#especially since the second one was just like straight up whiskey
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my plans for this afternoon were to walk the brooklyn bridge and then get an early dinner with a friend and we did those things and then we were like, but what if next we go to the canadian-themed bar to experience that during the nhl playoffs which is how we ended up watching the third period and overtime of the canucks game at a bar that was maybe 35% canucks fans, 20% preds fans, and 45% rangers fans waiting for the canucks/preds game to end so they could watch their team which was a 10/10 experience i had a blast
#also at one point the bartender called oshie a russian symapthizer i NEED more information on this#also i am still tipsy sorry#the poutine helped a little bit but it was not enough to overcome three drinks#especially since the second one was just like straight up whiskey
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Outlaw!Boothill x Saloongirl!reader headcanons
~warnings: slight mentions of jealousy, stealing, and western stand offs that involve guns, shooting a man. Otherwise, mentions of flirting, nicknames, cheesy pickup lines from our favorite robot cowboy, pre-release Boothill, fem!reader.
~a/n: Just a quick little something due to @the-guardian-kitsune wanting me to share my thoughts on Mr. Robot Cowboy. Boothill's leaks are invading my mind while I wait for the update today. His ultimate...omg its so good! Is it bad that I get tingles when I hear the whip in his animation?
Outlaw!Boothill is the most fearsome outlaw in the town. Everyone runs to close their shops and doors when he comes into town. He's usually harassing the town sheriff with his buddies or robbing people. If someone gets on his nerves and actually has the guts to try and stand up to him, it likely ends in a stand off.
Outlaw!Boothill spends his time flirting with you when he's not busy stealing and holding up stagecoaches and trains. Always goes to your saloon, specifically for you. No one else really captured his eye except for you. Plus most of the other saloon girls are scared of him. For some reason, you're not. Hence, making him take interest in you. While everyone usually steers clear of him, you aren't afraid to talk to him.
How you guys met was he stomped his way into your saloon one day, looking for some whiskey. Seeing the most wanted outlaw, your other customers immediately fled. He plops himself down in a chair, kicking his boots up onto the table, waving his hand for a drink. "Hey little lady, you mind gettin' me some whiskey. Neat." You were already annoyed at this cowboy storming his way in your saloon, scaring your customers off and ruining your business.
Boothill looks up and notices you haven't moved from your spot behind the counter. Instead, you're crossing your arms and giving him an annoyed look. He glares at you. "Did you hear me darlin'? Whiskey. Neat." You don't move an inch, returning his glare and simply say no. He's caught a bit off guard for a second. He's used to people being too scared to stand up to him. "No?" He gets up, slowly walking towards the bar where you're at. "Do you know who I am." He points to the wanted sign on the wall nearby, his face adorns the flier. You glance at it. "Yeah. And? I don't serve rude customers. Either learn some manners or get out." Now he's thrown off his high horse. He's never had someone call him out like you did. You expected him to become more hostile, but instead, he just laughs. "Alright little lady." Since that day, he's been attracted to you. He likes the way you aren't afraid to stand up for yourself and speak your mind, especially towards him. He likes the 'feisty little lady that you are'. His own words that he used when he first asked you out.
Outlaw!Boothill teases you to get you worked up on purpose. If you really want to get him to shut up, call him "Bootie". The first time you called him that, you swear you saw his cheeks go red. Knowing the effect the nickname has on him, you use it when you're not in the mood for his teasing. But the times when you get so annoyed at his teasing that you angrily walk away, he uses his whip to grab you, pulling you right back into his arms and dipping you. Your heart skips a beat as he lowers his head to yours. You hold your breath while at a loss for words as he says, "Now where do you think you're going little lady?"
Outlaw!Boothill gets jealous when other men try to swoon you or check you out in your little saloon outfit. He is a protective boyfriend and is the type to defend your honor. So when he sees someone harassing you, he either challenges them to a stand off or he just straight up takes care of them right there in the saloon. Ugh just imagine: watching as the two men take 10 paces in opposite directions as everyone watches from the sidelines. Nerves invade your senses, worries cloud your mind about the men fighting over you. You don't want anyone to get hurt especially Boothill. Then, at the end of the countdown, both men quickly turn to each other, guns raised and they go off. Boothill is left standing as the other man falls to the floor. He walks over to you as you're left in shock. "Now darlin'. How about a kiss for your cowboy?"
Outlaw!Boothill who spoils you with his attention and gifts (which he probably stole). He gets a bit annoyed and offended when you don't accept his gifts, saying how he shouldn't steal things from others. It just goes over his head and he says "Darlin', I think you're the real criminal here since you stole my heart." This usually shuts you up. Your cheeks turn red as he smirks. Turning away from him, you quietly say, "Just.. go easy on stealing gifts for me, Bootie." He ignores your signature nickname for him and turns you to face him. Pulling you close to his chest, he says, "Whatever you say, darlin'." He gives you his signature shark tooth smile. He would never admit it but he's whipped for you. No pun intended.
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Sweet Girl pt.2
dad's friend William Afton x fem/virgin reader
Synop: William catches reader outside her house, he can't help but steal her away to show her something new.
Pt. 1 - here
warnings: creepy pinning lol, corruption, coercion (possibly dubcon I'm not too sure), groping, inappropriate relationship. William teaching reader things, smut (hand things Will and reader receiving).
A/n: tis hardly proofread my apologies for any mistakes.
To say he’s been thinking about you would be to put it lightly. Most days he sees you leaving the house headed for your work as he’s setting off for his own, he smiles at you knowingly, sometimes waving or beckoning you over, laughing when you put your head down and pretend not to notice him. It’s been nearly two weeks since the ‘incident’ in your kitchen and try as he might he just can’t get you alone. Every time he comes over to see your dad you are conveniently not there. It’s endearing to him, addictive even. It’s the chase that’s the best part, not that the catch will be too bad either.
It crosses his mind as he rings the bell that he’s mad at your father for interrupting last time he had sweet little you to himself, but he sets the grudge aside, your dad is his way in and he needs to stay friendly. And so here he is, standing on your front porch with a bottle of whiskey to split with your dad. Fuming that the old fucker was making him wait out in the cold like some little kid on prom night, and he wasn’t even going to get his hands on you.
Eventually your dad answers the door, quickly patting William on the back and letting him in for ‘one glass’, which definitely meant the whole damned bottle. To be fair he needed it after a long week of slaving away at his restaurant, before his sights were set on making you his little toy, the thought of a stiff drink was the only thing that got him through it. Especially when his wife and kids were at home, though that’s not a so much a concern anymore.
~
The night, and bottle, goes fast, the two men talking and laughing together over highschool shenanigans and pessimistic comments about their respective marriages. But as his whatever-th glass comes up empty, William finds his leg bouncing with the need for a smoke, one of his many vices that has him at its beck and call.
“You alright, fella?” Your dad asks, not sure why his friend has suddenly gone quiet and retreated in his own head.
William’s eyes flick over to him, “Yeah, yeah.” He pauses for a second, thinking about what he wants to do before settling on leaving, “Gonna take myself off home, I’m dying for a fag.” He stands as he speaks, patting his pockets to check for his keys but also the tin of cigs he needs.
“Ah the days of smoking, before the Misses made me quit. Miss ‘em everyday.” Your dad muses, the drink making him very thoughtful about the old days. If you were there you’d no doubt have made an ‘Old days of yore’ comment through that timid smile of yours, fuck he needs to get out of here and have a wank, get his head on straight, it feels like he’s been chasing your skirt for years.
William laughs, “No you don’t, costs me a fortune. Right, I’m going, I’ll see you.”
“Yeah, see you.”
~
You’re in such a rush to get inside your house after a bad day at work, that you struggle to find your keys nestled deep in your bag. You manage eventually though, pulling them out before completely missing the keyhole and slamming them noisily into the door. You giggle at yourself not sure why opening this door is so hard right now when all you want is to get inside and get that kettle on, some tiredness must be catching up with you. You fumble the keys again and this time they slip from your hands, dropping loudly to the floor, the key you need getting mixed up with the rest.
Your noisiness is what makes William reemerge from the side of his house, God he could do a fucking cartwheel at the sight of you right now, his sweet treat in another little skirt. The way you squirmed under his advance last time replayed in his head, just as delicious now as it was then. He watches you from his front step across the road for a moment before he makes a decision, not entirely with his mind, that yeah, he’s going over there, you’re just too tempting.
He whistles yoohoo at you and you flinch, whipping around to face him, your heart jumping aggressively into your throat. You’d been doing so well at avoiding him, well physically. The mental image was there more often than you’d like. It felt dirty, the way he groped you, the feeling of his cock digging into you, but you can’t stop thinking about it, especially when you’re laid in bed. He’s literally the same age as your dad, a father himself, but he does not have the bearing of a kindly paternal type.
You make the mistake of acknowledging him, “Hey, William.” Heat rushing to your cheeks instantly and the guilty feeling in your core he always elicited arising. He can hear the tremble in your voice, it’s so tiny he could have missed it, but he watches your body language intently and you’re dripping with nerves.
He crosses the road over to you, standing almost menacingly at the bottom of your steps. “Hello, sweetheart.” You immediately get chills at his voice, it’s like he speaks directly to your core because you want to cross your arms and press your legs together to hide from him. He continues, “Been well too long since I’ve seen you, I was starting to think you’re avoiding me.” The grin on his face is knowing and he laughs at the visible guilt on your face.
“Oh so you have been?” He snickers, voice thick with mock hurt. “Now why would that be?” You neglect to answer, he knows exactly why, but you couldn’t answer if you wanted to not through the intense embarrassment you’re fighting through. You look over your shoulder at the front door, a sudden thought of your dad being able to hear this exchange makes you freeze, so you move away from it, stepping quietly down the stairs. Another mistake, judging by the grin that spreads across his face.
“You worried your dad will hear something he shouldn't?” He teases.
“No! No… I just… I should go inside.” You’re babbling, unable to meet his eyes. Yeah, you should go inside, get yourself away from this man and his glaring sexual intentions, but you don’t move. You stay right there and rub the top of your arm lost in the sensation in your lower stomach.
“Oh don’t do that.” His eyes raked over you, taking in the way you’re almost shrinking away from him. So pretty, so fucking delicate, just being near you made his cock throb. “Things were just getting exciting last time,” He shook his head, still grinning, “I wanted to wring your dad’s neck.” You glance at him, the harshness of that sentence making your stomach flip. Last time was exciting, just remembering the shameless way his hands slipped under your skirt has your panties clinging to your heat. No one had ever been that insistent with you, that hooked on you, it’s scary.
You bit your lip instinctively, “It wasn’t- it isn’t a good idea.” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince at this point, you know the right thing to do is to walk away, but you don’t want to.
“I disagree.” He’s chuckling as he steps towards you, the closing distance bringing the scent of whiskey and cigarettes to your attention, along with it a pang in your core.
“You would.” You mutter, so quiet it takes him a moment to decipher the meaning. William laughs, your cheeky comment going straight to his cock, he’s going to teach you something else exciting tonight. He reaches down to take your hand and you let him, goosebumps lining your skin when he starts leading you away from the street, and down the side of your house, out of the bounds of the lamppost light.
“I’ve been thinking about you, about your sweet little pussy.” He enunciates the words separately, the crude language somehow making your cheeks even hotter. He’s still holding your hand as your back touches the side of the house, again all alone with this man who seemed to radiate depravity. His gaze is so intimidating that you look down, now greeted with the bulge of his trousers, you almost gasp which earns a dark snigger from him which only intensifies when you look up at him through your lashes.
He brings his head close to yours, “See what you do to me, huh?” He leaves the question hanging before speaking with an unusual sweetness to his voice, “Touch it, sweetheart. Please.”
Your eyes widen and you swallow, an anxiety making your frame ridgid. “I uh- I don’t-” You start, your voice tiny.
William’s eyes narrow, deja vu flickering in his mind. “You said that last time. You don’t, what?” Suddenly his hand is on your hip, sliding up to arch your back, simply revelling in how you yield to him, a perfect toy.
God, you almost feel faint, all you can smell is him, all you can see is him, all you can feel is him. “...I don’t… know what I’m doing.” You confess, tears springing in the corners of your eyes at the embarrassment, only making him grin more. Oh bless your heart, you’re so cute.
“That’s alright, sweet girl. I’ll show you… just…” He lifts your hand, watching your face for any sign of resistance, as he guides you to touch him, exhaling with pleasure when your hand covers him. The sound makes your stomach flutter, you like being able to do that. So you feel him more, exploring his hardness nervously as you flick your eyes from him to his bulge. The hand on your hip slides down lower, taking a handful of your arse and pulling a small whimper-like noise from your lips. That pretty sound is enough to push him over the edge, he’s pushing you firmly into the wall behind you and taking his hand off your wrist to unbuckle his belt. And that clinking noise is something that's going to haunt your thoughts for ages.
He undoes his fly, pulling his boxers down enough to free himself, his dick pressing into your abdomen. When you again reach for him, you’re a little taken aback, he’s warm under your touch and thick, thick enough that your fingers don’t meet when you wrap them around him. You know enough from talk and the internet to know roughly what you’re doing, but it’s hard to think straight with his domineering presence in front of you. Still you begin to stroke him, gently and a little hesitant as you still haven't found your courage yet, not that you think you ever will.
“Here,” William moves one of your hands away, bringing it up between the two of you. You watch confused, briefly thinking you’ve done something wrong. But you catch on quickly when he spits lewdly into your palm, the lack of warning making you flinch.
“Oh.” You say in some kind of unnecessary acknowledgement, letting him guide you back to stroking him, his spit making the action dirtier, but more substantial judging by the satisfied groan you hear slightly above you.
He’s so lost in not only the feeling but how fucking filthy it looks for his cock to be in your hands that when you mumble something in that sweet, quiet voice of yours it goes completely over his head. “Say that again, lovely.” His voice is so low and thick it causes you to shiver.
You hardly even noticed that you spoke aloud and you struggle to get the words out a second time. “I… uh- you’re big- I think-” He grunts at that, his cock and ego throbbing.
He chuckles, a large hand cupping under your chin, thumb resting against your bottom lip and forcing your gaze on him. “Be careful saying things like that, sweetheart.” He warns, his grip not moving as you continue stroking him, your mouth opening slightly at the weight of his words.
This is so crazy, your body is going wild with all the signals from him, his change in breath motivating you to quicken your clumsy pace. That pressure in your core hasn’t lessened, you rubbing your thighs together to calm it doing the opposite.
“Fuck. That’s it, love. Just like that.” He speaks through his teeth, desperately trying to keep the little control he has of himself. That glazed look in your eyes, the flush of your skin, the way you’re pressing against him is going to make him cum, He brings his head close to your neck, his breath agonising against your skin, before he starts to meet your action, thrusting into your fist in a selfish effort to reach his end. And he does, grunting the word ‘fuck’ into your neck as his cum drips from his head, staining your shirt and trickling down the back of your knuckles. You moan at the sight, you just did that.
He laughs into the crook of your neck, bringing his lips against the sensitive skin there, his stubble making you squirm. You’re still in a state of disbelief when he moves your hands away, righting himself as much as he can, because shit, his load is everywhere. He laughs again, you poor little thing.
“God, you’re such a good girl.” Some pathetic noise escapes you at that, those words doing something to your brain, it makes him smirk, of course you like to hear how good you are. “I see your legs pressed together. Are you wet for me, sweetheart?”
You don’t answer and that’s not good enough for him, so he uses his knee to press between your legs and separate them enough for his hand to slide under your skirt and trace the shape of your trembling pussy. You whimper, hands rising instinctively to push against his chest, making more of a mess with his cum. That sound is confirmation for him, “I’d bet anything you are.” It’s teasing and you can’t cope with that right now, you just feel desperate, as desperate as he was a minute ago, you need something that you don’t know how to ask for.
You gasp when he pries under the fabric of your panties, “That okay?” You hardly register the question but nod weakly, for some strange reason you trust him. He hums as his fingers slide under the fabric immediately finding them soaked in your slick, what a sweet thing to get so turned on from wanking him off. William traces your entrance, restraining himself from finding out just how tight you are, there’d be time for that later, gathering your slick as he ghosts up to your clit. His middle finger presses firmly against your nerves, sending a jolt of electricity through you, you’re deaf to your mewls but they’re music to him. All that whining just from rubbing your clit, you’re going to sound so good when you learn what else he can do.
You hadn’t realised how tight that knot in your stomach was until he started a toe-curling pace of stroking your perfect spot. You’re so close to snapping already, wound so tight from all this that you’re gripping tightly into the muscle of his arms, to your credit it almost hurts, but he’d let you hurt him just to see how pretty your panicked frown is. And it is fucking stunning. If you’re not careful you’re going to bite through that puffy bottom lip.
He catches your mouth in a sudden kiss that you can hardly reciprocate because you’re hanging on by a thread to your peak, desperate to reach it but a little scared at the same time. You don’t have much of a choice because when his ministrations quicken you fall apart, pussy clenching around nothing as you go through spasming waves of climax. Mascara now wet and sticking your lashes together with the tears that spring to your eyes. It’s so reality-shattering you’d fall if not from him in front of you.
“We are gonna have a lot of fun, sweetheart.”
pt.3 - here.
#fnaf#william afton#william afton x reader#william afton smut#fnaf smut#william afton x you#fnaf movie#steve raglan#steve raglan x reader#fnaf william afton
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"Too grumpy to handle" - How your relathioship with Gallagher began
"Too grumpy to handle" - How your relathioship with Gallagher began
malereader x older!Gallagher, fluff;
warning! doing 18+/21+ acts hinted;
It's obvious that when you saw such a handsome man sitting alone at the bar, you just had to join him. You weren't saint. His look itself made you want to persue him. Seeing that pile of muscles peeking through unbuttoned shirt- his masculine, slightly bearded face- and what's more- this gentle eyes-... You felt something deep inside.
You, casualy took a seat next to the man. And he only threw you a quick glance.
Nevertheless, you didn't retreat from battlefield so easily. As every "typical player", you ordered two whiskeys with Cokes. For yourself and for him.
Old roadside bar was practically empty. Warm candlelight gently smoldered in a wooden room. No one was paying attention to you. Even bartender stayed back in his break room and left it only from time to time to serve some orders.
Gallagher accepted your drink without a word. Since he was already sitting there anyway, he could listen to you. Especially for free whiskey.
Besides, as you found out later, he was used to it. As a mixologist, he had listened to more than one drunk person in his life. And he often enjoyed taking their places. Especially after having a hard time in work.
It was one of those days when everything accumulated and he just had enough. Today's stowaway chase… Completely drained him out. Everyone demanded something from him. Superiors wanted him to solve cases as quickly as possible, without complaining. Subordinates hoped to find in him a support, role model and even better, someone who would do everything for them. Family waited for promotions and an ideal son who should have started his own household a long time ago and give them grandchildren.
That's why it's no wonder that all he wanted to do at that moment, was to give himself to you. Sink into your embrace. You were so warm, so affectionate-
This vibe of responsibility, masculinity, security, all the way urged him to let you take control.
Trying to act casual, he allowed you to lead the way, with intertwined hands. Up the shadowed stairs, to one of a rooms for rent. This for worn-out wanderers.
He wasn't sure why it happened. Such situations weren't common for him. Or at least never in such position. Everyone, seeing him, felt intimidated and took for granted his willingness to lead. And he just didn't protest. Just like now. He was so unbothered. When you sobered up, you even had some moral doubt. If for sure, you hadn't taken advantage of his weakness. He assured you, however, that if he really didn't feel like it, he would have kicked you in balls, handcuffed, arrested and lead you to the nearest police station.
Apparently this had happened to him more than once. Hearing that, a sudden shiver of terror went through you. You were so close to suffering a drastic consequences.
When it was all over, and you regained your strength, you turned your attention back to Gallagher.
He was sitting with his legs straight, leaning against the headboard of large bed. His lower body was covered by a white, soft duvet. You, on the other hand, were lying sideways, on a bent arm, almost snuggled into a cozy pillow.
You couldn't take your eyes off Gallagher. Glow of street lamps, crept into the bedroom through half-exposed window and tickled his slowly cooling body.
Gallagher carefully lit a cigarette, with a lighter he had earlier fished out of his pants, that had been tossed onto a floor. Orange, playful flame let you see his face in new colors.
He fixed strands of hair that were sticky from sweat and hid them behind his ear. Allowing you by that to get a closer look at his other features.
With each passing second, you began to like him more and more.
He threw a closed lighter to the edge of a bed and took a decent drag of nicotine.
At the same time, Gallagher stared at the wall in front of him. He was was thinking hard about something. Instead of paying attention to your presence.
When he let out a puff of smoke something tickled your nostrils.
He didn't even offer you a cigarette.
Perhaps you didn't look like a person who smoked too often. Or maybe your needs didn't really matter to him.
You weren't taken aback. You raised your free hand and gently began to draw a small circles on his firm chest. While doing so, you asked how was he feeling. If he was all right, if he wasn't in pain. Gallagher only hummed to you reassuringly, while still staring blankly into a space.
After a minute, however, perhaps pushed by your sudden affection, which he didn't expect, he stubbed his cigarette. Crushed it against a glass bottom of an ashtray and turned suddenly toward you. Like a large but harmless bear, he snuggled into your embrace. Surprising you quite a bit in the process. He hid his head in crook of your neck and decided to take advantage of his last moments with you.
After all, they were so nice. It was the first time in so long when he could really relax and feel so comfortable and safe. No one judged him.
Gallagher couldn't expect that you took him seriously and that you didn't plan to just leave him. Especially since you felt something more for him after that night.
You have permanently added yourself into his schedule. You visited him during work, brought food, and chatted. Gallagher wasn't very talkative, but your funny stories or anecdotes were able to provide him with an entertainment. He wouldn't admit it, but every workday, he looked forward to the hour when you would finally visit him. Most often it happened at a lunchtime. Sometimes completely out of the blue. And when you decided to come at the end of his shift Gallagher began to grind his teeth. Apparently, he was becoming even more grumpy than usual, and his co-workers couldn't stand his gloomy mood.
By the way, Gallagher liked to complain about them. This provided him with a great pleasure. An opportunity to speak out. Especially when his subordinates, as usual, did something wrong. Sure, they were young and inexperienced, but had they really not been taught anything at school?
You were the only way to soothe his nerver, other than a bottle of whiskey.
Gallagher, however, couldn't allow himself to think about anything else. You were too young for him.
Of course, you were already an adult, you had a job, your own apartment. You were also responsible and had enough experience in life to not treat it like a game. And your age difference at this phase wasn't really a problem anymore, since neither of you had been teenagers for a long time.
But Gallagher insisted that you deserved someone better, younger. With whom you could still enjoy and experience a lot. Go through stages that Gallagher had long since passed.
You repeatedly tried to knock this silly thinking out of his head. You assured him that all this didn't matter to you, as long as you could be with him. That he is the perfect one for you, exactly the way he is. That you are not looking for anyone younger, because no one will provide what he does. And that he is the one with whom you want to experience all these beautiful moments together.
When Gallagher understood that you weren't planning to surrender, he gave up. He hoped that maybe after some time you would get bored. Especially, after living together. He thought that after experiencing his "non-ideal" form in a daily domestic routine, you will decide to look for someone else. Oh, how wrong he was.
Now? Now you are a happy couple and make an almost perfect match. At least that's what your friends say. Sure, you have small quarrels occasionally. About his not closed shoe polish or your coffee grounds left in a cup. But despite this, nothing gives you as much pleasure as spending time together, in your four walls.
… Only sometimes you're maybe a little too jealous. About how many buttons Gallagher wears undone and how loosely his tie is. But at such moments, man assures you that he is only yours and lets you snuggle into his chest. In the afternoons, when he comes home and you have a sulky face and don't greet him with usual "welcome home".
Over the next few days, he obeys your suggestions and buttons up to almost every last thing. Besides, he has no other choice. You mark him too much at such occasions. And Gallagher doesn't really want his co-workers to see your bites and tease him about that.
🌸
#fanfic#fanfiction#scenarios#tmr#x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail imagines#hsr#hsr x male reader#x male reader#gallagher hsr#gallagher x male reader#gallagher#gallagher x reader#honkai x reader
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‘cause look at your face!
Request linked here!
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader (implied bisexual rights)
Warnings: implied cheating, drinking, smoking, very minor sexy references
Word Count: 1.6k
There he was.
The famed Dean Winchester.
Well, fame by hunter standards, anyways. Regardless, the guy had saved the world multiple times, and happened to be even more beautiful that anyone could capture with words.
Unfortunately for me, I had to pull my gaze away when he caught me staring. Though not before he shot me a smirk at my being caught out.
I looked towards the bartender, asking for another fifth of whiskey in my glass. She obliged with a smile and a wink. At least I could still keep my cool with her, cause I certainly was loosing it after seeing him.
It worsened significantly when he sat in the seat next to me.
I panicked, the fact that he smelled good on top of being a smoke-show was too much to handle. I decided to strike up conversation with the bartender again.
“How’d you end up in a place like this?” I asked, raising a brow.
She leaned in. “I could ask you the same. You’re a little too pretty to put up with all the folks in here considering you’re not getting paid.”
I chuckled. “Good point. Maybe you could help me get a job. If I’m gonna be here as much as I am, I may as well get some cash for it.”
“I’ll help with whatever you want, sugar,” she said with a wink.
Dean cleared his throat, raising a hand. She looked at him expectantly.
“Could I just grab whatever beer you’d recommend?” he asked, trying a wink at her.
She nodded, giving him an unamused hum. He leaned in a little closer to me after that.
“You’re doin’ better than me,” he said with a small smile.
I nodded, then saw a familiar face behind him. I attempted to strike up conversation with practically every other person in the bar except for him. Really, he should’ve taken it as a compliment. If he wasn’t so unbelievably hot, it would’ve been much easier to talk to him.
After a while, he seemed to have lost interest in talking to me anyways. Especially when I spent half an hour straight chatting it up with some grumpy old hunter who really had an affinity for non-haunted vintage items, and really loved to talk about it.
The second that conversation was over, I decided on a new course of action. I needed to forget about a certain cheating boyfriend for the night anyways. A smoke outside felt like it’d do just the trick.
I leaned against the building in the cool night air, pulling out my pack of cigarettes and lighting one up. I was a few puffs in when the door opened a few feet over, footsteps getting nearer.
“You know, smoking’s bad for you,” I heard a rumbling voice next to me say.
I glanced up and over, a light smile on my face.
“So is drinking. Didn’t stop you, huh?”
He smirked, nodding lightly. I held up the pack, resigned to the fact that I could no longer escape this male-modeling son of a bitch and his perfect face.
“Want one?”
He sighed. “I almost never do, but since you offered…”
He took one out, popping it in his mouth. I flicked my lighter, holding it up to the end of the cigarette until he puffed out a little cloud of smoke. I watched him for a moment, enthralled with how someone could look so pretty smoking. He glanced back at me after a few seconds.
“What?” he asked, voice suddenly lighter.
I shrugged, looking away. “Guess I’m a little surprised to meet you. I’ve heard stories, but never expected to bump into you or your brother.”
He chuckled humorlessly.
“Stories?”
“Mhm,” I nodded. “You can’t be surprised. Words gotten around in a lot of hunting communities about all y’all have done.”
He sighed, staying quiet. I chanced a look at him again to see him staring off into the parking lot.
“Did I strike a nerve?” I asked.
He shook his head, looking back at me with a partial smile.
“No, don’t worry about it. Just— Guess I don’t think much of it all.”
“Much of what? Saving the world?”
He puffed on the cigarette again, merely smirking at me as I found myself watching his lips as he did so.
“Seems you’re thinking something,” he said.
I looked away suddenly, bringing my own cigarette back my lips. I took a moment to collect myself.
“Not a damn thing,” I said at last, turning towards him. “Why don’t you get out of here. I’m sure your girlfriend’s looking for you.”
