#and Insisted that i keep in touch. with so much Emphasis. no one has ever said it like that to me

[brimstoneandtreacle]

i'm constantly trying to convince myself that he doesn't feel anything towards me (even Friendship feelings) but then i remember things that make me go "there is No fucking way he doesn't feel Something." and then i start trying to convince myself he doesn't again

[hellverse]

wrote a little thing (emphasis on little) about dean trying to provoke cas and cas being, well, a little slow about it. check it out on ao3 or below the cut if you wanna, xo

Dean was bored. So. Very. Bored. He was convinced that if there was anything left to learn, they would have learnt it by now. Sam had already clocked himself out about an hour or so ago, which in his mind, served as a pretty good sign that they could be done for the night. They could just continue this tomorrow. Or later. Or simply at any other time but now. Because right now, Dean just wanted to drag Cas to their bedroom, and certainly not for sleeping purposes. It wasn't like he was touch starved, the two of them spent plenty of time passing up on some good night sleeps, trading them for early morning coffees and midday naps. But sometimes, Cas would get into one of those stubborn, help-the-world moods, where nothing else seemed to register. One could call it dedication, Dean, however, liked to think of it as the evil reverse viagra he had to defeat. 

And of course, as Dean’s luck would have it, they had been stuck in a bit of a loop recently. Although he was pretty sure Sam could handle it on his own, if he wanted, or passed it on to someone else, he and Cas were insistent on helping. At the end of the day, Dean knew he would’ve made the same decision, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He felt somewhat normal for the first time in, well, a while, and wanted to stay in their little bubble just a little longer. Sue him. But...duty calls. 

Dean was sitting with his legs stretched, crossed at the ankles, staring at the ceiling, when he turned his head to take a peek at Cas. The angel was burning holes into some book, concentrating at such a level he almost looked like a statue - an immortalised bookworm. Cute. Hot, even. There was something about the way his face looked, how serious he was, how his brows were just a little furrowed, and how the line between them was starting to show itself. It certainly reminded me of Dean of something. 

“Cas," no answer, "Cas!” 

The angel lifted his head in Dean’s direction, keeping his eyes on the book for five seconds longer before eventually looking at him. Cas smiled, something small and sweet dancing at the corners of his mouth. It was making Dean even more antsy, just thinking about how different his smile could be if he were to just- 

“Did you want something?” Cas interrupted before he could even finish his thought. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I did. Um, are you gonna be, uh, done soon?” 

"You can go to bed if you're tired, Dean, I don't mind staying here on my own," he said almost matter-of-factly. 

If only that were the issue , Dean thought to himself. Admittedly, he could just tell Cas what he wants, it's not like the angel couldn't return to this later, after all, he's not the one who needs sleep. The issue, however, would be that Dean wouldn’t want him to leave. He never does. And although they haven’t ever discussed it, he has a feeling that Cas doesn’t like it either. Call it a hunch. 

As much as Dean couldn’t focus on the research, he also knew, believed really, that he had enough brain power left in him to come up with a plan. Okay, maybe less plan, more technique of how to turn Cas away from reading and more to, well, him. 

While the wheels were turning in his head, he must've been staring at Cas pretty intensely, as his blue eyes suddenly left the page again, locking with Dean's own. He could see the other glance down for just a second, where his thumb was resting on his lower lip, before speaking. 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm wonderful," Dean quickly answered, smiling, purposefully dragging the thumb across his lip. 

Cas stared at him for a second, wheels of his own probably spinning in that pretty head of his. Eventually, however, much to Dean's dislike, he turned back to the book. 

The thing about Cas was that he could be a little...unaware sometimes. Especially when his mind was focused on something else. And what is there for Dean to do, if not have a little fun with it? He wasn't opposed to some light teasing, provoking, especially when he could watch Cas slowly get the point of what Dean was suggesting, watch the little light bulb go off behind his eyes. 

Even with the anticipation buzzing all the way down to his fingertips, Dean wanted to make sure he would see this through. It was already past midnight, but he was sure coffee could only do some good, considering the plans he had. And besides, Cas could have some too. Not that he needed it, of course, but it had become something of a habit for the angel. 

"I'm gonna go fetch some coffee, do you want some, sweetheart?" Dean let his voice go sweet, putting a certain weight behind the pet name. They weren't exactly big on those, but when the moment calls...

Cas stared at him again, head slightly titled. Dean couldn't quite tell if he was getting suspicious or just a little ticked off by all the interruptions. 

"Sure, I'll take some if you're going."

Dean beamed at him, as he got up from his chair. Before going to the kitchen, however, he decided to see exactly what Cas was reading. And by 'see', he really meant lean down and pretend like he had a reason as to why he's gone over to Cas' side of the table before getting the coffee. Dean positioned himself on the left of the angel, resting the palm of his hand on the table, and putting the other hand on Cas' back, lightly drawing circles on the skin with his middle finger, right above where his shirt that Cas was wearing began. 

"Which book is this?" Dean asked, slightly turning his head in Cas' direction, but not looking at him. 

"The, um, it's about-"

"No," he chuckled, "I mean the number, how many have you read?" 

"Oh," Cas smiled, "I think this must be my fifth if I'm remembering correctly."

"Ah, well, haven't you just been such a hard worker today?" he placed a quick kiss on Cas' temple, before finally making his way to the kitchen. 

"Such hard work should be followed by a good reward," Dean whispered to himself. 

When he returned with the two coffees, Cas was still in the same position. Figures. He shuffled towards him, placing both of the mugs closer to the middle of the table, so as not to disturb the books placed in a half circle around the angel. 

"Hey," Dean muttered quietly, letting Cas know he was back, just in case he was too focused and didn't hear him come back. 

"Hi, Dean, thank you," he smiled.

It was moments like these, where it was just the two of them, the world quiet and calm like a field covered in snow, no wind and no footsteps, that convinced Dean he would never not feel the way he does now. Even before the confessions and first kisses, there was something about the way Cas would smile at him. It always went hand in hand with a pinch between his ribs, somewhat painful and warm. He kind of expected it to change, now that he knew the other felt the same, now that he had stopped telling himself it would never happen, now that the two of them were different. And yet it hadn't, not really. It knocks something in him loose every time, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad. 

Cas put his book down, interrupting Dean's thoughts once again, presumably to take a sip of his coffee, and Dean simply couldn't pass up that chance. He leant down, gently placing his hands on either side of the angel's face, and kissed him. The immediate jolt at the base of his spine served as a great reminder of what he was after. Cas kissed him back with no hesitation, something lazy and content in the way his lips were moving against Dean's own. That alone was enough for him to rethink his ways, thoughts of just grabbing Cas by the hand and dragging him to their bedroom flooding his mind. But again, where was the fun in that? More than anything, he was craving to see that light bulb moment, when Cas' eyes turned a darker shade of blue, knowing that the buzz in their stomachs and fingers matched each others. 

Dean decided to stay set in his ways, but that didn't mean his self-control was intact. He deepened the kiss, urgency colouring his own quiet sounds, tongue brushing against Cas' lower lip. He could feel one of the angel's hands, the one resting on his waist, softly grabbing at his shirt. 

He ended the kiss with a sharp inhale, eyes closed for a second longer, til the ground beneath his feet felt solid again. 

"Dean.." the rasp in Cas' voice almost made Dean lose his footing again. A beat of silence covered the room, letting Dean focus on the pulsating feeling in his cheeks. 

"What was that for?" Cas looked serious but only in a confused, have-I-missed-something kind of way. It took Dean everything he had not to jump him again. Instead, he just flashed a quick grin at Cas and winked. 

"Nothin', blue eyes, 's just because," he said, giving Cas one last peck on the lips.

He could feel Cas' eyes follow him, as he walked back to his side of the table, right across from Cas. When he looked up, he could see the slight twitch in the angel's eyebrow. For a celestial being, especially one that has seen a lot of what the world has to offer, he really couldn't be any more oblivious sometimes. 

Dean sat back in his chair, the warm coffee cup in his hands matching the warmth in the pit of his stomach. Cas was back to reading again, though Dean could tell he was a little more fidgety than before. He smiled to himself, as he lifted the cup to his lips. He could pretend he was reading, but even that seemed like too much work. After all, he was more than happy to just watch Cas. With the angel already slightly on edge, it was only a matter of time before he was glancing up at Dean every few minutes. 

"Dean...," Cas finally broke after about 30 minutes.

"What?" Dean answered, playing it up just a little bit to sound offended. 

