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soulofapatrick · 9 months

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Secret's Out - Henry Fox x Male Reader

Summary: Henry comes to visit you at the Lake House to take a break from studying

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: None really, heavy making out

Notes: I have one more Henry story in the works then an Alex one

Y/N’s POV

The summer sun bathes everything in a warm, golden glow as I sit by the window of the lake house, my heart beating a little faster with each passing moment. This place has become my refuge for the past few months, a quiet haven where I’ve immersed myself in my studies, allowing me to escape the world and focus.

My heart and mind have been a whirlwind of emotions ever since I realised just how strong my feelings for Prince Henry were and how Henry wasn’t ready to tell the world. He wasn’t ready to share our relationship with the world, and even though it ached inside, I had agreed to wait patiently. Love is not about rushing someone; it’s about giving them the time they need to find their own comfort.

A soft knock on the door rouses me from my thought, and I find Alex, my older brother standing there with a knowing smile. He’s been my confidant throughout this journey,, the one who’s listened to my heartache and dreams.

“Hey Mouse,” Alex Alex's mischievous grin is enough to make my insides twist with a combination of nervousness and excitement. The nickname has stuck with me since childhood, a playful jab at my somewhat introverted nature. But today, hearing it from Alex feels different, almost like he knows something that I don't. "Ready for some company?”

“Company?” I respond, my attempt at casualness belying the fluttering nerves that seem to have taken residence in my stomach. My heart beats a little faster, and I wonder what Alex is up to this time.

As I watch him step into the room, his vibrant energy filling the space, I can't help but wonder what my wild-child of a brother has in store for me today. Alex has been persistent in his efforts to drag me away from my books and studies, insisting that I need a break. Little does he know, this very house is where I feel closest to Henry, where I yearn for him the most, as it became our secret sanctuary a few months ago.

“I have a surprise for you.” Alex announces, his grin growing even wider. I raise an eyebrow at him, my curiosity fully engaged now.

“A surprise?” I I echo, the corners of my lips tugging into a reluctant smile.

“Close your eyes.” He instructs, and although a part of me screams to hold onto my reservations, I comply. I shut my eyes tightly, letting my other senses take over. The rustling of fabric and the faint sound of footsteps gradually diminish as Alex seemingly exits the room.

My world becomes a canvas of darkness, and my ears become hyper-aware of every little sound around me. There’s a quiet hush in the room, the kind of silence that’s laden with anticipation. I can almost sense the air shifting as Alex’s energetic presence departs. The room growing still, almost expectant, until a new set of footsteps grace the floorboards. These are softer, more measured, yet they send my heart into a frenzy. They’re familiar, like a melody that’s been etched into my memory. They’re the kind of footsteps that I’ve been longing to hear for four months - Henry’s footsteps.

My heart skips a beat, and a rush of emotions floods through me. The surprise Alex had promised is becoming clearer, and my pulse quickens with every delicate football that draws nearer. It’s as if the distance between us is shrinking, and in this cocoon of darkness, I can feel him coming closer to me. The soft steps seem to echo in the silence, a rhythm that syncs with the thrumming of my heart. They’re cautious yet purposeful, as if he's taking his time, just like he always does. I hold my breath, my body tensing with anticipation. The darkness behind my closed eyes feels heavy, but his presence in the room is almost tangible

And then, it happens.

His presence envelopes me like a warm embrace, and the world outside of this room fades into obscurity. I sense his closeness, his warmth, and then I feel his breath, sweet and familiar, brushing lightly against my lips. Time itself seeming to hold its breath as our lips meet, and it’s as if every moment of separation melts away. His kiss is gentle but filled with a longing that matches my own, a testament to the months we’ve spent apart.

His hands find their place on my face, cupping my cheeks tenderly, guiding me to my feet as if I were a delicate treasure he’s been yearning to hold. It’s a sensation that’s both electrifying and soothing, like coming home after a long and arduous journey. My lips parting slightly beneath his, welcoming him with an intensity that mirrors the love we share. It’s a kiss that speaks volumes, whispering promises of the moments we’ve missed and those yet to come. There’s a sense of completeness, of being in the arms of the one person who truly understands me.

As our lips linger in that tender, perfect moment, I feel like I’m floating in a sea of emotions. It’s a kiss that defies the bounds of time and space, a kiss that shakes off all the stress and anxiety from studying.

But then, with a gentle and lingering touch, Henry breaks the kiss. His lips part from mine, but his thumb continues to stroke my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. He looks at me with bright blue eyes, glistening with affection and longing, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” he greets me quietly, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile, scared moment we’ve created.

“Hey,” I respond, my voice barely above a whisper matching the intimacy of the moment. There’s no need for grand declarations or elaborate words. He’s here, standing in front of me, and that’s all I need right now.

Without a second thought, I stumble forward, closing the gap between us and wrapping my arms around him. I rest my head on his shoulder, finding solace in the familiar scent of his cologne, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the sensation of being enveloped in his warmth. Henry’s fingers gently card through my hair, a soothing gesture that sends ripples of comfort down my spine. It’s as if he’s trying to convey all the words he can’t express in this moment through the gentle caress of his touch.

In a hushed murmur, he whispers soothing words, his voice a melody that dances through my ears, “I’ve missed you so much sweetheart.” He murmurs, lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine, “I love you, more than words can say. I’m so proud of you.” His words hold an intimacy that goes beyond mere declaration of love, a connection that has thrived despite the challenges and secrets that have defined our relationship.

Before I can respond, henry’s lips find mine once more. And the world narrows down to the sweet sensation of our mouths meeting. His lips move against mine with a gentle urgency, as if trying to convey all the emotions he’s held inside during the distance between us. His hands are on my hips, guiding me backwards until my back hits the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat and intensity of the kiss. It’s a welcomed juxtaposition, grounding me in the reality of this moment, where the cool surface supports me as henry’s body presses firmly against mine.

His lean, muscular form moulds against my own, and every point of contact sends electric shocks through me. I can feel the powerful rhythm of his heart, the warmth of his skin, and the strength of his embrace. It’s as if our bodies are trying to memories every curve and contour, as if they’re saying ‘this is how you fit with me, this is how we belong together.’

Henry’s hands roam my body with a touch that’s both tender and possessive. They glide over my waist, up my back and down to my hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A strangled sound is swallowed when he rocks my hips forwards, erections rubbing in a delicious friction as he murmurs against my skin, “Fuck me Darling, I’ve missed you.”

His lips leave mine in a slow, tantalising descent, trailing down my neck, one of his hands finding it’s way to my unruly locks and tugging almost painful to expose my neck. The sensation is almost painful, but the intensity of the desire that courses through me is undeniable. I arch my neck even further, silently inviting him to leave his mark, to claim me in this secret moment.

His lips make contact, and the world seems to spin as a combination of pleasure and yearning courses through me. Henry’s lips are both soft and demanding, creating a sensation that’s nearly maddening. The pressure of his kiss sends a shiver down my spine, and I can feel the heat building between us, a wildfire of longing. His lips lingering for a moment, leaving a mark, a hickey, a visible testament of our stolen passion.

And then, with a hunger that matches my own, he draws me back into a heated kiss, our mouths colliding almost bruisingly. His tongue brushes against my lips, seeking entrance, and I part them willingly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Our tongues engage in a fierce, passionate battle for dominance, each of us seeking to convey the depth of our desire. It’s a dance of raw, unbridled need, a silent proclamation that nothing and no one can come between us.

Except my Dad. Who is standing in the doorway, grin like a Cheshire Cat, one hand raised to knock. Henry breaks away from me in surprise despite Dad’s presence calm and unbothered, while I try to flatten down my wild hair. I must look like more of a mess than Henry who’s plump lips are kiss-swollen, hair wild, cheeks flushed and eyes dark with love and lust. If Dad wasn’t watching us I think I would jump Henry right here and now.

“Well,” Dad clears his throat, shaking his head fondly, “Alex and Bea have already made it halfway through the food, I’d hurry up if I were you.” He chuckles, eyes twinkling with amusement, “You can continue this romantic reunion later.”

“You’re not mad?” I find myself asking, heart almost pounding out of my chest.

“Of course not Mouse,” Dad’s grin softens into a loving smile, “He’s a good one, don’t lose him.”

And with that, Dad turns and leave the room, leaving me and Henry to stare at each other, processing what dad’s said.

“I fucking love you.” I grin at Henry, watching the way his shoulders slump with relief.

“I love fucking you.”

“Henry!”

He runs off giggling and I can't help but follow, shaking my head with a fond smile.

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#red white and royal blue x male reader #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb x male reader #rwrb x you #rwrb x y/n #Henry fox #henry fox x male reader #prince henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox x reader #Henry fox fluff #Henry fox smut #Henry fox angst #nicholas galitzine

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voxofthevoid · 2 months

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Schrödinger’s Noncon Wednesday #2—also the last one, which is a pity since I like that name a lot. Tender's brain is a bounty.

The fic is over 30k right now and will be done in another 1000 words or so. It's 6 proper chapters and a tiny epilogue—mostly bite-sized sex scenes with my usual flavor of character work.

This one's definitely for the Megumifuckers. Enjoy?

“Itadori,” he says, almost flinching at the thin wreck that’s his voice, “you’re too deep like this.”

Itadori makes a noise that’s almost protesting. His arms tighten around Megumi—as if he’s going anywhere, hanging limply in Itadori’s arms, from his cock. The only parts of him that have any energy are the bits clutching Itadori’s cock.

“I know.” Itadori drags his mouth up Megumi’s neck, nuzzling into the spot behind his ear; it’s hard to hold back a shudder, sparks of sensation sluicing down his body. “Sorry, Fushiguro, just stay like this a while, stay with me.”

Megumi swallows a pointless protest, tilting his head back. The ceiling mocks him for a moment before he closes his eyes, and the darkness isn’t blissful, but it’s something. Losing his vision makes him aware of all his other senses, but it’s the flesh that dominates—Itadori’s bare body, blistering inside and against Megumi’s own bruised flesh. His body feels like Itadori’s more than his own, and it’s not new, but it’s never been so real.

It’s only natural that reality isn’t like fantasy. Megumi isn’t even sure he’s complaining. He told Itadori to fuck Gojou out of him, didn’t he? He’s doing that. He’s already done that. Megumi’s insides no longer remember another shape, the lingering phantoms of fingers and toys and cock and even Itadori’s own tongue devoured by the pulsating press of this gentle monstrosity.

Itadori’s kissing him. He’s sweet about, lips gentle and warm along Megumi’s shoulders and throat. It gets a bit wet sometimes and a little sharp too, tongue and teeth coming out to tease. Megumi almost laughs when Itadori nips the shell of his ear, but the wet flick of tongue that follows makes his breath catch instead. His hands get busy too, one always supporting Megumi, holding his torso fast to Itadori’s body, but the other wanders over every bit of him Itadori can reach, petting his chest and stomach and thighs and throat, and there’s a frantic undercurrent to it all that gives every warm touch a center of pure heat.

He’s pretty sure Itadori’s trying to help him relax—loosen up, literally. He appreciates it. He’d have appreciated just the thought, but he likes that it’s working, his muscles no longer feeling like they’re about to tear themselves apart. And he doesn’t feel any less torn apart around Itadori, but with every moment, he gets a little more used to it. He’s a sorcerer; he can think past pain. The pressure is worse, this suffocating fullness he can’t get used to, but maybe he doesn’t need to get used to it. He just has to like it.

He might already like it.

Itadori’s hand cups his cock.

Megumi almost jolts with it, only the exhausted ache in his limbs keeping him still and as limp as he can while skewered on cock. He opens his eyes, looking down to see only what he’s feeling. His dick is soft, and Itadori’s hand covers it easily. It’s an undemanding touch—light, warm. There’s something strangely perverse about seeing another hand cupped between his legs like it’s protecting his modesty. Maybe it’s just because Megumi knows just how thoroughly he lost that in the span of…

How long as it been? It can’t be more than an hour, but it feels like it’s been ten times that.

Itadori pets his cock for a few seconds. They drag on, a thrumming warmth. Megumi can feel the leaden weight of another gaze, but he doesn’t look at Gojou. He stares at Itadori’s hand between his legs for as long as he can stand, and when he can’t anymore, he closes his eyes again, turning his head to rest his forehead against Itadori’s head.

He doesn’t know how long Itadori plans to keep him like this, or even why he wants to, but he doesn’t have the strength to question or fight it. He barely has the strength to feel, a deep-seated ache gnawing at every inch of his body, countered by the other, foreign ache seated deep inside.

Maybe Itadori’s waiting for Megumi to pass out—turn into something still and quiet that won’t scream and thrash and make a nuisance of itself. It’s not as abhorrent as it should be, the image of his limp body being put to use. Not when it’s Itadori. Megumi’s sure he’d feel it even in his dreams. He knows he won’t be any less ruined after, waking up to what’s left of himself.

His cock aches, still soft but needy too, and the ache spreads and spreads, clogging his veins like hot syrup. He breathes and chokes on it, and Itadori holds him closer, tighter, and his hand is dragged up Megumi’s cock and further, ghosting over his stomach and chest to splay palm-first to his throat. Fingers press to his pulse points, and behind him, Itadori shivers delicately.

He cups Megumi’s face, tilting his head into a kiss.

Megumi opens for it even before Itadori’s tongue comes calling, and then it’s inside him, wet and thick, and there’s a flash of awareness of just where that tongue’s been, but disgust doesn’t get time to form before it dies in the heady strokes of Itadori’s tongue as he kisses Megumi deeply, with a quiet, contained fervor that seems to writhe like a live thing between their mouths, inside of them, and Megumi can’t quite summon the energy to kiss him back, but he finds that he knows very well how to open up and let Itadori have his fill.

The mattress shifts under him.

Pressure, a lance of hot sensation.

Megumi breaks the kiss with a cry, jolting full-bodied.

Itadori makes a throaty noise, surprise and confusion, and Megumi can sense the exact moment he sees what’s happening, that noise twisting into a curse that’s vicious with want.

Megumi doesn’t share the sentiment. And he doesn’t know what he’s feeling as he stares down at the foot Gojou’s pressed to his stomach, low enough that the heel flirts with the base of Megumi’s cock, but it’s nowhere in the vicinity of approval, let alone arousal.

“Gojou-sensei…” That’s his mouth moving, his voice spilling out, but Megumi feels like he’s hearing himself underwater, everything distant and dull.

“Don’t mind me,” comes the cavalier reply. “I’m just a little curious.”

“Curious?” Itadori, the hunger in his voice not entirely tamed by the questioning air. “About—no, never mind. You probably shouldn’t be doing that, sensei. Fushiguro is pretty—”

“Fucked out?” Gojou provides helpfully. “Cockdrunk?”

Itadori makes a soft, shuddering noise that’s anything but admonishment.

Megumi can’t summon any offense, only a weak pulse of heat that writhes in his gut without ever spilling a little further down.

“I have just the thing,” Gojou says, his voice dangerously soft, “to fix him.”

His foot digs in.

Megumi screams.

Itadori—

His cock, it’s—

Take it out, Megumi wants to say, the words blurring into a serrated chant in his head, but all that comes out are high-pitched noises, every exhale distorted into a weak, wanton whine.

Itadori doesn’t take it out. He pushes in, and there’s nothing to take, all of Megumi wrapped around all of Itadori, but it’s still movement, and his flesh flares, the loose ease he sunk into shattering twice over. Gojou’s foot moves like it’s matching Itadori, and Megumi can feel it, he can—

He can feel Itadori, snug in the space Gojou’s digging his foot into.

He can feel Itadori feel it—his shuddering breaths and heaving chest, the nails turning into claws on Megumi’s skin. His hips are furiously still, and then they aren’t, and it’s nothing, only a rolling motion that barely trembles along the meat of Megumi’s ass, but inside, it’s a devastation.

Itadori moves like he’s trying to fuck against Gojou’s foot through Megumi’s body.

Megumi opens his mouth, only for another thin noise to tear free, lashing at the air.

“That’s better,” Gojou says, with a grin that would start wars. “Looking alive there, Megumi.”

Megumi’s going to kill him.

If Itadori’s cock doesn’t kill him first.

#itafushi #itagofushi #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #my fic #wip wednesday #jjk snippets #fic: a blacklit paradise #divider credit: saradika-graphics

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gravitywonagain · 1 year

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I know I'm painfully late but "Assassin's Creed AU [wangxian]" from your WIP list intrigues me. Please, tell me about it? 🥺

not late! never late! i will answer questions about my wips anytime!! thank you for asking me!!! <3<3<3

the AC AU is based more on the michael fassbender movie than it is on the games, mostly because i don't really play video games and when my wife does i'm not really paying attention to the plot as much as i am to her combat-wiggles and sky-murder-determination face. largely it goes something like this:

lan zhan is picked up by the golden sun (or something?) association which is run by descendants of the jin and wen demonic cultivators who have been searching for the yin hufu for centuries. the jins are the public face of the company and in the regressions the spiritual cultivators most often see jins as friends and allies so it’s a surprise twist (to anyone unfamiliar with both franchises, i guess?) when we find out they’re evil.

in this the animus works on reincarnations instead of genetic memory so we can still have happy gay couples who adopt their children. lz is a reincarnation of lan wangji, who is a reincarnation of hanguang-jun. the story of yiling laozu and hanguang-jun is legend even by the time lwj is alive. but Fate or whatever, so guess who else is there! also every trip into the animus helps lz form his golden core but also taxes his body like crazy.

so lz regresses to lwj and meets wei wuxian. lwj falls in love with wwx even though he’s technically a bad guy. together they manage to steal the remaining half of the yin hufu and … do something with it? lz also falls in love with wwx so he wants to go back in as much as possible to see him more and lz doesn’t yet realize that every time he goes in it helps the enemy. wwx of course dies horribly in front of lwj allowing lwj to finish his mission in the past. wwx’s death severely effects lz too and with his dying breath he told lwj not to trust the jins so when lz comes back out he’s ready to fuckin fight.

present day race for the yin hufu sees lz meeting wei ying and wy already being way more involved than he could possibly have known.

other spiritual cultivators in the present include song lan, jiang cheng, mianmian, probably more? a nie brother? wen qing’s reincarnation is running the science side of the program for golden sun. she'll probably be an insider that wy is already working with. wen ning is still a fierce corpse who has been working against the jins since the days of legend because immortality be like that sometimes.

clearly it is very fleshed out (sarcasm), and i don't really have much in terms of prose already written for it but i do have this:

Lan Wangji drew the long sword at his side in a smooth and fluid motion, confident and sure in his ability to use it effectively. Lan Zhan could feel the bleed of that confidence, the thread of that skill, but fear still beat in his chest as the creature advanced. It was a strange weave of volition and memory -- like a dream. Like a dream he knew wasn't his own. Something thrummed inside him as the blade slid from its sheath. A resonant hum, low and deep in his abdomen. He reached for it -- or, Lan Wangji reached for it -- and it responded. It flowed, cool like water but crackling like electricity, from that source in his core, spinning and unraveling and stretching until it formed a connection, a circuit, with the energy he could feel pressed and folded into the steel of the blade. The ease of the action spoke to years, decades of discipline. And the power -- oh, the power -- in it explained the stumble in the creature's step.

tbh i will probably never write it as much more than this or a threadfic or something so if anyone wants it, be my guest! as noted i have far too many wips, so.... :D

#amethyst-noir #you're wonderful and thank you for tagging and asking!!!#wip ask meme #assassin's creed au #my writing

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wlwreader · 3 years

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Dancing with the Devil

A/N: Just a little preamble before you start reading. This Natalia is pretty different in the way she treats reader in this fic compared to my other fic for a few reasons(Devil’s Advocate. Not a necessary read for this one, but if you enjoy this fic you’ll definitely enjoy that one) I had kind of come up with like I guess my own little world. So I considered the black box+collar from my other fic to be a marriage proposal of sorts. You’re pretty much her soulmate, in that you’re souls are bound in a way after you’ve put the collar on. Yes in my world succubi and incubi can only take one mate, so you’re her personal juice box for eternity and she’s allowed to feel some type of way

Summary: You’re back where you belong.

Warning: Somnophilia, Dacryphilia, Voyeurism if you like squint real hard, Overstimulation, Ruined Orgasm, Oral Fixation again if you squint but not as hard, Kitten/Pet and Mistress calling, oh and uh Tail Fucking

WC: 5.2K+

Pairing: Succubus!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Days pass in a blur after that night, Natalia having burrowed her way into your every thought, forcing you to continue your life on autopilot. Even in your dreams she haunts you, mind plagued with visions of gleaming red eyes and that devilish grin that always sends your pulse racing (for reasons you refuse to admit to yourself). You try desperately to convince yourself that there has to be a reason she won’t leave your mind, that she must’ve put some kind of hex on you or maybe it’s some lingering effect from being railed by a succubus, anything other than you wanting her. You can’t want her, not when the only way you’ll ever be able to see her again is becoming some sort of sex slave...forever. In any other context, being someone’s fuck toy for the rest of your life would be nice, might even be considered ideal, not having to worry about your financial state and the promise of good sex. But forever with an immortal being? There’s really only one way for you to interpret that and eternity is a terribly long time to be someone’s personal plaything...right?

You shouldn’t even have to try to convince yourself that it’s something you don’t want. No matter how sinfully good she is with her mouth or how she seems to know all the right angles to hit just the right spot that leaves your toes curling and your eyes rolling towards the back of your head or how-

You flop back onto your bed with a groan, trying to stop that train of thought from progressing any further before you’re doomed imagining all the things you want Natalia to do to you for the rest of the night. A sigh slips past your lips as you roll on your side, ready to force yourself to fall asleep, when your gaze lands on the small black box that still rests on your bedside table and all your dirty thoughts come rushing back to the forefront of your mind, followed by a faint throbbing between your legs.

A hand trails subconsciously down to the apex of your thighs, eyes falling shut when you find your slit, slick with want. Your mind wanders from scene to scene, each wildly different from the last, but all of them featuring Natalia. Your breath slips past your lips in soft pants as you circle your clit, free hand tracing a path up your abdomen to grope your breast for a moment before you’re tweaking your nipple, back arching with a quiet moan.

Your fingers dip down, sinking into your leaking hole, when you hear a shuffling noise followed by a soft click. Immediately, you freeze, eyes wide as you sit up and scan your dimly lit room. No one...not a person or creature in sight. The windows are closed and still looked to be locked after squinting through the darkness of your bedroom for a long second and your door doesn’t seem to have been opened. You look around your room again, hand reaching out in the dark for any kind of semi-heavy object you could use as a potential weapon, when it meets the now open top of the box sitting on your nightstand.

Was she here now? Watching you? Have you been on her mind just as much as she’s been on yours?

A shiver runs up your spine, a smile teasing the corners of your mouth at the thought as you sweep one last look around your quiet bedroom. You reach for the lamp on your bedside table, turning it on while you eye the lacy black collar proudly on display resting inside the box before gently scooping it out, the small bell attached to the front ringing and clinking against the name tag. Your fingers trace over the red stitching lining the top and bottom, then down to tug on the matching red bow and around the back to undo the small ribbon that ties the two ends together.

You pause for a brief moment, reconsidering, but the throbbing of your clit is far louder than that little voice of reason trying desperately to coax you back to thinking clearly and so without any further hesitation, you wrap the collar around your neck and secure it in place.

The silence of your bedroom is almost deafening as you wait...and wait…..and wait, til the ache that’s taken home between your legs expands, enveloping you whole.

The bell on your collar rings with your movements as you lay back, the sound muffled by the thrumming of your heart pounding in your ears. You ignore your hurt feelings (whatever feelings those may be) and focus on the wetness that’s gathered at the apex of your thighs, fingers fucking into yourself long into the night until you fall asleep, your hand tucked into your bottoms and the collar still resting around your throat.

