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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

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Once Again (PT.3) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART THREE

Summary

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

A/N: A little Iwa and Hoisuke sketch to accompany this chappie ❤ Thank you for all the love and support. My inbox has boomed since I last posted and I’m so grateful that it is being appreciated by y’all :,) <3

ON TO PART THREE! Let me know what you guys think of this part :) xx

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

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"Miss Y/N! You came!"

Hoisuke has a beam on his face the moment you step into the Iwaizumi household. That slightly calms your jittery nerves as you remove your shoes and step in, balancing the container of cookies in your hand.

"Hi Hoisuke," you greet back with a smile, "I brought your favourite cookies."

"Really?!"

"Really," you hand him the container with a grin, relishing as he oohs and aahs as he gets a whiff of the said baked treats. He beams up at you, "thanks miss Y/N. You're so cool."

"Not as cool as you are," you ruffle his hair and he giggles, before grabbing onto your hand and tugging you inside, "come, Daddy's warming up the pizza."

To be honest, part of you had combusted when you'd read over Iwaizumi's message repeatedly to make sure you weren't reading it wrong. The other part of you was screaming that this was definitely out of bounds and plus, could you consider this to be a sort of date?

No, of course not. Definitely not. He'd invited you over as a friend. And because Hoisuke liked you.

When you put it like that, it stung a little.

As Hoisuke drags you into the living space, you spot Iwaizumi grabbing for beers in the fridge and he nods at you, "hey."

"Hi," you reply, feeling a bit shy.

"The pizzas just got here," he says, chin jerking towards the pizza boxes already set upon the coffee table, surrounded by four plates, "a friend of mine is joining. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, not at all."

"Uncle Tooru! He's the best volleyball setter ever!" Hoisuke adds with a clap of his hands, eyes sparkling with excitement, "do you play volleyball miss Y/N?"

"Nope," you singsong, "I can't even catch a ball."

"But you always tell us to do well in PE."

"Do what I tell you and not--"

"Not what you do," Hoisuke sings along and you can't help but laugh before ruffling his hair fondly, "at least I know you're listening in class!"

"I always listen to you, miss Y/N."

"Unlike his father," Iwaizumi points out while walking over to the pair of you and handing you a beer can, "whom he never listens to."

"But you don't listen to me, daddy."

"Wha--yeah I do."

"Noooo uncle Tooru had to beg you to invite miss Y/N over when I told you a hundred times!"

You burst out into a fit of laughter just as Iwaizumi hollers out, "wha--No! That's--"

"Uncle Tooru said that you should man up and invite her otherwise he'll do it himself," his son chatters on, oblivious to the redness rising in his father's ears, "what does man up mean, miss Y/N?"

"Okay that's enough babbling," Iwaizumi's hand shoots out to press down onto Hoisuke's head. He nudges it towards the couch, "bring miss Y/N to the living room. Scoot."

"But--"

"Now." His father scowls. His son scowls back and you try to shove down the round of laughter bubbling up your throat, for they look like the spitting image of each other and they probably don't even know it.

You reach out, tugging Hoisuke by the shoulder, "come on then. What movie are we watching?"

It makes you slightly giddy on the inside to hear such words fall from Hoisuke's mouth. If there's one thing you've learnt from being around children is that they never lie. That, coupled with the way Iwaizumi's face has reddened a deep shade of tomato, is enough to cause a small tingling in your chest.

Since Oikawa is goig to be late, the three of you decide on watching Harry Potter -- Hoisuke's current obsession at the moment -- while munching on too-greasy pizza and washing it down with beer, coke for the minors. It's been a while since you've watched the series, thus finding yourself cheering and hollering along with Hoisuke which feels like you're seeing it for the first time all over again.

Multiple times, Hoisuke would turn and beam up at you, sometimes hugging your right arm and burying his face into your shoulder during action-packed scenes. You'd be lying to say you don't enjoy his warmth sticking to your side, sniffing the soft baby scent of his hair that still clings to him. The smell of childhood filled with innocence and maybe out of impulse, you pull him a little closer.

You're so immersed in the moment to notice the pair of coffee-coloured eyes are gazing at you with growing tenderness.

"Hellooo! Cool and Handsome Uncle Tooru is here!"

You jump at the sudden intruder's voice booming through the apartment, followed by Iwaizumi's scoff upon meeting your eyes. Hoisuke bounds up without delay, rushing to the door while crying out, "uncle Tooru!"

"Hi my beautiful boy!" Oikawa does not hesitate to sweep him up into his arms, kissing his cheek in affection and causing the child to giggle, "how's my favourite person doing? Has iwa-chan been treating you well?"

Hoisuke nods jovially, giggling some more when Oikawa pinches his cheek, "alright alright. You look dashing--oh, Iwa-chan! And this must be the famous Miss Y/N you've both been telling me about?"

You pink at his words but it doesn't faze Hoisuke in the least, "yeah! Isn't she pretty? She's the best teacher ever and her cookies are amazing!"

"H--Hi," you nod at Oikawa shyly, quickly avoiding his gaze to stop yourself from combusting with embarrassment. You've forgotten how beautiful this man actually is even though his reputation preceded him.

"Ahh it's nice to meet you Y/N," he flashes you a sweet smile, causing you to flush right down to your toes while you manage to stutter, "n--nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san."

"I see why Hoisuke and Iwa-chan like you," Oikawa turns to wink at Iwaizumi, "I approve!"

"Shut up Shittykawa," Iwaizumi scowls.

Oikawa gasps mockingly while covering Hoisuke's ears, "Iwa-chan! Not in front of the child and the lady!"

"I said fuck off--"

Oikawa's quick to slap his shoulder, hollering, "no swearing either! Oh gosh, excuse him Y/N. He gets very flamboyant whenever I'm around. If ever he does swear at you, it's just a matter of showing his affection."

You let out a laugh, spurred on by how red Iwaizumi's ears are, "I'll keep that in mind. I didn't know Hoisuke's dad was such a potty mouth," you say, narrowing your eyes playfully at the said man who scowls in return.

"Only when Oikawa's around," he states, crossing his arms over his chest with an expression that mimics his son's sulking.

"What's a potty mouth?" Hoisuke asks as he and Oikawa take their respective seats, the latter swiping a slice of pizza out of Iwaizumi's plate, who growls and kicks at his shin in turn.

The handsome man groans while you turn to Hoisuke, "potty mouth means someone who swears a lot."

"Like daddy?"

"Uhm--" you stutter, his response causing Oikawa to burst out laughing, "yes! What a bright little mind! Totally like your Uncle Tooru!"

Before Iwaizumi can bash Oikawa's head in, you hurriedly resume the movie with the excuse that the best part hasn't come up yet. That simmers down the atmosphere a little, all eyes now captivated by Harry Potter and his friends fighting against the ogre. Hoisuke gasps, nails digging into your arm as he latches on for dear life, all actions not going unnoticed by the pair of men.

"I like her," Oikawa mouths out to Iwaizumi, whose scowl deepens tenfold.

As per what the rumours stated, Oikawa is fun and easy-going to hang out with, a complete stark contrast to his best friend. You understand why people tend to gravitate towards him the more the evening wears on. It’s not just the fact that he puts you at ease and is naturally adept at making conversation, but it’s in the genuine spark of interest in his eyes, a look that says that he’s listening to you even if that might be faked on his part. It’s that expression stating that he cares, that makes you realize why Oikawa Tooru had been such a hotshot back in your high school days.

So why do your eyes still manage to find their way to the brooding figure on the other side of the couch, who is filled with nothing but spiteful comments and sarcastic responses?

Oikawa's little 'pssst' snaps your attention back to the present to find the sais man pointing at Hoisuke while mouthing "he's asleep." Indeed, your eyes travel down to Hoisuke's tiny figure slumped against your side and your mouth curves up in an affectionate smile.

You're about to shift him into your arms but Oikawa beats you to it, deftly slipping the boy into his arms and glancing between you and Iwaizumi with that same knowing smile that sets you on edge, "I'll tuck him to bed. Iwa-chan, buy me snacks would you?"

"Hell no--" Iwaizumi starts protesting only for Oikawa to walk out of the room, whistling softly without waiting for an answer. You sigh silently, pressing your lips together and glancing at Iwaizumi from the corner of your eye.

He averts his gaze, but not quickly enough, grunting softly, " wanna go?"

"To the convenience store?"

He nods, already moving to grab his jacket by the door as you scramble to join him while trying not to act so desperate to spend just a little more time with him.

The evening is colder than you'd expect, a mixture of wind and rain that makes him curse slightly while you hurriedly open up your umbrella the moment you step into the street. He nods, mutters a 'thanks' and guides you down the pavement where you jostle your way through evening strollers.

Quite surprised by the amount of movement on the street, you catch yourself asking, "is your neighbourhood always that busy?"

"I think there's a fancy fair around the corner," Iwaizumi sidesteps a man as he speaks, his shoulder brushing yours and sending warmth all the way down to your toes, "give me that."

Without warning, his hand engulfs yours holding the umbrella up and jumping at the contact, you quickly retract your hand, "thanks," you murmur, glad that the dark conceals the red splotches dotting your cheeks.

Your mind races to find something --anything -- to get you out of this awkward predicament. You'd die if he finds out how fast your heart is beating, "so uhm--Oikawa-san seems nice. You still keep in touch with him frequently then?"

"More like I can't get rid of his annoying ass," Iwaizumi mutters.

You chuckle, causing his eyebrow to quirk up, "what's so funny?"

"I'm just wondering whether Hoisuke will turn out like you when he grows up," you can't help but grin up at him, "you have a talent for dissing people."

"Only the ones worthy of my attention."

"Am I not worthy of your attention?" You tease.

He scowls down at you, "you're Hoisuke's teacher, that complicates things."

"In what way?" A passerby suddenly nudges against you and you stumble slightly, only to feel Iwaizumi's arm clasp your shoulder to steady you.

He's warm, your mind chants. And he smells good. Like citrus.

He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice your flustered countenance, "watch it," he barks out. Then, he turns back to answer your question, "how do I know you won't make Hoisuke fail his grade if I upset you too much?"

"Woah there mister. I didn't know I was that low on your list."

"That's not what I meant," he growls. A few weeks before might have caused you to fear his temper. But things are different now and you've come to know that it's just in Iwaizumi's nature to be so rough around the edges.

So you just bump your shoulders against him, flash him an understanding grin, and say, "I get it, hothead. No need to get riled up."

"What'd you call me?!"

Bursting into fits of laughter at how easily triggered he gets, you reach up to ruffle his hair, "down, boy--"

And that's when it hits you -- you are touching Iwaizumi's hair. Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck.

Your hand drops like wildfire, body instantly cowering away with a furious blush, "I'm so sorry," you squeak out, "that was not appropriate I know--"

Someone else bumps into your back which knocks you straight into the said man's chest. His hands find your waist on instinct as he steadies you both and for a minute, the world stops moving. Nothing matters, apart from the fact that your face is pressed against his torso, his scent overwhelming your nostrils with bliss, his warmth making you melt ever so slightly.

"Asshole," you hear his dim hiss like an echo in the back of your head. Dazed, your eyes stay glued to his shirt in hopes that he won't notice your embarrassment, "s--sorry about that," you squeak out.

Only then do you feel his gaze slide down to your face. He asks gruffly, "you okay?"

"Fine."

Dear god. Someone kill you now.

"Come on," and before you can protest, you feel his warm hand wrap around your own as he tugs you along, ensuring that you are tucked into his side while he weaves through the throng of people.

You're glad he can't see your face, nor the way your pulse is racing underneath your skin.

And the more you gaze at the strength of his shoulders, the more you are hit by a crumbling realization:

That you might be falling for Iwaizumi Hajime, and that might be the worst decision you’ve made yet.

----

He tells you about his married life when you sit outside the convenience store that evening, about how young and inexperienced he was, and how it had ended on pretty bad terms.

The fact that he even opens up about the topic surprises you, but nevertheless, you want to hope that it's his way of showing that your relationship isn't just tied by Hoosuke.

“Why...” you hesitate slightly, tentative, unsure whether one word will cause him to clam up, “why did it not work out? With you and Hoisuke's mother?”

It is to be expected that you are met with his silence. It’s stoic and filled with warning, and you quickly scramble for an out, “I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate of me,” you bow your head and bite your lip.

“She wanted more.”

His words catch you by surprise. You blink, before looking up at him. He doesn’t look away.

It takes a moment. Then, he murmurs:

“She wanted more...of everything. Things I couldn’t give her.”

It stuns you, that he’s so outright. Your mouth opens, but you don’t have anything to say, and you don’t realize that you’re holding your breath until he continues thickly, “she was never satisfied with what I gave her. Always complained that I wasn't enough of a man to sustain a family," he pauses, "I think she was envious. She worked in a big corporation as a financial auditor, and her friends -- well, they all live pretty decent lives. So when we always had our arms full with cleaning up after Hoisuke, they went to get cocktails and eat sushi. I guess she felt like she was missing out somewhere along the line."

It's not the things he says, it's more about the way he says it, voice so thick with emotion that you can hear the tears about to fall from his lips. Your own chest aches with sympathy and your fingers ache to reach out to just hold him.

But you're not that close. You know it's not within your boundaries.

Iwaizumi chuckles before your mind can form a coherent answer, "sorry. Didn't mean for it to get depressive."

You turn to look at him, gaze at the way the streetlight dances over his side profile and down his jawline, "You don't have to say sorry, Iwaizumi-san," pausing and unsure whether you should go on, you decide it's worth the risk, "and while I don't blame her priorities, well, ...was money really such an issue that she left you and Hoisuke behind?"

He shrugs half-hearted, "not my place to say. I was labelled the cheap bastard that wasn't worth shit when she decided to sleep with her ex."

Disgust coils in your stomach, but you decide on letting the anger simmer silently in the pit of your stomach. You don't realize, however, that your fist is clenched so hard into your lap until the warmth of Iwaizumi's fingers flutter over your own.

You look up in surprise only to find his dark orbs searching your face, "hey," he murmurs out quietly, voice surprisingly soft, " s' okay."

You flush against the chilly night air, "sorry," you mumble, "I just-- I know how it feels like. Not to feel like you're enough."

He doesn't respond, only watches you intently. You continue, "my boyfriend cheated on me back in college. I didn't know about it, until six months later."

Iwaizumi sucks in a breath and his fingers tense over yours. Your throat feels scratchy, "so I know the feeling."

"Asshole," is what slips out of his mouth. You chuckle half-heartedly, though with the way he isn't pulling away from your hand makes you feel warm and giddy on the inside.

You'd like to think that this little bit of time spent together has brought you closer, if only to share your woes. But one thing's for sure, you think to yourself as you slowly walk back to Iwaizumi's flat now that the crowd has thinned out, Is that you both have Hoisuke's best interests at heart.

And that is your top priority that you should not forget. Even if you can feel your breath tug in your chest every time your eyes linger a little too long upon each other's.

----

Ha, who the hell were you kidding?

It’s almost impossible to put the certain dark-eyed, dark-haired scowling face of a man out of your mind as the next week comes by. It’s even harder when Hoisuke is more than intent on spending time at your desk in-between classes, chatting on about what he and his father were up to throughout the week. And though you restrain yourself from asking too many questions burning at the back of your tongue, you can’t help but be drawn to the small snippets of Iwaizumi’s life as presented by his son. Even if it’s presented by his son.

So why do you find yourself back in his apartment the very next week with flour all over your clothes ans currently coaching Hoisuke to make figures with his clumsy five-year-old hands?

"This is hard miss Y/N," Hoisuke pouts, arms dropping to his sides, "can't you do it?"

"But that would be no fun," you nudge him playfully as you work on your own little cat figure, "all you need is patience, practice and love."

Glancing at the clock above Hoisuke's head to see that it's already past six in the evening, you wonder where Iwaizumi and Oikawa have disappeared off to. They hadn't told you anything, only that they were picking up some groceries. You guessed it was merely the thought of baking that made them so reticent.

"Don't worry miss Y/N. Daddy's coming back soon," Hoisuke says, as if knowing exactly the thoughts occupying your mind.

"Where did your daddy go anyway?" You decide to play along and ask casually as you move behind Hoisuke to help him mold tiny fingers.

"He and uncle Tooru said that they wanted you to taste the food from the sushi place they love," he then adds casually, almost like an afterthought, "daddy said you looked tired."

He said what now? Your eyebrows shoot up in curiosity.

The sound of the door opening grabs your attention, revealing a dishevelled Oikawa in the doorway with grocery bags hanging from his arms, "we're back with food!"

"Uncle Tooru! Look at the cookie I'm making!" Hoisuke doesn't hesitate to tug onto Oikawa's shirt and drag him to the kitchen counter to marvel at the little misshaped man. Dusting your hands onto your apron and turning to help Iwaizumi, your step falters upon noticing the undecipherable expression shadowing his features.

"Iwaizumi-san?" You blink.

It's gone in a flash, replaced by his usual scowl, "sorry we're late," he murmurs as you help him with the takeaways. You try not to think too much into the way he'd been staring, but your own heart skips a beat at the possibility that maybe--

Stop. You mentally slap yourself. Stop it right there.

Similarly, Iwaizumi is having the exact same mental debate.

Don't get him wrong. There isn't anything he loves about the fact that you've just created havoc in his kitchen. Had he insinuated it when he'd asked about your famous cookie recipe? Maybe. But shit man, call him old and cranky but the amount of cleaning up after the mess in his kitchen is something he isn't looking forward to.

But that small nugget of stress instantly melts away the moment he lays eyes on you and Hoisuke, together. Hoisuke is giggling, you are holding onto his hands, maneuvering them so as to make a semblance of a human limb. You're both dusted with flour, pink in your cheeks, and Iwaizumi swears his heart is going to drop out of his chest.

"Daddy daddy! Wanna see the man me and miss Y/N made?"

"That miss Y/N and I made," you corrected out of impulse, grinning as the child repeated what you saie with no less conviction, and Iwaizumi forced himself to move towards his son with nonchalance, "let me see."

Now that he thinks about it, he shouldn't be inviting you over so casually like it's a weekly thing. And maybe you don't even want to be there. Maybe you're just doing him a favour because you pity him. That's enough to make him sick in his stomach.

But this thought dissipates the more the evening wears on and the more he catches your soft eyes, the motherly affection you radiate towards his child, the gentle giggles falling from your mouth.

Iwaizumi wants it. He wants it so bad his heart aches.

And Oikawa seems to know exactly what he's thinking. Or maybe he's too obvious.

"This is so good," you groan in satisfaction while digging into the takeout sushi. Oikawa doesn't hesitate to pipe up, "right? Iwa-chan literally dragged my butt out of town for th-- fuck!"

He howls, clutching his leg where Iwaizumi had kicked at it in growing irritation and when you look at him in confusion, he feels his face grow red, "don't listen to him."

"Uncle Tooru, you're a bad man. You said the F word," Hoisuke chimes in, "it's okay though, daddy. You don't have to be embarrassed."

The redness of a fire engine can't compare to the flush riding the back of his neck. He wishes for the ground to swallow him at this very inetant, though his lips do quirk up in a smile seeing you burst out laughing before ruffling Hoisuke's hair.

"I see the way you look at her," Oikawa tells him a few nights later upon meeting up at the gym where they both train a few nights a week. It is also one of the few times where Hoisuke stays at his mother's place.

Iwaizumi grunts in response. He turns his head away to focus on his pushups, but if his best friend can deduce from his face alone, then that's an obvious way of showing his embarrassment when he is past the point of denial.

"She likes you too you know," Oikawa casually throws in, wiping the sweat from his face as he straddles a rowing machine, "she's like an open book."

"You don't know that," Iwaizumi hisses as he bends his arms, lift them with another grunt.

"Oh yes I do. And if you're smart you'd do something about it before someone else comes in to swoop her away."

As annoying as he is, Oikawa has a point. The nagging thought eats away at his subconscious mind the more Iwaizumi turns his feelings over in his hands. Despite this, he invites you out with him and his best friend one Saturday night and is mildly surprised that you accept so quickly.

"How have we never met if you went to Aoba Johsai?" Oikawa asks while munching on a french fry. As per his request for greasy comfort food, they'd ended up dragging you to one of their local eateries that make the best burgers in town, "would've noticed a cutie like you."

You can't help but roll your eyes, grinning, "simple, I didn't have any talent. I sang like I was deaf and had two left feet. And don't get me started on sports."

"You could've been a cheerleader," Oikawa smirks evilly, causing you to swat him and reply, "unless I wanted to come out of high school with two broken legs, which I did not."

"Good thing anyway, Iwa-chan hated those cheerleaders with a passion," Oikawa nudges him, "whenever I'd get bombarded with them he'd just scowl and they would scurry off like ants. They were scared shitless!"

"As if you didn't like watching those cheerleaders," you throw Iwaizumi a smug, pointed look with raised eyebrows, to which is scowl deepened. But you're used to it at this point, it doesn't even make you flinch.

"They were annoying and whiny. Why would I like them?" He muttered into his strawberry milkshake. A surprising revelation, considering his bitter, rough countenance.

"Cause they were hot."

"Cause they had long legs."

You and Oikawa blink at each other before you burst out laughing. Iwaizumi merely rolls his eyes, "idiots," but his mouth says otherwise, tugging up in amusement.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Oikawa-san?" You ask aa you munch on your burger.

"Bah, girlfriends don't agree with me."

"He's too much of a playboy to get himself a girlfriend," Iwaizumi mutters loud enough to reach your ears and you snort at the dagger-eyed stare Oikawa throws him, "I can't just give that," he motions towards his figure, "hot bod to anyone, Iwa-chan!"

"Mine's hotter than yours."

"Shut up! Why are you always so mean to me? You know I've been working my ass off for those back muscles!"

Your snort causes your milkshake to spurt from your nose and as Oikawa yelps and scoots furthest away from you, Iwaizumi doesn't hesitate to thrust a bunch of clean napkins in your face, chuckling deeply as he eyes you with the same fond amusement he's been denying himself of in the last few weeks.

Is it selfish? To want more of you than he can have? To feel the naked throb of his fingers that ache to reach out and just tuck your hair behind your ears?

Of course it is. If he does that, he'll cross a line he isn't quite certain he's ready for yet.

Daddy, do you really really like Miss Y/N? Hoisuke's voice is as clear as water that same evening, after he's tucked his son in, after all lights have dimmed in his flat and he sprawls atop his bed with heavy eyelids and a content stomach.

Yes, he thinks to himself as his eyes slowly slip shut, I think I do.

Fuck.

-----

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kiribaku-queen · 3 years

Text

The Blood King and his Queen [10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 3.6K

TIGGER WARNING: 18+ scene, first time, taking virginity, vanilla sex. If you are not comfortable reading smut or are NOT 18, please read up until the line!

Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Happy reading my loves!

Thank you for helping me reach 1000+ followers! I have a follower event posted, if you haven't seen it! Requests are still open if you are interested. Rules are posted after this chapter and you can see them if you scroll down my page. Will be reblogging soon!

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It all felt like a dream. When you woke up from the warm, sun rays, Bakugou’s dreamy face was the first thing you saw. Eyes closed without a care in the world. You finally felt a piece and that everything was turning right for you, that this was going to be your new life.

There was nothing you wanted more than for you to be in Bakugou’s arms, and that’s where you were this very instant. His arm wrapped around you in a tight, protective hold, his face just centimeters away from you, you could feel his breath tickle your skin. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping. So relaxed and calm. You wonder why he couldn’t look like that all the time.

But happiness and euphoria came to a halt when you both became a lot busier. Especially since the ball was right around the corner. You were lucky if you were able to even hear his voice. He would be in bed late at night and you would miss him in the mornings because of how much of an early riser he was. Sure it was disappointing now being able to see him nowadays, but after this ball, you were going to spend the rest of your life with him. So there was no need to fret over it now.

You were walking down the hallway with Mina as she was teaching you more about how this palace ran. You got an idea of how your palace ran since you were basically everywhere. Bakugou’s palace was sort of the same concept, only a few things were different. You had to learn where everything was and how to run as queen and what better way for someone to show you than Mina. She was close to the Blood Prince so she had a good idea of how the palace ran. She was telling the history of the royal family, their ups and downs and their legacy. Mina was deep into conversation when a hand covered your mouth and brought you to a secluded area nearby. You make a sound of shock, but because the hand muffled the sound of your voice, Mina didn’t notice and continued walking on.

You were expecting your back to be slammed against the wall, but you were surprised when a hand gently stopped the impact. You came face to face with the one and only Blood Prince who had a smirk on his face.

“Katsuki!” your eyes welled up with tears and you immediately pulled him in for a tight hug. God, you missed his touch, his warmth, his everything. Bakugou hugged you just as tightly. He pulled away to give you a chaste kiss upon your lips. You couldn’t help but melt into him, your knees falling weak. Thankfully, Bakugou still had a good grasp on you.

“I missed you,” he breathed, letting your foreheads rest together.

“You stole my line,” you joked, kissing him again. This time, Bakugou was smiling into the kiss.

“Shouldn’t you being your princely duties,” you reminded him, trying to pull away but Bakugou wasn’t done with you just yet. He kept trying to kiss you despite you physically pulling away to talk to him. When he started getting frustrated with your refusal to kiss him, he started attacking your jaw line and your neck.

“Katsuki~” you whined.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment. I don’t have much time before they notice I’m gone,” he said in between kisses.

“You missed me that much?” you teased and you expected Bakugou to give you some snarky remark but he admit it.

“I missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he came back up to your lips, claiming you as his. He pushed your bodies together, your lips never leaving each other at that point. You both craved each other. After getting that first kiss out of the way, you weren’t afraid to kiss each other all you want. It was almost an addiction. The flavour of his lips made you crave for more. You were too immersed in each other that you didn’t notice a pink haired soldier giving you the death stare. Obviously, you weren’t going to look at her direction any time soon, so she cleared her throat, making her presence known.

“Are you done yet?” she asks, startling the both of you. You were quick to pull away from embarrassment that you got caught. But Bakugou, on the other hand, just stared at her while still saying in his pose: one arm around your waist while the other was bracing the wall. Mina didn’t hesitate to grab you, pulling you to her side.

“If you’ll excuse me, your highness, but I’ll have to take my girl back. I was in the middle of a lesson and if she’s going to be your queen, she’s gonna need to know this stuff!” she scolded her future King. She took your hand and personally escorted you away so she could finish what she was saying.

“Tch,” Bakugou smirked, finally standing tall and watched as his most trusted soldier took you away. Mina was the only person, besides Kirishima, who was allowed to be that sassy with him. He took another moment to look at your retreating figure before joining the rest of his soldiers who were resting against the wall, waiting for his highness to be done with his business.

As Mina had her hand in yours and continued to talk your head off, you kept looking back behind you at Bakugou. Mina noticed that you still weren’t paying attention and stopped in her tracks. Her eyes traveled to where yours was and her eyes softened.

“Are you listening to me?” she playfully scolded, placing both of her hand on her hips as if she was mad.

“Yes, ma’am,” you said sadly, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. Mina knew those eyes but she wasn’t going to fall for them so easily. Bakugou’s figure was quickly disappearing, but Mina wasn’t budging. So you jutted your bottom lips out, adding to the effect and pleaded to her. Mina knew that she was going to let you go but just wanted to give you a hard time.

“Alright, just one!” she allowed and your face just brightened up. You dashed down the hall, as quickly as you could in that dress, straight into Bakugou’s arms.

Bakugou didn’t sense it at first. He thought your little makeout session was the last he was going to see you until after his work was done. He wasn’t expecting you to make a run for it down the hall to him. Bakugou only turned around when he heard running coming closer to him. As soon as he turned around, you jumped into his arms and gave him one last passionate kiss.

Mina smiled softly as the sight, her heart full of happiness and love for the both of you. Kirishima and the boys looked away respectfully to give you guys space. Sero had to slap Denki’s face away because he was just staring so obviously.

Before Bakugou could relax into the kiss, you already pulled away and returned to Mina’s side. For the first time in his life, he had no words to say. He could only stare at you in disbelief, but in the good way. He smiled, shaking his head and continued on his way in an incredibly good mood.

You returned to Mina’s side, feeling accomplished and you both giggled like little girls.

“Okay, okay. You’ve had your fun, your highness. But I really need to tell you about this war because I think it’s so interesting and I think you’d really like it. So…” Mina babbled on, getting really excited to talk about the history of the Kingdom. Of course you were listening but your mind still wandered to a particular blonde prince that had your heads in the clouds.

You were back in Bakugou’s room, getting ready for bed. You looked in the mirror, brushing your hair out and lost in thought. The date until you officially marry Bakugou was fast approaching and still, you hadn’t told him your biggest secret. Whether you tell him now or later, he was going to be angry. Nothing was happening yet. You don’t think the real princess knows. If she did, you were sure you’d be back at the palace by now. So were you safe? There is never going to be a right time to tell him. But was it best that you took this secret to your grave? Could you handle all the guilt? No. You had to tell him. Tonight, you decided.

You had just finished brushing out your hair when you saw Bakugou enter your room, making you gasp in surprise.

“You’re back already?” you asked, getting up to greet him at the door. He welcomed you with open arms, taking in your scent.

“I’ve got to get plenty of rest for tomorrow,” he said. Ah, that’s right. The ball to celebrate your engagement was tomorrow. Already?

“Oh, so you didn’t come back early because you missed me but because you were getting ready for tomorrow. I see,” you huffed playfully, crossing your arms and walked away. Bakugou grabbed your arm before you could walk completely away from him and pulled you in close.

“Stop. You know I missed you,” he said seriously. Your hand touched his bare chest, his warm radiating from his body made your heart race. No matter how many time you could see him shirtless or how many times you’ve touched him, it would still bring butterflies to your stomach.

The same thing could be said for Bakugou. It didn’t help that you were wearing a loose, fitting nightgown, leaving everything up for the imagination. Granted, he had already seen your naked body once, but it was only a glimpse. He didn’t get a good look before so he could only imagine what it would be like when you were under him, taking your naked form all in.

Bakugou scoops your face in his large palms, bringing you close to him until he places his lips on yours, the fluttering feeling in your stomach only intensifying. He broke the kiss for both of you to catch your breaths and claimed your lips as his again. His kisses felt different, like they had a purpose. His hands started roaming around your body, making you feel hot all over. It started on your back, then slowly caressed down to your waist and then over the curves of your ass. Your mind was filled with thoughts of him that it was driving you mad.

Bakugou wasn’t satisfied with just kissing you. He was craving more. Hungry for more, he moved on to kiss your neck but you tried to stop him.

“Wait, I need to tell you something first,” you grabbed onto his shoulders, but the way he moved his lips and how his tongue swiped against your skin was making you almost forget what you were about to say.

“Do you trust me?” he breathed, detaching from your neck momentarily.

“O-Of course I trust you. But it’s kind of important,” you said.

“Kind of. Surely it can wait till the morning,” Bakugou continued attacking you with kisses.

“But Katsuki-” Bakugou interrupted you by completely stopping his actions to look you dead in the eyes with the most serious expression.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again. You stared into those crimson orbs of his and sighed.

“I trust you. But-” you couldn’t finish your thought because Bakugou had turned you around so that you could see yourself in the mirror.

“Whatever it is you have to say, it can wait till morning. Right now, to me, there’s nothing more important than making sure you feel like a queen,” he declared, looking at you from the mirror.

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

Bakugou starts kissing your neck again, his soft lips coming into contact with your bare skin sent chills down your spine. You allowed yourself to submit to his touch, closing your eyes to heighten your senses to his touch.

Gently and deliberately, his hands moved to the back of your gown, untying the bow. He fingers wrapped around the silk fabric, feeling every knot come undone. He goes slow, feeling the curvature of your waist, then your lips, then all the way back to your shoulders. He takes his time removing your gown, admiring your bare shoulders and back that were now exposed. Your gown falls with a soft swish to the floor. The cold air made you shiver but Bakugou made up for it by his roaming hands that were so warm to the touch.

He feels up on your naked body again, this time roaming up the front, groping your breasts in his hands and then caressing your neck. His mouth moved from your neck to your shoulders. You could feel his tongue swipe against your skin for a more tingling sensation. You didn’t want to waste another minute. You turn around and kissed him. He holds you tightly in his arms, kissing you back with the most love. You pull him closer to you, guiding him to the bed.

You fell onto the bed, his arms falling on both sides of your head. Bakugou climbs on top of you, removing his cape swiftly without disconnecting the kiss. He then scoops you up in his arms, you hands fall to rest on his cheeks and the back of his neck. Your tongues tangoed together in a lover’s dance.

God, what was happening right now? You were completely naked, Bakugou was half naked at the moment. The ambiance of the room was intense and clearly getting more heated by the second. You had no idea what you were doing nor did you know what was going to happen. Everything was happening so fast, you didn’t have time to think. All you knew is that you didn’t want to stop. Your lower region became numb and tingly. You’ve never felt this sensation before. Everything was so new. Your mind was all fuzzy with thoughts of him, it was driving you crazy.

