, my Spinel?"

"Only one thing. Tonight fetch me a human from the human zoo."

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anonfanfic · 5 years ago

Note

Small town au! Clexa. Dun dun dun... when they get caught the first time

**They do not actually have sex. Just wanted to state that before people got into the story. (Light smut involved)**

Lexa finally had Clarke all to herself. She had managed to sneak into her cousin Lincoln’s place while he was helping their uncle. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Ever since they had decided to date it felt like the walls had started to close in on them. Everywhere they went Lexa felt eyes following their every move. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and get out of their shitty town.

She wanted to be able to hold Clarke’s hand at school without worrying about what the other kids would say, or more importantly who they would say it too. She wanted to kiss Clarke goodnight when she dropped her off, but she knew every time her truck pulled into the driveway Clarke’ mom was watching from a window, ready to pull her daughter out of the truck.

More than any of that, Lexa wanted Clarke to feel safe to be herself. She knew how hard it was to feel trapped in your own skin. Now that they were together it had made it a little easier to find themselves, but the closer they got the harder it was for Clarke to escape the suffocating confinement of her family.

“I like this,” Clarke sighed happily as she rested her head on Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa had made some snacks and made sure to get the cheesiest romantic comedies she could find for their night together.

“I do, too.” Lexa grinned and tilted her head so she could kiss the top of Clarke’s head. Their hands were resting in Lexa’s lap, fingers intertwined while Lexa’s rubbed soft circles against Clarke’s skin with her thumb.

“When will Lincoln be back?” Clarke asked, and Lexa could hear the concern in her voice. Lexa hated that she was so on edge about people finding out about them. She knew it was something Clarke was always anxious about when they were together.

“We have a few hours still,” Lexa squeezed Clarke’s hand. “Gus just got a new set of shelves for the stockroom. It’ll take them a while to get those set up.”

Clarke relaxed again and Lexa felt her curl in closer to her body. Lexa licked her lips, feeling Clarke’s warm body pressed against her side.

They both went back to watching the movie, Lexa still gently caressing Clarke’s hand with her thumb. As the movie went on the touching became more purposeful. Clarke moved her hand to begin to rub up and down each of Lexa’s fingers. Lexa’s breathing hitched, but she didn’t look away from the screen in front of them. Her own hand started to snake up Clarke’s arm, her fingers dancing along Clarke’s forearm and back down again.

Lexa saw Clarke smirk out of the corner of her eye and suppressed her own grin as she started playing with Clarke’s fingers. After a few minutes, Clarke took Lexa’s hand in her own and held it while the movie played in front of them. Lexa had no idea what was happening on the screen. She felt Clarke pull her hand up and rest it on her stomach.

Lexa couldn’t help but look over at Clarke in shock as she felt Clarke start to guide her hand up to rest on her chest.

“Clarke…” Lexa swallowed heavily, looking down at where her hand was now resting and then back up at Clarke.

“Shhh,” Clarke smiled and leaned in to kiss Lexa. “I trust you. I want you.” Clarke murmured against Lexa’s lips. Lexa felt a warmth start in her stomach and move down. Her legs tingled as Clarke moved to straddle her.

Lexa moved her other hand to the small of Clarke’s back, lifting her shirt and running her hand up and down Clarke’s back.

Clarke’s arms wrapped around Lexa’s neck, pulling her in to deepen the kiss. Lexa had never felt like this before. Her body felt light, but also heavy at the same time. Her limbs felt like they were radiating electricity. She could feel herself shaking as she moved her other hand down and under Clarke’s shirt. Both of her hands now flat against Clarke’s stomach.

Clarke’s mouth moved down to her jaw and then her neck. Lexa couldn’t breath, everything was happening so fast. All she wanted to do was remember every single moment. She wanted to take in the way Clarke’s body felt against her fingers, the way her lips tasted, and how the weight of her body felt against her own.

Lexa’s hands moved up tentatively, reaching the edge of Clarke’s bra.

“Clarke..” Lexa’s voice was unsteady. She wanted to keep going, but she didn’t want to make a move Clarke didn’t want or would regret later.

“It’s okay, Lexa. I’ll tell you if I want to stop,” Clarke whispered into her ear.

It was something about her tone that pushed Lexa forward. Clarke hadn’t sounded this confident in so long. She truly did want Lexa as much as Lexa wanted her.

Lexa cupped Clarke’s breasts over her thin bra. She could feel the small bump of her nipple and ran her thumb over one and then the other. She heard Clarke gasp and smiled, repeating the action.

Clarke’s lips were back on her own kissing her deeply as Lexa continued to explore Clarke’s breasts.

Lexa felt Clarke’s hips press down against her lap and lifted her own without thinking to create the friction they both needed so badly.

They broke apart, both staring at each other, breathing heavily with swollen red lips. Clarke reached down to the hem of Lexa’s shirt and gave Lexa a tentative look. Lexa nodded and lifted her arms to allow Clarke to remove it.

Clarke tossed the shirt to the floor and repeated the motion with her own shirt. Lexa took in Clarke’s body, running both hands up Clarke’s sides and back down. Clarke bent down again and kissed Lexa, her hands moving to rest on Lexa’s chest.

Lexa moaned as Clarke’s fingers found her own nipples and pinched them under the cloth of her black cotton bra. A brief thought went through Lexa’s mind about her choice of bra for the evening, though how was she to know this would happen. Lexa almost laughed at the idea of giving a shit about any of that in this moment.

Lexa reached up and around to the back clasp of Clarke’s bra. She waited a long second to make sure Clarke had time to stop her before unclasping it easily with one hand.

“Done that a lot?” Clarke joked, giving Lexa a peck as she pulled away to remove her bra.

Lexa’s face turned a light shade of pink that only grew more intense as she saw Clarke’s naked chest for the first time.

“Holy shit…” Lexa couldn’t stop herself. Now it was Clarke’s turn to blush. Lexa looked up at Clarke with a bashful smile, hoping she didn’t overstep.

“You’re beautiful.” Lexa grabbed the back of Clarke’s head and pulled her down into another kiss.

The movie had ended, though neither girl seemed to notice. Neither of them noticed the car pulling up or the front door open. It wasn’t until Lincoln walked into the room that the girl’s knew they were no longer alone.

“What the fuck, Lexa!” Lincoln exclaimed, throwing both hands over his eyes and turning to face the front door.

Clarke leaped from Lexa’s lap and scrambled to find her bra and shirt. Lexa was in complete shock. It wasn’t until her shirt hit her in the face that she even registered what was happening. Clarke already had her bra on and was fumbling with her shirt before Lexa even stood up and put her own shirt on.

“Lincoln?” Lexa blinked several times, hoping this was some sort of nightmare.

“Is everyone…decent?” Lincoln asked, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment in his voice.

“Yeah,” Lexa thought her voice sounded very far away. It was like she was in a tunnel talking to Lincoln through one of those tin cans with a string. So far away from everything.

Lincoln dropped his hands and turned around. He looked from Clarke to Lexa without saying a word.

“I’m gonna say this again, but this time an answer. What the FUCK, Lexa?” Lincoln’s hands moved to his hips as he waited for his cousin to reply.

Lexa took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to actually speak again.

“Lincoln, I thought you’d be gone most of the night and…” Lexa’s voice shot out of her like cannon fire; fast, loud, and messy.

“You thought I’d be gone for the night so you were going to…and Clarke Griffin…her parents…my job…I just don’t…how the…fucking fuck.” Lincoln was pacing now, each train of thought interrupting the other as he tried to figure out what to say next.

“Lexa, do you fucking know who the fuck her parents are?” Lincoln pointed to Clarke.

“Lincoln, it’s not…I didn’t want you to find out like this. I-We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”

“Mon-Months?” Lincoln repeated, his hand still outstretched toward Clarke.

