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toji-girl · 4 months

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obsessed | t. fushiguro

synopsis: You were super grateful that you could buy off your landlord with your used panties when late on rent until he wants more than just the discarded fabric.

wc: 1.9k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + fem reader + dark content + repost from my old blog + not beta read + pervy! Toji + male masturbation + teasing + nipple play + dirty talking + degradation both receiving + unprotected sex + backshot + dry humping + switch you and Toji + pussy job + cum play + impact play + maybe femdom? I don’t know but adding in case + dubcon in the end but I promise you do want it + any missing tag lmk! + feedback such as comments and reblogs are helpful

AN: I almost want to make a few parts to this...like a series?

Another plastic ziplock bag full of your used underwear was placed at Toji’s door, thankfully you always disguised it to look like a regular package, however, no one knew in the apartment building that you had to pay your rent with your panties.

You looked around and made sure no one was looking as you went back to your apartment feeling your skin crawl with disgust at yourself liking the fact that he was going to jerk off with them later.

Your landlord was incredibly attractive, and that’s something you couldn’t deny as much as you wanted to, it was impossible, the way he fills out those t-shirts makes you shiver wondering what he looked like naked?

That stupid smirk he always wore when he saw you only got wider whenever he saw you around the apartment.

“I didn’t receive my payment, where are my panties?” He asked leaning against the other mailboxes catching you one morning, he looked bigger in the cramped area of the boxes lining the walls, which in turn only made you feel much smaller.

You flipped through the useless papers before looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“You mean my panties? Are you wearing them? I was going to gather them up before my shift at work, and I gave you two extra pairs last week. Why are you asking for more?” You asked clearly annoyed.

Toji stayed silent with that famous smirk, the scar lifting up when he leaned into where you could smell the minty gum he chewed on earlier, his lips almost brushing against the shell of your ear.

“We made a deal, and I expect you to keep up on it. Yeah?” His hand coming down to play with your skirt.

“It was only supposed to be for a bit, not this long. Why don’t you go bug some of the other tenants?”

He hummed like he was thinking about it before shaking his head. “They’re all paid up, plus none of them are as pretty as you are.”

His finger came up grazing your neck making you almost squeak, because dammit, it was hot the way he made you feel this way, his large palm was bigger than your face, and you shrank back looking at him feeling warmth crawl between your legs and up your neck.

You watched him frowning trying to throw him off, the last thing you needed was for him to know you enjoyed this, gripping the envelopes in your hand knowing you’d be a little late to work but if he wanted your panties, you were going to give them to him and maybe this would be the last time, what was only supposed to be for two months at max has now stretched into six.

Almost everyone could hear you stomping up the stairs to your door where you pushed it open heading straight for your bedroom, as much as you hated to admit it, knowing Toji was a little pervert like this and only for you set a switch off in your head because you were perverted like him.

You formulated a plan quickly while setting your last pair by his doorstep before heading to work.

It didn’t take long for Toji to come knocking on your door later the next night, he was needy for you, and it sucked that he had to depend on you to get his orgasm. He rapped his knuckles against your door waiting for you to answer and when you did his dick throbbed harder between thick thighs.

You wore a see-through robe, and a sultry pink laced set that complimented your skin and body, Toji whistled through his teeth stepping inside your apartment unknowingly setting the trap and kicking the door shut behind him. “Wow, is this how you greet all your guests?” He asked tugging on the bow you tied in front.

“Only certain ones, but tonight was meant for a special someone, a date if you must. I have your last package.” You told him seeing the immediate look of disdain on his face, then jealousy made his lips pucker almost as he slid his hands in his pockets.

You turned to head to your room feeling him grab your wrist gently before you were pulled into him. “A date? I don’t think he could easily please you, someone of your caliber.”

“My caliber? What do you mean by that?” You asked genuinely curious letting his hands caress your back and hips and waist lifting your robe up to snap the band of your panties.

He chuckled pressing his lips against the shell of your ear making you shiver. “Someone who pretends not to like my teasing, putting up a bitchy front knowing that you’re a pervert, just like me.” He nibbled on your lobe making you curl your fingers in his shirt gasping softly.

His hand now sliding down your back to squeeze your ass before playing with your thong pulling it between the globes more and kicking your legs apart with his foot letting you staddle his thigh pretty much at this angle, Toji took his sweet time in feeling you up letting you dry hump him now.

“I am not a pervert, I don’t get off on by sniffing panties.” You told him grinding on his thigh and reaching your hand down to cup his bulge with a slight moan, because again dammit, you were now letting him do whatever it was as you gave him the same treatment sliding your hand in his boxers.

Toji groaned as you stroked him before pulling your hand out and pushed him onto your couch, he landed with a soft thud spreading his legs and putting both arms behind it watching you slowly remove your robe and letting it pool around your ankles. “This will be our thing, no more panties.”

He nodded not really believing you, there was no way you were going to leave him alone after this, just as much as he’s obsessed with you he can tell you want him just as bad, so he watched you slowly strip moving your hips until you were naked with your panties balled up in your hand as you lowered down until you were sat in Toji’s lap.

His hands landed on your hips squeezing them between thick fingers and leaning in to kiss your breasts, Toji wrapped his lips around your nipple sucking it in his hot mouth letting you rub your bare pussy against his jeans before you were tugging on his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

“Such a slut for cock, aren’t you?” He teased squeezing your tits and pushing them together kissing the spilling flesh from his thick fingers, his tongue laved every inch almost as you rutted against him moaning and panting while trying to pull his dick free.

It was adorable how quickly he fell for it, all he needed to think was he was going to get his dick wet, and in a way, he was but not the way he originally thought. You grinned down at him prying his mouth open with your fingers hooked in the corner of his lips.

You shoved the lacy thong into his mouth. “Such a slut for my panties, aren’t you?” You sneered down at him running your fingers through his hair, you panted due to the temperature in the living room and the work you put into rubbing your pretty cunt against his dick.

Toji wanted to feel you hot and tight around him but you were in control this way, keeping his cock pressed flush against the lips of your pussy now rubbing up and down looking at him.

“You really can’t help yourself. A dirty boy who gets off on jerking off with used panties? You’re so disgusting.”

His eyes went cross at your filthy words, usually, when people get called stuff like that they’d shrink away and even tear up, but no, Toji just proved you right nodding his head and sucking on your underwear like a pussy drunk frat boy who’s felt a cunt for the first time.

You could feel the tip of his cock press against your hole and as much as you wanted the relief of him fucking you, because you knew it would be big and you weren’t proven wrong it wasn’t time to throw your own plan overboard so instead you just continued to give him a pussy job.

His fingers dug into your hips helping you come so close to his own release watching you wither on top of him as you held his shoulders shuddering feeling your pussy throb wanting to suck him in, instead you pulled your panties from his mouth letting them fall down to his lap.

“There’s your final payment, now I don’t want to see you again asking for them.” You told him watching him pant and lean back shaking his head with that infamous smirk.

He grabbed your panties stuffing them in his pocket and looking at you. “I won’t be the one asking for anything, you’re going to be the one coming to me when you need to be dicked down, I saw that look in your eyes. You wanted to fuck me.”

You tugged on your robe glaring at the older man rolling your eyes. “If I did then I would have, I don’t need you-”

Whatever else you were going to say before you were bent over the arm of your couch, you could feel Toji resting his cock on your ass before rutting against you holding your hips and aiming himself at your fluttering hole pushing in and you pushed back letting him.

Your feet slid against the carpet as he buried himself deep, all the way to the hilt with a long drawn-out moan, your name melted off his tongue like butter in a pan as he spanked your ass gently, his hand going downward in motion. “So much talk for someone who just takes dick easily like this, I just slid inside this cute pussy of yours."

The flesh of your ass stung slightly but it only melted into pleasure that buzzed feeling him split you open on him, his dick thick and long made your toes curl then he rubbed fast circles on your clit grinning down at you grinding yourself against him like a dog in heat.

You hated yourself for wanting him to fuck you like this, and you hated it more that he was right.

“You have a small dick!” You hurled the insult at him while panting gripping the couch for dear life.

Toji smirked and threw his head back howling with laughter as he picked up the pace angling his knees to go deeper, his leaky tip kissing your cervix in this position. “Yeah? Then why the fuck are you panting and mewling like a bitch in heat?”

You hate him, the way he was able to make you feel and how you enjoyed it, the way his hands roamed all over your body squeezing and groping as he fucked you hard and fast from behind, his balls swinging as he put one foot on the arm of the couch holding your hips now.

It was brutal the way he bullied your cunt, not with any care in the world as you arched your back moaning his name begging to cum again which only made him chuckle as he felt his own rise up, he pulled out jerking himself off using your slick as a lube to cum on your back.

He panted and rubbed it on your skin as if it were lotion while he watched you sag on your couch, your legs almost giving out as he petted your back with a smirk. “You look good covered in my cum, I’ll see you later I’m sure.” He said with a grin patting your ass.

After you heard your door click shut did you realize that maybe, Toji was right, you’d be crawling back to him.

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frenchkisstheabyss · 10 months

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♡ ｗａｎｎａｂｅｙｏｕｒｓ♡

♡ Pairing: bouncer!bang chan x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: You've had your eye on a bouncer who works at your club for the longest time. Tonight may just be the night that you get your chance with him

♡ Genre: smut/angst-ish

♡ Word Count: 1.5kish

♡ Warnings: light violence during fight scene, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, dick riding (in the fun sense)

If years of being a dancer have taught you anything it’s how to pretend to give a shit when you’d much rather be at home vegetating. It’s not that you hate your job. You simply aren’t always in the mood to socialize. But the club’s packed tonight and bills need to be paid.

At least the customers are generous, the music’s tolerable, and your best friend’s scheduled to work with you. Spinning around on the pole, you spot her over by the bar lighting a sparkler inside a bottle of champagne. She waves to you, blowing you a kiss. You blow one right back at her.

A sweet moment's swiftly interrupted by the thud of a body crashing onto your platform. With the music blaring overhead, you hadn’t noticed the fight breaking out behind you between bouncers and a few frat boys who’ve clearly had one too many vodka shots. The frat boy laid out at your feet has blood gushing from his nose, ruining his shirt and risking the safety of your brand new stilettos.

He sees the bouncer responsible for his broken nose headed in his direction and so do you. Both of your heart rates increase for opposing reasons. His because, despite his blurred vision, he’s ready to go another round. Yours because the bouncer in question is Bang Chan or Channie as he lets you call him.

You’ve had an embarrassingly heavy crush on the platinum blonde haired Aussie since your first night working here. Somehow you’ve managed to remain oblivious to the fact that the feeling’s mutual. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of the frat boy sneaking a knife from his pocket.

You stomp down on his wrist, applying your full weight, and you feel something crunch beneath your heel. He cries out in pain, the knife falling to the floor. Now his nose isn’t the only thing that’s broken. Chan grabs him by the shirt, tossing him into the arms of two other bouncers waiting nearby.

You’ve never seen him this angry before but his rage is fleeting when he rises from retrieving the knife and lays eyes on you. He smiles up at you, basking in your beauty like you’re one of those goddess statues in a museum. Masterfully carved in marble and perfect in every sense of the word.

“My hero” he gasps, hand over his heart. You roll your eyes, “Dramatic much?” Chan takes your manicured hand, kissing it so gently that it sends a chill through your body. “Thank you. I mean it. I owe you one.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand, your gazes lingering on each other as the rest of the world fades away.

It returns with a roar as the fight erupts again. “I, uh…” he stutters, torn between the longing to stay with you and his obligation to fulfill his duties. “Go. Do your job. No slacking” you tease, shooing him away. Chan blushes, grateful that the darkness of the club conceals it, and disappears into the crowd.

Being the professional that you are, you immediately go back to dancing. Your mind’s even farther gone than before, floating somewhere in the clouds treasuring the tingle left behind by his kiss like it’s gold.

“Absolutely not” you sing, slamming the door to your locker. In the dressing room girls crowd around a half dozen vanities, dashing between clothing racks, hurrying to put the finishing touches on their looks before they’re called to the floor. You, on the other hand, have already changed into a hoodie and a cozy pair of sweats.

The night’s over for you. At least it was before your best friend cornered you, begging to borrow your car. “Oh, come on. Please, please, please” she pouts, “It’s only until tomorrow and I’ll give it right back.” “And how exactly am I supposed to get home?” The grin that spreads across her glitter speckled face is adorable and concerning all at once.

Throwing her coat on, she takes your hand and drags you through one of the side doors where Chan leans against his car waiting for you. With the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled up and a few buttons undone, you get a peek at the tattoos covering his muscular form. Whatever workout this man does has done sinfully good things to his body.

Your best friend plucks the car keys from your hand, nudging you forward, “You look out for my girl, Bang Chan!” “I’ll take good care of her” he promises, opening the door for you. There’s something sensual about the way he says that. “I’ll take good care of her.” You throw the bag on your shoulder into the backseat, hesitating to get in yourself.

“You really don’t have to do this.” “I owe you, remember?” Unable to argue with him, you hop in and put your seatbelt on. As sexy as he looks walking around to the driver’s side, you wouldn’t object to being taken care of by him.

You pinch yourself on the arm, shaking off the thought of anything happening between the two of you. He probably doesn’t want it to. Even if he did, you work together. Something like that would never happen. It can’t...

An hour’s passed and you’re thrown across your bed, knees pressed to your chest, breathing like a pregnant woman in a Lamaze class. You have no clue where your clothes went but honestly, who the hell cares? Chan’s face is buried between your legs, slurping at your pussy like it’s the only thing he’s eaten in 48 hours.

Though that may not technically be true, you definitely taste better than any meal he’s had in recent memory. Your bed’s soaked from how wet you are, a year’s worth of anticipation dripping from his chin. He sucks your clit between his lips, circling it with his tongue and pulling away.

He repeats this over and over again, edging you to the point that you’re a trembling, overstimulated wreck. “Channie…” you whine, your eyes falling close as your nails dig into the sheets below. Chan grabs onto your lush hips, lifting you away from him, “Keep them open.

I wanna see those pretty eyes when I make you cum.” You pry them open and catch him staring up at you with nearly the same look he had at the club. Only now there’s an insatiable hunger behind those eyes. Grinding you down against his face, his tongue plunges into the depths of your warmth.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” is all you can say when he has you coming apart at the seams. “Mmm” he hums, sensing how close you are by the way your walls clench around his tongue. He flexes it along your g-spot and you’re cumming harder than you ever have. Your body’s twisting, pitiful moans fill the air, fingers grasping at his hair.

This must be what it feels like to have a demon exorcized or to be possessed by one. Either way, there’s nothing in this world like it. Even as your body goes limp, your mind going cloudy, Chan’s still kitten licking your slit to gather every drop of your juices. When he finally stops, he straightens your legs out, massaging them as he trails wet kisses up your stomach.

He takes the hand previously responsible for breaking someone’s nose and delicately toys with your nipples. They perk up for him, making each graze of his fingertip twice as intense. He drags his tongue over your bud. Up your chest. Along your chin. You open your mouth to catch your breath and he’s pulling you into a decadent kiss, laced with the sweetness of your arousal.

“I knew you’d taste amazing but that was…” he groans, using two fingers to stroke between your folds, “I could stay between those thighs all night.” “You’ll have to come up for air at some point” you tease. Chan wraps his arms around your waist, hooking an arm behind your knee, “Breathing is overrated.”

In one fluid motion, he’s rolled you over on top of him, his thick cock resting against your twitching clit. Your legs are as structurally solid as jello but you manage to prop yourself up on them, fingers running along his length. “Is this all cause of lil old me?” you ask, dipping your thumb in the precum leaking from his tip and licking it off.

Chan cups your cheek into his palm and you nuzzle it, kissing his palm. “Can I keep you?” You giggle at the question, raising your hips and sinking down onto him. “You can'' you moan, rotating your hips in graceful figure eights that have him ready to implode. A mixture of pleasure and panic floods his system.

It’d be embarrassing to cum this quickly but you’re making it impossible. It takes everything he has to hold back watching you have this much fun using his dick to make yourself feel good.

Chan gets it, how men can throw everything in their pockets at you when you’re on stage. He’d empty every bank account in his name to have you sit on his face. Just sit there. Not even move.

#bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan x female reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x thick reader #stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #stray kids smut

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divine-knight-hand · 1 year

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“It’s Not Safe Here!”

Chapter 1: The Dark Revelation

Series Masterlist || Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Content Warnings: Early morning post-adrenaline-rush touching, handjob in a public space (but no one else is there), giving head for the first time (because why not?), cum swallowing, Michael's a bottom, Y/N's just badass, Michael's the only one receiving in this chapter, and EXPLICIT CONSENT.

Word Count: 5,079

Dividers by @cafekitsune

I was the sole financial advisor of the restaurant, a job that should have gone to one of the two men who literally own the place, but I guess even robot nerds needed a bit of a break. I couldn’t judge them too harshly, though. One of those robot nerds was my boyfriend’s father, after all.

Michael and I have been dating for a little over a year. He was on the night shift, and I would come to work an hour before my own shift to comfort him before my day began. I didn’t know what bothered him so much about his job, but he had expressed that he would rather see me than go home in the mornings, and that did mean that I got to spend more time with him, so who would I be to argue? I thought it was the least I could do, since he would never tell me what happened in this place at night, though it still felt like I wasn’t doing much of anything. I would kill to know what scared him so much every night. I worried for him…

I finally managed to unlock the door with the key that Henry gave to me after he realized that I consistently come in earlier than I’m supposed to. Honestly, that would have gotten most people fired for trespassing, so I got really lucky with that one.

I took one step inside and one thing became starkly apparent. It was dark. Eerily dark. Devoid of all the lights and laughter that usually gave it life during the day. A shiver trailed up my spine as I strolled across the dark party room, my pleather ankle boots clicking each step of the way, the sounds accompanied by a ghastly echo off the walls.

I decided to come to work wearing a black suit and tie with silver jewelry and black eyeliner. I figured I should try to dress nicely for my quarterly meeting with my bosses, Henry and William. If not for the formal attire of the meeting, then to soften the blow when I would have to break the news that we went over budget on mechanical expenses, as per usual. That was the reason I had to get up early in the first place.

Henry and William would usually schedule our meetings for after the restaurant closed. This time, for some reason they didn’t care enough to tell me, they wanted to hold it before the restaurant opened. I rolled my eyes and sarcastically thought, Oh, how I love getting up at godforsaken hours of the morning to get yelled at for things I can’t control. It was never my fault that these two always spent more than I planned budgets for, yet William was never shy with his temper tantrums.

Whrrrrrrrrrrrrr… Click! Click! Click!

I jumped and immediately froze at the sudden sound that brought me out of my thoughts, feeling anxiety begin to twist in my stomach. What the-

Whrrrrrrrrrrrrr… Click! Click! Click!

My head instantly went on a swivel as I struggled to locate the sound's origin in the dark and empty expanse. As soon as I found it, my jaw flew open to unleash an unearthly scream that I didn’t even know I was capable of. A pair of silver eyes twinkling in the darkness returned my terrified gaze. Calm down, girl! It’s just one of the animatronics. For some reason, the thought made me feel even more afraid, and even unsafe. As soon as I noticed the eyes slowly getting larger, I turned tail and rushed down the nearest hallway, my suspicions of being unsafe confirmed as soon as I heard the noises get louder and faster.

Whrrrrrr- Clank!Click!Clank! Whrrrrrr- Clank!Click!Clank!

I let out another scream, my ears pounding with the blood rushing behind them, and my feet hitting the floor, which surprisingly didn’t trip me up, despite the fact that I was running in heeled ankle boots, “Help! Somebody! HELP ME!!!” My heart was pounding in my throat. I could only hear one thing in my mind. I’m gonna die here! I’m gonna die here!

Me and the animatronic on my tail turned down hallway after hallway for what felt like hours before I felt a sudden grip on my arm, and I froze in my tracks. I quickly lost my footing as I got yanked into a small room with dim lighting, falling to the floor with a forceful, “Umph!”

Whoosh! Clang! I heard the sound of a metal door slamming shut behind me. Then the room fell into a silence so heavy, I could hear a pin drop… Oh, wait. That’s one of my rings. I sat up and slid my ring back onto my finger. As my adrenaline slowed enough to allow me to stop shaking, my eyes adjusted enough to the low lighting to see that I was on the floor of a small office. I looked at the camera system on a nearby desk and squinted. I was trying to decipher the picture on-screen when I felt two large arms wrap around me, and I let out a yelp… Well, it was more of a blood-curdling scream.

“AAAAH!” I turned my head to see a familiar figure, who had joined me on the ground to wrap his arms around me. “Michael?”

There he was. My boyfriend. He seemed well put-together, with his purple work shirt (which was decorated with a gold security badge), blue jeans, and brown work boots. His hair, on the other hand, was a bit disheveled, as if he had spent his shift anxiously running his hands through it. Poor thing…

He looked at me, concern with undertones of lack of sleep etched into his features. His eyes, however, were wide with pure, unadulterated terror, “Y/N? Are you alright?” He frantically patted me down, almost as if he was attempting to frisk me for contraband rather than check on my physical well-being. The worry on his face assured me that he had good intentions, as always, “Did he hurt you? I was so worried! I saw you on the cameras and I got so scared! I don’t know what I would have done if you-”

I held a finger to his lips to keep him from spiraling, “I’m alright, Michael. Just a little shaken up.”

“In that case, what are you doing here?” Michael brought his hands up to my shoulders, gripping them as if he was afraid I would disappear in an instant, “It’s not safe here!”

“I was here to see you before preparing for my meeting today, but then something started chasing me! W-” I momentarily hesitated due to the sheer ridiculousness of the question I planned on asking, but I decided to ask it anyways, “Was that Freddy? Was he really chasing me just now?”

Michael slowly removed his hands from my shoulders, bringing them to his knees, “Yes, love. That was Freddy… and he was chasing you, it seems.”

“What for?!”

“The animatronics are allowed to wander at night, so their servos don’t lock up.”

“Michael,” I proceeded in a cautionary tone, “You’re not answering my question.”

He scratched the back of his neck in visual discomfort before slowly starting again, “Do you… do you believe that things with human-like qualities can come to life?”

A loud banging sounded at the door behind us and we both jumped. I shouted, “Michael! I don’t think now’s an appropriate time to discuss science fiction!”

“No, no, Y/N! I ask because these animatronics are alive!” I stared at him blankly, which prompted him to continue, “I can’t explain it, but I know they are. They roam around every night, looking for ‘endoskeletons to shove into mascot suits’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh, I see. They’re programmed for cleanup.” I shook my head, mentally cursing William, “No wonder we never stay under budget.” I muttered.

“No, Y/N. They’re on a murderous path! That’s the cover-up story that the company feeds every guard that works here… before they disappear.”

“Disappear?” My heart dropped at the idea, “What’s that supposed to mean?” And could it happen to you?

“Y/N,” Michael placed his hands back on my shoulders and leaned a little closer to me, “What I’m about to tell you is going to sound crazy. Please, just listen. Please?” I silently nodded, allowing him to continue, “The animatronics walk around at night, and they always make their way to the office in an attempt to kill the security guard. That’s why this position reopens so often. I’m still trying to figure out why they act this way at night.”