One hand roamed down to your waist while the other hand was busy doing something else. You could hear him fiddling around with his pants and the sound of it coming off. Almost immediately you could feel something hard hit your inner thighs. You jumped in shock, only imagining what it was.

You didn’t know anything about sex. You were so coped up in the palace walls and you weren’t educated on anything. The only thing you remember growing up was that you shouldn’t show your body to anybody but your partner. And that was only if you were married. But what were you doing now? You weren’t not married yet Bakugou was devouring you all over. His touch was so addicting and he was touching you in all of the right places. An unfamiliar feeling started in the pit of your stomach and there was an aching feeling in between your legs.

Bakugou broke away from the breathless kiss, saliva connecting your tongues together. He takes this time to admire your bare body. He never noticed how curvaceous you were, you were just perfect. Your chest was heaving up and down, making his eyes move to the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples were erect from how turned on you were feeling. Bakugou couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. Then he ventured lower and he almost groaned when your legs were already spread, ready to take him in. It was making him even more hard.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers. He licks his hand and started pumping his cock. If he didn’t do something soon, his cock would explode for being neglected. He moves closer to your entrance but before he could put it in, you stop him by putting your hands on his chest.

“What are you doing?” you asked, panic starting to rise in you.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks. You nod your head. “I promise, I’ll make you feel so good. It’ll hurt for just a bit.” He warned. You take a deep breath, putting all your trust in him. He glances up at you. When you looked ready, he slid his dick inside you, all of it and fast. You take a sharp intake, surprised by his action and how much it hurt. So much so that you feel it in your throat. You grab onto his forearms for dear life. He leans down into you and whispers in your ear.

“Breathe, my princess. Just breath,” he tries to direct you. And so you do as you’re told. Bakugou doesn’t move and just stays still to let you adjust to his size. Slowly, you start to relax. You let your shoulders fall and allow your body to fully ease. The tightness around his cock eventually became looser. That indicated to Bakugou that that was a sign to move. Bakugou slowly thrusts into you. The feeling of pain was still there in the start, but the more you relaxed, the more you felt that pain turn into pleasure.

You started to moan, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. You’ve never felt like this before. It was all new, but making you crave more of his touch.

Bakugou groans loudly at the pleasure. He loved the sounds coming out of your mouth, the loved how your tits bounced up and down from each thrust. But he loved how you clenched around him more. Fuck, he wasn’t expecting you to be so tight. You felt so warm and despite not prepping you beforehand, you were so wet. The sounds of your slick folds meeting his cock were sinful. Suddenly, Bakugou snaps his hips into you, making him go deeper inside you. You moaned loudly and threw your head back.

“You like that?” Bakugou’s voice was raspy. You nod your head enthusiastically, almost impatiently.

“I love that,” you respond. “Do it again.” You begged. Bakugou smirks and does it again. He lets his cock be free from your clench before slamming back into you. You moan loudly again and clench around him even tighter.

“Fuck,” he curses, continuing to slam his hips into you.

Your servant girls were nosy, as all servants were. They wanted to know the gossip. The girls were right at your door, ears pressed against the giant wooden frame. They were listening in and giggling to each other. Two masculine figures appeared behind them, clearing their throats intentionally. The mighty soldiers, Kirishima and Denki, made their presence clear. They looked intimidating, arms crossed against their chest to look cool, or at least Denki was. The girls bowed their heads and scurried off. Some of them looked back to see both of them guarding the door to give you two privacy. Denki took notice of some of the girls and gave them a flirty wave. They giggled again before leaving their sight. Denki smirked and tried to give Kirishima fist, but Kiri denied it, smacking his hand away with an eye rolls and shake of the head. Denki shrugs his shoulder and put his hands on his belt.

Bakugou thrusts into you with more force and more power than before, moans are filling the air, both yours and his. You claw at his back trying to get something to grab but you’re just leaving markings on him, which he doesn’t mind. All of a sudden, Bakugou pulls out, panting and clear frustration painted all over his face.

“Fuck, not yet,” he panted, holding his cock in his hands. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but you whimpered at the loss of contact. Wanting to feel something, you grabbed his face and brought him in for a kiss. The prince groans into the kiss, that being his last straw. He pulled out wanting to last longer, but seeing that you were impatient and wanting more, he had to please his princess. He brought your legs around his shoulder and thrusted into you, not giving you time to breath.

“Mhm, ah!” you groaned, separating from the kiss. You felt excitement rapidly grow in your lower region, a feeling so pleasurable you had no idea how to take it.

“Wait, Katsuki. I feel too good,” you warned him in between moans.

“I’m almost there, too,” he said, going faster to chase his high.

“Ah! Fuck, wait! K-Katsuki! AH!” The pleasure was almost too much for you. The feeling was getting larger and larger until you couldn’t take it anymore and just let go. You threw your head back and clenched your eyes so hard you saw stars. Your pussy clenched around his cock so tightly that it was Bakugou’s turn to let go. With one last groan, your walls were coated in a thick, hot, white substance.

You both stood still, able to finally catch your breath. Bakugou leaned down to touch noses with you, his beath on yours. You were so high on cloud nine that you didn’t think before speaking.

“I lo-” you began but quickly realized what you were about to say. You put your hand over your mouth to prevent you from saying those three magical words. Don’t say it, you thought. If you said it, you’d never be able to take it back. Bakugou takes both of your hands and pinned them above your head.

“I love you, too,” he leans down to whisper in your ear. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill out. Because you felt so happy. So happy that you didn’t want this dream to end.

A/N: Spoiler alert: enjoy this chapter. Enjoy every chapter so far. All that serotonin you’re feeling? Soak it all up. Because this is the last fluff chapter you will ever get 😊

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! And I’d love to know your thoughts, what you think of the series so far and what your expectations are for upcoming chapters! Do you want a happy or sad ending? What angsty scenes are you anticipating? What do you not want to happen?

Don’t forget! My requests are open until May 9th!

1. Send in a request or headcannon of any Boku no Hero or Haikyuu characters

2. I prefer angsty requests! As for headcannons, I'm down with any genre. If you are sending in a request, please be as descriptive as possible! Its hard to write when the topic is so broad!

3. FYI if alot of the requests are the same, I will most likely combine them all or only do one or two of them since I dont want to repeat alot of the same topics. It'll get boring: not only for the reader but for me as well

4. ❌No NSFW! Not experienced enough but I can hint at some sexiness

It would be really cool if you could send in some requests! I’ll be doing all of them to the best of my ability, you won’t be disappointed!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma @bakugousmrs @random-fandom-girl-24 @monetfatalia @triviajeongin @readingslumpfanfic @softredrobin @daddy-daichis @stardream14 @spicysherlock @cathwritestragediesnotsins @luvtaromilktea @aaannaabbanana @i-ameri-cant @shyonigirichan @aomi04 @anime-for-live @maggiecc @cloudsgathering @backoftheletter @moshi-moshi-angie015

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou romance #bakugou angst #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #bnha art #bakugou drama #bakugou #the blood king and his queen

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The Enforcers: Part 6.5 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.1k

tw: violence, guns, blood, trauma

masterlist

"Hand over the evidence."

The voice of the Kitsune is muffled by the mask over the lower half of his face. You frown, taking a step back.

"Give us the thumb drive, or we'll shoot. Either way, we'll get what we want."

"Y/n," Suguru hisses, and you flinch. "Give it to them."

"But--"

"One." You hesitate, eyeing Suguru carefully. He nods, hands still raised, and you walk toward the two men, one of them lowering their guns. "Two." The other keeps his gun trained on Suguru, eyes squinted. You fumble with the thumb drive in your pocket, hands shaking.

When you pull it out, the man stretches his hand out, and you hear a breathy whisper escape his lips.

He's just as afraid as you are.

The guard beside you adjusts his grip on his gun, which gives Suguru the precise split-second he needs. With blinding speed, he roundhouse-kicks the second guard in the head and then grabs the gun from the one across from you, wrenching it out of his hands before elbowing him to the ground.

"Wait--" Before you can ask Suguru to spare the two men, he shoots both of them in the knees, four semi-silent pops ringing out in the small hallway. He grabs the other gun and tosses it to you - but you barely know how to shoot anything other than a stationary target at the gun range - and not so well at that.

"We need to get out of here." He drags you to the door leading out to the main hallway, peering past it before exiting, brandishing the weapon while looking both ways. "Come on." The adrenaline in your veins is rushing at a thousand miles per second as you follow him down the hallway, running at top speed while you put the device back in your pocket.

"Suguru, we need to find out what's going o--"

"You didn't notice those were two Kitsune did you?"

"I did," you reply as you dash down a stairwell behind him, his feet clanging on the metal stairs. "But Kenjaku is known for using plants in recon missions."

"Those weren't plants," Suguru yells as he throws open the door to the fifth floor. "Those Kitsune were sent by the Grand Council."

"How do you know?" you hiss, feeling the wind slap your face as you dash down another stairwell, this one open to the air outside. But he doesn't answer you, instead, crouching down by the door that leads back into the building and checking the number of bullets in his gun.

"Fuck." He motions for your gun and you hand it over. "Much better," he breathes, taking yours and handing his old one to you. "You've got three bullets in that one. Use them wisely."

"Wait, what?" you exclaim, but Suguru ignores you again, dashing down the stairs without another word.

"We have three minutes until a swarm of Leviathans shows up," he calls out. "And it'll take us that exact amount of time to get from here to the parking lot and into a car."

"A car? What about our car?"

"GPS tracking doesn't do us much good in company cars, does it?" Horror floods your veins as you approach the first floor, and Suguru goes down one more level, breaking off into a dead sprint when he gets to the concrete of the parking lot.

Five vehicles are left in the lot, with only one having paper tags and one already running.

"Two options," you call out, but Suguru is moving for another vehicle - a black SUV with license plates. He goes around the car and pulls on the handles methodically: the far-right handle four times, the right-back handle three times, the back left handle twice, and the front left once. The car unlocks, and you climb into the passenger seat as Suguru begins to dismantle the space beneath the wheel where the wires are kept.

"Check the glove box for a knife." You do so obediently and find a small one stored away between insurance papers and the car manual. Once you hand it to him, you hear the sound of choppers approaching, and dread sinks into your bones.

"Su--"

"I hear them," he murmurs, frowning as he tries to get the two wires to spark. "I hear them." The radio light and dash lights come on, but the car won't start yet. It takes him a few more times and precious seconds to start the car, then he cranks the wheel hard left and right before throwing the car in reverse. But as he peels backward out of the space, you see a lone figure approaching the car, gun drawn.

Toji Fushiguro.

He says nothing, just smirking while beginning to unload his clip as Suguru floors it out of the parking lot in reverse. "Hold on!" The windows splinter, though they don't shatter by some miracle as you escape from the maniacal Leviathan leader and his crew.

The SUV speeds off down the road, no doubt about to be followed by a horde of other vehicles, but as you blend onto the highway, Suguru slows down with the other cars. The first thing that would draw attention to your car is swerving and speeding. Nothing good would come of a car chase.

And as the adrenaline flows out of you, you feel it. A burning sensation begins on your left side, and you press a hand to it, groaning. When you pull it away, you see a smear of red on your fingers.

"You okay?" Suguru asks, taking a moment to look over at you. When he notices the blood on your fingers, a strangled sound comes from his throat and you turn to him, frowning.

"I didn't even feel--"

And the world goes dark instantly as you tumble into confusion and uncertainty.

_____________________________________________________________

"Just hold on; just hold on, babe."

Panic. Choked sobs. A wobbly voice laced with fear. Burning.

No, that can't be right.

Let's try that again.

_____________________________________________________________

Let's try this one more time.

There are snakes in your nose.

You push up from the bed, snatching the offending things out, and opening your mouth to scream:

"Suguru!"

Why is it so damn bright, and where the fuck is your partner - a nurse rushes up to you, yelling some other words you can't comprehend because you. need. him.

"Suguru?" with the long black hair and piercing black eyes? "Stop pushing me down! I need my partner!" then "Who the fuck are you telling to "stop screaming", stupid bitch?"

You try to punch at the woman who is talking to you in babbles but fail miserably as another nurse grips your arm with deadly force.

"Why is the room so bright? Where am I?" but "Where am I?" The snakes are going back in. "Where is Suguru?"

and "Where is..." and "Where?" and "Wh--"

Darkness descends.

Game.

Fucking.

Over.

...

Rematch?

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23 @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on

#getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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ballofray · 3 years

Note

what about 21 with ler!techno and lee!tommy?

Maybe Tommy got caught stealing some of technos stuff or smth

The idea of Tommy getting caught stealing from Techno has always kinda been in the back of my mind and now I get to write it today is a good day

Also, it came to mind that you probably wanted Tommy stealing stuff from Techno’s house in the SMP but I did it where they just live in the same house and Tommy’s being a little shit so I'm sorry-

21: “I’ll give you five seconds to run.”

Techno never took off his crown.

It looked like it weighed a decent amount. Wasn't it a hassle to keep on all the time? Did it fall off often? If he kept it on all the time, then it must be comfortable, right? So what would it feel like if Tommy wore it?

Tommy had been wondering these things for quite a while now. And he decided that if he wasn't going to get an answer from Techno, then he should find one himself.

He opened the door to his older brother’s room, peeking inside and taking a glance around. Is this considered an invasion of privacy? He'll just be taking Techno’s crown, so as long as he doesn't go around snooping through his stuff... It should be fine right?

Tommy took a few steps inside the room, looking around to make sure nobody saw him. He felt like a criminal. Spotting Techno’s crown on top of a dresser in the corner of the room, he quickly stumbled his way towards it, gently reaching out to pick it up and being careful not to drop it. The last thing he wanted was to break Techno’s property. As he picked it up he quickly realised that it was much lighter than he first thought it would be - a pleasant surprise considering his goal was to try it on and he wasn't sure if he would like having a heavy ass crown on top of his head.

Tommy lifted the crown above his head and put it on, only for it to immediately fall over his eyes. He let out a small snicker and pushed it back a little, to ensure that the front of it it would stay at his forehead. The crown was surprisingly comfortable. It didn’t look that way when Techno wore it, but honestly, Tommy could see now how the pinkette can wear this about the place.

Tommy took one look in the mirror and instantly decided that he was stealing the crown. He knew it’d be a short-lived theft, he was bound to get caught soon, but he wanted to feel like a king. This must be why Techno is so confident in everything he does. The crown just hits different, you know?

The teen walked out the door, head held high as the crown still sat atop it. He took a few steps away from the door before he heard footsteps behind him, and his heart dropped. “Tommy.” A deep, monotone voice interrupted his joyful humming, and he slowly turned around, coming face-to-face with Techno, only this time cloakless and crownless. He looked way less intimidating without his signature king outfit. “Give back the crown, now.”

Tommy felt a nervous smile tug at his lips as he let out a sheepish chuckle, averting his eyes and already planning his escape. “Um- naaaaah. Listen, big man, you wear this thing all the time so it's only fair if I get to.” He knew exactly what he was getting himself into. He knew exactly how deep a hole he was digging for himself. Did he care? Nope! This was gonna be fun. “I look better in it anyways.”

Techno was eerily silent for a few seconds, causing butterflies to form in the blonde’s stomach. He pushed down his nervousness and faced him with his usual cocky smirk, which faded a little as his brother returned Tommy’s smug expression with his own. Fuck. “Ill give you five seconds to run.” Double fuck.

Tommy didn't move for a moment, but as soon as he saw Techno’s fingers twitch and heard the sound of his monotone voice start counting down from 5, he took off running, dashing past Techno and leaping down the stairs. When he’d reached the living room, he looked around frantically, looking for a place to hide as he knew there was no chance he’d be able to outrun Technoblade. After a moment of panicked searching, he saw it. A couch with a small space between the back and the wall. He’d be able to fit in there.

Tommy rushed over to the small hiding place, shuffling into the gap and curling into a ball. The silence that followed only made his heart pump faster. God, why couldn't he just have given him the crown? But then again... The rush this give him was kinda fun. He gasped quietly as he heard the sound of Techno’s footsteps come thumping down the stairs at a running pace, and Tommy’s immediate thought was ‘I fucked up’.

“Oh, Tommy~” Techno’s voice still sounded rather bored, but this time it was also sing-songy, giving it a teasing edge that Tommy wasn't used to hearing come from his usually stoic older brother. His face flushed as he clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing any giggles that he could already feel building up in his throat. He didn't pick a good enough hiding spot. He was definitely gonna be found.

“There’s no point in hidin’, Tommy. I'm gonna find you. Might as well come out, y’know, save yourself the anticipation.” The brit would’ve glared at Techno for saying this, but, in this situation, he couldn't. He’d make sure to fucking murder him later. That was, of course, if he survived his current predicament. “C’moooon... Where are you?”

Tommy sat in anticipation as he heard Techno’s footsteps slowly become louder and louder as he grew nearer, letting a small squeak slip through his lips once he heard him stop right at the couch. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath and preparing himself, trying to rapidly come to terms with the fact that he was royally fucked. And all over a crown too!

“AH-” Tommy let out a shrill shriek as he was suddenly pulled out of his hiding place by his sides, the two hands which had a hold on him also rapidly squeezing up and down as they dragged him out. He let out a few surprised giggles and began to lightly squirm, looking up and being met with Techno’s smirking face. “Nahahahah- Tehehechno no!”

“This is your fault,” Techno stated, shifting his attack up from the boy’s sides to his ribs, vibrating in-between each of them and making him let out a few squeals. Tommy kicked his legs and tried to sit up, only to be dragged onto Techno’s lap and trapped in a back-hug. “All I wanted was for you to give me my crown. Then none of this would've happened, but nooooo...” His nonchalant ranting only served to make the teen more flustered as he frantically shook his head, babbling out pleas and insults amongst his bubbly laughter. “You just had to make this difficult for the both of us. Didn't you?”

“Nahahah! Tehehehechno yohohou mahahahassive dihihihick!” Tommy said through his bouts of giggles, melting into the hug despite his constant squirming and kicking. His face was bright red by this point, especially since the anticipation was absolutely killer and the surprise attack took him off guard.

“You wanna give back my crown now?” Techno asked almost mockingly, leaning down to muzzle into Tommy’s neck and blowing a couple of tiny raspberries. Tommy squealed at each raspberry, his squirming and laughter only increasing as he felt the embarrassment rise from how vulnerable he was. All he wanted was his goddamn crown. Now he has to go through all this?

“N-nahahah! FuhuHAHAhuck ohohoff!” Tommy shook his head, lifting his arms to grip onto the crown, making sure it stayed on. Turns out this was a giant mistake, though, as Techno took advantage of his now exposed underarms and began to scribble at his hollows. The teen’s arms came crashing down in an instant and his laughter grew squeaky. “NAHAHAH! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE! TEHEHEHECHNO!”

The pinkette shook his head, sighing in mock disappointment as he continued to wiggle his fingers inside Tommy’s armpits. “Not there! Techno! No. You brought this upon yourself,” Techno said, mocking Tommy’s British accent at the beginning of his sentence. “If you agree to give me back my crown, then I'll stop.”

“NEHEHEVEHEHER!”

“Never? Well, guess this is your life now. Get used to it.” Tommy let out a loud shriek as he felt Techno move one hand down to squeeze at his hip, letting out a snort as now two of his worst spots were being attacked. “Oh? What was that?” Techno asked, a grin forming on his face. “Did you just snort?”

“NAHAHAHAH! NO IHIHI DIHIHIHIDN’T!” Tommy protested, looking down in an attempt to hide his glowing red face. Between his embarrassment and his two most ticklish spots being attacked at once, he felt himself quickly nearing his limit. But he wasn't gonna give up yet. He could go for a little longer. “T-TEHEHEHEHECHNOHOHO!”

“Yes? You gonna give it back now?” Techno seemed to be growing impatient due to how stubborn Tommy was being. And so, just to finish him off, he blew another raspberry on his neck. The teen screeched and fell into silent laughter for the duration of the raspberry, before rapidly shaking his head as his laughing returned.

“YEHEHEHEHES! TAHAHAHAHAKE THE CROHOHOHOHOWN!”

And just like that, it stopped. Techno grabbed the crown off of Tommy’s head and walked away, leaving him on the floor to regain his composure. And as he gasped for breath, he had a thought.

‘I should steal from him more often.’

#lee!tommyinnit #lee!tommy #ler!technoblade #tickle #tickling #tickle fic #fanfic #mcyt #dsmp #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #ler!techno

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nautiscarader · 3 years

Text

Nautiscader's Wendip Week 2021 - Day 2, say something

Melody asks Wendy and Dipper a favour. Will they prove her right in choosing them?

(Ao3)

===========

- Okay, here's the baby formula, here are the spare clothes, here's his favourite toy. - Agu. - It's called Agu. - Melody continued - At least this week it is, I think. He cannot talk yet.

Melody smiled and dragged her finger across her son's belly, causing him to giggle.

- Now, don't take this the wrong way, guys - Melody addressed her babysitters - I would usually ask Mabel and Pacifica, but since they are out of town, you are kinda my last hope. Are you sure you can do that?

Wendy Corduroy and Dipper Pines exchanged confident looks and nodded, giving Melody wide smiles.

- Don't worry, Melody, Shaun will be fine. - Wendy replied with a warm smile and took the chubby boy into her arms. - Yeah, I’ve helped Mabel babysitting, and Wendy obviously has tons of experience. - Dipper reassured her.

Melody gave each of them one last look, as if she was making final decision of which shirt to buy and returned the smile they gave her.

- Alright. We should be back by 7.

She leaned and gave her son one last hug.

- You won't cause too much trouble with Wendy and Dipper, will you, Shaun?

The baby waved his arms and replied and answer only he could understand. Melody jumped in place when she hear the car horn outside.

- Okay, take care of him! Call me if something happens!

And with that, she stormed out of Mystery Shack, leaving the two teenagers with a gruelling task.

- He does look like them, doesn't he? - That's how babies work, dork. - Wendy joked back - But yeah, he sure is Melody and Soos' son.

Shaun reached for his rattle and brought it to his mouth, prompting a fast reaction from both of them.

- No, that's not food. It's not plastic enough for food nowadays. - Wendy spoke, pushing the rattle away, much to Shaun's sadness. - Here, take this. - Dipper handed him a bottle of milk. - You-you know how to use it, right?

And Shaun answered that by chomping his baby lips around the rubber, eagerly sucking the milk.

- I think we make a pretty good team. - Wendy said, and the two high-fived each other and leaned on the counter. - Yeah, Mabel told me all about those times she had to make sure the baby is fine, as if it could spontaneously disappear or combust.

The two burst into laughter, and turned around to check on the baby, their voices silenced in an instant.

- Where is he?! - Dipper yelled - He-he was there! - Wendy pointed to the Shaun-less counter, still with all of his toys and empty bottle of milk.

The two began frantically looking around, first to the floor, then to the doors and windows, and to their rising horror, Shaun was nowhere to be found.

Wendy grabbed a rattle and using it as a lure shook it to catch Shaun's attention, but up to no avail.

- Okay, how fast can babies crawl? - Dipper asked, opening one by one each barrel full of toys sold at the Shack.

In his mind, he tried his best to estimate where on Earth could Shaun disappear, and whether they should alert everyone in ten-mile radius.

But fortunately for them, one single "ding" solved their problem.

Wendy and Dipper turned their head towards the vending machine and saw baby Shaun standing in the elevator, though they only caught a glimpse of him when the door closed.

- No! - they both shouted and ran towards the shaft, but not until it closed completely. - How-How did he open the door? - Er, I'm gonna assume that "Tehees", "Doggy-dogs" and "NGC 7619 Galaxies" are his parents' favourite snacks? Cos that's what the combination matches...

Dipper furiously retyped the code and paced in place, waiting for elevator to come back up, hoping Shaun would still be there. But if the previous minutes have taught him anything is that children are far less predictable than he thought.

Dipper and Wendy stormed into the empty elevator and began riding down, dreading what could have happened with Shaun.

- Please tell me that Ford locked his lab... - Wendy spoke, after hiding her face in her hands. - Well, he usually does.

The elevator door opened, and their hearts sank again. This time he didn't. The two rushed into the underground lab, truly unsure what they could find inside. In front of them were vast rows of tables and bookcases, each containing, as they supposed, one of Ford's new experiments...

The two split up on both sides of the aisle, checking each and every box, crate and anything vaguely dangerous Shaun could have crawled into.

- Uh! Come on, where are you? - Dipper barked, unable to locate him. - I thought you've said that you've helped Mabel deal with kids! - Well... - Dipper's voice lowered down - Like, once. But what about you? I thought you knew how to handle babies! - I did not sign up for babies crawling into labs, dude! she barked back - You have three brothers! - Dipper exclaimed - Didn't they do stupid stuff? - YEAH, BUT MY MOM WAS ALWAYS THERE! - Wendy exploded and hid her face in her hands.

Any response Dipper had was stuck in his throat, as he watched her wipe away her tears she exploded into.

- Wendy... I'm- - She's always been there. - she continued - Like, I helped and stuff, especially with little Gus, but she still did the most... And Dad's always been there too, so... I wasn't that useful, really...

Her voice cracked, as she spoke, unable to meet her friend's eyes.

- But then you called and... and I knew you needed help as well, so I knew what to do...

Dipper shied away and reached his hand to console her.

- Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it. But we must find Shaun. - You're right. - she sniffed. - Agu!

At the sound of his voice, Dipper and Wendy jolted in place, frantically looking around, unable to locate the sound of the voice.

- Shaun?! Shaun! - Wendy shouted, getting familiar babbling in response. - Uh, W-Wendy...

Dipper tapped her shoulder, and pointed to the far-away end of the lab. Wendy gasped when she saw Shaun crawling on the top of flimsy-looking stack of books, reaching his hands to grab a model of a space-ship, dangling from the ceiling.

At the same time, Dipper and Wendy did the same thing. They've launched themselves, just as the stack of books lost all integrity, and baby Shaun fell.

Shaun was about to hit the other Shelf, but a pillow thrown by Dipper bounced him to the other side - evidently, it wasn't just filled with feathers.

Shaun fell into a box that Wendy caught, but as she looked inside - he wasn't there, and leapt from a second one, right next to her.

As she somersaulted through the air, Dipper tried catching him with a long net... and only succeeded by making him fly for another two minutes, as he wss now sporting wings.

Wings, which he lost when he passed through what looked like a UV light, but not before tearing the net apart.

But as he was about to slam into the ground, four arms reached out, grabbing him safely.

For an agonisingly long while, piercing silence fell, as Dipper and Wendy awaited some response from Shaun.

The baby looked at them, wearing the same baffled look, though without the dash of horror Wendy and Dipper sported.

- Shaun? Shaun! - Wendy gently took him in her arms. - Ugh, I wish he could say something! Hasn't Ford made a baby translator, or something? - Dida!

The two turned on the spot and watched as little Shaun babbled and pointed towards Dipper.

- Wait, what did you say? - Di-da! Di-da! - Shaun repeated eagerly - I think he means "Dipper"... - Wendy smiled, shedding another tear. - You think so, Wendy? - We-wy! We-wy!

Wendy gasped, and put her hands over mouth.

- That's-that's how Gus used to call me too...

She took him once more in her arms and giggled with him, hoping to get another rendition of her name. But the baby babbled "Agu" again, pointing to the spaceship model.

- Yeah, alright, have another Agu.

Dipper reached and, after checking if it didn't have any sharp edges, gave the flying saucer to Shaun.

- Let's get you back up... - Wendy, listen, I'm- - I know, dude. - Wendy cut him off - I didn't take it seriously enough as well..

With his new toy in his stubby arms, Shaun babbled in Wendy's arms, as the three got back in the elevator and rode up.

=======

- Okay, should give two burps now.

Wendy read the instructions, watching as Dipper held Shaun in his arms. He gently tapped his back, and to his amusement, received two small burps.

- Hey, it worked! - At least that's comforting...

The doorbell rang again, this time welcoming Melody back, as the businesswoman rushed back to see her baby back. Warm smile appeared on her face when she saw Shaun in Dipper's arms and she walked to take him back.

- Oh, Shaun, I've missed you so much... - L-Look, Melody!

Wendy and Dipper grabbed the little Shaun and proudly lifted him towards her, as if she has never seen her own child.

- Di-da! We-Wy! - He-he talks now! - Dipper exclaimed - A bit.

Melody's eyes brightened and shone with tears, as she took her son back into her arms.

- Oh, I'm so proud of you! Wait until your dad hears about it. - she gave Wendy and Dipper warm smile - You two have done really good job.

At the same time, Dipper and Wendy shared nervous looks, and as they both felt something churning in their stomach, they decided to come clear.

- Melody, look... the thing is... - We didn't. We turned our backs for a second, and... he just disappeared. - And he got into Ford's lab, and... - And all the hell broke loose! - We... we failed you.

Dipper and Wendy awaited Melody's reaction, watching as she listened to their confession.

- Yeah, but that's what usually happens. Did he activate the copying machine again? - No, but- - Wait, what?

Melody smiled.

- Yeah, Mabel and Paz didn't have much luck with him as well. - she giggled. - You had to see their faces when there were fifteen of Shauns to take care of! One was only in black-and-white, it ran out of colour. It's a good thing those copies are destroyed when wet... Quite easy for babies, if you know what I mean.

Dipper and Wendy listened to her surprisingly nonchalant speech, as she continued to toy with her son's belly.

- Well, I guess you've got a test for when you'll be parents.

The two teenagers looked at each other, both sporting a deeply crimson blush on their faces, as they both rushed to deny any such possibility for a long time.

- Want to do something else and never talk about that? - Agree.

And the two jumped onto the sofa, ready to watch a movie in complete silence for once.

#wendipweek #wendip week #wendip #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #gravity falls #nautiscaraderfics

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Note

Dark!bucky not letting you cum for a week??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

ohhhh lord... how did this go from headcanons to an entire ficlet????? oops

you’ve gotta fuck up BAD to earn this one

this is the sort of thing that requires more than one insurrection in a row, like making him jealous and then coming without permission

say you’re talking to sam one day and he makes you laugh and bucky is just watching you two talk.

you throw your head back with another overdramatic laugh at one of his stupid jokes and you put your hand on his arm for a second like you’re trying to feel his bicep.

if looks could kill you’d both be dead by bucky’s glare omllll he is pissed.

i think you need to remember who you belong to he growls at you as he pulls you back into his room and slams the door

you’re adamant that it was just a friendly conversation but he shuts you up by shoving his cock in your mouth.

if you want me to fuck you you’re gonna have to earn it. if he’s just a friend then show me. suck my cock like you understand that you’re mine.

you really do give him your best, twisting your spit-slick hand as you jerk off the parts of him you can’t reach with your mouth, doing nothing to suppress the gurgling noises of your throat.

you talk like an innocent little angel, but you suck cock like a whore. which is it?

you don’t get a chance to answer because he pulls you up by your hair and tosses you onto the bed, pushing your dress up and slapping your ass

bite down on the pillow, baby. if somebody out there hears you i swear i’ll blow a gasket. only i get to hear you like this.

you nod and obey, and it proves important because he enters you with such brutal force that you nearly scream into the down as he takes you.

you wishin’ it was sam instead of me? think he would treat you better?

you shake your head but he just spanks you again.

you’re clenching around me, sweetheart. do you like when i get angry, is that it?

you’re just trying to apologize between whimpers and sobs and he isn’t having any of it

stop fucking whining and take my cock. don’t act like i’m so awful, I know you can take it.

it hurts but he’s right, you’ve endured worse. the frustrating thing is that he knows exactly how much pleasure to mix with the pain to make you unable to stop yourself from barreling towards an orgasm.

you wanna come? you better earn it. you’re not gonna come until i’m convinced that you know your place

you’re babbling about how you belong to him and how you’d never even think about anybody else but he has this way of getting inside your head whenever he’s inside you-- makes sense, really, but it’s spooky sometimes.

i dont believe you baby, you’re going to have to be more convincing

you’re halfway into another string of incoherent begs when he realizes you’re about to come and suddenly pulls out, leaving you with no stimulation and clenching around nothing.

not yet, he hisses, smacking you on the ass. not until im ready. not until i tell you to.

and you really really try but you’ve never been good at holding yourself back, so when he fucks you again and his cock is pressing so perfectly against your g-spot and you can hear his sexy grunts and moans you start to lose it

you try to warn him but you’re so lost in it that it just comes out as nonsense

he pulls out to keep you from coming but it’s too late, you’re coming on nothing, your walls are flexing, a gush of wetness is leaking out of you and you’re just laying there on the bed coming without him.

did you just fuckin’ come? he growls and you’re done for.

you get the spanking of a lifetime, all while he scolds you

you are such a goddamn slut for my cock, you need it so bad you come even after i’ve pulled out. and now you’re getting wet from your punishment. what am i going to do with you?

you assume it’s rhetorical but he pinches the raw skin where he’d just hit you and you realize he wants an answer

you’re going to give me whatever i deserve you tell him. he smiles.

looks like you’re learning, slowly but surely.

he decides that since you clearly need to learn some restraint when it comes to both other men and your orgasms, he thinks that a week without coming is the perfect punishment.

but as we know, you come so easily when he fucks you, being the filthy slut you are.

and it’s not fair to bucky that he should be punished too, not being able to fuck you just because you can’t keep it together

so he finds a few compromises

at first he just has you suck him off but he loves coming inside you too much to just come on your face or down your throat all week

plus, he thinks you like giving the blowjobs a little too much

so instead he jerks himself off, making you watch and loving how jealous you look that you can’t get your hands on him, and then just a few strokes before he’s gonna come, he sticks it in and pumps a few times before coating your walls

he makes you beg for it too, even though you both know you aren’t getting much out of it, only being able to feel him for a few seconds and then just being left there horny beyond all reason and full of come

he ends up fucking you, if you could really call it that, way more often than normal since it’s so brief and not very tiring for him

six, seven times a day he’s giving you his come and nothing else, and making you thank him for it every time

and you’re so goddamn horny that you can barely function. you’re so sensitive that the slightest touch gets you riled up, and you’re so delirious that you can’t stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together or taking a little extra time when you wash yourself in the shower.

the result is that you end up edging yourself a hundred times a day and it just makes it so much worse

but no amount of crying or begging can convince him to end your punishment early. in fact, when you try to appeal to his appetite and remind him how good it feels for him when you come while he’s inside you, you get another spanking and a night in a chastity belt since he no longer trusts you to stay good when you’re alone.

on the last day of the week, sam tries to talk to you again and you dash away so fast you could’ve left a cloud of smoke in your shape like a cartoon because you’re not about to throw this whole week away and start over just for a few stupid jokes

once you’ve survived your punishment and begged relentlessly to be allowed to come, bucky finally keeps his promise and lets you come every way he can. fingers, mouth, cock, vibrators... he seems determined to make up for lost time and then some

you come so many times you lose all sense of time and space and he has to carry you to bed and let you sleep for a good 12 hours

you wake up the next morning to find a note from bucky saying he’s gone to lunch but you did so well and he’s so proud of you. he promises to buy you something nice, and that you can wear it and remember how strong you are. but you get the feeling he wants the gift to remind you of what he can do to you if you piss him off again

you’re excited when he gets back but then you realize he was at lunch with sam. and both of them have this look in their eyes as you ask them how it was.

oh shit. he’s up to something, isn’t he?