“What-How do you think this is going to go?” Lincoln pressed, his hand moving to rest on the top of his head and his eyes wide as his mind still tried to process what he had walked into in his own house.

“Lincoln…..I-I love her.” Lexa finished sheepishly. She hadn’t wanted it to go like this. She had a whole thing planned to tell Clarke, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Lexa chanced a look at Clarke and saw the other girl just staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“Well shit Lexa, guess that’ll make all the difference. Why don’t you just go tell Coach Griffin you’re in love with his daughter. I’m sure he’ll throw a fucking parade.” Lincoln let out a humorless laugh and put his hands on his hips.

“Lincoln…are you going to tell them?” Clarke finally spoke, taking a step forward. Her face had no color and it looked like a sneeze would knock her on her ass.

Lincoln stared at both of them in turn and once again let out a laugh, this time sounding a little more insane before running both his hands over his bald head.

“I’m not going to say shit to no one because you guys were never here.” Lincoln took a step away from his front door and gestured for them to leave.

Lexa grabbed her jacket and keys and followed Clarke who was already out the door. Lincoln grabbed Lexa’s arm before she could leave.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing with her?” Lincoln’s eyes searched Lexa’s face and Lexa could see his dark eyes filled with empathy for the path his cousin had chosen.

“I’m sure that I love her. That’s all.” Lexa replied, and it was the truth.

Lincoln kept his hand on Lexa’s arm for an extra beat before slowly nodding and releasing her.

“Your secret is safe with me. You’re my family and I love you. You know that, right?” Lincoln asked.

Lexa smiled and leaned in to hug him. “I know.”

Lincoln squeezed her tightly and sighed. “Get out of here and get her home.”

Lexa pulled away and jumped off the porch to the driveway. She saw Clarke already sitting in the passenger seat of the truck.

Lexa got in and let out a long breath looking over at Clarke.

“I’m so sorry. He’s not going to say anything. Lincoln’s a cool guy, he just was…ya know a little shocked at the whole…”

“I love you, too.” Clarke interrupted Lexa, looking right at her.

Lexa froze, staring at Clarke astounded.

Finally, she smiled and leaned over to kiss Clarke before starting the truck.

“Let’s get you home.”

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support it, please consider going HERE and ‘buying me a coffee’. If you can’t or don’t want to, I appreciate you reading either way! Thanks everyone who reads!!

#clexa #clexa fanfic #clexa fanfiction #clexa fan fic #clexa fan fiction #clexa modern au #clexa small town au #small town au #prompt

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eagesoldartblog · 5 years ago

Text

Loveless Glasses

What was Valentine's Day, but a way to monetize a holiday primarily based around affection and joy around lovers? Or not. Vivi muses, drumming her fingers against the leather seat. Whatever it was, Vivi didn’t celebrate it. Hell, she didn’t start until a few years ago, and even then it was minimal at best. Minimal being- she bought all the candy she could get February 15th and snack for the rest of the month while listening to podcasts around various whatzahavits and reading strange textbooks in her spare time.

Arthur, on the other hand, was much different. Vivi couldn't wrap her head around that fact. At first, she didn't even notice it, but leading up to it, Arthur was slowly changing out the colors of his outfit into light pinks and reds. Then on the eve of the mediocre holiday, he would use his spare time to make them-... her gifts for the day. Last year he spent the entire week making her a custom leather bound book, going as far as to take a class on book binding, just for that! … Not that she didn't appreciate it, no, she was stunned beyond belief and wanted to do something for him as well. But… this behavior was startling obvious when they spent a majority of their time cramped in the van. She glances over her shoulder, watching Mystery snooze in a ball on one of her spare hoodies, unaware of Arthur’s persistent work. Then again, he may have purposefully started to drown it out. Glancing back over at him, her eyes fall to the many, many cans scattered around him. So unaware and oblivious to her watching him for the upteenth time that week.

Don’t get her wrong, she loves road trips, and she loves catching surprises when they were still in development. Spending time with certain people and having a glorified sleep over over the course of a month, or week. Even better when she is so completely aware as to why they’re so excited about whatever they’re hiding from her. Vivi never let them know that she did. And she loved how their eyes would light up and the joy that went into it. But this?

She didn’t love this. Didn’t love how he stayed up all night working and scouring his computer for nonexistent clues, and now he hardly sleeps more than an hour per night - especially now due to the fact that he’s tinkering with a pair of sunglasses..

Pink, a sharp magenta.

Hesitantly, Vivi brushes her fingers against the wire of her black ones. Those pink ones broke last week, and she was more than happy to forget about them- she didn't even know where she got it, much less why she wore it- and instead being content with these raggedly black ones. They had a charm to them. But no matter what she said, Arthur insisted. Reluctantly she handed them over for him to start blueprinting and getting to work… Said he can add something that allows her to spot more spiritual entities.

Watching this? She wished she simply threw them out. Nonetheless, her focus reverts back to Arthur. To his hunched back and his stained and dirtied vest that Arthur always cared about. He always got fussy over it,

Something is wrong here. It shouldn’t be going this way. It shouldn’t.

The thoughts had been repeating in the back of her head ever since this road trip started. Getting louder and more persistent to the point where Vivi couldn’t ignore it. And despite that, she didn't act on it by Arthurs request.

Crawling over the seats, she hops onto the lower deck She should have put a stop to this a long fucking time ago. Her black rimmed glasses slip from off her nose and clatters to the floor, but Vivi doesn’t notice, even when it cracks and a lense pops from under her foot.

The van shifts and rocks from the sudden weight change, finally popping the little Buble Arthur was trapped in, and his brain flicker with dizziness when he looks back at her. Evident by how his head waved and he gripped the ground.

For some reason, Vivi freezes. Her sleep ridden brain skidding to a stop like a deer in headlights, and it didn’t provide a proper response until Arthurs expression changes. For the first time in what seems like months, the corners of his mouth draw up, and he smiles at her, “Hey Vi.. Happy Valentines da..”

That was enough. Cogs turning in her head and the sound drowns him out because Vivi isn't able to hear him past the rising ring. Built up emotion suppressed so heavily Vivi couldn’t distinguish what it was made of. But the ugly mix of steam powers her body forth, feet so heavy that she was almost stomping. That is until he’s watching her with alarm, staring up at her with an expression of confusion decorating his face.

Over her shoulder, Vivi can hear Mystery yawn. Jump over the cushions, and she can feel like piercing stare drive into her shoulder. If she was any less confused, and tired, she would send the white dog a reassuring smile.

But she wasn’t. In a fashion that was far too dramatic- even for her- she falls to her knees, forehead bouncing and hitting his shoulder.

“Viv’?” He tosses his lap top aside and Vivi resist the urge to spit at it. Instead half focusing on the alarm evident in his eyes. When Vivi doesn’t respond, only sinking in closer, it occurs to him. Arthur grips one of her arms gently and loops his metal one. He knew why. Didn’t need an explanation for her sudden shift in attitude.

Why? She’s tired. Vivi’s really, really fucking tired, hasn’t slept in maybe two days and now the flood gates of thought have opened and allowed her impulsiveness to bleed even more into the box of clarity and action.

It was nothing compared to Arthur, but her head screams and rings and everywhere she looked it was spinning and so blurry and yet falling asleep meant being victim to some panic inducing sleep paralysis or the worry that Arthur would push it too far. The fear and stress was immense.