“Don’t have one.”
“Ah,” I nodded.
I almost wished he did. Out-of-bounds would be much easier to deal with than temptingly-single. Especially when I still (technically) had someone.
“What about you? Any boyfriend that’d be mad I’m out here with you?”
I shrugged. “He went out to some club tonight to do… I don’t even know what. I don’t think I want to know.”
I laughed at myself, a little bitterly. He simply stared with his brow set.
“Excuse me?”
I cleared my throat, dropping the butt of the now-gone cig into the ashtray atop the garbage can.
“He goes out a lot. Doesn’t usually come home until the next morning,” I said, letting out a soft breath. “Or until a few days later.”
“Why do you put up with that?” he asked, voice sharper now.
I raised my brows, not expecting the reaction.
“I don’t know. Security, I guess. We’ve been together a few years now…”
“You deserve better,” he said, eyes terrible and beautiful and sincere.
I groaned. “You suck.”
He furrowed his brow, taken aback.
“What?”
I didn’t know what to say with him looking at me like that. His gaze was intent. It felt like he was looking right into my soul. Everything about him was horribly picturesque, especially in the neon lights from the sign above us.
I shook my head, “I should probably go.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I mimicked, a small smile on my face. “What’s up with the twenty questions, anyway?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like avoidance.”
“Again: you suck.”
He put out his cigarette on the ash tray, then turned back to me, hands on his hips.
“Alright, pretty girl, let’s get you back inside. It’s cold out here,” he said, looking towards the door.
I fought a smile from showing up, and fought butterflies even harder.
‘Pretty girl’. He’s one to talk about being pretty.
“What if my boyfriend shows back up?”
He raised a brow. “You’re gonna dump him anyways.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the sentence.
“Cause,” he shrugged. “Would you let me go home with you otherwise?”
I froze, my eyes widening. “I’m going home to my cats, actually.”
“Ah, I see,” he nodded, a borderline-shy smile on his face. “You can really just say no, you know?”
I hummed, giving an unsure shrug.
“I don’t really want to say ‘no’, is the problem.”
His smile morphed into a smirk again, hand brushing against my lower back to lead me back into the bar.
Rather than going back to the bar, he led me to a table in the dark. I followed along, letting him guide me with his hand still on my back.
“What are you up to?” I asked at last when we sat down.
He sat on the same side of the booth as me, an arm slung over the back of the seat. He smelled even better now that he was closer than ever.
“I’m gonna convince you to break up with him,” he stated simply.
“Why’s that? Why not just take me home?”
“Not into cheating.”
“Huh,” I nodded. “Who would’ve guessed? Dean Winchester has rules about revenge when it comes to fidelity?”
He rolled his eyes, somehow still looking sexy doing it.
“So, you just want to use me to get back at your boyfriend?”
I paused. “Actually, I don’t. That would just be an added bonus since he’d totally be pissed I moved on with someone like you.”
“Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He brushed his hand against my shoulder, leaning in a little closer. I realized there was no use in pretending I wasn’t giving into him now.
“Someone absolutely gorgeous.”
His smirk faded a little, eyes looking into mine more now.
“You’re really too sweet to let some crap-bag walk all over you, you know?”
I watched him a moment longer, then readjusted myself in the seat. I pulled out my phone, typing out a quick message.
- we’re done. you can get your crap out of my apartment later this week :)
I hit send.
“Here, look,” I said, handing him the phone.
He read the message, nodding lightly as he did. He then turned it off, set it on the table, and had his lips on mine so fast my head was practically spinning. Those lips were softer than they looked, and finally having his hands on me felt better than I thought it would.
He rested one palm on my thigh, letting the other stay around my shoulders. His tongue tasted like lime salt and smoke. I ran one of my hands up his arm, nibbling at his bottom lip as he started pulling away. The gravity of making out with him in a crowded bar probably would’ve embarrassed me if it weren’t for the fact that he leaned in closer to whisper to me:
“Think I can meet your cats when I’m out of your room tomorrow morning?”
I smiled. “Oh, they’ll love you.”
—————
dean winchester taglist:
@deanwithscissors @hyunjaebaby @simp4olderm3n @king-of-milf-lovers @allonsy-yesiwill @xoxovienna @grapejuicestand @lyarr24
#bisexual lighting in the gif is so good#foreshadowing for the reader tbh#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fic#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester spice#dean winchester one shot#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural#gorgeous
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written for @eddiemonth
Day 9 Prompt: Cowboy
cw: mentions of alcohol
read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series
Eddie’s been in a lot of bars over the years, but none quite like The Lonesome Cowboy.
Sure, there’s a wrap-around bar along the back where bartenders dressed in god-awful cowboy and girl uniforms shoot the shit with their regulars. Shelves and shelves of liquor sit on the wall behind organized according to price — the most expensive glistening at the very top. But, unlike the bars Eddie frequents, there doesn’t seem to be a collection of spiderwebs around those.
Where Eddie’s used to dimly lit dive bars, The Lonesome Cowboy is lit up like a damn supermarket. Okay, maybe not a supermarket, but it is bright, is what he’s getting at. Warm can light mixed with the occasional flare of colored ones from the small stage in the opposite corner. There’s also a disco ball hanging over the crowded dance floor. A fucking disco ball!
The ornate wood walls are covered in saddles and cowboy hats. A mural of famous country musicians stretches across the room, and American flags hang down from the railing on the second level. Of fucking course, a place like this has a second level. Rich ass country people.
The dance floor is crowded with bodies, everybody line dancing to whatever song the band on stage is currently playing. A rowdy group hoots and hollers around a mechanical bull where a petite girl is hanging on for dear life.
It’s so not Eddie’s scene, but he’s a good friend. A phenomenal friend if he’s being straight with himself. And as a phenomenal friend, he sometimes goes places where he knows he doesn’t belong, like this bar in Nashville. Especially when said bar is hosting Gareth’s celebratory engagement party.
“I still can’t believe Gar-bear over there is the first one of us to get hitched,” Freak says, tipping his beer bottle to his lips.
“M’not,” Jeff snorts. “He always was the most approachable out of all of us in high school.”
“Yeah, but landing and keeping someone like Chrissy?” Eddie whistles, shaking his head fondly. He catches sight of the happy couple on the dance floor, dancing hand in hand as they move across the floor.
“Yeah, well, Gareth is many things, but a quitter.”
They toast to that before falling into conversations that jump from topic to topic.
It’s been a few years since the whole gang got together. They keep in touch, a telephone call every few months from the Freak. Postcards from Gareth’s adventures with his girlfriend turned fiancee. He sees Jeff the most since they share an apartment in Chicago. But nothing beats getting the band back together in one location.
Before they know it, five songs have come and gone and the atmosphere in the bar is electric. Freak excuses himself to the bathroom (“‘M too young to have a bladder this shitty,” he groans before wading through the rambunctious crowd).
A comfortable silence falls between Eddie and Jeff as they nurse their respective drinks — a standard beer for Jeff and a whiskey sour for Eddie that Gareth insisted he try. It’s too damn smooth for his liking. Though, maybe that’s just the guilt rising up like bile in his throat after he glanced at the price tag. Gareth might be picking up the tab, but Eddie doesn’t need to be draining his bank account liquor. Especially not when he has a wedding to plan now. Still, it would be even ruder to waste it, so he takes another sip and tries to hide his grimace behind the glass.
Eddie’s eyes drift out to the dance floor where Gareth is line dancing up a storm next to Chrissy. He spins her around in a flashy, look-at-me sort of way that would be annoying if it weren’t him. It’s actually really, fucking endearing. He may have his doubts about true love, but Gareth has found the real deal that’s for sure. A fact he makes sure to tell him several times as the night goes on.
Drinks keep flowing, music keeps playing, and before long Eddie’s the only one still sitting at the bar. Freak’s been summoned to the mechanical bull by some of Gareth’s work friends. And Eddie basically shoved Jeff onto the dance floor a song and a half ago to go dance with one of Chrissy’s best friends who kept making eyes at him.
Everyone’s fully embraced the energy in The Lonesome Cowboy, everyone except Eddie. He doesn’t mean to be a buh humbug, quite the opposite, really. Sitting at the bar is just more in line with his comfort zone. Especially now that the band is passing out cowboy hats to the crowded dance floor in preparation for a new dance they’re teaching them.
“If you’re not going to join the fun, can I at least get you another drink?” a silky smooth voice asks from behind him.
An astute observation that the goofy bartender who had left for the night hadn’t picked up on, despite Eddie’s empty whiskey glass sitting empty on the bar behind him for hours.
A pretty voice and an attentive eye? Oh, I’m screwed, Eddie thinks, already biting his lip as he turns around on the barstool.
Hazel eyes like honey glimmer under the warm light of the bar top, pulling Eddie into a daze. The cacophony of noise disappears, as does his surroundings. Vision blurred until all he can see is the bartender in front of him. It’s a wonder he manages to break their locked stare, but he’s glad he does as he takes in the man piece by piece.
A frayed suede vest is slung perfectly over the man shoulder’s, just like every other bartender in the place. But it looks better on him than any of the others. It sits over a tight white button-up that clings to the man’s shoulders. He has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, strong forearms unabashedly on display as he raps his fingers against the wood bar top.
The counter is high, obstructing Eddie’s view of the lower half of the bartender, but it doesn’t take a genius to imagine what he’s wearing. The uniform in the place seems to be tight blue jeans and bedazzled cowboy boots, and he can’t imagine Mr. Cowboy Cassanova over here straying from the heard. Though, he is interested to see just how much better he wears the measly uniform. A man with those kind of arms definitely hits the gym more than occasionally. Eddie’s sure he has an ass to prove it, too.
The only thing out of place on the man is the cowboy hat. Unlike his coworkers, it’s angled weird, barely pulled down on his head as if doing so would ruin his hair. And by the looks of the wisps of hair falling around his eyes, it’s a gorgeous head of hair.
Eddie’s not one for Western fantasies; the thought is basically boner killer thanks to the hours and hours of Gunsmoke he watched with his uncle in his youth, but right now it’s working for him.
Really fucking working for him.
Jesus H. Christ!
Mr. Cowboy Cassanova is a gift from the universe, and Eddie wants to take him apart with his teeth.
“So,” the man asks, clearing his throat. “What can I get you?”
You.
“How about we start with a name,” Eddie says instead. He pillows his chin in his hands, elbows digging into the wood bar as he looks up through his lashes.
“Name’s Steve,” the bartender replies, a slight hint of pink to his cheeks. “And yours?”
“Eddie,” he responds, watching as Steve carefully cleans a glass with a pristine white cloth.
“You here with the happy couple?”
Eddie hums, glancing over his shoulder to find Gareth and Chrissy surrounded by all their friends jumping and dancing around them as the pair do some fancy little duet. Gareth swings Chrissy around his waist before picking her up in his arms and planting a kiss on her lips. Shows off.
“Why aren’t you out there with them, then?”
“Not much of a dancer.”
“More of a drinker then,” Steve states rather than asks.
There’s no time to respond before Steve’s pouring top-shelf bourbon into his shaker. Followed immediately by a helping of lemon juice and simple syrup. Eddie watches, entranced, as Steve shakes the shaker in his confident, skilled hands. He flips it with ease, the yellow-orange liquid flowing into the glass. Steve slides the precut orange slice onto the rim before reaching for the cherries. Two for Eddie’s drink, one for his own mouth. Stem and all.
The glass slides in front of Eddie with magical ease, but he’s too captivated by Steve to reach for it. Eyes glued to Steve. Watching his jaw moves as he chomps on the cherry, the slow bob of his throat as he swallows before his fingers are at his lips, pulling a perfectly knotted cherry stem from his mouth.
Tease.
Oldest party trick in the book, but it works. Oh, how it fucking works.
With Steve’s big eyes glued to his, he reaches for the glass and takes a tentative sip. It’s another whiskey sour, but this one is in a league of its own. Perfectly measured and shaken.
Steve’s not the only one who can be a tease, he thinks, as he brings the glass away from his lips and moves his tongue along the rim, lapping up a stray droplet that didn’t make it back into the glass.
“Tasty,” Eddie says, tilting the glass for another slow drink.
If Steve’s mere presence was captivating, seeing him with a smile so wide his eyes crinkle in the corners is damn near enchanting. Eddie thinks he could get drunk off the look alone. An impressive feat, given the high tolerance he’s built up over the years for booze and pretty boys alike.
Reaching into his pocket, Eddie pulls out a few crumbled bills and passes them across the bar. Steve glances down, brows knitted together. “Your buddy’s already covering everyone’s tab.”
“I know,” Eddie says slowly, eyes locked with Steve’s. “But I can still tip you, can’t I.”
Eddie’s not expecting the bright laugh that bubbles out of Steve, but it’s music to his ears. Way better than the country twang that’s been playing on endless repeat for hours. He wants to bottle it up and save it for a rainy day.
“I’ve got a tip for you,” Steve says, shoving the bills into his back pocket. “Next time you come to a country bar, at least wear a cowboy hat. Really gets you into the spirit.”
“Is that so?” Eddie asks, eyes flicking up to the crooked hat barely resting on Steve’s head. Maybe it’s the whisky, maybe it’s Steve’s kind but intense gaze. Whatever it is, Eddie feels confident as he leans across the bar and plucks the hat off of Steve’s head. With a tilt of his head and his signature smirk, he flips it in his hands and up onto his unruly curls. “S’that better for you, Steve?”
Something dark flashes in Steve’s eyes before they begin to dilate. Pupils blown wide as he leans against the bar, closing the distance between them until their forearms are touching and their noses are mere centimeters apart.
With a tilt of his head, Steve brings his lips to Eddie’s ear. He’s so close Eddie can feel his warm breath wafting over him. It sends a shiver up Eddie’s spine and a rush of blood down to his dick.
“You know what it means when you take a cowboy’s hat, don’t you, Eddie?” Steve asks in that silky smooth, confident but teasing voice of his.
Eddie’s knees practically buckle at the sound of it in his ear and the closeness of Steve. But he holds himself together. Giving in now is too easy. The chase has always been the fun part for him.
He pulls back just enough to be able to look Steve dead in the eyes and cocks his own head to the side, again. Plasters on an innocent smile that he knows won’t fool Steve because of the fire burning in his own eyes.
“Save a horse, ride a cowboy, right?” he asks in his own silky smooth, confident voice. And then he leans in so close that the brim of the hat bumps against Steve’s forehead. There’s no time for apologies, though, as Eddie positions his lips a breath away from Steve’s ear this time. “What time do you get off, big boy?”
#eddiemonth#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#eddie munson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson ficlet#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington ficlet#bartender steve harrington#steve harrington/eddie munson#stranger things#stranger thigs fic#drumcheer#gareth/chrissy cunningham#dani writes
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Drowning In The Depths
Part 1
Pairing: Price x Male!Reader
WC: 19.6k
Synopsis: Slow night at the bar turns into a little more than the reader bargains for
Warnings: Smut, like a lot of it, NSFW, Minors DNI
You’d been watching the man for months now, captivated by the ocean blue eyes and the dark brunette hair. He showed up like clockwork every week, drank three bourbons, smoked a cigar, and then he’d leave just before the clock struck twelve. Sometimes there were other men who would be with him, other times he was completely alone and just sitting at the bar watching the soccer game, or football as they called it here in the United Kingdom, on the bar’s TV.
But without fail he was always there at the same time and always on the same days, like it was a ritual, it had definitely become one of yours since you had moved over here. It was not often that you spoke to anyone at the bar yourself, you were more of a people watcher, just there to enjoy the feel of the crowd and the false sense of community you got out of it. You didn’t have anyone in the city to speak to really, not many people at work wanted to use their off the clock time to hangout with you. Those that might have wanted to couldn’t be seen with you, especially outside the building where you worked. And your family was overseas, you’d left them to follow what you’d thought was your dream. Turns out dreams weren’t always what they were cracked up to be.
So here you were like you were every Friday, sitting in your corner alone like you always were and watching two men at the pool table. One was a Scotsman and the other was a tall, broad masked man with a thick accent that you honestly couldn’t identify the region of even if you had tried. The darker skinned man was standing beside the big one, smiling as he watched the Scot about to lose yet another game to their friend who was basically stealing his money at this point. It brought a small smile to your own face, watching the interaction between the three and how comfortable and happy they were with one another, a sense of familiarity flowing through you as you watched them all. It had to be around time for him to get here, as you looked down at your phone to check the time in the man walked, a tall brunette Brit with the bluest eyes you’d ever seen.
His facial hair was perfectly trimmed like always, almost meticulously so. His black beanie was affixed snugly to his head, and his thick black coat was around his shoulders, blue jeans that clung to his ass in the best way. He was a sight that could make a drowning man thirsty, and every time you watched him you felt like you’d been walking in the desert for months without even a drop of water. Your mouth went dry as you watched him, too cautious to make yourself known to him but much too interested in him to not show up.
So here you still sat after three solid months of watching from afar, and every other Friday night you were getting your fix of the hottest man you’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. It was an addiction that had you itching to get to the bar, hell sometimes you nearly convinced yourself to mark the days on the calendar just in case you ever forgot. In reality though you couldn’t forget, your mind ran like a finely attuned clock and it was ticking down the seconds every day to when you’d be headed back to the bar to watch him walk by.
Today was just like all the others, sitting quietly and nursing a whiskey. You’d always preferred straight liquor, especially considering where you grew up. Men where you were from didn’t drink fancy slushies with little umbrellas, they suffered through the taste of burning bottom shelf alcohol like real men. It was honestly a bit depressing, you’d realized that a while ago, though you still did nothing to try and change it. What was the point when they’d have you packing up and then ship you on to the next city the second you got comfortable anyway? Part of you knew that you really should have taken that job with your sister, it would have been better than this constant shell game from one city to the next ever could have been. Your job before this one had been your real dream, everything you had lived and breathed for but this was merely what had been leftover for you after a series of unfortunate events had backed you into a corner.
At least the bar was packed tonight though, with so many people to watch it wasn’t likely your mind would get bored. Your finger tapped against the glass before you lifted it to your lips, taking a slow sip as you watched the Brit at the bar talking to the other three men he was always with. You saw his head begin to turn and so your gaze flicked away and to one tipsy face to another. One drunk man at the far end was currently being dragged out by his buddies before he puked all over the floor, and then to a group of young women who seemed to be celebrating someone’s birthday, young men crowding around them and seemingly trying to get lucky. It wasn’t until one of those women sat down on the stool next to you that your eyes stuck to someone other than the brunette for the first time that night.
She was pretty, but you had to be honest, everything that was currently on display beneath her skimpy clothes was not exactly something you were interested in. “Can I help you?” The words themselves were a bit on the rude side but the question coming out the way it did, along with your raised eyebrows and curious look, somehow managed to not make you sound like an asshole although you doubted she would have minded either way. The girl was holding her head up with one hand and staring at you with a drunken smile on her face like she was looking at a puppy in a pet store window or something.
She gave a quiet nod, “Are you here with someone or are you just looking for…anyone?” Your eyebrows furrowed at that obvious proposition and before you could even respond a man joined her, an arm wrapping around her with his hand settling against her hip. You glanced between the two with a near scowl on your face as she asked, “You can come with us if you want. We’ve been looking for a third and you’re pretty handsome.”
The laugh you let out at that belonged in a movie, they would have paid you billions for the genuine way your eyes filled with disbelief at the audacity of these two. You were at a loss for words, blinking with a stunned smile on your face. It didn’t even register that someone had slid into the other chair beside you until there was a glass clattering down beside your hand with amber liquid in it. Your gaze shifted to follow the line from the hand and up the arm until you stopped on those blue eyes, the man beside you having been the one you dreamt about late at night and even in the middle of the day. A deep, gravelly voice, the first time you’d ever even heard it, slid out from between perfectly sculpted lips, “Hey sorry I was late, who’s this?”
The blue eyes flicked from the two on the other side of the table and then up to you, holding you captive in the sea of blue there. Your mouth couldn’t form the words to say you’d never even seen them before and you had no clue, too wrapped up in the fact that the Brit was sitting right next to you. Thankfully the couple answered for you, “Oh, sorry about that. We thought he was alone, you both have a great night.” And then they were gone, surprisingly considerate after having been so shockingly forward initially.
Though to be completely honest they could have screamed at you right then and it wouldn’t have made a difference to your rattled mind. You were too busy staring at the brunette who’d taken a seat next to you, close enough you could feel when his arm moved to bring his glass to his lips. He took a slow sip, turning his gaze back to you as the couple disappeared into the sea of patrons, eyebrows raising at your continued blanching before he asked, “You good mate?”
Your eyes shifted down to his hand as the glass found a resting place on the table once again, finally managing to produce a slow nod and nervous, “Uh yeah, I’m good. Thanks for that, never even considered I’d have to deal with, well whatever the hell that was.” You gave a quiet huff of laughter as your fingers played with the glass of whiskey on the table in front of you, avoiding the intense gaze beside you.
There was surprise in those eyes as the deep voice spoke again, “An American? Didn’t expect that one. Where are you from? You sound like one of those cowboys in the movie.”
You glanced nervously at him, seeing a hint of curiosity in his eyes before quirking up the corner of your mouth and answering, “Um yeah, yeah I’m an American, from the south. I’m from Georgia actually.”
You caught a smile on his lips when the man nodded, continuing to probe, “Oh yeah I could tell by the accent. How’d an American end up on this side of the Atlantic then? Don’t see many of you in places like these, especially not outside London.”
It was weird talking to the man you’d been quietly observing for the past few months, it wasn’t like you were stalking him or anything, you didn’t even know the man’s name. But having him sitting there asking you questions was throwing you off a bit. It had been a while since you’d talked to anyone outside of your forced work interactions, it felt like you’d forgotten how to actually converse.
Finally though you managed an answer, “Chasing a dream, you know how it is. Left everything behind to get that dream job and get outta that small town just like all the songs told me to do.” You cast a small smile down at the glass as you paused for a drink and a shrug, “You don’t realize how much you’ll miss it though until you can’t get it back.” The brunette took a drink from his glass then too, giving a knowing nod before you asked, “What about you? You from around here?”
There was a quick nod from the man at the question, “Yeah, about an hour and half southwest of here. I grew up in Herefordshire. Me and my dream job though, well we’ve been together for a while. Been in the army since I was sixteen, never looked back. More than happy saving lives.”
Your eyebrows rose at the statement though truthfully you shouldn’t have been all that surprised. Everything about him from his clean cut hair and well-kept physique screamed military, “Didn’t realize you were an army man.” He was spinning his glass on the table, blue eyes watching you as you spoke, “I did a few tours myself, enlisted right outta high school.” Before you continued your jaw tensed, considering whether you should tell him the truth of your past or not and deciding against it, wasn’t like he needed to hear the whole truth anyway, “I was a marine though, you know, a jarhead,” you wiggled your brows at that with a small laugh, managing to draw an amused smile from him as well though you knew he saw your slight hesitation. Worry coursed through you as you hurriedly added, “You know now that I’m getting a better look at you I’m surprised I didn’t see the army on you.”
“A better look?” Shit, you hadn’t meant to say that and you really hadn’t expected for him to pick up on it. He could see the panic in your eyes, not knowing how to continue or play it off and that brought out a tilt of his head that had you tensed in the chair. Well fuck you that was it, your face went beet red and you pleaded with any higher power out there to strike you down so you didn’t have to explain what you meant or why you were currently unable to speak or even so much as breathe. It didn’t come though, instead the man beside you leaned forward to put his elbows on the table as he looked you over a bit closer, “So you have been watching me then, huh?” Your eyes stayed glued to the nearly empty whiskey glass before you brought an elbow up on the table and leaned your face into your hand to hide the panic written plainly there, “I’ve been wondering, you know. I couldn’t tell if you were just here all the time by circumstance or if you really were staring a hole in my back.”
The silence was killing you as he waited to hear you say something, anything, “Shit, listen man I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable or anything, I just…I don’t really know anyone or anything here and I was just trying to pass the time and I guess y’all,” you gesture with a nod to the three men still over by the pool table before continuing, “Y'all kinda reminded me of me and my old squad. Honest to God though, hand on the bible, I wasn’t trying to weird you out or anything-” you were diving head first into a long ramble that seemed to have no end when you felt a hand on your thigh. Wide eyes jumped up to those ocean hues you’d been avoiding for the past minute and for the second time that night you were at a loss for words. Blanching even when you saw lips move, his words falling on deaf ears at first, unable to hear him over the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.
When the hand gave a gentle squeeze your eyes finally blinked and you glanced down at the hand hidden below the table, away from the prying eyes of the other bar patrons. The deep, gravelly voice beside you finally spoke again, “It’s ok Marine, I’m not weirded out." The smile he gave you calmed your nerves as he continued, "I was going to buy you a drink but every time I get here you already have your own. I couldn’t think of a way to get your attention before now, not until they,” he nodded to the couple on the other side of the bar, “sat down over here. Guess it was a good thing I didn’t try the more forward approach though, I’ve never heard anyone laugh that loud when someone asked them to go home with them before in my life.” The man took a quick sip from his glass, finishing it off before he smiled again, voice lowering to a whisper when he asked, “So, anyway, what’re you doing later tonight?”
And that was how you’d ended up here in the front seat of Army’s old Ford truck with its leather bench seats and the whole truck riding low enough to the ground you were both taller than it was when you stood up. You were watching the buildings pass by as every single red light stopped the two of you on your way back to his house. Your fingers were clenched so hard into your thigh you were sure you were sure you were about to pull your whole damn leg off. Your knee was bouncing nervously, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d been in another person’s car, and especially not when you were headed back to their house to do the inevitable. It certainly didn’t help that the person you were riding with was the man you’d been quietly pining after months now.
Your eyes were glued to the streetlights outside, trying not to melt into a puddle at the reflection of the man in the driver’s seat. One hand on the wheel and leaned back with the most casual look on his face you’d ever seen on anyone, not at all like your own which was full of nerves and worry. You swallowed hard, staring disrespectfully at the perfect lines of his lips, the veins that popped on his arms, the way his shirt sat so perfectly tight across his chest.
When you felt that same pressure on your thigh from before your bouncing leg froze, turning your gaze from his reflection and back to him. You were stopped at yet another light and he was watching you with a curious gaze, “Marine, you good?” You gave a quick nod to which he responded with an even quicker glance down at your thigh, holding the look which had you shifting in your seat, “You sure?” Army’s gaze shifted back up then holding your eyes captive, even and calm like the open ocean on a sunny day. It shot a sense of calm into your own nerves, somehow settling you rather than pressuring you, the panic that had been sitting just at the back of your mind turning almost immediately into ice. A brunette brow rose, the other man could sense the newfound calm as you slid across the seat away from the window.
A quick glance up at the light to make sure, yeah it was still red, and then your eyes were back on his curious ones with his head tilted endearingly, the man trying to figure out what the actual hell you were doing. Until your hand returned the firm squeeze, thumb grazing over his knee anyway. Army immediately shifted, legs spreading just a bit and hips angling towards you as much as they could. Your hand drifted up, watching his gaze change from curiosity and immediately into fire, eagerly awaiting your hand now. He had forgotten completely about the fact that he was supposed to be driving you back to his house to do this, not sitting at a green light with a hand inching closer and closer to the promised land. That was what finally stopped you though, noticing the green light which made you freeze, turning your gaze up before smiling and nodding towards it, “Eyes on the road Army.”
There was a quiet curse before he hit the gas, his second hand raising to the wheel for a moment before he reached down to cover the back of yours with the rough calluses. He shifted and when he did you could just feel the tip of his semi through his jeans, your eyes traveled down to look at the growing outline of him before you squeezed his thigh again and shook your head. “No can do Army. Have you never played redlight greenlight before? You've gotta wait till we hit another red light or we make it back to your place.” There was a side-eyed glare that you caught when the streetlights illuminated his face for just a moment. Oh yeah, this was definitely going to be fun. You might regret it when he'd had enough of your teasing but that didn't mean you weren't still going to have fun.
