#And lately I’ve barely been dreaming at all; so this definitely scratches that itch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lcksndkys · 3 years

Text

Pairing: JJK x reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut, fluff, tiny hint of angst

Word count: ~8k

Summary: Save a drum, bang a drummer.

Warnings: one tasteful semi-nude sext, brief flashback of male masturbation, discussions about conception, an unholy amount of nipple play, blowjob, fingering, pussy slapping with a dick (but like, romantically), unprotected sex within an established relationship, multiple orgasms, creampie

A/N: This is my first attempt at creative writing… ever. Borne from my horny imagination and a thirst dream, this piece is an epilogue of sorts. S/o to @jinpanman and @wwilloww for being the wind beneath my wings and the floaties around my arms. Also, big thanks to Willow who made the banner <3

There are two things you know are happening tonight. One: Beyond the Scene is out celebrating the completion of their newest EP. Two: your husband, the drummer of Beyond, is going to come home, high off the adrenaline of a successful night, and fuck you into oblivion. Your period tracking app that you both have been studiously monitoring over the last few months has notified you that you were going to be ovulating over the next couple of days.

You slip into one of Jungkook’s oversized cut-off tanks and a pair of crotchless black lace panties that you know he likes. Checking in the mirror, you see a generous view of side-boob due to the cut of his shirt and you turn around and decide to forgo bottoms entirely—they’ll be discarded soon anyways. Your husband may be out with the boys tonight, but you’re determined to wait up for him. It’s not that late after all. You roll over, pulling a bottle of lube from the nightstand and set it out for later.

Lying in your shared bed, you check your phone again, reading the last messages you sent to each other.

[9:51pm] Jungkook-ah: i’ll be home late babe. dont wait up. love you.

[9:54pm] You: … but i’m ovulating today. I want you.

You haven’t heard from him since. Tapping to the camera icon on your phone, you decide to send a little more encouragement. You quickly snap a photo of your torso covered in his shirt, making sure to give a tasteful glimpse of your ensemble.

[11:39pm] Jungkook-ah: fcuk. dont temnt meee idk when ill b home

You sigh. He's definitely drunk which means that even if he did come home soon, he’d be too wasted to finish the job, more likely to fall asleep seconds after washing up. Tossing your phone onto your pillow, you roll to Jungkook’s side of the bed. Breathing in his clean, slightly sweet scent, you let it comfort you as your eyes close. Your mind drifts off to the first time you ever saw Jungkook as a man.

Sprawled out on a twin sized bed, there was barely enough space for the two of you. Propped against the headboard and wearing nothing but a smile, he laced his fingers behind his head and cockily encouraged you to take pictures. “They’ll last longer,” he had said. Cheeky brat. You had instructed him to pleasure himself as you watched. “Tell me what you think of when you touch yourself, Koo” to which he replied, “You in my clothes with nothing on underneath”. He had whined, panting and desperate to hold off his climax with the hopes that he might get to feel you wrapped around him.

You made him promise that night would be a one off; an itch scratched. And above all, he wasn’t to speak of that night to anyone, especially his sister- your best friend. At the time, an emotional relationship was not something you were ready to pursue. And certainly not with someone so intimately linked to your inner circle. So when it happened again, and then again, you proposed an easy benefits-only relationship to which he quietly accepted. You didn’t know he had been secretly yearning for something you could not yet give him. Despite trying to push him and your emotions away, Jungkook persisted, and with time and patience, you let him into your heart and let him show you the meaning of true love.

With a love-sick smile plastered on your face, you drift off to sleep, plans for tonight all but forgotten.

_______________________________________________

Eyes still closed and hanging on to the quickly fading wisps of your dreams, you unconsciously feel around the sheets for your husband. When your hands come across nothing but layers of bedsheet and blankets and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s body heat, you roll over seeking the comfort of his embrace.

Sitting up, you see that he must’ve moved you during the night towards your side of the bed before climbing in behind you. Realizing you’re still in his shirt and the sexy panties from last night, you huff out a groan of annoyance.

You get out of bed and make the short trek to your bathroom to wash up. Jungkook never missed an opportunity to “practice” baby making. The thought that he was avoiding a session in the sheets with you makes you press the bristles harshly against your teeth.

Upon returning to your bedroom, you see that at some point Jungkook had plugged your phone in to charge. You open up your app and double check that you’re still within short the ovulation window.

The shuffling of slippers alerts you to your husband elsewhere in your shared apartment. As you leave in search of him, you notice he had put the bottle of lube away.

Padding out towards the kitchen, you can hear the tinkling of dishware and cutlery. The smell of toast floats through the air as you spot Jungkook at the counter pouring his cereal into a bowl of milk. Endearing. You smile, remembering he once reasoned that adding cereal to milk ensures you won’t be left with any soggy bits.

Coming up behind him, he startles a little with your quiet arrival. You wrap your arms around his middle, pressing a light kiss between his shoulder blades, and nuzzling your face against the wide expanse of his back.

“I missed you last night, baby,” you coo.

Turning in your embrace, Jungkook wraps one arm around your shoulders and uses a pointer finger to gently tilt your head, aligning your mouth to his. He leans down to give you a sweet, chaste kiss in greeting before pulling away.

“I’m sorry I was out late. But I’ll make it up to you ok?”

“How about you make it up to me right now?” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, stepping back from his grasp.

His eyes rake up and down your figure, pausing to take in the long expanse of skin showing from under his cut-off tank. You turn your torso slightly, lifting your arms up overhead to smooth back your bed head, allowing him a generous view of your tits through the large armholes. You smirk to yourself knowing this simple outfit is one of his favorites on you.

“- oh, fuck,” Jungkook breathes, feeling the beginnings of desire stir in his sleep pants.

“I was so ready for you last night,” you continue, planting your hands behind you on the kitchen counter opposite of Jungkook. With a hop, you sit yourself upon the cold hard surface and try not to cringe at the sudden change of temperature on your bare rump.

You beckon towards your husband with a crook of your finger.

“I even wore one of your favorites,” you purr. Slowly trailing a hand towards your hip you pull the hem of your—well, his—shirt up, exposing some of the black lace panties you had worn.

Jaw clenched and brow furrowed. You enjoy Jungkook’s rapt attention.

“Come closer” you plead.

When he shows no sign of approaching, you lean back onto your elbows and prop one foot onto the countertop. Parting your legs, you smile victoriously when Jungkook’s eyes drop immediately to your exposed core. Thank goodness for crotchless panties.

His throat constricts at the sight of your pussy, framed in black lace, and bared lewdly for him.

“Fuck,” he growls lowley. You watch his throat bob again swallowing down a moan. He looks from your eyes, to your lips, and down between your thighs. Cock hardening, his desire rises hot and heady at the sight of you glistening before him.

Seeing him grow in the unforgiving fabric of his grey sweatpants, you grin at his visceral reaction. “You know I’m ovulating, right?” You bring your other foot up onto the counter further spreading yourself out for him. “Fuck me, baby. Fill me up with your cum.” A little dirty talk was nearly always enough encouragement to get your husband started.

Doe eyes wide, he is torn between his carnal desires to ravish you on the countertop and his mounting emotional distress.

When your husband doesn’t immediately react to your proposition, you know something is wrong. You hop off the counter and come to wrap around him. Jungkook has always been a shy boy, and as he got older, grew into a reserved man. He had a small social circle, knowing first hand that some people had no qualms with using him for his services. He was the golden boy. Jungkook was good at things and always has been- drums, sports, computers, video games, writing music, singing, sex. Many people sought to use him and had gotten away with it. And at first, he was eager to please; to prove himself worthy of the attention. But it wasn’t long before he grew cautious and began to keep a selective few close, including you.

You've always seen him. And you see him now, eyes tight with emotion he's been holding back from you. He hasn't done that in years.

Your arousal from earlier has all but dried up, evaporated with the sense that something important is weighing on Jungkook.

"Do you need me to listen or find a solution?" you ask him.

"Listen" he replies softly.

You take his hand, leading him towards the couch. Sitting down, you part your legs pulling his back to your front. You wrap all four limbs around him and lay back to let his weight press the both of you into the cushions. His hands immediately go to stroke along the soft skin of your shins. You tuck your face into his nape, ghosting soft kisses along the skin available to you. Holding him against you, you feel Jungkook slowly melt, head leaning back against your shoulder. You know he’ll speak when he's ready.

“I just… Lately I’ve been feeling like you only want a specific part of me,” says Jungkook quietly. His hands go to tuck back some of his hair behind his ears- a nervous tell he's never been able to kick. "And I guess it kind of reminded me of the time from before we officially got together, ya know?"

You feel your heart crumble in your chest at his admission. At that time, you weren’t ready for what Jungkook wanted to give you, convinced that the age gap and BTS’s rising fame would ultimately lead to disaster. Thus you had pushed for a purely physical relationship. He had agreed mistakenly believing that having your body, but not your mind or heart, was better than not having you at all. He hoped that time and love would help you change your mind. Luckily for both of you, it did.

You want to say something to comfort him, but you remember he asked you to listen. You stay quiet, giving him a safe space to speak.

"And I know we're trying for a baby, but lately there's no intimacy when you make love to me. It's like once I finish, it's over and you push me away to lay with your legs up against the wall."

You feel his ribs expand as he takes a deep breath, and then another. In, then out.

"You know how important aftercare is to me," he continues. You do know. Jungkook is a romantic; being held and praised for a job well done has always been just as important as the actual act of sex for him. "And if you're just trying to fuck me, I don't know if I want it."

There's a few moments of pause.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to have sex?” you ask softly.

Jungkook’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “No! I mean- I want it, trust me, I want you. But the last few times, it felt like you just fucked me until I came.” Jungkook goans. “You didn’t even finish. Makes me feel like a bad lover."

You cringe remembering that the last time you had been intimate with your husband, you straddled him and then rode him fast and hard until he spilled his seed inside you. The whole ordeal lasted 3 minutes tops, and then you were rolling off him onto your back leaving him to clean up on his own.

Sensing he was finished, you start to apologize. “I had no idea you felt that way,” you start. “I never meant for you to feel that way. I’m sorry.”

“I just- I love you so much, and I would give anything to make you happy,” he says quietly. His hands continue to absentmindedly traverse the length of your legs.

Your hold around him tightens, a silent I love you.

“What do you wanna do today, baby? Today’s all about you,” you promise. You’re ready to give your husband the attention he craves.

“Anything?” Jungkook asks, craning his head back to meet your gaze.

“Mhmm.”

Jungkook smiles, pleased with your enthusiasm.

“I promise you I’ll give you a creampie, but can we please just play super smash bros first?”

Seeing the child-like wonder in your husband’s eyes, you can’t help but chuckle at him. Jungkook has always been easy to please and competitive to a fault.

“Sure, Kook-ah. Maybe I’ll even let you beat me” you joke, fingers digging into his ribs causing him to laugh and squirm from your grasp.

Jungkook unwinds your legs from around his waist to set up the gaming console.

_______________________________________________

After several rounds of super smash bros, Jungkook has other ideas in his mind. Pulling you onto his lap, you’re forced to part your legs to straddle him. He fingers along the hem of your shirt pulling up the backside to expose your bare ass.

“Ah, you wore these for me?” he asks, hand rubbing circles along your quickly heating flesh.

“Depends. Are you ready to take them off me?” you retort with a wink.

Giggling, Jungkook lunges for you, wrapping his strong arms around you and burying his head into your neck. You feel the gentle pressure of his lips suckling and tilt your head further back to grant him more access to the sensitive skin of your neck.

He laps against your throat, making you moan out in satisfaction. Your arousal starts to leak onto Jungkook’s grey sweats as you absentmindedly grind your bare cunt against the stiffness growing there.

“Mmm, fuck. Let’s go” you pant, urgently tapping at Jungkook’s shoulder.

Walking into the bedroom, Jungkook slowly lowers you down to the ground, letting your front drag along his, your soft curves trailing along the firm planes of his chest. The moment your feet touch down, you gently press a hand against his chest- right over his thrumming heart- and encourage him to sit at the edge of your bed. His eyes gaze lovingly up into yours, a small smile hanging on his lips, waiting for your instruction.

You tug at the hem of his shirt. “Can you take this off, baby?”

Jungkook eagerly nods, licking his lips in anticipation. He reaches back, hooking his fingers into the neckline of his collar and pulling his stupidly oversized shirt over his head in one swift motion. For a second, he lets you admire his body. He works hard to achieve his physique and enjoys knowing you’re your attraction towards him has never waned.

You swallow down a groan as your eyes trail from his chest, dusky nipples pebbled with arousal, down his abdominals, towards the bulge in his sweats. Your husband is a beautiful man, inside and out, and he is all yours. Tonight and forever.

Climbing into his lap, you straddle him and cup his face between your hands. Jungkook needs emotional intimacy, and you’re prepared to deliver.

You kiss his forehead. “I love the way you think. You’re quiet, but so clever, and I wish more people could see how your brain works. You’re considerate of other people and so fucking humble, qualities I really admire about you.”

Moving down to his eyes, you place twin kisses over his closed eyelids. “I love the way you see the world. When I’m tired, you remind me that there is so much beauty in the mundane, and I’m so lucky to see it all by your side.”

You reach down for his hands and press your lips along the knuckles of both his hands. “I love the life you’ve helped build for and with me. People always say you’re good at everything, but they don’t see how hard you work to earn it. I respect you so much for that.” You play with his fingers- somehow long and delicate, but strong at the same time- and lace them together.

“I love your nose,” you continue, pecking the tip.

“But-”

“No interruptions, Jungkook” you hold up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “I know you’ve always thought it was a little too big and round when we were younger, but it shows how much you’ve grown into yourself over the years. You are so sexy- both on the stage and off.”

You pull back in time to see him fighting down a shy smile at your praise. “Besides, a man should have a big nose,” you wink. Unable to hide his toothy smile or blushing cheeks, you continue.

“I love these cheeks,” you say, planting sloppy kisses over his face. “When you smile - a real, genuine smile- your whole face lights up. I hope our children inherit that.”

You plant more against the beauty marks on the bridge of his nose and under his lip, on the faint scar high on his cheek. “So beautiful,” you murmur against his skin.

“These are my favorite lips. You were the first man that I believed when you told me you loved me.” You press your lips against his, kissing him gently. Tilting your head for a better angle, you press forward more ardently, and part your lips further to slide your tongue against his.

When you pull back, Jungkook’s eyes are still closed, face craning forward to chase your kiss. You card your fingers through his hair and push him back enough to look into his eyes again.

Your lips continue their loving path down his face, nipping along his sharp jawline and down his neck, paying special attention to his sensitive pulse point. Jungkook whimpers in appreciation encouraging you to work color into his skin.

“Most of all, I love your heart.” Your arms wrap around his torso, hands caressing up and down his back as your head tips down to press your mouth against his chest, just left of center. “You are patient and kind and romantic. You show me every day what true love means, and I am forever grateful for that. You have all of me, and you always will. And tonight, I want to make you feel good because I love every part of you. Even the parts you don’t particularly like yourself.”

You continue to leave wet kisses along his clavicles and throat making him moan quietly.

“Lay back for me, baby” you say, and he allows you to push him onto his back.

Your body follows him down prone on the bed, allowing your comforting weight to settle atop him and press him into the sheets. Linking your hands, you bring them up to rest by his head. You reconnect and kiss him senseless, lips and tongues moving seamlessly in a dance well practiced over the years. You continue until he’s whining, until you feel him thickening further in his pants.

Lips descending downwards, you continue a fiery trail along his jawline, hands caressing his neck and chest to maximize his pleasure. Evidence of your love blooms down his neck as you continue a path towards his chest. Perched on his lap, you grind against him as you take a nipple between your lips and begin to suck.

“A-ahh fuck”, Jungkook pants as your lips wrap more securely around his pebbled bud, tongue flicking against him. Your other hand rakes along his other pectoral, thumb catching along its twin and you rub circles over him with your thumb. His cock, which had begun to throb when you love bombed him, is now fattening with arousal.

You trail your lips across his chest making sure to provide equal attention to his sensitive buds. Dusky and shining with your saliva, you continue down his abs, licking the contours of his hard earned muscles. Jungkook continues to quietly moan at the sensation of your soft, warm mouth slowly moving south along his body.

Sitting up a bit from his supine figure, you tug down at the band of his sweatpants. “Can I take these off?” you ask, slipping your fingertips into the waistline of his bottoms. He nods his consent and you push them down as he lifts his hips up, effectively removing Jungkook’s remaining piece of clothing.

As you move to stand from his lap, he immediately sits up as if pained by any distance between your bodies. You give him one last, sweet kiss on the mouth before settling down on your knees between his spread legs. His cock, perfectly framed between powerful thighs, is hardening rapidly and attempting to defy gravity as it bobs in the space between your bodies. Licking your lips at the sight of his leaking length, you settle on the floor and reach for his base.

“Hold on” he says, stopping you to reach across the bed and pulling his pillow from under the covers offering it to you for comfort. Your heart swells at his consideration and you accept it gratefully. You place it under your knees for an added cushion and make yourself comfortable on the ground.

Maintaining eye contact you run your hands up and down his thick thighs letting your fingernails lightly scratch along the sensitive skin there. Each pass brings you closer and closer to his cock, subtly twitching in eagerness to feel you wrapped around him. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you wrap a hand around his base and feel him harden fully in your grasp. Bringing your lips down to his weeping tip, you run your tongue up and down his slit, then slowly in a circle around the engorged head leaving a ring of precum and saliva in your wake.

“F-uuuck” Jungkook keens as you continue to tease him with your tongue. “Please. More, please.”

Your lips immediately close around him, surrounding his throbbing cock with the wet heat of your mouth and begin to suck tasting his musky flavor. Popping off, you run your tongue up and down to spread moisture along his shaft; your hand will have to cover what your throat cannot take. He is not profoundly large, but he is more than thick and long enough to satisfy you.

Unable to mask his desire, Jungkook pants as your mouth works up and down his rigid length. You take him as deep as you can tolerate, gagging lightly when you feel him slide down the back of your throat with each pass. The hand not grasping his base is rubbing soothing circles along his hip and inner thigh, amplifying his pleasure.

“Mmm yeah, you’re doing so g-good,” he groans as you continue bobbing, hand furiously pumping whatever won’t fit in your mouth. He weaves his fingers into your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper into the depths of your throat. Eyes starting to water, his other hand wipes at the tears in your lash line as you continue to enthusiastically blow him.

Jungkook’s volume steadily increases along with the pace of your mouth and hand as you work over his cock. You continue to suck him off sending white hot pleasure through his veins. “Oh shit- shit.” Jungkook stops you as his impending orgasm begins to crest. “You need to stop, or I’ll cum” he breathes out. Though your mouth is no longer on him, your hand continues to slowly jerk him off.

“Aren’t you ovulating?” he tries to confirm with you. “I need to put it in you,” he insists, teeth clenching together as your hand glides up and down the full length of his dick twisting your wrist with each upstroke.

“Tonight is all about you - about us,” you shake your head. “I want to make you feel good. Can I do that?” you ask as your other hand travels from his hip to cup and gently fondle his balls.

He whimpers in pleasure as you continue to stroke him.

“Do you want to cum in my mouth tonight, baby?” you purr. No longer able to formulate a coherent sentence, he nods his head aggressively.

“Good boy,” you tease with a smirk. Your mouth returns to his cock and joins the hand pumping his shaft. Years of learning each other’s bodies has taught you the tell tale signs of your husband’s orgasms and you can tell he’s close. Very close.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you apply the suction you know he has never been able to resist. You’re determined to suck his soul from his body, gripping him firmly as you furiously work his throbbing length exactly the way you know he likes. Your mouth focuses on his mushroomed head, lips sealed around the tip and tongue lapping against the sensitive frenulum.

Jungkook desperately tries to stave off his release to linger in the wet heat of your mouth. It’s been a while since he’s allowed himself to finish down your throat and he wants to savor it. “Ah, I’m so mad that you’re so good at this” he groans, earning a muted giggle from you. Stuffed full of cock, the vibration sends a thrill up his spine.

You know Jungkook’s cumming before he can warn you. It starts with a subtle lifting of his balls as they prepare to empty into your eager mouth. Eyes squeezed shut and moaning wantonly, he chants your name over and over as he begins to orgasm. You continue your determined ministrations as his shaft pulses in your grasp.

“Hmmmph- ahh, fuck yes! Oh fuck, so good,” Jungkook whimpers as ribbons of cum burst across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. You quickly swallow his load as he erupts into your mouth. You continue stroking and sucking Jungkook through his high, helping him ride it out until he gently pushes you away when he feels the burn of overstimulation.

“Good?” you smile up at him and let go of his wilting length to lick at a stray bit of cum from your thumb. You wipe off the remaining spit on your shirt.

“Amazing,” he replies, smiling dazedly down at you.

You allow him to pull you from the ground up onto the bed with him, laughing when your knees pop loudly in the quiet of the room as you stand up. Giggling, you curl up against his side listening as his heart rate evens out to a steady rhythm. You can't be bothered to care that his skin is tacky with a light sheen of sweat.

You lay against Jungkook for a few minutes as he basks in the afterglow of a powerful orgasm. He pulls you tighter against him, tipping his head down to kiss you for a blow job-well-done. Tasting the residual flavor of his cum, he groans against your mouth, enjoying your combined essences.

Jungkook rolls you onto your back, continuing to kiss you with fervor. The sound of lips and tongues clashing fill the room as the two of you enjoy the simple intimacy of being together. Reaching down, Jungkook spreads your legs apart to make room for him to lay comfortably between your thighs.

“W-what,” you’re breathless as his lips leave your mouth and travel down your jaw.

“Mmm,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s your turn now.” He nibbles along your sensitive neck, goosebumps rising with his light touch.

You run your fingertips up and down his back, scratching along the peaks and valleys of his spine. Leaning his weight into one arm, he uses the other to push up the hem of your shirt, ghosting a hand under to cup a breast. He palms greedily at the flesh as he continues to kiss you passionately.

“I wanna see you,” says Jungkook. “Can I take this off?” he gestures at his cut-off tank you’re still wearing.

Criss crossing your arms and pulling up by its hem, you bare your chest to Jungkook’s eager eyes. His gaze drops down to admire the bouncing of your tits as you wiggle out of your top. Propping up on his elbows, he ducks his head to capture a nipple between his petal soft lips, coaxing it into a stiff peak with gentle suction and the lapping of his tongue. When your back arches in pleasure and you clutch his head to you, Jungkook takes the opportunity to slide his arms under you to hold you securely to his mouth as he worships at the altar of your breasts.

“Baby, yes, you’re so good to me” you pant, feeling your arousal generously leak from your core.

Eyes closed and relishing in the sensation, you whimper, sending one hand to grip his long, dark locks and feeling the prickle of his freshly trimmed undercut. With a hand in his mane, you feel him unlatch from your tight bud to plant wet open mouthed kisses around your areola and across your chest. He stops over your heart, lips lingering to feel the rapid thumping rattle your sternum.

Generous with his attention, he moves to nip and suck around your neglected breast. He slurps your nipple into his eager mouth, tongue swirling to tease it to a hard peak. Jungkook's diligent stimulation of your breasts sends sparks of pleasure down to your cunt as he continues to lap at your pebbled beds.

“More, please,” you whine, bucking your hips upwards, hoping to encourage him to touch you where you need it most.

Hearing you beg so prettily for him slowly coaxes life back into his spent cock. He feels himself begin to swell again against your thigh. Pleasuring you has always been incredibly arousing for him, and he knows with a several more minutes of rest, he’ll be ready to fuck you senseless.

Pulling an arm out from under your torso, Jungkook leans his weight onto one elbow and sends his free hand down between your legs to the treasure between your thighs. His lips pursed around your nipple continues to suckle and tease you into a frenzy.

The room fills with sounds of your mewling and his blunted goans as he plays the familiar song of your body. His hands brush against the soft black lace as he spreads your legs, positioning you to his liking.

“So wet,” Jungkook acknowledges with a quirk of his lips, fingers swiping along your slit to feel for your arousal. Bringing those fingers towards his mouth, he sucks your essence from his fingertips, savoring your taste. Jungkook switches nipples again and his fingers, now slickened with his saliva, return to the warmth of your pussy.

You gasp when you feel him caress at your opening before sinking a lone finger into your tight, wet heat. Jungkook can’t help but grunt as he feels your walls clench around him, excited to feel it around his growing erection.

“It’s all for you baby,” you praise him, carding your fingers through his fringe and pushing his hair back to get a better view of him suckling at your breast. Your breath hitches when you feel him add a second finger, stretching you open with his long, tattooed digits and curling them against your g-spot.

“Mmm yes- ahh. Fuck me with them,” you plead. Lacking the power to drive you towards an orgasm, he teases you with sensual strokes until your cunt drips down your ass and his fingers come out sparkling with your arousal. Completely at his mercy, you feel Jungkook slow down further. Brat.

You’re writhing beneath him as he continues his personal brand of slow, pleasurable torture. His lips release your tender nipple and return to your open mouth attempting to swallow your moans.

“Fuck me harder, please, I need it harder.” you beg, hoping to convince him to finger you to completion. Despite your request, Jungkook stops thrusting completely, opting to curl his fingers and rubbing softly against your g-spot while grinding the heel of his palm just off center from your pulsing clit. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his gaze on your visage committing your whining and fucked out expression to memory. You’re being uncharacteristically pliant for him tonight- a change that he is very much enjoying. He files it under ‘spank bank material’ for when Beyond ultimately goes back on tour.

“Please, baby, make me cum. I’m so close.” you try one last time. You’re panting and desperate for release.

“You’re not cumming tonight unless it’s on my cock,” he grits out. His fingers stay hooked inside you, caressing at your sensitive front wall. Jungkook’s mouth returns to suckling at your pebbled bud and he slowly fucks you open with his fingers. Your cunt quivers and leaks with your arousal, but without the thrusting or clitoral stimulation, you won’t be cumming anytime soon.

“But how-” you glance down, not expecting his nearly fully erect cock. Pleasuring you had sparked his arousal again, the sounds of your approval and sight of your wet pussy glistening with desire has encouraged him back towards full mast. Licking your lips at his growing girth, you push his hand from your core to collect some of your personal lubricant. You wrap your slicked up fingers around his length jacking him to his full potential.

“Uunffff- ok, ok. Hold on,” he says, reaching out into your bedside table for lube. You hear Jungkook uncap the small bottle and are eager to feel him deep inside you. Quickly flipping onto your front, you prop yourself on your elbows and knees, presenting your husband with your sloppy, swollen cunt- a soundless request imploring him to fuck you from behind.

“I want to feel you deep,” you reason and unable to resist you, Jungkook agrees. Eyes glued to the way your crotchless panties have dampened with your cream, he spreads a generous glob of lube up and down his cock. He wipes the remainder against your labia and rubs some onto your clit making you mewl out for him. He wipes off the residue on your sheets. You’ll have to wash that later.

Taking a moment to admire his view, his hands caress over your hips and ass. “Are you ready?” Jungkook asks, always so considerate of your needs.

You nod and delirious with lust, you reach between your legs for him, sliding his bulbous tip up and down your slit before pushing your hips back to take him into your awaiting passage. Jungkook descends down creating a canopy with his body, sheltering you with the physical representation of his love. Jungkook’s hands find yours, lacing his calloused palms to the backs of your hands, fingers interlocking. With light pressure, he encourages you to lay your front down onto the bed. He nudges your knees further apart, propping you ass high in the air.

Positioned to his liking, he takes his first stroke into your eager cunt. Despite his diligent fingering, the fit is still tight, and you feel the initial pinch as he breaches you. You both release matching moans upon your coupling, and you already know you won’t last long after enduring Jungkook's extensive foreplay. He sets a slow pace plunging deep into your velvet heat.

“Harder, Kook, I’m already so close.” you puff into the sheets, turning your head as far as possible to watch your lover as he takes you from behind. “Please,” you rasp.

No longer denying your release, Jungkook thrusts faster, snapping his hips powerfully with the intent of getting you off. His cock hammers into you and you’re helpless underneath him to do anything but take it. He can already feel you tightening around him deliciously and lets go of one hand to reach down between your legs. With two fingers, Jungkook rubs tight circles around your clit while he continues to drill into your cunt which is just what you need to finally cum.

“Oh, fuck! Ah- ah-ah, Jungkook!” you chant. Your hands furiously grip the sheets trying to hold onto something to ground you as your high threatens to pull you under. Legs quaking and pussy fluttering around him, your walls contract rhythmically around his turgid length as he continues to rigorously fuck you through your orgasm.

Jungkook whines at the sensations gripping his cock, but pulls out of your spent heat to spare you from the sting of overstimulation. Any other night, he may have considered fucking you into a second orgasm, but tonight feels different. Tonight, he wants to make ardent love to you.

Without Jungkook’s strong frame to hold you up, you crumble limp against the bed. Your ears ring with the aftermath of a good round of fucking. It takes a second to register that he is speaking.

“Can you take more?” he asks. Confused, you look down and see that he’s still painfully hard. Oh. His erection is glossy with your juices, shining as it bobs between his well-muscled thighs.

“Fuck- yes,” you quickly consent to him.

Jungkook swiftly rolls you onto your back again and sits up on his knees between your spread thighs. “I love you in these, but I want to see all of you,” he rasps, tugging at your ruined panties and pulling them off while his eyes stay glued on your saturated folds. Climbing back up your body, he spreads your legs wider and leans forward bringing his cock to your core. You look down to watch him steadily thrust his length against your slit, bumping against your clit on the upstrokes.

Wanting to draw out his teasing, he grips his slickened base and slaps his dick against your slippery folds. Each wet smack sends waves of electric pleasure through your system as Jungkook works you back up. “Just fuck me, baby. I’m ready.” you insist. Your gaze trails up, meeting his heated stare.

“I want you to keep your eyes on me when I make love to you,” he says, voice dropping an octave. When you nod in understanding, he catches his tip against your entrance and pushes back into your ripe, warm cunt. Your legs immediately wrap around his trim waist pulling him closer and encouraging him to brace the weight of his upper body on his hands. Your ankles interlock against the base of his spine to bring him deeper.

Jungkook starts with long, slow strokes, pulling nearly all the way out of you before feeding his cock back into your sopping pussy. Going slow enough for you to feel every ridge of his throbbing length, he impales you over and over.

Your back arches in pleasure and you have to fight to keep your eyes open for him. Wanting him closer, you greedily reach your hands up to pull him down closer to you, forcing him to drop to his elbows as he continues to give it to you slow and deep.

Jungkook braces on his forearms and cradles your head. He tilts your chin up to align with his intense gaze as he continues to plow into you. Brow furrowed and eyes locked, your husband watches your dazed and needy expressions while his body and mind make love to yours.

He’s always so good to you. Devoted and adoring. You’re suddenly struck with the reminder that this beautiful man is yours. Always has been. Always will be. And tonight is a good time to remind Jungkook how deeply you love him. A fear of commitment used to hold you back, but he peeled back your layers and showed you that love didn’t have to hurt. You haven’t been afraid since. Jungkook has the whole of your heart.

“How did I get so lucky?” you say, reaching up to caress his jaw as he continues to thrust into your depths. “I’m sorry I lost sight of us,” you stutter trying to sound coherent as your husband diligently sinks his thickness into you again and again. “I never meant for you to feel-”

“- I know. And I’m sorry I didn’t communicate better, I just- I’m working on it,” Jungkook cuts you off. He knows this is a two way street.

“We don’t have to try anymore if you aren’t ready. Pull out and I’ll suck you off again” you offer. If Jungkook isn’t 100% in, you aren’t either.

“No, I want it. I’m ready for our love to create something beautiful and for everything that comes after that.”

You moan, eyes closing briefly, as Jungkook begins to pick up the pace. The increase in friction against your walls is quickly bringing you towards the edge again. An unexpectedly fierce pump of his hips has you gasping in delight.

“I said-,” Jungkook grunts with another sharp thrust, “-eyes on me, baby.” You pry your eyes open, surprised by his display of dominance and try not to squeal.

Jungkook reaches one hand down to tilt your pelvis back further and you lock your legs up higher on his frame allowing him to shove a pillow under your ass. The new position brings your clit directly under his pubic bone. When he slams back down to stuff you full, he grinds deliciously against you, making you nearly scream out in ecstasy.

“I love you,” you whisper in earnest. “I love you so much,” you moan as Jungkook begins to pound you into the sheets. You’re both quickly unraveling, approaching another high, bodies tingling with impending release. When your thighs begin shaking around him for the second time tonight, he picks up the pace filling the room with a symphony of your euphoria.

Breaking your eye contact briefly, Jungkook looks down at the juncture of your connection and is enthralled by the visual- his cock coming out foamy with your cream and slamming back into your weeping pussy. Groaning, he suddenly feels the sharp sting of your nails raking down his back as you’re overcome with pleasure.

“Come on, babe. Cum on my fucking cock,” Jungkook grunts, urging you towards completion. With your hips canted deliciously, he continues to ram directly against your g-spot.

“Oh fuck, it’s so good. I’m so close,” you babble, feeling Jungkook push deeper against you to stimulate your pulsing clit. Hands clutching your husband and thighs trembling, your eyes slip closed as you finally succumb to his endeavors. You cum with a silent scream, head tilted back and throat exposed as your walls spasm uncontrollably. The wild contracting of your pussy squeezing his cock triggers Jungkook’s own release. His length throbs desperately within your walls as you coax him towards his end.