And every night, Arthur would be there when she tossed and turned. Came to the bark and call from Mystery who often realized when that would occur. Arthur cared, and he loved her. He didn’t need some shitting holiday to express it, and she knew that. He would also give the world to her if given the chance, even if it meant he would die. He was so much better than her in that regard, he actually cares for his friends. He-

Arthur’s lifting her the smallest bit, holding her against his chest with mild difficulty and extreme caution, before plopping her down and rearranging her onto their- her bed. The thought pokes and prods and stabs through her brain, but she couldn’t even come up with a proper reason for feeling this dead. Arthur was suffering, not her!

She knew that. But with it, she only can make out the thrum of something distorted and wrong in her head. Knots and ribbons of wrongness tangled in horrific messes.

Arthur fluffs the pillow under her head and reaches over to snags a folded, knitted blanket adorning primarily yellow and white and- clarity rings through again and Vivi’s mind focus’s on that blanket because she made that for him, why is he- drapes it over her. Gingerly tucking it under her, like a child.

For a single second golden meets bluet, and Arthur gives her his best smile.

Only to try and leap back. Vivi’s arms shot up, fingers tightly lacing behind his back. A yelp gets lodged in his throat as she rips him down against her. Much to his surprise, he’s now laying completely on top of her. Arthur blinks blankly and tries to snag a handle on anything to pull him up until Vivi rolls them both over and he is next to her. A blanket- his blanket- hurriedly being thrown over his side and in that moment he realizes what she's doing, but a bit too late.

Arthur clears his throat, “Vivi-”

“Shut up, I don’t care,” She hisses in response, burying her face against his chest to keep him steady... at least that's one part of the reason, the other part being that she couldn't stand this part of herself and didnt want him to bear witness, “I don't care about this person you’re after. Please, just- fucking stop for one night..” Too late…

Arthur’s body stiffens, the metallic arm is pinned under her side and the other one lowers to hug her. Murmurs something illegible into her hair. “I.. Vivi, I - I have to find him.. F-for you-”

A fit convulses through her and she tightens her hold, she glares harder into his shirt, not caring about the wet drops of tears wetting it now. Instead, “Don’t do it for me then. I would want more than anything in the entire fuckin’ world for you to stop all of this.”

“I can’t-”

Vivi grits her teeth, imaginary steam burning her lungs, “You won't be able to find them if you’re dying, Artie. Wh-what then?” She asks, her voice quivering from frustration- As the ball in her chest fights and jumps to leap out of her chest in the form of sobs and pain and screams instead of the cold determination and sternness she needed. Instead, her shoulders shake and her hug tightens.

Arthur sputters the smallest bit, before his hand is stroking through her hair, maybe having given up on even debating it.

But oh no, that wouldn’t be enough for her, would it?

“Wha- who is this guy..?” Vivi chokes out, already able to recite what Arthur would say next. Her boyfriend. A man with purple hair. Someone so tall you would be able to spot him in every crowd. A man with a smile so sweet and a scent so spicy he’d made your heart melt with just one.

After a few moments of silence, He says his name, and she doesn’t hear it. Nothing from those inaudible syllables makes a difference in her mind besides allowing the floodgates to flow faster and the cogs to turn harder. The results crashing against her eyelids, and soaking through. Running along her face and her body shudders and curls and Arthur doesn't stop holding her.

She's so selfish… Vivi hasn’t ever deserved him… nothing she’s done or will do can truly make up for everything that Arthur has given her and that one thought hurts. It hurts, and cuts and the ache is so strong

“D-did-...” her mouth is moving faster than her thoughts can collect, rampaging through a weakened filter that was too hard to reinforce, one burning question she always forced herself to shove down, no matter what, “did you love him... ?”

With that one question, Arthur’s body stiffens like he was hit by a wall of bricks, shoulders tight and the fingers half buried in her hair halt and nearly grip, “Is that why you keep- why you keep searching…?”

She's such an asshole, why now? Why on his favorite fucking holiday did you decide to have this breakdown?

Silence fills the van. Mind for the laptop’s fan’s blasting and the scratching of Mystery’s nails against the floor as he tries to plug it in the way he always did. Except for Arthurs stilted and shuddering breath and his all too quick heartbeat thumping away at his ribcage. Save for the swirling thoughts that fill her mind and soul and makes each beat of her own feel like earthquakes and lightning striking her arms and legs and bruising her all over.

Silence. That is until Arthur takes a deep breath, and nestles her close, lips pressed to his forehead as he whispers, “I do.. But I love.. I love you too, I love you both…”

They stay there. Until no light is shining in any part of the small space. Until Mystery is snuggling up to her legs and snoring.

Vivi doesn’t let go.

But in the morning, she wakes up to click-clacking and a gift box beside her pillow.

And nothing in her heart.

#mystery skulls animated #msa #mystery skulls fanfic #vithur #vivi yukino #Arthur kingsmen #Angst #hurt and comfort #referenced lewthur #arthur fuckin lOVEs them BOTH okay?#But does vivi know that?#nah #shes just having some bad fuckin days and the Valuentines whatever was there #and she wiped out a glock #Mystery the dog #eage fanfic

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ma-sulevin · 5 years ago

Photo

Honestly, I really love this chapter. I made the banner like.... a month ago.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 5800, chapter eleven of fifteen (almost definitely this time).

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

—

Whitehorse takes one look at Sharky and Mattie holding hands and turns right around and walks back into the jail. Sharky doesn't say anything for once, but Mattie can see his shoulders slump a little. Really, Whitehorse is the closest thing she has to a dad since her real daddy kicked her out of the house with her belongings all in black trash bags. It's not that they'd talked about Whitehorse’s approval or anything, and Mattie certainly wasn't expecting it, but… apparently, Sharky was hoping for it after all.

Mattie squeezes his fingers and leaves him talking about his flamethrower to the woman running the armory, something about a part he needs, and makes a beeline for Whitehorse’s office.

She doesn’t have to try forcing him to tell her what his reaction is; before his office door is totally shut behind her, he’s already struggling to keep his voice down.

“Rook, I have never once questioned your judgement, but just what in the hell are you doing with the Boshaw boy?”

Mattie blinks and him and he stares back, his mustache actually quivering, and she covers her mouth to stop herself from laughing. How has he ever interrogated anyone with that happening every time he gets upset?

She pulls herself back together, drawing in a deep breath and pressing her fingers against her cheek instead. “I know. It wasn’t exactly planned.”

“You know there’s still technically a warrant out for his arrest.”

“I’m not gonna arrest him, Earl.” She’s never used Whitehorse’s first name before, and the sound of it makes him deflate as the anger whooshes out of him. “He keeps me safe out there, and he’s good at fighting, and there’s a distinct lack of volunteers in that department.”

He crosses his arms across his chest. “Be careful with him, at least.”

Mattie smiles a little, letting the warmth of his paternal concern settle in her bones. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

He makes a little grumbling noise, like he disagrees, but he lets the subject drop. “Good job with Jacob,” he says instead. “Just one more to go.”

Her smile is a little more forced, not because she doesn’t feel proud of what she’s accomplished, but because she’s exhausted from the weight of the county. She doesn’t know how many lives she’s taken, only how many lives she’s sacrificed for people who don’t even understand.

“Staci’s with Joey in Fall’s End,” she says instead of anything she’s thinking. “He told us where to start bringing down Faith’s operations. Is Virgil around?”

Whitehorse nods and steers her back out of his office and toward where Virgil’s set up in the other room. Together, they look over the beaten up map Mattie’s been carrying around, marking places they know need to be cleaned out — like the Water Treatment Plant and the Conservatory — and Virgil and Whitehorse make some guesses about other places she should go look — like the old summer camp that closed down before Mattie moved to the county.

It’s dark by the time they’re done, dinner already served, and Mattie finds Sharky waiting for her on one of two cots he’s tucked together in the bullpen. He has some bottles of water, two beers, and two MREs, and his fingernails have been bitten down to the quick.