Your dreams are more vivid than usual, almost as if replaying the memories and sensations of your night with Natalia. Images of her head buried between your legs, the vague feeling of hands gripping your hips, soft hair tickling the insides of your thighs and the warmth of a mouth teasing your slit has you squirming in your sleep.

The throbbing of your clit slowly lulls you awake, the feeling of fingers pushing into your heat pulling a shaky, high-pitched whine from your lips while your hands subconsciously reach down to tangle in soft waves (your fingers brushing against something famillarily ridged and curved has your heart fluttering happily) and pull that heavenly mouth back towards your clit.

A tittering laugh has you finally dragging your eyes open and you’re blessed with a view of a grinning Natalia, pointed teeth on display and her crimson eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you miss me, kitten?” The words come out low and muffled, Natalia not waiting for an answer as she presses her face back in towards your cunt and dragging one of her fangs gently across your clit.

Your back arches, bell on your collar jingling softly as you throw your head back into the pillows beneath you, an intense orgasm rushing through you without warning, your clit unexpectedly sensitive. Fuck...just how long has she been buried between your legs before you were dragged from your dreams?

Muscles relaxing, you land on the soft black silken sheets with a blissful sigh, her husky chuckle ringing pleasantly in your ears. Your hands fall away as Natalia trails burning kisses across the insides of your thighs, her breath cooling your slick and sweat covered skin when she speaks, “It’s about time you woke up, pet.”, her lips continue their path, bruises slowly blooming beneath her touch as she sucks and nips along your hips, up your stomach to trace the shape of your breasts before she mouths at the stiffened peaks, teeth capturing your nipple and tugging. Air hisses out past your lips as her fangs dig into your sensitive skin, your hands finding her fiery hair again. The onslaught of kisses continues up your throat until she pulls you into a heated kiss, her tongue slipping past your lips and you can’t help the whimper you let out when you taste yourself.

Natalia pulls back, air fanning across your face from her huff of quiet laughter as you chase her lips, eyes still closed. When you meet her gaze you’re almost shocked to see how vibrant the red of her irises are, as if they’re almost glowing, until your gaze sweeps up to admire her obsidian like horns, reminding yourself that she’s a succubus and she IS feeding off of your sexual energy. For the first time, you wonder what kind of power she holds.

She shifts to straddle you, the feeling of her hot, dripping cunt resting against your stomach pulling you out of your thoughts. Your hands reach out to grip her bare thighs, but a raise of her eyebrow has you dropping them uselessly at your sides as you’re reminded who’s in charge. She shifts again, hips subtly rolling with a breathy sigh falling from her mouth before speaking, “Although I can’t really complain about you sleeping so long. Not when you taste so…”, she pauses, tongue snaking out to drag across her plush lips, “Devine.” she practically purrs, eyes hooded while the corner of her mouth pulls up into that devilish smirk that has your pussy clenching.

Natalia’s hips rock down again, dragging her clit across your stomach before she leans back, hands braced above your knees as she starts grinding down in earnest, eyes falling shut. You’re enraptured by the sight, eyes flitting from her beautiful face, delicate features scrunched in pleasure; down to her heaving chest, perky breasts and pebbled nipples prominently on display. Slowly, your gaze falls further down along her body, taking in every inch of smooth flawless skin and soft curves, your mind consumed by thoughts of how utterly perfect she is, as if she were sculpted by god themself, before your eyes land on the trail of slick coating your stomach and Natalia’s puffy, leaking cunt while her hips continue to rock against you. You can practically feel your mouth water at the sight, an involuntary whine slipping past your lips as you realize just how much you crave to finally taste her, to please her.

Her breathy laugh has your eyes shooting back up to meet her vivid crimson stare, cocky smile on display when she teases you,

“What is it kitten? Are you not enjoying the view?”

You can’t stop the heat shooting to your face as you try to remember how to actually speak, mouth moving before your brain can form an actual sentence and tripping you up on your words. She laughs again at your stammering, clearly amused by her toy.

“I..I wanna-- c-can I taste you, Mistress?” desperation seeps through your voice as you lie underneath her, fists balled in the sheets trying hopelessly to fight the urge to reach out and touch her.

Natalia grins, pearly fangs catching the light and drawing your attention, just in time to watch her tongue flick out to wet her plush lips. The way her red gaze takes you in sends a shiver down your spine and you can’t help the way the blood rushes to your face or the way your heart stutters in your chest.

“Please…” the word leaves your mouth in a whimper and Natalia’s eyes soften just a tad, though her wicked smirk is still painted across her lips.

She hums, hands moving from the tops of your thighs to run up along the sides of your chest; lithe fingers dancing across your ribs to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples, pulling a whine from the back of your throat, “I suppose I could put that pretty little mouth of yours to work finally,” her hands continue their path, nails tracing up the column of your throat and toying with tag on your collar. She’s watching you intently, eyes soaking in your flushed and disheveled appearance, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. Your mouth parts and in a trance-like state, you nip the digit, tongue teasing the tip of her thumb before enveloping it in the warmth of your mouth. Natalia’s pupils seem to dilate further than before, the inky blackness slowly swallowing the red of her irises. You watch as she shakily exhales and the pride that swells in your chest has your tongue working her finger just that much more, eyes falling shut as you start to lose yourself in the motions. The squeeze of her strong thighs as she grinds her heated cunt harder against your stomach reminds you of the question you had just asked and you look up, your gaze meeting nothing but black as she stares back at you. “Would you like that, pet?”

The words leave her mouth in a breathy exhale and she hasn’t even finished speaking before you’re rapidly shaking your head yes, eyes trying their best to convey how much you ache to serve her. You watch hungrily as her soaked cunt nears your face, Natalia’s hands tangling in your hair and tugging your head to meet her wet folds.

“Then make that greedy mouth useful.”

You don't have to be told twice, not when you’ve been plagued with dreams and fantasies of her soaking your face in her cum, and eagerly your tongue flicks out to trail along her puffy lips a few strokes before parting them with deeper licks. She sinks down with a hum, pussy pushing further into your mouth as her nails scratch at your scalp. The taste and sensation of her cunt dragging along your tongue is almost enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You’ve never tasted someone so sweet and you can’t stop yourself from gripping her thighs and thrusting your tongue into her quivering hole with a greedy groan, trying to lap up as much of her wetness as you can.

The heady moan you’re rewarded with sends a pulsing heat straight to your clit. Her hands tighten their grip in your hair, hips slowly rolling along your mouth as you reverently devour her cunt, eyes closed in pure bliss while your tongue fucks her leaking hole.

You can hear Natalia’s heavy breathing above you as she uses you for her pleasure, the soft moans cascading from her parted lips are interrupted by a gasp when you finally manage to pull yourself away from the never ending slick dripping from her cunt to latch your mouth around her neglected clit. You suck, tongue lashing out to tease the swollen bud before she’s bearing down on you with a loud keening moan, powerful hands holding your head in place as she grinds her clit against your willing mouth.

“Fuuuck, that’s right kitten,” her rasping voice is shaky and your cunt throbs, knowing you’re the reason why, “eat my pussy like it’s your last supper.”

Her words pull a whine from the back of your throat, the vibrations shooting straight to her sensitive clit and the sound that leaves her mouth has you seeing stars as you cum; thighs squeezed together, pussy clenching around nothing as you shudder and moan under her.

Who knew demons could make such desperate pitiful noises?

Your orgasm doesn’t go unnoticed, if the tail teasing your twitching hole and the trembling laugh above you are anything to go by.

“Enjoying this, are we?” You don’t have to open your eyes to know she’s smirking, you can hear the smugness in her voice even as it wavers with every roll of her hips. “If I knew how ea-” she cuts herself off with a deep rumbling moan as you easily sink two fingers into her wet heat, digits immediately curling up to search along her walls for the spot you know will reduce her into a quivering, moaning mess.

Her tail pushes into your soaked slit as a dragged out yes hisses out past her teeth. The way Natalia’s hips buck against your fingers and mouth fucks her slick tail into just the right spot inside your fluttering cunt and soon your muffled moans join hers in a sinful symphony as she takes what she wants from you.

“Oh, you’re going to make me cum, pet.”

The words renew what little willpower you have left and with great effort, you stave off your impending orgasm to force your eyes open and focus on fucking your Mistress. You’re blessed with a sacred sight. Her back is arched beautifully, pushing her hungry cunt as far into your mouth and fingers as she can and putting her perky, full breasts on perfect display for your greedy eyes. Your free hand is reaching out without a thought and you watch as Natalia’s mouth falls open, freeing her bottom lip from between her fangs, while her brows furrow and her nose scrunches up in pleasure. You squeeze her tit, appreciating the softness under your palm and watch as her chest stutters, her breath faltering for a second before picking up again. Experimentally, you drag a nail against her pebbled nipple then take it between your fingers and pinch.

Her nails dig into your scalp as she smothers her pussy against your face til you can’t breathe and you’re sure you’re going to die, suffocating happily between her thighs when she freezes on top of you. You feel the tell tale signs of her upcoming orgasm when her walls flutter around your digits, desperately trying to pull them deeper and eagerly you drag your fingers from her quivering hole to join your other hand in their ministrations so that your tongue can once again taste the saccharine-like slick. The thighs encasing your head tighten as your tongue plunges and curls in her cunt until Natalia is gasping out a moan and her cum soaks your face.

If you thought her pussy tasted heavenly, you’re sure her cum is the nectar for the gods. Your eyes roll back as you lap at the mouth watering wetness leaking from her, your own cunt spasming as her tail frantically fucks into your sopping hole until you're sure she’s hitting your womb with every thrust.

Natalia has stopped shaking atop you, her hands and thighs loosening their hold around your head but she doesn’t make a move to get off you. In fact, her hips are rolling along your mouth again as you practically sob against her cunt from the intense pleasure between your own legs. Your hands grip desperately at her hips and thighs, eyes squeezed shut as you futilely try to chase your orgasm. You’re so close, god, you’re so close, but the edge stays just out of arm's reach and you can’t stop the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, nor can you stop them from falling, disappearing into your hairline and rolling down to join the mix of slick and cum coating your face as you cry and writhe pathetically under your her.

“You cry so cutely for me, kitten.” She purrs, “Let Mistress see those pretty, tearful eyes.”

The wild thrusting of her tail has died down to a slow crawl, dragging you away from the peak you were so pitifully chasing and so, with a whimpering sniffle, you dutifully open your eyes to meet Natalia’s pitch black gaze.

You can see the shiver of pleasure that runs through her body as you stare up at her with sad wet eyes, a shudder of your own wracking your body at her hum of “Good girl.” when you give her sensitive clit and cunt small kitten licks to clean up the rest of her cum. Her hands brush away any of your wayward hairs from your face before she drags a thumb along your temple, collecting your tears on the digit. You watch as she slowly brings her thumb to her mouth, gazes locked as her tongue slips past her lips to teasingly lick the salty liquid away with a quiet moan.

Your pussy clenches around her tail at the sight, her tail twitching inside you in response and briefly you wonder if she can actually feel pleasure fucking you with it before you’re completely pulled from your thoughts as her pace starts up again.

With a sigh, she drags her cunt away from your soaked mouth and immediately your loud moans fill the once quiet room. Her body slides pleasurably against yours as she moves to lie atop you, chests pressed together and legs tangled as her tail continues to pump into your soaked hole. The tip of her nose trails your collarbone then up along the column of your throat, breathing in the scent of sex. Your hands tangle in the soft fiery waves of Natalia’s hair as she kisses above the collar resting against your neck before sucking the unblemished skin between her lips to bite and mark and claim and fuck your pussy just gushes at the thought of being her’s.

You lick your lips, a whine pulling from deep within your chest at the taste of your Mistress still coating your face, bringing you just that much closer to the edge. The appendage fucking into you twists and writhes in ways you’ve only ever felt her tongue do, but the added thickness of her tail has you hurtling towards climax, head thrown back, collar jingling as you press your neck further into her greedy mouth.

Your eyes are screwed tightly shut and your pussy quivers painfully, walls sore from the constant fluttering, and just as you start to crest the peak, her tail slips itself from inside you and your hole clenches miserably around nothing while you cum. You’re already crying again when your body relaxes, sobs bubbling past your lips at the ache between your legs and the still pent up frustration your ruined orgasm failed to rid you of.

Natalia pulls away from your bruised neck to admire her work, mouth parted in quiet awe at the sight of her cum covered, sweat soaked, crying pet; and reverently, she kisses along your jaw and cheeks, tongue lapping at the mix of cum, slick, and tears that coat your face, whispers of how pretty you look when you cry gracing your ears.

She leans back when she finishes cleaning your face of her mess and your eyes finally open again when nothing happens after, tears still trailing slowly along your temples and disappearing into your hair as you sniffle, just to find her watching you keenly. Only when your gazes meet does her tail dip down between your legs to sink into your poor sensitive cunt once more. It’s gentle in its movements, but that doesn’t stop the fresh wave of tears from welling up in your eyes as the pain ever so slowly starts to outweigh the pleasure.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the tears that gathered there cascading in rivlets along your face, as the tail brushes along your walls, pressing into your g-spot. You can hear the click of Natalia’s tongue in disapproval as she tuts you.

“Keep your eyes open for me, kitten.”

Fuck her voice is so sultry and rasping and you can’t stop your cunt from tightening painfully around the thickness inside of you at the sound. Her tail thrusts a little harder, hitting something inside you and pulling a choked sob from the back of your throat.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” The words are growled into your ear and your eyes fly open. You can feel her tail twitch inside you again while she takes in your whimpering cries, tearful face, and sad desperate eyes. She plunges her tail deep within you again and you wail out in painful pleasure, eyes forced shut as your head tilted back into the bed.

There’s a low trembling groan from above you and before you have the chance to open your eyes once more, Natalia’s mouth is on yours, swallowing every whine and wail as her tail fucks into you deeply, twisting to hit every pleasurable, painful spot inside your pussy. Your hands tighten in her hair, holding her against you while you sob into her mouth, and your legs untangle from hers to wrap around her waist.

You’re close again, so painfully close and you don’t know whether you want her to finish you off or ruin your orgasm again, not when you know both options are going to hurt, but you don’t get to choose. You never had an option in the first place. Your Mistress knows just what she wants from you and she’ll take it, no matter what you say.

“I want you to cum for me.” She’s trembling, pressed against you, voice thick and shaky with pleasure and you nod frantically. She buries her face against your chest, mouth marking every available inch of skin within her reach. Your crying is louder without her tongue to muffle you and with every sniffle and sob, you can feel her tail jerk inside your trembling cunt. Natalia latches her mouth onto one of your nipples, pointed teeth burying into sensitive flesh and your fingers digging into the base of her horns as you cum with a keening wail.

You can feel more than hear her cum with you as her moans ring through your chest, her tail squirming in your aching hole. Your pussy bears down on it, nails scratching at her scalp and catching on the ridges of her horns trying desperately to stop the painful pleasure wracking your body. The thickness inside you thrashes when your fingers scramble along the ribbed protrusion on her head and your sluggish mind slowly puts the two together, hands dropping to clutch at the nape of her neck and drag her into a sloppy kiss.

The moment your hands leave Natalia’s horns, her tail stops writhing and you breathe a sigh of relief into her mouth. Your lips disconnect as she pulls back slightly and when you open your eyes finally, you’re met with the quite literally glowing red eyes of your Mistress. As gently as she can, her tail slides out of your aching pussy, watching as your face pinches in pain at the soreness and she kisses your furrowed brow, nose brushing along your forehead and temple as she trails her lips down to press more kisses along the apples of your cheek and your scrunched up nose.

It’s all so unexpectedly soft and distracts you enough from the burning stretch of the bulging end of her tail when she pulls the last few inches out that you don’t even cry out, though she’s quick to kiss away any silent tears that escape because of the pain.

“Are you okay?” Natalia breathes out. She’s watching you closely, intently, and when you nod yes, you’re blessed with your first genuine smile. No cocky devilish smirks or seductive, hooded eyed smiles. Just the smallest of quirks play on the corners of her lips, but it’s enough to have you staring up at her in silent reverence.

“Good.” She whispers and then, “Can you talk?”

“Y-yes.” The words come out quiet, hoarse, and trembling, your throat raw from all your crying.

You clear your throat and try it again, “Yes Mistress.” it’s just as rough as your first try, but at least the shakiness is gone.

“Good girl.” She’s still whispering, voice soft while she takes you in before she finally rolls off of you to sit up against the headboard of the bed. She’s patting the open spot between her legs, an invitation or a silent command, you’re not sure but you move your tired body to rest against her’s anyway. Your back is pressed against her front, your head rests against her pillowy breasts while her’s rests atop your own, chin pressed to the crown of your head and her left arm wrapping around to secure you against her. Her free hand stretches out in front of both of you and you watch in amazement as a fresh, cool glass of water appears right before your eyes in her outstretched hand, complete with a red striped straw.

She’s bringing it up to your mouth urging you to take the cup from her, her voice gentle against your ear, “Drink this for me, kitten.”

You nod and do as you’re told, taking the refreshingly cold water from Natalia to start sipping and watching while two, what you think are, rags appear in her once again outstretched hand.

“Hold this.” She’s handing you one and you grab it with your free hand, feeling the warm damp cloth between your fingers and you think you can feel your heart melt when you realize what she’s doing. Slowly, she guides your legs open, not one word said while she dutifully and carefully drags the warm rag across the insides of your thighs, cleaning the drying slick from your skin. She trails the fabric closer to your sore center, just barely brushing your outer lips as she cleans the apex of your thighs, before running it along your overly sensitive slit as softly as she can, hushing you quietly when you whine and squirm.

You can feel her press a kiss to the top of your head as she finishes, then she’s leaning back, left hand under your chin tilting your head, your bell twinkling softly, to look up at her while her right is taking the second rag from you. Her eyes follow her hand as she slowly sweeps the cooling rag across your lower face, wiping away any remaining remnants of cum coating your cheeks and chin. When she finishes, she gives you another kiss, this one lingering on your forehead.

The used rags vanish and she hums as she brushes stray hair from your face and you can’t help but to stare up at her with big doe eyes, melting under her gentle touch. You can feel the chuckle build in her chest before it flows richly from her full lips and you can hear the amusement that tints her voice when she speaks again, “Finish your water, kitten.”

Despite everything that’s just happened, you still feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you quickly go back to drinking your water. It only takes you a few more seconds before you finish your glass.

“Would you like more?” You shake your head no and the glass disappears from your hand. “Do you need anything else, pet?” Her hands are softly stroking along your sides, stomach, and thighs, fingers massaging into any sore muscles they find.

“No, Mistress.” You’re quiet as you speak though your thoughts are loud, overcome with questions that soon fall into the recesses of your mind when she starts to shift lower onto the bed.

Natalia pulls you over her while she settles onto her back, tucking you into her side and wrapping her arm around your waist, pulling you flush against her. You don’t hesitate to bury your face against her neck, your collar ringing with the movement and her chin resting against your head once more. Your leg and arm are thrown across her and you snuggle as close as you can with a content, sleepy sigh. She’s humming some soft unknown tune quietly, hands tracing patterns into your back and vaguely, you register the slithering sensation of her tail wrapping itself along your leg.

Briefly, your mind flashes back to the Natalia that left you in your bed all those nights ago with her cum leaking from between your legs and you can’t help the words that fly from your mouth.

“I didn’t know demons were into aftercare.”

She huffs a laugh, the air hitting the top of your head, and you hide your smile against her skin when she replies, “I’m a succubus, kitten, not evil.”

She must feel your mouth open against her, because before any sound can escape your parted lips, she’s shushing you.

“I know you must have lots of questions, pet.” You hum a yes when she pauses waiting for your reply, then continues on, “I thought so. But now is the time for sleep.” One of her hands leaves the expanse of your back to run through your hair, nails dragging pleasantly along your scalp and you feel as she leans down, lips brushing across your forehead as she whispers. “I promise I’ll answer all your questions in the morning.” A kiss, then “Now, go to sleep kitten.”

You do, a small smile stuck to your lips.

#LOL like 2 years later right?#anyway really wanna thank everyone who's still here despite me being gone for forever #like whaaaaa???? why are you here?? i come back from the land of the dead to complain and leave and youre still patiently (probably not)#waiting for a fic?? really?? bless you #<3 #anyways i learned a lot about myself un personally while writing this and i hope you guys enjoy and or learn a few new things about yourself #;)#ive been reading a lot of lady d fics and i think they kind of translated over to this fic sorry #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #smut #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers smut #boo.fic

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k9rage · 2 years

Text

Devil With A Halo

Gavin x freelancer, 3k, Explicit

Tags: Street racing, Light dom/sub, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, aftercare

Ao3 link

Gavin thinks they’re gorgeous all the time, but especially finds he’s partial to the freelancer like this, on their knees in his backseat with their eyes still shining from the excitement of street racing against a few of the local D.A.M.N. students. Their cheeks are still flushed, and there’s a barely-there shake to their body that screams excitementlustlovetrust, compelling him to rush things in spite of just how much he adores them like this.

It isn’t like the two of them are infrequent racers in the local scene either, so he’ll see them like this again soon.

Regardless, he drinks it in a moment longer with a hand sliding into their hair to pull their head back slightly under the neon lights of the city around them. They've pulled into a parking spot after their race was over with, but the potential to be caught is still there which he knows is a big draw for them.

The freelancer’s eyes close, lashes casting long shadows over their sheets. They look gorgeous with neon lights bathing their face in purple light, and it's easy to get lost in the bass of the music thrumming in the car alongside his deviant at his feet like this.

“Been thinking about you the whole night, deviant,” he admits, leaning down enough to kiss them. His lip gloss smears over their lips and leaves them glossy in his wake, light only serving to make it more obvious that he’s just left lip gloss on their face.

“Watching you race tonight was…exhilarating, freelancer,” Gavin breathes, a light smile playing at the edges of his lips as he watches their cheeks color. He’s gratuitous with his compliments, but especially when they’re in bed together, and it always seems to fluster them a little bit regardless of how often they’re exposed to it. “I should reward you- good performance, and all that,” he grins “Lasko would approve of the positive reinforcement tactics being used like this, I’m sure.”

Both of them laugh a bit, soft and amused. Not poking fun at Lasko, just…enjoying being together like this, under the moonlight and neon lights from a nearby bar.

“You’re going to give our poor bookie an aneurysm at this rate,” the freelancer replies, leaning up to meet him in another, far messier kiss with a soft sigh.

“We won’t if you stay quiet,” he promises, conspiratorial, and happily playing into their kink of the idea of being caught sucking him off in the back of his car on their knees. They don’t actually want to be caught, but the idea that it could happen makes lust and sexual energy curl inside both of them. “And…” he breathes “if my cock is in your mouth, you won’t be speaking anyways.”

He can feel a hot wave of desire roll through them, and it makes him dizzy with the strength of it. Their desire and lust has always felt incredibly nice to him, since that first day they met in that 7/11, and it’s only grown more heady as he’s grown to love them.

Gavin strokes his thumb over their bottom lip and drinks his lover in happily before the two of them become messes in his backseat. “If that’s something you still want, that is, freelancer,” he says softly. His voice gets so damn soft when he’s around them, it’s honestly a little bit embarrassing for him.

The freelancer hums, dragging their tongue over the pad of his thumb before pulling back just enough to speak. He can already feel their desire, but he can’t read their thoughts- he’s not a fucking telepath, and doesn’t want to take any chances by playing fast and loose with their consent.

“Yeah, pretty boy, I’d still like to,” they grin, leaning up to kiss him and slide their tongue against his. It’s a filthy kiss that only serves to make him cup the nape of their neck to kiss them deeper until his lipgloss has smeared on both of their lips in a sheer red that glints under the lights. Making a mess of them has become one of his favorite hobbies, among several other things he’s picked up since they came into his life asking for directions to D.A.M.N.