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes smut #headcanons #Anonymous #dark!sebastian stan #dark!sebastian stan x reader

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 14

FIRST TIME READER, click here

TWs / Summary: Petrolhead dorks! Just Rich People Things. Car sex with daddy Tony! Poor cop LMAO. Snark snark snark. Unsafe driving - don't drive like that unless you know what you're doing! As for the inspiration for this chapter, thanks to @persephonehemingway and her deliciously filthy fic on AO3. Y'know, the one with Beck and Tony and stuff... 😏

@miscmarvelwritings is a lovely beta. Baby gay 🥺✨

Soft, steady rumbling of the engine; it reminded me of a lion's purr. I could feel it under me, reverberating through the driver's seat, whirring beneath my hand as I put the car in drive. It was such a shame Royce had an automatic transmission. Unlike most people, I actually enjoyed driving stick, the option of controlling the speed one gear by one gear was exhilarating.

My face felt hot. I pulled out of the parking lot evenly, driving through the city streets at a moderate pace, not the speed limit-because in a car like this it would be a crime-but not dashing around madly either. The beast under me was to be savoured and savour I did.

"You're enjoying this," Tony quipped cheekily, having made himself comfortable with his feet on the dash. His sneakers laid in a haphazard heap halfway under his seat. A picture of lavish comfort. "Take a left, go on the highway. We can afford to go a little crazy."

Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I followed his instructions, accelerating in excitement. A little past ten o'clock, the cars on that particular stretch of road were few and in-between. The streetlights blinked their greetings, the speedometer surely and steadily climbing over the 80MPH mark.

I laughed. I couldn't keep it in even if I tried; with a car of this size, this weight, such a relatively low speed felt twice as exciting.

"Go faster," Tony ordered, sitting up straighter. "Faster."

"Yes, daddy," I snarked, flooring it. The g-force took hold of us briefly, flattening our backs with the seat. I laughed again, adrenaline pumping throughout my body, giving me that extra attention boost. I easily maneuvered around a couple of minivans around the 110 MPH mark. The engine sang and roared. "Wanna see something cool?"

Tony's pupils were blown wide, the amber irises nearly invisible in the sea of black. He was turned on, incredibly so. "Yes, baby girl," He groaned.

I was familiar with the road just enough to pull off a stunt with the barest bit of luck. Karma was on my side that evening, I wasn't going to waste any more time. My blood sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension. Another two miles and I spied the dimly lit exit on my right side; not a soul in sight but Tony's wide-eyed wonder, I went in for the kill.

Tires squealed, obscuring my happy little noise and Tony's shocked exhale as I steered into the narrow opening, missing the railings by a mere few inches. The Royce went into full drift, it's wheels automatically locking, and I had no doubt the tires would need a change after this - but we pulled through, the car evening out just as a straight stretch of road appeared again.

The multiple lights flashing were disregarded by me along with quiet angry beeping, I was overtaken by my own bravado. Not once I hesitated but my hands still shook, tiny little tremors. Tony saw it, too, I noticed - gaze hungry, he eyed my left wrist nonchalantly hanging over the steering wheel. We were still going steadily at 100 MPH.

"Tony?" I asked, proud and happy.

"Princess," He answered, breathless. "Pull over, over there," pointing somewhere to my right.

Confused by his sudden change of attitude, I nonetheless, complied, parking on a small patch of concrete. It looked like an abandoned gas station or some creepy shit.

"Come here," As soon as I shut down the car, I felt myself roughly pulled into his lap.

Tony's hands were everywhere, on my hips, on my tits, under my dress. His own arousal in constraints, he positioned me right on top of it, grinding slowly and desperately into my center. I was right there with him, hungry for the way his mouth immediately attached itself to mine, tongue plunging straight into my throat without finesse.

Agile fingers toyed with my breasts and I raked my nails down his throat in retaliation; neither of us knew who moaned first into the kiss. We swallowed the breathy sound, shared it between us. The smell of adrenaline and arousal seeped into the space between us, thick, foggy.

Fumbling around his pants was, probably, not very sexy, but neither of us cared about the article of clothing after pushing it down his hips. There wasn't much space to work with. We managed just fine, the brief moment of discomfort paying off with the delicious stretch of his cock inside me.

"Oh, fu-u-uck, so-o go-o-od," I was ready to pray to any God, as long as I could keep riding the tidal waves of pleasure.

"Yes, fuck me, Princess," Tony parroted the sentiment. His narrow hips stuttered, blunt rip of his cock brushing inside of me, hitting a sensitive spot. Sparks burst from within, urging me to move.

Bracing my knees on the outside of his thighs, I gripped Tony - his shoulders, his hair - for leverage. He loved the tug of war I played with his locks as evidenced by the immediate groan and the tightening of his hands on my ass. He squeezed the flesh without mercy, pulling, sheathing himself as deep as he could within me.

The grinding, the drag of my clit against the soft happy trail on his tummy did it for me. Uncharacteristically quickly, I was coming, arching my back and pushing my tits right into his face where the wet heat of his mouth sloppily, greedily made a trail of hickeys and left the tender flesh stinging in between whispering dirty praises.

Tony's girth felt that much thicker as my inner muscles spasmed. I began bouncing rapidly, chasing that fleeting feeling that turned me into an incoherent, babbling mess and made my spine feel liquid. The man under me matched the vigour, meeting me halfway, fucking up into me as much as the position allowed him to.

"Fuck, Tony, so big," The angle changed as I bent down to devour his mouth once again. The silky tresses between my fingers became a tangled mess.

One of his arms slid under my dress, holding it up and wrapping around me, pressing me close. Tony was getting under my skin. I felt the slick of him through his shirt. The faint glow and scratch of the arc reactor solidified the experience for me - it was so Tony, the most obvious part of him, perhaps, when he wasn't smiling.

His mouth was occupied with ravenously consuming every noise that left me. I was loud, always have been, and there wasn't a situation where it's been as blatantly on display as then - in a dark car, in the middle of nowhere. We shared those noises like a gourmet meal.

"Baby, baby girl," The tell-tale tightening of his abs was an obvious signal to his incoming orgasm. "Fu-u-uck". He seemed beyond words.

"Tony, please, I'm so close," I begged him to hold on, just a moment more, my own release a glimpse on the horizon. He moaned, deep and low in his chest and I felt it - right there, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

Suddenly, a sharp sting blossomed on my backside. My pace stuttered at the sudden pain; and the following thrill had me increase my pace, pussy squeezing around his cock, clutching at it in hopes of finding release. The need ached.

"Baby girl, come for me," Tony ordered, winded and stuttering, causing me to grip his shoulders, nails digging into taut, tan skin. I was nearly there, the fall approaching inevitably. How did the man manage to sound so cheeky whilst being ridden to near-death, I didn't know, but his next words had me muffling a scream into the pristine, expensive fabric of his blazer. "Come for Daddy."

I wasn't sure of the sound that I made while my body involuntarily obeyed his orders. I shuddered momentarily, following with another curl of my toes as I felt the hot seed of his release spill right into me, curses being muttered in my ear and his arms, his hands, him bodily holding himself as close to me as humanly possible. We stayed like that - maybe it was an hour, or maybe it was just five minutes. It felt heavenly.

"My jeans are FUBAR," Tony suddenly snorted.

"I think one of the straps on my dress is somewhere in the backseat," I parroted him. "Good times."

"Indeed," He stretched under me, gently, as to not dislodge me too much.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the driver's side window. A faint outline of a flashlight shining behind the glass - I was very much grateful for the fact that all the glass on Tony's car was tinted.

Of course, both of us were unprepared: startled, we jumped, spreading the mess from between my thighs all over the place. Groaning, I climbed over the console and rolled down the window a couple of inches, noting how Tony had one of his gauntlets shining - and a police officer's equally shiny badge greeted me. Grumbling, I rolled the window the whole way down.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask your license and regi-whoa, um, I'm- good evening, Mr. Stark," The cop was young and very obviously hadn't slept very well. The words he mumbled on autopilot and stopped only when Tony's face popped up somewhere around my lap.

"Hello, officer," Tony smiled, bright and shiny public smile. "Don't mind us, just enjoying a quiet evening." The engineer's smile was cheeky. His pants weren't even done fully up and I, no doubt, spouted some serious case of sex hair, not mentioning the torn dress. I had to discreetly check if I didn't accidentally flash the poor cop.

"Uh, umm, sorry Mr. Stark," The cop - officer Charles, I checked - nervously stammered, obviously privy to the situation at hand. "Is everything alright here?"

"Absolutely. We were just about to leave."

"Well then. Uh. Can I ask - a picture?"

Really, dude? REALLY??? I was about this much away from just starting the car and driving the fuck off. But Tony was calm.

"Sure," He looked at me mischievously. "Let's swap, I'll drive us home."

His penchant for trouble knew no limits. I rolled my eyes, but it was just for show, really. The littlest worm of malicious compliance had already started squirming in me. My coat lay forgotten in the back seat - I proudly displayed the torn dress strap and the array of lovemarks leading up to my throat as I stepped out of the car. The crisp autumn air barely affected my sex-heated body outside of the warm car, doing only as much as to stiffen my nipples.

The way officer Charles did a double-take, I'm sure he understood my and Tony's previous activities and re-evaluated his own life choices. Let the boy learn a lesson. "Bye-bye, officer," I smiled my biggest, girliest smile and made a point at slowly turning around and sashaying to the other side of the car where Tony stood, discreetly checking his belt.

He met me with a smirk, chivalrously holding the door open and making a show at helping me into the car. We shared a muted chuckle.

"Ugh, I gotta go home, all my school shit is there," I rolled my eyes to the skies. Tony drove. AC/DC sung sultry tunes in the background quietly.

"Pack a bag, I'll wait," The engineer's warm hand found my own. He said what he said without even missing a beat. Such an unexplainable circumstance, all these new feelings I was feeling. It was a lot to process.

And I was cock-drunk. Packing my bag was an absolute ten minute disaster. I was pretty sure my socks didn't match and I had forgotten my make-up, but I triple checked for the most important - homework.

"I'm starving," I announced, hanging off Tony in the elevator. For all purposes, we were a perfectly poised domestic portrait. Disheveled, my coat and Tony's blazer loosely draped over my left arm, my backpack hanging off his right shoulder. He hadn't bothered with putting on his shoes and my neck, face and hair looked like a crime scene.

The elevator doors opened at the same time Tony gathered his wits: "Bye-bye officer? Really?"

A dozen confused eyes stared at us from the common room couch. Surprised for the second time that evening, all we were capable of was owlishly blink in their general direction, words dying before they could have made it to the surface.

I snorted first, towing Tony in the direction of the kitchen. "What was I supposed to do, pray tell? Flash him?"

Behind us, I heard a thud. Then Steve's voice cursing. Then Bucky's.

"You could've. If you wanted to," Tony mused. "You have great tits."

"Aw, thanks. You have a nice dick. It's got a great curve."

"Aren't you the nicest?" Tony kissed my cheek, hiding the upcoming laughter as we both heard more swearing and moaning coming from the living room.

"I need a broom," Bucky appeared in the doorway just as I was pulling out some pizza slices to reheat. The super-soldier made no move for the supply closet, however, instead openly staring at my state of dress. His face bore the tell-tale signs of a person trying to hold in their cackling.

"Did you see a ghost, Elsa?" Tony quirked from the coffee machine.

"Can I flash this one, then?" I suddenly had an Idea. And when I had an Idea, I was unstoppable. "He might not be an officer but technically he's a Sargent, so..."

"Okay," Bucky began to inch backwards, step by step in the direction of the living room, holding his hands up. "Y'all crazy. I'mma head out."

"Good call," Tony saluted Barnes' retreating back. "As for you? You're in so much trouble, Princess," The arm that wasn't occupied by a coffee cup wrapped itself around my waist, grip firm and unyielding. Blindly groping for a moment, it found my boob, squeezing it twice for good measure as Tony slurped his holy bean juice. "Mine."

"Yours," I agreed simply. Meaning it. Then, I leaned backwards to whisper into the shell of his ear with a snicker: "Daddy."

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Text

Easy As A-B-C

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader

Summery: Professor Lee is getting sick of marking papers, you offer an alternative. One where he doesn't need to think at all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, bimbofication (without hypnosis), oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, light dom/sub dynamic, dom!reader, sub!Gwil, overstimulation, maybe a little bit of hair pulling

Words: 4,537

A/N: This was massively massively inspired by my love @dracoladon and her Drarry fic Lucid (seriously, go read it because she’s a much better writer than me and also sex dumb Draco is hhhhhhh). Reading it made me want to write more himbo fics but without all the hypnosis stuff thats in my Future Management series. Then I got talking to @peachydeacon about himbo!Rog which led to talking about himbo!Gwil and this fic is the result of our discussion lmao. It was also partly inspired by a post on a porn blog that popped up on my dash but I can’t link to that because tumblrs dumb.

Also, it is a professor gwil fic but set after reader has graduated so it’s all above board lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 24

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

Gwilym looked unreasonably hot while he was grading papers, his brow knitted, wearing a look of serious concentration made all the more noticeable by the reading glasses sliding down his nose. His loose tie and the undone top buttons of his business shirt lent him a casually dishevelled air, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way he absentmindedly twisted his pen between his fingers as he read and reread sentences he was struggling to understand, occasionally pausing to underline something or write a note in the margins. It all painted a very sexy image, the kind of serious sexy only a professor could achieve, though this sexiness was nowhere near new. You’d found his manner oddly arousing even when he’d been your professor. Of course, that had been a few years ago and well before you’d had your chance encounter in the local second hand bookstore that led you to ask him out. He’d stuttered out something about never having even thought of you as more than his student and “really I feel almost as if I’ll get in trouble for the conversation as soon as I get back to campus.” But the awkwardness soon changed when you confessed to having had a minor crush on him back in the day and having since hoped to run into him. He seemed more open to the idea of dinner with you after that and, if you were being honest, more cocky too, but cocky in a decidedly dignified and charming way. Anyway, one thing led to another and now here you were somewhere close to a year and half later and you were struggling not to stare at Gwil as he graded papers and looked professor-ally disarrayed and hot.

You knew it was something to do with the Romantic era poets that the students had to write about because he’d read a question out to you earlier to get your opinion of if it was confusingly worded. “No, I don’t think so,” “Then why in god’s name do none of my students get it?” he looked about ready to hit his head against the desk until he passed out but he returned to the topmost paper with a sigh and ruffled hair from where he’d run his hand through it. That’s when you’d started trying not to stare. A tall order when all you could think about was dragging Gwil to the bedroom and ravishing him enough to make him forget all about John Keats and poetry and the English language itself. Not that that was exactly hard. No, Gwilym had a tendency to get a little dazed and confused when you really gave it to him. Sex drunk you’d decided to call it. A transformation that you quite delighted in witnessing and causing. Gwil was sharp as a tack usually, always ready with some obscure fact or quote from literature. It was part of what made him such a good teacher, his memory for all things bookish, as well as his approachable (if a little stern) demeanour and his determination to get the best from his students. But it wasn’t hard to shut down his brain, cloud his memory and entirely befuddle him. One time you’d snuck into the bathroom at the restaurant you’d gone to for dinner and poor Gwilym had become so spaced out he’d spilt half a glass of wine in his lap and then walked into the glass door as you left, even with you leading him by the hand. You supposed that what they said about great power and responsibility was true. All the same, it was a fun power to wield and you knew that, with the right sort of attention, you could have Gwilym babbling incomprehensible gibberish with no memory of what a poem even was, which was surely something he’d appreciate right about now.

You blinked yourself from your reverie as, finally, Gwil set his glasses aside and rose from his seat, groaning as he stretched out the stiffness in his back. He rolled his neck back and forth, your eyes following, before letting his shoulders drop and moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t read another word about Byron or I’ll loose it.” He sighed, draping an arm around your shoulders and leaning into your neck. “Byron? I remember that assignment. Everyone hated you for it,” His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, sending a tingle down your spine, “Well if this year’s lot is anything to go by, the feeling was probably mutual,” “Mmm, I remember one girl saying she was going to shove her copy of Don Juan up your arse if she didn’t pass,” He lifted his head again and laughed, “And yet my rectum remains Byron fee and no other injuries befell me, so either I taught you enough to get by or you were all a bunch of cowards,” “Bit of both probably. And why would this year’s be any different, huh?” “I don’t know, you haven’t read any of their attempts at cohesive analysis. Some of them are just throwing out terms like allusion and anapestic and personification all willy-nilly, clearly without properly understanding them. ” “I think you’re being too harsh on them. They’re first years after all and it’s not always easy to understand all that poncy poetical bullshit. Plus, you know it all already so of course everyone else seems stupid to you,” “Maybe,” he conceded, though it seemed to take some effort. “Honestly, someone should put you in their position, see how well you go with it,” “Yeah? And who would do something like that?” Gwilym laughed as you shifted to straddle his lap, accepting the kiss you offered, “You?” “Maybe I will. Spell personification for me,” “You know it’s not high school English, right. We don’t do pop quizzes on spelling and grammar.” “I know you don’t, but this is my subject and I’m testing spelling. Besides,” you let your hand drop between you, brushing lightly over the front of his pants, “I promise it’ll be fun.” Gwil gave a half-hearted eye roll, “P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N, personification. D’you want me to use it in a sentence too?” You knew he’d get it right. Gwil always had been good at spelling off the top of his head which you supposed was a side effect of all his reading and the years devoted to the written word. But it was still a little annoying. Mostly because he was being a bit of a tool about the whole thing, but it didn’t help that you’d grown quite wet thinking about how you’d like to have him, like to turn him into the fucked out airhead you’d seen before. You shook your head and tutted at him as if he got it wrong. “No, that’s definitely it. I’ve just read it about a hundred times, I know I’m right. P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N,” he spelt it faster that time, trying to prove that you were wrong. “Try allusion for me,” “A-L-L-U-S-I-O-N,” Right again. You sighed as if you were disappointed. Gwilym raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What about caesura?” “C-E-A-S-U-R-A,” The mistake was an easy one to make, two letters flipped around the wrong way, and you could tell he knew it was wrong as soon as he’d said it. He was surprised when you leant forward to kiss him again, cupping his jaw with one hand as you dropped the other and slowly pulled down the zip on his work pants. “But I fucked up,” he said softly, eyes still closed as you pulled away a few centimetres. You just smiled as you thought of a new word, “Anapestic,” It was another word Gwil had mentioned as seeing in his student’s essays so you knew it would be fresh in his mind and he proved as much when he spelt it, “A-N-A-P-E-S-T-I-C,” He was right of course, so you tutted and pulled your hand away from his crotch, grabbing his chin with your other and forcing him to look at you, “You can do better than that.” His features shifted at the sudden loss of contact, the look of concentration returned once more. If anything, your much closer proximity to the expression made him seem all the more hot but you resisted the urge to give in and drag him to the bedroom, curious if he’d catch onto your little game now and, equally so, to see if he’d play along, “Try Onomatopoeia.” A longer word gave him more chances to get things wrong but would his pride and his brain allow that? Apparently so. “O-N-O-M-” Gwil paused and thought for a second, his eyes narrowed as his looked at you, “O-N-O-M-A-T-O-P-I-A,” the last three letters were said with such deliberate diction that you knew he’d figured it out. “Good boy,” you said, letting your hands slip inside his undone pants to massage his dick. His hips jolted at the contact and he let his hands fall to your arse, squeezing. “What about, dactyl?” His reply was instant, unthinking, and totally correct, “D-A-C-T-Y-L,” You clicked your tongue condescendingly as you once again removed your hands from him. “Fuck,” “Well that’s what happens when you get things wrong, honey, and such an easy one too,” “I didn’t get it wro- fine, give me another,” You smiled, unable to hide how delighted you were that he was interested in following your rules, even if it was just his competitive streak rearing its head to show that he could out smart you, “Assonance,” Gwilym spelt the word slowly and carefully, making sure to only say one ‘s’ and to leave off the ‘e’. And you made sure to reward him for it, shuffling backwards on his lap so you could shimmy his pants down his thighs and wrap your hand around his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you but otherwise made no comment as he leant back in his seat to enjoy the attention. “Romanticism,” Once again Gwilym was careful with his spelling, intentionally replacing the ‘c’ with a double ‘s’ but that was the kind of behaviour you wanted to encourage so you kept stroking him off, twisting your wrist, dragging your thumb over his flushed tip. It must have felt good with the way he was sighing, shifting his shoulders as if to move his whole body closer to yours. “So clever baby, what about,” you paused, dredging up memories of poetry analysis and the words you used to have burned into your brain but which you’d not had much use for recently, “Enjambment” “Ummm, E-N,” Gwil hummed as you leant over him and let a trail of spit drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over his length, “Enjamb-ment, uh, E-N-J-A- no E, no A, M-E-N-T,” You leant into his ear and spoke softly, “That’s right, being so good for me, so clever. What should I do next though? Ride you? Or maybe suck you off? Or just keep doing this?” “Uh,” Gwilym shook his head a little as if to clear it, “mouth? Please?” “Of course, baby. If you can spell dissonance for me.” You were quietly confident that he’d get the spelling wrong, already noticing the first sign of his impending brainlessness, extra filler words where he’d normally not need them. It was funny though, usually he wouldn’t reach that stage until he was much closer to nutting. “D-I-S” he rushed through the first three letters and then stopped, biting his lip, “T-um, A-N-E-N-C-E.” You were sure the errors in that word were less intentional than the previous few and, as promised, slipped off his lap and settled yourself between his legs, pulling his pants off so he could spread them wider for you. You held eye contact as you let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing along a vein, though you couldn’t help but smile as he groaned above you. “Can you spell Decasyllable for me?” you asked before closing your lips around the head of his cock. “What? Oh, um, D-E-C-K- fuck,” he broke off as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Fuck’s not a letter, baby,” you sank down on him again, bobbing a little lower. “I know, um, Deck-syllable, D-E-C-K-A-S-Y-B-L-E, I think. Is that right?” In answer you hummed and took him a little deeper, pushing his shirt up towards his chest. Gwilym took the hint and pulled it off before he grabbed your hair, leaning his head against the back of the couch. For a moment you just focused on sucking him off, listening to his shallow breathing and whiny groans. But you weren’t finished with your game yet.

“Epigraph?” you asked before bobbing down on him again, pushing yourself to take him deeper still. Gwilym remained silent as you gagged and pulled back from him again to breath freely. “Well?” “What did you say?” “Epigraph. Can you spell that?” He nodded as you resumed your bobbing, his hand grabbing at your hair, “E-P-P-E-G-R-A-F-F.” You hummed around him and his hips bucked up, pushing him further down your throat for a second. “No, don’t stop,” he whined under his breath as once again you let him fall from between your lips. “Sorry baby,” you wrapped your hand around his base and switched back to jerking him off, “you’re so hard though and I know you want to earn your orgasm like a good boy,” Gwilym nodded. “Okay, so spell meter,” “M- oh, I don’t know,” “You do know, baby, you just gotta try. Meter,” He scrunched his face up in thought, “M-E-E-T-R,” “See, I said you knew it, and you did it so well!” Gwilym gave you a dopey smile, looking proud at your praise, “I did?” His mouth dropped open with the movement of your hand. “Of course baby! You got it completely right because you’re so clever. What about sonnet, do you think you can do that one for me?” He nodded enthusiastically, “S-N-E-T,” “Very good! Okay, three more and I’ll let you cum,” “Okay!” “Okay, what about,” you thought for a moment, watching your hand pumping over his shaft as you trailed your fingernails lightly over his thigh, “Spell rhyme,” “Ummm,” Gwilym bit his lip in thought, soft grunting noises rising in his throat in time with your strokes. “It’s a bit of a tricky one,” “Yeah.” “And it’s hard to concentrate isn’t it?” “Mmhmm, so hard to con-ten-tate,” he thought for a little longer as you slowed your hand, “rrr- R-I-M,” “So clever baby! Okay canto,” “Oh! Ummm,” Gwilym pouted and whined as you unexpectedly drew the tip of your tongue around his head, “I don’ know,” “No?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay what about, poem?” Gwilym seemed to have reached the last dregs of his knowledge, grunting in frustration as he shook his head again.” “You sure you don’t know?” He bucked his hips up into your hand as he shook his head again. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one then. Spell your name for me, spell Gwilym,” Gwil’s eyes lit up at the suggestion but his face quickly slipped into a frown again, the expression getting more pronounced with every passing second he didn’t say anything. He sought out your face, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears, “I don’t…” his fists balled up as he looked to you for help. “You don’t remember?” He shook his head once more, a tear shaking loose and rolling down his cheek, “you said it was easy.” “It’s okay if you don’t know,” “Really?” he sniffled. “Of course it’s okay. You’re not supposed to know things.” “I’m not?” “Awww, of course not baby. That’s why I’m here, to know things, and you’re just here to make me happy.” Gwilym sighed and leaned back against the couch, smiling again. “Do you want to give it a try for me?” “Umm,” he whined as you slowed your strokes “It would make me very happy,” “Okay, umm…G? L? ummmm, M?” “You’re so clever, baby!” Gwilym giggled proudly and grinned at you as you adjusted your grip on his cock. “You’re my good, smart boy, aren’t you baby?” “Mmhmm,” he bucked his hips towards you as you took him into your mouth again. “Feels go-od,” he mumbled, almost panting with how close he was. You dragged the hand that rested on his thigh up to cup his balls as you sucked on his tip until he moaned and came, spilling his seed over your tongue.

You kept working your hand along his length, even after you’d pulled your mouth from him. “Was that a good orgasm baby? Did it make you feel good?” He nodded, pouting a little as you kept wanking him, “good oggsam,” It took all your effort not to laugh at that, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting so much as a chuckle slip. Very few things delighted you as much as when Gwil forgot how to talk properly. “You know,” you said as you finally let his cock free, “sometimes when people have orgasms they feel euphoric. Do you feel euphoric?” “Mmhmm, you-porik.” “Clever boy. Do you want to help me feel euphoric?” “How?” “With your mouth,” “Oh! Okay!” You braced yourself against his knees as you stood, leaning forward to give Gwil a small kiss on the lips. He closed his eyes and smiled up at you contentedly as you shimmied out of your own clothes, dropping them all to the floor. “You going to let me lie down?” you asked, tapping Gwil on the shoulder. He looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes settled on you, growing wider as he realised how naked you were. Without warning he surged forward, his hands grabbing your arse as he nuzzled his face in the valley between your breasts. If it were up to Gwil he would have stayed there all day but you had need for him elsewhere so you yanked his head back by his hair, earning a small noise of displeasure. “Don’t complain, baby. You want to make me feel euphoric, right?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed earnestly. “And how do you think you could do that?” “I don’t know,” “Maybe, cunnilingus?” “cun-un-un-un-gus,” “Exactly,” you directed his gaze down to your pussy, failing to hide your amused grin. But he was too far gone to notice, happily slipping to his knees in front of you. Telling him to wait for a second, you climbed onto the couch and spread your legs, beckoning him between them once you were comfortable.

He hadn’t been able to say the word but that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled at the act. A string of soft hums and throaty sounds rose to your lips as he licked your cunt, the scratchy sensation of his beard only amplifying the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue. “Can you, oh, can you spell poem for me baby?” Gwilym hummed and then started naming letters, his mouth still pressed against your cunt as if he didn’t realise he couldn’t talk and suck at the same time. You didn’t bother to stop him when he said too many letters or correct him when all of them were wrong. You just let his breath wash over you, his tongue flicking against your clit with each new letter, eliciting longer moans and sighs from you. “Fuck Gwil,” you panted, “keep going,” “Keep going,” he repeated, his voice muffled as he dragged his tongue all the way down your slit and then back up again, making you whine. You jolted when he reached your clit again and pressed against his head, keeping him close to you, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak your nipples and knead your breasts. Occasionally you’d give him an instruction – “faster please,” or “do that again,” or “fuck Gwil, right there,” – and he’d repeat the words back to you, softened and often a little slurred together or mispronounced, before doing as he was asked, drawing you closer to release. He was pleased whenever another groan or mewl slipped from your lips, responding to them with sounds of his own as if he were savouring a particularly delicious meal. It seemed he’d taken what you’d said about making you happy to heart, though some of his whines might have had more to do with his cock, hard again and straining to be touched as his attention remained focused on you. “I’m c-lose ba-by,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed his mouth to your lower lips, as if to give you a soft chaste kiss, only to begin shaking his head side to side, rubbing his face against your cunt. “loase,” he muttered to himself, trailing his tongue back up to your clit, making you grind your hips up into him. It was impossible to keep your mouth shut in the face of such a feeling, wantonly moaning as you felt your orgasm bubbling to the surface. Gwilym hummed against you in response to a particularly loud moan which managed to be your undoing, your knees trying to clamp shut around his head as he continued to suck at your clit.

When you calmed enough to let go of his hair and loosen your thighs from around his ears, Gwilym looked up at you. His face was shiny and wet but he seemed to have regained some of his usual awareness. His eyes weren’t quite as vacant and his smile less dopey than it had been. “Feel good?” he asked, sounding almost normal except for a slight lightness in his tone. “Very good baby,” you leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, tasting yourself as he opened his mouth and accepted your tongue. Slowly you dropped your hand between you, finding his cock again, not quite done with your brainless toy. He grunted against your lips and bucked into your hand as you stopped his return to sense. “Isn’t this fun?” you said softly as you pulled back, holding Gwil by the chin to stop him from trying to follow. “Yeah, fun,” a smile slowly tugging at his lips, “what is?” “Not needing to think, baby,” “Oh! Yes,” he laughed. “You’re too pretty to have a brain anyway, aren’t you? Much better off letting it leak out of your head,” “Mmhmm, much,” “And do you know what good, dumb boys get?” “No?” “They get fucked. Would you like that?” “Yes yes yes,” “Alright, lie back for me,” you chuckled, giving his cock a final stroke. Gwilym settled on the carpet on his back, grinning as you straddled his lap. Silently he held out his hand, all but two of his fingers folded against his palm. “No, I don’t need your fingers sweetie,” you said, giving the tips of his two fingers a light kiss, “as dextrous as they are and as much as I enjoy them, I think I’m okay skipping straight to your cock,” He nodded, letting you place his hand down on the floor again. You watched his face as you slowly sank down onto him, once again the picture of cunt drunk bliss with glazed eyes and his lip between his teeth. He smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, rolling your hips against his slowly. As you tongues entwined again, Gwilym framed your waist with his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and onto your chest. He cupped each of your breasts in one of his palms, squeezing softly as you rocked forward and back. “Better than Byron isn’t this?” you asked, pushing yourself up a bit, but not so far you couldn’t kiss him again. “Wha’s Byron?” You laughed, “Y’know I think this might be the dumbest I’ve seen you. Can’t believe all it took was a rigged spelling test. He obviously didn’t understand, staring blankly back at you.