"Why are you staring?"

"Can I not look at my very handsome boyfriend?" he smiled. If there was a gun to his head, he'd have to admit he even fluttered his eyelashes a little.  

The term 'boyfriend', similar to pet names, wasn't something that the pair used very often, but sometimes, well, there was just no way getting past it. Dean didn't necessarily mind the word, just needed some time to get used to it, he thought. 

He could see the slight blush forming in Cas' cheeks. The angel lowered his head, about to return to his task, before looking back up at Dean through his eyebrows for a split second. A look nearly bordering on 'knock it off', but not quite. 

The glances continued, almost like Cas was trying to catch him in the act, like something he did would give away whatever it was that he was thinking. Dean, of course, only saw that as an opportunity to continue his little show. 

By this point he had already finished his coffee, the ring finger of his right hand sliding in circles around the rim of the cup. It wasn't exactly a conscious action, not until he saw Cas glance at his hand. After that, he made it a point to look Cas up and down the next time his eyes wandered back to Dean. The angel only squinted at him.

He had noticed Cas finish off his own coffee not too long ago, so after a few minutes of pretend daydreaming, he got up, hand under his shirt, the palm of his hand resting on his ribs. This time around it wasn't so unintentional, his shirt pulling up slightly, exposing the skin. If Cas could burn holes in him, he was sure he'd be all burnt up by now. But who was he to complain? 

He slowly made his way to the kitchen for a second time, washing up the cups, and sorting out a few other things while he was there. It was nearing 4 am, and as entertaining as it had been, Dean was ready to actually get things going. 

He walked back into the library with a purpose, heading straight to Cas. The angel didn't even have time to blink before Dean was already in front of him, arm stretched out as if he was asking him to dance. Cas put his hand in Dean's, suspicion in his eyes almost completely masked by the gentle amusement. 

Dean barely waited for him to get on his feet before grabbing Cas by the waist with one hand and dragging him closer. Cas just smiled, head tilted to the left ever so slightly.  Good , Dean thought,  better access . 

"I think you should be done now," Dean muttered before scattering light kisses on Cas' neck. 

"Oh, should I?" the angel said, amusement now clear in his voice, Dean humming against his neck.

Dean lifted his head only to give Cas a look that in his head couldn't have looked anything short of hungry. That must've finally filled the missing gap in the angel's mind, as Cas' face finally mirrored the expression that Dean had been thinking about for hours now. The split second of surprise bled into understanding, and his eyes darkened. Maybe it wasn't so much a light bulb going off, as it was a light bulb exploding.

"Oh," Cas whispered.

"Oh," Dean echoed, teasing, whilst it was still his turn. 

"I think you might be right," Cas said, as he stepped forward, hand resting on Dean's chest, softly pushing him back, "I've done enough work for today."

Dean let the angel guide him until he felt his back hit the pillar, the coldness of it seeping through his shirt, a nice distraction from the heat of his own body. Though that didn't last long, as Cas pressed against him, hands sneaking under his shirt, much like Dean himself had done earlier. Cas slid his hand up and down Dean's sides, his fingertips occasionally sinking into Dean's skin. 

He launched forward, only to have Cas swiftly pull back like he was already expecting it. As soon as Dean let his head fall back, resting against the pillar, Cas leaned closer to him again, lips almost touching and whispered:

"I understand you've had your fun, but what about me?" voice sweet, smiling, moving further back and then closer again in waves. 

"Cas..." Dean breathed just as quietly, his throat dry, "Cas, once we get to the bedroom you can have all the fun you want."

"Oh," Cas immediately pulled back, "well, if you say so, Dean." 

As soon as the sentence left Cas' lips, Dean knew. He knew that Cas wouldn't let up until Dean was bordering on incoherent, and, oh, he just couldn't wait. 

[imekitty]

Prompt Idea: Inspired by your tiny geometries fanifc, I think you should do an fanfic where vlad kidnaps danny and forces him to be his son. Danny may or may not devolve into Stockholm syndrome

I'm actually thinking I could maybe continue Tiny Geometries if I link it to Planned...

But anyway, for now, I decided to write this one-shot as an alternative scenario in Dissembled when Vlad visits Danny in the lab and offers to free him but with some strings attached. I may or may not add this as a bonus chapter to the actual fic, haven't decided since it's not nearly as polished as the rest of the fic.

-----

Danny stared up at Vlad from where he lay on the examination lab table. "Are you going to tell them where I am?"

Vlad smiled politely.

Danny tried to sit up, but the restraints kept him down. "Sam, Tucker, Jazz—are you going to tell them where they can find me?"

"I suppose that is the question before us now, isn't it?" said Vlad. "Am I going to tell your friends and sister that your mother has been keeping you prisoner in a secret lab far away from Amity Park for a whole week now? Am I going to give them the information they need to rescue you from her torturous experiments that she insists are all for research?" He paused. "Or perhaps you want to know if I am going to get you out of here myself."

Danny's heart jolted, but he did not even breathe in response.

Vlad held his hands behind his back while pacing slowly beside the lab table Danny was strapped to. "I certainly could. It would only be too easy to remove these restraints and free you." He stopped his pacing at the foot of the table. "But will I? Well, that depends."

Danny swallowed and waited.

Vlad moved closer to Danny's head and placed his hands on the table. "Don't you think you should do something for me, Daniel? If I get you out of this, you know you would owe me something, don't you?"

"What do you want, Vlad?" whispered Danny.

"I want you to submit to me."

Danny closed his eyes, his gut twisting and tangling.

"Denounce your father," Vlad continued. "Perhaps your mother now as well after all she's done to you here. Leave your entire family; let me be your family instead. You know I'm the only one who could really understand you. I'm the only one who knows how it feels to be like you."

Danny shut his eyes even tighter, his whole body shaking.

"Join me," said Vlad. "I'll look after you. I'll keep you safe. No one—human or ghost—will ever hurt you again, Daniel. I won't let them. Not your mother, not anyone."

He was in so much pain and he didn't want to hurt anymore. The promise was so comforting even coming from Vlad.

"All I ask is for your loyalty," said Vlad. "You can continue protecting the town from ghost threats, but you must also do as I say. I'll give you everything you need, and I can even train you, help you reach your full potential. Imagine what we could do together, Daniel."

Vlad stroked the side of Danny's head.

"This can all go away." Vlad's voice was soothing. "You just have to promise to obey me."

Vlad continued petting Danny's head and hair, a touch that made Danny shudder and melt all at once. He wanted to bite Vlad's hand, lean into it, shove it away, drench it with his tears.

"So instead of being my mom's prisoner," said Danny in a dark, thick tone that shook, "you want me to be your prisoner."

Vlad pulled his hand away, and Danny stopped himself from whining in protest.

"You don't have to think of it that way," said Vlad. "You would have a great deal of freedom as long as you don't defy me."

"And what if I do defy you?" asked Danny. "What if I don't do as you say?"

Vlad smiled but said nothing.

"I know the sort of things you'd make me do," said Danny, his voice gaining strength but still shaking. "I know what you'd try to turn me into."

A liar. A thief. A murderer. A criminal.

"But you wouldn't be a specimen," said Vlad. "You wouldn't be hurt."

"But I would be used."

"But not hurt."

The emphasis was not lost on Danny. Because God, he was tired of hurting.

But even if his own pain ceased, Vlad would make him hurt others.

Hurting others just so that he himself wouldn't be hurt anymore, a new existence of endless pain and internal torment.

"I can't." Danny fought back tears. "And you know I can't."

"But you could be great, Daniel." Vlad clutched the side of the table and leaned over Danny. "Your family and friends have been holding you back. It's been killing me to watch you waste so much potential."

"What you have in mind for me isn't what I'd call greatness, Vlad."

Vlad lowered his eyes. Danny hardened his gaze in an attempt to keep his tears from escaping.

"I see," said Vlad quietly. "Then I have no reason to stay any longer."

Vlad picked up the chair he had brought over earlier and moved it back across the lab. Danny watched him, his chest stuck and frozen, unable to pull in breath.

This didn't feel real.

He had to be dreaming.

Vlad returned to Danny's side and rapped his knuckles on the table a couple times. "It was so good to visit with you, little badger. I do hope I'll get to see you again, but if not, then I suppose this is goodbye."

He began to walk away. Panic bolted through Danny's nerves. His chance to escape was leaving, going—

"So that's it?" asked Danny, his voice tense and high-pitched.

Vlad turned back to him.