“So this is what you’ve been doing at work?!” I could feel myself falling prey to hysterics, “Risking your life? Fending off killer robots to find some secret that you could probably just ask your dad about?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It has to be easier than tempting death every night, Michael!”

“I think it has to do with the missing children.”

I froze. The city of Hurricane, Utah had some pretty frequent amber alerts in recent months, but how could Michael have seen a correlation between their disappearances and these killer robots? Oh no…

“Michael…” I groaned, “You don’t think the robots killed the kids, do you?” And would that mean your father is involved? I wouldn’t dare ask that question aloud. It’s one thing to support your boyfriend when he’s had bad days with his worse-than-negligent father. It’s another to accuse said father of murder.

“I don’t know enough to say for sure.” Michael nervously scratched his chin, “That’s what I’m investigating.”

I sighed, “If this is the case, then why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

“I couldn’t! I’m bound by a contract. I could lose this job if I come forward about what happens here at night, and this position is the closest I could get for investigating.” A light blush slowly crept up Michael’s face, “I also didn’t want you to worry. The idea of you worrying yourself over this… it kills me. I love you too much to let that happen.”

“Well, I am worried.” I slid my hands up his sides, “But, I don’t plan on stopping you.” I pulled him just a little closer to me, “What you’re doing? It’s dangerous, and I would really like for you to have no part of it,” Michael’s gaze dropped to the floor in shame and I moved one of my hands to tilt his chin back up to me, “But, it’s honorable. It’s probably the bravest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

Michael sheepishly chuckled, “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot.” His eyes drifted up to the desk and he visibly tensed before cursing under his breath and jumping up to rush over to the screens, “The doors were wasting power! I completely forgot I had them closed.”

“Limited power supply to keep the doors closed?” I slowly rose to my feet, “Sounds like a murder plot in motion.” Michael turned and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me, “What? It does!”

He shook his head, “Would you mind opening them, love?” Did I just hear him right?

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” I screamed, “OPEN THEM?! MICHAEL, WHAT THE-”

“To conserve power, not to kill us!” He cut in.

I sighed and looked over his shoulder at the desk. The power meter was displayed in the corner of the camera feed and read 32%. The alarm clock placed next to the screen showed 5:30 A.M.

I turned to face him, and noticing that I was closer to his face than I anticipated, I decided to whisper so I didn’t speak too loudly in his ear, “I think we can get away with leaving them closed until six, right, hun?”

To my surprise, he shuddered and whispered in response, “Y-yes, love. I suppose we could.”

I sighed with relief and dropped into the chair at his desk, spreading out comfortably, “In that case, I don’t see an issue with just waiting out the rest of the night, hm?”

He turned to look at me, fear still in his eyes, but he was slowly calming down at the sight of me being at ease, a front that I’ve put on for his sake many times before, but this time was genuine. I wheeled the chair over to knock on one of the doors and remark, “What is this thing made out of, anyways?”

Michael cleared a spot on the desk to seat himself on, hands resting on his knees, “I’m not entirely sure, but whatever it is, it keeps them out.”

I began to lean back, in the process of getting completely comfortable, when I caught another glimpse of him. He still seemed tense. Every small noise made him jump, and his eyes were glued wide open, frantically scanning the window closest to him. I saw him consider the light a few times, but he decided against it each time. Must be to conserve power.

I rose from the chair and quietly approached him, resting my hand on one of his, which made him jump again, “Michael, it’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

He let out a shaky breath, “I know. It’s just…” I noticed his jaw clench and unclench before he continued, “I wish I never would have gotten you involved in all of this. I want you to be safe.”

“But, I’m glad you did.”

“What?! You’re glad? What do you mean?!”

“I mean that now I know what’s wrong with you.” His mouth slightly dropped open in shock, “And by that, I mean now I know what’s been bothering you for so long. It sucked, you know. Always seeing you terrified in the mornings and not knowing how to help. I felt…” I nodded, as if I needed the motion to build my own resolve, “I felt totally helpless in the matter.” I noticed Michael get a sad look in his eyes as I continued, “I felt like you were in pain, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Michael tightly wrapped his arms around me, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I wanted to keep you from worrying, but you were worried the whole time, weren’t you?”

I felt so comfortable in his embrace, it almost made me forget that I haven’t responded yet. I wrapped my arms around him, slowly rubbing his back, “You have nothing to apologize for, especially after you saved my life just now.” He let out a deep sigh and rested his head against my shoulder. I took that opportunity to turn my head and purr into his ear, “I owe you one, don’t I, Mr. Hero?”

I didn’t even have to look at him to know he was blushing. I imagined his rosy cheeks and the way he usually hid his face or avoided my gaze. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy getting him flustered.

I didn’t waste a single moment before softly nipping at his ear, and he began stuttering, “I- I- You don’t- I- I’m not-” He finally settled on one phrase as I began trailing kisses down his jaw, “I love you.”

I momentarily stopped kissing him to respond, “I love you, too, Mike.” Growing bolder with each move I made within the safety of the office, I let one of my hands drop and slowly roam along his thigh, stopping to lightly grab his knee, “I love you so much~”

I could hear him shudder in response. He whispered, “Y/N…”

I leaned back to stand up straight, softly grabbing his chin and tilting it up to face me. He shivered, which I assumed was due to the chill of my rings, as I cocked my head to the side and cooed, “Now, how do I reward my brave hero, hm?” I leaned closer to his face until we were merely centimeters away from each other to whisper, “Let me spoil you, my love~”

He shuddered under his breath and softly groaned, “I don’t deserve-“

“Don’t.” I cut in, “You deserve more than you give yourself credit for.” It was true. Michael had a tendency to undercut his worth, which was both a pet peeve of mine and something that made my heart ache for him. I wished he could see himself the way I saw him. Perfect. I slid my free hand up his thigh, “Let me give it to you.”

I leaned in to kiss him and he spread his legs, giving me enough room to step closer to him and stand between his knees. I began gingerly planting kisses on his lips, running my hand back and forth along his inner thigh as his shaky breaths spurred me on. I quickly grew impatient and gave his lips a small lick, as a silent request for entrance, which he granted. I moved my hand from his chin to cup his face as I slid my tongue into his mouth and grew hungrier for him with each sigh he made against me. I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but they quickly transformed into a warmth that settled in the bottom of my core.

The idea of Michael being putty in my hands was truly driving me wild. I wanted to bend him until he broke. I wanted to hear him panting. Whimpering. Begging. I wanted him to rely completely on me to grant him the sweet release of… well, release. And here he was. Sitting on an office desk. Legs wide open. Just for me. This opportunity must have been heaven-sent, despite the fact that I was chased here by a literal creature from hell.

As we broke our kiss, we were both left breathing heavily. There was a want in Michael’s eyes as we looked at each other. The flush in his cheeks was also telling. He was as hungry as I was. He wanted me.

I looked down and ran my hand up his inner thigh once again, stopping right at the topmost point, closest to his crotch, which had already pitched a tent with the material, before looking back up to him and smirking, “Can I go further than this?” I breathlessly asked, “I really wanna feel more of you.”

His knees suddenly squeezed to my sides and he whined, “Please, love. Please…”

That was it. That was all I needed. The desperation in his voice. The way he looked at me with those puppy eyes. I felt a force inside pulling me toward him. I had to have him. I needed to have him.

“Oh, Michael…” I practically crashed into him for another kiss, using one hand to play with his hair as I began palming his clothed erection with the other.

He moaned into my mouth, his voice slightly cracking. He slid forward on the desk, moving his body closer to mine, and he began slowly grinding against my hand. I felt him twitching in my hand as his kisses became sloppier and needier.

I didn’t have any desire to let him penetrate me. Not yet, anyway. Honestly, I was never planning on taking him inside of a cramped office space. I would prefer to do that at home. That didn’t stop me from wanting to bring him to completion, though. Just the sights and sounds of him in pure bliss would be enough for me. More than enough. Perfect.

I broke the kiss, still touching my forehead to his, as I shifted my focus to undoing his belt.

“Y-Y/N…” He whimpered, “Please hurry…” God, did I love it when he begged.

“Be patient, love.” I whispered, “I promise I’ll take good care of you.” I slowly undid his belt, relishing in each strained breath he sent against my face.

I finally unzipped his jeans, releasing his throbbing, red cock from the material. The tip was crowned with a bead of precum.

“Poor thing.” I cooed, my fingers tracing along each vein that popped up, “How long have you been waiting for me?”

“So long...” He panted, his eyebrows knitting together with effort to hold his composure. What a doll~

I watched him intently as I began removing my rings at a pace that was clearly agonizing to him. I couldn’t help but take pleasure in the way he grew impatient. I then wrapped my hand around the base and gave it a light squeeze before slowly beginning to stroke, “I won’t keep you waiting anymore, my love.”

Michael leaned back, bracing himself on his hands. His head tipped back and he let out a low moan. His shoulders shook with shivers that accompanied each movement I made. My eyes scoured over every inch of the scene that played in front of me.

His eyes seemed hazy, yet sharp, as if he was darting in and out of consciousness. His hair fell into his eyes, covering the light shine of sweat building on his forehead. His lips were ever so parted, allowing breaths, moans, and stuttering whispers to escape. Each shivering breath that left his mouth sent another wave of electricity through me. He was a work of art. Any sense of shyness he felt before melted away as he slowly lost himself in ecstasy, and all of this occurred just from me touching him. It was beautiful.

“Michael,” I purred, “You’re such a pretty boy.” An understatement, in my opinion, but I noticed it was his favorite compliment, and I couldn’t help but love the way it usually made him smile.

This time, he turned his face away, clearly embarrassed, as a small whimper escaped the back of his throat, “Y/N…”

“I mean it. You really are the prettiest.” I felt my hand quickly get slick as precum slowly slid down the head of his cock and lubricated the rest. I moved my hand to stroke him faster as he moved closer to me, “I just wanna make you feel good… Does this feel good, my love?”

“Y-yes…” His mutters were nearly incoherent, “So… good…”

He lifted off of his hands to lean his head on my shoulder and wrap his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. I heard his moans grow whinier as the minutes ticked by. He desperately clung to my body, his hips bucking to meet my hand.

Every point of contact we had sent a jolt of warmth to my core. I knew I was on the verge of being too far gone as soon as I felt a throbbing sensation buzzing to life between my thighs. My god, he’s so fine.

“Y/N… I n- I- Mmh…” Michael’s words continued to be lost in moans until he could form the sentences somewhat coherently, “Need you...” His breathing grew heavier as he continued, “Need to be inside you…” His voice descended back into incoherent moans and pleads.

“I’m sorry, my love.” I gave his head an apologetic scratch, “I can’t take you here. That would get too messy.”

Michael let out an agonized whimper and that’s when it hit me. We were going to make a mess, regardless of whether or not I let Michael inside of me. I had to think fast, otherwise-

“Y-Y/N! Mmm gonna-“ Damn! I had to think fast. I couldn’t even waste time kicking my past self for being so touchy-feely… despite the fact that I still couldn’t keep my hands off of his cock.

Then, I had a lightbulb moment, and I let go of him, earning another strained whimper as I edged him, “Michael, hun, I’m going to need you to let go of me for a moment.” He lifted his head from my shoulder to meet my gaze with an expression that was almost sad, “I promise, I’m going to make you feel good again. I just need to shift my position.” And that was enough to convince him to let go, “That’s a good boy~” He turned his face away again in embarrassment as I quickly took to my knees.

To say that his length didn’t intimidate me would have been a bit of a lie. I remembered being nervous for our first time. That feeling faded the more we were active, but I’d never taken him in my mouth before. As I was staring at the seven-and-a-half inches in front of me, I felt a fluttering in my stomach.

Get it together, Y/N! Don’t leave him hanging! I looked back up to Michael and saw him looking back down at me with a mixture of curiosity and longing. It’s now or never… I stroked his cock a few more times before finally sliding it into my mouth. I slowly took it in, pausing at each inch to catch my breath before moving farther up. Once I relaxed my throat, letting him inside became easier.

“Y/N? Ah-” One of Michael’s hands instantly dropped to the edge of the desk, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. The other ended up on my head, his fingers intertwining with my hair. I shivered in response, letting out a small moan around him, which earned me a whimper from his end. I decided to spare him the wait after already teasing him for so long. I hollowed out my cheeks, bobbing my head along his cock as he bucked his hips to meet my face.

If Michael wasn’t absolutely lost before, he was now, “L- love, I don’t- ah- think I’m gonna last- mmm- much longer…”

I had a difficult time keeping my composure, as well. My eyes watered from the new sensation in my throat, and I had to focus extra on my breathing so I didn’t gag. I then felt myself begin to drool, which didn’t help my attempt to keep the office clean. I gripped his thigh for support, powering through with each moan and incoherent message of encouragement coming from my lover.

After my nerves settled, one feeling remained in me. Lust. I wanted Michael so much. The warmth inside of me wouldn’t let me forget that. I also wanted to prioritize him now. I only wanted to pleasure him. I felt like I could get off solely on finishing Michael over, and over, and over, and over…

“Y/N!” Michael’s cry almost sounded like I was hearing it from under water. My focus was entirely on his gorgeous body, “I- I’m cum- Ah!” Michael arched his back and let out a moan that bordered on the verge of a scream. It was like I was hearing my favorite song as he was lost in pure bliss. And just like that, I felt a warm sensation shooting into the back of my throat.

I greedily swallowed every drop as Michael’s grip tightened in my hair. Once he was done, and he let go, I slowly moved off of him to wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my suit jacket.

For a moment, the only sound that filled the room was Michael’s heavy breathing. I looked up to see him still lightly gripping the table, a look of wonder on his face as he met my gaze.

I smirked and stood up, dusting off my knees, “How was that, my love?”

Michael breathlessly chuckled, “How was that? Y/N, I didn’t even know you could do that!”

“I like to keep a few tricks up my sleeve.” Just you wait until you see what I have in my bottom dresser drawer~

Michael scratched the back of his neck, “You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

I leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, “That’s because you are special, Mike.” I smiled, “You’re special to me.”

We wrapped our arms around each other, meeting in a tight embrace, “That’s all I could ever want, love.”

Just then, our hug was cut short by what sounded like church bells. Our heads whipped around to see the alarm clock on the desk flashing: 6:00 AM.

Michael audibly gasped and rushed to fix his pants, “The restaurant opens in an hour.”

“Shit! My meeting’s at 6:30!” I scowled, remembering my responsibilities for the day.

Michael, having finished fixing his appearance, reached over to caress my cheek, “You’re gonna do fine, love. I believe you’ll get through to him this time.”

By now, I would have made some sarcastic quip about William being a stubborn old man, but I was too busy focusing on the image in front of me to feel anything negative. Michael, though still obviously tired from the lack of sleep, smiled warmly at me. His hair was a bit of a wreck after falling into his eyes, being pushed away from his face, and being grabbed and ruffled by me so many times. He was beautiful.

I reached over and played with his hair, seeing if I could fix it, at least a little, “Thank you for the encouragement. Now promise me you’ll get some rest today, okay? Mysterious disappearances can wait until you’ve had a good sleep. Promise?”

He sighed heavily, “I’ll do my best, love.” I raised an eyebrow at him until he raised a hand and added, “I promise.”

I smile and lean forward to kiss him, “Good. Now, I have to go prepare to discuss money-making strategies.” I add a sarcastic “Yippee” which makes Michael chuckle.

I head to the steel door and stop, turning back to him to ask, “They’re all not going to chase me again as soon as I leave, right?”

He softly shakes his head, “They should be back on stage. You’re safe for now.”

I let out a sigh of relief, “Thank god.” I press the door button and the steel door loudly slides open in front of me. I add without turning around, “Remember, take care of yourself today.”

“Got it.” I heard him respond. I smiled to myself and exited through the door, making my way to my office. Today’s going to be a long day…

#smut #smut fanfiction #michael afton #michael afton smut #michael afton x reader #sub!michael afton #fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's #dom!y/n

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bbyquokka · 2 years

Text

one-sided love

→ PAIRING: Seo Changbin x fem!reader

→ GENRE: angst | smut — MDNI!

→ SYNOPSIS: after being ghosted by your date, you head to the gym with Changbin to relive some stress and anger, but was stress and anger all that was being relieved?

→ WORDS: 4k

→ part one | part two | part three | part four

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

→ m.list → series m.list → you can also read it on my ao3

"Binnie – it hurts!" You whine. Changbin chuckles softly.

"I know but you can do it, I'm here, remember." You whimper, nodding slowly.

"I know Binnie, but, its just too much."

"Just a little longer, doll." You press your lips in a thin line, grunting as sweat runs down your forehead. You let out a pant from your lips, looking up at man who’s above you.

He too, is also coated in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes watching your every move, listening to your whines and pleads.

"You got this, doll!" you let out a loud grunt, pressing the barbell up and down from your chest. Changbin takes it off you, placing it on the support frame. You sit up straight, grabbing a towel to wipe away the sweat and taking a big gulp of water.

“Good job, doll. You did really well!" Changbin stood in front of you, drinking some water also. You grin.

"Thanks Binnie. So, what's next?"

"Mhm, cardio." You pull a face, making fake gagging sounds which Changbin chuckles at. "i know, i know. I don't like cardio as much as you do but has to be done, doll."

You sigh before standing and grabbing your things. You walk to the treadmills with Changbin, stepping on and setting it to a steady pace before you slowly start to jog.

You haven't been working out for long – about 4 months exactly. Your life became super hectic all of a sudden with work and family problems. You didn't have time for yourself anymore, meaning your health declined slowly. You stopped caring about yourself, allowing yourself to fall into a rut.

It wasn't until you and Changbin – who has been your friend since you both came out off the womb – had a heart to heart. Changbin is a sweet and caring man who isn't afraid to say how it is, especially when he is concerned about someone he cares so deeply about.

You was on the fence about going to the gym. They hold that stereotype that only fit and muscular people go and that they judge people of a bigger size. For months, you ignored the fact your health was declining as well as ignoring Changbin’s invitations to the gym.

Soon enough, you gave into Changbin – he kept begging and acting all sweet, what could you do?! Changbin works as a personal trainer at the local gym so he promised he would help you, which to this day, he has fulfilled. You still have to pay full price for his service though, just because you're his friend doesn't mean you can get a special discount.

You was surprised to know that Changbin really knew his stuff about the human body.

He would correct your positioning and tell you why. He would tell you what muscles you're working on and how to make the most of it. He also helped you a little bit with your diet, helping you incorporate more healthy stuff and making it fun for you.

You soon noticed a change in your health and not just physically, mentally you felt better – clearer. You knew that if you felt stressed, you could call Changbin up and you'd spend a hour at the gym together. Of course you did other things together that didn't involve the gym.

Lunch dates, movie dates, staying the night at each others houses, going to a club and getting drunk, you're both glued to the hip. There have been many occasions where people have asked if you two are a thing, you instantly denied those claims whereas Changbin would go shy and deny it also, even though sometimes, it seemed like he didn't want to.

You’re currently back at your apartment. You lasted 15 minutes on the treadmill before calling it quits. You’re exhausted and just wanted to go home and take a shower. You thanked Changbin for his help before hugging him. You realised that the hug lasted longer than it would, or should, Changbin clinging onto you gently like a new born monkey clinging to its mother.

You thought it was strange but soon dismissed the thoughts when you said you would see him later, his gorgeous eyes lightening up at the thought. You live fairly close to the gym – a 20 minute walk. As soon as you enter your apartment, being greeted by both your cats, Felix and Minho, you make way to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

You took this time to think about your life as the warm water runs over your body, relaxing your muscles. You thought about work and how it has become so stressful to the point where you might just quit. About your family and how they seemed so distant from you lately.

Your mind soon wondered to Changbin and it was then, you realised he has been acting rather strange lately. He remains professional during your PT sessions but after that, he goes all shy and distant? There’s something about the way he is acting that you are unsure of and you couldn't quite figure out what it is.

Changbin is the type to be responsible and reasonable, telling people how it is no matter how hard it may hurt. It seems rude and careless to others but in Changbin's eyes, its even worse to lie and pretend. Unfortunately, he isn't very good at recognising his own feelings. While he may be giving someone advice, someone who is experiencing the same feelings as him, Changbin will fail to take his own advice.

After washing your body and hair, you step out off the shower and wrap a towel around yourself. You dry your hair first before drying off your body, putting on clean underwear and nightwear. You make your way to the living area, plopping your tired body down on the sofa and turning the tv on.

You soon lost interest of the tv and grabbed your phone instead, opening up your dating app. You haven't dated for a few months, with your life being so hectic you didn't have time and you wasn't in the right headspace. Now you feel like you're ready to date again so you downloaded a dating app.

After weeks of swiping and blocking creepy men, you finally met someone decent. His name is Jeongin and, to you, he is adorable. You was not expecting him to be so sweet, considering the way he looked. Blonde hair, piercings and dressed in black leather, but you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

You check your messages, grinning when you see Jeongin had messaged you. You spent the majority of your night texting each other. You wanted to meet up with him but he would always say that he was busy with his work like, which you understood so you thought nothing off it.

Jeongin understood you. You felt like you are both similar in many things, from what you thought to what your favourite foods are. He has been there for you through your highs and lows. When you was at your lowest, you was worried that he would leave but he stayed. He said things that comforted you, called you gorgeous and would hype you up when you was unsure of an outfit you wanted to wear.

Of course, you told Changbin about it and although he seems happy that you found someone, he also seems a bit – sour? He would say good things like 'I'm happy for you' but at the same he would contradict himself. Whenever you'd mention Jeongin’s name, Changbin was quick to lose interest, replying with a simple "Mhm" and nod. You thought nothing off it, putting it down to Changbin being tired.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you: gym?

Binnie 💪🏻🐖🐇: uh, sure. whats up?

you: nothing. just wanted to go thats all.

Binnie 💪🏻🐖🐇: nah, something is wrong with you. you dont text me at 10 at night to just go to the gym 🤔

you: fine. i think ive been ghosted by jeongin.

Binnie 💪🏻🐖🐇: ah.

you: yeah. i just need to take my mind off it, thats all.

Binnie 💪🏻🐖🐇: i'll meet you there then.

It hurt. It hurt to know that the person you thought you was getting on with so well, the person who made promises to you and made you feel special, has potentially ghosted you. A few days ago, you texted Jeongin a good morning text, like you always do. He didn't reply straight away, which was odd but you put it down to him being busy

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to days and still nothing. You sent him numerous texts, anxiety and worry rising because you didn't know if anything bad has happened. What if he was hurt? You sent him one finally text before he at last responded.

'leave me alone. im not interested anymore. tbh, im kinda bored of this 😴'

You questioned him why and how. You explained that it didn't make sense for his feelings to suddenly change. One minute he was making promises to come see you and eventually live with you, next, he's bored of you, doesn't care and wants you to leave him alone. You decided to check his social medias and found out that he kissed another at a club.