What he did understand was that you were moving further away from him and he whined as you pushed yourself to sit higher again, bracing your hands on his chest as you used your knees to raise and lower yourself. It still wasn’t enough though so you shifted again before too long, placing a hand behind you to grab Gwil’s leg. You leant back on it changing the angle of Gwilym’s cock, and felt his hands drop from your chest, no longer able to reach as easily. They came to rest on your leg, his fingertips digging into your skin as you rode him, keening as you felt the start of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck Gwil, fill me so well, feels so good,” “My dex-ik-tus cock?” You couldn’t help but laugh, taken by surprise at his misunderstanding and mispronunciation of dextrous, but you nodded in agreement too, repeating your sentiments about how good it felt. “Wanna make me feel even better?” “How?” You sat forward again and reached for his hand, pulling it to your clit. Gwilym took the hint, messily rubbing as you bounced on his cock, but his whines and moans only grew as you rode him. “You’re close?” “Mmhmm,” You were on the verge of asking if he could hold it when he came with a groan, pulsing inside you. But you didn’t stop. “I’m close too, baby, so I’m gonna keep fucking you, okay?” He nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Good boy.” You panted, grabbing his wrist to hold his hand at your clit and adjusting your rhythm. Each time you sank back down onto him you did it harder, slamming his cock into you as deep as you could manage, groaning with each one. Your orgasm was frustratingly close but Gwilym was becoming steadily more sensitive as his subsided, wincing more with each of your thrusts. The winces turned to whimpers which turned to whines as you whispered that you were so close. “Almost baby, almost,” “Please. Hur’s,” “Nearly, just. One. More,” you threw your head back with a moan as you finally found your release, Gwil whining when you pulsed around him, a fresh tear running from the corner of his eye onto the carpet as he squirmed under you.

“Sorry, baby,” you said softly as you carefully dismounted him. He hummed as you kissed him again, leaving an extra kiss against the tip of his nose. “Did so well, such a good boy for me,” “Yeah?” “Mmhmm, so good,” He gave you a slightly watery smile and let you pull him into a cuddle, sighing contentedly when you brushed your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a while, knowing that later you’d regret lying on the floor for so long but unable to find the energy to move or the willpower to tell Gwilym you had to let him go. He gradually lost the fucked out expression, becoming more aware of his surroundings and more capable of clear speech. “How are you feeling?” you asked when you realised he’d blinked away the last of his sex drunk vacancy. “Better than before. Little tired but much more relaxed and very satisfied. And, before you ask, yes that’s satisfied and yes I can spell it if you want,” “I believe you.”

#my writing #my fics #smut fic #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee imagine #this has been half written in my drafts for much too long now #but im very happy to be able to finally post it!#just got one more thing to write for this advent countdown #which i'll try and knock off after i get back from church #so that its ready to go in the morning #anyway #hope ya'll like this #i might kind of love writing pretty dumb boys #blurb advent 2020

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softlass27 · 3 years

Text

whoops, this is long after midnight. oh well!

Robron Week Day 6: Family

Fed up with Chas and Paddy fighting in front of Eve yet again, Aaron decides to take her away for the day.

AO3 link here

“Ah, shit,” Robert muttered, frowning at the bread bag in his hands.

Aaron looked up from where he was shoving an extra bottle on suncream into a bag. “What’s up?”

“Bread’s gone mouldy.”

“What, already?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I’ll nip to David’s and get some fresh – ”

“He’s closed the shop today, remember? Him and Eric have that family do on.”

“Okay, we’ll just have to stop at Tesco or something and buy some sandwiches.”

“Or you could nip to the pub and see if Marlon’ll make us some? Maybe those chicken and avocado ones he’s started doing?”

Aaron sighed and set the bag down. “Seriously?”

“What?” Robert shrugged innocently. “They’ll be nicer than some shop-bought ones.”

“Why do I have to go?”

“Look, if you go now, I’ll get the rest of the food sorted and handle getting Seb ready. Deal?”

“Fine.”

Aaron power-walked up to the pub, checking the time on his phone as he went. It was a bright, sunny Saturday morning – the first warm weekend of the year – so they’d decided to take Seb to the beach for the day.

The pub wasn’t due to open for another couple of hours, so Aaron bypassed the main entrance and went straight for the back door, only to stop short at the sight in front of him. There on the doorstep sat Eve, still in her pyjamas with her knees pulled up to her chin and tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, squirt.” He approached her slowly, keeping his voice soft. “What’s with the tears?”

Eve just shrugged, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

Aaron crouched down to her level, lightly chucking her under the chin.

“Come on, what’s the matter? Has something happened? Someone upset you?”

She hesitated for a moment, before getting to her feet and pushing the door open to step inside. Aaron followed her and was immediately assaulted with the sounds of his mum’s furious shouts coming from upstairs, loud enough to echo through the house. They were soon followed by Paddy shouting back just as angrily, his voice high-pitched and defensive.

Aaron sighed and picked Eve up for a cuddle. “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” she said into the fabric of his t-shirt, breath hitching. “Mummy’s been cross with Daddy since last night.”

“For god’s sake.” Aaron muttered through gritted his teeth, scowling as her carried her into the back room.

His mum and Paddy had sworn to him that this sort of thing would stop, that if they had to fight, they’d at least make sure Eve wasn’t around to see or hear it. He set her down in front of the TV, where Saturday morning cartoons were playing.

“Okay, I have to speak to Uncle Marlon really quick, then I’ll be right back. Wait here, alright?”

He darted through to the pub’s kitchen, where Marlon was preparing food with the radio blaring. When he caught sight of Aaron in the doorway he jumped a mile and scrambled to switch it off.

“God, make a noise, would you?”

“Yeah, sorry. Can I ask a favour?”

Marlon sighed heavily, putting his peeler down on the counter. “I suppose?”

“Me n’ Robert need some sarnies but our bread’s mouldy and David’s is shut. I was wonderin’ if you wouldn’t mind whipping us up a few?”

“Sorry, you think I have the free time to just make you and your husband a packed lunch?”

“It’s not like the pub’s open yet.”

“I’m still busy!” Marlon threw his hands in the air. “Just because there’s no customers doesn’t mean I don’t have meals to prep, do you know how long it takes to do ratatouille?”

“… I don’t even know what that is. Please, you’ll be doin’ us a massive favour, I’ll owe you one.”

Marlon held out for about five seconds, before rolling his eyes and grabbing the bread. “Fine. How many am I making for?”

“Three.” There was a sudden loud thump from upstairs, the sound of something being shoved or thrown to the floor, shortly followed by the loudest shout yet.

“They’ve been at it all morning,” Marlon grumbled irritably. “That's why I had the radio on so loud.”

Aaron glanced up at the ceiling, thinking quickly.

“Y’know what, make that enough sandwiches for four, actually.”

He left the kitchen without waiting for an answer and returned to the back room.

“Hey, how d’you fancy a day at the beach with me, Rob and Seb?”

Eve’s head whipped away from the TV to look at him, her eyes lighting up hopefully. “Today?”

“Yep, we can go right now. What d’you think?”

“Yes!”

They went to Eve’s room upstairs so Aaron could help her get ready, digging some beachwear and a swimming costume out of her wardrobe and doing his best to distract her every time the sounds of shouting from behind her parents’ closed bedroom door increased in volume.

“Oh no,” Eve froze as Aaron tied her shoelaces for her, looking at him with alarm. “I don’t have a bucket and spade.”

“That’s alright, we can get you a bucket and spade when we get there.”

“Will they have pink ones?”

“I’m sure they will.”

Picking her back up with one hand and grabbing her backpack with the other, he tiptoed down the stairs and made his way back to the kitchen.

“Those sandwiches ready, Marlon?”

“Here you go.” Marlon handed over a tupperware box. “There’s some leftover crisps in there, too.”

“Cheers, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Marlon!” Eve waved her current favourite stuffed bear at him with excitement. “I’m goin’ to the beach!”

“Wow, lucky you!” Marlon grinned at her. “Alright for some.”

Aaron let her slide down to the floor and passed her the tupperware. “Why don’t you go wait by the door for me, yeah?”

Eve nodded and exited the kitchen, holding onto the sandwiches tightly.

“Do, er, do Chas and Paddy know you’re taking her?”

“Nope.”

“Is that wise? Not letting them know?”

“Marlon, they were so busy tearing strips off each other they didn’t even notice me comin’ upstairs and getting her ready to leave with me.” He sighed heavily. “They can’t keep doing this in front of her, it’s not fair. I couldn’t just leave her sitting around by herself, not with all that goin’ on.”

Marlon chewed his lip. “I suppose you’re right. I always tried to keep my relationship problems hidden from April when she was that age – not that I always managed it,” he added with a slightly sad smile. “I wish those two would try a bit harder sometimes. Eve’s lucky to have you for a brother, honestly.”

“Cheers, Marlon. And good luck with your rata-whatever.”

“Ratatouille.”

“Yeah, that.”

He led Eve outside, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping on his mum’s contact. It took a few rings before she answered.

“Hi love, now’s not really a good time – ”

“This won’t take long,” Aaron cut her off sharply. “Just thought I’d let you know that Eve’s with me, I’m takin’ her out for the day.”

There was a short silence, followed by a noise of confusion. “Wait, what? What do you mean she’s with you? She’s downstairs watching cartoons.”

“She was, but now I’ve got her. I’ll bring her back sometime tonight.” He glanced at Eve, who was playing with her bear a couple of feet away, and lowered his voice. “Or I can always just let her stay over at mine, if you and Paddy need some more time to hurl abuse at each other?”

“What? No, we’re not – I’m just, I’ve been so tired this week, Aaron, and Paddy was getting on my last nerve, you won’t believe what he said to – ”

“Save it, Mum, I really don’t care. I’m just letting you know where your kid is, in case you were interested. Talk to you later.”

He hung up and slid the phone in his pocket, before taking Eve’s hand and leading her towards the Mill. She talked excitedly the entire way, all traces of her earlier upset gone as she babbled about everything she wanted to see and do at the beach.

They entered the Mill to find Robert and Seb sitting on the sofa, shoes on and ready to go.

“Hey,” Aaron kicked the door closed behind him. “Room for one more?”

Robert’s eyes briefly flickered down to Eve before he looked back at Aaron. They held each other’s gaze for a split-second, before Robert nodded in understanding.

“Course there is.” He got to his feet and grinned at Eve. “Come on then, sooner we get there, sooner we can get started on the world biggest sandcastle.”

Seb whooped loudly and took off outside, grabbing Eve’s hand as he went, the two of them chatting animatedly to each other as they dashed for the car.

“Your mum and Paddy at it again?” Robert asked quietly.

“Yelling loud enough to make the windows shatter. She might need to stay over tonight if that’s okay?”

Robert sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Like you have to ask. Come on, we'd better get a move on before Seb tries to drive off without us.”

The four of them had a great day. They managed to snag themselves a decent spot on the sand, with enough space for them to build what did turn out to be a pretty epic sandcastle. They took the kids paddling and rock pool exploring, Aaron kicked a football about with Seb while Robert helped Eve look for seashells. And when the kids were happy enough playing with each other, Aaron got to stretch out in the sun next to Robert, sighing contentedly as his husband played with his hair with one hand and held a book with the other.

Saturdays didn't get much better than that. Aaron must’ve snapped about a hundred photos on his phone, saving a great one of Robert with his freckles coming out in full force as his new wallpaper.

As the afternoon drew to a close, they packed up their things and wandered along the seafront until they found a nice-looking pub on the seafront, deciding to stop there for their tea before heading back home. Since the air was still warm, they parked themselves on one of the outdoor tables, a young waitress bringing out a couple of children’s menus and crayons for them.

While they waited for their order to arrive, Eve started using the crayons on the colouring-in section of the menu, tongue poking out in concentration, while Seb pulled a few handfuls of rocks and pebbles out of his pocket, pouring them onto the table.

“Dad, are any of these fossils?”

“Let’s have a look.”

Aaron spread them out and the two of them bent their heads over each one, Aaron showing Seb what to look for. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eve repeatedly pushing her hair out of her eyes with increasing frustration, only for the coastal breeze to blow it back in her face again, blocking her view of the picture she was trying to colour.

“Rob, can you get – ?”

Robert nodded and pulled Eve along the bench towards him. “C’mere, let’s get this sorted otherwise you’re gonna end up with a proper bird’s nest.”

He grabbed a hairbrush and a bobble out of one of the bags and started brushing Eve’s hair, doing his best to tame the messy tangle of curls. He’d just finished putting it in a neat-ish plait, when the waitress reappeared with their food. Aaron quickly moved Seb’s rock collection aside so she could put the plates down and Robert picked up Eve’s colourin, carefully folding it and putting it away so she could finish it later.

“Thank you,” Seb said to the waitress when she set his plate down in front of him, keen as ever to talk to adults like he was one of them.

“Fank you!” Eve immediately copied him, even as her mouth was full with a handful of chips she’d already started scoffing.

The waitress smiled fondly at them both. “You’re very welcome.” She glanced towards Aaron and Robert. “Well-mannered, aren’t they?”

“Hm, when they want to be,” Robert said lightly, tucking a napkin into Eve’s collar before she inevitably got ketchup all over her t-shirt.

“You should see them in the mornings,” Aaron added. “Then you might change your tune.”

She just laughed and shook her head. “You have a lovely family.”

Huh.

Aaron froze, eyes flicking to Eve before he looked at Robert, who also had a slightly surprised expression on his face. It was a fair assumption, he supposed – no one would guess he and Eve were siblings, not with their age gap, not when he and Robert were closer in age to most parents than his mum and Paddy were.

“Oh, uh, actually she’s my – ”

“Thank you,” Robert talked over him loudly, mouth upturned in a polite smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

They both shook their heads and she went back into the bar, while the kids both tucked into their food hungrily, oblivious to what had just happened. Aaron slowly picked up his knife and fork, catching Robert’s eye.

“She thought… ”

She thought Eve was ours.

“Yeah.” Robert popped a chip in his mouth, raising an eyebrow at him. “Is that so bad?”

Aaron stared at him for a moment. He thought of his mum and Paddy, probably still back at the pub screaming bloody murder or giving each other the silent treatment, filling the house with a frosty atmosphere. Or perhaps Paddy had stormed out, hiding in the surgery and leaving his mum to stew, oblivious to anyone or anything other than her own anger.

He thought of how Eve would have spent her day if he hadn’t popped into the pub for sandwiches, and felt his stomach turn. She would have spent it stuck in among the tension, miserable and lonely and probably spending her Saturday bored out of her mind. He shot a glance at her now, sitting across from him with a happy smile on her face, cheeks pink from the sun as she nattered away to Seb in-between bites of her food.

“Nah. It’s not.”

#robron week #rw2021 #my writing #meh i'm not totally happy with this one but oh well #robron

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misc-headcanons · 3 years

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Can I get a cute scenario for Aizawa where his pro hero wife is fighting a villain who has a quirk that can turn people into animals and she happens to get turned into a cat and the effects last for 2 days. And when he gets home he finds a strange cat waiting for him outside their home and she's trying to get him to understand it's her and that she hasn't disappeared but she can only meow

Aizawa/F!Reader: A Strange Re-mew-nion

Word Count: 1500+

(I had no idea what the title should be, but I DID know I wanted to make a shitty cat pun)

He wasn’t a stranger to finding new strays by his apartment. There were plenty of them in the neighborhood, and they always enjoyed the small bowls of water he’d leave in the summertime and the cardboard boxes lined with towels in the winter. But when he made it to his doorstep after a long night of work, he noticed a cat that was leaning against the small front window, pushing against the glass with all its might. The moment it realized it was no longer alone, it ran right up to Aizawa as it yowled and meowed over and over.

Aizawa knelt down to let the cat sniff his hand, but it seemed to already be familiar with him; instead of getting accustomed to his scent, the stray rubbed its head against Aizawa while it continued to mewl. Had it met him before? It didn’t really look like any of the other strays that would come up to him--and he would’ve definitely remembered a cat that babbled as much as this one.

He fished his keys out from his pocket and went to unlock his door, and he saw the cat eagerly watching him as it stood beside his foot. “...I don’t usually let you guys inside,” he said with a yawn. He tried to guide it to a small wire basket with an old towel placed inside, just a few inches away. “You can sleep there, alright?”

The cat didn’t even give the makeshift bed a second glance. It looked intently at Aizawa, and then at the door before letting out an insistent chirp as it rubbed against the door. Why the hell were they so eager to go inside his house? It wasn’t as if it was cold or rainy out, and even if it was they would have plenty of shelter in the bed underneath the apartment awning.

Aizawa was about to just pick the cat up and place it in the basket when he froze in place and stared at the front window. Even with the thick curtains in front of it, he could tell that the lights were off in the living room. He hadn’t come home to that sight since he was still living by himself, before ____ had moved in and insisted on leaving the lights on for him no matter what time he came home during the night. “It’s just to let you know that I’m thinking about you out there,” she’d insisted with a bright smile. “I won’t leave every light on obviously, but you can see the light coming from the window and know that I’m here waiting for you.”

It was nearly 4 in the morning. She should’ve left the light on hours ago when she’d gotten back from her shift at her own agency. She should be inside. Aizawa remembered that he’d first seen this stray cat desperately trying to make its way inside, and a sick feeling of dread crept into his chest.

He withdrew his bindings and carefully turned the key to unlock his front door, with a soft click of the bolt moving in the lock being the only sound he made. As he opened the door and was ready to face a potential ambush from whatever--or whoever--was inside, the cat ran inside and jumped onto the sofa nearby. Aizawa made a quick and stealthy sweep through the house, checking for any signs of disturbance or a struggle. Oddly enough, he couldn’t find that seemed to indicate ____ had gotten hurt or kidnapped; in fact, the still-hanging laundry on the balcony, the pristine bed, and the missing leftovers she usually placed in the fridge for him pointed to her not coming home at all since she left to go to work.

The stray cat followed him through the apartment, its head swiveling around as it seemed to search for something. Aizawa noticed it peering at a photo frame on a bookshelf in his bedroom, and then watched it make a dash for the shelf. “Oi, what--”

The cat leapt up to the third shelf and placed a paw on top of the frame, meowing louder than before. It used its other front paw to beckon Aizawa closer as if it were a stereotypical maneki-neko placed on a shop’s front counter. With no other leads to go on, Aizawa hesitantly stepped forward and waited for the cat to do...something. It carefully placed a paw on the photo, right on top of ____’s smiling face; it then moved to place its paw on its chest. It continued to meow more and more, repeating the same gesture.

Aizawa’s bloodshot eyes narrowed as he observed the cat. He had to be sleep-deprived, misinterpreting or humanizing what this animal was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined something strange, only for his wife to tell him that no, the little flashing light he’d seen on the ceiling wasn’t a camera or bomb: it was the smoke detector they’d had for three years, just blinking the way it usually did. He must have forgotten that ____ had plans with someone, or was going on an overnight trip, or--

“Nyaaaa!”

Aizawa blinked a few times, snapping out of his tired train of thought as the cat pressed its nose up against his. Without breaking eye contact, it slowly pointed at the photo of ____ again, and then to itself. “Mrrow?”

“...____?”

The cat nodded, and Aizawa stared wide-eyed at the cat--no, his wife...his wife-who-may-also-be-a-cat. “You’re ____?”

The cat-who-may-have-been-his-wife nodded.

Aizawa sat down on the bed and stared at them with his fingers tented. After taking a deep breath, he rubbed his eyes and then looked back at the cat. “Nod for ‘yes’, shake your head for ‘no’,” he said flatly. “Do you understand?”

____ nodded.

“Did this happen due to someone else’s Quirk?” Nod.

“Is it from a criminal with a registered Quirk?” Nod. Aizawa nodded slightly to himself; if it was a registered Quirk user, he could find out the specifics of this ability and hopefully find out if this transformation would go away on its own or if he needed outside help.

“Okay.” He pulled out his cell phone to access the country’s Quirk registry using his Hero credentials, and noticed that he’d missed two voicemails from his wife’s personal assistant. A very nervous voice came over the speaker:

H-Hi, Eraserhead. I know ____ said to only use this contact number for emergencies only, and this isn’t really life-threatening or anything, so don’t worry! She’s okay, she’s unhurt, but...um...There was a Villain she fought, one with a transformation Quirk. It’s temporary, the registry file says the effect only lasts 48 hours, but...yeah. She’s currently a cat. Her Hero costume is at the agency, since she kinda, you know, crawled out of it after changing sizes and species and all that. But don’t worry! She’s perfectly safe here at the agency, so call us back and you can come pick her up whenever you’re back from your shift.

Aizawa listened to the next voicemail, made a few hours later.

Hi again, Eraserhead. So, about the whole cat situation. ____ seemed to be in shock about the whole thing, she was meowing nonstop and running all over the place. And the thing is, one of the janitors we have on staff, he um...He hadn’t been informed about the situation and kicked ____ out of the building while I went to pick up some cat food. That was about twenty minutes ago...I’ve been searching for her, and if she’s not at the office then she might be trying to go somewhere else that’s familiar. So if you see a cat by your house with no collar, and it’s meowing a lot and is like...WAY too intelligent and human-ish to be a regular cat, then it’s ____. Probably. Hopefully. Oh my god, I am so fired…

Aizawa set his phone aside and felt something soft land in his lap. ____ fidgeted with her paws and sulked about her current situation, trapped as an animal for the next day and a half. Would she have to eat cat food? How would she go to the bathroom? Would she still be able to think like a human the whole time, or would she lose her mind and really become an animal before she changed back? Aizawa couldn’t really think of what to say that could comfort her, so he simply crawled under the covers of their bed and patted the space next to him. ____ curled up next to him and smiled as he scratched a spot behind her ears and then stroked her from head to tail. She let out a low purr as she started to doze off comfortably in his arms, and she moved to rub her cheek against his before finally falling asleep. Aizawa smirked and let himself drift off to sleep as well, thankful that even though his wife was a bit different than when he’d left her this morning, she was safe and cuddling him as he slept like every night they spent together.

#bnha #bnha scenario #aizawa #shota aizawa #mine #female s/o

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

Text

(requested by mathmaticalknight)

“Alright, remember everyone: this is a rescue mission.” The Doctor, a knife as long as her forearm in hand, was giving a final brief to her team. “We already have ground teams clearing the streets of Reunion so we can get in, find survivors, and get them out of here to somewhere much, much safer, whether that’s RI or somewhere else. Do not engage hostiles unless absolutely necessary, especially since they may be confused civilians and not Reunion. Are we all clear on our objectives here?”

A hand came up in the back of the vehicle. “When do we meet back here?”

“You’ll rendezvous with our mobile command center whenever you escort survivors to it. Once you’ve filled your van, you’ll stand by the MCC to provide additional security, as the more people we find, the more likely tensions might rise. Thank you for the question, Fang...Anything else?”

“If a civilian does attack us,” Gavial added, “we try non-lethal force first, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, incapacitate as a first measure. If that is insufficient...do what you need to for the sake of the rest of those you find. Alright, going once...Twice...Each Squad has been given a direction; each of you should have a navigator to make sure you’re mostly sticking to that direction. Watch your GPS units, notate where you search and where you find survivors. Let’s go. Anyone who doesn’t know where you’re going, you’re with me.” And with that final clarification, each team found their assigned van, and the rescue team dispersed.

“Do you want to drive, Doctor?” Amiya gestured to their van.

“That I do not.” She handed her protege the keys. “But I do call shotgun.”

Gravel bolted into the vehicle. “I call behind the Doctor!”

“The undying thirst continues.” Warfarin rolled her eyes but nonetheless followed the Zalak’s lead.

“I did remember to teach you how to drive stick-shift, yes?” The Doctor asked once they were all in the car.

Amiya gave her a quizzical look. “Dr. Kal’tsit taught me to drive, Doctor.”

“Oh...” She looked around for a second seatbelt before taking a deep breath. “Well, girls, this might be a little bumpier than I expected...”

And with that, the Caster set her pedal to the metal, and they were off.

“From what I remember, we encountered a heavy presence coming from the direction of Peterheim Middle, so we should at least make a pass by it...Left at this intersection.” The Doctor had given herself the role of navigator for her team.

“I see a flag!” Meteor called out. “Right side of the road, two buildings up!...If you can call it a building still.”

Savage grimaced. “Geez. It looks like it collapsed in on itself.”

“Catapult’s work. Just the blast residue is enough to identify that much...Amiya.”

“Right.” She slammed the breaks, accidentally turning it just enough to send it spinning out of control for a moment. Luck was with her, however, as the spiral left them not only still on the road, but on the sidewalk next to the crimson flag. “Um...Sorry about that!”

The passengers recollected themselves quick, fast, and in a hurry to get to the business at hand. “Savage, looks like you’ve got some work to do.”

“If there are people in there, though, I might hurt them. I don’t have fine control over how much force I transfer...”

“If you swing at the left wall, it’ll destabilize it to the point the rest of the debris will fall to that side.” The Doctor gestured with her blade to a point in the left wall. “Flag’s on the right side, better chance they’re on that side than the other.”

Gravel returned from a trip around the building. “They’re on the left! I just talked to someone named Rada! They’re all in the kitchen, along this wall!”

“The wall I was gonna smash for you, Doctor~” Savage walked over to the right wall of the building, looking for the best place to hit from.

“Thanks, Gravel.” The Doctor sighed. “Alright, Warfarin, be ready for first aid just in case. Meteor, you’re on overwatch, just in case. Amiya, Gravel and I will standby to help them get out-”

There was a *boom* as the already degraded structure fell in on its right side, removing a great deal of the rubble stacked precariously in the center and making the left side seem manageable. “Step 1 done! I wonder if-”

“Gah!” Accompanied by the sound of someone exerting a great deal of effort, a single brick was pushed out, followed by a hand.

“Alright, new plan!” The Doctor dashed towards the rock pile. “Everyone except Warfarin, let’s clear this rubble out!”

As four pairs of hands worked to safely clear away bricks in order to leave a hole without collapsing any on those trapped inside, the hand that broke through initially revealed itself to belong to a teal-haired Ursus girl in a tattered middle school uniform, looking for all the world as if she’d crawled on her hands and knees through hell and back. Another figure, a blonde Ursus, joined in as well, babbling her thanks as Gravel and Amiya tried to calm her down. Eventually, they’d safely cleared enough for a crawlspace, which they both climbed through, followed by three more of what could only be presumed were their classmates.

As Warfarin administered diagnostics and emergency nutrition, one of the survivors, a reddish streak visible in her hair even through caked blood and dirt, walked over to the flag as if in a trance and tore the cloth from the pole before wrapping it around her arm. Amiya noted this as Warfarin gave the Doctor the details of her scans. “Principle concern is dehydration - they’re surprisingly well-fed, all things considered, and most of the blood isn’t theirs. Even so, their adrenaline is causing massive spikes in their heart rate, so I would advise returning to the MCC so they can be calmed and more properly attended to.”

“Hmm...Yes, we should probably-”

“Savage!” Meteor called from further down the street. “We’ve got another one!”

The Cautus bounded that direction, skidding to a stop in front of a cellar door with what might’ve been a slab of foundation keeping it from being opened; through a crack in the boards that composed it, another Ursus person was visible, breathing feebly. “...Stand back!” With a grunt, she swung at the offending chunk of concrete, powdering it completely, before helping the Kuranta wrench open the door and retrieve another school-aged survivor. “Her heartbeat is so slow...We’ve got to move. Doctor! Start the van!”

“Amiya, the keys?” She handed them over instantly. “Thank you. Savage, can you hold her- Holy shit.”

“With all due respect, now’s not the time to stall out!”

“Right, right! Everyone’s in?” Confirmation from her team, acknowledgment from the teal-haired survivor. “Vroom.”

-----

“She really said ‘vroom’ as she drove us back?” Leto asked Istina as the six members of the USSGG sat around the dinner table.

“She did,” the advisor nodded. “It was such a strange occurrence, I’d be rather hard-pressed to forget it.”

Zima tore off a piece of steak as she said, “I was sure I took a bandana, not a flag.”

“They called it a flag, whatever it was originally. More tea, Zoya?”

“No, I’ve had enough, thank you.” Absinthe sighed. “This does explain why Meteor has her eye on me, despite the fact I’m not a Sniper.”

Gummy nodded. “She’s also really friendly. We should go to one of her board game nights some time!”

“That sounds like a great idea. Natalya, did you get everything you need?”

“Yes, this should be sufficient.” The Sniper finished her notes with a flourish. “I must say, I��m impressed you remember so much about that day, considering the state we were in.”

Istina shrugged. “There are some moments you can never, must never forget...As we all know quite well.”

“Mmhmm.” Six Ursus nodded their heads in unison.

“I should take this to the Doctor before her shift ends.” Rosa set her teacup in the middle of her empty plate and stood up. “Don’t start the movie without me.”

The general flashed her a mutinous smirk. “No promises.”

“Right. I’ll be back soon!”

“...So are we starting the movie?” Leto asked, looking around the table. “I mean, we can at least get the trailers out of the way, right?”

The chef got up. “Zoya, can you help me with the dishes tonight?”

“Sure, Rada.” Absinthe took her own plate, Zima’s, and Leto’s, and walked off to the kitchen.

“It feels like we’re a real family now, doesn’t it?” Leto leaned back in her chair, pushing her legs against the round table’s center post. “Like a sisterhood or something!”

Zima gave her a quizzical look. “Family, sure, but sisterhood? Your brain stays on after 2100 hours, right?”

“I dunno, Sonya. Deepcolor has a couple books that-”

“That’s enough of that.” Istina took her place in the precisely-established TV room arrangement. “We’re waiting for them to finish with the dishes before starting the movie, yes?”

The general and brawler followed her, with Zima giving the advisor a nod. “And for Nat, is she’s not back by then.”

“Oh? So she is growing on you, huh?” Leto tapped her target’s shoulder playfully.

“Yeah. That a problem?” She grinned back, returning the play-punch a little harder. “I won’t hesitate, bitch.”

The brawler tackled her, landing squarely in the brawl-space Istina and Rosa had set aside specifically for moments like this. “Then I won’t, either!”

“...Hopefully Natalya returns before one of them knocks the other unconscious.”

#arknights #um...i dunno who to tag here #lemme know if you have a preference #a LOT of Operators making an appearance #anyway i don't think this is what I would've written when I first received the prompt #so everyone with more than one line gets a tag #SO...#amiya (arknights)#gravel (arknights)#warfarin (arknights)#savage (arknights)#meteor (arknights)#leto (arknights)#zima (arknights)#rosa (arknights)#gummy (arknights)#istina (arknights)#absinthe (arknights)#arknights fic

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timeforelfnonsense · 3 years

Text

Under the Light of the Moon (Updated)

Dafni x Astarion

Rating: E

Ao3

I’ve been reworking some of the first fics I wrote for these two now that I have a better idea of their relationship. I’ve updated them on Ao3 but there was some interest in me reposting them here as well!

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series

The tiefling’s fireworks boomed overhead, filling the sky with shimmering lights of gold and silver. Dafni smiled to herself, soaking up the feelings of splendor and revelry that swirled all around her. Their merriment danced across her skin like a warm summer breeze and filled her chest with contentment. She closed her eyes and pictured herself back home in the Feywilds where such joy would have surely created astonishing delights that could only exist in the imaginations of those who had never basked in its splendor.

“Well, you seem quite blissful!” A pretty tiefling spoke, “I hope I’m not bothering you. I just wanted to say thank you-.” She paused, “Is that umm normal for you?”

Dafni blinked a few times allowing herself to float back down to reality. She followed the bard’s eyes down to her feet where a small patch of flowers had begun to bloom. “Oh! Yes!” Dafni assured, taking the other woman’s hands in her own. “Sorry! I was a bit far away just then! What were you saying?”

“Only that I wanted to thank you.”

“Oh! You don’t need to thank me Alfira! I was happy to help!”

“You remembered my name?” Alfira said, her eyes lighting up as a beaming smile formed on her lips.

“Of course! I sang with you in the grove!” Dafni gave her hands a little squeeze, “You have a beautiful voice.”

A deep plum blush spread across Alfira’s cheeks as she babbled a thank you. Dafni had that effect on people, charming and beguiling them as effortlessly as breathing. It wasn’t something she did on purpose. It was simply the way the gods made her. She craved closeness and affection from those around her more than most. She had been brought up by a serious, if not dotting mother who tirelessly protected her from those who would seek to take advantage of her kind heart. As well as a clan of ‘sisters’ with whom she had shared her every thought and confidence. To Dafni tenderness and trust were simply the way of things and she had carried that sensibility with her into the Material.

“Don’t look,” Alfira leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “but, that man is staring at you rather intently.”

“What man!?” Dafni squealed, “Where?! What does he look like!”

Dafni began to bounce on her heels as she battled the urge to follow Alfira’s stare. She, like so many of the fey, found herself rather enchanted by flattery and adoration. A dashing stranger admiring her from across a party was a positively delightful prospect.