"You really won't help me?" Danny tried to keep his voice strong. "You won't even tell my friends and Jazz where I am unless I agree to go with you? You're really just going to leave me here?"

"It's not like I want to leave you here, Daniel."

"But that's what you're doing. So why are you leaving me if you don't want to?"

Vlad's image blurred through Danny's tears. He blinked to force the tears to fall, no longer caring if Vlad saw him crying at this point.

"I can't just let you go with no strings attached," said Vlad. "You have ruined so much of what I have been working toward since the day we met. So many of my plans wasted due to your meddling."

"But I would never do this to you," insisted Danny. "If I saw you like this, I wouldn't leave you. I would help you."

"Oh, I know you would." Vlad chuckled. "Which is why you'd be a terrible businessman."

Danny's neck and face flared with heat and rage and despair. Everything hurt, everything felt ready to burst.

"This situation is a win-win for me," said Vlad. "Either you become mine and assist me with my plans, or you're no longer around to interfere with them."

He was breaking, rupturing.

An impossible choice. No matter which choice he made, he would lose and Vlad would win.

He wished he didn't have to make this choice, wished that Vlad had just never come at all.

But Vlad was here. He was offering him a way out.

A terrible way out. But a way out nevertheless.

Vlad dragged his fingers on the table as he walked alongside it. "I won't be coming back after this." He halted at the foot of the table and turned to face Danny fully. "This is your only chance. Are you sure you want to stay here? Are you sure this is what you want?"

Danny shut his eyes, pushing the tears out faster.

Vlad sighed deeply, dramatically. "All right. Then I'm going."

Danny didn't open his eyes but he could hear Vlad walking, retreating, his shoes clicking on the floor, his footsteps getting farther and farther away.

His escape, his freedom, getting away from him, abandoning him.

"Wait," Danny cried. "Vlad, please wait."

The footsteps stopped immediately. Danny opened his eyes to find Vlad near the main lab door.

"Is there really no other way you'll help me?" Danny tried to raise his voice above a whisper but his throat was clenched tight. "Isn't there any other kind of deal I can make with you?"

Vlad was silent for a long moment. Then he came back.

"I'm sure you'd love to make some other kind of deal for your freedom," said Vlad. "You probably have plenty of alternatives you want to offer me. But this is all I want, Daniel. There's no alternative I will agree to. Either accept my conditions or I must leave you here."

Danny stared at him, pleading with his eyes because he didn't want to say the words, didn't want to beg for mercy, beg for his life.

But if he could get down on his knees, he was embarrassed to think that he probably would.

"This is really it, Daniel," said Vlad. "I'm leaving. Do you want to accept my conditions or not?"

Panic flooded Danny's senses and yet he still couldn't speak. Vlad turned and started walking away again.

"I do," Danny rasped, but Vlad didn't stop. He cleared his throat and called out louder, "I do accept them."

Vlad returned and again stood over him.

"Please get me out of here, Vlad," Danny whispered. "Please, before she comes back."

Vlad smiled and inclined his head. "Of course, little badger."

He moved around the table and undid every restraint. Danny's limbs stayed where they were, suddenly numb with exhaustion. Vlad placed a hand behind his back and guided him to sit up.

"You're all right now," said Vlad soothingly. "I'm taking you home."

Vlad transformed, glowing red eyes and fangs appearing in a ghostly flash. He placed his other arm under Danny's knees and effortlessly lifted him, cradling Danny against his chest.

Fatigue washed over Danny, all energy leaving him as his body went limp in Vlad's arms. He was fading, nodding off with his head against Vlad's chest. He felt Vlad lift off the floor and then phase through the ceiling, fresh air and sunshine hitting his face and then floating away into darkness.

He awoke some time later. He sat up and looked down at his wrists, no longer shackled to a lab table but free, pressing against a soft mattress in a large bedroom. His ghost form was also gone, replaced with his normal clothes and human complexion.

He scanned the room he was in, a cozy bedroom with ornately patterned wallpaper and Victorian furniture.

The memory of Vlad picking him up and flying him out of the lab came back to him. Had that been real? Was he in a room in Vlad's mansion?

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and became aware of something heavy around his neck. He reached up and tried yanking on it, a thick metal collar. He looked around for a mirror, but he could tell the collar was some kind of electronic device without even actually seeing it.

He stood and headed to one of the bedroom's doors that was ajar, pushing it open entirely and fumbling for a light switch on the wall, which he found quickly. A bathroom, sizable with a combination shower and tub, clean and smelling like tea tree and mint. Certainly a welcome change from the sterile and chemical smells of the lab.

He then tried the only other door in the bedroom, the one he was pretty sure must lead out into the rest of the mansion. Vlad was probably somewhere out there, perhaps Danny could find him and ask him what the hell this collar was—

The doorknob turned, but the door would not open. Danny frowned, tugging on the door. It was not locked, but there was something preventing the door from opening.

He pressed his fingertips against the door, but his molecules would not obey his command to phase through it. His mother had disabled his powers in the lab; had Vlad not restored them yet?

Danny frantically checked the room for another way out. There were two large windows barred with thick carbon steel looking out on an expansive forest view. Danny helplessly gripped two of the window bars, which were too close together to push his head through entirely.

Vlad had locked him in here and had no intention of letting him leave.

God, what was he thinking trusting Vlad? Of course Vlad was just going to set him up in a new prison after "rescuing" him from that lab. Of course Vlad would never actually let him be free again.

Danny's fingers curled over the collar clamped around his neck.

There was nothing to do now but wait. Wait for something to change, for Vlad to come and see him—he wasn't sure what would be happening next, but he knew this was right where he would be when it did happen.

Danny tried to entertain himself. He switched on the Smart TV in the room and browsed the selection of streaming services. He opened all the drawers in the writing desk that was set up against one of the walls, finding nothing but office supplies like paper and pens. He looked through the books in the bookcase set up next to a comfortable chair in a corner of the room. But his mind was unable to focus on anything.

At last, Danny flopped on the bed, realizing just how sore and in pain he was. He stared up at the ceiling, the same thing he had been doing when he was a captive specimen in that lab.

It seemed to be all he knew how to do anymore.

Some time later, a couple knocks sounded at the door. Danny sat up on the bed and saw Vlad phase through the door, in human form and dressed in his normal suit, smiling just like his usual pompous asshole self.

"Daniel," greeted Vlad with warmth. "You're awake."

"I've been awake for a while," said Danny testily.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, little badger. I had some mayoral work to take care of; you understand."

Danny rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"How are you feeling?" asked Vlad. "Do you need anything for the pain?"

Danny wasn't sure how to answer. Because yes he would love some painkillers right now but he also didn't trust anything Vlad might give him.

Vlad started approaching him. Danny hopped off the bed and stepped backward from him. Vlad immediately stopped where he was.

"It's all right, Daniel," said Vlad softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then why have you locked me in here with no way out?" demanded Danny. "Why do I still not have my powers?"

"Just a precaution," said Vlad. "I didn't want you to try to leave before I had a chance to talk to you. That collar around your neck is suppressing your powers for now, but I will remove it in due time, I promise."

Danny reflexively reached up and grabbed at the collar.

"It's hypoallergenic," Vlad continued. "But do let me know if it causes any skin irritation or discomfort."

"It's really uncomfortable."

"You know that's not what I mean."

Danny glared at him, lowering his hands and balling them into fists.

Vlad stepped toward him again. Danny stepped back until he hit a wall. Vlad placed a gentle hand on Danny's face, holding and turning his jaw to study him from different angles.

"Your mother really did some terrible things to you in that lab, didn't she?" said Vlad.

Vlad trailed his hands down Danny's scarred arms. Danny shuddered and pulled his arms out of Vlad's grasp.

"So have you," said Danny, narrowing his eyes.

Vlad was silent for a moment before shrugging, chuckling under his breath. "We have had a bit of a history, haven't we, little badger? But I am very much looking forward to our future together."

He walked over to one of the barred windows, gazing outside. "I hope you like your view. I chose to put you in this room because the sunset is quite lovely from here. I thought you might appreciate it."

"Appreciate it?" Danny scoffed. "You think I appreciate being locked up in here without my powers? You think a nice view makes up for that?"

"I don't plan on keeping you in here forever," said Vlad, sounding a little irritable. "Just until I can be sure that I can trust you not to go back to your family."

Vlad walked back to him. Danny stayed in place but wanted to shrink away.

"You made a deal with me," said Vlad. "You remember, don't you? If I rescued you from being your mother's specimen in that lab, you would leave your family and submit to me."