“Squeeze my hand if it’s ever too much, deviant,” he reminds, earning a smug smile that screams I won’t tap out until you’re choking me on it. The two of them really are a bit of a match made in heaven, all things considered.

Gavin settles back in his seat to slide his belt off, a little bit awkward in the small space of his backseat with them firmly between his legs. It’s not really sexy, but the freelancer doesn’t seem to mind, judging by the hand already crawling up his hip to stroke the bare skin under his mesh shirt.

They’re a certified menace, and god he loves them for it.

Their hands drag up his abdomen while he unbuttons his pants, drinking in every inch of his body glitter covered skin under the moonlight through his car window. It’s gonna start fogging up soon- hopefully nobody passes by, because it’ll be a dead giveaway.

His hand slides into their hair easily, nudging them closer to kiss over the line of his hipbone. They leave hickeys in their wake, red and bruised from the suction of their mouth on tanned skin, before pulling back enough for Gavin to slip two fingers into their mouth.

Their aura flares noticeably, sharpened by lust and desire that makes the incubus feel hazy around the edges. It’s unsurprising that they suck his fingers further into their mouth, suction around them making his cock throb in the rapidly warming air of the car.

“Look at you, deviant,” he breathes, a little bit of laughter curling at the edges of his words. “So gorgeous like this, on your knees for me…bringing me pleasure. I can feel how much you like it, it’s positively sinful.”

Their eyes shine staring up at him through their lashes, and he groans a little bit at the sheer desire that rolls off of them, both physically and through their aura. Their lips are spit slick when he pulls his fingers back in favor of stroking himself with their spit still on his fingertips.

The freelancer already looks like a mess, saliva at the edges of their mouth just like when they sucked him off at their party a few months ago. They don’t make a habit of such…overtly public displays, but he's loathe to deny them their exhibitionist streak when they look so good hazed out on desire.

“My obedient deviant,” he whispers, watching a shiver skitter up their spine at the nickname. “Tell me what you want and you can have it- you know I would hate to deny such a request from you.”

He watches them squirm a little between his legs, pupils blown wide with desire while they watch him stroke his cock lazily. Their gaze flickers between his hand between his legs and his face, brows softened with the heat of pleasure building in his gut.

“Please,” they murmur, settling a little closer to him between his legs. Their face nuzzles against his inner thigh, turning pleading eyes upon him in a silent effort to get what they want. “Let me suck you off, loverboy,” his partner pleads, drawing a pleased grin from him.

“Oh, so sweet for me…you want to make me feel good, deviant?”

He can feel the coil of desire wind tighter inside them while he pulls his hand away from his cock, letting them lap at his fingertips for a brief moment before sliding his hand to the nape of their neck to pull them down within reach of their prize.

“Oh…that feels like a yes,” he laughs breathily, their tongue hot against the underside of his dick. Most times, the freelancer is almost scarily good at giving head, but they’re too high on the adrenaline from their race and the hot desire that has taken up residence in their stomach.

They hum, one hand resting on his inner thigh in case they do need to tap out. Their face is illuminated by neon lighting and moonlight, glitter still glimmering on their cheekbones from when he did their makeup before their race.

The freelancer drags their tongue over his tip, making his hand in their hair tighten and his breath catch. He likes having them like this, sweet between his legs like they never are. Don’t get him wrong, he enjoys them being a brat in bed just as much, but...seeing their shoulders soften and their face melt into pleasure without any worries about is it enough, am I making him feel good enough, am I enough.

Gavin likes watching them let go of all of those worries and put so much trust in him as a dominant to give them what they both need.

“That’s it, my love, take me deeper,” Gavin groans, hips tensing noticably to avoid fucking into the wet heat of their mouth around him. It earns a curl of enjoymenttrustaffectiondesire down their spine, and their grip on his thigh squeezes briefly in enjoyment.

The freelancer wouldn’t admit to it, but they’re as much of a sucker for praise as Lasko was, the time he messed around with them. The only difference is Lasko feels more secure for it, and the freelancer it makes feel hot down into their belly with desire.

Their mouth slides lower, gradual and slow with the guidance of his hand at the back of their head. It feels unbelievably good, hot and wet suction around him in a way that tears a breathy moan out of him.

“Such a sweet thing,” Gavin says, petting their hair while they get into a slow rhythm sucking him off “making me feel so fucking good,” he promises.

They whine, sweet eyes staring up at him with their mouth stuffed full of his dick.

God.

They’re a fucking sight like this, drooling on his cock and glitter smeared on their face, on their knees between his legs like they belong there. It makes him ache to his core, wishing there was more room in the back of his car to fuck them here instead of needing to drive home with his lover still seeming like a feast beside him. If he thought it was possible without hitting one of their heads, honestly he’d try it, but car sex is just…not as glamorous as people think it is.

The freelancer squeezes his thigh a little more insistently, and a smirk curls on his face. The two of them have a few pre-negotiated signals for…clandestine meetings such as this one, and it makes Gavin glad to see they’re using it.

It’s their sign for more or harder, or on occasion please. He admits he probably knows what they’re asking him for too- it’s clear they’re all but begging him to fuck their mouth, and he’s happy to fufill that desire now that they’ve communicated it.

“Look at you like this, freelancer,” he murmurs, taking a gentle grip of their hair in order to slowly start guiding their pace. It makes things sloppier, but no less enjoyable, and he can see his lover’s eyes go all hazy with the start to that sweet space they go to sometimes when he’s taking care of them in bed like this. “Making me feel so good,” Gavin all but coos down at them.

“Making yourself feel good too,” he says, after a stifled little moan on his part. “Can- fuck, deviant, can feel how much you like this. ‘S making me fucking dizzy,” he breathes out with a low laugh.

His pace with fucking their face remains slower than it usually would be, enjoying the drag of their tongue against the underside and the way their cheeks hollow to suck at him. Sometimes fast is nice too, but like this, under the moonlight with glitter smeared on both of them and their eyes pricking with instinctual tears anytime he pushes them down a little further, it feels nice to really savor it and burn it into his memory.

“Fuck, deviant, your mouth,” Gavin groans out, hips twitching up into the feeling of their tongue flicking over his tip. “Feels so good,” he admits, soft like it’s a secret that only the two of them know.

His lover is hazed out in that sweet space they get to sometimes, moaning around him softly anytime he praises them or fucks up into their mouth a little deeper than usual. It’s a measure of intense trust that they’re in subspace around him, considering everything that’s happened, and he’s happy to ensure that their trust is warranted.

“Making such a mess,” he teases, brushing spit away from their chin with his free hand. It earns a sweet whine, eyes flicking up to stare at him while he fucks his hips up into their mouth and fuck how is he supposed to last when they look at him like that.

He’s an incubus, but he’s not blind- his deviant is gorgeous like this and he knows it.

“Close,” he blurts out, thighs tense with the need to hold his orgasm off until he can warn them. The freelancer doesn’t react outside of a hum, and he pulls them away from his cock by the hair gently “want me to come on your face, deviant?” he asks, giving them longer to answer than usual given how hazy they look.

Their face is a certified mess- spit down their chin and a flush high on their cheeks that makes the chunky glitter he put on them stand out even more. Their pupils are blown wide and hazy, and Gavin swipes a thumb over their messy bottom lip while they process the question.

Finally, it earns a nod from them.

“Verbal consent, my love,” he reminds them, gentle.

The freelancer smiles a little, drunk off of subspace and desire “please,” they reply, voice rough from getting their face fucked. Gavin tilts their chin up the slightest bit and drags his thumb over their bottom lip.

The incubus grins "close your eyes, freelancer."

He watches their eyes flutter shut, and takes in his lover on their knees covered in glitter and bathed in neon light.

Gavin drags a hand through their hair to hold them there while he strokes his cock lazily. It's not as good as being in their mouth, but it's still good enough to make him throb and he can feel the flutters of arousal from them.

"So good for me like this," he breathes out, hips rocking up into the tightness of his hand around him. It feels incredibly good and makes his breath come a little quicker than it should be. "Letting me make a fucking mess of you," Gavin groans, twisting his thumb over the tip of his cock and making precum drool from it.

He smears it over their cheek, making the freelancer move their face in an effort to get their mouth on him, tongue hot and messy as it drags over the side of him. "You want to taste me so bad, don't you? So sweet for me, deviant,"

They whine sweetly, and he grins.

Pleasure curls in his gut while he strokes his cock faster, their spit making it slick and easy while he rocks his hips up into the tightness of his hand. It only serves to make him groan, toes curling in his boots.

The windows have fogged up with perspiration because of their shared heat inside of his backseat, and his head thunks back against the seat with a low, sweet noise that makes desire spike in the freelancer’s aura. The air has heated up surrounding them, and he can feel a little wind that is definitely a side effect of their magic- an effect that happens a lot when they’re in subspace like this.

“Fuck, freelancer,” he moans, hips rocking into his hand without his permission. It feels so fucking good, hazy on their shared desire and the orgasm building in his abdomen. “Close, ‘m so fucking close,” Gavin gasps out.

“Please, Gavin,” they beg, sticking their tongue out in an effort to entice him to come on their face.

It works. They’re gorgeous like this, begging for him and undeniably aching for it in a way that only serves to make him harder. Gavin can feel his cock throb in his hand, and his breath catches sweetly.

“Deviant,” he gasps out, feeling himself tumble over the building edge and grip their hair tighter to keep him grounded during his orgasm. It feels so fucking good, and cum streaks over their tongue and up over their cheek.

His breath is choppy while he comes down from it, slowing his hand over his cock until it feels too sensitive and he has to pull it back. “Damn, deviant,” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss them.

Gavin can taste his cum on their tongue, and he moans at the taste of it in their mouth. The freelancer has been incredibly sweet for him tonight, and now he’s drinking in the feeling of their pleasure and desire washing over him.

“You were so sweet for me tonight,” he murmurs, peppering them in kisses. “So good on your knees for me, my love. Made me feel so good,” Gavin promises, watching their eyes slide open.

They’re still hazy, so he quietly pulls back enough to grab a wet wipe to remove the streaks of cum and spit from their face. He’ll have to get a makeup remover wipe later to remove the glitter too, but it’s enough for now.

“Come back when you’re ready,” he murmurs, nudging them to rest their cheek on his thigh. The freelancer is still in subspace at the moment, hazy and high on lust and enjoyment, and Gavin wants them to come back gradually. “I’m here, you’re safe,” Gavin promises.

He strokes a hand through their hair slowly, petting down their spine while they rest on their knees in front of them. The tension of their shoulders gradually returns, and he can feel their hand curling in the fabric of his pants. It’s sweet, to feel them come back to him from their subspace and the sheer warmth from their aura makes his heart ache.

It takes a while for them to come back to him from subspace fully, and he occupies his time by petting their hair and murmuring sweet nothings to them while condensation slowly fades from the windows.

“You back with me, freelancer?” he asks, stroking his knuckles over their cheek. It earns him a lazy smile, and he grins at the little nod it gets from them against his thigh.

“Yeah, I am,” they reply, leaning into his knuckles on their cheek. “I’m getting makeup on your pants.”

That makes him laugh, breathy with enjoyment.

“Yeah, a bit. It’s worth it, don’t worry.” A slight pause, and a sweet sigh when he scratches at their scalp “you wanna go home now, deviant, or chance it with a quickie?”

They hum and slip off their knees to settle in his lap and kiss him, lazy and incredibly sweet. It’s got none of the franticness of earlier, but he can still feel their arousal bubbling in their stomach. The way they’re kissing him is slow, but incredibly full of desire, and he nips their bottom lip when they pull back a little.

“Let’s go home, playboy,” they murmur against his lips, and he grins.

“Feel like another round?”

“Oh, always.”

Tagging @dolls-circus bc iirc they wanted to be tagged in my street racer stuff! This one's only tangentially related but I have a few others in the works rn too :>

#redacted asmr #redacted gavin #redacted freelancer #calicos fics #nsft

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onouwu · 3 years

Text

Witch Heart Hunter

From far away, the low din of celebration from the residential area made its way through the large windows of a bare loft, a typically empty unsold apartment. Sounds of people about to welcome the new year melded with the ringing of car alarms and the manufactured happiness of radio pop. A bright shaft of moonlight shone through the overhead skylight, illuminating the brick interior and pristine hardwood floor where a pale brunette trespasser lies in a revealing blue dress with her wide brim hat covering her face, waiting. Time seemed to stop as Daisy laid on her back absorbing the sounds and vibrations of the city around her. Her heart thrummed in anticipation. Goosebumps raised on her bare skin at the thought of what was to come.

“I’m ho~oome!” Crystal announced, always heard before she was seen. Short blue-silver haired with a devilish smile like a fallen angel. Her frame was lithe and frail compared to Daisy’s taller stature and defined curves. She materialized through a portal that appeared by their front door, revealing a beast of endless glowing blue tendrils on the other side before fading away into shadow. Looking up from her position on the floor, Daisy lifted the brim of her hat and gave her hungry look.

“Do you hear that?” Daisy sat up and cocked her head towards the city lights.

“Yes!” Crystal said “It’s like they’re begging to be taken,”

“Mmmh, I hope some do, the willing are fun to play with” Daisy let out “It’s been so long since we last feasted. We’d best be careful not to get overwhelmed”

Crystal laughed it off “You know, the hungrier I get, the stronger I am. Just guard the outside while I take my half and leave you the others, okay?”

Daisy just smirked as she got up “I’ll be counting”

The new year party goers were surrounded on three sides by towering evergreens, and to the north of their clearing was a partially frozen lake. A group of eight sat by the lakeshore, drinking beers, and listening to the radio for the countdown. A loner stood away from them on the ice, looking up at the moon and hugging himself for warmth. On a wooden log next to a crackling campfire, a couple sat kissing passionately. Scarves, gloves, and a white brassiere hung from the branches next to them like exotic flowers in the moonlight.

Daisy perched on a branch in the treetops, Crystal sat next to her, her excitement radiating off her as she peered into the crowd. And so, the pair sat and watched, waiting for midnight to strike when the group would converge. It was then that the witches would feed. “Get ready to say hello to the new year, folks! It’s currently 11:59!” The group hollered in response to the jovial radio host. “If you’re listening right now, I wish you good health, happiness, and safe travels home. We’ll leave it to the city timepiece to count us down. We’re signing off for the holidays! As always, stay safe. Stay inside.” To this, several of the group scoffed.

Crystal elbowed Daisy in the rib, interrupting her observation. She looked beside her to see Crystal, thighs straddling the branch they were on and swinging her legs without a care in the world.

“Hey Daisy, make it snow will ‘ya?”

With a bit of a laugh Daisy’s eyes fell shut and her right hand waved in the air with a bright blue glow. High above the treetops, a cloud swirled and grew. Soon, snowflakes fell to the ground above the opening.

“Hey check it out!” The partygoers oohed and aahed, momentarily distracted by the sudden snowfall. No one seemed to notice that it was only in their clearing that snow fell. As if on cue, their heads shot to the side as the first of many fireworks exploded in the distance. “Ten! Nine! Eight—” The group gathered around the campfire, bottles in hand. “Seven! Six!” The lovers finally separated. “Five! Four!” The loner slowly made his way to the group, avoiding the couple. “Three!” The snow fell harder. “Two!” The fireworks came faster. “One!” Crystal and Daisy stood. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

A sound like an explosion rang in their ears. The snowfall had evolved into a storm. A wall of ice sprung up from the ground, blocking the city skyline with what looked like a jagged translucent glacier encircling them. They began to realize the trap they had fallen into much too late.

These walls were soon dotted with portals to another realm where slippery glowing tendrils shot out and grabbed their helpless victims.

“All this energy is going to feed us for days!” Crystal cried out.

Daisy couldn’t think. All she could hear was the sound of the humans wailing and the ecstasy of feeding. She was drawn into the uproar by its momentum. It was hard for her to resist immediately draining the life from these trapped humans, but she walked along the ice wall to scout the area for any alerted human forces. Sure enough, it didn’t take long before she saw a bespectacled woman with dark skin in camos and a black tank top. Her long curly hair a crimson red and her eyes display an unsettling calm when looking at the witch’s trap.

Daisy heeded caution, but she could see from the well-developed physique of this woman that there was a lot of life in her that shouldn’t go to waste. She quickly raised her hand and formed a snowy tornado around her that instantly hardened into a cone of solid frosty ice.

“Ohh what a catch” Daisy let out as she slid down the ice tower and began walking toward the woman who stood eerily still despite her situation. Daisy took the cue however and didn’t get too close before she froze the woman’s feet to the ground.

“You’re full of delicious energy. What’s your name, sweetie?” Daisy let out joyfully as she felt the intense energy radiating off this woman – more than any human she has ever seen.

“Name’s Hilda, dead witch… I want you to scream it loud before I crush your throat” The woman let out. In an incredible display of strength, Hilda slammed her fists against the wall of ice and smashed a hole into it within a second.

Daisy’s heart jumped from seeing such a superhuman display of power, reminiscent of the witch hunters of old. She decided to quickly end it, and summoned sharp spears of ice beneath the woman to skewer her. However, as the ice shot up like a rocket, the woman freed her feet and moved from over the forming pillar, using it as leverage to leap toward Daisy.

Terror filled Daisy’s hungry eyes as Hilda landed within a few feet of her. Daisy could only form a flat wall before her and flee while giving herself a moment to figure out how to handle this mysteriously strong person. Daisy quickly summoned a blizzard behind her as she ran to gain more distance, but all she could hear was the cracking of the ice as soon as it formed. Every step she took those behind her felt closer. Her poor lungs started to wheeze while her heart slammed in her throat, filling her ears with its frantic thrumming.

She turned around to summon another barrier but was met with a heart-stopping gaze inches from her face and a deep agonizing pain in the pit of her stomach. the woman’s fist had just buried itself into her core and robbed her of what little breath she had.

Daisy dropped to her knees, clutching at her chest with one hand, croaking hoarsely as she gasped for air and heaved. This was a blow like she had never felt before. As she lay on the forest floor weak and breathless, she felt utterly helpless. She could only wonder what the woman had in store for her after that.

In her winded state, Daisy managed to roll onto her burning and aching stomach. She desperately clawed at the frozen earth.

“You’re pathetic.” A boot harshly turned her over onto her back. Daisy could only see the sadism shining through this woman’s cold and heartless gaze before she stomped on the pale bare flesh of Daisy’s midsection.

Daisy tried to curl into the fetal position but Hilda shoved her boot in harder, crushing her organs under the hard thick rubber of her boot.

Hilda knelt down and Sat on Daisy’s hips, the relief of that shoe leaving her body wouldn’t hast long before she felt a calloused hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing mercilessly

“Haahkk- aahk—" Daisy let out in a desperate plea for air, grabbing and forming icy shackles around Hilda’s arm. A bright blue glow came from her hands and the ice pushed upward to lift the hand. Despite the intense cold, the determined soldier doubled down her grip. The ice cracking, shards falling on Daisy’s body as her efforts proved futile.

“I hope you all make it this easy. Just give up so I can cut your heart out and add it to my trophy wall” Hearing that makes Daisy’s heart slam against her ribs as if trying to escape its fate, but while Hilda’s hand cuts off the vital route of blood to her brain, its efforts only hastened the end of her precious oxygen supply. Her vision blurred as drool overflowed from her lips. The thick blue veins in her neck standing on end, her purple face and throat bulging, looking as if her head would pop like a grape while she struggled to free herself.

“You know what… I can’t wait for that.” Hilda pulled out a knife, Daisy squirmed beneath the woman with all her might at the sight of the glossy silver blade, but to no avail. The last-ditch effort only brought a smile to Hilda’s face in its futility as her cold steel pressed against Daisy’s breathlessly squirming chest.

Daisy’s gaze rested upon that vengeful piercing stare as her vision faded, feeling the knife bite her skin. Despite her efforts to cling to consciousness and her frantic pleas to her eldritch patron, her body quickly calmed and succumbed to its fate. She could only lie there breathlessly while the cold blade slowly descended into her chest and inched closer to her pounding heart.

“Daaaaaayyyseeee, it’s dinner time” Crystal called out.

Crystal waited for a few seconds before getting impatient. She decided to see for herself what was going on and leapt up to a tentacle which she sat on as it towered above the icy wall “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re not sharing the-“ Crystal watched in complete shock as she saw Someone sitting on Daisy’s unconscious body, continuing to strangle her while slipping a knife beneath her ribs. That shock turned to a hot rage quickly before she lifted her staff and summoned a portal behind the woman

THWACK- massive and slick tendril sent the woman flying a few feet away from Daisy.

The woman let out a “GAH” as she bounced off the ground once and rolled to a stop on her stomach. Ignoring this, she raised her head and looked back to where she stood a moment before. A translucent blue tentacle undulated, its base emerging from a portal near Daisy’s supine body and its tip stroking her neck, another wrapped around the blade which twitched to the beat of the frantic organ writhing against its tip.

“Tsk, tsk. Oh, Daisy. I thought I taught you to last longer than that? Disappointing.” Crystal let out while Hilda looked up at her.

“Hello there! Who might you be, and how did you manage to do that?” Crystal pointed at Daisy.

“You’ll see” Hilda replied

“My friend Daisy back there is a bit of a lightweight, I admit. But still, I’ve never met a non-magical person who could do such a thing.” Crystal planted her staff on the ground and put her crossed arms on top of it. She perched her chin atop a forearm as she leaned against her staff, looking at Hilda with a pixieish smile. “Comeon… What’s your deal? I’d love to know before I… well, you know.”

Hilda, now on her feet, shot a death glare at Crystal. “Oh, you’ll find out what my deal is. Firsthand.”

“Dangerous and snappy! I love it.” Crystal said

Hilda took off and charged the witch where she stood. Crystal ripped her staff from the ground and held it out to her side as Hilda closed the distance between them. The redhead’s fist cut through the air like a bullet, inches away from Crystal’s neck but stopped short as she fell to the ground. She looked back to see a large tendril gripping her leg and pulling her back to the portal from where it came.

“Keep going, show me what you got, sweetie!” Crystal said while more slithered out from the portal and grabbed the woman’s body, slick and wet as they coiled around her limbs and slid down to her wrists and ankles

“Ngh!” A grunt of effort escaped as she struggled against them until she calmed down and let the witch close in. Crystal stood up against the bound woman.

“Looks like you were about to take my friends heart. If you want a witch’s heart so much, here…” Crystal grabbed Hilda’s hand gently and pressed it to her own chest. Her excited heart pounding into Hilda’s palm.

“You have mine already.” Crystal smiled

Hilda ripped her hand from Crystal’s body as disgust filled her eyes. Crystal’s own expression filled with disappointment

“Come on, don’t be so cruel… to yourself! It’s your last moment, don’t you think you should let yourself enjoy it?” Crystal said as she wrapped her arms around Hilda in a tight hug, closing her eyes to feel the nonverbal exchange between their pounding hearts, Crystal’s excitement and Hilda’s rage fueling eachother in every exasperated beat. The life in this woman made her drool, a powerful energy she had never felt before, all hers for the taking. A treat that must be savored. Hilda’s muscular body squirmed against her and moves her delicate and flimsy body around like nothing, held back only by the power of her spell.

After about a minute the captive woman stopped resisting, to Crystal’s disappointment.

“Mmmm, time to-“ Crystal opened her eyes to see Hilda staring down at her with a wicked smile. As she reached for her staff she felt the woman’s hand holding it, the tendril that was binding her wrist ending in a fleshy pulp.

“hey, give me that” Crystal let out as she backed off from arm’s length. The tendrils left Hilda’s body to Crystal’s horror, showing just how faithful her demonic deity was to her as it obeyed its new vessel.

Crystal’s heart sank, her legs began to shake as she weighed her options and held her composure.

