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lettheladylead · 3 years

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Title: A Night Out Ship: Baloo/Rebecca Summary: Rebecca decides to have a night out and goes with Baloo to hang at Louie's Place. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30942905

It wasn’t often that she humored Baloo by coming along with him to Louie’s (or that he humored her by not complaining too much when she asked). But Kit had been begging to babysit more to earn money for some new toy he wanted and Rebecca had to admit...she could use a night off. Molly was an angel, but she’d been very needy the past few days.

And it wasn’t like she had any other friends to spend time with.

So off to Louie’s they went, though Baloo was side eyeing her the entire flight there, clearly suspicious of her motivations. They’d been out before and it wasn’t a problem! She’d been to Louie’s before, no issues about it. He had no reason to think that she was being sneaky.

“So, Becks…”

“What?”

Baloo tapped his fingers against the wheel. “...you’re not gonna try to get Louie in trouble again, are ya? He’s real sorry ‘bout what happened last time!”

Rebecca scrunched her brow at her partner’s words before the memory of her last visit to Louie’s hit her: one of his regulars had groped her and Louie didn’t kick him out until she threatened to call the police. She’d completely forgotten about it thanks to how busy she’d been with work and Molly starting school soon.

“It’s fine, Baloo,” she finally replied, rolling her eyes at his loud sigh of relief. “Just so long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“Oh, no worries there!” Baloo smiled at her as the Sea Duck started down towards the water. “I personally told Ralphie to never darken Louie’s door again!”

Rebecca huffed and turned to look at the pilot next to her, thinking he was making fun of her. She stared at his face to see a surprisingly serious expression - and not his standard Gotta Land This Plane Safely look. She took another moment of staring at his profile before turning away with a slight blush on her cheeks. She’d had a long week, maybe a night of drinking too much would be exactly the break she needed.

And they were making fun of her.

They were always making fun of her, but this time she tried to play along and then it just made it worse and now she was stuck with these two boys who bounced off one another like a comedy routine while she nursed a drink that she didn’t really know what it was but it tasted good and it was her third one and she was feeling quite a lot more relaxed than she normally would have when being mocked by two absolute morons.

“Ahhh, Becky, Becky, Becky,” Louie cooed at her. “You really should drink some water. Baloo tells me you’re quite the lightweight!”

“No, no, you got it all wrong!” Baloo said with a smirk, taking a big gulp from his beer. “I didn’t say she’s a lightweight, I said she fights me about my weight!”

They laughed together - a lot harder than Rebecca thought was necessary for such a bad joke - and she responded by taking a bigger swig of her drink than she probably should’ve. She hadn’t stood up since arriving and she knew once she did, all the alcohol would hit her at once. It was nice to know she could trust Baloo to get her home safe, at least. If nothing else, he was a good guy.

“Don’t you two have any material that isn’t at my expense?” she said, leaning on one arm. “Like if there was a different girl here, how would you entertain her?”

Louie and Baloo locked eyes for a quick moment before turning back to her. “If there was a different girl here, then we’d be having a very different -”

Baloo cut off his friend with a hand over his mouth and glared. Louie shrugged and laughed as the bear pulled his hand away. “What he’s trying to say, Becks, is that you’re a classy lady. Louie’s Place doesn’t get a lot of classy ladies, so most of our jokes aren’t exactly your style.”

“Oh? Since when do you care about my style?” Rebecca laughed, snorting once and immediately trying to hide it by taking another sip of her drink. “Considering the kinds of things you say to me on a daily basis, I can’t imagine you’re holding back.”

“Izzat true, Baloo?” Louie elbowed him and faked a shocked look on his face. “Are you not treating your lady here with respect?”

Baloo glared. “Not my lady,” he started as a quiet mumble. “...and yes, Becky, I do hold back a lot out of respect for you!”

She took another sip, raising a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Is that why you told me my new pants make my ass look fat?”

Louie’s burst out into laughter as Baloo blushed, glaring at his friend and then glaring down at Rebecca. “N-no, I mean...you asked for my honest opinion! I’m a spontaneous guy! I say things without thinking sometimes!”

“Sometimes, sure, alright.” Rebecca smirked, feeling proud that she’d produced the biggest laugh of the night so far. “I don’t think spontaneity is an excuse for pissing me off every other day.”

Baloo frowned at that, looking over to Louie for some help, but the monkey just shrugged and grabbed his own drink to focus on that for a minute. Baloo huffed before taking another long gulp of his beer and decided to go on the offensive. “That’s just ‘cause you don’t know anything about being spontaneous! Sometimes you piss people off, that's just how it goes!”

She sent him both a pout and a glare before opening her mouth again. “Says you! I’m not just some stuffy, boring office woman! I can surprise people!”

Baloo let out a harsh laugh, though this time Louie didn’t join in, opting to stare awkwardly between the two bears instead. “Come on, Becks, no point in pretending to be something you’re not!”

Rebecca dramatically slammed down her glass and glared at him again. Then she glared down at the bar and huffed before gripping the edge of the table and standing up. She climbed up onto the bar and tossed her hands in the air. “See? You didn’t expect this, did you?”

A moment later and the rush of drunkenness flooded to her head and Rebecca quickly sat down, her legs swinging off the edge of the bar. Baloo and Louie locked eyes again and Louie moved towards the sink to grab her some water.

Baloo slid closer to her - his elbow lightly grazing the edge of her thigh. “Yeah, so, standing on a bar isn’t as crazy as you seem to think it is. If you ever do something really unexpected, I’ll let ya know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Like what?”

“I dunno!” Baloo shrugged, looking over at Louie to see the monkey struggling to find a clean glass. “You gotta take people by surprise! Make ‘em speechless. I’ve had too many beers to come up with somethin’ now, but trust me, you'll have to try much harder to catch me off-guard.”

Rebecca let out a hmph! as she thought about his words. They wandered through her muddled mind and her eyes widened as the perfect way to prove her spontaneity came to her. Plus - it was guaranteed to make Baloo speechless.

She looked over at him and before he could even ask what she was doing, Rebecca grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her while she leaned forward. Her lips crashed against his and she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of him pushing her away and calling her crazy.

For a brief moment, her fear wasn’t wrong. Initially, his eyes grew as big as dinner plates and the red on his cheeks was not just because of the alcohol. He was certainly tempted to push her off, but mostly because she was drunk and they’d never done anything like that before. Well, either she was hiding some intense feelings for him or she really wanted to prove him wrong...or both. Whichever her reasons, he felt his heart do backflips as the realization of what was happening set it.

At least ten seconds passed with neither of them moving, and then all at once, they came together. Baloo set his beer down and moved one hand to her waist while the other crawled around her back, cradling her closer to him as he leaned in to deepen the kiss.

Rebecca kept her hands wrapped up in his shirt collar, but tightened her grip as she tilted her head and slightly opened her mouth against his in a clear attempt to bring their kiss to the next level. She wanted to be shocked by his reciprocity, but she was really just focusing on the feeling of his hands wrapped around her. She’d kissed him before, as a joke, but only light pecks and he’d never kissed back. This was something very new.

Baloo followed her lead and pulled her even closer to him - her knee bumped against his chest - as the hand that was on her back moved up to the back of her head. He tilted his head, too, and pushed a little more towards her - relishing the tiny little, satisfied-sounding noise that came from her throat. He wouldn’t dare call it a moan, but it was definitely something. Never in a million years had he imagined this actually, really happening. He’d barely imagined it in his head! But…

“Whoa!”

The two bears broke apart at the sudden sound of Louie’s voice. Never thinking of manners or social graces, he gave them a big confused smile. “Should I give you two the room?”

Baloo and Rebecca were breathing a little heavily and staring into each other’s eyes as he spoke. Baloo’s hands slowly moved down to cradle her hips while her grip on his shirt loosened to the point where he could easily pull away. Instead they stared for another few seconds before Rebecca finally spoke.

“I…” she said quietly. “I...need to use the ladies’ room!”

The pilot didn’t react as she quickly jumped away from him and hobbled towards the bathroom, occasionally losing her balance and grabbing bar stools or tables to get upright again. Baloo stayed exactly as he was before, only turning his head slightly to watch her walk away.

Louie placed the glass of water in front of him. “My man...what was that?”

Baloo didn’t bother trying to hide the dark blush on his face. “I, uh...I’m...I’m not sure.”

“Well,” Louie leaned onto the counter. “It definitely wasn’t nothing!”

“Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious,” Baloo grumbled at his friend. “She was just tryin’ to prove that she can be spontaneous. I guess.”

“Uh huh. That looked like a lot more than her tryin' to prove somethin’, buddy.”

Baloo copied Louie and leaned onto the counter, partially covering his mouth with his hand. He could still feel her lips on his and it made him feel a lot of funny feelings. “...yeah, I know.”

Louie raised an eyebrow. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ through that thick head of yours?”

Baloo huffed and opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by a voice that made him blush once again.

“I’d like to go home now.”

She was already turned around and walking towards the door before Baloo and Louie could see the look on her face. But the way she was cradling her purse seemed like she wasn’t in the best mood anymore. No doubt she was embarrassed, but Baloo was stuck wondering exactly what kind of embarrassed and how awkward this would be in the morning and if there was anything he could do to fix it.

And, well. If he wanted to fix it...or if he wanted to see where it could go. He wasn’t really sure about anything at that particular moment. He also wasn’t sure he should fly the Sea Duck after the amount of beer he’d had, but it wouldn’t be his first time flying with a buzz. Probably not the last, either.

He looked back at Louie and shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

Louie responded with a short laugh. “Baloo, if anything happens between you two, you’d better give me more than a maybe!”

Baloo rolled his eyes and chuckled in embarrassment before stomping off after his partner. He didn’t know what to expect for the ride home, but he was certain it was going to be the most awkward ride of his life.

Fortunately, when he climbed up into his plane, he found Rebecca curled up in the passenger seat, snoring loudly. He wondered for a moment if she was faking, but decided it didn’t really matter. Neither of them were ready to have a conversation about what happened and that wasn’t changing anytime soon.

#talespin #rebecca cunningham #baloo von bruinwald xiii #baloo #beckloo #fic #fics

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anobscurename · 4 years

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ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART VIII — masterlist

concept: for your birthday, chris takes you to a burlesque club, where you reunite with anthony and sebastian. the first kiss. the slowest of slow burns. part nine of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: strip tease, kissing, aNgSt

author's note: nothing i can say will prepare you for the rollercoaster you are about to endure. i hate myself for doing this to you. ya girl really popped tf off on this one.

Looking at Christopher Robert Evans, you wouldn't expect him to be someone who happened to frequent burlesque clubs.

You also wouldn't expect him to have so many tattoos, but that's what a good long sleeve jacket was for.

It would be dangerous for anyone to assume anything about Christopher Robert Evans. And yet, assumptions were made... Just like how you had assumed he would forget your birthday.

It wasn't an unfair assumption, by any means. You had only been living together for about six months, of which he was only there for a few days at a time, before jetting back out to whatever location his film shoot was at.

You were close, but at the same time, not close at all.

It was hard to think of where you stood – neither one of you could really answer that question, and should anyone corner you both separately, you'd both resignedly sigh and claim "just friends."

That was why his gift surprised you on two different levels:

One, he had remembered your birthday. Perfectly friendly enough.

Two, he had gifted you something not quite friendly in the slightest... And that was where waters got murky. But you'd be fucked if you didn't admit just how willing you were to wade into those waters – murky or not.

The box had been delivered to the house late in the morning. Chris had been gone for just over a month this time – 46 days, you were unashamedly keeping count – and his absence didn't go by unnoticed.

Everything reminded you of him, even if he didn't spend a lot of time there.

The box had been from La Perla, and just the name – gold embossed on cream – elicited a visceral reaction of excitement.

You signed for it – a little too eagerly, given the delivery boy's eyebrow raise – before dashing inside to open it.

And now, there it sat, on your bed, silk ribbon still intact.

You weren't unfamiliar with the forever coveted – and forever out of your price range – Italian lingerie brand. But knowing it was from Chris... Your fingers inched towards the ribbon.

Your phone rang, rescuing you from letting your imagination run too wild. Checking the caller I.D., you faltered. It was him.

"Hello?"

"{Your name}! Hey." If you shut your eyes, you could see his smile. "Did you get the gift?"

"Yeah," you responded, a bit more breathless than you would've liked. "Looking at it right now, actually."

"And? What do you think?"

You hadn't the heart to tell him you hadn't opened it yet. "It's..."

You heard a familiar voice in the background. Two of them, actually. "Who's that?" "Is that {your name}? Hey, yo, {your name}! Happy birthday!"

"Guys, cut it out!" Chris laughed, the reciever crackling a little. You could only imagine what was transpiring on the other end: Chris trying to wrangle himself free from his friends all clamouring to get a word in over the phone he was holding just out of reach.

You giggled. "Is that Mackie?"

"Yeah, and Seb. I'm on set with them right now. Decided to drop by, say hi to everyone. Try and convince those two delinquents to come out tonight, but after they heard where I was taking you, it wasn't much of a task. Just managed to sweet talk the producers into getting them the night off."

"It better be great tonight, Kevin really wasn't impressed!" You could hear Seb's muffled shouts from across the room, followed by a "quiet on set!" from a voice you didn't recognize.

Silence was instantaneous from the clamour you had almost gotten used to from the other end.

"Hold on," Chris' voice was hushed. "Gonna get out of their hair before they start filming again..."

You found yourself perching restlessly on the edge of your bed as you waited for Chris to return to the call. There was some shuffling on his end, quiet apologies whispered to passing strangers he was trying to skirt past.

When he got back, he was speaking normally again. "About the gift. It's a bit much, I know. Not exactly Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge! but I know how much you love that film, so I thought it'd be fun if tonight... Well, if tonight we visited something close to it."

"You're not taking me to France, are you?" Your heart was in your throat, hoping he'd say no. Not that you wouldn't love to go, it was just that you weren't ready to make a trip that big any time soon. The panic of packing would be all consuming, and that was the last thing you wanted to be doing on your birthday.

His laugh was infectious. "God, no. In this economy?"

"So, where are you taking me, then?" Your eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

"Think Moulin Rouge, but smaller and more local."

"Oh..." There was one name that came to mind – Vulpecula, the Latin word for "little fox". A burlesque club, every bit as elite as the club you used to be a waitress at.

"Oh," he agreed. Even over the phone you could see the smug smile on his face. He had recalled you mentioning how you'd always wanted to go there, but could never get in. The moment he heard that, about four months prior, he had excused himself from the conversation – having given you some perfectly justifiable explanation at the time, reasonable enough for you to not suspect anything different – and promptly booked a front seat table there for your birthday. "So, listen, I'll be home in... Let's see, they have an hour left here before they wrap, from Georgia to L.A., that's four, maybe five hours...? So let's say no more than seven hours? I should be home by dinner, have a quick shower, and be ready to meet Seb and Anthony at Vulpecula around nine for the reservation. Sound good?"

That was in... One glance at the clock on your bedside table confirmed it. Ten hours time by the looks of it.

Ten hours was more than enough time for you to pick something Vulpecula worthy and get ready. You hoped. "Sounds good."

"Alright, see you in a bit."

You said your goodbyes, the thrill of finally going to a burlesque club beginning to rise. Your thumb hovered over the "end call" button, about to press, when Chris interjected one last time.

"Oh, and {your name}? Happy birthday."

———————

True to his word, Chris was home for dinner. "Dinner" being two pizzas balancing precariously in one scopic hand – held aloft, well out of Dodger's eager jumping reach – and roses clutched firmly in the other.

"You're back."

His face lit up at your presence, tired eyes becoming wide awake once more. "Hey there, birthday girl."

You let him put down the pizza and flowers first before you sprinted into his arms. The scent that you could only reconcile with airplanes from his flight clung to him, but if you inhaled deeper, the smell that was so distinctly Chris was there too.

He chuckled, hugging you back every bit as enthusiastically, even going so far as to pick you up and spin you around, Dodger yapping excitedly at the situation.

"I missed you, you asshole."

"I missed you too," he sighed into your hair.

You pulled apart. "You have no idea how quiet it gets here when you're not around. I almost feel bad for the shampoo bottles, they haven't heard you sing in a month now and it's– What? What are you staring at?"

A stillness had overcome Chris as he held you at arm's length, hands resting just above your elbows. He was looking at you.

"Just you," he affirmed softly. There it was again, that smile. "You look gorgeous. Doesn't she look beautiful, bud?"

Dodger, suddenly bored of the interaction, dashed off to go retrieve some chew toy or another.

"Guess he doesn't think so," you shrugged, suddenly shy under that molten ocean gaze.

"Don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

———————

Vulpecula didn't disappoint. Your eyes were wide in awe, almost wishing they were wider so as to take in as much as you possibly could. You were right by the stage, all of you seated in plush, velvet chairs. You sat around a gold and black vintage marble-top table cluttered with empty bottles and half full drinks.

Anthony and Seb – after showering you with birthday wishes and small gifts now residing in your discarded coat pockets – were reclined in their seats, drinks in hand, talking low to one another. You had heard a snippet of their conversation in passing. They had been debating how long you and Chris would last in this will they, won't they charade.

The very thought of a will they had your eyes rolling. As if that would ever happen. You didn't need to remind yourself: friends. Just friends, nothing more.

Sultry music, moody lighting, and the hint of wine and expensive perfume mingled with French cigarette smoke all invaded your senses.

"They look amazing up there," you whispered in reverence, eyes never leaving the dancers.

Chris leaned in, shoulder brushing yours. The natural magnetic pull he had on you snapped you out of your wonderstruck state, and you tilted your head to hear him better. His breath was hot against your ear as he struggled to be heard over the music. "Not as amazing as you look right now."

You shrugged the compliment off. It wasn't lost on you, the reason he enjoyed these types of clubs. "Yeah, but I could never do what they're doing right now."

"I don't know," he cajoled. "I've seen you dance before. You've got moves."

He was referring to one particular evening where you had decided to settle your differences over The Impromptu Never Have I Ever Swim™ – namely, who was at fault – with a dance battle. But that was nothing.

You quirked an inquisitive brow. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"No suggestions here," he said, hands raised in submission. "I'm just saying you've got moves."

At your scoff, he leaned in again. You weren't entirely oblivious; the implication of his words were crystal clear: "And you could out dance anybody in this room."