She greets him with a soft hey babe and a kiss, leaning on his shoulders for balance as she kicks off her shoes at the same time, and then she collapses across his lap instead of on her cot to eat her dinner.

“You’re a peach,” she says, mouth full, and tries not to laugh when Sharky turns pink at the compliment. “We’ll spend the night here then head north. Have you talked to your aunt lately? If she still needs us to track down her helicopter, we might be able to make a stop. Sure would be useful.”

Sharky shrugs and shakes his head and shifts her legs in his lap so he can get his hands on her feet. He grabs one and digs his thumb into the muscle, and she groans around a mouthful of water.

“Ugh. You’re the best.”

Sharky snorts and shakes his head again, then finally works up the courage to say whatever he’s been thinking about since she ran off earlier.

“Did, uh, did the sheriff say anything about me?” He’s trying to whisper, but he’s still loud enough that Tracey glances over at them from where she’s trying to read on one of the other cots, an amused little smile on her face. Mattie ignores her.

“Nothing important,” Mattie says, finally. “We’re not going to arrest you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t let him.”

Sharky nods, and his shoulders relax a bit. He rubs her foot a little harder, and she bites off another moan. There’s no reason to be obscene about this, even if she kinda wants to be. More than anything, she wants him to massage her other foot and then let her fall asleep.

When Sharky stays silent, stays trapped in his thoughts instead of finding something to occupy their thoughts, she forces herself to sit up and reach for his face. She holds his chin and guides his face to hers.

“I told him you take care of me, that you care about me. That’s enough.”

Sharky stares at her for another second and then his face breaks out into a wide smile. She pulls him forward the last few inches and gives him a soft, slow kiss that tastes like beer and dehydrated food, then she collapses back onto the cot and pushes her other foot into his hand.

“This one too.”

He obeys, staying silent for the last of his patience, which is about five more seconds, then he says, “It’s really kinda bullshit when you think about it, I mean, I didn’t mean to set that fire, you know, and I don’t think there’s really any proof that I did it or anything, so I think that warrant should get thrown out. I need a better lawyer than that shitbag the state sends in, and—”

Mattie throws her arm over her eyes and gives into her laughter even though she’s pretty sure he’s actually being serious. He trails off and chuckles too, but his hands don’t waver.

“Tell you what,” she says, catching her breath and peering up at him. “After this is over, I’ll call in a favor and get it thrown out. They’ll owe me. Sound good?”

‘’Hell yeah, shorty. Guess I gotta keep you safe until then, huh.”

She sighs out another laugh. “Yeah, guess you’re stuck with me.”

His grin grows. “I think I can live with that.”

---

They spend ten minutes on the hill over the water treatment plant watching the workers. Most of them are just standing around, acting as guards, but some of them are actively pouring bliss into the reservoirs.

Sharky sits quietly while he waits, finally used to her method, and she’s just about able to ignore the sound of him picking at his nails. He even sits quietly as she sets up her sniper rifle to take down a few of the perimeter guards before they start to move in. She waits until she’s certain she’s done as much as she can, until Sharky’s pent-up energy has made him start to vibrate next to her, and then she nods at him.

“Try not to die,” she says, voice cheerful.

“You too!”

She can barely hear his reply as he skids down the hill, but she lets herself smile and moves more quietly down the other side. She’s not Grace; she’s not a good enough sniper to hit fast-moving targets, so she switches to her 1911 and sneaks in the back to quietly pick off some more peggies.

This plan has helped them take outpost after outpost across the Valley and through the Whitetails, but here in the Henbane? At this outpost? The scent of bliss hits her heavy and hard, white lights dancing in her vision so that she completely misses the next peggie she tries to shoot and ends up having to wrestle with him until she’s able to smash his head against the side of the closest building.

The scents, the blood and the bliss, remind her so viscerally of Jacob’s compound in the mountains that she gags, dry heaving a few times over the peggie’s dead body before she’s able to push herself back to her feet.

Her skin crawls and cold sweat breaks out on her skin, but she pushes forward swallowing down saliva and fear as she puts down the rest of Faith’s men.

Someone else sneaks up behind her, surprising her, and she spins around and raises her gun at the same time. He grabs her gun hand at the wrist and twists, a surprised shout leaving him. Her gun falls to the concrete as pain radiates up her arm, and she howls in pain and rage as she tries to punch him in the face with her left hand.

“Fuck you! You’re not taking me back!” He’s yelling too, nonsense words that overwhelm her screams, and now he’s got both her wrists in his hands so she stomps on his foot. “Let me go!”

The bliss is making it hard to breathe, and she draws in gasping breaths that rasp through her dry throat.

She won’t go back to Jacob’s compound.

She won’t.

“Shit, Dep, it’s me! Stop it!”

She ignores whatever he’s saying and lands another solid stomp on his foot. He swears roundly, spinning her around and wrapping his arms around her, pinning her body against his, then he lifts so she can’t do anything but kick her feet and hope she makes solid connection.

She doesn’t.

“Mat, please, it’s me, it’s me.” He dodges her headbutt and presses his cheek against hers instead. “It’s just the bliss, I promise, come back.”

She’s close enough now that she can smell his sweat, the stench of gasoline wafting off him in waves. She shudders again, shifting in his arms, and then she goes limp.

“There you are, you’re okay, I promise. I got you.”

Sharky lowers her to the ground, letting her support her own weight but not really letting her go until she starts to turn around. He lets her bury her face in the collar of his hoodie then squeezes her tighter again as he presses her face into her hair.

She’s shaking, sick, sweat still standing out on her skin, and she drags in deep breaths of his scent. He stinks a little, and she probably does too, but it’s familiar and not bliss or blood and after enough long inhales she’s able to pull her shit back together from where it was splintering apart at the seams.

“You okay?”

Sharky’s voice comes as soon as she relaxes her hold on him, but he doesn't move to pull away until she does.

She puts just enough space between them to look up at his face, at the lines of worry, and then she nods.

“Sorry.”

He shrugs, a little half-smile gracing his features before disappearing again. “The bliss get to ya?”

She nods and tugs one arm free so she can wipe at her face.

“Forgot where I was,” she admits, fingers pressed against her eyelids so she has an excuse not to look at him. “It was just like I was in Jacob’s compound again.”

They’re still touching, so she can feel it when he goes very still. He starts moving again after a second, pulling her back against his chest with her arm squashed between them. He squeezes her too tight, presses kiss to the top of her head, mutters, “That’s never fucking happening again.”

The bliss still sparkles at the edge of her vision, but with her face pressed against his chest it’s easy to explain it away as simple pressure against her eyes.

“Yeah, ‘cause I killed him,” she says, and Sharky rumbles a laugh that she feels instead of hears, and she smiles against him as ridiculous, smug pride starts to fill her.

“That’s my girl,” Sharky says, and she’s glad she’s already pressed against him because her face fills with heat and she just knows she’s blushing. She can feel it on her ears, too, the skin too hot all of a sudden. It’s a ridiculous reaction, but she really can’t help it. “Knew you could do it.”

She grumbles a little, more out of habit against the compliment than anything else, then she takes one last deep breath of Sharky’s scent before she forces herself to pull away and stand up on her own power for real.

The white lights are still there, wooziness overwhelming her for a second before she clenches her jaw and pushes through.

“Help me look through their pockets, see if we can find a keycard for these doors. We can destroy the pumps from inside.”

Sharky wrinkles his nose at her. “Dead bodies get diseases so fast though.”

She blinks at him.

He blinks right back.

“Sharky, that is not how it works.” She’s still on edge, voice coming out a little more sharp than she intended, and his shoulders hunch at the sound of it. She grimaces, already feeling bad, and tries again. “Sorry. It’s okay; I promise you won’t catch anything this fast. Just help me?”