“You think I need that? We speak telepathically, and you can’t understand the language of ancient Gods”

“Your guard dog speaks just fine… Nothing’s going to be quite as satisfying as what I am about to do to you now” Hilda let out as she raised the staff above her head. Crystal’s composure dropped and she fell back reflexively, crawling up to run, only to be tripped by a familiar slimy appendage. She frantically pulled at it to no avail

“What are you doing, stop!” she said to the demonic being, though she was met with silence.

Hilda approached with a grin from ear to ear. Crystal couldn’t stop herself from struggling in vain, putting on a pathetic show for her assailant. As Hilda closed in, Crystal puts her hand in front of her face. Hilda grabbed her wrist roughly and pulled her up. The staff glowed in Hilda’s hand and Crystal felt a warmth on her chest.

“Come on, you wanted to have some fun didn’t you?” Hilda let out, stabbing the staff in the ground beside her and grabbing the top of Crystal’s blouse, ripping it open and baring her naked body. Confused, Crystal looked down, her eyes widened at the sight -- her chest covered in the runes of a small portal into her body. The space inside the circle disappeared and Hilda’s hand reached in.

“Ahhh! Wait, wait!” Crystal cried out as she felt an intense pressure in her chest, the thrumming in her ears and body ceased.

Hilda grinned “You wanted to give me this? What a pathetic thing, I don’t even want it… now go ahead, do something, your arms are free.” Hilda let out harshly, sending a new explosion of agony through Crystal’s chest, radiating outward into her weary body while the woman’s fingers sank into the meat of her helplessly squirming life. As her fate set in, she stopped short of giving Hilda the satisfaction of token resistance for as long as she can.

“What a great stress relief, crushing a wretched witch’s heart” Hilda says with a twisted sense of amusement. Crystal remained silent, looking up and spitting in Hilda’s face.

“Come on, bitch, do something fun” Intense waves of unbearable pressure consumed Crystal as Hilda harshly pumped her heart.

“AHK!! Please!” Crystal let out, caving easily as she flailed and tried digging her fingernails into the intruding arm with all her might -- a smile cracking the frustrated frown on Hilda’s face. Crystal’s vision grew blurry, her head feeling light, but the cruel woman’s torment was fueled by her helpless struggling.

“I’d love to keep going but I need to finish what I started with your fri-“

Hilda’s words ended abruptly as a ball of solid ice slammed into the side of her head. When Hilda lets go and fell over unconscious, Crystal saw Daisy behind her, holding her own chest and panting heavily while forming an icy prison Hilda’s body

“Crystal… we need to be more careful” Daisy let out, sitting beside her partner, pulling her to her lap, watching over her while she took shallow labored breaths

Crystal couldn’t speak to tell Daisy how grateful she was to see her. As the portal on her chest closed, every heartbeat sent shockwaves through her body.

“Wh…what about her” Crystal mustered

“We’re going to study her… painfully. And figure out what this new power is.”

#cardiophile story #cardiophilia #heart

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taizi · 3 years

Text

out past the shallow breakers

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, jiang cheng & lan sizhui word count: 3148 read on ao3

“He died!”

The words ring loud, sharp—in the pavilion where they’re taking their evening meal, surrounded on all sides by untroubled water, the words seem to carry for miles.

It’s unlike Lan Sizhui to raise his voice at all, much less to raise it toward a senior. His hands, resting politely on his knees under the table, have curled into fists.

“Everyone goes on and on as though baba has so much to atone for,” Lan Sizhui says, each word lurching from his throat like a line of fierce corpses shambling through brush. “What more is there for him to give? What more do you want? He died.”

Jin Ling is staring at his friend as though he’s never seen him fully before. On Lan Sizhui’s other side, Wei Wuxian’s expression is shifting rapidly from alarm to comprehension. His gray eyes are full of a painful understanding.

“Sizhui ah,” Wei Wuxian says, touching the boy’s shoulder. “Come take a walk with me.”

Jerking his head in a nod, Lan Sizhui pushes to his feet and then pauses there. His Gusu Lan whites, those extra lines and layers that denote him a member of the main family, ghost elegantly around him when he lowers himself in a bow that is every inch deep that it needs to be and not one inch deeper.

“Sect Leader Jiang, this disciple apologizes,” he says. The cheerful ‘shushu’ of earlier that morning might as well be a memory of another life. “My behavior was unworthy.”

He doesn’t grit it out, the way Jin Ling would probably have had to. It doesn’t even seem to cost him any pride.

For one, single, impossible moment, it’s as though Jiang Yanli is standing there, making her apologies to their mother for her brothers’ sake, to spare them any pain she could. It didn’t matter that the blame wasn’t hers. It didn’t cost her any pride, either.

But Jiang Yanli didn’t have a chance to be a part of her nephew’s life, as much as she would have wanted to be. This likeness isn’t hers, not truly. Wei Wuxian was always more like his sister than he or Jiang Cheng were ready to admit.

“Forget it,” Jiang Cheng says. His voice is hoarse, but in the stillness of the water and the silence of the pavilion, it carries, too. “Go on.”

Wei Wuxian shepherds his son from the table. He glances back at Jiang Cheng once, a grimace of apology on his face, but then Lan Sizhui’s hand finds the trailing black hem of Wei Wuxian’s sleeve and clutches to it, and that steals all of Wei Wuxian’s attention as easily as a slap or a shout might have.

The moment they’re gone, Jin Ling lets out a breath he must have been holding, and rounds on his other uncle with wide eyes.

“What did you say?” Jin Ling blurts. “I wasn’t really paying attention, but it didn’t sound like—I mean, it sounded normal.”

Jiang Cheng is still staring at the place Lan Sizhui had stood.

The last living remnant of a persecuted clan, so much an amalgamation of his two fathers that it didn’t make sense that one of them had been dead for most of his young life—holding a grudge and bowing his head at the same time. Lan Wangji, in Jiang Cheng’s experience, has never once let something go that he could nurse icy resentment for instead. Wei Wuxian has always choked down hurt like it was second nature, no matter that it must feel like swallowing nails every time.

It was a normal conversation, but perhaps that’s exactly why Lan Sizhui couldn’t bear another second of it.

“He died,” Lan Sizhui had said, as raw as a fresh wound, or one that kept getting torn open again before it could heal. “What more do you want?”

“Ah, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says the next morning, meeting him in the courtyard. “Did you sleep well?”

He’s smiling with a certain nervous energy that Jiang Cheng can only pick out because he spent the formative years of his life raising and being raised by his siblings. To an outsider, there probably wouldn’t be a single visible chink in that cheerful armor.

Jiang Cheng, for all his failings, isn’t an outsider. Not quite. The door between them is closed—has been closed for years, almost decades—but Wei Wuxian isn’t the one who closed it. There almost certainly isn’t a lock or talisman keeping Jiang Cheng from forcing it open again.

It won’t come open again easily. There is so much stacked in the way. Hurt and betrayal and grief throw their weight into keeping it shut, weighing it down on either side.

But—

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng forces out. Wei Wuxian blinks, as if he didn’t expect a forthright answer, or any answer at all. Something about his open surprise at the barest scrap of civility makes Jiang Cheng add, “If you’re awake this early, you didn’t sleep at all.”

His brother takes the opening for what it is, and bends into character. “Oh! You know me so well!”

Mo Xuanyu’s body is smaller, slighter, than the body that Wei Wuxian was born into, and his face is not quite the same, but Wei Wuxian’s mannerisms shine through so clearly that it’s easy to look past everything else. Even the way he stands still is entirely his own, his whole body vibrating with the necessary focus it takes to keep from bursting into movement again.

He is so familiar. The most familiar thing in Jiang Cheng’s entire, almost-empty life.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Wei Wuxian says. The words spill from his mouth like river pebbles, scattering around their feet. There’s that echo of their jiejie again, smiling around I’m sorry. “Don’t hold it against him, please. He’s so young, and he’s struggling to make sense of some things. He was happy that you invited him to Lotus Pier.”

The past-tense makes Jiang Cheng want to flinch, but he doesn’t. He just stands there in the peach pink morning and absorbs the beginning of a goodbye.

“So you’re leaving, then?” he mutters.

“I think we’ve definitely worn out our welcome this time,” Wei Wuxian says, easily shouldering the blame for everyone else’s bad behavior. They might as well be twelve years old again, kneeling here in the courtyard under Madam Yu’s furious eyes. “But it’s alright! Wen Ning sent word that he’s waiting for us outside of Yunmeng and Sizhui is eager to see him. We’ll go find some trouble to get into before we head back home.”

He won’t say a word about this change of plans to his husband, but Lan Wangji will still find out—whether Lan Sizhui tells him, or Wen Ning, or he just picks up something from Wei Wuxian through osmosis—and the next cultivator conference will be excruciating. And if the Jiang clan gets anything out of it, it won’t be anything good. And Jiang Cheng will feel slighted and angry for months, until the next time Wei Wuxian swings by for a visit. And having his brother nearby will soothe an ache in the pit of Jiang Cheng’s chest that he’s able to ignore all the rest of the time. And then, inevitably, Wei Wuxian will look wistfully at the water, or linger for too long by the flowers their sister liked best, or bring some other manner of ghost to the dinner table, and Jiang Cheng will lash out because it’s the only way he knows how to handle hurt. And then Wei Wuxian will extract himself and go home to Cloud Recesses early, and Lan Wangji will rightly guess why. And it just never fucking ends, does it?

The grief he carries around with him—he’s not wrong to carry it. It’s his. He was hurt, time and again, by a person he used to count on not to hurt him. He’s two times an orphan; once when his parents died, and again when his siblings did. He had to rebuild his home from the ground up, by himself, with his own two hands. Everything he has is what he was able to dig out of the dirt and ashes.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Lotus Pier fell. It isn’t his fault that the Wens were persecuted, that they had nowhere else to turn for protection. And it isn’t—

This one hurts; this one comes away bleeding. Jiang Cheng forces himself through it anyway.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Yanli died.

She died for him, but he didn’t ask her to.

Jiang Cheng feels his brother’s golden core thrumming inside his chest, hyper-aware of it now in a way he rarely was before—how it feels the way the sun looks in the morning, warm and brilliant and spilling color across the dull gray of dawn.

He didn’t ask Wei Wuxian to cut himself open for Jiang Cheng’s sake. He can’t be blamed for his brother’s choices. And if that’s true (and it has to be true or Jiang Cheng will go insane) then Wei Wuxian can’t be blamed for their sister’s choice, either. Yanli died for Wei Wuxian because she loved him, and Wei Wuxian gave Jiang Cheng his golden core because he loved him, and Jiang Cheng never moved on and never let go because he loved them, too.

They weren’t raised to love softly or quietly. Love between the three of them was always fierce, like a wild animal baring its teeth. Clinging to each other in a world that wanted to rip them apart. Even Yanli, who smiled and spoke with such sweetness, went to war because her brothers were there.

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

Jiang Cheng lifts his head. Wei Wuxian is already looking at him, poised, as ever, to leave the moment Jiang Cheng gives him any indication that he should, like a bird ready to fling itself into flight. His brother, dead for thirteen years and back again, and only sometimes-welcome in the place he used to call home. Only sometimes-wanted by the person who used to be his family.

In a world full of people missing people they’ll never see again, Wei Wuxian is a miracle that Jiang Cheng is entirely unworthy of.

He’s right to carry his grief, because it’s his. But he wouldn’t be wrong—it wouldn’t be a betrayal—if he chose to set it down.

“You find trouble as easy as breathing,” he says, speaking through his heart, where it’s lodged in his throat, “so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Maligned!” Wei Wuxian cries with an air of great sorrow. “Blatantly maligned, by my own flesh and blood!”

Jiang Cheng can’t say what he wants to say. He can’t find the words. There’s only so much of himself he can dig up and expose like raw nerves before the pain of it becomes overwhelming, and he reacts to the hurt the way he always does, and shoves Wei Wuxian away.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Jin Ling, or he’ll never forgive you,” Jiang Cheng settles for. “And I’ll be the one stuck hearing about it.”

“I would never forget my favorite nephew,” Wei Wuxian says easily.

“And if you fuck up, and get yourself into a stupid mess,” Jiang Cheng adds, before he loses his nerve, “don’t let me hear about it from someone else.”

For a moment, Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“What if it’s very stupid?” he finally asks, his voice at once both faint and painfully fond.

“What else is new?” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Just send for me, and I’ll come.”

Above them, the pink and orange of fresh dawn make way for vivid blue. As Jiang Cheng stands in his childhood home with his only brother, while the market comes to life outside the walls and the breeze sweeps the smell of lotus flowers and scallion pancakes through the courtyard, the years seem to fall away. For a brief, uninterrupted moment, they’re both back where they belong.

“Aiyah, shidi,” Wei Wuxian says. “Of course you will.”

The next time Jiang Cheng sees Lan Sizhui is at the cultivation conference in Gusu, two months later.

The boy smiles politely but greets him as ‘Sect Leader Jiang’ again, and next to him, Jiang Cheng can feel Jin Ling wince. Lan Sizhui’s counterpart, the wildly opinionated and deeply un-Lan-like Lan Jingyi is giving him a frank, up-and-down appraisal.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you,” he says baldly. “You’re brave. Like, if Hanguang-jun hated me as much as he hated you, I just wouldn’t show up. You couldn’t pay me to show up.”

“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui says at length.

“No, I know. I’m just saying. Young Mistress,” he adds, sweeping into a deep, performative bow in front of Jin Ling, “if you’ll come with me, your presence is earnestly awaited by Young Master Ouyang in the library pavilion.”

“Shut up, Jingyi, I swear,” Jin Ling snaps, but he lets himself be herded away with only a single worried glance back at his uncle.

Lan Sizhui is gazing up at Jiang Cheng with a complicated expression. Even though the explosive anger of that disastrous dinner doesn’t seem likely to make a reappearance, there is still something troubled in his eyes.

“I wanted to apologize, shushu,” the boy says slowly. “Properly, that is. For the way I spoke to you last time.”

Ah. So the stiffness isn’t born of lingering irritation, but worry. These Lans, Jiang Cheng thinks, with significantly less venom than he’s used to thinking of the Lan sect with.

He has a well of patience for his nephews that has never run dry. Jin Ling has stretched it nearly to the limit, more than once, but it will take Lan Sizhui more than one emotional outburst to come even close. Given that they’ve only been family (for given value of the word) for a short while, it makes sense that Lan Sizhui wouldn’t know that.

“It wasn’t you that I was angry with, not really,” Lan Sizhui says, explaining when Jiang Cheng has already largely guessed. “I know that you care about baba in your own way, even if a-die doesn’t think so. But—there are—”

His young face folds in frustration, less remarkably than Jin Ling’s does when he’s having a snit, but just a creased forehead speaks volumes in this repressed sect.

“There are other people. Who say similar things. And they don’t mean it the way you mean it.”

Jiang Cheng knows that. He attended those meetings, too.

“And let me guess,” he says, “my idiot brother doesn’t want you speaking up for him.”

Lan Sizhui’s mouth twists. “He says that he did horrible things, and those people are well within their rights to feel about him however they want to feel about him. But—he did good, too. He protected my clan, even though he had to do it alone. I don’t remember very much,” he goes on, slightly quieter, “but I know that he made the Burial Mounds a warm and safe place for me. I know that I never felt scared or cold or hungry when I was there with him. And I don’t think most people could have done that.”

Jiang Cheng boxes up the involuntary pain that swells into place at the poking of this half-healed wound, and gives himself a moment to organize a reply. Talking to the mind-healer his chief physician recommended to him has helped a lot, not that he’ll give that smug witch the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Wei Wuxian hurt a lot of people, but so did everyone else,” he says when he’s certain he can say it without losing his composure. “We were at war. None of us are blameless. He was just the most convenient scapegoat. He still is.”

Lan Sizhui’s eyes are bright with vindication. He was born a Wen and raised a Lan, but there’s a streak of Jiang in there, too, Jiang Cheng thinks with pride. It’s that love that Jiang Cheng recognizes, the same kind of love that he and jiejie and Wei Wuxian had cultivated between them since they were children—the vicious, untamed kind of love that marches to war and claws its way up from hell and clings too hard to things it rightly should let go of.

“It isn’t fair,” Lan Sizhui says.

“No,” Jiang Cheng allows. “It isn’t.”

Wei Wuxian waves animatedly at Jiang Cheng from across the room, even though it makes Lan Qiren scowl at him. It’s reminiscent of every single stuffy banquet they had to sit through as kids, making faces at one another when Madam Yu’s eyes were turned away.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes in return, and Wei Wuxian lights up like he’s been handed a pile of gold. Lan Wangji gazes at him with a tenderness that would be absolutely absurd if Wei Wuxian didn’t actually deserve every scant inch of it that got sent his way, and even though the entire cultivation world is waiting, he spares a moment to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear.

Sect Leader Yao scoffs, a bit too loudly. “Shameless upstart.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes turn so sharp so fast that it promises violence.

Before he can say anything that starts another war, Jiang Cheng turns fully around in his seat.

“Problem?” he asks shortly.

Baffled, Sect Leader Yao’s gaze skates around the room for a moment before landing back on Jiang Cheng.

“If you have something to say about my brother,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice a snarl, zidian sparking on his arm, “say it so that I can hear you.”

“Ah, this meeting is off to such a lively start,” Wei Wuxian says into the ominous stillness of the room. “Shidi, you’re so energetic, why don’t you kick things off?”

It would be the first time in his career that he’s the first to speak at a conference. Openly disbelieving, Jiang Cheng looks from his brother to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s eyes are narrowed, but not as though he’s sizing Jiang Cheng up for a coffin, which is how he usually sizes him up. All he does is tip his head incrementally, conceding the floor to him.

Gods. It’s that simple.

“You are really not a difficult person, are you?” Jiang Cheng says aloud.

“No,” Lan Wangji agrees, this force of nature who turned the world upside down and challenged every single person in it, who would do so again and again and again, just to be able to sit there and hold Wei Wuxian’s hand.

And then, in the closest the two of them have ever come to an understanding, Lan Wangji adds, “Neither are you.”

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #yunmeng shuangjie #jiang cheng #wei ying #lan sizhui #mdzs #wangxian #my writing #mdzs fic

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sporticus1234 · 3 years

Text

Catch Me if You Can-Laws of Attraction (Part 1)

Summary: After weeks of flirting, teasing, and close calls, Tessa is ready to take the plunge, but can Gabe overcome his own worse fears and join her?

Pairing: Gabe Ricci x Main Character (Tessa Michaels)

Link to my Master-List and Other works will be added once they have been re-edited and re-uploaded.

Perma-Tags and LOA Tags: @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise @blainehellyes @mm2305 @suitfer @thegreentwin @pixelnutrookie

I hope you all enjoy it and see you soon for some...adventures...in part 2.

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Rather than clumsy words, it’s your action that I believe. Don’t stop. Go past the limit. Go faster. I’m going to find my heart. So catch me if you can.

-Girls Generation, Catch Me if You Can (Korean Ver.)

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The once glittering ballroom filled with stimulating conversation, flowing bubbles of champagne, and decadent hor-dourves was now deserted and quiet, signaling the end of the extravagant weekend legal conference. As the last person Tessa was speaking to excused herself for the evening, she looked around the empty space littered with discarded champagne flutes and linen napkins, her spirits deflating at the sight. The conference ended as quickly as it began, and come Monday morning, she would be back in the office, the competition still at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

It may have been a short weekend, but Tessa was grateful for the time away from the office. The past few weeks were filled with nothing else but case after case coming one after another and nonstop talk about the competition, particularly from Martin. But for a tiny period of time, all of that vanished out of sight and out of mind. She laughed and joked with her colleagues and bosses like they were all good friends. She camped and ate smores in a beautiful forest, and she finally got her first full night of sleep since she started working at McGraw Byrne. She truly felt like she had been transported to a completely different world, one she found hesitant to leave behind for an entire year.

Stifling the yawn sneaking up on her, she left the ballroom behind, her spirits still thrumming with excitement from the evening, but her body yearning for a soak in a hot bath and some sleep in the oversized hotel bed. She was halfway across the empty lobby, gilded elevator doors in sight, when her feet came to a stop outside of the hotel’s bar. She didn’t even have to look to know exactly who was sitting in that dimly lit bar. He had a larger-than-life presence, no matter what room he was in, that was like a magnet, drawing everyone’s attention, even if he was just randomly passing by on the sidewalk.

Her tiredness completely forgotten, she hovers near the entryway and discretely watches him. He’s sitting by himself at the bar, nursing what Tessa knows is a glass of scotch on the rocks along with a basket of half-eaten chips and dip, his eyes occasionally flicking up to the large screen TV showing a basketball game taking place on the other side of the country. His jacket is discarded on the back of his chair, his tie loosened slightly and the buttons of his shirt rakishly undone at the top. Despite his disheveled, executive blowing off steam look, he is still just as handsome and attractive as he was just a short time ago when he was polished and buttoned up. Maybe even more.

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she watches him. Gabe was such a surprise when she first came to New York, and she never expected to become so charmed by him. The man has such a lavish and lively personality on the outside, but on the inside is a man driven to be the best and passionate about using his vast knowledge to help everyone. His heart is as big as his office, a welcoming, refreshing contrast to the selfishness Tessa sees too often in this line of work. They have only known each other for a short time, but every time he came around, he put a smile on her face and made her stomach flip-flop. She couldn’t explain why he has such a pleasant effect on her. Perhaps it’s the way that when she flirts with him, he flirts right back with the same energy she gives him, maybe even more. Maybe it’s the way the two of them click when they’re together. Or maybe it’s the way he continues to keep her on her toes and excite her yet still make her feel a sense of comfort and familiarity at the same time. Regardless of the reasons, the one thing she was certain of was that she didn’t want this fluttering feeling to stop. Ever.

“Of course, you would be alone at a bar,” Tessa teases as she steps towards him.

Gabe swivels his head around at the sound of her voice, his eyes immediately catching hers as she approaches him. His lips twist into a grin, his spirits lifting like they always do whenever she is around. “Am I really that predictable?”

Tessa shrugs. “Maybe a little. But you wouldn’t be the Gabe Ricci we all know and love if you weren’t.”

Gabe chuckles. “Most people wouldn’t agree with you on that statement.”

“I’m not most people,” she fires back with a wink.

No, you are most definitely not Gabe thought. “What exactly are you doing still wandering around?” He glances down towards his watch, mildly surprised to find it still somewhat early. “The cocktail party ended almost an hour ago. I figured you would be in bed like everyone else.”

“I planned on it, but then I saw this guy sitting all by himself in this empty hotel bar and thought he could use some company.”

Gabe’s eyes twinkle with delightful mischief as he takes another sip of his scotch. He was hoping the two of them could spend some more time together before the madness hit them Monday morning. “I think I know who you’re talking about. And I, for one, know that he would love to have some company, especially if the company happens to be you.”

Tessa gives him a shy smile as she slips into the bar stool next to him. An electrical, buzzing warmth fills up the space around them as butterflies flutter in her stomach at the near closeness to him, the scent of his cologne invading her senses and tempting her to come even closer. As she peruses the small menu, the lone bartender comes over and places a napkin down in front of her.

“Anything to eat or drink?”

“A Manhattan please.”

The bartender nods before turning to Gabe. “Another refill for you, sir?”

“Please,” Gabe replies. “And put her Manhattan on my tab as well.”

The bartender grabs Gabe’s empty glass and heads down to the other end of the bar. Once he’s fully out of hearing range, Tessa turns to face Gabe. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “I am more than capable of paying for my own drinks.”

“I know you could pay for it,” Gabe responds before his lips curl into his trademark sly smirk, “or you could let Sadie pay for it.”

“Wait, what?”

Gabe nods, his smirk growing bigger. “Consider it another partner-only secret. This conference is one of the few events Sadie lets us have more…leeway…with the company credit card. Any food or drinks we buy at this conference gets covered by the firm.”

“And something tells me you’re taking full advantage of that offer,” Tessa says.