Sure, it stung. Your heart broke, but you wasn't boyfriend girlfriend. You wasn't a thing but it still hurt so much to the point where you thought you was going to throw up. You wanted to stay home, cry and eat a full box of chocolates, but decided against it. Instead, you would rant to Changbin about it, even if he wasn't interested.

"Asshole! How dare he treat me like this, Binnie! After all the promises he made me and the things he said and he treats me like this?!"

Changbin simply nods, humming as you spew angry words whilst lifting a weighted bar. Changbin stood by your head as you was lay on the bench. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt, shorts and cap, his hair in its natural state – your favourite state. Changbin takes the bar off you as you sit up, wiping your forehead.

"Maybe dating isn't for me." You mumble.

"Don't say that, y/n. You'll find someone eventually. they just take time." Changbin sits next to you, his hand resting on your back. You look up at him, Changbin audibly swallowed.

"But what if i never do find the one? I'm going to be forever alone, old and grey with my two cats – maybe more" You whine. Changbin laughs.

"Just take this as a learning curve. Maybe online dating just isn't it for you. Anyways, you'll bounce back from this, you always do, plus, you have your Binnie." You nod, Changbin’s hand resting on your thigh. You placed your hand on top of his, stroking it gently.

"You're right. thanks Binnie. i know i can always count on you." You kiss Changbin's cheek, a whimper escaping his lips. You pull away and look at him, his cheeks turning red

"Binnie..?" Changbin stands up fast, turning his back to you, his ears visible red. You stand up and walk to face him. He’s looking at his feet, hands clasped over his crotch area.

"Binnie, are you–"

"Don't! I'm so embarrassed." Changbin mumbles. You grab his wrists gently, moving his hands away. You swallow when you see an obvious tent forming in his shorts. Changbin escapes your grasp, hands going back to cover his erection.

"I'm sorry, y/n. Its been a while since i last had any sexual action. I'm pent up and seeing you in workout clothing, those tight leggings that hug your curves plus the sweat on your body, drove me insane. the cheek kiss was just enough. I'm so so sorry.."

Changbin's rambles fell on deaf ears. You’re excited. You knew Changbin was sexually active and is more prone to one night stands. You never thought of him in that way, but here he is, standing in front of you, embarrassed and hard.

It excites you. You want to touch, to feel his hot skin against your own. To feel him inside you, pounding away until you're screaming and begging for more. It has also been a while since you last got touched by another human. Sure, toys are good but they don't provide that sensation that humans do.

You're debating. Debating on whether to help him out, relieve him of his pain and desires or to walk out and ignore it, leaving Changbin to fix it for himself. You're aroused, sexually thoughts swimming inside your mind. Are you willing to cross that line of friendship?

Deciding that you are, that you needed to feel him inside you, you grabbed Changbin's wrists and dragged him in the unisex toilets, locking the door of a cubicle behind you.

"W–What are you doing?" Changbin's back collides with the cubical wall, his eyes wide as he looks at you. You swallow, thought swimming around in your head. You're unable to think straight. Your best friend is staring at you, hard and aroused. You want him, you need him. Now.

"Binnie, I'm so sorry but seeing you like this, has excited me so much." You whimper, walking towards him. Changbin swallows, unable to speak as he watches.

You slowly kneel down, keeping eye contact with Changbin. He watches you as you grab the material of his shorts, his hands flying to yours to stop you.

"Ah, w-wait. you don't have to. i mean, should we? i can go home and take care of it myself." Changbin’s flustered. You smirk, planting a gentle kiss on his erection, his hips bucking.

"Its okay Binnie. I want to and if its okay with you, I want you to use my me. Use my mouth, use my pussy. fill me up, Binnie."

Changbin takes deep breaths, thinking about what to do and if he should give you the signal to go. He’s torn between wanting to ruin your insides to you being his best friends and best friends don't have sex in a gym toilet.

"Let me care for you, Binnie. Don't you want to feel my warm mouth around your cock? Don't you want to fuck my throat raw until i cant speak? Don't you want to fuck me dumb?"

Changbin swallows, biting his lip hard. His cock throbbing at the thought of hearing your moans whilst he fucks you hard and rough. Whether it was the arousal talking, Changbin nods, giving you the signal to do as you please.

You grin, pulling down his shorts and underwear, his cock springing free from their constraints. You lick your lips. He’s average length but he has girth. He is thick and all you could think about was how he was going to stretch you out with it.

You clench your thighs together as you grab the base of Changbin's cock, his hips bucking. You slowly stroke it, rotating your wrist. His skin feels hot against your hand, his tip red and leaking pre-cum. You pepper soft kisses along the side of his shaft, a sigh escaping his lips.

Your tongue darts out, licking a long, wet strip along his vein. A deep groan escapes his lips, making you whimper as the sound runs through your body to your core. You hum, pressing your tongue flat against his tip, salty pre-cum coating your tongue.

Changbin’s watching you with eager eyes, slowly allowing the pleasure to consume and take over his body. You wrap you lips around his cock, mouth engulfing his penis. Changbin hums, running his fingers through your hair slowly.

"Pretty." He whispers. You place one hand on his muscular thigh as your other works on stroking the base. You close your eyes, bobbing your head at a steady pace, allowing your mouth to fill with saliva.

You soon hollow out your cheeks, tongue flat. Changbin's moaning is frequent so you decided to take more of him. His tip soon reaches the back of your throat, causing you to gag slightly. Your mouth is full of cock and saliva, his tip hitting the back of your throat continuously as saliva spilt from the corners of your mouth.

Changbin tugs your hair at the scalp gently, soft moans escaping his lips as his brows furrow together. It takes everything in his power to not shove himself down your throat and fuck it raw. He tries to regain some composure, his thighs tensing under your fingers.

You look up at him, pulling away from his cock. You swallow your saliva and wiped your chin with the back of your hand.

"What's up Binnie?" You ask sweetly.

"I don't want to hurt you." He whispers. You chuckle sweetly.

"Its okay, Binnie. use me." You open your mouth wide, tongue flat out as you look at Changbin sweetly. He presses his lips in a thin line, gripping your hair.

"Fuck." He grunts before pushing himself back into your mouth. He doesn’t stop until your nose touches the pit of his stomach. He starts thrusting slow at first, quickening his pace. You squeeze your eyes shut, the full force of his hips and his tip hitting your throat, making you gag.

Tears fill your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as saliva falls and coats your chin. Changbin grunts, his grip on your hair tightening making your scalp sore. You dig your nails into his thighs, the material of your panties sticky and uncomfortable with your essence. You rub and squeeze your thighs together to cause friction.

Changbin pulls himself out off your mouth with a 'pop'. You whimper at the loss, wiping your chin and cheeks.

"Up" Changbin orders in a low tone. You automatically stand. Changbin pulls your gym leggings down along with your panties, the cold air hitting your pussy sending shivers all over your body.

Changbin licks his lips and wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. With his free hand, he runs his middle and index finger up and down your slit, brushing past your sensitive clit making you whimper.

Your juices coat his fingers. you grip onto his biceps, leaning in to kiss him. Changbin turns his head to the side, your lips meeting his cheek. You thought it was strange and felt disappointed but that soon vanished once his slick fingers rubbed slow circles on your clit.

You whimper softly, goose bumps coating your skin. You lean in again, kissing his neck softly. He allows you to pepper gentle kisses along his neck, occasionally licking his skin, the taste of salt from his sweat coats your tongue.

"Binnie.." you whisper against his skin. He soon quickens his pace, moans and whimpers escaping your lips before he circles your entrance. He slips two fingers in with ease, your pussy clenching around his digits instantly. He chuckles before moving fast, his fingers rubbing and curling against your walls.

Your knees buckle underneath you, and if it wasn't for Changbin's arm around your waist, you would've been on the floor. His fingers brush against that sweet spot, a loud whimper escaping your throat. Changbin feels your walls tightening around his fingers as you feel the knot tightening with each brush of your walls.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, making you whimper.

"Shh, I'll be making you feel good again soon." His tone low, eyes dark with lust. His skin coated in sweat. He turns you around, grabbing your hips and pulling them towards him, your hands planted on the cubical door as you part your legs the best you can as your clothing is by your ankles, restricting your movements.

Changbin grunts once he gets a full view of your soaked pussy. He lazily strokes his cock, placing a hand on your hip as he moves closer to you, tip touching your entrance.

"I don't have protection." You shake your head, wiggling your hips, his tip coated in your essence, threating to enter you.

"its okay. I'm on birth control so please Binnie. put it inside me." Changbin groans, gripping your hip and slowly entering you. The stretch burns, causing you to hiss. Changbin groans at the feeling of your wet and warm pussy engulfing him. He slowly pushes himself all the way in, so he was balls deep and stays still, allowing you to get use to his size.

You nod once, indicating you’re ready. He starts off slow, quickening his pace once he hears soft moans continuously escaping your mouth, your pussy relaxing around him.

"So good, Binnie. I'm so full of your thick cock, its so fucking good." You moan out, your dirty words threating to cause Changbin to spill inside you. His thrusts soon become fast and powerful, the sounds of his skin slapping against the back of your thighs and the squelching of your pussy, echoes in the public toilets.

The faster and powerful Changbin thrusts, the louder your moans got. Changbin put his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans. He pulls you back, back flush against his chest as he whispers in your ear "Keep it down. don't want people to walk in here and hear how much of a dirty slut you're being."

You both know no one would be walking in at this time, but his words run straight to your core, walls tightening around Changbin causing him to grunt against your ear. You close your eyes, moans muffled against his hand. Your legs threating to give up on you as he angles his position and hitting that sweet spot.

Your mind going blank as he continues to fuck you hard and powerful. Your moans soon turn into pants and whimpers, the ability to form sentences disappearing. Your body consumed with pleasure.

Soon, you feel the knot tightening and Changbin feels it too with how tight your pussy has a hold of his cock. Changbin groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy and lazy, his hand squeezing your hips.

"I'm close, (Y/N)" you nod and whimper against his hand.

"M-Me too Binnie." your words muffled against his hand.

"Where should i -?"

"Inside! cum inside me Binnie. Fill me up, please i beg you!" He knows he shouldn't, he knows its wrong. Its bad enough he is balls deep inside you and fucking you raw, but he is so consumed with pleasure that he cannot think straight.

With a final snap of his hips, his movements halt, grunts and groans escaping his lips as he cums deep inside you, coating your walls with his cum. He shallowly thrusted, riding his high before removing his hand from your hip.

He rubs fast circles on your clit and soon enough, you cum around his cock. Your legs shaking and tensing, your loud moans muffled against Changbin's hand, your eyes squeezed shut. Changbin helps ride out your high by stroking lazy circles on your clit.

When you’re calm, you push his hand away, your clit sensitive. Changbin laughs, pulling out off you and pulling up his underwear and shorts. You hum, pulling up your leggings and panties. You slowly feel his cum trickling out off you and in the material of your panties, but that was a problem for when you got home.

You turn and faced Changbin, grinning. "That was fun!" Changbin nods and hums. "so, no hard feelings?"

Changbin looks at you for a split second before looking at the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to the other

"Uh, yeah. no hard feelings.”

"Yeah. i mean, we just had sex and all but its not like we like each other. We are still best friends, even after all this."

Changbin's body language changes, his body tensing as he listens to your words. He simply nods, not saying a word to you. You tilt your head.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow then?" Changbin looks up at you and rubs the back of his neck

"Ah, my mother is coming to visit me for a while so, i wont have time." You furrow your brows, slightly confused.

"O-Oh. Okay."

"Yeah, sorry. i just remembered." You nod, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. "I should get going, its kind of late."

"Oh. yeah, sure." You nod. Changbin gave you a small and sad smile before rushing out.

It was all just fun and games, right?

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resi4skz · 3 months

Text

Another one bites the dust. :D

Pairing: Chan(idol)xFemMC

Pairing: Han(idol)xFemMC (2nd couple)

Title: New Begninnings

If it was thing I ever really wanted, it was to see a Stray Kids concert. Although I lived with my roommate/best friend, her and I made it our mission to afford their ticket + plane tickets. We worked our asses off, even worked on holidays for 3 years straight. My boyfriend was against it because he thought that it was a waste of money to just to see a bunch of guys sing and dance.

Our flight was in less than 12 hrs and Daniel, my boyfriend, was lazing around in our living while I packed a last few things for the trip. "Hey, Nora, do you have any eyelash curlers. I think I lost mine."

"Let me take a look," she calls outs from her room.

"Are you seriously going to go to Korea?" Daniel asks.

"Uh, yeah." I replied, rummaging through my makeup bag for an eyelash curler.

"You seriously bought a ticket just to see this lame ass band?"

I paused. I look up and see the back of his head. "What is your problem?"

"My problem?" He gets up and faces me. "My problem is that the fact that my girlfriend is so obsessed with these men that don't even know her!"

"Here's one I..." Nora walks out of her room and stops when she sees us two. "Wasn't using."

"Is that what this is about?"

"Oh it most definitely is, Ava!" He exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "You could be doing so much more with that money."

"Like what?"

"An education! A real job! Not to see a bunch of gay ass dudes dancing for a few hours."

"Daniel, do you even realize what they mean to me?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Oh please don't start with that mental shit. I don't wanna hear it."

"Okay." I walk into my room, closing it behind me. This was the last straw. I have told him time and time again that those boys have saved me from a lot of things. I pickup his duffle bag and start throwing his clothes and stuff inside. Even his gifts to me, which I haven't used at all. Once I thoroughly got rid of this things in my room, I zip up the bag and walk out, throwing the bag at him.

"What's this?" He asks, looking down at the bag.

"Your stuff. You're free from me so you can leave." I grab the eyelash curler from Nora, who's grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks."

"Are you serious? Ava, what the fuck?"

"Daniel, I really don't have time for your bullshit. Leave," I explain, pointing to the apartment door. "The door's right there."

He huffs and puffs and storms out before mumbling some curse words at me, slamming the door shut.

"Good riddance."

*30hrs later*

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

I was unpacking my bag while Nora took a shower. It was a bit cold at this time of year in seoul. Thank god for Nora for telling me to pack warm. We were going to get dinner. I wore a black turtleneck with blue tight jeans, black boots and a long beige coat. i went light on rhe makeup. I hear a whistle from behind me. "Girl, you're gonna make heads turn."

Rolling my eyes, I turn around and gasp. "Nora."

"What?" She blinks at me.

"Talk about making heads turn." I look at her from toe to head and whistle. She was wearing black tight jeans, a dark green sleeveless crop top, a leather jacket to go with the whole look. The girl never gets cold.

She rolls her eyes at me as she wears her black ankle boots. "Ready?"

"Born ready." We head out of our hotel room and head down the elevator. We decided we would explore the city a bit before having dinner at a restaurant. The city at night was another sight to see, although there were people around, we were more than happy to walk around and explore. And our hotel was very close to han river. We had always wanted to visit it. We asked bystanders to take a few pictures of us which turned out great.

All the walking around got us hungry so we opted for fast food. Even korea's fast food was different than ours back home in the states. But nonetheless, it was delicious. With our tummies now full and content, we were walking around and goofing around. "Careful, Nora," I warn as she walks backwards on the sidewalk. "You're gonna fall and blame it on me."

"I won't," she says giggling. She turns around and bumps into someone, hard. And they both go tumbling down.

"Nora!" I shout. I run towards her and bending down. "You okay?!" She turns her head, groaning but nods. "I told you that you'd fall."

"I'm oka-" she gasps at the person underneath her.

"What? Does it hurt? Where?!"

The person under her groans and lifts their-his head. "Aish. What the hell?" He looks up, his brown eyes shining. "Miss, are you alright?"

Holy shit. There's no fucking way. He helps himself and Nora up, as we both just stare at him. Nora stands beside me, wide eyed as me. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Hyung! There you are. Others just went home so it's just you and me." A very cute brown haired, bubbly person comes running to the other man.

What are the fucking odds of seeing our biases together?

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" Nora asks. "Ava, pinch me." I pinch her arm. "Ow! Okay definitely not dreaming."

I look at the duo in front of me as they converse in korean. My eyes catch the black haired one. I had only seen him on my tv screen. But to see him in the flesh....."Miss?"

I snap out of my thoughts. "Yes?"

"Will you two ladies be alright?"

Holy fuck. Even his Australian accent was hot to hear it in real life. "Yes. We're just heading back to our hotel."

"Oh? May I ask which hotel?"

I glance at Nora then back. "Uh, Lotte Hotel."

"May we walk you ladies back to the hotel if it's not too much trouble?"

I glance at Nora who's looking at me like a deer caught with headlights. "Girl, what do we do? That's Chan and Han!" She whisper-yells.

"Calm down." I turn to him, smiling. "Sure."

He smiles, his dimples popping. Oof. I want to swim in them. "Great. Let me tell my mate and we'll go." He runs back to Han who nods his head after a second. They both run up to us, smiling. "Shall we?"

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

Even though it was a 15 min walk, I couldn't stop telling Chan that he was amazing in everything he does while the other duo walked behind us, a few steps behind. "Nah, I'm not that good."

"But you are!" I exclaimed. "You sing, rap, write songs, make music and not mention being able to speak more than 1 language. If that's not your definition of good, then you need a new dictionary."

He chuckles. "Is that so?"

"Mmhm," I nod, smiling. "Don't ever underestimate yourself just because you think the rest of the members is okay with it. They want you to be in the spotlight too, they just have a different way of showing it to you." He turns his head, looking at me while walking. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

He gives me a soft smile. "For someone who just met an idol, you're quite chirpy."

"What did you think I was going to be? Screaming at the tip of my lungs or cause so much attention to you and Han that would make you uncomfortable?"

"Well," he nods. "Yeah."

I snort. "I'm not the crazy fans so sorry if I dissapointed you."

"I'm not dissapointed. More like.....surprised."

I blink at him before looking ahead. The hotel peeking around the corner, just a few more minutes. "Well, then you haven't been ona date with me." The minute the words left my mouth, I knew it was over for me. Way to go, Ava, now he's going think you're a weirdo.

"Are you saying I should go on a date with you?"

Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have opened my stupid mouth. I laughed, nervously, peeking behind me to Nora and Han conversing. Well they seemed to be getting along just fine. "Listen, I didn't mean to say that."

"Oh?" He says as we come around the corner. "That's a shame."

"How so?"

"Because I would have loved to take you out on a date."

My heart stops beating, or at least I think it does. Is this real life? "You want to go on a date with me?" He nods in answer. "But you don't even know me."

We come to a stop. Han and Nora still behind which I was kind of glad at the moment. "Is that what dates are for? Getting to know each other?"

"Okay. Fair point," I replied. "But I'm just-"

He takes a step closer and suddenly, the air around us gets warm. "Give me your phone."

Perplexed, I take out my phone, unlock and hand it to him. He taps his thumbs on the screen and hands it back to me. My eyes widen when I saw what he did. I want to take my clothes off and jump in a pool. "Wha-"

"Give me a call. Text. Whichever is better for you."

I stand there, my phone in my hand as Han and Nora come around the corner laughing. "Alright, thank you for walking us to our hotel," she says.

"It was our pleasure," Chan replies, smiling. "Get some sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah, we will." Nora nudges me, snapping me out of my trance.

"Goodnight ladies." Chan smiles and winks at me before turning around to walk with his friend.

That night, I went to sleep with a smile on my face. And dreamt of dimples and the boy who gave me his number.

#bang chan #chris bang #christopher bang #stray kids bang chan #bang chan fanfic #fanfic #stray kids #oneshot #straykids #han jisung #hannie #hanners #bangers

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some-triangles · 5 months

Text

It's Portland's annual new year blizzard/ice storm, which we are unprepared for every year, because this never used to happen. It barely snowed here when I was a kid! I was a kid 30 years ago, mind you, and this has been happening pretty consistently for the last 20, but institutions are slow to change. We have been spending our money on other things.

So here I am, sitting in my own living room (my own in the sense that I rent it), in my long johns and thermals and two pairs of socks, heat on, still gradually losing feeling in my toes. This seems like a good day to write the politics post.

I belong to the category of person who expresses political and moral beliefs mostly through jokes, and only then when my personal frustration has reached a point where I can no longer make myself be quiet. The jokes are there to make the pain less raw, but lately the jokes themselves are getting dark enough that it's upsetting people. So let's proceed without the jokes.

Where to begin? In the 90s, I guess. I was brought up liberal but cynical, which is already kind of a tense balance, and I was by inclination a person who wanted things to make sense and follow understandable rules. (The answer is as always neurodivergence.) I figured out that religion wasn't real by looking at a map and realizing that the world was too big for any one group of people to be right about things. Despite this, I still thought American democracy was the correct answer, the least bad option, and that the world as a whole was heading towards where I was, a kind of tolerant, reasonable middle class existence.

In my defense, this was a belief broadly shared by my parents' generation, and I hadn't been taught a lot of the stuff that argued against it. Francis Fukuyama got up in front of people and declared the world a solved problem and nobody important even laughed at him. I bought into this to the extent that I suffered from a kind of wistful sadness that all the important battles had already been fought. In short, I was a child, and not a particularly bright one, despite what people told me. I did, however, form a belief that stays with me to this day:

I AM NOT SPECIAL. I, personally, do not deserve any more or any less than any human being. And since I think I should be safe and well fed, every other human being should also be safe and well fed. The fact that I am better off than some others is an accident which should be rectified.

This came about because I was aware that a lot of the people in the world were poor and miserable and I wasn't, and I had to decide whether luck or virtue was responsible for my safety. I went with luck. I didn't realize it at the time, but this choice put me at odds with a lot of the logic underlying the society I live in - because if I'm not special, you better believe nobody else is either, and that means no elect, no chosen, none blessed by god, none elevated by blood. I was 10, I hadn't even had a chance to fuck up my life yet, and yet there were all these other 10-year-olds worse off than me. Did they deserve that? And what about those kids who had it better?

And so, decades later, we end up with the joke about how it's a good deal to trade your life away to take out a rich person. It's the same impulse, just with a lot of broken promises and bitterness stacked on top. I work full time at a job that's officially essential (no stoppage during the pandemic), strenuous, and physically dangerous - I get paid the 1993 equivalent of a little less than $30k a year - I will never be able to afford a home in the city I grew up in. This job has to be done. I am not special, I do not "deserve" a better job. I, as a working person, watch people who do jobs that do not need to be done or who don't work at all get paid more because they are members of an invisible elect. I conclude that they must believe they are worth more than me, that they are better than me, because how else could they justify their lives? And I think if I subscribed to that worldview, it would be a net win for me to blow both of us up. Thus, the joke.

I also watch the rest of the world. My belief in liberal democracy is a pretty aerated Jenga tower by this point. Learning about America's imperial history took out a bunch of pieces, but I could still believe all that was behind us. Then we went back to war, which I could initially write off as a traumatic reaction, but as years turned into decades it became obvious that peace had been the exception, and that even that peace hadn't been that peaceful, had it? At that point it was still possible to believe that at least all of our bombing and killing had been in the interest of some kind of moral good, if you really tried. I think Gaza killed the very last part of me that could believe that. There is no atrocity we will not enable to pursue our own ends. Does it matter that much what kind of system we use to choose our leaders if this is what our leaders do?