“Ahh, I- I’m holy shit- I’m cumming, too” Jungkook whines as he climaxes with breathy whimpers, exploding as he fills you with streams of his ejaculate. He thrusts as deep as he can get while his length continues to spurt inside you, shallowly rutting to ride out his high.

Panting, he collapses his weight into your waiting arms. “Oof,” you grunt as you feel your husband’s sweaty and spent body pin you against the bed. You let him rest against you for a while, content to feel the warm fullness of his cock and spunk nestled deep inside you.

“Can I stay inside?” he asks shyly. “I just wanna hold you.” You smile and Jungkook holds you close and carefully rolls under you so you can comfortably lay against him. With his arms wound around your waist and your thighs spread wide with his dick sheathed inside you, he ensures maximal skin contact.

Seeing his blissed out face, you giggle as the two of you revel in your post-coital afterglow. His spent length slowly softens letting some of his cum leak from your used hole onto him and the sheets below. You’re definitely going to have to wash these.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, scratching along his scalp and pushing back his long locks to expose the sexy undercut hiding beneath. Jungkook’s eyes are still closed, but he still leans his face forward knowing you’ll meet his lips with your own. The two of you make out for a little longer, savoring the intimacy shared in your little bubble.

Jungkook clings to you, preening at your gentle caress and basking in his favorite form of aftercare. Your cunt is runny with lube and your combined releases, but you’re too content to lay with Jungkook in your arms to clean up just yet. You lie wrapped around each other for a few more minutes, mindlessly kissing at his face and neck, whispering praises for his performance.

It’s quiet for a long moment, and assuming he must have fallen asleep as he tends to do after a vigorous round of love making, you attempt to unwind your limbs from his. Grumbling, he tightens his hold around you, preventing you from getting far.

“Jungkook,” you warn with a laugh, “I have to get cleaned up.”

“Mmm not yet, hold me a little longer” he requests as he burrows deeper in your embrace.

Sighing, you relent, slowly dozing off with your husband in your arms.

_______________________________________________

When you wake, you find that you've shifted in your slumber. Jungkook's chest is plastered to your back and he has an arm slung over your waist with a hand curled around one of your tits. The mess between your legs has dried making you cringe when you move to get up. Leaving Jungkook who is slowly stirring, you go to the bathroom to shower.

You step under the spray and let the warm water relax you while you clean off the sweat and unholy mix of bodily fluids from between your thighs. You hum along to the new Beyond the Scene single and sing some of the chorus that you can remember. You exit the shower, wrapping a towel securely around you and return to rouse your sleeping husband.

You find that Jungkook is already awake and sitting against the headboard. “You know, I hope our kid doesn’t inherit your singing voice,” Jungkook cackles, cutting through the silence.

"Why you-," you gasp, tackling him down into the sheets and laughing along with him. You pin him down and pinch at his nipple in retaliation. It’s not long before he’s pulling the towel from your body and rolling you under him to latch his mouth to your cunt. Before the night is over, he delivers another two orgasms and a fresh load. After all, practice makes perfect.

#Jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #jjk x reader #drummer jungkook au #husband au

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css1992 · 4 years

Note

could u do more high school au's pls? I was thinking maybe rich popular peter who seems untouchable and then grungy tony who just doesnt care for appearances and hes been pining after peter his whole school life

could u make it so that tony is rich and everyone knows it but he just doesn't care about his money and doesnt act rich so it's one of those things that u know but dont acknowledge. also if tony's daddy issues made an appearance id be so happy ty.

I’m so sorry for the delay, but I really do hope this scratches your itch!

***

He had that sort of beauty that almost hurt to look at. So pure and soft. Pink cheeks, small eyes that squinted when he laughed – which was often –; brown, wavy hair, so shiny and silky-looking; thin, pink lips, always stretched in a smile. He had the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen, too. Honest and wide, happy.

He was never alone. Of course he wasn’t. He was too magnetic, there were always people drawn to his light, following him around, laughing at his jokes, making him laugh in return. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, a scrap of his attention. And he, being the lovely human being that he was, made room for anyone who wished to bask in his light.

Jocks liked him. Peter was great at team sports, he was light on his feet and good with his hands. He wasn’t in any teams, though, claimed he didn’t have the time, but he was always picked first in P.E. group activities. Tony knew, watched him at practice way too often – from a distance, of course, as he did his stretches and sit-ups with Rhodes.

Nerds liked him, too. He was really smart, an asset to the Decathlon team, and was always willing to help anyone having trouble in class. Even the weirdos from drama club, glee club and the school band loved him – he never made fun of them, on the contrary, he was always very vocal about how talented they were and how he wished he could be a part of their clubs, too.

Girls swooned at him. He was kind and sweet, a good listener, and gorgeous. Guys weren’t immune to his charms, either. The ones Tony knew for a fact that were gay or bi didn’t even try to pretend they didn’t watch him when he walked down the halls, but even supposedly straight guys, like Steve Rogers, sneaked a peek now and then, face flushed, if he was wearing specially tight jeans.

Tony was jealous of all those people, but he learned to deal with it. He’d been, well, admiring him from a distance for years. He was used to seeing people make passes at him, ask him out. Peter was discreet, though. If he ever dated anyone, nobody ever heard anything about it. He was a mystery, Tony wasn’t even sure if he was gay, straight, bi or whatever – there were rumors that he had made out with Wade Wilson in freshman year, but neither of them confirmed or denied it. Tony hated the guy anyway.

“If you keep staring, people are gonna know you’re in love and not actually dead inside,” Rhodey spoke up right next to him, taking a huge bite of his tuna sandwich. Tony averted his gaze from Peter’s table for a minute and looked at his friend, annoyed. “It’s gonna ruin your whole aesthetic.”

“Very funny,” He rolled his eyes and looked back at Peter. There were so many people around him he could barely catch a glimpse of his smile, which was annoying.

His dad’s company, Parker Innovations, had just released a new phone a few weeks earlier, it was ridiculous how many people thought they could get one for free if they kissed his ass hard enough. At least Tony didn’t have to endure that kind of nonsense anymore. People in that school learned very early on that even though he was related to Howard Stark, he wanted nothing to do with the guy – or his company, or his money. They also learned sucking up to him did nothing but annoy him, so they kind of just forgot he existed over time and he blended right in with everyone else – a blessing in its own right.

“Rhodey is right, you’re drooling, it’s a little embarrassing,” Natasha looked at him with boredom as she nibbled on her fries. “You should just ask him out, you’ve been pining for ages.”

“I’m not pining,” he huffed, irritated, and the redhead smirked, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

“Right, yearning might be more accurate. Bruce?” She glanced at their other friend who scratched his chin, pretending to think about it.

“I think obsessing sounds more like it. Rhodey?”

“Fuck you guys,” he barked before they could keep the game going, and all three laughed at him. Someone got up from Peter’s table and he caught a glimpse of his beautiful face, their eyes made contact for half a second and Tony looked away.

“No, but seriously, Tones. Just go talk to him, he’s a great guy, I’m sure he wouldn’t be an ass about it.” Bruce adjusted his glasses and said that like it was simple. Like he would have the guts to do it if he was in Tony’s position – he wouldn’t, he’d pined for Thor, an exchange student, for a year, and never worked up the courage to ask him out. The guy went back to Norway or whatever and Bruce never even said hi to him.

“I know, of course he wouldn’t, but I don’t wanna be one of those people begging for his attention, just look at that.” He pointed at the little crowd around him, people were almost literally fighting for his attention, the poor guy could barely finish his lunch. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you’re not them,” Natasha said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Tony frowned.

“How am I different?”

“You’re a certified genius, you and him have similar interests and you look hot in a ‘I’m gonna fuck you raw in the back of my car’ kinda way. I don’t know, maybe he’s into that.” The redhead shrugged, again, saying all that like it was obvious and an unquestionable truth.

“Yeah, right, sounds just like him,” Tony scoffed.

Peter was perfect in so many ways – perfect face, perfect body, perfect grades, Tony was sure he pooped out candy or something – of course he wouldn’t go for a guy like him. He had a bad reputation, he was in detention more often than not and people in general considered him an asshole – all because he didn’t partake in their little games of social climbing or whatever. No, Peter wouldn’t go for his grungy ass. He’d probably go for all American, apple pie, boy-next-door Steve Rogers.

“No, she’s right, I’ve seen him looking at you several times.” Bruce pointed out, not for the first time, and Tony scoffed.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“AP chemistry class. I’m his lab partner, remember?” How could Tony forget? As Mr. Erskine called out their names, Tony prayed to a God he didn’t even believe in that he’d be paired up with Peter, but no such luck. “He stares at you whenever he has a chance or an excuse. You know, when you blow things up, for example.”

“Yeah, which is why he must stare, he must be afraid for his life.” Tony hated to admit that he was way more prone to causing explosive accidents when Peter was in the room. It was fucking embarrassing.

He sighed, drinking the last of his coke. No matter what his friends said, he knew he didn’t stand a chance with Peter. He was… Untouchable. He was too good for him, Tony wasn’t even sure he’d want to taint him if he had a chance – no, scratch that, he definitely would.

He chose to watch him from afar, allowing himself a few fantasies and daydreams. He had this really stupid and lame one, where he walked up to Peter in the hall, people just parted to let him through, then he gave him his trademark, lopsided grin and asked him out. Peter smiled brightly up at him, holding his books to his chest, cheeks flushed, eyelashes fluttering as he whispered a shy “yes” and leaned up to kiss him. Yeah. That was the whole fantasy.

Peter was so untouchable to him that he didn’t even dare to dream further than that. Of course when he was alone in his room, late at night, relieving himself, a few… less pure fantasies popped up unsolicited, but he felt so guilty then, dirty even, like he was disrespecting him somehow. It was all very confusing, but he still came, shamefully, to the thought of his beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure as dream-Tony fucked him.

The bell rang and everyone hurried to get to their next period, Peter was no different, he gathered his things and stood up, looking around the cafeteria like he was looking for someone. Their eyes met again for a second, but Tony quickly looked away, grabbing his backpack in a hurry to leave.

It was Thursday, the worst day of the week for him, none of his friends were free to hang out with him until later, so he either had to head home and deal with Howard or he had to find somewhere to be for a couple of hours, until Rhodey was done with football practice so they could go to his place. That day, Tony decided to just stay by his car, smoking a cigarette and singing along to Black Sabath’s Iron Man, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. He was so distracted watching the smoke dissipate into thin air that he didn’t notice when someone approached, and jumped almost a foot in the air when they spoke.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught smoking on school grounds?” Tony almost dropped dead when he registered the angelic voice. He was already having a heart attack as it was, but the boy was so close and he had that beautiful smile in place, blushing cheeks and all. It took almost a full minute for him to calm himself down.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” The older teen answered when he finally found his voice and got his breath under control enough not to make a fool of himself. Peter smiled wider, biting his lower lip.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He fake whispered, leaning a little into the older boy’s space and he almost choked on nothing. Peter’s smell was inebriating, expensive and sweet, but not overly so – perfect. He recomposed himself quickly, though, and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure why Peter was talking to him and, frankly, he was too fucking nervous to think of anything cool to say. The younger teen deflated a little faced with Tony’s silence; he looked around, seeming a little lost. “You’re Tony, right?”

Fuck, the way he said his name. His name. It was fucking music to his ears, the most beautiful tune. But how did he even know his name? Sure, he was Tony Stark, so not really anonymous, but people often forgot about it.

“Yeah. And you’re Peter.” Tony didn’t play games, he didn’t even try to pretend like he didn’t know who Peter was. It would be dumb anyway, everybody knew him. The other boy nodded shyly, it looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept biting his lips and looking around nervously. Tony frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s fine, it’s just, uhm. I have a flat tire and the wheel bolts are really tight and I couldn’t get them off, so I thought – I mean, could you, uh –“ He gestured wildly as he stuttered out his answer, looking in the general direction of his flashy, cherry red sports car. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re busy, but I –“

“Sure, I’ll help, don’t worry.” Tony threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. He was a little more at ease now that he knew why Peter was talking to him – he just needed help – and the best thing was, Tony was really good with cars. Of course, one didn’t need to have a PhD in mechanics to change a tire, but it still made him feel really good that he would be able to help properly.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver.” The chirpy attitude was back, as well as the smile, it made Tony’s heart flutter. He nodded sharply, looking away from his face, and gestured for Peter to lead the way.

When they reached his car, Tony whistled lowly, crouching down to look at the completely flat tire, as he tried to find the source of the problem. He was surprised to notice a two-inch cut on the surface of it, and it didn’t seem accidental.

“Fuck, Peter, it looks like someone sliced your tire.” When he looked up at the younger boy, he didn’t look surprised, but nervous. It was an odd reaction. Tony wondered if Peter already knew that – maybe he knew who did it and was scared of them? It made Tony’s blood boil. Why would anyone do that to Peter?

“Wh-what? How do you know that?” He bit his lower lip nervously, scratching his arm, and Tony frowned, worried.

“Here, look.” He gestured for Peter to crouch down next to him and pointed at the cut. “This is clearly a stab mark. Judging by the size and shape of it, I’d say this was probably done with a pocketknife.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Clearly.” He face-palmed, like he felt stupid, maybe for not seeing it before, but Tony still worried.

“If you want, I could go with you to the administration. We can ask them to check the security cameras. I think that one might have caught whoever did this.” He pointed at a security camera nearby, Tony knew where all of them were in the parking lot area – he’d been caught smoking way too many times not to know.

“What? There are –? I mean, look, it’s okay, it’s probably just someone trying to play a prank, it’s no big deal, it’s fine.” He stood up quickly, shaking his head, and Tony was positive he felt threatened somehow, he was acting so weird.

“If you’re sure… But if you change your mind, I’ll go with you, ok?” Tony stood up and took off his leather jacket. The weather was nice, just a bit chilly, so he was wearing a thin, white t-shirt with short sleeves underneath. He thought he heard Peter’s breath hitch for a second, but it was probably just his imagination. “Can you hold this for me?” He held out his jacket and the boy blushed, blinking rapidly.

“S-sure.”

Tony bit his bottom lip to refrain from asking, again, if everything was fine. Peter looked so freaking nervous, he was even sweating a little at the temples. Tony was positive he knew who did that to his car, but didn’t want to tell him for some reason. Maybe he wanted to protect whoever did it, maybe it was a boyfriend, or an ex. He gritted his teeth, hands closing in fists, but didn’t say anything, just crouched down and got to work.

The first bolt came off easily, it wasn’t tight at all, so he thought maybe Peter had already loosened it when he tried earlier. The second and third ones came off just as easily, though, only the fourth one was a little trickier, but nothing the younger teen couldn’t have handled himself. Tony thought maybe he hadn’t tried too hard, maybe he was afraid the person who did that would show up or something. He was so glad he was there to help, he wondered if Peter felt safe with him around, and the thought made him feel oddly proud and protective of him.

He made quick work of changing the tires, making sure not to screw the bolts too tight, then put the sliced one in the trunk of the car. When he turned around to look at Peter, he was looking intently at him, almost hypnotized, holding his jacket close to his chest like it was a puppy.

“All done.” Tony smiled and the boy seemed to snap out of a trance.

“Oh, thank you so much, really, you’re too kind.” He smiled broadly and the older teen scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it.” They were silent for a few seconds after that, but Peter kept holding his jacket and didn’t make any move to give it back to him. “Uhm, could I–?” He gestured towards the jacket and again the boy jumped up in surprise.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, here.” He handed it to him and quickly crossed his empty arms over his chest. “So, uhm,… Your dad is having a gala this weekend, right? Are you gonna be there?” Ah, so Peter did know who he was, not just his first name. The older teen leaned against the car and stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“Not if I can help it.” He smirked, trying to act cool, but now that he didn’t have anything to do with his hands, he was growing nervous.

“Oh,” Peter looked… disappointed? He dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet, and Tony stood up straight, frowning.

“Why?”

“Nothing, it’s just – my parents are going, so I thought I’d tag along to, you know... but it’s okay.” He kicked an imaginary rock and avoided Tony’s eyes. The older teen stared at him with wide eyes, heart beating fast – what was the end of that sentence? Peter couldn’t possibly mean–

“I don’t – what, you’d go to, like, hang out with me or something?” He felt stupid when he stumbled on the words, but Peter didn’t seem to notice, his cheeks were burning red and he was looking anywhere else but at Tony.

“I mean, you must have much better things to do, of course, I was just –” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head, finally looking up at Tony. “Sorry, just forget about it, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, wait!” He rushed to interrupt him and Peter looked back at him with huge, Bambi eyes. Tony coughed awkwardly, blushing a little. “I mean, like, uhm… If you – would you wanna go as my date? To the gala?” He blurted out, finally, because what the hell. The worst that could happen was Peter say no, and he could deal with it. He would survive, for sure. It wouldn’t be a big deal. Really. It wouldn’t.

But he didn’t say no, he smiled broadly, eyes twinkling in excitement.

“I’d love to!” He answered quickly, and Tony’s heart fluttered, Peter looked genuinely happy. “Could you – uhm, text me what color of tie you’ll be wearing? If you want! I understand if you think it’s lame, but I thought–”

“No, it’s fine.” His heart was beating so loud, Peter Fucking Parker wanted to coordinate ties with him, it was fucking corny and cliché and he loved it. “Uhm, here, give me your number.” He fished his phone from his back pocket and gave it to the younger teen.

“Cool.” Peter typed in his number and as soon as he gave his phone back, Tony sent him a smiley face so he would have his number, too. “Cool, cool, cool...” He rocked on the balls of his feet and looked around, like he was looking for something else to say.

“So… Do you have to be home soon or…?” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets again, wondering if maybe he was pushing his luck, but Peter shook his head quickly.

“Not really, no, my parents don’t really mind what time I get home as long as I let them know. You?”

“They don’t really care.” He shrugged, taking one step closer to Peter. “So… are you hungry, by any chance?”

“I’m starving.” He nodded, looking up at Tony in anticipation. It drove the butterflies in his stomach crazy.

“I know a place where they serve great burgers. We could go in my car and I could drop you off here on our way back, I’m just a little worried someone is gonna try to fuck up your car again. I mean, what if they’re targeting you or something?” Just the mention of what happened earlier made Peter nervous. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and shook his head.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.” He didn’t look worried, though, at least not anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me, I am.” Tony found the sudden change odd, but thought maybe he was just trying to play it cool, so he let it go.

“Okay, then, c’mon, my car is right there,” Tony gestured to his car and Peter smiled, taking his hands off his pockets. When he did, though, something slipped out and fell to the ground with a metallic noise. Tony quickly crouched down to get it for him, when he noticed what it was. “Wh – is that…?” He frowned, examining the pocketknife as if it was alien material. He was confused at first, because Peter didn’t seem like the kind of guy to carry one around, but then it dawned on him. When he looked at the younger teen, his face was so red it looked like he was about to explode.

“Uhm… If I told you I’ve never seen this before in my life would you believe it?” He chuckled nervously, scratching his arm, as Tony stood up. The older teen raised a brow at him.”Sorry, I just – I wanted an excuse to talk to you.” He said quietly, dropping his gaze.

“You know, you could have gone with the weather or whatever.” Tony answered, amused, and it made the younger boy look up at him.

“You’re just very intimidating,” He looked at him with huge, scared eyes, and Tony cocked his head to the side.

“Me?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Peter answered pointedly, and Tony smirked, offering him his knife back.

“You do realize you just sliced your own tire so you’d have an excuse to talk to me, right? And I’m intimidating?” He joked, but Peter didn’t seem to find it funny. He winced and covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed.

“You must think I’m such a freak,” He groaned, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey, hey, yes, I do think you’re a freak.” He grabbed Peter’s thin wrists and marveled at how perfectly they fit in his hands. He definitely saved that thought for later. “But you’re a really cute one.” He grinned and Peter chuckled, a delicate flush rising onto his cheeks.

“I feel stupid.” He admitted, worrying his bottom lip, but Tony shook his head, working up the nerve to cup Peter’s face in his hand.

“I feel flattered,” He said, honestly, and Peter’s breath hitched. He stared up at Tony, eyelashes fluttering, moist, pink lips slightly open. The older teen leaned down slowly and when the Peter closed his eyes, their lips touched. Just like in his fantasies, Peter tasted sweet, his lips were soft and his arms circled Tony’s neck in a warm embrace. When they parted, Tony smiled down at him, stroking his blushing cheek. “Just promise that if this doesn’t work out you won’t, like, key my car or something.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, but they both laughed out loud, as they walked hand in hand across the parking lot.

#starker #high school au

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jojo-fantasy-aus · 3 years

Text

Fantasy Au!

Josuke x F! Reader - ch 7

It Takes Two.

This chapter is a but shorter than usual, but I hope Ya'll enjoy!

----

Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in the comfy, warm, bed. This was useless. You had been trying to fall asleep for hours, it felt like, but all you could do was twist and turn and flip your pillow over and over again.

With a sigh, you sat up in bed, reaching over to the side table with a blind hand. The square matchbox was easy to find, and with a flick of your wrist you lit the candle next to you. The room filled with a soft warm light.

It felt impossible to quiet the thoughts in your head. You thought that you'd gotten over the guilt from the fight this morning, but you couldn't stop thinking about it. You were so angry, but why? After years of serving at the palace you thought you had learned to hold your temper, but everything had just felt so out of control.

And then there was Josuke. How had he remained so… so calm? He wasn't angry, just shocked. Or was he angry? Was he just hiding it? The more you thought about it the more your head hurt. You needed a break.

The cold floors slightly creaked under you as you stood and picked up the candlestick, gingerly opening the door to your room.

You tiptoed down the stairs as silent as you could in such an old house, and the sound of a fire going was loud and clear in the quiet night. That was curious, who else could be up at this hour? A split second thought of the person being Josuke made your stomach flutter, and you pressed a cold hand to your hot face. Were you…?

No. You decided that you would analyze your own thoughts later, it was much too late for this.

Finally reaching the last step, you headed towards the living room where the main fireplace was.

Warm light leaked through a small crack in the door, and for a moment you hesitated before opening it further. The cold doorknob pressed into your palm as you pulled the squeaky door open to peer into the room.

The man half-asleep on the couch caught you by surprise, and your heart sunk when you realized it wasn't Josuke, staying up a little later, wandering the house with those fitted sleepshirts he wears…

You physically shook the thought from your head, stepping into the room fully. Okuyasu's eyes were open, but it looked like he hadn't noticed you. In fact, you were pretty sure he was snoring. A notebook and quill had been abandoned in his lap.

"Okuyasu?" The man snorted violently, and then choked on the breath, doubling over in a cough. You covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing as he tried to regain his composure.

"Keeping vigilant watch over the fire I see?" You mused, blowing out the candle in your hand. Okuyasu gasped dramatically and ran to the fireplace in front of him, peering at the dying embers. He settled back on the couch once he was confident that the fire wasn't an immediate threat.

"Thanks for waking me up, Shigetchi would'a killed me if I burned down this house." You smiled brightly, settling down on a rocking chair yourself.

"Not if Josuke got to you first." He let out a goofy chuckle before stretching his arms with a big yawn, stiff joints popping all at once. The silence settled for just a moment.

" 'Mind if I ask why you're up so late, Miss?" Okuyasu said a little too loudly. You shush him, reminding him that there was, in fact, another person in the house. Once he nervously apologized you answered him.

"I haven't been able to sleep. I guess I've just been thinking too much." You subconsciously rocked back and forth on the chair as you spoke. Okuyasu nodded, leaning comfortably back on the couch.

"We all seem to have that in common, huh?"

"All?"

Okuyasu smiled in a goofy way, shaking his head before speaking up in his gruff, sleep deprived voice.

"Josuke wouldn't go to bed until you got back, all he did was wait out in the stables the whole time. And even then he didn't fall asleep until a few hours ago." He laughed. Instantly your face flushed, a strange feeling blooming in your chest when you thought about it. Josuke worries too much.

" I fell asleep right after you left for the dinner thing. Had a dream- No! A divination about a new pumpkin bread recipe. Woke up 'bout an hour or two later with an itch to write it down, but…" Okuyasu glanced at the papers in his lap, some scrawled over and scratched out with the ink. He frowned, just slightly.

"I just can't seem to get it right." You hummed, brows furrowing. That was quite a predicament. The one thing you had learned about Okuyasu was the sweet man had quite the gift for baking, so much so that you'd much rather call it an art, and him an artist. Even then, he still hit walls in inspiration. Your face lit up when an idea flashed in your head

"We could go to the market tomorrow? I heard from Shigetchi that they harvested the last of the fall crop recently, so they should have some good pumpkins ready. -mabye we can ask to borrow some of his spices too! I'm sure you'll have it figured out by then." Okuyasu's face lit up immediately, looking at you with stars in his eyes.

"Whoah!! That's such a great idea- I didn't even think about adding spices!!" Okuyasu cheered, snatching the quill back into his hand. You must have given him some kind of idea already, because he was already aggressively writing things down. He quietly rambled off the things he would need to get from the market under his breath. The small action ignited a smile, it was nice to see him so happy. It was no wonder that this goofball and Josuke were best friends, they were both filled with passion and excitement for even the littlest of things.

You didn't realize you had spaced out until Okuyasu spoke up again.

"You're so smart! It's no wonder Josuke likes you so much!" Your face heated up in a split second. Did he really just say that?

"He what?" Okuyasu looked up at you, a face of confusion turning into panic. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could the door creaked open.

"What're you guys doing?" You jumped at the sound of Josuke's voice. Turning around in your chair to face him.

He looked dead tired, almost half awake as he stood there. He was still in his pajamas, (weren't you all,) which were just some baggy pants and a green shirt with a neckline that maybe dipped a bit too low… But even still he looked so handsome.

The flush of blood in your face was hopefully still hidden by the looming night, as it had become even worse when you realized you were staring.

"I- well I couldn't sleep, so I came downstairs and found Okuyasu…" He sent you a pleading look. Right, maybe you shouldn't tell Josuke that he could've burnt the house down.

"-Trying to write down a recipe all night." Josuke's face shifted a bit, but he nodded. He sent a disappointed glare in Okuyasu's direction, and the mercenary panicked, frantically waving his hands back and forth in surrender.

"Look- I know you told me to stop staying up so late- but bro- this recipe!" You giggled a bit as Okuyasu struggled out the excuses. Josuke sighed, shaking his head at his friend. He was so caring. You could tell that from the moment you met him. You looked at him fondly, but he didn't turn to see.

Maybe having a little bit of a crush on Josuke wasn't such a bad idea after all.

When the three of you eventually dispersed and went to bed, it was almost difficult to remove yourself from Josuke's side. An exchange of a soft Goodnight made your stomach flutter all over again, and the moment you closed your door you slid down the surface and onto the floor.

This was definitely not just "a bit of a crush" anymore.

Shit.

Josuke sighed heavily as he closed his door, heart wrenching as he pried himself away from you. You and Okuyasu had just been talking, that was all. Right? He shouldn't be jealous of his friend. There wasn't even a reason to be jealous. But then he thought of your giggle as Oku rambled, and the short moment you hesitated while explaining why you had been up so late, and his chest felt like it started to squeeze in on itself.

He was overthinking this. Okuyasu would never try to court her when it was so obvious that he was trying to himself. He's a good friend, always will be too.

He couldn't stop thinking about what Okuyasu said after he came home from Shigetchi's. Sure, he didn't know that Josuke had been watching over you instead of taking care of the horses all night, but his words still hit in all the fuzzy places.

"She's worried about you too, Ya'know that? Barely got a foot in the door before asking where you'd gone off too. 'Didn't get to answer before you walked back in to say hi,"

He had only been standing there for a moment before you changed the subject and started telling the two of them about your lead. He remembered how you couldn't look him in the eye. He had no doubt that it was because you felt terribly guilty for slapping him.

Josuke pulled back the covers and crawled into the bed that had long gone cold. You had never meant to harm anyone, not for the short amount of time he knew you however. You certainly never meant to harm him in the way you did. It was the first time in a while that someone had gotten physical with him, and he didn't get mad. He supposed that it was simply because it was you. You, looking so… so scared. He would've been offended that you thought he was one of those men from back at the camp, but he out of all people definitely knew the toll that trauma can take on people.

"Love is fickle like that sometimes…"

The sentence had been burning into his mind for a while, and so had you.

He fell asleep with the thought of you on his mind.

#josuke imagine #josuke x reader #josuke headcanons #jjba josuke #josuke 4 #josuke higashikata #diamond is unbreakable #jjba x reader #jjba reader insert #it takes two fic

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batarella · 4 years

Text

The Bullet: A Sequel to the Commander - Part 4 (Jason Todd x Reader)

This was probably the most chaotic, fun thing I’ve ever written.

WORDS: 9744 WARNINGS: Vaginal sex, oral sex (both receiving) GUN KINK GUN KINK GUN KINK, Bank Hostage, firearms, violence

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

“Recent reports have shown a sharp decline in Gotham City’s organized crime rate, with the deaths of several of the city’s biggest crime families. The most notable being Roman Sionis, Salvatore Maroni, and Carmine Falcone.”

If there was anything, anything at all, that came directly out of his wettest dreams and porn fantasies, all the way from when he was old enough to get his first boner. This. This was what he’d imagine. The Red Hood visor, gleaming in blood red, it was a little loose over Y/N’s head but god, it looked so good on her he might as well hand over the mantle.

“Responsible for these murders are the vigilante criminals most commonly known as the Red Hood and Deadshot. About five weeks since the last murder, the duo is yet to be captured by the Gotham City Police Department. Their bounty has raised to an astonishing twelve million dollars…”

This wasn’t a fantasy. This was better than porn. The visor, in fact, was the only thing she had on. Splayed out on a comfy lounge chair, legs spread out so wide as they were laid out on top of the arm rests so she was as exposed and open as she ever could be.

“They continue to fight against the city’s astonishing crime rate, battling the likes of Penguin, Riddler, Two Face, among all other well-known criminal masterminds that operate within the city, continuing the job of what used to be the late Dark Knight’s. However, considering their strings of homicides and other crimes both state and federal, it is unknown where their alignment truly belongs…”

“Oh!” she screamed with her fingers digging into his rugged dark hair. The visor, as much as it made her look like a total badass, was probably all fogged up on the inside from all the heavy breathing she was inevitably doing. On his knees in front of her, Jason suckled on her clit like he would to her nipples and let his tongue go into a frenzied lapping.

Y/N couldn’t hear the TV anymore. Not when her cries were loud enough to pass through the rather thin walls of their brand-new loft apartment even when they were slightly muffled. Boxes were still unpacked and sitting around the living room. After robbing a warehouse they managed to afford a really nice place where known criminals aren’t expected to live in.

She spread her legs even wider, let the brightness from the glass walls coincide with the feathery lightness of engaging in one of those lazy days in bed, on the couch, and often even on the floor. Y/N rolled her hips, watched as her pussy was so expertly eaten out through the optics of Jason’s visor. It was red all around, and an identifier on the holographic screen focused on Jason’s face. His eyes looked up at her, dark, hungry, and hooded.

Jason pulled away, his saliva dripping onto her clit. “Record me. It’s on the side.”

“Fuck…” she pressed on the button and she saw a beeping red dot at the corner. He smiled at her visor, winked, then inserted two fingers inside her. She cried out at the fullness, then Jason grabbed her ass and pulled her to the edge of her seat, her back so lazily slumped against the chair.

“G-gonna…” she moaned, grabbing the back of the chair. “…watch this when you go on patrol, babe?”

Jason quirked up an eyebrow, curling up his fingers to make her squeal. “Keep moaning. I wanna hear you scream.”

His fingers violently started pumping in and out of her like she wasn’t so tight clenching around him. lips around her clit, his tongue over the hood in long, lapping circles. Y/N tried so hard to keep herself relaxed when the jolts running up her spine were so rapid and strong, her hands did nothing to suppress them holding onto the seat or his hair. She came, letting out the filthiest cries and moans that were the product of every man and woman’s dreams, all the while making sure the visor had a good shot of Jason’s mouth on her pussy and her legs so openly spread out.

She jumped when Jason pulled away, spat at her cunt, before slapping it hard with his palm and standing up. Y/N pressed on the button to raise the visor and stop recording. “Fuck…”

“You’re blushing so much,” he placed a kiss on her head as he took the helmet off.

“I’ve never been recorded before…”

His cock twitched at the sight of her hand resting on her pussy, just lazily rubbing around to relax herself and spread out her cum mixed with his drool. Hands on her sides, Jason leaned down towards her and sloppily wrestled his lips over hers.

“Taste yourself?” he pulled her chin up and licked her tongue.

“Yes.”

Her hand had already found itself pumping his incredibly erect cock, and the pre-cum started spilling onto her palm. Jason moaned with his lips on hers, pulling away to watch her play with his member. When her wet, plump lips so masterfully dragged itself against the thickest vein down his balls, Jason cried out her name.

“Wait,” he hissed when she kitten licked his tip. “You wanna play?”

Hand on her pussy still rubbing, she gasped. “Yes please…”

“Stay there.”