Danny leaned against the foot of the bed, clutching at the ornate bed frame. "I—yes, I remember, but—"

"More than that, you agreed to denounce your father. And I think you might as well add your mother onto that after what she's done to you."

Danny shuddered, his body remembering every touch and poke from his mother. The searing cuts, the broken bones, her unwanted fingers running over every inch of his skin.

"I know I agreed to do that," mumbled Danny. "But Vlad, please, can't we talk about this? I mean, isn't there something else I can—"

"No," said Vlad sharply. "This is what we agreed on, Daniel. This is what I want from you. There is no negotiating."

"But—Vlad, please—"

"If you wish to back out, I will not force you to stay."

Danny's heart fluttered. "Really?"

"Of course," said Vlad. "But I will take you right back to that lab. I will strap you down to that examination table and leave you there. And this time, I really won't come back."

Danny tried desperately to hold back his tears, hide every trace of his weakness. "Vlad, please don't do this to me."

"Your mother's the one who's been torturing you for a week, not me," said Vlad, sounding almost offended. "Why are you treating me like the villain here?"

"I'm not—I just—"

"Daniel, why would you even want to return home? Why would you want to face your mother again?"

Danny thought for a very long moment, trying to reason through his emotions and feelings about his mother that all seemed so irrational and contradictory.

"She didn't know it was me," said Danny, more to himself than Vlad. "She didn't know she was hurting me. She thought she was just hurting Phantom, and she doesn't believe ghosts actually feel anything real, she thinks they just imitate emotions—I mean, she—she never really believed that I was actually crying—"

He broke into a sob as he used the bed frame to slide to the floor, his tears coming fast as he lay crumpled. Vlad did not disturb him, but Danny could see his legs shifting in place each time he opened his blurry eyes for a small moment.

His sobs dissolved into sniffles, and Danny looked up at Vlad but did not yet have the strength to stand again.

"She won't hurt you, Daniel," said Vlad softly. "No one will."

"Including you?" asked Danny in a whisper.

Vlad paused before answering, "I have no desire to hurt you, Daniel."

Danny continued staring up at Vlad as his tears dried.

"Come, stand up." Vlad held out a hand to Danny. "You need to write a letter."

Danny did not take the hand and used the bed frame to push himself up off the floor. "A letter?"

"Yes. Addressed to your parents."

"Why do I need to write a letters to my parents?"

"Because I don't think you'd be able to keep it together for a phone call," explained Vlad. "And I wouldn't be able to coach you on what to say over the phone, not without a lot of pausing your parents might find very suspicious."

"But what do you want me to say to them in a letter?" asked Danny.

"You will tell them that you will not be returning home to them," said Vlad. "You wish to remain with me instead."

Danny's heart sank. "But that's not true."

"It is true," insisted Vlad. "You made that choice when you were strapped to that examination table."

"It wasn't a fair choice," said Danny. "It was either live with you or suffer through more torture and die."

"But you are choosing to stay here with me over torture and death, are you not?" asked Vlad. "Or would you like to back out and return to the lab?"

Danny hesitated before bitterly shaking his head.

"Enough of this, Daniel." Vlad's tone became stern. "I will not have you whining about how unfair this choice was any longer. Kindly remember that I am the one who rescued you. I am not the one who was torturing you in that lab. That was your mother."

Danny cowered, turning away.

"And we both know that your father would've been happy to join in the painful experimentation if your mother had been willing to share you with him," Vlad continued. "So it should be easy for you to denounce both of them."

"It's not," gasped Danny, fighting back tears. "They're still my—it's not—"

Vlad sighed and placed a gentle hand on Danny's shoulder. Danny's chest heaved as a couple tears spilled down his cheeks.

"I want to help you, Daniel," said Vlad softly. "It might hurt at first, but with time, you'll see that I saved you in more ways than one. I could never in good conscience allow you to return to live with your parents. I really do care about you, little badger."

Danny sobbed, unable to speak, hardly able to breathe.

He wished he could just stop breathing.

Vlad guided him to the writing desk. Danny numbly took a seat in the wooden chair, hunching over and staring at the blank surface, the vintage mahogany pattern.

Vlad opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out some stationery, setting a blank sheet of paper and a pen in front of Danny. Danny did not react, simply continued staring through them.

"Please pick up the pen, Daniel," said Vlad. "I want to send this letter out today."

Danny picked up the pen, his hand shaking. "What am I supposed to write?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"I'll tell you," said Vlad. "If you'd like."

Danny said nothing. Waited.

Vlad cleared his throat and began pacing behind Danny. "Start with 'Jack and Maddie' as the salutation."

"The—the what?"

"The greeting, Daniel."

"But I don't call them by their names."

"You want to suggest an emotional distance. Please do not argue with me."

Vlad stopped pacing and folded his arms, tapping his foot against the floor. Danny stalled a moment longer before slowly writing the two names near the top of the paper. His letters leaned slightly left.

Vlad resumed his pacing, stroking his chin with one hand. "Next: 'I am aware that you have been diligently searching for me. I recognize the pain this must have caused you, and I apologize for my silence—'"

"I don't talk like that," said Danny.

"Write it in your own words, then," said Vlad. "I am not practiced in how an uneducated sixteen-year-old might speak."

"I'm not uneducated."

"You've been attending a public school. That's not an education, my boy."

Danny exhaled loudly and rewrote Vlad's words.

Vlad cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back as he continued dictating. "'It was not my intention to upset you. I simply needed some time to myself so I could evaluate my situation and my relationship with both of you.'"

Vlad spoke without stopping, on and on about how Danny had been feeling frustrated and overwhelmed at home, how he wondered for the past week when he might return home, how he kept saying tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow but how tomorrow never came and today today today he realized he didn't want to return home ever.

Danny rewrote everything, all of Vlad's awful, terrible, cruel words. He wrote about how he felt miserable and neglected at home, like his parents cared more about their ghost research than their own son. He was tired of Jack's inventions targeting him, tired of Maddie obsessing over hunting ghosts instead of paying attention to him, tired of being told he was simply being possessed by a ghost or that they had some invention to fix what was wrong with him whenever he was feeling depressed or stressed or uncomfortable or sick.

But there was one person who had always cared for him and paid attention to him: Vlad Masters, yes, finally an adult he could trust. Vlad Masters had been very kind to him and did not hesitate to take him in and now Danny was going to stay with him forever and ever and ever and he never wanted to see his parents again and—

Danny's tears began to fall, one after another, soaking into the paper, smudging the ink. He used the heel of his hand to wipe away the tears but couldn't get them to stop.

Vlad came up behind him and peered over his shoulder, placing his fingers on the paper as he bent over and looked at it more closely.

"Daniel." Vlad sighed. "You're going to have to rewrite all of this."

Danny tried to discreetly wipe his eyes. "Why? What's wrong with it? I wrote what you said in my own words."

"I can't have you sending your parents your tears." Vlad set a new sheet of paper next to the tearstained one. "Rewrite it. And this time, please turn your head if you're going to cry." Vlad opened a desk drawer and pulled out a box of tissues. "Or use these."

He set the tissues in front of Danny. Danny stared at them, unmoving.

"Daniel? What is it now, little badger?" asked Vlad.

"Stop calling me that," hissed Danny. "I'm not your pet."

"Of course not. I'd like to think of you as my son." Vlad placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you'll let me."

Danny slapped Vlad's hand away. "I don't want to be your son either. I have parents. You're making me leave them."

"I understand this is difficult for you," said Vlad, "but as I've been saying, please do remember that your mother was the one torturing you the past week. And your father has said numerous times that he wants to—what was it, 'rip you apart molecule by molecule'?"

"No." Danny shook his head fiercely. "He said he wanted to rip Phantom apart, not me." His eyes filled with hot tears. "And my mom… She didn't know it was me on that table. She thought I was just a ghost."

"Do you really think she would've stopped the experiments if she did know who you really were?" asked Vlad. "Don't you think she might've been intrigued to discover that Danny Phantom is actually a ghost hybrid? Don't you think that might have incited her to conduct even more experiments?"

"You don't know that," said Danny, but his voice was weak.

"Your mother so often ignored you in favor of her research," said Vlad. "Forgetting to tuck you in at night or even feed you because she was busy in the lab. Humans can become just as obsessed as ghosts, Daniel."

"But humans can choose to not follow their obsessions," said Danny. "That's a key difference."