"Is that a challenge, Evans?" The smirk came easy to your wine darkened lips as you brought the flute of champagne to them for a sip. You had been rather indulgent in your mixing of alcohols all night, and compliance was becoming incredibly enticing.

"You can't compete where you don't compare, and these girls don't even come close."

The dismissive wave he gave the stage had caught the attention of Anthony and Seb, and they were now listening and watching intensely, both trying to hide their amusement behind their tumblers of whiskey.

"You are challenging me," you gasped in mock disbelief.

"If anything, it's a request," Anthony had attempted to disguise his commentary behind the whiskey glass, but had failed. The whole table had heard, earning him a slap on the arm from Seb and an amused quirk of your lips. "What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking. We're all thinking it."

"I'm not about to be sweet-talked into making a fool of myself by the likes of you, Christopher," you teased, turning your attention back to Chris.

He smirked. "I dare you."

"You really don't think I'll go up there." It was more a statement than anything. He knew the need to prove him wrong would heavily outweigh your dignity, and you hated that he knew that.

He shrugged, noncommittal, but still smirking. "I have no inclination to what you will or won't do."

That was it. The thread he'd been pulling at all night had finally unravelled, and it was probably the alcohol that had dulled your better judgement, but it was your birthday, for fuck sakes, and you felt like doing something memorable and insane.

"Guard my drink."

And then you were up, making your way to the dimly lit steps leading up to the stage.

If you had been there with anyone else, you would've been escorted out immediately. But that was the thing about loyal patronage, fame, and money... You could get away with almost anything. Your status was immediately elevated just by being in their company.

Seb watched you, mouth agape, as you sashayed to the front and centre. "Holy shit, she's doing it."

Uproarious applause met your arrival as your steps pulled the attention of the audience, but you could hear and see Anthony whoop in support above them all.

"How the hell did you pull this one off, Evans?" Anthony asked as he sat back down to enjoy the show, face laminated in a permanent smile.

"What can I say? I know my girl," Chris winked.

Seb sighed, digging some cash from his pocket. "You win, I guess," he grumbled as he handed over the money to Chris.

"That's mine, thank you." Anthony plucked it from Seb's fingertips. "You too, blue eyes. Hand it over."

"But I won," Chris all but pouted, confusion creasing his brow.

"You said you could get her up there with them in ten," Anthony corrected. "I said you could do it in five if she had the right amount of Moët in her. And would you look at that..." – he plucked the near empty bottle in question from the table to display to his friends – "the perfect amount of Moët."

Chris yielded. He fished some stray bills from his pocket and paid his fee.

The entire exchange was lost on you, however, as the song changed. There was a hush over the club as the music faded, and suddenly, there was a spotlight on you. The other dancers stood back, watching you in delight.

And then the music began to play.

And you began to move.

You were mesmerizing, incredible in your command of the stage. The sway of your rolling hips, the placement of your hands, roving over your body suggestively, but not overtly sexual. That was the beauty of burlesque – it was to sell sex without outright giving it, and it was as if you'd danced there your whole life, the way it flowed so naturally through you.

"Would you look at her up there?" Anthony breathed, something akin to pride in his eyes. Your relationship with the Falcon actor was strange – something close to siblings. Although, if you were to think about it, no big brother would ever be as proud as he was to be watching his little sister dancing at a burlesque club. It had been less about the dance, though – and all about the joy he could see emanating from you.

You liked being the centre of attention for one night. And you very much were.

The interaction at the table was practically forgotten as your friends stared up at you in admiration.

And when your hands traced your curves, moving languidly to the zipper at the side of your dress, Chris' breath visibly stuttered. And when the dress was slipping off of you – straps slinking off the delicate slope of your shoulders to allow the pooling of the fabric at your feet – Chris leaned forward in his seat, entirely bewitched.

You were wearing it – the lingerie he had bought for you.

It was a pretty little number – light champagne coloured silk, trimmed in black lace. It fit you like a glove, hanging off your frame in a way that revealed enough to stir a desire to see more, but not enough to have you shying away in discomfort in front of all the onlookers. The neckline was low, and the skirt fell just above mid thigh.

And still you danced, motions slow to the music, toying with the skirt, the straps, your hair. For that single moment, you were seduction incarnate.

He couldn't look away. You were everything in his world, the only thing in it. You were his world.

When you made eye contact with him, out in the darkness at the edge of the stage, he could've sworn he'd forgotten how to breathe.

You sank to your knees, sensual, undulating, gathering your now discarded dress. The smirk you had – so often teasing – was beckoning, mirroring the intent in your eyes.

You slowly dragged your eyes over Chris, taking in the state of him. What you had rendered him. The hold you had over him was tangible – the awed set of his agape jaw, the way his eyes were glazed with such intensity and want. It stirred something in you, something in the pit of your belly.

You cast him a coy wink before you lazily tossed the dress to him as if you hadn't a care in the world.

Sebastian sucked a whistling breath through his teeth when the song ended. "Who was that girl?"

Chris shifted in his seat, trousers having grown immeasurably uncomfortable. He found himself dumbfounded. "I have absolutely no idea."

———————

The excitement of the stage was still coursing through you when you returned to the table.

Anthony, who had rightfully given you a well-deserved standing ovation, gave you a massive bear hug that lifted you off the ground and had you giggling. "Wow," was all he said. And then, louder: "Wow!"

Nearby patrons cheered in agreement, and you felt your cheeks flush. "Stop it," you rolled your eyes.

"No, he's right," Seb smirked. "Isn't that right, Chris?"

Seb had tilted his head to peer at Chris past you and Mackie, cocky at having caught Chris out.

Chris – having crossed his legs to conceal the effect you had on him – could barely even look at you. "Yeah," he cleared his throat; it didn't help chase the rasp from his voice. "It was quite something."

You exchanged a slightly annoyed look with Anthony. "I don't see what your problem is, I was only doing what you wanted."

You plopped down in your seat, immediately taking a sip from your champagne. Chris' eyes followed your action, attentative – even more so when you caught a drop at the corner of your lips with your deft tongue.

As if he wasn't already hard enough.

And then his undoing – you spotted your dress. It was still exactly where it had landed when you'd tossed it, splayed across his lap. Unthinkingly, you reached for it, your fingers grazing his crotch and–

His hand shot forward, intercepting you, seizing your wrist in an iron grip. He looked to almost be in pain. "Don't."

What happened next, you didn't blame the alcohol this time, or the thrill the stage had left you with, or anything else. This was all you.

The air had been thick with desire – that all consuming want – and there was a glassiness in his blown out pupils – a need – that had spurred you on.

You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him to you. Tilting forward, you captured his lips in a hungry starving kiss. He stiffened, before melting, becoming putty in your hands, kissing you back with a passion that set your entire soul and body ablaze. It was sloppy, liquor heavy on both your lips. He moaned into you, hot tongue swiping against the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. Entrance which you granted, whimpering as he deepened the kiss.

You had clambered onto his lap in the frenzied urgency. The hiss of pleasure he gave at the slow grind of your hips against him was almost enough to make you come undone then and there.

Searing hands travelled your body, fingertips digging into soft flesh every time you rubbed against him just so. He traced your curves, encompassing all his hands could reach without ever crossing the line you so desperately wanted him to. He was a gentleman, first and foremost – although he kissed like he hoped to devour you.

Your own hands carded through his hair, tugging at the strands, eliciting throaty groans you never dreamed of hearing from him. His lips muffled every mewl of pleasure you emitted, and for that you were thankful, because once his hand came to rest around your throat, you knew you were done for.

"Fuck," he growled out against your lips.

You finally pulled apart, head swimming and breathless. "Let's get out of here."

He stared at you for the longest time. You, who looked so beautiful with your kiss swollen lips. You, who was sat in his lap, looking down at him, eyes telling innocence, but lips suggesting sin. You, who was finally his. "You must know what you're doing to me."

You stifled a moan as Chris tilted your head back, gently leaving a trail of featherlight kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. Your toes curled, and you knew that if someone were to ask you your name in that moment, you wouldn't be able to tell them. "And what's that?"

"Driving me fucking crazy."

———————

You were still in absolute disbelief, convinced you'd wake up and this would all be a dream.

But it wasn't a dream, and you were there, with him, and your lips still throbbed in the remembrance of that kiss...

"Hold on," you said. Chris reluctantly halted his steps, turning to look at you. "Just wait here, I need to go get my coat."

"Don't be long," he said, voice low and soft.

You gave him a goofy half smile, still kiss drunk. "No promises."

You dashed off to the coat check station, leaving Chris in the foyer.

Ten minutes, that was how long it took. That was the number you would put to the time it took for absolute devastation to occur.

It wasn't your fault there was a line at coat check. Just like it wasn't his fault he happened to run into a particularly gorgeous woman from his past in just those ten minutes.

"Chris Evans?"

He spun at the sound of his name ringing out in the empty foyer. The music of Vulpecula was still faintly going in the background, muffled by the gilded gold doors that granted entry.

"Hey! Long time no see," he grinned. "I haven't seen you since...? Wow, it must've been ages."

"Since we broke up, yeah," she nodded in slow agreement.

"How's," he snapped his fingers, hoping to jog his memory. "Don?"

"We broke up, actually. About a month ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that." He made his consolation known through a friendly pat on the shoulder, thumb rubbing circles on the skin revealed by her sleeveless dress.

And it was at that moment you returned, seeing him and the woman, too close to be entirely platonic. He wasn't guilty of anything, you knew that. But the hand on the shoulder...

He hadn't noticed you yet, so you were given ample time to dissect the unfolding situation.

It dawned on you exactly why it bothered you so much. The way he was touching her, it was how he had touched you. Not in Vulpecula, no, but every day leading up to it. And it could've meant one of two things:

The first was that it was friendly. Suggesting that he had seen you as nothing more than a friend before... Before you'd fucked it up.

Or the second... That he had seen you as something more all along, and that was what he perceived her as right after that kiss you had both shared.

And honestly, you didn't know which was worse.

"I'm going to be in town for the next few days if you wanted to grab a drink and catch up..." You had stalked past them in that moment, coat draped over your arm, catching her words in passing.

Chris' eyes followed you as he spoke, distracted by your shift in mood. "I'm actually here with someone..."

He trailed off, watching as you didn't even look at him as you brushed past. "Um, hold that thought," he said, already starting to follow you out. Her entire existence was dismissed by his need to get to you and discover why you were suddenly giving him the cold shoulder. "It was great seeing you again, tell Don I say hi – wait, no, scratch that–!"

He was practically yelling over his shoulder as he chased you down. "{Your name!} Wait up!"

You didn't stop, but you were at a disadvantage – your heels, his long legs – and he caught up to you easily. His hand on your shoulder was enough to make you flinch. Who knew you could read so much into the touch of a shoulder? "Hey, what's wrong?"

Your heart could've broken at the gentleness of his voice. Could've. You'd steeled yourself already, and it was glaringly noticeable. "Nothing is wrong, Chris, forget it."

"Just wait–"

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder. "I said forget it."

"I won't," he stepped closer. "Not when I can see something is bothering you."

"Well, I will," you stated, voice flat. You turned away from him to continue your retreat. "Can we just go home?"

When he refused to budge – instead looking at you with those mournful blue eyes of his, you sighed, exasperation and a touch of anger laced through. Why were you so upset, anyways?

"Chris, I just want to go home. I'm tired and I want to get out of this ridiculous fucking outfit so please. Please can we go home?"

He watched as you backed away from him, already pushing open the foyer door to step out onto the curb. His voice was so soft when he next spoke, you hadn't even heard him over the sudden symphony of noises from outside.

"Okay. Okay we'll go."

———————

"Hey, Evans!"

Chris peeled his eyes away from your silhouette to find new purchase on the person who'd called him. He'd been watching you try – and fail – to get a cab for a little over five minutes now. He was still trying to puzzle through your sudden tonal shift, and had ended up simply staring at you from afar for what felt like ages. His eyes burned. Had he blinked? He couldn't recall.

"What are you still doing here?" Anthony hollered from the other side of the foyer. As he drew closer, his voice lowered. "I thought you guys left a while ago."

"Is {your name} around?" Sebastian asked, still in the midst of shrugging on his coat that he'd just retrieved from coat check. "We wanted to say goodbye before we headed back to the hotel. Early flight and all that."

Chris struggled to find his voice, and when he did, it didn't sound much like himself. "She's outside, getting a cab."

"Oh, you guys are gonna go home and—" Anthony wiggled his brows suggestively.

Seb was quick to land a gentle slap on Anthony's shoulder, a silent hint to shut the fuck up. "I know that face. And that voice." Sebastian drew closer – approaching Chris almost like one does a wounded animal – and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I... I don't know," Chris sighed. His voice sounded strangled, even to him. "She won't talk to me. Wants nothing to do with me by the looks of it."

Anthony pursed his lips. "Well, what did you do?"

"Why?" Sebastian sighed in exasperation. The question was addressed to no one in particular – except maybe God.

Anthony ignored him. "Man, do I have to spell it out for you? She's crazy about you, giving you those big doe eyes everytime you come within a five mile radius. That is some love shit if I've ever seen it," he chortled to himself. Snapping out of it, he leaned in menacingly – big brother mode activated. "So what did you do?"

"Oh, man..." Chris groaned, trying to remember the events that had led to this point. "Well, she was getting her coat."

Anthony nodded slowly, showing he was following. "Right."

"And this girl I used to date, she came over and we started talking."

"You've lost me," Mackie said, still nodding.

"What do you mean?"

Lightning quick, Anthony smacked Chris upside the head. It wasn't hard, a love tap at most, but it still made Chris grimace. "What do you mean, what do I mean? Honestly, both of you are so clueless. Man, she's perfect for you. Literally, perfect. So what are you talking to your ex for?"

"It wasn't like that, Ant," Chris groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Wait, do you think she thinks...?"

"I don't know what she thinks. What I think, is that you should fix it. As soon as possible."

"Guess I'm in the lead again, huh?" Sebastian slid his hands coolly into his pockets, rocking on his heels.

Chris frowned. "You guys bet on us?"

"Not with money. With something much more meaningful," Seb smiled.

Anthony nodded sagely. "The settlement on who the Black Widow belongs with."

Chris winced. "That's a lot."

"Well, I had faith."

"He's Team Chris-and-{Your Name}-Should-Get-Married," Seb nodded toward Mackie. "I'm Team Let-Them-Live-Their-Lives."

"Yeah, the names are still a work in progress," Anthony admitted.

Chris sucked in a deep breath, fatigue suddenly hitting him like a freight train. "Well, it's late. You guys should probably get going. I'll text you with an update tomorrow."

Anthony had already started heading out, Sebastian at his side. He swiveled to face Chris. "If I'm not scandalized by what's about to go down tonight, don't even bother."

Sebastian took Mackie by the shoulder, guiding him away. "I'm going to take him back to the hotel before he has an aneurysm," he smiled apologetically. "He hasn't planned yours and {your name}'s wedding in a little over four hours now."

As they departed the building, Chris could still hear Anthony calling out to him.

"I want to be scandalized, Evans! Scandalized!"

———————

"What part of forget it is not getting to you, Christopher?"

He leaned against the doorframe of your room, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles.

"I just want to know what I can do to make it better. Tell me what I can do to make it better."

You gently removed your earrings, tossing them on your desk, before removing your coat. When you'd gotten home, you'd gone straight to your room, and, in a great imitation of Dodger, Chris had followed you there. "It's nothing."

"Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it."

"That's exactly it, Chris. It's nothing. We were both drunk, and it will never happen again. It was nothing. So forget it."

You couldn't even look at him, instead choosing to speak over your shoulder. Because if you had seen him, been looking at him, you would've seen the hurt in his eyes, the pain in the set of his jaw. Your next words were a dismissal: "Thank you for the gift. Good night."

But it wouldn't be a good night, not for either of you.

You were too tired to cry, too tired to sleep, too tired to dream. You were just so... tired.

And Chris... He spent the night sleepless. Entirely unable to do what you asked, and forget. You had seared yourself into his mind, and he was entirely incapable of forgetting.

#dina writes #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans/you #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #anthony mackie #sebastian stan #ocean eyes #i really did this to myself huh

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Text

PrettyLittle GoodBoy

Summary: After Rami’s GQ Middle East covershoot, his girlfriend needs him to know just whose good boy he really is.

A/N: I hope it’s not too vanilla—if you’ve read my stuff, even my smut, you know I’m a soft bitch. So, this is me trying out that (soft)dom life.

Warnings: Forgive me, creator, for I have sinned (NSFW, 18+ ONLY, Sub!Rami)

After trekking through at least two football fields worth of dust and bramble, you and Rami popped out on location near the infamous HOLLYWOOD sign for his GQ Middle East covershoot. As you shook a piece of twig off your sneaker’s lace, a small crew of people rushed over to greet your boyfriend, including a fashionably-dressed man with reddish-blonde hair. As the man pulled his sunglasses from his face, he looked every bit like the hackneyed Hollywood producer, except his light blue eyes held nothing but a desperate plea.

Whatever he was about to ask, he was afraid Rami would say no.

“Listen, Rami—we decided that this location just isn’t good enough for you. Not for what we want to convey with this shoot. We want to take you to Jim’s place in Palm Springs. We know it’s a lot to ask—”

“Anything for you guys, Steve. I’m just grateful for the opportunity.”

With a firm handshake, Steve’s apprehension disappeared and he shouted to everyone to head out. He sent Rami the address for the new location and the two of you hiked back to the Audi.

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes at the producer’s hesitance to request something of Rami; clearly, he didn’t really know him.

“You should’ve said no—played the role of a diva,” you voiced.

Rami snickered. “Did you see how nervous he was? It’s not like they were asking me to strip naked and slide down the hillside on my ass or something.”

“They have no idea what a compliant guy you are,” you said as you waited with your hand on the door of Rami’s car. He pressed unlock and you opened the door and slid in, tugging on the front of the soft, white t-shirt you stole from him to fan yourself.

As soon as the car started, Rami fiddled with the AC.

“Makes me wonder how many people are total dicks. I mean, there is a paycheck attached to this kinda shit.”

You reached over and gave Rami’s thigh a squeeze, and he shot you a grin.

“Maybe I should become an asshole? Demand a dressing room lined with silk drapes? A snack of chips and guac with a ratio of 3 red chips to 1 white?”

You laughed. “Shut up. You would never do something so . . . Hollywood.”

Rami leaned over and pursed his lips, waiting for you to close the gap and kiss him. You did, and both of you smiled against the other’s lips before you pressed yours into his one more time, then settled back into your seat.