Y/N let out a whimper when Jason made his way to one of the boxes laying in the living room, dick slapping against his stomach as he walked. Her one hand against her teeth, biting into her thumb, while the other continually played with herself as she enjoyed the sight of his magnificent body, she suddenly froze when Jason pulled out a pistol.

“Oh…” her eyes widened.

Jason emptied the magazine and tested it to see it was safe, while also turning on the safety lock.

“That one of mine or yours?”

“Mine,” Jason made his way back to her. He caressed the barrel with his intimately calloused fingers then handed it over.

She twirled the it around her finger. “Why am I only finding out now that you have a gun kink?”

“Don’t you?”

Y/N, keeping her eyes on him, pressed the barrel delicately against her lips, and Jason groaned just looking at her swearing that his dick jumped up to his stomach. She stared at his cock, so extremely horny and wet around her thighs that when she encased the pistol’s muzzle around with her lips, Jason took the gun from her and held onto its grip.

“Suck.”

Smiling from ear to ear, she leaned into the gun and licked all the way up the barrel exactly as she had done with his cock, which Jason was slowly starting to jack off with his own hand while his eyes hungrily stared at Y/N. She didn’t stop playing with her pussy, though her hands were unevenly going over her folds when her focus was dead set on the gun, now slipping into her mouth. It was smaller than Jason, smaller than what her mouth was used to, so it didn’t even hurt when she hallowed out her cheeks and took the barrel in at full capacity, letting it hit the back of her throat.

Jason pumped his cock faster now, thrusting the gun in and out of her hallowed out mouth to his will. She stuck her tongue out, eyes starting to water. The gun as definitely harsher around her gums and was a lot more solid, but she took it in like a champ, not even gagging when Jason pushed it into her throat. He cursed repeatedly the more her drool started seeping out onto the barrel. So he pulled it out, watched her catch her breath and quicken her hot little pussy rubbing.

“Fuck… I love you…” The gun in his hand was dripping with her drool. And as she threw her head back, rubbing her clit, Jason pressed the gun directly against her pussy.

“Don’t stop…” he breathed, then he slowly inserted the barrel into her cunt. “Fuck!”

It wasn’t like a dildo or a vibrator or even a dick. This was a gun. One she’d just used against ten robbers the day prior. And despite its shape, how generally uncomfortable it was, she was definitely going to cum just from looking at Jason pump the gun in and out of her while he jacked off.

It filled her up, stretched her walls. Inside her, it was dangerous, absolutely filthy, and goddamn it was hot. One hand grabbed the back of the chair, her other hand rapidly rubbing at her clit, Jason moved the gun up towards her pelvis where he knew that sweet spot was at.

She screamed, a loud, high-pitched cry tearing through her throat. She raised her legs up in the air, and when Jason replaced her hand on her pussy with his, his thumb circling her clit just as violently as she had just done, Y/N held both her legs up with her now free hands to fully expose her cunt. Her thighs were up to her stomach, knees up to her shoulders. Jason kept fucking her with the gun until her stomach started to contract, her pussy clenching so hard until that sweet, sharp release flowed all the way through her, through her every nerve. The itch that had been long been beneath her skin that no other could reach, it was like a rapid scratching right against that very spot.

Eyes going white, she held Jason’s hand to stop him before her sensitivity eventually kills her. Her gun, now filled with her juices, was put up against her mouth once again for her to lick clean, which she happily obliged despite her breaths barely keeping pace.

“One more,” she moaned, standing up to Jason and pulling him close in her arms. “I want you to cum inside me.”

“Fuck yes.”

He kissed her so harshly that they both fell to the floor, with Y/N on top. She sat on his lap and jolted when he made her sit up so he could playfully slap his tip against her sensitive bud. His lips on her nipple, they kissed and wrestled each other’s lips for a long while, skin against skin, rubbing their heat against the other to create this wonderful, loving friction. She bit onto his neck and cried when he plunged deep inside her.

She placed her feet on the ground, and on a squatting position, she laid herself back with her hands on Jason’s legs to push and pull herself out with her legs so spread out, giving Jason the most wonderful view of her pussy eating up his dick. Jason laid on his back, but his head was craned up so he could continue to watch. It was so much easier to take all of his cock to drag along her walls with her knees to pull up her weight. The gun felt nice, but his cock really takes the cake. It was so big and thick and it was his and fuck it was everything.

Spreading her legs like a fucking eagle’s wings, Jason held the bottom of her thighs to help her bounce, and the slapping noises of her thighs against his pelvis, it was so loud, loud enough to contest their moans. Her head was up to the ceiling, eyes closed shut just to stop herself from the intensity.

Then Jason pulled the gun from the ground and pushed the muzzle right up against her clit. “FUCK!”

“You being fucked like this, Commander Y/N?”

Holy shit, that never gets old.

“Fuck, yes, yes I do!”

Her moans were whiny and needy and so engulfed into her high. Jason grunted. “Uh, fuck!” He rubbed the tip of the gun over around her clit.

“Don’t stop! Please, oh god, RIGHT THERE!” she screamed, her arms starting to give out. Jason flipped them around so fast his dick barely pulled out of her pussy. Now on her side, facing away from Jason and her shoulder pressed against the cold marble floor, Jason raised her leg with his hand and started fucking her from behind. “Oh! Yes!”

His thumb was in her mouth, just to feel how her moans would be so muffled and how her face contracted to the pleasurable tremors. She bit onto him and he hissed at both the pain on his cock and her teeth. Jason kept her leg raised up so he could fuck her as deep as he could. His balls slapping against her clit, he moaned against her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut to stop herself from bursting into tears when the orgasm tore through her. The bottom of her feet started to tingle and burn, with the shocks spewing up her legs and thighs. Her pussy clenched over and over, tighter and tighter, then Jason pulled away and started rubbing at her clit to intensify the already massively euphoric rush comparable to a beach’s wave splashing coarsely against her body. His thumb still on her mouth, her screams narrowly started to fade into deep, heavy pants. “Oh…”

Then Jason had her lay down on her stomach, jerking off his cock into release until he busted his load out onto her bare ass and back, all over her body. She fell limp and weak on the floor without moving for god knows how long.

He laughed, pridefully, like the jerk was enjoying watching her covered in his cum. Jason fell to her side, arm over her back. She placed light kisses over his nose and eyes until that rushing high faded down into a blissful aftermath.

Jason smiled from ear to ear and held her on the floor until the afternoon came.

“Babe,” he said to her ear after a few hours of napping on the ground. “Look.”

“What?”

“The news.”

Oh yeah. The TV was on the whole time.

“Breaking news! The Bank of Gotham has been held hostage by ten gunmen over at Founder’s Island. People have flocked from all around the neighborhood crying for their loved ones who are being held at gun point. It is estimated that a total of thirty people, including the bank’s staff, are involved in this scene.”

“Fucking hell,” Y/N sat up from the ground. “Where are Nightwing and Rob-“

“Nightwing and Robin, who were expected to fly into this scene and take care of the situation, have also been tied down and captured by these gunmen, joining the victims at the bank.”

“I fucking knew it.”

When the camera panned over the scene, a bank that had been broken into where hundreds of people stood in tears, they turned to each other.

“That’s thirty people in there.”

“We’ve never had to take of something so public before.”

“Y/N,” he gulped. “I think we should save them, but-“

“We’ll get caught. And arrested. Everyone’s looking for us.”

“I know…”

“Among the victims is a six month old baby-“

“Fuck!” she placed her hand against her mouth.

She stood up from the floor, grabbed a shirt to cover herself up so she wasn’t naked frantically walking around the floor.

“We should go.”

“We have to be careful.”

“I know,” Jason swallowed, running a hand down the side of her face. “We take those men down and get the hell out of there.”

She nodded her head, and Jason rushed to the boxes, got Y/N’s suit, and threw it at her direction.

-----

An underground tunnel, one that lead right below the bank for its water passages. It was disgusting having to walk through the sewers with the dirt water seeping to their boots. Red Hood trailed behind Deadshot, with the light on her optics leading the way.

Red Hood turned on his x-ray vision.

“There,” he pointed up to the grimy ceiling. “There’s an office up there. No one’s around.”

“On it.”

Deadshot took a mine bomb from her hip, pressed on its trigger, then she threw the small, circular puck up to the ceiling until it stuck. They backed away, turned towards a corner. When they heard the explosion they pulled out their guns ready for anything expected to come up.

Nothing. The place was probably too far from the central area where the hostages were being held. They turned from the corner and grappled up to the office. It was dark, neat where it hadn’t been destroyed. Deadshot’s heat sensors detected nothing outside the door. Red Hood loaded his gun. They stepped out of the room and crept down the halls.

Just outside the office halls, it should lead to the area behind one of the teller desks, which can hide them so long as they wouldn’t notice the door open. There was one gunman with an AK, all the way over to the front where the people were huddled together. Nightwing and Robin, as they could see, were at the bottom of the escalators with one gunman each, tied with a rope on their arms and legs. One more gunman stood with the hostages, while all the other ones worked with the vaults, piling all the cash into a bag like some cartoon villains. They’d probably have a dollar sign printed onto the bag as well.

Red Hood unlocked the door, and with the palm of his hand, ever so slowly pushed it open light enough to have been pushed by the wind. No one noticed. Deadshot crawled underneath the teller’s desk and Red Hood followed behind. They kept under them as they moved slowly towards the vaults.

Two men were inside it, and the other vault was all the way over to the other side. When Red Hood nodded at her, he and Deadshot slowly crept up behind them and snapped their necks.

“Ey!” one of the robbers said to the crowd. “Did I hear talking?!”

Bullets, repeatedly being fired out of his gun. There were screams and cries but it sounded like he only shot at the ceiling. “That’s what I thought.”

“Red Hood,” she said to him. “We have to hurry with these other guys.”

“I know. You take the second floor. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Then they spread out. Deadshot kept herself out of sight as she grappled up to the second floor’s railings and hid behind it. With her back crouched over, optics burning bright, she saw three men on her floor. Two were at the vaults. One was by himself standing guard right outside of it.

So she grappled up to a gargoyle, careful not to be seen despite having the guard with a large shotgun to his chest in her line of sight.

Deadshot grabbed her gun, one she made herself just a few days ago.

The world’s most silent sniper rifle.

Loading it with its special ammo, she looked into the scope and fired.

The man fell to the ground without so much as a flinch from her gun. She had to move fast.

She grabbed her silencer pistol and jumped onto the ground, grabbed the body and threw it to the side. Then she waited, right outside the vault. The two’s voices slowly became nearer and nearer. When they stepped out, backs turned to her, she fired her gun at them both.

Second floor covered.

She grappled back up and turned her optics on to spy on Red Hood. She pressed on her communicator. “You good?”

“Yeah. Can you take down the two over at Nightwing and Robin?”

“On it.”

She could have sworn those two had caught her eye. She could see them looking at her direction with her scope. Her sniper in hand, she needed to kill one faster than the other could even notice. Breathe.

Two bullets in half a second. The two bodies fell lifelessly to the ground.

“Silencer sniper, huh? Won't that make you a little bit too OP?”

“Jealous?”

“Eh.”

She saw Jason slam the last robber on the head to the cold hard ground. Just two more. The gunmen by the victims.

“Take down the one on the back.”

She was already focusing her scope on the said robber. “You ready?”

“YOU. YEAH YOU. YOUR FUCKING BABY. TELL IT TO STOP FUCKING CRYING!”

The baby in question, the six month old being held in her mother’s arms, screamed even louder. The mother was crying as well, rocking the baby in her arms, and everyone around her shivered with their ears held closed. The robber went up to the woman and held the gun to her head. “No. Please…”

“I said. Tell that fucking baby to SHUT UP.”

She did everything she could, hushing the baby.

“Go,” Red Hood said to her.

She fired the shot. As the body fell dead, blood spattering onto the victims, there were screams and cries that alerted the last remaining gunner, turning his attention over to Deadshot.

“YOU!”

Just before Red Hood could tackle him down, he raised his AK at her, fired, and she barely dodged them, toppling over from her position on the gargoyle. But she grabbed onto the edge with her fingers, her feet flying in the air. Deadshot looked around for anything she could jump to.

Red Hood, on the other hand, grabbed the AK and pointed it up at the ceiling, trying his very best not to get anything onto the poor victims. He kept firing, over and over, and it broke a window as well as the skylight above them. The hostages screamed at the glass falling over to them.

Deadshot jumped to the second floor and rolled until her back hit a wall. She coughed, brushed off the pain, then she rushed immediately to the scene. She had to be fast. Those people will die.

Jumping over to the ground floor, she helped Red Hood disarm the gunner by landing a strong kick to his gut, repeatedly, as Red Hood gained more control over the gun. She pulled out her pistol, fired at his stomach, but the bullet proof vest he had on only slightly moved him back.

But Red Hood slammed his visor against his head and his crippling nerves forced him to let go. He threw the AK to the ground, then Deadshot grabbed his head, pulled it down, then slammed it against her knee. Red Hood grabbed him from the back and twisted his arms behind him to immensely painful that he screamed even louder than the baby ever could.

Deadshot landed a kick to his face, blacking him out, then Red Hood slammed his whole body to lay flat against the ground.

“Red Hood!” Nightwing screamed when he got the gag off his mouth. “Don’t!”

He pulled out a gun and fired at his head.

Deadshot watched on, at the people looking at them terrified beyond their wits. The kids were crying, the adults curled up their bodies to look smaller and avoid the look on her eye. Or rather, her optics. When she raised her hands to calm them down, they all screamed. “Don’t hurt us!”

“Please!”

“Come on,” Red Hood said to her. “We have to get out.”

Of course. Before this all blows out of proportion. The people were safe now.

The door slammed open and GCPD officers suddenly appeared, holding their guns out at the two. “It’s Red Hood and Deadshot!”

With their grappling guns, they easily shot up straight towards the skylight, over at the roof, they over the top and slid down the metal scenes with their legs outstretched, before they landed right in front of the people clustered around the bank, when their faces once filled with stricken fear and terror, tears down their faces, they now stared at the two vigilantes in awe.

Red Hood and Deadshot stood frozen in front of them, standing right at the front and center of the Bank of Gotham’s roof. The froze, because they weren’t screaming, or pointing.

They were clapping.

“Red Hood!!!”

“Deadshot!!!”

“You saved us!!!”

“Over there! Get them!” The fucking cops.

With the crowd cheering for them, they jumped off to the rooftop across. They heard their names, in cries of thanks instead of fear.

So narrowly, they got away. Thankfully.

When the chaos had subsided, they reached the top of one of the skyscrapers where the cops couldn’t find them. And they reveled at the silence. The billboards. It was of the news scene. At the bank. Then there was flashes of their pictures splayed out on the screen.

“Glad we got away,” Red Hood sat on the ledge. Deadshot joined him and kept her eyes on the bustling city, at the news reports. Her masked face came up beside Jason’s with question marks around them. She didn’t know what the fuck that meant.

“Jay. What did we just do?”

Red Hood didn’t answer. He looked on at the screen so focused and silent. Deadshot swallowed, and her throat started to itch and burn. She placed and a hand on his thigh and Red Hood’s breath hitched.

“Hey. You okay?”

He didn’t answer again. He was so focused. Head craned down…

She heard moaning. Her moaning.

“Oh my god, ARE YOU WATCHING MY VIDEO?”

A hard punch to the shoulder and Jason raised his visor, exposing his red, flustered face. “Sorry…”

-----

“Earlier today, thirty-two people were held hostage in the Bank of Gotham for more than two hours. Reports say that there were ten gunmen in the scene, and that they have taken the vigilante heroes Nightwing and Robin as well, just before they had taken over the bank.

However, what were once the East Coasts’ most hated and sought-after criminals are now subject for mass appreciation and mixed criticisms online. Red Hood and Deadshot, once called Gotham’s Bonnie and Clyde, have taken into action and single-handedly saved the thirty-two hostages, taking the lives of five of the ten gunmen in the process.

After the event, citizens have stormed various social media platforms discussing the true verdict for these two heroes, for their alignment in the moral spectrum. Some say they are criminals to be taking lives of these men, bringing up their troubled pasts for being known to mindlessly kill their enemies. On the other hand, some say they are heroes more deserving of an applause as the late Batman himself! As they have done what the Dark Knight couldn’t do, to do whatever it takes to make this city as safe for its citizens as possible.

A majority of these netizens seem to be leaning towards the latter, as polls show, some demanding that they be taken out of the most wanted list and let them continue being Gotham’s heroes that it truly deserves.”

Y/N and Jason stood right in front of the TV, chests heaving. It had grown dark, yet none of them turned the lights on.

“Well,” Y/N bit her lips. “That wasn’t what we expected to happen.”

“It’ll die down. Eventually.”

“You think they’ll arrest us?”

“Oh they will. Bounty’s gone up to fifteen mil.”

“Jeez. Why’d they want us so bad?”

“My theory, all that money’s from whatever crime lord is left alive. Probably doesn’t want us to go after him next.”

“Well, I don’t have anyone else to kill in mind. What’s their fucking problem?”

Jason laid down on the lounge chair. “Fuck them.”

“Yeah. Fuck them.”

She laid on top of his lap, legs over the arm rest, then she placed her head right up against his temple. His arms were so warm circling her, encasing her in that envelope of safety she long needed after days like these. Kissing his head, she stayed there for as long as she could, exhaustion creeping up her nerves so they’d eventually fall asleep.

Heroes. Them. She’s never been called a hero. Not once in her life. Jason maybe. In fact, he grew up being one. He was used to being labeled into something that puts such immense pressure on you to actually continue being a hero, when kids from all around the world are going to look up to you and want to be you someday. And the failures, when they do happen, hit harder than a shit brick. It’ll be devastating, to both her and the people.

When villains fail, when her uncle failed, no one bats an eye. But when it came to the Justice League? The world falls apart. Criticisms left and right. Hearts will be broken. And you’ll be so engulfed in the public eye that your actions will be more determined by what people will think is right, instead of working for yourself.

She didn’t want to be called a hero. She can do good things. Be good to people. But this attention? This praise? It all feels more like a demand. People are going to go to her to save them, their problems she didn’t often care about. She didn’t want to be the one they turned to when a cat was stuck up in a tree when the fire department wasn’t going to make it. She didn’t want to be a savior. Just someone who takes care of the bad guys. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She wanted to be ignored by the public and let her do her own thing. And her own thing will quite possibly always include taking lives. It was how she was brought up.

Jason. He probably didn’t think much about it at all. He doesn’t care if he was a hero or a villain or nothing at all. So long as he does what he thinks should be done, take lives when needed, rid the city of crime but not without committing crimes himself. He was asleep, laying his head against her shoulder so peacefully. She kissed his cheek again and pressed herself against him so she’d feel that peacefulness for herself.

She could easily just be taking this all out of proportion. Quite easily, she would.

And as her eyes started to flutter closed, her phone rang. She reached over and opened the text.

Her heart sank to the floor.

Unknown: ‘We have Zoe. Meet us at Warehouse 39. Don’t bring any of your gear or your weapons. If you do, we kill her. We know who you are, Y/N.”

----

Not even five minutes later, they were standing outside Warehouse 39, and she was panting, trying to keep her breaths in check before she palpitates and breaks down before this all blows over.

“Hey. Hey,” Jason grabbed her shoulders and held her close. “Calm down. You have to calm down.”

“Jay,” a tear fell down her face. “That’s Zoe in there. She wasn’t supposed to get involved-“

“Whoever those assholes are, we give them what they want. All the money we have. Then we save Zoe and get the hell out of here.”

“Fuck!” she grabbed her scalp to pull on her hair but Jason stopped her. “I’m so scared…”

“I know. I know. But we have to go in there-“

“How are we supposed to defend ourselves?!” she pointed at their clothing. Jay in a red hoodie and Y/N in a brown leather jacket. They felt naked without so much as a pistol strapped to their hips and with that they were supposed to deal with someone who had a loved one’s life on the line. They can't take Zoe. Not by a long shot.

“We can take them. Whoever they are. We just have to play this smart.”

“I can't lose her…”

“You're not gonna lose her.” He pulled her body to his chest. “Shh. Come on. You have to stay calm for this to work.”

Chin over his shoulder, Y/N hugged him tight and felt his hands soothe her back, going up and over her spine.

They went through one of the back doors. So far, there was no one there. But they heard something from above them, metals clanking, perhaps even a wheel. Jason grabbed a lead pipe on the ground and stuffed it in his pants.

She tried to hide her shaking. Of all times, when it mattered, only now did she not have a plan. It had only been seven minutes since they got that text. And they almost never go after a raid without so much as inspecting the place. But now, now, if it means saving her Zoe, she’ll gladly take the fall.

Jason walked with her as they made their way up the metal staircase, footsteps echoing in the large emptiness. When they reached the top, there was nothing there was well. Just an empty chair in the middle. They walked towards it.

“Where the hell are they?”

Noises. Coming from a room on the inside. An office, maybe.

Jason gripped onto the lead pipe still stuffed into his jeans and nodded at Y/N. She led the way, walked towards the door. With her trembling breath, she opened it.

Still nothing.

The office was considerably large, if it was an office at all. The room was completely empty and barren. They walked inside.

And the door slammed shut.

Jason grabbed the lead pipe and Y/N jumped into a stance. They hurriedly turned around, letting their eyes adjust to the cold, white fluorescent that solely lit up the room. She was ready. She was so ready to take these guys down, suit or not.

But there was no fourteen-year-old child with them. Or goons with guns strapped to their chest or even a large, terrifying looking woman in a business suit.

It was two familiar looking young men, dressed casually in shirts and jeans, one with hair flopped onto his forehead much like Jason’s and the other completely bald, and the other, a woman confined to a wheelchair with fiery red hair and glasses.

They didn’t look like they were about to attack, but she kept her fists in the air, ready to pounce whenever.

Jason, however, looked like he wanted to beat the shit out of every single one of these people.

Their conversation, if it even was a conversation at all, that followed the initial realization, couldn’t possibly be describe as anything else other than absolute chaos. And if she were to recall, it would probably go something like this:

Dick: “Jason…”

Jason: “DICK!”

Tim: “Jason-”

Jason: “YOU!”

Y/N: “You know them?!”

Jason: “Barbara?”

Barbara: “YOU!”

Y/N: “ME?!”

Barbara: “The Commander!”

Y/N: “Barbara Gordon?!”

Dick: “Commander?”

Tim: “Militia…”

Jason: “SHUT UP!”

Dick: “JASON!”

Jason: “Asshole-“

Barbara: “Jason-“

Y/N: “Jason?!”

Jason: “Y/N-”

Y/N: “What is going on here!?”

Tim: “Y/N-“

Jason: “SHUT UP!”

Dick: “Would you fucking let him talk!?”

Tim: “It’s us!”

Y/N: “Who!?”

Jason: “Dick and Tim.”

Y/N: “DICK GRAYSON!?”

Dick: “You know me?!”

Y/N: “TIM DRAKE!?”

Tim: “Uhm…”

Dick: “Everybody calm down-“

Y/N: “Where’s Zoe?!”

Tim: “Zoe?”

Jason: “ZOE-“

Barbara: “Zoe?”

Y/N: “Zoe!”

Jason: “FUCKING ZOE-“

Barbara: “Who’s Zoe!?”

Y/N: “WHERE’S ZOE!!!”

Tim: “There is no Zoe!”

Jason: “You little shi-“

Y/N: “You tricked us?!”

Tim: “Tricked you?!”

Jason: “She wasn’t talking to you-“

Tim: “Would you shut up, man?”

Jason: “I’ll shut you up-“

Dick: “Jason!”

Barbara: “Jason!”

Y/N: “Jason!”

Jason: “…fucking replacement…”

Tim: “We don’t have a Zoe.”

Y/N: “Oh, really!?”

Barbara: “We didn’t trick you-“

Y/N: “Your text!”

Dick: “Uhm…”

Everyone, turned to a quiet Dick Grayson, finally silent after what was close to an actual shootout. It was a miracle this had happened without anyone being held at gunpoint.

Dick bit on the insides of his lips and backed away.

“I didn’t have a choice… I thought they wouldn’t come…”

Y/N’s eyes were bloodshot and wide, staring at the young man who had locked eyes with her, and at the sight of the sharp ice daggers shooting out from her glare, he gulped.

A terror scream fought its way out of her throat. Y/N pounced at Dick with nothing else but her bare hands comparable to claws and everyone jumped to stop her, but couldn’t. She pinned him against the walls with her one arm lodged to his neck, landing one good punch to his face before Tim grabbed her hand from going any further. Jason growled, then jumped at Tim to wrestle him to the floor. Dick managed to hold Y/N’s wrist, still incredibly strong but not strong as he was, and stopped her from landing another one to his face. Tim pushed Jason off.

“Enough!” Barbara cried.

Jason and Tim stopped, but Y/N only pushed her arm even tighter against Dick’s neck.

“S-someo-one… get her off m-me…”

His hand was shaking from so desperately trying to stop her fist. Her eyes were as good as black, and if they don’t stop now, she might actually kill Dick.

“Y/N!” Tim started for her, but Jason grabbed his shoulder and almost threw him to the ground with one swing.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“Jason!” Barbara screamed. “Get her off of Dick!”

“Why should I?!”

“Uggh!” Y/N forced herself through Dick’s hold and landed another hit to the face. He barely got to stop her again. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“P-please!” Dick choked. She tightened her arm on his neck and his face started going blue.

“Jason!” Barbara called him out again.

“You want me to do it?!” Tim cried.

“You take another step and you won't have a leg, boy wonder-“

“Then stop her. She’ll kill him,” Tim growled. Jason stared Tim down, biting onto his gums, then he turned over to Barbara who was giving him the same look as he had.

Taking his time with a long, deep sigh, he shot a glare at Tim and walked over to Y/N, hand on her shoulder.

“Come on. He’s not worth it.”

Y/N grunted a scream again. “Agh!” Dick’s arms were flailing from how tightly she was choking him.

“I tried,” Jason shrugged.

“Jason, stop her.”

He rolled his eyes and tapped repeatedly onto Y/N’s shoulder, then his hands started to pry her arms off of him. “Come on. That’s it. Get off the literal dickhead…”

Y/N, pursing her lips and looking like she was about to set the whole place on fire, finally let Jason take her hands off of Grayson, who fell to the ground at the first whip of air. Dick choked, hand on his neck, then took breathed out. “Fuck, I think she tore a muscle…” He coughed at the ground again.

Jason stepped in front of Y/N, hands on her shoulders. “Come on.”

Then, as if anyone in the whole room was stupid enough not to expect it, Y/N pulled out a pistol from god knows where she hid it and pushed Jason to the side. Everyone held their hands up and screamed at her.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Tim stepped between her and Dick. “Y/N!”

“Put the gun down!” Barbara cried.

“Y/N-“

“Jason, control her!”

“Y/N,” Jason gulped. If anything, he was as scared of her as the rest of them. He spoke calmly to her. “Why didn’t you tell me you brought a gun?”

“You really think I’d show up without a fucking gun?” She clicked the barrel and everyone’s back shot up. Dick placed his hands up.

“Y/N, please,” Tim started going after her and she pointed the gun at him. “Don’t shoot.”

“I fucking will.”

“This isn’t how we do things-“

“Tim, she isn’t fucking talking to you-“

“Jason!”

Dick cleared his throat. “It was my idea. They had nothing to do with it.”

She shot the gun at the floor exactly three inches away from Grayson’s leg.

“WOAH. OKAY. THAT’S ENOUGH!” Barbara wheeled herself nearer to Dick.

“P-please tell me she did that on purpose,” Dick said.

“You thought I actually missed?!” she clicked the barrel again. “Next time I guarantee you, I won't.”

“Y/N,” Jason said. “Now’s not the time.”

“You want me to fucking shoot you, too!?”

Jason backed away, shivering. “No. No. Carry on. I’m on your side,” he audibly gulped.

“Y/N, please stop!”

Dick finally stood up. “We just wanted to talk to you.”

“So you use my cousin’s name to lure me in?! You fucking assholes!”

“Tim and Barbara had nothing to do with it.”

“Why the fuck would you do that, Dick?” Barbara scowled at him.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to do!”

Y/N scoffed and stifled a laugh. “Not even Scarecrow fakes holding loved one’s hostage for attention.”

“Actually, he did. With Babs,” Tim interrupted.

Y/N screamed. “You shut up!”

“Yeah, shut up, replacement!”

“I have a name!”

“What the hell did you bring us here for?!” Y/N screamed.

Tim spoke as calmly as he humanely could. “We’ll tell you after you put the gun down.”

“How ‘bout you tell me before I fucking shoot your brains out?”

“If she shoots me first,” Dick still kept rubbing his neck, “Promise me she doesn’t choke anyone else like that again.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side. “I assure you I can shoot all three of you in the same tenth of a second. I’m not as slow with a gun as Jason.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.”

Barbara shook her head and wheeled over between the four, Dick behind Tim while Jason practically hid behind Y/N’s back.

“Enough. Please. Y/N, we’re sorry we did that, but we really, really needed to talk to you. Please put the gun down. We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

Y/N breathed in and kept her eyes locked onto Grayson and Tim. “We don’t want to talk.”

“We need to. Please.”

“We’re leaving,” Jason gently placed a hand to her back. Dick and Tim flinched. Thankfully she didn’t shoot.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

Then he placed his hand at the top of her arm, slowly pulling it to descend. Y/N still had the same look on her face, deathly glares at everyone in the room, but when Jason soothed her arm, letting her fingers lose its grip, he disarmed her and threw the gun to the floor. Barbara wheeled over to it and grabbed the gun.

Y/N looked over Jason’s shoulder and gave the three one lasting glare. He turned her over to face the other way, then with his arm around her, slowly led her to the door.

“I hope you're fucking happy-“ Jason shot them all a dirty look, especially at Tim.

“Jason. Y/N,” Dick said, head down to the ground. “There are police officers waiting for you outside…”

And when the two turned their heads over to the already severely injured Grayson, he knew, at that moment, he shouldn’t have said anything.

Tim’s eyes shot up. “DICK, WHAT THE HE-“

Y/N leapt towards Grayson once more, this time pining him to the ground with both her hands on his neck. She squeezed it with whatever strength she had and made sure he was looking straight into her eyes when he dies.

Tim started to grab her, but before he could even lunge, Jason grabbed Tim by the shirt and flung him against the wall. A hard punch to the face, hand holding him down, then Tim fought him off with a kick down his gut.

This was going to be especially difficult. All four of them fighting without their suits, gear, and weapons on.

But this was, most probably, going to be one of the most interesting fights of their career.

When Tim kicked Jason off of him, he repeatedly did so until Jason backed off, fell to the ground, and accidentally knocked Y/N to the ground. Y/N let out an animalistic scream, pulling herself up the floor and lunging for Dick once more, but Tim held her off, grabbing her shoulders. She kneed him at the stomach and forcibly twisted his wrists to get off his grip. Y/N punched him in the face, leapt up in the air, then fly kicked him right up against his nose.

Jason, with the lead pipe he had gotten earlier, was taking care of Dick, who ducked, dodged, and jumped away from Jason’s every hit, fists up close to his chest in a defensive stance. Dick grabbed him by his hoodie, then slammed him against the wall. The lead pipe fell to the ground and Jason’s larger form placed his feet against the wall and pushed himself back, leaping in the air and landing right on top of Dick’s body with his elbow sticking right to his rib.

When Tim had grabbed Y/N into a headlock, she thrashed about to get away, but his arm was too strong. She elbowed his chest, kicked him in the shin, and when nothing worked, she eyed the wall behind them. With her legs moving fast, she ran from behind to keep Tim off balance until his back ultimately slammed against the wall, then she slammed her head against him. Tim, not so much in pain, suddenly smashed his boot against Y/N’s stomach and sent her flying to the other side, falling into a pile of boxes. She grunted at the throb on her head, then crawled out of the way before Tim could lunge after her again.

Dick was really starting to lose to Jason, with his neck in severe pain. Jason took advantage at that and tried landing his hits onto his head and neck. He had him pinned to the floor, punched his face repeatedly until blood started to spew out, then Dick grabbed the lead pipe and slammed it against Jason’s head. Then it was his turn to pin Jason down, doing the same thing and slamming his fist against his face.

“Tim!”

Tim sprinted away from Y.N and went right up to Dick, who had grabbed Jason by his collar, pushed him forward head down, then Tim kneed his chin until his body was flying up. Dick was already up in the air, and his elbow landed right onto Jason’s chest, pinning him to the floor.

Only to be hit right in the head with the lead pipe by Y/N. “Fuck!” Dick cursed.

“Give me that fucking lead pip-“

Y/N swung at Tim, who jumped backing away just to avoid her every hit. Dick went up to stop her but Jason had already grabbed him by the shirt.

Tim had the lead pipe, repeatedly swinging at Jason, who eventually got it for his own and started doing the same to Tim. Y/N was on the wall, running horizontally so she could land her foot against Dick’s chest. Dick tried so hard not to get his neck hit by Y/N but her hands were almost always charging for that specific body part. It had already bruised.

When she had him against the wall again, arm on his neck, he choked and tried so hard to pry him off her. “P-please… Y/N…”

“We saved your life in that bank!” She hit him in the face as she spoke. “Is this how you fucking thank us?!”