“He’s an elven man, very fair in complexion. He has handsome features but he looks a bit...Intense. I think I saw him with you at the grove?”

Astarion?

Her heart skipped a few beats. She’d always thought him rather attractive- Princely even. With his strong cheekbones and a sharp jaw. And those ruby-red eyes, teeming with unanswered questions. There was a delicious danger about him as well. She should have found his vampiric nature ghastly and frightening, but it only added to his wicked charms. She certainly wanted him but he could be a hard book to read. On one hand, he was always chiding her for ‘unnecessary acts of kindness’. On the other, he’d nearly kissed her that day on the riverbank. And the night she’d allowed him to drink from her he had held her with such affection but she’d attributed that to some sort of vampire feeding behavior rather than attraction. The curiosity became too much for Dafni to bear. He was leaning against a tree drinking wine straight from the bottle. It seemed Astarion was indeed her admirer after all. Her cheeks went hot as they clapped eyes on each other. With a smirk, he mouthed a silent ‘hello’.

He heard the lyrical chime of Dafni’s laughter from the other side of camp. She threw her head back, sending her lovely pink curls tumbling down her shoulders. Flowers sprung up at her bare feet and butterflies with wigs of faerie fire fluttered around her. She had traded her armor for a nearly transparent dress that left precious little to the imagination. He could hardly look away. She had an exquisite figure, softer than most elves, plump and curvaceous. It was as if she had intended to tease and tempt him, prancing around in next to nothing. A gentle breeze blew through her hair and filled his lungs with the familiar aroma of lilac and evening primrose.

His mouth watered at the thought of sinking his teeth back into her once more. The memory of her fingers laced through his hair, pulling him closer, inviting him to drink deeper, was still fresh in his mind. He’d thought about bedding her plenty of times after they met but, they had been little more than idle fantasies. But, since that first taste, he found his imagination wandering towards the debaucherous more and more often when she was around.

“Enjoying your party, Daffodil?” He asked, taking a long drink of his wine as she bounded towards him, “Would you like some? It tastes awful but please, help yourself.”

“It’s OUR party!” She corrected, “You shouldn’t be over here sulking alone!”

She shook her head, rose curls bouncing as she snatched the bottle for a nip. He couldn’t help but smile as she screwed up her nose when she swallowed. No, red wine wouldn’t be her drink would it? Too heavy and bitter. She’d like something sweeter. Floral maybe? Just like her.

“See. Awful! You know, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one they toasted for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He paused for just a moment before scrunching his nose up in disgust, “I hate it. This is awful.”

“You did a good thing!” She scolded, “You deserve to enjoy yourself.”

He scoffed, giving her a dismissive wave, “I just would have liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine. I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.”

“You should attend a party in the Feywilds sometime.” She suggested, “They can go on for days at a time! Especially if a satyr is involved in the planning!”

“That does sound more exciting. This drawl gathering could do with a little more heathenism. You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling. Get a little closer so to speak.” There it was. He needed to have her. Why deny it any longer? He’d been cautious and calculated but the craving for her never stopped. He looked her over from toe to tip, drinking in her beauty with unapologetic want.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean?” Her pink eyelashes fluttered over winsome topaz eyes. Her slender fingers tucking a stray hair behind his ear.

He stared at her dumbfounded. Was she really that innocent? He thought he’d made it clear he was interested? Perhaps she’d never been propositioned before, though he doubted that. She was a fetching little enchantress. It was impossible that he was the first to take note of her grace and charm.

“By the Hells! Sex, my dear.”

“Oh? Is that what you are after?” A mischievous grin formed on her perfect lips. “Well maybe if you say please.”

“What?” He couldn’t help the keenness in his voice.

“Say please,” Dafni repeated, her tone was honey-sweet.

Her head tilted to the side allowing her hair to slip from her shoulder and expose her neck. She took a step closer, closing the space between them. His breath caught in his throat as he struggled to swallow a low moan as she caressed him over his breeches. It seemed sweet, angelic, Daffodil was not quite the innocent maiden after all. A delicious turn of events. Her other hand wound its way through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her. Her lips were petal-soft against his as she pulled him into a slow, teasing kiss. The tip of her tongue dancing across the velvet of his inner lip. Each brush of her mouth coaxing more and more desperation from him.

“Please.” He sighed between hungry kisses rocking against her palm.

“Yes.” She relented at last before placing one last, maddeningly chaste kiss on his lips, “How could I say no to such a polite request.”

“Cheeky little pup.” He purred, “ Now go on- Enjoy the rest of your party. I’ll see you later.”

He emphasized his statement with a quick squeeze of her backside that was met with a high pitched squeak. He had half mind to take her right then but surely someone would notice if they were to sneak off so early in the night. No, it seemed he would just have to wait. At least that would give him time to think of all the things he would do to her once the rest of the camp was sound asleep.

She crept softly on the balls of her feet. She could feel the excitement like electricity on the air. She was a creature of revelry at her core and the promise of a late-night romp in the woods filled her with delight. She pinched her thighs together savoring the fire growing between her legs. Cool hands wrapped around her waist drawing a frightened yelp from her lips. She felt his breath hot on her ear as he chuckled in response.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.” He whispered pulling her closer, his hands wandering towards her chest, “Waiting since the moment I first set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

She could tell he was grinning without having to look at his face. She could hear it in the tone of his voice. Feel it in the squeeze of his hand on her breast. She let her head fall against his chest glancing up at him with a look that was equal parts mischief and desire.

“You don’t have me yet.”

“Don’t I?” He mused. His free hand pushed up her thin dress, running up her inner thigh, “You are here. And I don’t think you want to talk.” She bit down on her lip holding back a whimper as she felt his cool hand cup her core. “I think you want to be known. To be tasted. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”

She was lost for words all she could muster was a simple nod. She tried to squirm against his hand but he held her tight as he pulled her into a deep kiss. She could taste the wine, dry and sharp on his tongue as he ran it along the seam of her lips.

“I thought so.” He smirked, releasing his hold on her, “But, you’ll have to say please.”

Dafni watched him as he circled her, admiring her from every angle. She considered yielding to his request for a moment...No, the urge to misbehave was far too appealing. She would give in eventually, of course! But, the thought of reaction was far too sublime to not test the waters.

“Make me.”

He tisked, shaking his head at her rebellious reply. A fearsome look danced across his features. He flashed her his teeth, fangs on full display as a playful growl rumbled in his chest. In one fast movement, he picked her up, throwing her legs around his waist. She clung to him for dear life as she felt her feet leave the ground.

She was infuriating, that little minx. She seemed to know all the ways to rile him up and more than that seemed to enjoy doing it. He made quick work of that madding dress discarding the translucent, shimmering fabric to the forest floor without a care. He lifted her, pressing her back up against the trunk of a tree. She had a white knuckle clutch on his shoulder.

“I won’t drop you,” He promised.

“Are you sure? I’m a bit heavy.” A perfect blush the same color as her rosy hair covered her freckled cheeks.

“I’m sure.” He gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Now where was I? Ahh- That’s right...”

He brought his head to her heaving breast listing to the rapid beating of her heart. took in a lungful of air savoring her bouquet before taking a nipple into his mouth. He reveled in the sweet mews was making. He slid a hand between her legs. His body stirred as he found even wetter than expected. He slipped a finger into her meeting no resistance. Dafni whined, grinding agent his pumping hand.

“Have you reconsidered my generous offer, Daffodil? I can feel how close you are. Just say please and I’ll give you what you need.”

She had never been one to beg but he knew what he was doing. Offering her just enough pleasure to turn her into an incoherent mess but not enough to find release. Dafni swallowed her pride at last.

“Please…”

“What?” He teased, “I don’t think I heard that? You’ll have to speak up, darling.”

“Please!” She nearly shouted, “Please let me cum, I’ll be as loud as you want just please!”

He slid another finger into her and hastened the rhythm of his touch. Dafni felt her breaths grow shorter and shorter until a long breathy cry fell from her lips. She felt relief wash over her first followed by the sensation of floating in a sea of bliss.

Her feet hit the ground with a soft thud as Astarion dropped his vice grip on her thigh. She wobbled, grabbing onto his biceps for balance. . He seemed extremely pleased with himself! Dafni stuck her tongue out at him. She pushed off the tree taking fist fulls of his shirt into her hands. She yanked him down to meet her hungry kiss before he could make any smug remarks about her begging.

“You have far too many clothes on.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up splayed out in the dirt. It had all happened rather quickly after she stripped him down to nothing. He found himself struggling to care, however. All that mattered was the feeling of Dafni’s wet slit sliding over his throbbing cock. He grabbed her hips controlling her tempo. She leaned forwards nipping at his collarbone. He groaned as she ran her tongue along the faint imprint of her teeth. A moonlight garden had begun to spring up around them, snowdrops, jasmine, and in her hair delicate white and pink daffodils.

“You had me fooled,” He moaned, “I thought perhaps, you were still a maiden.”

She laughed, throwing her head back, “Are you disappointed?”

“Hardly” He scoffed, “I don’t think a maiden would be quite as- Ah! Skilled…” His hips jerked upwards causing Dafni’s curves to bounce sinfully.

“Ok enough teasing.” She said with a peal of silvery laughter.

She stretched her arms overhead grinding into him once more before pulling her hair to the side baring her neck. The ravenous sound Astarion made sent a jolt of pleasure zipping through her body. His eyes wide with disbelief, he seemed almost flustered by the gesture, the whisper of a pink blush spreading across his nose to the very tips of his ears. She couldn’t help the gentle smile that tugged at her lips. It was strange to see him this way, with a worried brow and puppy dog eyes. He nuzzled against the hollow of her throat. Placing a lingering kiss over the faded mark of his teeth.

He took her by the shoulders, flipping her onto her back. In one push he hilted himself. Dafni cried out, lifting her hips to meet his. He felt her hands slide up his ribs, traveling ever closer to his back. He pulled back with a start on instinct, wrenching away from her loving caress. She stared at him. Worry flashed across her delicate features. He had hoped to avoid questions but his reaction seemed to have only ignited her insatiable curiosity. He took her hands pinning them over above her head and he laced his fingers through her own as he sunk his teeth into her tender flesh. A sharp exhale fell from Dafni’s lips in response. Whatever questions that she had fallen to the wayside as she writhed beneath him.

The feeling of her blood rushing through both their bodies was intoxicating. Her taste was like pomegranate, bright, and sweet. Though, her flavor was but a small part of the rapturous experience. The joyful presence that surrounded her was dizzying enough on its own but to drink from her went far beyond the playful delight simple proximity brought. She felt like every good thing he had been denied in the last two centuries. He forced himself to pull away despite his instincts begging him to take his fill. He recalled the sleepy delirium that took her the last time. A state that was far from ideal for fornication.

“You are exquisite.” He gasped, “ Sunlight made flesh. ”

By the Hells!

Had he said that out loud? He felt the fresh blood in his veins betrayed him, his face growing hot with embarrassment. He tried to look away from her but she reached up brushing his messy white hair away before placing a cautious hand on his mid-back.

“ I want you to look at me ” She whispered, “ You don’t have to hide from me. Not ever .”

She ran her fingers along his spine feeling the telltale texture of marked flesh. He tensed at first but with a deep breath allowed himself to melt into her soothing touch. He was still holding back. Tucking parts of himself away from her even now. She wouldn't push him no matter how badly she wished to know his every secret. She would simply have to savor the glimpses he allowed her for now and trust he would tell her everything in his own time.

His thrust grew frantic and impassioned. She dug her heels into the base of his spine until his body was flush with her own. He bit down on his lip as he came undone spilling his seed inside her. The feeling of him pulsing inside her pushed her to her climax. A cry broke loose from her that echoed through the trees and what had started as a humble bed of flowers spread across the forest creating a lush meadow. Butterflies of pure light burst into existence.

He lay beside her in silence for a while, staring up at the stars. He felt her slide her warm hand into his own. Her hair tickled his shoulder as she scooted closer, snuggling up at his side. He kissed the top of her head. Her breathing was slow and deep. It seemed she was worn out enough sleep rather than taking her usual trance. It had been a long day. She deserved some rest. He would leave soon but he wanted to savor her for a few moments longer...

#dafni of gwynneth #elf writes #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 oc #rewrite #bg3 early access #sunshine & starlight #elf gets spicy

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kaetastic · 4 years

Text

HISTORY UNFOLDS. 3/3

pairing: Finn Shelby x Reader, Luca Changretta x Reader, Deceased!John Shelby x Reader

summary: A favour that is pending to be fulfilled calls Y/N to Birmingham, from a very old friend. However, the youngest Shelby soon discovers her past with his deceased brother, John, and the one who had ordered the murdering, Luca Changretta.

word count: 17.4k

warning: all sorts of angst, mentions of death, war, mentions of violence, mentions of firearm, mentions of blood, smut, profanities, age gap (read note)

note: finally! it is the last part and I can finally finish my other works! thank you for reading! finn is 18, the reader is 37

Part 1 | Part 2

It had been nearly five weeks, some would call it few which passed by in a blink of an eye; however, it was not the same case for Y/N as she was forced to sit in the bed, tucked with puddling sweat in the sheets of her bed while she was being nurtured by her own employees. Even though the poor quivering doctors who had been ‘kidnapped’ (Dante liked to call it guiding) had said that it would be good to walk, she has to keep in mind to not push herself. The woman was not having any of it.

There were so many things to listen to, so many mouths babbling, so many feet dashing in and out of her room while she was in the bed, forever to be plastered over the surface by suffocating tight bandages. With that, she was caught scribbling in her book after three weeks. Dante had steam gushing out of his ears when he stumbled upon the sight, knowing the book resided in the living room. The only reason he was furious was due to the fact that the furthest distance he had strictly ordered to her was the only window in the bedroom, which was ten steps away from her bed. Three days after his hour-long lecture, she was found smoking and sipping on whiskey in the open kitchen, a newspaper splayed out on her lap.

Despite the words from other advisors, she waved it all off as if she was flipping away from the sports’ section of the newspaper. What made matters worse were she had been counting the days she had last seen or met up with Finn. Every time she would try to focus on the work that laid in front of her, to blind herself from the tremoring pain muffled by the bandage, much to her men’s dismay, her mind would revert to him and the night he had stayed with her. The oozing ink in the pen would dry off like clothing hung up in the snoring wind for the never-ending counting days.

The very unfortunate time Connor had barged through the front door he was met with a very bare man. It didn’t go so well with his boss. During her venting, three minutes in and Y/N was clutching on her waist. The woman insisted stubbornly that she was fine, however, the men knew better than to believe the lies she sputtered. In all honesty, she felt fine. Halfway through week four, she had tried to relieve the frustration of being strapped to the bed and pain from the wound by meeting other men. Some she had met while prancing down the street or strolling around the nearby park. To only end up alone in her room, sipping on whatever liquor was strong enough to haze the thought of Finn. None of them was like him. Their touches didn’t feel like his. Had she gone through all the trouble for a cuddling session?

So for days, she has been desperate for anything. Any chance or luck for someone to fall on her platter; she was starving, her mouth drooling to devour a meal, heck, she can even shove down a whole horse right at it. When she wasn’t scribbling on her books or worrying about her business in America, she had enough time to ponder. Even though she had these time to leisure, she wasted it all on trying to relieve the pent up frustration by going to places.

“Is there anything on my schedule today, Dante?” The woman quirked up, shaking her feet that were perched up on her wooden desk, a hair’s breadth away from her container of pens. One wrong kick and the floor would be an exercise to clean (not to her, of course). Her windows were cranked open, the wind blew whistles into the hotel room, breezing an infant tornado. However, the space between its frame and the window was minuscule. A faint odour of smoke and factories danced in the air, all the way from the industry side of Birmingham. With her body slouching lazily on her rotating chair, the seat let out a desperate squeak as she shifted sharply. Although it was the long-awaited day for the removal of the bandage, she had done what she was told not to do as soon as the bandage was removed, which was sitting in a manner that could make the wound worst. While her chin laid on her chest, a burgundy glass of wine swirled in her cup, dancing in a regular choreography. The surface of her tongue was coated with the sweet, intoxicating flavour.

The man lifted up the leather book, his raven hair swept down to curtain his eyes. As his fingers descended down the dates, the caress halted when it landed on the current date.

The Italian shook his head, “Today’s free day. Tomorrow, get ready to buy a bottle of whiskey. So… can I go to the pub?” Shooting a glinting smile, Dante hugged the book to his chest as if a little kid, pleading to his mother for a lemon sweet. Y/N let out a huff, her head was thrown back into the back of her chair.

“When have I stopped you?” He nodded, agreeing to her point.

Even though she had tried her hardest to get over with the work that had been piling on her desk, towering above her and nearly grazing over the ceiling, the thought of Finn somehow made way into her head- even when her task had nothing to do with the boy. To say the least, it frustrated her, especially with the fact that her efficiency in completing work has been declining. No matter how many papers she stuffed in her ears, nothing stopped his appearances in her head.

An exhale fell off her lips, slightly heavier than she thought it would’ve been.

“Anyways, good. I want to visit a friend today.” She mumbled, kicking her feet off before placing her cup on the table. Dante watched his boss as she paced around the room, a compass hovered over her head while she dashed left to the right. Her dress that rested below her knees danced in the air, slicing it in half with every sprint. After yanking her coat from the hanger with a swift tug, the clothing that was made for frigid weather let out a huff as it was thrown over the wooden table.

It was possible for her to visit Finn, entirely possible. There really was nothing stopping her from visiting him, except for the extensive list she had concocted for herself. It had killed her to why she hadn’t done so, a thought of her reverting the direction of the car to pay him a visit popped out in her head before it was poked with a pin. No, it was harder than it sounded.

Polly’s words swirled in her head, hovering around her mind as she would scribble against paper all day. Women like us. What had the lady meant? Every time she would dismiss that thought and not worry about the age gap since Finn was technically considered a man, she remembered that he was the younger brother of the man that had saved her. Heck, Finn was fresh out of the womb born when she was nineteen. That was a lot to digest. But a part of her clung onto the moments where it seemed he had returned back the same kind of affection.

If she could not fall asleep, all she had to think of was the night he pulled her out of her bedroom during the sobbing incident. He didn’t even ask after the night, leaving it in the past. Although a part of her had been slightly grateful since she wouldn’t be able to conjugate sentences if he were to ask, another part of her believed that he truly didn’t care, a faded idea was that she was just his host after all- he was just repaying back that deed. However, she had been slightly upset that he hadn’t bothered to prod in, he hadn’t insisted for her to open up. The woman herself was a frustrating mess. The road split into two, could she not go through the middle? Maybe it was for the best.

There were so many reasons that should’ve already been embedded into her head to why being around Finn wasn’t good for her or for the boy himself; however, looking back, she liked the aura he radiated when she was around him, she felt different. A good different.

“Where you goin’?” Dante inquired. He watched as his boss smoothly slides into her shoulder holster before stabbing her metal key into the lock, yanking open the drawers which sent quivering tremors throughout the container. Whatever had been chucked in the drawer had danced to the earthquake-like beat.

Bending, Y/N squinted her eyes for any sign of her pistol. Her fingers rapidly wrapped around the gun. She twirled it around, her eyes ran over the firearm for a quick inspection. When she made sure the safety pin was still intact, she tucked it safely in her holster, “Near the bridge.”

Dante bopped his head even though a part of him had been driven to confusion. Normally, she would either go to the club alone or at fortunate times, she would call the day off for everybody. He still remembered the joy radiated from Connor when he had heard the news. Only because Y/N had thrown one of the clients she could not tolerate due to his irritating voice. Everyone agreed with her opinion, the nasal tone was no different than rubbing a squeaky cloth on a window. His eyes followed her as he watched her slide into her coat in one swift, “Do you need me to fetch Connor to drive?”

Y/N shook her head, “There is no need.”

“You should take at least one of the boys, I’ll come.”

While she struggled to pick up the car key from her desk, she threw a glare at the man, “You stay here and watch over the boys. I know that last slice of pie was eaten by one of you. You keep your eyes out and tell them I’ll shoot a bullet through their forehead if they touch my last piece of cake, I’m sure they do not wish for a third eye to be a permanent tattoo.”

Without waiting for his response, she had left her room. The carpet caused her heels to sink into the bedding, she let out a huff at the factor that would slow her speed down.

Although it was a risky move to leave the hotel or leave the city overall, she knew that it would be impossible for the opposing side to know that she was involved in the situation. If they had found out, though, she would just applaud. She hoped that they hadn’t thought about inspecting each and every one of the garages since it was random and out of the blue. There, she would run into some trouble. No target had hovered above her forehead just yet. Tommy didn’t save her so she could prance on the street or take a tour around England while his family was held on strings by the mafia.

Inserting the keys in her car, she let it rest in place while she leaned back into the seat; her fingers subconsciously already ready with the flaming stick of cancer. While going down the elevator, she had noted the unrelenting eyes thrown at her as if she was a mere museum display. They weren’t even bothered to hide behind a cloth. Disgust prickled against her skin when it didn’t stop there. There were an abundant amount of judgmental people who would elevate their eyes to look run their eyes on her figure.

Sauntering down the street were white-haired men who waved their golden canes and women with their head held up so high that the flap of their head might just flip open. It was not quite like America. However, the amount of times eyes had gazed at her while she sat in the car alone had multiplied tenfold. They were probably wondering where the real owner of the car was. She chuckled, shaking her head before starting the heavy journey.

The ink from his pen smeared the paper, seeping into the sheet as he scribbled with confidence after he had read the line for the second time. Strokes of black lines finally set into the sheet of paper once he had given it time to rest. Raising it in the air, Tommy narrowed his eyes, squinting as he ran his orbs over the lines once again. Nothing wrong with rechecking. The man clicked his tongue when he spotted the unsatisfactory word.

As soon as the paper glided back down onto the wooden table, his fingers were agile to scribble over. The sheet was organized, neat and professional. That was until the intended marking he wanted to be a sophisticated dot was dragged to draw a line across the paper.

“Fucking hell, Finn,” Thomas let out a huff, creaking back into his seat as his eyes gazed at his youngest brother. Was his office a barging room now? Slight aggravation roared in the boss’s gut at the paper which seemed his son had plucked out for a quick drawing session. “What do you want?”

Resting the pen onto the table, Thomas pulled his glasses off. Finn gazed around the room before he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a creak, “I heard you were going to send Arthur to tell Y/N of the party.”

“So this’s about Y/N then?”

Thomas saw right through him like a beam through a badly-woven sheet of wool, cutting through the pores with an exhale. Finn cowered his true intention by a blush, although, he felt like Thomas already knew. Watching people be read by Thomas was amusing since they tried hard to stack bricks around them, thinking they had him on the other side. However, all Finn wanted was his older brother to lose that ability or power of doing so.

“Well, what do you want to know about it?” Yanking a fresh cig out of the metal case, Thomas rubbed the stick over his lips before flicking his lighter.

Finn pursed his lips before he made way towards his older brother, his strands of hair had curled out in peculiar angles, almost as if he was in a haste to meet Thomas. His fingers brushed over the bulging strands of cloth from his flat cap, “Could I be the one to tell her?”

Narrowing his eyes, Thomas leaned back against the back of his creaking chair. A swirl of smoke danced from his cigarette while he stared at the youngest Shelby. Just a little bit of digging and he might be able to find a treasure chest, “Is there any particular reason to why you would want to do such a simple task?”

The youngest chewed his bottom lip, eyes darted to the shadowy corner, “Not exactly… Could I just tell her?”

With the dangling stick resting between his fingers, Thomas raised the cup of whiskey. He took a quick sip before he tried to read his brother once again, “I was planning to just ring her a call, simple as that.”

“Well, I’ll do it, I’ll go meet her.”

A moment of silence squeezed in between the brothers before Thomas rapped the air with his huffing cig, “Shagged her yet?”

“Huh?” Eyes shooting wide open, Finn’s ajar mouth suddenly became parched, lost at words from his brother’s words.

“You stayed at her lodge, defended her against Polly and Ada. Now you want to be the one to invite her, personally, might I add. So, have you shagged her yet?”

Finn’s cheeks tainted red before he shook his head. The vapour swirled into his nose, warming his lungs, “Good, she was close to John,” Noticing the confused stare from the youngest of the Shelby, Thomas quirked his eyebrows. “Well then? Why you still here?”

Never had Finn sprint out of Thomas’ office as fast as he ever did.

As the breeze kissed her skin, she sported a smile that had not faltered or quivered. Nothing was there to threaten the curved line. When her eyes darted towards her left after she made sure that no objects were obstructing her way; that the vehicle was on the right path, she took in the view of the gentle and young stream of pure, nearly crystal-clear water. Beheaded flowers glided over the smooth stream as if a basket-worth of the unfortunate greeneries had been dumped, its white petals gave the flower equilibrium, floating. No matter how hard of an effort the flowers tried their best to close their arms, luck was not on their side. The sweet pollen was bare in the open as if it called for the blade ends of bees to suckle onto its treasury. While it floated over the water, it sang in falsetto. Amusing infant-like curls of waves nudged against the odd land, which curled and twirled in an almost peculiar way that mother nature herself would never act upon.

Even if one was to be shackled in gold chains towards their banks, their money would never be adequate; it wasn’t possible to have such an astonishing view in the cluster of bar-like buildings. Here, in the middle of nowhere, was a sea of colourless diamonds, with a tint of hazy blue which had labelled a price tag that would cause ones’ eyes to bulge out of its socket, and a tranquil melody, a song sung by no one, yet, clearer than the freshest record player on the market. In the midst of a city, weaving canals were the bloodstreams of death and feculent odours. It was humorous, a plot of land, ruled by the dominating creature was nothing to an open area- where there was no crown, no king. Just survival. Without a doubt, the only thing that could stand against the clarity of the stream in the fields would be the new batch of glass cups that would sooner or later be the wives of countless of lips; home for attentive liquor. The wind was a monitored road, heavily watching the children pass the street towards their school for education, the empty bags they had brought sacked the heaviness that sat on her shoulder for weeks on end. Not even liqueur, a close friend she had opened up to, can relief of the lively thoughts in her head.

There were no other disturbing noises, no other exhausts that had tainted the air (even though she wished she had just chosen to walk, the distance would’ve caused her to collapse like an emaciated horse), no yelling and no other reminder of the city life, other than her car which was her sole accompany. A smear of bleeding red jam against the white toast was the extensive field of bristles of grass whose heads stood erected like swords. Despite the bedding of blades, there were elegant heads of flowers that protruded in between the warriors. Her fingers drummed over the steering wheel, she began to hum, which was muffled by her throat as she imagined the life she had desired in the past.

A life in the forest, a family in a humble, little cottage in the middle of nowhere. Was it even possible? A man whose hands had been dipped in blood? It was forever to be stained. No matter the barrels of cleaning agent, no matter the intense concentration. How had she expected him to drop the empire he had ruled over for a fairy tale? Even though he was a speckle of dirt in the past, her broom swishing technique was not yet solid, despite it already being two years. Her mind swatted the thought away. It left her at awe how a sauntering thought could ruin her mood. That was until she had to force upon her head to ponder of joyful memories she had actually enjoyed.

Once a blur of what would normally be claustrophobic and grey, trickled in the corner of her eyes, her lips faltered to a tight line. The tree that hovered above the plot of land, protected the buried bodies under it like a parasol. Y/N let out a staggering exhale at what she was about to do. Was she even ready? It might’ve taken eight years for her to overcome, was it enough? While her brain chattered amongst its belief of how she had succeeded to wipe that part of her memory, her heart, in piercing shackles, disagreed. Although she wanted to turn the vehicle back into the deadly fumes of the city, the time had ticked short. The graveyard waited patiently as if it had expected her visit. Various shapes of standing blocks of stone stood out from the breathless view of nature which she’ll never be able to get tired of. A calm resting place for inanimate bodies. If she had the chance to choose where her body would be buried, it would be here.

After halting the exhaust, she hopped out of the vehicle, trying her hardest to fend off the hefty thoughts that would only chain her to the car, her only escape. Inhaling in the air, she noted that it was light, a twinge of sweetness swirled in the batch as if dripping honey. While her eyes were shut tight, she sucked it in as if she had been starved of it. Cleansing the fumes of city life in her lungs, the crisp strands made home in the warm organ, she made sure to cover every nook and crevice. The woman who wore a coat that was the colour a tone down of cigarette ashes lingered near the ton of metal before taking a hefty step. It reminded her of the unforgettable war, the heavy sludge of mud she had to trek into, to drag a wounded soldier to safety.

The air was truly one of a kind, it would be considered as an extinct species in the bustling life in the city with all its deadly vapours and feculent odours. If it was to be bottled up and released into the tainted air of the city, the existence of humans alone would cause it to shrink to death. Every step she took towards the location felt like it had been inching down, engulfed by the starving ground. The strings that held her beating heart snapped, after all the years it had to endure while she wore her heart low- the line was bound to wear off, it plunged the organ into the gurgling acid of her gut. The holster that she had been wearing daily ever since she had entered the risky business, suddenly felt like a hefty cargo hook. The feeling was uncanny to that of when she had been given her first shoulder holster, given by someone who had engraved ‘L’ on the front of the strap.

Finally, after what felt like ages, she stood in front of the tomb. The engraved letters that spelt out his name blared into her eyes. Seeing his name in her head was different than seeing it in reality. Her hands curled into a faint fist as thoughts bounced off the walls of her head. The woman squatted down, her knees brushed against the poking heads of the grass. The soft caress of flowers and the breezy wind was the only anchor wrapped around her ankles that kept her from floating away from reality.

Her mouth stood, gaped open, there were so many words she wanted to regurgitate out of her chest, yet, it had clogged in her throat, obstructing the path of air. The coat that draped over her shoulder felt like an awful whole load of weight sitting on her. Reluctantly, she pondered if removing her coat and her defence was a good idea, especially since she was out in the open, where she was vulnerable. Was she to risk her life in the field of grass over buried bodies? Yes, all in the name of respect and trust in those who watched over her. Tugging off her navy swing coat, her fingers brushed over the warm leather straps of her shoulder holster. A second passed; she hesitated before she slid them off. The ground muffled the thud of the metal with its thick layer of soil, the pair of her favourite firearms accompanied each other onto the grassy ground.

Fiddling with the hem of her sand-coloured skirt that stooped below her knees, she sat, pondering with lively thoughts in her head that milled around, the tranquillity of the air gave her the opportunity to think, which might not be pleasant since there was a chance for her to overthink. An offer the city could never be able to provide unless she had downed at least two rock glass worth of vodka, neat. Even though she was enjoying the memories that were played in her head, she had finally spoken up, “Wished I got here earlier, you could’ve shown me around Birmingham,” Y/N sent a smile at the carved name as her fingers brushed the blades of grass. The woman could imagine his face, his voice and his reaction. Eight years of nothing. “You wouldn’t have been underground.”

The smile she wore flew off her face, the wind fled from the scene with the joy it had just stolen. Wincing from the pinching ache in her leg muscles, she let out a huff before making herself a place on the ground, somewhat reluctantly, indenting the field; it took a long second to get used to as the blades pierced into her, mercilessly. Even shifting to find a more comfortable position was painful. After succeeding, her fingers played with the neck of the flowers. “Finally met your brother, saved him too,” She grinned at the thought of the youngest Shelby as she patted the head of the flower who let out an uncomfortable groan. Before it snapped its face away from her, not wanting to be assaulted, once she had let it go from her suffocating grip. “I remembered when I saved you.”

Her fingers halted, hovering above a neighbouring quivering daisy who danced to the tune of the air, “Blood covered you from head to toe, thought you were a mental man before Tommy came to me,” The poor flower was caressed by her finger. “Not a mental man,” Her eyes flickered towards the tombstone. “A good man.”

An ache twanged in her chest as she laid out the heavy words that had been piling up for eight torturous years, “What happened during the war was a mistake, I’m only quoting whatever you said,” She chuckled when she could practically hear his voice trickle in her ears, his chuckle felt nostalgic. The clarity was as if it was just a faint whisper from the night before. “It must’ve been rough after hearing the news that Martha had passed, she was a strong woman. I wouldn’t know how it’d feel if my husband left to fight for the country while I stay at home, a babe in me,” Y/N sent a glance at her belly before she darted her eyes towards the carved name. “Even though what we did was a mere… moment, I can’t forget about it,” She mumbled. “When I left for America, all I could think about was you, though for a period of time… it was suppressed. You said you were the kids will be looked after you, all by yourself, I remembered asking if you needed help… you said no. If only I had stayed... if only I had insisted.”

Beads of tears rested to glaze her eyes, a haze coated her vision, “I’d assume they’re doing fine with your new wife.”

“They are,” Her eyes snapped wide, the tears she held on her eyes splattered into the air, breezing through the wind to splash upon thirsty greeneries. As she hastily yanked her pistol from the holster, there were a series of tremors pulsing in her fingers. Y/N stared at the figure, elbow pierced into the ground while her lip quivered from her oppressed tears that sat behind a thin sheet of a dam. “Woah, woah, there’s no need for guns, hey...”