“Let’s go-ooo,” Rami sang, putting the car in drive.

* * * * *

Steve had made a good call; even though they were rapidly losing daylight, every space at the Palm Springs location seemed to mold itself around Rami as if it finally felt like it was being properly occupied.

And Rami was, of course, an absolute dream.

Which he was, of course, told again and again.

All the while, Rami had no idea what it was doing to you to watch him like that, to watch him eat up that praise, to watch him be such a good boy for the entire crew all afternoon and into the evening.

With every complied command, you thought about what you wanted to do to him, how you wanted him to please you.

“Rami—Rami look this way. Yes! Hold your smile. Fucking divine,” the photographer uttered as she snapped.

At the word divine, Rami chuckled nervously, ready to counter the utterance but the photographer kept going.

“Can we get Marissa over here? Just to touch up the sweat. Its hotter than the devil’s dick out here and you haven’t complained once, Rami. I love you!”

At the words I love you, Rami’s cheeks colored and his face spread into a shy grin, this time his lips not even bothering with a protest.

“Let me just fix this curl . . . perfection!”

At the word perfection, he lowered his eyes and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, successfully halting the widening of his shy grin.

“Yes, Rami. What an absolute joy you are. One more big grin—like the one I saw you give your girlfriend this morning—yes! That one!”

It was like that all day—praise after praise, and by the time the shoot was over and he climbed behind the wheel of his car, his body was invisibly vibrating from the high of being such a good boy all day long; you weren’t sure you had enough restraint to make it back to the twins’ house, the car refusing you the gift of distance so you were left with nothing to do but listen to his excited chatter, inhale the fresh scent of the high-end styling products and the brand new clothes, and glance over at the way the last outfit of the shoot clung to his body, custom made, just for Rami Malek.

* * * * *

Rami tossed his car keys on the kitchen island, something you would normally scold him for considering there was a mounted keyrack directly beside the door, but you were so focused on the way his ass looked in his black trousers that you forgot. Besides, you had an important question to ask.

“Is Sami home?”

“In DC with Jas, remember?”

“Oh. Right,” you answered in a soft tone as you flicked on the recessed lighting in the kitchen.

Rami pulled a beer out of the fridge, twisting the top off and tossing it on the counter, the lid skidding to a halt right next to his keys.

“Want anything?” he asked after a long drink.

You shook your head no.

Rami frowned as he realized how quiet you had been since the end of the shoot. “I’m sorry today ran long. We can do whatever you want tonight.”

As you toed out of your sneakers, you also bent to retrieve the shoes he had kicked off the second he walked in the door. As you walked both pairs into the mudroom, you knew your silence would make Rami guess at your mood. Were you upset with him? Why? His eyes slid to the keys on the counter, and he picked them up and took them over to the keyrack. Then, he plucked the beer cap off the counter and tossed it in the trash.

Rami leaned against the counter, twirling his beer which had begun to shed drops of sweat, and watched as you reentered the kitchen.

“I’m really grateful you spent your day off—"

“Go . . . sit . . . down,” you slowly and evenly enunciated as you held his gaze before dropping it to walk over to the big couch in the living room, the one that sat against a wall of windows that overlooked a section of woods and the many twinkling lights of the other homes in the Hills.

He abandoned the last dregs of his beer to follow you, and you could feel his mind working to puzzle out what he’d done to displease you.

You turned around and gestured to the middle cushion, and just as compliantly as he had been during the photoshoot, he took a seat and waited, his big eyes staring at you. You let him watch as your gaze drifted over his body. He was still in the last outfit from the photoshoot and you didn’t even want to know how much money he was currently wearing. The black Tom Fords fit him to perfection and the tan and black, tiger-striped dress shirt made his skin look smooth, dark, and ten years younger. The dim lighting that crept over from the kitchen dyed his hair to a pitch black of perfectly ringleted curls.

He looked so good your mouth went dry, and when you thought again about what a good boy he had been, your eyes slipped shut in a moment of greedy indulgence.

Rami’s eyes remained fixed on you, alert, despite his tiredness from the all-day shoot and the extended drive. He continued to watch cautiously as you slid onto his lap, his hands twitching once, twice, before deciding it was okay to touch you. He ran his hands up your bare thighs, toying with sliding them underneath the frayed edges of your denim shorts before grinning and moving them to your hips.

Your face remained stoic, fixated on how much you wanted to control him—to make sure he knew just whose pretty boy he was.

“You loved today, didn’t you?” you purred in a low voice that made all the blood in Rami’s body rush to his cock.

He licked his lips and swallowed audibly in anticipation; there was a flicker of recognition dawning behind his eyes, but he still hadn’t puzzled it all out . . . yet.

You pressed on, your voice still a sultry purr, “You loved being posed. Being praised. Being primped and petted. Didn’t you?”

His eyes dilated, now more grey than blue, as he watched your mouth move. That flicker of recognition blossomed into understanding, and he stilled, frozen and silent.

You fisted his curls, the oil the stylist had used feeling like a breath of wet silk as his hair twined around your fingers. You pulled, tugging so hard he gasped.

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” you bit out, your purr replaced with a forceful tone.

“Yes—yes I loved it,” he immediately whispered.

Your eyes roamed his face as the pulse of attraction beat between the two of you, and with your hand still gripping his curls, you kissed him, brutally sucking and nipping at his lips. Rami’s hands were still on your hips and his fingers flexed, digging into the flesh of your jean-clad ass.

You pulled at the button on his trousers and yanked at the zipper, not even pausing as you heard them rip at the juncture. His cock had already found its way out of his underwear, so you grasped its velvety hardness in your hand and began to jack him off, your grip tight, purposeful.

You controlled every inch of his body in this moment: your hand in his hair and the other on his dick, your tongue in his mouth, and his thighs pinned beneath your weight.

Rami whined into the heated kiss, and with a gasping breath, you pulled back and hissed, “And now you wanna be my good boy, don’t you? You wanna be my pretty boy?”

After pulling on his curls again, Rami answered with a shaky voice.

“Ye-yes!”

“Yes what?”

“I wanna be your good boy.”

“Then come for me, good boy. Come all over your posh clothes.”

“Fuck!” Rami keened as his hips bucked into your hand and he came, thick ropes of cum staining his expensive shirt and even more expensive trousers.

“That’s my pretty boy, good boy. Come hard,” you panted in his ear as he rode out his orgasm.

“Ohmygod,” he slurred. “Fuck, Y/N. Fuck!”

You relaxed your grip on his hair and let him catch his breath as you pumped your hand lightly up and down his cock, cum coating your palm.

“That was fucking ama—”

“Oh no,” you said, quickly moving your cum-covered palm to slap over his mouth. “Was implies that we’re done, and Rami . . . we’ve only just begun.”

He whimpered under your palm and you removed it, leaning in to kiss him, relishing in the taste of his cum on his lips. You took that same hand and wrapped it around the back of his head, once again controlling the kiss.

Leaning back, you smiled wickedly. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

Rami looked down at his clothes, and you knew he was inwardly groaning. Yes, he loved high fashion, but he remembered what it was like to live paycheck to paycheck, working a motely mess of jobs just to survive.

“What a waste—doubt those, what? $1,200 pants can be salvaged.”

“$1,520,” Rami stated, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth as he rested his head against the back of the sofa.

Stoking his inner conflict, you whistled before stating, “That’s a lotta dough, Ram.” You gave his face a few light pats before moving off his lap and on to the cushion next to him.

“I had to watch you dress and undress all day long and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Now that there is, be a good boy, stand up, and undress . . . just for me.”

Rami turned to glance at you and seeing no room for negotiation, he shuffled up and off the sofa. You put your foot on the edge of the coffee table and pushed, the light piece of furniture skidding back, almost into the wall beneath the television.

You raised your brow and waited, your face schooled into a mask of indifference.

His pants were tight enough to still cling to his hips, so Rami brought his fingers up to the top button of his tiger-striped shirt. He moved quickly and you tsked at him.

“Slowly, baby. Slowly.”

Rami’s thick fingers hitched before steadying over the next button, his head bent in concentration.

“Eyes up here.”

He looked up, obeying without hesitation.

“Good boy,” you praised, eyes locked on his as he continued to open his shirt, and at your praise, that part of him that was so alive during the photoshoot came to life again. When he reached the last button, he paused to let you drink in the strip of brown skin and the light dusting of dark hair on his chest.

When your eyes made their way back to his, he held your gaze as he unbuttoned his cuffs and shrugged out of each of the sleeves. He let the shirt pool to the floor, and the next thing his fingers reached for was his watch.

“No, baby. Leave the watch on.”

Rami’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before his mouth opened to take in more air. You could see his half-hard dick twitch, and your mask of indifference flickered as you smirked.

Rami’s hands grasped the expensive black fabric and tugged. Once his trousers were past the tops of his thighs, they slid down his legs and he stepped out of them. One of his socks was still pulled up properly while the other was drooped to his ankle. He bent to remove the drooped one, then he removed the other.

Your eyes slid over the thick, curly black hair on his legs and travelled back to your second favorite overly-proportioned part of his anatomy. As gorgeous as his cock was, his eyes would always hold first place.

You shifted on the sofa and raised your chin, looking up at his face as he slid his thumbs beneath the waistband of his black boxer-briefs. He was seeking permission to remove the last of his clothes and you smiled before giving him a single nod of assent.

Rami stood in front of you, naked and unsure of what to do with his hands. This always made your heart flutter; he was so sexy and confident for the public, but for you, he was demure and so eager to obey. Letting him squirm for a few moments longer, you used the time to drink in his nakedness before finally standing.

“On your knees.”

He complied, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, save for the occasional twitch of his fingers.

You circled him, once, twice, building his anticipation, and when you stopped behind him and brought your hands to his shoulders, he shivered at your touch.

Digging your fingertips into his flesh, you slid your hands forward and down over his pecs, kneading them before you found his nipples and tweaked them, rolling them between your index fingers and thumbs before giving them a tug.

Rami moaned, and you leaned next to his ear as you said, “Shh. Good boys are quiet as church mice. I don’t care if you bite your lips until they bleed—you are not to make another sound until I say so.

“Are you still my good boy?”

He nodded once, and you acknowledged with a swift, sharp smack to his right ass cheek.

Rami wanted to groan—in fact, he started to, but he cut himself off by biting down on his lower lip.

Always a sucker for synchrony, you smacked his left cheek so it blushed just as prettily as the right.

The sound of your denim shorts unzipping had Rami’s shoulders tensed. You could tell he was listening as you undressed, wondering if you’d be naked when you moved back in his line of vision. You weren’t ready to go that far yet, so when he did see you again, you were still covered by a plain white bra and matching white panties.

Gripping his hair once again, you pressed his face into your mound and Rami rubbed his nose against you, back and forth, before dipping his tongue between your covered lips. After hooking one leg over his shoulder and using his head and other shoulder for balance, you let him mouth at you until your panties were soaked with his saliva and your arousal. Try as he might, he just couldn’t get his tongue underneath the tight elastic for any significant portion of time. You could feel his frustration, but it only spurned you on.

“Poor baby. I know how much you love eating pussy.”

Rami sighed, his hands on your calves, his mouth reaching up to grip the waistband of the infuriating barrier between his teeth.

You smacked lightly at his cheek, and he retreated, head lowered.

“You wanna taste me that bad, huh? All right. Get on all fours.”

You walked in a half-circle, once again standing behind him as he got into the position you commanded.

A gorgeous, deep blush bloomed across his shoulders. Dropping to your own knees, you settled between his thighs and aligned your hips against his ass. You pushed into him, teasing him like you would if you had a different anatomy, and you knew Rami was fighting a losing battle to keep quiet.

You scratched his back and continued to press against him, bending to kiss down his spine and to reach around to lightly stroke his cock, which was hard again. When you tugged on his balls and slowly massaged each of them, Rami half-whimpered.

He was trying so hard to behave.

You dragged a finger between the cheeks of his ass and lightly fingered him, not with penetration—just a simple pressing of your index finger just enough to make him clench and lean back into your touch.

Chuckling, you moved to scratch up and down the backs of his thighs and in the same, low purr from earlier, you wove him a little story, something you knew drove him absolutely wild. “You want to come again. I can feel it—your balls are tight and hot, your ass is clenched. You should see how sexy you look from back here, baby. The muscles in your back are twitching, oh, and your thighs, too. I bet a part of you wants to end this, wants to force me to the floor and fuck me until that ache at the base of your spine bursts open. But you can’t. And more importantly, you won’t.

“All because you are my pretty little good boy.”

This time, your good boy did whimper, so you brought both of your hands down onto his ass cheeks, spanking him until they turned a pretty pink. You smiled at the little gasps that escaped from between his lips, and when you could no longer ignore your own body’s need, you pressed a kiss to the base of his spine, right where you knew he ached.

Standing, you finally slipped out of your bra and panties, and you walked to the sofa, taking a seat facing him. His eyes were wet and crackling like a livewire. While crooking your index finger, you hooked one knee over the edge of the couch and exposed your soaking pussy to him.

“Crawl,” you commanded.

His bottom lip was a mess, indentured from his teeth and you wondered if the inside of his mouth was wrecked, too. Rami was vocal, all of the time, so it was a true challenge for him to stay quiet, and you were basking in how well he was doing. When Rami’s face was no more than six inches from your pussy, he looked up, his eyes still electric, and he begged with them. Even though he could see and smell how aroused you were, he waited for your command.

“Do you want to fuck me with your pretty mouth?”

Rami’s eyes burned into yours as he nodded.

“Do it.”

His mouth was hot on your center and both of your hands thrust into his curls. His tongue was inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit while he licked and swirled as deep as he could reach.

“Enough teasing,” you groaned with a tug to his hair.

Shifting closer, Rami moved his mouth up and wrapped his lips around your swollen clit.

“Ah, fuck,” you moaned, lost to the pleasure of his mouth. “Make me come.”

Rami licked at your clit with short, quick bursts of speed before closing his lips and sucking. He had your thighs pinned open and his fingers were bruising as he fucked you with his face.

“Ah, fucking hell Rami! That’s my good boy!”

Rami moaned around your clit and you didn’t care because it sent you straight over the edge, crying out a slur of swears that were punctuated with his name.

He softened and slowed his ministrations as he rubbed his nose, mouth, and chin over your pussy, waiting patiently for you to regain your composure, knowing that you were far from done with him.

At some point, you had let go of his hair and reached up to grasp the couch cushions, so you sighed as you brought your hand down to push lightly against his forehead.

“Wipe off your face and rub it over your cock,” you commanded in an even tone.

Rami did as he was told and his eyes slammed shut, his throat uttering a noise even though he was still trying to stay quiet.

“Do you want to come again, baby?”

He nodded, his eyes still shut tight as his hand picked up its pace.

Lightening quick, you moved off the couch and grasped his wrist, yanking it from his cock. Rami yelped, like a wounded animal and your eyes burned into his as you scolded, “No—that’s a bad boy.”

Two tears leaked from the outer corners of his eyes and your intensity wavered. Those little beads of salt were too tempting to pass up and you licked away one tear, then the other before kissing him.

“Do you still want to be my good boy?” you asked as you pulled away and looked at him, making sure the game hadn’t gone on too long. “Answer me,” you pressed, cupping his face and leaning in to place sweet kisses over his cheeks, his nose, and his eyelids.

“I do,” he croaked.

You pulled back and looked at him, your eyes searching his.

“I do.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, your thumbs stroking his cheeks before you let him go so you could stand up.

“Bedroom—on your back, arms above your head. Wait for me.”

Rami used the edge of the sofa to pull himself up, and you went into the kitchen as he walked upstairs to his bedroom. You needed him to calm down just a little in order to pull off your next move, so you cracked open one of Rami’s beers and returned to the couch.

The first mouthful was so cold, so crisp and good, the perfect topping for your incredible orgasm. The second mouthful did nothing other than remind you of what Rami tasted like, and you began to ache for him again. Standing, you walked upstairs and to the bedroom, your beer clutched lightly in your fingers.

He was waiting on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, and you were struck with such a profound urge to photograph him like this—to memorialize him as your perfect, good, boy.

“Such perfection,” you breathed, and Rami’s demeanor once again swelled under your praise. Unfortunately, so did his cock, and you just couldn’t have that. Shaking your head, you walked into his closet.

“Rami—you’ve got to close your eyes and think about something else,” you called out while digging around in the bottom drawer of the bureau in his closet. “Think about Sami,” you said with a devilish laugh.

Grabbing two ties, a purple one with silver polka dots and a silver one with purple polka dots, you emerged from the closet only to be greeted by his scowl.

“That worked,” you said, patting his thigh before you straddled his hips and tied one of his wrists to the bed post, then the other.

You laughed as you kissed his forehead, then climbed off of him again. You stopped to take another long drink, and Rami watched you, his cock starting to move from semi-erect to erect.

“No, no,” you scolded, laying your beer down.

With a growl of frustration, Rami shut his eyes. They shot open again when he felt the slick heat of the lube being dripped onto his cock.

“Be a good boy and close your eyes—you know you can’t watch without getting too hard.”

You slicked up his cock and his balls and quickly fastened on the cock ring, knowing you only had a small window of time. You didn’t fault him—you knew without certainty you had nowhere near the level of submissive willpower Rami had.

Well, that Rami mostly had.

You hadn’t even touched him yet and his dick was already swelling back to fully erect.

“Open your eyes, baby.”

You were rewarded with that same electric fire as earlier and held his gaze as you got back into bed and settled between his thighs.

“I wish you could see yourself,” you murmured, holding eye contact. “Your pretty cock all wrapped up and begging, begging for my . . . wet . . . heat.”

Rami’s cock swelled, his balls tightening and starting to turn a delicious shade of red.

You leaned forward on your hands and bent to lick his balls with teasing, tiny strokes of your tongue. You could hear him pull on the wrist restraints and suck in a breath.

“If you need to stop, what are you gonna say?”

“Stop,” Rami stated clearly.

You locked eyes with him and nodded—if he said, stop, you’d stop.

Before you bent to his cock again, you said, “I wanna hear how good I make you feel, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed, his hips lifting on the bed in a silent prayer that you’d take him in your mouth.

Laughing softly, you licked his cock from base to tip, almost unwilling to believe that he could get any harder than he already was. As you straightened up to pump him, you glanced at the hands on Rami’s watch to make sure you didn’t push him for too long.