“What… you did… was wrong…”

She started her fist once again, but he narrowly dodged it. Y/N flinched at the pain on her knuckles and Dick pushed her off of him, sending her to the ground wincing at the pain. At that, he heard Jason’s cry in anger before he was grabbed from behind and slammed to the floor as well.

Bodies landed on boxes, on the floor, against the wall, blood started to spill, breaths started to quell. It felt like hours of nonstop fighting and beating each other up. When in fact, it had only been ten minutes.

Enough time for Barbara to find the fire alarm.

A deafening, screeching sound echoing around the singular room. It tore through their eardrums, and they all screamed in differently sounding cries in pain. They fell to the ground, hands on their ears, then the smoke alarm started raining down, so intensified that it was practically a waterfall that fell from the ceiling.

That felt even longer than the fight itself. Jason, Y/N, Dick, and Tim continued to yell out for help, with Jason crawling to the door, but it was like a gorilla pounding against their eardrums and drawing nails down a million chalkboards.

When it stopped, the water stopped too, and they were all on the floor, completely drenched with a sharp ringing in their ears so close to passing out.

Barbara wheeled back into the room. She was unharmed.

“The four of you. Enough. You're acting like children.”

“WHAT?!”

“HUH?”

“WHAT SHE SAY!”

“WHAT!?”

“STOP SCREAMING, REPLACEMENT.”

“WHAT!”

“I SAID-“

“SHUT UP!”

“WHO SAID THAT!?”

Barbara ran a hand down her face and waited for them to stop screaming their every word, stand up from the floor and squeeze the water out of their hair, speak normally without it sounding like a train was passing by a railroad.

“Was that necessary, Babs?” Tim asked.

“The normal alarms were too weak. I had to adjust them. Turns out they pack quite the punch. The sprinkler system wasn’t my fault, though. That was a malfunction.”

Y/N groaned and took her jacket off. “You could have just screamed at us to stop.”

“I was. For four minutes. None of you listened. Now you all stop acting like animals and talk this through.”

“You sent us here to get us arrested,” Jason scowled. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“That’s not why you're here.”

“Then why the fuck are we here?”

Dick ran his fingers through his drenched hair. He looked at Tim, who looked at Barbara, who gave both of them that stare that was an equivalent to pushing them off a cliff.

“Okay. After that fiasco at the bank-“

“Which we saved you from,” Y/N said.

“I know. Thank you,” Dick cleared his throat. “But you also killed five men.”

“You're welcome. We could have left you for dead and we were nice enough not to.”

“We know. Trust us, we know,” Tim folded his arms.

“We’d like to take you up on a deal.”

“A deal,” Jason scoffed.

“There are five police cars waiting for you outside this building.”

“Fucking hell, why did I listen to that text-“

Jason placed a hand on her back. “It’s okay.” He glared at the other two. “And?”

“This serves as your last chance. If you agree to never kill again, so long as you operate in Gotham, we tell the cops that you didn’t show up.”

“And if you don’t agree,” Tim continued. “We’ll have you both arrested right here.”

“Great! Deal. We promise. Pinky swear! I will never ever take another life ever again,” Jason held his hand up. “Is that all? Y/N let’s go-“

“Wait.”

Y/N held Jason by the hand and pulled him to her.

“What else?”

“After Batman died, some of his friends promised us a favor…”

“That if we’re ever in need of help, we can go to them. Since Gotham will need as much help it can get and wanted to honor Bruce as much as they could after his death.”

Y/N had her jaw on the ground. Jason scoffed. He didn’t look like he figured out who these friends were. “And who are these supposed to be?”

“His friends from a certain league he used to belong to.”

…

Huh.

Jason picked up where his mouth had fallen, eyes open wide, face unmoving. It took him a while, probably out of disbelief. But he swallowed and pursed his lips.

“Are you morons actually gonna call the fucking Justice League to go after us?!”

“If we can't take you out ourselves, we have to.”

“Trust us. We don’t want that to happen to you,” Dick said.

“Then don’t fucking do it-“

“Your killing is out of control,” Babs said. “We won't have a choice. We want you to accept this deal and move on. As much as you want to deny it, Jason, you're still a part of the family-”

“This!? This isn’t what family does.”

“It’s the only way to stop you. For the good of Gotham. You’ll be sent over to prison. Both of you. So take this chance and just listen to us.”

Jason rolled his eyes over the ceiling and laughed at the remark. “I’m not afraid of prison. And trust me it isn’t Y/N’s first time, either. You think we won't be able to escape? You can go to he-“

He remembered. He turned over to Y/N, whose face was as white as the floor and her lips turning pale.

Fuck, how could he forget.

Waller.

She’ll take her. Torture her. Put a bomb inside her neck.

No.

They didn’t know that. Dick. Tim. Babs. They wouldn’t understand.

But no. She’ll die if she goes to prison.

Not her. No.

“Jason?”

He turned away, eyes on his feet.

Fuck.

He has to do it.

Fuck it, he’ll do anything to keep her safe. This was no thinking it through. Anything there was, he’ll do it.

“Jason-“

“Okay…”

His voice was barely even loud enough to be heard, but they did hear it. He coughed on his own throat, hand reaching over to hold Y/N’s back. Jason craned his neck up and nodded at them.

“We’ll stop,” Jason shakingly maintained his voice. “Just don’t send her to prison. Please”

Y/N had her eyes so glisteningly locked onto his face, to which he didn’t look at. Jason gnawed his against his aching gums and swallowed. “Call off the police.”

Dick, Tim, and Barbara were silent, all the way up to when Jason took Y/N’s hand, dragging her behind him to the door.

“We will,” Dick said. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Take care.”

“Yeah…” Jason groaned. Y/N gave the three one lasting look before she walked out of the door, holding onto Jason’s hand as tight as she could.

-----

The billboards still had their faces on it. This time it wasn’t old mugshots or dark, gloomy looking photos that made them look as villainous as the Joker. They were brighter, more gallant looking. And they were placed side by side. It most often came with the words “Hero” and “Savior” written around it. Polls were on the billboards as well. Their approval rating had gone up to an astonishing 70% of the citizens of Gotham calling them worthy heroes that should be thanked and praised.

Some people went as far as to create fan art for them, shipping the two as a power couple to fan over. There were hearts on their photos. Gotham’s Bonnie and Clyde. The most famous name for the two. It only grew ten times the popularity now than ever before.

She didn’t know how to feel. Just a few hours ago, she thought she’d have to give in to the pressures of being called a hero and the demands of the public. Now, as it turns out, she didn’t exactly have much of a choice.

Y/N has to be a hero now.

Not just for the public. But for Jason’s sake. For her sake.

And Jason. Her sweet Jason, immediately gave it all up to save her.

On the top of Wayne Tower, Deadshot removed her mask and held it with her hand against the railing. Red Hood did the same.

“Jay…” she gulped, taking his hand into hers. Jason looked up to her and smiled. “Yeah?”

She grabbed his waist, turned him around to face her, then she leaned up to kiss him ever so softly, lips merely touching without so much as her tongue seeping out from her mouth. But her hold on him was firm, tight. Jason took his hands from her face and held her waist as well.

“Thank you…” she whispered to him. Jason curved up a smile. “No need to thank me.”

“I think I do. Things are gonna be different now…”

“I know. Thanks to those assholes.”

She laughed, then pressed her forehead to lean against his lips. Jason held onto her so tight and placed his chin on the top of her head. Y/N breathed out. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

“Hey. I for one know what its like to have to live without you by my side. And I’ll do anything not to make that happen again.”

He brushed the side of her cheek, letting her smile form her cheekbones and eyes crinkling at the corners. He kissed all of them, slowly, then Y/N’s arms went up to circle his neck and she kissed him once more.

He was everything, everything she could ever wish for. Signing up for the militia, sleeping with the Arkham Knight thinking it wouldn’t go so far as five minutes of release before they’d go back to work, this definitely wasn’t what she thought she’d end up with. And by god, she was glad it was.

Foreheads touching, holding each other so close with the city lights at their feet, Jason whispered into her lips.

“Marry me…”

She lost her smile, backed her head away in the most awe-inspiring paralysis of shock. Y/N’s eyes had never been so wide, and for a while there, she thought she’ll wake up. “What?”

“Marry me,” Jason held her waist tighter. “Please-“

“Jay, I-“

“I don’t wanna lose you anymore. So no one, not you or anyone else, can keep you away from me. Marry me.”

Tears. They were flowing like heavy baggage. Y/N covered her mouth with her hands and let the smile on her face hurt her muscles even more. Despite the bruises. The aches. The whole world against them. The shock was soon overlaid with the eventual rise of that blissful rush of happiness. And she couldn’t find her words. Not for a moment.

Jason looked more nervous than he ever had his whole life.

“Uhm… do I have to kneel down, or?”

“Yes!” She grabbed his neck, holding him so close with her feet up in the air. It didn’t matter the armor between them. She kissed every part of his face, let his smile rub onto her with his arms holding her so close, rubbing down her back. He pulled her to his lips and kissed her so hard her back had arched over.

“Yes… you asshole, yes, I will.”

“Thank god. I was scared for a sec.”

Y/N kissed him, over and over, then she let the cold air of the heights they were in take her further away up to the sky.

Jason pressed his head against hers and watched how brightly she smiled just staring into his eyes.

“No backing out, okay?”

“Of course not. Where else am I gonna find another girl with a gun kink?”

“God, I love you.”

“I fucking love you…”

-----

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc@multifandoms916@icequeen208@offendedfishnoises@egdolan@xemiefx@arkhamtoddler@elsenthal@mythicbitchx@supremehaunter burning-alive @lucy-roo roseangel013bf @ loxbbg reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherriesshadowsndaisiesriver9noblezphilophobiazannoylinglyaries@knightfall05x @l-horizon11flowersgirl02

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood #arkham knight #reader insert #jason todd smut #the bullet #the bullet series #batarella

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amxwolf · 3 years

Text

Here is why conventional healthful-thinking is not working on Millennials.

Have you ever had that terrifying dream where you are stuck in a dark forest or sketchy alley, frantically running for your life from some kind of feral monster or mad man? Most of us can personally recall at least once being roused from sleep in a cold sweat because their brain had spent the last few hours perfecting the latent image of a made-to-order nightmare. While that experience is certainly not exclusive to Millennials (rather quite the opposite), the waking reaction or at least how it is processed later by this roughly categorized group of mislabeled people is unique to say the least.

For years now, people in marketing have been fervently dissecting and attempting to recreate what has been loosely categorized as "Millennial Humor". And in all of their efforts to connect with this flock of black sheep, the grand majority of them seem to be missing a key factor in the psychology at work here. For all the unwarrantable bilge that modern advertising haphazardly cobbles together, only a small percentage of the nonsense is seasoned perfectly with the secret ingredient. What is this singular spice? Well, while indulgent to profess and speculative, from someone "sitting in millennial class”, it's obvious: A touch of salt.

Never will I sit here and cry to the general public about how unhappy I am that the modern advertising industry is just not scratching my itch for the wares it’s peddling, but I think it's important for us now to look at how this systemic lack of understanding is reaching beyond the world of subliminal profiteering. Society has other significant quality-of-life effecting systems that are also missing the mark when trying to aim and reach out to help this specific group of people. Puns aside, "a touch of salt" as I quipped, is flavoring the lives of a lot of people in their mid to late 20's and early 40's. And the most frustrating and difficult to reconcile attempts that I personally have made to better myself, have been those that were guided by people who just cannot seem to put their brain into that salty head space.

For example, trying to focus on and internalize a well-organized medical presentation about the encompassing negative effects of stress or insomnia and its seemly simple solution of just "changing your thinking", is about as easily digestible as a two-decade-year-old fruitcake for someone who is imprisoned daily by the symptoms of chronic stress. While I may sit there and give listening (ironically) "the old college try", the sound quickly turns to fuzzy white noise the deeper the lecture dives into positive thinking.

You see, Millennials are not generally fluent in positive thinking. More and more of them seem to be speaking a very distinctive dialect of realism, which incorporates a robustly cultivated sense of sarcasm and a somewhat grim shade of hopelessness. A lot of millennials grew up with a laughably poetic twist on "Growing Up" and "Being Successful", which in turn has colored their day-to-day interactions and created this defeatism-culture. Millennials will openly joke about their death as a needed release, their eulogy as a retirement card, or emotionally decompile themselves over something simple like saying "you too" in a situation that doesn't warrant it.

A good percentage of Millennials were old enough to understand the destructive consequences of the most recent housing market disaster on a very personal level; At an impressionable age, watching their own parents, who may have worked excruciatingly hard at the expense of any number of personal or family goals, lose just about everything resonated in a way that cannot be unheard. Then add the borderline criminal and unscrupulous "sheep-shearing" that became common place when the generation was herded off to college, trade school, or other form of career-building education. Not to mention the fact that upon completing said programs, a proverbial "step-in-the-right direction", a substantial number of these "hopeless wanderers" were faced with yet another barbed-wire hurdle when the job market in countless fields were oversaturated with potential employees. Many positions had not been vacated as they normally would have been with the age of retirement being stretched further and further down the road due to increased cost of living and financial demands; the finish line or lap marker was just not getting any closer. To add insult to injury, Millennials, sometimes unbelievably hardworking, are frequently being listed as perpetuators of the clashing reality we have today. This being what the modern media is calling "The Great Resignation"; a dubious combination of a labor shortage amidst an unemployment spike fueled by uncompetitive wages left unchecked, the government's inability to reel in the situation, and a general devaluing of laborers overall.

Oh. And also, we were killing the diamond industry at the same time. Or was it simultaneously the marriage and divorce industry? Wait! I think it was cinema? Or no....maybe it was fabric softener. For a complete dissertation of all the things Millennials brutally murdered over the last two decades, perhaps I'll include a link below if for no other reason to drive my point home.

You have this group of people who are conditioned to endlessly swimming upstream, against the current, with nothing but chastising and bitterness to listen to. So, when it comes to something universal like learning to "sleep better" or "problem solving", the indifferent but somehow time-honored approach of saying "it's as easy as just taking control" is over time if not immediately rejected as dissonant information.

These people don't feel like they have control; some of them feel like they never had any to begin with.

Why is this a problem?

Our society is not developing a taste for "salt" at a pace in which it can prepare social-sustenance for its population. We're not getting any younger, and neither are the generations in front of us.

Millennials are already, by some definitions the mass-population of workers, voters, and other titles that we've yet to embrace. And our lack of interest is not because we do not have a passion for positive change (even on a global scale). Millennials have voiced over time that they feel they are the silent majority amidst a group of people who will not give them breathing room and don't respect the validity of their opinions and ambitions. And it is by no means restricted to one region or country on this planet. This is a global phenomenon.

I could spin a vast yarn about the political ramifications of continuing to exclude the Millennials from the metaphoric Counsel of Elders, but I'm more concerned about the neglect that is spreading elsewhere. We need our leaders in the medical and social fields to really respect and dig deep into how to incorporate "Millennial Thinking" into their treatment and development plans. A large amount of the global population is going to need carefully tailored treatment for things as old as depression, bi-polar tendencies, or schizophrenia as well as newly discovered mental encumbrances like imposter-syndrome.

While “positive-thinking” may have been easily cultivated in the past, we may need to start from a more negative approach and build from there to educate and treat a group of down-on-their-luck millions. Pumping drugs into a populace is not going to permanently patch the leak either, so there truly is precedence for a rehashing of how we should prioritize mental health in modern society.

Stop spending so much time and energy assigning blame to modern technologies and social norms. Are these going away? No? In that case, those things are much like our other daily stresses that are unavoidable. Yes, you can change your nightly routine to de-stress the same way that you can change a job or a daily commute, but there needs to be a fundamental shift in accountability divvied to circumstances out of a person's control rather than scolding them for not being able to manage it.

Do I have all the answers? No.

But this was less about offering a solid a solution and more about opening a dialogue. A starting point.

So yeah. I've had that dream of being chased through the woods by a life-leeching alien. It felt very similar to being sucked dry of my pitiful wages for an education that was at the time, barely panning out. Even now, as a 32-year-old, slightly more successful version of the starving student I've become, I still feel as though my rat race will end when my heart gives out; and all I can hope for is enough money when I drop to cover the ambulance ride to the over-crowded emergency room and a large pit to rot in. But I just hope that the generation behind me has the benefit of a system that understands how to create and sustain “Millennial Inspired” social structures that will allow them to flourish in what little we can leave behind for them.

Also, could you pass the salt?

#rant #millenials #heavy thoughts #random thoughts #seriously though modern mental medicine is a joke

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years

Text

Nicotine

Pairing: Dean x Reader (Reader is not actually present in the story, just mentioned)

Summary: Dean has his vices, but they all pale in comparison to how he craves you. Yet he pushed you away, leaving him gasping for air.

Word Count: 1966

Triggers: Talks about addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, romanticizing unhealthy behaviours (vices/addictions), alcohol, nicotine, heartbreak, angst, self-medicating, drugs (not taking drugs just the language used as metaphors), brief mentions of sex though no smut.

Y/N = Your Name | Y/L/N = Your Last Name

A/N: Written for the lovely @katehuntington‘s 1K Celebration (Congratulations again💚!). I chose the song Nicotine by Chef’Special - The story uses slightly reworded lyrics at multiple points, but I’ve marked the lyrics in bold in the one place I used the lyrics directly (with a change in tense from “is” to “was” to make it work with the story).

---

Dean had his vices.

Hell, he nearly collected them like some people collected baseball cards; carefully filed and stored away in the dark recesses of his mind for when he needed an escape from the real world. A personal prescription to hedonistic tendencies that temporarily drowned out anger, pain and weakness.

Sex, alcohol, adrenaline, unreasonable amounts of coffee, grease and sugar. They were his coping mechanisms. His form of self-medicating in a job that definitely didn’t offer a healthcare plan. Was it unhealthy? Yeah, maybe. But everything else in his life was already out to kill him, so he couldn’t really make himself care enough to stop. It wasn’t as if liver failure or death by sugar overdose was what was waiting for him down the line anyway. He’d never make it that far.

No, Dean Winchester would die like he lived; with a gun in his hand, anger in his eyes and a weak hope for humanity in his heart.

His vices, his addictions, just let him escape from all the shit in his life for a little while. Let him feel like he had control over some part of his screwed-up existence. They were the comforting oblivion when the real world just hurt too much and the needed driving force when he was just too angry at the world to stay in one place and went looking for a hunt. For some sick bastard or monster to hurt in place of himself.

Each vice served its purpose.

Casual sex and quick hook-ups for the days his bed felt too big and the loneliness was eating at him. Caffeine for when he was just tired of the constant sleepless nights and nightmares. Adrenaline and recklessness when he was angry at the fucking world. Alcohol to shut out the guilty thoughts and his not-so-greatest hits playing back featuring everyone he’d ever failed for just one night… You name a less than stellar state of mind; Dean had a vice to cope with it.

Though he’d stayed away from anything harder than alcohol as far as anything that could be considered ‘recreational’ went. He might be reckless, but he wasn’t about to make himself an easy mark by getting strung up on something that a bit of fresh air couldn’t shake. No, even when indulging, Dean wasn’t stupid. He was a hunter first, and one with a massive target on his back at that. He needed to keep a clear head to face the monsters the world kept throwing his way.

He’d also never really gotten the whole fuss and temptation of cigarettes, past trying one once in his teens. The greyish bitter smoke reminded him too much of the black toxic cloud of sulfur that followed a possession. And he liked flavours and sensations when it came to his vices; the burn of a good whiskey, the pleasant heat of a woman’s body, the heavy pulse of an adrenaline rush. Not the thought of inhaling bitter, foul smelling smoke into his lungs and coughing them up until he got hooked on it. He never really understood why anyone would want to inhale anything other than air (and the occasional burger) in the first place. It just wasn’t natural.

Or at least he hadn’t… Until he met you.

That’s when stolen moments of inhaled sweet air became another thing to get hooked on. The teasing whiff of your fresh shampoo as you brushed past him in the hallway. The sugar sweet rush of your scent that left him breathless when he’d pulled you close and out of danger. The breaths of cotton candy air he’d greedily stolen from your open mouth against his as he gasped around the taste of you once he finally worked up the courage to kiss you.

That was all it took. One gasped breath, and he was hooked.

Every other vice and addiction paled in comparison to you. Some men had nicotine, Dean Winchester had you; his drug of choice. From that first dizzying hit of inhaled sugar and salt as he buried his face in your damp, heated neck, writing love stories on your skin with his tongue and teeth, Dean had been a goner.

He needed to feel you under his fingers, taste you on his tongue and breathe in the sweet scent of your warm skin to fall asleep. Hell, to just stop from losing his mind when the world decided to test the limits of his sanity once more.

When you were around, he felt whole again. He hadn’t felt that way in years; that long lost and forgotten happiness. Like he was good, worthy and human. You were the only drug he’d ever need. The soothing touch of your fingers against his forehead was better than the oblivion found at the bottom of a bottle. Your steady breaths that lulled him into dreamless sleep removed the need for caffeine completely. And your body next to his on the bed didn’t just momentarily chase away the loneliness, it completely erased it.

Dean didn’t just crave you. He needed you like others needed air.

Yet he’d chased you away. Leaving him tossing and turning in twisted sheets from withdrawal now that your skin wasn’t easily within the reach of his greedy fingers. His throat was rough and raw with a thirst he couldn’t quench. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t fucking breathe. His head was pounding with the constant echoes of your last fight. The ghost of your skin against his fingers was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He needed you to breathe. He needed to taste you on his tongue. Dean needed you.

But you were gone.

After another hard hunt, another life lost, he’d pushed you away. Yelling angry words that he didn’t even remotely mean, even in the heat of the moment, to make you leave him. Since he didn’t have the willpower to kick the habit that was (Y/N) (Y/L/N) himself. Silently begging you to get out before it was late, before your name was added to the list of people he failed to save. Breaking his own heart even as he told you that what you’d shared had to stop.

It had been a bad fight. He might not have known how to stop craving you, but if there was one thing Dean Winchester was an expert at it was destruction. Tearing down anything remotely good in his life as if he was a controlled explosion; leaving the bad untouched and disintegrating the good. Demolishing beautiful, safe walls and leaving just a wreckage made of hurt, hunts and freezing lonely nights. It was the Winchester legacy; no heart left unbroken, no happy endings and no bright light at the end of endless dark tunnels.

He’d told you he didn’t need you. That you made him weaker. That you were a danger to them. Turning everything he believed about himself on its head and mirroring it, so you had to temporarily carry the burdens, just for long enough to realise he was toxic. That he was a harmful habit that you needed to kick, or it would end up forcing you straight into an early, unmarked grave.

He’d turned his back on you, and you’d left. Your angry tears drowned his already shattered heart as you spun on your heel and removed all traces of yourself from his life. Your parting words a bitter echo of love that just wouldn’t stop ringing in his ears. The beautiful sound of your voice, breaking over a promise of a love he didn’t deserve.

“You hurt me Dean. And fuck if I don’t want to hurt you back. But I love you, and I always will, even if you can’t love yourself,”

He’d done it for your sake. Dean Winchester wasn’t really a safe pair of arms to rest in. Yet, the moment the door shut behind your retreating back, he’d regretted it. Sinking to his knees with the early shakes of withdrawal.

He hadn’t realised how deep he’d fallen, how addicted he’d become to your plump lips and the bittersweet taste of your kiss. He was high on you, and he wasn’t coming down. Instead, everything he tried to do to wean himself off your taste, your touch and your scent only solidified how much he needed you. Your love was the cure, the miracle drug needed to survive the damned hell that was his unfair and unforgiving life.

But you were gone, and it was his fucking fault.

Twisting his body on the hard mattress Dean barely glanced at the glowing numbers on his bedside clock before combing a hand roughly through his hair and glaring at the dark ceiling above him. Anger radiating off of him and staining the ceiling with new guilty shadows and stupid decisions. 3 am; another sleepless, loveless night.

Before you, he would’ve just gotten out of bed on nights like that. Found a bottle and drank until the room started spinning and he passed out. But the taste of you was hotter than whiskey, the pull for you stronger than the oblivion he was trying to chase.

Staring at the ceiling, he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched at the bridge of his nose. His head was killing him, his body was aching for you. He just needed to fall asleep. To try and find his way to a dream featuring you, as if he was chasing a fading high. Just to not feel anything for at least a little while. To not freeze to death from the chill to his left where you’d been just days earlier. Just within his reach whenever he needed to feel your pulse against trembling fingertips or steal another gasped sugared moan from your lips.

He was desperate for at least an hour of shut eye, of a dream of you. Even though he knew it was useless. Sleep wasn’t a cure. It wasn’t even a fucking band aid. Even if he managed to block out the hurt, the need, for a few hours. It’d just come rushing back once he woke back up. Knocking the air out of him and leaving him pinned to cold sheets, gasping for you.

It was futile. Your love was like a drug. He couldn’t just forget you. He couldn’t sleep this off and shake it. He needed you more than adrenaline, alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, sugar… More than any fucking vice that anyone could think up. Without you he couldn’t even taste the burn of the whiskey or feel the heat of the sun on his skin. You were the colour to his sketched outline. Nothing else mattered if you weren’t there.

Opening his eyes, Dean’s feet found the chill of the concrete floor before he even fully realised what he was doing. He needed you. He’d been fucking stupid, letting you go. And even if all he could do was drive around aimlessly, looking for your car, then that’s what he’d do. It was 3 am, but Dean didn’t care. He’d drive, and he’d keep driving until he found you again. Until he could beg you for forgiveness. Beg you to come home to him.

He barely even remembered to grab his keys and jacket in his rush to fill the craving that was tearing his heart apart. Pulling the worn leather jacket on over the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d been sleeping in, or trying to sleep in, as he shouldered the door to his room open.

He had to find you, had to make things right.

Dean Winchester had his vices. But you were no vice. You were a virtue, and he wasn’t gonna let you go. Not without chasing the sweet high of your kiss till the end of the world.

---

Tags:

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

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frywen-bumbles · 3 years

Text

The Way to a Man’s Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch4

AO3

"Why do you seem so gloomy, I thought your thesis was going well?" Essi asks him.

"It's about cat daddy, isn't it?" Pricilla asks and drowns her second glass of wine.

"No! No, of course not. Roach got the zoomies at four am and I couldn't fall asleep afterwards." Jaskier lies. Well, technically it isn't a lie. Roach did, in fact, get zoomies in the middle of the night but his gloominess has nothing to do with being tired.

"Trouble in paradise then?" Pricilla winks at him.

"There is no paradise!" Jaskier cries out and throws his hands in the air in frustration. Friends, he laments. Can't live with them and can't live without them.

"So it is about cat daddy," Essi concludes and pats his hand. "I'm sorry for teasing you. Please tell us what is it?"

"I... I don't know?" It's definitely the alcohol talking, Jaskier decides as he sinks further into the couch he has spent countless of nights sleeping in. No way he would talk about his stupid crush sober. "I keep thinking about him and dreaming about him and I haven't even talked to him in person!"

"I'm sure you're not the only person who has managed to develop a massive crush on someone over texts." Pricilla tries to comfort him but the huge grin on her face diminishes the effect.

"I do not have a crush," Jaskier says, like the liar he is.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Essi sings and laughs.

"What are you, five?" Jaskier scoffs.

"Yes, that's exactly how old I am."

"You're impossible. Both of you!" Jaskier points at his best friends in mock offence, trying not to laugh.

"And yet, you still love us!" Pricilla winks at him. Jaskier rolls his eyes.

"I will love you if you pour me another glass of that wine and stop talking." Jaskier waves his empty glass at Pricilla, who fills it with all the possible flourish of an experienced bartender.

"You know she won't shut up," Essi says and waves her glass at Pricilla as well. "Although, I might shut up if you play me something?" she gives him a sweet smile and he groans, throwing his head back.

"Please, Essi... You know I haven't had time to practice in forever..."

"So this is an as good time as any to pick up your guitar again," Pricilla says and hops up from her chair, only slightly wobbly on her feet. "Oh, shit, I think all of the bubbles went straight into my head as soon as I stood up!" she giggles and disappears into a walk-in closet.

"Are you sure that closet doesn't lead straight into Narnia?" Jaskier grumbles without any heat as he hears Pricilla dig around. He's well aware the closet is as full as it is because it's mostly filled with his stuff.

"Oh, imagine all of the storage we had if it did..." Essi sighs wistfully and drains the rest of her glass. "Oh!" she exclaims and sits up straight, "Do you think sorcerers have portals in their closets? Can you imagine how neat that would be?!"

"Oooh, that's why the bastards can afford to live in such fancy places, they can have an apartment the size of a broom closet and store all of their stuff elsewhere!" Priscilla says as she emerges from the closet carrying a slightly battered guitar case.

Jaskier takes the guitar out and tunes it carefully, taking a sip of wine every now and then.

Pricilla and Essi make themselves busy getting more snacks and wine out of their kitchen while waiting for him but he hardly notices their hushed whispers and giggles. The guitar feels so familiar in his hands as he runs his fingers along the varnished wood.

"When you get older, plainer, saner Will you remember all the danger We came from? Burning like embers, falling, tender Longing for the days of no surrender Years ago And will you know

So smoke 'em if you got 'em Cause it's going down All I ever wanted was you I'll never get to heaven Cause I don't know how

Let's raise a glass Or two To all the things I've lost on you Ho, ooh Tell me are they lost on you? Ooh, oh..."

It's only 8 PM, Jaskier laments as he heads back home, definitely too much cheap bubbly wine in his system.

But it was good, spending some time with his friends. To have a chance to talk about everything and just relax without any pressure to write or be productive.

Jaskier opens the door only to find Roach right behind it, screaming at him as soon as she gets a sight of him. Jaskier barely manages to step inside before Roach is running to the kitchen, screaming all the while expecting him to follow.

"I'm not that fast, Roach!" Jaskier shouts after the cat, struggling to get his shoes off when everything in his vision seems to wave quite a bit, his steps still unsteady despite the walk back.

Roach runs back to him and screams, vibrating her tail impatiently and runs back towards the kitchen, stopping to wait for him in the doorway.

"I'm coming, Roach, you'll get your dinner, fuck..." Jaskier stumbles on his shoes and gets an unimpressed look from Roach, "it's not even that late, I never give you dinner this ea- fuck!" He steps on a cat toy and has to take support from the wall.

Roach screams at him again and runs to the kitchen.

"You're going to kill me, you know? Leaving your toys lying around like that..." Jaskier grumbles but follows the cat to the kitchen and digs food for her.

Roach meows and thrills and vibrates her tail stretches against his leg, digging her nails through his jeans into his thigh.

"Ow, ow, ow! Roach! I promise you will not starve to death in thirty seconds, ow!"

Roach doesn't spare him another glance as soon as the food is in front of her.

Nor does she after she has eaten despite her normal insistence of following him everywhere.

One additional drink (one he's sure to regret come morning) Roach is still ignoring him, sitting on the kitchen window with her back on him when usually she sits at the backrest of the sofa or on the cat tree staring at him. Or she sits looking at the door, still visible from the living room, occasionally meowing pitifully.

But today she bristles and runs away from him as soon as he tries to approach, making offended mews.

Jaskier endures being ignored. For an hour (and a few more drinks).

"Roach is angry with me!" Jaskier wails at the phone, "She doesn't even acknowl... ackl... pay attention to me! Whatever shall I do? She's been ignoring me since I got home, I can't take this, I have failed! I'm a hor- horbible... horrible cat sitter. She will never forgive me... it wasn't even her dinner time yet, you know? And still, I'm slighted so terribly! This is a tragedy!"

"Hmm," a deep rumble from the other end of the line makes Jaskier's thoughts come to a screeching halt and he's quite certain he squeaks in shock. "Roach will forgive you in a couple of days."

"Okay, yeah, that's... that's good?" Jaskier says feeling suddenly much more sober than the moment before.

"Just don't do it again tomorrow and you'll be fine," the deep voice rumbles again.

Jaskier is sure he will die.

Of embarrassment or something else, he's not sure. But he. will. die.

"I won't, I promise," Jaskier agrees, probably too fast but he doesn't care. Anything to make the gorgeous man on the other end of the phone to keep talking to him.

"Hmm... she'll sulk in somewhere for tonight. Don't worry about it, she'll be back to pester you first thing in the morning."

Jaskier laughs despite himself. Or maybe it's the alcohol.

"She's not pestering me, she's just very enthusiastic about getting her food on time."

"That she is." The man falls silent for a moment too long for Jaskier to itch to start to babble some nonsense before he continues, "I hope she hasn't caused too much trouble for you. Or tried to bring dead birds inside to eat."

"What? No! Also eww thank the gods not." Jaskier cringes at the mental image of dead birds inside the house.

"That's good. She eats most of them in the yard."

"Okay, I did not need to know that, the cat sleeps in the same bed with me and now you're telling me she eats birds outside? Double eww."

The man has the audacity to laugh. Laugh!

But Jaskier isn't going to complain, he has never heard something as delightful as the deep laugh from the other end of the line.

He wants to hear it again.

And again.

"Um... any other useful tips to please the great beast?"

"Hmm... she likes to be scratched under the chin and behind the ears. But don't touch the base of her tail or she will bite you."

"Duly noted."

"Hmm... Don't feed her too many treats, you'll make her fuzzy."