Again the light turned red in front of you and the second he came to a full stop your hand was moving again. Rubbing his hardening erection through the thick jeans on your way up before you worked at the button and then the zipper. You were about to delve in for your awaited prize when the light turned green and so you stopped. Hand still held tantalizingly over the zipper and a smirk on your mouth as he growled a quick, “Bloody hell,” and revved up the gas. The next light didn’t stop you and he groaned quietly about it, cursing both you and the lights for this torture, his hips bucking up just slightly as he searched for the friction and heat of your hand again. You kept it just out of reach though, shaking your head when he glanced your way with a desperate and frustrated sigh.
It wasn’t until the truck came to a stop at the next red light that your fingers finally dove below the zipper, just as eager to see him as he was to be touched. His flesh was burning underneath the pads of your fingertips, and when he lifted his hips and slid his jeans down a bit you pulled him free. Your thumb ran over the tip and he took in a sharp breath, eyes dropping down to watch and catching sight of your heavily furrowed brows. “What’s wrong Marine?”
Your own eyes glanced up quickly and then back down to him before you shook your head. “It’s uh…Well it’s bigger than I expected if I'm being honest. Wasn't aware I was going to be dealing with-” You broke off staring at the monster in your hand. He had to be at least eight inches, and good lord the girth? It was too much, how could you deal with something that big? He was bigger than anyone you’d ever been with before and that was a fact. There was a low chuckle, a sound that rang in your ears that you wanted to hear every day, it was unlike anything else you’d ever heard. But fuck if that little chuckle and smug smile you glanced up to find didn’t light a fire under your ass that made you want to turn him into a moaning mess of a man.
So that was your goal as you ran your tongue flat across the tip without so much as a warning, looking up to watch his eyes go wide and his hips jump up at the feeling. And as your hand grabbed the tip and you twisted your wrist the light turned green, freezing you in place much to his annoyance. So you waited, turning to lay across the seat with your mouth poised close enough that he could feel every breath you took.
When the truck stopped next you didn’t waste a second, lips spreading over the red and leaking tip, tongue swirling around it before you sucked him in further. Your tongue ran along the underside, saliva already dripping from your open mouth and down the long shaft that you could just barely get your lips around the sheer size of comfortably. Heat flooded your own body, pooling at the base of your growing erection. You pushed your hips down into the leather seat, grinding into it to find at least some relief while your mouth was being stuffed full of hot flesh and salty precum. And then the red light changed, you could see the light flooding the truck and halfway back up his long shaft you froze. When you glanced up he was watching you with confusion until you glanced up at the light and he groaned, head falling back into the seat before he hit the gas again.
You stayed like that, unmoving unless there was a bump in the road or he had to make a turn. Mouth halfway down his cock, breathing through your nose, and your own hips grinding into the seat every now and then to ease your own ache there. Every time you breathed, every turn he made, every pothole in the road had the man above you moaning out for more, aching for you to keep going despite your refusal to do so. When you felt saliva trying to drip out past your lips you sucked hard for just a moment, swallowing around his length. The man above you jerked, his body going rigid for a moment when the truck swerved hard before he quickly righted himself. It was driving him positively mad and you could see it in the way his eyes burned down at you, he'd had enough of your teasing now. You feared when the truck stopped next and he threw it into park, thankful no one was behind y’all else you both risked getting caught. Large hands grabbed the back of your head and his hips pushed up into your aching jaw. Your mouth would no doubt be sore tomorrow, just as you hoped many other parts of you would be as well.
He shoved you down, refusing to let you pull up and rest your aching jaw even for a quick moment. The tip hit against the back of your throat and you felt your throat tighten before you swallowed trying not to gag around the length. Your body had forgotten how to do this, maybe you shouldn’t have teased. It would have been nice to just be sitting with his hand resting on your thigh while you took a leisurely drive back to his house. But then again, when he had shoved you down until there was no more left to take and the loud groan left his lips, if you hadn’t teased him to the point where he was about to fuck your mouth like a man without thought you wouldn’t be hearing the noises currently escaping his throat. He let you lift your head, pulling off for a moment as you pushed yourself up, strings of saliva keeping the two of you connected while you caught your breath. One of the hands on your head moved down to your jaw, running along the stubble there with his rough fingers as he lifted your chin to meet his eyes. You didn’t expect the words that came out of his mouth though as he made you a promise that had you grinding into the leather seats, “I am going to ruin you, Marine.”
Your eyebrows raised at that, the words going straight to your own aching length that was beginning to throb with need while it was still trapped in your jeans. He pulled your jaw back down with one hand, the other still on the back of your head, running through the short strands of hair. He impaled your throat with his length again, but instead of forcing you down on it, this time his hips rose to meet your mouth. Strong hands held your head still as his cock slammed again and again and again against the back of your throat, soft moans escaping your lips when he growled out, “So fuckin good for me, Marine. Gonna fuck you like this all night, till you can’t think anymore. You won’t even remember your own name when I’m through with you,” his cock buried itself as far down your throat as it would go again before he pulled you down with him so he could sit back on the seat.
You didn’t even notice when the truck slammed back into drive, not until the truck was roaring down the road again, the man with one hand holding you down on his engorged length while the other kept the two of you from careening off the road. You couldn’t even get a breath in, the enormous length of him choking you as he drove. Your throat constricted and he slammed a palm against the steering wheel to keep from pushing you down even further when there was nothing else for you to take. Black spots sparked in your vision, head trying desperately to pull up but he only growled, "Can't move till I stop again Marine. You better hope this light turns red before we get there." If you could have spared the air you would have been moaning, humming, and groaning around his length but you simply didn't have the breath to do so.
Not until the light in front of you turned red and he finally stopped again, thanking the heavens above when his hand relaxed and he let you up. You struggled to catch your breath then, coughing before your hand took the place of your mouth, cheek resting against the clothed thigh as he stared down at you. Red faced and panting and pumping his member in an attempt to satisfy him so he wouldn't impale you before you could catch your breath. His fingers ran along your now tear stained cheeks, wiping the trails away with a hand much gentler than the one that had just been holding you still while you choked on his cock. “Look at you Marine, bloody hell, you’ve got me all kinds of twisted right now. That mouth of yours is so good,” the fingers grazed over your temple, around your ear and stopped at the side of your neck where the muscle flexed and tensed at the warm touch.
Fingers dug in for a few moments, kneading gently as a calloused thumb ran over the cheekbone there. You leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment before you lifted up again and your lips stretched over the head of his cock once more. Your lips were sliding down his length, what you couldn’t fit comfortably in your mouth, your hand was working instead. Pumping up to meet your lips before returning to the base and giving it a wicked twist that had Army groaning like a man possessed.
You had forgotten about the rules of the game at that point, wanting only to keep hearing the sounds escaping the man above you so that they could continue sending floods of heat to your own member that you were slowly grinding into the leather. You felt the engine purring, sending quiet vibrations through the truck as he drove, one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing circles on the back of your head. A quiet whimper left your lips as you careened into the seat, pulling off of his length to rest your forehead against his thigh. Your hips pressed into the leather, the thick fabric running against your skin painfully now. It was too much of the wrong thing. Your hands scrambled below you, fumbling with your zipper and button, groaning in frustration at the belt you’d decided to wear tonight refusing to loosen. There was a quiet chuckle from above you as Army said, “Take your time, Marine. Work the problem.”
He was right, obviously he was right but with the fog of need clouding your mind it was near impossible to listen. Not until hands grabbed at your wrists, halting your progress as you looked up from where your forehead had been braced against Army’s thigh to notice the truck had stopped again. It didn’t take five seconds until the Brit pushed you up to slide closer, his hands reaching down for the frustratingly tight belt undoing it with a couple deft movements of his hands. Your pants fell open and he reached inside the waistband of your underwear to free you. A string of groans leaving you when the firm grip pulled your aching cock out, exposing it to the cool night air. He smiled at you, fingers sliding along the shaft with a feather light touch that had your hips bucking forward and your head falling back.
Fingers tightened around your length and then into the collar of your shirt, pulling you forward again before he whispered against your ear, “Get back to work Marine, we were in the middle of a game.” You panted quietly against the crook of his neck, nose pressing against the hard muscle there and taking in a whiff of bourbon and cigar smoke that had you nearly whining, especially when his fingers left your throbbing member to return to the wheel. “Focus up,” his quiet words found your ears and you nodded, swallowing hard before you settled back along the length of the seat. Knees holding your ass in the air while you gathered a bit of spit on one hand and slipped it between your thighs to pump at your throbbing erection, finally getting the attention it had been weeping precum for.
The other hand returned to Army’s now throbbing and needing cock, mouth wrapping back over the tip and listening to him moan at the tight, wet heat of your mouth, feeling as he rocked forward into your depths. You hummed your own satisfaction and that had his eyes widening before he came to a stop again. His freehand which had been kneading the muscles of your neck slid down the length of your spine, fingers trailing over the flesh that had been exposed by your shirt riding up and your jeans slipping down. They squeezed into the toned flesh of your ass, drawing out another moan from the both of you, the vibrations causing Army’s head to tilt back for a moment.
They left as quickly as they had come, leaving cold flesh behind. You were more focused on the cock your mouth was bobbing on and your own pulsing member that you didn’t notice when the man lifted his fingers to his own mouth, drenching them in saliva, before he returned the hand to your well defined glutes. Fingers slid between the two mountain peaks, prodding at the tight puckered hole. Your mouth popped off of him, hand pumping his length before you rested your forehead against his thigh again. Moans left you wildly as he slid a finger in, focusing on the thick digit curling into your walls before he growled, “Bloody hell Marine.” He pumped his finger into you a few times, testing the waters until he added a second, both digits curling into your tight walls and dragging out quiet gasps while your hands worked both your cocks in time with one another.
His fingers were thick, nothing compared to his hard erection in front of you, but it was just what you needed as you fucked your own hand and pressed back against the fingers inside of you as well. Both directions drawing out quiet gasps from your wide open and needy mouth. The truck stopped again, you hadn’t even noticed it starting in your haze of need. The hand on the wheel found your head, pulling you back up by the back of the neck and positioning his long shaft against your lips before he fucked into your mouth again. Holding you still with one hand and filling you with the fingers of his other. “‘M shite Marine, so fuckin tight. Tight and needy and willing, drunk on my cock so much already and we aren’t even at the house yet.” He groaned out when you swallowed around his length, tongue swirling along the underside of his sensitive shaft.
“Can you take another?” His question was rhetorical, he didn’t need you to answer because he’d already lined a third up at the tight ring of muscle and was plunging it inside of you with the other two in the next second. His cock strangled a moan in your throat then, curling his fingers with every thrust as he stretched you out and searched for the spot he knew would make you cry out for more.
Just when you thought he’d never find it his fingers brushed against it and you moaned loud enough that had there been anyone walking by there would have been no doubt what was happening inside right now. Your hips bucked forward into your hand and you pulled off his length just long enough to pant out, “Again, I’m so close.” His fingers curled against the spot again and your eyes rolled back, the edges of your vision beginning to turn white. “Ag-Again, Army,” he nodded quickly before he pulled you back down onto his cock. He hit that blinding spot with every curl of his fingers after that. Hitting that spot until you were writhing into your frantically jerking hand and moaning obscenely around the cock disappearing between your lips.
You came without warning, wrist twisting at the tip and sending you toppling into the white void of pleasure, throat vibrating with strangled cries that sent the other man over the edge right behind you. He pulled your mouth down till there was no more to take again and you swallowed around his length. That was the last straw as he bucked up feverishly into your mouth and his head fell backwards, cumming down your throat in hot ropes that you didn’t question for a moment about swallowing down.
Your body went limp against the leather seat, Army's fingers pulling out of you and leaving you cold and empty. You pulled your own mouth off, taking in quick gasps of air as your cheek settled against his thigh again. Eyes blinked rapidly in a futile attempt to stay open while he drove. How in the hell was he driving right now? You managed to open your eyes for a quick moment, staring at his still hard erection, the man wasn’t even softening whereas you felt completely spent. A weight pressed between your shoulder blades, callused fingers running along your back in soothing motions. When you glanced up again he was forward focused, eyes on the road, hand on the wheel, and good lord he didn’t look even the least bit tired. This was about to be the longest night of your damned life.
A thumb ran over your cheek, quiet words whispering into the air down to you, "Marine, hey, wake up." You let out a questioning hum, you weren't asleep, or at least you didn't remember falling asleep. The hand slid off your cheek, seeming to give up before the thigh you'd been using as a pillow moved out from under you and you heard a truck door shut. That prompted you to open your eyes then, glancing into the black leather with tired eyes. You pushed up on an elbow before you heard the door behind you open and a hand wrapped around your thigh. He rolled you over onto your back and when you looked for him he was leaning into the truck right above you.
Blue eyes stared down at your face, stained with tears and saliva, stomach and shirt covered in your own release, the waistband of your jeans and underwear still shoved down over the swell of your ass, and your softened cock laying against your stomach that seemed to harden with every second he stared down at it. Army's hand ran up your thigh and along your naked hip before he continued up your ribs. When he slipped his hips between your thighs the thought of him taking you again right there pressed into your mind, rolling your hips up to his and feeling the still hard erection he'd stuffed back into his own jeans. You swallowed hard, warmth flooding to the base of your own cock as it hardened steadily against the rough fabric of his jeans. You could see his smile even in the darkness, and heard his chuckle when your legs raised and wrapped around his waist pulling him flush against you as you rocked into him again. "Very eager Marine, I was worried I'd already worn you out."
"Not a damn chance, been waiting on your ass for months and I ain't about to give this chance up now," his mustache moved then as he smiled and leaned down. His lips were gentle, soothing to your own after they'd been wrapped around his length for so long. They moved across your swollen lips with firm yet gentle purpose. His tongue teased at you, tip licking against your sensitive skin before darting back. When his hips rolled down against you, his hard length pressing against your ass, the thought of what he'd said earlier ran through your mind, 'I am going to ruin you, Marine.' And by God did you know it with the way he was grinding against you, already beginning to overstimulate your nerve endings.
Your mouth fell open against his lips when you felt rough calluses run across your length cupping you in his hand as he rocked into you again. Your quiet gasp left you vulnerable, exposed, and he took full advantage when his tongue slipped inside your mouth, tasting your wet depths. His beard was rough against your already chapped skin and with every squeeze of his hand you felt your body reacting the only way it could, begging and pleading with him for more. Teeth sunk into your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth before he moved on to your jaw. The sensitive skin turned red against the coarse hairs of his beard dragging along your skin before his lips moved to soothe the patches. He received quiet gasps in return, one of your hands wrapping around the back of his head and throwing the beanie on the dash so you could feel the cropped locks there. The other hand had run down his side, wrapping around to the small of his back and holding on for dear life as he ground you down into the leather seat.
A thought crossed your mind then, "W-Where are we?" You managed to ask between gasps. His fingers wrapped around your length clouding your mind and drawing out a quiet moan.
Finally he mumbled an answer against the thin skin of your neck, "My house." He paused to nip at the skin before continuing, "In the garage." His fingers stroked your length with mind-numbing skill. You honestly hadn't thought you'd be able to go another round so soon but here you were, hard as a rock beneath his expert touch in a matter of seconds. And then his hands were gone and damnit you couldn't stop the whine that pulled out of your throat. Hips bucking up in hopes of finding it again but to no avail. He smiled against your collarbone, teeth grazing over it before he whispered, "Don't worry, it'll be worth it in just a second Marine." You forced yourself to nod, not quite believing him but knowing you didn't exactly have a choice about where his fingers went.
Suddenly his hands were both around your hips and he was pulling you towards the door. He unwrapped your legs from his waist and stood up, leaving your neck and mouth unattended just as much as your weeping cock was. You squirmed under the blue gaze, fingers reaching for your member to soothe the ache he had left. Army merely watched as you pumped yourself slowly, his own hands releasing the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper with frustrating slowness. The smile was gone now, replaced with a burning gaze that had your back arching off the seat with need. "Come on Army hurry up," when a brunette brow rose at the statement you quickly added, "Need you. Wanna feel you."
That had his beard shifting, smile returning to his lips as he pulled himself out. Your gaze immediately shifted down, taking in his erect length again that was bobbing in front of him as he reached to shove the jeans down his legs a bit. Your mouth watered at the sight, tongue flicking out to wet your lips as you groaned, hand twisting at the base of your cock as you did. Your head tipped back as you kept working yourself, nearing your next orgasm already as your hand became erratic, no frantic, with the need to chase your high. A cruel hand wrapped around your wrist stopping you and when you tried to move your other into its place it too was captured. You let out a quiet whine, stomach tensing and flexing as you rocked, trying to find the friction you so desperately needed. "Slow down Marine, bloody hell. What about my fun, huh?"
Your dazed eyes opened to find his smiling features and you managed to reign in your ragged breaths before muttering, " 'M s-sorry. Please," you couldn't verbalize what you were begging him for but it wasn't that hard for him to guess. Between the time it took for him to capture your hands and let them go your own climax had danced out of reach. His hands grabbed the waistband of your jeans and pulled them down, your burning skin exposed finally to the cool air. He didn't pull them off though, merely let them dangle uselessly around your knees while his fingers went for what he was really searching for. The callused digits ran across your tight hole again, dragging a low moan from you as he pressed into you. "Fuck, Army, fuck shit," you were desperate for words, letting anything out that you could manage as he curled a finger inside you. "More now, need more," he happily obliged, a second finger joining the first as your back arched against the leather seats again. A hum that probably would have been another loud moan had you not strangled it behind tightly closed lips resonated from you. The man could do no wrong at this point, every touch, every movement, every word drove you out of your mind with throbbing pleasure.
He slid his fingers out and you pushed closer on the seat, quietly begging for him to return with little gasps. He pulled your legs up, resting both of your clothed calves on one shoulder before you felt the blunt tip grazing over your entrance. You immediately pushed into it, looking up when he asked, "You still okay Marine?" Your head was nodding before he even finished the sentence and you felt the burn as he slowly pushed inside of you. Your mouth fell open in a silent plead, eyes shutting tight as you arched into the touch. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping them pressed firmly together which only made your walls clench tighter around him. He wasn't even halfway inside you before your hands shot down, stopping him as the sensation just became too much all at once.
His hips halted and when you finally managed to open your eyes again he was staring down at you, a hint of worry furrowing his dark brows. You swallowed hard before he asked, "You want me to stop?"
The fingers around your thighs were still holding firm, keeping the both of you frozen in that moment. Slowly the tension in your body released and you felt yourself rock slowly, looking for more now that you'd gotten a chance to catch your breath. "Don't you dare stop," you finally managed to get out.
His mustache twitched around that snake-like smile and he gave you a quick dip of his head in a nod, "Wouldn't dream of it, Love." The words went straight down to your throbbing member, clenching around him for a second as he continued to slip inside of you. When you felt his hips come flush against your backside a groan left you both simultaneously. "Shite, so tight, can't keep squeezing me like that, gonna make me cum too soon," you did it again anyway biting your lip when he grinded against your ass in response. "Careful Marine, I'll make you scream so loud you wake the bloody neighbors."
You arched your back at the statement, grinding your own hips against his before smiling up at him, "You can certainly try." And damn was he about to, he pulled out achingly slow before he slammed his hips back against yours so hard he drove the air from your lungs. You could feel every ridge and vein as he throbbed inside of you. There was so much of him, pressing against your walls so hard there was little left for you to give. He filled every inch with ease it seemed, taking pleasure from every little groan and gasp that left your mouth. While he was chasing his own high it seemed that was only his secondary goal, more interested in making you cry out and beg for him.
And by god were you going to beg, you’d do anything for this to never end, for his strong thighs to never stop pressing against you, for that happy trail to never leave your sight, for that dick to never pull out of you. Just as you were gasping out, “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop, please more, I need more,” he provided like it was his one and only purpose in life. Folding you in half as he leaned down towards you, one arm still wrapped around your legs and the fingers digging into your thigh hard enough you knew he was breaking the skin. His mouth found yours, needing to feel the closeness of you, both of you needing that warmth. It was when his lips began to devour you that he hit it, your hips bucking up with a loud cry. “There!” It was more like a pleading yell than anything that clawed up your throat then. He struck deep and true and just fucking right.
He slammed into it again and your fingers that had been holding tight to one shoulder squeezed hard enough you knew it was going to leave a bruise. “There? You like that Marine?” All you could manage was a nod and a moan as he hit it again with pinpoint precision. When you didn’t answer though his hips stilled, seated fully inside you and both of you twitching with need while you squirmed underneath him. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question,” his voice was deeper now, filled with lust and the gravelly way with which he spoke had you clenching around him almost painfully tight. He didn’t even react though, staring hard down at you.
You reached up, a hand pulling his head back down to yours to whisper against the prickly hairs on his cheek, “I fuckin love it.” His face turned into your neck, mouth pressed right below your ear as he nipped at the skin, sucking it between his lips hard enough you were well aware it would be a deep purple hickey by tomorrow morning but in reality you couldn’t have cared less in that moment. His pace started again, faster than before but no less deep. You weren’t sure he knew what shallow thrusts even were. Moans fell out of your mouth almost the second he started again, his beard scratching across your neck and leaving that burning sensation that was becoming almost too familiar now.
White sparked in your vision, he knew exactly how to play you like a fiddle, it was almost unfair how good he was, how amazing he felt burying himself deep inside you. His mouth was sucking the skin of your neck, leaving marks along your flesh with a pleased smile you didn’t need to see to know it was there. Then he slammed into the place that had your body arching off the seat, his quiet whispers telling you how good you were doing, how tight you were, and how close he was falling on deaf ears. He was hitting that blinding spot every time now, your fingers digging into one shoulder and the other hand holding tight to the forearm that was still wrapped around your thighs. You stammered out, “I-I’m so-so close, please.”
He responded almost instantaneously with a hand reaching between your two sweaty bodies before his fingers ran down your length. It barely took any coaxing before you were a moaning mess and your head fell back, crying out with the waves of your climax crashing into you. You painted both of your stomachs and his fist. He pulled up, jerking you flush to his hips again and his thrusts stuttered, one arm still holding your legs tight to his chest, the other braced against the roof of the car. He pulled out after a few more hard thrusts, letting your legs fall back to the ground and you watched his hand pump a few times along his enormous length until he spilled over your now softening member and lower stomach.
You didn’t remember falling into the void, exhaustion flooding your entire body. Every part of you was sore and aching but you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling. Soft fabric ran over your stomach, nudging against your spent member which had your eyes jumping open even as you flinched away from the sensation. The brunette was shirtless now, the black fabric balled up in his hand and wiping over the white ropes that painted your stomach like it was a piece of abstract artwork. Your head fell back again, covering your eyes with the inside of your elbow and your smile widened as his fingers danced over your sensitive skin. When the calluses rubbed up your side you flinched away with a light laugh before looking up at the Brit, “That’s not fair Army,” you feigned annoyance with his attempts at tickling your hypersensitive skin.
The man gave a small shrug and shot a smirk down at him, “All’s fair in love and war, mate.” You rolled your eyes at that, arm returning to covering your eyes. At least until he grabbed it and pulled it off, head tilting as he looked down at you and jerking his head towards the door, “You hungry?”
The question caught you off guard, a confused look on your face before you let out a laugh at the absurdity of asking whether you were hungry while you were laid back on his car’s bench seat with your jeans and underwear gathered around your knees after finishing twice already. It was absurd he was asking the question to begin with, but also absurd that he thought maybe you weren’t hungry. So you answered with a nod, “Hell yeah I’m hungry.” He pulled you up off the seat by the hand, heading to unlock the garage door while you fixed your clothes.
Staring down at the stain on your shirt you glanced across at Army’s shirtless upper half and decided to shed the fabric. He led you inside to the living room, gesturing to the couch, “Take a seat, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared further into the house while you slid onto the couch, wincing at first until you finally relaxed into the soft leather. You were just about to doze off again when the man took a seat at the other end of the couch. “Here Marine, drink,” he tossed you a water bottle, not leaving much room to refuse. Besides you couldn’t deny the fact you were far past thirsty at this point. The second the water wet your tongue you were tipping it all the way back, basically inhaling the entire bottle in a matter of seconds. When you finally dropped the empty bottle to your lap and glanced back at him he was holding another one out.
You took it without a question, watching him grab the remote and turn the TV on, flipping through the channels before there was a ding from somewhere in the house. He handed you the remote before he disappeared back to where he had gone the first time. You silently flicked through the channels, sipping at the water until you stopped on a channel running movies, eyes squinting at the screen. He returned with deadly silence, a plate appearing over your shoulder causing you to jump a bit before you realized who it was. The plate sat in your lap, and he found his seat at the opposite end of the couch again, brows furrowing at the movie on the screen. “Where’d you find a movie?” He sounded genuinely confused as if he’d never owned a movie before in his life.
“Uh, I just started looking through the channels. We can watch something else if you want though,” you held the remote out to him to which he shook his head quickly, mouth full of the fries he’d heated up for the both of you.
The mouthful was swallowed down, your eyes following the bob of his Adam's apple before he picked up a foot, setting it on the coffee table in front of them. He’d taken his boots off at some point so he was left in a pair of white socks. You turned your attention back to the movie playing, eating quietly and relaxing into the soft cushions of the couch. When he finished his plate he leaned forward, setting it on the coffee table and sitting back with his arm raised to drape across the back of the couch.
It was an inviting sight, his bare chest with the dark hairs littering it and the toned side just asking to be laid against. Christ if he didn’t get sexier by the second and he didn’t even have to do anything, he was just sitting there. Blue eyes flicked to your face, catching you staring which had you looking away as fast as possible with burning cheeks and ears. You could feel the smile on his face before he spoke, “You don’t have to stay over there. You can come over here if you want.” When you glanced at him with uncertainty he added, “I’d like it if you did, Love.”
There was that word again, the endearment that had you smirking despite yourself. And the second he said it your nervousness dissipated. You slid across the couch quickly, he moved the foot on the coffee table to the couch instead, arm still draped behind you as you laid back into his chest. Head propped up on a well built pec, his body heat warming you from behind like he was an actual heater.
You would be lying if you said you’d ever expected to be doing this with anyone, especially the brunette you’d watched from a distance for so long. Relationships weren’t actually something you’d ever found yourself in so lazing about on a couch with another person was a new experience. Honestly you had to admit it was nice. Your plate of fries sat on your chest while you ate, his hand coming down after a few minutes to run his fingers along the length of your bicep and making you shiver at the touch. That was when the questions started, “How long have you been in Birmingham?”
A quick glance up at the blue gaze that was watching you before you answered, “About three and a half months now. Work takes me just about everywhere."
His thumb rubbed circles in the muscle of your bicep as he gave a hum of interest. "What exactly do you do for work? You didn't say."
You smiled at the question and leaned your head back to look up at him, "You're right, I didn't." His brunette brows raised, curiosity taking hold now before you said in a whisper, "Let's just say…I don't sit in an office all day." Now he really looked curious but despite it he merely gave you a nod, obviously he understood your secrecy. "What about you Army? What do you do for work? You sit in command all day telling others what to do?"
He let out a low chuckle before you felt his shoulders shrug underneath you. Finally he answered in his quiet rumble, "Something like that I guess." And just as he had respected your privacy, you respected his, just giving a quiet nod at his vague answer. "What about your name then Marine? You haven't even told me that one yet."
There were a few quiet moments and you felt him shift so he could look down at your face a bit better. Finally you shook your head and lifted the plate off your chest to lay it on his and answered, "I'd rather not say if you don't mind." You glanced up to see the dark furrowed brows, now he didn't understand. You gave a nervous cough looking away quickly and you were about to sit up when his hand splayed across your chest, the rough texture catching against your skin. He pressed you back down, watching you with a look that you almost took as concern before you added hurriedly, "It's not anything to do with you. It's just at work I can't really use my name so honestly Marine is probably the closest I've heard to a real name in a long time. I would tell you if I could, but…What about yours though? I uh, I'd love to know yours."