Gabe gives her a wink. “What can I say? A good attorney knows a good offer when they see it.”

“In that case,” Tessa flags down the bartender again. “I’ll do an order of the spicy fried pickle chips with that Manhattan.” The bartender nods and disappears into a back room. Tessa turns her head, seeing Gabe looking at her with an amused expression on his face. “What’s that look for?”

Gabe chuckles, shaking his head. “Just wondering if I’m going to regret sharing that secret with you.”

“Don’t worry,” Tessa grins at him. “Your secret is safe with me. But if Sadie cuts us off or starts questioning anything on the credit card bills, I’m placing the full blame on you.”

The two of them continue to make small talk until the bartender comes back a few minutes later. He places their drinks and her basket of food down before excusing himself and shuffling into the back room once again. Tessa grabs her glass and holds it up in a toast, prompting Gabe to do the same.

“To drinks on someone else’s dime,” she states.

The two of them share a laugh as they clink their glasses together. Tessa takes a sip of her drink, the whiskey a sharp contrast to the bubbly champagne of the reception. The liquid pools like fire in her stomach and flows throughout her body, warming her up and loosening her muscles. “Best Manhattan I’ve ever had.”

Gabe cocks his eyebrow. “Is it really the best?”

“Oh, not by a long shot. But since I didn’t have to pay for it, I consider it the best in my book.”

“You really are a woman after my own heart,” Gabe replies. Tessa tucks her gaze away from him, feeling her face grow hot at the combination of the whiskey and his spell-binding charm. She takes another sip of her drink before sliding the basket of pickle chips towards him. He throws her an appreciative “thanks”, taking a chip and popping it into his mouth before continuing their conversation. “How did you enjoy the conference?”

“I really liked it,” Tessa answers. “I never got the chance to do things like this with my old law firm.”

“What? Have free food and drinks on someone else’s dime with a devastatingly handsome senior partner?”

Tessa shoves him with a laugh. “No, you complete smart ass. I meant going out to events and connecting with other people.” She absentmindedly picks the coating off a pickle chip, her mind reminiscing. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my hometown, but there was no excitement in my life. It was the same boring routine every single day.”

“Sounds like you and McGraw Byrne are a perfect match.”

Tessa nods. “Honestly, I really have you to thank. If you didn’t recommend hiring me to Sadie, I still would be stuck in the same boring routine. It sounds really sappy, but you really did change my life for the better…in more ways than one.”

The raw honesty in her voice tugs at his heartstrings, his lips twitching into another smile. He’s used to hearing those words come from his clients, but hearing those words come from her just felt…different, and it made him feel something he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

“You’re very welcome,” Gabe earnestly tells her. “I wouldn’t have recommended you if I didn’t think you were a stellar attorney. You deserve to be here just as much as everyone else, and I truly mean that. McGraw Byrne needed someone like you. Hell, the legal world needs more attorneys like you.”

“What? Sappy and sentimental ones?”

“No,” Gabe says, stifling his chuckle. “I meant attorneys who are passionate about their job and passionate about connecting with people. So many attorneys don’t take the time to really understand or listen to their clients. Having someone like you, someone who actually connects with clients and goes above and beyond to help them, really does make a world of difference.” Gabe takes a pickle chip and pops it into his mouth. “But I really am happy you decided to take Sadie up on her offer to join us, even if the past few days have given you plenty of good reasons to quit.”

Tessa blows out a harsh breath, knowing exactly what Gabe was referring to. “Yeah, they have been quite…challenging.”

“I meant to ask you earlier, but how’re you holding up?”

Tessa sighs, dragging her fingertip over the rim of her glass. “Honestly, I’m still pissed that Beau stole the credit from me in front of everyone, but I should’ve expected someone to pull that stunt sooner or later.” She blinks back a tear trying to escape. “It just sucks to be the one it happens to.”

“I know, and I truly am sorry Beau pulled such a dick move on you.” He sympathetically lays a gentle hand on her bare shoulder, the touch sending comfort through her veins. “If I could’ve done something to make it better, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would’ve, but I do appreciate you not saying anything to Sadie.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t my place to tell her. Besides,” he takes his hand off her shoulder, already missing the feel of her smooth, soft skin, “the only thing it would’ve done was make you and me look bad in front of Sadie.”

“Sounds like someone has personal experience.”

Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “Happened to me once back in my early legal days, but instead of getting the credit and respect that I rightfully deserved, I got told off for being a bad ‘team player’ and trying to take someone else’s credit.”

“That’s so unfair,” she practically spits.

Gabe lets out a bitter, humorless guffaw. “Preaching to the choir on that one. You’ll find that every group will have one person who will do none of the work or the one person that will take credit for anything and everything. Fortunately for us, Beau happens to be both of those assholes wrapped up in one, so we save a lot on payroll.”

Tessa laughs weakly at his joke, the sting of Beau’s betrayal still fresh in her mind. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better. It just sucks knowing that Sadie is always going to believe that Beau solved the case.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m still incredibly proud of you, even if Sadie never knows the truth.”

“You…are?” she asks, surprise etched on her face as she turns her body towards him.

“Absolutely,” Gabe says, no hesitation in his voice. “Without you, we possibly would’ve never solved it to begin with, nor would Lydia have thought to make Joey sign a prenup. But what really impressed me was how you were the only one to step up and take initiative when needed. Not many of the senior partners would go to such lengths for a teenager like Lydia, but you did.”

“I guess,” Tessa mutters. “I just hope it will be enough come Monday.”

“It will be,” Gabe assures her as he steals another pickle chip.

“Really? I figured Sadie would shove Beau to the top of the rankings after he basically saved the firm.”

“Everyone in that room knows who really saved the firm, and it wasn’t Beau,” Gabe points out. “Even if Sadie believes he did, she’s also smart enough to know that one win, no matter how big it is, isn’t enough to judge how good an attorney is or will become. Beau may have stolen one win, but you’re still the one to beat.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“Plus, you showed her tonight how well you bounce back after taking a loss.”

“What do you mean?”

“Between moot court, the pro bono cases, the vaccine trial, and everything else we’ve observed, you had a major winning streak that Beau decided to snap. Most people would sulk in their losses, but you didn’t. You showed up tonight, looking incredible might I add, and managed to put everything behind you to impress the right group of people.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” Gabe confidently replies. He reaches out and covers her hand with his, trying to ignore the tingling buzzes on his skin. “You’re a wickedly smart attorney, Tessa. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks Gabe,” she says, the goofy smile plastering on her face at his heartfelt compliment. “That…that really means a lot to me.”

“It should,” Gabe tells her, reluctantly pulling his hand away again. “I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t the absolute truth. Just forget about Vegas and the Rothswells and continue onto the next case.”

Tessa nods and takes another sip of her drink as the conversation between them dies down. She may have already forgotten the Rothswells and was slowly getting over from Beau’s stolen win, but Vegas was still on her mind. It wasn’t just the city that occupied her thoughts, but rather, it was the small wedding chapel and the night she played fiancée to the man sitting next to her. That night was an intense roller coaster of emotions, desires, and confusion; it was a night where lines became blurred and questions began to arise at the nature of her and Gabe’s relationship. It was one specific little interaction that made Tessa not only sense a shift in their relationship, but triggered her to start over analyzing and over thinking every little action from their first meeting up until now.

“Nothing but the best for the most stunning woman on the Strip.”

“Alvin’s gone, you know. You don’t have to—”

He raises a finger to her lips, laying it softly against them as he gives her a smoldering look that makes her throat dry up. “What if I want to, Tessa?”

Tessa truly felt at that moment they were no longer pretending. The things he said to her that night with such conviction in his eyes and voice. The way he softly caressed and touched her with such adoration and tenderness. The way his breath tickled her lips and sent shivers throughout her body at their near-kisses. They were not things done by someone just “pretending”; no one was that good of an actor. However, despite his actions in the wedding chapel, there was one moment that made her second guess herself completely. Just as she was about to admit her feelings for him, he brusquely cut her off and completely changed the direction of the conversation. What punctuated that gut-wrenching action was him dropping her hand quickly, as if he had been burned by her touch. The cocktail of mixed signals made her head pound in dizzying confusion, and it was becoming difficult to ignore for much longer.

She glances over at Gabe, worrying her lip between her teeth and mentally debating whether or not to step into that territory of complete openness. She has a nice, working relationship with him, and she doesn’t want to risk making it awkward to be around him if he truly doesn’t feel anything towards her. On the other hand, she wants to know for her own sake of mind; she has to know if Gabe’s confusing behavior and mixed signals mean anything. They’re off the clock, away from the office, with no interruptions coming between them. It’s the perfect opportunity to air everything out, and hopefully come Monday, there would be no more confusion or misunderstandings.

“Speaking of Vegas…” Tessa mumbles, carefully avoiding his eyes. “I think we should talk.”

Gabe’s spine stiffens in alert at the sudden shift in her demeanor. “About…what, exactly?”

She takes a deep breath, knowing it was too late to steer this conversation in another direction. “About what happened at the wedding chapel.”

“Ah,” Gabe interjects, “that was some brilliant thinking on your part, with the rat and all.”

“That wasn’t the part I wanted to talk about.” She turns her head to look at him. “I wanted to talk about the whole ‘pretend’ couple in love situation.”

“What was wrong with it?” he asks her, his nerves starting to creep up on him.

“Nothing,” she quickly replies. “I was just thinking…what you said…” She takes another deep breath, preparing herself to blurt it out before she lost her nerve. “Did you ever have a moment where…you didn’t think it was pretend?”

Depends on what your answer is going to be. “What do you mean?”

“I know the whole situation was supposed to be pretend in order to get a copy of Lydia’s marriage license, but…some of the things you said…and did…” her ears grow hot as a shiver races down her spine at the memory of Gabe’s gentle caress on her wrist, the pure intimacy behind it.

“Didn’t seem like pretend?” he finishes.

“Yeah.”

“And what do you think?”

Tessa sits there silently contemplating her answer. Up until this point, Tessa never had any reason to doubt Gabe. He is a man who never makes anyone second guess his true intentions or meanings. Every word he speaks is nothing short of the truth. But his reaction on the Strip was the first time she questioned his true intentions. If Gabe did mean what he said, then why did he quickly divert the conversation and act like he couldn’t stand to be around her? Her inner conscience was waving a massive red flag in front of her, but when Gabe gripped her chin and turned her head to focus on him, she caught herself slipping back into the warm pools of his chocolate-colored orbs.

“I really hope you weren’t pretending,” she softly says, voice barely above a whisper.

Gabe feels his stomach lurch at her confession, and the corners of his mouth tug up into a small smile at her answer. Gabe wasn’t going to lie. From the minute she stepped into the office, he became fascinated with her. She was beautiful, but what caught his attention was the way she introduced herself to the others. She was the only one who stood up and spoke with such confidence and conviction about winning the partnership that he would’ve given the spot to her immediately if his name was on the building.

“That’s because I wasn’t.”

Her eyes widen. “Wh…what?”

His thumb skates over her bottom lip, gently tugging it downwards, her breath hitching at the intense, smoldering look in his eyes. “I wasn’t pretending in the wedding chapel. I truly wanted to tell you that you were the most stunning woman on the Strip because you were, and I will always think you’re the most stunning woman I will ever come across.”

“And last night?”

“I still mean it,” he tells her, taking his hand away. “I really do enjoy spending time with you, and I want to spend whatever time I have with you and only you.”

“Good.” Tessa covers his hand with hers, the electric current running between them turning into tingling shivers chasing each other up and down her spine. “Because I really, really like spending time with you too.”

The smile on his face grows bigger, turning into the most genuine one he’s ever had with someone else. Their fingers tentatively move and twist together, the air buzzing with energy just waiting to be released. A sigh of relief floods through him once he sees their hands joined together. He feared he overstepped that night in Vegas, especially since he was sharply reminded of how Tessa flirted with the fireman a few weeks ago for her eviction case. But sitting here now, their confessions out in the open, their hands joined together, made all of it real.

“So where do we go from here?”

Gabe furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“We just admitted we like each other, Gabe,” Tessa states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The question is, what comes next? Are we together? Do we see where this goes?”

Gabe bit the inside of his cheek at her question, the bliss from earlier now getting replaced with dread and guilt. He knows exactly what he wants to do next. He wants to invite her to his hotel room tonight, spend hours tangled in the silk sheets together, then wake up and do it all again tomorrow morning. He wants to take her out to dinner tomorrow night and treat her to the most decadent food in the city while he teases and touches her until she can no longer bear it. He wants to be openly affectionate with her in the office…and maybe do a few more things behind the closed doors of his office. But he can’t, and he knew the exact reasons why.

The first reason was the more obvious one. She is currently in the competition for a junior partnership, and he is the one overseeing it and potentially making the final decision on who takes his former position. They are co-workers, and while Sadie has no real binding rule that co-workers cannot date or see each other outside of work, Gabe knows there will always be a cloud of doubt and speculation hovering over Tessa if the office discovers they are seeing each other and she wins the junior partnership. Gabe was already beating himself up for what happened between her and Beau; he would never be able to forgive himself if he was the cause of ruining her reputation and the potential she has at becoming the next great attorney. How could he look himself in the mirror every morning if this blows back up in their faces?

But the less obvious reason was a hidden secret, one that he hasn’t shared with anyone else. It was the one reason that stopped him from taking her up to his penthouse in Vegas and doing all the things he fantasizes about doing with her. It was the one reason for the walls Gabe built up over the years that no one else has been able to break down. It was the one reason that prevented Gabe from crossing the lines he wanted to cross. As easy as it would be to cross them tonight with nothing stopping them, he knows he has to make the tough decision, not only to protect her, but also to protect himself. He just hopes it doesn’t change anything between them.

“As much as I would love for us to be together,” he runs his thumb soothingly over her knuckles, already feeling guilty for what he was about to say to her, “I don’t think it would be wise to pursue it.”

“O…oh,” the smile on her face falters at his stinging rejection.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” Gabe quickly assures her.

“Sure feels that way,” she blurts out with a bitter laugh.

Gabe sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “You’re stunning Tessa, and whatever would happen between us would be so goddamn mind-blowing, because I know exactly what I’d do with a girl like you.”

As much as his rejection stings, the dark tendrils of desire twist and twirl together inside at the sound of that highly promising and exciting invitation, the rush of desire making her shift in her seat at the tingling sensation. However, his tone tells her he was about to say one little three-letter word that was going to take the invitation back and make the rejection even worse.

"But...?"

Gabe shakes his head and averts his eyes from the pain blooming in hers. “We can’t act on it. I can’t act on it.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I…can’t,” he relents. He untangles their fingers and pulls his hand back to his side of the bar, no matter how painful it is for him to do so. “You already saw how low Sadie’s own blood would go to push himself ahead. Just imagine how low the others would go if they suspected—”

“You and I were seeing each other?”

Gabe nods, a small twinge of relief pricking his heart at her understanding. “Opportunities like this bring the worst out in people.”

“Considering I just had firsthand experience on how shitty people can be, I do understand it.” She takes another drink of her Manhattan, the sting now turning into simmering annoyance. “What I don’t understand is why us being together is now such a big deal for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, you didn’t seem too concerned with people seeing us together or what they thought when we went to Hoi On and that business dinner you specifically invited me to,” Tessa shrugs. “I’m just curious about the change of heart all of a sudden.”

“I didn’t have a change of heart. Those situations were entirely different.”

“Different how?”

Gabe pauses for a second to gather his thoughts. He had to tread lightly going forward, or else any chance the two of them had with each other in the future was going to be destroyed. “When I invited you to Hoi On, the other associates weren’t in the office. I knew Aislinn wasn’t going to say anything to Sadie, so no one was going to question why I brought you there.”

“And the business dinner?”

“It truly was supposed to be a business dinner and an opportunity for you to network yourself,” Gabe admits. “I didn’t know beforehand that he was going to cancel on me, and as far as the office is concerned, no one knows that he canceled on me, so everyone still suspects the three of us had that business dinner.”

“But then…oh…” Tessa trails off, another wave of disappointment crashing into her chest. “I get it.”

“You do?”

She nods. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me. I get it. The senior associate and the top senior partner being seen together would hurt your image with the other partners.”

A tinge of frustration punches his gut. “That’s not what I mean. I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. If I was, I wouldn’t have invited you to join me at the lake.”

“Good point,” Tessa tells him. “You certainly didn’t mind taking me out to the lake last night with Sadie and the other associates sitting around.”

“That was different too,” Gabe bluntly responds. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me to understand,” she sighs, exasperated.

“There’s no point in tell you,” Gabe shoots back. “You’re intelligent and observant, Tessa. You know exactly why we can’t pursue…whatever there is between us.”

“The only thing standing in the way of pursuing whatever is between us is you,” Tessa points out.

He runs his hands through his disheveled hair again. “It’s not that I want to stand in the way of us. There’s so many reasons on why we shouldn’t pursue this.”

“Well, so far, you haven’t given me one that we can’t find a way to work around. So please enlighten me, Mr. Ricci,” she crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a hard stare. “Is your reasoning really about the partnership and my reputation, or is it about something more?”

As Gabe sits there in silence, Tessa’s mind flashes back to their previous interactions. Last night was the most unguarded she has seen Gabe since she started working at McGraw Byrne. The business dinner was the first time the two of them ever got physically close to each other. Vegas was the first time the two of them were fixing to jump across those boundaries and become one. But each time, Gabe pulled back, and his action spoke volumes. And with the way Gabe was currently avoiding meeting her gaze head on and how his fingers are tightly gripping his empty scotch glass makes the light bulb go off in her head. There was another reason Gabe was hiding, one that has to do entirely with himself. She just has to hope that she is important enough for him to be honest with her.

“Well?”

Gabe sighs. “It really is about the partnership,” he lies, firmly keeping his gaze locked on the bar top. “The partnership is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you shouldn’t waste it or throw it away.”

The air turns icy and frigid at his words. Tessa grabs her clutch off the bar top, knowing there was no more reason for her to still be around. “You may be able to bullshit other people, Gabe, but you’re not going to bullshit me. You and I both know this is more than just the partnership, and out of respect for your privacy, I’m not going to pry. Only you can make the decision to share it with me, but until you do, I think it’s best to forget whatever we feel for each other.”

Tessa gives his hand a soft pat before downing the rest of her drink and sliding off the bar stool. Before she could go far, Gabe’s hand reaches out and wraps around her wrist.

“Tessa…”

“Don’t worry about it, Gabe,” she says, gently prying his fingers off her wrist. “I’m honestly a little hurt and disappointed that you can’t be honest with me, but I’m not mad at you.” She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I really do like you, Gabe, but I also like and respect myself too much to go after someone who isn’t as crazy about me as I am about them, nor will I go after someone who keeps pulling back when I want to get closer.”

“That’s not—"

She ignores his plea, digging into her clutch and pulling out a platinum-looking card. “You know where to find me when you make up your mind and have an answer for me, but don’t expect me to be waiting around forever for it.”

She places the card down on the bar top; with a sad smile, she brushes past him and heads out of the hotel bar, the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Gabe watches her figure retreat until she disappears behind the gilded elevator doors.

“Dammit!” he slams a fist against the bar top. The empty glasses jump a little at the impact, but what catches his attention was the quick flash of light reflected on the platinum card as it jumped into the air. Gabe reaches out and slides it towards him, his spirits deflating even more when he sees what she left.

The spare key to her room.

To anyone else, it may be just a room key, but Gabe knows that it is so much more meaningful than that. It symbolizes the key to her heart and the key to their future together, a key that would only work for a short amount of time until Tessa closes both of those doors on him. The decision to walk through those open doors was entirely in his hands, but before he could do that, he has to make one other decision. The time had come for him to do the one thing he has avoided doing for years, the one decision he found easy to avoid until tonight.

It was time for him to confront himself and his fears.

__________________________________

This was going to go up a lot sooner, but because my job decided to go through some technology changes recently, it meant something that previously worked is now broken and no longer works. Unfortunately, that was me this time around, so my usual break times where I work on stories was used to help fix what someone else broke.

Sorry about the delay, but I really do anticipate part 2 being uploaded soon, much sooner than LOA coming back from its hiatus.

For all of you who have read this story and made it this far, thank you so much for your support! It means more to me than you could ever imagine!

I love you all so much!

Second Chance Tagging in case Tumblr becomes Tumbroke again: @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise @blainehellyes @mm2305 @suitfer @thegreentwin @pixelnutrookie

#choices #laws of attraction #choices laws of attraction #gabe ricci x mc #gabe x mc #loa #choices loa

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hotchseyebrows · 3 years

Text

good for her

a gotchgan and temily fic

the first @qvid-pro-qvo and @hotchseyebrows collab

a/n: my dearest darling qvo and i have a penchant for saying "yes, and" until the cows come home and well. here we are. also somehow this is the very first gotchgan fic on ao3 to my knowledge? it sure is exhausting being trailblazers but alas! the sacred duty falls to us

rating: explicit! very explicit- penelope likes her details, what can i say. minors dni, thank you kindly (threesome, teasing, cunnilingus, blow jobs, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, creampie)

read it here on ao3!

The ongoings and intricacies of the Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner household, told from Penelope Garcia herself to a very curious pair of BAU agents. Girls' night will never be the same again.

(In other words, Penelope gets absolutely spoiled by her two partners, and Tara and Emily get every single detail.)

word count: 4287

The energy is a low thrum in the crowd’s chest, most of them gathered near the edges and along the counter space. There’s too many points of focus - the final call for a bachelorette party about to make their way to another venue, the steady thumps of glasses being placed back on the wood countertops, people filtering in and out of bathrooms with too few stalls - but Emily can’t take her eyes off of the couple in the center.

Derek and Penelope. Morgan and Garcia. On the dance floor, her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on her hips as they rest their foreheads together and sway back and forth. Nothing else seems to matter to them when they’re together, except them. Him and her, their focus on each other just like Emily’s is.

The songs are slow, but the rhythm beneath them is what is felt in Emily’s chest, as she hears the bartender announce her and Tara’s next choice for drink. She looks up, settles the tab, and then pulls away to walk back along the side of the place. The lights are low but perfect to give Tara another once over (tenth of the night, if she’s giving a conservative estimate). Looking up at her girlfriend’s smile and slowly working her way down her body.

She’s not subtle, that’s for sure.

“Looking for something?” Tara asks. Her voice has a little laugh in it, their own inside joke.

Emily slides the drink into Tara’s hand. She sidles up to her partner, brushing a hand along her lower back. “Somehow I am still surprised that heels make you this tall.”

Tara laughs before taking a sip of her drink and leaving a grateful kiss on Emily’s temple. “6’3” easy, baby.” She sits down on her stool and grabs Emily’s hand with a smile. “Not that it’s not exhausting being this beautiful. That’s why I have you to fetch the drinks.” Emily laughs too, leaning in to kiss Tara.

After a moment, Emily pulls back and looks around. She wraps an arm around Tara’s waist. “Look at the lovebirds?” Tara laughs into her drink, looking towards the dance floor. Well, what’s left of the dance floor. It’s late, and the place isn’t known for its vibrant dance experience anyway, so the dance floor currently consists of a DJ playing slow jams (on request) and Derek and Penelope lost in their own world.

It almost feels like an invasion of privacy watching them dance now, Pen’s lips near Derek’s ear, the way he’s smiling gently yet with some hidden meaning surely behind it Emily’s too far out of the loop to ascertain. She can take a guess, though, as the two of them laugh and somehow get even closer - a miracle, truly. Penelope nudges their noses together before pulling him into a kiss. It makes Emily smile to see it.

That’s when Hotch arrives.

“Emily,” he says, voice warm, if not a little worn for the late hour, “and Tara. Good to see you.”

“You, too, Hotch,” Tara says, lifting her drink to him.