You positioned yourself over his hips and slid your soaked pussy along his cock, teasing and enjoying the way his rock hard dick felt when it brushed your clit.

Rami moaned and it was a beautifully desperate sound, an aching call for you to just finally fuck him. Shifting your position as you rocked your hips, his dick slid inside of you and both of you shuddered at the contact.

“Fuck, Rami. You feel so good—so fucking good.”

Rami’s wrists tugged at his restraints as his hips bucked under you, desperate for you to move, except you didn’t. Instead, you just perched on top of him and let your eyes run over his face and his torso.

“So good for me,” you said with a wicked grin. “Hold still, baby.”

Rami’s eyes filled with tears and a strangled cry sounded low in his throat.

“Shh. Just a little longer.”

His breathing hitched and began to come in shallow gulps as he strained against his ties, desperate to focus on anything, even pain, over his denied-ecstasy as you cockwarmed him.

“So good,” you said as you began to work your clit, your fingers finding a familiar, easy rhythm.

“Oh god,” Rami groaned as tears fell from his eyes. “Oh god, oh god.”

“Oh yes, oh YES!” you growled as you came quickly, your pussy clenching around him, causing him to utter a choked sob.

As the last waves of your orgasm ebbed, you began to ride him and you focused on his flushed, tear stained cheeks, you knew there was not a creature more beautiful than him in existence. He was your good boy, your pretty little good boy and he deserved to come inside of you.

Picking up your pace, you clutched at his chest, forcing his hazy eyes to focus on you.

“Are you ready to come, baby?”

“Yes! Please, please yes,” he begged, his voice so deep and desperate that he spoke more from his chest than his throat.

A flush of pleasure rushed through you as you reached around to unfasten the cock ring, and you didn’t even need to move before Rami’s orgasm tore through him, a scream of pleasure rushing past his lips as he came so hard you could feel every spurt of his hot cum splashing inside you.

Gently, you rode him through his intense orgasm. When Rami’s head thrashed from side to side, and he said, “Stop. Stop,” you moved off of him immediately and reached up to unloop the ties from the bed post, knowing it would take a minute to get the knots around his wrists undone.

You kneeled beside him as ragged breaths tore through his lungs. Working the knots off his wrists, you soothed him, “Rami, baby, you did so good. You were such a good boy. No one, no one is as good as you, baby. No one.”

Rami took a gulping breath as his chest evened out. He stretched his legs and his arms, flexed his wrists and reached up to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“Oh, sweetheart—god, you’re perfect,” you said with a kiss to his sweaty temple. “What can I get for you?”

“I’m so thirsty,” he rasped, his eyes half-lidded, that electric fire finally sated.

“You’re gonna be starving in about ten minutes, too, so I’ll order something while I’m in the kitchen.”

“Mmmkay. So good to me,” he murmured with a sweet smile that melted your heart when you turned to look at him from the bedroom door.

“I love you, Rami.”

“Not as much as I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at each other, wide, mirrored grins of happiness, and after one more glance, you dashed down to the kitchen to take care of your good boy.

#Rami Malek #Rami Malek x Reader #Female Reader #Rami Malek smut #SMUT #sub!Rami #at least I think so #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fic

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crazyyanderefangirlfan · 4 years

Text

The Rabbit of Night Raven Chapter 1: Demons in high places Pt 2

Part 1 is here

For the next few days, Amane was running her dry with all his demands, as well as her money. They ranged from annoying to atrocious. But she bared through it all.

Jack, Epel, and Sebek found not long after, been informed by Ace and Deuce. They offered to take care of Amane so she could rest but declined. Amane might blackmail her that she wasn't doing her job as a hostess, not to mention he might make them uncomfortable as well. She just had to soldier on.

"I forgot to ask, how did you end up with those wounds?"

It was a Sunday morning, and Valerie just brought his breakfast. A plate of raspberry and chocolate waffles, and Darjeeling tea. He demanded it to be made since he said he wanted his favorite breakfast. He nearly emptied her wallet, because of how expensive the raspberries are.

She also decided to eat with him this time, to hopefully build a better level of trust. Grim was downstairs, saying he didn't want to be in the same room as him. He paused mid-bite and narrowed his eyes.

"Why the fuck should I tell ya? We don't exactly see eye-to-eye ya know."

"I know, but I thought I could understand you better. Despite, the sexist nicknames, and overall rudeness. I can tell you're not a bad person."

Amane studied her face to find any hint of mockery, or deception. However, to his surprise there was none. Her face was earnest, as she patiently waited for him to speak. He sighed.

"My shitty dad did this to me."

This shocked her, but he paid no mind and continued.

"I did something he didn't like and got punished."

"Wha-What did you do?"

"I gave some information to our rival company, safe to say my old man was not pleased. My friend is the CEO's kid, my dad was planning an assassination attempt on him, but I eavesdrop on one of his meetings and managed to phone her just on time. He saw this as an act of betrayal and punished me for it."

"Didn't you're mother do anything! What about the rest of you're family?"

"My mother had no power, and the rest of them agreed with my dad."

She went silent and contemplated. She had one question in her mind.

"But...How did you manage to end up in that crater? Night Raven is miles away from any other piece of land."

It was his turn to be silent. Amane looked away as he pondered for an appropriate response. Finally, he faced her.

“You see Sugar tits, my family and I are demons, sex demons to be exact. He probably used teleportation magic to get rid of me, and erase any evidence."

A demon, an incubus no less, well, that did explain why he didn't die so easily when she found him. Though she should have guessed he was a supernatural being, his ears were a dead giveaway. Speaking of which, she remembered what she first thought he was and let out a giggle.

Amane furrowed his brows. "What's so funny?"

She turned to him still giggling.

"I thought you were some kind of fae, with you're ears and all."

He knit his brows at her answer, before giving out a hearty chuckle.

"Haha, you actually thought I was one of those guys. Fairies are overrated Hun, demons are what's hot."

"Oh really? they've been so overused in the media, I thought they were the overrated beings." She smirked. He gave out another chuckle.

"Oh, honey. That just means we're more lovable."

They let out another good-hearted laugh before the girl asked another question.

"So...Is there anything else I should know about you or demons?" He let out a thoughtful hum before answering.

"You know about demon pacts, yeah?" She nodded.

"Well, back in the old days my family would perform blood pacts with people who they are eternally grateful for and give them gifts as a sign of their loyalty."

He gave her a close-lipped smile.

"But of course, you won't see me that Sugar tits, I ain't exactly grateful to be in your care but it will do.'"

"Keep that attitude up, and you'll be relying on Grim."

"He's cute but unreliable and a bit whiny for my tastes."

She laughed. She was about to reply when she heard the said monster calling for her. Valerie muttered under breath on how he's such a whiny baby, but there was a smile on her face.

"I'll see you later. Call when me you need something." She got up and left. Leaving Amane in his thoughts.

No one, but his mother and his best friend were that kind to him.

Maybe she ain't so bad.

_____________________________________

Night came quickly. Valerie decided she and Grim will have dinner with Amane. Technically, she had to bribe him with her tuna casserole to get him to cooperate, and just like that he's happily eating his third serving with them.

"Mmmmm~ The cheese complements the tuna so well! You really outdid yourself Henchwoman!"

"Is he always like this?" Amane whispered as he watched Grim loudly eating his food with a blank look on his face.

"Yeah, but it's his charming point, I guess."

Unexpectedly, after their conversation this morning. Amane didn't bother her as much, just an occasional glass of water or a trip to the bathroom. She didn't know what changed his attitude, but it was welcomed regardless.

"So. After you get better, wanna hang out sometime?" He glanced at her mildly surprised, but a cheeky smirk made it's to his face.

"Asking me on a date are you Sugar tits? So bold~ But alas, girls aren't my thing, but if you're setting me up with one of your boy toys I'll happily oblige."

She giggled and lightly punched his shoulder. "No, I mean for us hang out as friends, and I don't think I should introduce you to guys just yet. Unless you want to traumatize their minds with all your flirting."

"Their loss if they can't handle this firecracker."

Valerie smiled. She liked this side of Amane better, he was easy to talk to and made great jokes, even if his humor is a little...Vulgar. After dinner, she helped Amane get ready for bed, then her and Grim's turn to retire.

"Kid, hey kid." She groaned and turned over. But she felt the covers being forcefully removed. Groggily she sat up, she asked what's wrong.

"It's Amane, he's been crying for thirty minutes. We tried to comfort him but it got worse." Wilbur answered, concern evident in his voice.

Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, finally registering the loud screaming and crying, and the ghosts concerned expressions. She rapidly got out of bed, waking Grim up in the process, and sprinted to Amane's room.

He was a mess when she got to him. Amane was thrashing around, covered in sweat and tears leaked out of his eyes. He was mumbling in his sleep.

"N-No! Stop it!... Please I-I'm sorry, no more." He choked out a sob. Her heart clenched at the sight. She climbed on the bed and managed to wrapped her arms around him.

"Amane! Amane it's alright, no one's here to hurt you. It's not real!"

He jolted up and she caught the sight of his face. His eyes were red and his breathe were ragged. He started to chew on his bottom lip, and his eyes welled up with tears again. He buried his face on her chest, his body wracked with an onslaught of sobs and tears.

She rubbed circles on his back in an attempt to comfort him and whispered more words of reassurance. It took a while, but he managed to calm down. They sat in silence, save for Amane's occasional sniffles.

"Hey, Valerie." This was the first time he said her name properly. "Ratting my dad out wasn't the only reason he beat me."

He confessed that the other reason he was actually a bastard child. His mother had an affair with one of his father's employees once she found out he had a mistress. She was going to announce the divorce during their anniversary when his father blackmailed her to stay with him. Amane didn't know what it was, but it worked.

He told her that since he was the only child, his father expected him to take over his place one day, and produce an heir. Unfortunately for him, he was interested in boys and didn't like the idea of taking over his father's company.

His mother was the only person who accepted him, while his father was outraged. He argued he could just adopt a child, but it only made it worse. The rest of his family expressed their disappointment in him, in everything he did, and voted him to be banned from the family.

Valerie, just sat there as he continued to cry. She soothed him, telling him that it's okay, that it's not his obligation to live up to his family standards, whatever he does his choice only not theirs. That he should be free from their hateful opinions.

She spied the ghosts and Grim at the doorway but didn't say anything, opted to just comfort the man in her arms.

_____________________________________

After that night, their relationship changed drastically. He was more open to her, more friendly, and used her name often. He told her stories about his childhood and his best friend Lorelei, who was also a demon descendant, notably a spider demon. A famous idol who's known for incorporating spiders into her aesthetic. He promised her to introduce them sometime.

In return, she confessed to him she was from another world and he didn't look a leased bit surprised.

"Honey, after all the shit I've been through, nothing surprises me at this point."

She told about her life in Night Raven, how she constantly solved the school's overblot problem, and how she's basically Crowley's errand girl.

"The school is lucky that I don't have any magic. With all the stressful situations I've been through, I would have overblotted and destroy the entire school.'"

She shared stories about her and her friends' shenanigans, and the rest of the boys. He questioned if any of the boys were her boyfriend, cause he noticed how affectionate she was to all of them. She told him no, she was just like that normally.

"I don't understand why they turn red whenever I hug them or kiss their cheeks. I mean, showing affection to friends is normal."

Ahh. The oblivious type.

_____________________________________

It was finally the day Amane recuperate, and to go home. They were in the mirror chamber and Crowley was there to wish him the best of health, (and maybe exploit some money from him.) He wore the clothes when she found him, all clean and fixed.

"Mr. Mania I hope your stay was pleasant, and I wish for you the best of health, A reward is not needed, a simple thanks will do for I am gracious. But if you like, then I am in no room to argue."

Valerie mentally rolled her eyes at that but gave Amane a soft but sad smile. She was slowly getting used to his company and almost asked if he could stay longer, but she refused to be selfish. Instead, she just hugged the man, which he reciprocated.

"I hope you come back soon."

"Of course I will Val, ain't nothing gonna stop this firecracker." He turned his attention to Grim and gave him a noogie.

"Of course I'll come back for you too, ya little shit."

"Fguaa! Just get out of here!"

He gave them a crooked grin and walked away. Valerie watched as he walked away, hoping she could meet him again. However, after a few steps, he stopped and ran back to her. This perplexed them, especially when he got into one knee and took her hands.

"Valerie Kemonihito, I wished to have a blood pact with you, I am forever in your debt."

They stared at him as if he grew three heads. None of them couldn't believe his words. A blood pact? What was he doing? Valerie was the first to recover.

"Amane you don't have to do this, you don't have a debt towards me." She tried to reason, but he furiously shook his head.

"No, I do. You have saved my life and brought me peace and comfort when I am at my most vulnerable, you have accepted me as I am, and have not judged me for my past, and for those reasons. So please, accept it."

They all stared, waiting for her answer. After a few agonizing seconds, she responded.

"It won't hurt that much right?" Amane smiled.

"Not much, just a tiny prick will do."

"Alright let's do it."

"Are you sure Ms. Kemonohito?" Crowley cut in. "Blood pacts are a serious oath that should not be taken likely if ever one of the party's' will break it, death is the only punishment."

Valerie gazed at Amane, there was no hint of mischief, the determination is clear on his face.

"I'm sure." Amane smiled and got up.

"Okay." He brought his hand up, claws grew and took his index finger and slowly cut a small line in both their hands. Valerie winced but bared with it.

"Now we hold hands and recite our own oath, I'll go first." He cleared his throat.

"I, Amane Mania will dedicate my life to serve you. Wherever you are and whenever you are, I shall protect you with my life, and bring you justice if ever I failed to protect you."

"I, Valerie Kemonohito will do my best to be kind and just to you. So you may never suffer or feel lonely, you are welcome to be with me as much as you want so you may never feel ostracize again."

As they said these words, a dark reddish light enveloped them. The blood on their hands swirled and mixed together before engraving it in their skins like tattoos, going up to their arms all the way to their faces.

Grim and Crowley watch the spectacle, astounded but frighten as the light died down, and their marks disappearing.

Valerie blinked, she stared at their hands. All healed as if he didn't cut them. She cut off from her musings when Amane spoke.

"With this blood pact, you can summon me anytime time you want, no matter the place I will be with you. All you have to do is either call my name three times or use your blood and call my name." He informed.

"And now for my tribute. Give me a moment."

He raised his hands, chanting words under his breath a pinkish glow covered his hands, when the light died down a silver necklace inlaid with pink quartz appeared.

“Alright, c’mere.” He turned her around and clasp it on her.

“This was an heirloom, but only those who we think are worthy may have this and I want you to take it.” Valerie admired the the craftsmanship of it and beamed up to him.

“Thank you.” He ruffled her hair.

“No problem, now time to to get my ride. Y’all better step back.”

They did just that. Amane closed his eyes before muttering incomprehensible words, a star pentagon appeared before their eyes, it glowed a red malevolent aura, then a screech.

It was horrendous. The sound shook the ground and cracked the windows but weirdly not the mirrors, finally, a giant figure swooped up and landed next to Amane. It was a monster, it was twenty-foot tall, it had a humanoid body but its hands and feet had dangerously sharp talons, its wings were big as its body, and it’s head reminded her of an owl but the sharp teeth made her reconsider.

"Mr. Mania! Do you realize what you have summoned!?" The fear and shock were clear in Crowley's voice as he stared at the creature.

'"What is that!? It's so ugly!" Grime cried. He hid in Valerie's clothes as it's glowing amber eyes glared at him for his comment.

"This is a Strix. A demonic vampire owl that feasts on human flesh and blood. Lucky for you, this girl likes what normal owls eat so your good." The strix's feathers were the colors of pecan and it had small tufts of white.

"Her name is Lisha, I saved her when she was being bullied from her own kind. Lisha that's Valerie." Valerie shrunk when the strix's gaze shifted from Grim to her.

Lisha tilted her head curiously before leaning towards the girl, sniffing her hair and clothes. Valerie stood still as it goes on. Finally, she let out a happy chirped and nuzzled her. Valerie let out a surprised gasp but laughed and wrapped her arms around her head.

“How about that? Lisha doesn’t usually like strangers, but it seems your an exception.” He grinned

Valerie ran her fingers in Lisha feathers, they were soft and smooth. The monster purred in content.

"I'll be off, for real this time." He got onto Lisha’s back, but Valerie spoke up.

"Wait where are you staying?"

"I'll go to Lorelei. Her dad and I are cool cause I saved his life." The star pentagon glowed. He looked back, he gave one final smirk and disappeared.

Valerie smiled fondly, she scratched Grim’s ears as an attempt to comfort him.

"Well." Crowley coughed. "Now that's over, Ms. Kemonohito I hope you learned something from this experience.”

"Yes, sir."

"Good now I must be off. Crewel will have my hind if I keep him waiting." He muttered as he walked off.

Just as he walked out, her first-year friends ran in. All with worried expressions on their faces.

"Valerie! We heard a screech and it came h-"

"Oh, it came from Amane’s familiar.” She answered.

“Damn, nice ice Val.” Ace commented looking at her necklace.

“Thanks. Amane gave her to me as a gift." The mentioned of his name sent shivers to the ADeuce duo as they recalled his...Advances towards them.

"Its beautiful." Epel was sure Vil would approve of it.

"He didn't do anything obscene, Valerie?" Sebek eyed at the peice of jewelry, feeling something different about it.

"No, but we did a blood pact though." That made them froze.

"You did what?" The fae's voice was low for once as he and the rest of the boys stared her, wide-eyed and slacked jawed.

"A blood pact."

All hell broke loose.

The boys were screaming at her, asking why would she do that, and promising to beat the life out of Amane, thinking he forced it on her.

Valerie pursed her lips, she set Grim down before hitting their head. They grunted in pain.

"Okay before you guys go off. Amane did this as a sign of his gratitude and gave me this necklace as a sign of loyalty. He was actually a great guy once you get to know him, and he's just misunderstood. He even promised to come back and hang out, you should join us."

Ace and Deuce paled at the mention that he was coming back to Night Raven, but jealousy grew in their stomachs like the rest of the boys. Hearing her talked so fondly of him irritated them, but she didn't notice.

"Fine, we'll consider your offer Princess. But we won't hesitate to gut that guy if he makes you upset." Ace huffed. She grinned.

"Thank you so much. Now if you excuse me, I'll have to buy groceries." She kissed their cheeks.

She happily walked out leaving five red-faced boys and made her way to Sam's shop.