Confusion still wrinkled his brow, the furrows on his forehead visible for a moment until his expression relaxed and he answered simply, "John. You can call me John, Love."
"John," you tested the name in your mouth. Rolling it over your tongue like it was a fine wine and you realized then that it might as well have been. He was a tall glass of the top shelf, a collector's bottle that only got finer with age. John fit him so well you probably could have guessed it without needing to ask. "Nice to meet you John," you reached a hand up to the fingers that had stilled against your chest, lacing your fingers through them and looking up at the blue gaze you wanted to drown in with a smile playing on your lips.
There was a squeeze around your hand from him then, before he returned the easy smile, "Nice to meet you too. Maybe one day I'll get that name out of you, Marine." You shrugged against his chest and felt him rest his elbow along the back of the couch again, fingers still laced together. You both lapsed into easy silence then, watching the movie until the credits began to roll. He reached for the remote then, turning it off and sitting back against the leather again. Finally he spoke, "Can you answer me this Marine?" You tilted your head back, giving him your full attention before he asked, "Why are you so nervous? I mean before I kind of understood but after what we did in the truck it still feels like you're scared to be too close to me. Why?"
It took you a moment to consider the question, a small shrug of your shoulders your only response for a few moments until you lowered your gaze and finally said, "I mean I've never actually done this before so I guess I am kind of nervous."
The man behind you stiffened, and at first you didn't understand why until he asked, "You've never had sex before?"
Your eyes went wide and you sat up turning to look at him with a quick shake of your head, "No, no not that. I've had sex before, that's not what I meant." The tension that had found his shoulders relaxed then before you continued, "Well not exactly I guess. I mean like I've never done this," you gestured vaguely to the plates, then to him, and the TV. "Most people I've ever had sex with they finish and that's it, it doesn't matter to them what you want or need. Especially since I've never actually bottomed for anyone before, so I've gotta admit that was a bit of a surprise at first."
Before you could say anything more he stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, "Why didn't you say that? Bloody hell no wonder you were so fuckin-" He stopped himself and the hand on your shoulder moved up to cup your face. "I'm sorry, I would have been more considerate if I'd known. I should have asked you before, I just assumed and I'm sorry."
There was regret in those blue depths and you were quick to try to put them at ease, "No John, it's fine. It was amazing actually. It's not your fault I honestly didn't even think about it at the time. Hell it was kind of hard to, could barely think about what I was doing in the moment, certainly couldn't think about what I'd done in the past." You laughed a bit then, a hint of nervousness tainting the smile on your face that he could see written plainly.
The hand cupping your face pulled you closer, his eyes staring down at your lips, still swollen from your time in the truck though the redness had faded. "Amazing huh?" The nervous smile fell from your mouth and his gaze followed the movement. You swallowed dryly as you nodded out a yes and found yourself watching his mouth too, "That was nothing, Love, let me show you something though." You melted at his words as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It was different from the one you'd shared in the truck when he'd been driving into you with reckless abandon. This was softer, more consistent and less urgent. You knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he was going to take his sweet time this time around.
The scrambling hands and teasing tongue from last time were gone. The man in front of you had flipped some kind of switch and was running a marathon now rather than the blinding sprint you'd been at last time. The hand on your face drifted slowly down your side, wrapping around your back along with the other hand and pulling you closer. Urging you into his bare chest until you were lifting a leg to straddle him, taking a seat on his thighs as if he were your throne. Your arms wrapped around his neck, laying behind him on the back of the couch while his mouth worked to send shivers coursing through you. God the man wasn't doing anything but rubbing hands up and down your back and pressing gentle kisses to your lips and you were already more than willing for a third round. Hell if he had asked you right then you'd have told him you would go ten rounds with him if that's what he wanted. You'd have given John the world in that moment, you'd have given him anything if only he would ask.
Please just ask, 'Anything, I'll do anything, whatever you want. Please just-' Your silent prayer was answered as he pulled away from your lips, eyes ablaze as he watched you try to trail after him and only stopping when his forehead pressed against yours. "Let me take care of you tonight? I'll make it right this time."
The answer slipped out of your lips without even thinking about it, "Please, anything you want from me."
His head shook against you and he insisted then, "This isn't about me, Love. I want to take care of you like no one else ever has. Not for me but for you. Will you let me do that?"
This time you paused, forcing your mind to play the words over in your head before you gave him an answering nod. "Yes, John. I want you to take care of me." His eyes closed at your answer, obviously trying to reign some kind of reaction in before he smiled and his lips lifted to find yours again. It was achingly slow still, almost painfully so. When you rocked your hips against him in an attempt to put urgency into his actions he only lowered his hands to your hips and held you still. And when you finally felt his tongue teasing against your lips you nearly came apart then and there.
You felt a smile on his mouth, the prickly hairs of his beard irritating your own shorter stubble. He explored your mouth with care this time. Mapping each section like a cartographer, seemingly intent on memorizing everything. It was, in short terms, the greatest kiss you'd ever had. In longer terms it was the make-out session you dreamed of, the heat of bare skin pressed against each other, hands drifting slowly across scarred skin on both sides of the battlefield, taking careful stock of the way each muscle moved and where exactly it was like if they didn't it would change without them noticing. The world was reduced to just two people, the sounds of the night went silent, the ache that had been present in both of their bodies just minutes before had disappeared. It was only John and you, nothing else mattered and nothing else existed and for a flickering moment you wondered if you'd ever feel this again without him.
Movement barely even registered as his hands ran underneath your thighs, holding tight as he stood up. You pressed closer, refusing to let his mouth leave yours for fear it wouldn't return. You'd calmed your urgency at his silent request but you weren't willing to compromise on this front. You needed contact, you needed to feel him against you otherwise you knew the fire in your limbs would consume you whole. He seemed more than willing to accommodate though, never missing a beat as he headed down a hall. He stopped only for a moment to press your back into the wall, hips grinding into yours, friction you hadn't even realized you'd needed anymore making you moan into his open mouth.
So he held you there for a few minutes, your ankles locked around his waist while he forced you back into the wall, for the first time allowing the urgency back into his actions. Allowing you to feel the need that was mirrored in him too, it wasn't just you who was drunk on the feeling and the sensations coursing through every nerve ending. He was struggling to keep himself under control just as much as he was struggling to keep you at bay as well. Cold air slammed into the skin of your back, making you arc into his chest at the feeling. He hummed against your mouth, teeth grazing over your bottom lip as he turned into a room. A moment later you heard the creaking of wood beneath the weight of two men who were built to serve. John's knee pressed into the bed before he braced himself with a hand and laid your back against a soft comforter. Your legs were still wrapped around his hips, refusing to release him even when he broke away from your lips and trailed a line of gentle pecks down your jaw and neck and then running the length of your collarbone.
When he reached your shoulder he whispered against your burning skin, "Need you to let me go, Love." You shook your head, legs locking tighter around him and pulling his hips flush to yours, the both of you moaning at the friction of your needy rocking. He finally got himself back under control and whispered again, "Only for a moment. Just need to grab something for you, ok? I'm not going anywhere I promise." He pushed himself up then, looking down at you with the most sincere expression you'd ever seen. You relented, loosening your hold on him and watching him slide to the edge of the bed, rustling around in a drawer before finally he returned. Settling himself snugly between your thighs once again and picking up right where he left off, not even affording you the courtesy of seeing what it was he had even gotten.
All was forgotten the moment his mouth returned to the burning fire that was threatening to consume you. His lips were aloe for your need, for your body that was so starved for touch he was pulling you apart at the seams now with barely any effort. Your fingers held fast to his back, wanting him closer despite his chest already covering your own. There was no closer and yet it was all you could hear your drunken mind begging for.
Lips moved further down, pushing your arm up to kiss at a scar he'd found that ran from your bicep through your tricep and down to your lat. You'd thought the nerves dead long ago but the second his mouth worked along it, nipping, licking, and kissing they suddenly came back to life and cried for something more. You were putty in his expert hands and he was remaking you in whatever image he saw fit. His mouth trailing back up your side to kiss along the underside of your pectoral until you felt a warm tongue dragging flat across your nipple. "God!" You pressed closer to his mouth, feeling the smile on his lips and the burn of his beard. No one had ever done that to you before, but damn if that wasn't about to change.
John wouldn't let that stand for a second longer it seemed. His teeth nipped at the sensitive bud dragging another groan out of your open mouth. Sucking it into his mouth with a hum of delight at your quiet gasp. His teeth held it captive, tongue flicking across it till you were squirming beneath his touch. A hand that had been working to keep you from grinding your hips into his slid slowly up your other side, running calluses over your other nipple for a quick moment before continuing its journey up. The feel of it running along the delicate skin of your neck had you biting your lip to keep from begging. His mouth finally released your sensitive, now hardened, nipple from between his teeth and you felt the burning gaze traveling up your skin before he murmured against you, "You didn't tell me you were so sensitive. If I'd known I'd have had you squirming like this a lot sooner."
You glance down to catch sight of that burning gaze before answering back with a quick, "I didn't know. I-I-" You gasp when his mouth returns and cuts off your words. What had once been aloe was now gasoline, stoking the flames and sending burning flecks of ash into the air in great plumes. The hand cupping your neck was sliding up further, running across the stubble of your jaw before his thumb grazed your bottom lip. The rough pad of his finger making you ache for something much further down. You tilt your chin down and suck the thumb into your mouth, tongue swirling over the rough skin just as it had once swirled over the head of his cock. He was obviously remembering that moment cause he groaned into your flesh, mouth pulling off of you to watch your own work. Slowly pumping his thumb in and out of your lips, before he pulled it away and replaced it with two fingers instead. Sliding over the top of your tongue until they could reach no further, almost gagging on the long, thick digits as he slipped them between your wet lips, listening to the obscene sound of your mouth.
When his mouth moved to your other nipple you were blind sided. Chest pressing up into his mouth again as you whined into his fingers that were still pumping into your mouth steadily. His tongue teased and flicked, lips sucked and kissed, his teeth nipped and held you until you were aching for more. One hand no longer able to hold your grinding hips at bay as you rocked both of your hardened members together through your jeans. It wasn't until his mouth left that you realized he had been slowly sliding himself down your body. Kissing along as he went, tongue dipping into the valley of your abdominals before his lips found your navel and pressed a kiss over the top of it. His breath running over your happy trail and driving you insane. "Please John I need you, I-I can't wait anymore."
The man looked up at you, head tilting before he answered, "Yes you can Love. Trust me." And fuckin hell you did, how could you not? This was easily the best night you'd ever had, and undoubtedly it was the best sex you'd ever had. You finally managed a nod to which he smiled, his fingers working on your zipper and the button of your jeans, undoing the both of them while he continued laying soft kisses to your burning skin, once more soothing the fire there. His arms wrapped around to your back, lifting you just enough to slide the rough fabric over the swell of your ass before he slid down, pulling them off as he went. That was the first time you'd been fully unclothed in front of him all night, and he was drinking in the sight, near drowning in it. His finger ran along a scar across the top of your foot, small and barely noticeable among the others that littered your skin. "How'd you get this one Marine?"
You glanced down at it, thinking for a moment before you answered, "Stepped on a nail when I was a kid. Didn't have any shoes on. Thought my dad was gonna beat me to death after he got the bill for the tetanus shot and the emergency room visit." There was a smile on his face at the information before his eyes slid up, stopping at a scar on your knee. Even as he pressed his fingers against it, it stayed numb. You doubted anything would ever bring those nerves back to life. When you saw the question in his eyes you explained it as well, "Me and my brother were playing baseball in the yard. Slid on a patch of, they're called sweet gumballs, tore my knee to shreds. I think I was eight then, maybe nine. Even hit the concrete on the driveway on that one." You stopped and smiled at the memory before you added with a hint of pride in your voice, "Got the ball though." He chuckled a bit and nodded, sliding his hands up your thighs to run fingernails over the puffy scar along your hip. "That was a bullet on my second tour, Afghanistan. Thought it shot my dick off at first, my squad had to assure me it was in fact still there."
There was a genuine laugh then, his shoulders bouncing a bit at the movement as he shook his head and glanced down at the throbbing length in question and nodding slowly, "Looks like it's there to me yeah." His fingers grazed over the hot flesh, watching it jump at the sensation with a smirk. It felt like it took hours for him to finally reach forward and run the rough pads of his fingertips over the sensitive skin. You let out a loud moan at it, bucking up into his hands with desire that for a moment had been quelled but now was returning with a vengeance. Eyes shut tight, head tilted back, and hips arcing up into his touch you were oblivious as he leaned down.
At least until you felt the warm tongue slide up your length, tasting the sweat that was coating your skin and the precum that had been leaking all over your member. Your fingers flew to his head, trying desperately to get a hold of his cropped hair but finding nothing there to actually hold on to. It was infuriating, and the way his tongue teased the head of your weeping cock was almost cruel. Your mouth was opened and begging before you even knew you were going to do it. "God please, John. I'm so close already, I need to cum. Please let me cum. Please let me-" He cut off your strangled pleads as his mouth slipped over the head and down the shaft. Taking all of you in so quickly you nearly came apart there. You felt his throat tightening around you, your hips bucking up into his open mouth before his hands were moving up to your chest. One stopping to play with your still hardened nipples and the other continuing on to slide past your lips. Letting you suck and choke on the digits as you saw fit. He was humming around your length, sending shocks over it that had your hands shaking on top of his head and fingers clawing for purchase.
When his fingers slipped out of your mouth you couldn't stop the moans that clawed up your throat as his head bobbed along your length. His tongue was sliding across every vein it could reach, catching along the ridge every time he was pulling off. It was sinful the way this man could make you feel and you'd only known him for a few hours now. His fingers still flicked across the sensitive buds when you felt him dragging a finger along your entrance. Saliva trailed along the tight ring of muscle. You tensed as his finger tried to slide in, his mouth pulling off as he looked down. Blue eyes glanced up to your pleasure filled face, red and glistening with sweat. "You've gotta relax, Marine, I've got you, let me take care of you." You nodded but even as you did you couldn't relax your body, every nerve ending on fire and almost every muscle twitching in anticipation.
You were far past overstimulated at this point, you were absolutely helpless beneath him and writhing in hopes he'd have mercy on you. His fingers that were tweaking the sensitive bud stopped, your eyes shutting tight and a quiet sob pulling out of your mouth. "Hey," his now free hand reached up, running along the bone of your cheek in an attempt to soothe. "Do you want me to stop, Love?"
Your head shook desperately, "No, no please don't." You pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking down where his fingers were just out of reach, their warmth still radiating against your skin. Sitting up all the way you pulled his face down towards yours, mouths an inch away. "Don't stop now, don't ever stop."
He smiled, baiting you closer before his lips pulled back again and he whispered, "Get on your stomach then, Marine." John held firm then as you pressed closer, stealing a kiss from his perfectly shaped lips. Rocking against the erection you could feel held at bay only by a couple layers of fabric.
When you finally pulled away he was still smiling, watching every move you made and you got the uncanny feeling you were being hunted. A feeling you weren't used to, the predator didn't often become the prey, but John was making you more than willing to step outside your usual comfort zone. Your mouth was dry as you stared down the lion before you, until you slid back along the bed and rolled over. The anxiety of having that burning stare along your back was almost too much as you glanced back over your shoulder. Before you could find him though a hand grabbed the back of your head, stopping you from looking at whatever he was doing. "I'll take care of you, Love, trust me."
There was that request again, trust him. You couldn't help but oblige as you nodded and slowly his fingers released you. Forearms crossing in front of you as you lay your forehead down to rest on them, awaiting whatever he had in store for you. You felt his hands run across the muscles of your back. His hands skimmed over your skin with some kind of oil letting even his calloused fingers glide smoothly over you. He kneaded at the tension in your back, thumbs pressing into the knotted muscles. All the anticipation he'd wound into the fiber of your being was melting away under his fingertips.
At least until you felt the prickly hairs of his beard scratching across the skin of your glutes and then his lips that always followed to soothe the burn. He swapped to the other cheek as he settled between your thighs, chest pressing down into the bed while you felt his elbows on either side of your hips. Oh fuck. Just as you realized what exactly he was doing, his tongue ran over your tight hole. The tension came back in an instant but he was even quicker. His tongue dipped inside as you clenched around him and moaned at the feeling, "Oh God."
You felt him hum before he slipped out, answering quickly, "No Love just me," before he returned to the work you were fairly certain he was born to do. God had given him a talent and he seemed hell bent on showing you just how well he could use it.
In seconds he had you pressing backwards, ass lifting into the air. He followed without complaint, hands holding on to you while you writhed beneath his tongue. Quickly becoming a moaning mess of a man. It didn't take but a few more minutes before you were reaching back, needing something to hold on to with the headboard and sides of the bed out of reach. Something, anything, you needed something solid to keep you sane and grounded in the present so you didn't float away on cloud nine. He answered the silent request, you were too busy moaning into the comforter to verbalize it, as he pulled a hand off your hip and laced his fingers through yours.
A minute later his other hand released your hip, you certainly weren't going anywhere with one hand holding his, the other running through your own hair while your face pressed into the bed to quiet the moans, gasps, and groans you couldn't seem to hold at bay anymore. You didn't feel it again until he had a freshly lubed hand wrapped around your aching cock, giving it a firm squeeze before running the length of it. "John, John, John," it was all you could manage, a mantra you knew you would never forget. He was devouring your very soul, you were convinced. If this man had been the devil incarnate you would have happily strolled into Hell without a second thought.
Your arm shifted, pushing yourself up so you could gaze down the length of your abdomen. Watching the hungry man behind you, his beard was scratching against the expanse of your skin every time you saw his chin move. Spit dripped down to where he was working your length with fervor, adding to the mix of lube and precum along your shaft. You were so close, you could feel all the pressure at the base of your cock just aching to be released, holding back for a reason you didn’t even know. The man positioned behind you though, he could read everything about you without even needing to see your face. His mouth pulled away for only a quick moment before he growled out, “Cum for me Marine. It’s ok, go ahead.”
And you were tipping over the edge for the third time that night, entire body tensing and hips bucking forward into his slick palm. You muffled the moan with the bed, hiding your face in the comforter as you gasped into the plush material. His hand squeezed yours, reminding you that he was there while his other hand continued stroking along your length, milking everything out of you that he could. When you had given everything you could to him his hand finally left your quickly softening member, grabbing at your hip just as your muscles finally went limp. He held you up with one hand until his other hand freed itself from your tight grip to guide you to lay on your side so you didn’t collapse into your own release.
His footsteps were quiet against the hardwood floors, or maybe that was just because your ears were ringing so loud it covered the noise. Truly you couldn’t care less, too exhausted from your third orgasm of the night and wanting only to chase the sleep that was doing its best to elude you. When you felt his warmth nearing again you opened tired eyes to watch him lean over you, wiping at the thick white streaks on the dark comforter and cleaning it off as best he could with a rag. You watched quietly, too tired to speak and it seemed he was content with letting you lay there as well, for now at least. He disappeared from your field of view, moving around behind you. So, you rolled over, body shifting slowly across the sheets until you were on your back, looking at his still half-clothed body as he laid the rag on the nightstand along with the bottle of lube he had used.
Blue eyes found your exhausted face, watching as you put on a lazy smile, grinning like a cat up at him. John smirked at the expression, squatting beside the bed as you rolled over to meet him, “I’m surprised you’re still awake Marine.”
You rolled your shoulders, eyes shutting before you managed to croak out with a dry voice, “Never out of the fight.” You opened your eyes again to see a curious expression on his face, not even realizing what you’d said. He didn’t press though, merely standing up and disappearing from view again. Footsteps echoed down the hall, your eyes shutting again as exhaustion tried to claim you once more. And for a few sweet moments it did, you didn’t even remember the other man coming back into the room, not until you felt the bed shift behind you and strong arms were wrapping around your limp frame.
He pulled you with ease up the bed, until your back was flush with his firm chest. His clothes were stripped off, naked behind you and part of you ached to see him in his full glory standing in front of you. John had other plans though, your unfinished bottle of water from earlier in his hand as he lifted it to your lips. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “Drink.” You obeyed, lips pressing to the mouth of the bottle as he tilted it up letting you drink a few sips before he sat it down on the nightstand beside y'all.
As he shifted behind you, your hips rolled back into him, seeking more of the pleasant warmth that radiated off of him. He was still rock hard, for some reason you had just assumed he had found his release as well. Your brows furrowed and your eyes opened, sleep refusing to accept you into its arms now as you turned your head and looked up into the ocean of blue. “You didn’t finish?” The man glanced down the length of your front as if just realizing it himself before he simply shrugged.
“Guess not,” his deep voice answered simply, blue eyes still taking in your form lazily.
You reached for him but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you, his head shaking slowly. “John I’m not gonna just let you sit there like that. Let me help you.”
A hint of a smile had his beard and mustache twitching as he returned your hand to your thigh, covering the back of it with his own and rubbing circles against your skin with his thumb. Again his head shook, “I’m fine right now. I’d rather just look at you to be quite honest.” Your mind went blank, tongue flicking out to wet your dry, chapped lips. It took several seconds before he finally said, “Besides I’m not done with you yet anyway. Just giving you a chance to rest, Love.” He felt you tense in front of him, his lips pressing to the space just behind your ear, “I told you in the truck Marine. I’m gonna fuckin ruin you.”
You didn’t think it possible as heat flooded your veins again, feeling a small twitch in your still soft member. “Fuck John, I don’t think I can go again. I’m so damn tired,” he pressed another kiss behind your ear on the other side. Warmth was radiating into you from him, only adding fire to the flame currently being stoked from the embers of your last climax. You tilted your head, giving him more skin to mark and kiss like a madman. “How in the hell do you even do that? I was going to sleep not even five minutes ago.”
Lips smiled against your skin, his breath licking over your sweat slicked flesh as if he was the wildfire in your limbs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just making sure you’re satisfied.” Fingers massaged against your thighs, relaxing you back into his chest. “Making sure you’re sated,” his breath ran over a wet patch of your neck where he’d just finish sucking another mark into your skin. His fingers moved up to press into your stomach, pulling you back against his rock hard erection. “Making sure you never forget me,” he whispered against your ear and when you grinded back against him you felt his cock jump against the small of your back. He’d already been inside you once but you honestly weren’t sure if you could fit around him again.
Fingers tweaked your nipple, dragging your attention to where his chin was resting on your shoulder. Your own semi was starting to stand at attention again, and honestly you weren’t sure how but damnit if he thought he could get you to another mind blowing orgasm who were you to disagree. Apparently he knew you better than even you knew yourself so fuck it, you’d let him do whatever the hell he wanted. His eyes watched hungrily as you reacted to every shift of his hips, every touch of his fingers against your overstimulated skin, and every time his beard scraped against your bare shoulder.
He stopped for just a moment, leaning over to the nightstand to grab the bottle of lube he’d set down earlier. You watched as he slicked his fingers with it, glancing at his lust filled eyes before he settled back behind you. He pressed a hand against the inside of your thigh, pushing them apart and watching as his finger teased against your entrance. Lips pressed against your neck as he slid one inside. Your body was so exhausted, you had no idea where the energy to move came from but your heels pressed hard into the bed, lifting your hips so he could press further inside you. His thighs slid beneath yours before you could sit back on the bed, keeping you up as he slowly worked his finger inside of you.
Your teeth sucked in your bottom lip, a hum rumbling in your throat. John’s freehand was running over every inch of skin he could reach, the calluses catching on the short hairs around your stomach. Almost as soon as you were comfortable with one thick finger he pressed another inside of you. “Shite,” the voice behind you rumbled when you clenched down around him. His knees held yours apart, refusing to let you lay back down against the soft sheets. Instead he kept you pressed hard against his chest, rocking back into his engorged erection that you knew had to be aching for attention. His fingers scissored inside you, stretching you, readying you, and had you not already been fucked out three times you knew you would have climaxed already. Especially when he was curling those thick digits into the bundle of nerves that were driving shocks of pleasure through your now hardened and leaking member.
When he pulled out you tilted your face to press your mouth against his neck, whining into the rapid pulse you could feel throbbing just below the skin. “Hold on Love,” he muttered, grabbing the bottle again before he spread the slick liquid over his shaft. You pressed back against the hand working himself, his erection pressing between your ass cheeks and drawing out a needy groan from the other man. “Still so needy and I’ve already had you cumming three times?” He grinded up to meet the roll of your hips drawing out another whine from you against his glistening neck. “This is a marathon Marine, not a sprint.” His hand drug the blunt tip of his cock across your entrance, both slicked by copious amounts of lube. Pressing hard against the tight ring of muscle he growled into your ear, “Gonna make you cum so hard you never stop thinking about me.”
He slid the tip inside, your eyes jumping open to look down at his cock slowly disappearing inside your stretched hole. Inch by inch it filled you, pressing against every dark corner and causing your mouth to fall open in a strangled cry. Quiet gasps escaping your lips. It wasn’t until he was fully seated inside you and grinding his hips into yours that you groaned, feeling his mouth near the back of your neck. He was panting already too, the prickly hairs setting your skin alight. Fuck he felt so good inside you when his hands lifted you off his lap, your own limbs refusing to cooperate anymore.
Your legs were spread, draped over either side of his thighs, head leaning back against his shoulder. He was holding you up, his thrusts slow but every time he bottomed out his hips would grind up against you. You were panting quiet praises into the air that you weren’t sure were actually even English anymore, every word felt foreign in your mouth. This man had broken you down so completely you weren’t even sure you knew which way was up and which was down anymore.
Lips groaned next to your ear, words spilling out that you weren’t sure he could have stopped even if he’d wanted to. “”M Love, so tight. So bloody perfect,” a high moan was driven out of you when he slammed his hips up to meet yours, “‘M sorry, need to hear you. Don’t stop making those sexy little noises.” He finally let you down as his hips returned to the bed, sitting impaled on his cock. You rolled your hips, burning the last of your energy just to hear him moan out the moniker he’d been using for you. "Oh fuck Marine. Never getting tired of this. I'll fuck you like this every night, I'll turn you into a limp little mess whenever you ask me to."
He rolled then, laying you down on your side right in front of him. His hand grabbing your thigh to drape it over his raised knee, one hand holding tight to the muscle there. He slid his other forearm underneath your neck, the fingers wrapping around your throat with a gentle squeeze. His face was just inches above yours, sweat gathering at the tip of his nose before his mouth dove to find yours. Lips glided against your own, tongue re-discovering the corners of your mouth. All the while he was pulling out far enough that only the head of his thick member was left inside of you before pressing hard back into your deepest depths.
It was an achingly slow pace, nothing like the first time when you both had only been chasing a much needed high. This was simply enjoying the feel of one another, the way your bodies fit together so perfectly. Sweat slicked skin having you slipping against one another. There was no urgency though, no desperate slapping of skin on skin. He was driving into you, bottoming out on every thrust and grinding against you to emphasize each and every one.
Neither of you realized it yet but he was rewiring you, just as you were doing the same to him. A one night stand that had developed so far past that already with the time you’d spent together. There was a need that was being seeded in both of your minds, taking root and sprouting with every word of praise, every moan, and every time he hit that bundle of nerves deep inside you.
Tears were threatening to spill down your cheeks, your mind flooding with so much euphoria you weren’t sure how to even deal with it anymore. Both of your mouth’s relented then, John speaking first, “Bloody hell Love, I’m so close. Need you to cum for me. Can you do that?” Your head was nestled in the crook of his elbow now, desperately nodding until you remembered the last time you’d fail to answer with your words. "Cum for me, Love, let me see that gorgeous face you make every," he impaled you with a hard thrust, his cock running over the place that was turning your vision into sparks. Every word now was accentuated with a slide along those desperate and delicate nerves as he continued, "Single. Time. You. Come. Apart."