The last thing keeping my tower standing is the need to protect the outgroups I and my friends belong to, which doesn't really rise to the level of a moral imperative. It's a moment by moment strategic thing, where you support institutions if they protect you and oppose them if they attack you, like any interest group. Right now HR culture and capitalism are trending pro-trans, so we support Disney against Florida. We will do voter suppression if the alternative is Trump. It doesn't go well with rule number one up there, but neither does the fact that I care about my friends more than I care about people I don't know.

At the end of the day it's all a joke. Moral imperatives give way to political reality one hundred percent of the time. It doesn't matter what I call myself. I hate tech culture, so why not be a Luddite? I'll smash steam looms in my mind while continuing to pay for my groceries. Just let me have my jokes. Trashfuture did a great riff about Butlerian Jihad the other day where they imagined a butler named Ian Jihad. "I've oriented sir's slippers towards Mecca, sir." That's the kind of political commentary I want, and the kind I will refrain from posting here unless my toes are really, really cold.

#in which I try to explain why black humor is the best I can do these days

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stormyoceans · 17 days

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monica monica monicaaaaaa!!! the latest photoshoot has provided great inspiration for several jimmysea series and AHHHHHHHH. like im so clearly imagining a mafia, assassin, or gang drama with them as friends or on & off coworkers that get assigned to kill each other but they can't do it bc its each other and HELP!!! 🫠

CCAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII I KNOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW IM SO OBSESSED WITH THAT WHOLE PHOTOSHOOT IN GENERAL AND THAT BACK TO BACK PICTURE IN PARTICULAR I TRULY HAVEN'T STOPPED THINKING ABOUT IT SINCE THEY FIRST RELEASED IT AND NOW THAT YOU MENTIONED THEM GETTING ASSIGNED TO KILL EACH OTHER I FEEL SO RABID ABOUT IT

and you'll have to forgive me for hijacking your idea but my mind is going a thousand miles per hour so just. HEAR ME OUT

what if jimmy is an undercover cop who is sent to infiltrate one of the biggest crime organizations in thailand to bring it down from the inside and expose its leader. this mission is actually personal for jimmy because his mom, who was also a cop, was the chief investigation officer in a case related to it and when she got too close to discover proofs of the organization's involvement they sent people to kill her and her family. jimmy was the only survivor, just by pure luck, and vowed to take revenge

so right after becoming an agent he is assigned a new identity and approaches known members of the organization to gain access to it, but being in a gang means that you have to climb the ladder before being trusted with information, and jimmy is aiming at the top, so it takes him years to rise to a position of power. during those first years of petty works like small scams and car thefts and running illegal gambling spots, jimmy meets sea, who just like him is new to the organization and stuck doing these lower jobs, and they work so well together that after being paired up a couple of times they start to get a reputation for getting shits done. jimmy knows full well he shouldn't get attached to anyone, but slowly his partnership with sea turns into a genuine friendship, and the more he gets to know sea, the more everything becomes so much more complicated

ANYWAY. all this to say that at some point, after they've both made a name for themselves and made it closer to the top, something goes wrong (maybe jimmy betrays himself in some way or there's a dirty cop that gives him away idk) and the leader of the organization finds out about jimmy, so they kinda set him up: on one hand, they reveal his identity to sea and order him to kill jimmy; on the other, they tell jimmy they have proof that sea is an undercover cop and order jimmy to kill him (not sure if it makes much sense, but like. maybe they start doubting sea's loyalty as well, so if sea manages to kill jimmy, that's good, but if jimmy kills him instead, they know that's the one thing that's gonna hurt jimmy the most because sea is his only weakness)

THE POINT IS!!!!!!!! most heated encounter where sea is both so angry and hurt because of jimmy's lies and jimmy is desperately torn between sea and his revenge and they're shooting at each other and beating each other up and at one point jimmy has sea pinned on the floor and sea is screaming at jimmy with a bloody mouth to just kill him already and jimmy just can't, he can't he can't he can't, and then sea is pushing jimmy off of him and grabbing the gun that he had lost during the fight and pointing it at jimmy and he is shacking so badly he can't even aim it properly and does he even want to he knows he should because none of it was real nothing jimmy ever said to him was real and sea hates hates hates him just as much as he is in love with him and before sea realizes it he is throwing the gun away with a scream

AND NOW IT'S JUST THE TWO OF THEM AGAINST THE WORLD HAVING TO LEARN TO TRUST EACH OTHER AGAIN AND ALSO TO COME TO TERMS WITH THE FACT THEY'RE IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER AND IDK WHERE I WANTED TO GO WITH THIS BUT YWAH. YEAH

#I KNOW IT'S NOT PARTICULARLY ORIGINAL BUT I MAY HAVE GOTTEN A BIT TOO MUCH INTO THIS #sea got into the organization because his father run into debts and then found a way to leave the country #so the organization came for sea's mother and sea offered himself instead #also jimmy survived because the day the organization came to kill his family one of his friends was at their house playing with him #and jimmy managed to hide himself while the assassins killed his friend thinking it was jimmy #and afterwards the police kept it quiet because they were afraid the organization would come back for jimmy #so jimmy is carrying this added guilt too #IF THAT MAKES SENSE #ANYWAY. CASSI LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE #jimmysea #cassi 💙#m: ask

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sebastianswallows · 9 months

Text

Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 20 — Circling

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: Angst, smut, noncon, dirty talk, cunnilingus

— WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

She was disgusted, outraged, and horrified by how cheerful Sebastian was in the days that followed. He forced her to have breakfast together, like some ordinary couple, helped her with chores around the house, and dragged her off to buy groceries from the little market in the village — which was most excruciating, as she had to put on a happy face while out in public if she didn’t want to confess to what had become of her between the walls of her own home, and she knew she wasn’t ready for that yet.

He only left her alone for one hour on a Saturday, when he paid another visit to the Clokes. She spent the time not packing to run away, but rummaging everywhere for her wand. She nearly turned her own room upside down, and his, and the drawing room, even the garden and the shrubs outside — but only nearly, of course, because she had to find time to put it all back together before he came back. And she never did find it… He either hid it in his trunk, which she didn’t wish to approach as she imagined it quite cursed, or kept it on his person.

Sebastian returned to find her brooding by the fireplace.

“How about some tea?” he grinningly asked, ignoring the foul look she gave him.

He was in good spirits… The Clokes must’ve delivered a message he was quite happy about, or something else. She spoke with him less and less as the days went by, a fact he clearly noticed but never addressed, but today she couldn’t help herself but join in his chatter.

She stood in the kitchen doorway, her clothes like ruffled rags around her, hardly fitted properly, her shoulders resting against the frame as she watched him fill the kettle.

“Fruitful visit?”

“Very,” he smiled, turning to look at her. “I got to pet Sweetie again.”

She scoffed, her mind rebelling against the image of Sebastian in anything like a tender disposition, although she knew in her heart that he was still the same childish, caring wizard she opened up her home to.

“Surely you didn’t go there just to do that.”

“No,” he said, scooping spoons of dry green leaves, “I went to see old Mrs Cloke.”

She nodded quietly as she watched him, her body tense and tired. She was wary of him, as she’d learned to be, and constantly, constantly unhappy. Sebastian must’ve thought he could break through that with his smiles, the warm brilliance of which he bestowed upon her every hour of every day. He directed one at her right now, so he must’ve still thought it was working.

“If you want to know what I talked about with them,” he grinned, “come give me a hand with the teacups.”

“You look like you’re doing well enough on your own,” she said thinly. “I’ll be in the drawing room.”

She didn’t stay around to see him pout those full soft lips.

A few minutes later, Sebastian brought in a tray with two cups and a little pot of sugar and set it on the table right beside her. His hands were barely free when he curled them around her shoulders from behind, waking her body from the tired laze that it was in to the too-familiar tension.

“You should ask for the things you wonder about,” he whispered, his words as smooth and soothing as a snake. “For instance, you could ask about what I’ve done to your wand rather than ransacking through the house.”

She inhaled sharply and froze.

“When you work in my line of business, noting the subtle changes in a place could make the difference between life and death,” he grinned. “And you haven’t done as good a job of covering your tracks as you think.”

She shook her shoulders out of his grasp and reached for a cup of tea just to have something to do. Placing her lips on its rim, she breathed gently over it, cooling it before she took a sip.

“Since you so badly want to know,” Sebastian grinned, “just ask.”

“Alright, what did you do with my wand?”

“I won’t tell you,” he laughed.

She turned so sharply she nearly spilt the cup all over herself. “But you said —”

“I told you to ask, I never said I’d answer.”

Her teeth clenched and she hissed, but immediately turned away so as not to look at him.

There was hardly an escape, of course, as he just took a pose before her, hands in his pockets, leaning against the fireplace.

“Not so fun, is it?” he said, a smirk crinkling his eyes, “when someone is holding secrets from you.”

“I don’t know what you meant.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

She ignored him, putting on a cool façade while internally panicking. She could feel him circle her mind, trying to get at the reason why she asked him there in the first place, why the necklace, why slip him the Amortentia…

“I know you’re a more talented witch than you pretend to be,” said Sebastian, all humour gone now from his voice to be replaced with an almost professional cordiality and even a touch of fondness. “The Clokes, in spite of your opinion of them, have more positive things to say about you than you do about them.”

She began to fantasize about running away, wand or no wand… She could always buy another one. She just needed to make it all the way to — she refused to think Ominis’ name.

“And as has emerged… abundantly in the past few nights,” he sighed, “you have no particular romantic inclinations towards me. Which makes me wonder, as you might imagine, why you’d slip me a love potion.”

“I didn’t —”

“Don’t lie.”

She glared at him for one second, then sipped her tea again.

“Indeed,” Sebastian continued, “it’s been quite a challenge to get anything out of you other than resistance, except for those precious few seconds after I manage to break through your pleasure.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You do sound and look so beautiful then…”

“Spare me the lovesick dribble.”

“Do you see?” he exclaimed, hands jumping out of his pockets to gesture lively toward her. “Not a romantic drop of blood in that body. So why would you —”

“I will tell you,” she said coolly, looking up at him again, “if you give me my wand back.”

“What makes you think there’s anything left of it?” he grinned in a surprisingly wolfish look way. “Besides, I’d rethink that offer if I were you. If you believe that you could beat me in a duel,” he chuckled, “cast those silly thoughts away.”

She hated how arrogant he sounded, but hated even more that it wasn’t arrogance. If his reputation wasn’t enough, the begrudging praise coming from Ominis was. He could defeat her easily.

“So, are you certain you want to make that deal?” he asked, shoving his hands back in his pockets and cocking his head with a thin smile.

“And you wonder,” she sighed, narrowing her eyes at him, “why I can’t possibly love you…”

His smile died, and a thin low frown took its place. “I have a feeling that has more to do with you than with me,” he said, although the weakness of his voice told her he wasn’t so sure.

She rested her hands politely in her lap and gazed straight at him, her hatred of him casting off all fear.

“I wonder,” she continued slowly, “if you ever wonder… how long this can last for. You will slip up sometime, or someone will come looking for me when I’ve been hidden away too long.”

“Who? Your non-existent brother? Your invented cousins and dead aunt?”

“You’re very familiar with museums, so you should know this, Mr Sallow: nothing lasts forever.”

Sebastian’s eyes smouldered for all of one second before he tempered his mood into something far more frightening to her.

“Just for that,” he smirked, leaning toward her, a curl of his hair falling dashingly over his forehead, “I will make you call me Sebastian tonight.”

She didn’t believe him when he said it. And later, when he had her undressed and writhing with his mouth between her legs, she still didn’t believe him.

He’d let her hands and legs free, as he often did lately, an indication of how sure he was she couldn’t run away, and also an unspoken invitation for her to cling to him when she was at the height of her pleasure. She never did. But moments like this made it difficult.

He frowned up at her when he heard her muffled moans, because he knew before he saw her that she only used her hands to cover her mouth. It did little to deter him, however.

His upper lip rested soft and wet on her nub, his tongue lapped at its underside where she was so sensitive she thought she was on fire, and his breath heaved in hot waves right over her hole. He might not have bound her, but his hands kept her legs apart and pressed toward her, exposing her in a way she was almost too ensnared to notice.

“Mmmm… good,” he mumbled, his voice sounding low and drunken, buried in her intimate flesh.

She wasn’t sure whether he was praising her behaviour or her taste. Probably the latter… She didn’t have enough blood in the upper half of her body to blush.

His lips puckered around her nub and sucked, pulling it out of its protective hood and crushing it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

“Seb—!” She cut herself off before she said it.

Knowingly, he smirked and released her, laying a few quick wet pecks on her clit before moving a bit lower. With a moan, Sebastian pressed his lips against her slit and teased it with light licks, kissing it just as he would her mouth, his head tilted slightly to enjoy it. His ruffled hair tickled her thigh. Moving then slowly, in deep motions, his tongue began to lick from the bottom of her entrance to the top, gathering the slick that dripped in greedy dollops there.

“Say it,” he whispered, moving again to kiss her plump folds, letting the wet noise of their flesh meeting fill the room.

She covered her mouth again and bit the centre of her palm. Sebastian sighed, but more in an amused way than angry, and settled more firmly on his stomach on the bed. His hands, for a few moments, caressed her inner thighs, moving gently up and down, brushing her sweat away and then coming teasingly close to her core.

His brown eyes looked up, searching for hers, waiting, and in increments he used his thumbs to press on either side of that soft hood, and upwards. Fearfully, her eyes then opened, and were only met with his. With a smirk, Sebastian pressed one, hard lap of his tongue on her nub, on its whole vulnerable and exposed surface, then closed his lips around its pudgy little body and warmed it with his mouth.

She cried out and her body jerked, hips arching — away or toward him, she couldn’t really tell — and that’s when she felt the familiar chill of pleasure rush up and down her body again. She screamed, her muscles clenched, her heart was pounding, and her breath came out in tired sighs. Between her legs, she felt her core clench furiously, waiting for something inside, wetting only the edge of Sebastian’s chin.

“Good little witch,” he moaned, releasing her clit after a few more torturous licks, long and broad, to clean her up. “But you still haven’t done what I wanted you to.”

She glared down at him but was too tired to respond, her throat capable only of broken whines and heavy pants.

“Suppose I’ll have to find another way,” said Sebastian in that warm seductive tone he used whenever he was intimate with her.

Slowly, he raised himself up on his knees, wiped her juices from the corners of his mouth, and settled between her thighs. His sweat had matted the hair on his chest, and even in the dim light, the freckles stood out on his body like cinnamon sprinkles.

“Y-you don’t,” she said tiredly. Her body was limp in his grasp as he moved her, pulling her closer to him.

“Oh, but I do,” he chuckled. “Do you see the state you’ve brought me to?”

She groaned, annoyed with him, and looked away from where his manhood, thick and dripping, swung between his thighs toward her. He just took advantage of it to kiss her, dropping loving little pecks all over her cheek, her jaw, her throat, wetting her with his mouth all over the top of her chest as he moved his member, brought it to her throbbing hole, and waited.

Her back arched instinctively at the feeling, and her traitorous body opened up at the mere promise of him filling her. She fisted her hands in the bed beside her, but Sebastian kept kissing her. He bent to suckle on her breasts until she started pulsing harder, as if her womanhood forgot the pleasure it had just received and wanted more. Slowly, with a few heart-beat throbs and with just a gentle press of his hips, her core swallowed him, pulling him inside of its own desire.

“A-aah…” she groaned.

“I knew you wanted it,” he whispered.

“I don’t.”

“Then why do you move so sweetly, hmm?” he said, looking up at her from near her breast and tickling her chin with his lashes. His hands cupped her hips, but he wasn’t holding her. He just felt the way she moved, the way her intimate muscles worked to bring the two of them together. “Where has that enticing witch gone that wanted to ensnare me?”

She sighed, frustrated with him, but mostly with herself. She should’ve known better than to play around with love potions, they always caused trouble…

“Because I can tell you, I am very, very much ensnared right now,” he chuckled, resting for a moment to catch his breath, his manhood only halfway in.

“I don’t appreciate your crude jokes.”

“You think I’m joking?”

Her eyes, tired and tearful but as cold as deep winter, slid down to look at him again.

He looked ravished, hair falling over his forehead in sweaty curls, lips swollen and wet hovering over her nipple, and a blush blooming from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest.

He too must have seen something in her that paused all his thoughts and made some other part of him take over.

“I love you, you know…”

“Shut up.”

“I want to give all of myself to you, if only you would take it.”

She wanted to make a quip about him having stolen her wand instead, but that was gone from her when he shoved the rest of himself inside and buried his manhood in her to the hilt.

His choked groan trembled down his throat and to his chest. She felt it right against her heart, and she too had to struggle not to moan too loudly.

Her body was getting used to this, had grown used to this for the past few nights, and in her less guarded moments she might confess it even looked forward to it. She’d never felt so close to someone, felt so known, as she did when Sebastian was deep inside, his root against her entrance, his heavy sac at her folds, and his rushed breaths cooling the sweat of her chest.

“I want to give you everything,” he murmured. Very gently, he pulled back, only to press inside of her again — slow, achingly slow, to make her feel it. “Everything…”

She bit back her moans and took it, not really understanding what he was talking about, until something in his eyes as he gazed into hers conveyed something she hadn’t yet noticed — or perhaps had avoided so far. Her lips parted, ready to dig a bit further into all this love-talk, but he closed the distance with a kiss.

“Say my name,” he pleaded once he released her mouth, his hips moving faster all the while. “Please, please say it, I need to hear it…”

She was ready to deny him once again, but he slid his hand just then to her core and began to flick her clit. It was so wet he hardly could keep his finger on it.

“N-no,” she whined.

“Please,” he whispered, kissing her between each breath, “please, please…”

“S-seb—”

“Please…”

#Sebastian Sallow #hl #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x MC #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;danger and delight #Sebastian Sallow smut

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usermischief · 2 years

Text

♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar, Lydia Martin ♞Warnings: - ♞Words: 2163 ♞Prompt: Liam is protective over Stiles whenever Theo is around.

ao3

a/n: I lost the original ask 🙃 But hey, anon, this is for you!

---

“Okay, can you stop with the—” Stiles gestures in the direction of Lydia’s face, narrowing his eyes slightly “— the judgmental expression? It’s getting on my nerves.” And his poor nerves have certainly seen better days.

Lydia merely huffs out a breath and crosses her arms on the table. Just because she's hiding her eyes behind oversized sunglasses doesn't mean Stiles didn't notice her eyes boring into his soul. It's nothing new. She's been staring at him for the past week as if her judgement would somehow make him change his mind.

Stiles thought they all agreed on giving Theo a chance without the option of allowing him to get into his pants — or his head. Neither will be good for anybody. Theo is a little too talented at getting into his head, mostly because he’s way too accepting of the darkness lurking just underneath his skin. It’s what makes him infuriatingly appealing. It’s what makes Stiles want to give in. However, Theo’s made sure Stiles knows why he’s come back, or rather, who he’s come back for. It’s easy to believe him. Trusting that he has changed his mind after everything that happened, that’s the real issue.

But Stiles isn’t here because he’s part of the pack. Stiles isn’t here because he’s a member of any pack in Beacon Hills. He’s here because Scott needs leverage over Theo, and he isn’t even trying to be subtle about it. Stiles agreed to come here to keep the peace. If they work together, they are capable of making sure the town is protected. As much as he hates Beacon Hills, it’s his home, his father’s home, and the home of people he cares about.

At this point, having Theo on their side has more advantages than disadvantages.

He props his chin on his hand, watching Scott pace back and forth while Theo is standing his ground, arms crossed over his chest. The posture and black v-neck make him look hotter than he’s got any right to be — it makes him look more like an alpha than Scott could ever be. It’s ridiculous.

It’s fucking ridiculous.

“You’re staring,” Lydia informs him.

Stiles all but jumps to his feet. “I need another coffee.” He snatches his empty cup, glancing one more time in Theo’s direction — this time, the chimera is looking back at him. Judging by the smirk, he’s very much not listening to anything Scott is telling him right now. Stiles hates how it gets to him.

Because it shouldn’t.

Huffing out a breath, Stiles slips into the McCall house. Liam and Mason are looking at him then back outside before putting their heads together again. Stiles has no clue what these two are planning — at this point he’s too scared to ask because they've been doing it for weeks — but they’re better company than Lydia recently because they are not trying to make him realise that dating Theo could actually be a good thing. Because it’s not. Not at all. He loves Lydia, he really does, but sometimes he wished she’d shut up about Theo. The fact that she’s a hopeless romantic is fucking obscure. The world is not a fucking Disney movie. She, out of all people, should know that. Love doesn’t magically fix everything and nothing is solved by the power of friendship. People lie, even to those they claim to love — and sometimes an apology doesn’t glue the trust back together that’s been shattered into a thousand pieces.

Life just doesn’t work that way.

He walks into the kitchen, narrowing his eyes slightly at the sight of the almost empty coffee pot. If he’s lucky, he’ll get half a cup out of that. Beautiful. Mason and Liam had one job. Just one.

And yet.

Stiles agreed to come to this stupid meeting, knowing full well he’s just here as bait to lure Theo into agreeing with everything. It’s not going to work. Theo isn’t stupid, and he knows most likely better than anyone else that this is nothing more than a charade. He’ll play along until he gets bored or reaches whatever goal he’s got in mind. The consequences of either outcome are a little scary to think about.

All he asked for was not having to talk to the chimera and a never-ending supply of coffee. Is that too much to ask for?

“I doubt the coffee pot will magically refill itself by glaring at it.”

“Please,” Stiles whispers, closing his eyes, and takes a deep breath, “shut up.” Being with Theo in one room may not be the last thing he needs right now, but it’s certainly pretty close to it. There are too many people in his head, attempting to tell him that he’s been right about Theo’s motives, but now he’s wrong because now there are feelings involved.

Whatever those feelings may be.

Stiles is pretty certain not a single person in this house had a conversation that really mattered with Theo. He spent hours in a car with Theo. He was the one who ran around Eichen House trying to find Lydia with Theo. He was the one who was allowed a glimpse behind the curtain. If anybody here knows how Theo truly ticks, it’s Stiles — and he really doesn’t need anybody to tell him otherwise.

“I’m just saying,” Theo mutters, and to Stiles’ delight, he does sound a bit annoyed, “I came here in hopes to find coffee because it seems like Scott is trying to talk me into a coma.”

That wouldn’t be the first time. Stiles runs a hand over the back of his nose. “You could just agree with him.” That way, they could all go their different ways and Beacon Hills would be more or less protected from whatever madness is army-crawling their way towards them right this very second.

“I will,” Theo agrees, reaching for the coffee pot still in Stiles’ hands. “For the right incentive.”