"I would never- Fiona rattled on me, didn't she?" Jaskier sighs.

The line turns quiet.

"H-hello?" Jaskier looks at his phone but the line hasn't disconnected.

"...You talked with Fiona?"

"She, uh, she texted me first? I've been helping her with her homework?" Jaskier babbles before his brain supplies him with the most important information, "Wait! She told me you gave her permission! Melitele's sake I would have never talked to her if I knew she was doing it behind your back I promise I have no ill intentions I've just helped her with school stuff I swear!"

"Hmm..." a grunt is the only sound Jaskier hears from the other end of the line. He holds his breath. If all comes to worst, he'll be out of work and out of the house tomorrow.

"I'll talk to her. Thank you for helping her with her school, I'm... none of us is very good with that stuff. I guess she needed more help than I realised."

"Oh!" Jaskier tries to contain his surprise but he's not very successful, "No, you shouldn't thank me! Fiona has been nothing but the best student, she's very bright!"

"She is." There is another break at the end of the line and Jaskier is ready to lose his shit. "I'll talk to her about lying. You should sleep the alcohol off."

"I'm not drunk!" Jaskier exclaims offended and earns a laugh from cat dad.

"You're wasted, I can hear it even on phone. Go to sleep, Julian."

"Um... right. I'll... I'll go to sleep, and and try not to get smothered to death by an angry cat," he stammers embarrassed. Hearing his name in that low gravel shouldn't make his heart feel like it'll burst out of his chest. "G-good night, Geralt."

"Good night, Julian."

He will die. He will surely die, of embarrassment or happiness or Roach deciding it's finally time to sleep on his face the whole night, he doesn't know. But he will surely die.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geraskier #essi daven #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #frywen writes

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angstymarshmallow · 4 years

Text

unquiet - (tyril x mc)

[a little note: hey I wrote another thing. If I look at this anymore I won’t post it so if anyone’s in the mood for a little tyril - here you go!]

[words counted: 2566]

He takes subtle glances, often at the corner of her eyes when he thinks she doesn’t notice. But it’s hard not to notice, and Ash merely pretends otherwise. It’s better this way – pretending, at least until she gathers enough courage to take the next step – to be more than whatever this is between them.

This thing that has no name – no face, but it’s still complex. Still new. It isn’t just his enchanting elven features; the way his fine cheeks darken at even the slightest jab or the way he scratches the back of his neck bashfully which begs for her attention. It isn’t just his sarcasm either, or his sense of humor to things he deems most obvious. It’s the very breath he takes. The very fleeting moments when he smiles, and she can almost taste his happiness. And like the sun, all she wants to be is near it when it’s here.

Ash keeps all these unspoken feelings in check as they trudge deeper into Deadwood. She can’t indulge these kinds of thoughts despite them being alone. A quiet walk was meant to clear her head – not make things worse.

And up until now, Ash has never felt quite so tongue-tied around another person.

Usually, there’s at least some remark to be made when he speaks greatly about traditions and his sworn oath to stop the Shadow Court. But today, she’s at a loss when there’s nothing to poke fun at. There’s nothing for her to fill the silence with other than the overwhelming urge to look at him.

Steeling her nerves, Ash does exactly that. Just for a moment she allows her eyes to drift upwards to the smooth planes of his face and ignores the strange flutter inside her chest once he catches her stare. Oh god can he tell what she’s thinking?

Another second passes as his eyes drop to her lips. It was only just a second though and Ash wonders if she’s imagining things from his haste to break eye contact.

“Is something the matter?”

“No,” Ash says a little too quickly as he peers back at her.

There’s something about those bright somber eyes that makes it hard for her to look away.

She tries to play it off with a smile, letting her lips do all the work for her. “I’ve been spending too much time with you, brooding is not a good look on me.”

How many hours have they spent together anyway? How many hours have they spent by the fire or underneath the telltale path charted to the stars? Ash couldn’t tell. Somehow, time always blur together. An hour barely distinguishable by another behind closed doors – pressed up against one another before their lips danced a dangerous game until the next impromptu opportunity presented itself.

The sound of his laugh draws Ash back to the present.

He’s even got the slightest hint of a smirk as he clears his throat. Maybe he’s thinking about her lips too?

“We can’t have that.” Tyril teases. “I think I do enough brooding for everyone.” He folds his arms, his fine features turning dead pan.

Oh. He’s most definitely not thinking about kissing her.

“But someone has to. The kind of things we’re going up against – calls for it.” He reminds her, lips showcasing his disapproval with a slight frown.

Of course, The Shadow Court. When doesn’t Tyril talk about The Shadow Court? It’s probably the last thing he thinks about when he falls asleep. Though apart of Ash knows he’s right. There really isn’t any time for distractions – and yet she can’t help but stare at his lips every so often.

“No losses yet.” Except for Kade. She pushes away the thought just as quickly as it appears. Kade isn’t gone. And she’s going to get him out of that stupid shard.

“I’m starting to believe nothing is impossible anymore for us.” Ash has to anyway, the alternative isn’t going to cut it.

A haunted look passes before Tyril glances away.

Sometimes he looks a lot older, worn out by things outside his control. But maybe that’s the burden of responsibility. The weight of ridding the world of evil that most people wouldn’t dare to. And it’s not her place to judge. but wouldn’t it be easier, sharing some of that burden?

“Spoken like someone who hasn’t seen enough of their devastation. Back in the market – ” his gaze drifts to her, bright eyes hardening. “That’s nothing compared to what I’ve seen, to what I’ve witnessed firsthand.”

His voice grows more bitter with each word and all Ash can think of is how much she wants to take her misplaced comment back. She doesn’t want a fight. She only wants him to smile a little more. “I’m sorry, I –” She stops short of almost bumping into him. “I didn’t mean to make light of our situation. It’s just…” She trails off for a moment, running a hand through her pale hair. “This is all still new to me. I’m far from home, living life on the road, with people unlike anyone I’ve ever met – fighting monsters for the good of the world.” She says wistfully, “this is the stuff legends are made of.”

A corner of his lips twitch but otherwise Tyril’s expression remains impassive. “You make it sound so glamourous.”

“It is glamourous. Wonderful even.” Her brow creases. “And terrifying. Deadly.” They could all die tomorrow if they aren’t even careful. Or the next day after that. Or the next full moon from now. But Ash has to believe it means something; it has to all mean something.

“Good.” Tyril’s terse answer breaks her concentration. “It’s good be scared. There are lots of scary things out there – with or without the Shadow Court.” Then he pauses, as if measuring every word. “There is no denying there have been some…pleasurable moments together,” his eyes drift back and linger.

Ash’s heart skips a beat. He is thinking about us!

She doesn’t know whether to retort or let the comment slide, but Tyril makes up his mind first. “But let us not forget what’s at stake. Let’s not forget why we’re all still together.”

The still stings a little. She hides it behind a half-shrug. “Maybe, maybe not.” Maybe she’d have left the village anyway – maybe she’d wander the world in search of something more. But deep down, was he right? Without The Shadow Court – what else binds them together?

When she can’t find an answer to the question, Ash focuses on what has changed. Knowing more about the world has changed her. Changed her perception of what the world is like. She’s used to dreams of coin flowing through her pockets and Kade’s winsome smile. But now it’s like a veil has been yanked free, and Ash finds herself reeling with unbridled passion for more. For more adventures. For more sight-seeing. For more, everything.

She wants to know more despite the danger that comes along with it.

Sneaking another glance at Tyril, Ash can’t help but think if he would be different too. If life hadn’t thrusted them into each other’s paths, if Tyril had never been on some hunt for revenge – could they have met under different circumstances? The trouble is he’s often so serious, so self-righteous – so different from her in a lot of ways possible, that perhaps if she’d grown up like...an elf she’d understand better.

Perhaps they wouldn’t have met at all, and that is a much sadder thought.

Lapsed into silence again, Ash leads them towards a forest clearing they spotted on last night’s scouting. The view is as pretty as she remembers; the mystical lake looks just as beautiful as it did yesterday, and Ash is itching to get closer.

The lake shimmers and sparkles, enticing Ash long enough for her to make up her mind.

Don’t second guess it. Just do it.

Without speaking, the woman starts shimmying out of her clothes. One layer at a time goes slack as she unbuttons before she kicks the garments away. She catches Tyril’s half-open stare as his eyes fill with mild surprise and then a splotch of dark blue. “W-What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She retorts back, turning away from him. She gives him ample view of her long legs and back as she yanks her tunic above her head.

“It…looks like you’re trying to give me a heart attack.”

Ash holds her tongue, muffling her laugh. “If I wanted to give you a heart attack Tyril, there are much simpler ways to do so.” But none of which would have ever been as satisfying as this. “I didn’t swim a lot as a child. Riverbend wasn’t known for its river despite its name. And I’m not letting go of another chance.”

Her hands pause before she decides on keeping her under garments. She peers at him from over her shoulder when he doesn’t budge. “Are you going to keep gawking or are you going to join me?”

He stiffens. “I do not gawk.”

“Gawk – stare, what’s the difference really?”

“Well for one,” he gestures to the lake dubiously. “Despite how beautiful it looks, it’s also rather cold.”

Ash dips her toes in the water first, the cold forces her body to shudder before she releases a soft sigh. It is cold – but not too cold despite how late in the evening it is. “The water is fine, quit worrying.” Slowly she wades further in, letting out a hum when she’s nearly submerged completely. The water lightly laps against her back as she whirls around watching in mild amusement as Tyril clumsily tries to rid himself of his armor while grumbling under his breath.

“This is completely ridiculous.” He gently sets his armor some distance away. His cheeks are still flushed as he approaches the water, watching balefully for a moment before taking one step and then another. “It is cold.” His tone is accusatory, but his eyes remain soft.

Ash laughs, “sorry, I knew if I told you – you wouldn’t have agreed.” With a small splash, she spread her arms wide. “But isn’t it amazing?” She can scarcely believe it herself; everything about it was magical. It had to be the only place in Deadwood that doesn’t feel like death.

Tyril murmurs in agreement before waddling closer.

He’s almost close enough to touch and Ash swallows. Water guides them a little closer. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.” He confesses, eyes drawn to her face. A small rivulet of water drips down his broad chest and her eyes follow the motion.

“I think…we both needed this.” She says slowly. “We’ve been running ourselves thin for days.” Just thinking about their latest escape makes her almost wince. The last time they almost cross the line between life and death. A line that’s starting to be moved too often.

Ash squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, focusing on the cool air across her skin. She allows it be her focus. Besides if she stares at Tyril any longer, she’s not sure she’ll be able to keep her hands off him.

His scent is everywhere.

“I’m…never really at rest.”

His confession startles her. Ash’s eyes fly back open only to find Tyril watching. “There’s too many bad things to dream about.” He says softly, then his features twist and Ash is afraid he’ll shut her out. “It’s worse when everything is so…quiet.”

“..Quiet?” She prompts gently. She doesn’t want to push but Ash can spot the subtle shift in his posture, the slight crease in his brow to recognize how deeply this affects him.

The problem is Tyril isn’t used to sharing. He isn’t used to giving up pieces of himself to anyone. He’s told her more plenty times that he doesn’t do friendship. He doesn’t do companionship. He’s used to being on his own.

When he doesn’t answer, Ash wavers. Then just as quickly, she lets go of her own uncertainty. This won’t stop her from extending an olive branch to him. It doesn’t stop her from cupping his cheeks and willing him to look back at her even though apart of her realizes she’s crossing a line.

“Then we’ll make it unquiet.” She utters gently. “We’ll make it so loud that those bad dreams won’t stand a chance.” She vows fiercely.

A small smile flashes but swiftly recedes back into a slight frown of disapproval. “It’s kind of you to offer but –”

She interrupts without missing a beat, “if you’re having bad dreams Tyril, I want to know.” The water is still cold, and she swears she doesn’t feel the drop in temperature anymore as his hands gently rest by her waist. “I want to more than know. I want to be the person you wake in the middle of the night and tell them to.” I want to be the person that holds you after the nightmare is all over.

Maybe it’s selfish of her, maybe she doesn’t have the right to make these kind of promises but that won’t stop her from trying. If she can help it, she’d do anything to see his smile. It is a quiet realization that only dawns on her while they’re alone. Maybe she’s been afraid to place a name on this because she’s never wanted to chase someone’s bad dreams away before.

Bright blue eyes that are usually carefully hidden behind a wall of ice are not tonight. Those polar arctic eyes are melting, breaking apart right in front of her. “There’s no need to burden yourself with my problems.” His protest is fleeting, a weak attempt to push her away but his eyes say the opposite.

They say thank you.

They aren’t hard to read. They are open and vulnerable, and Ash wants nothing more than to reassure them. To reassure him. So, she does in subtle gestures at first. Touching his wrist, and then splaying hands across his chest. Letting her fingers trail a pattern to his cheeks before cupping them again. Until finally she brings her lips to his, waiting with bated breath for his eyes to flutter close.

And when they finally do flutter close, she kisses him soundly. She slides her fingers through his silky hair and takes her time to thoroughly explore his mouth, to thoroughly explore him. She’ll give him good dreams tonight. She’ll make this unquiet. She’ll fill the space where the nightmares are supposed to be.

Tyril moans low in his throat. He catches her lower lip between his teeth as his hands glide higher and higher – encasing her within his strong arms. His lips turn soft, and insistent. They reciprocate every time their lips meet, every time her hands fold into his hair and she pulls.

Ash feels his slight tremble, hears his admission of pleasure again across this starry night echo into the depths of her heart. There’s no more room left between them – only skin against skin and the faint reminder of clear water submerging their lower half as Tyril presses himself intimately closer.

She doesn’t know how much time passes while she remains locked inside his tight embrace but eventually, they break apart. Eventually, the real world starts to bleed back in.

His dilated pupils disappear from view when he nuzzles his forehead against hers, still not quite letting go of her. Still not ready to face the present. “I will remember that the next time I have a bad dream.” He whispers the words, sealing his vow with another tender kiss.

#tyril starfury #tyril starfury x mc #tyril the mage #tyril x mc fanfic #bolas #blades of light and shadow #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfiction #an angstymarshmallow writes #i can't write super heavy anything right now #even though a lot of tyril's diamond scenes are kinda more progressive than i thought they would be for his character #i'm just going to keep chipping away #maybe this is so occ who knows #tyril

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izupie · 5 years

Note

Hey lol I was just looking through the izuocha tag, and just saw your "Ochako's Fanfic" fic. I wanted to suggest another oneshot lol what if Izuku found it? xD

Anon I like the way you think.... (you can’t see me but I’m winking) I’m actually quite free this morning and I am more than happy to respond to this with something for you - hopefully you like it! (just so you know I’m winking again)

Thanks so much for taking an interest in my story! And for coming to me with a request to continue it!

Continued from this story and this story ~

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

Only when his foot had gone completely numb did Izuku finally stand up. Ochako had excused herself for a ‘few minutes’ to get them some snacks from the kitchen, but it had been a while now and she still hadn’t returned.

He winced as he hopped on his dead foot, trying to get the circulation back into it - a consequence from him sitting stiff-legged on the floor for so long. Their study sessions would be much more comfortable if he had a chair too, but he was a gentleman, and this was her room, so he would always offer the single chair she owned to her, even though they argued about it every time. He’d always take the floor for her.

Painful prickles flared into his foot as feeling began to return to it and he paced around the room as a distraction, pushing down the odd guilt lurking in the back of his mind.

Whenever she left him alone in her dorm room it always made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Out of place almost. It was a feeling that itched underneath his skin, but never seemed to bother him when she was in there too. He supposed it was because he was much more aware that this was her bedroom when it was just him in there. It felt intrusive almost. Private. Intimate.

(Izuku shook his head at the weird way his stomach flipped at that word.)

He usually just sat in one place until she came back, as if him looking around at the room was an invasion of her privacy, even though she was the one who had invited him in in the first place. As if without her there he had no right to be looking around at her stuff.

But driven by his painful foot he slowly limped laps of her room, and he finally let himself take it all in.

It was plain.

Izuku scrunched his nose at the sour taste that thought left in his mouth.

Practical was a better way to describe it, he decided.

What else did a person need in a bedroom except somewhere to sleep, somewhere to eat and work, a bit of storage, and somewhere to hang the washing? He appreciated the green accents of her bed quilt and rug too, since it was his favourite colour, but he’d always assumed Ochako’s favourite colour was pink... The only extravagance in the whole room seemed to be the television. Which was a borderline necessity these days. Watching pro-heroes on live tv was still one of his favourite pastimes, and yet he was here in this school where some of his pro-hero idols actually taught him. He supposed the excitement of a hero fan never faded, even when he was living his dream.

Izuku ran his foot gently over the edge of Ochako’s thin rug, satisfied that the numbness and pain had faded completely, and he was just about to return to his spot on the floor when a stack of papers on her desk caught his eye.

He immediately tore his gaze away, his guilt increasing at feeling curious about her private stuff. But, as if on a camera shutter delay, his mind caught up to his eyes and processed the words he’d seen ever so briefly on the paper before he’d turned. He was sure it had said ‘A Summary of Escapes’ on it, but wasn’t that the paper they’d handed in to Mr Aizawa recently? What was it still doing in her room?

Izuku remembered Ochako having to have a chat with their teacher after class that day, but when he’d asked her what it had been about, she’d sheepishly dodged the question, so he hadn’t asked again.

He let himself look back at the stack of papers and realised the title wasn’t quite what he had thought. It was actually titled, ‘A Summer Escape’, and before he’d thought anything else of it, he couldn’t stop his eyes from wondering further down the page.

‘The two heroes are so glad of their summer escape together alone. The brunette smiles happily at her green haired companion as they enter the pretty log cabin, but they are surprised to find that it only contains one bed.’

Izuku’s eyebrows rose as he realised it was a story. Did Ochako write this? He knew he should stop reading, it was probably private, but as he turned away, he thought he caught his own name further down the page and he was drawn back.

‘Izuru scratches a hand on the back of his neck and gestures to the living room they just came from. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says shyly.’

Oh, maybe it wasn’t his name after all. But now he can’t stop reading.

‘Michako bites her lip and shakes her head. “But it can get so cold in these cabins late at night, even in the summer. There’s enough room for both of us, I’ve shared a bed with my friends loads of times – we’ll fit fine.” The brunette lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding when her companion nods with a blush that stains his freckled cheeks red.

“I-I guess. U-Um, only if you’re sure.” Izuru fidgets with his sleeve.

She’s always wanted to tell him how endearing she finds his kindness and sincerity, even though he’s the best hero in the whole wide world, but she’s worried that it will come out far too fond and affectionate and he’ll be able to tell just how she feels about him.

She doesn’t want to do anything that might ruin their friendship.

It would be so much easier if she could tell him how much she admires him and how much she treasures the time they spend together, but she’s scared – more scared than any villain could ever make her.

So, Michako grins as wide as she can, pushes down her feelings, takes a deep breath through her nose and punches his shoulder lightly. “‘Course! We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

She always pushes her feelings down.

She can’t tell him she loves him.

Maybe sharing a bed with him is a bad idea but’-

The handle to Ochako’s door clunked down with a sound that made Izuku spring away from the desk so quickly that he tripped over his own feet and nearly stumbled to the ground.

“Sorry, Izuku, it was a warzone when I got in there. I think Iida’s one food fight away from just banning Kaminari from the kitchen altogether,” Ochako giggled into her hand, “so I tried to help keep the peace and time ran away with me, and I didn’t even manage to get the snacks… are you okay?”

Izuku could barely hear her over the thundering of his heart.

‘She doesn’t want to do anything that might ruin their friendship.’

Why was that line resonating with him? There was a feeling pounding through his chest, matching the beating of his heart, that made him feel like he should be doubled over with the weight of it. He reached a hand up and gripped at his shirt.

‘She always pushes her feelings down.’

Ochako’s wide eyes shined with concern, her eyebrows tilted, and her pretty pink lips were pulled into a frown. “Izuku? I’m sorry I took so long.”

Izuku dragged his eyes up from her lips and shook his head wildly, hands flapping up by his face. “N-No, don’t worry! It’s not that, it’s just- I- um…”

She tilted her head.

“I need to go. Yeah. I, um, I forgot a thing that I need to do. Sh-shower or something. Yeah… Showering! In the, um… the…”

‘She can’t tell him she loves him.’

“In the… bathroom?” Ochako supplied, while everything about her still radiated concern. Izuku thought maybe he could hear a note of hurt in her voice.

“Yes!” he squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Honestly, I only just remembered that I should have had one before I came to study with you, because classes were intense today and I already had a shower this morning but I definitely need another one- not that I smell or anything! I mean- I forgot that I’d planned to have one anyway after school, but like I said, I forgot about it and then while you were gone the memory came back,” he rambled. “So, I waited for you so you so I could explain where I was going.” Izuku took a deep steadying breath. “But… I could come back and we could study later?”

Later being when he’s pulled himself together; slowed the train wreck of his pulse, put the filter back between his brain and his mouth, sorted out the fluttering in his stomach, wiped the sweat from his forehead (why was he sweating?) and generally remembered how to be a functioning teenager again.

The hurt and concern eased out of Ochako’s expression and a smile formed on her face instead as she nodded, oblivious to the internal crisis Izuku was having. “I’d like that. I could go help clean the kitchen some more while you’re gone, and then hopefully by the time you’re back I’ll have the snacks.”

“S-Sounds great. I’m going to go have that shower then.” (He really was.) Izuku walked backwards towards her door and leant heavily on the handle. “See you later Michako- uh! I-I mean, Ochako!” he threw over his shoulder as he practically fled out of the room.

Ochako blinked. “Did he just… call me Michako?”

#I really hope you like it!!#izuocha #I was supposed to be working on other projects today but this inspired me and I just had to get it down #my fanfiction #izu replies #long post #fanfiction #bnha #dekuraka #izuocha fanfiction

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delcat177 · 4 years

Photo

Text in captions, if that won’t read on text to voice please let me know <3

This is a half-year old, but I only paid Blobs Magician to help me out once and I’m fresh out of delicately painted acorns and he gave me commission rights so I’ll be tipping him a ziploc bag of goldfish later

I feel awkward writing about all of this--there was a bit of jealousy when I got my hyst (not projecting, I was told flat by a trans friend), and I worry that I may be making other people feel alone, anxious, or less-than in their gender by talking about it. If you feel that at all, please, stop right now. Don’t look in the mirror, because mirrors are scary. Like, really scary, they have ghosts or stuff probably, but also in the genders sense, so instead, look in your head. Look at your self. It’s in there, because it is you. What is happening to me now is a shell upgrade, a hermit crab moving domiciles. I was a boy once, then a young man, then a oldman, and now I’m a oldman with a society man shell. Never mistake the shell for the crab, go “hey crab, I like your shell, I hope you find the perfect shell, because you are the perfect inhabitant” and celebrate that crab. Because we are all crabs, and we are all beautiful, and we all deserve the shells that reflect us as individuals, and anyone who says otherwise can fuck off into a spiny urchin bush and not have a shell. Or. Something. Did I say I felt awkward? I AM awkward. But anyway, drive-in movie totals and such after cut, potential TMI, and protect yourself love yourself, you lovely crabs <333

(with cut ‘cause longtext is looong)

(ORIGINAL POST)

Alt-text: I'm always the last one to know

so uh

I'm a blithe idiot and somehow never processed or dared to dream that this was possible

which makes the timeline look SPECTACULARLY dumb but I was going through SO MANY LIFESTYLE CHANGES

HYST DATE: SEPTEMBER 28, 2016

2017: Me: Man, living in the townhouse has really amped up my leg game, all that up and down stairs.

Me: I'm down ten pounds since the hyst! Megan: That's probably your natural weight. Me: That or getting there. Not surprising, I'm not feeding the beast constantly.

Me: *punches Megan playfully in the arm* Megan: OW goddammit Del that hurt like SHIT! Me: oh my God I'm sorry I didn't mean to! Megan: It's okay, just be careful! Me: That's so weird I'm sorry D8

Me: man is it just me or am I good in bed lately? oh right I'm the only one here...I guess it's because I'm more confident?

Me: ghghjh my hair's thinning out at the temples, well been expecting that one for awhile, at least it waited for 30

2018:

Me: Holy shit, the stairs plus the shopping is paying off! My thighs are HUGE! I wonder if cracking a watermelon with these bad boys is hyperbole. I bet I could though. I BET.

Me: Down to 162 and holding, fuck you past doctors! I just needed ENERGY goddammit!

Me: Wow, I've lost a lot of weight from my face especially. That makes me super happy. Anyway better pluck these stray hairs. ...have I been yanking these more lately? Getting old is weird.

Me: (struggling with shorts) Megan: Do you need a belt? Me: I'M WEARING A BELT (lifts shirt to reveal belt double wrapped around hips) Megan: Well then Me: I just need to buy new shorts, my ass is just GONE Megan: In the meantime maybe pay attention to what underwear you have on Me: yeah thank God for boxers

Me: My acne scars are heck of acting up. I wish I hadn't picked at my face so much as a kid, I guess the pores are just kinda fucked, I've read about that happening.

2019:

Megan: New shorts look good Me: I am so bad at shopping Megan: At least you have them now Me: I'm an assless chap is all Megan: Go to bed Del Me: It's four in the afternoon

Me: My throat feels so *thick* lately. I haven't been hitting the vape that often, why does it feel weird? And why am I noticing my own voice more? I NEVER notice my own voice, I make a point of it. Am I subconsciously pitching it lower like I used to do talking on Skype because I'm more socially active? What is my brain I'm so AWKWARD Me: UGH I'm falling back into derma habits, I haven't picked in my face in years, I think I need to change cleansers. But...my face looks...good? I guess I had this hiding under that baby fat all these years. ...I guess? Me: Am I getting a hump from my bad computer posture? Shit. Me: Oh no, it's not a hump, my shoulders are starting to put on muscle! That's a relief. That must be from the...laundry? Carrying...laundry?

AUGUST 5, 2019: Me: (lying in bed) 2 + 2

Me: wait why am I putting on shoulder muscle now? I've been doing laundry for years, and it's never done that. And my legs didn't get this buff with a routine job where I was walking three hours a d--

Me:

AUGUST 14, 2019:

New Endocrinologist: We'll test your levels to make sure it isn't a pituitary gland issue or (some syndrome I've already forgotten the name of), and it could be because there's some small element of testosterone in the estrogen replacement, but the brain does produce androgens. We can definitely look into switching you to T if you want, but if it's facial hair you're worried about...well, once the follicle is there, it's there. These are irreversible changes.

Me: No on that then but irreversible,, like,, what I have now,, is forever,,,,,,,?

New Endocrinologist: Forever, and I would expect to continue to see muscle gains if you work out.

Me:

welcome to my second puberty please be aware it apparently involves as many mood swings as the first one but i'm tryin'

Since then, it’s been continuing confirm, confirm, confirm.

My acne turned out to be little follicles growing in odd places--not fullblown hair, just enough to irritate the skin while it was developing. Tiny tufts of 1-3 entirely white, downy hairs have popped up in a few places on my breasts. The real fuzz proliferation has been in the southern quarters--with all delicacy, there is no itch like the itch of hair beginning to grow anywhere sweat can proliferate, and I now understand why cis men scratch privates in public. Having NOT gone through a unified social experience with a peer group accepting of such measures, I am sure there is footage on grocery store cams of someone with an agonized expression walking like he has a weasel down his pants and worrying that 30 is early for hemorrhoids. Both have settled in for the most part, leaving me with a very fluffy, barely-there peach fuzz mustache that’s only noticeable in the right light, some spare hairs across my chin and neck that I keep in order, and a profound relief that I prefer boy shorts and swim trunks.

I went through a few weeks of being especially rank despite all the showering and was worried that was my new normal, but apparently T sweats be like that, and I’m back to smelling like...whatever I smell like, probably lavender with our fabric softener. I experienced what I believed was a relapse a month later that turned out to be a false positive--specifically, our thermostat was slowly dying and frog-boiling us until it got hot enough that my sister also went “dear God it is a sauna in here”, leading to replacement of the faulty element and another notch in the “my life is dumb” bedpost.

My face bonebs, which I frankly expected the least out of (when I wasn’t expecting at all), have slowly but surely been rearranging, a visual effect doubled by the much faster redistribution of fat. I honestly have no idea how this one works. I know more about dead bonebs than live ones. I would doubt it if I didn’t have pictures to back it up. I would say it’s easier to look in the mirror now, but I already stated my opinion on mirrors, do it too much and a skeleton will pop out. It WILL. My brain tells me this and it is never wrong about fears and or phobias. Don’t do it kids.

If there’s been a single most beautiful moment so far, it’s been getting back into Steven Universe after a long hiatus, opening my mouth to sing the opening like I did years ago, and realizing all at once that I was singing falsetto. I ran it back, dropped a register, and the first names I sang became those who would believe in me most. There were tears, and later, showing it off, there were fierce hugs. (Yes, the first ep I watched once I realized was Stevonnie, and YES GARNET GOING “GO HAVE FUN” wah)

I can’t begin to express the validation--I am no gender essentialist’s data point, this is MY experience and no one else’s, but I keep going “my aunt had a hyst and didn’t transition and I had one and I am because my brain makes androgens my brain makes androgens MY BRAIN MAKES ANDROGENS IT HAS BEEN MAKING ANDROGENS ALL THIS TIME IT HAS BEEN TRYING” and living in that, living in “not even SCIENCE is against me”, which is a tremendous thing as a scientist. (As a scientist, I would be a blithering dullard to claim this is the only thing that affects or proves my gender, and I do not. Again, TERFs fuck off. This is simply a very validating thing to me, personally, in my experience. I’m not thrilled that I have to underline that this hard dammit internet.)

What lies ahead is...I don’t know! I thought I was done changing, but the post I saw that nudged me to finally do this on here went “you may stop being able to cry for awhile” and this is Important because I have been trying to figure out if I have Sjogren’s but apparently I have androgens which is slightly easier to pronounce. I’m not sure how I feel about that, because transitioning is a lot of “I’m not sure how I feel about this” and then things being okay. I would definitely say that the more I learn, the easier it is to feel steady and normal, which is important because the mood swings have been REAL. This is more than I asked for or bargained for, but I still only have one regret, and that’s that my hyst scars are just slightly asymmetrical and it Bothers Me, but even that is growing on me.

I don’t know how to end this post. I love you all to death, and I hope if you’re seeking transition, you find it and twenty dollars, and if you’re not seeking transition, you still find twenty dollars. Thank you so much for you and all you do and are. Remember--you are great!

Unless you’re truscum. Then this post isn’t for you (dammit Internet) and you can fall off a boardwalk onto a dead fish. Have fun with that!

hekk

#trans #trans mtf #trans timeline #del is a trans guy #gender #gender*#blobs magician #i'm sorry this wasn't sooner i was shy aaaaa #you are all tock to me #and you are all wonderful crabs #let us go for a scuttle #longpost #long post #scrolling

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hyacinthsgirl · 4 years

Text

“You shouldn’t really be out here all alone.” Probably the most cliched sentence he could come up with, yet it managed to catch the girl’s attention. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to him, golden eyes slowly appearing from behind a curtain of chestnut hair. His sudden arrival wasn’t bothering her, that was the look on her face was saying – and Irial was sure she wasn’t hiding any negative emotion. A few days of careful observation had assured him she was a crystal-clear lake. Lying and faking weren’t her weapons. A rarity to find in Hell or anywhere else, really. Irial pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against and walked to her, stopping only a couple of steps away from her. Now that he was closer, he could pinpoint what had been itching and scratching for his attention since she had showed up in his life, bursting out of a shattered mirror, a naked crying thing that had forgotten how to use her tongue. It was her eyes, he decided. They were older than the rest of her face, as if they had been taken from a god’s corpse and pushed into her sockets. And here’s one more interesting little thing – there was no fear inside them. Even now, as she patiently waited for Irial to keep up with her, she was only curios. As easy to read as an open book: a kind of person Irial had always thrived on. The easiest to trick, although he had the feeling it wouldn’t be the same with her. She may look a little naïve, but not stupid; that much he was aware of.

One silent stare later, she – Chris, now her name came to his mind – asked: “Why not?”

He shrugged in false modesty, hands safely hidden inside the pockets of his coat. “Well, you just gotta look around to see that. This is the very definition of a dangerous place.” In the distance, screams and explosions rang in the air. After months Irial had gotten used to all those sudden, ear-shattering sounds and at this point they were nothing more than background noise to him, but perhaps the new girl wasn’t accustomed to Hell’s soundtrack yet. He carefully watched her, searching for the slightest twitch or any hint of discomfort. None so far. She was still standing before him, unmovable, looking right into his eyes as if to try to read his true intentions. A rebel lock of hair bobbed wildly, brushing against her cheek, and yet not even this was enough to distract her. He smirked. He would love this. “And you look like the kind of person who can be taken away in a snap.” And snap! went his fingers indeed!

Now she smiled, as if her words had brought a pleasant memory back to her attention. “I have been told that.”

He smirked in reply. “Yeah? I betted so. Everyone’d think you just walked out of a book.”