“Sure thing, shorty,” he says, and he smiles at her even though his voice is a little quieter than it was a minute ago. She takes an extra second to pull him down by the collar of his hoodie for a quick kiss, really just a brush of her lips across his in an apology, then she pulls away and points where she wants him to go.

She can see him hesitate before he leans down to check the first corpse, and she doesn’t quite know what his problem is. The bodies are still warm, still bleeding — maybe she’s just been deadened to it over the years, but they don’t even smell. There shouldn’t be a problem here, not really, and she kneels down to rifle through the closest peggie’s coat without worrying about it.

“Check the pockets, avoid the feces and the genitals,” Sharky says, mostly to himself, and Mattie presses her lips together to avoid laughing at him.

Well… that makes a little more sense. Kinda.

It takes a few minutes, but they find a keycard attached to one of the peggie’s shirts with one of those retractable lanyard things. Sharky passes it to Mattie, along with a crisp ten dollar bill and a few crumpled ones, and she quietly squeezes his hand in thanks.

He helps her rig the bliss tanks to explode too, his skill with explosives better than hers on a good day, much less when she’s swimming in bliss fumes, exhausted, trying her best to ignore Faith’s voice in her ear telling her she’s making a mistake.

She’s not. She knows she’s not.

They radio back to the jail when they’re done, say their first stop has been taken care of but they need to recoup a bit, and Mattie tunes out Virgil’s words of praise as she and Sharky drive out of the heavy fog of bliss.

It’s still daylight, but they stop at an abandoned cabin on top of a hill, far above where the bliss clouds usually travel. The fight at the treatment plant has left her exhausted and sore, her head aching and her sinuses burning. Sharky finds some expired Benadryl in one of the ransacked cupboards and passes it to her, watching as she washes two down with an entire bottle of water.

“This fuckin’ sucks,” she informs him, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I wish we could set this whole place on fire.”

“Just say the word!” Sharky says, with too much enthusiasm, and Mattie smiles back at him.

“I love you,” she says, instead of addressing his offer.

He blushes.

“Hell, I love you too.”

She nods, content with that answer, then turns with the intention of passing out on the cabin’s single bed. “Don’t burn anything down until I wake up, please. I’d like to help.”

She can hear him laughing as she flops down on the mattress without pulling back the blanket, then she falls deep into blessedly dreamless sleep.

---

She wakes up slowly, confused, to voices filtering in through the closed bedroom door. She aches all over, but that’s normal, muscles overworked and body pushed to its limits as she’s done things she’s never even had nightmares about before all of this.

She lets herself drift in the space between waking and sleeping for a while longer, not in any particular hurry to force herself back to reality, and then she takes a deep breath and pushes herself up onto her elbows and knees, then sits up on her heels and stares at the wall directly in front of her.

Now that she's more conscious, she recognizes the voices as belonging to Sharky and Hurk, and she starts to head out to the cabin’s main room when she realizes they're talking about her.

“She's pushing herself too hard, cuz.” That's Hurk, sounding worried and world-wise. “She can't keep goin’ like she's been goin’, or she’ll crash and burn. The bliss is still hitting her hard?”

Sharky sounds miserable when he responds: “I think she's allergic to it or somethin’, man. You shoulda seen her at the water plant. She nearly shot me.”

Mattie bites her lower lip and presses her ear to the crack of the door so she can hear better. She'd been so wrapped up in the bliss and her own feelings she hadn't stopped to think about how she would feel if Sharky got bliss-confused and tried to shoot her. She hadn't stopped to think about how Sharky felt.

“She’s been doing too much,” Hurk says, with the air of someone who’s seen it. “I don't know why the other deputies won't help her. It's a gotdamn miracle she's even still alive.”

Someone, she thinks probably Sharky, heaves a sigh and she holds her breath to see how he's going to handle that one, but she relaxes when she hears him say, “I honestly don't fuckin’ know either.”

Well he's not wrong about that.

She puts her hand on the knob but freezes again when she hears Hurk ask, “You two fuckin’ or what?”

She flinches, but Sharky just laughs.

“C’mon, man,” he starts, but Hurk cuts him off.

“You can't lie to me,” Hurk says, voice surprisingly stern. “I raised you--”

“You did not--”

“--and I know you've been in love with her since she helped us kill the angels at the Moonflower, so I need to know if she loves you back or what.”

Mattie smiles behind the door and waits for Sharky’s answer.

“Yeah, I love her,” Sharky admits, voice a little softer. She presses her ear harder against the door to listen.

“I know that, dumbass,” Hurk says. “I’m tryna figure out if she loves you back or if she’s taking advantage of you following her around.”

Silence follows Hurk’s admission, and Mattie doesn’t know what to make of it. Has that happened to Sharky before? Someone taking advantage of how he loves someone with his whole being? Just the thought of it makes her fucking furious.

“Don’t be a dickhole,” Sharky snaps back, finally. “She ain’t like that. She loves me. She’s good. ”

Hurk grumbles something she can’t quite catch, then adds, “I just worry about you. You’re my baby cousin.”

“Aww. I love you, man.”

Mattie’s still smiling when she tiptoes back to the bed and then pointedly makes noise, heavy footfalls and a hand against the wall to announce she’s moving around. She pushes down the guilt she feels at eavesdropping on their conversation; it was obviously private, but it was good to hear Sharky’s unfiltered thoughts about them, and about her.

Hurk is pouring coffee into three matching mugs as she pushes the bedroom door open, and he gives her a wide, open smile as soon as he sees her.

“Hey, Hurk.”

“Morning, deputy.” Hurk smiles at her, face open and cheerful, and then he lifts his eyebrows at her and she’s suddenly sure he knows she was eavesdropping. She lifts her eyebrows right back, accepting his challenge.

He wants to protect Sharky, but he doesn’t have to from her.

He nods and hands her one of the mugs. He trusts her to take care of his baby cousin, and she’ll do her best to keep him safe.

It’s the first time she’s been on this end of a shovel talk, but she’s happy he believes her.

She takes a long sip of her too-hot coffee on her way around to where Sharky is sitting at a stool pushed up against the kitchen counter. His expression clears when she looks at him, lightening into another smile, and then she wraps one arm around his shoulders and gives him a lingering kiss on the forehead. His arms encircle her waist and pull her closer until she’s half sitting on him, and then he rests his head against her shoulder and clings to her like she’s a stuffed animal.

It’s comforting, and warm, and kind, and she leans into him as she sips her coffee. It’s strong and bitter, but it’s waking her up and chasing away the last of the lingering wooziness caused by the bliss.

The bruise on her wrist is obvious when she reaches out to put the mug on the counter, four clear fingerprints on the back and a thumbprint on the underside. The whole joint is sore, and she flinches when Sharky grabs for it again even though she doesn’t really mean to.

“Shit, shorty,” he says, voice as quiet as it ever gets. He pls her arm closer and runs his thumb over the marks he left in her skin. “I’m sorry.”

She pulls her hand free and uses it to grasp his chin, turning completely in his grasp so she can look him right in the eye. His face is shadowed, guilt shining from those beautiful blue eyes, and she shakes him a little before he says, “If I try to shoot you in the bliss again, you can break it off.”

“I wouldn't,” Sharky says, the protest loud and immediate and so, so honest she could cry.

“You have to,” Mattie insists, lowering her voice a little to add, “I can’t trust myself out there, but I can trust you. You did the right thing.”

Sharky looks over at Hurk before he makes a dissatisfied noise and grumbles out a “Fine.”

She rewards him with a kiss, and Hurk makes a loud aww noise behind them, and when Mattie turns back around Sharky’s already giving him the finger.

Oh, children.