"Hey while we're at it, can we buy some premium tuna. I need it after all I've been through."

"Fine, you've deserved it." He cheered.

She giggled. Admiring her necklace, it glinted brightly under the sun. Her thoughts drifted to Amane, hoping he was alright. She knows she'll see him again after this is Twisted Wonderland

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #ace trappola #deuce spade #twisted wonderland grim #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #dire crowley #twisted wonderland x mc #twst x mc #valerie kemonohito #amane mania

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trashi-bee · 4 years

Text

Sugar Pt. 2 ~

Pairing: Sugar Baby! Reader x Sugar Daddy! Vince

Warnings: 18+ (smut), non-con type action, oral (male receiving), rough penetrative vaginal sex, breath play?, swearing, degradation, some kitten play if u look rly hard

Lil Summary: Vince decides he’s no longer a fan of your disobedience and teaches you a lil lesson

Word Count: 1.3 k

Tbh both parts of sugar can stand on their own and don’t rly need to be read together but, fuck it I guess, here’s the fic I’ve been putting off for months and mostly wrote manically in one day AHAHAHAHAH, enjoy daddy Vince n pls give feedback u whores. Also sry if there’s issues I edited this high lol

Awoken by the illumination of dawn, you stretch to find yourself in an empty bed. The body that held you so close hours before now gone, the unkempt sheets the only indication he had been there at all. It doesn’t take you long to figure out where he had gone off to, as his voice echoes through the nearly void hallways of the unreasonably large home.

Still wrapped in barely-there silks he had bought for you on a previous occasion, you rise to search for him, being lured towards his voice like an ignorant sailor follows the enchanting song of a siren. Cold, bare feet thump against the unforgiving wooden floors, alerting him to your presence at the entrance of his ‘office’, another room he was unsure of how to furnish, deciding on an excessively lavish desk and confusingly expensive art pieces strewn around the room. He sits on a plush chair, phone in one hand, the other raising, a silent gesture for you to leave. A foolish decision, considering your reputation for being a brat.

A devilish smile crosses your face, the invitation to defy him too alluring to pass up. Dropping to your knees, you slink towards him, waving your hips in an attempt to catch his attention, but all you get in return is the roll of his eyes and a soft scoff. Just as you reach the spot beside him, he covers the phone, looking towards you with annoyance present in his features, “It’s getting really hard to deal with your unruly attitude, y’know that?”. Faking confusion, you tilt your head as to play dumb, unaware of why he would be even the least bit irritated. A chuckle is barely audible as he ignores your presence, bringing his attention to whomever was on the other end of his oh-so important phone call.

The lack of attention spurs you into action, a devious hand making its way up his jean-clad thigh, resting once it meets his crotch. The slight shimmy of his hips once you’ve situated your palm above his clothed groin has you ecstatic, although Vince likes to play the part of an unbothered, assertive man, he was undoubtedly vulnerable to your every touch.

Moving just the slightest bit, your fingers play with his zipper, hovering around it for a moment before swiftly pulling it all the way down, then moving to unhook the button just above it for unrestricted access to his boxers. Surprisingly, he’s done nothing further to halt your actions, continuing to act as if you’re no longer there. That changes once your hand makes its way to his nearly stiff member. Hurriedly, he covers the phones mouthpiece to scald you once again “get your hand out of my pants or you’ll regret it kitten, I fucking mean it.” His threats were undoubtedly real, punishment something he enjoyed delivering, but you were never one to consider consequences, the power you had over him in this moment was immensely gratifying. With a swift movement of your wrist, his cock springs from its confines, standing tall and aching for further attention.

Continuing with your act of idiocy, you toy with his length, faintly connecting your lips to his tip, slowly making your way to his base, all the while barely moving your hand up and down his girth. Your act of innocence displeases him, his free hand finding it’s way into your disheveled mane and pulling on your strands, a definite sign for you to drop the act. With a giggle, you decide to give in, opening your mouth and welcoming his intrusion, the taste of his arousal salty on your tongue. His pattern of speech now altered, slight sighs and low groans barely audible as he fights the pleasure you’ve begun to give him, the phone call now seeming a little less important. With a grunt of defeat, he offers a sudden goodbye to the unaware party on the other end of the line, ending the call and slamming his phone into the mahogany desk with frustration.

“These behavioral issues you have, have been ignored for far too long-”, now gripping your hair with both of his hands, he forces you to your feet, bringing your face level with his “-and it’s about time you truly learn to conduct yourself in a more respectable manner, kitten”. Swinging you around with his grasp, he harshly pushes your frail frame into the unforgiving edge of his desk, forcing your head downwards, placing you in a position of submission. Your groan brought on by his unusually rough treatment doesn't go unnoticed “little kitty can dish out the torture, but can’t take it?”, his increasingly rude comments bringing a smile to your face and a fire to your groin. Provoking him into giving you what you craved was almost too easy.

“Now I know I’ve never had a sugar baby before you- but it’s to my understanding that as long as I keep you pretty and polished-”, his hand now dancing along the waistband of your little silk shorts “you’re to be my sweet, submissive, compliant little toy, right?”, you slightly loll your head to the side, peeking at his form standing behind you, “I suppose so-”, his eyes make contact with yours, fire evident in his glare “and you’ve been nothing of the fucking sort, right?”, you scoff, tired of his questions “yes, daddy”. A fake smile rests on his face, venom dripping from his mouth as he replies once more “Exactly-”, ripping the delicate fabric from your thighs, he kicks your legs apart “and that’s why you’ll receive absolutely no mercy from me today”.

Your uncertainty was quickly dispelled once you felt the cruel invasion in your unprepared cunt, a sudden, hoarse squeal leaves your lips, your fingers quick to dig into the nearest material. Bringing his hands to your face, one covering your mouth and the other plugging your nose, he brings his mouth towards your ear, fanning warm breath onto the side of your face “Disobedient cunts like you don’t deserve oxygen”. The continuous, sudden and unrelenting pace he’s set is far from forgiving, and the lack of air entering your lungs only adds to the ferocity, howls of pain and faint pleasure were muffled in your throat, barely able to be heard through his hand. Forced to accept his girth, your abused sex begins to produce the proper fluids to make this punishment enjoyable, allowing your body to now graciously accept his severity.

After what feels like an eternity, he releases the grip on your face, leaving you gasping for air, your abandoned lungs stinging once they’ve taken all the oxygen they can accommodate. The next place his hands explore are your hips, taking them into his clutch as to allow for more control, his rolling hips and the slap of his body colliding with yours was audible throughout the room and down the hallways. The sweet, rhythmic feeling of his member entering and exiting your body was beginning to take its toll on your insides, a familiar feeling of release well on its way.

“Please Vince- please let me” your voice diminishing as your pleasure increases, mouth hanging wide open as you chase your climax. “Please let you what, kitten?”, now acting as foolish as you had earlier, he pushes you to finish your sentence, annoyance evident in his tone. “Fuck- please let me cum”, he laughs at your embarrassing attempt to speak, entertained by your lack of cogency. With a few final, powerful thrusts, he pulls out of your unchaste hole, leaving you exasperated and unfulfilled.

The sound of his zipper being pulled up into a proper position makes you look back towards him, where you’re provided a view of an arrogant Vince staring at your form with a conceited grin on his face. With one last glance at your spent body, he moves to leave the room, “Remember this feeling of disappointment the next time you misbehave, maybe if you learn some fucking manners you’ll earn back the right to cum.”

#Motley Crue #Vince Neil #vince neil imagine #vince neil fanfic #vince neil x reader #motley crue fandom #Motley #motley crue fanfiction #MotleyScrew #daddy vince 😫#glam rock #fanfic

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 114 prt 2

Lance bit down a laugh, relieved to know they didn’t suspect macaroon was a baby and not a dessert snack

“That’s right. You were in hospital. Hunk said it was an accident. Are you okay?”

Why was Shay bringing that up now?

“Yeah. I had a stomach bug and fainted. A whole lot of worry for nothing”

“Plus he’s been working in Platt...”

Hunk was trying to help, but how was he supposed to explain that? Especially when Shay looked so interested

“You’re a lawyer, right?”

“Yep. Family law. It always gets busy towards Christmas”

“Don’t let them lie to you, Shay. He and Keith have totally shacked up. We’ve been abandoned”

Shay giggled as she bumped Pidge with her shoulder

“They are kind of cute together”

“If by cute you mean “totally gross”, then sure”

Shiro finally decided to “Dad” up

“Now, now. They’re happy. That’s the main thing. So what do we want to do now?”

“I could totally go for a nap right here... the fire feels so nice. Kosmo’s got the right idea, totally digging out and letting the fire warm his balls”

Lance wished he had something to throw at Matt, instead Rieva proved to be on his side

“Mmm... that’d be nice. I left my book in our cabin. I could go for dogging out too”

Werewolves. You couldn’t take them anywhere. Curtis seemed to be on team “lounge about” too. Lance had kind of thought the weather would be clearer and they’d be able to explore the area more

“We could do presents? It’d be an excellent way to warm up again”

“Yes! Okay, let me get mine for Keith!”

“And I’ll get ours!”

Hunk seemed enthused

“Matt’s going to brave the snow and get ours, the fire’s too nice to leave”

“Baaaabe”

“Awww, do you need me to hold your hand”

“Yes”

Rieva shoved Matt in the shoulder

“Go get ours before I throw you into the snow. And be nice. Go grab Lance’s present and his heat packs. He’s making me cold looking at him”

Matt dragged himself up

“Yes, boss. Do you two want anything else from your cabin?”

Lance knew it was horrible, yet he was struck with the strong feeling of not wanting Matt in his and Keith’s space. He knew it had to be his ego being stupid, but the feeling was uncomfortable and unwanted. When he didn’t answer, Keith answered for him

“Nah, thanks for asking, man”

“Okay... I guess I’ll be back soon. No stealing my spot while I’m gone. I farted on it”

Pidge wrinkled her nose

“Are you sure you don’t just stink all the time?”

“Not funny, Katie”

“Come over here and say that. I’ll bite you”

“And risk my ankles? I think not”

Pidge glared at Matt who darted out the living area. Stupid werewolves and their high body heat, and stupid feelings. He’d nearly growled at Matt as he’d passed Keith. This was beyond ridiculous. How the fuck was he supposed to keep his secret for the whole weekend, let alone until the next scan? Maybe he should just take his bad mood back to the cabin after the presents. It was Keith’s birthday. He shouldn’t be acting pissy at their friend for absolutely no reason.

Shiro’s gift wasn’t funny. His brother was an arsehole. He’d taken a photo of him sleeping, mouth open and all, then had it printed on a blanket, with matching socks. Shiro laughing far too hard at the look on Keith’s face. He’d wanted to open Lance’s first, but Lance seemed nervous for some strange reason, so Keith was now saving his for last. He knew whatever his boyfriend gave him, it had to be better than Shiro’s.

From Curtis he received a bat. A soft toy, but none the less it was bat. Poor Shay didn’t get the joke, Lance explaining Keith was totally terrified of them. Keith defending himself over the incident in the mine, though it was pretty good coverup story if he thought about it. He liked bats a little more, though only when they were Lance and not flying past his head like some great doom cloud. Curtis producing a second present that was heavily influenced by Shiro, because it was a damn bobble head of a bat. But of them sucked... not that he’d admit it, and not that they really did... Okay, Shiro did, but he already knew how lame his brother was. At least it wasn’t more sex toys. He hadn’t even told Lance he’d brought a few things with him.

Hunk’s gift was more practical. Seeing Keith’s bike still wasn’t on the road it was a voucher for his dad’s garage. At $250 it was far too much, despite Hunk insisting he’d be doing most of the work and Keith could help if he wanted too.

Shay’s gift was a fuel card for Balmera, to go with his bike once it was up and going, and stern lecture about visiting more because they missed him. It was nice... but still, he felt like it was too much. He didn’t need $100 voucher on top of Hunk’s, though Shay said she used her staff discount it was still... a lot.

Pidge was a gremlin. She’d always be a gremlin. She’d brought him a hard book map of Platt, laughing about his terrible sense of direction, and GPS tracker that kind of looked like the ones worn when under house arrest. She laughed at the confused look on her face, explaining it was for Lance so he wouldn’t lose his boyfriend when they were out. If anyone needed a GPS it was Matt. Especially after he and Rieva had “relocated” a cow for Lance’s birthday.

From Kosmo he was gifted a bag of treats and new harness seeing the old one was snug with how much his dog had grown. Shiro had picked it out... it was red with little bones on it... definitely more his brother’s taste.

Matt had gifted him a voucher for a bike shop. Keith wondering if he really seemed the voucher type. He was under orders to get a new helmet. He hadn’t thought about it, but all his friends had been pretty worried after his accident. It felt nice to be cared about... too cared about. This wasn’t like his birthday’s in the past. No Adam with his practical gifts... Or smell of burnt cake in the air.

Rieva had gifted him books... Vampire romance books... that he wasn’t sure how to accept. He only wanted to be intimate with one vampire, so possibly Lance would have a laugh out of them later. Shiro’s gift was bad but this wasn’t that great... Did Rieva always... Surely she didn’t just read porn... Rieva was smart, highly educated, and confident in herself... but even she couldn’t ignore pop culture making things seem like everything was possible when you were a vampire... Maybe she thought he could use a laugh?

Lance’s gift was finally the last. By now Keith really didn’t want to open up another voucher. He already had anxiety thinking about going shopping. Naturally he wanted to take Lance, but that was now even more dangerous. They hadn’t even had like a real date. They’d missed their reservation and opera with Lotor and Allura didn’t count. Lance‘a gift wasn’t that big... it felt like it was maybe two thing in there... and something kind of solid...

“Open it already!”

Trust Pidge to want to rush him. She probably wanted to know what vampires thought an acceptable gift when dating a hunter. Careful with the tag, he placed it aside. Yeah. No one else got that treatment, but then again, no one else had bothered putting a tag on it. The gift wrapped in red ribbon, Lance knowing he loved the colour red... the paper was plain white, not giving him any clues to the contents.

Unwrapping Lance’s present, he was actually really thrilled. It wasn’t a voucher. It wasn’t something to do with his bike, that he now felt a little self conscious about. He loved his bike and missed the feel of straddling her... not that Lance knew he called her a “her”. There was a small butterfly knife, not great in a real fight but a handy thing to have in a human fight. His collection of them was somewhere in the boxes from the move. The second knife was a proper good quality hunting knife, his name engraved on the hilt. This... this was definitely making onto his work belt

“I know you don’t like big expensive gifts. And I wanted to give you something useful. Just don’t go stabbing me with it”

Lance nuzzled into him, Keith kind of in shock. Like... he knew Lance paid close attention to the things he liked, and he felt like after Lance admitted he didn’t know much about cameras that it was Lance’s was of confessing he didn’t know much about him. He’d been totally wrong

“I won’t... babe... it’s perfect”

Keith hadn’t realised Shiro was actually recording the whole present opening thing. His brother chuckling

“I guess we know who’s gift he likes the most”

It was when he flipped his brother off that he noticed. It was probably bad that he wanted to start training with it...

“I love it...”

“We can tell. Happy birthday, kiddo”

Keith’s feelings flooded through him. The amount of love he felt for the group of people surrounding him was too much. He didn’t... he couldn’t thank them enough. Wrapping his arms around him, Keith hid his face against Lance’s cheek completely limp in Lance’s hold

“Happy birthday, samurai”

“I...”

“It’s okay... you’re allowed to be happy. You’re allowed to be scared too... Pidge is pretty scary”

“Fuck you. I’m a nice person when I want to be”

Lance chuckled

“See. She’s a terror. Okay, now that presents are done, I’m totally going for a nap... Take care of Keith for me”

He didn’t get to come? Shiro chuckled at the pair of them

“Don’t worry about that. He’s got his blades to play with. We’ll keep an eye on him”

“I’d prefer you kept both on him, or he’s likely to lose one of his own, and I’m afraid I can’t let him. I love his eyes too much”

When Lance left for his nap, Keith felt kind of lost. He couldn’t help but worry if his boyfriend made it back to the cabin and if he was okay. Still overwhelmed, he found himself sitting on the veranda of the cabin, playing with his camera because Shay would probably freak out if he played with his knife. Inside the others had figured out how to hook Pidge’s laptop up, playing some interactive game with their phones, which Hunk didn’t seem to be doing well at. Hearing the sliding door open, he knew it’d be Shiro coming to check on him.

Sitting down beside him, his brother looped his arm over Keith’s shoulders

“How you doing?”

“Okay... I... don’t really know”

“It’s definitely different to birthdays back in Rome”

“Yeah... louder... with more people and presents. It’s kind of weird”

“Really? I think it’s nice”

Keith looked up to Shiro who smiled down at him

“That’s because you’re weird”

“Nah. My baby brother is having the best birthday of his life. What more could I hope for?”

“Not to be surrounded by weirdos?”

“Nah. They’re fine. Is Lance okay?”

“He doesn’t like the cold...”

“I gathered that by how high the aircon’s been in the apartment. I also heard you kept a couple of wolves up last night”

Keith blushed. He loved the sounds Lance made and hadn’t thought about his voice carrying

“Yeah... I know it’s sex... but with him...”

“It feels special”

Special didn’t come close

“Yeah. We hadn’t done anything since the accident...”

“I understand that. As long as you two are okay, that’s all that matters”

“Are you okay? Is Curtis?”

“Yep. He’s worried about Lance but knows Lance will talk to him properly when he’s ready. He’s missed having him back at the house”

Keith groaned. He didn’t want Lance going back

“Kiddo?”

“I... it’s not fair but I... I get stuck thinking about what if he falls down the stairs again. We were so lucky the first time”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’m sure everything will be fine”

“The word for that is “macaroon””

“Let me guess, Lance decided?”

“Nope. We couldn’t decide what an “idiot crumpet” made when combined with an “anger loaf””

Shiro snorted with laughter

“He’s a bit strange with the bread analogies”

“He’s fine. I think you’re a croissant but it really depends on his mood”

“Because I’m delicious and a killer on the hips?”

Keith wrinkled his nose. His brother was too into this

“I don’t want to think about that. That can stay between you and Curtis”

“In that case let’s just say Curtis really likes croissants”

Thank god he didn’t say he liked buttered croissants or croissants with cream

“Ew... I’ve seen too much as it is. Is everyone else having fun?”