His remark ripped a laugh out of her – a gentler kind of violence coming from him. Her shoulders shook, her arms stayed still along her sides, not a hand rising to cover her amusement. Irial’s smirk stayed in place, securing the one mask he loved the most – the one of the good guy, dressed in black but with a witty tongue and a good heart… or so people thought until it was too late. He wasn’t going to do anything to her, though. She was Elle’s friend, and her friends were also Irial’s (well, not always, but exceptions were another part of the rule). He was only a little curios, a little intrigued, a little ready to lie his weapons down and use all of them to unravel the mystery that was this girl. He was carefully choosing which one to pick next, when Chris looked up from the ground and back at him, still smiling. “I’ve been told that, too.”

“And I betted so, too.”

“But?”

Quick to go to the point, uh? “But you didn’t tell me why you are walkin’ around here without looking not even a little bit scared. I mean, most people’d shit their pants in a place like this.”

“I know how to defend myself.”

He rose an eyebrow, only partly mockingly. “Oh, really?”

Chris slightly tilted her head to the side, as if a different point of view could help her see the implications behind Irial’s reply. “You don’t trust me?”

“No offense, querida, but you don’t look like someone who can defend herself.” A bit of teasing, a tad of prodding – the perfect recipe to force the truth out of her. Sure, he could have also asked her nicely to show him her abilities and she would have fulfilled his request without blinking, but it wouldn’t have been any fun. Irial took the two steps separating him from her and slowly circled her, paying attention to every detail as he spoke. “You look like the less dangerous thing in town.” A knot in her hair. A beauty mark on her neck. The barely visible curves beneath her dress. “Any demon here would think they can easily get away with kidnappin’ you.” Cracks on her nails. The illegible runes on the pendant of her necklace. He was seconds away from putting his hand over her shoulder, then decided against it. He stopped in front of her, their faces now inch away from each other. “So yeah, unless you can pull some sick ninja moves or magic stuff out of nowhere, I pretty much don’t think you can handle danger on your own.”

Her eyes told him exactly what he wanted. She was accepting this challenge without hesitation. “Do you want me to show it to you?”

He tried not to grin too widely, but he knew he was failing the moment he thought the last word. “C’mon. Impress me.”

She took a step back, her smile still gentle but also slightly mischievous, just like a fairy’s (of course Irial had never met a fairy in his whole life, but a thought in the back of his head told him that their smile would look exactly like hers), and then she seemed to forgot about Irial completely. She stared down at her palms, as if she were searching for something familiar in the lines crossing her flesh, words she used to read there all the time in the past. Just by looking at her, Irial had the feeling speaking wasn’t the only thing she had had to learn all over again. Her fingers moved slowly, as if weaving an invisible web or striking the impalpable chords of an instrument she hadn’t held in her hands for a very long time. However, hopelessness and fear never touched her features; if anything, only determination did. Fingers moving more slowly, her destination getting closer and closer now. Almost brushing against her fingertips, but not quite there yet. Irial shared her anticipation and didn’t notice he had slightly leaned forward, expecting her to conjure flowers or a raven out of nowhere. It looked like he was still good at making people do what he wanted, after –

Flames resurfaced from her skin and engulfed her hands before travelling down her arms, chest, legs, climbing the back of her neck, clinging to her hair, covering her face like a mask. A girl made fire, raw magic radiating from her once more – and Irial himself, who had had something to do with this kind of power centuries and worlds before, felt it resonate in his bones. As she burnt, smiling and greeting an old friend, he froze on the spot. His smirk was wiped away and replaced by shock trembling inside his eyes. Had she been just an inch closer, he would’ve stepped back to get as away from her as possible. Only his willpower stopped him from rising his hands as if to shield himself from her warmth and light, not so different from the ones he had known a long time before. His dislike for fire was temporarily gone, entirely overwhelmed by memories washing over him. In his eyes there was another smiling girl inside the fire, with sky-like eyes and a sword in her hand. Her gaze on him – a sharp pain in his chest, right where her blade had pierced him, when this whole place was even less real than a dream. Irial gulped, gritting his teeth in ancient, unforgotten pain. He didn’t like fire, but it never made him feel so uneasy, so naked in front of someone else – as if Chris had taken his appearance and ripped it open in two with those delicate, feminine hands of hers that seemed to have been made only to caress cheeks and rub backs. His breath quickened, an unleashed horse, and it took him a good minute to bring it back to a calmer pace. It wasn’t fear, it would never be, but whatever it was it was shaking him from the inside. He should’ve looked away and he couldn’t. A girl was burning and reminding him of years she didn’t know about, and all he could was to stare at her, hallucinating a crown on her head and wrong words on her lips.

“Is everything okay?”

Irial blinked twice, refocusing on the world around him. A bomb detonated in the distance, reminding him this wasn’t the last city before the Waste Lands, and it was enough. He felt all his muscles loosen gradually and his fists open – fists he didn’t even remember clenching. In the meantime, Chris was staring at him in confused concern. The last flames slowly withered on her shoulders and hands, and eventually the vision which had shocked him was gone. A weight flew off Irial’s chest, and he felt himself free to breathe again. His tongue quickly licked his lips. “Yeah. Why?”

“You looked…” She searched for the right word in silence. “Paralyzed.”

He chuckled, sounding surprisingly convincing. “You caught me off guard. Of all things I expected from you, seeing you light up like a bonfire wasn’t really on the list.”

She seemed to fall for it, as her following smile showed. “I can do other things too, if you’re curios.”

He rose his hands to stop her. “Ah, no! You already proved your point enough to me. Now I’m sure y’can handle yourself out here just fine.”

Another soft laugh. “Does that mean I have your permission to go now, then?”

“’ course you do. I’d never try to stop you now.” Not for the reasons she might have thought, though.

Chris gifted him with one last smile, then waved goodbye and was gone round the corner in the blink of an eye, while Irial stood still, mulling over what had just happened and allowing the muscles in his face to relax a little. His breath was still slightly heavy and echoed in his ears with a drum-like sound. He stared at the entrance of the alley for a while, then exhaled deeply. Well, that had been a lot to take. Thankfully his hands were back inside his pockets, otherwise he knew he would’ve seen them shake imperceptibly. This wasn’t fear, of course. It was the explosion following the opening of a door that had been left ajar for years. While he had witnessed his fair share of magic events in this life too, in decades he had never seen anything so similar to what she was able to do. Memories still danced before him, and he shooed them away like flies before they got too far, too close to the final page. He didn’t need to remember vividly what he already knew. Feeling like he was being stabbed all over again had been enough.

You know Chris isn’t what Lux was, right?

“Of course I fucking do,” he muttered to himself, kicking a pebble. It rolled on the ground in the same direction as Chris and stopped right before disappearing from sight. Irial followed its brief journey with his gaze, then clicked his tongue. He had danced with flames in front of a whole city once; he would never again. “That’s better for both me and her.”

#DRABBLE: memories draped by the beneficent spider.#i wrote this for a huge crossover me and elle are currently building at the moment #feat. Chris; Irial; The Glitch; and two canon muses i unfortunately adopted recently #i saved this on my pc as 'bitch gets burned' because Irial is out there being a fucking idiot and poking what he shouldn't #and casually unlocking Memories

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ghostiehatesithere · 5 years

Text

Patches - I

Mateo didn't know what to make of Prince Lotor. Scratch that. He thought that Lotor was absolutely nuts! What could Zarkon have done to the Prince to make him throw himself at a sun in the hopes of escaping the Galra?

Allura had placed Mateo in charge of watching Lotor while the others tried to figure out what to do with him. Mateo honestly couldn't quite figure out how he got himself into this situation. He knew what happened, but now he's starting to question his thought process. He was one of the Garrison's top recruits. He was one of the best pilots of his class. His cousin, Lance didn't get into the pilotting program at first and Mateo was bummed out because they were thick as theives growing up. However, when Keith dropped out, he was also sad to see a potential friend go so soon but his attitude brightened when the open slot allowed Lance into the program.

However, Lance felt as though he had a lot to prove. He had been looking for Lance to comfort him for his bad run in the simulator the day that they found Shiro. He had walked in on the tail end of the conversation between Pidge, Hunk, and Lance and had leapt headlong into action in order to rescue Captain Takashi Shirogane alongside them, mainly because they never truly got out of trouble without him.

Though he was the Garrison’s “Golden Boy,” Mateo wasn’t as well liked by his peers as he was by his teachers. They didn’t like that a nobody farmer kid with vitiligo was breezing through the courses like it was child’s play. Mateo would hear them whisper degrading nicknames like Cowbell, Frankenstein, and Patches. He pretended that he couldn’t hear them like Lance, Pidge, and Hunk couldn’t but he did. It didn’t help that he was...different. It was a well kept secret between Mateo and Lance that even their family members didn’t know and it was insanely hard to keep it that way so far out in space. Lance had been a big help by making excuses for him and getting him the things he’d need to keep up the facade. However, the others were already suspicious, and before Lotor even became a problem, they were actively trying to figure out his secret. So far the only one who hadn’t been hounding him about his strange “illness” that kept him in his room some nights.

It was honestly quite stressful.

Lance had urged his cousin to at least include Allura in on their little secret but the way she treated Keith after he had learned that he was half Galra had made him leery of the Altean. It wasn’t just with Keith. With Ulaz she was so insistent that he was evil just because he was Galra. Even after Ulaz had given his life to save them, she had insisted that he’d been the one to rat us out to the Galra. She had even been wary of the Blades of Marmora despite them proving to be peaceful towards them. She just...didn’t seem as open minded as he once thought she was and it left a sick feeling in his stomach when the others never truly reprimanded her for her actions. He felt that if he told anyone, especially Allura, anything, he’d be outcasted faster than Lance could say “holy crow.”

Mateo was strung tight as a bowstring as his gaze never left Lotor’s. He didn’t know why they were having this staring contest, but he knew that if he looked away then he would lose. Something almost primal in him told him to never look away. Lotor smirked at him and he narrowed his eyes in response. He didn’t have anything against Lotor mostly because he didn’t know anything about him. However, that didn’t mean that he trusted the Galra prince. He didn’t understand why the Galra were so quick to turn on him when mere days prior he was their precious Prince and following his order to the T. If he had said jump then they would ask how high. Now it was like he was the dirt beneath their feet. It just didn’t make any sense.

“You are different from the others,” Mateo frowned, muscles taut as a bowstring as he waited for the exiled prince to elaborate. “I’ve never seen a human with skin like yours.”

“What’s it to you?” Mateo curtly demanded.

Lotor raised his hands placatingly, “Nothing really. It was merely curiosity that led me to ask.”

“I was born with a rare skin condition called vitiligo,” he answered, seeing no harm in it.

“Does it lighten or darken the pigment of your skin?” the prince further inquired.

Mateo raised a brow at him, “Lighten.”

Lotor’s eyes widened and his lips had formed into an “o” shape. There was awe in his eyes, a reaction that Mateo wasn’t used to. Usually he would get the scrunched noses of barely concealed disgust, shock, but never awe. The more ignorant tended to think that his skin condition was contagious and avoided him like the plague. Even Lance’s family was hesitant to touch him when he’d first been brought to their home. Yet, this strange Galra prince looked like he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him if his twitching fingers were anything to go by. “But that is not the only reason you are different.”

Mateo tilted his head in curiosity and the prince took it as another cue to elaborate. “You don’t look at me with hate in your eyes. The others could barely stand to lay eyes yet you do so as though I’ve done you no wrong? Why?”

"Because you haven't," Mateo answered honestly. "I've seen the videos of your encounters with the Paladins. All you really did was get on everyone's nerves. You never made an active effort to end lives like your father or his soldiers would have. You got in, got what you wanted, and left."

Lotor sent him a look of pleasant surprise. "I hope the others will see things the way that you do."

Mateo casually shrugged, "Probably not." Lotor gave him the most affronted look, like Mateo had crushed his hopes and dreams. "Allura hates your dad like alot and that hate kind of extends to your entire race. The others probably won't argue with her if she decides to shoot you out of an airlock and that’s if your intel doesn’t check out." Mateo tried to not sound as bitter as he felt about that but he couldn't help but feel that way.

Keith was of the mind of "stab first ask questions later," which often made him wonder how he was chosen by the Black Lion but he was rarely around anymore while he was running with the Blades of Marmora. Honestly, Mateo was happy that he’d found a place where he felt like he belonged. Allura was straight racist. Pidge doesn't care who gets hurt as long as she can save her dad which is honestly really understandable. Shiro doesnt really reprimand Allura anyone when they're wrong. Hunk was an absolute angel but he's also really passive. Lance would probably do whatever Allura says because he has feelings for her, which has been a great source of contention for the cousins lately.

“That makes me wonder why you helped us?” Mateo pressed. “You could have gotten galaxies away while the Galra was focused on us and yet you came to our rescue. Why?”

Lotor avoided Mateo’s gaze, “I honestly thought about it. I had heard the distress signal and thought that it would be the perfect chance to get away. Yet, I didn’t know if I would be able to live with myself knowing that I could make a difference and save lives. All my life I had wished for peace coexistence instead of tyranny. It was for that very reason that I had been exiled in the first place.”

“Hm,” Mateo grunted absently in thought. He knew that Zarkon was a monster but even monsters care about their kids right? Obviously not because he was able to exile his own son and was so horrible that Lotor would risk burning up in a sun’s atmosphere to evade him. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea despite the facts staring him in the face.

They had both fallen into a comfortable silence, well, almost comfortable. Mateo always needed something to do with his hands because he wasn’t used to stillness. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a notebook, not noticing that he’d began to hum a song as he began to add words to the paper. The book was old and definitely worn and since coming to space, Mateo had been using it to chronicle the adventures of he and the Paladins. However, it also held short stories and his deepest thoughts, things he even kept from Lance.

Mateo had been about to ask if he knew a good descriptor words for the color purple when his breath hitched and he felt a tightness under his skin. He looked down to see that his hands were shaking and his vision was getting sharper as his eyes began to sting. This wasn’t supposed to have happened for another week at least. He should have been able to hold it off. Why was it starting now? He groaned in pain as his gums grew sore. Lotor shot up to his feet in alarm. “Are you alright?!”

Mateo didn’t answer as he staggered to his feet and tried to stumble out of the room, desperate to get somewhere safe. The castle must have been swaying under his feet because it was never this hard before. He groaned as the insatiable itching began. He managed to find leverage against one of the walls and his fingers clenched on the flat surface, leaving deep gauges in its surface. He yelped when his legs locked up and he fell into the fetal position. Lotor began to beat agains the barrier of his cell in order to help the pained human.

All that Mateo could think of was getting to his room before the others returned. He felt like crying when the doors slid open to reveal Allura and Shiro who regarded the young man with shock. Shiro scooped him into his arms while Allura regarded the horrified Lotor with a deep glare full of hatred. “What did you do to him?!”

“I did nothing!” Lotor denied. “He had been writing on his strange little pad thing mere ticks ago!”

“Mateo! Speak to me, what’s going on?!” Shiro urged as he propped the teen against his thigh.

“My...room,” Mateo rasped, hoping that Shiro would understand. The pilot nodded, hoping that his questions would be answered later. On his way he passed Lance who had been chatting with the others. Immediately the brunette dropped everything in order to keep pace with Shiro, his face set in stern determination. It was an expression that the Black Paladin often forgot Lance was capable of.

The moment the door slid shut behind them, Lance took charge. “Put him on the bed.” Shiro nodded and slid Mateo onto the sheets. Lance gently nudged him out of the way and knelt by his cousin’s head, clasping his clammy hands in his. Shiro noticed with wide eyes that Mateo’s hands were turning purple with patches of white and he could just barely make out the texture of fur growing on his skin. “Shiro.”

The Black Paladin nearly gave himself whiplash returning his gaze back to the uncomfortably serious face of Lance. “I need you to promise me that everything that happens in here doesn’t leave this room.” Shiro could only bring himself to nod as he knelt next to Lance, Mateo’s raspy breaths further worrying him.

“What’s happening to him?”

Lance stared at Mateo for a few moments, debating on whether or not to tell his leader before giving in with a sigh. “Keith isn’t the only half-Galra on the team. Unfortunately, Mateo can’t stay in human form all the time. He has to change at least once every couple of months.”

“His medical condition...” Shiro muttered in realization.

Lance nodded with a solemn frown, “Yeah, that’s how we’ve been able to keep it from everyone for so long.” Mateo whimpered as his ears grew and sounds became louder. He could hear Hunk, Pidge, and Coran down the hall worriedly talking about his condition. Lance furrowed his brows and he bit his lip, “But something’s wrong. I saw him change last week, so he should be able to hold back the change for another few months.”

A clawed hand balled into the material of Shiro’s shirt and he followed the weak tugging until his ear was practically pressed against Mateo’s lips. “Don’t...tell...Allura,” he choked out, his voice cracking as it deepened.

Lance sighed tiredly and ran a comforting hand through his cousin’s hair, “We won’t, ‘Teo.”

When the seemingly transformation finally ended, Shiro took in the new yet familiar figure of Mateo. He had a layer of curly amethyst purple fur all over his body with patches of white in the same place as in his human form. His ears were a lot larger and swiveled back and forth. His clenched teeth had become sharper and the whites of his eyes had turned a burning gold. “Why don’t you want Allura to know?” Shiro pried.

Mateo took a deep breath calm his roaring heart, “Come on, Shiro. You know how she is about anything Galra. She calls them a race of blood thirsty murderers even though we have the Blade of Marmora, a Galra rebel force, as allies. Do you even know how she looks at Keith sometimes when she thinks no one is looking?”

This gave Shiro pause. He looked to Lance but the brunette was avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry. I...I didn’t know,” Shiro said, ashamed that he’d been blind to this behavior.

Mateo gave him a strained smile. He hadn’t been looking for an apology, he was merely extremely fearful of Allura’s reaction to his Galra parentage. At best she’d treat him how she treats Keith, but the worse case scenario is that she becomes extremely paranoid and starts to think that she’s surrounded by Galra spies.

“I just want to know if Lotor’s information checks out,” Mateo inquired tiredly, not really want to go down the rabbit hole of his parentage.

“Yeah it did. Everything he told us was true,” Shiro answered, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

Mateo’s shoulders sagged in relief, “Good, then we can trust him.”Lance leapt to his feet in incredulity, “WHAT?! We can’t trust that guy!”

Mateo scoffed, “Of course not. He’s shady at best, but he’s an ally and he helped us we he could have just have easily let us all die. I’m willing to give him the chance to earn my trust if only to end this stupid war and go home.”

Lance bit his lip as a pang of homesickness shot through his heart. He’d always known that Mateo wasn’t really cut out for war. Correction. Mateo could fight a war if he needed to and most likely win it but he always sought out a peaceful solution. Mateo didn't even want to join the Garrison, but their family couldn't afford to put him through art school so he had to settle. And it showed in every confrontation they’ve had with the Galra that didn'ttry to kill them at first glance, he’d always hail them and give them a chance to peacefully resolve their issues. It always ended in battle but the fact is that he was always willing to try for peace. When did he stop trying?

The brunette sighed and sat on the edge of Mateo’s bed before dramatically draping himself over his cousin’s stomach. “Fine, you win. I’ll play nice with Prince Jerkass for now, but if he betrays us I get to shoot him in the face.”

Mateo gave a dark chuckle and clenched his hand into a fist, “You can have his face after I rearrange it.”

It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was a start. After a couple of hours, Mateo was able to revert to human form with some effort. Shiro watched the purple fade and seemingly recede to hide under brown and white patched skin. “Shiro...” he snapped to attention when the older McClain cousin addressed him. “I want you to release Lotor.”

“Why?” Shiro wasn’t all that opposed to the idea but the answer to this question was extremely important. “We need to give him a chance to prove himself,” Mateo answered as he gently nudged at Lance’s head with his finger, jerking it back every time his cousin tried to bite it. “He can’t exactly do that inside a jail cell.”

“We can’t just have him roam completely free.”

“Then make sure that one of us is with him at all times but for his safety, let’s make sure that he’s never alone with Allura.” Shiro stared deep into Mateo’s brown eyes and his gaze never wavered from the Black Paladin's.

“Fine,” Shiro relented, “consider it his probation but there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to spare time for all of the Paladins to watch Lotor. The universe is getting bigger and we’re going to be needed to reclaim more planets from the Galra. Lotor will have to be your responsibility. Whenever you feel like your change is coming on, I need you to tell me so I can relieve you from Lotor duty. Think you can handle it.”

Mateo offered the older man a smirk that made the Paladin believe that he was looking at Lance. "Of course I can. I'm a McClain.”

Tag List: @starfaring-princelotor@marvelheaux @fandomsoffeelings@motheroflittlelions @legendofcarl@done-with-your-shit-shirogane@kirahhhh @lotor-for-emperor@yanderemommabean @lotorrential@planet-jumping-warrior

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mf-despair-queen · 6 years

Text

Wet Dreams - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 9,680

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Unprotected Sex, Oral (female receiving), Bondage, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Choking, Doggy, Wet Dreams (literally), Dirty Talk, Cowgirl, Rough Sex, Side Sex

Song: Dance For You by Beyonce

Notes: :) Thanks to @savage-stilinski and @malia--stilinski for suffering with me while I wrote. Partially the result of my talks with Julia and this ask from nonnie: “Could you do a mitch imagine, where you’re moaning his name in your sleep, so he starts eating you out while you’re asleep, and when you cum you wake up and you hve rough sex.” I promise, it’s consensual.

“You’re home!”

Your body flew across the room into the entrance of your small home, arms latching around the dark-haired man’s neck, his feet stumbling under him with the new weight. His bag dropped from his hand, both muscled arms wrapped securely around your waist. Your head snuggled into his neck, uncaring for the fact that the door remained wide open behind him, rain pouring against the street in the late hour, while you only wore a thin, nearly see-through silk nightgown that ended just below your ass.

“You’re home,” you cooed again, hearing the man chuckle lowly.

“I’m home, baby,” he hummed thoughtfully, inching further into the house, kicking the door shut with a simple kick of the foot. His lips brushed your forehead, placing a firm kiss to it after a moment. “But, why are you awake? It’s late, baby.”

“It’s never too late when you are coming home finally, Mitch,” you whispered into his neck, goosebumps running along his arms. He smiled faintly at your words, a rare occurrence people saw aside from you. You were his pride and joy after all and only you could make him feel this way. His arms around you tightened, swaying you from side to side.

“It’s midnight, though, baby,” he told you, your head upturning to look at him. “You should be asleep. It’s not healthy for you to stay up this late.”

“But I needed to see you,” you told him, feeling your feet hit the floor. Your arms loosened from his neck, hands gently cupping his cheeks instead. His stubble had grown out in the weeks he was gone, the hairs lining his jawline prickling at your fingertips. Your thumbs traced his hidden moles, knowing the exact location of each one from years of admiring them. They brushed over his plump lips, his tongue darting out to wet them immediately after. “I wanted to see you. It’s been too long.”

“How long?” he questioned, knowing how you would answer.

“Three weeks, five days, seventeen hours, four minutes, and roughly eighteen seconds,” you told him. Mitch quirked an amused smile, letting out a small but deep laugh. “What? You asked!”

“I just love your exactness on this matter,” he hummed, taking your face in his hands, mirroring your actions. “You literally countdown the days until I come home from work.”

“Right. ‘Work’,” you giggled. “How did the business deal go down?”

Mitch shook his head, picking up on the sarcasm. You were well aware of his true occupation, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter that he would leave home for weeks, sometimes months, on end, risking his life to those that threatened others. You were proud of him and supported him, wishing him the best everytime he walked out the door, potentially never to be seen again. It was one of the things that made Mitch Rapp fall deeply in love with you, two years after his fiance was killed.

That was three years ago.

His lips brushed yours in a soft kiss, his smile never leaving his lips. “Just fine,” he mumbled against them, your small moan so faint, it was almost gone unnoticed. “They won’t be a threat to the business ever again. We bought them out.”

You giggled. That was his code that the target was terminated and his mission was a success. “I’m glad. Hurley must have been proud of you.”

Mitch scoff, shaking his head. “Hurley? Proud? Have you met the man?” Mitch asked. “He was up my ass before we even got there.”

“He just likes to keep you in line, Mitch,” you said. “You weren’t the most obedient back in the day from what I’ve heard.”

“That was years ago,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “My life is in line now.”

“I know.” You took his hands in your, his finger playing with the diamond ring on your left hand. Your own fingers traced over the gold band on his hand, smiling up at him. “Now, we should celebrate a successful buyout. To welcome you home from a long trip.”

“Is that so?” he hummed, preparing to place his lips on yours. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, you know,” you muttered at him, tongue running across his lips. “You throwing me on the bed, eating me out before you take me in every position known to man. You pounding my pussy into oblivion until I can’t stop screaming your name. Anything and everything to make up for the honeymoon you missed.”

He bit his lip, forehead wrinkling in distaste. “You know I wouldn’t have missed it if I had a choice. I would have taken you away to wherever you wanted if I could have,” he told you. “At least we got a day of sex before I had to leave.”

“It’s not the same,” you told him. “I wanted a week of fucking, not just a day. For almost a month, I haven't been able to probably make love to my husband. I want to fix that.”

Shortly before his newest mission, you had made the split decision to tie the knot. It had been something you had been discussing on and off for a year, but when Mitch found out he was to spend nearly a month overseas, he wanted to make it officially. Two days before he was to leave, you gathered the people closest to you - namely your sister, since she was your only remaining family, and the people Mitch worked with in the CIA. Even though he speaks ill of his superiors, they were the family he hadn’t had in decades. Irene was like an older sister, if not a motherly figure that supported his every move. And Stan Hurley, despite his gruff exterior and ruthless worth ethic towards the young man, was a mentor and father-figure to Mitch. He encouraged Mitch’s sudden action, though warned him that things could go horribly wrong at any second.

Mitch didn’t care. He swore to protect you as he always did.

The day before his mission was your makeshift honeymoon, the two of you sealing the doors and windows, phones off to avoid disturbances, while you spent the entire day naked under the sheets and in every room of your small house. You were going to make every second count with him, screaming his name until you had no voice left. Mitch went into work the next day with scratches and bruises covering his body, but it was his fuel to return home as soon as possible to properly spend time with you.

“I think we can definitely fix that,” he breathed, chest heaving with heavy pants. His jeans strained around his waist, fingers itching to run across your skin, electricity flowing between your bodies. His lips pressed to your sharply, enveloping yours completely before pulling away with a slick smack, leaving you whining for more. His kisses were nothing but taunting, the feeling lingering whenever he pushed against you.

You were pulling at his shirt before he could protest, pulling it over his head swiftly. The fabric landed on a nearby lamp when you tossed it away, ignoring the lack of light filling the room. Your fingers dusted over his pecs, playing with the hairs on his chest. Your bodies rolled against each other, teasing kisses swapped between you both. His muscles bulged and flexed from your touch, tightening with his desire.

He went to grab the end of your nightgown, lips pressing to yours in a soft kiss, only to be broken by your yawn. Your head turned away from his to avoid yawning in his face. Mitch chuckled softly, his whiskey eyes softening at the tired look on your face. One hand left his chest to cover your mouth, a small squeak escaping your throat mid-yawn. Instead of pulling your nightgown over your head, he pushed it up on your waist, resting his hands against your bare hips.

“Maybe we should save the celebration for tomorrow,” he proposed. Your shook your head at him fiercely.

“No, I’m fine, Mitch. I want to-” you yawned mid-sentence. “I want to do this.”

“No,” he whispered, eying your face closely. His fingers outlined the dark bags under your eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping much, have you? You look exhausted.”

“It’s hard to sleep without you here,” you told him.

“Exactly. That’s why,” he started, throwing you over his shoulder, hand resting on your ass while the other locked the door, grabbing his bag from the ground, “we are going to bed. Right now. It’s after midnight and I, for one, am rather tired. Do you know how long of a flight it is from London to Virginia?”

“Approximately eight hours and three minutes, assuming good weather, favorable wind, a straight, non-stop flight-”

Mitch silenced you with a soft kiss, your boyd melting on his shoulder. “I love you and your knack for useless information like this,” he hummed. “Why aren’t you working with the CIA again?”

“Because you won’t let me, even if I’m just your control admin and work remotely from home,” you pointed out, poking his six pack abs. “You know, I could hack circles around anyone you’re trying to kill, babe.”

“I know. You hacked me,” he laughed, dropping you on the bed. “That’s how we met, baby. You know this.”

“I know,” you giggled sleepily, hugging a pillow to your chest, the tops of your breasts peeking out of your nightgown. “Best decision of my life.”

“And it almost cost you your life,” he reminded you, unbuttoning his jeans, kicking the denim off his legs into the hamper in the corner of the room. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, admiring his toned body from the comfort of your bed. His back faced you, muscles tight as he lifted his arms and stretched, the tent in his Calvin Kleins showing the package he kept selfishly hidden from your view. His hand ran through his hair, eyes darting to look at you. “I snuck into your apartment and held a knife to your throat.”

“I just wanted the WiFi password. Why did you have to make it so complicated?” you grumbled, half asleep.

Mitch rolled his eyes, fixing you under the blanket before settling into his normal spot behind you. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you back against his chest. His nose nuzzled into your knotted locks, his groin grinding against your ass. You let out a weak moan, your voice laced with drowsiness. “I know,” he whispered into your hair. “But, at least you got your WiFi, baby.”

“I think I got more than that,” you whispered back, letting out a groan. “Now, stop what you’re doing. I can’t fuck right now.”

“You were so eager to five minutes ago.”

“That was five minutes ago. You missed your chance.” You shoved your ass back against him regardless, hearing Mitch let out a grunting moan. His hips rolled harder against your backside, his hand moving up to your breast to grip it through your sleepwear. His rolled the mound in his palm, massaging the hard nipple through the silk. You moaned his name lowly in reply. “Mitch, please. Not right now. Sleep.”

“Alright,” he murmured, pushing himself up on one elbow, kissing your cheek. Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he admired your dozing face, holding you close. “It’s good to be home.”

“I agree,” you slurred, taking his hand. “Welcome home, Mitch.”

The assassin watched you fall asleep completely before settling into the bed completely. Sleep washed over him in a matter of minutes, his body fully relaxing into his first peaceful sleep in weeks.

He walked into the bedroom, messing with the buttons on the fancy, button up shirt he wore. His tie dangled from his other hand, not forgotten at all. His hair curled at the ends but looked just right in the fading rays of light that soaked through the open balcony window. The ocean lapped over the beach, the salty ocean air wafting into the room. But Mitch wasn’t focused on the sunset over the ocean or the soft breeze that billowed around him. His eyes were focused on you.

You were laying on the California King that rested in the middle of the room, the transparent blue lingerie set you wore not hiding your immediate arousal. The lace, floral pattern didn’t hide your erect nipples. Your legs were spread and propped up for him to have the perfect shot of your soaked core. Your fingers traced over the wet patch that had formed, pushing aside the material to dip a finger into yourself. Your free hand palmed your own breast, the taut nipple held between your fingers.

“What are you waiting for?” You asked him seductively, mewling his name. His ears twitched at the sound, the assassin shuffling between the balls of his feet. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“You bet,” he breathed, crawling over your body. The shirt dangled open in front of you, his fingers replacing yours inside your core. You moved to his push his shirt off his shoulders, your lips meeting in a passionate connection. Tongues battled for dominance between your cheeks, his easily winning in the fight for pleasure. His fingers thrust into you quickly, the squishing sound of his fingers entering your soaked core flitting around the room. Your hands moved to tangle in his hair, tugging at his roots to keep him flush against you.

He pulled from your lips, physically ripping the front of the bra you wore, letting your breasts fall free. You moaned loudly, his mouth meeting your chest in a flurry of harsh sucks and kisses. His mouth ravished your firm peak, tugging at it with his teeth and lips until it was swollen and red. His fingers never slowed inside you, spreading your pussy open when he pulled out, coming together when he pushed back in. Your moaned never ceased, back arching into him.

“Oh God, Mitch. Please. Fuck me!”

He grinned against your chest, pulling from it with a sickening loud pop. He grabbed the tie that was resting on his side, tying your hands together together around the metal headboard. You didn’t protest nor did you struggle. You allowed him to do what he wanted. Lustful eyes followed him as he crawled backwards, fingers leaving your pussy empty. His fingers tugging tauntingly slow at the lingerie bottoms, running his tongue through your folds when he got a chance. When they were fully off and discarded across the room, the assassin leant back on his knees, unbuttoning the slacks he had on.

“That’s right, Mitch. Take them off, baby,” you muttered aloud, eying him closely. Mitch smirked, rolling off the bed to drop the slacks to his feet, boxer briefs included. His cock stood at attention, long, hard and ready for action. The precum oozed from the bright red tip. His length twitched openly and looked as if it were pulsating with desire. He stroked it slowly, glancing between his erection and your face, studying your reaction.

“Is this what you want, princess?” he huskily stated, crawling back onto the bed. He rolled his hips against yours, cock sliding easily through your folds and prodding at your core. You mewled once, nodding your head quickly. Mitch wasn’t having that simple reaction though. “Words, baby. What do you want.”

“Fuck me, daddy. I’m all yours,” you told him. You pushed him off of you with your foot, flipping yourself onto your stomach. Your arms crossed over each other and your ass stuck up in the air, swinging from side to side with anticipation. “I need you. Fuck me, daddy, until I’m squirting and cumming all night long.”

He didn’t reply.