Vlad looked down at him with a pitying frown. "Does it make you feel better to believe that your mother would choose to let go of her obsession just for you? Would you be willing to go back to that lab and test that belief? Tell her you're actually her son and see if she lets you go all on her own?"

Danny lowered his eyes in defeat. Because no, he was not willing to test that very thin hope that his mother would stop the experimentation if she knew exactly who it was she was torturing.

"Go on," said Vlad, sounding impatient. "Start rewriting. I have a meeting with my lawyer soon to work out the logistics of formally adopting you, and I need to have that letter finished by then."

Danny forced back the rest of his tears as he picked up the pen and stared at the new sheet of paper in front of him, wondering just how preferable this was to being strapped down to his mother's examination table.

[spenciegoob]

Dethroned (Requested)

A/N: I know the request said the relationship between Reader and Luke is platonic, but I kinda dropped subtle hints that Luke is slightly pining for Reader... oop.

Request: smutty post-prison Reid being jealous. Like him just being absolutely in love with reader, like he had been since she joined the BAU but was too nervous to say anything so settled for being mega close best friends. Then when he returns from prison he finds out that her and Luke have become close friends whilst he’s been gone (its simply platonic though) and he ends up snapping and just absolutely annihilating the reader over her desk in the office after everyone else has left

Pairing: Post Prison!Spencer x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: jealous!spencer, exhibition, hair pulling, degradation/praise, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.9K

______

It was a gradual realization on his part. Spencer was so overwhelmed with coming home, his mom and Cat to even really take notice in the shift of your attention from him to Luke Alvez.

It wasn’t like you completely ignored him since his return. You were Spencer’s best friend, the title he settled on all those years ago when you all but skipped into the BAU and into his life.

And it wasn’t like you didn’t have other male friends. Before his leave, Derek and you had gotten along pretty well right off the bat, and Spencer never thought about it twice. If anything, he was ecstatic that two people that were so important in his life were also important to each other.

But when Spencer was stuck behind physical bars that represented every feeling for you he’s tried to keep at bay, you found comfort in Luke. He couldn’t blame you for that either, especially when the first time you visited him all he could see was hurt in your eyes, and all he could do was stare back with the same expression.

The first time he noticed the shift was after everything had settled, and the groove of life, for the team at least, was back in motion. You all had decided to go out and grab a drink, and the second you agreed, Spencer was also on board. He would follow you just about anywhere if it meant the smile on your face when he said yes stayed forever.

Luke had whispered something in your ear, the music in the bar too loud for Spencer to catch what it was. It had to be hilarious by the way you threw your head back in laughter, Luke’s eyes immediately dropping to the newly exposed skin, before nudging his shoulder with yours. 

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off the conversation in front of him. He should have when the grip on his glass was so hard it could’ve shattered. 

“You know, kid, if you talked to her, she’d know how you feel,” Rossi had told him that night.

“That’s exactly why I can’t,” Spencer thought in his head, but merely gave Rossi a whatever, and walked away to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror that night, hoping the disgust he felt for how angry he got whenever he saw you with Luke was enough to make it disappear.

It never did.

Like right now, Spencer sat at his desk, a rubber band ball being suffocated in his hand as he watched you perch yourself on top of Luke’s desk. It was an innocent act on you part, but the way Luke leaned back in his chair, opening himself up to you, and allowed his eyes to flicker to your bare legs that were swinging back and forth softly was definitely not innocent... not in Spencer’s book anyway.

It came as no surprise to Spencer that Luke would at the very least find you attractive. You were, in every aspect. Spencer could stare at your for hours, and sometimes, he did.

He would look at the way your skirt hugged your curves in the best possible way, or he would stare at your neck when you leaned back to stretch out. He would watch the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs, a nervous habit you’ve always had. Spencer would think about how soft they probably were, like silk rubbing against each other.

But now Luke was also looking at you like that while you talked about what you were going to do this weekend. 

“If you’re not busy, you should totally come,” you told him, obviously excited with the idea of Luke tagging along to wherever you planned on going.

“Yeah, I think I can make that work,” he agreed, and when he did, you jumped up off his desk, enthusiasm practically dripping from you.

“Yes! It’ll be so much fun, I promise!” And then you did the one thing Spencer silently begged you would never. You kissed Luke on the cheek before scurrying back to your desk.

Of course you would kiss him on the cheek. To you, that was a seemingly innocent and friendly action, one that Spencer had been on the receiving end of for the past 10 years. 

But now, Luke stole his crown and was flaunting it in front of Spencer’s face like an older brother who just got an XBOX for Christmas. Okay, maybe Spencer was a tad on the dramatic side, but how could he not be when Luke all but physically railed you over his desk when his eyes unashamedly did?

There were many things Spencer could take and get back up like nothing had happened. He’s been shot, punched, kicked, framed for murder and hell, he even stabbed himself, but none of that compared to the deep rooted anger that blossomed in his chest like a flame to gasoline when the thought of Luke touching you swarmed his brain.

Enough was enough.

“Alright, you’ve all worked enough today. Please, go home and get some rest,” Emily’s voice traveled from outside her office door to the agents that still inhabited the bullpen like a second home. Most, including Emily in its rarity, gathered their stuff to finally call it a night.

“So, you’ll text me the information?” Luke asked you as he was putting his jacket on. You had yet to move from your slouched position over whatever paperwork you insisted on finishing before leaving. 

“Yeah, definitely!” You beamed up at him before returning back to your case file immediately. Luke walked away with a little more pep in his step than usual per Spencer’s analysis. 

“Hey, Spence. Do you think you can hang back a second and look over this for me?” You asked him, catching the attention of the stumbling genius as he tried to get back to his apartment as fast as possible and deal with his... issues with you and SSA Luke Alvez.

He was going to say no, really he tried, but when he looked up to your puppy dog eyes and slight pout, how could he? Spencer knew you were giving him that face on purpose, he had told you in the past that if you were to ever give him your best puppy dog eyes, he could never refuse.

Now it was coming back to bite him in the...

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Spencer made his way over to your desk that was piled high in paperwork more than anyone else’s.

“I took a bunch of work home, and I accidentally dropped all my files and they scattered every where. So now, all the paperwork is mixed up and Emily needs these by tonight. Basically I’m screwed, but I just wanted to make sure the arsonist in Kentu-”

“I’ll help you,” Spencer interrupted your rambling once he got a grip on himself after adjusting to being so close to you. The smell of your perfume wafted into Spencer’s nose and got him drunk faster than any alcohol could ever. 

“Oh no, Spence. Don’t worry I can handle this,” you immediately shut him down, but Spencer was not easy to convince, and once his mind is set to something, there’s no changing it.

“I want to, trust me.” Spencer had started to roll his desk chair over to you. You sat there momentarily stunned for two reasons:

1. He had dropped everything to help you.

2. He wasn’t affected by the close proximity of you two the same way you were, or at least knew how to hide it really well.

The buzzing of your phone on your desk pulled you from your trance as Spencer settled next to you and went to pull a new file from your overgrowing pile. 

You picked it up to find a text from Luke, opening your phone to a picture of Roxy enjoying the toy you got her last week.

Spencer turned to you to find you smiling and letting out a breathy laugh at your phone.

“What?” He asked, more sarcasm dripping from his tone than expected. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything.

“Just Luke and Roxy. I love that dog so much,” you said while putting your phone on silent and setting it face down. You didn’t look up at Spencer, but if you did you’d find him beet red with anger, and holding the armrests of his chair a little tighter than necessary. 

“Hm,” was all he mumbled in response. This, you didn’t ignore.

“Is something wrong? You really don't have to do this with me,” you fumbled over your words, worried that your clumsiness and disorganization was what was annoying Spencer.

“No no, it’s not this. I like paperwork, actually.” You finally looked over at Spencer to find him already staring at you. His gaze bore into you like a blade to the gut, his intensity something you had never been on the receiving end of. It would be a lie if you were to say it wasn’t making you nervous.

“Then what is it.” Your words were not meant to come out as a whisper, but with Spencer’s intimidation and the way it made your stomach flip, you were overwhelmed already.

“Nothing, just, uh,” his confident persona was gone just as quickly as it came. “You and Luke, huh?”

Now it makes sense. You couldn’t help the small smile that etched across your features at his unknowing admission. Spencer Reid was jealous, actually jealous.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend.” Your emphasis on the word friend did not go unnoticed by Spencer, but he couldn’t stop himself from letting the words crawling up his throat out.