“Yeah. They get it. They don’t expect you to have to hide away what you’re feeling”

“Even when I don’t feel like I deserved everything they gave me. Them being here was enough”

“They chose gifts thinking of you. I gotta say, that GPS on your ankle would save me hours of worry”

“If you like it that much you should wear it”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

A comfortable silence fell between the two brothers. Shiro had done so much for him. Keith wished he knew how to pay him back for everything. He’d given him first happy birthday memories that he could remember. The door behind the slid open, then closed, again, Curtis coming out to join them. Sitting down on Keith’s other side, he was squashed in an idiot sandwich

“Pidge is ruthless. She and Shay have broken Hunk and Matt”

That sounded about normal for them, Keith asking

“And you?”

“Came to see what was taking you two so long. I was sure you’d be with Lance”

“He wanted to take a nap”

“I’ve noticed the change in his energy levels. Don’t tell me. He will when he’s ready. I do worry about him in the cold... It won’t kill him, but he may become aggressive if his body temperature drops too low”

Shiro sighed at Curtis

“Don’t stress Keith out. I’m sure Lance is fine”

Or he could be huddled up freezing his arse off

“Nope. I’m stressed now. I’m going to check on him. Shiro, take care of my camera for me, I’ll be back soon”

As Keith left the two idiots behind, he could hear Shiro scolding his boyfriend, Curtis protesting awkwardly. Their friends were so damn weird.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Femme: 40

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, GDragon x Bigbang

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Pregnancy, Alcohol Consumption (drink responsibly), mentions making love, cumplay (not really), birth, tasting breast milk, emotions and more that I cant think of.

Length: 5.8k words

Announcement: This is dedicated to the Sherlock holmes anon who guessed the dad debate correct. It was Yoongi. Autocorrects may occur and other errors just let me know if there is anything majorly wrong.

Recap: Back from America. You and the boys have to deal with sickness as the last of winter turns to spring. You are finally able to go back to work, however, you find out you are pregnant. The doctor is running the DNA test who is the father.

The boys joined you one by one, each taking boxes and sorting through them, you helped to carry a rubbish bag for anything they were finally ready to part with. You organised so much stuff, and could finally see the crisp cream walls and grey marble tiles.

“We finally can have a computer room for our games?” Taehyung wiggles excitedly bumping fists with Jungkook who was wearing a pair of rabbit ears. “Or a new dance studio” Jimin grinned at Hoseok who made a cheerful noise while he was buried under a pile of little bags.

“Actually I was wondering if perhaps I could have this room” You spoke quietly folding an old shirt of Jin’s. “What why?” Namjoon was quite alarmed, “did we do something wrong?”

“No it is not that, I just want to make something special in this room. A surprise” they nodded some did so reluctantly. You got the key to the room. And ushered them out so you could start planning.

Over the next few weeks, Jiyong and Moon Inshik helped paint and they snuck in furniture while the boys were out. Jiyong was designing the whole thing. Describing your dream nursery with sketches and the colour scheme was white, grey and peach. Later moving on to clothing and designs preferring no pictures or words on the clothes. The baby clothes colour scheme was peach and yellow.

“You think the baby will be a girl?” “I think the baby would look cute in pink and yellow” “Have you heard back from the doctor about the DNA test?”

“Uh yeah yesterday I received the letter, I just wanted to make it special, I don’t know whether to tell him first or if it should be a group thing?” “Whatever feels right” he leaned down to your belly, his hands were cold and fingers thin, his daughter followed his actions touching your stomach as well and whispered to your baby giggling. “Uncle Jiyong is going to spoil you rotten”

“I don’t think you could if you tried”

Yoongi was in his studio returning home in a formal suit, he had met with a client and it seemed the meeting had gone really well; by the way, he didn’t shuffle and drop his bag but was actually humming. Knocking politely before opening the door he grinned “y/n? come in kitten”

The studio was brightly lit, which seemed odd, and his lips were pulled up in a smile. He looked content just satisfied with his day. You walked over slowly, he looked too happy, you were now having second thoughts. Maybe you shouldn’t tell them who the father is and just say we are pregnant to all the boys. “How was your day?”

“Really good, those boys are hectic, but they liked the song and I got a good percentage of its profits. And there will be more if I help them with the rest of their album. They actually invited us all to dinner tonight so, would you like to come”

He was so chatty and bubbly you hoped this didn’t ruin it, he kept trying to pull you forward and you were subtly avoiding him. Touching things on his desk and cleaning up a few papers. His sweater paws laid on the arms of his desk chair no longer grabbing for you.

“Why are you avoiding me, did I do something wrong?” His smile faded and you wanted to hit yourself for being the reason. “No, you are perfect Yoongi,” Not looking at him, the guilt of ruining his happiness set in. “Did you do something wrong, did you break something?”

“Yoongi, I have something to tell you and it’s important” he licked his pretty pink lips in anticipation. Standing with a sigh he ran his hand down his face, loosening his tie and removing his jacket. The sight stirring you, you liked watching Yoongi undress. He walked you to the couch, where he held your hand and waited patiently.

“Tell me” his voice was low and serious offering you a moment. “It’s good news well I think so, but I am worried how you will feel”

Searching your face for the answer, your hands were shaking as you pulled the opened letter from your pocket and you handed it to him.

Opening the paper he began reading, he was quiet for a long time frowning “what does it mean? the DNA results confirm with ninety-nine point eight percent accuracy that Min Yoongi is determined as the biological father”

He looked up to see you crying. “I’m not your great great great granddad or something am I, we aren’t even from the same country” “No idiot” Laughing through misty eyes you pulled out the ultrasound photo and sniffled “This is our baby, Yoongi. You're going to be a dad”

Lunging into your arms he pulled back alarmed touching your belly to make sure he hadn’t hurt the precious bean inside. He wasted no time kissing your lips, face and neck. Laughing even though he was crying, he held you to his chest. “My kitten we are having a baby”

The afternoon was spent cuddling in his bedroom. He rubbed your tummy humming quietly, it was a soft tune that you had never heard before and he looked so content. Stirring only occasionally to ask you questions, “How long has it been?”

“Well I found out when I was about nine weeks, and I technically didn’t want anyone to know until after sixteen weeks, but currently I am twelve weeks which is three months. I’m not showing just yet, but, will you still love me when I get fat?” “I want to see you big with my baby inside of you” he grinned leisurely tracing his fingers around your belly button.

Deciding to show Yoongi the nursery, the two of you agreed to keep it a secret until sixteen weeks. Just in case anything went wrong. Yoongi stepped inside and you showed him the crib, little toys, blankets and a few outfits. “There’s a little rocking chair for when I am nursing the baby, everything is themed peach and yellow because I don’t want my baby limited to ‘girl colours’ or ‘boy colours’. I just want them to be clean, happy, healthy and look cute like their dad”

“It’s beautiful” he smiled sitting in the white rocking chair and humming the tune again. “What are you humming?” “Ah, nothing just something my mum used to sing to me” he rubbed his neck sheepishly pulling you onto his lap rocking you both as he hummed.

You were so peaceful you didn’t hear someone come home. Not even when they stepped into the room. “Wah these boots are so little and cute,” Namjoon was holding the tiny boots up to his face, eyes wide marvelling at how they sat on the palm of his hand.

“Ah, Namjoon!” “Are we having a baby?” He asked glassy eyes meeting yours. You could only nod before he pulled you into a hug “Is Yoongi the father?” “We are all the fathers, I can’t do it on my own, I have no idea how to raise a child, but biologically yes”

“Congratulations, we should celebrate wait till the boys find out,” grabbing Namjoon’s arm before he ran off. “Joonie no, we have to wait until sixteen weeks, because before that it seems too early what if something happens and the maknaes get sad because of it,” he nodded getting serious.

“Okay I won’t tell anyone” he raised his hand to his heart to swear it to you. The three of you left the room locking it up so no one would enter. You got ready for dinner dressing up nicely and stepping into Yoongi’s bedroom.

“Hoseok just came home, did you tell them about dinner tonight?” “Mm, I texted them earlier today” he rolled out of bed his hair dishevelled and his crescent moon eyes bright.

Arriving at the restaurant you saw a large group of young men, each well dressed, handsome, tall and very lean. “hello you must be Suga’s family” “Suga?” “Yeah that’s his producer name” Taehyung whispered before playfully nipping at the shell of your ear.

“Hello my name is Taeyong, I am the leader of NCT” he shook your hand bowing. Everyone sat down ordering food from the elaborate and expensive menu, “how about some champagne, to celebrate”

“Excuse me, Can we get a bottle of Champagne and what would you kids like?” Jaehyun grinned slapping the boys on the back. “Hyung?” They pouted, not happy with being called kids.

“Can we get a pitcher of cherry coke and another of sprite please?” You asked the waiter and he nodded, the boys looked at you curiously. “I feel like some soda”

You had fun playing games with Chenle and Jisung. Proud that you only had to go to the bathroom twice throughout the whole meal. Namjoon and Yoongi were getting really drunk as Namjoon kept slurring Congratulations to Yoongi and toasting to him. Taehyung the only other sober adult at the table helped you call rides for everyone to head home.

Carrying Namjoon inside your apartment building while he was singing at the top of his lungs Taehyung had started to sweat. “Moonchild you shine, When you rise, it's your time, C'mon yo” he tried to get the others to sing each wobbling comically in the elevator. Someone stepped onto the elevator and he grinned at the stumbling detective, recognition on his face.

“Namjoon?” “Moooooonchild dooooon't cry, When moooooon rise, it's your time, C'mon yo” Namjoon was trying to convince this man who seemed to know his name into singing his strange song with him.

“Namjoon how have you been?” “Soup-” he snickered into his hand “sooper dooper good” “I haven’t seen you since school, hey I just moved into this building so I guess I can see you around” He laughed patting him on the back making him fall forward.

“Sorry about him they were celebrating tonight, I am Y/N” “Jackson Wang, you’re the girl who does the femme guide videos that BamBam has been watching. How did I not recognize Namjoon in the videos?”

“Do you have a femme?” “No, but we will very soon and are kind of scared about what to do?” “If you have any questions feel free to ask” you gave him your number and herded the boys out the elevator and towards your apartment.

Once inside you sent the boys who were more cognitive to shower and go to bed. While you and Taehyung were practically carrying Namjoon and Yoongi to their rooms. Yoongi was kissing your belly giggling a wide gummy grin. “I am your dad, and I love you and…” Wondering if he had fallen asleep you heard a sniffle

“... I will try not to fuck up, okay so just go easy on me, I don’t really know what I am supposed to do, I will be there when you get sad and I will try to not get mad at you when you break my things, which you will cause you’re a child. I love you and your mum loves you and when the boys find out they will love you, I know this cause I am a dad, your dad”

There were steps thumping back down the hallway and Taehyung covered in tears ran at you stopping to delicately hug you. “we’re having a baby.” He was square mouth crying his body shaking with the small sobs “Namjoon said Yoongi is the father?”

“Don’t cry, it’s okay, I am a dad, you can hug me,” Yoongi said so sure of himself, puffing his chest out, standing to hug collapse against Taehyung “You want to say hi to the baby, you can’t see them ‘cause they are in there Tae, I put the baby in here, cause I am a dad”

Namjoon stumbled in holding the little baby shoes he had stolen from the nursery. “Yoongi, I got you a present for you, look they are so little” Namjoon and Yoongi curled up on the bed together holding a shoe each. Only after they argued on who got the left one, Namjoon said it was the most important as the left always goes missing. “I should have the left one because I am a dad”

Taehyung ignored the two drunkards and lifted your shirt bending down to place a kiss on your tummy. Whispering quietly and rubbing soothing circles on your hips. He lured you to his room and stripped and laid you on his bed so he could take photos.

“Hello my friend I expect it would be warm inside someone’s belly, I don’t know where you are hiding because I can’t see you yet, but I know your in there” he looked up at you, “can they hear me?”

With no time to answer Taehyung opened your legs and practically shouted into your vagina, you lost it laughing so hard and he pouted. “It’s really sweet but don’t scream at my business” he grinned and wiggling his eyebrows

“Would you rather I do something else” you nodded at his offer. Slowly and hesitantly he buried himself between your legs, rolling his body against yours in slow thrusts trying not to hurt you.

For the first time, he wasn’t chasing his high with you, he was holding your hands and telling you how much he loved you. You felt so special his slow moans were in a thick baritone. The two of you cuddled all night listening to classical music.

You had such a peaceful rest, Taehyung had exhausted you into a deep sleep. When you woke you felt sick rushing to the nearest bathroom. Vomiting in the toilet, your throat burnt with the acid from your stomach. No matter how bad the morning sickness got, you were thankful that it always faded quickly.

Washing your mouth out and heading to the kitchen, you saw Jimin was making some toast. He was dressed in a pastel blue button-up and tan trousers, looking angelic. He pushed the plate of toast across the bench towards you and proceeded to make another two pieces for himself.

He looked tired from last night and you giggled, his thick lips pursed staring out the window. “My prince you look-“

“Princess, I think you might be pregnant” he blurted out “I don’t know much about females but I started researching after the incident in the bathroom and well... you have been throwing up every morning and you have been to the bathroom a lot and you didn’t drink last night and just so many things”

Shock.

Jimin crossed the bench and hugged you, burying his nose in your hair where he gently inhaled your scented conditioner. “it’s okay love we are all here for you, have you been to the doctor, we can book you in for a check-up-”

“Jimin, I have already been, you can’t tell anyone okay?” “Tell anyone what?” Seokjin walked in heading to the fridge, he opened the doors and was shuffling around the fruit and vegetable crisper, his broad shoulder facing you. Throwing an egg at the kitchen window, it hit with a loud bang. Seokjin jumped at the noise turning around eyes wide looking for the source of the noise. Only to see Jimin frozen and looking at you like you were crazed.

“Don’t tell anyone Jimin threw an egg at the window” Pointing accusingly at Jimin and then at the said window, his mouth opening and shutting trying to speak and defend himself before he deflated. “Please don’t tell” he pouted, Seokjin took a cup of coffee and his fruit breakfast and left for work, the two of you alone once more eating toast silently.

“Jimin, pregnancies are really unstable you don’t tell anyone until sixteen weeks, I am only twelve please don’t tell anyone, imagine how devastated everyone would be if something happened” You held out your pinky and he took it with his, swearing to you he wouldn’t tell before sharing a kiss.

“You are not lying to me are you, you really are?” he whispered nodding you told him that you were, in fact, pregnant and it was Yoongi’s baby, but you wanted all the boys to treat this baby as if it was theirs as you were one big family. He dragged you to his room, locking the door, and sitting you on the bed.

You felt electricity buzz through you, as he knelt between your legs, followed by warmth when he hugged your middle. “Hello Um… baby, my name is Uh Jimin, I love you little one. I know you will be loved by everyone. I will teach you everything I know, and when you need help I want you to know you can come to me. I promise” he was smiling so brightly at your tummy his fingers delicately caressing and tickling your sides. He saw you had started crying hand pressed to your mouth to suppress whimpers.

“Princess don’t cry,” kissing your forehead he smelt like orange blossom and when his lips met yours he tasted like plum jam on toast. “I’m sorry it’s just everyone has been so good and talking to the baby and I’m so hormonal and emotional”

Rounding up all the boys who knew your secret and dragging them into Yoongi’s studio much to his dismay, you discussed keeping it top secret. They all understood swearing they would try not to let it slip.

“What are you working on? A lullaby?” Taehyung read the computer screen, “Is it for the baby, I want to make a song too please” “Me too” Jimin piped up, they all got Yoongi to agree, Namjoon was also onboard with the idea of writing something. You were all excited and in your own thoughts when you heard Hoseok shout from the kitchen.

“Why is there an egg splattered on the kitchen window, god I hope that’s egg if it’s not y’all need some sort of god to save your soul from sins and maybe a doctor yellow-orange is not a good colour”

You didn’t make it till the end of the day until they all knew, “You're pregnant!” Hoseok accused the ultrasound had fallen from Yoongi’s pocket, “this is a baby right, not a lumpy tumour, I have seen an ultrasound before”

Seokjin was choking on noodles, “really?” “Jagiya have you been playing with strays?” Hoseok grinned “You knew and didn’t tell us?” Jungkook pointed

Jimin put on a shocked face, pretending like he didn’t know “princess, you are pregnant? Since when? who is the father?” “But Jimin you already knew,” Taehyung said causing everyone to facepalm. “You all knew?” “I just found out” Seokjin breathed trying to console the screeching Jungkook.

“Same” Hoseok raising his hands innocently. You explained why you didn’t tell them and how the boys had found out you were expecting. “I told Yoongi, because, this is his biological child. Namjoon found out on and got drunk accidentally telling Taehyung and Jimin figure it out on his own.

Jungkook finally forgave you and each of the boys took turns talking to your belly and looking at the ultrasound.

Seven months pregnant and staying in a hotel, you walked out of the elaborate bathroom and got dressed. You had a small paid crew filming you for your channel.

Your phone started ringing the caller ID said Seokjin, you answered, “hello my love” “Are you ready, the boys are getting tired of waiting?” “Alright stop complaining I need to get my room key” you scooped up your things up and headed to the elevator. Handing T.O.P your room key.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror the dress you wore made your little round tummy look cute and you felt like you were glowing. The elevator stopped on the ground floor and you slowly walked out and headed towards the hall. Seokjin's hotel was a luxury style building a perfect place for all occasions and the food was lovely.

The boys would be waiting for you just around the corner, there was a sweet piano piece playing. You recognised it as the one Yoongi had gifted you in the piano-shaped music box.

Inshik smiled by the entrance and took your hand kissing it. He told you how beautiful you looked and Jiyong placed your veil in your hair. It was time to go in. The boys next door, we’re all dressed in pretty suits each carrying a basket of petals. They were your flower boys.

They each hugged you Kai and Soobin patting your round belly. “Rub the belly for good luck?” “I’m not Buddha”

They went down the aisle first throwing the petals. Jiyong followed wearing a spectacular bridesmaid dress, he had made it to perfectly work with his shape and it was in your weddings accent colour.

Inshik held out his arm and you hooked yours around it, “you don’t have to do this, just remember we can leave at any time if you are scared or have second thoughts”

“Nothing can stop me from getting married today.” He led you down the aisle. Everyone you knew was there the NCT group, Rose, Lisa, Jennie and Jisoo, Jiyong’s family including Misuk who had the rings and Jackson and his family there. Jackson had introduced you to his family which had a new member a lovely femme who you had visited and helped her get settled in this new lifestyle.