Stiles opens his eyes as fingertips carefully brush over his skin. It’s easy to forget how soft Theo’s hands can be — so much softer than you’d think from someone who rips other people’s throat out like it’s nothing. They’re also still touching. Because Theo didn’t pull his hands away, and he certainly didn’t take the coffee pot. Stiles doubts this has been his intention in the first place. Biting his bottom lip, he looks up and meets Theo’s eyes.

Fuck.

Theo’s smile causes his eyes to crinkle just a little. They’re bright too. His whole expression is painfully soft, and Stiles hates it. So much. So much more than he can put into words. Because Stiles has carved himself a place in this world, a place for after the McCall pack. He is still close to Lydia, Liam continues to care for him in a way that's not entirely unlike a brother, Kira remains his friend, but overall, Stiles is alone. He's accepted this part of himself, the darkness he cannot quite suppress — not after what happened to Donovan. After the initial shock of being without a pack, Stiles found a place for him in the shadows of Beacon Hills. He's content there. He's okay.

Theo's smile, however, is a promise to belong somewhere exactly the way he is; flawed and dangerous, loyal yet distrustful, ready to do what's necessary. Still, Stiles doesn't trust Theo, not entirely, not the way he should in order to join him or his pack. His words play on repeat. I came for Void Stiles. It doesn’t leave him alone. The words. The thought. The fact that Theo, despite offering him a place, didn’t come back for him. He came back for a version of himself Stiles will never become again. The nogitsune is gone forever.

And it’s going to stay gone.

“Stiles,” Liam pops into the kitchen, eyes narrowing immediately when he spots them standing close together. This isn’t the first time it happened, so Liam’s reaction is as predictable as they come. Within the blink of an eye, the young wolf is right next to him. His glare is fixed on Theo, and the low rumble in his chest has Theo chuckling.

He pulls his hands away, however, and crosses his arms. “What?”

“You know what.”

While Liam is glaring at Theo, and Theo is regarding the other boy with distinct amusement, Stiles decides he should probably busy himself with making coffee. This is a bomb waiting for a fuse, and Stiles is not going to be the one to light it. He will stay far, far away from this mess. The last thing he needs is being in the middle of whatever war these two have going on.

“Leave him alone,” Liam orders in a low voice.

Theo scoffs. To no surprise. Out of everyone here, Theo would be the last person anybody is able to boss around. Maybe it’s pride, or perhaps he’s just insanely stubborn; alpha or no alpha, Theo doesn’t listen to anybody.

Shutting the water off, Stiles studies the coffee pot.

No, that’s not entirely true.

“Stiles?”

Fuck.

“I said you should leave,” Liam interjects, and Stiles wonders if he knew the influence Theo and Stiles have on each other. It wouldn’t come as a surprise. Liam sees more than he lets on, and since Theo isn’t exactly trying to keep whatever is going on between them under wraps, Liam most definitely knows something. Just like Lydia does. At least, Liam isn’t fucking annoying about it.

Theo lets out an audible breath. “I’m pretty sure Stiles can make decisions for himself,” he says in a low voice, sounding actually angry for the first time in a while. “Once he stops hiding behind the coffee pot.”

Huffing, Stiles puts the pot down and turns around. “What?”

Theo holds his gaze, expression now very guarded. “Do you want me to go?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll go if you want me to.” There’s a poignant pause, one that hangs very heavy in the air. “And I’ll stay gone.” For good. The words are poison between them, making it suddenly very hard to breathe or even think.

Despite knowing that this moment would come eventually, Stiles really hoped he’d have a lot more time. But it’s not like he can drag Theo along forever. He will have to give at one point, and if he doesn’t do it now—

“Stiles,” Theo whispers, all the heat gone from his tone, “do you want me to leave?”

Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat. They’re both looking at him, quietly, almost judgemental in Liam’s case. Stiles never bothered to be unreadable, but he certainly doesn’t enjoy being an open book. He really wishes his lack of response could be read any other way than what it means. Pressing his lips together, Stiles runs a finger along the edge of the coffee pot. “You know—”

Theo cuts him off, “I wanna hear you say it.”

Stiles licks his lips. “Don’t—” the words get stuck in his throat. This is going to be a decision that will change his life. It’s a scary thought. Having Liam and Theo stare at him doesn’t make it any fucking easier either. He crosses his arms over his chest and pulls his shoulders up. “Don’t go.” On a second try, the words roll over his tongue so much easier than he expected.

“What?” Liam widens his eyes.

“Okay,” Theo says, lips curling into a small smile. “I’ll stay.”

Liam’s head whips around. For a moment, he’s staring at Theo without saying a single word. Then he takes a step forward, getting right in Theo’s highly amused face. “Break his heart, and I’ll mail yours to the first wendigo I can find as a Christmas present.”

Theo raises his brows and his gaze flicks from Liam to Stiles and back again. Although he doesn’t step back — after all, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge — he does seem to take Liam’s threat seriously enough. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better, Raeken.” After one more not particularly thrilled look shot in Stiles’ direction, Liam turns on his heels and stalks out of the kitchen. It’s not too surprising that Liam isn’t jumping for joy after the shit Theo’s pulled.

Stiles curls his fingers into his sweater, eyeing Theo a little warily. The world has not yet burned down, so perhaps this was the right decision to make. “What happens now?”

“I’d like to get out of here.” Theo offers his hand, smiling a way that makes Stiles’ heart and resolve melt so much faster than he’d like to admit. Everything it took was an ultimatum, everything it took was Theo telling him he would leave if Stiles told him to. But a life without Theo in it just doesn’t seem to be possible.

It’s something Stiles doesn’t even want to imagine.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles grabs Theo’s hand. “Yeah,” he says softly, “let’s get out of here.”

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #stiles x theo #theo x stiles #*tv:teen wolf #*w:complete #*s:steo

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xoxoladyaz · 10 months

Text

AU-gust, Day 8: Robots and Androids

WARNING: THIS IS A CROSSOVER WITH FNAF. (Listen, I told you things were about to get weird so please fasten your seatbelts, it's gonna be a wild ride 🩷)

“This might be the stupidest job we’ve ever had.”

“Are you kidding?” Robin yelled from across their homey two-bedroom. “These outfits are so much better than Scoops!”

“First of all, that’s saying literally nothing, and second of all, you’re not the one wearing safety cone orange!” Stevie yelled back as she examined her reflection in the mirror. Her new work uniform consisted of a long-sleeved bright-orange shirt with the Fazbear Entertainment logo in bright blue on her front breast pocket, paired with fitted black trousers that had bright orange piping running up and down the edge.

(Whomever worked in the staff uniform design department of Fazbear Entertainment definitely had it out for her.)

“Oh shut up, that color looks great on you,” Robin retorted as she strolled into Stevie’s bedroom. She was dressed in the Roxanne Wolf version of her outfit – lilac and lime green which was so, so much cuter in Stevie’s opinion. “Besides, you have those lightning bolt earrings from our Bowie party that match perfectly.”

Stevie sighed and started flipping through her jewelry box. “Ugh, I guess. I still don’t know why we took this gig though.”

“You mean aside from the fact that Argyle got us these jobs in a literal day?”

“Uh, yeah, Robin! We’re working at the robot capital of the world and you hate robots.”

“Okay, first of all the Glamrocks aren’t robots, they’re animatronics,” Robin started numbering off on her fingers. “Secondly, Roxanne Wolf is a lesbian icon to whom I owe my allegiance and I see that eye-roll Stephanie Harrington, don’t give me that sass, and thirdly we’re working in the gift shop, we’ll, like, never see them in person.”

“Famous last words,” Stevie muttered, but Robin was already speeding into the hallway.

“Now stop stalling, dingus, it’s time to hit the Pizzaplex!”

/////

Stevie had to begrudgingly admit that working at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex wasn’t the worst job in the entire world. She got to spend all day with Robin (and make faces with her behind the backs of the really crazy parents) while staying warm, dry and ice-cream free. Which, speaking of, they also got free food with every shift which meant lunch and/or dinner breaks with Argyle (who worked in Chica’s Pizzaria and loved it, the maniac) and that was awesome.

(It was really hard to keep track of everyone now that they’d all been relocated from Hawkins and spread across the state of California; if Stevie thought about it too much, she’d get emotional, so she tried not to think about it.

Or about the fact that Eddie hadn’t texted her in a few weeks.)

Stevie even got to pick-up a few overtime shifts in the daycare on her off days which, hey, the faster she makes money, the faster she can get to cosmetology school.

(Did she have problems with the fact she was sharing babysitting duties with a glorified robot? Not really.

Did she understand how the toddlers weren’t scared by Eclipse when he was in his Moon phase? No, not even a little bit, that fucker was creepy.)

That didn’t mean there weren’t drawbacks to her job, of course. She and Robin averaged about twenty upset and entitled parental encounters daily combined, not to mention all of the crying children who were either upset that they weren’t getting exactly what they wanted or were upset that they weren’t getting what they wanted fast enough. Their all-time high of screaming kids was 41 and they drank a fuck ton of wine that night.

But the biggest problem about working at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex? Those goddamn animatronics. And not because Stevie was scared of them, oh no, no, it was because Robin was full of shit. Anytime one of the Glamrocks came within twenty feet of the gift shop she ducked for cover, and if it was Roxy? She was useless for a solid fifteen minutes afterwards every single time.

(“I think this officially qualifies you as a furry,” Stevie said after one particularly close encounter. Roxy had stopped to take pictures in front of the doorway and Robin had catapulted herself through the Montgomery Gator sweatshirt rack and crashed into Roxy’s plushie display and got absolutely buried.

“It really shouldn’t be that big of a surprise, Robs, this is how you always act when a pretty girl comes around - ”

“Stevie? Shut. Up.”)

It wouldn’t have been a problem if Robin and Stevie had remained posted at the gift shop, but no, the gods forever frowned upon Stephanie Harrington.

/////

“Harrington!” Her manager Roger barked as he power-walked past her, three weeks into her tenure at the Pizzaplex. “We’re running low on Freddy plushies out front, so I’m going to need you to go and get the next shipment from storage. Here,” he said, tossing her a new keycard that she (barely) managed to catch. “Second floor storage area behind Fazer Blast. There should be a dolly there for you to use. Thanks!” Roger hollered, and then he was off running after a mop-bot that was spreading paint around in the main atrium.

Stevie turned to look at Robin who was already shaking her head. “Nope, no way.”

“Aww c’mon Robin, please? I always go with you when we walk around the Pizzaplex.”

Robin rolled her eyes and was about to reply when the melodic voice of Roxanne Wolf echoed throughout the plaza. “Thank you, I am the best,” the Glamrock crooned, and Robin flushed bright red and threw herself into the gift shop.

Welp. Looks like Stevie was going to have to handle this solo.

/////

Question, why was Stevie handling this solo again? Because she’d passed about twenty janitorial bots on her way to the storage area, all of whom were just scooting around with nothing to do.

Whatever.

There was a dolly back in the (dark and creepy) storage room, so she loaded up a brand new box of Freddy Fazbear plushies and made her way to the main elevator bank.

“Sorry, excuse me, pardon me,” she said on repeat as she walked past scores of rowdy children and their stressed parents. As she rounded the corner, she saw the elevator doors begin to close and she moved faster.

“Please hold!” She yelled, and the elevator doors stopped shutting. “Shit, thank you,” Stevie gasped as she rolled the cart in and wiped her eyes.

“No problem, superstar!”

Fuck.

Stevie whipped around to look at the other occupant of the elevator and – yep, it was the man (err, orange bear) himself, all 6’3” of animatronic rockstar Freddy Fazbear gazed down at her, his signature smile on his perfectly polished face.

Stevie barely noticed the elevator doors slide shut behind them, barely heard the tinny elevator music play as they started their descent.

“You’re - ”

“I’m Freddy Fazbear, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the animatronic intoned.

“Hi, yeah. I’m - ”

“Stephanie Harrington,” he interrupted, his eyes scanning her form with a bluish light. “You work in the gift shop.”

“How did you - ”

“I have access to the Pizzaplex’s employee directory. For security concerns.”

“Oh. Cool.”

She stood and stared at the bear, who stood and stared back at her. And then wiggled his ears.

(It was kind of cute.)

“Well, I - ”

The elevator suddenly screeched to a halt and Stevie barely managed to stop herself from tumbling to the ground – mainly because a pair of oversized orange paws gently caught her.

“We’re sorry,” an automated voice spoke over the elevator intercom, “but it appears that our elevators are experiencing a technical difficulty. Please remain calm and our staff will be with you shortly.”

Stevie groaned, slumping back against those orange paws. “Oh, great.”

“Not to worry, superstar!” Freddy said, and Stevie barely suppressed her flinch at his booming voice. “Our staff is highly qualified and perfectly capable of fixing any and all technical issues that may take place at the Pizzaplex. We will be out of here in no time!”

(Stevie had seen how long it took the staffbots to fix the soda fountain when it exploded; she didn’t share Freddy’s faith in this at all.)

“Good, glad to hear it,” she replied drily. She stood up and waved Freddy’s hands away (or, err, paws. His paws. Paws that followed her to make sure she wouldn’t fall again which wasn’t sweet, for fuck’s sake!)

“Well, Stephanie, how about we play a game?” Freddy asked as she Stevie slumped against the far wall. (No way she was going to stand for this.)

“Sure, Freddy. What game do you wanna play?”

Freddy’s ears wiggled again as he hummed (or made a humming sound; he couldn’t actually hum, could he?) “How about we play the Question Game? I always like to learn more about my friends!”

Aww, he thought they were friends. (Or he was programmed to say that, or think they were friends? Just how intelligent were these things? She should text Dustin later on and ask what he knew about Fazbear Entertainment.)

Still, Freddy continued to smile as he waited for her reply and yeah, okay, that was cute. “Sure, Freddy,” Stevie sighed, but she made sure to smile back at him. “Let’s play the Question Game.”

/////

They were in the elevator for a total of forty-five minutes, which gave Freddy and Stevie plenty of time to play the Question Game. Stevie learned all about Freddy’s favorite things to do at the Pizzaplex (play music with his friends, try to beat his old high score in Fazer Blast, dance at DJ Music Man’s shows whenever he had the chance), his best friend (Bonnie, who had been banged up pretty badly and was getting fixed somewhere offsite), his other best friend (Chica, they liked to do Jazzercise together), and his favorite thing to do in his free time (which was read, apparently? She wasn’t sure how the animatronic bear got his hands on copies of “the classics” and honestly wouldn’t have pegged him as a Dostoevsky fan but hey, apparently even orange animatronic bears can have depth?)

In turn, Stevie told him about her favorite things to do at the Pizzaplex (visit Argyle at Chica’s Pizzaria, laugh at Robin when she hid from Roxy), her best friend (Robin, who worked with her in the gift shop), her other best friends (Argyle and Nancy and Eddie and Jonathan and Chrissy), her family (well, Dustin and the Hopper-Byers’ at least), and her favorite thing to do in her free time (watch movies with Robin, which then led into a long conversation about what movies she’d seen and would recommend because while Freddy knows about movies he hasn’t seen a whole lot of them).

He also asked her questions about the world outside the Pizzaplex: where she was born (Hawkins), why she moved from Hawkins (an earthquake, which was the official cover story), what her dream job was (being a hairdresser, at which point Freddy said she should talk to Roxy and start training at her salon which was, again, very cute), and all about the places she’d seen and where she wanted to go next.

(“Probably down to Malibu,” she’d said, lost in thought. “I’d like to see those beaches. What about you, is there somewhere you’d like to go?”

“I – well.” Freddy paused, and for the first time, he appeared troubled. “I cannot leave the Pizzaplex.”

“Oh,” Stevie murmured and wow, that really fucking sucked, didn’t it? Sure, she was talking to a robot bear who was literally built to be children’s entertainment but he wasn’t really feeling like just a robot bear anymore, especially the more they talked and played the Question Game. And this might have been one really, really long con or programming thing but – what if it wasn’t? What if he was fully intelligent and he was really stuck here?

Like El and the lab, she thought, and then she was barely able to stop herself from tearing up.

“But if I could go somewhere else,” Freddy continued, unaware of Stevie’s inner turmoil, “I would also probably choose to go to the beach. I would like to see the sun on the water,” he finished quietly.)

Stevie didn’t know what to say, but thankfully the elevator started up again, so she was spared any sort of deeper introspection.

“See?” Freddy said, no trace of sadness in his voice at all, like it had never been there. “Good as new.”

“Yeah, you were right about that,” Stevie said, pushing herself to her feet. It was a little tricky to do so while the elevator was moving, but Freddy held out his hand and she grabbed hold without a second thought. “Thanks, Freddy.”

“You’re welcome, superstar,” Freddy replied with an ear wiggle. “Can I assist you with transporting your cart to the gift shop?”

Stevie grinned. “You know what, Freddy? That would be great.”

/////

“EVIL,” Robin hissed from behind the sales counter, her white knuckles gripping onto the laminated wood for dear life. “You are evil.”

“Hmm, what was that?” Stevie asked as she watched Freddy unbox (and gently stack) the plushies on the main console table. “I can’t hear you, Robin.”

Robin hissed an unintelligible reply but Stevie ignored her, watching instead as Freddy stepped back and clapped his hands together. “Perfect!” He turned and alighted that bright electronic smile towards Stevie. “Thank you for letting me help, superstar.”

“No, thank you for helping, Freddy. Come back and visit any time, you hear?”

“Absolutely.”

Stevie waited for Freddy to leave, but he didn’t; he just stood there and stared at her, letting the seconds pass them by.

“Uh, Freddy, sir?” An acne-riddled teen with “Benny” on his nametag cleared his throat. “We need you in Superstar Row for some Meet and Greets.”

“Oh, yes,” Freddy replied, like he wasn’t thinking, like he’d forgotten.

(He was still looking at Stevie.)

“It was nice talking with you, Stephanie,” he finally said, and with one final wave he thundered out of the gift shop, Benny at his heels.

Stevie turned to look at Robin, who was looking at her with confusion. “Huh.”

“Huh,” Stevie repeated, and she could practically feel herself blush the longer that Robin looked at her. Robin who, of course, sensed a perfect opportunity for revenge.

Robin who suddenly had a shit-eating grin on her face. “You know, I think that officially qualifies you as a furry, dingus.”

“Oh, fuck off, Robin.”

#steve harrington #stranger things #female steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #am I suggesting robin x roxanne wolf? yes #same with stevie and freddy fazbear #glamrock freddy #august fanfic challenge #*sings high school musical soundtrack* this could be the start of something new #buckle up #fnaf security breach

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usamamoweek2024 · 1 year

Text

Meet the Creators - iamcharlotte88

What username(s) and platform(s) can folx find you on? (Please include links!)

@iamcharlotte88 is on Instagram and Deviant Art

(Fun Fact) What is your favorite kind of potato?

I like Spicy Mojos

How long have you been creating works in fandom spaces? How long have you been active in the SM fandom?

I have been creating Sailor Moon arts since 2000 but my first post in the internet is around 2016 or 2017

What type(s) of creative works do you usually make? (fanfics, digital art, cosplay)

I do arts from random things that inspires me mostly from movie scene or fanfiction. I started from traditional arts and transition to digital arts around 2020

What do you enjoy about creating for the SM fandom?

The process of turning the artistic words or ideas into visuals arts. When I read fanfiction, there is image of the scene in my head that feels like I am watching a movie and when I translate it to a visual arts, there is this feeling of satisfaction and being somehow involve in the creation of that story.

Are you strictly UsaMamo or do you create for other pairings as well?

I do other couples as well like the senshi and shintennou. But I have never tried pairing Usagi or Mamoru to other characters. Those two literally fought in the spam of 3 life times to stay together. I just can't imagine them with someone else.

What inspires you to create works for Usagi and Mamoru?

I really love Mamoru like he is a real person and I like to create art that shows how Usagi loves Mamoru or how Mamoru show affection to Usagi in his own way when there is just the 2 of them. If you have time please check out my art called "Staying the Night"

Do you tend to work on multiple projects (WIPs) simultaneously or try to finish one at a time?

I do projects one at a time and I tend to work on it non stop because I tend not to finish an art if i don't finish it on one sitting.. 😅😅😅

Do you prefer large projects (chaptered fics, webtoons/zines, highly detailed art) or small projects (one-shots or simple art)?

I actually wanted to try fics and/or webtoon. I just do not have the time because of my full time job and also being the full time care giver to my sickly mother so I stick to oneshots and simple arts.

Are there any common themes, situations, tropes, or mediums in your work?

I do not think I have a specific theme or genre in creating art. But I tend to specifically draw multiple arts about the SM fanfic I'm into in that specific moment. So if I make an art or couple of arts that inspired by a certain fanfic, it means I really love it and they are being my inspiration.

Is there anything you haven’t explored artistically and would like to try?

I would love to explore or learn more about motion picture.

#sailor moon #usamamoweek2023 #meet the creators #usagi x mamoru #usamamo

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dutchvanwinkle · 2 years

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Your work is amazing! Would you do a fic following the horse race Dutch initiates with Arthur? Dutch says if Arthur wins he can have whatever he wants and vice versa. Arthur wins and once they go to Dutch’s tent he asks Dutch if he could kiss him (whilst finally confessing how long he has been pining after Dutch). How it goes and how far it goes is up to you!

I'm so sorry this took me so long anon - this was quite a challenge to write and different to my usual stuff but I ended up enjoying the process! However, I do apologise if it sucks lol. Thanks for the lovely compliment ♡

It's up on ao3 too.

All I Have - Arthur x Dutch

Summary: The loser of Arthur and Dutch's horse race in chapter 3 has to do one thing at the request of the other. Arthur wins, and asks for something he's wanted for a long time.

Word count: 4,695

Content warnings: None

Arthur had no time for the town of Rhodes. It was too hot, too muggy, and its residents were disagreeable at best.

He had even less time for the stupid jobs the gang were running for the local sheriff.

And now, with sweat pooling all down his back and his knees aching from being crouched for so long, he had to admit that the reward of a wagon full of moonshine was almost worth it. It would’ve been, if he didn’t know he’d be running some other fool’s errand within the next twenty-four hours.

There was no room for complaining, though. The gang was having a hard enough time as it was, and the sooner they could line their pockets with cash, the sooner Arthur could be out of this hellhole and somewhere he could breathe. But, even if there was room for complaining, Arthur knew deep down that he wouldn’t bother Dutch with his bellyaching. The man had always done right by him, pulling the pair out of tough scrapes and bouncing out the other side. Sure, there had been (many) times Arthur wanted to throw Dutch’s plans back in his face, but when the man approached him with a spark in his eyes and eagerness in his voice it was impossible to say no. Arthur would do anything for Dutch, and that wasn’t a mutable fact.

And when Dutch's face lit up at the realisation that for all it was, Rhodes was a town filled with stupidity that could be easily swindled, the aches in Arthur’s bones from a day's work somehow eased.

“Come on,” he clapped a loving hand to Arthur’s shoulder, “you ride with me.”

Arthur dipped his head to hide the blush on his cheeks under the brim of his hat, while the two mounted up and Dutch gave his orders to Bill on what to do with the moonshine.