You panted into the air then, tears spilling from your eyes. One hand was wrapped behind you, fingers digging into the flesh of his ass while the other had tangled into the sheets so hard you were sure you heard it ripping. Your voice was yelling out a desperate answer for him now, “Yes, ‘M- Gonna, I-I’m-'' It hit you like a tidal wave. Not even a hand near your weeping cock as ropes of white painted the dark comforter you were both lying on. Your entire body clenched around him, stiffening as your cock throbbed with the orgasm flooding through you.
His forehead fell down against your exposed neck, quiet moans flitting out across the sensitive skin as he pressed deep inside you and pulled you back with the hand that had been on your thigh. He came hard, and you could feel every single spray of it against your walls. Both of your chests were heaving, John’s forearm pulling you back flush against his body where it had wrapped around your torso. His knee finally fell, your own leg laying draped over his still. Unable to gather the energy to move yourself you were completely at the Brit’s mercy, shocks still rocking through your softening member until you had been milked completely dry of everything you had.
The man behind you didn’t move for a long time, his cock still inside you, plugging his release even though you could feel some of it already dripping out of you. The both of you were well and truly fucked out, nothing left to give and unable to move. At least not for a while anyway. When he finally did move behind you, pulling out slowly and earning a whimper from your mouth, his voice rumbled out, “I’m sorry, Love.” His words were slurred with exhaustion but apparently he was better off than you were. Hell you couldn’t even manage a single word and he was piecing together whole sentences.
He leaned back, his hand knocking something off the nightstand that he didn’t bother to pick up. When he rolled back over his fingers slipped into your hair, running over the locks and smoothing them back and off your forehead. He was trying to distract you and when you felt the damp rag pressing against your sore entrance you immediately knew why. Gentle fingers cleaned you up, his lips pressed against your sweaty hair and shushing your quiet whines until he had finally cleaned up the mess he’d made between your cheeks.
The rag ran over the mess you’d made as well, wiping it up before he tossed it back onto the nightstand, too tired to bother with it anymore. John pulled the comforter and sheets down as far as he could with you still laying on top of them, a boneless form incapable of even pushing yourself up to help him. He didn’t seem to mind though, just quietly arranging your limbs one at a time underneath the warmth of the covers and settling in behind you. An arm wrapped around your torso, the other underneath your head. You were asleep in a matter of seconds after that, every limb suffering under the weight of exhaustion.
You don't know what woke you, no sun filtered in through the windows, the streets outside were quiet, and no animals made so much as a peep and yet somehow your eyes still opened to the moonlit room. Exhaustion still flooded every limb, shoulders sagging, eyelids aching to close again but your internal alarm clock was going off, sunrise was near so it was time to wake up. You always woke up at the same time every day, whether you were technically supposed to be off or not didn't matter, it was a pattern ingrained in you since BUD/S. Well truly it was there well before that but that was when your easy to sleep and easy to rise had benefited you the most, accompanied by an internal clock that was so finely tuned you were rarely ever late for anything. A deep yawn racked your body, muscles tensing in the most subtle stretch you could manage so you didn't wake John.
The man behind you was still out cold, neither of you even having moved in the middle of the night. When you shifted forward you had to cover your mouth with a hand to muffle the whine, an ache from the night before reaching deep inside you. Damn you had felt like a god in the moment when he'd grinded and pulled you back to meet him, it had been unlike anything you'd ever felt. Now though every corner he had reached felt more like a curse, almost like he'd bruised you on every inch of skin he'd touched and when you looked down you noticed several on the outside, it only made sense that they were mirrored inside as well. Maybe it was because of how many times you had reached the finish line, you honestly weren't sure. You'd never had someone fuck you literally all night before. It had probably only been an hour or two since you'd fallen asleep. You had never let anyone inside of you before either, so all of this, all of these feelings and aches, were new territory to you. Maybe this was how it always felt when you bottomed for someone, unable to stifle the ache that sat deep and every muscle seeming to ache from overuse. Something in you doubted it though, convincing you that this feeling was unique to the man who had given it to you. To John.
There was a smile that pulled at your mouth then, mind wanting you to find out and test the waters. He was so warm, pressed flush against your back, his body draped over you with a frame that wasn't much bigger than your own but somehow still made even you feel small. When you moved again you could feel his naked length run across your skin, every inch of him bare and warm and igniting the once dead fire in your limbs. How in the hell did he do that? Making you so ready to go again even when your body and mind both knew that they needed to take a break, to rest after the night before. The man wasn't even awake for godsakes, he wasn't moving, he wasn't talking, hell you couldn’t hear not even the slightest snore from him. A thought crossed your mind, seeing yourself rolling over, waking him with a mouth around his length and a smile on your face. Now that was certainly a thought, and damn if you didn't want to try it. Slowly you pulled his arm off of your torso, glancing back cautiously with every movement and being careful not to wake him until you were ready.
Just as you had extricated yourself from his grasp a buzz came from the floor. A few short beeps and then three longer ones followed by another three short. Fuck. You turned away from the naked man behind you still wrapped in the sheets and scrambled for your jeans. Searching the pockets quickly you pulled out the phone just before the call could end and answered. You pressed the speaker to your ear and slipped out of the room on deadly quiet feet before croaking out a quiet, "Hello?" Damn if your throat wasn't aching too, voice a mess after the night before. He'd certainly used every bit of you.
You leaned against the wall as the distorted caller on the other end answered, "New assignment. Be at the North Tower in thirty minutes for your mission brief."
They went quiet as did you, dread building in your stomach as you asked, "I'm leaving the UK? For good?"
"Affirmative, you're being reassigned. Hope you've got your summer gear Speck, your new post is gonna be hot as Hell." Your head tilted back against the wall, eyes shutting tight at the information. There it was, the second he'd found something worth sticking around for at least for a bit and they were pulling him out of the country to go suffer in a war zone that not even your country was willing to fight for. Typical.
Finally you answered, "I'll be there, sir. Packing up now, be there in thirty." You ended the call, hand lowering with the phone still in it, the other lifting to your brow as you tried to rub away a headache that was just starting. When you finally pushed yourself off the wall and went back to the room John was still dead to the world, body positioned just like you had left it. Part of you wanted to wake him then, tell him you had to leave and offer him your number at least but what was the point? You were never coming back here, serves you fuckin right though. Never should have come here with him in the first place, at least then you wouldn't know what you had and would be missing. You always knew it would happen eventually and you were hitting the three month mark already of your easy post in the UK.
So instead of disturbing his peaceful slumber you grabbed your jeans and underwear off the floor pulling them on quietly. Then you grabbed your socks and boots, heading down the hall to the living room where you pulled them on with a lump in your throat. You grabbed the shirt off the ground near the garage door, flipping it inside out so the tell tale sign of a good night wasn't on display to the world. Calling a cab you stood by the front door quietly, arms crossed and fingers tapping against your bicep nervously. There was a table right beside the door, a bowl of miscellaneous objects sitting on top including a pen and some sticky notes. Your eyes flicked back down the hall, some twisted part of you wishing he had woken up before now but no he still wasn't there. So you grabbed the pen, jotting down a few quick words and left the best night of your life behind forever, knowing you'd never find anything like it again.
------- (Price POV)
Light began to filter into the room from the blinds turning the darkness behind his eyelids into a hue of orange. At first he laid in the content state between sleep and wakefulness. It was the first time he'd been fully satisfied and sated in he wasn't even sure how long. It wasn't until he noticed that the reason for his contentment was no longer there that his eyes finally opened to take in the view.
He expected to see you, laying maybe out of his arms now but still there at least. You were not. Instead he found only an empty space in front of him. Hand running over the space where he'd tucked you in against his chest last night. Well more like a couple hours ago really. The void you'd left in his bed was still warm, so you were still here then. But when he listened everything was strangely quiet. No hint of noise vibrated the air, no creaking floorboards or the voices from the TV.
Brunette brows furrowed before he pushed himself up in the bed. Groaning at the soreness of his muscles, so that had been real then, not just his dreams or imagination like he'd begun to fear. He slid to the side, standing up from the edge of the bed and stepping into the bathroom with a soft and questioning, "Marine?" No answer and no sign of you, and that was what worried him.
John stepped back into the bedroom, eyes looking across the empty floor as he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, that was when he felt his stomach drop. Your jeans were gone which could have been explained by you just not wanting to wall around his house naked. But when he noticed your boots and socks were gone too he swallowed hard. The front door creaked on its hinges, just barely audible down the hall but it was audible. He turned the corner into the hall when he heard it shut, taking the long dark passageway back to the living room. Blue eyes looked around nervously, "Marine?" His voice was louder this time, almost begging for an answer before his eyes found the front door. A sticky note was pressed onto the door and he pulled it off quickly reading the hastily scrawled out note:
"I hate to do this to you and I'm sorry for it because you deserve better, but duty calls and I've gotta answer. Thank you for the great night John, you've made a lot of things worth it."
That was it? That was all he got? He flipped the post-it over staring at the beginning of the note you'd left him and then to the other side where it ended. He heard the engine of a car outside and fumbled with the door handle, jerking it open to watch a cab cruising off. You didn’t even look up and you certainly didn't look at him. Part of him was glad you didn't so you couldn't see the dismay written on his face, the momentary weakness. The other part wished you could have seen him standing there, silently pleading for you to come back, to change your mind and forget about whatever he had done to scare you off.
What had he done to scare you off though. You'd been content in his arms the night before, asleep the second he'd wrapped himself around you. You had been eager and willing with everything he'd done as you had quite literally begged him to never stop. And yet there you went, riding off in a cab for somewhere he wouldn't be able to follow. If you'd needed a ride why hadn't you just woken him up, he had driven you to his home and he'd done so with every intention of helping you get back to wherever you wanted this morning.
He stood there for a long time, too long in reality. It was a one night stand, or at least it had been for you it seemed, for John it had been a chance at more, a hook to keep you reeled in. He felt used and a little voice in his mind told him he shouldn't have expected much more. John never invited people over to his home, that was his safe place away from everything else, and he certainly didn't have one night stands with strangers. The man rarely managed to open himself up enough to sleep with anyone nowadays even when he was in a relationship though those were few and far between nowadays. Things like that made him vulnerable, and that kind of vulnerability affected his decisions both in the field and out of it. People got killed when he opened himself up, but for just a moment he'd thought he could risk it just for a chance to see your teary eyes roll back in your head as he took you apart piece by piece every night.
Time was lost with how long he stood there in his doorway staring down the empty road after a cab that had already disappeared. It was long enough for his neighbor next door to leave for work, casting him weird looks as he walked out to his car in the driveway. He'd probably heard the two of you in the garage last night, he often complained about the loud echo from the radio he kept on in there when John was working on some kind of project. Apparently his bedroom was close enough that anything happening in there was almost like he was on the other side of a thin apartment wall.
Finally though he shut the door slowly, turning the lock and taking a couple steps back, staring blankly at the door. His eyes cast down to the sticky note in his hand, you hadn't even given him your name. His eyes were a blank stare but his mind ran through countless things, remembering every word you'd said to him the night before. He'd expected to have more time this morning to talk but you hadn't even given him the opportunity. What could he have possibly done to scare you off like that? Had he said something in his sleep? Done something he didn't remember? Oh God what if he'd had a night terror and hurt you and not even remembered it?
His stomach dropped at the thought, at even the mere possibility he could have caused you pain. But then there was the note, he looked back down at it, glaring hard at the words written there. "I hate to do this to you and I'm sorry for it because you deserve better, but duty calls and I've gotta answer. Thank you for the great night John, you've made a lot of things worth it." You had basically said right there that this was your decision, and you'd done it even though you knew it was wrong. What the hell did, "You've made a lot of things worth it," even mean?
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Dirt on my leather
"rub some dirt on it."
Inspiration: 'Dirt on my leather' by WOODZ
Synopsis: you and Seungyoun come home drunk after a concert, get even more drunk and have the horniest sex of your life
switch! Seungyoun x switch! reader (gn)
3.7k words
Contains: alcohol (whiskey), swearing, thigh-riding, marking (hickeys and nail scratches), choking, unprotected sex, biting, hair-pulling, choker-pulling, creampie
autor's note: there are spoilers for upcoming smuts hidden in this post. see if you can find 'em ;)
Seungyoun tilted his head back and chugged the whiskey straight from the bottle. Tamnavulin sherry cask - cheap, but decent. He handed the bottle to you and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. You also took a big gulp from the whiskey and made a disgusted face as you swallowed it. Even the sweetest of whiskeys still tasted like gasoline.
☆ smut under the cut ☆
You and Seungyoun had just attended a rock concert together and it had been amazing. You had joined the moshpit together, drank a fuck ton of alcohol, carried the lead singer when he was stage diving and headbanged until your necks cramped up. After the concert, you were both still filled with adrenaline and alcohol - not to mention how horny you both were. You could barely keep your hands away from each other as you drunkly hurried home. Once you had finally arrived, Seungyoun rushed to grab the whiskey while you put on some music from the band you just watched. He sat down on the couch and once you were within his reach, he grabbed your waist and pulled you on his lap.
The way he kissed you was wild and hungry and his lips still tasted like whiskey. The whiskey tasted better from his mouth than from the bottle. This way it wasn't as overwhelming and you could kind of see how it supposedly tasted like white chocolate and caramel.
Suddenly he pulled away and pushed you from his lap. You looked at him with a startled expression, but he stood up as well and hooked his fingers under the edge of your shirt. "Undress," he said promptly. Before you even really got the chance to execute his orders, he had already pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it in the corner. His eagerness turned you on like crazy and you could feel that warm fuzzy feeling in your lower belly increase by the second. You quickly brought your hands down to your pants to unzip them. As soon as they were open, he took it upon himself to pull them down for you, pulling your underwear along.
The clothes were quickly kicked somewhere to the back of the room, after which Seungyoun sat back down on the couch. "Wait, won't you undress?" you sputtered, since you were now completely in the nude while he still wore all his clothes from the concert. "Not yet," he replied with a grin. His arms snaked around your waist, swiftly pulling you back on his lap like before.
As he pulled you on his lap, he spread his legs a little to make sure you sat on just one of his thighs. The leather of his pants felt cold against your skin, especially on your sensitive area. Both of his hands were brought to your hips and he pulled you a bit closer towards him so he could kiss you again. But he didn't stop there.
Soon you felt how he began to guide your hips back and forth on his thigh and you immediately realized what he was doing. He had worn his leather pants to the concert, because he knew how much you liked them, and now he was making you grind your naked body on them.
His pretty lips were still connected to yours while his hands continued to guide you back and forth, making you let out little moans in between your kisses. It felt so wrong, yet so good to hump his thigh like this, dirtying the leather in the process. It might have been the alcohol, but soon you began to lose yourself completely in the feeling.
The corners of Seungyoun's mouth curled into a cheeky little grin when he realized you no longer needed his guidance to ride his thigh. Now that his hands were free, he removed them from your hips. He rested one of them on your waist while he brought his other hand to the back of your head, digging his fingers into your hair. His grip on your hair tightened and he pulled your head to the side, exposing your neck. "Seungyoun-" you murmured under your breath, your voice shaky.
His hair tickled against your cheek when he brought his lips to your neck and began to kiss and suck on your skin. You were so taken aback by this sudden feeling that you didn't even realize you had stopped grinding yourself on him. Of course he didn't like this, so he lowered his hand from your waist down to your ass and roughly helped you on your way again.
The smell of his cologne, the friction against your sweet spot and the stinging sensation from his hickeys all made your head spin. Seungyoun held you a little more tightly as he began to suck on your skin even more roughly. You could tell by the burning feeling on your neck that this mark would remain there for at least a week.
When he pulled away, you could still feel the sting on your neck. He looked into your eyes with a sweet, yet somewhat mischievous smile on his face. "Y/n?... Would you please suck me off?" You could tell from the tone of his voice how horny he was. Until now you hadn't payed much attention to his crotch, but when you looked down, you could see a huge bulge through his leather pants. Besides that, you also noticed a stain on his thigh from where you had been riding him.
You let out a little gasp and looked back up at him with a grin on your face. "Of course," you said with a sweet voice and you pressed yourself against him while sliding your hand into his pants. He let out an excited little gasp when you found the tip of his dick with your fingers and stroked it playfully. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you into another kiss and slid his hands down to grab your ass tightly.
After a little while of making out and teasing his cock, you disconnected your lips from his and removed your hand from his pants. Just when he began to pout at you, you got on your knees in front of him and hastily began to undo his belt. While you were working to take off his pants, he pulled his shirt over his head. Soon all of his clothes had been removed and tossed aside and the only thing he still wore was the choker around his neck.
You took a moment to admire him, looking up at his beautiful body and stroking your fingers along his sides. His dick brushed against your cheek when you pressed a kiss on the gun tattoo on his belly. Then you trailed a few more kisses towards the base of his cock. Once you were there, you licked your way up from the base towards the tip, earning a deep grunt from him. He gently stroked your cheek at first, but once you took his tip into your mouth, he moved his hand to the back of your head and held on to your hair a little less gently.
Perhaps it was the whiskey, but you had the feeling that Seungyoun didn't have as much self control today. Usually he would let you suck him off however you wanted, but this time it's like he didn't have enough patience and he began to thrust himself into your mouth. At first he was still gentle with you, but he began to lose himself more and more in the sensation.
His grip on your hair tightened as he moved your head in accordance with his hips. Tears ran down your cheeks as he began to hit the back of your throat again and again, but dear lord, you had never been this turned on in your entire life. There was something about how Seungyoun pleasured himself with you that made your lower stomach feel hot and fuzzy and you began to long for his dick to fill another hole of yours.
Suddenly he pulled himself completely out of you, leaving your mouth empty and longing. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes leveling with yours and he gave you an almost feral look. "Get on the couch." His voice sounded husky and wild. Your drunken thoughts clouded your mind and it took you a while to process what he was asking from you. Apparently you took too long, because suddenly you felt his hand on the back of your neck and his lips connected with yours again. Seungyoun was too impatient to wait for you to follow his orders at this point, so he decided that he might as well fuck you on the floor.
He guided you to lay on your back and quickly got on top of you. He continued to kiss you while his hand traveled from the back of your neck to your throat. You squirmed and moaned against his lips when you felt how his fingers tightened around your neck. At the same time the tip of his dick already poked at your entrance, driving you even more crazy.
Once again your head was spinning in ultimate bliss. You wanted him just as badly as he wanted you and to make this known to him, you bucked your hips up, hoping that somehow he might slip into you. However, he pulled himself away just enough so you couldn't reach his dick and he chuckled against your lips when you whined at him.
You bucked your hips up at him again, this time more forcefully, but still he made sure to stay just out of your reach. Just when you were about to give it yet another try, Seungyoun pulled his lips away from yours and tightened his grip around your neck a little more. "Are you really that needy?" he asked with an evil little smirk and you nodded heavily in response. "Alright then," he said, now with a more gentle tone. He let go of your neck and gave you a little kiss on the lips, after which he pressed his forehead against yours.
His eyes were closed as he took his length into his hand to aim it at your entrance more properly. Considering how wildly you had been making out, the way he inserted himself into you was very gentle. His uncontrolled neediness now made room for his more tender and caring side. You both held your breath while he began to enter you, but once he got a little deeper, neither of you could resist a little moan.
"Are you doing okay?" he asked. You nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. He pressed a quick kiss on your lips and then pulled away to look at you again. "Can I be a little rough with you today?" His eyes had an excited little twinkle in them. God, if it were up to you, this man could be rough with you any day. "Only if I can be rough with you as well," you replied.
He flashed a big smile and pressed another quick kiss on your lips. Then he brought his mouth to your neck. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his breath on your skin and you squirmed beneath him, now even more turned on than before. Seungyoun began to kiss your neck once again while you desperately tried to move your hips to feel the friction of him inside you. But he didn't give in at all. He made sure to keep his own pelvis very still and pushed his weight down on you so you wouldn't move too much either.
Just when you wondered why he even asked if he could be rough with you, you suddenly felt his teeth sink down into your neck. At the same time, he pulled his cock almost completely out of you, only to push himself back inside at a provokingly slow pace. He continued to move his hips very very slowly like that, which ultimately made the sensation more intense. When he was inside, you felt full and warm and like the two of you became one. But when only his tip was inside, you felt an intense, aching urge to somehow make him fill you back up again.
Luckily for you, he was just as needy as you and this quickly caused his thrusts to become more intense. His teeth clenched more tightly onto your neck as he picked up the pace a bit and he let out low, hungry grunts against your skin. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, digging your fingers into his hair. "Fuck..." you moaned under your breath. The way he bit and sucked on your neck left a slight stinging sensation on your skin and it felt amazing.
Since Seungyoun could tell that you really enjoyed it, he became more comfortable as well and slowly stopped holding back. He became completely relaxed and submitted to his urges. The way he bit your neck became more wild, not to mention how he was pumping in and out of you.
What had begun as slow, intimate movements now became a hungry, almost feral kind of drilling. You moaned his name over and over again and pulled him more tightly against you as a fuzzy kind of bliss took hold of your body. You felt lightheaded and lost all awareness of your surroundings, except for Seungyoun. All you could register was how he slammed himself into you, mercilessly hitting your sweet spot over and over again. And how his mouth traveled along your neck, leaving bites and kisses and hickeys all over it. If he kept going like this, you would surely reach your climax very soon. But it would be too soon. You wanted to savor this desperate neediness a little longer.
Before Seungyoun knew what was going on, you had pushed him off of you and thrown him on his back on the floor. "Y/n!" he squealed in surprise. You got on top of him and immediately sank down on his cock, taking his entire length in all at once. This made him let out a loud moan and he squeezed your ass tightly. His cheeks and ears were bright red from surprise and excitement. God, the way he looked at you just made you want to fuck his brains out.
He nervously adjusted the metal choker around his neck a little bit and at the same time you saw his eyes traveling to the large bite mark he left on your neck. It must have looked quite impressive, because the corner of his mouth curled up into a subtle, mischievous smirk. Even his own lips were swollen from the intense work he had done on your neck.
You bent over him and brought your face very close to his. "You must be so proud of how you marked me..." you mumbled in a low voice. You noticed how his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed a little nervously and goosebumps appeared on his neck. "So dirty..." you whispered and then you licked your way up from his chin to his lips, locking him into a passionate kiss.
He shuddered in pleasure, but you didn't give him the chance to savor the moment. You sat up again and placed a hand on his chest to make sure he would stay on his back. He pouted at you, but you just looked down at him with a large grin on your face. "Stay put now," you cooed while sliding your fingertips along his sides. His dick was still inside of you while you sat on top of him like this and it was very obvious that he wanted nothing more than for you to move your hips. Yet he stayed put like you ordered.
You grabbed the bottle of whisky from the coffee table, pulling the cork out with a little pop. Seungyoun watched as you took a swig from the bottle, only to put the bottle away without offering him any. He looked offended and just when he was about to protest, you grabbed him by his choker and roughly pulled him up so he was sitting as well. This already took him by surprise, but then you continued to kiss the whiskey from your mouth into his. A big drop of the substance escaped from between your lips and rolled down Seungyoun's chin.
You cupped his face with your hands and when you pulled away from the kiss, he looked at you with the horniest expression you had ever seen om him. "You're so fucking hot," he mumbled and he licked the spilled whiskey from his lips. He inched his face towards you again to continue kissing you, but you placed your fingers against his lips to stop him.
"What do we say when we want something?" you asked. "Please," he replied with a little pout on his lips. "Almost," you said with a mean little grin. He pouted even more and gave you a desperate look. "Pretty please?" "That's right."
You connected your lips with his again and began to move your hips up and down, instantly turning him into a moaning mess. Both sitting up like this was an intimate position and it was easy for him to reach your sweet spot this way. You felt how one of his hands gripped into your hair, while his other hand held your ass so tightly, you were sure it would leave a bruise. Even though you moved your hips quite quickly on your own, Seungyoun was so needy that his hand guided you to be even more forceful with him.
Both of you moaned loudly against each other's whiskey-stained lips as you fucked on the floor like this. Slowly but surely, you could feel that hot, fuzzy feeling in your lower stomach again as you began to get closer to your climax. You moved one of your hands down from his cheek to the choker around his neck and tugged it to pull him more tightly against you, making him squeal with delight. Then you pulled your lips away from his to trail kisses down to his neck. Once you found the right spot, you bit down on his neck just like he had done to you, making him cry out with pleasure.
You continued to bite and suck on his neck to make sure he would be marked up as well. All while moving your hips up and down in a way that made him reach as deeply into you as possible. With every thrust, he hit your sweet spot, making that knot in your lower stomach worse and worse.
Once it became too much to handle, you removed your mouth from his neck in order to embrace him more tightly, resting your head on his shoulder. This signaled to Seungyoun that you were about to cum and he reassuringly rubbed your back as you fucked your own brains out on his cock. He turned his head a little bit so his lips were right next to your ear. An intense shiver went down your spine when you felt his breath on your skin as he whispered:
"Go on. Cum on my cock for me."
Like some kind of spell, this instantly untied the knot in your stomach. You cried out loudly and dug your nails into his back as a wave of pleasure came crashing down on you. Your body trembled, your heart was beating like crazy and you gasped for air as you hit one of the most intense climaxes of your life.
Seungyoun moaned along with you and held you tightly to support you through your orgasm. But before it had even washed over you completely, you were suddenly on your back again and he was fucking himself into you with deep, harsh thrusts. You cried out even more, desperately clinging on to his neck while you could feel how mercilessly he pounded himself into you.
Within mere seconds you felt completely overstimulated. Blurry stars were dancing before your eyes and all of your thoughts completely lost their coherence. All you could process was the sensation of his length slamming into you again and again, while he moaned out your name under his breath. His fingers dug themselves into your hair and he cried out the most desperate of moans.
His last few thrusts were a bit slower, but reached even deeper. And then, with a loud cry, he plunged himself as deeply into you as humanly possible as he reached his climax. You could feel the intense pulsations of his dick inside you as he filled you with his cum. Everything felt hot. Your face was hot. His skin felt hot against yours. His dick felt hot and so did the cum that now slowly began to leak out of you.
Both completely out of breath, you lay there silently in each other's embrace, with Seungyoun's dick still inside of you. You took a quick glance at the time to see how long you had been going at it - 4:58 am. You had been fucking for over an hour.
The two of you lay on the floor like that for a while, completely exhausted and panting heavily. Seungyoun lay with his head on your chest and played around with your fingers while you used your free hand to stroke his head. Suddenly he lifted his head a little, like he noticed something.
He sat up and grabbed something from the floor, holding it in front of you with a weird grin on his face. "Look what we did!" he exclaimed. In his hand, he held the leather pants that he had been wearing that evening. Apparently they had been lying right next to your butt on the floor this whole time. Now they were stained with your fluids, Seungyoun's cum and whisky.
You pulled a disgusted face and laughed. "Well next time you should undress if you don't want to get dirt on your leather."
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Promises on a Playground
Pairing: timeskip!ushiwaka x f!Olympian reader
Word count: 3.1+K
Warnings: none (?) an allusion to morning after
Rating: UWF (ushijima wakatoshi fluff)// sfw
Ushijima Wakatoshi, power server and ace canon of team Japan is seen at a bar in the middle of a club centric zone. It’s later than he thinks especially with the rest of the Adlers behind him. Tonight everyone in their roster is celebrating the redrafting of their teammates to the 2024 Olympic Games in Europe. Coincidentally, since his wrist accident during the off season happened early last year, this might be his second or third Olympics before officially playing a farewell season. He’s not getting any younger and his mother, bless Ushijima-sama, is praying he soon finds a person he loves just as fiercely as the sport he loves.