After he and Derek retired, Emily was uncertain how they’d keep up with each other. It was Penelope who was that connection once they left, keeping the rest of the team up to date, with... well, both of them. It didn’t take long for Emily to deduce that it was more than one former agent who she was going home to, especially when girls’ nights ended with one or the other getting her home.

Nevertheless, even after five years for Hotch and a meager two for Derek, it’s still a shock to see him out of a suit and tie, though the polo isn’t too far of a cry from professional.

They make some kind of small talk as Emily and Tara work on their drinks, finishing them while the song finishes as well. Aaron fills them in on the judicial consulting he does, and Emily can’t help but spill a couple of case details while the two on the floor start to drift back towards the table. Tara nudges Emily's side with a knowing smile, drawing her attention to the way Derek is spinning Penelope around with one hand and making her giggle as they maneuver closer.

That’s when Penelope turns her head just a little, sees Hotch, and lights up, making a beeline towards him, arms throwing around his neck and giving him a firm kiss on the cheek.

“Aar-Bear!” she yells, and the music isn’t loud enough to drain out the endearment completely. Derek isn’t far behind her, hand on her lower back, rubbing along a seam of the dress she’s wearing.

“Hey, Hotch,” Derek says, and his eyes are shining just as bright as Pen’s, even if his touch is restrained just to her. “Missed you.”

His voice is still warm, however, and his eyes are soft. Emily dips her gaze briefly for her drink, sure to lift her eyes again to see the way he hugs her. “Hey, Pen, Derek. You ready to go?”

It seems to crush her - her eyes go wide and sorrowful, and even as Derek wraps around her from behind she can’t hide her pout. “We have to leave? But, my darlings -”

“We’ll see you soon, Penny,” Emily promises, Tara nodding next to her, arm wrapping around her waist. A united front against the force that is Penelope Garcia. “We’ll have another girls’ night, get you good and proper wasted.”

Penelope lets out a dreamy sigh. “There’s that London in you - okay, okay, okay, I guess I am being… swept away by one of my knights in shining armor.” Her hands lift in a show of surrender, and Derek smiles at Hotch as he passes him towards the exit of the bar. Emily doesn’t miss the squeeze of their hands in the passing, or the way that Hotch lingers back to watch Derek and Penelope stumble forward through the entrance and out into the parking lot where his car is. Derek can only manage a wave as Penelope leans on him, and quickly ensures her safety into the front seat before getting into the back himself.

“Thanks for looking after them,” Hotch says, turning back to Emily and Tara with a smile that they would have never seen on a case. “I owe you both.”

“You don’t, but if you’re offering to pay for our Uber…”

There’s a little laugh shared among the three of them, and Hotch opens his mouth to answer. Unfortunately, confirmation is lost as Penelope sticks her head out of the window without a thought in the world, blonde curls falling in front of her face as she yells out to Aaron. “Aaron Hotchner, my sweet love, if you don’t get in this car and take me home to rail me right now, I will scream.”

Tara and Emily can’t help the way they stop, heads whipping around to look at Penelope. Her smile is bright, and they have just enough time to look back at their old unit chief. Aaron has gone a bright, deep red, and Penelope has not budged from her position out of the window of their SUV.

“Well?” the FBI analyst calls out again, and Emily has to keep her hand over her mouth to hide the way she’s about to break at the look on Aaron’s face.

“S-Sorry, I’ll - I’ll see you both,” he manages, starting to move towards the car he has to now drive.

“Wonder what that looks like at the… Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner home,” Emily whispers to Tara, hand still over her mouth.

Tara does laugh, though - Hotch looks like he’s struggling to maintain any semblance of composure as he makes his way to the car, and she can see Derek’s face on Penelope’s neck as she waves wildly at them when the vehicle drives off. “It is… intriguing,” she admits, and Emily can’t hold in her laugh any longer as the two of them find their own way home.

It lingers. Penelope’s words, Hotch’s face, Derek’s laugh sounding off from the backseat. It sticks with Tara and Emily on the way home, and Emily is the one who eventually breaks.

It’s an innocuous enough text. The response, however, required a bit more context.

Emily: so did he rail you?

Pen: 🥴😵‍💫🥳🤩☄️🍑🍆🍌🍽

Emily: …… not the dinner plate.

Pen: what!!! he had to clean up the mess somehow ;)

Pen: do you want… details? because i can give you details…

Tara and Emily have to pause. Take a moment, look at each other, trying to decide if details are what they want at this moment. On the one hand, that would be more information than they ever thought they would get about two of their closest friends (they know far too much about Penelope for much to be a surprise - they think.) but on the other, it’s been incredibly… intriguing, this glimpse into the Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner household. They weigh the options, and curiosity wins out in the end.

They do in fact want all the details.

Go for it, Pen, Tara responds, and they are not nearly prepared enough for the deluge of texts they get next.

Pen: at every red light i was grabbing his thigh and ghosting my hand along his, you know, and turning back to grin at derek who was just watching me tease aar

and derek wouldn’t be left behind and so he was leaning forward and kissing aaron on the ear and the neck and me, and by the time we’re about to turn in and we park he’s kissing me before we even get into the house, as SOON as we’re in the driveway

aar just gets so pretty when he's flustered!!! can you blame us for wanting to rile him up?? plus. hes SUCH a good kisser, my goodness

Pretty. That word sticks out to Emily, but before she can linger on it too long, Tara is jabbing her with her elbow. There’s no time for wondering, because Penelope is typing with experienced fingers and the two of them are enraptured.

Pen: his cheeks just get so pink and flushed and he stammers when he’s all nervous but he’s still aaron, you know? so he’s all bossy and telling me to get inside and derek is laughing and pushing him forward and everything

and he's so HANDSY, like i dont think anyone would be surprised that derek cant keep his hands off either of us, but aaron... he's so. yea

Already they’ve learned so much about their former boss. It’s enough to make Emily’s eyes widen just a little bit, leaning back from the screen to think. It hasn’t gotten too explicit yet, but at the speed Penelope is going it’s only a matter of time.

“She’s still going,” Tara warns her, her own eyes wide. She moves to set her phone back on the table, but Emily’s hand reaches out to stop her, lifting it back up to eye level. “We could stop, now. Delete from here.”

Emily takes a breath. But she knows what she wants. “We asked for this,” she reminds her, and the two of them dive back in. “And… we have to know.”

With Tara’s nod, they keep going.

(The string of texts they get afterward are forever cemented into Tara and Emily’s memories. Not only that, but the both of them are eternally grateful that any consulting work Hotch or Morgan do is resigned to phone calls and emails, as they are uncertain they’ll ever be able to look either of them in the eye again.)

he keeps stopping me on the way to the bedroom to press me against the wall and slip his tongue in my mouth or to press me in between him and derek and trace his tongue down between my cleavage, so im already all worked up before we even get close to our room

and honestly. thank the universe that jack has been at a friend's this weekend because oh boy!! i have no desire to scar my beloved jack attack with his fathers'.... Behavior

ANYWAY and he doesn’t hesitate to pull my dress down, which, a) MEN, there’s a zipper, just tug a little, and b) SO hot when he just has to get right there as quick as possible, mouth on boob as soon as possible. not to mention derek is lifting my skirt and working on my tights, which, thank god, it was time to take those bad boys off after all day at a desk

so now derek is palming my ass and biting at my neck and aaron can't decide which nipple to suck on, so he's switching between them and groaning against my skin, and im just already so drenched

and then before i can blink, aaron, AARON, the only one without a singular drink tonight, looks up at me, and is on his knees. just drops. and i look down and he is under my skirt and before i can breathe his tongue is on my clit and he’s eating me out like he is dying of thirst ladies

and derek has to hold me up because we arent even in the bed and my knees buckle because oh my GOD he's not holding back at ALL, tongue flicking at my clit and then slipping inside of me and groaning against me again, and derek gives my tits some attention with a free hand as he murmurs in my ear and nibbles at my earlobe

and at that point im jello, im shaky, barely standing, i’ve got two gorgeous men determined to make me come, then then aaron is pulling one of my legs up over his shoulder, and he seems to remember, in that moment, my direct request and he works up to using three fingers to fuck me, stretch me open until im coming all over his against derek and unable to think let alone speak and say something coherent. but are we done? NO - not railed, ladies

and im just slumped on them both- which in reflection is such a marker of our love and how safe i feel with them because i was not supporting my own weight at all, and it didn't even occur to me- and aaron is kissing my thighs and smirking while derek nuzzles my cheek for a few moments before im unabashedly whining for more

and when aaron smirks, when he SMIRKS, you know he is not done. and derek does not hesitate, he is sucking marks into my neck and he is asking if im a good girl and deserve more (yes) before he and aaron almost fully lift me to get me to bed. i am now in bed. i have two gorgeous men standing over me, one of them with me all over his face and then i realize. im basically undressed and they have not BUDGED.

and that simply will NOT do, because i want to see my loves in all of their glory (i mean time and place- sometimes it really makes all three of us go crazy if they are fully clothed while im totally naked), but there's nothing i wont get if i break out the 🥺 look especially with my tits out and my legs spread open just right

so i break out the look, im 🥺🥺🥺 with the best of them, and derek and aaron look down at me and they’re so soft and gentle, all ‘what’s wrong, baby girl?’ and ‘what d’you need, pen?’ and it’s like, i need my boys, that’s what i need, and when i say glory i mean glory, i mean that you haven’t seen GOD until you’ve seen derek morgan and aaron hotchner strip off their clothes for you, all so they can make you come a Second time

and i dont even ask for it, but derek tugs hotch in for a kiss before either of them push off their boxers and that makes my heart melt cause any reminder i have won the cosmic lottery in terms of triadic love will do that to a person (and also my puss THROB cause they are just playing up the tongue so much and im so sure aaron still tastes like me, you know? so ridiculously outrageously hot) and then finally i watch them both slowly reveal themselves to me, which like is nothing new but still makes me feel crazy because jesus!!!!!! i can't even begin to explain how big they are

and so in my field of view are two perfect huge dicks, two perfect awesome men, and me on the bed whining for both of them!!! and i must get some full words out because derek is chuckling and kissing me and saying how i requested someone in particular first, and then aaron is lifting my leg and pushing his fingers back in me and then derek is asking if he can fuck my mouth which do i even have to say yes??? (obviously i do, good communication always, but it comes out as yesyesyesyesyes because OBVIOUSLY DEREK 🙄)

so then the both of them help me get on my hands and knees so my beautiful baby can curl his fingers against my gspot all slow and doing these tiny kitten licks against my clit while using his free (big, huge, STRONG) hand to grab at my hip so tight i still have the marks, while derek kisses me a few more times before maneuvering himself to get his gorgeous and divine cock brushing against my lips, but not fucking into my mouth even when i whine and stick out my tongue

i am trembling at this point, okay? i am on the brink — AGAIN — and i know he’s holding back for a reason because i have a great mouth and im VERY good at using it. but then i realize he’s looking up at aaron, too, GRINNING, says “ready, baby?” and before i can think he’s got his hand on my jaw and he’s telling me to open up, and then i feel aaron start to push into me as derek is feeding me his cock and im - im gone, im in heaven, im levitating okay, because i am stuffed full of cock at both ends and im in my happy place

cause ladies, i really dont think i can properly express just how fucking HUGE these two are, like my brain turns to mush with just one of them inside of me but both of them like that? oh my god, my brain was leaking out of my ears barely able to stay up on all fours- and they don't even move at first just this slow slow push in as deep as they can on that first thrust and then just waiting while i twitch and tremble in between

and don’t even talk to me about the sounds they’re making — derek goes all tight and tensed and “yea baby girl” so earnestly but aaron goes all slack-jawed and noises that don’t sound like anything other than him, and then when i look up, tears in my eyes from, well, these inches of cock im taking, derek, sweet incredible huge derek, asks me if im ready for more, and when i blink up, nodding, and he can tell im not tapping out that’s when they both FINALLY start moving

and they are so well practiced at moving in rhythm together, at first they are both thrusting in and out at the same pace, making me so full and then so empty all at once, and then slowly they start working towards a rhythm where im never empty which is precisely what i need and aaron is groaning and telling derek that im dripping and leaking all over his cock and derek thumbs at my cheek and tells me im "such a good girl, taking two big cocks and loving it, needing more" and aar is gripping at my thighs so perfectly

i know there’s gonna be marks there, later, and that when we’re all done he’s gonna kiss them all sweet and gentle and make sure im okay, but right now all i can think is nothing but oh my god and yes and more. and then i hear aaron say, “i know she wants more, she wants our cum, derek” and that’s it, he’s so smart, hits the nail on the head, and he can tell because im clenching around his cock and desperately swallowing around derek’s, and there’s no time for patience because he said it and that’s what i NEED in that moment, i need them to come inside me and on me and all of it

and they both GROAN and then aaron chuckles because i just proved him so right and he starts thrusting harder and faster. derek does too a little but he also worries about hurting my throat by being reckless, and it makes my head spin to feel how he loves me like that, but then my brain is mush again because aar is rubbing my clit and bemusedly wondering how much more im gonna come before they fill me up properly

and i know he wants me to come again but i want him to come inside of me and make it messy, and so what happens is im moaning around derek’s cock, who’s groaning and trying not to fuck my face too hard but he watching me and aaron who’s fucking into me and who now has both my legs spread so wide im just on full display, and each time he fucks into me im moaning again, and it’s just a cycle and they’re heaping on praise and before i can think im coming again around aaron because he has not let up on my clit, and then he’s pushing a finger inside along side his cock too and i don’t know how he hasn’t come yet but i know he’s close, and i know derek’s close, and i know they want a third orgasm out of me because they’re incredible and insane

and tears are on my cheeks and drool all over my chin at this point because it's just so much incredible and wonderful sensation and im so stretched around aaron anyway, but then he slips that finger in? god. it reminds me of the few times we've had the time and energy to, well have them both inside of me like that and im just trembling and whimpering around derek's cock and i thank my lucky stars i don’t have a cold so that derek doesn't have to take his cock out of my mouth at all at this, just fucking my throat and watching me get a little lightheaded from only breathing through my nose and how good im being fucked

and when derek starts biting his lip i know he’s close, and i know i am too, and then i feel the way aaron grabs at my thigh and shifts forward and then he’s fucking into me, and can twist that finger, and can hit my gspot until im seeing stars, and god bless his stamina but i finally feel his rhythm falter and for one blissful moment derek pulls out completely, and aaron is out of me too, and i just know what’s coming as i can take a full breath before i feel der fuck into my mouth, and then he’s coming, babes, he’s coming and i get to swallow it all, and aaron gets to watch the way i whine with it and he loses himself and then HE’S coming from being inside me and watching some of derek’s cum drip from my lips, and as he fucks his cum into that’s when the third orgasm hits and im just — im gone. i am GONE, ladies. i can’t believe im alive. standing. able to speak.

Tara’s eyes go wide. She hasn’t been able to breathe, let alone think for about twenty minutes. She turns to look at Emily, who, while getting these texts herself, has trouble breathing or thinking as she watches Tara type out some kind of response.

Her fingers start. Stop. Start again. Emily feels her pain, isn’t sure she’d even be able to respond after all of that. Her collar feels tight. “Good god, Pen.”

When Tara sends it, Emily’s phone alerts her of the notification. She lifts it up to glance at it.

Tara: “holy… shit….”

Pen: "but anyway :) i am so sore today in the best way and have used that leverage to be utterly pampered all day long :) i love my boys so much"

“I’ll say,” Tara laughs, and it’s a little hysterical, leaning back on the couch next to Emily, pushing fingers against her temple as she reaches for the wine in front of her.

There’s silence in their house, save for Sergio’s lone meow as he bats at one of his toys in the other room. A needle could drop and it’d deafen the both of them, especially as Emily moves to lean against Tara and sigh.

“She seems… happy,” she eventually settles with, hand moving down to gently rest on Tara’s thigh. "And she definitely knows how to tell a story, my lord."

“One word for it,” Tara concurs, taking a sip of her red. “Good for her.”

And with one last glance to her phone, Emily lifts it, locks it, and reaches forward to set it down on the coffee table. “Good for her,” she repeats, with a solemn and a careful lift of her own glass.

And when she raises it, Tara doesn’t hesitate, the gentle clink bringing Sergio running to curl up in a lap of his choosing.

#gotchgan #temily #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #tara lewis #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #cj.txt #cjs fic #morcia #hotchgan #gotch #cjs notsfw #minors dni #qvo tag

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ewritesfanfics · 3 years

Text

A/N: Ok so, I don’t post anything, ever. I’m very much a lurker. But ROTT just ... I couldn’t just sit and do nothing. So I made this blog, and here’s my attempt at a fanfic, with some changes to cannon. The ones important to this piece are that Archie did not stay with Charlemagne, and Krel and Douxie built the new amulet together so they’re a lot closer. This takes place just after the fight between Skrael and Nari, and also contains an idea of mine around a lore change and for a possible either rewrite of ROTT or a continuation, and whichever form it takes would be a much longer fic, which is why this short piece doesn’t have a title. So if people find it interesting and want to see more, please let me know. I’ve never really written fanfic before so I apologize if any of it sounds weird or stilted. If people like this and I do write the larger piece, I’ll probably be posting it on Ao3.

---

Douxie can only watch in horror as the Ice Titan stabs into the torso of Nari’s, ice creeping over and between rock and roots and vines, seeping into the crevices and joints, growing and pulling, straining to rip her titan apart. Her shout of pain and rage echoes across the valley, and she retaliates, one massive leg driving into the Ice Titan’s torso, her vines growing into it, taking purchase where they can, drilling into the glacial limbs and twisting into its heart, determined to take him down with her. The titans rage and the earth shakes as they push and pull, trying to tear each other apart while trying to keep themselves together long enough to kill the other. With a last surge of strength, each is ripped apart with groaning rumbles from the titans and screams from Skrael and Nari. Both titans crumble.

As they fall, Douxie immediately takes off towards the devastation, moving so quickly, Archie is thrown from his shoulder. Though his friends call out for him, his blood is pounding too loudly in his ears for him to hear. Or perhaps, he simply doesn’t care. As he runs, his friends can see the wisps of blue emanating off him, rotating around him, and finally encasing him, his magic aiding him in his desperation to get to his friend, his sister in all but blood.

Breaking into a clearing beneath sky-piercing shards of rock and vaulting broken glaciers, he spots a small green body spotted with melting ice and blackened patches akin to frostbite, limp and still amongst the ruins, the grass beneath her wilting. Every plant in this clearing seems paler, droopier, as if in mourning.

No, not Nari! Not her too!

Douxie immediately runs to her side, his magic dissipating as he skids to his knees, caring not for the blood that now stains the legs of his dirty and ripped jeans. He reaches out, trembling, almost afraid to touch her, to find out that he failed Merlin, failed his friends, failed her.

But he swallows that fear down into a thick knot in his throat, that’s as far as it will go, and carefully he grips her shoulder and turns her to face him. For a second he cannot breathe, her eyes closed and body unresponsive, half of her face blackened and dotted with small spots of frost. He draws her close, cradling her in his lap, unable to comprehend that she might be gone. Gently, he pushes a strand of hair from her serene face with a shaking hand, and it’s then that her eyes crack open, the golden of her good eye dull, the other now completely black.

��Nari?” he breathes, hoping blooming in his chest while despair cramps painfully, not wanting to allow the hope to grow in case he is wrong.

But the small smile that weakly graces her face blows that despair away, and the relief he feels lifts the weight in his chest, overflowing as tears begin to stream down his face. He draws her in for a tight embrace, sobbing hysterically into her shoulder.

“Nari!”

“Douxie,” is all she says, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

He draws back again to look her in the eyes. Her very much alive eyes.

“You’re going to be ok, I’m going to get you back to Camelot, and I’m going to fix you, and you’re going to be ok!”

At that, a sadness creeps into her lidded gaze.

“No, Douxie. My story ends here.” As quickly as his heart soared, it drops, sinking like a rock down into his stomach.

“No! No, you’ll be ok, I can fix this!”

Nari reaches a weak hand up, gently placing it on Douxie’s wet cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear.

“It will all be ok. You will leave here, fight Bellroc. You and trollhunter and friends will save the world.”

“And you’ll be coming with us,” he says, unable to hold back new sobs, deep, soul-wrenching sobs. “Please, Nari.”

“No. I will not. Thank you for protecting me. I have had fun. I am happy I was with you. Now-” her hand slides from cupping his cheek to splaying her fingers on the center of his chest- “You must listen. Bellroc and Skrael and me, we are the holders of the Primordial Arcana. Our magics made this world. They cannot be without masters, not now that the seals are gone. With no masters, they will run wild.”

“W-what?”

“Hisirdoux Casperan, I give to you the Life Arcanum.”

A green light pulses beneath her hand, and Douxie gasps, feeling it pulse beneath his skin. He can feel the energy thrumming through his entire being, from the prickling at the surface of his skin down to the humming at the center of his heart, and intertwining with the magic in his body. It is an ancient, primal feeling, a sense of the sheer age and immensity of this world and for a second it threatens to overwhelm him. There’s a sharp pain and a feeling as if he is being pulled out of his body and in every direction while simultaneously being crushed under the enormity, and then his magic and his soul are pulled into alignment with the heartbeat of life itself. The world lights up around him, every soul alight and burning bright, from the trees around the clearing, to the bugs and the grass they hide in, to his friends coming into the clearing, to the steadily dimming light of Nari. Just as quickly as it started, it stops. Douxie can feel something within him has been forever changed.

“You must find Skrael now. His arcanum will not linger long, you must get it before it escapes. It will help find who is right. Go, my wonderful Douxie, save the world. No more running.”

With that, her eyes fall closed and her body stills, and before Douxie can properly process, her body wafts away in wisps of green, gold, and purple magic, returning to the earth she loved so much. Douxie’s hold drops, collapsing, his arms suddenly empty as yet another of his loved ones is carried away on the wind.

And with that, he throws his head back and screams.

He screams and once again the world vibrates around him, only this time resonating with his soul-wrenching, all-consuming grief, his magic lashing out wildly around him, lighting up the clearing in vibrant blue, the plants twisting and writhing, cracks shooting up the remains of the titans, causing them to ominously creak and groan. Douxie knows he cannot give in to the black hole inside him, that he has to find Skrael’s arcanum and they have to get to Bellroc, he has to do it for Nari, he can’t fail her again, but in this moment he is certain that he will be destroyed, that he will surely drown and be lost.

Despite the magical maelstrom surrounding him, a fluffy head has managed to push through the storm and has found its way into his side and a pair of arms follow shortly, wrapping securely around him.

Blinking bleary eyes open, he can make out through the tears Archie, who he immediately scoops up, and he can see that the pair of arms around him are blue and glowing. Krel.

He folds into himself as his screaming turns to hitched wailing, and so too does his magic, fading, leaving the clearing dim and still once more. He collapses into Krel’s secure embrace, still holding tightly to Archie. Krel wraps his other pair of arms around him, tucking his own head next to Douxie’s, and Douxie curls further into him. He doesn’t say anything, knowing there is nothing he could say to take away Douxie’s pain, so he just silently holds him, running his fingers through Douxie’s hair in an attempt to help ground him. Meanwhile, Archie does his best to maintain a steady purr, keeping himself pressed into Douxie’s chest as he knows Douxie needs when he is distressed, having taken up this position many times over the past 900 years. His wizard now needs it more than ever.

More arms soon appear around them. Jim. Claire. Toby. Blinky. Aaarrrgghh. Together they do their best to hold the broken pieces of their friend together.

After a couple moments, Douxie manages to gather enough strength to choke out, “Need to find Skrael. Get his magic.” He starts to move, wanting to fulfil what Nari asked from him, but Archie presses his weight further into Douxie, and Krel’s arms hold firm.

“No, I need to –”

“Hush, Douxie. Let us handle it,” Archie says. There’s some murmuring between everyone before Claire pulls away, citing that Douxie taught her a containment spell that she can use to hold Skrael’s magic. She quickly departs, taking Aja and Varvatos with her as backup, just in case (at Jim’s insistence).