One look at each other across the hall and you all started crying, thanking the heavens you wore waterproof makeup. Reading your vows addressing them each one at a time and telling them intricately how much you loved and adored them. They read theirs to you each telling you how much you completed them and made them better. The celebrant was an old friend of Seokjin’s. His name was Leeteuk. Apparently, he officiated weddings often for the hotel. He had great fun making everyone feel special and relaxed during the ceremony.

“I now pronounce you, husband, husband, husband, husband, husband, husband, husband and wife, you may now kiss your bride” They each took their turn kissing you each kiss different. But each kiss was filled with love and passion.

The ceremony led into the reception where you danced a small progressive waltz with the boys, spinning you onto the next partner. Cutting the cake and throwing the bouquet marked the end of the evening. The honeymoon suite was spacious and very romantically set. You were worshipped through the evening and well into the morning until you were utterly exhausted.

Nine months pregnant and waddling to work beside Jungkook, who was trying and failing to hide his amusement at the way you swayed. Going to work was less about actually working and more about talking with Inshik. You sat keeping him company and served a few customers. It wasn't a hard job, you also liked the cool temperature of the icecream van. You had some ice cream and was talking with Inshik about the book you bought for his birthday two months ago. He had finally finished it and was discussing the plot twists and character development.

Jungkook arrived to pack up the picnic tables and umbrellas, he refused to let you set up or pack up the equipment. He would just smile and tell you to go easy as pregnant women shouldn’t lift or exert themselves. Then at the end of the day, the two of you walked home hand in hand picking up, Jimin and Seokjin along the way.

The moment you stepped in the door Taehyung was waiting to whisk you away into Namjoon’s office where he would undress you. He had been using the back of the office for photoshoots. Most people have one maternity shoot you had one every day, sometimes he just took different angles of your belly. Your favourite photo was one he took where your feet were peeking out from behind your belly.

You couldn’t say no especially when he praised you so much and made you feel beautiful, it always ended with the two of you making love in Namjoons office. Which Namjoon himself had confessed was always a nice sight to come home to.

Namjoon and the boys had all practised how to change a baby’s clothes, Jungkook was admittedly better at it than you. “I love you mama bear” Taehyung whispered helping you into your robe. Jimin poked his head into the room with a bright smile, he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Taehyungie, you not supposed to leave marks like this every day, our princess has work”

“I didn’t leave any yesterday” he held his arms up with a grin.

“Princess, I got another bottle of cream” Jimin excitedly hugged you his chest pressed to your back swaying you both his hands under your tummy taking the weight off your back. Moaning in relief you laid your head back. “I will rub it onto your belly, this is the best for stretch marks they say you won’t even be able to see anything.”

“Mmm?” “And then afterwards I can cut some peaches” he kissed your jaw. “Mmm yeah then what baby?” “Then maybe I can rub your back” “I love when you talk dirty to me”

After you were lathered in vitamin E cream, fed and massaged, everyone had returned home. Seokjin massaged your feet and painted your toenails.

“Excuse me, are you single?” You grinned at the broad-shouldered gentleman at your feet. “Ah I am married and my pregnant wife is so stunning” he smiled wiggling his hand to flash the ring on his hand.

“My pregnant wife is pretty too” Hoseok kissed your temple making hearts at you. “Oh, what are your wives names?” “Y/n” they answered in unison and pretended to raise fists at each other.

“You trying to steal my wife?” “Ya! Who would want to marry your horse face”

You took their moment of distraction to sneak of looking for Jungkook. He was supposed to be making dinner. You looked everywhere. Instead finding Yoongi sitting in the nursery hands clasped together gently rocking back and forth on the rocking chair. His eyes closed as he made a sound that could have been mistaken as a purr.

“Hey daddy” you grinned he didn’t even flinch but his lips pulled up in a soft lazy smile. He blinked slowly coming out of his daze and looking up at your swollen figure, “you still love me?”

You asked them every day and each one replied the same. ‘Always’ he held his arms out and you walked into them his long arms wrapping around your waist just touching at the small of your back. He gently pressed his soft and squishy cheek against your tummy, you felt the baby shift pressing an elbow into his face. “hey are you ruining my moment with your mother, when you get out we will have words”

Yoongi walked you to his room, passing the chaos in the lounge. He shut the bedroom door cancelling out the noise, he took a moment to admire how beautiful you looked just being yourself. You were flicking through the books on his bedside table.

“Jimin has been on our backs to read these stupid books about pregnancy. Reading is what we have Namjoon for” You laughed smacking his arm, his eyes darkened and he growled at you “did you just hit me?”

“Get on your hands and knees” he pulled off your robe. Undoing his pants and grasping his shaft firmly he slipped himself inside you gently. His long arms reaching around you to hold your round belly in his hands. You moaned as he took the weight off your back. He always did this and when you asked he said it wasn’t fair that you had to carry the weight all the time.

You were feeling really good he was warming up, he always started so cautiously and gentle until you asked him for more. Being pregnant made orgasms feel so much stronger except this time you felt weird all of a sudden really really weird.

A sharp pain in your back and a tightness that rolled down your stomach, you felt trickling down your legs. Yoongi moaned thrusting a little harder at how you had tightened so hard around him he was so close. He was about to let go when you shouted.

“Yoongi wait stop. bangtan bangtan!” He pulled out and looked at you worried, never hearing you say the safe word before touching your face and then your stomach.

“What did I do?” “My water just broke” “Your what”

“How far did you get through the fucking book Yoongi” you snatched the book off the bedside table finding the dog eared page, “you’re on the third page?” “Yeah” he frowned guilty his voice breathless and his cock rock hard and throbbing in anticipation to his release. Laughing at his cluelessness.

“Fuck I love you” you kissed him, his hands rubbing your belly forgetting the contraction that had passed through you not a second ago. You scraped your nails along his scalp and moaned into his mouth and this seemed to be all he needed as he came hard on your thigh.

The two of you looked down, your eyes staring at the pool of cum before your eyes travelled back up his chest to his guilty and pissed off expression. “Did you just come on my thigh?” “What a waste” He pouted, smirking you ran your finger over it swiping a little for a taste which made him smile even though he tried his hardest to still be pissed.

You cleaned up and began pacing slowly, you needed to hold out for a while before heading to the hospital. Your contractions weren’t anywhere near close. You called the birthing clinic to let them know your water had broke and that you would come in when your contractions get closer. You were timing the contractions on your phone.

That night at around nine you made your way to the hospital, you had the baby later that evening just before midnight. A little boy. He had his father’s crescent eye shape, cute nose and mouth. The boys stepped into the room their cheeks wet, noses pink. Yoongi had the first hold and the boys patted his shoulders gently in congratulations.

“His name is Min Kyung Ju”

Jungkook was a mess he hadn’t stopped crying, he didn’t like to see you in pain and especially didn’t like to hear you crying during the delivery. Taehyung had filmed a little of you in the hospital room before you went into active labour.

The boys loved Kyungju named as the 32nd generation of the Min clan. The boy’s parents stopped by the hospital dropping off some flowers and meeting the baby.

You were breastfeeding one day when Kyungju opened his eyes you started giggling he had your eye colour. They weren’t the dark brown almost black colour of Yoongi‘s they were lighter (lighter brown, green, hazel, grey, blue, pink).

Your channel had become so popular. You had the NCT boys on your show for mukbangs, especially with Seokjin. Playing games with the younger ones. The TXT boys had their own channel now and collaborated with you guys often.

Misuk loved Kyungju. She would lay on her belly and watch him wriggle around on the floor. “Kyungie is so funny”

You came home from an appointment on a particularly hot day to see Jimin shirtless with the baby lying naked on his chest on the couch. Everything was so beautiful you decided to take a photo. Jimin groaned in exasperation his eyes snapping open. “Really, why would you pee on me?”

“I will get a towel” giggling at Jimin who was glaring up at you to get a towel.

Kyungju was a vocal baby but never really cried, ever since birth, he would make gummy squeaks and little sounds when he breathed, he liked to hear his own voice, Yoongi had made a space in his studio where a small bouncer sat beside the desk and he could watch his son chew on the ears of his Woogie. (A floppy cat toy that had a small rattle sound inside)

Taehyung took so many photos of your son you couldn’t help but grin as he ran to you with his camera showing you all the photos. “This is when he started to yawn, this is him smiling the same gummy smile as Yoongi.”

While playing with Seokjin, he started babbling a string of dadadada and blowing raspberries, the whole room went quiet as he squealed and giggled at his Woogie before pulling his feet up to hold, his foot in his mouth.

“Ew, feet are not for mouths” Seokjin grinned at the boy, “did your foul mouth daddy teach you that one?”

Namjoon was playing with Kyungju bouncing him, while you got dressed for the day. Kyungju’s eyebrows pulled together in concentration made Namjoon laugh that is until milk poured from the infant’s mouth and onto his suit. He called for help. “Ahh someone grab the baby, he vomited on me”

“Hold him properly, you’re scaring him” Taehyung scolded grabbing a cloth to clean the mess. Hoseok scooped up the bundle and cooed making the boy giggle once more.

It was a special night you went on a date with Jungkook. You went to Han River on a dinner cruise and had delicious food. Returning home late Jungkook led you to his room pulling off your dress and kissing your neck. You were both excited to have some time to indulge in your pleasures, it had been two months since having Kyungju, two months since you last had sex. Wearing your best lingerie. You told him you wanted to ride him and he responded with a grin, laying back on the bed propping his head up with pillows. He pushed your panties to the side and guided you down his thick length.

Getting really into the moment, Jungkook gripping your hips as you bounced on top of him. He hissed when you circled your hips. Yet the moment had to be broken by a cry from the baby monitor, freezing in place, you both turned to the monitor screen which was in all the boy’s rooms. You watched as Hoseok entered the Nursery to take care of the baby his voice playing through the monitor. “Your mum just wants one night off” the crying settled but you heard a gasp from underneath you.

Looking down you noticed your bra was wet, the babies' cry made your milk start leaking. Jungkook gently massaged your hips and bit his lip. His shy bunny smile and his knitted brows showed you he was curious and wanting to ask something. “Yeobo, can I try some?”

“I mean if you want. I heard a lot of bodybuilders actually use breast milk” Laughing at how quick he was to sit up. He shushed you his cheeks flushed pulling down your bra and tasting some of your milk. You blushed and he grinned up at you. “It’s weird, not horrible just different, I think I will stick to regular milk”

Kyungju was a lazy baby, but still liked to wriggle and roll across the floor, he was always up to mischief. Whenever he was picked up by Namjoon he had a habit of drooling or blowing raspberries, you knew it was because he liked the faces Namjoon pulled when he did it.

The baby album which was released with songs you all had written for Kyungju, it sold twenty thousand copies and every day you sold a few more. It wasn’t anything too spectacular but it made you some money. You discussed the possibility of hosting live shows where you can talk to audiences and meet fans of the channel perhaps even sing a song or two live. However, you decided you were not ready for another overseas type experience, especially with a baby.

Waking to a cry. This one sounded different and Namjoon was the first to respond, he arrived at Seokjin’s room with your precious baby. “Love, I think Kyungie is sick”

You and Seokjin shot out of bed and got dressed heading to the hospital, it was just a fever caused by a cold. After a course of antibiotics, he was back to normal.

Kyungju was scared of the vacuum he started crying when Seokjin started cleaning the living room. Jimin tried his best to console him, but it wasn’t going well. Unable to handle the sound of his sons crying nor watching the tears run down the poor boys face Yoongi took his son and walked him into the soundproof studio and patted his son to sleep. You were amused listening to the boys argue.

“So now I am the devil for cleaning the house, no one is yelling at Hoseok for cleaning” “Because the mop isn’t screaming in our son's ear”

Femme Media 40

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 4 years

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totally stealing @honeybabydichotomy‘s meme-adaptation concept re: i have a handful of things that could be described WIPs and nearly all of them i already can’t shut my mouth about, but here is a trip through the GOOGLE DOCS GRAVEYARD of abandoned fandoms past (mcu, trc, something too embarrassing to list above the cut so you’ll just have to CLICK and find out)

first up, the last fic i never actually wrote for, lmao, american idol season 8 RPF fandom, back in 2010... this was going to be a bigbang fic but in keeping with my terrible track record re: challenges etc. i did not finish it, although in my defense that had at least something to do with spilling coffee all over my laptop right around the time i started a very hours-intensive job with a huge commute. when i look at this now i’m like, this sure was me writing ten years ago, but i still love the emotional architecture of any story in which one deliberately shut-off and long-repressed individual is uncomfortably thawed by the miracle of someone else’s open-hearted joie de vivre; it’s the oldest story here but arguably the closest to an actual WIP in that the ghost of that idea is the seed for the divorced quentin AU i harbor hopes of one day writing; you can definitely see the Relevant Vibes in this exchange, i think, although i feel the need to clarify that adam lambert enjoying twilight is a thing he said on national television, i wouldn’t do that to someone on my own:

Veselka is crowded, but despite the bitter February cold, Kris doesn't mind waiting outside for twenty minutes, leaning against the glass display case of the expensive toy store next door, separated from Adam by little more than an inch. "So - okay, this is kind of terrible. Like, worse than the Twilight thing. But I feel like you should know who you're dealing with, so."

"It can't be that bad."

Adam just smiles knowingly. "Oh, can't it?"

"Hit me with your best shot," Kris says. Something twitches in his stomach as Adam raises his eyebrow to that.

Adam leans down to whisper in Kris's ear, sending inexplicable sparks down Kris's neck. "Sometimes, when I'm standing in the street or on the subway or something, I like to watch people go by and try to guess what they're like in bed."

Kris blushes. "Very mature," he says with a nervous laugh, embarrassed about his own embarrassment.

Adam holds up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Hey. We're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars," he intones. "Oscar Wilde."

"Do you think that's true?"

"I think it is. At least - " Adam tilts his chin up, a mischievous glint in his eyes " - I identify with it."

Kris searches for something to say that won't make him seem hopelessly square. "What's the view like from down there?"

Adam gazes at the night sky, where Manhattan's perpetual glow blots out all but the brightest lights. "I like it. You see more of them this way."

Kris thinks he's spent six years priding himself himself on keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, avoiding the pull of the horizon or the distraction of the sun. "So. Mr. Gutter." He points to a thirty-something man getting out of a parked Ford across the street. "What's he like?"

next up: an unpublished MCU snippet! this was a peggy character study set at howard’s funeral, also an excuse for me to have feelings about tony stark; idiotically, i actually have a complete draft of this, and got a really brilliant beta job from @nimmieamee, but then never went back and revised it and also could not bring myself to post it when despite being passable as done i could tell in my bones it was simply Not Working, even though parts of it i really liked:

Howard had not taken to aging with grace. It, too, offended him: the body betraying the dream of perfectibility. Dodging it had taken up an increasing percentage of his time. He took up jogging, early among the public, too late in his life: a few months in and a busted knee earned him doctor's orders to abandon that pursuit. His bones were already too brittle to benefit. Howard himself had become brittle long ago. You could blame the war; but that was what happened to people with no give to them. They were like the driest branches waiting for a storm, only unlike branches they recognized on some level the precariousness of their structure, and consequently dedicated themselves to forgetting it.

Howard was undeterred. (Being deterred also went against his every principle.) He had swimming pools installed, outdoors in Los Angeles, adorned with artificial rocks arranged just so to give the impression of a hot spring, and indoors in West Hampton, heated, lit underwater with a yellow-green glow throwing tendrils of light on smooth white walls. Fitness gurus and nutrition consultants were put on retainer, a bicoastal platoon to prevent malfunctions; physical therapists were brought in to recalibrate around malfunctions. They quit with increasing frequency, as his temper frayed along with his body. He gave up, in sequence, smoking, alcohol, red meat, all meat, alcohol, sugar, processed grains, alcohol, salt, and direct sunlight--although by the time of this last pronouncement, it produced little noticeable effect.

Lately he had become obsessed with the idea of cryogenic freezing: the fantasy of going to sleep and waking up in a time when his intellectual heirs had figured out how to repair and replace his rusted pieces. Skin firmed and thickened; knees stitched back to mint condition; a whole new heart, perhaps, grown in a jar or assembled from compounds yet to be constructed. "Wouldn't you take the chance, if you had it?" he had murmured, eyes going dreamy as they did when he talked of his latest missiles.

Peggy pictured Steve in the Arctic, his hyperactive cells stilled by the indifferent cold. She shivered, like a child hearing a ghost story, and said no, she wouldn't.

finally, two stories from a fandom i actually never published any stories with, or engaged with in any meaningful way: the fuckin raven cycle. the dumbest books on god’s green earth. the first was a ronan story where gansey actually dies and stays the fuck dead, and ronan handles it by being a huge asshole, and then, unlike in these hideous godforsaken books, actually decides on purpose to be a better person.... i’m realizing revisiting this now that some of the itch of this story i’ve finally gotten out of my system via damage control, but the GENIUS IDEA of ronan giving matthew an actual soul by giving up the dream power and thus becoming an actual human, sadly, does not really transfer, even though it’s the best concept i’ve ever thought of in my life. anyway, whatever, i have a type:

He opened the door. Adam and Blue were looking at him with expressions he couldn't decipher. Noah was looking at the floor.

"Are you—" Adam started. Ronan watched the word okay die of its own irrelevance in Adam's mouth.

"None of you were invited," Ronan said.

Blue started, "We just—"

"Sorry," he said, loud enough to drown her out. "But this is a very exclusive party. That means no rednecks"—he pointed at Adam—"no bitches"—Blue—"and no pussies"—Noah. "So I'm going to need you all to leave."

He focused his eyes on Blue. She looked like she wanted to slap him. This was familiar. He wanted to go back to the time when his only interactions with Blue Sergeant involved saying something and watching her look at him like she wanted to slap him. Things had gotten complicated after that. Then Gansey had died. Ronan couldn't articulate the connection, but he felt strongly that it was there.