The club is hosting a private jazz lounge area so everyone can mingle with each other. Various players from the MSBY, Saõ Paulo, and even a few EJP Rajins are there too. All of them came back to celebrate their return to their national teams. All except Oikawa who is taking break considering he has his first child due any day now according to his private lifestyle socials media accounts. Iwazumi mentions he’ll be missing a few practices, but his best friend had named him godfather, so he’ll be in Argentina hoping to be the first to greet the his friend’s child before anyone else does. Upon hearing the news about how his old rival, nowadays isa soon to be parent, makes Japan’s canon a little, well, lonely.
Swirling the rocks glass in front of him, Ushijima thinks back about the random elementary school kid he hung out with at the jungle gym when he was nine just about to be ten. He takes a mighty sip, brandishing off the whiskey neat before ordering another one from the bartender wandering around the room. For whatever reason, he recalls his mother and granny asking the babysitter for his new friend’s phone number back then. His mother mentioned how shy and intimidating her son can be and the baby sitter introduces herself as a relative to the pair of older women.
“I’m yn’s aunt,” ushijima’s ears are sharp enough to hear that as his eyes look at you; you who dressed in overalls like him with light lilac puffy sleeves and even light sapphire hair talks about castles in the sky.
“Yn? How pretty,” Ushijima’s mother hums, eyes aglow when she notices her son curiously make a face at the chatter box you are.
You’re laying down cloud watching and before ushijima knows it, you entourage him to lay back and he watches them too. For a ten year old reserved child like him, the fact that you hold his hand like any best friend would, made his heart beat a bit quicker. So, after you’re called by your aunt to say your good-byes.
“I have to go,” you pout as he helps you sit up. A younger version of him just blinks as he feels this impending sadness in his chest--you were his first friend outside of his school; one where the classmates treated him as 'other' because of which hand was the most dominant, yet he didn't care what they called him behind his back then. You were a brilliant source of comfort for the last forty-minutes or so when you struck up a conversation with him at the top of the jungle gym. Your imagination made him a captain of a space cruier who on a whim, you choose to follow until you make it back to earth after a series of tag games. It's why you were on your back earlier, changing subjects about wondering if he'll be back tomorrow. Ushijima, the little kid he was back then, didn't know if he'd be back, so he just shrugs, unsure how to answer that.
“Wakatoshi! It’s getting dark, we should go too.”
“Mmhm,” he frowns. “Me too.”
You stand up when he orders his hand to help you up off the playground tarp.
“Y'know, it's ok if you're not here tomorrow Waka-kun." You hold his hand and give it a firm shake. Before you do truly part ways, you loop a pinky of yours around his. Looking dead straight in those childlike emerald stones of irses he had inherited, you raise your linked hands to each other's faces. "Meet me here when we’re in high school?” your odd request is met with a small sheepish smile.
“Five years from now?” he seems surprised.
“Yup! I’m sure you’ll be popular toshi-kun,” you had a slight smirk, giving his pinky a fateful squeeze before dropping it. “Don’t forget!”
A young Ushijima nods as you take off to the bench where your aunt was waiting before waving goodbye. His heart beat out of rhythm before he walked to his mom.
“Yn-chan is nice, hmm?”
“I guess,” her stoic son has a pout in his voice.
Mother holds her son's hand as they walk in the opposite direction where you and your aunt fade in the distance behind a neighboring street corner.
"Hey mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Can we come back tomorrow?"
"Sure. After your team practice is over, yeah?"
At this, Ushijima-sama looks at her boy who now has this cheeky grin tugging on his usually stoic straight lips as she just shakes her head in amusement.
It takes a few years of development and many Valentines confessions to realize Ushijima Wakatoshi had an after school playground crush on the elusive YLN,YN. Satori, one night in the dorms, bothers his fellow teammate to share former firsts—believe it or not your name is all ushijima can remember. Oh, and the fact you made him make a foolish promise of meeting at the same park now in the future was in fact an empty one. Although, one day right after graduation, Ushijima is hanging out with his new setter in the locker room for an extra practice. There is a tv with the news channels on with live coverage of the Sochi Winter Olympics that year. Lo and behold, you were a flag bearer for your home country with a summer sport under your name: Silver Medalist, WOMEN’S GYMNASTICS, 2016. You made the Olympic team before he and Kageyama did—you were one of the youngest to participate according to the announcers and god help Eros because Ushijima nearly lost his focus at extra practice that day. He almost didn’t return any of Kageyama’s servers.
Imagine how surprised you are as you’re invited by an old friend in the JVA to attend this gathering. You’re officially a three time medalist in individual rounds and even a two time gold medalist in team routines. Anyone who is an avid follower of your career record talks about you with pride in their smile. Well, it did help that your aunt was also your coach, but it also helped that for a while there, Karasuno also had an underground strong gymnastics team. No one ever heard about it until very recently when you named the high school and university you attended on invitational scholarship. Regardless, you greet Hinata who calls your name after you grab a champagne flute. You mingle your way over saying hi to everyone who stops you, saying your thanks and/or congrats to those who made the team. Again.
Hinata side hugs you, and you have hug a tipsy Kageyama, who leans on his former partner. Though they both blush at you greeting them, they also extend elated words you’re joining them in Europe for your respective sport. This time though, due to your physical therapy for a torn ACL right before World Championships, you are elected to be vice coach and spotter this term. You’re a little down, sure, but you wear it well as Kageyama saunters off to find the restrooms to relieve himself. Hinata says to follow him while he introduces you to the roster of players he’ll be reuniting with. Some you knew from coming to MSBY and Adler games, others you recognize from prior games like Aran-kun and Suna Rintaro. Names you wouldn't have recognized until it was Hinata who name dropped a few of them on your video calls when he was resigned to returning to Sao Paolo.
The last of these 'gentle monsters' as you tease them in saying is someone reminiscent of a child you made watch the clouds with you in your youth. Strength hidden underneath his semi formal wear sans sports coat, the young contemporary icon stifles a breath as you are introduced to each other again. This time, though, Hinata is called away by his former MSBY teammates thus leaving you and Ushijima to your own devices. For him, time slows as the small circle you’re surrounded by grows smaller. Soon enough, it was just you and him, filling each other with stories of growing up miles from each other, not even realizing you were rivals in volleyball come your high school years. Ushijima hums when you bring about that stunning block from a sarcastic kouhai back then, mentioning the city where that first year went on to play for an upcoming division one team. He tells you it’s old news especially when he sees how dedicated the others were to their craft. You and him reach for some hor d’oeuvres as the trays came around again.
“You never came back to the park where we met, Wakatoshi,” you say as you slide a few more mushrooms into your mouth. You swirl what’s left of your third sangria glad that night before downing it.
Ushijima is bewildered at your admission. Honestly, he forgot—he was ten! So were you, but friends don’t break promises no matter how old they are. You stifle a laugh as he blinks surprised by how sharp your memory is.
“I had a game, or was at practice…”
You nod. You too couldn't have made it every day for three years because you had practice to attend too, yet rain, snow, or sunshine didn't stop you. If you tell him that perhaps you might shoot your shot as Tsukishima would say. Hell, even when you texted the rest of your third years from Karasuno when you were invited to attend, Sugawara had the audacity to encourage you in attending. They all knew about the elusive kid you met in the summer right before you had started grade six: even they were surprised he turned out to be the captain of the powerhouse school who had been crazy enough to challenge Hinata Shoyo, 'from the concrete', once. You let that text memory die in the back of your mind while you went with the first option: guilt Ushijima Wakatoshi into liking your company like you were ten again. Fun fact: you didn't need to do that; he was already thinking of ways to get you to talk to himi long before you were standing side by side after you were reintroduced to each other.
“I spent three years, every summer break, curious about the kid I met back then. Kind and warm, like the fall breeze by the beach. Had an air of coolness from what i could tell too.”
You side eye him as he’s processing this information, what you seemed to have implied on yourself, turning on your heel after bidding him good night. Sauntering off, you find a few more familiar faces since you got the closure you didn’t know you wanted, but alas with your back to a different table this time, you’re approached by Ushijima. He’s a bit, intoxicated, you can tell by the way an alcohol blush tints his cheeks. The glass he had earlier was finished and replaced with another which was almost done by the time he walked over.
This was all thanks to Kageyama’s influence, after all the young setter went off on a hyper focused rant about how learning to love and earn love back helped his current relationship. Even if it was currently long distance. Flights from Italy to Brazil aren't really that cheap, yet for love of the sport and the man, Kageyama explains he makes it work. He has to because, according to the stubborn blueberry man, "love takes time to build, so seize the opportunity to love someone."
It was weird hearing this from his former Adler’s teammate, yet it makes sense as his eyes never wavered far from where you were talking-or was it flirting?-with other members of team Japan. Like how Miya Atsumu's eyes you when he hugs you with the widest grin on his face; or when Suna Rintaro chuckles as you see pictures of his baby nephews throw snowballs on a rice field in his hometown, drives Ushijima to give off Sakusa level warnings of backing off when he sees you interact with them.
Does it help that Ushijima felt a little jealous? No, why would it? You're laughing as Hinata sees the replay of Suna's nephews fight over Vabo-chan during the holidays last year as Ushijima walks over.
"Your nephews are so violent, but," you pause, handing the phone back to the middle blocker. "They do take after you and your bother, huh Miya?"
"Yeah, but 'Samu's kids are little terrors, but absolute angels when ya meet 'em," the blond says. Something about the way he sort of looks away from your face makes you wonder why you have this sneaking suspicion someone taller and more menacing than a house cat is lurking behind you. You shrug as Hinata glances over at the other two players across from where you stand and you can tell they are thinking of an easy way out of this conversation at this table as the jazz musicians take a break for a little while because right now, you feel a hand sneak it’s way around your waist.
"We're going to head back to the bar for some refills," Suna says taking your glass away from your hands. Your eyes watch Miya and Hinata scurry off before Suna gives a friendly, yet cold, warning look to the man who's standing like a guard dog behind you. Yellow-green eyes do not cower in front of the statuesque player who may or may not have been the reason you were still not seeing anyone as of late. (Suna means well, you know this as he was the first athlete in the off season to hang out with you regularly when you realize you went to the same all around gym by the EJP stadium. He's close enough to be family at this point, but young enough to know platonic love is the lane he needed to be in at this point in your life).
“Had enough?” you inquire as the others whom you were talking to waited for other beverages to be made. The perfume his designer had let him try gives of a scent of light cinnamon and earthy notes; it is faint on him, but to you when you lean back, it's a scent of comfort. It doesn't take a genius to see the comfortability around each other; it's enough that if the tabloids were here your 'snuggling' would break Twitter and the Adler's official accounts. That's a story for another time.
“Not yet,” his voice is rough, like he’s exhausted, but the way he says it as he pulls your hips back toward him, you almost choke on your own spit. Suggestive under the influence or not, you're not going to oppose if he invites you for a latenight hook-up; you're both grown enough to recognize this flirtatious dancing needs to come to a head.
However, the second Ushijima rests his head atop yours a moment savoring how you feel in front of him like this, is the few seconds it takes for you to relax further by reaching up and caressing his face. A sense of comfortability and spring like warmth spreads from soul outward. Your hand retracts just as he's about to lean into your palm, a pointed, peeved brow greets your peripheral as you rest the same hand on his arm. You're trying not to tease him further, but you do so in the most subtle of ways and it's driving him mad.
Perhaps you feel it too, judging by how his answer amplifies your rouge makeup, and so you lean more against his side like an old friend with the potential to become more. His lips were so close to the corner where yours began and if he caused you to turn just a little more toward him, Ushijima Wakatoshi would have unashamedly kiss you, publicly no less. Instead, you listen to how he breathes differently when you force him to sway with the band having returned to the small private clubroom stage. His voice begrundingly begging you to take the lead in carrying on whatever started here behind closed doors. And for what it’s worth, those that may have seen the exchange might have turned around would not believe how smitten the two of you are.
"Y'mean to tell me I never had a chance?! Hinata," Atsumu squints at the blatant almost-couple across the other side of the bar. "Warn a guy before he flirts with Ushijima's lady."
"Oi! I didn't know they'd be like that 'Tsum!" Hinata whines. "But they do look happy, right?"
"Mm," Atsumu concurs by raising his refilled glass to where you are almost completely draped by the shoulders by Ushijima. "G'luck to 'em."
Meanwhile, after you had securely ducked under and over Ushijima's front side, you steadied him by holding his left arm on the side. He tilts his head down slightly to hear you clearer.
“We should head out,” you suggest.
Your breath tickles the part of his upper arm where you lean against. You feel his chest rumble as you splayed a hand there to steady him when he nods apologizing for the drunken affection he’s giving. Not that you minded though. It’s not like you were waiting for almost a decade to see him this way, right?
Flash forward twenty-six minutes later and now you’re lip locked with this giant of a man who is and was still your first memory of a crush. This had started because once you kicked off your heels for the event, you glanced up at Ushijima standing there awkwardly in the foyer of his penthouse level hotel room: you choose to call out his name at first before taking his face in your hands and bringing him down to your level. Arms and hands from earlier grip the fabric of your outfit before you silently nod murmuring, "you can kiss me all you want here."
Now, Ushijima Wakatoshi, for all the years he's been visiting his father in the U.S., and from what his mother's dramas taught him about kissing has nothing compared to what kissing you had felt like. Nothing comes close to how his breathing is shallower the further you let him go without oxygen; the way one of your arms loop across his shoulder and the other with a gentle hand scratching his scalp the more you melt into him. You are like sunshine now and when you grant him reprieve from your kisses and those eyes that bewitched him stare back, sort of lackadaisical in a kiss drunk state.
"Been wanting to do that ever since you walked in," his voice has your back arch while he adjusts his hold. His nose nudges your cheek before acutely nipping the fat of your cheek there. You stutter forward perplexed by his quite frank neediness. Your hips almost touch, and when you feel Ushijima's soft chuckle against your ear he gives you a word of advice. "Patience."
Minutes later, Ushijima has you raised on the dresser in his hotel room, half undressed as your hands have undone several of his buttons. This time, he kisses you with a sense of urgency; his heart is suddenly picking up pace as is yours the further you sigh out his name when he marks your skin with his teeth and suckling lips. The dresser moves as you try to follow his eagerness to have you-all of you. His hands, feeling hotter than ever before, he uses one to support your back, whereas the other slips under your thigh and drags you forward with such a start, you moan his name into his mouth. He looks wide-eyed at you, not caring how you sort of have this embarrassed smile on him.
"Don't stop saying it," he snarls into your mouth. The dresser softly bangs back against the wall.
"Wakatoshi!" you whisper yell and you shake your head at how content he laughs into your neck.
"Hmm?" he kisses your collarbone.
"Gently this time," you instruct him. Ushijima acknowledges your advice, yet he's thoroughly thinking of other noises your voice can do
However, you choose to focus on something else: like how you got here to this point as you're given a chance to catch your breath. Almost half dressed by the man in your arms. It's not that you care about what you thought earlier that day when Hinata and Kageyama sent you texts inviting you out for drinks at the club; you just didn’t think this was the reconnection you needed to have with someone you met almost fifteen years ago when you were in primary school (you both were ten).
Not that any of that preemptive thoughts matter, not now anyways as you allow yourself to be loved by someone who is as strong to stand by you–lords of fate above, the truth you share as Ushijima rolls his shirt off his body. You can't help but stare unabashaedly at him, tanned through the years, sweet eyes boring into yours as you whisper where the zipper is on the side of your attire.
"Are you sure?" Ushijima's mighty hands find the hook-and-eye attachment on the zipper track. Your hand closest to where his is rests atop his wrist.
"If you think I'm going to hit and run on you," you help him drag down the zipper. "You don't know me at all."
Your clothes slide off as easily as the rest of his does. Though now you're both in less clothing as you let him continue showing his appreciation in having you wait for such a long time. It's not either of your first times in bed with another person, yet you know you'd have to be impervius of affection if you think with the way he cares for you afterwards is nothing less than a princely pauper's care is something out of a fairytale.
Ushijima settles in bed beside you as you wear an old traveling shirt of his after cleaning up.
"I take it we're together now, huh?" you are so cheeky as he rolls his eyes at you.
"I suppose it depends, yn," he replies.
"On what?"
"Whether or not you want to join me for breakfast tomorrow."
You nod enthused by his subtlety. A few moments pass by and as you begin to give sleep a chance, Ushijima pulls you closer to his shoulder, an arm of his cradles your head steady against him. Sobriety at this time of night makes him thank his stars you're here, asleep next to him. You shift in your sleep a couple minutes later and he hears you, murmuring a quiet, 'don't forget me' which if he was being honest with himself, he would have woken you up with an incredulous look of 'how did I?'
Come four in the morning, you're jostled awake by the remembrance of this not being your hotel room. You are able to recall meeting Hinata and Kageyama at the club; seeing and possibly reconnecting in more ways than one with Ushijima Wakatoshi, who is asleep behind you now. You're wearing his shirt, you feel an ache between your thighs and you're suddenly dragging a hand over your face before a chortle escapes your lips. No wonder your aunt was so adamant about you not trying to settle down until after your final Olympic Games after this one in Paris--you're going to have to sever the thought because of the man whom is now going to be keeping your bed warm will be the one you hope to settle with. Not because you both wanting to 'settle' no, because you two are learning how to keep a promise of love and friendship afloat. More so now the love had warped into one of a more romantic nature. You ponder this while tracing over his features with the calloued pads of your own hands from years of the gymnast powder used on them.
“You should go back to sleep, my heart,” his voice is even more gruff when you’re in a groggy mindset. He probably doesn't register what he said, but the moment he echoes what you said in your half-dreamlike state you lower yourself back whispering against his lips how you're not leaving him; you couldn't even if you tried. He seems to like that, smirking as he kisses your shoulder.
You chuckle turning over to face him now; slowly tracing his strong arms that wrap around your waist as they pull you closer to him like earlier. You readjust your body to lean against his sturdy self again just to press a kiss to the space between his eyebrows as he hums nudging his forehead against your own. Silently in this room just as your eyes flutter shut, you tell him how you can't wait for what tomorrow holds for either of you. For now, you both head back to sleep in the arms of the first real love you had found.
Perhaps now your younger selves all those years ago are laughing on the playground where a promise is fulfilled.
#ushijima wakatoshi x gymnast!reader#olympic bound au#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue#sfw fluff#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader
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Pas de Deux: pt. II
Silco x f!reader - SFW
CW: ballerina!reader, obsessive silco, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, being kept a prisoner, touch-starved, controlling behaviour, one use of the word ‘daddy’, implied past emotional abuse, referenced murder, reader is almost as manipulative and morally corrupt as silco, slow burn, enemies to lovers/stockholm syndrome
6.4k words
Summary: Now reluctantly in the King of Zaun’s possession, you try to navigate your way through his demanding rules and confusing adoration towards you. But, after a few false starts, it’s not long before you begin to devise your own plan to rid yourself of the kingpin…
A/N: Apologies this took so long; I hope you enjoy it!! -elsie x
PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9
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The first thing that rouses you from your fitful sleep is the gentle feeling of a long, smooth hand brushing the hair back from your face and then cupping your cheek. It’s incredibly and irrevocably soothing.
You automatically lean into it, craving the rare sensation of being treated like a priceless doll, especially after the horrific morning you’d just had.
After being carried kicking and screaming from the office by the large bodyguard, you’d been roughly shoved into a bedroom, the door clicking shut before you could even think about trying to fight your way out.
Turning round to smack your palm against the wood, you’d realised just how dire of a situation you were in the moment you’d looked down. There was no lock on your side of the door.
You’d desperately rattled the door handle to no avail, so your next frenzied action was to try the window, but to your dismay, you found it was firmly bolted shut.
You were trapped.
With no means of escape from the room that felt like it was shrinking with every passing second, you’d reacted on pure impulse.
First, you’d grabbed the bed sheets off the bed, screwed them up, and flung them across the room. The blankets in the closet came next as you’d ripped open the doors and hurled everything in there against the wall as hard as you could.
And if it wasn’t a natural reaction of complete and utter panic, you’d have felt extremely embarrassed at how childish you were being, instead of rationally working out a way to escape. It wasn’t fair, you’d worked tirelessly to get out of this damned city, only for it all to be ruined by one insanely obsessed man.
Eventually, with your new room utterly trashed, you’d slumped against the wall beneath the window, sitting opposite the door as you’d sobbed breathlessly into the crook of your elbow.
Now in the darkness of the night, (although it was never truly light in the Undercity), you let yourself relax into the hand softly caressing your cheek as you slowly begin to wake up. That same hand leaves your face to gently hook around your back, as another one scoops underneath your knees.
Really, it feels almost surreal to be touched so gently. You can’t remember the last time someone had been so tender with you. Certainly not since you’d escaped the Undercity. And you’d be hard pressed to remember a time it had occurred in your childhood. Maybe you were more touch starved than you thought.
You allow yourself to rest your head against a warm, solid chest, breathing in deeply as your eyelids flutter, but remain closed at the delectable mixture of scents. Whiskey and expensive cologne and cigar smoke.
Wait. You didn’t know anybody who smoked.
“Oh sweetheart, let’s get you into bed,” a rough voice says from above you, and it rumbles directly from their chest straight into your ear canal.
As if you’d been jolted by an electric shock, you suddenly remember exactly where you are and what has happened to you.
You’d been kidnapped by the Eye of Zaun.
Your eyes snap open to reveal the monster himself, with his arms curled around your body, ready to lift you from the floor.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Instantly, you begin to thrash against his hold around you and he quickly lets go, looking down at you in mild surprise at your objections to him picking you up. When you protectively wrap your arms across your body, Silco’s frown deepens slightly and he lets out a tiny little sigh.
He slowly rises and moves over to the bed to sit on the edge. At first, he just gives you an expectant look, but when you don’t respond to it, he gestures for you to join him.
Still, you don’t move.
“I don’t like you sitting on the floor, my dove,” he explains, his eyes ticking over your defensive position and terrified facial expression.
“I’m fine here.”
Silco breaks his unreadable stare to cast his gaze around the dishevelled room and you’re convinced he’s going to lose his temper with you for vandalising his belongings. Good, maybe he’ll realise you’re not whoever he’s imagined you to be in his sick little head and will let you go.
Then, you remember his reputation for murdering anyone who makes him angry and you feel all the blood leave your face.
“You’ve made quite the mess, darling,” he comments impassively, controlling his voice and expression once more.
“Are you going to kill me?” you ask, trying to hide the fear you feel deep within.
At your bold question, Silco looks thoroughly shocked. But it’s not until he rises from the bed and moves to kneel in front of you once more, do you see that there’s a trace of hurt in there as well.
“I would never hurt you, my dove, it’s completely understandable that you’re upset. I must admit, this is not how I wanted things to go,” he tells you sincerely.
“So, if you understand… you’re going to let me go home?” you say hopefully, assuming that if he was decent enough to recognise your distress, then he would be decent enough to put it right.
“You wish to leave already?” Silco replies. He’s disappointed, again.
You don’t know what to say to that. To the man who’d kidnapped you, locked you in a room, and told you that you’re now his. Instead, you just stare at him like he’s insane, which you decide is probably because he is insane.
“I can’t let you go, sweetheart, we’re destined to be together,” he continues, shaking his head, “All I want is to take care of you, to make you happy.”
No, no, no. This is all getting too much again.
“You’re my queen. The Queen of Zaun.”
“You can’t have a king and a queen at the same time, you idiot,” you finally cut in rudely, unable to take anymore of his fanatical bullshit.
Silco chuckles as a smirk adorns his thin, scarred lips, clearly amused by your blatant impertinence, “I think you’ll find that I make the rules down here, my gorgeous little firecracker.”
Shit. This tactic of making him hate you is clearly not working, in fact, he seems to be rather enjoying it… freak.
“I want to help you achieve your dreams,” he tells you sincerely, trying to take your hands in his own, but you keep them firmly planted on your biceps.
“How do you expect me to achieve my dreams when I’m a fucking prisoner?” you snap at him.
Silco frowns.
“You are not a prisoner.”
Great, he was illiterate as well as insane.
“You’re holding me here against my will and you’ve locked me in this room, how am I not a prisoner?”
“You are free to go for a stroll anywhere you like in Zaun, I only ask that you do not go back across the bridge,” he says.
Okay. Now you’re confused.
Was he really saying that you could leave the building after going through the whole ordeal of abducting you and locking you up in a strange room?
Well, you think, you’d be a fool not to take him up on the offer. You slowly push yourself to stand from the floor, eyeing him cautiously as you do to make sure that it wasn’t a trick. But Silco stands just as quickly, catching your wrist as you try to move around him and out of the room.
“Tomorrow, my lovely, you’re exhausted,” he informs you, like you didn’t know how your own body was feeling.
You scowl at him defiantly and go to move again, but his hand tightens on your wrist and for the first time since you’d properly met him, he begins to look angry.
A pang of anxiety spikes in your chest, and perhaps on pure survival instinct, you stop fighting him and allow him to herd you across the room to finally sit on the bed. Once you’re sat down, he sits next to you and you realise he’s gotten what he wanted. Again.
“I’ve made the order for your belongings to be moved here as soon as possible, but for now, please use these,” he gestures to a set of pyjamas and spare clothes on the bed, that you’d somehow missed during your conversation.
You’d been so focused on him, you’d barely spotted them… Maybe he was more magnetising than you thought.
But before you can address that concerning little thought, Silco points to a door in the far corner of the room.
“That door leads to the ensuite, where you’ll find enough toiletries to last until they’re replaced with your preferred brands,” he tells you calmly, looking at you carefully as if to observe your reaction.
Gross. You did not want this creep looking through your bathroom at home. Or anything of yours for that matter.
Silco takes your other hand in his and you’re too slow to move it away in time.
“Let me take you up to my bedroom to sleep, you’ll be much more comfortable there,” he says longingly, rubbing circles with his thumb into the back of your hand.
“No,” you tell him firmly.
Absolutely not. There’s no chance in hell you’d get into bed with this psycho. Not unless you were forced to. And even then you’d try to fight your way out of it.
You expect him to tighten his grip again at your brazenness, but instead he simply lifts and kisses your hand.
“You’re quite right, my lovely, we should do this properly.”
And although it wasn’t the response you were expecting, you don’t ask what he means by it because none of this is ‘proper’, so you have no clue what a man like Silco considers to be the correct way to date someone. Whatever it was, it was wrong.
Silco takes the time to look into your eyes deeply like a love-sick puppy, and it takes all your strength not to grimace at the sight.
For a brief moment, you panic that he’s going to try to kiss you, given how close he is and how tightly he’s gripping your hands, but you’re relieved when he finally lets you go with the tiniest of sighs and stands up.
Silco moves over to the doorway and stops to look at you tenderly, his hand gripping the door handle tightly.
“Sweet dreams, my beautiful ballerina,” he says, his voice low and almost irritably enticing.
With that, he gently shuts the door to your new bedroom and you hold your breath until you hear the tell-tale sound of the lock clicking from the outside. So much for being able to go wherever you wanted.
You immediately stand and fling open the door to the ensuite, desperate to scrub off the touch and scent of him.
There’s a bitter taste of unease lingering in your mind as you finally peel off your clothes and step into the shower.
What the hell are you going to do now?
-
When you awaken again in the morning, this time in the bed instead of on the floor, it doesn’t take you as long to recall your surroundings and situation. In fact, you’re feeling so crushed by your new captivity that you don’t even bother to check the door, instead trudging miserably into the bathroom to get yourself ready for the day.
Whatever that would hold, you think sarcastically.
You’re carefully inspecting the bolts on the window when you hear some movement from outside the door and you frown at it suspiciously. Part of you hopes it isn’t Silco but a tiny part of you wishes it is.
But you put that concerning little thought down to him being your only real way out of here.
You slowly move towards the door, reaching out to touch the handle like it’s going to burn you. And to your utmost surprise, you find that the door is unlocked. Maybe he did mean what he said… maybe he really was going to let you leave.