While he was a self-professed fool, Arthur wasn’t foolish enough to not see the change incurring in Dutch’s personality over the past few months. Something in the back of his mind itched, trying to get his attention and repeatedly told him that the man’s misjudgement is going to be more of a problem than he initially thought. So, hearing Dutch talk about these two local feuding families and all the opportunities that came with them, quietened those doubts and brought forward something soft and comforting in Arthur’s chest. Perhaps it was all a small phase after all.

“This is startin’ to sound like the young Dutch again,” Arthur snickered, spurring his horse on to keep pace with The Count.

“What do you mean, young Dutch? I’m as strong as I have ever been,” Dutch threw him an offended look, and it never failed to amaze Arthur just how quickly the man’s expression could drop from happy as a clam in high water to as unhappy as a clam... on dry land, he guessed. Arthur never was one for meaningful prose.

“Hey,” Dutch started again, a smile growing on his face once more as he eyed the path ahead, “you know what, why don’t I race you back?”

“A race? Your pride really that hurt?”

“This has nothing to do with pride, my boy. Just a bit of friendly competition,” Dutch raised his brows, challenging Arthur with his gaze if not with his words. “Don’t be a spoilsport. Tell you what, if you win you can have whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Arthur’s mind dove into a sea of desires, from a new pair of spurs to a new repeater he’d been eyeing in the gunsmith. Or, perhaps he could mock Dutch a little and get him to do his laundry. Or perhaps he could...

No, not that.

It wouldn’t matter either way, Dutch was as talented on horseback as he was everything else, and while Arthur too could navigate a mount better than most, he wasn’t sure if Dutch’s age had lessened his aptitude that much. It’d be a close one, but Arthur thought too highly of his mentor to assume he could surpass him.

“Jesus, Arthur, don’t spend too long thinking about it. And remember, if and when I win, I get whatever I want,” Dutch reminded him smugly, slowing The Count to a walk.

Of course, no deal with reward and without risk existed when it came to Dutch.

“Okay,” Arthur conceded, knowing that whatever Dutch wanted from him would be a better fate than the man calling him yellow for the next week. “You’re on.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dutch gleamed, “Okay. On my word... set... go!”

And The Count was off, kicking up dust and leaving Arthur squinting to shield his eyes as his opponent got a starting lead. He bristled, bringing his reins down on his horse with the aim of at least catching up with him.

“You never were much of a rider!” Dutch called as he turned at the fork.

Something inside Arthur shifted at Dutch’s winning form ahead of him, and the adrenaline of competition and the prospect of having him in his favour surged through his veins. Arthur kicked his horse’s sides harder like he only did when running from the law and grinned when he reached his side. “We’ll see about that!” he cried, slipping past The Count as the trees lining the edge of the forest to his left blurred into only moving colours.

He could’ve sworn Dutch yelled something back, but the sound from the train on the overhead tracks drowned it out regardless. It’d been a while since the two had done anything like this, and the rush from it was like nothing else. Continuing to gain on Dutch, Arthur yelled over his shoulder before reaching a farm.

“Any time you wanna stop for a breather, you let me know.”

Hoping the man heard but uncaring for his reaction, Arthur weaved between the bales of hay and grazing sheep. He was surprised his Tennessee Walker was doing so well in this, The Count was an elite horse and Dutch sang the arrogant beast’s praises whenever he got a chance. However, the delta between their stamina began to show as hoofbeats sounded behind Arthur.

“You really thought you could hold that lead?” Dutch gained on Arthur and passed him, flashing a grin as he did and Arthur willed his horse to push just a little longer as they reached the final stretch.

This was his chance, after being at the man’s beck and call for all these years to finally get something in return. To finally get the thing he’d been thinking about since...

No. He wouldn’t ask for that.

Regardless, his previously unbothered connection to the race strengthened with the thought of the look on Dutch’s face alone if he ended up losing. Arthur dug in his heels.

“Final stretch,” he commented, his horse coming neck and neck with The Count as camp neared. From here, Arthur could see the beads of sweat on Dutch’s temple but willed himself to look away and focus on the finish line.

He broke away from him until The Count disappeared from his peripheral and camp came into view. Lungs burning, Arthur half-skidded, half-stopped his horse by the hitching post and leant on the pommel of his saddle to calm his heart rate.

He’d done it, he’d actually beat Dutch in a race. Races with Dutch when Arthur was in his youth were more frustrating than anything, by the time his experience started catching up his body began to bulk and made him less naturally agile as a rider. But now, as a grown man? It felt nothing short of great. So great, that Arthur hadn’t even considered their initial deal.

“I never knew you were quite so good at running away, Arthur,” Dutch said through laboured breaths, hitching his horse beside Arthur’s and the two dismounted fluidly.

“I never knew age had slowed you down quite so much,” Arthur chortled, leaning up against the hitching post.

“Well,” Dutch took out his bandana and wiped the sweat from his brow, “time is a bastard. When you get to be my age, you’ll know that better than anything.”

Typical. Arthur hardly batted an eyelid at the lack of congratulations and unnecessary excuses, expecting nothing less and putting Dutch’s defensiveness down to his injured pride. Still, the silent victory was a welcomed one.

“Be well. I had fun with you today. You’re,” the falter from Dutch trying to find his words was a rare one and reminded Arthur that he too, was only human. “I was gonna say you’re like a son to me,” Dutch’s hand pressed firmly onto Arthur’s shoulder, and it was then that he realised he’d been avoiding eye contact and promptly met the man’s gaze, “but you’re more than that.”

Well, if that didn’t spark warmth inside him.

And then he went, Arthur’s limbs forgetting how to hold themselves naturally and he felt something he’d repressed for far too long. There was a time, before John, when Arthur was the most special thing in Dutch’s life. As the gang grew along with the space between them, Arthur didn’t feel so special anymore and learned to live with the fact; that Dutch would still always be the most special thing to him. Dutch knew the right words to appease Arthur, knew just what to say to bend his ear and reign complete control over him, but this time his words were genuine. Arthur had known Dutch for twenty years, and he knew when the man was speaking with an ulterior motive in mind instead of voicing his truth.

He couldn’t help but watch his retreating form, one he’d thought about more times than he’d care to admit.

It wasn’t as though Arthur had never had any experience with Dutch’s body. Not in a lewd sense, but spending so long travelling the open road with a man led to the odd occasion where the two would share a bedroll or a room at a hotel. On some of those occasions, the night would be cold and Arthur would naturally gravitate towards Dutch’s body heat. He always obliged, slinging an arm around Arthur and likely being thankful for Arthur’s warmth too. It was necessary, of course. Purely for survival purposes.

But now, with such a large gang and no need for the two of them to spend more than a night away from camp together, Arthur missed it.

He missed Dutch. As much as he loved the gang and would do anything for them, there were times when Arthur Morgan would like to relive the old days and have Dutch all to himself.

Those times alone with him, the closeness between their bodies along with Dutch’s attention directed at only Arthur had satiated his gnawing hunger. Deep down, Arthur had always known that there was something about Dutch’s touch that meant more than the touch of another. He’d placated himself with what he had, and lying beside Dutch on a frosty night or sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the campfire was enough for him. It had to be. His urges satisfied, the fog in Arthur’s brain would clear and leave him with the razor-sharp focus Dutch needed from his top gun. Arthur learnt how to indulge himself and at the same time put himself in the best position for making Dutch proud.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, Arthur can’t remember the last time he shared more than an hour with just Dutch, let alone an hour huddled beside him. Dutch’s palm on Arthur’s shoulder, a firm and secure hold as the man told him how much he meant to him, saying he’s not just his son but he’s more than that, broke even Arthur’s long-standing defences. He’d crumbled under the touch, his innards melting with the warmth of the feeling alone, and God did he want more.

But then Dutch was gone, back off into camp and Arthur wilted at the loss of light that radiated from the one man he truly adores. Because that’s what it was, Arthur felt many things for Dutch, but adoring took the cake over all of them.

“Oh,” Dutch stopped in his tracks, turning slightly to look at Arthur once more, “I almost forgot, I owe you.”

A small gesture of his finger told Arthur to fall into step with him as he continued the path to his tent, and Arthur was at his side in an instant.

One of the most bizarre things about Dutch was that man’s smell. Ever since Arthur had known him, he’d always had this distinct smell about him. Underneath the scents of gun oil, tobacco, whiskey, or whatever cologne Dutch had found at that point, the man’s own smell always lingered. Arthur didn’t know how to describe it, other than Dutch. It was Arthur's favourite.

And now, entering his closed tent for the first time in... a while, that smell wafted straight up Arthur’s nostrils.

“It’s sad to think back to you in your prime,” Arthur hummed, easing the one-sided tension from being in such close proximity with one another.

Dutch tutted, glancing briefly at a stack of papers and straightening them out. “Don’t be so conceited, Arthur, it’s unbecoming.”

“Aw, if I’d have known you’d be such a sore loser, I wouldn’t have accepted the race.”

“Don’t try to annoy me, son,” Dutch turned, hands on his hips with a slight tilt of his head. “Now, tell me what it is you’d like.”

“What I’d like?”

“Yes,” Dutch said slowly, as though talking to a toddler, “you have a prize to claim, if your mind can recall. Or have you taken one too many blows to the head recently? Ride your horse into a tree again, perhaps?”

“I do not do that,” Arthur folded his arms in defence.

“Yes, you do. Quite a lot, actually. Surprised the poor mount of yours can even see.”

“My horse is fine,” Arthur retorted. “And no, my wit is as sharp as it has always been.”

Dutch hummed in lazy agreement. “I suppose you have always been a little dim.”

Arthur knew better than to bite, while Hosea’s teasing was always obvious and light, Dutch preferred to be more menacing with it and enjoyed the squirming from the recipient of his playful taunting. The smile that graced the man’s face after the extended silence told him he was satisfied.

“So, what will it be.”

While he was thankful for the change of subject, internally cursing himself for never being able to keep up with Dutch on a verbal scale, he still didn’t have a clue what to ask for. He knew he was maybe overthinking it, but this was a rare occurrence.

“Come on, Arthur. This is your chance,” Dutch widened his arms before placing the papers on his side table, “you can have whatever you want. You won fair and square.”

Finally, a little humility.

“W-Well, what would you have asked me for?”

Arthur knew full well Dutch didn’t have to win a race to get what he wanted from him. The man only had to look at Arthur and there he was, waiting diligently and willing to do whatever it took to make Dutch happy. It was pathetic, really, but Arthur knew that’s the way it would always be. The way it always had been. There was a small part of Arthur’s mind, a quiet whisper in an otherwise disarrayed cloud of thoughts, that gave attention to the prospect that there may be things Dutch wouldn’t ask of Arthur. Things he’d need an excuse for, and this would have been a perfect excuse. In the same way that it is for Arthur if he only had an inch of the man’s confidence and self-belief.

But Dutch paused at that, the alteration in his expression telling Arthur all he needed to know about how much time he’d considered any secret desires he’d indulged in. The answer was none at all.

Arthur chuckled, finding humour in Dutch’s empty response. “Yeah, in fairness, I do whatever you ask of me, anyway.”

“That’s because I am reasonable with my requests,” his face changed to reflect thoughtfulness and humbleness, as though he was either of those things at that moment.

“You? Reasonable? Shit, Dutch, you really are getting old. Looks like your memory is finally giving up on you.”

Dutch huffed a laugh, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder again. “My boy, perhaps if you did not excel at every task I give you I would not ask for so many more.”

Arthur worked on a swallow; the physical contact muddled with the praise sending his mind into a tizzy. “Maybe I’ll start slacking, in that case.”

“Oh no,” Dutch’s chest rumbled with a laugh, “I know you better than anyone and I know how incapable you are at sitting still.”

While Arthur wasn’t in a position to deny that, all he could focus on was the hand still planted on his shoulder.

“Come on!” Dutch threw his arms up slightly, returning them to grip at his gun belt and Arthur used all of his self-control not to glance down. “Tell me what you want.”

Arthur knew full well what he wanted. He’d tried to think of something else, anything else, but nothing came close. This was something he’d wanted for far too many years. “I don’t know, I guess...”

Dutch didn’t appear fooled by Arthur’s feigned attempt at thinking as he scratched at his nape and darted his eyes to the corner of the tent. He really did know him better than anyone. His mouth quirked into a smile and Arthur was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. God, how he wanted to kiss that mouth of his.

But then Dutch stilled, as though he’d caught the path of Arthur’s eye line who promptly cleared his throat. “Ah, I don’t -”

“Son,” Dutch’s voice rumbled low through the confines of the tent, dropping to a volume that encased them in guaranteed privacy, “you know you can ask me for anything.”

Arthur’s breath stilled in his chest, and the look on Dutch’s face was an unreadable one. He could see the intrigue and the excitement that the man seemed to be holding down. Surely, as he had done many times, Arthur was misreading the situation and would only end up making a fool out of himself if he dared venture down that path.

“Come on,” Dutch commanded softly, “ask me.”

Arthur never was one to deny Dutch. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what came next but being unable to keep it in any longer. His reaction couldn’t be that bad, and Arthur’s back ached with the heavy truth it carried. He trusted Dutch. Always had. Always will.

“I want you to kiss me.” Arthur was surprised at the measured tone that left him, even if he had practically blurted the words out. He allowed his eyes to do their job again.

Then when Dutch brought his hand up, Arthur half-expected a strike across his face to follow it. But instead, that calloused palm brushed the fallen strands of overdue-to-be-cut hair from Arthur’s brow, and Dutch’s eyes followed the motion until they met Arthur’s. At that moment, seeing the calm determination and tempering intrigue that resided in the warm brown of his eyes, he understood exactly why the man had women falling at his feet. If he had so much power from a look and touch alone, Arthur daren’t think about the power he welded when he used other or all of the items he had at his disposal. He suspected he’d never needed to do so.

Arthur had stopped breathing and would soon pass out on Dutch’s floor, he was sure of it. But he couldn’t seem to remember how to take in air no matter how badly he wanted to inhale all of Dutch. He wasn’t even sure when the man had gotten so close.

“Relax,” Dutch cooed, noticing the nerves radiating from Arthur and using them to feed his own confidence. He brought a thumb over Arthur’s cheekbone, swiping at dirt and sweat but from the look on his face, anyone would have believed Arthur had been doused in sweet honey. “I never could say no to you, Arthur.”

That was his name. His name that oozed from Dutch’s lips like nectar from a bright pink fuchsia on an early spring morning. He tethered himself to it, his only remaining string tied to his sense of self or else he’d ascend straight to heaven. That was the last thing he needed, considering the extra sin he was about to add to his long list of acts against God.

Then Dutch leaned in.

And Arthur found out what heaven truly was.

The press of the surprisingly soft lips against his reminded Arthur that he was a sentient being and it was necessary to respond and reciprocate in this instance. He allowed himself to do it; allowed himself this small slice of eternal paradise that would outlive the both of them, despite how much he believed he didn’t deserve it.

His lips were on fire in what Arthur could only describe as a blaze of glory. He’d kissed before, he enjoyed kissing and had a decent record of the act, especially when compared to some of the men he knew. But this man, his man if only for a fleeting moment, was the one on the receiving end. Or maybe it was Arthur that was on the receiving end. He didn’t know, nor did he care.

As the remembrance of who he was and where he was began to fade, Arthur needed a new tether and opted for his only option. He brought his hands to Dutch’s waist, willing himself not to grip too hard but he didn’t want it to be over just yet. The feel of Dutch’s moustache brushing over the stubble on his upper lip, the taste of the long-forgotten cigar that’d entertained Dutch earlier in the day, and the man himself closer than he’d ever been before were all sensations Arthur wasn’t ready to part with.

But then Dutch pulled off, more eased off and a shaky sigh left Arthur. It was all he could manage.

“How many do I owe you?” Dutch focused his mind on slowly exhaling and the pad of his thumb pressed gently onto the middle of Arthur’s bottom lip.

“I -” Arthur faltered, knowing it was his turn to say something smooth but coming up blank, not that he was surprised.

Dutch hummed thoughtfully, knowing that Arthur had always had a hard time asking outright for the things he wanted. “I’ll rephrase – how long have you wanted this?”

Any and all effort to remain composed withered, and Arthur released his frustration with a long sigh, huffing an accepting laugh void of any humour. “Long time, Dutch. Longer than I care to admit,” Arthur mumbled, relishing in the contact of Dutch’s thumb on his mouth.

“I see.”

What Arthur wanted to do was answer the question properly, provide the clarity Dutch was clearly hankering for but feared he’d ruin the moment if he said anything. Instead, he closed his mouth around the digit and softly sucked it into his mouth, noting the taste of gun oil and shame but not caring one bit.

Hearing Dutch’s breath hitch in response sent warm electricity through Arthur’s entire body, and any humiliation he might’ve, and probably should’ve, felt in the act was silenced at seeing Dutch in raptures as he stared at one of his oldest friends performing such an act that he never thought he’d see. Arthur released his thumb with a quiet pop, feeling a mix of embarrassment and... something else he didn’t want to give a name to rise up and fill his body full of static.

A lapse in time in that small tent left the two men suspended, neither knowing what to do next nor how to move things forward.

“Screw it,” Dutch surrendered, closing his hand over Arthur’s nape and pulling him back to where he belonged, as far as Arthur was concerned.

Then Arthur saw the ferocious side of Dutch he loved so much. The side of Dutch that would set his mind to something and not give up until he had it. Arthur felt a tongue swipe over his bottom lip, and he was reminded of how easy it was to do what Dutch wanted. It was second nature by now, and there was a small measure of security in being so obedient. Dutch would steer him right. Dutch still trusted him enough to come to him with his biggest problems requiring solutions and was safe in the knowledge that Arthur would always deliver.

Arthur just never knew it would extend to this.

It was too easy to let his lips part. Allowing his tongue to meet Dutch’s as it swirled around his mouth had been the simplest part of Arthur’s day. He relinquished everything, just when he thought he’d given Dutch all he had, he gave him all that remained in that kiss.

Now he gripped his waist, unafraid of anything considering the events that were currently transpiring. He felt invincible, and for the first time like he could do no wrong. Dutch’s had remained on his nape and held him in place, his other coming to the small of Arthur’s back and pulling his frame to his.

The contact was overwhelming.

It was also scarily addicting. Arthur knew this fancy of his would never do him any favours, and he almost grew sad at the notion that nothing would ever come close.

Almost.

Then he remembered that with Dutch, he would always be invincible.

Arthur’s chest against Dutch’s allowed him to feel the equally laboured breathing that came from him, and he was sure he could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage. Or perhaps it was his own, which would come as no surprise considering its intensity. All these years, all this time waiting for something he thought would never come; Arthur suspected this was one of his dreams but didn’t care enough to wake up.

And of everything Arthur had been to Dutch; he’d never had the honour of being this. This was special. He was special once more.

The clash of teeth and mingling of spit continued and Arthur dared to bring a hand up to Dutch’s hair, feeling the soft curls between his fingers as he brushed over his scalp. Dutch didn’t seem to mind, somehow deepening the kiss and Arthur became acutely aware of the weakness in his knees.

He never wanted it to stop. It couldn’t stop, because Arthur wasn’t sure if it would ever start again and with that knowledge, he feared he’d drop dead right on the spot. It was almost worse than never kissing him, experiencing Dutch van der Linde in such an intimate way and knowing it was a one-time thing was downright cruel.

So, it was simple; he wouldn’t let it end.

A sound came from Arthur at that, something between a hum and moan but it was muffled by Dutch’s mouth on his. He regretted it instantly when the warmth left his face and he flittered his eyes open at the same time Dutch brought his forehead to rest against Arthur’s.

He wasn’t sure when he’d started panting, he’d be embarrassed that such a small excursion had brought him to that point if it weren’t for the twin response from Dutch. Still, he couldn’t help but think he’d done something wrong or taken it too far. Arthur desperately wanted to apologise, but the words simply would not form.

Arthur allowed himself to just be, to let the moment wash over him and pull every ounce of joy from it while he could.

A calm certainty arrived, one that told him he’d never feel anything like this again. He didn’t deserve to be privy to such a thing as Dutch’s affections, and knew nothing would ever be comparable. Until Dutch uttered his next words.

“I don’t think I’m quite done with you yet, cowboy.”

#vandermorgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #arthur morgan x dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x arthur morgan #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #fanfic #writting #my stuff #asks

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hekate1308 · 8 months

Text

Prompt: Do you even know what this means

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel

It doesn’t matter what Sam says – and he even seems to have learned his lesson in that regard, since he thankfully hasn’t complained about Dean’s life choices for months now, although that might have to do with his new girlfriend Sarah – Dean loves his little antique book shop, and he has never regretted that he bought it on a whim back when he was eighteen and Mr. Bythell wanted to retire.

Yes, some clients can be a handful, and he has several opinions about Amazon that he knows to keep to himself lest they get back to them and he gets buried under the power of Jeff Bezos, but still. There are a lot of wonderful moments when he finds a rare book or can help someone who has been desperately seeking for a title or just needs a break from the stress of every day life. It might be frustrating that he can’t afford a full-time employee, but Charlie and Gilda are always happy to help out, and students like Kevin are happy to take any summer job that presents itself.

And so, he has no plans of changing things. He lives his life, he sells and buys books, there are game nights with Charlie and Gilda and Andrea and Benny and Crowley, when he can get his friend to admit he is actually having fun during those, and everything’s fine.

And then things change, although not in the way he would have assumed if he had expected them to.

Because today the door bell rings out and a new customer comes in. Now, that’s nothing new in and out of itself, but the guy is – to be perfectly frank – hot.

And he says that as someone who has had his fun, if you know what he means.

Still.

“Hey” he greets him, strolling towards him. “Can I help?”

He blinks at him, looking ever so slightly confused and rumpled and oh God, Dean is in trouble. “I just moved here” he then informs him abruptly. “I’m Castiel Novak.”

“Like the angel?” he asks, only learning later he’s the only one who’s ever reacted that way.

Castiel blinks at him again and Dean holds out his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

Two months later

“You should try and do more with the internet.”

Apart from the fact that Cas just pronounced the word as if he has never heard of wi-fi, Dean can’t help but shake his head. “We all know how that would end.”

“I don’t mean just an online-shop. I was thinking about a book subscription service – they are all the range, these days. Maybe something like a mystery box, the sort of thing people unbox on YouTube. People would subscribe and you could choose the books.”

So Cas, who lives in a house where the electricity barely works, just asked him to – “Do you even know what this means?” he asks because he can’t help it – is he really supposed to believe that someone who dresses like Columbo has any idea what the internet is?

“I do sell my honey online” Cas says, sounding almost disappointed, and he’s quick to do damage control.

“Sorry, man. It’s not a bad idea – not a bad idea at all – just – do you think there’d even be a market for it?”

“I don’t see why not” Cas shrugs. “You still sell books, don’t you, even though everyone seems to think they are going out of style, as they say” oh God he’s actually doing quoty fingers and it looks much much cuter than it has any right to “so why should it not work when you develop your own way of doing so in the Internet?”

It might just work, Dean reflects. And really, what has he got to lose? Yes, his bookshop, but he’s always on the brink of doing that anyway…

“Alright” he decides, “Any ideas?”