“You boys ready to go? We have outposts to take and angels to kill before Faith tries to kidnap me like her brothers.”

Sharky tucks himself back around her, holding her close, and so it’s Hurk who answers with a smile and a shrug and the same relentless optimism that endeared him to her way back when she answered his SOS at his father’s house.

“You just say the word and we’ll be right there with you! Faith won’t know what hit her.”

She pulls her unbruised arm free of Sharky’s grasp and picks her coffee back up. She downs it too fast, ignores the way it burns her tongue and her chest, then puts the empty mug back on the counter. “Let’s go, then. C’mon.”

---

The first outpost they come across is in the remains of the hotel, the same one Mattie stayed in the night before her interview at the jail. It shut down not long after, and she never really knew why… but now, watching the peggies crawling all over it, she figures it out.

The cult ruined this business too.

It’s harder to control the chaos that seems to fill Sharky’s entire being when Hurk is also there. Their energy bounces off each other, increasing as they laugh and joke and tell Mattie stories from growing up no matter how many times she tries to tell them to keep it down. Even Boomer, brought along by Hurk, seems to pick up on the chaos and keeps running off into the thick underbrush on the sides of the road.

She doesn’t think twice when she sees the peggie standing in the woods behind the hotel; she’s so used to seeing Hope County residents kneeling in front of cultists that she just starts to move in their direction, abandoning Sharky and Hurk where she’d been trying to do recon on the hotel.

It doesn’t occur to her to wonder why this scene is taking place a hundred feet from the road, on the side of a hill, uncomfortably close to some bushes. It doesn’t occur to her that she’s never seen this happen anywhere but in a place where it’s easy to pull a hit and run on the peggie…

She just sees someone who needs her help, and she goes.

The peggie disappears when she shoots him, and when she trips in surprise and stumbles into the civilian…

Faith is there instead.

She smiles, beautiful, and takes Mattie’s hands in hers.

“Welcome to the bliss,” she says, and blows the dust in Mattie’s face. “I’m so glad you came.”

Mattie blinks and she’s somewhere new, somewhere beautiful, the scent of the bliss surrounding her but not making her gag. She’s laying in some grass, soft and cool as any she’s ever been in, and she’s staring up at a cloudless blue sky.

This is nice. This is lovely. What was she even worried about again?

She stays just like that, smiling, drifting closer and closer to sleep, until she hears Faith’s voice in her ear.

“You’ve been invited into our home… into our heart. Trust in the path and you’ll find the answers you seek.”

This sounds sort of familiar, the path. It’s something she’s heard about before, something she’s been avoiding for some reason. It doesn’t seem so bad from where she’s sitting — what’s so scary about a regular path?

She pushes herself up, marveling for a second that she doesn’t feel any pain — she feels good! — before realizing that’s normal. She never has pain standing up; she’s not quite that old yet. Joey keeps saying it’s going to happen soon; Joey’s back hurts if she fills out too much paperwork, but Mattie kind of things that’s just Joey trying to get out of doing what she thinks is boring.

She looks around once she’s on her feet, taking in the scenery. She’s on a path, obviously, one lined with trees on either side and covered in soft grass and little white flowers. It’s a little foggy now that she’s standing up, and she doesn’t know why she didn’t notice that before.

There’s a little bunny with antlers nestled in the grass next to her. Its nose twitches like it’s smelling her, but it doesn’t hop away.

She moves forward, toward the tree, toward Faith’s voice as she says, “This way, silly!”

There’s a moose off to the side, fully grown and huge, but it just watches as Mattie walks past. She’s not afraid; it’s not threatening.

This is lovely.

This is perfect.

Everything goes white when she reaches the tree, and Mattie blinks to clear her vision.

Is this… what usually happens?

Where is she?

“Even those who fight against us seek Salvation,” Faith says, but Mattie can’t see her through the whiteness. There’s another voice under Faith’s, a man’s voice, but Mattie can’t make out what he’s saying at first. “You’re proof of that.”

Faith is there, holding Mattie’s hands again, and Mattie lets her even though she wants to tell Faith that she’s wrong. Mattie doesn’t need Salvation — she found it when she was a teenager and she left it when she left home, left her chance to go to heaven in the garbage along with her daddy’s opinion of her.

“We all need guidance in times like these,” Faith says, because she can’t hear what Mattie’s thinking, pulling her along through the grass to where Joseph is giving a lesson to a group of men.

Joseph is shirtless, and standing where everyone is sitting, and Mattie knows this should make her feel something, but… she can’t remember what.

“We must be strong,” Joseph says. “We must be vigilant.”

Faith keeps pulling her, closer and closer. “You’ll see! Now you’ll truly understand.”

“Because those on the outside,” Joseph continues, looking right at Mattie this time, “will see what we have built here together, in our New Eden, the love, and they will come.” He’s walking towards her now, and she wants to pull away but she doesn’t know how, and then she doesn’t know why she wants to. He wouldn’t hurt her. “And they will try to take from us all that we have built.”

Joseph stops in front of her, peering at her through those yellow-tinted sunglasses, and takes her elbows in his hands. “You judge me, you judge us, the things that we’ve done…”

What has he done that she should be judging him for? She tilts her head to the side and opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“They say… that I am crazy. But when you wake up in the morning, and you look at the same news that I do… do your eyes not fill with horror? This is the world?”

He uses his grip on her elbow to turn her, and where she thought she would see more of that same field, she sees…

A mushroom cloud.

No.

“This? This is the world we built for our children?” He’s yelling now, arms outstretched as the cloud grows bigger and bigger, threatening to eat the sky. Mattie’s knees lock, refusing to let her collapse to the ground or to run away. Why is he standing there? Why can’t they get to a bunker? “Communities being torn apart? Walls being erected? Because leaders are too impotent to act, bullies are too addled to lead righteously.”

The cloud is growing and growing, turning black. Ash chokes out the sun, fills the air, sticks to her tongue and claws its way down her throat and into her lungs. She coughs, gags, spits, but can’t move to defend herself, even to raise her hands to protect her eyes.

Joseph reaches his hands out to her and she’s there, in front of him, leaning into his touch as he grips her arms. He leans in close like he’s telling her a secret, and she blinks at him as the air around them turns a sickly, radiation green.

“I did not ask for this,” he confides, voice low and deep. “I was chosen.”

He pulls her closer, and she lets him, leaning into his space until their foreheads are touching, just like she’s seen him do with his brothers.

She closes her eyes against the swirling ash, draws in a shaky breath, and doesn’t move again until he stands up straight once more.

“See? Everything is coming to an end.” She opens her eyes and looks around and he’s right, oh holy shit, he’s right. Fall’s End is on fire, destroyed by the bombs. She can feel the heat on her skin, singeing her, the flames roaring closer and closer and closer.

“You can feel that. I know you can.” He releases her, steps away, moves closer to a burning car. She lists forward, feet pinned to the ground, trying to get closer to the safety of his touch. “See, mankind is weak… and vulnerable. And we are hurtling towards our destruction and no one is willing to do anything about it. I can see that. You can see. And we are not crazy.”

She nods at him. She can do that much.

“So what are we supposed to do?” He spreads his hands, and the cross on the end of his rosary sways and catches the orange light of the flames. “We just sit back and await the inevitable?”

He’s not looking at her, but she answers anyway.

“No, Father.”

“I don’t claim to be a perfect man,” he says, the only acknowledgment that he heard her in his slow steps that draw him closer, “but I saw what was coming and I chose to act. To lead. Because society is broken, and the only way forward… is to go back to the way things once were.”

He touches her face, the beads wrapped around his hand cold against her cheek. “Innocent and pure. So safe and protected in our Garden.” He smiles, “I can save you.”