“I’m sure he thinks the same about you. The profile in this case fi-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Two can play at this game, and if it was going to end the way the two of you were unknowingly both hoping, you would have to succumb to the rules.

“Hm? Oh! So you’re oblivious to the way he looks at you?” Spencer spat back, jealous intimidation turning to full anger now.

“Jesus, Spencer. Of course I’m not oblivious, but that doesn’t mean I look at him like that.” At this point, you stood up from your chair, Spencer’s approach throwing you off and getting you more worked up than you cared to admit.

“Besides, I have eyes for someone else,” you mumbled quietly under your breath, but Spencer caught it. “I’m calling the night. I suggest you do the same.”

You picked up as many files you could, not wanting to reach over Spencer before turning around to make you descent home.

Before you could get far, though, Spencer grabbed your elbow and spun you back to crash into his hard chest. You gasped, not making eye contact and instead opting for staring at his lips.

“Who?” Spencer asked, also not looking up from your lips. Both of your minds swarmed with the desperation to feel each other’s against your own.

“You.” And that was all he needed to finally succumb to his mind’s wishes. Your lips moved together like a violin bow to a string, creating a perfectly conducted symphony of files falling from your arms and deep inhales of each other.

Spencer reached out behind you, never taking his lips off yours and pushed anything that was on your desk with a deafening crash. Pens, papers and tape now littered the bullpen floor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when all you could feel were Spencer’s hands gripping your waist as he hoisted you up to sit you on your now clear desk.

His lips finally detached from yours, the need for oxygen getting in the way of a kiss you wish could last for eternity. They didn’t go very far, Spencer attacking your neck with little nips, surely to leave incriminating bruises. Your hips started to involuntarily roll forward, searching for friction from his hardening member still constrained by his work slacks.

“Spencer, please,” you begged, needing to feel him, all of him at this moment. His lips abandoned your neck to slowly pull back and scan your body like a predator indulging in his final prey one last time before he answered.

“Please what, Princess,” Spencer whispered, his hands moving down to grip your thighs that were attempting to squeeze together at your new pet name.

“Please, fuck me,” you whimpered back. His deep chuckle resonated through you as he leaned closer until he was directly next to your ear, his hot breath fanning down your neck causing you to arch your back slightly.

“Right here on your desk like a little whore,” he whispered against you, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. Spencer shook his head slightly as he pulled back to grab your chin lightly with two fingers, forcing your head back.

He leaned in as close as possible to whisper against your lips one last time. “Only for you.”

Time stopped as hands sped up in a frenzy to rip each other’s clothes off, lips molding together like a lock and key never wanting to separate, and hips involuntarily grinding against each other in search for some friction in an overwhelming search for release.

Only when Spencer gave up on your shirt buttons and ripped the fabric apart, adding drums in the form of buttons hitting the desk and floor to the song you two collectively decided to dance to tonight, did he allow his lips to leave yours. Slowly, he nipped his way back down your neck, pushing you back softly until your body fully rolled down on the cool wood underneath you. 

Spencer’s eyes found yours again as his hands inched behind you, silently asking for permission to break down yet another barrier between your two bodies. After a pleading whimper from you, he unclasped your bra and slowly pulled it down your arms. 

Spencer maintained eye contact as he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the peak before sinking his teeth in teasingly. Your back arched into him, a strangled whimper leaving your body as the heat between your thighs increased significantly.

“Spencer please hurry. I need you,” you whimpered softly, pulling his hair back from the top of his head in hopes of getting him in an area far more dire in need of attention. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Spencer mumbles in between kisses inching back up your body. His hands make their way under your skirt as he continues. “I want to take my time with you, but given our circumstances,” he paused to take a look at the deserted bullpen. “I’ll give you what you want, and fuck you like a whore.”

There was no other way to explain the way Spencer ripped your panties off so hard the lace snapped under his force than animalistic. He wasted no time stuffing them into his back pocket, and fully separating from you to stand straight and unbuckle his belt. Spencer’s eyes stared down at you, taking in every part of your body to file away in his brain in case he ever needs it. His once honey brown orbs were now absorbed with black, his pupils full and his eyes displaying a kind of fire only lust can fuel.

Once his belt was fully off, he smirked and folded it in his hands. Staring at the new object of his desire, he tantalizingly shook it back and forth slowly, watching the way it bounced with his movements.

“Should I gag you with this so you don't alert the whole goddamn building of how desperate you are?” Spencer looked back at you to find your cheeks a deep shade of red, partially at his degrading tone, but mostly at the idea of being gagged.

“No, sir. I wanna feel you.” The title slipped past your lips with no control or hesitation. Your cheeks burned further as Spencer’s movements stopped, his eyes widening slightly. 

“Fuck it,” he whispered before throwing the belt on the floor and unzipping his pants with more speed than you've ever seen him move. 

Spencer gave you zero time to even register his size before he was stepping in between your legs, lining himself up and slamming into you to the hilt with one hand, the other grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling back hard, all while never taking his eyes off you.

You couldn’t stop the loud gasp leaving your body as Spencer groaned at the feeling of you around him.

“God, you’re so fucking tight, Princess,” he grounded out, the soft growl in his tone causing you to whimper and clench around him.

When he felt you start to squirm underneath him after adjusting to his size, Spencer started to move, setting a brutal pace immediately. Your entire body felt like it became engulfed in flames, the feeling of Spencer repeatedly hitting the sweetest spot inside you over and over with a force unmatched was too much to handle.

Tears started to well in your eyes as the soft whimpers and pleads left your lips. Spencer pulled himself from his position tucked neatly into your neck to stare down at you, never relenting on his pace.

“What’s wrong, Princess,” he teased, a smirk growing across his features at your tears. “Is it too much for your little cunt? What happened to the girl that begged to be fucked like a whore?”

Spencer let go of his grip on your hair to wipe the tears blackened with mascara that were running down your face. 

“So good, sir. Please don’t stop,” you mumbled, only half coherent. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Spencer filling you completely. His dark eyes flickered down from your face only for a second, but when he looked back up at you, excitement joined the lust in them, a swirl of emotions destined to destroy you in the end.

Spencer grabbed one of your hands that was gripping his shoulder, nails digging into the skin and leaving marks he wished would last forever. He placed in on your stomach, and confusion filled your mind for a moment until you felt the tip of his cock hit your hand.

“You feel that, Princess? You feel how deep I am? I’m gonna fill you up.” Your back arched, and you finally released a loud, wanton moan at his words. Spencer didn’t miss the way you clenched around him tighter at the thought. “God, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, make you - fuck- carry my child. Make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

You felt the knot in your stomach growing tighter with each word, and when Spencer lifted one of your legs into the crook of his elbow, hitting you impossibly deeper, you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

“Oh G-god, Spence. I- I’m gonna....”

“It’s okay, Princess. I’ve got you,” he groaned back, lifting two fingers to your lips before forcing them into your mouth. Instinctively, you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked on his digits. “Let go, Princess.”

All you needed was his permission before letting your orgasm rock through you, the muscles in your body seemingly losing and gaining all the tension in the world at once, your vision going white, and your mind blank except for one thought; Spencer.

Your loud moans were blocked by his fingers pushing deeper down your throat, catching them before any unwanted guests could hear. 

Your moans started to turn to whimpers around his fingers as the overstimulation kicked in. Spencer could sense it by the way you still clung to him as tightly as possible.

“Fuck that’s it. You’re doing so well, Princess, taking all of me,” he growled out, his hips losing their rhythm, signaling his own impending orgasm. Spencer leaned down further, pushing your leg farther up in the process, and again, hitting you deeper than imaginable.

Two more sloppy thrusts in that position, and Spencer was coming deep in you with your name and different praises being groaned in your ear. He bottomed out once more, coming to a stop buried deep, both of you trying your hardest to catch your breath.

When he started to pull out, you whimpered immediately at the feeling.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m almost done,” Spencer whispered, caressing your cheek as he fully unsheathed himself. The abandoned weight of him on top of you, and the loss of his cock filling you up left you cold as he went to rummage through your drawers for tissues, but all you could do was stare up at the lights hanging from the ceiling, your body still slightly twitching.

When Spencer returned to you, he sat you up and kissed your forehead before reaching in between your legs to clean you up. The second the tissue hit your sensitive cunt, you winced.

Spencer looked back up at you but before he could say anything, you cut him off.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you reassured him, smiling softly as you reached up to caress his cheek. Upon your approval, he went back to cleaning you up. “Actually, I’m more than okay. That was.. That was-”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. “I know, right?”