His cock slid into you from behind, eagerly pistoning himself into you. Your head flew backwards, hair flying all over the place with little remorse. His hips clapped against your ass, his hand colliding with it noisily. Your moans and screams filled the room, shoving yourself back against him to meet his powerful, relentless thrusts. Your hands gripped at his tie, not bothering to shield the noises you were making.

“That’s right, daddy! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! And fast!” You screamed at him, Mitch speeding up. The tip of his cock tapped at your cervix and g-spot, his hand connecting with your ass with a booming slap. He tugged at your hair slightly, thrusting himself into you ravenously. “Fuck! Yes! Just like that!”

“You like that, princess?” he rasped out, slapping your ass again. “You like when I spank you?”

“Fuck yes!” You screamed at him. “Spank me, daddy. I’ve been a bad girl. Punish me. Fuck me until I cum.”

Your walls clung around him, Mitch heaving for air. Your words made his cock twitch. He was straining to keep from cumming too early from the warmth and moisture you were emitting. But he complied with your wished, spanking you again and again until your ass was red with multiple handprints, jiggling in different directions when he slapped it. He pounded you fiercely, listening to your vulgar pleas to please you.

“More, daddy. More, more, more. Please. Pound my cunt like you always do. It’s all yours. Pound my cunt until it’s cumming all around you.”

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to concentrate. His hand released your hair, circling your body to rub circles at your clit instead. Your body began shaking violently, the hugging around his length growing harder. You stammered out multiple curses, alternating between ‘fuck’ and ‘Mitch’ more than once. You grew wetter around him, multiple orgasms simultaneously washing over your system.

“Mitch!” You screamed. “Yes! Daddy! I love you! Fuck me, daddy! Cum inside me. Fill me with all of your cum. Warm me with your seed! I want to feel your sperm spill into me, leaking out of my pussy after you pull out because there’s so much of you inside me. I will run my fingers through my filled cunt, feeling every drop you let out inside me.”

“Fuck,” he growled, leaning forward in the middle of his thrusts. “I’m cumming, baby. I-I can’t-”

“Let it go, Mitch,” you told him seductively. “Cum inside me. It’s our honeymoon. You can cum in me all you want. I want to feel you.” You glanced back at him, eyes dark and lustful. “Cum in me, Mitch Rapp. I need you to cum.”

The words echoed with his release, a loud grunt vibrating his throat. His seed spilled from his tip like a shotgun, ejecting itself deep into your womb. His cock sputtered, filling every bit of your body with his warm seed. You moaned at the feeling he gave you, Mitch not hearing anything you uttered. His ears were ringing with the intense orgasm, the powerful hug of your pussy around his thick cock keeping him trapped in a web of arousal, the alluring feeling making his vision spot.

Cum…

CUM…

Mitch stirred from his sleep, blurry eyes taking a moment to focus on the time on the side table. 3:12 AM. He groaned, shifting in his position, rolling onto his back. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the already messy locks. You were sound asleep at his side, curled up in a small ball, hugging his normal pillow. “The fuck did I just dream about?” he grumbled lowly, not wanting to wake you up. He shuffled slightly in his spot, one hand moving to palm his groin.

His cock was hard, but it was wet.

His face contorted in disgust, kicking the blanket off. “I fucking came in my sleep,” he breathed, stumbling to a nearby drawer. “I had a wet dream about my wife. Specifically our honeymoon we never had.” He glanced at your sleeping form before dipping into the bathroom. He made sure to shut the door before turning on the light. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, multiple blinks to keep from going blind.

He grabbed a towelette from under the sink, dropping the Calvin Kleins he had worn to bed. He grimaced at the cum that was pasted along his length and on the inside of his underwear, wetting the towel to wash himself. He grumbled lowly, his cock sensitive to the touch, the white liquid caked to his skin.

“How the hell did this happen?” he asked himself, scratching his stubbled chin. Once he was clean, he tossed the wet cloth aside, staring at himself through the mirror. “That has never happened before. Holy shit. That dream was so nice though. It felt so real.” He turned to look at the ruined underwear, biting his lip. “And I came harder than ever I think. Dammit.”

He slid on the new boxer briefs, adjusting the bad as he stared at his reflection longer, arching forward against the sink. Splashing some water over his face, he sighed, letting the drops fall into the sink. He straight straight into the porcelain, licking his lips. “God, what do I even do now? Can I go back to sleep after that? Do I tell her what happened?”

He heard rustling in the bedroom, his sigh prolonged. He figured you had awoken without him there and would come knocking at the door any second. He wiped the remaining bits of water from his face, using a spare towel from the towel rack to dry it completely before cracking the door open, peering into the room with a glint in his eye. His brow scrunched together when he spotted you still in the bed, but you were stirring restless amongst the sheets. The assassin noted how you had rolled onto your back, his pillow left to fall to the floor forgotten, with the blankets low on your hips and tangled around your feet. One arm draped over your stomach, just below your breasts, while the other was strung above your head on the pillow and through your messy hair. You were still asleep. Mitch was thankful.

He cringed when the door creaked open, the man clicking the light off before it could wake you. He shuffled forward slowly, is eyes trying to readjust to the darkness after having focused on the bathroom light around him. He cursed to himself when he kicked his bag and other objects that were littering the bedroom carpet, Mitch biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making an overwhelming amount of noise. The room was silent and the slightest noise could stir you from your well deserved rest.

His hand met the end of the mattress, using the edge to inch around to his side, one knee on the bed to climb in. Before he could climb back into the bed, however, he froze, ears twitching. A small noise filled the room, Mitch’s eyes roaming the darkness for the source. The same noise came a second later, the assassin’s senses kicking into gear. The hand he had on the mattress moved for his bedside table, tugging open the drawer for his spare gun. His pupils dilated, the room becoming more visible to him.

The door was shut, the window was closed. The closet sat wide open the way it always did, clothes dangling from hangers. The bathroom he was just was vacant with the door ajar, the soft drips from the faucet barely audible to his trained ear. There was no sign of movement anywhere in the room, the lack of outside presence disturbing him.

Did I imagine the sound? He asked himself, taking the gun with him as he searched the room. He pushed aside the clothes in the closet to make sure nowhere was there. He checked the window latches. He poked his head out the bedroom door to see if there was movement around the rest of the house. He even checked the bathroom, just to be safe.

“The fuck?” he mumbled, closing the door with a silent click, running his long digits through his hair. He dropped the gun back into his drawer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Am I just imagining things now? Maybe this mission got the better of me for once and I’m just super on edge now.”

The quiet noise sounded behind him once more, Mitch whipping around. He glanced around, no sign of anything except for your body. He looked down at you, licking his lips. When you didn’t stir, he grunted, shaking his head. He laid back in the bed, massaging from his chiseled jawline to his temples lightly, trying to relax. He was sure he was imagining it.

“Mitch~.”

He shot up, turning to you, Your mouth parted slightly, Mitch recognizing the way your legs were rubbing together slightly under the blanket. Yet, your eyes remained glued, an air of drowsiness and sleep emanating from you. He watched you closely, noticing your body squirm slightly, fingers twitching slightly from whatever dream you were having.

“Baby?” he asked quietly, unsure if he would wake you. “You awake?”

“Mmm, Mitch,” you let out, slightly louder than before. He licked his lips slowly, listening closely. “More, please.”

“More?” he asked.

“Please,” you quietly pleaded in your sleep, head turning to face the opposite fall, your legs squeezing together. “More.”

His heart hammered against his chest, his body warming up. The more your squirmed in your sleep, turning from side to side with multiple low moans and pleas, the lower the blanket fell. You were kicking it off without knowing it. Mitch watched this happen, his eyes scanning your form from head to toe. Your breasts threatened to spill from the nightgown, the lack of bra underneath obvious. Your nipples were erect from the late-night chill in the room. The man you loved got a full view of your side breast, some angles from your squirming giving him views of cleavage and bare skin. The bottom of your nightgown rode up, the pale pink lace cheeksters you wore hugging your curves perfectly. Mitch wanted to reach over to play with the small bow in the middle of the band, a lace flower design stringing from either side of it. He smiled at them; they were his favorite and you knew it. But his smile dropped slightly when he felt his cock twitch, growing hard once more.

He recalled the dream he had, flashes of what happened behind his eyelids when he closed his whiskey orbs. Your low moans made it hard to relax, his body tensing with the hardening erection. His legs parted slightly, palm running over the clothed tent, his shaft growing by the second.

“Mitch,” you whined, the hand that was on your stomach sliding down your body until it was tucked between your legs. His breath hitched, the assassin suddenly finding it hard to breath. He watched your fingers skim your panties before falling limp, your moans continuing. “Please. I need you.”

Mitch struggled with what to do. His mouth watered, body burning with want. He contemplated fulfilling your pleas. It wouldn’t be the first time he pleased you while you slept, his face buried between your legs eating you out until you woke up, begging him to fuck you the rest of the night. Hell, you had done it to him multiple times. He would wake up with your mouth around his cock, bobbing quickly until he was cumming down your throat. He even woke up once when you slid down onto him, his cock buried deep in your pussy while you rode him. You both loved it when the other awoke you to such a pleasure, the eroticism filling the air with an equal amount of love.

He quickly shook his head, scolding himself. “She needs to sleep. I shouldn’t wake her for my selfish wants,” he told himself. He glanced at you, your back arching uncomfortably. He pulled the blankets further up against your body, sliding off the bed long enough to grab his pillow from the floor.

Your hand shot out in your sleep, grabbing his wrist and making his stop what he was doing. “Mitch,” you whined. “I’m so wet for you. Please.” Your hand dropped his wrist, turning in the bed. “I missed you so much. Please, make me cum like you always do.”

Mitch took a deep breath...

“Please, Mitch. I need you.”

...and left the pillow on the floor.

Lifting the end of the blankets, he crawled under them, his body completely hidden from view. He caught a whiff of your arousal, the man letting out a deep, disgruntled groan. He had missed the smell and even more, he missed the taste of you. You were writhing against the mattress, Mitch struggling to pull our panties off quickly, placing his mouth to your folds.

You let out a loud, rippling moan, pleasing Mitch’s senses. He continued to kiss at your folds softly, swiping his tongue through them occasionally. You whimpered loudly, moaning for more. The noises made him cocky, trailing kisses up and down your thighs teasingly, uncaring that he was scratching at your skin with his beard. The scratches just made you quiver more, releasing more juices for him.

“Whatever you are dreaming about made you really wet, baby,” he hummed from under the blanket, not getting a response. The man snickered to himself, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. You moaned again for him, legs trying to rub the ache away. “You want me to please you, baby? You missed me that much that you’re dreaming about what I can do to you?”

“Mitch,” you whimpered, hand landing over his head through the blanket. “I need you so bad. More, please.” Your back arched, Mitch sucking at your clit as you did. “Fuck, more! I need you! It’s been too long.”

“You want more?” he teased, knowing he wouldn’t get a response. “I’ll give you more.”

His tongue delved deep inside your pussy, lapping at the uices you secreted without knowing, your unknown dream stimulating your nerves. You mewled his name under your breath, tossing and turning from side to side. Mitch’s veiny hands kept a hold on your hips, keeping you from moving too much so his mouth could focus on its mission.

His tongue circled inside you, tracing your sensitive walls, savoring the taste you left on his tongue. The tip barely brushed you g-spot, but when it did, you squeaked his name with a breathy noise, hands grasping at the pillows and blankets. Beads of sweat ran down your forehead, panting for air like a dog in heat. He could feel the heat radiating from every pore of your body, his kisses leaving a smoldering trail of fire across your skin and innards. His scruff scraped against your thighs whenever he moved, red marks left in its wake.

He backed away slightly, allowing one finger to slide inside you, testing the waters before adding a second finger. The tips and knuckles curled a bit, his week-long untrimmed nails scraping at your delicate walls pleasurably. He stilled knuckle deep, playing with your sweet spot with a simple curl of the two fingers, as if to tell you to come here. His tongue danced around the entrance to your pussy, slipping in with his fingers only to feel your walls around him tighten, hugging him for dear life.

“More,” you pleaded with a strained voice. “Please, more.”

Mitch smiled against you, a smile that was reserved only for you. His fingers began thrusting slowly, speeding up gradually over time. His mouth moved strictly to your clit, toying with the swollen nub relentlessly, flicking at it without remorse. His lips would wrap around it, tugging at it with either his lips or his teeth until it was erect, enlarged by your arousal. He greedily continued to suck at the engorged nub, selfishly and hungrily ravishing it.

He felt you clenching around his fingers the faster he went. Your breathing had picked up, chest heaving rapidly. You mewled his name, Mitch knowing you were growing close even in your unconscious state. He smiled to himself, releasing your hips completely. His hand slid into his boxer briefs, his cock pulsing from the skim of his fingers, wishing, too, to be pleased. He carefully took himself in his hand, stroking his cock, keeping pace with this thrusts into your core. He groaned against your clit from his own stimulation, his mind buzzing with lust and affection.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your clit, smearing the precum over the tip. “I missed you, baby. So much,” he groaned, replacing his fingers with his mouth, savagely attacking your pussy with licks. You were tossing more on his bed, legs hugging his head to your core. Your moans grew in volume, body shaking against the sheets. “Come on,” he whispered into you. “Cum for me. Let me taste your sweet nectar, baby.”

You let out a drawn out moan, slumping into the bed. Mitch groaned against your core, lapping every drop of your juices that washed out during your orgasm. It splashed against in tongue in waves, your husband drinking every ounce you gave him shamelessly. He savored the taste, every memory you shared together racing through his mind from the single sip.

He was glad to be home finally.

He stayed under the blankets as you body relaxed, limbs going limp against the sheets. He waited for a sign - any indication of what was beyond the fleece that shielded him. He finally felt your fingers curl over the top of his head, tapping twice. The assassin let out a small chuckle, crawling up your body until his head poked free, resting on your stomach.

“Hi,” you breathed. You stared down at him with a lazy smile, eyes cloudy with sleep and desire. Your hand ran through his hair, pushing it back. The assassin let out a content sigh, both arms wrapping around you, relaxing against your body. “That’s some way to wake up.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled into your stomach. “I was awake and you kept moaning for more. I got a little…”

“Horny?” you hummed, twirling his hair around your fingers. “Eager? Needy? Desperate?”

“Aroused,” he clarified. He pushed up your nightgown, his stubble scratching at your skin when he kissed your stomach. “God, I love hearing you moan. I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted a little taste.”

“A little, huh?”

“Just a little,” he repeated. He glanced up at you, eyes locking. “What were you dreaming about?”

“You,” you told him, Mitch deadpanning. “What? I was!”

“Specifically?”

“The things you do to me,” you whispered, almost shyly. “The things you did to me before you left. And the things I still want you to do to me.” You licked your lips slowly, peering at the man. “The things I want you to do as if we were on our honeymoon finally.”

Mitch looked away, biting his lip. “A dream just like mine,” he mumbled.

“What?” Mitch blinked, looking back at you. “What do you mean like yours?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Is that why you were awake?” You asked him. “Did little Mitchy have a wet dream about me?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, your face going blank in shock. “I dreamt about us going on a honeymoon to some exotic beachfront, just the two of us. I tied you up and fucked you silly.”

“Is that so?” you asked.

“You called me daddy,” he pointed out, your face flushing.

“I didn’t know you liked that,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Did you like it?”

“I won’t lie, baby. It was hot as balls,” he chuckled. “To see and hear you give in the way you did. It was… beyond amazing. It was incredible. Stunning. Wonderful. And so god damn sexy. I have never seen you that submissive and I loved it. You wanted me more than ever.”

“What happened because of this dream?” You asked, shifting in the bed until you were sitting upright. Mitch’s head between your legs once more.

Mitch hesitated, almost ashamed to come clean. “You made me cum.” He pursed his lips, rolling on his back to stare at the ceiling. “Literally, not just in the dream. I woke up with a hard on right after I orgasmed in my sleep. And fuck, it was a great orgasm.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. One of the best I’ve ever had. They’re always great with you but this one was… otherworldly. I was seeing stars.” He pushed his boxer briefs down his legs, exposing his erection to you, the fabric kicked from his ankles onto the floor. He carefully grasped himself in his hand, stroking his length slowly. “I’m still horny from it all.”

“And this isn’t just because we haven’t seen each other for weeks? Because we haven’t touched each other. Or had sex. Even masturbated.”

His forehead wrinkled, leaning back to look at you upside down. “You didn’t masturbate while i was gone?”

“It wasn’t the same without you here,” you replied. “Porn doesn’t cut it. Vibrators don’t cut it. I just wanted you.”

“Damn. Should I feel guilty that I masturbated while I was on my mission?” he said, rolling onto his stomach. “Like, every night that I was alone, not chasing some guy with a gun. Hand around my cock, thinking about you riding me until I was cumming all over my bare chest.”

“Mmm, Mitch,” you whimpered. The ache was forming once more between your legs. He didn’t stop.

“Sometimes I thought about fucking you from behind in the kitchen, pounding your sweet little pussy while you make us dinner.”

“Mitch, please,” you whimpered louder. Mitch sat up slowly, nestling between your legs, tugging at the straps of your nightgown.

“Or, there are the times we do it in the shower. Your back against the wall while I thrust into you, then you drop to your knees and suck me off. Your hands grab my ass while you deepthroat me. God, you have the best mouth.”

“Mitch, this isn’t nice,” you whined. His lips met your neck, sucking dark marks to it before trailing them down to your shoulder, pulling the straps down your arms completely. The front of your nightgown was resting just below your breasts, the round, perky mounds free to the chilly air.

“Why?” he asked, pushing you back slightly, kissing along your collarbone. You mewled quietly, struggling to push your legs together, the muscled man keeping you from doing just that. His form stood in the way, contributing to the ache that was growing in your bones. His strong hands roamed your body. His hips rolled against yours whenever he inched closer to kiss you, his lips finding home at every nook and cranny of your torso.

Your hands threaded through his hair, his face buried between your breasts. He purposefully was avoiding your nipples, teasing you with light touches that felt like a gentle breeze passing over you. You arched into him, mewling quietly. “Because.”

“Because why?”

He kissed around each breast in a figure eight, listening to you whine for more. Your hands tugged restlessly at his hair, pleading under your breath. “Because I need you,” you uttered through scattered breaths. “You’re making me so damn hot and bothered.”

“Why?” he asked playfully. “Do I turn you on by talking about the things I think about when i masturbate? Shouldn’t you be flattered that I think about you as much as I do when I’m away? You’re always on my mind when I’m a mission because the faster I get it done, the faster I get back home to you to fulfill those fantasies I picture.”

“Mitch.”

He kissed your chest, taking your nipple between his lips, toying with it for a moment before releasing it with a loud pop. “You like hearing me talk about when I hold my cock in my hand, jerking it until i can’t any more. But all I wish is that it’s your hand or your mouth pleasing me. You’re the master at making me cum, baby. You feel way better than my hand.”

“Mitch,” you said louder, voice cracking.

“Sometimes, I wish you would just walk into the room while I’m masturbating because you were watching me and you wanted a piece of the action. You love to watch me stroke my long, hard cock. Then, you blow me until I cum down your throat. You wrap your tits around me until I cum on them and your face. Then I fuck you until we can’t can’t fuck anymore,” he continued to say, plucking your nipples with his teeth and lips until they were stiff mountains of eroticism.

“Mitch!” You finally screamed, pushing him back. You grimaced slightly when his teeth nearly clamped down on your nipple in surprise, scrapping uncomfortably at the swollen peak. His smile flipped into a deep frown, his eyes sparking.

“What?” came his soft voice, almost fragile. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you let out, Mitch’s face showing his disbelief. “You biting me was an accident! Completely my fault. I pushed you back without you expecting it. That’s not what I’m wanting to say.”

“Then what?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you blatantly spoke. Mitch took a moment to process, the man slower than normal on this matter. He was amazingly smart and talented, Orion’s star member, but the cogs weren’t turning at nearly four in the morning. He blinked once, eyes narrowing on your face, lips parting.

“I’m sorry,” he hummed, inching closer to you. His cock pressed against your core, sliding through your folds as he spoke slowly. His voice was deep and husky, a certain gruffness make your heart race. “I don’t think I quite heard you right. Do you mind,” he paused, licking his lips slowly with a glint in his dark eyes, “repeating that for me?”

“I. Want. You. To.” you stopped, pushing yourself up on the bed until your lips hit the shell of his ear, the man shivering. “Fuck. Me. Mitch. Rapp.”

You were pulled completely off the bed in a flash, your head spinning half from the whirl and half from the pleasure that encompassed your body. You couldn’t hold back the loud moan that built in your throat, the noise directed into his ear. Your arms wrapped securely around his waist, your body pulled taut against him, his cock buried hilt deep inside you. Your knees rested on either side of him, Mitch leaning back on his knees. His hands were laid across your back, fingers spread with light scratches of his nails against your skin.

“God, I missed this,” he groaned, his bucking upwards into you. Your head buried instantly into his neck, sucking a dark mark to claim him as your as a way to stay silent. His soft, fluffy hair flopped to the side when his hair tilted away, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I love you, Y/N.”

“And I love you,” you mumbled into his neck.

Mitch smiled, hands moving to your hips, moving your body against him. The awkward position made it hard for him to easily thrust into you. Instead, he opted to help you do the work instead, guiding your body up and down atop him, his cock burying itself deep into your soaked pussy. The motion started slow and steady, quickly turning into an obnoxious slap of hips against hips, legs colliding from your sitting stance.

“Mitch,” you cooed into him. He took that as encouragement for more, his hips bucking upwards into you, your squealing moans turning into sharp screams. Your arms hugged him tighter, breasts pressing against his bare pecs. Your head fell back, Mitch pressing kisses to your collarbone, never slowing his movements. The tip of his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly, the sensual rubbing of his cock against it making you shake in his hold. “Fuck, just like that.”

“You like that?” he asked breathlessly. He pushed the nightgown up so it was a bundle of fabric above your navel, his grip tightening and his fingers drawing circles against your stomach. His hips bucked upwards, pistoning as fast as he could into you. “You like when I fuck you like this?”

“God yes,” you cried out, a hard tug on his hair following. “More!”

You pulled roughly this time, Mitch losing his balance and falling forward slightly. You squealed as you fell back on the bed, his cock never leaving you. Your head hit the pillow, hazy eyes staring up at the man. He had caught himself before he collapsed on top of you, straightening his back. Your eyes met from afar, the same lustful look glistening within your irises.

His arms ducked under your legs, the backs of your knees matching the bend of his elbows, your feet dangling helplessly in the air. His fingers left bruises from their hold on your thighs. Before you could blink, his hips snapped into yours, deep pounding thrusts slapping into you. You screamed his name, back arching and eyes closing, writhing on the bed from the pleasure. The assassin kept a strong pace, his chest heaving with pants from his powerful thrusts. Your legs and breasts bounced with each thrust forward. Your bodies slapped together noisily, the room flooded with moans and echoing skin.

“Oh God,” you rasped. “I’m cumming, Mitch,” you moaned. Your back arched further off the bed, palming your own breasts to push yourself over the edge. Mitch watched you tweak your own nipples, turning into a moaning mess. “I’m cumming!”

He groaned loudly at the hugging walls around his cock, slowing his thrusts to a gentle push. Your juices washed around him for the second time that night, your body shaking from the intense orgasm Your vision spotted, feeling the waves of juices seep out of you and into his skin, Mitch’s tantalizingly slow thrust prolonging the high you were having. It was worse when his fingers skimmed your clit, pressing down on it for added effect.

He pulled out of you, turning you on your side. You sighed sadly when he curled up behind you, his arm around your waist. You weren’t satisfied. You felt empty and incomplete. Your body was craving more from your time apart. At this point, you were fully prepared to take him until you couldn’t any longer, sleep the last thing on your list of priorities.

“Mitch-” you started, turning to him. You were silenced when his lips met yours, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. You melted into his touch, lips like jigsaw pieces coming together. Your lips parted to allow his tongue free reign to wander between your cheeks, your husband taking full advantage of the access. His nude body inched closer to you, your mouths moving together. Whenever he pulled away for a small puff of air, the sound of your lips disconnecting - a resounding smooch - rang through our ears, your body buzzing before he leaned in for more. Your lips never stopped moving against each other, spending multiple minutes in each others grasps kissing.

Your hand carefully grasped his cock, stroking him soothingly, the man groaning against your lips. He pulled away with a soft smack, wetting his swollen lips with a swipe of the tongue. Your lips matched his - plump and red and deliciously kissable still. He kissed down your cheek, your head tilting away to give him access to your neck. The tip of his cock slid along your folds between your legs, the man thrusting between your thighs playfully.

“Mitch,” you whimpered. “Please. I want more of you.”

“What do you want?” he asked. Walking two fingers up your body, cupping your breast. His fingertips dusted over the nipples, your whines growing. “Tell me, baby. What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me hard and fast until I can’t see straight,” you pleaded. “I want you to choke me until I’m seeing stars.” You turned to stare into his whiskey eyes, kissing him softly. “I want you to cum inside me, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, cucking into your backside. “Say it again.”

“It?”

“You know,” he grumbled. “Say it and I will fulfill your request. Say it and I will fuck you until the sun rises.” He connected your lips, tugging your lip with his teeth. “Say it and I will please you like you’ve never been pleased.”

“You know, that’s kind of hard considering you always please me,” you joked. Mitch’s expression didn’t reflect your amusement. “Fine.” Clearing your throat, you said with your heart racing in the most seductive voice possible, “Fuck me, daddy.”

“God, that’s better than my dream,” he groaned, lifting your leg, his cock sliding in easily. You let out a straggled moan in response, not recognizing when he draped your leg back over his body, leaving your legs parted and his hands free. One arm slithered under your head while the other found refuge on your chest, his hips speeding up against your ass. It wasn’t long until he was pounding into you, his hips colliding with your ass in deafening slaps.

“Fuck!” You screamed loudly, clawing at the sheets and pulling them from the edges of the mattress. Your words egged the assassin on, his thrusts sliding deep inside you. His cock pulsed, twitching from left to right, making your body flare up like the sun. The tip hit your g-spot and cervix, rattling your nerves and sending goosebumps up your spine.

Your ass pressed back against his hips, Mitch stilling to allow you to thrust. He listened to you moan his name loudly while trying to suppress his own moans. His abs tightened when he sat u slightly, watching the smooth motion of his cock emerging from your core, covered in layers of arousal before easing back in with a slick sound. Your ass jiggled when it hit his hips, Mitch wetting his lips slowly. He hardened more inside you just from the sight, earning another loud moan.

“Daddy loves when you ride his cock,” Mitch breathed into your ear, moving his hand to palm your ass instead. He pulled back slightly, his hand connecting to your skin with a smack, almost like the crack of a whip. You moaned loudly for him, Mitch repeating the action. His thrusts resumed, swapping between ravenous thrusts and vicious slaps. Your ass was red with handprints, your nerves at their peak.

“Fuck, Mitch,” you mewled, clawing at his hand. “More, daddy. Please. Fuck me.”

He grunted in satisfaction, eyes closing to focus on his movements. The hand under your head wound around your throat in a tight grip, constricting your airway but remaining loose enough to not choke you to death like you knew he could. Black spots formed in your sight, but your body was on cloud nine, floating in a different plane completely. The pleasure of his pistoning cock was amplified, the smoldering fire inside you becoming a raging wildfire that control your entire form. Your body tingled, your mind a blur so much that you didn’t recognize the rubbing on your clit from his other hand.

“F-Fuck,” you struggled to say, losing yourself to the ecstasy. “M-Mitch.”

“Shit,” he grunted lowly, his throat vibrating with the sound. His eyes closed, chasing the orgasm he wished to have - the one he knew he was about to have. He could feel the pressure building inside him. He was bound to explode at any second and he was more than ready for it. He carefully tilted your head towards him, his eyes cracking open with a glazed look. “I love you, Y/N Rapp.”

His grip loosened, allowing you to speak properly. Your lips brushed his as you spoke in a soft tone, “I love you, Mitch Rapp.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, the two sealed tight together. His hips bucked wildly against you, his sloppy thrusts sputtering. His cock twitched, your walls tightened. Your fingers laced together until your bodies were exploding with fireworks simultaneously, slowing to careful thrusts. Your juices flowed around him like a waterfall, hugging him like he was your lifeline. His white, hot seed spewed from the tip, the strings coating your walls and mixing with your arousal inside you. You clung to him just as much as he clung to you, neither of you wanting to let the other go.

He slowly pulled away from the kiss, licking his lips to savor the taste before letting his eyes flutter open once more, meeting your direct stare. You gave him a gentle smile, brushing your fingers through his hair and along his stubbled jaw, connecting his hidden moles.

“I love you,” you whispered again, Mitch smiling.

“I love you,” he replied, kissing your forehead. His lips lingered, resting in the comfort of your presence. It’s good to be home, he told himself, wanting the moment to be everlasting.

You shuffled in his hold, taking his hand and kissing his fingertips. He sighed, knowing he needed to move, his cock already going limp inside you. Your bodies were coated in sweat, genitals dripping with a mixture of fluids. He slowly pried his hand from yours, leaving another kiss on your forehead before slipping from your core and sliding off the bed.

You watched him waddle towards the bathroom, grinning at his cute ass in the darkness. “You know, you have the best ass?” you called out, covering your head with the blanket when he flicked on the light. Your ears perked up at his deep chuckle. “What? It’s true. Your training shaped that ass in the best way. Have you seen it? And you have these cute little moles along your skin. Little constellations because you are out of this world.”

“That was cheesy,” he laughed. You heard the cabinets slam and the water run, knowing he was grabbing a wet cloth. “And never call my ass cute again please. It’s just…”

Mitch paused in his thought, his eyes staring at an object on the counter. His brow knit together, his shaky hand extending to pick it up. He stared at it for a moment, trying to process what he was staring at. He wasn’t sure how he had missed it earlier.

“Babe?” he called, your head peeking out of the covers.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, crawling out of bed. You rubbed at your eyes to try and adjust to the light, padding your way towards him. You stopped in the doorway when you saw what he was holding. “Oh.”

“Is this…” he started, his mouth dry. Yet, his voice held a hint of excitement, his feet moving one at a time closer to you. “Is this for real?”

“Yes,” you told him calmly, your smile large.

“We’re pregnant?” he asked, handing you the stick the words clearly reading ‘pregnant’ in bold, blue letters. “This is real?”

“It’s real, Mitch,” you whispered. “I took three boxes and they all said the same thing. I still need to schedule an appointment just to be completely sure but-” you stopped, taking his hand and resting it on your stomach. “There’s a mini assassin in the making.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to surprise you after we got some rest. You got home late and I wanted to tell you in person.”

He blinked. “That’s why you waited up.”

“You caught me,” you laughed. “Assuming I’m right, I would be about a month along.”

“The not-honeymoon yet still honeymoon sex,” he grinned, pulling you closer. He kissed your forehead softly, your head burying in his chest. “You know this means you aren’t leaving my sight anytime soon. I’m not risking losing you or the baby.”

“I know,” you said. “But I don’t have anything to worry about because I’m married to my best friend and the best assassin the CIA could ever ask for. And I know you would never let anything hurt us.”

“The faith you have in me,” he hummed. His hands cupped your face, lifting it to face him. “Y/N, we’re having a baby.”

“We’re having a baby,” you told him, hugging him. Mitch smiled largely, larger than ever. “We’re starting a family.”

He laughed, lifting you from the ground and spinning you in circles, listening to your adorable laughter. Neither of you cared that you were nearly nude at it was the odd hours of the night. You were ecstatic beyond belief. “We’re starting a family!” he cried, placing you on the floow, peppering your face in kisses. His lips rested against your forehead, kissing it repeatedly, mumbled over and over, “we’re having a baby.” You melted into his arms, letting yourself relax in the moment.

He finally pulled away long enough to clean your bodies, fixing your nightgown when he was done. You were lifted from the ground, Mitch carrying you back to the bed. He tucked you in before grabbing the discarded boxer briefs from the floor, adjusting the band. The sun’s rays peered through the curtains, Mitch crawling into his spot by your side.

“I told you I would fuck you until the sun came up,” he joked. You yawned at him in response, Mitch laughing. “Get some more sleep, baby. You need it and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You need to sleep too,” you mumbled sleepily. “Just don’t have any more wet dreams about me.”

He let out a sarcastic snort at your joke, nuzzling into your shoulder. You smiled, your nose digging into his hair. “No promises,” he mumbled, kissing your shoulder this time. “I can never stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and you just have this way with me.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m mad about these wet dreams,” you muttered, voice fading. “Because that was amazing.”

“Just like you,” he whispered, listening to your steady breathing. Mitch followed suit quickly, hugging you to his body, never to let you go.

This is a dream come true.

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @parislight; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @honeymoonmuke; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @xmadwonderland; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @crystals-marie; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @veronicarapp; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo; @supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @malia--stilinski; @barryallenplease; @flirtstiles; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom

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perditaalottachocolate-blog · 6 years

Text

The Mistletoe Ball - ML Winter Week Day 6

Let me wish you all a very happy holiday period and only the best things coming your way in year 2018!

It's been a little over a year since I've discovered Miraculous Ladybug, and a bit less since I've stumbled into this fandom. During this year I've met some fantastic people here and for that I am very grateful. @their-destinys-writer @freedom-shamrock @seasonofthegeek @youcancallmecirce @enberlight , Remasa, to name just a few, and thank you my wonderful followers - you really make my day, my week, my month!