Cas looks at him and they are back at the staring one another thing, great.

Yet he can’t bring himself to mind too much.

Three years later

“Cas are you smuggling books about bees into the boxes again?”

“They are really interesting! Remember, we got several emails about them just last month…”

He can’t help but admit that, so he kisses his husband instead of saying anything. “Fine” he announces, drawing back, “but next month I get to pick the theme.”

“It’s going to be old-timers” Cas grumbles.

“Are you really going to tell me that I only have one topic of interest?”

Cas looks so guilty that Dean just has to kiss him again. “Hey, look, as long as the customers don’t mind, and they don’t seem to…”

This time when they separate, Cas is smiling at him and Dean – with the roof leaking again, a customer having tried to steal several books yesterday, and Crowley and his mother once more at odds – has never felt more blessed in his life.

#fictober23 #spn #my writings #destiel #castiel #dean winchester

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thiswasinevitableid · 1 year

Note

44 OT4 NSFW?

44. I’m a noir detective and you’re the hot mysterious person who just slunk into my office the week before Christmas.

(This takes place slightly more than a week before christmas)

The radiator rattles like a dying man. Joseph ignores it; they’ve only got the cash to repair one thing this winter and the upstairs radiator is a week out from full shut-down. And he doubts Duck wants to act as his makeshift blanket when it does.

He looks out the window, the lights of a dozen apartment windows and storefronts staring back at him, all decked out in their Christmas best. It’d look better with snow, but the City of Angels insists on being a temperate paradise.

Right as he’s about to sit down and continue his bookkeeping, there are two, sharp, raps on the door. He calls for them to come, running a hand over his hair as he settles into his worn office chair.

A tall, slender man with white-blonde hair steps over the threshold. The only hint of color in his wardrobe is the pair of red-tinted glasses perched on his nose, one that’s as angular and striking as the rest of his face.

Indrid Cold.

Joseph would have been less shocked if the president had walked into his office.

Indrid Cold, whose father owned half the city and the people in it. Indrid Cold, one half of a twin pair of sons never seen outside of their father’s shadow. Indrid Cold, who until yesterday was a suspect in his father’s murder.

“Going by your expression, I suspect I do not need to introduce myself.” The voice from those thin lips is lilting, nothing like the icicle sharp tone Joseph heard the one time he encountered his father and brother.

“That’s right.”

“And am I speaking to Mr. Newton or Mr. Stern?” He cocks his head.

Joseph extends a hand, “Joseph Stern.”

Indrid shakes it with chilly fingers, “In that case, Mr. Stern, I require you and your partner’s help. Not in solving my father’s murder, as you are about to assume. The police are swarming about that business like so many ants.”

“And you trust them to solve it?”

“To be frank, my interest in the culprit extends only to whether they are someone who would like me dead as well. Which is where you come in. You and Mr.Newton will serve a dual function; you will join me at my home in the mountains to provide a degree of security. And you will work out who tried to shoot me two days ago.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, “You seem very confident we’ll take the case. Even though it carries a non-zero chance of being shot and attaching ourselves to potentially one of the biggest scandals of the decade.”

“It will be worth your while. I can pay a hundred dollars a day to each of you, and cover any expenses. Then there’s the fact you’ll have room and board during your stay, and the twenty thousand I’ll pay if you find out who attempted to cut my life short.”

He keeps his face flat and says nothing; it’s a tempting offer, more money in one job than they make in a year. But there’s a gnawing in his stomach, one he’s learned the hard way to not ignore.

Indrid removes his glasses, cleaning them on his sleeve, “You are also likely to take it because of your, shall we say, disreputable pasts. The ones that mean even with all your skills and successes, Mr. Newton has to work evenings as bouncer at some unsavory establishments and you yourself must take the occasional job that’s no more than being a glorified peeping tom. The pasts that are the reason I am bringing this job to you” amber eyes meet his own and Joseph sees his calm for what it truly is; a rabbit holding stone-still under the gaze of a hawk, certain it’s about to be eaten.

“Your father paid off or pissed off all the cops and respectable detectives?”

“Precisely.” The glasses slot back into place, “I need help. You can provide it, or you can go back to taking pictures through windows. What shall it be?”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

“You sure we ain’t passed it?” Duck cranes his neck as Joe steers them around yet another hairpin turn in the San Gabriel’s.

“Positive. He said the gate is ‘impossible to miss.’”

“Someone must be really pissed if they hauled ass all the way out here to try and off him.”

“Apparently it happened in the city; he was on his way back from the police station. The friend who was with him, Mr. Cobb, saw the gun in the reflection of a store window and dragged him down behind a car.”

“We gonna get the chance to confirm that with the guy?”

“We should. He lives with Mr. Cold full time as a cook. Aha, finally.” The car slows in front of a twelve foot tall iron gate with flames twisted into the metalwork. Joe hits the intercom and after a moment the shining mouth of the estate opens. The house itself isn’t quite a mansion, but it sure as hell isn't a cozy cottage for two.

As they wait in it’s shadow for someone to open the front door, a gust of wind makes them both shudder.

“Damn, forget how cold it gets up here. Who knows, slick, maybe you’ll finally get some snow.”

“Maybe.” Joe’s hands are in his pockets and he knows without looking that he’s worrying his palms with his nails. Duck doesn’t blame him for being nervous; stepping into the Cold’s orbit is like shoving your hand into a rattlesnake burrow and hoping nothing bites

The door opens on a man who towers over the six foot tall Joe. His short beard and shaggy hair are both auburn, his clothes are sensible outdoor wear, and there’s dirt under his nails.

Duck likes him instantly.

“Come on in, Indrid’s expecting you. I, uh, I’m Barclay” he holds out a large hand for each of them to shake in turn. Joe’s cheeks are pinker than they were a moment ago and Duck fights back a laugh; Joseph Stern may swear he’s straight, but put him near a big man with a soft voice and a sweet smile and he goes rose-colored.

“Ah, I am glad you found the house. It’s so far into the hills that even I sometimes fear I’ve somehow gone past it.”

See, this is why Duck didn’t snicker at Joe’s little blush. Because now he’s staring up a staircase at Indrid Cold and his heart is bouncing like a dog at a stick. The newspaper photos don’t do him justice, don’t convey how his strange features meld together into something Duck never wants to look away from.

Indrid shakes their hands and shows them to their room, Barclay helping them with their luggage as clouds darken the windows. Their room is bigger than the apartment above their office, with two, huge beds instead one murphy bed and one couch that they alternate sleeping on.

“The house is yours to wander as you need, and you’re welcome to ask Barclay or myself for assistance should you need it. As I told Mr. Stern, it’s just Barclay and myself here.” He taps his fingers together, “will you be needing anything from us this afternoon?”

“You mind giving us a little tour so we can get a lay of the land?” Duck tosses his hat on the bed as Joseph carefully hangs his on a hook.

“Oh! Of course, a very good idea. Right this way.”

As Indrid leads them through the cavernous house, Duck is struck by how different it is from its sleek, dull exterior. The rooms are painted bright colors, there’s stunning art on every wall, and even the Christmas tree is decked in pink and gold. The garden is a bit overrun, but there’s a swimming pool and a row of climbing vines positioned near the house. When Duck comments on them being a good choice for the climate, Indrid smiles.

“Thank you. I’m afraid I rather pestered the gentleman at the garden store working out which things could actually thrive here.” He looks out over the covered rose bushes, “this has been ‘my’ house ever since I turned eighteen. Apollo laid claim to the house on the beach, and my father always preferred his penthouse in the city. I find the woods inspire me, don’t you.”

Duck smiles wistfully, “Yeah, I really do.”

When the tour ends, Indrid excuses himself to work on his art until dinner. Duck and Joe use that same span of time to unpack. His partner is quiet, which means he’s thinking, and Duck lets him.

Dinner is a simple pot roast that he crams into his face faster than is polite. Which is better than Joe does; he full on moans when he takes a bite, causing Barclay’s eyes to widen comically before he collects himself.

By the time they say goodnight, Indrid has been at his side most of the evening, asking him questions and seeming fascinated by his knowledge of plants, which may be the most good it’s done him in years.

“Try not to get too friendly.” Joe says as he removes his tie.

Duck locks the bedroom door, “I’m just bein’ polite. We’re their guests. Besides, thought you said Indrid had been officially cleared as a suspect by the cops.”

“He has, but we both know that means very little.” His partner sighs, “we should stay close to them when possible, both to fulfill the bodyguard end of the agreement and see if we can learn what’s going on here. Just…just be careful, okay? Alistair Cold didn’t get where he was without manipulation, and I’d bet he passed those skills to his sons. Which means the line between ‘useful close’ and ‘dangerous close’ with Indrid Cold is thin.”

Joe has a point, but he’s using that voice that makes Duck feel like his partner thinks he’s nothing more than a clueless hick. Which is why all he says is, “Don’t worry slick, I won’t let anyone know you’re jealous that someone else is gettin’ my attention.”

The other detective fixes him with a stern stare, “Go to hell.”

“Gonna go do some rounds instead. Make sure the place is secure.” He tips a hat that isn’t there and steps into the hall.

As he double checks doors and windows (including testing that his key matches all the locks; Indrid swore only himself, Barclay, and the two detectives had keys to his new locks, but Duck wants to be sure), his thoughts keep wandering back upstairs to Joe. They’ve been partners for two years, and he’s damn grateful that he got paired with a guy whose brain puts Einstein to shame and a face that’d make Cary Grant jealous. He just wishes Joe weren’t wound so tight he can hear his bones cracking.

And at least three times a week, he wishes he could slap him. Not because he’s mad at him or wants him to suffer. Because he bets those blue eyes would look even better all teary and that Joe would cry out and moan so sweetly when he did it. And then he’d let Duck do more, give him the green light to do every vicious, indulgent thing he’s been too scared to ask for until the other man is a bruised, bitten, fucked-out mess.

He pads into the living room, stops when he sees two figures asleep on the couch. Indrid stirs, letting out a sleep mumble, before turning to bury his face in Barclays chest. Duck creeps backward to let the lovers be. He’s glad they have each other.

Because in his fantasies, when the debauchery is done, all he wants is to pull Joe into that too-tiny bed of theirs and hold him until dawn.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Christmas carols drift from the record player downstairs as Indrid sits in bed, sketching the images of a dream before they fly away. This will be the first Christmas he can remember without endless holiday parties and people sending him lavish gifts that always came with favors to fulfill, without his father hissing for him to act normal and Apollo mocking him every chance he gets.

It’s the best Christmas ever, even accounting for the probability of being shot.

Then again, that probability has led to two more charming, handsome men under his roof, which softens the sting. Joseph, gorgeous as he is, still seems wary– of him, and of everything–Indrid understands the sentiment and so tries not to begrudge him his caution. He also walked into the kitchen last morning to find the detective and Barclay having an animated discussion about movies, so maybe one day he’ll see them as friends and not suspects.

Then there’s Duck, sturdy and understated in his many charms. Indrid would do a great many things for a peek at what’s beneath his slacks and would murder someone for one kiss of that crooked smile.

A knock on the door and a drawl asking if he’s up.

“One moment.” He stands and, curious as to what will happen, reaches for a thin, short, silk robe instead of the heavy one he wears most days, “alright, you can come in.”

Duck opens the door, “Mornin’, I was wondering if…if uh, if we could, uh.” His eyes are fixed on Indrid’s legs. He can feel them staying there as he wanders to his dresser in search of a water glass.

“Is there something you wanted to discuss?” Indrid tries not to smile as Duck’s reflection actually shakes itself back into focusing.

“Yeah, uh, I wanted to go back over the orders you made for the locks. From what you’ve told me about your brother, I think we oughta check to see if there was any way another key was made or if someone sent him the lock diagrams so he could have one made on his own.

It’s a good idea, but Indrid is more relieved by the fact Duck takes his suspicion of Apollo seriously. His twin was the golden child, respectable and capable of convincing a man in the desert to buy sand, while Indrid was a scraggy black sheep following behind him.

He turns, takes his time coming toe to toe with Duck, “An excellent idea. I see why the clients of yours I spoke to recommend you so highly.”

Duck blushes, “Heh, Joe’s really the brains. I’m just the muscle.”

“I’m afraid I must disagree. Even if the muscle in question is spectacular.” He reaches out, running a finger up Duck’s chest.

Warm hands catch his wrist and palm, “Sorry, sugar, no can do.”

“Ah.” He steps back, drawing the robe around him, “that’s alright. I do not blame you for not being interested.”

Strangely, Duck steps forward instead of back, “It ain’t that. I got a rule: I don’t sleep with clients. No matter how cute they are. Helps keep things from getting messy.”

“Sensible.”

Duck smiles gently, “Besides, wouldn’t Barclay be mad I was makin’ time with his fella?”

Indrid shakes his head, “We have an…understanding. Barclay has been in my life since we were children, and been my lover for over ten years. He knows that even if my heart and eyes find others, that will not change that I’m his.”

Duck steps closer, guiding Indrid’s robe back up his shoulder, “He’s a lucky fella.”

He’s about to say they both are when there’s a tremendous crash from downstairs. They take one look at each other and then run for the door.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

He shouldn’t have let his guard down.

Barclay knows why Indrid brought the detectives into the house, and he’s willing to put up with a lot to never have to hear a gunshot that close ever again. But something about Stern in particular made him anxious, like he was a hunter and Barclay was a beast lumbering in the woods. Even his polite demeanor,handsome face, and earnest praise of Barclay’s cooking couldn’t cover for that.

Then, a few nights ago, he’d been unable to sleep and came down to find Stern in the living room in the same predicament. In the light of one, shaded lamp, the detective seemed to fade away, leaving a tired, charming man in his place. They played chess until Barclay nearly fell asleep in his chair. After that, Joseph sought him out more often and Barclay let himself be found.

They were chatting about movies as he worked on the bread for dinner when he’d asked if Joseph had seen The Fugitive with Henry Fonda.

“No, westerns aren’t quite my thing.” Joseph pauses mid-sip, “that’s the one you two saw the night Alistair Cold was killed.”

“Yep. Hell of a thing to come home from the movies to find the cops at your door.”

“I’d imagine.” The cup thunks onto the table, “You know, when I spoke with the ticket girl at the theater, she said she remembered you buying tickets alone.”

Fuck. Did Joseph bring up movies just to maneuver him into this conversation?

Barclay turns from the dough and crosses his arms, “I know what you’re getting at. And yeah, I know you and every private eye from here to San Francisco could point out that it’s really fucking convenient Indrid and I are each other’s alibis. But all that happened is that Indrid was running late, so I bought two and waited in the lobby for him.”

Joseph stands, ostensibly to refill his cup, but all it does is bring him closer to Barclay, “Which means that the witness statements saying they saw you and Indrid leaving the theater when the movie was over don’t mean as much. You could have waited for Indrid in that lobby for quite awhile.

“I could have, but I didn’t. Look, Joseph, I know better than anyone else that Indrid had all the reason in the world to bump off his dad, and that’s before we get to how much he and Apollo are gonna inherit. I also know that there’s one Cold twin capable of killing someone and it isn’t Indrid.”

The detective meets his eyes, “I’d say you’re not the most impartial party when it comes to the Cold brothers. Especially since Apollo doesn’t strike me as the kind to fuck the help.”

A thousand memories flare up in him and he snarls, grabbing Joseph’s shirt and spinning them so the detective is slammed against the counter. Flour dusts the air and the coffee cup shatters on the floor as he brings them nose to nose.

“If you think for a goddam second that Apollo is harmless and Indrid is a threat, your skull is so thick I could smash it onto the counter and you’d be fine.”

Joseph just looks at him, and for all the blush in his cheeks he looks utterly unafraid. Barclay realizes he didn’t mean a single word of his comment about the help; he was doing it to see how Barclay reacted. To see if his feelings for Indrid could make him into a mad dog.

Two sets of footsteps skid into the kitchen, but he’s not ready to let go.

“Barclay, what on earth?”

“Blue eyes here is really fucking sure you’re the bloodthirsty one and not Apollo.”

Duck’s eyes flick between Barclay and his partner, “You’d better let go of him or he’s gonna start thinking you did it.”

Barclay releases his grip and steps back. Joseph brushes the flour from his shirt, perfectly unruffled.

“Joseph, I have been over the events of that evening with you three separate times. And that’s not to mention that the police have confirmed my story.”

“Police can be bribed.” Stern straightens his cuffs.

“Oh for–is that what this is about?” Duck rubs his forehead, “yeah, Joe, they lie all the time. But you and I both know that there’s no way Indrid or Barclay coulda been anywhere near the murder.”

“But-”

Duck shakes his head, “Nope, I no for a damn fact you ain’t slept well the last two nights, and it’s startin to show. Go to bed.”

“No.” Joseph tries to pass Duck, only for Duck to grab his arm.

“Barclay, gimme a hand.”

“Excuse me?” Joseph tries to pull away but Duck doesn’t let go.

“You won’t be good and go on your own, we’ll take you.” He tips his head and Barclay gets the hint, grabbing Joseph’s other arm and starting to pull. He’s not big on manhandling people, but it’s satisfying to half-drag the pissed-off detective back up the stairs.

He and Duck let go once they’re in the bedroom, though Duck continues blocking the doorway as he says, “Get some sleep. And if you can’t fuckin stay put, I’ll cuff you to the bed.”

Joseph’s cheeks go redder even as his expression stays flat, “That seems like overkill.”

“Then don’t make me do it.”

Joseph takes a deep breath, “I’m not trying to insult either of you when I say this but: have you considered that being attracted to Indrid is clouding your judgment?”

“Nope. Why, is it cloudin’ yours?” Duck leans against the doorframe.

“Fuck, Joseph, why are you so convinced it’s Indrid? You’re so desperate to pin it on him it’s like you murdered the guy.”

Joseph’s gaze darkens as it whips onto him.

“Get. out.”

“Okay, okay, we’re going.” Barclay throws up his hands and leaves, Duck shutting the door behind them, “what the fuck, did he actually kill someone?”

“No. But everyone thinks he did. See, Joe was on the force, was on his way to making detective there, there were even whispers that he’d be D.A eventually.” Duck’s steps slow, “you remember the Millicent Green murder case?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Joe was in charge of the investigation. Turns out it was her boyfriend. Not all that shocking, but he was was the police chief. Joe refused to back down, wouldn’t be paid to look the other way. So they hit him with accessory to murder on a smaller case and kicked him off the force. Only reason he didn’t land in jail is that the judge was on the level and threw out the case.”

“That was, in no small part, why I hired him.” Indrid meets them at the bottom of the stairs, “Joseph Stern could not be bought or beaten into going against his moral conscience. And I trusted he would choose a partner of a similar nature.” He glances at Duck.

“Oh fuck, did the same thing happen to you?”

“Nah. Long story short, the state park I was workin’ at got shut down and turned into an orange grove. I needed cash and had to take some shitty jobs as hired muscle to get it. I actually met Joe throwin’ him out of The Black Swan. He has a way of makin’ people listen to him and the next thing I knew I was helpin’ him solve that case. When it was over he asked me to be his partner.”

Barclay looks back up at the second floor, “It just felt like I was talking to a different guy this morning. More…ruthless.”

“A trait which may come in handy if anyone does come after us.” Indrid muses.

“He can be that way sometimes. But he’s really a good guy. Great, if you can get the stick outta his ass.”

“Or put one there.” Barclay adds.

Duck snickers, “Never managed it, but not for lack of tryin’.”

They settle into their usual routine, Duck hanging around to sweep the kitchen and, Barclay realizes, make sure Barclay is really okay after his fight with Joseph.

Barclay doesn’t see the taller detective again until well after dinner. Duck is doing a round of the house and Indrid is painting in his studio, so Barclay wanders into the kitchen to start on the dishes. What he finds is Joseph, sleeves rolled up and scrubbing away.

“I’m so sorry about earlier.” Joseph must know it’s him by his footsteps, “I…I was trying to prove something to myself and forgot who was on the other side of the thing.”

“Thanks.” Barclay joins him at the sink, “please don’t do that again. Act like you think there’s something wrong with Indrid for loving me, I mean.”

“I won’t.”

Barclay squeezes his shoulder, feels him relax for a half second before the usual tension returns to the muscle. He grabs a towel from the cupboard.

“Here, I’ll dry.”

—---------------------------------------------

This might be the glitziest Christmas morning Duck’s ever been part of. Barclay did some last minute decorating, so the whole living room is shiny with tinsel, the tree glowing like a heart in the corner. There’s a surprising number of presents beneath it, and when Duck sneaks a peek he finds that while most are addressed to Barclay, two are for him and two are for Joe.

Barclay is stretched out on the couch, reading, and Indrid moves through the room with a mug of eggnog in hand. He changes out the record, humming as a slow song crackles into the air.

He reminds Duck of a moth, fluttering about the house at night, ethereal bearing barely concealing something fragile. Something that’s been flapping its wings against a storm for too long.

Duck stands and offers his hand, “How about a dance, sugar?”

Indrid cocks his head, grinning, “And what about your rules?”

“Ain’t no harm in a dance.”

Indrid takes his hands and, rather than keep a usual dancer's distance, presses against him.

“You sure you wanna get that close? I got two left feet.”

“Can’t be any worse than me.” Barclay turns a page.

“Dearest, you are forgetting the time I once took out two waiters at a club with my movements.”

The cook chuckles, sets his book on the end table, “I’m gonna go check on Joseph. Kind of worried that he’s not down yet.”

“Let me” Duck spins Indrid off into Barclay’s arms, “he can get kinda morose on Christmas.”

When he gets to their room, Joe is fully dressed save for his shoes, laying on the bed with a book over his face.

“You got somewhere to be slick?”

“I’m trying to maintain professionalism.”

“You can let it slide for one day. C’mon, it’s real nice downstairs.”

“I’m sure it is, but you should get used to those scenes without me.”

“What?” Duck closes the door.

“Isn’t it obvious? Indrid and Barclay both like you. Once we’re done with this job, assuming we’re both still alive, they’ll probably keep you on as a bodyguard and send me home.” His voice is far away, like he’s still half in the book.

“You’re not gettin rid of us that easily.” Duck teases as he nears the bed.

“I don’t want to! But none of you will ever want me, not like I-” Joe slams the book across his mouth.

“You better finish that sentence, slick.” Duck sets his hands on his hips but keeps his voice soft.

Joe covers his face, “I want all three of you so badly. I, I think I might even be in love with you, Duck.”

He settles on the bed, “How long has this been goin’ on?”

“Six months, maybe more” Joe turns away from him, “I’m so sorry.”

Duck gently pets black hair, “You shoulda said somethin’ sooner. I mean, hell, we coulda been sharin’ a bed and freed up some space.”

A weak laugh, “would have been warmer too.”

It’s like coaxing a scared kitten from under the bed, getting Joe to look at him. His hands have to caress his jaw and trace circles on his cheek before he’ll turn to face him.