Behind her layer of salty tears, she could make out that it was Finn. His lanky height, his cut of a hair and the way his voice smeared against her ears. Squatting down to her level, he rested his hand above hers that gripped on the firearm. He pushed it down to point it at the ground, away from him. Although he had not experienced such a situation where a gun was so closely held for his head, his reaction was calm and collected. While staring deep in her glossy eyes, he swam through the endless barriers. Finn managed to gently remove the gun from her grip before he placed it back on her coat.

His face hovered over hers by a hair’s breadth, their eyes lingered as if locked. Y/N couldn’t believe this was the second time he would get to see her like this, frail and weak like a quivering doe. Before she had the chance to wipe the tears off, his hand rested on her cheeks as he took a casual seat, pulling her to do the same. As soon as his thumb pressed softly against her eyes, she let out a sob. His heart drummed against his ribs, had he poked her by accident? He had been extremely meticulous. What he didn’t expect was for her to bawl in his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him into a desperate hug. Without a thought, he shifted closer towards her, his hand laid behind her head as she let out bursts of tears.

It felt longer than it should’ve, but Finn was not complaining. The view of her against the atrocious field was a sight. The memories of her and John had overflowed her head, it was seeping out of the bucket to flood and concoct a puddle. The soothing caress of Finn’s fingers against her hair had placed her in a tranquil mood. When her sobbing had died down, a melody worth dancing to was sung by the stream of water and the rustling of the sole, lonely tree. Not a sorrowful tune. There was peace the place engulfed them in, more comforting than any blanket she had slept in. Although a thought flew by for Finn to pull away, the boy hadn’t bothered. Growing up in a family of violence and harm, the Peaky Blinder boy found the warmth of the place to be just like when he was a mere boy, cared for. Weaving through the locks of her hair, his fingers were wrapped as he prodded his digits into her roots. Finn sprung into the spotlight when he found the beats of the song to be catchy. The humming of a lullaby echoed from his throat, the muffled noise resounded down his chest and into the woman’s ears.

“I’m not a baby, I’m a man,” Fingers brushing over the drenched puddle of salty tears, which was worth a scandalous rumour, she chewed the bottom of her lips as she waited for his reaction. A loud cackle hurled into the air, a booming noise that awakened the slumbering flocks of birds. There was no doubt, it was not difficult to find his laughter pleasing and almost like a strum of an ethereal strum. It was contagious. The disease jumped into her before she knew it, she joined by letting out a chuckle. Although she would’ve liked for her head to remain on him, the cloth had become damp- slapped onto her face, a favourite method of Dante’s to wake the woman up from her sleep. Finally pulling away from his chest, the weight placed on his chest had been removed. “I’m sorry, I don’t easily cry… I don’t know what’s with me lately, it’s just…”

Finn gawked mockingly, “What? I make you sad?”

“No! no!” Y/N shouted, smacking his chest which caused him to let out an amused chuckle. “It’s just, I just let it all out when I’m with you.”

Finn watched the way the strands of her hair flew in the sky as she sprung her gaze towards the field. Taking note of the way her fingers were fiddling quite nervously, he dragged the mood up, “So I’m your doctor now, huh?”

Throwing her head back in laughter, the grin on her face hadn’t been wiped off as the moment felt surreal. A glint of sparkle twinkled in his eyes, “Yeah, you fix me.”

“Then, I must’ve done a good job.” A chuckle bounced off his cocky statement.

Gesturing her head towards his flooded stain on his suit, she mumbled under her breath, “I’m sorry about that.” The boy glanced down, words sprinted around his head as he tried to find the correct method of replying. Never had he had to deal with a woman bawling her eyes out on him.

Even though he hadn’t found the perfect way to reassure her, he threw the coin into the canal with fingers crossed, “Just a few hours in the wind and it’ll not even be there,” She nodded, the back of her palm swiped over the line of tears obstructing her vision from the gorgeous view. Although a part of him had brought up the idea of raising his voice to ask her what had been causing her such sorrow, in hopes of maybe lifting the weight off of her shoulders to ease her from the pain, he decided to revert the topic.

“Wait, how did you know I was here?”

“Oh, right, Tommy sent me to your hotel,” The half-lie and half-truth echoed into her ears. It was more truth than a lie, although, he had not bothered to interject the part where he had insisted, forced, his brother to send him, to deliver the message to the lady. How great of an actor the boy was. Y/N hummed at his reply, fingers rummaging through the pocket of her dress before pulling out a compact metal case. The engraved lines on the silver cigarette case were intricate as if a show plane had carved peculiar swirls in the air. “Asked around and Dante told me, so here I am, inviting you to a party.”

Finn gazed down at the open case, it had been full except for two, the lid clanked as she waited for him to take one, his nimble fingers accepted. As her stick rested on her lips, she flicked her lighter for him. While his cigarette was dying to flaking ashes, she lit hers, “Party?”

Finn hummed, body leaning back as he perched upon his hands, face coating by the warm rays of the sun, “Tommy decided to play truce before the war, called the guy and now we gonna have a drink with them.”

Driving herself to the brink of death by bottles of English liquor didn’t sound like a bad idea. Sadly, if she had known this activity was to happen during the vacation, she would’ve brought flasks of the finest her tongue had ever laid upon, all the way from home. Blinking from the most pathetic and ridiculous idea she had ever heard, she stared at him in disbelief, “You’re gonna drink with the man who murdered your brother?”

Finn let out a heavy sigh as he still could not figure out his brother, who was the leader of the business. Tommy was always like assembling a gun from the base, complex and evasive, “No one knows what’s going on in Tommy’s head, not sure why he’s doing this… It’s Tommy.”

“That’s Tommy, alright. When?”

“Next Friday, dusk.”

She let out another hum while she scribbled a not in her head, hoping that she would be able to remember to tell Dante to jot it down in her book. Finn chewed his bottom, lively words scurried around in his mind. Although he had wanted to propose the idea of her going to the party with him, doubts engulfed him, wholly, as if it had waited to starve itself. Surely she could’ve found someone else? Someone older? Someone who didn’t look like a babe? Cloudy vapour swirled out of her lips like that coming out of a chimney, the deadly fume was ready to sprint, dash out of the cave of her mouth, ready to evaporate into the free air. Except, only a strand fled with the breezy wind while the rest stirred into her nostrils.

“Michael can do that,” Yanked back into reality, she stared at him to continue. Someone had mentioned that name. “My cousin, Aunt Pol’s son, can do that smoke…thing.”

Her eyebrows clashed for a second as she tried to piece together what he was trying to inform. Realization kicked in when his finger wiggled at her cigarette.

“Didn’t see him at the meeting.”

“He’s recovering. Was shot at John’s house.”

Silence emitted from her lips. Another drag to cloud her thoughts, another pull to loosen her head and another inhale so she could meet the reaper who had taunted her. Specks of dirt crawled into his nails as if it found solace in the tight crevices, clumps and clusters chained their arms together to form brown streaks. As he took a drag of his cigarette, the other hand was occupied with another method of relieving the roaring nervousness. The lines of the Earth concocted a painting, a barrier formed when his fingers dug into the bedding of the grass, “Was wondering if you would like to… uh… maybe go with me?”

With high hopes, his fingers buried dead in the soil crossed, “Of course.”

Finn wore a goofy smile.

“Wear blue. Dark blue, you would look dashing in it,” Redness crept onto his pale cheeks at her compliment before he frowned, trying to recall the clothing in his closet. When the woman noticed his change in demeanour, an idea sprung into her head after she inhaled the smoke in. Ah, the wonders of cigarettes. “Alright then, upcoming Monday, come to my hotel and I’ll bring my finest tailor all the way from Paris.”

Finn’s eyes widened. Was she really willing to do all that for a party?

“Y/N, that’s like… grands.”

A chuckle fell off her lips at his reaction, “Isn’t that the point? We’ll be matching. Unless, of course, you don’t want that.”

It was as if he had been trapped in a corner, the clock above his head had sung a limited tone. He glanced at her quirked eyebrow, “No, no, I’d love that.”

When she glanced at the sky, the once blue became an ombre of yellow and purple, stirred in the middle of the two warm colours was a faint line of grey. The gradient was like an astounding backdrop of a painting, worth three grands at least. However, it wasn’t enough for a painter to take a glance before smearing his paint against the bleached canvas. The corners of her lips curled down as it was a sign of the approaching night, they would have to split up. The rustling of the surrounding trees indicated the pair that the flocks of birds have arrived at their homes, ready to slumber during the breezy night.

“Well then, that’s it for the day.” Y/N mumbled, pushing herself up before muttering a thanks to the Peaky Blinder for dusting her coat up, strands of grass sprung off the cloth. Taking a final drag, the stick let out a desperate cry as the fire began to deteriorate its top portion of its body. With a flick of her thumb, the stick met with the grass blades. Its death was painless and quick. To not disrespect the resting dead, she made sure to discard it elsewhere. Not to taint nature. As she put her shoulder holster back on, tucking the pistol she had used at Finn, back in, her arms slid into the cooling sleeves of her swing coat.

“Sadly.”

A minute of their eyes lingered onto one another when Y/N leaned in to place a chaste peck on his cheek. Oh, how Finn wished it would’ve lasted longer than a second. Pulling back, she grinned, “Thank you for staying, not a lot of men do that.”

Finn stood astonished, he watched as she got into her car. His eyes glued onto her, she waved him a soft bye before driving into the distance. His hand rested on his cheeks, a smile crept on his face as he played the memory on repeat. If only he had it recorded, he could play it on the pictures endlessly. The cigarette in his fingers rolled its eyes, the boy who seemed to be struck with love stared at the street she had faded away into. She had called him a man, Finn was a man.

As the familiar door swung open, the scent of perfume that reeked of money rammed into his nose. It had been a battle of floral against liquor. Finn’s lungs had been assaulted the Peaky Blinder was met with a man, who was dressed so freely, Finn was sure he would have been the walking-gawking figure if he was to step outside of the house. The two hooks at the end of his pointy moustache prodded in the air. Although Finn had tried his best to ignore the fact that the man had ran his eyes on his figure, judging him, the man’s eyes flickered back to the woman who stood on a circular wooden platform that rested in the middle of the living room, obstructing the path towards the kitchen. Well, if one could squeeze through the narrow alleys between the table and its wall.

The boy allowed his eyes to be fascinated by the beauty of the nude-coloured dress that sat perfectly on her. However, his cheeks flushed red when he was caught gazing upon her exposed arm, sleeveless with lace ending up to her shoulders. “Finn!” After a stretched out week, Y/N had been waiting for the time the Peaky Blinder would pay her a visit. It had finally approached. The woman sported a wide smile that ran from one cheek to another, her joyful mood had been lifted higher. “Glad you could make it, Finn, this’s my finest tailor from Paris.”

Victor rolled his eyes while he paced back towards his client. Finn who had been stranded made way to sit on the couch that possessed an unspoken memory. The word fine was of low standard, the compliment served no justice to his splendid talent, “Baby, I’m more than fine,” Y/N let out a giggle. Though, it was cut short when the French man had accidentally tugged a string a bit too tight. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Victor,” Roaming his eyes up and down the figure, Victor’s eyebrows clashed before he stood on his tiptoes so his mouth hovered over the lady’s ears. The additional height added from the platform caused her to be taller than him. “’Tis one looks young, is he underage?”

Y/N let out a scoff as she rolled her eyes. Finn, who had been the statue pointed at, threw perplexed glances at the figures. Were they talking about him? He was only right to assume as they kept darting rapidly towards him. Victor, who had been Y/N’s tailor for some time had been there for most of the guys she had gone through. Only those she had been serious with. As a tailor, a worker of art, he had remembered all of their faces as if it was just yesterday they had walked through his door for an outfit.

Although Victor was pleased with her way of enchanting customers towards his shop, Y/N wasn’t doing charity for the men. It was something he had yet to unfold. All of their faces had a streak of wrinkle, the person that had entered the room was a boy. No line of age. The French man recalled her visit to his shop with a Greek man. Victor’s heart was at ease when he had heard they pulled away, mutually. The chiselled jaw and the Adonis’ figure screamed for Victor.

“Come on, Finn, after this is your turn.” The guest nodded, his eyes attached to the woman’s figure, nothing can peel his eyes away from the ethereal sight.

“So, Mr Shelby, what’re your true intentions with our Y/N ‘ere?” Noting the awkward silence, the question buttered by Victor’s thick French accent smeared over Finn’s confused face. The corner of his lips curled up. Oh, the boy made the teasing so easy.

“Huh?” Finn blinked his eyes at the man.

“Victor!” Y/N threw a smack on his chest while he yanked a square piece of cloth from his blue-grey waistcoat. Letting out an entertained giggle, the 37-year-old man hovered the material over her skin, pondering if the tone was spectacular enough.

“I’ve seen all sorts of eyes on ‘er, what’s it you want from ‘er?”

Stammering, Finn squeezed out an answer, “Well, I want to go to the party with her.” The older man let out a huff from the disappointing reply even though he enjoyed the teasing game.

“Obviously. What is it? Money? Sex?” The blood vessels in the boy’s cheeks dilated, smearing crimson red across his face. He did not see that coming.

“What? I have to ask because I’ve seen those eyes before,” Although she was better at suppressing her tinting of cheeks, Finn could see a twinge of red. It was a less vibrant shade than his, though. “So what’s it, kid?”

“I’m not a kid.” Victor hummed, flicking out his measuring tape. The string of cloth sprung out of his chest pocket to bounce in the air, ready to be yanked for measurement.

Slow-paced days sauntered past, not by a blink of an eye, though. The countdown until the party had caused everyone to be pushed to the edge of their seat with tense shoulders. Well, Thomas especially since he had wanted everything to be top-notch. If he could describe the party in a phrase, it would surely be, without a doubt be reeked with gold. And reeked with gold it was. After overseeing the lavish bar, he had hurled the stacks of money for the place to be drowned with stacks of money that were once in his bank. He still hadn’t figured out why he had done so (wasting money that caused Polly to stumble); although, a part of him believed that he wanted to leave a mark on the Italian to the power that bled in him. The consequences of any side of the party to oppose the set punishments had been secured and agreed by both sides. Though, the Italian believed that the English should finally consume the right liquor, so, he had shipped his preferred liquor (that of his own company) to the social gathering.

Y/N let out the air she didn’t know she was even holding in. The dark blue flapper dress sparkled even under the faint light of the distant moon. It was embedded with slinking strands of jewels which draped down as if sagging curtain lines. Stars decorated and embellished her dress, it felt ethereal to have the whole galaxy plastered against the skirt, priceless. Twirling in front of the golden mirror, she wore a grin that peaked from one cheek to the other.

Lost in the specks of glitters, the knock on her hotel door peeled her attention from the enchanting sight. Victor had made dozens of her outfits if she was lucky to visit Paris. However, his style had always left her astounded.

On the other side of the door stood an incredibly nervous Finn. Drowning in sticky sweat from head to toe, Finn wondered how many more litres of the liquid his body could secrete despite the chilly night from the recent showering of rain. The palms of his hands were drenched with beads of sweat, the tie he wore was suddenly too tight despite the incessant amount of times he had adjusted it. Finn’s fingers unfurled over the tie as he remembered the conversation with his eldest brother.

“Whose petrol did you suck, huh, Finn?” Arthur cackled, hand smacking over the youngest back. Under the hazy light of their house in Watery Lane, Finn’s suit was a blur of rich blue. After running his fingers down the lavish-looking suit, the eldest couldn’t believe Finn was capable to enchant someone.

While Arthur was rummaging through the table of clanking glass bottles, Finn mumbled with a smile he couldn’t help but sport, “Y/N got it for me.”

The scavenger hunt for the whiskey bottle halted. Arthur’s calloused fingers hovered over the packed alcohol glass containers that called for him, “Y/N?”

Despite the buzzing in his ears, Finn’s hum as a reply made way to the eldest ears, “We’re going to the party together.”

Taking a second to realize his words, Arthur poured himself a cup of the liquor, “You and her close?”

The smooth cloth caressed against his fingers as he straightened the waistcoat for the hundredth time. Clicking his tongue, Finn replied, “Sure.”

Arthur nodded, chugging down the whiskey in a gulp. In the corner of his eyes, he could see the blur of the younger man, fondling with the pocket watch. Finn could not stay still. The youngest Shelby was rocking on his feet, fingers in and out of his pocket, hands straightening his waistcoat. There was only one viable solution to his nervousness.

Finn’s eyes brushed over the blue bottle. Relief engulfed his body at the sight. While tapping out a line of the white powder onto the wooden table, making sure it didn’t seep into the cracks, Arthur inquired, “D’you know their history?”

Midway of the line, Finn’s neck craned up to glance at his brother. Although Finn did not know the pair his eldest brother was talking about, he shook his head. Arthur proceeded, “We always thought John had the ring ready. Even Thomas heard bells singing in his sleep. The war was horror and yet, the two of them made it worth fighting for.”

The bottle in Finn’s hands shook, glass dancing to the tighter grip he held. His dead brother was in love with Y/N? Steadying the heaving of his chest, Finn breathed in the line. Finn shot up, shoulders rolling to pick up his date for the night. There were questions blaring in his mind that were in need of answers, desperately. But tonight, the drugs were his leash.

Before he had the chance to yank his tie and alter it, the door creaked open. His jaw grazed over the carpet floor. The dress she wore glittered under the hallway lighting, the hem had been sliced into dangling strands, brushing over her knees. Maybe Y/N should’ve taken a breather before opening the door, maybe then she had the time to compose herself.

“Y/N..,” Finn mumbled, still in awe. “You look fantastic.”

The woman pressed her lips at his compliment, her cheeks flushed crimson red, “Thank you, Finn, you don’t look bad yourself.”

The cheeky smile played on the boy before he extended his arm, to which she gladly took. During the car ride, Finn had made countless glances towards the woman who sat next to him. It was a miracle he did not crash the vehicle.

Once the car had stopped in front of the golden building, Finn mumbled a ‘wait’ before zooming out of the car, opening the door for her. A pleased smile crept onto the woman’s lips. While the pair sauntered towards the smeared light of the bar, a trio trailed behind them. Silently following their boss, the three men were dressed in uniform clothing, an oversized coat hung on their shoulders.

As they approached the elegant green door, the moonlight bounced off the golden doorknobs to shimmer the iridescent sparkles. The air outside of the club was hefty and still. There weren’t a lot of people capering on the street. There were only half a dozen men who had been moving about.

“So, when do you plan to visit me in America?” With her fingers caressing over his velvet suit, she hadn’t bothered to throw a glance at where she was even walking, placing all her trust in him to guide the two.

Finn chuckled. Although her face was hovering a hair’s breadth away from his, he didn’t muster the courage to change his gaze. If what had left him astonished and speechless, how could he react to her up close? The closeness between the two allowed him to sniff the strong yet chill scent of vanilla.

They were closer towards the bar, now. Their glass panes of the French door was hazy, it was smeared with a blur of plastered yellow paint, obstructing the passer-by’s ability to take a glance on who partook a glass of whiskey. However, the crying of the trumpet and chill jazz seeped out the crevices of the door, to play in the silent cry of the night. On the empty street, wandering mice could dance as they scour for food for the night.

Halting in front of the door, Finn turned his shoulders to face the woman. His fingers trailed from her arm that had wrapped around his to her bare fingers. Tingles trickled on the skin he had run over, despite the occasional singing of the wind.

Y/N’s eyes watched him in interest, where had he gain all this confidence? The question was hurled through the window as her head gone blurry. His warm lips pressed against her evening glove-covered knuckles. Flickering his eyes to meet hers’, Finn couldn’t help but sport a satisfied smirk once he spotted her cheeks flushing.

While his thumb brushed over the bumps of her knuckles, he mumbled, moving his body closer towards hers, “When this war’s over and I get to convince Tommy, I’ll go to America.”

“You need permission from your older brother?” An amused chuckle fell off her lips.

Nothing fell off Finn’s lips while the carefree song trickled into his ears, “Yes, he needs to know I won’t be coming back to Birmingham.”

Bloodshot up to her cheeks, before she had the chance to react, Finn interlaced his fingers with hers. Their digits weaved through one another as they stepped closer towards the bar. While Finn tried to suppress the smirk that had curled up on his lips, Y/N’s eyes never found the convenience to blink, had he meant what he said?

As soon as the door creaked, cracking a gap between its frame and the slab of wood, boisterous chatter and jazz fled into the night air. Gold sparkled into her eyes. It was an overwhelming amount of the precious metal. If the marble counter and silver sparkles weren’t enough to blind her, bodies that passed her blared their sparkling gold into her eyes. The incessant amount of gold prickling her vision made her ponder, was the night holding something grand?

They made only three steps into the bar when they were stopped.

“Weapons? We’ll have to pat you down,” Y/N’s eyebrows clashed in confusion. “Both of the parties ban weaponry.”

Finn nodded when he had recalled a smear of memory in the family meeting, though, he couldn’t remember it vividly because he had snoozed off. His fingers slithered into the inner pockets of his jacket, the frigid material caressed his skin before he had brushed against a freezing metal that clunk with his nail. Tugging the pistol out, it was soon out of his grasp. The doorman turned his gaze to the woman, although he was to walk away, Y/N let out a sigh.

“Finn, one second,” The Peaky Blinder’s eyebrows furrowed before he extended his arm which she graciously took. A tint of red was smeared against his and the doorman’s cheeks when her hand crept under her dress. “Here.”

The blushing doorman reluctantly grasped the firearm, “Oh, one second, just one more.”

Finn couldn’t even lay a glance on her, his crimson red cheeks had not yet cooled down when he had turned his gaze away to give respect to the woman. The air was sliced with a sharp blade. His mouth gaped open when his eyes landed on the weapon gripped in her hand.

“Take care of her, or else you won’t ever hear another trumpet.” The doorman vigorously nodded at the order before he paced away with the weapons.

Poking his inner cheek with his tongue, Finn looked at her, impressed to how she had brought two weapons, “What else you got under there?”

“Finn!” With a smack against his chest, the pair let out a series of laughter as they descended down the red carpet, their heads turned to gaze at the extravagant bar. Thomas had outdone himself. It must’ve cost stacks.

“Tommy booked the place, it’s only us,” Bopping her head, Y/N didn’t bother to inquire what was lingering behind the, ‘us’. “Thank you.”

The figure that weaved through bodies passed on flutes of champagne while a silver tray rested on his palm. Finn handed one to the woman of the night. After a nod of gratitude, the employee paced away to serve the customers.

“Y/N, this is my cousin that I told you about, Michael.”

Clasping a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, Michael wore a large grin, “Talked about me? I’m honoured,” Finn’s smile dropped down when the Grey mussed his hair. Despite him being recently discharged out of the hospital, Michael’s strength would never abandon him, no matter the dose of morphine, “Glad to meet you.”

Once they shook their hands as a greeting, Michael’s figure faded into the crowd, either returning back to his mother or to tangle with a woman, “You’ve caught yourself a big fish there, Mr Shelby.”

The pair’s neck turned to face the voice, to be greeted by the father and son duo, “Mr Aberama Gold, Bonnie, this’s Y/N, she’s the ally providing us the guns.”

“Indeed, with that face of yours, no one’ll suspect a thing.” She didn’t know if she was to smile at his words. Soon, their figures were diluted in the crowd.

Her fingers dug deeper into Finn’s arm when her eyes landed on a familiar, too familiar man. Y/N’s eyes blinked rapidly, not knowing if she was hallucinating or if her champagne had been spiked. The caterpillar of a moustache that sat below his nose was just like it was three years ago. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Matteo’s eyes narrowed at the familiar group of men trailing behind the couple, which was met with the opposing Italians’. Then, it all clashed once a booming voice echoed through the bar, “Y/N!”

The woman’s eyes didn’t mean to graze upon the heads rotating to face who the eldest Shelby had called for… but, she did. As if he had been pulled away from an amusing conversation, the matchstick that rested on his lips nearly clashed against the marble floor. Arthur’s figure sprung out of his seat when he saw the lady of the night entered the bar.

Her gaze with her ex-fiancé remained. His aquiline nose pointed at her as if it had been surprised by her abrupt appearance. Surprised was an understatement for the Italian gangster. The red streak on his cheek had remained, a forever scar he would have to bear. As his hand descended to place the glass of liquor onto the table, the black ink flashed a smile towards the woman. The same tattoo artist had painted the same tattoo on the same spot for the two. What a fool she was, to think they would end up together. The memory of her nagging about his hairstyle seeped through her head. He stuck with the horrible slick back?

“Why’s he here?” Y/N whispered under her breath, too quiet as the band’s bustling noise filled the room.

“Hm?” Finn hummed, however, noticing her gaze towards the man who had killed his brother, Finn’s jaw clenched before replying, “Luca Changretta sent men to kill John.”

Just like that, the idea that the night would be one for her to enjoy had demolished into a rubble of bricks and dust. She tried her best to digest the new information, but it was too much. Her ex-fiancé had killed the first man she had loved?

Eyes watched as the Italian gangster rise from his seat, chattering died down with the suspenseful pace of the Italian towards the middle of the bar. Two pairs of eyes set upon his unexpected action like starving vultures, in need of the hidden truth. Even though Arthur had not seen his brother’s murderer stand up behind him, he gleefully sauntered towards the girl, to only be halted by Johnny.

“Y/N.” Luca breathed out, the name falling off his lips like the silk sheets they used to drape over their shoulders while their bodies connected as one. He had said the name multiple of times when she had not played a figure in his life anymore; it was nothing like her standing in the same room as him. Although his eyes flickered towards her arm wrapped around the youngest Shelby’s, his chest finally felt free. It wasn’t the same for her. Her chest tightened with every step they both took towards the middle of the bar. Finn’s hands were occupied with two cups, focus lingered on the pair. While Luca wore a faint smile, Y/N bore an unpleased frown.

Luca’s tongue raised from his bottom teeth, ready to mumble her name again. Silence weaved through the bar. His hand rested on his sizzling cheek, the spot she had slapped him was now throbbing with pain. A series of gasps echoed in the air once the noise of her hand meeting with his cheek trickled into their ears.

“Not as painful at the last one.” Luca chuckled it off as if to give a sense of clarity towards the prominent watchers, cracking his neck.

“What’re you doing here?” The venom dripped from her lips, her eyes narrowing on his dark eyes. Was he the mafia the Peaky Blinders were against?

Luca huffed, not liking that he was being watched while he was having a long-awaited conversation with her, “I could ask the same to you.”

“You lost that privilege years ago.” At the mention of why they had split apart, Luca’s jaw clenched. In the middle of a party, set by Thomas Shelby, the murderer of his father, his ex-lover was to converse to him about his mistaking past while they were being watched by strangers?

“We should talk in private, away from wandering eyes,” Luca mumbled, deeper as if he had not wanted any eavesdropping ears to hear him. “Amore.”

A scoff fell off her lips when he dared to call her the nickname he had given her when they were in love.

“Don’t call me that.” The Italian couldn’t help but pace back a couple of steps when her pointing finger prodded his chest, fingernails stabbing his sternum. His hands raised in surrender, gesturing to everyone he would not dare to lay a finger on the woman.

“Parliamo altrove.” (let’s talk elsewhere) The Italian words fell off his lips like a sharp dagger, embedding into her skin. The tone and words would’ve sent her knees to quiver, it used to but not now.

She rolled her eyes at his attempt to fade away from the crowd, was he trying to protect his reputation? “Fanculo!” (fuck that) She stomped closer, forcing his neck to crane down at her. “fuck you!”

Luca let out an exhausted huff, hand dragged upon his face at the uncooperative woman, “Se sei ancora arrabbiato-“ (If you’re still mad) He was cut off by her disbelief scoff.

“If I’m still mad? If I’m still mad?” The tone of her voice raised, she finally realized the silence from the band. “I saw my fiance in bed che abbiamo condiviso with another woman and you expect me to be fine?” (we shared)

“Tesoro-“ She cut him off again

“No!” Her index finger pointed at him, fumes of anger burst from her ears. “You go back to the whore you fucked e tu la chiami Tesoro,” (and you call her treasure). “Because Luca,” His name fell off her tongue like silk, he gazed at the beads of tears threatening to gush out. Her finger quivered at the amount of anger she had suppressed. “You love your treasures, not throw them away.”

He bit his inner cheeks at the remembrance of how the names he would call her fell off his tongue in a series of moans. Having had enough, Y/N spun back to face Finn who had watched the dispute with mouth hung open.

“Let’s go, Finn.” Without a thought, the Peaky Blinder placed the barely drunk cups onto the counter before trailing behind her out of the bar.

“Y/N!” Luca yelled at the fading figure, to only be halted behind the wall of the trio.

Cold air engulfed her. It was no longer still but the presence of the strong wind caused her exposed shoulders to shiver, quivering at the breeze. Finn who saw that she was quivering, not sure if it was because of the sudden drop of temperature or what had happened in the bar, moved his nimble fingers to tug off his coat, draping it over her wavering shoulders. Bitterness lingered on her tongue, a stir of emotions had been provoked out of her throat, tugged from the deepest over her chest. All she could hear was the coat singing as it lands on her shoulder, the rapid clicking of her heels and a pair of feet shuffling behind her, trying his hardest to keep up with her pace. Although she wanted to mumble a ‘thanks’ to the one who had gifted her warmth, she was afraid a sob would echo into the air. Two times she had allowed Finn to see her in such a broken state which was two more than enough.

A waver from the fire well confined in the walls of the gas lamp played a peculiar puppet show against the dark night. With her head craned downwards, her eyes had lingered on her fast-shuffling feet that wanted to flee away. The tightness of her ribs suffocated her lungs, holding the organ as a hostage. Before she could take another step, the familiar scent of cigarette filled her nose. Finn’s eyes faltered close as his chin rested on her head, his fingers weaved through the locks of her curled hair. Her fingers clutched on his jacket, nails digging into the lapels of his jacket as if to hold her body up. Blocked by the lingering odour of cigarette and salty tears, Y/N let out a sob once she had realized she was crying. Once the realization kicked in, the streams down her cheeks splashed onto the concrete as if a drizzle.

Finn’s arms wrapped around her head, covering all angels of her sobbing face. Had she digested it all? Doubts rammed in when she replayed what Finn had said about the Italian. An ugly cry echoed out of her throat. All she could see was the scatter of clothing, haphazardly thrown across the wooden-floored hallway. None of the female apparel was owned by her. Not the blue laced brassiere, not the drenched knickers. Was it easy? The question she had grown to live with ever since he had dragged a whore into the bed she and him had made love for countless of times. The question she had wanted to ask but feared her tears would be seen by him. Was it easy to fuck another woman who wasn’t her? Because Y/N could vividly see the first few months she had tried to get into a bed with someone who wasn’t him. It took four years for her to only want him.

She could hear the wanton sounds trickling into her ears as if to taunt her. Staggering moans stirred with groans. Not hers, it wasn’t her. Three years of their relationship and a year into their engagement. That was all it took for him to fuck another woman.

Footsteps approached Finn from his back. Although the man had wanted to twirl around to take a glance at who snuck up on him, he had a sobbing girl in his arms.

“We’re leaving, Tommy called for a meeting.” Arthur patted his youngest brother’s shoulders, glancing at the locks of the woman before sauntering away into the fading darkness.

The Peaky Blinder didn’t want to do it, but he pulled away, fingers trailed from the back of her head to her drenched cheeks. As his thumb wiped the stream away, her eyes were glossed with a layer of haze that sparkled under the moonlight. He mumbled in a tone as if he had a newly born kitten his grasp, “Never had I have to hold a beautiful lady cry in my arms three times.”

That was enough to pull a chuckle from her. Craning her neck back down to view the petite puddle of her bitter tears that would soon be engulfed by the occasional rain of England, Y/N bit the bottom of her lips at his jest. The corner of Finn’s lips curled up as he succeeded before gently pulling her face up by his hooked index finger, “He’s not worth it. He doesn’t deserve a jewel.”

His eyes flickered to her pursed lips. Before they knew it, their lips moulded into one another, fit into each other like a perfect puzzle piece. His hands trailed down towards her waist, softly pulling her to his body before one laid on her cheek. Her fingers were soon laid flat on his chest as their eyes shut tight. Y/N pulled back, inhaling the fresh air as the ones in her lung had been used up.

“So you deserve a jewel?” Finn threw his head back before pulling her into a long-awaited kiss. “Let’s see what shit Tommy has to say, eh?”

With his hand weighed on her shoulder, her fingers brushed over the bumpy hills of his knuckles. Finn and Y/N’s eyes watched as a ruckus spiralled out from the family. Arthur’s clenched jaw caused his neck veins to pop out (nearing to explosion), his body was seething with anger while a series of never-ending words hurl from his lips as if it was a catapult, all inclusively directed towards his only younger sister. The room was suffocating, particles of fury and red were stuffed in the walls that seemed to inch inwards, ready to strangle the irritating war. Scoffs and slamming of hands on the wooden table was the irregular tune made by the refuting family. It was prominent on who was on which side, it was clearly separated by the extensive table; splitting the two groups apart. Although the topic of the argument had started with Y/N’s connection that was correctly presumed by none other than Ada, it had somehow lead to their past mistakes as children. It went from ‘passing information to the enemy’ to ‘you sold my favourite hairclip for bread!’.