You pull it open gingerly and are graced with the sight of one burly guard standing in the hallway. Guarding you… so much for not being a prisoner.
Okay, okay, breathe. You have an opportunity here, you try to think rationally.
The guard looks at you expectantly and you stare back at him.
“Silco said I can go out,” you tell him confidently, praying he won’t disagree or, more than likely, ignore you.
But to your delight, he simply nods once, his stoic expression never changing. You can’t believe your luck. He really was going to let you out.
You begin to make your way back through The Last Drop, remembering the path from when you were forced to walk it by that tall, menacing woman, who you hadn’t seen since your arrival. You briefly wonder who she is, but find yourself more concerned with your impending escape.
Throughout the whole journey, you suspiciously glance back at the guard as he follows you, expecting him to suddenly tell you that you’d gone too far and would have to be locked up again.
And by the time you reach the front door of the bar, your heart is beating rapidly in your chest and you find yourself taking short, sharp breaths.
This is it. Your chance to finally escape from this madman’s grasp.
But your face drops in dejection when you’re abruptly surrounded by five more towering bodyguards, who follow you closely out the bar and into the busy plaza. Great. There goes your plan to bolt.
With all your ballet training and experience growing up in the Undercity, you’d easily be able to outrun and hide from one lumbering guard, but five? Not a chance.
Fuck. …Fuck.
You can’t help the frustration that courses through your body. It makes you want to slam your fist into the wall, but you know it’d be futile.
Your plan now foiled, you take the time to slowly walk around the Undercity with your entourage, desperately trying to think of a new way to escape from this insane situation you’d found yourself in.
And as you do, you begin to curse everything. The fact you grew up in this filthy, suffocating place, that everything you’d worked for had been ripped away from you in the blink of an eye, that Silco had ever seen you performing at the gallery.
One thing that strikes you as you meander aimlessly past the various shops is that while you have the freedom to go where you like, you don’t have much more freedom than that. Anytime someone gets remotely close to you, one of your bodyguards roughly shoves them out of the way. There goes the idea of stealing or buying a weapon.
In any case, Silco hadn’t given you any money and you’d left your purse back at your house, so you couldn’t buy anything anyway, weapon or not.
In a bitter act of defiance at the absolute unfairness of it all, you decide to do the one thing you’d been told not to.
You head straight towards the bridge.
If the guards figure out where you’re headed as you make your way through the city, they don’t say anything. That is, until you start to march towards the entrance to the bridge, ignoring the alarmed stares you get from the other pedestrians.
“Boss says we have to stay in the Undercity,” one of the guards grunts.
“No,” you mutter, continuing your journey onto the bridge.
But before you can barely take two more steps, you feel a strong pair of hands grab you and haul you upwards until you’re placed on the shoulder of the bodyguard. At first, you scream in anger as you’re carried back through the Undercity, the other guards following along behind you.
After you realise that your objections are pointless, you quickly begin to feel embarrassed, as people stare at you. It’s completely and utterly demeaning.
You debate complaining to Silco that you’d been manhandled by his staff when you get back to the bar, but then you’d have to admit that you’d purposefully disobeyed his orders. So instead, you huff angrily against the bodyguard’s back.
It isn’t until you’re finally back in your room, the door locked shut behind you once more, (barely noticing the fact that it had been completely cleaned-up after your attempted destruction), that you begin to panic.
You’d been given the slightest bit of freedom and you’d fucked it up by being impatient. Gods, what was wrong with you?
Well, the fact that he hadn’t instantly stormed down to kill you was a good thing, right? So you cling onto the hope that the guards hadn’t snitched on you.
The only thing that properly starts to calm you down is the realisation that you need to be smarter about this. Clearly there was no current means of physical escape, so you begin to wonder if targeting his emotions would be more successful.
And then, like a lightbulb has been switched on in your head, it comes to you.
You should do to Silco what you’d done to your husband.
You should seduce him until you have the opportunity to kill him.
A plan now brewing in your steadily calming mind, you begin to feel much better about your situation.
-
It’s early evening when you hear a knock on your bedroom door and by now, you’ve had plenty of time to set the groundwork for your plan. Granted, your skills in seduction and pretend interest were a little rusty after your husband had kicked the bucket, but you’re sure that once you’re back in the swing of it, it’ll be a doddle.
Your eyes trail over to the door, as you lie on your new bed. The lock clicks and the door cracks open to reveal Silco peeking his head into the room. When he sees you gazing back at him, your hands folded across your stomach, he pushes the door open wider and smiles at you.
“Hello, my love,” he says ardently, as if he’d known you for years instead of days.
“Hello,” you reply quietly.
“Would you join me for dinner? You must be quite hungry.”
You were.
But despite your hunger, you still feel the urge to tell him to fuck off, until you abruptly remember your master plan to get yourself out of this mess.
You need to play with his emotions if this is going to work.
“Okay,” you say gently, offering him a friendly expression.
Silco’s smile widens even further as you push yourself to stand and willingly make your way over to him.
He tries to take your hand again as you exit into the corridor, but you clasp your hands behind your back, imitating his favourite stance, so he couldn’t get to them without being forceful.
Silco leads you back down to the bar and you’re surprised to see that it isn’t open yet. Then, you remember that The Last Drop had been converted into a club following Silco’s takeover, so it probably wouldn’t open until later in the evening.
You come to a stop outside one of the private booths, and Silco gestures for you to enter.
“You seem a little happier today,” he states, as you slide onto the seat opposite him, the food already waiting for you. How presumptuous.
You fight the urge to roll your eyes and an innocent shrug of your shoulders is what you offer him instead.
If you were being honest, you had considered showering him with praises from the get-go but in reality, it felt too soon. No, there was no point laying it on thickly yet. You needed him to think that you were slowly warming up to him, especially considering how abrasive you’d been to him before.
To completely change now would be too suspicious.
Deep down, you hated the man sitting across from you. But you hoped that with some well-placed acting, you’d be able to convince him of the complete opposite until you could make your move.
And you had plenty of experience in acting.
Not just from seducing your husband, but also in your years of performing ballet. There was a whole performance aspect to ballet that required a great deal of acting skills. Creating a believable character was vital to telling the story and you didn’t miss the ironic parallels to your current situation.
Making him believe your story was all part of the dance.
“Had a little change of heart, have we?” he asks when you get lost in your thoughts.
“Well, I thought about it and I realised I should be grateful to you for getting me out of that horrible city, and for giving me somewhere to live,” you reply quietly, with a hint of well-placed nervousness.
And it seems to work, as Silco appears to be pleased by your response, if the little quirk of his lips is anything to go by. There’s a few minutes of silence as you both begin to eat and that’s when you decide to try another planned tactic, just to gauge his reaction.
“So, what do you want me to call you? How about daddy?” you ask coquettishly.
You watch in delight as Silco nearly chokes on his food at your choice of words, but soon recovers quite gracefully.
That’s a shame, you were hoping he’d choke to death, then you wouldn’t need to bother seducing him.
“Just Silco for now, my dove,” he croaks out, when he’s stopped coughing into his handkerchief.
You frown.
Oh. You really thought he’d have gone for that one. Maybe he wasn’t as dominant as you thought he was…
No matter. It just meant you had to do some more digging to find out what would eventually make him crack.
“Okay. How was your day, Silco?”
“Rather busy, I wish I’d have had more time to spend with you,” he sighs like he’s genuinely perturbed by the lack of your presence.
You smile at him sweetly even though you feel utterly gross acting out all this fake domesticity.
“Tell me, why did you attempt to cross the bridge when I expressly asked you not to?” he continues, looking down at the plate of food instead of you.
Shit. The guards tattled on you.
Silco’s eyes suddenly snap up to your face and you gawp at him, waiting for him to get angry again.
But it never comes.
“I- I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, it’s all just been a bit of shock,” you act like you’re upset, although it’s less than a stone’s throw away from how you’re actually feeling.
To your surprise, Silco grabs your free hand and gives you a tender look as he rubs his thumb across your palm.
“I know, sweetheart, and for that, I apologise,” he tells you gently, “You know, we are equals in this relationship and I want you to understand that you can always come to me. For anything.”
You nearly scoff at his flowery words. Equals? Relationship?
Could he be any more deluded?
But you’re meant to be acting like his new, loving girlfriend, so you just nod understandingly.
You’re just about to tell him something that will hopefully convince him of your newfound (fake) loyalty to him, when the front door to the club opens and a few customers begin to wander in.
“Let’s get you back upstairs, I don’t want you down here when the club is open,” Silco tells you firmly with a quick squeeze of your hand.
You have no choice but to follow him out of the booth and back up the stairs because Silco keeps his grip on your hand as he strides, like you’d vanish if he let go for even a second.
Truthfully, you wish that’s what would happen. Maybe you’d wake up back in your mansion instead of in this living nightmare.
As you’re making your way back up to your bedroom, you decide to bring up the issue of his unfair rules, while he happily saunters along like you’re a couple taking an afternoon stroll in the park.
“You know, it’s not very equal if you have a list of rules that I have to follow,” you point out.
“It’s just for the time-being, just so I can make sure you’re safe, my lovely.”
“Can you at least stop locking the door to my bedroom? It makes me feel like a caged animal,” you emphasise, trying to guilt-trip him into giving you more freedom.
Silco’s brow furrows and he seems to ponder your words, so you stop completely in the hallway and turn to face him head on.
He’d given you that little bit of freedom once before, until you’d ruined it by getting impatient, and you needed it again if your plan was going to work.
“Please,” you ask him sincerely, hoping that by looking directly into his eyes, you’ll appeal to whatever sense of humanity is left in there.
He takes a good few moments just gazing back into your own eyes before he speaks again.
“Perhaps if you continue to be good and obey my rules, it can be an option in the future.”
You want to slam his head into the wall.
The sudden explosion of anger you feel at his patronising words threatens to escape you, so instead of reacting violently, you drop his hand and begin to walk back to your bedroom without another word.
If he was going to treat you like a child, then you were going to ignore him like one. Maybe then he’ll realise how irrational he’s being.
You expect him to chase after you, but the woman who’d dragged you from the carriage calls after him, so he reluctantly turns into his office instead.
Good. You’re not sure you’re in the right frame of mind to continue pretending you feel anything other than hate for him. And what makes it worse is when you throw yourself back onto your bed, you hear the tell-tale sound of the lock clicking, and it takes all your strength not to break down sobbing.
-
You’re left alone until the next day, when another knock at the door interrupts your planning. You impatiently wait for it to swing open again, but instead, you hear another rough knock followed by the lock being opened.
Sighing, you get up and cross the room, pulling at the door handle.
“Boss has invited you for lunch in his office,” the burly guard says when you open the door fully to him.
“Can’t, I’m busy,” you reply rudely, even though it was quite late in the afternoon and you were starving at this point.
Before you can even think about shutting the door again, the guard grabs your arm and pulls you out into the corridor. He begins to march you down towards Silco’s office, when you angrily rip your arm from his grasp and all but stomp down the hallway.
Fine. If he demands your presence, then your presence he will get.
As you’re making your way to his office, you can’t help but note that it’s really quite fucked up how he’s treating this whole situation like you’re dating and not like he’s holding you prisoner, forcing you to do whatever he says.
What kind of life has he had that makes him think any of this is okay?
You force yourself to take a deep breath and put on a courteous face before you enter, staring at the rich wood of his office door.
Remember the plan. This will all be over soon if you just play along.
Without bothering to knock, you grab the ornate handle and push the door open. Silco’s head instantly snaps up at your arrival, abandoning the work on his desk.
“Darling, I’m delighted you could join me,” he drawls, standing up from the high-backed chair.
Yeah, like you had a choice.
He crosses the room over to you and gently guides you to a little side table, his hand resting on the small of your back.
Like the evening before, your lunch is already set waiting for you, so all that’s left to do is to let him hold the back of your chair as you sit down. What a gentleman.
When he sits down opposite you, he looks at you so tenderly, it makes getting through your lunch really quite difficult. Silco asks you lots of personal questions, which you try your best to avoid giving straight answers to. And when he gives up trying to get you to reveal more about yourself, he resorts to telling you his grand plan for you.
How he’s going to take care of you. How he wants you to eventually move into his bedroom with him. How he plans for you to spend your days with him in his office, so he doesn’t have to be apart from you so much.
Truthfully, it takes all your strength not to throw your drink over him as he rambles on.
After you’ve both finished eating, he reaches across the table and holds your hand in his own again, seemingly not able to hide just how excited he is to be spending time with you. It’s terrifying.
Silco convinces you to stay in his office while he finishes some paperwork, and you only agree because it was a hell of a lot better than staring at your bedroom ceiling for the rest of the evening.
As you sit with one leg crossed over the other on his sofa, you attempt to subtly look around his office, desperately trying to refine your plan to kill him as he scribbles away at the paperwork on his desk. A quick glance around sparks a few sinister ideas on how you could achieve your goal, but you know that it’ll take a bit more planning to pull it off successfully.
I mean, the obvious choice was the knife in his desk, but you don’t think you’d be quick enough for that. Or at least, you probably wouldn’t be quicker than him.
You briefly consider his offer to move into his bedroom, if only to smother him with his own pillow as he sleeps. Or maybe you could drown him in his bath?
Looking up at the large window behind his desk, you wonder if you could push him out of it and watch him fall to his death. That would be rather satisfying, seeing the realisation dawn on his face as he finally understood that you had betrayed him.
Your malicious planning is suddenly interrupted by the faint sound of creaking from above you, and you glance upwards to the rafters, a frown etched upon your face.
But there’s nothing there. Only dust and… are those some drawings?
You squint to get a better look when Silco’s smooth voice cuts through the air.
“What are you thinking about, my lovely?”
“Just choreographing some routines in my head,” you lie, turning to face him.
Silco looks thoroughly surprised and intrigued by your statement.
“Really? That’s a skill you possess?” he asks, putting his pen down and swivelling his chair to face you.
“Yeah,” you tell him nonchalantly, forgetting how unusual non-dancers often found it that dancers were able to imagine their routines without moving a single muscle.
“Show me?” he asks, and you can tell by the tone of his voice that he isn’t demanding it of you. He’s genuinely interested.
Honestly, you’d pretty much forgotten your identity as a ballerina, your time having been rather preoccupied as of late, with, you know, being kidnapped.
“Maybe another day, I’m quite tired,” you tell him, as gently as you can.
He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, not having the energy to argue with him.
“Actually, is it alright if I go to bed? I’m shattered,” you ask sleepily, despite not feeling tired at all.
“Of course, my dear,” he says, immediately pushing himself to stand and making his way over to you.
You sigh quietly as he links his arm with yours and leads you out of the office towards your bedroom. It occurs to you as he gazes down at you that this is probably his own sick and twisted version of ‘walking you home after a first date’.
It’s beyond messed up.
When you both reach your bedroom door, Silco gestures for the guard to leave you alone with a quick, ignorant flick of his wrist.
Finally alone again, he holds the sides of your arms gently and looks down at you, his good eye full of emotion and his corrupted one swirling intensely.
And as he gradually closes his eye and leans forward, you suddenly realise what he’s about to try.
He’s going to kiss you.
With panic in your heart, you abruptly interrupt his motions of slowly leaning down and lining his lips up with yours by placing a hand on his chest and saying his name firmly. You can handle pretending to like him, but you couldn’t kiss him. Not yet.
“Silco?”
“Yes, my lovely?” he pauses, his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes.
“I know you said you’d have to think about it, but will you please leave my door unlocked? It really makes me feel trapped and upset,” you plead, trying your best to sound small and intimidated.
From what you’ve gleamed, he seems to respond well to your touch, so you take one of his hands in your own and rub your other up and down his forearm, tilting your head slightly as you gaze up at him. And you’re delighted when you can see the way his brain begins to stutter and he shivers slightly, like you’re casting a magic spell on him.
Oh, maybe this is the ticket. The way to get him to submit to your every will.
“Alright my dove, but a guard will stay with you at all times,” he finally concedes after some consideration.
It’s not exactly what you wanted, but you celebrate being able to chip him down on at least one little thing. It’s only the start of the avalanche that will be his eventual downfall.
“Thank you,” you emphasise gratefully, raising his hand and placing a kiss on his bruised knuckles, to which he looks absolutely enamoured, “Night, Silco.”
“Goodnight, my dove.”
And with that, you leave him, shutting the door behind you and leaning back on it, heaving a massive sigh of relief that the very first part of your plan had worked.
-
Back in his office after walking you to your bedroom, Silco stands at his desk, rifling through the belongings that had just been retrieved from your mansion.
Truthfully, he was exhausted. Every interaction he’d shared with you so far had drained him of all his energy, for the simple reason that he was continuously trying to stop himself from ravishing you, like he desperately wanted to.
No, he needed to do this properly.
You drove him absolutely crazy. Whether you were adorably cross with him or quiet and pensive, stuck in your own thoughts, he was infatuated with it all. The only reaction he couldn’t stand to see from you was when you looked at him all wide-eyed in terror.
While he craved it from everyone else, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being terrified of him.
Silco already knew without a shadow of a doubt that you belonged to him, but you needed to accept it too. So he’d resolved to be as gentle as possible with you, despite the way he wanted to kiss you hard until you were begging for him.
But finally alone again in his office, he allows himself to be fully submerged in the true depths of his feelings for you, as he carefully examines each of your precious belongings. He sets aside his favourite photos of you and the odd item of clothing that holds your scent, to be kept in his bedroom since you still refused to join him.
It’s not until Silco is gazing down at your ballet equipment that he wonders what to do with your mansion. You clearly wouldn’t be needing it anymore, not now that he finally had you.
He would never let you go, not even if his life depended on it.
In his quest to discover more about you, he’d come across your records and was initially enraged to discover that you were married.
Seeing red, he’d resolved to kill your husband slowly, torturing him in a fit of jealousy for taking something that belonged to him, until he’d angrily flipped the page and realised your husband was already dead.
Silco was slightly disappointed he hadn’t gotten to you both sooner.
But apart from that little tidbit of information, your record was rather sparse, beginning from your marriage only a few years before.
Where were you from? Why wasn’t there more information about you?
As Silco takes a deep inhale, holding one of your skirts to his nose, he makes a plan to keep digging into your past through whatever means necessary.
He needs to know everything about you. The good, the bad, and the dirty.
He needs it all.
Unaware of what was happening just down the hall, you lie back in the bathtub, relaxing after your exhausting afternoon pretending like you didn’t want to murder Silco.
You’d shoved the chair from your room under the door handle so he couldn’t get in easily, since the last thing you wanted was for him to watch you while you got undressed and into the bath.
Gods, even the thought of him watching you while you were unaware of his presence made you feel repulsed.
Finally alone again in the ensuite, you take the quiet opportunity to collect all the information you’d learnt through observing him the past few days.
You knew that you needed to continue gathering more information before you could even think about putting your plan into action. If you wanted to hurt him, you’d need a weapon, and now that you have access to the rest of the building, you had a better chance of finding one.
But more importantly, given the distinct way he reacts to you, you’re certain that the key to Silco’s demise is emotional manipulation.
He needs to believe that you’d accepted his advances. He needs to trust you before you can make your move.
As you rest your head back on the smooth porcelain, gazing up at the ceiling, you resolve to get your revenge on this insane man, if it’s the last thing you do.
You’d already killed one controlling man in your life, you can easily kill another.
-
PART 3
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on the throne / k.m
i needed someone new for this idea and who better yet than niklaus??
also ty for the love nd support xx
summary: tara bates comes from a long lineage of witches which she yets to learn, but when she becomes involved with klaus and the danger of her own her path becomes more
warnings: literally the originals, mention of death,
giving this one a character and back ground story
tara bates was a witch from a long lineage, and living in new orleans led to the dangers of everything. especially the eye of an original.
keeping everything cool, not practicing my magic as the rules enforced upon us. bartending wasn’t the worst tourist made things interesting...
throwing the dishes into the bar dishwasher pressing start, i look up seeing a beautiful eyed man in front of me.
a smile on my face, “hey, what can i get ya’?” he stares at me a little too hard and i swallow harshly. “oh just a glass of your finest whiskey, love.”
british... hmm. i nod and move the stool so i can reach up to the top shelf, since i am short and all. pouring the glass infront of him, sliding it over towards him.
he smirks softly, eyes catching mine as he grasp the glass. “what’s your name, love?”
my eyes furrow slightly, but neverless my mouth opens. “it’s tara.”
he nods taking a gulp, pulling something out his bag and replacing the spot of where the drink once was with a $100. he sets the glass down beside it empty now, “goodnight love.”
my eyes glance over the $100 then him walking away, pushing myself around the corner of the bar. i grasp his arm before he could take off.
he looks at me almost as if in shock, “you’re drink was like 8 dollars, i owe you cash back?” he shakes his head the same smirk still plaster along his face. “keep the change, as a way of me saying...”
he leans closer, “maybe you can owe me one.” leaning back our eyes connecting mine slightly widen. before i could speak he walks out the bar, i stuff the money in my apron.
the way he asked about my name, the owe you one... he had to know you were a witch. not knowing what to do as you felt yourself internally start to freak you glance back at the bar.
‘hey can you watch over for me, need to step out for a second.” she waves me off, a thank you escaping me. escaping out the back door, i sigh at the fresh air.
“tara bates...” my voice rang and my head darts to the side. “there’s possibly only two people you could be.” i spoke up, tryna hide my fear.
“and those are?” he steps more into light,
“one of marcels new body gaurd, which i haven’t even done any fuckin’ magic by the way! or your the hybrid the rumours have been about.” i spoke out in one breathe, making sure to keep your distance.
“i think you know.”
i push back against the wall eyes widening at the site of a thousand year old vampire in front of me, “and what would a thousand year old hybrid want with me?” eyes connecting once more as a he glowers at me.
“i need a favor. a witch favor.”
my eyes widen, looking around carefully. “no! are you out of your mind, two of my friends have died and other witches for any practice. i sure as hell not gonna die for you!”
he flashes in front of me, a gasp escaping my lips. “you’ll be protected... because you’ll help protect my family.”
scoffing at that, i attempt to walk past him but he catches me in my spot. i glare up at him, “i don’t know you, and with all my own shit i don’t have time for yours... or dying for you.”
the words were real and raw and klaus looks at me with indifference. “elijah is better with the promises than i am, love... but i can tell you this. no one can touch you without going through me.”
moving out of his embrace, stumbling slightly. “why me? and who the hell is elijah?”
“you know why.” an eyeroll leaves me, “i’ve been years out of practice... im not who i was before.” the fact he knew my history left an unsettling feeling over me at the thoughts of those days.
“doesn’t matter, now you can practice.” he acts as if that’s just gonna work.
“if i set one spell up marcels guys are coming straight after me!” i argue back already getting annoyed, him obviously feeling the same since he rolls his eyes.
“marcel isn’t who you should fear...” he goes to come towards me making me instantly freak slinging him back against the wall. my eyes widen in horror as klaus just chuckles.
“n-no no, i-i can’t use mag- i am going to die. oh m-” klaus speeds back in front of me making me jump as he grasp my shoulders making me look at him.
“now you’re in a predicament love...” i glare at him shoving him away. “this is your fault i-i was defending myself.”
my lips quiver as klaus clicks his tongue, “well as i have said... work for me and i can promise no harm to you.”
my eyes water slightly before an exhale left my lips making me gather myself, eyes flickering back to my job. not knowing exactly how marcel knows when magic is used i stare back at klaus.
biting my lip anxiously i finally mutter out my response, “fine.”
a smile breaks out over his face, like he was used to this. “perfect, let’s go.”
-
days have passed and i’ve been in the mikealson’s home, practicing illegal witch craft; along with finding out a lot more.
like why my witch friends passed away, because klaus has a child with a girl named hayley and has siblings aka elijah. also learned klaus has taken into therapy with camille, who i happen to know.
im told she doesn’t know, and i hope it stays that well. as well as the war between klaus and marcell, and learning about davina.
knowing the story of the sacrifice, i didn’t know davina survived and that hit me. i haven’t seen her in years, and i tried to save her from that but i couldn’t.
tonight was a ball, and somehow i was invited leaving me in my room looking through my clothes in despair. the internal debate won against myself, as i drop down on my knees.
pushing aside some stuff i see the purple box, that was once my mothers. sliding it out and opening it, tears gather in my eyes. “i miss ya’ momma.”
wiping the tears harshly, i stand up and pull the dress out.
-
now a part of the family more so as a protective witch, i became closer to rebekkah and hayley. i leave my now room at the home, walking out to run into klaus.
“ah, the girl i was looking for.” i roll my eyes, “do i ever get a day off?”
he smirks playfully, “never with this me.”
i pull out my buzzing phone, seeing a familiar number pop up. “actually give me a second.” my eyebrows furrow at the name, walking off slightly i bring the phone up to my ear.
“why are you calling me?” anger rises through me at my brothers call. “well hello to you too, sunshine.”
glancing over to see klaus acting like he wasn’t easedropping, “i recall my last words to you were ‘never talk to me again’ or did i lose my mind?”
he scoffs on the other end, “whatever, sis... you know you can’t keep secrets from me.”
“what do you want?”
“i heard your hanging with the original crew... shame shame shame sister. didn’t you pay attention to the prophecies?” he taunts making my eyes widen.
“you leave me the hell alone, chris or i will-”
“you’ll what? exactly...” i pull the phone away hanging up on him, shakily letting out a breath as i make eye contact with klaus.
“who was that?” he refers to the call making me shake my head, “no one. now what was it you needed?”
he stares at me, almost analyzing me but he surprisingly leaves it. leading me into of the many rooms i have yet to enter. art surrounds me, scattered around everywhere making me stare in awe.
glancing back at him, before stepping more into the room. “i love art, would’ve never guessed ya’ for a fan.” the comment made klaus look at me in a fake hurt.
“they happen to be mine... well most beside a few i’ve gathered over the decades.” my eyes land out on one in the corner, a moon with a shadow figure of a girl... something i have seen. in a dream.
my head turns to him, him analyzing my reaction. “i-i have seen this before.”
he steps forward, “i did too, that’s why i drew it.” i continue glancing back and forth. “i mean i’ve had some crazy dreams but never one of the same as another?”
“that’s why i had some questions, but that’ll wait we have to talk.”
confused on why he would wanna change subjects so quickly, “haven’t we been talking?”
he stares at me intensely, “tara do you know what you are?” i roll my eyes, “yes a witch, where are you going with this?”
he shakes his head softly, “family drama?” i glare at him, “you weren’t supposed to listen in on my conversations klaus!”
he steps closer, “who’s chris?” i stare more so up at him, noticing the pretty color that shines in his eyes,
“my brother.” the confession made me back up, “one that i despise so i really don’t wanna talk about this, okay.”
“if he tries to hurt you, i promise i can kill him like that.” a small smile cracks across my face. “no it’s handled...”
he looks as if he wants to say something but instead he just smiles softly, “so hayley... are you two like?” i hint towards a little information on whether they were a couple of sorts.
he shakes his head, “no, she is the mother of my child.” i just nod at him, before glancing back at the picture. “i see things sometimes, dreams that become reality or dreams of things before...”
glancing back at him watching him listen closely, “i met someone like you before, rare type to come across.”
“not so rare, my mother did so aswell but she got caught practicing magic and was killed.” the confessions of everything that left me, made you stiffen up.
“um i need to go.” i rush out the room not allowing klaus to say another word, the tears slip down my cheeks as i close the door shut. haven’t spoken of that in years the agony of grief overwhelms me, leaving me to crawl into bed to mourn.
-
“no! mama!” i scream as i was held back, watching my mother get dragged out of the house. marcel on the steps, “it wouldn’t have come to this if only you listened.”
his words echo through me as my sobs began to leave me, pleading to be let go. my moms eyes catch me one last time as the door is shut and im left struggling against a stranger.