“Maybe we should thank Luke,” you teased him. Immediately, his smile faded and he looked up at you with an expression that can only read “Seriously?”

You let out a full laugh now, obviously still entertained with the idea that the Dr. Spencer Reid was jealous of Luke Alvez.

“I’m joking,” you said, your smile turning from one of hilarity to adoration as Spencer straightened back up to stand between your legs and wrap his arms around your waist. “And Spence, it’s always been you. Not Luke, not anyone else. You.” You emphasized your point by jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Good, because that would make this really awkward,” he said back. You tilted your head in confusion to which he laughed at before continuing. “Do you want to go grab dinner?”

Your cheeks blushed profusely as he asked you out as if you didn’t just let him take you over your own desk at work. 

“I would love to say yes, but I still have to finis-” When you turned around to look at the pile of paperwork you had yet to complete, it was no longer on your desk, but scattered around it. During the rush of trying to feel each other completely, the two of you failed to notice the stack of files that started this whole thing had fallen all over the bullpen floor.

“Emily is going to kill me,” you said, turning back to Spencer who was still staring at the now empty spot on your desk.

“Actually, she has two reasons to kill us now.” You threw you head back in laughter, Spencer joining you at the thought of Emily finding out about the last 30 minutes. “But seriously, you go deal with the security footage, and I’ll deal with the paperwork.”

“Hmmmm...” You pretended to ponder the thought of not having to do all of that paperwork by yourself anymore. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Spencer repeated back, smiling softly before kissing you one more time.

__

Join a taglist here Tell me your thoughts on this fic here Have a request? Send it in here

Requested by: @onlyhereforthefanfics

Taglist: @the-girl-who-writes-fanfiction @haylaansmi @masumiyetimziyanoldu @cielo1984 @rexorangecouny @username2002 @calm-and-doctor @pieceofried @mermaidshmari @missyoumaybank @everythingbutnormal

[realcube]

haikyuu!! boys with a s/o that becomes clingy/affectionate while drunk

characters: kyōtani, kenma, iwaizumi, matsukawa and bokuto

thank you anon for this marvellous request mwah

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!

tw// drinking, suggestive themes, sexual references, swearing

Kentarō Kyōtani

kyōtani was used to having a cool, laid-back s/o who was just as awkward about physical touch as he was 

i mean, that’s kinda a part of the reason he liked you so much - so y’all could get over your awkwardness together

so imagine his surprise when his usually level-headed, calm s/o came stumbling out of the club, a blubbering mess and threw themselves into his arms, wailing something about a maths test

THE AMOUNT OF EMOTIONS THAT FLOODED HIS MIND IN THAT ONE MOMENT OMFG ADFGHJKL

he was like ‘omg why are they touching me? i kinda like it- wait are they crying? tf? i ain’t ever seen them cry before- should i help them? lord everyone is looking at us now. so what the fuck do i do- AYE DON’T TOUCH ME THERE’

so he had no choice but to dip with you flung over his shoulder lol

he took you back to your shared apartment and forced you to drink some water and instead of ordering a take-out, he just gave you his leftover burrito which he took to the club smh

it was probably cold 

but that was the best he could think of at the time bc he simply needed to shut you up with food bc the alcohol in your system was causing you to become especially touchy, hence resulting in kyōtani getting especially aroused

but the last thing he’d do is fuck you while you’re drunk and i firmly believe that despite the fact kyōtani is a bit of a lout - he still has like a basic moral compass

but i mean if you kept being so damn suggestive then it was gonna be a lot harder for him to resist his urges

you were rubbing him up and shit, calling him every pet name in the book so ofc he just stuck a burrito in your mouth and went ‘stfu 😡’

the painful part was that he was silently enjoying it too (┬┬﹏┬┬)

(though, he was red from blushing lol, not anger) 

and he wasn’t used to it either so obviously he was gonna get flustered, i mean, everything was happening all at once

oh and you told him ‘i love you’ and he literally combusted like lord have mercy on this man 

just that morning you were calling him your ‘annoying rat boyfriend’ (jokingly, ofc) and now you love him?-

that wasn’t the first time you told him that you loved him but he was still blushing none the less 

and he stammered out a ‘love you too’ PRAYING that you wouldn’t remember any of this the following day

anyway, he cuddled you to sleep and railed you as soon as you sobered up - the end ❤

Kenma Kozume

pov: you’re kenma happily being a wallflower in the club then your s/o approaches you, demanding for you to fuck them 

- ok, end of POV - 

anyway, your speech was slurred so kenma wasn’t really sure if that was what you were asking him to do but if it was, he would’ve happily obliged if it wasn’t for the fact you were clearly drunk

mans was blushing though

bc y’all hardly ever do it but now - all of a sudden - you were tightly wrapped around him, garbling erotic threats into his ear

kenma was worried at first but you were like..really weak

so it wasn’t hard to get you off his torso, usher you out of the club and grip your hand as he ordered a taxi 

also kenma had read enough wattpad fanfictions to know how to deal with someone while they’re drunk 

but none of those fanfictions ever mentioned a single thing about how to deal with yourself while your partner is drunk

like seriously..he was in pain

both from the throbbing erection he had and the aching embarrassment he felt - both stemming from the fact you tried to give him a lap dance in taxi ✋ please oml

anyway, he took you back to his apartment and insisted that you have a few slices of the left-over pizza in the fridge along with a glass of water

after you changed into your pyjamas, you had clearly sobered up slightly as you could now compose coherent sentences

but that wasn’t any better for him bc now you were draped over him, whimpering into his ear about how much you love him

‘i’m so lucky to have you, kenma. i love you so much. you remind me of my first cat - you’re such a cat- i mean, blessing..you’re such a blessing.’ 

ngl, at that point he would be at a loss for words, just deciding to hug you until you fall asleep

like he finds it so cute that you’re finally opening up to him about how you feel as you’re usually quite composed and restrained 

but also- what does he do now? 

you eventually fell asleep in his arms and the next day, you woke up to kenma having made breakfast and telling you how much he adores you which was..confusing, to say the least

he told you about how you acted when you were drunk and to say you were embarrassed would be an understatement 

also, he’ll tease you about it for the rest of your life ;)

Hajime Iwaizumi

literally all you had to do was send him a text like ‘iwa...,,.,...ily so mycj ❤’’ and he’s already waiting in the line to get into the club lol

he marches in there, finds you, grabs your hand and drags you home 

let’s hope that your friends know what iwaizumi looks like so they don’t have to just watch a random guy haul you out the club-

and tries to act all like angry iwaizumi >:( but when you are trailing behind him, muttering about how amazing he is, he becomes more like angy iwa grrr (* ￣︿￣)

by that, i mean that angry iwaizumi would bring you home and lecture on how irresponsible it is to get so intoxicated 

but angy iwa just takes care of you but with a disapproving scowl 

and angry iwaizumi would make nasty, bitchy remarks about how inappropriate your outfit is 

while angy iwa would be like ‘babe, your outfit is lovely but maybe wear something different next time, idk....’

either way, he takes good care of you 

he makes sure you eat (and he cooks good food btw - he doesn’t make you eat leftovers lmao) 

he lets you change into more comfortable clothes

he ensures that you don’t die in the shower 

and he forces you to go to bed

but all of that is rather difficult when you’re clinging to him like your life depends on it, raving on about how sweet of a boyfriend he is and covering his face sloppy kisses

his original plan was to go train some more in his gym (yes, there is a gym in y’alls house-) but when you were peppering his cheek in kisses, begging him to stay with you for whatever reason, of course he didn’t have the balls to leave

 so he ended up laying like a log in bed as you cuddled up to him like koala, resting your head in his chest and allowing him to run his hand through your hair as you slept

in that moment - as he stared down at your tranquil figure - he realised how grateful he was for moments like these, as he finally got see a side of you that he knew you’d almost never exhibit when you’re sober

like yeah, you often tell him how much you love him but he can always tell that it’s as if you’re setting aside your pride to say such a thing but now, you’re gushing on about it with the most genuine look in your eyes, he can tell that you’re being completely sincere 

and to say that he adores it would be an understatement 

so yeah, you were kind of a pain while drunk but you were also the most adorable thing that iwaizumi had ever laid his eyes on (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Issei Matsukawa

ok so the only reason matsukawa wasn’t getting drunk with you was bc the first time y’all got drunk together he got fined for public indecency and you got done for public intoxication

so you decided that it was best (for your wallets) if you took turns getting tipsy

emphasis on ‘tipsy’ bc you both went to the bar together (along with a few friends) and you promised matsukawa that you’d only have a few drinks 

so please explain to him why he is now having to carry you bridal style out of the bar because you are too hammered to walk properly 

and he was kinda grumpy bc he had to leave his friends mid-conversation bc not only were you pestering him but also, the erotic things you were whispering in his ear caused him to get a boner

and he was getting weird looks from people as he carried you home but that was the least of his problems tbh- he didn’t even notice lol

the biggest issue on his mind rn was the fact that you made him hard yet you can’t help him bc you’re drunk smh 

like he was tempted at first bc you seemed down to do it but he quickly came back to reality and realised how morally incorrect that’d be 

so he was mumbling curses the whole way home just to tune you out bc if he paid any more attention to the racy promises you were muttering in his ear- he’d explode

he’s alright at taking care of you like he isn’t iwaizumi’s level of caring but he’s a close second, i mean he’s gotten drunk plenty of times so he knows the basics

he was like ‘drink water idk lol ’

anyway, once he handled himself he wasn’t too fazed by your lustful advances

and he was so smug about it too deadass like ‘keep talkin’ me up, (y/n), you ain’t getting shit until you’re sober.’