She nods at him and he smiles wider, pulling away and kneeling to pluck a blossom from a bliss plant growing at her feet. He hands it to her, and she takes it, and their fingers brush together.

“But you have to have… Faith.”

She hasn’t had faith in a long, long time, but… maybe she can believe again.

It would be foolish not to.

Right?

The world around her goes white again, just like before, and she can hear someone yelling her name.

No.

Not her name.

“Rook! Rook!”

Pain lances through her, every one of her nerves on fire, and she opens her mouth to scream but no sound comes out. She arches, brain and body rebelling, and she twists out of her control. Her body seizes, fighting whatever’s happening to her, and she screams and screams and screams and…

“Open your eyes!”

She does, white spots that have nothing to do with the bliss and everything to do with synaptic feedback dancing in front of her. She can just make out Whitehorse kneeling above her, hands on her shoulders, pushing her down into a cot, and she twists even harder to get away from him.

He’s hurting her.

“C’mon give her the adrenaline,” he says, to someone else, and she can see Tracey next to him with a needle, and she raises the needle up high with both hands and swings it down and

Mattie catches it, something like adrenaline already coursing through her, and her mouth is still open and she’s still trying to scream and

“Stop fighting, goddamn it!”

Whitehorse is still hurting her and Tracey wants to stab her and what the fuck what the fuck

what the

fuck

Pain slices her in two as the needle pierces her heart and everything goes black.

#sharky boshaw #sharky x deputy #hurk drubman jr #earl whitehorse #far cry 5 #oc: mattie covington

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alias-b · 5 years ago

Text

All Fired Up

Billy Hargrove X OC!Camille Harper Smutty Drabble 🍒

Got this request from my Billy/Camille NSFW ALPHABET post(X): “Omg please write about the toy from your nsfw alphabet even just a short little separate thing. It’s so hot and original!! I love your writing and how you’ve written Billy and Camille it’s perfect” So here it is!!

Thanks anon!! ❤️ AU Scene, no fic spoilers. Just smut and dummies in love. READ THE FULL FIC HERE(X)

PROMPT: T is For Toy. Billy finds his girlfriend’s “replacement” and teases her relentlessly. Turns out that he likes it a little too much.

“You’re late, sweet face,” Camille had to speak over the music blaring from her stereo. Pat Benatar’s voice echoed into her house. She’d just been dancing to it, all the way to the door in her short summer dress. Billy flashed a wicked smile in response. Charged upon seeing her hazel eyes.

“Peace offering?” He pulled two bottles from his coat. Booze. “Got you the fruity shit you like. Schnapps.”

“Peach?” She stepped more into the doorway so he couldn’t pass. Blue eyes rolled and he waved it before her face to gain entry. “Look at you. It’s like you know me.”

“Got held up at the pool, needed a long shower before I left.” He followed her in. Mother wasn’t home. Ritzy house all to themselves. Another bottle of cheap whiskey was set down when they went into the kitchen. “Where were you all day?”

“Ah, mostly Starcourt. Shopping.” Camille had cocked her head. “Girl’s day.” Billy was already popping the cap on his bottle to drink. “You want a glass for that?”

“Waste.” He gulped again after clicking bottles with her. Peaches burned her tongue.

“Ladies at the pool again?” She noted he seemed irritated, eyes hard and intent on something.

“Fuck, yes.” Billy laughed openly about it. “Got flashed today. Trying to wipe the memory. It was great to ban this bitch from the pool.”

“Ick. Probably the one thing I can’t help with, my damn memories are flawless.” Camille joked so he relaxed. Eyebrow lifting. “Hm?”

“I do know a way you can help.” Billy watched her drink too. He rounded the island and pressed her into the granite for a kiss that tasted of spiced peaches. Camille was amused into it, tugging at his denim jacket. “Already better.” Hands cupped her ass, pulling her into his body.

“Very funny.” Camille playfully pushed at him. “Which of those hags came onto you today, huh? I’ll crush her for you.”

“Already forgot, I only have eyes for you now.” He stared across the way.

“Wow, Billy, that line was your worst yet.” She drank when he did, laughing at him. Bubbly. Blushing. Billy lingered to round the counter as she did like it was a challenge of cat and mouse. Camille Harper was no one’s mouse. “Just for that, you have to catch me.” Quick feet sent her gliding off into her huge house. Billy was game, rushing to run her off before she giggled aloud and skidded to go for the staircase.

“Camille...” That sing-song tone made her burst. A hand caught her wrist at the top of the steps so they slipped against the carpet. She was still laughing while he planted kisses all along her neck. Body pinning her in place. A throaty sound echoed along his tongue.

“Alright, Billy,” Camille reclined with a dramatic sigh. “You got me.”

“Left the booze downstairs.” He murmured.

“Booze can wait, we have all night.” She suggested so he grinned, picking her up. “Hey! Billy!” Arms pulled her over his shoulder. Broad muscles flexed. His cologne was damn near poison.

“I caught you,” Billy ducked into her bedroom to let her down on the mattress. His coat was tossed before he came to hover over her. “You’re all mine now.” Curls slipped down when he kissed her, lips opening. Camille flipped him over, straddling one thigh. She pushed his arms by his head, mouth teasing little pecks when he tried to deepen their kisses. They came up for air, eyes locked. His face looked soft in this light. Freckles barely there. Lips and cheeks a deeper cherry shade. Fingers plucked one button on his shirt then another.

“Think you’re mine actually,” she moved into him. Hands running along his chest. Too stupid happy here. Music still floated from downstairs. Sending a pulse through the walls that they both felt in their bones. Revved up an ache. Billy’s fingers dug into her hips and he hummed against her mouth, turning them over again. Camille pulled him flush into her body. He smiled while he explored her neck, edging her summer dress up over her hips. Baby blue and covered in lemons. Fitted. “Don’t rip it, it’s new.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he nestled between her thighs now. Heated kisses made their lungs work just a little harder for air. Camille was lost in him while he blindly felt above her. Fingers tugging her nightstand drawer open to shuffle about for a condom. Instead, he touched something else entirely. Camille felt him lift his head and came to kiss his jaw, loving his hard weight over her. “And what is this?”

“What?” She broke to turn her neck, spotting a pink device in his hand. A vibrator. No lying her way out of this one. “Shit!”

“Ah, it looks new too.” Billy watched her appear mortified.

“Billy, no!” She pushed at him, arm reaching but he came up to straddle her and hold it too far away.

“Billy, yes.” He teased. “Where did you girls go today, hm? They don’t have these stores in Hawkins. I’d know about it.”

“You would.” Camille was bright and blushing too hard. Smacking at him. “Put that back!”

“Girl’s day?” He mused instead. “Who did you even go with? Let me guess.”

“I will never tell, your imagination won’t handle it. And I bought it last week, if you must know. Curiosity.” She pushed at his chest. “Billy, come on. Put it back.”

“You have a whole boyfriend who worships every inch of you and yet, you think this little plastic dick can replace him? Hm?” He touched his chest. “I’m hurt, Harpy. Deeply.”

“Har har.” She huffed, stuck under his thighs. Eyelashes batted. “You’re being a huge dick now, if it helps.”

“It does.” Billy laughed openly, leaning in. “You use it to get off without me?”

“As if you don’t spend time in the bathroom with a dirty magazine still when I’m not there.” She wiggled with no avail. “Put it back!”

“My hand is no replacement and you’re welcome to play with my magazines too,” he countered. “This is clearly a replacement. We could compare size.” Billy unzipped and she broke to laugh so he stopped.

“Such a guy.” Camille came up on her elbows.

“You really use it.” Blue eyes lingered when she bit her lip. “Worth the money?”

“Maybe...”