Fluttering petals of rosy red crawled up Ada’s neck, smearing her face. The woman was educated, intelligent and smart; however, her patience and will to live while arguing with her stubborn eldest brother was short. Arthur would mock her witted reply which enraged her. If she didn’t have the speck of maturity in her (and the reminder that she was a mother), Ada would’ve sprung onto the table and smack the man. It was like a bloodbath with the two, on the other hand, it wasn’t the same for the aunt and the nephew. They took casual puffs of their preferred cigarette, although, it seemed that Polly was the one who would spark a comment after lingering her eyes on her only niece.

Rummaging her fingers through the pockets of Finn’s single-breasted overcoat that was still draped over her shoulders, she pulled out the clanking chain of the pocket watch. It was twenty minutes past eleven. In the line of firearm business, late nights was an aspect she had to learn to adapt to. However, late nights was also the time she had had enough which is why doing business with the woman so late could only end up with a disastrous ending. Connor copied his boss’s actions before he pressed his lips, ready to watch the scene unfold before him. The three men threw knowing glances at each other as they have seen it first-hand, experienced to what a late hour can result in. Dante tried his best to not let the laugh fell off his lips when he recalled the time one of her clients ended up on his knees. Late nights call for a catastrophic boss.

In the corner of her eyes, puffs of migrating clouds peeked into her view. Although the room had practically reeked of the deadly fumes, the nearby scent provoked her to snatch one for herself. If she was to go through another minute of their hurling words, a cigarette would be the first good cause. However, it didn’t have the same promising results a bottle of good ol’ whiskey provided.

Craning her head as if she had been enchanted to, the mist called for her, whispering her name in a blurry yet choral tone. Dante’s orbs that were once set upon the family that seemed to be cracking like a fine China piece, darted towards the pair of eyes who had been ogling his cigarette. Although there was a slight argument to the presence of the Italian in the room, he was glad Thomas had won with a swerve just like that of a politician. As he passed her a cigarette, the Italian could feel a pair of eyes pierce onto his cheeks. The corners of his lips curl up like a mischievous serpent. Hovering his lips over her ears, blocking the boy’s view of the woman, Dante mumbled in a raspy voice he would use for whores, “Il ragazzo.” (the boy)

There was no need for her to inquire when she felt a tighter clench on her shoulder. Finn’s eyes seethed anger, a red coat of paint over the glass pane of vision. Y/N hummed, picking up the hints of what the Italian implied. Slightly amused by herself participating in the scheme, Y/N swam in the stream, ready to flow with the boat’s rocking. Dante wore the devil’s smile as he pulled one cigarette for his boss. A sigh of relief fell off Finn’s lips once he noticed she had just wanted a cig. The sense of jealousy gushed out of his skin.

Dante’s cigarette was dying alone in his other hand, its flaking ashes pierced into the carpet with a sizzle. So why was he rubbing another one over his lips? The Italian did not quiver his eyes away from the gawking Shelby as he dampened the unfiltered cigarette over his lips. Dante placed the cig on her lips, a colossal smirk sported on his lips. While her cigarette waited for the fire to burn its head, Y/N’s eyes batted like a curtain in a windy summer’s breeze as she gazed at Dante, the stick was now on fire with a flick of a lighter. There was a shimmer in her eyes, a plaster of sparkle. It was something Finn had wanted, all to himself.

Connor shook his head, slightly entertained by Dante’s wit and ability to piss people off with his sharp green eyes. Once her lungs were warmed by the intoxicating bonfire of fumes, she shot up from her seat, startling the pissed off Finn.

“Alright, listen, I’m going to make it short and simple. After I left England, I went to America. Met Luca, got engaged to him. He helped me build what I have today. Four years in our relationship, he was in bed with another woman. Now, it’s incredibly late at night and I’m sure your children are very much missing you at home. Goodnight.”

With a bop of appreciation for their understanding, her three men trailed behind their boss. Finn darted his eyes at the creaking door; impulsively, he dashed to run outside of the building. The wind whistled, breeze swirling around his body that was not protected by his coat.

“Finn… what’re you doing? It’s late. You should be getting some rest.” Patting her gloved hand over his red cheeks, she entered the car.

Noting her men was not around, he quirked up, “Where’re your men?”

Once she started the car, she turned to face him, “They needed to finish something.”

He gnawed on his shivering lips, contemplating on the idea, “Take me with you,” Before she had the chance to give a reaction, he proceeded. “I can protect you.”

Patting the indent of a pistol that was tucked in his trousers, Y/N narrowed her eyes if it was a good idea. Because the last time it was the two of them, the night had not gone so well; she could defend herself just fine. However, there were times you say fuck it, “Fine, get in.” Without a word, he hopped in.

“Have you ever touched a woman?” Heavy puffs of air grazed over her skin as her fingers brushed over the fuzz of his face. Finn’s eyes flickered to hers, away from the smeared paints of her lips. The grip he held on her waist loosened as the words began to swirl in his head. Was she going to walk away if he had said no?

Running his tongue to moisten his lips, the Peaky Blinder reluctantly shook his head. Strands of hair poked down to curtain his face, his brown locks blocking his eyes. With a finger hooked on his chin, Y/N gently pushed his face to meet hers. He gulped before saying the words, “No, I haven’t... touched a woman.”

It was a blurry haze. One second they were swimming deep in each other’s gazes, the next Y/N’s body hovered over his. Finn tugged her body as he laid down on the loveseat, her body laid in between his legs. A hair’s breadth away from his lips, she mumbled, “Then I’ll be your first.”

Finn nodded, fingers trailing from her arm to her cheeks, “I want you to be the first.”

As she urged him to stand, her fingers trailed to his forearms, pushing it to wrap around her waist. The tremoring pain in her toes had pinched as she tried to reach his lips. Their tongues danced with one another, puffs of heavy air gushing into each other.

“You can go lower.” A twitch played in his pants as the trousers began to feel tight and clamouring with heat. The breeze of her words brushed against his ears. With slight reluctance, his hands splayed down to rest lower. Although the corners of her lips had quirked up once he had listened to her words obediently, she let out a squeak when his fingers began to knead it.

“I know,” Finn mumbled on her lips as he tapped his fingers. “Overheard Arthur.”

Y/N let out a groan. Throwing her head back at his horrible interruption, she glared at him, “Finn, lesson one, you do not talk about family when you’re going to fuck.”

He giggled, pushing his face into her the crook of her neck, lips running over her collarbone with a brush of his skin. The scent of lingering vanilla trickled on her skin, swirling into his lungs as if an enchanting spell.

Her fingers trickled down his exposed chest, finger tugging his boxers. A wince slipped through his teeth at the smacking pain. Lost in the caress of her tongue, Finn didn’t bat an eye at her fingers that slipped through his boxers. An audible groan echoed, his thighs clenched at the hand around his tightness. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead as she caressed his length in a languid pace. With a smirk, she watched as he couldn’t find stability to stand properly. Breathless exhales fell off his lips, the puffs of air caressing her shoulders.

“Y/N…” Her staggering name stammered into her ears once her palm met with his dripping slit. Frustrated at her slow pace, his hips thrust into her hands, followed by a guttural groan from the man. Although she wanted to tease him, she guided him into the bedroom. Not without a whine echoing from his lips, though.

Nudging him onto the bed, Y/N’s bottom lip let out a cry when her teeth bit down onto it. Finn’s body bounced on the mattress before he pushed his back to lay on the wooden headboard. Although he still had his boxers on, Y/N could feel the rush of heat spurt through her veins. His eyes wavered on her running fingers. A twitch in the only layer left which covered the tent growing, caught Y/N’s eyes once her garter has snapped open. Without quivering from his eye contact, she hurled the lace bra to the side. It screeched on the wooden ground before halting. Finn gulped, his throat suddenly parched at the sight.

In a blink of an eye, his boxers were thrown without care; she was on him. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, whites covering the area that was once placed for her coloured iris. Pants and moans trickled between the two scorching hot bodies. Finn’s grip on her waist tightened once she had accidentally clenched around him tightly like a vice.

“Fuck…” Finn growled, heavy breathing coated over her pebbly nipples that bounced with her pace. The night dragged towards the bright morning, filled with relief.

Glistening light poked at her hefty eyelashes with a temper of an untrained dog who waited for his breakfast. Even though the sun was already hung high in the sky with warm rays radiating upon the city, the two slumbering bodies could not be bothered to pace with the world’s set speed nor did they bat an eye at the world’s attempt to yank them out of their comfort. Honks seeped into the crack of the window which was stuffed with the yelling of people. People who were sauntering side by side, however, the volume of their voices was as if the other had stood all the way on the other side of the road.

Lingering in the air was a barely traceable scent. The twinge residual of the perfume she sprayed the night before toned down. The overpowering scent of whiskey and cigarette springing off their coats fought an easy battle with the perfume. It was the first time she had slept without the excessive amount of perfume spraying.

Craning her neck up, the corners of her lips curled at the ethereal sight. With his eyes shut tight, chest heaving at a casual pace, Finn had looked peaceful, tranquil in his own sleep. As her eyes grazed upon the smearing of her kisses against his pale skin, her fingers brushed upon the red marks of her lipstick, tracing imaginary outlines along the marks, up to his jawline. Nuzzling her head into his arm, the drumming of his heart echoed into her ears. A song she could fall asleep to.

“Good morning.” Finn croaked out, body aching which urged him to stretch. Hands caressing the headboard, he dropped his arm to drape over her shoulders, pulling her closer to his warm body. Their bare legs weaved with one another. They scurried from the chilly edges of the bed to find solace in each other’s presence and warmth. With the addition of them slumbering late at night and their exhausting activity, the two had not bothered to cover themselves.

“Good morning to you, too.” The pair giggled, lips meeting. Bodies finally facing each other, Finn’s fingers caressed her cheeks; he swirled the loose strand of hair while their lips moulded into one another. Back arched for his teasing-paced fingers to plunge into her, a knock slashed the tension air. A huff fell off her lips; a giggle echoed from his at her disappointed in the interruption.

“I’ll get it.”

Toes already poking out of the sheets to be engulfed by the frigid breeze, a shiver crawled up his spine once the warmth of the covers was no longer defending him. Faint rustling from the door seeped through the cracks as if the person could not find a casual position.

“No, stay here. I’ll get it.” Although Finn was slightly reluctant, he nodded at the hand gripped around his wrist. Once his body submerged back into the pad of heat, his eyes lingered on her figure as she sauntered towards a robe, body bare for him to gaze upon. Running his tongue across his lips, he gnawed on the flesh until she was out of his sight. With a frigid weapon in her hands, Y/N moved like a cat, sneaking upon without producing a quiver of sound.

The pistol was useless. After a mumbling of ‘Room Service’, followed by haste shuffling of feet against the carpet, Y/N waited until the shadow faded; no presence of the person. Jumping quick on her feet, the woman yanked the trolley in before slamming the door shut as if she was being watched with a target hovered over hers. What was she to fear? She knew Luca was the enemy, what would he do? Stacked upon each other as if building blocks, pieces of freshly cut fruits sat as a tower, somehow still balanced. Surrounding the tower were plucked out leaves, thrown around it for decoration. An uneaten part. Almost as if hidden, a piercing corner of a card poked out from the plate, the rays of light bouncing off the material to shimmer in her eyes. A sigh brushed her lips.

‘Six-thirty. Inkberrow Hotel. Stratford-upon-Avon. Henley Street. Do not bring any of the fucking Shelbys. –L.C’

A noise that was midway of a scoff and a huff echoed in the air. The familiar handwriting was smeared with frantic scribbles, almost as if he had left to write the note last minute. A few more months and she would’ve had the same last name.

“Bed’s getting colder.” Her eyes faltered shut, hands raised to tangle her fingers with his hair after placing the gun on the tray. A pair of slithering arms wrapped around her waist, tugging her back to press against him. Pressing a chaste kiss on her exposed neck, a smacking noise played in the air, causing a giggle to trickle out of her. Although her fingers were nudging the paper into the pocket of her robe discreetly with invisible movements, Finn’s eyes brushed over it. However, he didn’t bother to prod as he had other ideas in mind.

Craning her neck to the side, her lips hovering a hair’s breadth distance away from his, Finn could feel the warm breeze when she mumbled, “Yeah? Let’s make it warm.”

A twitch stammered and she let out a squeal once his arms raised her in the air.

Even though Y/N held onto the hope that Finn would remain longer in her sheets, there was a minuscule part of her that knew he was to leave anyway. So, it did. A ring from Thomas and the youngest Shelby would obey without any refute. However, it didn’t mean she would give in without a fight. So while he suggested for them to shower, she had grounded him into the bed for a short while before he had trekked to the bathroom with her on his back, clinging onto him like a monkey. With the first phase of her plan gone to waste, she proceeded with the second phase, which was in the bathroom.

Although she had tried to linger the moment by brushing over his chest, it had only worked until he recalled the urgent call. Once they were out of the bath, Finn had only gawked at her before his bare body had been covered with his suit. How had she been infatuated by him? Finn was a spell, a dangerous one. A part of her had tugged on the time for him to leave because she had wanted him to stay longer, but she knew, underneath the bubbling surface was her tight chest had not been ready to meet the long-awaiting appointment. Despite three whole years. Were three years even enough?

Once Finn had left the hotel after countless of sights that urged him to stay, to which he had yanked away from, she was left on the edge of the bed with the crumpled note arched on the tips of her fingers.

As the door cried in the still air, Luca’s wrist halted, hovering over the sheets of paper with a pen whose ink had begun to dry. Although he was in the midst of scribbling vital information, the blaring lines had only smeared against his eyes, his brain was not able to process the moment he had been waiting for, for far too long. The air he had enjoyed with a twirl of breeze and a stitch of his whiskey had suddenly felt hefty on his shoulders. The pressure tightened around his chest like a whip. Fragments of his ribs cracked like china dinnerware that met the ground with a clash, floating in his chest cavity to pierce against his muscles. Once the door met with its frame; the shuffling of the maid had faded, Luca’s tongue swept over his pearly white teeth.

Y/N noticed there were no overpowering sounds trickling in the background. As his eyes grazed over the ink one more time, he pushed his back against the chair, shoulders squaring up. With a caress, the sleek, luxurious pen which must’ve cost more than an average one since it was embellished with gold and jewel of diamonds, the pen rolled over the wooden table to play a suspenseful tune. Finally, his eyes met hers. It felt like the night before. A voice in his head shook in disbelief as it implied its opinion. This is just his imagination, he had too much. Although he took years to compose himself, build himself back up, sometimes, time is not what one needs to start a decent conversation. Without a thought in his head, he blurted out, “You fucking the Shelby boy?”

The frog leapt out of the crevice of his mouth; the creature hopped onto the hovering lily pads in the air. Her eyebrows clashed in confusion at the brash accusation, “Three years and that’s the first thing you say? Be grateful that I’m giving you the privilege to even speak.”

A staggering breath sang out of Luca’s lips. With a gesture towards the guest seat on the desk, he popped in a matchstick into his mouth. Noting bad habits were pulled out, Y/N lit a cigarette, reluctantly plopping on the seat. Luca watched with furrowed eyebrows at the smoke dancing into her lungs. The Italian man hated the horrible habit she had during their relationship, always bugging her on how it would be the death of her. While his tongue danced with the wooden stick, his eyes lingered on her casually dragging the cig, “You still smoke that shit?”

“You still biting matchsticks?” Without a word, he nodded, tongue poking on his cheeks. There were countless thoughts in his head, yet, time felt so restricted. As he ran his eyes over her dress, he pushed himself off the table.

“What’re you doing here?” The air was an ocean. Sunk at the lowest level of water, the pressure sat on her shoulders. She was a fish roped to an abandoned ship, struggling to flee away from the sauntering sharks. Silence. Her fingers brushed over one another as she watched him pace towards the alcohol cart.

“Whiskey?” A hum played in his ears. His square back faced her as he refilled his own cup since what was about to happen clearly needs whiskey, and another cup for the guest. Placing a cup in front of her, he plopped back into his seat. “What’ve you heard?”

“A vendetta.”

Luca hummed, his eyes glued onto the swirling tornado in his cup just like when he had been told of the heart-breaking news by none other than his distraught mother, “They killed Angel and Father.”

Digging a grave in the shrivelled velvet purse, her fingers were engulfed by the warm stitching. Although the history between the pair was rough over rugged waves, memories will linger. Y/N will never forget the high admiration the Italian held for his father. To be groomed as the heir and the successor of the empire that Vicente has yanked out from the deepest of American soil, words murmured about Luca had been hurled around, an inevitable future everyone could see. Y/N remembered word-to-word. Feared for their quivering loyalty, the people who had even the minimal of ties with the Italian syndicate, had to learn their consequences first-hand if they were to step out of the boundary.

Despite him being portrayed as this painting of the devil in a cloth of black, there was an underlying layer, beneath the one he had coated himself in. Y/N got the privilege to meet that part of him. The Italian did not hover the façade of a mask in front of his family; in fact, the belief of blood being thicker than water was the reason they all had gotten along. Uplifting when surrounded by his blood relatives, Luca had been an excellent older brother. Everyone could claim so even with a glance. Y/N’s throat suddenly became parched in realization. Luca had lost the only brother he had, “Luca…”

Not tearing his eyes away from the cup of whiskey, he mumbled under his breath, “Mother misses you, wished you were home.” Before she even opened her mouth, he gulped down the whole drink.

Ever since Luca had courted the woman, it was definite for Y/N to be interrogated by the Italian. During the course of befriending his family, Audrey had taken a liking to the girl. Seeing the effects Y/N held on Luca, Vicente had peeled his wife’s overprotective layer, which soon caused her arms to wrap around the woman. The feeling of acceptance by the Italian mafia had been a foreign emotion. To be seen as one and not a threat built a tie with each member of the syndicate. Chewing on her inner cheek as if a stress-reliever, she took a sip to ease the pain, “Have you told her?”

“What do you take of me? Of course I told her,” Luca’s gnawing teeth sawed on the matchstick as if a blunt saw. Though, he was more of a beaver who had migrated elsewhere. Painfully recalling the moment he had cracked the reason to why his ex-fiancé had fled away, to his mother, a sorrow scowl sported on his lips. “Didn’t talk to me for two weeks. She heard that I was drowning in a bar, then she cooked up those pasta you liked.”

“Go home, Luca. Staying here is no good for you.”

Hurt layered his eyes as the strain his voice staggered down the steps, “Why should I? You won’t be there.” Luca’s head darted away. The sentence clogged in his throat. You won’t be at home. Deep down, Luca knew, no matter what he would do, nothing would bring back the scorching love the two had. Had, the past he should’ve already moved on from.

“No, I won’t be at home. But I know that Capone is singing in victory while you’re here.” The Italian let out a scoff while his towering figure shot up from the seat. The chair let out an ear-pitching screech, no different than that of a triggered explosive.

“It’s for Angel and Father!” Pain weaved through his words. With a slam on the table, flying sheets of paper danced in the air as the empty glass swung in place.

To be courted by the Italian had taught Y/N countless of things not many knew about him. After four years of being with the man himself, Y/N had concluded that he was as persistent and stubborn, “It is for Angel and your father, but you have to go back. Here, you’re vulnerable. Capone is King in your absence.”

“I was vulnerable when they died!”

Scoffing at his words, she too, shot up from her seat, her purse was slapped against the surface, letting out an echo, full of frustration, “I was vulnerable when I found my husband was fucking a whore!”

Taking a second to digest her words, Luca mumbled with a clench in his jaw, eyes narrowing, “So I leave their deaths in vain?”

“Going back to New York and staying there is not leaving their deaths in vain. You know I’m right, when have I ever been wrong? Go back Luca,” Splaying on his large hands that were once a source of warmth on her cheeks, Y/N’s hands pushed his palm onto his beating heart. “And remember them here. Their deaths will never be in vain.”

Eyes trailing from her hand to her eyes, Luca mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

A haze of misty smoke drowned the room. Dangling between his fingers was a huffing cigarette whose head has been flicked to a pile of cremated ashes. The faint sizzling echoed from the crystal ashtray, accompanying the only other present sound of paper turning. While his fingers glided over the sleek sheet, Thomas took a drag of his cig, pondering to the typed lines. Although it was nearing noon, he felt he needed a haste nap in his bed. Terribly. The lines of words squeezed into one another, clumping up into balls of black ink just like the period of time when he had not owned a pair of glasses. Except, this time he did (all to blame the immeasurable volumes of liquor he had chugged down). An unreadable tragedy. Letting out a frustrated sigh after his head could not digest the word, the warm vapour of his cig wrapped around his head as if a blanket. No matter how many cups of liquor he had refilled, the droopiness in his eyes was impeccably heavy.

Finally over with the uncooperative feeling, Thomas shifted the stick to his non-dominant hands. The frigid kiss of the pen bit into his palm, sending shivers up his arms. Even though he wanted this to be over; he wanted the day to end, the papers must be read thoroughly as any slipped lines could be the end of his empire. But, honestly, Thomas was nudged. Fuck it. Gliding over the surface in one swift movement, Thomas scribbled his signature. Somehow, the black strokes seemed as if he had pondered with great thought. The loop of contemplation between the ‘o’s concocted a circle, an orifice to the hole he was forever to be stuck in.

Boisterously, the crying door let out a pleading creak. Thomas’s eyes snapped away from the dozen sheets of paper he had gone through that sat on the top corner of his desk, even though a hefty stack rested on the left side, the glistening crown it wore blared into his eyes for hours. A slight furrow in his eyebrows played before he clicked back his pen, taking a sip of his drink, ready for what news the woman came in for, “Call it off.”

Without a word uttered, Thomas quirked his eyebrows at her statement. Shutting the door behind her, Y/N made way to lean against a wall, swirls flaming from her cig created a hazy mist around her. The battling of two cigarettes trickled in the air while the lingering odour of whiskey cowered in the corner, “I know when you’re planning and you’re planning something right now. So, call it off.”

Thomas blinked his eyes. The rays of sun danced through the cracks of the blinders, blaring into his eyes. Placing the vision-helper onto the surface, his fingers made way to massage the clenching that rested behind his eyes. If only he could pluck the orbs out to satisfy the itch. Glowing a minuscule orb, the light source sitting on his desk smeared a flickering green onto his face (a contribution to his sleepiness), “What the fuck are you saying?”

“Luca’s leaving.”

With a sweep against his ears, the clenching muscles in his lungs halted. The gears and spanners in his body did not creak a limb as his brain processed her words. Thomas wasn’t sure what to feel. A can of petrol regurgitating its contents into the bonfire he made from the vain death of his brother. It was a bitter scorch of fire, swirled in a cooling mint. Despite the refreshing drinks he had consumed, all of its effects wiped off once the words were stuffed into his throat, “What?”

“He’s going back to New York.” Y/N mumbled, fingers running over the velvet spines of books stuffed onto the bookshelves.

“And why the sudden change of mind?” There were so many ways he could react; Thomas Shelby didn’t know which one was appropriate with his current mood.

“Gave him an offer.” Quirking an eyebrow, the corners of Thomas’ lips curled up.

“Will I be invited to the wedding this time?”

“I’m not marrying him,” Y/N almost huffed out. “Said that I’d work with him.” Thomas hummed, fingers lacing into one another as the back of his mind began to calculate a plan. Well, plans. To kill or not to kill. Pondering to himself, Thomas branched out in the countless of ways of response. Was he to leave his brother’s death in vain?

“Good. Cause Finn would not shut up about how good you were.”

The smoke seeping down the column of her throat screeched to a halt, clogging the airway at his words. A tint of red smeared her cheeks at the prominent smirk the man wore. Oh, was the boy done for.

A layer of light glazed over the green-tint of water, grazing over the horizon in smears of blurs. The island her foot once rested upon faded in the distant, it became nothing but a haze of grey. Orbs of yellow embedded the vertically-placed cuboid buildings while a stroke of gold plastered across the city. Sinking into the vast, never-ending horizon of cerulean blue, the arms of the sun widened, radiating rays of warmth upon the night before it slumbered.

Crashing of waves sang into her ears, the overlapping of the warm grumble from the ships’ horn and the hasty shuffling of feet against the deck created a sense of adventure. With a lot of memories and experience in spending countless of days entrapped in the cabin over the migrating waves, Y/N had found herself accustomed to the smell which some people would found sickly. The twinge of salt and smeared breeze of the pure ocean trickled in the air, not an odour that a new traveller would find pleasant.

Chattering of overflying birds who wouldn’t find the need to rest their vocal cords played from above, raining upon the travellers as if series of bullets. With the kissing of wind engulfing her figure, Y/N stuffed her hands in the warmth of her coat pocket. The corners of her lips curled down at the memories she decided to reminiscent. People she won’t be seeing for quite some time; a grave she won’t be able to visit.

Other presence of people ebbed. Nauseated by the overpowering pungent of blocks of salts, the onlookers who had exited from the boat to the wooden deck to embrace the view shuffled back in. Only one remained. Y/N’s eyes never left the sacrificed, infant waves who rammed into the rusted metal sheets of the boat. Too lost in thought to realize the temperature of the air faltered, zipping down to bites of frost. Echoing from a great distance, which trickled closer to her proximity, a pair of feet rubbed against the beads of rain decorating the deck.

Seeping through the barrier of salt with a muffled slithering, the odour of freshly smoked cigarette battled with the ocean’s musk, “Let’s go back in, it’s cold out here.” Once the words fell off his chilling lips, her body tingled up the new change in temperature. Finn placed a chaste kiss of heat on her cheeks, despite frost cracking on his lips. Their gloved fingers tangled with one another, weaving like irritating locks of hair. Making their way to their designated cabin, warmth gushed through their pores. A heart can be mended back, you just need to find the right string.

Part 1 | Part 2

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

Monsoon Season

Chapter: 1 of 2

Characters: James Conrad x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When a rogueish British soldier saves you from a sticky situation, you find yourself in his flat, clothes soaking wet with only one bed for the both of you.

Warnings: Brief mention of violence and blood. Smut in Chapter 2.

A/N: This is my response to @yespolkadotkitty‘s request: ‘I would adore if you had time to write a fluff one where for flimsy reasons Conrad carries reader over the threshold of somewhere with ONLY ONE BED’. I didn’t mean for it to get this long, but it all just happened! I hope that you enjoy!

Taglist for this series: @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @phoenixwench

Permanent taglist: @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @nonsensicalobsessions @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13

Thanks for the AWESOME banner, @yespolkadotkitty!

You were lost, at the peak of monsoon season, in a country where you didn’t speak the language, in the middle of the night.

To put it mildly, you were screwed.

You had been following the rest of your team back to your seedy motel when you were separated by a man on a motorcycle who had no regard for where the road ended and the sidewalk began. Then a mother had sprinted in front of you with her two children in tow, running from the lightning that flashed menacingly in the sky. And then a group of rowdy teenagers had crossed your path.

By the time you were free to continue on, your fellow scientists were nowhere to be found. You didn’t speak a lick of Vietnamese to ask for help, and your stumbling around the neon-lit street didn’t get you anywhere except lost. Just when you thought the situation couldn’t get worse, the heavens opened up and torrential rain poured down on you, hot and heavy through your thin summer clothing.

Every curse word under the sun fell from your lips as you ducked into the nearest open doorway. Your shoes squeaked and stuck to the sticky bar floor as you moved away from the door hesitantly, taking in the patrons milling about, illuminated by the dark red light that did nothing to hide the drugs changing hands or the glazed look in the eyes of scantily-clad women as they disappeared behind curtains with leering men.

You did not belong here.

Gulping down the fear that crawled up your throat, your hands fisted at your sides as you turned on your heel, intent upon leaving. The thunderstorm outside seemed a safer bet. But a large man stood in the doorway, his arms folded as he looked down at you with a hunger that made your skin crawl - not in a good way. You backed up, eyes wide, only to collide with another body, sticky with sweat and reeking of stale alcohol and cigarettes.

You whipped around, not understanding what he grumbled at you, but the way his eyes traveled up and down your body and the bruising grip he held on your wrist was not to be misunderstood. Panic seized your mind as you babbled incoherently at him, shaking your head back and forth, vaguely aware that your voice was rising in volume and pitch but uncaring.

A man stalked from out of the shadows, towering over all the other patrons, his light eyes hard as steel as they focused on the man holding you captive. You watched with mouth open wide in shock as his hand curled into a fist into the shirt of his target, yanking him away from you and tossing him onto the floor with as much ceremony as one would a bag of trash.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his richly accented voice sin wrapped in sandpaper, both soothing your frazzled nerves and coaxing your libido to life.

You didn’t have time to answer, as the behemoth of a man who had been guarding the door shoved you out of the way, knocking you to the ground. Danger practically radiated through his rigid frame, coiled tight as he glared daggers at the man. He moved so quickly that you couldn’t follow, only catching the whip of his fist followed by a grunt, or the twist of his torso that ended up with his opponent sprawled out on the dirty floor before him.

He approached you cautiously, hands held in palms up in front of him in a clear show of peace, kneeling beside you. “It isn’t safe for you here. More will be coming. Where are you staying?”

You had only just arrived that day, and you couldn’t remember the name of the motel for the life of you. When you stammered that out to him, his brow furrowed and he ducked his head with a sigh of exasperation. When he lifted it again, his jaw was set beneath the scruff of a beard several days overdue of a shave, his brow furrowed in determination.

More men burst into the bar, shouting furiously and pointing in your direction. Your dashing protector grasped your hands and pulled you up, ducking his head so that he could look into your eyes. “Stay close to me and do not let go of my hand. Understood?”

He didn’t wait for your frantic nod, tugging you out of the bar and into the downpour outside. Your eyes stayed on his broad shoulders as you jogged behind him, watching his back flex and shift beneath the soaked linen of his shirt. He led you down streets that only seemed to become narrower and narrower with each twist and turn. You followed him willingly deeper into the labyrinthian alleys and thoroughfares that you had no hope of escaping should he decide to leave you to fend for yourself.

But he seemed to have no intention of doing so. That was made clear when he suddenly turned to you and pressed you into the wall beneath a balcony overhang, shielding your body from view with his. His forearms caged you in and his head hung low, his forehead brushing yours as he panted lightly into the humid air between you. Water dripped down the hard planes of his face onto yours, clinging to his light eyelashes and wetting his lips set into a thin line. “We’re being followed. You seem to have piqued the interest of some unsavory characters, or they are thoroughly upset at my thrashing of their fellow ruffians. Do exactly as I do.”

With no option but to trust him, you nodded, the small motion rubbing the damp skin of your forehead against his. His eyes met yours, cool blue of the sea before a storm, steadying you with the confident assurance you found within their depths. His hand found yours, engulfing it and almost searing with its heat, and you were off once again.

You followed him as closely as a shadow, your slip-on shoes slapping out against the wet pavement lost to the thunder and rainfall that deafened you. When he stopped and flattened himself to a wall, doing the same to you with a hand splayed across your stomach, you waited for his signal with your stomach heaving beneath his staying touch. He seemed to see everything at once, his keen eyes darting around, calculating and methodical. How he could see anything at all through this rain was beyond you.

You were doing a fairly decent job at keeping up with him, until you stumbled over a bit of uneven pavement, losing your shoe in the process. It was at that moment that he silently urged you faster, leaving you no room to protest as the gritty pavement bit into the soft sole of your foot.

Only when you ducked into a stairwell and climbed three flights of stairs did he slow, turning to look at you with a brow raised in concern. “Alright there, miss?”

You released his hand to brace yourself against the rough concrete wall, lifting your bare foot to reveal the bloodied underside. Something had caught the skin of your foot along the way, and you winced as you flexed your toes experimentally. “Lost my shoe somewhere back there.”

He made a deep sound of displeasure, crouching down beside you to take in your injury, holding onto your ankle with gentle fingers. Shaking his head, he righted himself and slipped his arm around your torso, his fingers curling around your ribs. “My flat is just up ahead. If it’s agreeable, I can tend to it there?”

“That’d be nice, thanks. Who knows what’s on those streets.”

He nodded, forehead creased in thought as he cast another glance around you before briskly walking you both forward. Now that you had slowed down and you had a moment to breathe, each step felt like hot knives stabbing up your leg, and you did your best to stifle your quiet whimper behind your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

He must have heard it, because without a second thought he slipped one arm behind your knees, lifting you up into his arms with very little effort on his part. You squeaked in surprise, your hands flying around his neck for stability. Somehow he managed to walk the rest of the way to his door and open it without dropping you.

His apartment was pitch black, and he carefully sat you down on something soft just a few steps inside before covering your lips with a calloused fingertip. “Hush for one moment,” he shushed you, and you strained to pick up the quiet sound of his boots as he shifted about the apartment.

Whatever assessment that he felt necessary to conduct must have turned up favorably, because several agonizing moments later a lamp flicked on next to you, bathing the room in a pale yellow light.