Thank you all for being so amazing! Treat this story as my gift to you :)

The Mistletoe Ball

Summary: December weather doesn’t make things easier for Chat, as he wants to spend some time with his Lady. Marinette finds snowballs falling all around her, courtesy of a certain feline hero. It’s a busy time for Adrien because of an upcoming charity event and Ladybug has her own ideas of how to contribute. Who will Marinette meet at the ball, standing under the mistletoe? Four drabbles on four sides of the love square.

Read it on AO3 / fanfiction.net

Chat knew it had been a bad decision even before he slipped. The rooftops of Paris were covered in a thin coat of ice from the freezing rain. The rain itself was the reason they came up with the idea of the tag game in the first place. Otherwise they were risking some serious butt frostbite.

That's why the feline hero was chasing the wet red blur ahead of him in the rising darkness of December afternoon. His hectic schedule barely made it possible to get some well deserved time for personal enjoyment. So really, patrols were the only time he could spare and he'd be damned if he wasted it because of a bit of drizzle. Well, more of a sleet right now, but he chose to ignore it in favor of the pleasant flutter of his heart as he ran after Ladybug.

The city was slowly lighting up with bright decorations prepared for the festive period. He always loved those lights and was thrilled to get to watch them this way - leaping over the roofs and admiring the subtle pattern from high up, like no one else could.

He should have minded where he put his feet instead of watching the lights. His boot caught up in a loose tile and lost traction. The other leg wasn't ready to compensate and Chat suddenly found himself free-falling. He was already prepared for a rough impact when Ladybug slammed into him, her momentum sending them to the side, rather than down. They still ended up tumbling over the street like two wet bowling balls, but it was definitely less painful than a direct meeting with the ground after a horizontal flight.

Ladybug slowed down and gracefully finished the roll by leaping to her feet. Chat wasn't that lucky. There was an open truck loaded with evergreens and mistletoe down the road and of course Chat rolled into it and got buried under hollies to the tips of his cat ears. His landing was anything but soft. Some of those twigs had very pointy needles.

'Ow, ow, ow, ow-' he complained trying to break free from the green trap.

Somewhere above him he heard the melodious laughter of the love of his life.

'Hand,' she demanded and he blindly obeyed, raising his clawed arm up. He felt fingers closing over his wrist and in a blink he was pulled out and deposited on the ground.

Chat kept his eyes closed, partly out of embarrassment and partly for protection, as he began to shake himself from the needles and twigs to Ladybug's amused chuckle. It was quickly replaced with a gasp and then silence.

The feline hero decided to open his eyes only to find her sapphires boring into him mere inches from his face. Now it was his turn to gasp in surprise, but Ladybug took care of it by grabbing him by the bell and pressing a heated kiss to his lips.

To say Chat was dumbfounded was to say the half of it. His eyes opened wide, pupils dilated and he would have inhaled sharply if his mouth hadn't been occupied. When his brain finally restarted and supplied his limbs with instructions how to reciprocate it was already over. Ladybug giggled once again, a delicious coat of pink adorning her cheeks. With a subtle wave and a whispered 'See you next patrol' she was gone.

Chat stared for a moment after her, trying to determine if it was a dream or if he hurt his head in the fall after all. He raised a hand to his hair to scratch an annoying itch and he felt a sprig tangled there. Carefully he patted his head in a few other places and came up with more twigs.

Ow. Getting rid of this mess would take a while, he thought absentmindedly pulling more random pieces out of his hair. It turned out to be a sprig of mistletoe. He pulled another one, and another. His hands quickly filled with more sprigs and he ended up with a mistletoe bouquet.

Green eyes flared at the sight and his trademark grin found its way to his face. He could work with that.

*******

Marinette wrapped herself tighter in the shawls she threw over her winter coat. The sleet from the previous evening was replaced with snow sometime during the night and now Paris was covered in a white blanket, unusually thick this early in December, but no one complained. It would be nice to have a truly white Christmas for once.

The girl quickened her pace. The air was pleasantly crispy, but still cold. She was thankful the delivery didn't take much time and she was already on her way to the comfortable warmth of her house. That was when she heard the quiet creaking of feet on snow. The pavements were clear so the sound must have been coming from the park she was walking by. Plenty of people there. Marinette shrugged. It was probably some kid enjoying the fluffy whiteness. She resumed her stroll towards home but the creaking steps followed her. Something was up.

A snowball landed a few meters ahead of her, but she ignored it. Then a second one hit the pavement less than a few steps from her. A third one followed, hitting even closer. Either someone had an extremely bad aim or they were trying to catch her attention.

Marinette huffed and turned around to see what was going on and she instantly got a face full of snow.

'Oh, god, Princess!' she heard Chat's terrified squeal. 'I'm so so so so sorry! I didn't think you'd turn around!'

The girl wiped the fluffy cold slush from her eyes and cheeks. It was a loose snow ball, and it had fallen apart at the impact, so she wasn't really hurt, just a bit wet. Nevertheless she shot her attacker a murderous glare. 'What do you want, Chat?'

Seeing that she was mostly okay, Chat put on his easy grin and strutted nonchalantly her way with the swagger of a very tipsy sailor in a storm. It didn't even take Marinette's acquaintance with him to see he was up to no good.

'Nuffin,' he murmured nearing her. His teeth were now fully visible with the width of his grin.

'So you just felt like throwing snow at me?' She raised a brow in disbelief.

'Ah, I may have wanted to show you something,' he replied slyly, invading her personal space. At her questioning gaze he only pointed a clawed finger up, above their heads.

Marinette automatically followed it to where a bunch of mistletoe sprigs dangled from the end of Chat's own tail. Before she even understood what she was looking at, she felt his lips brushing her cheek.

The girl gasped and spluttered but all she was left with was Chat's snicker echoing in her ears as the feline hero was already leaping to the rooftop. Once safely above her, he turned around and shot her a brief salute. 'See ya, Princess!' he yelled and disappeared among the chimneys.

Marinette felt the blush creeping its way to her cheeks. Her scowl dissolved into a tender smile as soon as he turned around. She giggled happily, her hand tracing the slightly damp patch of smooched skin. When she reached to her pocket for her mittens, she found an envelope loosely tucked in there. The sneaky mangy tomcat!

The girl opened the envelope. Inside, she found a tiny sprig of mistletoe tied with pink ribbon and a heavy piece of handmade paper. Her jaw dropped immediately as she read the stylish, round letters of the invitation.

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

Adrien was having another one of those days when everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. At the moment he was stepping from one foot to the other and rubbing his hands together in vain attempt to warm himself up as he waited for his father to get to the set. The photoshoot for the Mistletoe Ball advertisements was scheduled to be over an hour ago but it didn't look like they'd be finished any time soon. The boy sighed. Chat was supposed to be meeting Ladybug for patrol around this time. It was clear that wouldn't happen today. He was hoping his partner wouldn't worry too much.

The idea was to get some tasteful picture of the two Agrestes, as the hosts of the first Mistletoe Ball, a charity event Adrien convinced his father to throw just before Christmas. The idea was supposed to be sound and simple. What Adrien forgot to take into consideration, was that nothing was simple in case of Gabriel Agreste. First, the man showed up late because of an unexpected crisis that needed his attention. Then he criticized the outfits prepared for them and demanded substantial changes. While they waited for the new clothes to be delivered he inspected the decorative arc made of hollies that was supposed to be their background, and discovered the lack of their theme plant. Finding no mistletoe he barked another order and Nathalie rushed to organize some fresh sprigs. And finally when everything was ready, he got attacked by a pigeon, the poor creature possibly thinking he was some sort of huge candy cane, and the man's hair got severely ruffled. A hairdresser had to be called as Gabriel didn't trust the stylist present on the set enough to let him touch his precious hair.

Adrien shivered under the heavy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was wearing a smart suit underneath, coupled with a white and green striped tie, to match his father's favorite white and red one. By no means a winter outfit. Left to himself he wandered over to the decorative arc where he could be alone for a while. He nearly missed the characteristic swoosh of a yoyo and light steps approaching him from behind the hollies.

The boy turned around just in time to see Ladybug marching up to him with a mischievous smirk. Her eyes gleamed and her lips sparkled, as red as the berries on the branches of the hollies.

'Hey, handsome,' she practically purred, halting to a stop in front of him and effectively rendering him speechless. 'I'm glad to be at the right place at the right time,' she chuckled, casting a quick glance to the top of the arc where an impressive bunch of mistletoe sprigs spinned happily in the wind. Then without further ado she grabbed his face and pressed her red lips to his cheek. The heroine quickly pulled out and shot him a saucy wink while the crew caught onto her presence and started cheering and hooting at the sight of the two of them.

Ladybug silently pointed to the mistletoe as if explaining her prank, and then with a self satisfied smirk she was gone, leaving the stunned blond model behind. Adrien felt the blush blooming on his cheeks and slowly crawling up to his ears. He wasn't sure if the thick layer of foundation would be enough to conceal it.

Gabriel chose that moment to appear on the set again and to Adrien's utmost horror got instantly not only briefed with the heroine's occurrence, but also presented with visual evidence, as the photographer turned out to be quick with his cell phone. A mysterious smile danced across the designer's lips as he watched the viciously red imprint of Ladybug's lips on Adrien's cheek bone. And if Adrien thought he couldn't be more embarrassed, he clearly underestimated his father once again, as Gabriel insisted on leaving the imprint for the session as a clear addition to their theme plant.

**********

Marinette arrived at the Mistletoe Ball fashionably late. Of course she never intended it this way. Faithful to her style she just fell asleep in the afternoon after pulling a few all-nighters to get the dress ready. Now she was standing at the foyer, waiting for the official part to be over. From behind the heavy doors to the ballroom she could hear strong voices of Gabriel and Adrien, making their welcome speech and answering journalists' questions. Nothing really interesting in that part, she just needed it to be over so that she could slip inside.

The girl inspected her reflection in a large gold-framed mirror. The evening dress turned out really nicely - the deep magenta an unorthodox choice of color for a Christmas themed ball, but it complemented her hair and skin tone perfectly. A tight bodice nicely hugged her figure, leading down to where the skirt flared from her waist. For a festive sparkle Marinette added some Swarovski crystals along the boat neckline and in an asymmetric triangle inset on the skirt, giving the garment a princessy vibe, without making it overwhelming.

The speeches dragged on, so the girl moved to look at the posters for the gala, displayed prominently on the stands down the corridor. A small smile appeared on her face as she admired her alter ego's lipwork on Adrien's cheek, captured for posterity in the pictures from the eventful photoshoot. She had to hand it to the boy; he was a professional. She could spot the embarrassment in his eyes only because she knew it was there. For everyone else he looked every bit the confident host of the Mistletoe Ball he should be. Next to him, Gabriel Agreste was wearing a shameless smirk and not even trying to hide his amusement. The result was one of the funniest photos of the Agrestes, and it did a marvelous job in advertising the event. It was already obvious that Adrien's first initiative resulted in great success and there were rumors spreading of turning it into an annual thing.

Marinette hadn't noticed when the monotonous oration turned into delicate music and the susurrations of the party getting started. She realized it just as strong hands snaked their way around her waist and closed over her tummy. She felt the characteristic cool of the silver ring on her skin, even through the layers of her dress. Light breath warmed her earlobe.

'You look gorgeous in this dress, my Lady,' Marinette heard a whisper by her ear and felt Adrien nuzzling the hair at the base of her neck, where a few strands slipped from the high bun. She hummed happily and turned around only to snort when she saw an impressive sprig of mistletoe tucked behind his ear, decorated with a green bow.

'What?' he asked feigning confusion.

Marinette gave the sprig a playful tug. 'I guess now I have to kiss you, Minou,' she sighed in mock complain.

'Not if I kiss you first,' Adrien murmured closing the distance between them and claiming her lips. The kiss was lazy and gentle, with just a hint of spice that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine to where his hands rested at the small of her back. Marinette could hear the purr starting deep in his throat and she gave in to the temptation to set it free. Just as she ran her tongue over the seam of his lips as a signal to deepen the kiss, she heard someone clearing their throat.

The pair slowly broke from the kiss and turned to the source of the sound.

Gabriel Agreste was standing at the now closed door to the ballroom, a tall blonde woman wrapped in a dazzling blue gown at his side. Her green eyes warmed as she nodded to Marinette.

The man shook his head in disbelief, composing his features into a mild frown. 'Adrien, do you really need a social cue to kiss your own girlfriend?' he asked, eyeing the mistletoe behind his son's ear. He kept his voice stern, although there was a mirthful lilt to it.

Adrien shrugged and winked at the girl. 'No, not really. Just, you know, a little inside joke.'

'Then you better take it off, dear,' Madame Agreste smiled wickedly, 'I think I saw Chloe heading this way, and you know how she is when she sees mistletoe.'

As Adrien tried to untagle the sprig from his hair, Marinette wondered if the look of pure horror and disgust in his eyes matched her own. She felt her facial muscles stiffened at the reminder of the last time Queen Bee assaulted her under the mistletoe. The girl made a mental note to avoid their friend and mistletoe traps. Speaking of traps…

'Funny you should say that, Madame Agreste,' Marinette giggled and pointed over the woman's head.

Gabriel and Emilie raised their eyes to the ceiling and they chuckled when they saw a generous bunch of mistletoe hanging there, covered in golden ribbons. They both pursed their lips to keep the outburst of laughter inside, but then the man's eyes darkened and a delicate pink brushed his wife's cheeks. Gabriel lifted his hand to Emilie's face and tenderly stroked his thumb over the blush. She took a step closer and splayed her palms on his chest. His icy blue eyes softened when they locked onto the warm green fringed with long dark lashes. They gazed at each other for a moment and then gave in to the mistletoe call.

Whoops, I guess I forgot to mention this is post-reveal and established relationship? My bad :D

If you are one of those people who need to know what is Mrs. Agreste doing there, and how come they are all on such good terms, I suggest you read a possible scenario that could lead to this. It's a story by my miraculous friend Remasa: "No One Mourns a Villain" posted on fanfiction.net .

Once again, Merry Christmas!

#ml winter week #day 6: mistletoe #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #adrinette #mistletoe #kissing #mistletoe ball #miraculous christmas #gabriel agreste #mrs. agreste #emilie agreste #gabrielie

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arcadenemesis · 6 years

Text

Happy Holidays and to those who celebrate it, Merry Christmas! My terrible gift to you is another chapter of this mess.

Laws of The Universe

[ao3 link] words: 10k, ch: 3/6

Chapter 3: Motion

3AM blinked at him in angry red, as if admonishing him for still being conscious at such an absurd hour. His trip to the Garrison Space Centre had been brief and frustrating, impeded by the presence of the case’s lead detective and Prosecutor Holt. He had barely had a chance to question any Centre employees or inspect the crime scene before Holt had ordered him off-premises, furious and intimidating even shackled in his heavy handcuffs. Shiro was still at a loss as to how the man was heading the case against Kolivan. As far as he understood it, the jailbird Prosecutor was on death row for the murder of a gifted robotics technician seven years ago at the very same Centre. His father, no less. Never minding the sheer mind boggling aspect that the man was somehow still legally allowed to practice law, it just seemed in poor taste for him to be leading the case for another murder at the Centre all these years later.

Shiro shook his head, trying to refocus. The decisions of the District Attorney’s office were none of his concern, and he could waste his time pondering the ethics involved in the loopholes later - after he had solved Keith’s murder. The answer had to be here, somewhere in the mountain of evidence from the Garrison Centre. Somehow the pieces of the puzzle still floated around him though, staying just out of his reach so he couldn't start fitting them together. He pinched his eyes closed in frustration, reaching up to grip his bandaged shoulder. He could almost picture Keith scolding him now, a fond turn of his lips undermining his tone.

“Idiot.” His voice was quiet and low. Intimately so. “You need to rest. Even the Voltron Law Office’s brightest star can’t keep solving cases on no sleep.”

He leaned in, and Shiro could smell the faint mix of lemongrass and motor oil that belonged only to him, feel the warmth of skin as he reached out to touch…

Shiro startled himself awake, head whipping to the clock on the desk. 3:04AM. His eyes shot back to the empty space before him, trying to stop his chest from heaving and fighting the itch in his throat.

It was at a moment like this he wish he had some kind of vice - alcohol, a tendency for reckless daredevil activities, anything - to keep him running from the reality of everything that had happened these last few days. He ran his hand over his face, stubble scratching at his palm, and turned back to his stone cold coffee. The spilled contents of his case file strewn across the desk gave him pause and he released a humourless sound.

Maybe he really did have a vice after all.

"What's going in that head of yours there, Supernova?”

Keith blinked at the nickname, eyes refocusing on Shiro again. “Ah… um, it's just, I realised…” He turned his attention back to the wrench, tightening the front wheel axle. He took his time to complete his thought while Shiro waited patiently. “I guess I only just realised I've known you longer now than I knew my dad.”

Shiro stopped still. For him, they had passed that milestone very early in their friendship with little fanfare. But only because he hadn't had a chance to know his parents at all. The moment for Keith would undeniably hold far more weight, and Shiro was at a loss for what to say.

“Keith…” he started, hoping the words would just come.

The budding astronaut looked up to him with a smile, wiping the sweat from his forehead, only to smear it with the grease on the back of his glove. “I'm fine,” and Shiro felt a swell of pride. “I guess I'm just glad that you're still here.”

Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “I always will be,” he said seriously.

Keith reached up to place a hand over Shiro’s briefly with a smile. But when he tried to turn back to his bike, Shiro captured his chin gently. Caught off-guard for a moment, he quickly levelled him with a suspicious glare. “What are you doing?”

In reality, Shiro was trying not to internally combust over how easily Keith's jaw fit in the palm of his hand. Or how soft and warm his skin was under his fingers. Instead, he calmly plucked the clean rag off of the motorcycle seat. “Hold still, you've got shit all over your face.”

Keith's immediate reaction of course was to squirm away. “Get off me! I'm not a baby!” he protested as Shiro tried to grip him a little more forcefully into place.

“Don't be a pain in the ass, I'm just trying to hel—ah!!”

The yelp - one that Shiro was definitely going to deny making later - came out about two octaves higher than he would ever care to admit physically possible as Keith threw an elbow into his solar plexus, trying to knock him down. Briefly they wrestled, and early Shiro had the upper hand easily. But in a moment of real fear that Keith would abandon the sentiment of two minutes ago to skin him alive if he knocked over his beloved bike, Shiro found himself pinned to the floor, with 170 pounds of amateur mechanic planted firmly on his stomach.

“Idiot,” Keith said almost fondly, before pulling the hem of Shiro's cotton shirt up to his face to wipe it clean.

“H-hey!” he complained, furiously fighting down the electric hum that had settled under his skin. The vision of Keith above him like this was far too much for his latent feelings to handle. If he didn't get control again soon, Shiro knew his body would betray him in the worst way. But before he could think of a way to dislodge him in a way that wouldn't involve recklessly grabbing hold his hips, Keith jumped away, watching with a grin as the law student curled up to take note of the damage to his shirt.

“Don't get that on my bike.”

“Really?” Shiro gave him a dry look, releasing the material. His next words left him before his mind caught up. “I could take it off it it bothers you so much.”

Keith’s eyes widened ever so slightly, before he quickly spun on his heels to return to the bike with a scowl. “Don't be dumb.”

Quickly laughing the comment off, Shiro jumped up to his feet. Keith half-heartedly shoved him off as he scruffed at his hair, returning to the other side of the bike.

“Try to be useful,” the younger man teased, tossing the cleaning rag at Shiro’s face. “Pass me that screwdriver.”

The two worked in silence for hours, Shiro stealing glances at the easy smile on Keith’s lips. His love for his bike was second only to his love for space, and Shiro took joy at observing it from such close proximity. He knew to see him like this was a privilege that no one else had. And he treasured it dearly. He was loathe to interrupt it, but it had to be getting late.

“We should wrap up, Keith.”

He didn’t look up. “Another thirty.”

Shiro leaned back with a sigh. “Come on, surely you’re hungry.”

All he received in response was a shrug.

“Okay, well I’m hungry.”

Keith glanced up guiltily at that, putting down his tools immediately and wiping his hands on his jeans. "I have something stashed in the mini fridge. Give me a sec. I’ll meet you on the roof.”

When Shiro pulled up the roller door, he was surprised to find it was already dark outside. Keith followed him up onto the roof only a few minutes later, tossing something foil-wrapped and cold at him. Stomach growling, he ripped the foil off, biting into it indiscriminately. He gave a muffled sound of approval while Keith just shook his head with a quiet laugh, unwrapping his own parcel with a little more care.

”Whoever came up with the idea of meatballs... in a sub... was honestly a genius.” Shiro turned his face up as if to thank the heavens for his blessed sandwich, chewing reverently. “Mm... stars look beautiful tonight. You know what else is beautiful?”

Keith gave him a judgemental look over his own mouthful.

“Meatball subs?” he asked, deadpan.

“Meatball subs!” Shiro cried back.

Keith just rolled his eyes, hiding a smile behind his sandwich.

“Idiot.”

The shock of sunlight told Shiro he had fallen asleep properly at some point, but a cursory glance at the clock told him it was no more than 3 hours at an optimistic guess. If he had dreamed of Keith again, or the explosion, his mind had mercifully wiped it from memory. A sharp twinge down to a fist he couldn't form reminded him he was well past time for his next dosage, powering him upright past the fog in his mind to stumble into the kitchenette where he dry swallowed two more little white pills.

Waiting for the chemicals to kick in, he headed for the bathroom and started stripping down to shower, praying the warm water would bring some relief. It was still a clumsy affair alone. He was far from mastering his tasks one-handed, but he did so with a clinical detachment, as if it wasn't his own shortened arm that he was unbandaging. He stared past the sewn skin and staples as the gauze came away, turning the hot water all the way up and stepping into the spray. His skin prickled under the temperature, mottling pink immediately, and the cut over his nose stung as though fresh. He let his head hang, water cascading in rivers down to his chin as his body started to shake and heat rose behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut tightly, fighting the sensation. Bracing his fist against the shower wall, he waited there until the medically-induced numbness finally took over.

Tying the new bandage off was an exhausting exercise, completed only by holding one end between his teeth as he pulled the other tight. It was hardly hospital-grade hygienic practice, but with limited options, at least it got the job done. Frustration had spotted his lashes wet by the time he finished, but he resolutely kept his mind on task, knowing it brought him one step closer to his investigation.

He took the opportunity to go over the case file and autopsy report again during the equally slow task of getting dressed. The moment his top button was fastened, he hastily gathered it all up, shoving the documents into a shoulder bag. He paused in his rush out the door when a flash of red caught the corner of his eye. The sight of Keith's jacket laid delicately on kitchen chair made his heart squeeze painfully. He moved to it and picked it up with infinite care, stopping still to bring the collar to his lips, closing his eyes. With a shaky breath, he gathered himself, holding tight as he continued on his path.

‘Have you been here before?’

Shiro's own question echoed in his mind as he walked the steps up to the Garrison Space Centre. It had only been five days since he had last grimly taken this journey, Pidge falling out of step beside him.

‘Ah… no. Of course not,’ he heard the ghost of her voice reply. A throb went down his absent arm again. 'We should hurry…’

“Hey, hold it there! Wait up!”

Shiro suppressed a curse, recognising the voice from the previous afternoon. Turning around, he saw the owner running up the stairs and steeled his tone. “Detective,” he greeted, clipped, as the man doubled over to catch his breath, hands on his knees.

The other man looked up with a grin, still panting. “Shirogane, right? One of Voltron’s for the defense today?”

“Not at this moment,” Shiro replied, trying to sound disinterested. “We decided to… go our separate ways for now.”

The man straightened but planted his hands on the back of his hips, still visibly puffed. Shiro frowned. Weren't detectives meant to maintain some level of physical fitness? This guy was absolutely hopeless. “Oh… Well, Prosecutor Holt did ask that you not interfere when he saw you yesterday…”

Understatement of the Universe. Holt had been livid to find a defense attorney on his - quote, unquote - crime scene. The string of insults and threats that had followed had been more than enough to drive Shiro away, still honestly a little creeped out by the iron shackles on the man's wrists. Even the surrounding officers assigned to the jailed Prosecutor had seemed uncomfortable. Shiro braced himself to defend his presence better this time.

“But I mean, I could always keep an eye on your investigation if you're here while court is in-session. All in the name of justice.” The detective tapped his nose. “What Prosecutor Holt doesn't know won't hurt him. Just don't mess with anything, otherwise I'll have you kicked out of here immediately.”

Shiro's surprise was palpable. “I— uh, yes of course,” he replied dumbly. Having a shadow during his investigation was less than ideal, but it beat being booted from the Centre for the second day in a row. Besides… Shiro was fairly sure he'd be able to lose this guy by the end of the day. He didn't strike him as particularly bright…

The detective beamed up to him none the wiser, gesturing forward. “Lead the way.”

Forty-two minutes and one furious phone call straight from the Courthouse later, Shiro found himself free to wander as he pleased. He felt an absent flood of triumph when he had heard Holt shouting down the line from his spot a good seven feet away from where the detective had been standing. Apparently Allura had found evidence that had blown the case right open, and now Holt was clawing for his own to snap it shut again. It had just been a matter of waiting silently in the background while the flustered detective had desperately tried to placate his boss, running off to search another area on his orders.

Shiro stepped quietly into Boarding Lounge One, nodding to the sole officer guarding the scene. When they made no effort to immediately remove him, Shiro cast his eyes over the room. Not much had changed since his last visit, in those first few hours after the phone call that changed his life. The holographic display on the walls was still set to a splendid and entirely fantastical view of Saturn's rings from Titan. By the stationed officer, there was a control pad that led to the corridor of Launch Pad One. But Shiro felt his eyes drawn away and down to the white tape laid out on the ground to his left.

It was a surreal feeling as he approached, trying to imagine Keith lying in the shape of the outline. He kneeled beside it, careful not to disturb the evidence, and removed his satchel from his shoulder. Wincing a little, he readjusted his sling so the remainder of his right arm rested a little more comfortably against his body.

It was quick, the coroner had told him. Keith had been barely conscious when he had arrived in the lounge, having been caught in the catastrophic explosion at the HAT-2 rocket just before launch. He had endured through physical exhaustion to carry both Kolivan and precious moon rock samples from a mission seven years prior back to safety. Whoever had buried that knife in his chest had caught him unaware, and he had been dead before he hit the ground. Small mercies, they told him.

Shiro disagreed wholeheartedly.

Keith had always been full of fire. Someone who never took no for an answer and threw himself headfirst into every challenge that came his way, no matter how bleak the odds. Given even half the chance, he would have fought. God, he would have fought. And Shiro had no doubt he could have overcome. To have his opportunity to defend his life stripped away was the cruellest reality of all.

His head whipped up when he heard the hiss of a door opening, blinking away the moisture that had sprung to his eyes. But instead of the detective, Shiro saw two figures peering into the lounge. Both wore uniforms of the Garrison Centre and the larger one appeared rather on edge as his companion scanned the room from around the corner with a shifty look. Clearly he was here to pry while the lead detective was otherwise occupied. He locked gazes with Shiro and suddenly he straightened with wide eyes, yelping when his scramble to escape was immediately thwarted by running straight into his buddy. The big guy made a similarly embarrassing noise, but didn't even stumble as Agent One of the World's Worst Spy Duo bounced off of him and onto the floor.

“Hunk…” he heard him whine.

Shiro was over to them far quicker than he had any right to be with his injuries, pulling the guy up by the scruff of his blue collar. “Who are you and what are you doing at the crime scene?”

Great, now he was sounding like Prosecutor Holt.

“You sound like that grumpy convict Prosecutor.”

If Shiro had a hand to spare, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Lance,” the big guy whispered behind his hand, and Shiro deduced that subtlety was clearly not a skill taught at the Garrison, “it's the guy from Keith’s desk photo. He's got an attorney’s badge too.”

Shiro's heart jolted again, deciding not to unpack that remark for now. “Hunk and Lance then,” he sighed, releasing Lance’s jacket. He cast his mind back to the profiles of the Garrison employees in his case file, drawing the names from his memory. Lance McClain, 20. Another one of the Centre’s young astronauts. A grumpy pout sullied his angular features as he fixed his short brown hair and straightened his clothes. And Hunk Garrett, also 20. Not an astronaut but a robotics engineer. A nervous but friendly face who stood almost as tall as Shiro, but with a least 50 pounds on him. He looked like he couldn't hurt a fly. “This area is off-limits to staff until the conclusion of the investigation. Why are you here?”

Hunk broke into a sweat instantly, eyes darting around anxiously. Taking one look at him, Lance’s expression switched to exasperated pity and he took charge. “Look, don't tell Chief Iverson but Robo-boy here has lost one of his Robo-kids.”

Shiro raised a skeptical eyebrow and Lance continued sheepishly, throwing up his hands.

“And yeah okay, maybe I volunteered to help because it meant I could snoop around a little too. Sue me.” He froze then, hands still in the air, eyes fixing on the attorney’s badge on Shiro's lapel. “Ha… actually please don't.”

Shiro stared at him a moment, before deciding to move on without comment. He turned his attention to Hunk behind him. “So you lost a piece of Garrison tech and didn't tell the police?” He fought to keep his voice even and calm. “What's to say it's even here anyway? The culprit in this case could have intercepted it and moved it off-site.”

Hunk gulped. “Actually,” he pulled out a small handheld display, “all robots in the Centre are fitted with a GPS. This one is a little damaged it seems, so I can't get an accurate read, but it's definitely on this side of the centre.” He turned the display around to hand to Shiro. “See? Nothing wrong. But if Iverson finds out it's been missing then he'll tear me to shreds.”

The thought of a guy as big as Hunk cowering under the wrath of the Centre Chief was… amusing. Iverson was a man who looked like he had fought wars with his bare hands - and won - but he was a little long in the tooth, and his ambitions for space exploration gave him a bit of an eccentric vibe. Shiro knew he had been a thorn in Keith’s side at times, but was otherwise harmless, and frequently ceded to the will of the Centre’s top scientists and investors. A dog with a bark, but no bite. Shiro was curious now though. With no new real leads over the last few hours, he was willing to follow up anything. “In that case, let me help you find it. Have you been able to check the corridor to Launch Pad One?” Both men shook their heads. Shiro glanced conspiratorially toward the officer posted at the door on the other side of the room. “I'm going to get you past that guard.” He returned back to the body outline where he had left his bag, but as he stooped, a large hand crossed his vision to take hold of the strap.

“Let me.” Shiro saw Hunk eye his sling briefly, but his expression was kind and - relievingly - devoid of pity. “This way it looks like we're the ones helping you instead of the other way around.”

Shiro knew it wasn't the primary reason the engineer had taken up his bag, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Good call,” he smiled, adjusting his jacket instead. He saw Lance’s stare as he turned, fixed suddenly on his arm as if only just seeing it for the first time.

‘Not the most observant one then…’

The look of abject horror was equal parts darkly humorous and nauseating. Shiro could see the question charging on his tongue.

“Follow me and don't say anything,” he intercepted quietly.

His lips snapped shut at that. Shiro thanked God for small mercies. With as much purpose as he could muster, he strode over to the officer. He steeled himself, preparing to be shut down immediately. ‘You can do this Shiro,’ he told himself. ‘You make your living out of bluffing your way through tricky situations. It's just one guard...’ But barely a dozen words and a glance at his badge and suddenly they were being waved through into the corridor. ‘Either I'm getting good, or the Department is getting slack… Probably the latter.’ The door closed with a soft hiss and Shiro turned to face his two new companions. “Right, so—"

“You're missing an arm!!”

Hunk turned a look of pure dismay onto Lance at his outburst.

“I'm sorry!” the young astronaut screeched defensively, arms flailing. “But, I mean come on! It's just… not there!”

Hunk actually looked green, obviously humiliated. “Lance… please…”

“It's fine,” Shiro interjected with a rueful smile. “There was a bombing at the Courthouse four days ago.”

“Another bombing?” Hunk breathed, wide-eyed.

“Four days!?”

Shiro nodded to Hunk, deciding ignoring Lance flat out was the most productive course of action. “Yes. Same as the one that went off here and stopped the launch,” he said. “I was heading up the defence when the countdown reactivated.” He looked to Lance, who was now gaping openly at him. “Only casualty though,” he said wryly, waving the stump of his arm ever so slightly. He felt a wave of dark amusement as the astronaut responded with a muffled screech.

“You were Kolivan’s attorney…” Hunk realised. “Then that's why his case was postponed.”

Shiro peeled his eyes away from where Lance was short-circuiting. “It restarted today, actually.”

“Huh?” Lance had unfortunately found his voice again. “But if you were his attorney, then why are you here?” He blinked, deciding to amend. “Actually scrap that, why aren't you in hospital?!”

Shiro felt his usually enduring patience starting to run thin. “Long story,” he said, voice clipped.

“Keith,” Hunk said quietly, understanding.

Shiro swallowed through the tightness in his throat. “... Let's find this robot of yours.”

#sheith #fanfic #ace attorney au #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #vld #lotu #all i want for christmas is to finish this damn story.......

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