And so, with that out of the way, Douxie fully gives in and grieves, wading through the ocean within him, anchored by Archie and Krel and the others, keeping him from being swept away.

#tales of arcadia #rise of the titans #hisirdoux casperan #krel tarron #krexie #at least it will be krexie if i do the full piece #fanfic #my fanfic #tales of arcadia rise of the titans #toa #rott #douxie #nari #archie

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wroteclassicaly · 3 years

Text

Waves of Blue (Andy Dolan x Reader)

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, face slapping, slight choking, mentions of drug usage, & angst.

A/N : AAAAAAHHHHH! I have found the post that teaches you how to add a read more on mobile! Shoutout to the person who told me about that! You know who you are! ^_^ Anyways, I am so gonna be posting more, even if it’s harder because I have to write the fics on my phone, versus my laptop, lol. I stumbled across the song Waves of Blue by Majid Jordan, and my ass was emotional af (I have included some of the lyrics here in blue!) I obviously don’t own the song/lyrics!

The song was the kick one of my drafts needed for extra inspiration! And so, I bring you the start of this mini fic! It won’t be very many chapters. And I will probably re-visit for a prequel, to write out how the reader and Andy first hooked up. But I wanted to try something different and start my fic with their relationship already ongoing. Hopefully it doesn’t suck, haha.?

I haven’t felt this inspired for a Cody character since Michael Langdon! I adore Andy’s traumatic, cocky, angsty, hot mess ass! And I really wanna explore the creativity he’s bringing me! Lemme know what y’all think? And give the song a listen - I’m in in love with it!

Forgive me if there’s some mistakes, loves! I’m nervous about how I’ve written Andy, and how the smut is. Hope y’all enjoy anyways!

~*~

The rain is a glittering array of shimmering moisture as its presence is pouring down on the roof of your apartment. Your knees are knocked tightly together, jean fabric digging into flesh. Your phone is perched face down atop your legs, vibrating messages you don’t care to read. They’re not the ones that you want to see. You tilt your head back, the tears redirecting themselves down the sides of your cheeks. You turn your gazing direction to that silk robe atop your bed - a reminder.

“It’s just a fling, love.”

But it can’t be, can it?

You have to laugh at yourself. Isn’t this what every girl asks themselves when they’re dumped? Rare is an exception who steals the other person’s heart and changes that exterior they carry. Your phone vibrates again and that raging anger to match the ruby red color on his robe that rests on your bedroom sheets - it charges your energy like a violent strike of lightening! Your hand launches your phone into the hallway outside your bedroom door before you can stop yourself.

“There’s your fucking fling, dumbass Andy Dolan!”

You try to hum to fight off the incoming intrusive thoughts, to ignore your ringing phone in the distance, but it’s to no avail. You’re getting more overwhelmed with the pain by every agonizing second. Your fists clench into the leather armrests below. It’s too much, you can’t bear another second of this shit. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, it doesn’t matter that you have over fifteen unanswered recent calls from Andy since you threw your phone - unbeknownst to you.

You snatch the stupid silk robe from its place and begin your knowing journey with the excruciatingly expensive item, having already made up your mind. A quick removal of your keys from the hooks beside your front room door and your bare feet seem to lead you - heart first - into the downpour. Your clothing is soaked the instant you step outside. Mumbling all the way to your SUV and clutching Andy’s silk garment becomes your saving grace to help anchor your focus. If one can be focused in bare feet during a thunderstorm, erratically throwing her car into reverse.

The drive to his place of privacy - his sanctuary - the cold place you once used to help him warm. It doesn’t take you long. With your tires grinding against soaking asphalt, country beach roads whipping past you, and your angry windshield wipers struggling to keep up with your car’s pace - Andy’s gates come into your sights. You’re trembling, too upset and geared to go for a turn around now. Andy didn’t change the security, so you let yourself in, abandoning your car just inside, doors open and interior carelessly being soaked.

It doesn’t matter. I just have to tell him this.

That’s your mantra for continuous approach. You round the long expanse of beautiful greenery, waves crashing violently in the distance, a love affair to collide with this storm. Your simple outfit of blue jeans and a baby blue tank top are beyond recognition, weighted down by the sopping wet summer. The shivering begins to thrum along to an invisible, but very present humming inside you. It’s that feeling, the one you know all too well.

Andy Dolan.

Like when you first met, you begin to tremble, letting your limbs move you accordingly. Making sense is last on the priority list. Normally, you would have a thousand conversational scenarios laid out, but that’s not the case. Rushed on purely raw need to tell him - no - inform him, that is what is in charge here. The soft grass is squishy between your toes, a tickle from each freshly mowed blade, water in the distance smelling like salt and flowing freedom.

Every sense is heightened for you right now. Your limbs are heavy, yet your footfalls are light, carrying you with a quick grace. You don’t bother with the front door, opting for his usual back door hang out. It’s a few more minutes before your destination is reached. That’s when you hear him screaming, his voice in high distress, hard and rough against the accent. Your chest heaves to cage hammering heartbeats that you can’t keep up with.

“Motherfucking ANSWER ME!” He shouts, ripping the phone from his ear to redial.

You rolls your eyes, assuming it’s a dealer, or whomever he would rather be with than you. After all, he’s the one who said he just needed an ideal situation, not a relationship.

“Y/N... come on, don’t be a fucking cunt! I need to tell you something, please!”

Almost on cue the song drops loud on his fancy speakers in the house, freezing you to your spot.

I wanna hold you close

Don't wanna let you go

Be with you night and day

'Cause I've been feeling so low

Don't have to ask me twice

You really take me there

I wanna touch your light

I wanna breathe in your air

Andy angrily taps at his phone again, almost growling, reminding you of a wild animal. That’s when you’re snapped into your remaining senses, moving up and onto his deck, standing just feet from him. It takes him a few seconds to look up and see you through the rain. You can’t bring yourself to go any closer, afraid to let go right away. That’s how it is with Andy, you always give in.

You cut him off before he even gets a chance.

“Fuck you, Andy.”

Damn, was that really what you worked up the courage to dangerously drive yourself here to confess?

His lips purse a popping a noise, eyes widening in surprise at your word choices.

“I really fucking hate you.” Is what you give him, finding it easier to take steps now.

He still doesn’t speak as you approach, almost as if he’s recoiling. That wild animal within Andy Dolan. He’s not used to this. You can barely see through the rain, feeling like a moron. The movies make it look so dramatic, but you feel like you’re a wet dog on the verge of catching a cold.

It does good at numbing you though, almost shielding you from those haunting blue eyes. You swipe a hand across your face to clear your vision, and take that final step onto the deck with him, now just on the other side of where he stands in the doorway. That’s when he decides to speak, his voice softer than you’ve heard. It echoes his exhaustion, his surprise.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way, Y/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief, both of you not daring to make that closing gap. You would douse his body with yours; wet and cold. You’d be lying if you denied the shiver that attacked you, drawing your body in like a magnet - helpless to its every move.

“Don’t give me this kicked puppy front. We’re all human beings, Andy. And I didn’t fucking deserve you cutting your baggage open and just... dumping out whatever you felt like on me and then letting me go.”

Fuck.

He inhales sharply, head tilting in this sadness you seem to understand within the moment. It steals your breath, a pain punching your ribcage, causing your heartbeat to skip a few. Your jaw twitches as you turn away to gather your bearings, starting back down into the yard.

Why the fuck did I come here?

I'll be holding you tight

When the night is through

Andy takes a deep inhalation behind you and that catches you, dragging you right back. Before you know which end is up you’re turning back around and striding across the pool deck and right into your former lover. Andy meets you in the harsh rains, his hands cupping your neck so possessively, that you can’t remember a time where this hot mess of a man wasn’t bull dozing your life apart. You grasp his face in your palms, that unshaven stubble prickling your flesh. Your mouth meets his, his phone becoming ruined and forgotten as he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His strong arms path down to encircle your waist, pulling you in from the weather, bunching your t-shirt up until it’s pooling around your tattered bra. You raise your arms to help him discard it, the heavy wet noise it makes when it collides with a nearby pool chair is enough to make Andy gain his surroundings.

“Stop, stop. Are you fucking high?” He asks you, a cautious pause.

You shake your head. “Aren’t you?”

This is when he scares you with a solemn silence you weren’t aware he could possess.

“Andy...” You push your fingers through his damp curls.

“No, I’m not. I was just about to... when you didn’t answer.”

Almost as if he can’t take revealing that bit of truth, he thumbs a bra strap down your shoulder - deliberately slow. Your skin stings with the line of goosebumps that it brings, your own hands struggling to push that stupid ass identical robe off his broad chest.

“I should fucking rip this.” You say, causing a smile to come from him.

“Rip it and I’ll put you on your knees.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” A challenging look presses your features, but Andy intercepts, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling your hair back. You feel the ache crack from the tips of your toes, hot wired into your cunt - direct express.

“You need more marks from me.” His mouth caresses your jawline, stubble catching the underside when his lips find your neck, a stimulation that you have become accustomed to craving.

His teeth bite down, a few seconds more where you feel him cleaning his evidence with a light set of kisses.

“There we go.” He scrapes his milky white teeth across your ear with a whisper so hot that you bow into him; knees weak.

Your bra is the next thing to fall somewhere, your jeans following. Andy doesn’t wait for you to even kick them off, his fingers sliding into your lace panties to see how much you still need him. He licks his lips, eyes closing in pleasure, a familiar stroking rhythm unraveling from the tips of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s a good girl. Even when you hate me you still need me, don’t you?”

The cockiness makes your wrist snap and palm collide with his cheek. You’re riled up, he’s riled up. Something you know he likes. “Like you fucking needed that?” Is your retort.

He groans out, a honey wet dip in his tone. “Only you can fucking touch me like that, Y/N.”

Lightening flashes through the darkened midnight skies, rain pounding across the surface of the pool to create a special beat. Andy finds your mouth in desperation once more, working your underwear down in a frustrated jerk. His fingers part your slick folds and ease into you without any warning. You look down to watch his strong forearm flex in its working marathon, back and forth between your thighs.

We'll be riding the tide in the sky so alive

On waves of blue (waves of blue)

I'm in love with the thought of being in love

In love with you (love with you)

You can bring me along for the rest of your life

If you wanted to (wanted to)

You let go and give into him, not daring to question why you came here in the first place. You know why. Andy has stopped his touches, watching you with that lowered stare he gives. His body is glowing from the neon lighting his home harbors, his creamy skin glistening with rain water. He’s hard through those silk pants, nothing left to the imagination.

“Take them off. Now.” You command him.

He can’t hide the greedy smirk that appears on his lips, not taking his eyes off you as his pants and boxers disappear in one go. He is gloriously hard and thick. You almost want to laugh at your cliche salivating tongue. Andy brushes your wet hair off your temple, his hands moving down your body in a tapping massage - reaching their target to hook behind your thighs.

He lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s panting rapidly, nosing your neck. He grips himself, teasingly stroking your cunt to gather your arousal. You stutter on an exhale, unable to breathe out properly. It’s jagged and broken, much like your rationality.

You stop him when he attempts to press inside you. “Tell me again,” You plead. He looks at you in confusion. “Say I’m just a fling.” You finish.

“Y/N...” He struggles.

“Before you fuck me, I want you to tell me what I mean to you, Andy.”

It’s hard not to just fucking forget this and let go, let him take you, both of you get what you want and not have to deal with anything else. But you need to hear it. You want to know how much you’re not worth anything to him. You need to hear it more than you need to find out how much you mean to him. That’s what you came here for...

His enriching ocean eyes are glossy with desire, with something else you can’t place. They pin you into a set of shakes. You grip the hair at his neck’s nape.

“Everything.” He says it all at once, bringing your hand down atop his to help him line up, as he fucks himself into your cunt, stretching you with that delicious drowning burn.

You're no good for me

You got what I need

I just wanna be with you

You cry out, vision sprinkled with an array of floating shapes. Andy drives you against the door, hips slamming so hard you know you’ll be bruised before the night is through. You keep one arm around his neck, lowering the other to encourage him to hurt you deeper, nails clawing at his lower back, shredding the skin. His face stays buried in your neck, stubble adding to each motion he makes inside. You cling tight, using all your strength.

It’s slippery, it’s unstable, you can barely hold onto one another, but you manage. And that moment when you finally can’t keep yourself up, Andy lets you slide down, bringing you into the floor of the doorway, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, pressing in so hard you can’t contain the tears that roll from the corner of your eyes, coasting. He’s familiarized himself with how you come undone, even before you knew.

“You’re drenching my cock, baby. You need to let it go?”

You don’t answer, causing him to grip your throat.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer. You remember how this works, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes! Please, Andy!” You don’t pride yourself now.

He guides a hand across you, as if he’s tuning a fine instrument. Your stomach quivers with a passing of his fingertips, engaging in a butterfly filled stomach clench. You’re tensing up, anticipating. Desiring.

“Fucking do it! Show me how much you still need this...” He trails off, dropping to rest his chest against your breasts.

“Even if you don’t need me.” It’s a counter thought to your need to hear him say he doesn’t want you.

“I’ll always need you.” You push him onto his back with newfound strength, and pin his hands above his head, your hips bouncing so hard that you can feel his firm structure beneath. That’s right, this is exactly what you have to have.

He’s damn near whining now, squeezing your fingers tightly. “Y/N.”

It’s a warning you don’t need. You lean down to steal a kiss, leaving him further winded, nudging his nose with your own, breasts smashed to between you two. Andy gives a silent agreement, dropping a hand down to quickly rub your clit. Your heartbeat is so out of control that you can’t hear anything but your own cries as you cum all over Andy’s cock. He follows with you, holding himself, keeping you there.

He’s shaking when it’s over. You can’t find coherent speech capabilities.

I'll be holding you tight

I'll wait this through

You stay resting on top of him, still keeping him inside. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know that there’s no going back now.

This is just another beginning...

~*~

Tagging: @dark-mei-rose @confettucini @lovelylangdonx

Lemme know if y’all wanna be added to the tag list?!!!!

#andy dolan fanfiction #andy dolan fic #andy dolan x you #andy dolan x reader #andy dolan #eden fanfiction #eden #kristenwrites

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tiptapricot · 3 years

Note

tipstie PLEASE tell me about tlb turning human/ human AU

Absolutely my dudes 👁👁 (this is also all hcs about how vampire rules work so just go with it)

So for me a human TLB AU isn’t one where they die and turn human, it’s one where Max is killed after being found out one way or another before any altercation with the boys happens, and they revert back to humans as a result

The reason this happens is because all the boys were sired by Max, and while they are technically full vampires, they aren’t independent vampires

Sires act as a sort of guardian to the vampires they turn, watching over them and guiding them until they believe they’re ready to take care of themselves

This is why they have a certain level of control, influence, and power over the vampires they turn, they have a bond

When sires think the vampires they’ve turned are ready to make it on their own, they sever that bond with a ritual that relinquishes complete autonomy to their vampires

But Max never did this

He wanted a family, and families have to stick together, so until his death he still clung to that small sliver of control over the boys, and that last step to complete and independent vampirism remained incomplete

And so, when Max is killed, there’s a sort of backlash, a glitch

The bond is broken, but broken wrong, and the small piece of the boys that’s still human, the piece that still remains deep down, starts clawing it’s way out

It hits Marko first, since was turned most recently, chills and fever and body wracking pain, like his body is eating itself from the inside out

It’s nothing like any of them have ever seen or heard of before, and they don’t know what to do but sit with him and try to lessen the fever

Paul follows a few hours later, exactly the same, and Dwayne helps David carry the two of them a little over halfway to the Emerson house before he collapses too

David gets them the rest of the way there, feeling worse and worse the longer he goes

He knocks on the door and Michael opens it, and David only manages a raspy “Need your help, Michael,” before he’s pitching forward into his arms

The next week or so is a blur

Michael convinces Lucy and Grandpa to help, and for Sam to keep the Frogs away while they figure out what’s going on

Star calls that night, and says she and Laddie were out when they felt themselves change back, and that she didn’t wait to find out why

She caught a bus to her cousin’s place in LA and took Laddie with her, but wanted to make sure Michael was ok

He says he’s fine, and promises to call again with more details, since “it’s a little hard to explain right now” and they hang up with plans to talk that weekend

Meanwhile the boys are going in and out of feverish half awake states, never lucid enough to do anything except drink water and groan. The Emersons take care of them in shifts, and Michael helps Grandpa research what might be happening to them. They don’t find a lot

Marko is the first to come out of it, after about three days

He’s groggy and confused, waking up to Lucy wiping his forehead with a damp towel

She gives him something to drink and helps him sit up, but there’s something... wrong

There’s a weight in his chest, a thrumming, heavy heartbeat, expanding lungs, heat

He’s breathing again, he’s alive again

He’s human

Paul wakes up in the middle of that night, to Michael in the room this time. After getting the general “you’re human but we don’t know why” pitch, he’s taken to a guest bedroom where he finds Marko curled up on the bed. He slides in behind him and pulls him close, and he knows Marko isn’t asleep because he can feel him shaking

Marko’s always been good at crying quietly

Paul’s pretty personable as they wait for David and Dwayne to wake up. He talks with the family and reads comics on the living room couch, and fetches food and stuff for Marko, who’s basically refusing to leave the guest room

Being back in a human body is bringing back too many memories for him of the shitty life he escaped from, and he’s having a hard time dealing with it

But Paul is there, and the Emersons are alright, and he’s eventually able to be coaxed out to have an actual meals with the family, and that’s nice too

Dwayne wakes up the Saturday after the boys first arrive, in one of the rare times no one was in the room to keep an eye on him and David

He interrupts breakfast by barreling into the living room looking extremely lost and worried, and shakily rushes over to pull Paul and Marko into a hug when he sees them staring wide eyed at him from the table

“Couldn’t hear you...” he mumbles into Marko’s hair. “Can’t hear either of you anymore...”

Lucy has him join them at the table and gets him his own plate of food, and they explain what they know. It still isn’t a lot, but it does give him a reason as to why the mental link the boys had is gone

The following days are strangely quiet. Michael and Lucy help the boys adjust, reminding them to eat and helping them when they forget they don’t have super strength or magic healing

The boys start talking more too, mostly out of necessity since they can’t communicate mentally anymore (which Marko thinks is extremely annoying) but also because life in the Emerson house is... surprisingly comfortable

Michael explains the whole thing to Star over the phone, and after a moment she laughs

“Maybe they needed this,” she tells him, “maybe this is good.”

A week and a half after the boys arrive, two things happen: David finally wakes up, and the Frogs find out who the mysterious house guests Sammy’s been keeping them away from are

David comes to in a dim room, with Michael dozing against the wall

He grunts and pushes himself up, and only just registers the heat of his own blood and the scratch of breathing in the back of his throat when there’s a commotion from somewhere outside

Michael wakes up with a slight flinch, rubbing a hand over his face, and makes eye contact with David right as the door slams open and Dwayne, Marko, and Paul come rushing in, followed quickly by the Frog brothers and a frantic Sam

It takes a bit of explaining, but they eventually come to an understanding

The Frogs are still a bit hesitant to believe the boys are human, but it’s not like real vampires could walk in the sunlight or show up in the hall mirror, so that’s good enough for them

The boys continue living with the Emersons after that

They find ways to help out here and there, with cleaning or dinner or dishes or farm work

Sleep schedules become basically non existent as well, and it’s a common occurrence to find at least one person up at all hours of the night

Each of the boys has... a moment or two, where it really settles in that they’re human again

For Marko, it’s when he pokes himself while trying to resew one of his patches. He hisses when he pricks his thumb, and when the blood beads up on the pad of his finger he just... stares at it. It doesn’t heal right away, and he can’t even smell it. He sucks on it to try and make it go away, and tasting blood again, when it no longer has the same rush or necessity, makes him cringe. He puts a band aid on it, and doesn’t mention it to anyone.

For Paul, it’s when he goes to a concert on the beach. He manages to get lost in the music, in the crowd, in the loud drums and the guitar riffs and the warm press of bodies and the intoxicating energy, and he doesn’t, not once, think about sinking his teeth into anyone around him. He only realizes about halfway through the second song that he’s actually hearing the music, too, instead of it just being the background noise for a cacophony of heartbeats. He goes home that night drunk on sound and life, and doesn’t know if he’s ever been happier in his life.

For Dwayne, it’s when he has his first cup of hot chocolate after turning back. It’s at the beginning of winter, and everyone is crammed together on the couch to break in the TV that Sam finally convinced Grandpa and Lucy to get. Michael and Sam are bickering about what movie to watch, Paul and Marko are having an animated conversation with the Frogs from their place on the floor, and Lucy and grandpa are laughing about something in the kitchen. They come out a bit later with snacks and drinks, and Dwayne is handed a big mug of cocoa with a heaping helping of whipped cream and marshmallows. He takes a sip without really thinking, and then stops. There’s a moment, when he just feels the warmth spread through his chest and belly, and then all at once it’s like he’s hit with this wave of emotions he can’t quite place, familiarity and relief and joy, and there are tears mixing with his whipped cream mustache. The movie is good, but the cocoa is definitely better.

For David, the first time is when he goes outside after waking up. He’d seen the sunlight through the windows, and knew it didn’t hurt him anymore, but feeling it, actually smelling the fresh air and hearing the birds and cicadas and feeling a warm breeze... it’s a little overwhelming. Michael finds him sitting on the back porch wiping at his eyes, and joins him

The second time is when he notices that his roots are showing, that his hair is growing again. Any cutting or dying was effectively permanent when he was a vampire, since their hair didn’t grow, but now... Getting a reminder that his body is living and changing again is strange. He decides to let it grow out a bit, just to see where it goes

The boys are very touchy with everyone. They were already before they turned back, but now that cuddles involve body heat, they happen much more often

So do visits to the mall, oddly enough. Lucy takes them once to get them some new clothes, and they have way too much fun popping in and out of different shops and all trying to fit in the photo booth at once. They may, technically, get banned from a few stores for causing too much of a ruckus, but that doesn’t stop them from coming back

Dwayne and David both get really into cooking, and Paul and Marko experiment a lot with mixing different things to “remember what tastes good” again. Usually doesn’t have the best outcomes, but they’re definitely adventurous

David forgets he has to sleep sometimes, but he’ll be out like a rock if anyone pulls him into bed or lets him lean on them while watching TV

Overall, adjusting is strange for all of them, but there’s a goodness to it too. Even when things are hard they figure them out eventually, and no matter what they always have each other

It feels like a new life, a new start, where they can finally get things right

Headcanons masterpost

#the fruit is talking again #the fruit is headcanoning again #tlb #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #michael emerson #sam emerson #lucy emerson #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the fruit is answering again

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dddainuhsoar · 3 years

Text

long nights

historical and vampire au, guanshan x hetian, pg, unbeta-ed

trigger warning gore, trigger warning blood

word count: 1199

an ear-splitting crash lands somewhere in the north of the woodcutter’s hut, followed by a smaller clatter from inside. everything shook, including the young woodcutter’s son. entire body still buzzing with shock, the boy picks up the bowl he dropped and places it onto the table before going outside to check.

a crash that loud must have attracted others, but it will take some time before anyone else comes. the woodcutter’s hut is deep in the forest, after all, away from civilisation. no particular reason besides the woodcutter enjoying privacy for him and his son. unfortunately, he has to walk a long trek to reach town to sell his wares. he has to leave his son alone in the forest for long periods of time, but the apprentice can take good care of himself. the crash, however, has shaken him to his core.

on trembling legs, the woodcutter’s son stands on the edge of the front yard and peers between the maze of trees before him. someone is screaming for help, and the person is coming towards him. the boy takes a step forward with some hesitance.