“For a private eye, you can be real fuckin’ blind.” He leans in and kisses Joe as sweetly as he dares, catching a surprised gasp between his teeth. The hope is for Joe to climb into his lap, or pull him down to the mattress, but instead the other man collapses against him even as pleads to continue the kiss.

“Easy slick, don’t want you droppin’ like a sack of laundry.”

“Easy? Nothing about this is easy, not when I’ve thought about crawling under your desk and blowing you every time I get a look at your thighs, not when wanting you, wanting the others, makes me feel like I’ll float away like a forgotten balloon. Please” he rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “please, I want it to be easy, but I don’t know how.”

Duck gets the best idea of his life and then kisses Joe’s forehead, “I do. Do you trust me?”

Blue eyes gleam in the dark, “with my life.”

“Then you’re gonna do what I, and what the other two, say. Yeah?”

“Yes” Joe drags him into another kiss, moaning when Duck bites his lip.

“On your feet slick.” He sneaks his cuffs into his back pocket as Joe obeys. When they reach the door, his partner hesitates.

“Are you sure they want me involved?”

“Positive. But also” he grabs the end of a blue tie and yanks, “you ain’t got a choice.”

Joe moans, footsteps unsteady as Duck leads across the landing and down the stairs. Barclay sees them first, eyes wide as dinner plates as he sways Indrid in his arms. Indrid turns next, breaking into a wicked grin as he takes in the duo descending the stairs.

“Brought you two a little present.” Duck lets go of the tie and Joe stills, looking at the other two for some kind of sign.

“Lucky us.” Barclay rumbles, stepping forward and tipping Joe’s chin up to kiss him.

Duck takes the moment where Joe is too surprised to hold onto the cook to grab his wrists and cuff them behind his back.

“The hell?” Joe tries to look behind him only for Barclay to drag him into another kiss and not release him until he’s giggling.

“I know you, slick. You’ll try to take control of the whole scene if we don’t stop you. As this is as much about makin’ you relax as it is findin’ out what’s under those slacks.

“Duck, you’ve seen me in my underwear.”

“Yeah, but I never saw what was under ‘em, no matter how many times I wanted to yank ‘em down.” He guides Joe over to the couch, where he sits without needing to be told.

“What, exactly, is the plan?” Indrid hangs back by the fireplace, metallic threads in his robe making him look like an emperor.

“To show this handsome fella just how bad we want him so that the idea will actually sink into that big brain of his.”

“I see.” Indrid saunters forward, hands behind his back, considering Joe with an unreadable expression. The detective looks up at him hopefully as he approaches the couch, some silent conversation passing between them as Indrid looms over him.

Then an ink-stained hand catches Joe across the face, loud enough that Duck and Barclay both jump. Joe doesn’t take nearly so long to recover, licking his lips and smiling up at Indrid while Duck is still trying to parse what happened.

“That’s about as hard as I expected a spoiled heir to hit.”

Another slap, Joe yelping as it hits. Duck takes a half step forward when the sound turns to a moan and Indrid lets out a sharp, menacing laugh.

“Oh you like that, don’t you pet? All that sophistication and cleverness to hide the fact you’re nothing more than a mutt who needs to be put in his place.”

“Better than being a brat who thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

Indrid crouches so they’re eye to eye, tracing a heart on Joe’s cheek with his finger, “Oh no pet, I don’t think I am better than everyone else.”

Slap

“I know I am.”

“Holy fuck.” Barclay grips the edge of the couch where he’s been standing, tent noticeable in his pajamas.

Indrid smiles at him, “Surprised, dearest? Yes, I suppose you would be. You, my sweet, perfect, beloved beast, never need such a firm hand. You’ve never been anything but good.”

Duck shifts from foot to foot. His cock is twitching at Indrid addressing the others in that way, even though if the pale-haired man tried it on him, Duck would pin him to the floor and ride him until he cried.

“Joseph? Is this really okay?” Barclay’s voice is going husky.

Joe nods once, then adds, “It’d be better if your boyfriend didn’t hit like a baby.”

Indrid snarls, but instead of slapping him again he fists his hand into his hair and yanks Joe's head back. His partner cries out as Indrid sinks his teeth into the skin of his neck, not relenting until the moan turns broken and panting.

“Dearest, please fetch the supplies. Duck, help me make him less decent.” Indrid begins unbuttoning Joe’s shirt.

“Thought you’d never ask.” As Duck joins them, Joe kicks out a leg, lightly catching Indrid on the shins.

“Now that ain’t very nice, darlin.” Duck pulls off Joe's tie and binds it around his ankles.

Indrid turns, kissing his cheek before pecking Joe on the lips, “Goodness, I had no idea you two would be this much fun. Are you alright, pet?”

“I feel like I’m flying.”

“If it turns to a fall, tell us.” Indrid cups his face to offer a tender kiss, “none of us want you hurt.”

“Thank you.” Joe sighs, tipping his face into Duck’s hand when he offers it. They stay like that until Barclay returns, at which point Indrid rises and points imperiously at Duck.

“Take off your pants. Barclay, sit there and put Joseph over your lap so you can, ah, open him up for me.”

“Ohfuck.” Joe actually whines as Barclay obeys and throws him over his lap.

Duck is enjoying the sight of carefully pressed slacks being bunched around Joe knees that it takes reality a moment to join him in the room. Joe knows the truth, and he’s fairly certain Barclay figured it out when he poked his head into the room to ask a question right after Duck was in the shower and saw the scars on his chest.

Did Barclay tell Indrid? If he didn’t, how the fuck should Duck go about this?

Indrid’s fingers wrap around Duck’s pants and shove them, and his underwear, to the floor. In retrospect, this is what he gets for stopping to think near a man who looks horny enough to fuck an entire barroom.

“Mmmm, it seems Barclay was correct.” Eager fingers tease the folds beneath his dick, “are inside visitors permitted?”

Duck snickers at the phrasing, “Sometimes. Depends on how I’m feelin’.”

“Understood.” Indrid brushes their noses together, “go lay down on the couch. Joseph has a mouth that was made to suck cock and I have waited too long to see him do so.”

He positions himself so he’s laying on the couch. Getting where Indrid wants him, especially with the sight of Joe facedown and ass up, moaning into the cushions as Barclay fucks his ass with two fingers.

The cook pauses from where he’s groping and kissing Joe’s ass, “Put your feet wherever you need to, man.”

That lets him get close enough that he can reach down and drag Joe’s face between his legs.

“MOH, oohhhhhhhhhhh” Joe isn’t doing much besides moaning but that alone is pretty gratifying.

Indrid tugs Joe’s hair, “Get to it pet.”

“What–ohfuck–what about you?” Duck turns his head as Indrid kneels by the couch.

In reply, Indrid kisses him, really kisses him, for the first time. It’s like Duck has been holding his breath, diving deeper and deeper in search of something, only to find the treasure glittering at him up at the surface. He sighs into the kiss and Indrid lets out a pleased chirp.

“It’s like you were meant to kiss me.” Indrid murmurs before bringing their lips together a second time.

Duck has to agree, lets himself melt into the feeling of Indrid’s mouth on his and the toe-curling steadiness of Joe sucking him off. His climax builds slowly, like a wave far out from shore, and by the time it crashes into him he’s blissfully sprawled on the couch with Indrid nibbling his neck and Joe kissing his thighs.

“Think he’s ready, baby.” Barclay is practically drooling as Indrid helps Duck sit up and turns his attention onto Joe, undoing the tie on his ankles. Barclay is also ready, his cock fully hard as he kicks off his pants. The cook coaxes Joe to straddle his lap, thighs shaking as he pushed and pulled into position. His hands are still trapped behind him, and Duck watches them flex as Barclay shoves him down onto his cock.

“SHIT! Ohmygod” Joe slouches forward, “god, Barclay, yes, god you’re amazing.”

“Thanks baby.” Strong arms circle Joe’s waist as Barclay kisses his neck.

A constant stream of short, helpless, ecstatic moans leave his partner, and Duck swears he’s never sounded more beautiful.

“As lovely as you sound, pet, I have another use for your mouth.” Indrid undoes his robe, cock shorter than Barclay’s but already burning it’s image in Duck’s mind.

The loss of Joe’s moans is made up for by Indrid purring , “Good boy” as Joe takes the head of his cock into his mouth. Had Duck not just cum, he’d be jerking off frantically to Joe being used so thoroughly and expertly.

After a moment, Joe chokes out something he can’t quite make out.

“So soon? My, you really were meant to be nothing but a rich man’s toy, weren’t you?”

Joe cums with a muffled shout, but the other two offer no relief, and so he writhes in Barclay’s lap, softening cock bouncing helplessly between his legs as tears spill down his cheeks.

Barclay rams into him hard enough that his partner actually squeaks, and an instant later Indrid pulls away, cum painting Joe’s flushed face and chest.

In the chorus of panting that follows, Barclay manages, “Keys?”

Duck quickly undoes the cuffs, catching Joe as he collapses into his arms. He’s never looked this relaxed, this vulnerable.

This happy.

“You with me, Joe?”

A slow, satisfied nod, “I’m here. You’re a genius.”

“See, he agrees with me.” Indrid flops into Barclay’s lap, peppering his face with kisses and cooing things meant for only the cooks ears.

Gradually, the four of them rearrange into more comfortable positions on the couch, Barclay wobbling off and returning with coffee for each of them. As Joe cuddles between Barclay and Duck, Duck puts his lips to his ear.

“Merry Christmas, darlin.”

Joe kisses him, soft as mountain snow, “Merry Christmas.”

#OT4: government men and their cryptid boyfriends #winter fills #detective au #noir au #sternclay #indruck #agent stern/duck newton #inclay #indrid cold/agent stern #trans duck newton

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unknownfacelessfanfictions · 2 years

Text

Chez toi, c'est là où tu es

Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation Pairing: Captain Jean-Luc Picard x Reader Words: 3.1K Requested: Yes Summary: Being in a relationship is as complicated as being the captain of a spaceship. Good luck to those who have to manage both at the same time. A/N: I alredy posted it, but due to problems with tumblr I had to delete my account. But I'm back and posted it again.

Not my Gif!!

Jean-Luc had always known that being a captain would not be easy. Even when he had left Starfleet Academy, he had been aware that being a captain would mean having a job where you had to work permanently, that your private life would have to suffer because of your job.

He had never had a problem with it before either. He had spent most of his time on the bridge. After all, he was responsible for hundreds of people who lived on the Enterprise and trusted him to bring them safely to their destination. He had also always combined his free time with work. Jean-Luc had read reports, written logs and assisted the one or other bridge member.

Now, however... he saw things a little differently. Not that he would neglect his duties, no, that would truly be the last thing on his mind.

He still spent more time than was good with his work. He still spent a lot of time on the bridge or in his Ready Room, keeping the ship safe, reading reports and writing logs, even in his spare time. However, something had changed: You had entered his life. Ever since he had entered the service as captain, Jean-Luc had always been sure never to have a relationship. He had no time for that. Being a captain was a full-time job. As the years passed, he had become more and more sure of this and resigned himself to the fact. Of course he had had his little "romances" too, Vash had been just one, but never had it been anything real, anything permanent. Each time he had known that the person he loved would leave and leave him behind, alone in his captain's chair. Alone on a ship, surrounded by hundreds of people.

You had proven him wrong, shown him that what he had felt before was but a drop of love compared to the tsunami of feelings you evoked in him. It hadn't been love at first sight. It had been a slow, creeping process in which the two of you had grown ever so slightly closer.

Jean-Luc had been fascinated by you. Normally, a strange silence fell as soon as he entered the room. He was the captain, in theory the superior of everyone on this ship. And hardly anyone liked to spend time with their boss voluntarily.

But you treated him with the same amount of cheerfulness and kindness as you did everyone else. Of course you still respected him, but you made him feel that he was perfectly normal. That he was not the captain or a superior, but a normal human being who had just as much right to live his life as anyone else.

And slowly, ever so slowly, you let his heart, which had long ago been frozen in a cry for affection, thaw, heal and blossom. If he had to describe the moment when he fell completely for you, he had to think back to the moment a few months ago. You had a dinner date in his quarters. Just a nice dinner to end the day and maybe talk about one of Shakespeare's works. Jean-Luc had been horrified to discover early on that you had only read "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and had immediately set about changing that. Accordingly, every few weeks you had a discussion about the latest story he had lent you.

But when he had seen you sitting in front of him that evening, eyes shining and hands swinging around, waving them back and forth with excitement, something had stirred inside him. Something that has grown steadily every day since. While at first he was only in a light spray of affection, he was now caught in the eye of the hurricane of his feelings for you. With no chance of escape. Not that he wanted to.

After all, you were his safe haven. Every time he threatened to collapse under the burden of being a captain, or when he was plagued by memories of his assimilation, you were immediately there. You listened to him, with those wonderful kind eyes, reassured him, were there for him and just made him feel loved. Every morning, when his duty called him out of bed, he didn't want to get up, something he had never felt before. In the past, he would have been up in an instant to do his job. Now, however, he would prefer to lie still, pull your sleeping form closer to him and hope it could stay that way. Every day, while he was on the bridge, his thoughts drifted back to you in every free, quiet moment, to your beautiful smile, your loving heart and your laugh, which was more beautiful than any melody that Data could play so perfectly. And every evening, he longed to return to you, to fall into your arms after a stressful and exhausting day, just to breathe in your scent, to feel your atmosphere, to feel like he was home. Especially after days that robbed him of all his strength. Days like this.

It had been a horrible mess. Even the night had been a veritable nightmare. Memories of his time with the Borg had plagued him and he had found no sleep after waking up. For some time he had looked at you in your sleep. Your features were relaxed and a hint of a smile graced your lips, so Jean-Luc couldn't bring himself to wake you.

Without further ado, he had gotten up and relieved Data of the night shift, not, of course, without the android bombarding him with questions about whether he had slept well or whether he should inform Doctor Crusher. After Jean-Luc had assured him that everything was fine and Data had taken his seat, the chaos had run its course.

Another conflict with the Romulans, the transporters were defective and afterwards, when Jean-Luc just wanted to retire to his office, an unwelcome surprise awaited him. He let out a sigh. "Q"

The god-like being had sprawled on the sofa across from Jean-Luc's desk, his boots placed on the expensive leather. He wore his usual red uniform with the four pins. The man smiled at him with mischievousness in his eyes. "Mon capitaine, how wonderful to see you." Resigned, Jean-Luc dropped into his chair. "What do you want, Q?" Q pursed his lips reprovingly and more mischief entered his eyes. "Now, now, Jean-Luc. Can't I just come and see you because I want to visit an old friend?" Jean-Luc rubbed his face. "Is this another test?" Q sat up. "Au contraire. Believe it or not. My intentions are pure through and through. This time."

Exhausted, Jean-Luc looked up. "And what are these 'pure intentions'" Q clicked his tongue. "Don't sound so snide, Jean-Luc. I'm doing you a favour. It may have escaped your notice in all this commotion, mon ami, but you had something else planned today didn't you?" Jean-Luc frowned. "What are you talking about, Q?" The creature sighed heavily. "Really, I'm not your temp calendar after all, Jean-Luc. How glad I am that I had chosen Kathy and not you bore. But I'm in a good mood today, so consider yourself lucky." He leaned forward conspiratorially and grinned wryly. " As far as I know, you did have a nice little date planned, with our dearest Y/N. Oh how disappointed ton amour must be, Jean-Luc."

His eyes widened as he realised what Q was talking about. He had promised to devote tonight entirely to you, a romantic dinner, Shakespeare, dancing, full programme. His eyes flew to the clock. 2300 hours. Abruptly he stood up. Q laughed. "The penny has dropped. I would hurry, mon capitaine." Jean-Luc stared at him. "You could have shown up earlier."

Q's self-satisfied smile vanished and he snorted snidely. "Such gratitude. Sometimes I wonder why I continue to put up with you." He raised his hand, however, pausing before snapping. Q winked at the captain. "Until next time, Jean-Luc." Then he flicked and disappeared in a flash of light.

Jean-Luc, however, didn't have time to worry about it, because he almost stormed out of his office to the turbolift and threw Data one last " You have the bridge, Mr. Data." before the turbolift doors closed.

Jean-Luc had never felt that the turbolifts were too slow. Now, however, he was almost silently begging them to go a little faster. Of course, he knew that wouldn't change much. He had missed your evening. As hard as it was for him to admit, Q had been right, you would be terribly disappointed.

As soon as the doors opened wide enough to let him through, Jean-Luc squeezed through the gap that had opened up, only to hurry with knitted, long strides down the corridor to your quarters. When he arrived at your door, he stopped short and braced himself. Braced himself for the fact that you were going to be mad at him and he might actually have to sleep on the sofa in his office.

With a single, large step he entered your quarters, making every effort to make his voice sound steady. "Mon amour? " His voice was slightly lowered, in case you were already asleep. But this was not the case. "Jean-Luc!" With a broad smile, you stepped out of the adjoining bathroom. You were already wearing your sleeping clothes, but you did not appear to have gone to sleep.

You spread your arms as you stepped towards him and took him in your arms for a moment. "I was wondering when you'd be back."

You loosened your hold a little and Jean-Luc started to say something, but you only took this as an opportunity to press your lips to his. Very tenderly and lovingly, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, he put his hands on your back and pulled you closer to him. When you disengaged, you remained in that position and he looked regretfully into your eyes. "I am sorry, mon amour. I promised this would be our night, but-"

Smiling, you put a finger to his mouth, silencing him. "You don't need to apologise. I was aware that you had an important position and therefore might not always have time for me. That's why I want to enjoy the moments we have together. Without having to listen to excuses for things you can't do anything about, yes?" Jean-Luc nodded speechlessly.

"Good." Joyfully, you kissed him again before detaching yourself from him completely. "Would you like some more food?" He shook his head and you nodded in understanding. "Then get changed. Just because you're late doesn't mean I'll be alone in bed." With that you turned and sauntered over to your bedroom.

Completely dumbfounded, Jean-Luc turned and disappeared into the bathroom where he leaned against the wall wondering what he had done to deserve you. What you had just done to him was not natural under any circumstances.

Normally, your partner would get angry if you spent more time at work than with your partner with hardly any time together. You, however, looked at everything from a different angle. You were aware that he HAD to put his duties before you. He had little choice. And instead of blaming him or getting angry, you appreciated the moments you had together. Jean-Luc didn't know what he had done to deserve you.

After hurriedly getting ready, he made his way to your bedroom. In the doorway, however, he stopped and took the time to absorb the moment that presented itself. You were already sitting up in bed, the covers pulled down to your stomach and a book in your hand, presumably reading the latest work of Shakespeare that Jean-Luc had "lent" you. He had already told you that you had free access to his books, but you still asked every time.

Slowly he walked towards your bed and settled down on his side. The weight of it pushing the bed down made you look up and immediately the loving smile you always looked at him with returned. "Hello, darling." Gently you put the book down on the bedside table to give your full attention to your friend. He smiled sheepishly. "You didn't have to put the book away for me." He took your hand in his and gently kissed your knuckles. "You know I don't mind if you spend your evening with it, mon amour."

You placed your hand on his cheek and let your thumb gently stroke his cheekbone. "And you know, Jean-Luc, that I prefer to spend my time with you in other ways. I have plenty of time to read when you're working."

Guilt shot through him and he tenderly kissed the inside of your hand still against his cheek. "I don't deserve you, Y/N. You are so kind and understanding towards me and love me despite the fact that I have so little time for you. Why?"

You laughed lightly and kissed the Captain affectionately. "Oh Jean-Luc. You don't have to do anything to deserve me. You don't see how much you are worth, but I will show you, every day, as many times as I can, until you realise it. Besides," another kiss," you are very attractive, my dear."

He laughed incredulously and regarded you tenderly, his eyes a mirror of what a tsunami of feelings and affection was raging inside him for you. "Je t'aime, mon amour," he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, eliciting another small laugh from you. "I love you too, you stubborn old man. Now come here, I'm cold and I haven't seen you all day to show you how much I love you." Only too gladly, he accepted your invitation and wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, pulling you into a lying position. "Computer, dim lights to fifteen percent."

Instantly the lights faded and your bedroom was plunged into darkness. A comfortable sigh escaped you and you snuggled closer, against Jean-Luc. He had wrapped his arm around you to keep you close while you rested your head on his chest.

Gently he kissed your forehead, then your temple, then your cheekbone. He kissed his way down to your mouth, where his lips gently brushed yours, but didn't pull you into a full-on kiss. "I'll make it up to you anyway," he whispered, closing the small space that had still been between your lips. Silently you sighed into the kiss, pulling him in almost desperately. All the longing you had built up over the day flowed into that kiss and you gently moved up his chest and shoulders to the nape of his neck where you gently played with his hairline.

When you broke away, he pulled you even closer to him and looked down at me lovingly. "You don't need that," you murmured softly, but Jean-Luc only whispered softly. "My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite," he recited and pressed another kiss to your temple. You murmured lightly, "Romeo and Juliet, isn't it? What a romantic you are, darling." A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Though your bounty may not be quite so great."

Jean-Luc laughed softly and lovingly stroked your cheek. "A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee" He tenderly placed a kiss on your forehead and you closed your eyes with pleasure. Jean-Luc started to say something again, but now it was your turn to repeat the words you had read and internalised in your last Shakespeare work.

"Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in a lover's eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet," smiling lovingly, you looked up at him and let your fingertips dance across his cheek.

"Perhaps we shouldn't necessarily quote Romeo and Juliet, my love, should we?" Jean-Luc looked down at you, a twinkle in his eye. "You're right. For not even they would be able to do justice to my love for you." Again he pulled you closer and kissed you, this time more demanding and passionate. And you were now more than willing to match him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed you close to him. His warmth filtered through your clothes to you and his scent rose to your nose, a scent you had long associated with home by now. Gasping slightly, you broke away from each other without feeling the need to let go of the other.

"Risa," Jean-Luc murmured softly, getting your attention. "What?" He blinked slightly before looking down at you lovingly. "How about shore leave, mon amour? You and I haven't had a day, just for us, until now. Two weeks on Risa, we're close right now." He stroked your cheek affectionately. "Besides, Deanna and Doctor Crusher have been nagging me for weeks that I needed a break." It didn't take you long to make a decision and lovingly you kissed his cheek. "And we wouldn't want to contradict the doctor, would we?" Jean-Luc pulled you even closer to him so that there was absolutely no space between you. "Never."

A yawn escaped you and he laughed softly before placing an affectionate kiss on your forehead. "Maybe we should discuss the details tomorrow. And I really will be back early this time." Sighing, sleepy from tiredness, you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "And if you don't, I won't be mad at you either. I love you." Jean-Luc felt you slowly drifting off to sleep and loosened his grip around you only minimally so that you could lie more comfortably. Gently he kissed your forehead again.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

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1) My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. ~ Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, scene 2, lines 140 – 142

2) A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee ~ All’s Well That Ends Well, Act 4, scene 2, line 78

3)Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in a lover's eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet ~Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, scene 1, lines 197 – 201

#captain picard #star trek #star trek next generation #star trek tng #jean-luc picard x reader #captain picard x reader #picard x reader #my works

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