It was small, the space cramped with only a coffee table and the modest chair you were seated upon taking up what could be considered the living room. A kitchenette was visible over his shoulder as he knelt before you, next to which stood a closed door. There weren’t any personal effects, nothing that suggested anyone even lived there, save for a small stack of books on the table and a plate drying over the sink. It was clean, well-kept, even the age of the items belied by the care given to them.

“May I?” he asked, pulling your focus back to him.

You blamed the humidity and oppressive heat for the difficulty you had in catching your breath, instead of the earnest concern that knitted his brow as he looked up to you, his hands held out to receive your injured foot. Flushing both from the exertion and a sudden wave of embarrassment at his scrutiny, you carefully lifted it to him, only for him to gently settle your heel on his knee, steadying you.

You watched him as he worked, an open emergency medical kit at his side, fully and thoroughly stocked with much more than what was standard issue. He was efficient, but still careful, mindful not to put too much pressure on the nasty-looking gash. He was just as soaked to the bone as you were, his blue linen shirt stuck to his skin, revealing impressive muscles for his frame that flexed pleasantly with his every movement and breath. Your eyes fell to the triangle of tanned chest revealed by his shirt, the top two buttons undone. A water droplet rolled down his neck and disappeared beneath the fabric, and you tamped down the sudden inexplicable urge to trace its journey with your tongue.

He was beautiful, in a rogueish way that made you wonder if the harsh lines around his eyes softened when he was lost to the throes of the basest pleasures.

It occurred to you, while you were tracing his cheekbones so sharp they had to cut glass with your eyes, that you didn’t even know his name.

“James Conrad,” he suddenly murmured, as if he had been reading your thoughts. He offered you a quick smile and a curt nod before lowering your foot back to the floor. He stood, his back ramrod straight, offering his large hand to you once again. “And your name, miss?”

You took his hand and gave him your name, taking his assistance gratefully to rise to your feet. The bandages he had wrapped around the injury helped lessen some of the pain, and it would do nicely to protect it from bacteria. This close to him you had to crane your neck to look up at him. The scent of him drifted to you, pine and alcohol and something inherently masculine that made your mouth water.

Your name on his lips broke through your thoughts, sounding like both a question and a curse as he stared down at you. Emotions warred in his eyes, too many to give a name to, but his thumb stroked over your knuckles lightly. He hadn’t let go of your hand. You shivered at the intimacy of the gesture, desire flashing over your skin like a cool breeze on such a balmy night.

“Oh, pardon me. You’re absolutely drenched. I must insist that you stay here for the evening, and then I can assist you in finding your lodging tomorrow morning? I can find you something dry to wear, and then you can sleep in the bedroom.” He paused, taking a step away from you. You instantly missed the closeness, and you leaned forward just a bit to seek out his touch. Your hand fell limply to your side. “The door locks from the inside.”

As if you had any other option. “Oh, thanks.”

Every movement he made was measured, sure, as if his mind was several steps ahead of his body. That combined with his sharp gaze and rigid posture spoke volumes where his words did not.

“Military?”

He paused in the doorway of the bedroom, holding a bundle of clothing in his arms. One brow ticked up on his forehead as he peered up at you from beneath long lashes. “Former British SAS.”

That would explain it - the assertiveness in his command and the knowledge that lingered in his gaze. You nodded, taking the proffered clothing with an appreciative smile. You shifted on your feet uneasily, wondering where you should change, a blush staining your cheeks as you thought of undressing before James. When nothing was offered, you spoke up. “You wanna turn around there, solider?”

“Pardon me.”

Your eyes lingered on his back for a moment longer than necessary, following the slope of his broad shoulders down the dip of his spine to a narrow waist. The situation wasn’t ideal, but you found yourself lucky for more than one reason that he had been the one to pull you out of it. Quickly, you stripped out of your sopping wet clothes, only nude for a moment slipping into the loose gray t-shirt and faded boxer shorts he offered you. There was something intimate about wearing his clothing, about smelling the faint scent of laundry detergent and pine so close to your skin, that set your nerves alight.

At your call, he took your wet clothing from you, arranging it over the coffee table so that they had the best chance of drying. You didn’t hold out much hope in the humidity, but the effort was thoughtful nonetheless. You followed him into the bedroom once he was finished, taking in the sparsely furnished room silently.

“I will take the chair out in the sitting room,” he said quietly, his hand lighting on your shoulder in parting before he moved to leave.

Your hand caught his wrist, light enough that he could break free if he wanted, but he didn’t. He turned back to you, his cool eyes staring straight through to your soul as he waited for you to speak. You had never felt so exposed and seen in your entire life.

Speaking around the sudden dryness in your throat, you released him to wave your hand toward the bed. “It’s big enough for the both of us. I would feel awful if I made you sleep in that chair when there’s plenty room here. You wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to hurt me, right?”

Fire lit in his gaze before he closed his eyes briefly. When they opened the expression was gone, replaced by a wariness that you instinctively knew went to his very core. “You would be foolish to trust a complete stranger.”

You sat down on the thin mattress, springy beneath you. “You laid out a man twice your size in the bar back there. You could break down that door if you really wanted to. At least this way I know that anyone who tries to come in has to go through you to get to me.”

You had tried for humor, but by the sternness of his expression, it hadn’t landed. He sat down on the other end of the bed, unlacing his boots. You averted your eyes when his hands went to the collar of his shirt, affording him the same privacy he had offered you. When the bed pitched beneath you, you rolled over onto your side, facing him in the room.

You were just able to make out the wild curls of his hair with the hazy red light that streamed in through the window, haloing him perfectly. The night’s events hit you suddenly, brought about by the light, and you clutched your hands tightly to your chest.

“James?”

“Yes?” his voice was just loud enough to fill the space between you, intimate and deep even as it was directed at the ceiling.

Memories of the hollow-eyed women flashed in your mind’s eye. “Thank you for saving me back there. I… I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t.”

He must have felt your trembling shaking the bed, as he shifted so that he was on his side, reaching out in the darkness to clasp your hands comfortingly. The backs of his knuckles brushed against your chest, making your heart stutter against your ribcage. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline that had flooded and left your system, or the dim lighting playing against the line of his shoulder, or the gentle rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. But you felt emboldened, your curiosity driving you as you shifted closer to him on the bed, lining up the lean length of his body against yours. The brush of the hair on his legs, so very male, tightened the muscles of your abdomen pleasantly.

His breath hitched in his throat. “It was only polite, what was right.”

You lifted your entwined hands to your mouth, brushing his hand across your lips. He was faintly salty, but also sweet, addictive. Would his kiss taste the same?

You propped yourself up on one elbow, daring as you lifted a hand to drag across his cheekbone to brush a stray lock of hair back into place. “Are you always so polite, James?”

#captain james conrad #james conrad #kong skull island fic #james conrad fanfic #james conrad x reader #james conrad smut #yespolkadotkitty #request #monsoon season #hopelesswrites

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youkaiangel · 4 years

Text

Curiosity Killed the Cat - Wizardess Heart Fanfic

Pairing: Vain x female

Genre: Smutty smut

Words: 5969

A/N: This is a response to a request I got far too long ago. I hope it satisfies!!

Read here or on Ao3.

She sighed as she flopped back on the grass, staring up at the afternoon sky spattered with drifts of white clouds. It was a rare moment the three girls had seized to relax together in the academy courtyard, just for a little while, but listening to Liz babble on about her boyfriend, and Amelia fawning over falling in love, was not helping her mood. Love was not what she was craving then and there, but perhaps something a little more raw, more intimate, more risqué.

‘What’s the matter, hun?’ Amelia’s head popped into her view, leaning over to ask her the question.

She just gave another sigh and averted her eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘I just feel…’ Horny? Bored? Unsatisfied? In desperate need of a good hard bang? She searched her mind for the right word, but eventually settled on something a little more tame in the presence of her sometimes frustratingly prudish friends, ‘restless.’

‘Restless?’ Liz repeated. ‘In what way?’

Of course Liz would probe for more information. Liz was the main reason she held back her other choice words. If it had only been Amelia with her, she would’ve just admitted she was kinda horny and needed someone to fuck her brains out, but Liz would be horrified if she said that. She explained as politely as possible, ‘like I wanna see somebody. See a guy.’

‘Oh, a guy hey?!’ Amelia squealed with delight. Any mention of a boy and the girl lit up like a Christmas tree, eager to talk about any hot guys she knew. ‘Anyone in particular?’

She gave it a little thought, wondering who could possibly be the one she wanted to satisfy her right now. There was Ted, he was strong, silent, sexy. She loved the way his muscles flexed under his uniform, or even more so when he was ambling around shirtless sunning himself like the proud cat he was. Or there was that guy from the ministry, the one who loved teasing Klaus, Albert something-or-other. He was such a flirt, in a cheeky, gentlemanly way, and she wondered if he would live up to her expectations of him. Or there was Vain, he was so dark and mysterious. And gorgeous. She often caught herself fantasising about being cornered by him, trapped like a lamb led to slaughter. Would he be just as domineering, just as cunning and sneaky if he were trying to get her into bed? Just thinking about him made a tingle run through her body.

‘No,’ she answered, despite it being an obvious lie. ‘No one in particular.’

‘Really?’ Amelia asked, not fooled by her futile attempts to cover up her pathetic deception.

‘Really,’ she asserted. She just didn’t want to go into detail about all the guys she took a fancy to. Talking about how badly she wanted them wasn’t going to help her situation. All she wanted was a crazy, sexy, hot, one night stand. That would be enough. She voiced her thoughts out loud, asking her friends, ‘do you ever get the feeling like you just wanna go a bit wild? Do something crazy and have some fun?’

‘Wild?’ Liz repeated.

‘Crazy?’ Amelia questioned.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘All the time!’

Both girls answered at the same time, Liz giving her typical reserved response and Amelia’s face lighting up at the prospect of wild, crazy fun. She smiled at Amelia and murmured, ‘At least it’s not just me.’

Silence fell between them again as she gazed up at the sky. Where would she even find someone to satisfy her the way she needed? It was stupid to even think about it, let alone want it. It was never going to happen. She laughed at herself under her breath and murmured, ‘it sounds silly right?’

‘Not at all,’ Amelia objected. ‘If you want to have fun and do something wild and crazy, go for it.’

‘Just make sure you don’t get hurt,’ Liz added. ‘Or anyone else for that matter.’

She grinned up at Liz, forever looking out for other people’s safety and well being. ‘Of course not,’ she said with a patronising smile.

Wild and crazy fun…

The thoughts weren’t going to leave her. At least not until they were satisfied, or she found something new to occupy her mind. Laying around with the girls wasn’t helping anything though, and she needed some space to clear her head.

‘I think I’m gonna go for a walk,’ she announced as she jumped to her feet. ‘I just need to clear my head.’

‘Okay,’ Liz said with a wave. ‘We’ll see you back at the dorms for dinner.’

And with that she set off, back into the academy. Perhaps a stroll around the halls would do her some good.

Ten minutes of aimless ambling about the academy halls later, she still hadn’t found anything to reoccupy her mind, or anyone to satisfy her. Classes had finished for the day, and most people were back at the dorms by now, only a few stragglers heading to or from the library. She hardly even knew anyone she passed by, let alone would have the confidence to even talk to them. It was a hopeless cause.

She decided to call it a day, head back to the dorms and take a long hot shower, or maybe a very cold one. If she took a little nap before dinner maybe she could sleep away how she was feeling and get through the rest of the night without too much stress. As she wandered through the hallways though the sound of a door closing up ahead caught her attention.

Vain!

She stopped in her tracks, spotting the dangerously beautiful man up ahead. He had just left the Headmaster’s office and was strolling away from her, down the hall.

It was like it was meant to be.

She froze up, unsure of what to do. Could she approach him? Talk to him? Flirt with him? Even if she could manage all of that without making a complete ass of herself, what was the likelihood that she would ever get him in a bed? It was slim-to-none, but she couldn’t help her hope.

I wonder what he’s even doing here?

She followed him (he was heading the same direction she was after all), trying to think of something to say to him. Could she just ask what he was doing here? He looked a little suspicious, and he had come from the Headmaster’s office. Was he snooping about again? He rounded the corner ahead of her and she hurried a little faster to try to catch up. Even if she could only look at him a little longer, it was better than nothing.

She rounded the corner, expecting to see him walking away down the hallway, towards the academy front gate, but he wasn’t there. She only caught a glimpse of the tail of his jacket as it swished around the corner of the stairwell, heading up to the second floor.

What is he going up there for?

She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should follow him, but it was only an instant until her body took control and she started after him again. It was highly unlikely that she would so much as speak to him, but if following him meant she was able to watch him a little more, then why not. She dashed up the stairs, keeping her footfalls as quiet as possible.

At the top of the stairway she glanced left and right. There he was, down to the left. She followed him further, keeping her distance, and watched as he turned up the next set of stairs.

But that leads to the haunted hallway.

Notorious amongst academy students and faculty, the haunted hallway was a row of seldom used classrooms, a place where magic always seems to go astray, and some people had heard strange noises or found themselves inside a locked room. At this hour, there was no doubt it would be deserted, and Vain had no business snooping around up there.

So she followed.

She scurried up the steps again, hoping she wouldn’t lose him at the top. He was moving fast, and going somewhere he had no need to go. Something was very suspicious. She glanced around at the top of the hall, only to catch a glimpse of him, down the far end to the right, rounding the corner away from her.

She rushed after him, eager not to fall behind. She stopped at the corner, taking a peek around to check where he was going, and watched as he slipped into one of the classrooms, leaving the door wide open.

What on earth is he up to?

She followed a little slower, knowing that inside the classroom there was no where for him to go. Her tiptoes were silent in the eerily quiet hall and she held her breath, although possibly not intentionally. She stopped by the doorway and peeked around it, into the classroom.

He wasn’t there.

What the…? Where is he?

She stepped into the doorway, to see into the room a little further. He wasn’t in there at all.

Perhaps these classrooms really are haunted?

She walked slowly into the room, looking up and down to try to spot any sign or clue of where he could be.

Two hands grabbed her arms from behind.

‘Eep!’

She seized up and froze, her heart leaping up into her throat. The hand on her left arm bore familiar metal talons and the one on the right a black leather glove. She spun around but he just as quickly replaced his hands on her arms, keeping her fixed to the spot.

‘Well, well, what do we have here?’

He stood before her, silken rouge hair sweeping down over his right eye, conniving smirk tilting one corner of his mouth. His golden eye burned into her, as mesmerising as a roaring fire, and twice as dangerous. His hands were firm on her upper arms, holding her in place, no where to run, no where to hide.

But I’m not the one who was snooping around!

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded. ‘You scared me!’

‘Scared?’ he repeated, amused by her defiance. He taunted, an edge of a dark whisper in his tone, ‘you weren’t up to anything naughty now were you? No following anyone you shouldn’t be?’

‘I could ask the same of you!’ she retorted. ‘What were you doing in the headmaster’s office?’ She pushed her forearms out against his inner arms, trying to break free of him.

‘That’s none of your concern.’ He kept his grip tight despite her resistance. What was he even doing being so close to her?

‘I am concerned,’ she snapped. She pushed her arms against his again and added, ‘And you can let me go already.’

His hands slipped from her shoulders, but he didn’t move back at all, less than a foot between them. She stood her ground, not wanting to reveal that she was intimidated by his presence. She could hold her own as long as he could.

His smirk widened. ‘As if there’s anything you could do to stop me anyway,’ he mocked, his golden eye sparkling with a challenge.

His arrogance was enraging. But his confidence was so alluring. She was filled with conflict, so utterly despising how cocky and rude he was, yet still she found herself insatiably attracted to him. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? And cold? ‘Whatever you’re up to, we’ll find out.’

He took two steps backwards, keeping his golden eye trained on her, and reached behind him to close the door. Once it was securely closed he asked, a slyness in his voice, ‘and just how are you going to do that?’

Her mind went blank. She was captivated by his strong gaze, intimidated by being alone with him, and completely perplexed as to why he wanted to be alone with her.

Does he…? Could he…?

There was only one logical conclusion her mind could come to. Her biggest hurdle would be finding the confidence to go through with it. Still uncertain if he was really interested in her, she asked in the best sultry tone she could summon, ‘I’m sure there’s something I can do to get you to talk.’

A smirk spread across Vain’s face, narrowing his eyes and curling his lips. ‘Come here and try it then,’ he commanded.

She hesitated, only for a moment, wondering what on earth had blessed her that day to find herself in this situation, but she couldn’t second guess it. Here he was, asking, practically demanding that she do what she wanted with him. She crossed the two steps to move in closer to him and leant up on her toes to press her lips to his.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, what am I doing? I’m kissing Vain!

Her hands found their way to his waist, one placing on his side, the other clutching the hem of his jacket to leverage herself closer. She didn’t really need to try though, as Vain leant forward, his lips capturing hers as he placed his hands on her hips.

He was somewhat taller than her, but not so much that she had to strain her neck to reach him. Just enough she could enjoy the power exchange that flowed between them. She squeezed her hand on his waist, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath her fingers, stroking her thumb back and forth. She relished in the weight of his hands on her hips, holding her, drawing her in to him.

The kiss broke for air, momentarily, before he leant in again, this time with slightly parted lips, soft and almost wet. Her body clenched and her heart skipped a beat as the kiss softened into a press of lips. He liked it. He wanted more.

She returned his advance, kissing him again with open lips and slipping her tongue to meet his. She briefly swept her tongue past his before the kiss softened again. Her body ached to be touched, to be held, to be wanted, but just how far was this going to go? Was she really just after information?

Definitely not.

She leant in to him harder, forcing him backwards, pushing him against the back of the door. Her body pressed against his, her chest, her stomach, her hips, all melting against him. Beneath the belts on his hips was a firm bulge pressing into her abdomen.

Is he really that into me?

She drew her hips back an inch and slowly wiggled them closer. A soft moan rumbled from his lips against hers. She kissed him again, a little harder, her tongue dancing with his between their parted lips for a moment.

Oh god, how far is this going to go?

Her heart hammered away in her chest, her mind a buzzing blur. She drew away from him, opening her eyes to look up at him. She could tease him again, or she could sweet talk. She opted to tease, asking coyly in reference to their previous conversation, ‘how about now?’

He just smirked at her again, a glimpse of his teeth and a pointy canine between his smug lips. ‘Still not talking, sweetheart.’

Clearly, he wanted more than just a kiss. That suited her just fine though, happy to see where this thing was going. She returned his smug grin and murmured, ‘I’ll just have to try harder,’ before leaning up to kiss him again.

A heat built between them, tongues dancing between their mouths for brief moments between deep kisses and breaks for air. She dropped her hand from his jacket and lifted her hand from his waist to tug at the red cord that held his jacket to his chest. She pulled on the tail of the cord, smoothly untying the bow, then nudged his jacket back off his right shoulder. He moved forward off the door momentarily, allowing the heavy thing to drop off his shoulder and down his arm, before swiftly replacing his hands on her hips.

It wasn’t enough. Her body was pulsating with excitement, she wanted more, needed the next step. He took hold of the zip that ran from his collar down to the side of his shirt and pulled it down. She had to lean back off of him to draw it down and bare his chest, but as soon as she could, she leant in to him again, pressing up against him. The zip came undone and his shirt split apart, letting her slide her hands in underneath the thick fabric, over his firm stomach and up his sides. She smiled in to the kiss, fully aware of how long she had wanted to touch him like this, kiss him like this, and finally, her wish was coming true. The kiss deepened, her mouth locking over his as he returned her passion, pushing back to bear over her. It still wasn’t enough.

She slipped her hands out of his shirt and moved her hips off his, enough for her hands to find their way to the belts strapped around his hips. She ran her fingers over the smooth leather until she found a buckle and fiddled with it until it came apart. The second buckle just below the first was much easier, knowing which way to pull and slacken the belt. The next problem was his pants. She had no idea how they opened. She tucked her fingers into the waistband of the dark leather pants and ran the back of her nails across the smooth flesh of his stomach, hoping he would take the hint.

Vain obliged, the comforting weight of his hands leaving her hips and slipping between them. She kept gliding her nails back and forth around his hips as he swiftly undid his pants. She felt the soft leather slacken and she took hold of the waist band to push them down. Their kiss broke as she drew away, her eyes fluttering open to look up at him. At that distance, she could glimpse the icy blue eye hiding behind his rouge hair. She felt him lift himself free of his pants and gave him as sultry smirk before lowering herself to her knees in front of him.

Her body tightened and a slick warmth spread between her legs at the sight of his cock hovering before her, long, thick, and hard with a slight upward curve. She was suitably impressed that he was just as big as she had hoped, had imagined. She wrapped her hand around his length and slid the head of his cock between her lips as her eyes fell closed.

This was what she wanted. What she needed. She ran her hand up and down the length of his shaft as she slid the soft, wet inside of her lips back and forth over his head, her tongue rolling around and lapping at the tip of his cock like a lollipop.

His hands found her hair, the tips of his metal claws stroking through her tresses, while his right hand cupped the back of her head, gently coaxing her closer to him. As her lips slicked up the head of his cock she slowly worked her further down over him. Her tongue stroked the firm underside of his cock and his head pushed farther back into her mouth.

‘That’s it,’ he sighed. ‘Good girl.’

She looked up to his eyes to see him smirking down at her. From her vantage point she has a wonderful view of the firm ridges in his abs, the flat planes of his pecs, and the strikingly beautiful angles in his face, his jaw, his lips, his eyes. This was everything she wanted, the naughty school girl in an abandoned classroom, giving the devilish bad boy a blow job as he whispered to her how amazing it felt.

She worked harder, faster, wetter. Saliva slipped from her lips, slicking him up as she stroked her hand back and forth and pushed her head as fast as she could, as deep as she could. She could feel him growing harder under her grip, so clearly she had to be doing something right. Over the thick wet sounds coming from her mouth she could hear his heavy breathing and soft sighs, and every so often his fingers tensed on the back of her head.

Her avid desire to do something crazy and wild had been all but sated, but she could feel another desire building lower in her stomach. A tingle rippled through her followed by another little seep of slick warmth between her legs. She slipped her free left hand between her knees, up underneath her skirt and gave the lightest stroke over her panties, causing another wave of tingles to shudder out of her. Aroused was an understatement. She glanced up at Vain, wondering if he saw what she was doing, and if he might take the hint.

‘You want more, little kitten?’

She drew back off his cock, and nodded eagerly with a breathy, ‘yes please.’

He took hold of her arms and lifted her with ease to her feet. With a glance over her shoulder and a firm grip still on her arms, he guided her backwards. She tried hard not to stumble or trip as he pushed her back across the classroom until her ass butted up against a desk and he leant in to kiss her again.

He released her arms, his hips pressing against hers holding her in place, and wrapped his arms around behind her. She wondered for a moment what he was doing, his hands fiddling behind her back, but it soon became obvious when he returned his ungloved right hand and slid it between them again, his hips lifting off hers and hand slipping up her skirt. His fingertips traced over her lips, tickling and teasing the same way she had done to herself. This time though the tingles that ran through her were much stronger, melting under his touch. She needed more. She kissed him harder, wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and into the long thick strands of his hair, pulling him closer to her.

His fingers pulled at the side of her panties between her thighs, nudging the thin strip of fabric to the side to slip his fingers between her warm, wet lips.

‘Oh,’ he murmured, drawing back from the kiss. ‘The little kitten’s gotten herself all worked up.’

She couldn’t help her glance downward and a small cringe.

He stroked a circle between her lips before sliding the tip of his finger inside of her. His fingers were cooler than the warmth between her legs, a strange rigidity that felt so good, but not quite right inside her. She pulled him in to kiss her again as he slid his finger further in and back out of her, slowly, gently.

He clawed hand found her thigh, slipping up under her skirt to the hem of her panties. He gently removed his right hand from between her legs, to take hold of the other side of her panties and pushes them down. She had to lift her hips off the edge of the desk and the fabric slipped over her ass to the top of her thighs, where Vain let them go to drop to the floor.

‘Sit back,’ he instructed.

She complied, sitting on the edge of the desk, her short skirt tucked underneath her ass. Vain dropped to one knee and grabbed her legs, hoisting them off the ground as she gave a little yip and steadied herself with her hands behind her. He lifted her legs onto his shoulders, knees wide, her thighs either side of his cheeks and leant in to press his open mouth against her warm, wet lips.

‘Oh god!’

A jolt of pleasure leapt through her, her stomach curling up on herself and one hand diving into his hair. His lips locked over her clit, flat tongue stroking the raised bundle under her skin. Her breath hitched as he sucked and licked, the warm, wet, soft sensation making her legs tremble and her body clench.

‘Vain!’ she gasped.

He didn’t relent. He wrapped his hands around her thighs, drawing her closer, trapping her under his grip. Tension was building quickly in her lower abdomen, deep inside her core. His deep kiss on her clit made her body tremble and her legs shake. The ecstasy threatened to burst out from her at any second.

No! Too soon!

She clung to his hair, feebly tried to push his head back, but it was futile. Her thighs clenched around his head, her stomach twisted into knots, and stifled whimpers slipped out of her lips hanging agape.

‘Mm please!’ Her pitch grew higher as she climbed towards precipice, his smooth tongue dragging her closer with every soft wet stroke. Her toes curled and her head rolled back as she tumbled into the chasm of her orgasm.

‘God yes!’ she moaned. Her legs, her whole body, trembled and waves of ecstasy rolled through her. Vain didn’t move away, continuing to lick and suck, drawing out every whimper and moan from her, pushing her to ride through every course of pleasure until it became too intense to bear.

‘Stop, please stop!’ she panted. She pushed harder against his head, and this time he yielded, releasing his lip lock from between her legs.

Her legs dropped of his shoulders as he stood upright, stepping in close to the desk. He slipped one hand around the back of her waist, the other wrapped around his cock stroking slowly. ‘Are you ready?’ he whispered as he pulled her forward with his hand on her lower back.

There were no breaks. No chance to catch her breath. She had somehow managed to shift back on the desk, so she wiggled forward and Vain pressed his stiff cock downwards, his head rubbing between her lips. ‘God,’ she panted. She slid her hands over his shoulders, underneath his shirt, and locked her legs around his hips. Trying hard not to grip too tight, she tilted her hips forward to allow him. She watched, look down between their bodies, as he pressed his hips forward, his hand drawing away as his cock sunk inside of her.

‘Oh god!’ she moaned.

Her body was still spasming internally, and despite how wet she was, it was a bit of a stretch for him to slide his thick cock into her. She could feel her body clenching and convulsing as he pushed his hips deeper between her legs, until she was filled entirely and there was nowhere further for him to go.

She looked up to his eyes, happy to find his smug little smirk had dropped, to be replaced with an intense heat and desire. He leant forward to kiss her, the taste of her own body clinging to his lips, before he gently drew out and pushed inside her once more.

It was an ache that felt so incredibly good she didn’t have words. Unlike the finger he slipped inside her before, his cock was the perfect size and shape, stroking every inch of her and pushing into the end of her core. She kissed him, hard, clinging on to his lips like a lifeline.

Her body rocked on the desk, tilting back and forth with the push and pull of his hips. It felt so amazingly good, a heat running through her from between her legs all the way through her chest. She kissed him again, her tongue swirling around his as he slid his free hand around the side of her neck, drawing her closer to him. She dropped one hand from his shoulder to slip it around his waist, pulling herself to the very edge of the desk and widening her hips to allow him better access.

His hips rocked a little faster, pushed a little harder, thrust a little deeper. Each stroke of his cock hit deep inside her, an almost painful ache that pulled a whimper from her lips. The faster and harder he went, the more the desk rocked back and forth with her, and she prayed that no one on the floor below would be able to hear them. Vain adjusted him rhythm, short jolts deep inside her that made less movement for the desk, and somehow managed to strike a nerve that pushed every thought from her mind except for her thoughts of him.

He didn’t tire, didn’t stop, didn’t come. He kept his kiss locked over her lips, holding her face up to his, and fucked her harder, pounding into her faster and stronger. Between kisses and gasps for air she couldn’t help an occasional yelp or blurted obscenity. Her mind grew heavy, her body reaching levels of pleasure she felt terrified of ever letting go of.

But eventually he slowed, quickly coming to a stop as their kiss gently broke. ‘Get down,’ he instructed as he drew out of her and she relaxed her legs.

Everything between her legs ached. Her insides roared with a dull agony that felt very similar to the pain after a long workout. But it was more than worth it, and it wasn’t over yet.

‘Bend over the desk,’ Vain commanded.

She did as instructed, turning around in the small space between him and the desk, and leant forward onto her forearms. Vain’s hands ran up over her ass, lifting her skirt, the claws on his left hand grazing her skin. He kept his left hand on her lower back while his right took hold of his cock again and pressed it down, guiding it between her soaking wet lips and pushing his way inside of her.

‘Oh god!’ she gasped. This was a much different pleasure, a different angle, a new strain on her opening that felt somewhat sharper and she might regret the next day but right then, she didn’t care. He pushed deeper inside her until his hips met her ass and his hands took hold of the round flesh of her hips. Her fingers slipped over the edge of the desk, gripping tight as he drew back and pushed back into her, each stroke a little faster, a little harder.

With no kiss on her lips, her yelps and moans came out louder and faster as he pounded in to her. She pressed her mouth to her forearm, desperate to stop herself and the cries of ecstasy being torn from her. He held nothing back, fucking her hard enough to make the edge of the desk lift with her hips, and in the brief moments of quiet she could force from herself she could hear his heavy breathing, a tense pant coming from him behind her. She glanced back over her shoulder to see the strain on his face, in his eyes, as he gazed down at her ass and his cock sinking in to her. He glanced up to catch her gaze, the sly smirk almost returning to his panting lips.

He leant forward, his right forearm leaning on the desk beside her as his left hand wove into her hair and grabbed a fistful to pull her head back and to the side, twisting her body around. With the height difference between them it was not difficult for him to lean over her and capture her lips in another deep kiss while continuing to thrust his hips against her ass. It created a different tension though, a different angle that was verging on painful for her, but she would never complain. She was just so utterly content to be his little play thing.

She could feel the tension rising in him, the strain in his body and movements as he grew closer to orgasm. She kissed him deeper, her tongue playing with his momentarily before breaking away. ‘Please,’ she whispered against his lips. ‘Please come for me!’ His hips faltered a moment but he kept pushing harder and deeper as he kissed her again. ‘Please!’

A groan tore from his throat as his head bowed. He quickly pulled out of her, his cock nestling between her ass cheeks and his abs. ‘Fuck!’ he hissed as both fists clenched and his body shook, hot sticky cum shooting between their bodies, over her ass.

His body relaxed, his heavy panting turning into deep breaths. She waited patiently, revelling in the ache of her body, and how utterly content and satisfied she felt until he opened his eyes to look at her, the icy blue and fiery gold captivating her. He leant in to kiss her once more, gently, briefly, before pulling away to stand up off her.

‘Stay there,’ he instructed. She didn’t have much choice anyway, if she stood up, her skirt would land in the puddle of mess on her backside. He crossed back over to his jacket by the door and pulled something out of a pocket.

She waited patiently, as he had told her. After a moment, he returned, standing behind her again and wiped up the mess on her backside with a handkerchief. A sticky residue was left behind, one that would no doubt need a shower to remove, but for the most part she was cleaned up, so she stood up straight again.

Vain tossed the handkerchief into a nearby waste paper basket and then redressed himself. She absentmindedly pulled on her panties and adjusted her uniform back into it’s correct place while watching as he zipped up his shirt, pulled up his pants, buckled his belts and finally pulled his jacket on again. The only thing he was missing was the glove he’d taken off his right hand, which was still on the desk behind her.

She picked it up and crossed over to him, holding it close to her chest. He gave a sly smile as he took hold of the glove, but she didn’t let it go. She still needed to know what he was doing in the academy in the first place, so she asked, ‘are you gonna tell me now what you were up to?’

‘Hm?’ he queried, having clearly forgotten all about their prior conversation. ‘Oh you mean in the headmaster’s office?’ He gave a small chuckle to himself and yoinked the glove from her hand. ‘He wanted to talk to me about enrolling Hugo in the academy,’ he answered as he pulled his glove on once more.

She felt dumbfounded. ‘Is that it?’ she asked. ‘Why couldn’t you just say that in the first place?’

He smirked at her once more. ‘Why would I?’ he taunted. ‘It was so much more fun leading a little kitten astray.’

He leant forward, curling a finger underneath her chin to tilt her head up and kissed her once more, gently, briefly. When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

What? He disappeared!

She looked around the room, spinning in a full circle, but he was no where to be seen.

That sneaky bastard!

His last words stuck in her mind. Little kitten he called her, and she didn’t mind the nickname at all. Leading her astray. He hadn’t done much to lead her, other than bringing her to the privacy of the room, but clearly it had been his intention, bringing her up here, grabbing her, closing the door. Despite however annoyed she felt that he had literally up and vanished, she couldn’t help the swell in her ego, knowing that he had wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

She sighed with a smile, revelling in the satiation of her need for some wild, crazy fun.

#vain #vain peers #wizardess heart #wizardess heart fanfic

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