“wh-what h-happened?” he whispers hoarsely. he didn’t mean to whisper. his throat has closed up from fear. he feels like a coward. the woodcutter’s son frowns at himself. with a new conviction, he clears his throat. “i’m here!” he calls over the screaming.

another young boy emerges from the darkness of the forest. his white robes are stained crimson. his eyes are frantic, tears streaming from them. he stops where he is, hands on his knees as his body forces him to catch his breath.

“please help me!” he cries. “my mother, she’s hurt!”

“i-” the sight of blood has quashed what little courage he summoned before. “m-my father, he’ll be back soon.”

“please,” the boy begs. “she doesn’t have much time.”

even if he wanted to help, the woodcutter’s son doesn’t know how to. he barely has control over it. his father has always been there to help anchor him when he uses it.

“please.”

hetian is begging with his entire being. his hands are clasped together, he is on his knees in front of the boy with the fire-red hair. desperate and helpless, he has never felt more fear in his life. he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the boy refuses to help. his mind is so clouded with panic that he doesn’t even wonder how the other boy, who looks no older than he is, can help in the first place. how many thirteen-year-olds are knowledgeable about life-saving first aid? it doesn’t cross hetian’s mind. he only knows to find help and nothing else.

“i-i’ll get the medicine we have,” the boy finally says.

“please, hurry,” hetian beseeches as the other boy scrambles to get back inside his hut. every passing moment is torture for hetian. he was ready to continue screaming when the boy finally returns with a large wooden box hanging on his shoulder by a cloth strap.

“take me to her,” the boy says, voice laced with promise.

hetian wastes no more time. he turns on his heel and dashes back towards where he came from. he hears the boy following close behind him, footsteps heavy in the bed of leaves that litter the ground.

images of his mother bleeding to death on the dark cavern floor flash in hetian’s mind, bringing him to tears over and over again. it’s blurring up his vision. he continuously swipes at his eyes, cursing under his breath. he has found help, the only objective on his mind since they crashed, but the closer he gets to his mother, the stronger the chokehold terror has on him. he feels like his legs are about to give out.

a gasp rips through hetian when they reach the mouth of the cavern. he turns to the boy, who rushes past him. coughing his lungs out, hetian hurries after him. the redheaded boy kneels by his mother’s side. hetian goes to her other side and kneels as well. he sobs as he wipes the strands of hair sticking to her wet face.

“mother,” hetian whispers, trying to clean the blood off her lips but only causing it to smudge across her grey cheeks. “i found help. we’re going to be okay.”

hetian’s mother cannot respond. her eyes are squeezed shut with suffering, and her breaths are shallow. her robes have been dyed red with blood, such that the original white looks like specks on scarlet clothes. the boy rips her dress with a dagger to reveal a hole the size of his fist in her stomach. his face drains of colour, and hetian feels a stab of hopelessness.

the boy’s arms are shaking as he rifles through his box of medical supplies. it strikes hetian that he doesn’t know what he’s doing either. hetian has made a grave mistake. a distressed bawl tears itself from his lips. he weeps over his mother’s body.

“no… no, i can still-” the boy puts his small hands over the wound, as if he were trying to plug the blood from spilling further. his skin is quickly painted with red and his sleeves are getting soaked.

out of the desperation of something to do, hetian puts his hands over the boy’s. a pulse of energy whips through him so violently, his mind was taken off his mother for a split second. he stares in shock at the young boy, who is suddenly vibrating with pure magical energy. hetian gulps. could there be hope? he grips the boy’s hands and channels every ounce of energy he has left in him through the contact.

the boy is huffing and groaning under his breath. sweat is pouring down his forehead. the teeth digging into his bottom lip have broken skin and hetian swears he doesn’t pay attention to the bead of blood swelling from the tear.

hetian’s head is spinning. he knows they’re close to saving his mother’s life. her breaths are getting quicker. her wound is closing up. the hole grows smaller and smaller until it’s gone. a relieved grin breaks across hetian’s face. he looks up to thank his saviour, but the boy isn’t done.

“she has lost too much blood,” he mutters, searching her face for a sign of life. “i have to replenish it.”

hetian feels another rush of energy, and a second later, his mother is gasping back to life the exact same time the red-headed boy lets out a vicious cough that sprays blood over hetian’s face. the boy collapses next to his mother’s healing body. hetian is stock-still.

some of the blood has gotten on his tongue.

hetian can no longer think. his mind spins. he is no longer in control as his body thrums with renewed power. he leaps over his mother to pin the other boy to the floor. he crushes the blood-stained lips against his own and licks into the boy’s mouth. he drinks it all, even laps up the blood streaming down his chin. he takes and takes, and takes; lost in the taste, lost in the power, lost in his hunger for the boy with fire-red hair.

#19 days #tianshan #wip

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valdomarx · 4 years

Text

Geralt thinks he might be losing his mind.

He’s distracted, and short-tempered, even more so than usual. Every time he looks at Jaskier his heart rate rockets and his palms start sweating.

He can’t stop noticing Jaskier, everything he does, the way he stands, the way he moves, the way he nibbles his bottom lip when he’s thinking. He can’t focus, and if he can’t get this under control he’s going to get one or both of them killed.

His first thought is magic. Some kind of spell, maybe. But his medallion is still against his chest, and when he surreptitiously stops by a herbalist’s shop in a nearby town, the woman there finds no trace of a spell or curse on him.

Perhaps, he thinks, the problem is Jaskier. He’s wondered why Jaskier doesn’t seem to age, and how he has the energy to traipse across the continent after him. Perhaps Jaskier is hiding a secret. Perhaps he’s not as human as he seems.

Jaskier could be a siren. That would explain how he can enchant a crowd with a simple song, as Geralt has seen him do a hundred times, and how he could have enchanted Geralt as well. But when Geralt hands him his silver sword, ostensibly to hold while he cleans out their packs, Jaskier’s skin doesn’t smoke or burn. Instead, he turns the sword over in his hands, inspecting the sleek blade and the tightly bound leather of the grip. He runs a thumb over the edge to check its sharpness and nicks himself, clumsy as ever. Before Geralt can berate him, he brings his thumb up to his mouth, and then Geralt is distracted all over again by the way Jaskier sucks the digit between his plump lips, and that’s just not fair.

Maybe Jaskier is an incubus. That would make sense, given his fondness for the ladies and his obvious good looks. But if he’s been filing down his horns all this time, he’s done an awfully good job of it. Geralt finds an excuse to run a hand through Jaskier’s hair, and he doesn’t feel any bumps beneath his fingers. But Jaskier does lean into his touch, smiling softly, and Geralt’s heart flutters in a most unhelpful way.

Just because Geralt is dealing with an unwelcome onslaught of feelings, that doesn’t mean he has to make it Jaskier’s problem. He does his best to maintain the usual tone of their interactions: gruff and to the point. Businesslike. Practical.

He thinks he’s doing rather well at that. At least until they stop at a tavern and Jaskier performs for the locals, catching the eye of a pretty girl.

Geralt waits for Jaskier to head to the bar and he does, perhaps, talk a little louder than is strictly necessary about the horrible monsters which stalk anyone close to a witcher. And he does, perhaps, feel a mean twist of satisfaction when the pretty girl’s face pales and she runs from the tavern.

He feels a little bit guilty when Jaskier returns to find her gone, but Jaskier looks tired anyway and readily takes him up on the suggestion that they retire for the night, so he can’t have been that disappointed after all.

But when Geralt returns from washing and walks into their room he stops dead, feet frozen on the threshold. Because Jaskier is there, lounging on the bed. And he’s wearing one of Geralt’s shirts and nothing else. The black shirt hangs off his frame in a manner that’s somehow more obscene than if he’d just been naked.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Geralt manages to growl, and his voice only cracks a little bit.

“My clothes all need washing.” Jaskier shrugs, and the collar of the shirt slides down to reveal more of the smooth planes of his shoulder and the dark hair dusting his chest. Geralt can’t stop staring. “I borrowed this from your pack. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Geralt concentrates on getting his legs to work and takes a few steps toward the bed. Up close, it’s even worse. Jaskier smells like Geralt. No, he smells like he’s Geralt’s.

His bard in his shirt in his bed.

Something primal and possessive thrums through him, and he can’t tear his eyes away from how the black fabric highlights the pale skin of Jaskier’s throat, the way the hem of the shirt floats around the meat of his thighs. Blood pounds in his ears.

“Are you coming to bed then?” Jaskier asks, an impish smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Bed. Right. For sleeping. That’s what they’re supposed to be doing.

Stiffly, keeping his eyes firmly averted, he manages to climb into bed and resist the urge to tear the shirt off Jaskier and do.... something unwise. He curses his luck that the bed is so small, with barely enough room to keep a decent amount of space between them.

He lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. As long as he doesn’t turn his head and look at Jaskier, everything will be fine.

Jaskier fusses and rearranges himself several times, energetic as ever, but Geralt steadfastly ignores him and soon enough he’s rolled over onto his side, back to Geralt, and fallen asleep.

Geralt allows his eyes to flick over Jaskier’s sleeping form then, and it still strikes him as astonishing that anyone could feel safe and trusting enough to sleep next to a witcher. But there Jaskier is, content to the point of naivety, vulnerable and fearless.

In sleep, Jaskier’s face softens and he looks even younger than usual, his typically animated features relaxed into something graceful and delicate. He sleeps soundly, unconcerned by the voices from the bar downstairs or the rustle of the nearby trees in the wind.

Geralt is fidgety and on edge, every sound blaring into his consciousness. He’s exquisitely aware of the feel of the rough cotton sheet beneath him, the warmth pouring off Jaskier, the gentle rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest, the comparatively furious rhythm of Jaskier’s heartbeat.

It takes him many, many hours, but eventually he sleeps.

Geralt wakes the next morning warm and comfortable, with a low thrum of pleasure spreading throughout his body. Something feels good, really good, and as he rolls his hips the pleasure spikes, heady and potent, waves of satisfaction running through him like the ocean lapping at a sandy beach.

He nuzzles into something soft and familiar, a soothing, spicy scent washing over him, a distant thrill of mounting gratification building inside him. Whatever this is, he's greedy for more of it.

It takes a few minutes until he wakes up fully and realises that he’s shifted in the night: His face is nestled into Jaskier’s hair, his arm is around Jaskier’s waist, his leg is thrown over Jaskier’s hip, and his dick is rock hard and grinding up against Jaskier’s arse.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He stills, trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to extract himself from this situation without making it any more embarrassing than it already is. He’s planning his exit strategy, trying to untangle their limbs, trying to keep his breath low and steady so as not to betray his roiling emotions, and then Jaskier’s hand curls around his and squeezes.

“Don’t stop,” Jaskier says, voice thick with sleep, face still buried in the pillow.

And that’s. Gods. That’s exactly what he wants to hear, on one level, and some kind of tantalising torment on another. Because Jaskier surely can’t mean that, he can’t seriously want some lust-addled witcher rutting up against him. Who would want that?

Jaskier continues to defy his expectations, though, and rucks up his shirt to his waist to expose his bare ass, and Geralt can’t stop the little gasp that escapes his throat at that.

“C’mon,” Jaskier says, voice still thick but undeniably awake now, and Geralt is weak because before he can get a hold of himself he’s shoving his own shorts down and rubbing up against the soft swell of Jaskier’s ass, warm and smooth and deliriously good.

His cock slides between Jaskier’s thighs and Jaskier squeezes, and he’s dizzy with it for a minute, the heat and the scent of Jaskier and the strong grip of muscles around his cock. He fucks between Jaskier’s legs with abandon, and judging by the way Jaskier reaches down and furiously jerks himself off he’s enjoying it plenty too.

If Geralt cranes his neck he can just see the tip of his cock sliding between Jaskier’s legs, periodically bumping up against his balls or rubbing against Jaskier’s hand where he’s working himself.

He grabs onto Jaskier’s hips and holds on tight, tight enough that he’s going to leave bruises if he’s not careful, and then he’s picturing Jaskier walking around for days with impressions on his skin in the exact shape of Geralt’s spread fingers, marked and owned. That’s really all it takes to push him over the edge, and the next thing he knows he’s coming all over Jaskier’s ass and thighs with a low moan.

He nestles closer, making an utter mess of both of them but he doesn’t care, he just wants to feel Jaskier in his arms and smell that maddening scent that’s been hovering around him for days. They’re so close that he can feel Jaskier’s approaching orgasm, feel the way his muscles clench and his toes curl, and feel the moment he lets go and comes with a breathy sound over his hand and the bed and Geralt’s shirt.

Geralt winces. He’s going to have to burn that shirt, because it’s now covered in both of their seed and he’ll never be able to look at it again without thinking of this morning and this moment, and that’s not the kind of reminder he needs.

They lie there for a time, bodies intertwined, just breathing together. Soon Geralt knows he’ll have to push himself up and clean himself off and go back to pretending that this... whatever it is between them... is enough for him, that he’s happy, that he‘s getting what he wants.

His heart aches at the thought of slipping back into their routine of bickering or casual friendship, interspersed with moments of unspoken lust. Not that he doesn’t want that, he certainly does, but he longs for something more. He doesn’t know how to name it, but he knows what he wants is too much for someone like him to ask for.

Still, for now, he lets himself inhale Jaskier’s scent and feel Jaskier’s solid weight in his arms, and he lets himself indulge in the fantasy of what life might look like if this were something he could actually have.

#geralt wrestles ineffectively with his feelings and his morning wood #feat. jaskier in geralt's clothes 😏#geralt and jaskier's brothel adventures #geraskier #the witcher #my writing

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rugbypolycule · 3 years

Text

take your hand in mine

pairing: itadori yuuji x fushigoro megumi

characters: itadori yuuji, fushigoro megumi, kugisaki nobara, fushiguro tsumiki (mentioned), fushiguro toji (mentioned), gojo satoru (mentioned)

rating: general audiences, no warnings apply

words: 1968

summary: yuuji is half-decent at painting his nails for a beginner. megumi is absolutely smitten and gets pulled along for the ride. they're both in love and clueless.

or: an intimacy fic where yuuji paints megumi's nails. because those boys deserve some quiet time.

ao3 link

Itadori Yuuji isn’t someone who gets embarrassed easily. He rarely pays attention to the opinions of others, and not for a lack of caring. He has such a strong sense of self, such an unwavering faith in his own mind that criticism often flies right over his head. On anyone else, the trait would far too-closely resemble arrogance – even self-centeredness. The pink-haired boy, however, is too gentle, too empathetic and kind. His steady confidence shines in a bright halo that threatens to overwhelm even those with the strongest defenses.

In simpler, more candid terms, Fushigoro Megumi feels like he can’t breathe when Yuuji smiles. If he were more honest with himself, he’d recognise that his feelings of breathlessness aren’t reserved for Yuuji’s full-watt smile. The truth is that around Yuuji, Megumi’s lungs work overtime. He is almost constantly filled with this restless sort of energy, the urge to act. It makes his fingers itch and his pulse lurch to his throat.

It’s a cool day. It had been overcast for a while, the clouds heavy with an oncoming storm so strong it could almost be tasted. Yuuji loves days like these. The feeling of his hair standing on end, the thickness of the air around him, the velvety grey of the sky. It is the sort of day that makes you want to stay inside with lights dimmed and quiet music playing.

Yuuji finds himself in this exact position, scrolling through Pinterest on his laptop. Ever since meeting Megumi and Nobara, he had discovered a newfound love for fashion. He loved bright colours and stark geometric patterns and shiny skin and lips. It felt fresh and energising. He loved the attention to detail that went into putting together a full outfit – the studded belts, sheer scarves, painted nails.

Yuuji loved the look of nail polish. He could wear his dark uniform and still bring colour into his life, and for cheap. Plus, going shopping with Nobara was always a fun experience. She had picked out a bright purple shade for Yuuji, but he had his eyes on a bottle bursting with golden yellow. He bought them both at her loud insistence. They ate sushi that day. It was nice.

Now Yuuji sits on his bed, yellow bottle in slightly trembling hand. His nervous anticipation doesn’t come from fear that people would think he looked weird or strange; he is more worried about messing up the application and look messy, about which Nobara often complained. The concern quickly dissipates, though, making way for Yuuji’s quiet excitement as he opens the bottle.

The breaking of the seal causes a wave of fumes to fill his room. Yuuji’s nose tickles. He sneezes a few times, coming dangerously close to spilling the yellow paint everywhere. Thankfully, his reflexes are stronger than his body’s averse reaction. He slowly lifts the brush out of the bottle, taking care to wipe off the excess varnish just as Nobara had told him. With a slightly steadier hand, he begins painting his left index finger. He moves on to the next, then the next, then his right hand (which is considerably more difficult and why didn’t Nobara say anything about that?) Though he was unpracticed, he didn’t make a huge mess like he thought he would. Save for a few yellow-tinged cuticles, he had done a pretty decent job.

For a while, Yuuji just sits back and admires his work. Nobara had told him to wait no less than 15 minutes before even thinking about using his hands. Yuuji lasts 5 minutes before looking for a cooking video to pass the time. Nothing was smudged, and Yuuji quite happily sits through more than a few videos before the smell of the nail polish becomes too much for him. It had been plenty of time now, so he doesn’t worry about messing up his nails as he opens the door to his room.

He stops short as he finds Megumi on the other side of it.

If anyone asked, Megumi was just walking past Yuuji’s room for no reason. In fact, he was only going to get water, and had to pass by Yuuji’s room in order to get to the common area. The reason he stopped at his classmate’s door at all was simply to ponder the possibility of getting a snack. There was no other motive behind it.

Sadly, all his excuses do nothing to hide his deer-in-headlights expression. Before he can open his mouth in order to deny being there on purpose, a hand is thrust towards his face. Megumi flinches back in a sort of surprised confusion before realising that Yuuji has yellow fingernails.

“Do you like them?” asks Yuuji, grinning at Megumi like an expectant puppy.

Oh. There’s that hummingbird thrum in his bones again. The rapid movement of blood that makes his head light and his breath shallow. Yuuji is beautiful.

“Yeah,” Megumi tries to answer. It’s at times like these, when he’s lost for words and doesn’t know how to move his face to seem genuine, that he really appreciates Yuuji’s personality. Almost anyone else would have thought Megumi disinterested, or worse judgemental because of his monotone and lacklustre response. Thankfully, Yuuji just huffs out a laugh.

“You don’t have to sound so excited about it, Fushiguro.” He rolls his eyes, still grinning, arm still extended. “I thought you would’ve appreciated it more.”

Megumi softly bats his hand away. “I don’t ‘not appreciate it’, Itadori. It’s cool. I’m just… thinking about how it probably wouldn’t suit me.”

Megumi gets whacked on the shoulder. “Hey!” He complains as Yuuji pulls him into his room and sits him down on the bed. The nail polish smell, not having quite left the room yet, makes Megumi’s nose wrinkle up. Yuuji lets out a giggle that sounds like sunshine on skin.

“What are you doing?” Megumi almost whines as Yuuji rummages around in his closet. Yuuji turns to face him, pulling a plastic bag out with him with a flourish. His smile hasn’t left his face yet, and Megumi feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Won’t suit you? We’ll see about that,” says Yuuji, confident as always.

Megumi tries not to splutter. “Well. Yellow isn’t really my colour, Itadori.” He says his name too softly, like he always does. He tenses up and hopes Yuuji doesn’t notice.

To his almost-disappointment, Yuuji doesn’t react. Instead, he pulls out a bottle of purple nail polish and throws it towards the bed, a way too smug look on his face. Megumi wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.

“Nobara got me to buy two,” he almost sing-songs, “so now you have to let me paint yours!”

In another reality, there is a Megumi that rips his gaze away from those brown eyes and mumbles something about Yuuji not making any sense. He leaves the room with his heart intact, and goes and eats ice cream with a spoon with his wolves in the dark.

Instead, he tries desperately to stay quiet, to suppress a gasp as Yuuji grabs his hand to inspect it. Megumi blames the tightness in his ribs on his binder and toughs it out. Except Yuuji’s hand is so warm and impossibly soft and that idiot shuffles close enough that their thighs are touching and it’s all. A lot.

Yuuji is still just cradling Megumi’s hand in both his own, turning it over and staring for so long it’s as if he’s trying to commit the skin to memory. The air is still thick with an oncoming storm, but now a tentative intimacy mingles amongst the electrified atoms. Megumi doesn’t dare move or speak, as if the universe will punish him by way of Yuuji letting go of his hand. He chooses rather to count each of Yuuji’s eyelashes, watch his nostrils flare as he breathes out in quiet concentration.

“You have really pretty fingers.” Yuuji murmurs, completely unaware of how devastating it is to Megumi’s heart.

Having been abandoned by his father, not knowing his mother, and his sister being in a coma, Megumi hasn’t been a close acquaintance to touch. Hell, even when his sister wasn’t confined to a hospital bed, he was too prickly and stubborn to receive hugs most of the time. Somewhere not-so-deep down, Megumi craves touch. Sometimes, he stares at the ceiling and wonders what it could feel like to be close to someone that didn’t involve the rigidity of training or the annoyance of Gojo’s hair ruffles. To feel warm and fuzzy and for it to be because of someone else’s hands.

Yuuji’s touch, combined with his soft words of praise, are a dream come true. Megumi can only cough awkwardly and watch as Yuuji starts to coat his short nails in purple. Yuuji’s tongue is almost the same colour as his hair, and it sticks slightly out of his mouth as he works. At some point Yuuji had turned that low music back on: a steady and slow lo–fi that does nothing to calm Megumi’s racing heart.

Yuuji keeps slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth on the back of Megumi’s hand as he glides the brush against his fingernails. It’s in all ways comforting as it is maddening, and Megumi does not expect the quiet, “you take such good care of your hands,” when it comes.

Yuuji chooses that exact moment to look into Megumi’s eyes. His face is so open and earnest and it’s becoming harder and harder to keep looking back without leaning forward into his space and just…

Megumi lets out a shaky breath. “Really? Thank you,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as possible with his pulse constricting in his jaw. His mouth feels dry.

Yuuji moves swiftly onto his other hand until all that’s left is his pinky. Not wanting to repeat the slight smudges he had accidentally painted onto Megumi’s left pinky, Yuuji pulls this last finger closer to his face, his breath fanning against it and sending shivers up Megumi’s whole arm. He finishes painting the nail quickly and carefully, but doesn’t put down Megumi’s hand.

Megumi can’t help the soft gasp he lets out as he feels a feather-light kiss pressed to his wrist. It’s as if his blood sings. They observe each other quietly for several moments – taking one another in, willing the silence to never break. Yuuji eventually pulls his face away from his work, now admiring the job.

“All finished.” Yuuji’s voice isn’t loud, but it fills the room. Megumi moves on the bed, beginning to pull his hand away. Yuuji drops his wrist in favour of grabbing Megumi’s waist with both hands, eyes almost panicked.

“You can’t leave yet!” His voice doesn’t raise above the volume of the music, but his words are emphatic. Megumi is trembling in his grasp. “You have to let them dry. And since I spent all that time painting your nails for you, it’s only fair that you stay here with me while you wait.”

Megumi is about to protest, knowing his limits are close to being reached. His face is burning hot and surely visible from the mere distance Yuuji sits away. He feels fit to burst.

The sky does before he has the chance.

The first clap of thunder sounds outside, and a pitter pattering of rain begins to thrum against the window. Megumi resigns himself to this still fume-filled room. He lies down on the bed next to Itadori Yuuji, feeling everything. He doesn’t answer when Yuuji asks if he wants to watch something, nor does he pay attention to whatever the pink-haired boy pulls up on YouTube for them.

Instead, Megumi exists in a content closeness to his friend, counting his eyelashes, and feeling the heat of Yuuji’s hands on his waist.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #itadori yuji #itadori yuuji #itafushi #megumi x yuuji #megumi x yuji #fushiguro megumi #i sure hope someone likes this!#elliot writes jjk

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