“mama!”
i jerk awake, sweat dripping off me as i grasp my chest. breathing heavily i glance over the room before my door swung open and hayley appears at my door.
“are you okay?” she looks at me worried but i nod, “yes- sorry i had a... bad dream.” she nods staring at me.
“do you wanna talk?” my eyes see her tired ones and i bit my lip before nodding. “it-it was my mom... i um watched her get taken from me to be murdered. haven’t had a dream like that in awhile.”
she nods before pulling me into a hug, which felt really nice. “you aren’t alone in this.”
the look in her eyes tells me that we are alike, and maybe we could be friends throughout this. “thank you hayley, im here for you too. well the both of you.” i laugh softly as i touch her stomach softly.
she sighs, “am i a horrible person for bringing my child into thi-this?” i shake my head, “not when they are loved.”
her eyes water at that, “take it from me... it means a lot having parents that love you.”
“thank you tara...” with that she stands up making me grasp her hand, “good night.”
“goodnight.” she responds turning the light off and shutting the door leaving me in the dark to fall back to slumber. not knowing klaus heard it all.
-
after waking up later than usual, i decide to get up and get ready. after grabbing my bag needing to go by and grab some stuff from my place, i head down stairs.
no one was out and the house was quiet which was unusual. oh well, i open the front door and head out the door. the sun was bright today feeling amazing on your skin.
i was beginning to feel trapped inside that place, so the walking was enjoyable. deciding to take the longer way to stop by my favorite cafe, the thought of my job entered my mind.
holy shit, i’ve lost my job now. what am i gonna do about money?
deciding to discuss that one with klaus later, i hit the street of the cafe. walking in i see matilda at the counter, “hey darlin’!”
i smile brightly, “hey girl, can i get my usual but do a double shot of expresso.” she nods with a smile typing everything in as i hand over a $20. she hands me back the change and i stand off to the side as she makes my stuff.
i’ve come here almost twice a week for over a year, so it was enjoyable to see her face. seems like everything in the past was fading. her calling my name brought me out of my thoughts and i grab my breakfast sandwich and coffee.
leaving the cafe, i take a sip of my coffee a smile erupts my lips. i move the plastic down and take a bite as i continue my way to my apartment.
finishing my sandwich i throw it in the nearby trash as i get close to my apartments. as i round the corner taking a sip of my drink, the coffee went everywhere when hands grab me.
panic fills me as my bag slips off, the person holding me shoves me forward into someone else’s arms. i squeeze my eyes shut and the person who has a hold of me flings off me hitting the wall.
glancing around a few vampires i sigh, this really suck. “tara bates you’ve been charged with doing witchcraft.” one of them spoke up making me glare at them.
“bite me.” i smirk as she charges forward me throwing my hand forward watching her fly back. the other two rush forward making me throw them back, just as the one behind me catches me off gaurd.
teeth sinking into me, the pain unbearable makes me lose focus. i scramble and try to scream but i was going weak and his hand was on my mouth. before i could pass out, he was thrown off of me.
my body hit the ground as hearts did beside me, before someone had me scooped up. their wrist shoved into my mouth makes me cough on the disgusting blood going down my throat.
my eyes focus on klaus who looks down at me in worry, “you okay?”
blood stains my mouth and i only nod, “you kept your word.” i mutter before all the adrenaline leaves me, making my eyes flutter shut.
#klaus mikaelson smut#klaus mikealson x reader#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaleson imagine#the originals#the originals imagine#tvd fic
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Untitled - Sequel - PT. 5
Oh look I'm actually being active on here haha Hope you'll enjoy this chapter ^^ Monica belongs to my dear @kokonoiscoconut <3
Previous part
T.W: mild angst
***
Without even realizing Monica and I spent the entire afternoon shopping and visiting every snack and dessert shop in Ginza. Though I just met her we quickly became friends, we even exchanged numbers and decided to meet next day. When we got back to Ginza HQ Hyde and Kokonoi both looked rather annoyed of us being absent for so long but Monica just kissed Kokonoi who looked away blushing. It was kind of sweet how much he changed when Monica was around. He looks so intimidating with a horrible attitude on his own but with Monica he is like a whole different person. I guess that's how love looks like.
"See you tomorrow Yaya!" Monica waves at me before walking out of the office the the white haired money bag.
"You really shouldn't be friends with anyone you meet here..." Hyde speaks up the second were alone. "Kokonoi's one of Bonten's top exec and she is his girlfriend" Bonten.. here is that name again.
"I'm gonna stay away from Bonten, okay? I'm just happy to have a new friend" I sigh, hiding the fact that the more he mentions Bonten the more I want to know what's going on.
"Just be safe, okay?" he sighs and rubs his temples. "You should go home, I am sure Imaushi is missing you"
"Sure..." I reply rather sarcastically which makes Hyde raise a brow. "Nevermind, it's fine"
"Is he not treating you well?" he cocks a brow.
"He does, is just..." I let out a deep sigh and tell him everything and how I been feeling the past few weeks especially ever since that incident which I don't exactly tell in full details.
"It sounds to me you're still in love with those two guys. If you're not happy just tell Wakasa and go after those who you love. Don' let them go" he explains and I hear the hurt tone in his voice.
"I'll see, I just wanna lay down and forget what happened" I sigh as I lean against his desk.
"Do you wanna spend the night here?" he offers as he looks up at me.
"No, I have to take Waka's car home" I shake my head, deep down wanting to stay with him. He brings me comfort and safety just like Yasu did.
"Take the car home then I'll pick you up" he offers again and I give him a small smile.
"Thank you Hyde" I hug him then kiss his cheek to which he frowns, just like Yasu used to which makes me chuckle. "See you soon!"
"Drive safe, numbnut" he says with a small smile and shakes his head as he watches me skip out of his office.
Being with Hyde in the past few years really has became my comfort thing. It's strange how much he reminds me of Yasu but I know it's more likely my mind desperately wanting my brother back so it's projecting the small things onto him so I can pretend my brother is still with me. It's not healthy but Hyde doesn't seem to mind and I can tell he likes my company and he enjoys finally being able to take the mask off that he shows the rest of the world.
When I got back to Waka's to my surprise he was at home. I parked his Bugatti in the garage then walked in through the backdoor that opens to the kitchen from the garage. As I walked in I found Waka in the kitchen leaning against the counter sipping on a glass of whiskey.
"Hey, welcome home pretty girl" he smiles as his lazy purple eyes find me, but instead of the butterfly it just made me feel... nothing.
"Hey, I won't stay long I'm gonna spend the night with Hyde" I force a smile and he just cocks a brow.
"Why? I thought we can spend the night together. Go out to my club, have a few drinks, dance, let me show my pretty kitten off" he smiles as he pulls me to him but I just push him away.
"Enough Wakasa!" I suddenly snap and he gives me a confused look.
"What's going on with you? Did something happen, kitten?" he cocks a brow.
"Tell me, what am I?" I look at him staring straight into his beautiful dark purple orbs.
"What are you talking about?" he cocks a brow.
"Am I just a trophy? Am I just a young pretty thing for you to show off?" I ask and he goes quiet and my heart starts to beat faster. "Answer me Imaushi!"
"Where is all this coming from? I thought you were happy. Haven't I given you everything you asked for or needed? Does it matter what you are to me? I care about you and I want you in my life, you were the best thing that happened to me..."
"I need some time Waka..." I take a step back and shake my head.
"Let me know when you're ready and I drop you off at Hyde's. I only had one drink" he says then presses a kiss to my forehead before walking off into the living room.
I just stand there in the kitchen trying to figure out what the hell is going on with me? Did me seeing the Haitanis messed me up this much? Everything was perfect, even if I had my demons I never let them succumb me so why now? Is Monica right? Should I leave Waka? The thoughts were spinning around in my head and I started to feel like I was drowning until I felt a tight embrace around me.
"Are you okay Angel?" Wakasa asks as he pets my hair while holding me close to him.
"I don't know anymore, the dream really messed with my head" I mumble into his shoulder.
"It was all a dream. I know you miss those idiots and I am sure they're missing you too, but you all moved on. Try and let your thoughts rest" he kisses my temple and offers me a small smile. The way he lied so comfortably and naturally, scared me. Have he lied about other things too?
#wakasa x angel#wakasa x oc#imaushi wakasa#wakasa imaushi#black dragons#the white leopard#tokyo revengers#tr oc#tokyo rev oc
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♾️ LETS GOOOOOO
— @outpost51
I added a bunch of stuff to my general rock playlist and my first shuffle song was Take It Easy by the Eagles.
I was like, maybe this challenge will help me get going on my Camp NaNo words for Nicea. Instead I wrote more Avis and Sorian, so here you and @vacantgodling go.
━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━
She didn’t want to drink alone, but her options were limited. Sid would be too busy living his life again to even be home, and he probably wouldn’t shut up about Horatio anyway. Leon and Edith were probably fun drunks, but with the same problem of having too much to say about their son, and the added danger of propositioning her. Celia and her two-timer weren’t her speed—and Celia didn’t drink, anyway. She tried to think of literally anyone else on the island she knew well enough to take a shot with, and came up with only one. Maybe she should have just gone to a bar. With a sigh, she packed the bottle of whiskey into her backpack and set out from the dock.
The walk up to the outskirts of the university was mostly paved, but almost always empty, especially at this time of day when the only light was from the streetlamps flanking the sidewalk. This was kind of pathetic. Despite the fact that Sorian was usually a goofy drunk, she didn’t really want to be having a drink with him. He was just the only one around to share her extremely choice liquor. Honestly, who the hell just had a brand new bottle of Salmon Leap in the cabinet? She believed Sid that Horatio hadn’t bought it in advance, but still. It was good shit, and she wasn’t convinced she should have accepted it. Not least because now she was standing on Sorian’s doorstep, banging on the unpainted wood of his door.
Maybe he knew it was her, because he wasn’t wearing sweatpants when he opened the door this time.
“You want a drink?” she asked.
“Ah, I was planning on staying in tonight.”
That was enough of a yes. She pushed past him into his boring little house and put her bag up on the counter at the back before she slipped off her shoes. He just closed the door and drifted over to her. Extracting the flat, rectangular bottle from her bag, she sat it on the counter and tossed her otherwise empty backpack over onto her shoes.
“Wait, is that…?” Sorian asked, taking the bottle in his hands while she looked through his cabinets for glasses. Before she could even answer, he said, “Oh, wow, I’ve been wanting to try this since Leon got Horatio some. He still hasn’t…never mind.” He put the bottle back down and went straight to the next cabinet on her docket to pull out two actual snifter glasses.
“So you’re pretentious about whiskey now?”
“It’s not pretentious. It actually makes it better.” Even with the glasses on the countertop he seemed to be waiting for her to open the bottle. As she went back to it, he added, “But you can have yours in a mug with half a berry slushy if you want.”
Of course he remembered that. She smiled a little despite herself as she tipped the bottle toward the first glass, then paused. “Since your fancy way is so much better, do you wanna pour it?”
“I think you can pour it just fine,” he said, but still took it from her when she offered it to him. He poured it in what looked like a completely normal fashion, then put the cork back in the bottle. Leaning back against the counter, he lifted one glass to his nose. Avis imitated him, not bothering to keep the skepticism off her face. But he was giving the other side of the kitchen a thousand-yard stare.
“Fuck,” he said softly. “Smells like home.”
She’d forgotten that she was actually supposed to be sniffing the stuff. He was right though—the fumes had a clear note of jojum blossom, like the air on Imni during the subtle change from spring to summer. For a second, it felt cozy. Then she was done with this sniff and sip bullshit. She was here to be intoxicated, not to think. While Sorian took a sip, she drank down however much he’d given her. It was enough to get the flavor of it, and enough that everything should stop feeling so serious in a few minutes.
He raised an eyebrow at her as she poured herself the same again.
She waved him away. “Shut up with your eyebrows. I’ll drink this one slower.”
He grinned and took another sip.
Taking stock of his living room, she found that nothing had changed since the last time she was there, which meant his bar stools were absent and there was nowhere to sit that didn’t look gross or busted. “Don’t you have anywhere nice to sit?”
“My truck, I guess.”
She gestured for him to lead her there. He put down his glass to slip on his shoes by the back door, and she did the same. Then he brought her out to the dimly lit silhouette of his shortbed university pickup truck. When he reached for the driver’s side door, he almost immediately turned back toward his house.
“Forgot my keys,” he said.
As he passed her, she unlatched the tailgate, then eased it down and hopped up onto it, letting her legs dangle off the end. “This is fine.”
He looked unconvinced but came to join her, still keeping that careful distance between them. “How is the tailgate of my work truck less dirty than my indoor sofa?”
“Trust me, your sofa wishes it was only as dirty as actual dirt.”
Sorian laughed his soft laugh and she felt like the warm ease of the whiskey was spreading through her faster. Sipping from her glass, she leaned back and drank in the mostly-familiar sky with its white-tinted moon. Even without the smell of jojum blossoms in this sticky Summer Band night, even sitting next to the man she used to call her husband, she had the inexplicable sense that she was already home.
#reminder that they are on Rade and there are climate 'bands' where it is basically permanently one season#they are from an island in the Autumn Band but this is the Summer Band#and two-timer means shifter not traitor#they're also not divorced - just good as#but anyway UGH I love these two losers#I have so many feelings about them. Avis would like to have less feelings tho please#Avis is convinced the sofa used to be the kind of place college students would do quickies. Sorian cannot convince her otherwise#gonna attempt another shuffle for Nicea lol#rose writ#infinity song ask game#ask games#c: Avis#c: Sorian#wip: aom#ss: salmon leap
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"Fuck did you just say?"
Shit. Steve sighed, hazy cigarette smoke seeping from his lips as he looked up towards the sky, grey clouds taunting the chance of rain, "Forget it," the brunette mumbled, a hint of sorrow and longing laced in the words.
This only seemed to anger Billy more, "Like hell I'll forget it," he retorted with an increasingly alarming tone, "Saying shit like that'll kill you one day, Harrington, saying stuff you don't mean haphazardly like it isn't worth a damn."
And maybe it was true that Steve hadn't thought about it much in the moment, but he'd be damned if he hadn't thought about it nearly every moment leading up to this one.
"And what if I do mean it, Billy?" he snapped, promptly plucking the cigarette they'd been passing from between his lips, throwing it to the ground mere seconds before the sole of his Nike crushed it flat.
He couldn't say he was much of a fighter anymore, those days had long past since he'd started hanging around the party, especially Eleven, wanting to set a good example or whatever it was his responsibility to do. But he'd be a liar if he said the younger teens doubt didn't light a fire inside if him.
"Trust me," the blonde started with a huffed out laugh before his voice went stone cold, "You don't." His gaze, borderline furious with a hint of disgust gave Steve a sick feeling in his gut, so much so that just looking at the other boy filled him up with dread.
If Steve didn't know Billy better he'd have though the teen was just in denial or really good at keeping up an act. But Steve knew Billy like the back of his hand, too well to know that he was dead serious. He pushed back the burning feeling in his nose akin to the signature sting of tears threatening to spill over and instead channeled his sadness into anger.
"How the hell do you know what I feel, Hargrove?" Steve grit with just enough edge that Billy visibly looked shocked, head spinning to look at his counter part, "Maybe I was an idiot for thinking you'd ever think the same about me, but you're the idiot if you think you know the first thing about what I'm feeling!" He was practically shaking with the force of his own emotions, half hovering over the old bucket he was using as a makeshift stool, but not quite standing.
Before he could even blink Billy rose from his own crate, the old wooden think toppling over with the weight of the backs of Billy's knees slamming into it, almost as much force as the blonde put into grabbing Steve by his collar and pushing him up against the sturdy brick of the alley behind Family Video.
They stood like that only for a second, breathing hard against each other for all the wrong reasons, Billy's baby blues clashing with Steve's own whiskey brown eyes to create a most toxic combination, "You don't love me, you just love having my dick up your ass, queer."
Billy's words cut like a knife, but only fueled Steve's rage, "Wouldn't exactly call sticking your dick in another man 'straight activity', fag," he spit, practically watching Billy fly off the handle, hitting a nerve.
He smiled, but in a sick sort of way as Billy's fist made contact with his nose, blood gushing out almost immediately down his chin, dripping onto his green work vest. Not having time to recover before the fist came back for seconds, this time slamming into the soft, vulnerable part of his left side, causing him to lose all control over his stance that he once had, falling to the ground once Billy let his shirt go.
Steve groaned, flopping onto his back, grimacing at the hefty "thud" his head made when it hit the asphalt. He weakly reached up to wipe at his nose, Billy rubbing at his knuckles all the same. Without another word the younger boy gave him one last look before striding away, pride still firmly intact while Steve's laid somewhere behind the dumpster.
And later he would go back in to Robin who would set his nose back in place and swear up and down to rock Billy's shit, but for now he just closed his eyes and basked in the small beginning droplets of rain soaking into his skin, shamefully wishing Billy were here to make it all okay again.
#Steve Harrington#Billy Hargrove#Harringrove#Stranger Things#Y'know sometimes I just love toxic Harringrove and that's okay#Billy is left handed because I said so#TW homophobic slurs#internalized homophobia
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The Hanged Man | Thomas Shelby x Reader
Part Two : Atlas and the Mermaid (1020 words)
Part one here
Howdy once again ! Honestly i still don't know where im going with this fanfic of mine. However, since determination hasn't left me yet, i think i will post at least every week. That being said, enjoy your reading.
The boss’s office wasn’t hard to find, especially for Margaret and Y/N. Resting upon creaked floors, the door’s office stood at the very end of the lodge’s corridor. This corridor was barely wide enough for two people so Margaret couldn’t accompany her colleague any longer. She quickly left Y/N, right after delivering her from the roses she had received earlier. But Y/N didn’t even noticed Margaret’s doing as she couldn’t see or breath properly. What could this old fucker possibly want? He never asked me to come over after a performance unless…
Without knowing it, Y/N’s nails were back to making little red marks on her palms. However, despite falling more and more into this severe trance of hers, she still felt her hand’s friend on her trembling hands. “You don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart” said Y/N, her shaking fading gradually at each word. "He would never hurt his best investment” affirmed Y/N, straightening her posture. Margaret’s sigh could be heard as she retired both her hand and herself.
“Y/N”. “Mmh?” Meeting her reassuring gaze, Y/N attempted to smile at her, waiting. Suddenly, a wave of resolve took on Margaret's face before she finally mumbled her greatest words of comfort: “I swear if he touches you in any ways, I’ll cut his fucking dick off and become director myself” before storming off (still rambling on). Hearing those words, Y/N’s true smile grew from ear to ear. But Margaret’s footsteps were fading and so was her warm aura. Now, left on her own, the hallway seemed way too big for one person and so Y/N’s smile disappeared in a blink.
And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to delay this repulsive meeting any longer. She took a step forward the office, making her heels screech a little on the wooding floor. Standing straight in front of it, the door looked less menacing. With a closer look, it did look what you would except a common door to look like greasy door. With that in mind, it is without any doubts that Y/N knocked three times before finally entering.
For the salary, Y/N. Money is money even if it comes out of the pockets of Satan himself.
And maybe, just maybe, in the tiniest corner of her soul, she hoped to have just enough time left to lock eyes with the strange man again.
~
Thomas Shelby POV
This meeting was fucked up from the start. As soon as his wet shoes stepped over the floor of the Ebony Sea, Thomas Shelby was already left unimpressed. By one quick glance, he could exactly tell what type of man, the boss of the Ebony Sea was, and what type of “merchandises” he owned. Even so, he couldn’t step back as his brothers went in (they were already moving toward their designated table). Defeated, the ex-soldier started to wipe off the dripping water on his forehead before quickly joining his brothers.
Ah, this night’s gonna be long.
Being in the back was a must for the Shelby’s. At best, it offered the possibility to have the best view of the pub without being disturbed by the others clients (or “disturbing” them). In the worst-case scenario, this clear view was the best... ally for the gentlemen’s guns. Speaking of gentlemen, the three of them were all leaned back against a black divan. However, their focus was dispatched all over the room. Arthur was busy checking the stocked bottles from afar while his hands were busy on a glass of whiskey (his ring making glittering sounds in the process). And Finn was already gulping his second drink away and seemed to have taken an interest in making drinking bets with his older brother.
As much as Thomas wanted, he wasn’t able to bring himself into the conversation (or whatever fun his brothers were committed in). Resting his elbows on the table, he let his hand ran through over his forehead and neck, brushing his hair in the process. There wasn’t anything to look at or even to talk about as his spirit kept lingering far away from this overflowing place. Those sleepless night were starting to affect him, both mentally and physically. Usually, despite Polly’s saying, he was able to control it, at least in appearance. But today has been different. This week has been different. Since Thomas’s power and influence were growing, so was his stack of work and files. And that was without taking into account the new coming (and sometimes old) enemies. Like Atlas himself, it was as if the whole world was casted upon the gypsy boy’s shoulders. But then that boy, that man was Thomas Shelby. And Thomas Shelby doesn’t weaver. With that determination in mind, Thomas Shelby immerged himself into reality to listen to his brothers’ saying.
“…tellin’ you this place is fucking ridiculous! Have you seen the pub of this pub?” affirmed Arthur, his thick eyebrows frowning more and more at each word. “Look, look” Arthur husky's voice pressed by slamming and pointing over an Ebene’s poster. Right under a black inked title (and a few beer drops), a drawing of a siren brushing her hair could be found. Probably the logo of this place- thought Thomas. Although, it looks more of a portrait rather than a simple drawing…
But before Thomas could give it anymore thought, a shift in the atmosphere occurred. The lights dimmed, and laughs were no longer heard. Before Thomas could even react (and Arthur argue even more against the pub), it didn't take long before heated discussions turned into an astonishing silence. Lightning a new cigarette, Thomas glanced over the stage, he quickly understands why.
There she is, the woman in the portrait. Or shall I say, - he pondered, crossing his legs, the mermaid of this Ebony Sea?
Feedback is appreciated and until next time, dear readers !
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Creepypasta OC Story - "Krystal"
Here it is!! This is just the first part, I'll post the second part soon! Thank you guys so much for expressing interest!!
Word count: 1.2k
When my grandmother died, she gave me the necklace I’d never seen her without. She used the last bit of her waning strength to pull it off herself and fix it around my neck. Her fingers lingered on the pendant for a moment longer, a strange and hateful look filling her eyes before they closed for the final time. I thought I heard her whisper: “You can leave me alone now, you bossy wench.” My father said he only heard her sigh.
It was an ugly thing. A thin silver chain with a stone pendant marbled with shades of gray and green. I felt horrible whenever I looked at it. I told myself that it was guilt; guilt over my grandmother’s death, guilt over my dislike of the hideous necklace… but most of all, guilt over my father’s descent.
He took her death much harder than I did. She wasn’t his mother, but she treated him like her own son. Ever since my mother divorced him and moved several states away, she took him under his wing. I think they were both trying to fill the hole my mother left in their hearts.
Anyway, when she died, my father spiraled hard and fast. He didn’t drink before, but alcohol became his life-blood. And his cologne. Beer and whiskey filled the air of whatever room he managed to stumble into. Fortunately my room was in the attic, and he was scarcely sober enough to climb the ladder.
I was alone. I couldn’t tell my friends at school about any of this. They’d think I was trashy. No, they’d think I was insane. Especially if I told them this next part.
I started hearing voices.
The first time I heard it was when they lowered grandma’s casket into the earth. It was a strange, garbled voice, speaking in tongues, echoing in the skies like a great thunder. I looked around, befuddled, but elected to ignore it when I noticed that no one else seemed to hear it.
But it came back that same night. More gurgling nonsense, but more clear, almost like it was closer. I was alone this time, looking at old pictures in my room. My hand absentmindedly wrapped around the pendant on my chest. I grazed my thumb over the smooth surface.
The voice came back. Clear as day, it said:
“Krystal.”
My name.
I froze. A few seconds later it repeated my name. If I had any doubts about the noise, they were gone now.
“What..?” I heard myself breathe, almost involuntarily. Like I had to respond to this call.
“Krystal. You must listen.”
“I… I’m listening.” My voice wasn’t my own anymore.
“Downstairs. Knife. Bathroom.”
I crept down the ladder. Whatever that thing was, I was mysteriously compelled to listen, though fear was definitely a major motivator.
My father was snoring loudly on the couch. He didn’t hear me open the kitchen drawer, pull out a knife, and steal away into the bathroom.
“What now?” I whispered, certain that I was losing my mind.
A low, grumbling noise filled my ears. I’d liken it to a laugh, but infinitely more chilling.
A sharp, slicing pain and a bloodied index finger later, I stood before a strange diagram painted in red on the bathroom floor. My hands were guided by an unseen force, making perfect arcs and straight lines to compose the shape. It was two circles, one inside the larger one, with two arcs facing away from each other yet overlapping at their vertexes.
I tilted my head. What was this? Then, suddenly feeling a rush of worry over my own sanity, I dropped to my knees and smeared the shape away with shaking hands.
I didn’t hear the voice again for almost a month. Not that it was any comfort; I had other things that kept me plenty miserable.
I was trying to follow the history teacher’s lecture, but I was rather distracted by the girl in front of me. Her hair was pulled up in a neat bun, leaving her ivory neck exposed. I was captivated by the smooth surface of the skin, with delicate baby hairs sprouting near the base of her skull. I tried to redirect my attention by fiddling with my necklace. That’s when I heard the voice again.
“Her blood.”
My heart dropped. No. It wasn’t real. I was upset that night, and my mind was playing tricks.
“Her blood.”
No.
“Her blood.”
Stop.
“Her blood. Her blood.”
My fists clenched. Please.
“Her blood her blood her blood her blood her blood her blood her blood her blood her blood—”
My hands clapped over my ears as I curled into myself. Tears slipped out between my tightly closed eyelids. All I could hear was the horrible voice. All I could feel was the dread in the pit of my stomach.
It felt like an eternity passed until the voice stopped. The sound of my own screams filled my ears, and I was finally aware of the firm hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to find the classroom empty, with the history teacher crouched next to me. His eyes were wild with worry and fear.
“I can’t believe you.”
I wasn’t listening. I was fidgeting with my grandmother’s necklace, trying to ease the cold ball of anxiety in my chest.
“It’s hard enough for me to keep my job without getting called to come pick you up because you had a ‘breakdown’ at school. You seriously couldn’t have held it in until you got home? Tch. You’re just like your mother.”
I side-eyed him. Mom had always insisted that grandma was crazy; she was often hysteric about it. Grandma never acknowledged her on that matter. She and my father seemed to agree that she was the crazy one.
I remembered what my mother used to say. “Grandma hears voices. Grandma’s dangerous. She belongs in an asylum.”
For the first time I wondered if she was right. I knew that grandma had been to jail once, but she was released when the verdict of the trial declared her innocent. My mother said she killed a man. My father always argued that, if that was true, grandma would be in prison. Grandma never talked about it.
I was pulled out of my thoughts when the car stopped in our driveway. For the first time in a while, I was glad to be home. I just wanted to sleep forever.
Things only went downhill from there. I walked into history class the next day to find the girl in front of me staring at me. She had turned around to face me.
“So what’s your deal? You got voices in your head or something?” She chided, an amused smirk on her face.
She didn’t wait for a response. “Is it because your grandma’s dead? Or maybe because your mom left you? What about your loser dad? I hear he can’t keep a job for more than a month,” she leaned in to whisper the last bit, but she erupted into a loud snicker right after.
“Miss Pierce! Please face the board, the lesson is starting.” The teacher shot me a pitiful look, but I didn’t notice. I found myself staring at that ivory neck again.
“Her blood.”
Strangely, I wasn’t bothered this time. I was inclined to listen.
“Yes,” I whispered, “tell me what to do.”
I tried to capture the classic creepypasta style,, I hope I was successful in that effort! Anyway, thanks for reading! Part 2 coming soon, take care lovelies!! <33
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