“Oh,” he studied it and looked at her. A great deal more devilish than usual. A hyena zeroing in on prey to tear flesh from. Camille sprang to attention when it flicked on low. Even the sound made her cringe, this was too much.

“Hey!”

“Ah ah, I want to see what my replacement is worth.” He put up one finger and drew back to run it along he inner thigh. Legs kicked.

“Jealous, Billy?” She hitched a breath and teased him. Billy scrambled off her, pushing her dress up over her head to discard the garment. Shirt open, his chest heaved.

“Big words for a girl blushing so hard,” he’d whispered, lying along her body. Camille held his wrist with two hands.

“Give that back.” She tugged it from him, turning it off because the buzz was too embarrassing. “Just forget it.”

“I can’t, we left the booze downstairs.” Billy snatched it back. One elbow propped up so he rested his head on his hand, observing. Fending off her swatting was too easy. “Veins and everything.”

“Just liked it for the neon pink color,” Camille snickered and he eyed her again. A flip switched. His voice changed.

“Lick it.”

“Very funny, let’s get back to what we-”

“Lick my replacement, Camille.” He edged it to her lips and she stilled. He was serious. Blazing eyes. “Say ah.”

“I was just curious. Drop the shit now. I’m already mortified.”

“I’m curious now too. Don’t be shy.” He touched it to her lips and she opened. Experimentally, he pushed it along her tongue until it was slick. His own cock grew wet against his opened jeans.

“I want you,” Camille turned to cup him, hands slipping into his pants.

“Don’t need me,” Billy played blasé. “You have your new, shiny toy.” The buzzing clicked on and Camille felt her body quiver because she was in deep shit now.

“Billy,” she pouted. He ran it down her chest. Over her hip. Nestled the tip just so against her panties, edging it lower over her clit. Hands gripped his shirt and he held it there. Like he was mocking.

“You like it so much? Move.” He purred, feeling her hips jut.

“I want you to touch me,” Camille’s fingers dug into his arm as if to lessen the pressure. Billy came up again, straddling her leg while he leaned in.

“No point to me, I put on a show and talk and with this, you can get right to it. Bring in the heavy artillery when man power is pointless, yeah?” Billy had prattled on, eyes elsewhere before he realized she was extremely still. Taut. Camille’s chest sunk; quivering. Slick lips open and eyes hooded. Cheeks darkening. It made him freeze too so he could observe her. “That’s good, isn’t it? You fucking love it.”

“Ngh...no,” she licked her lips and he turned it up higher. “Ah!” Oh, fuck, it was hot. Watching her succumb. He didn’t expect that to build so quick. One hand gripped his wrist while the other sunk into blankets. Camille twisted involuntarily so he rocked the toy against her.

“You know, Camille,” Billy leaned in, just barely brushing her lips, “watching you demonstrate for me...I might see the appeal now.” Her hips were working into the quaking vibrations of their own accord. “But, you want me now.” He took it away when she was teetering.

“Wait.” Her eyes drew wide at the loss.

“Wait?” Billy shrugged, thoroughly entertained. Worked up. “Can’t pick a lane.”

“More.” His girlfriend whined, hand on his forearm to settle the toy against her clit again. Needy. Billy’s own blood heated. He let her savor the feeling and shifted back again when she was too worked up.

“Ah, my way.”

“Billy,” her pout was followed by a kiss. Hands pushing him onto his back. Camille pressed her hips into his, hands in his jeans. He relented and flicked the toy off when lips sank down on his cock. Pink lipstick had peppered a trail down. His head tipped back, mouth opening to moan.

“Don’t forget the replacement.” He brought the toy lower and watched her switch to suck it. Hand pumping his shaft at the same time. Eyes lifted to see his. “Needy Camille thinks she can have it all.” Her tongue swiped his tip again, running down until he was leaking readily. Coming up, she unhooked her bra to toss it aside. Crawling over him, breasts purposefully drew closer to his face when she went for a condom. “Tease.”

“I’m the tease, Billy?” Camille was flipped over. Mouth on her chest so he could torment her. She heard that damn buzzing again while he pinned her. Panties gave a tear. “Damn it, Billy!” The syllables of his name lulled into a moan when the toy made contact once more.

“Can’t hear you. I might like this thing,” he eased it against her. Slicking it in arousal. Running up and down until her legs spread wider. Billy leaned in to lick her clit once. Spitting against her. Pressure left and Camille looked down as the toy pressed inside. A cry echoed out desperate lungs. Billy sank against her some. One hand on her shoulder. Thighs inched to keep hers apart. “Shameless, Camille. You like being fucked by a toy.”

“Want you to do it,” she was panting, back curved. Working herself shamelessly.

“No, I think you want to come on this fake cock.” He hummed, working her harder. Way too into this now. Camille gasped and writhed to meet it, unable to stop. “Play with yourself.” It was a swift order. Billy pumped the device into her when fingers came to work her clit. He leaned over to kiss her. Obscene and moaning. “Come on your new toy for me.” She didn’t need to be told twice. Orgasm locked her body up. Quaking. Cursing him to pieces. Billy looked entertained. Let her sag aimlessly while he undressed and rolled the condom on.

“Billy...shit.” She whined, splayed. Hands pulled her thighs up. Palming at sensitive skin.

“Let’s compare now, shall we?” He fixed her legs upon his shoulders and watched her opening twitch. Camille squirmed, looking down before he pressed inside. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Trying to push me out. You feel so good.” He came up and pressed his hands by her head. Thighs forced up and open to take him while he drove hard thrusts into her. Flesh slapped together. “Which one do you like better, Camille?”

“Fuck,” she licked her lips, “fuck! You!”

“Hm?” The bed smacked the wall behind it.

“I like you!” Camille sputtered and gripped blindly at him. “Your cock.”

“Do you?” He was panting. Fucking her hard and fast into the mattress. Relentless. The toy pressed into her raw clit and Camille locked up again. “What about both, huh?” Billy was laughing. Moaning louder. Vibrations ruined her. A smaller orgasm was forced. Vision blurred with spots. Her head tossed back and nails raked his skin. Billy didn’t warn her before he came too, groaning as they rocked in sync. Legs slipped down and he breathed heavily over her. Her entire body was still buzzed after he put the toy on her nightstand. “Too much?”

“You ass.” She puffed and he chuckled against her neck. Tired kisses lingered. Camille hummed so they adjusted. “Not walking anytime soon. You’re getting the booze now.”

“Not a problem, I’ll deliver to you in bed. Job well done. I like the new tool. Think I’ll have to run another trial with it,” he tossed the condom away and brought her into his body. Billy ran fingertips along her back. One of her hands draped over his shoulder, idly playing with curls. They breathed each other in, pressed together and heated. Skin sparking with bliss.

“You definitely win. Toy can’t do this with me afterwards.” Camille remarked and he gave a smirk at that. Lips touched her hair so he could inhale.

“No, Harpy, I guess not.” Billy soothed her with feather light touches. Let her toy with curls. One leg inched over his. “So, where was this place?”

“Not relevant.”

“And did you buy anything else?”

“...Not relevant.”

“Camille Harper,” Billy chuckled and settled one arm behind his head. Dragging his other hand up her skin. “I think I reached a common ground with my replacement.”

“Shut it,” Camille came up to peck his lips. “Can’t replace any part of you. Dummy.” She settled her head on his chest. “Oh, I’m in trouble.”

“I thought we established that.” Billy palmed her bottom, hand slipped up the arch of her back. Camille about purred into him, lips lifted. God, nothing could beat these raw moments intertwined together. His tone lowered to continue the teasing and she was still game. “But, I don’t mind repeating myself.” She lifted her head again to see crystalline eyes.

“Maybe I won’t mind either.”

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fanfiction #writing #mine #request #THANKS ANON FOR BEING AMAZING

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