"Maybe I wasn't clear," he said. "What I mean is: get the fuck out of my house."

and last but not least, another TRC story, motivated initially by dreaminess and then sporadically continued after TRK came out (seriously like ever 18 months i dig this one out and write another 500 words and give up again) out of spite - a story where, because fuck stief, adam parrish gets a cell phone, ronan lynch gets a job, and no one assumes that finally having sex means you’re basically married forever without even talking about if you’re boyfriends. this one is like, so close to being “done” in that it almost goes beginning to end and has a lot of individual lines i actually like, but has always been very difficult to pull together because of the reality that maggie stiefvater wrote a series such that ronan lynch acting like a decent boyfriend or experiencing character growth or talking about his emotions is literally out of character, which makes it hard to write a dreamy summer hook-up story; i was actually thinking earlier this year of picking it back up YET AGAIN, but then damage control ate my brain... one day, perhaps, for the satisfaction of having finished... or i might just listen to “cruel summer” by taylor swift while meditating on it for a couple million more hours:

“Did you call me over just to give me the fucking silent treatment in person?” Ronan said. It sounded less vicious than it should have. Like he had been aiming for a growl and somehow landed on a mumble.

I didn’t call you over, Adam wanted to say, but it wasn’t actually true. He had. That seemed wrong, though. Ronan Lynch wasn’t someone to be called over. He was too wild and spiteful for that. Even Gansey couldn’t manage it. The rest of Ronan’s world had given up trying long ago.

But when Adam had called, Ronan had come.

He felt like he might throw up.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” he said instead. “I’m just—“ But he didn’t know what he was doing. So he switched tacks. “You just—“ But he didn’t know that, either. And asking Ronan what the fuck are you doing had never yielded helpful results.

So Adam stuck to the truest thing, what he had worked his whole life to make true. “I’m leaving in three months.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything,” Ronan spat. This time he was closer to the expected intensity, but there was still something strange under his voice. Maybe not. Maybe Adam was just having a nervous breakdown.

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roominthecastle · 4 years

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Thank you for taking the time and typing up your reply, @alma37.

Now I get where you were coming from. You are def much more attached to Zoe than I am. You don’t need to produce any other arguments and “I like it better this way” is a perfectly acceptable answer. And while I don’t believe Agatha’s return is completely at Zoe’s expense -- given that she would have died anyway --, I understand the pain of watching a favorite character used as fodder for another one’s story.

You’ve also raised some interesting points and the exact questions I’ve been pondering myself, so I’m gonna take this opportunity to just unload my thoughts here. Please don’t take this as me trying to talk you out of your opinion or preferences bc I don’t wanna do that.

This is mostly just me trying to explain my preferences to myself.

"after Blood Vessel, as much as Dracula liked her, I could not see him and Agatha together”

oh yes, theirs is an infinitely fucked up dynamic, there is no debating that. they are enemies, so murder attempts come w/ the territory, which is not every shipper’s cup of tea and that’s understandable. However, every relationship involving Dracula is fucked up this way by default since he automatically brings his "inclinations” into it. I guess one could write him already “tamed” and w/ less issues but then it wouldn’t really be him. This is a major thing I love about this show, how they are not afraid to portray him as a full-fledged monster who just keeps coming at you w/ a razor smile -- partly bc he literally can’t help himself. He is a predator who -- to once again quote the commentary -- operates w/ a “torturous sense of fairness” that, to me, echoes the amorality you can observe in the animal kingdom: there is no reasoning with a hungry lion once it’s spotted a zebra; it’s in its nature to hunt prey in order to survive. Empathy or morals don’t factor into this basic conduct.

Dracula has this hard-wired primal drive, too. And Agatha points it out early on when she calls him a beast who doesn’t understand the rules governing its behavior but simply follows them. Of course, he has a point, as well, when he claims he’s more than that. He is. Otherwise, he would just be absolved of all the killing he does, which would feel cheap and unjust and would rob his character of all the fun complexities. Underneath the veneer of a sophisticated nobleman there is a beast, and underneath that grotesque (protective) display are human remains and loads of festering mental health issues. But the only person who bothers to look at these layers and how they inform each other is Agatha. Her equally unyielding drive for knowledge & understanding is the power that allows her to counter him, exert control over him, and tap into his deformed human core in a way nobody else has ever been able to. She does this to save others from him but also to satisfy her own dark fascination, and in the process I think she also comes to feel for him. They reach a level of intimacy that makes this outcome inevitable, imo.

This, in my eyes, makes her pretty much the only person who has any chance at having a more meaningful relationship w/ him that lasts longer than his feeding time. This is also what comes across in Dracula’s indirect advice to Zoe: if she hopes to match him, she will need to conjure Agatha from his blood. He essentially gives her the key to his own destruction (which is also his way out), then retreats and waits. This has the same self-regulating vibe as him convincing himself that his immense supernatural power has ordinary loopholes like needing an invitation to enter or the sunlight. Shame is a control tactic and self-shaming is a form of self-control, albeit a very problematic one. He puts in checks and balances which you wouldn’t do unless deep down you knew you needed to be “checked and balanced” by someone who’s willing to take on the thankless task. He cannot do it, he can’t face himself (he literally smashes mirrors and turns from every reflective surface), but Agatha is willing and able to drag him back into the light.

This is why the parallel to Petruvio & his wife works so well. The design to Dracula’s mind (and therefore the way out) is scattered across time and many myths. Agatha collects these and uses them to lead him out of the prison he’s made for himself, which has its visual parallel in the maps being hidden inside the wife’s portrait.

In other words, I cannot see Dracula with anyone else long term since he sees everyone else as a toy and/or a prey -- a means to an end. That’s how he sees Agatha at first, too, and it takes some time for him to realize that he made a mistake. This delayed realization can also be attributed to his bestial drive that has subdued the rest of him for so long, he really cannot cut through its wiring on his own; he came to exist to continue his existence, and the pointless circularity of this is the biggest trap: despite leaving loopholes, he’s still a prisoner of his own hunger & shame. Feeling for others would make it infinitely more painful but shedding empathy only provides a temporary release. Still, life lived solely for oneself is never fulfilling no matter how long it stretches forward, and the insatiable hunger Dracula feels gels nicely w/ this.

It’s Agatha who breaks the circle when she makes him confront the human origin of all this mess. Once she gets through to him, once she makes him remember, we can witness what Mofftiss call the “beginning of morality” and empathy seeping back into Dracula, and his existence takes on meaning when he chooses to sacrifice his immortality to take away her mortal pain. To me this feels like a direct call-back to the scene where he asks her if she is willing to die to save that terrified child and she tells him she would die to save any terrified child bc “there is a nobler purpose to my life than simply prolonging it.” But Dracula only comes to feel this nobler purpose where Agatha is concerned (baby steps :). He still doesn’t care about anyone else but that could be a juicy problem to tackle next season if there is one. *crosses fingers*

“they needed Agatha to stay human until the end of TDC - but, in that case, why bring her so late in the episode?”

I’m afraid only the writers can answer this one. But my best guess is that there are other characters from the novel -- Lucy especially -- they wanted to play with a little. Since I like them, too, and like how they planted them into this modern setting, I have no problem w/ Agatha taking her sweet time resurrecting. This was also a nice way to show just how bored & lost Dracula is in her absence (side note: him using Tinder as a takeout menu + complaining that he has to exercise now that everything is delivered and doesn’t have to be hunted down will never not be hilarious AF). I have seen a few fans complain about the pacing of ep 3 but I think it provides a nice, strategic contrast to the more dynamic previous episode, again highlighting why Agatha’s presence in his life was so invigorating and how her absence is the opposite -- he is a 500-year old warlord yet his life is now somehow... banal bc he has no worthy match.

“If he really want Agatha so badly, and since Zoe doesn’t come after him (she has other things in mind, understandably), why does he not? To see if his little ply worked? If his dear Agatha is back? The only time Renfield talks about Zoe, Dracula doesn’t seem remotely interested.”

I think he is interested (his suggestion to use bats as surveillance cracks me up every time) and he is waiting. He keeps tabs on the Harker Foundation from a safe distance and, to me, looks rather crestfallen when Renfield tells him that his lady friend (aka Van Helsing aka his “Agatha incubator”) left and seems to have lost all interest in Dracula. I think he expected a different outcome. It’s speculation but I think he expected Zoe to drink his blood (bc it doesn’t come as a surprise later when he notices the changes in her) and expected it to have an effect sooner and time is running out since Zoe is dying. Zoe was supposed to act similarly to the bed of his own native soil (she is a “bed” of Agatha’s DNA) and regenerate Agatha even if it’s temporary. So he is both staying away (survival is still key) and wants her to come after him again -- a delicious contradiction he can’t untangle by himself.

Lack of (threatening) interest, however, is a clear sign that Agatha is not back. If she were, he def wouldn’t have to go and check. She would waste no time seeking him (and indeed she wants to go after him the second she manifests and, as Zoe remarks, Dracula isn’t surprised to find her at his doorstep -- another parallel to ep 1 where it’s Agatha who anticipated him coming for his bride). I think he was waiting for her return just like Agatha was waiting for his in ep 2 (another parallel). It’s Renfield‘s remarks that drive this point home for me as he has a front row seat to what Dracula is like during these 3 months: “I wonder what it is you actually want,” and “What are you doing with your time?” I think it’s no coincidence that both of these questions get answered only w/ Agatha’s return. Dracula basically idles in the meantime. And the fact that it takes Agatha 3 months to properly manifest, when Zoe is the weakest, is def a testament to Zoe’s strength of character. She is a Van Helsing, after all. And they vanquish the monster in the smartest, most elegant way: by making him feel something other than blinding hunger for the first time in centuries.

#alma37 #bbc dracula #dracula x agatha #musings

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spookyspaghettisundae · 4 years

Text

Murdering Mister Starr

In the broad daylight of a bright sunny afternoon, you would never expect assassins to show up out of nowhere. But two of them drove up in a dark sedan outside of a fancy white-painted house. The driver cut the engine and the vehicle rolled to a stop just in the driveway of the luxurious home. Gravel crunched underneath the wheels.

Without exiting the car, they watched the house for a solid minute. No sign of anybody home. Just as planned. Two figures in black suits got out of the car. With their sunglasses, silky leather gloves, and nondescript features, they might have even passed as security or bodyguards to any onlookers.

The home of Mister Starr stood alone, surrounded by walls of trees and other lush vegetation, isolated in a quiet, wealthy neighborhood. Not the big enough sort of money to be isolated from the world, but sufficient for what a well-paying lawyer could earn to comfortably live with.

The two men straightened their suit jackets and approached the front door. In a subtle flash, one of them produced a small pouch with lockpicks. The other slung out a small sleek electronic device upon which he pressed a little red button.

They paused at the front door, staring at it in disbelief. The two killers exchanged confused glances. One of them cautiously reached out to the door’s handle. Twisted. Pushed.

The door opened, putting up no resistance. The two men swiftly stepped inside and looked around. Bright walls, lots of light flooding inside through large canopy windows.

“Alarm was never online,” the tall one—Barker—commented.

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock their house?” asked the other one—Allens.

He shut the door behind them and they pocketed their breaking-and-entry tools. In their place, both of the two men whipped out a pistol from a concealed holster each.

Even without any artificial lights on, the afternoon sun shone at them through the multitude of windows all over the Starr residence, painting the place in a stark contrast of glaring brightness.

The two hit men swept through the first floor, room by room. Arms at the ready, guns pointed ahead of them, scanning across every chamber, around every corner, looking into every nook and expecting someone, anyone to jump out at them.

“Well, at least nobody’s here,” Barker said.

“Not a good god-damned soul. Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Allens holstered his firearm in a fluid motion. Barker kept his gun in hand and nodded at him.

While Allens left the Starr house through the front door again, Barker began to look around more carefully. His gaze continued over all manner of electronic devices in the living room. Cutting edge, expensive audio systems attached to a wall—a wall that was, in fact, a gigantic television screen. Barker marveled at how Starr must have put most of his wealth into these multimedia toys, rather than the house he lived in.

Or security.

Just when the engine of the car outside sprung back into life and Allens drove off with their car to park it in a different location, Barker looked around for a remote control. He could not help but satisfy his curiosity to see what a screen this big looked like in action.

Before he could find anything, the TV sprung to life on its own. Instead of the regular entertainment program he expected to see, it displayed a hallway littered with doors. The image stood still, but slight errors in it and mild static revealed to him that it was not a still image, but rather a live camera feed.

Barker pushed his shades down his nose to look over their brim and squint at the gigantic screen. Within a few heartbeats, it dawned on him that the camera displayed the upper floor of the house. He let Allens sweep that area, but had only glimpsed it in passing.

One of the doors in the hallway opened up without revealing who stood behind the opening, allowing an intense crimson glow to pour out into the hall.

Someone else was in the house.

Barker drew his gun again. He was ready to go and ready to shoot, but not ready for the figure who had snuck up behind him.

When Allens returned, he found the front door ajar. Knowing fully well that he had left it closed, he looked around with a growing sense of dread, then stepped inside. His gun was out before he closed the front door behind him.

He stood in the foyer for several moments, hearing only his own breathing and the rushing of blood in his own ears. Gun held tightly in his hands, finger curled around the trigger, ready to blaze away.

Only with delay did he begin to perceive strange sounds coming from upstairs. Pistol pointed up and out in front of him, he cautiously ascended the wide stairwell, ready for anybody to leap out of a corner at him.

He entered the long hallway with the many doors, where the sounds echoed from. Muffled groans. Something like whipping sounds, or like wet bags of raw meat getting slapped against a hard marble counter.

One of the doors stood open. Red light flooded out from it, standing out against the bright white light that entered the Starr house through its many windows.

He approached it with careful steps, inching towards the mysterious red-glowing doorway. The sounds stopped when he made it halfway there.

But Allens had a job to do and he had been in worse pickles before. If Barker was dead and he had to kill more people than he had bargained for, he could always talk about better pay on the next hit if he made it out alive. Maybe he could even argue to cash in on Barker’s cut for himself, as well.

When he finally arrived at the red glow from that open door, it bathed him in its fiery crimson light. Allens’ eyes went blank at the sight there. He slowly lowered the pistol, incapable of tearing his gaze away from what he beheld inside that room.

Instead of shooting, or uttering any words of protest, or doing anything else, he leaned forward, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled the door shut. Stepped away once it engaged into the frame with an audible “click” and the closed door prevented any more of the red light from spilling out.

Allens’ visage had turned white as a sheet; all the blood had drained from it. He swallowed and struggled to negotiate with his brain what he had just seen. He refused to acknowledge it and wanted to just pretend it didn’t exist.

So he left, went downstairs and sat down on one of the chairs in the dining room. He placed the gun on the table in front of him and buried his face in his hands as he recovered from the harrowing sight, doing his damnedest to forget it.

The next moment he looked up, another man pointed a gun at him. Dressed similarly, it took him only seconds to recognize the contours of this man’s face.

The other man standing there—Carson—also wore a three-piece suit and sunglasses. Once he, too, recognized Allen, he lowered the gun.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Carson asked.

“The fuck do you think?” Allens countered.

“You were here to whack Starr as well?”

“Together with Barker, yeah. Didn’t Harry tell you?”

“No,” muttered Carson. He looked around with his brow arched and a face contorted in confusion.

“Where’s Barker now?”

Allens just stared at him—through him—and the blood drained from his face once more.

“What?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Whaddya mean you don’t know?”

Allens sighed deeply. To Carson, he simultaneously looked both like he had seen a ghost and like he was a ghost.

“I can show you,” Allens said. His voice shook.

Carson’s cheek twitched at the sight of him. Allens looked broken. The cockiest hit man that their handler ever handled, and this guy looked like he was about to walk into his own execution without any intention of putting up a fight.

Allens got up from his seat and led Carson upstairs. Down the hall. All the way to that damned door. He paused in front of it and Carson stared at him in disbelief as the seconds dragged on while Allen stood there, motionlessly.

“Well, what? Open the fucking door!”

Instead of turning to look at him, or say something, or do anything whatsoever, Allens shook his head. He swallowed a few times and edged away from the door—one step backwards, then another.

Carson’s patience wore out and he lurched forward to grasp the doorknob. He twisted, and pushed the door inside. Had all the energy to barge right on in and fire several rounds into the room at whoever awaited him there. But he paused abruptly, mid-motion. Froze.

Powerful red light engulfed him, pouring out of the door into the hallway. Carson’s jaw dropped and he stared through the door, dumbfounded.

After several seconds, Carson finally closed the door. Stepped away and rubbed his eyes.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“I think so,” Allens said, croaking out the words in a coarse whisper.

“Is Mister Starr the fucking devil?”

“Not really,” said a third voice. Posh British accent.

Carson’s dread fueled his panicked and split-second reaction. He spun around, pointing the gun at the third person who had spoken behind him.

This man, too, was dressed in a suit, albeit a bright white one. Slumped shoulders and bad posture. The corners of his mouth twitched with an awkward smile.

Neither Allens nor Carson recognized the man in white. He almost blended in with all the bright light flooding in through the windows.

“And just who are you, now?” Carson asked him. The gun in his hand trembled ever so slightly as his finger curled more tightly around the trigger.

The man in white cleared his throat and the smile faded from his face.

“Well, I am not a murderer like you gentlemen, nor did I come here with any intent of murdering Mister Starr. Any good guesses as to who I am?”

Wordlessly, Allens and Carson stared at him. Allens drew his pistol as well, now with both assassins aiming at the man in white.

“Boys—are you really sure you want to do this? You can always walk right into that door over there if you want to fast-track things. Barker had it long coming. You still have a little time left,” said the man in white. His voice gained in melody, almost turned into delighted singing, the more he spoke.

The two hit men remained silent.

“You wouldn’t dare pull those triggers now, would you?” asked the man in white with a chuckle. “Come now, get lost. We all have better things lined up for today, don’t we? You have a mob to run from for failing at your job, and I have other business to attend to.”

Carson and Allens exchanged a nervous glance between each other. Then they started moving. Despite keeping their guns trained on the man in white, they gave him a wide berth and walked around him in the hallway. They never dared turn their backs on him.

The two assassins picked up the pace and disappeared around the corner, making their way out to escape from Mister Starr’s strange home.

“Oh, and drive carefully, boys! Wouldn’t want any innocent people to get killed in traffic accidents—they’re of no use to me,” the man in white shouted after them.

He smiled. All to himself.

The man in white turned to the door and opened it again. Red light flooded out and his feeble smile grew wide. Toothy. But his eyes were dead. Malevolent. The groans of pain from whatever awaited beyond that door were music to his ears while he stayed deaf to any pleas of mercy.

“Oh, Mister Barker. You’ve been a very naughty boy. What ever shall we do with you?”

He laughed as he entered.

The door slammed shut behind him, swallowing the red light.

—Submitted by Wratts

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