smh ANYWAY he thinks you’re so charming when you’re like lovey-dovey drunk but SO annoying when you’re horny drunk bc like- he can’t get some (T_T)

Kōtarō Bokuto 

best for last 👌

ok anyway he’s an athlete and he doesn’t need alcohol to have a good time- he’s forever drunk tbh- drunk on life :)

so while you’re getting hammered with your pals, he’s doing stupid shit while sober lol

once you both rendezvous outside the club to head home and you’re absolutely steamin- he’s just like ‘hi, babe! how’s your night been?’

SO OBLIVIOUS OML

anyway, he drives back to y’alls house and since you’re fatigued at first, you spent 90% of the car ride sleeping

but when you get home, more awake, you’re all up on him

but you’re not like sensual drunk- more like..emotional drunk but with love 🥺

so basically you are sobbing into his chest about whatever and bc he is an such empath he will start crying too, or at least get a bit emotional 

you could say something like, ‘omg, bo. i hardly get to see you because you’re at work so often- i wish i could spend more time with you. i miss you so much’  ╯︿╰

and he would deadass reply whole-heartedly while weeping into your shoulder, ‘I’M QUITTING VOLLEYBALL, (Y/N)!!’

(ok, so maybe he was a bit tipsy too- but like..definitely not has drunk as you)

he has no idea where to start when it comes to taking care of you but he tries (´◡` ‘) 

at the very least, he ensures that you don’t having any more alcohol and that you don’t die somehow 

he’s v overprotective though 

you could be getting a fork to eat your instant-noodles with and he’ll be like 

‘apologies ✋ but i cannot allow you to handle such a dangerous weapon while intoxicated. maybe eat with a spoon instead, idk.’ /h

other than that, he just cuddles you to sleep and deals with you in your badly hungover state the next day

[iceeckos12]

A time travel au. angst and h/c. inspired by this post

Warnings: jon’s very low self-esteem

“What do you think of him?” Jon suddenly asks, staring blankly at the wall of the breakroom.

Tim pauses in the middle of chewing his sandwich to give him a long, considering look.

He’s mostly decided to suspend his disbelief until further notice, simply to keep from losing his mind. What else is one supposed to do when future versions of Jon and Martin, who are also apparently dating, tell you that your workplace is currently involved in a plot to end the world? Ideally he would’ve processed one big revelation at a time, but apparently they don’t have time for that, so goodbye grip on reality, it was nice knowing you. I’ll hit the restart button as soon as things start making sense again.

Tim wipes his hand across his mouth, swallows, and asks, “You mean Jon II?”

Jon rolls his eyes, like Tim’s being obtuse on purpose just to annoy him. “Yes, I mean...him. Me. Jon II.” Then his nose wrinkles amusingly, the same way it always does whenever he says the moniker. He’s hated it since the beginning, but it was a battle he quickly lost, what with all three of his assistants opposing him.

Normally, Tim wouldn’t have thought twice about shrugging and answering, but...Jon’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately. Oh sure, he’d blushed up a storm upon learning that his future self and Martin were dating, and he’d expressed his own misgivings at the beginning, but...since then he’s been eerily, silently watchful. In Tim’s experience, when presented with this sort of puzzle Jon generally buries himself in research, and doesn’t emerge until he’s good and ready to do so.

There’s something else on his mind.

So Tim puts down his sandwich and gives himself a moment to think carefully through his response. “I mean...he’s a lot like you, obviously. But he seems…” What’s a polite way to say, the trauma and the boyfriend seems to have made him a little more easygoing? He certainly smiles more freely than he ever has, which...honestly, makes Tim want to cry sometimes. How horrible, that so much abject cruelty had just made him more kind. “...tired. A little less high-strung?”

“I see,” Jon says, turning his mulish gaze to his curry, dragging his spoon through the thick sauce.

Tim waits a beat longer, but when nothing else seems forthcoming he prompts, “Why do you ask?”

Jon’s reaction is only to press his lips into a thin, tight line. Tim knows this mood; he’s weighing how insecure he’ll look if he says whatever’s actually bothering him out loud, versus how much he wants someone else to hear it. Pushing him now will only make him clam up, so Tim just waits.

Tim’s patience is rewarded when Jon blurts, “But you like him. You...you all do.”

“Yes,” Tim says slowly, because it’s true. Martin’s so enamoured with a Jon that actually likes him that he keeps bringing him tea just to get another glimpse of that gentle, thankful smile, just to strike up another conversation about nothing. Sasha has decided that he’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her, and insists on consulting him whenever she reads a new true statement.

Tim’s personally a little unnerved by the awful, sad way future Jon looks at him sometimes, or the way he flinches back whenever someone tries to touch him without warning. But he’d taken Tim aside and quietly explained everything he knew about what happened to Danny, so.

Oh, Tim thinks, feeling like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Jon may be an old hand at fooling others with his grumpy persona, but Tim knows that he’s just using it to hide his massive inferiority complex. “Wait, are you jealous?”

Jon ducks his head, and his ears darken. Gotcha, Tim thinks. 

“Jon, you know that that’s still you, right?” he explains gently, quietly relieved that it’s not something more complicated. “We like him just as much as we like you, because you’re the same person.”

“But he’s not the same, is he?” Jon protests. “Look at the scars on his neck, on his hand. And he has panic attacks, and he flinches at loud noises, and, and—”

He breaks off, biting down hard on his lip, threading a hand through his hair.

Tim stares at him, feeling off-kilter, like he missed a step coming down the stairs. That doesn’t sound like jealousy. “...Jon?”

Jon shakes his head, his breath escaping him in thready, devastated gasps.

He can’t tell what’s going on in Jon’s head, and it’s starting to scare him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Jon just sits there for a moment long, tugging at his hair, staring sightlessly at the middle distance. Tim gently untangles his fingers, giving him something a little more solid to hold onto.

“You all like him,” he says at last. “You all...he’s so kind, and he’s funny, and you like him, because someone hurt him first. He’s different—we’re different—because someone cut our throat and burned our hand, and you like him better.”

Tim’s horrified. “Jon—”

“Should I accept that?” he continues, the words flooding from him like a dam finally exploding in a shower of groaning wood and weathered stone. “Do I—how do I carry on knowing that I could be the person I want to become, if only I give myself to monstrosity, if only I let myself be hurt like that?”

“Of course we’re not going to let that happen to you!” Tim interrupts, voice higher and more frightened than he meant it to be. He’s applying duct tape to a raging river. He has no fucking idea how to fix this. “You don’t deserve—”

“Don’t I?” Jon demands, whirling on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t I deserve to be happy? Or am I unworthy of even this kind of improvement? Am I doomed to be like this forever?” Tears well in his eyes, spill over. “Don’t I deserve it?”

And then he slowly, inevitably, dissolves into tears, his slim shoulders shaking as he curls over and buries his face in his elbow. Tim drapes an arm across his back, angling his body so he can gently tuck Jon’s head against his shoulder. He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. Even if Jon were in any shape to hear it, he has no idea how to fix this.

Tim could tell him that he and Martin and Sasha all think that he’s fine the way he is, and it’s the stress of an apparently eldritch job that’s causing him to push people away, but he doubts Jon would believe it. Words mean nothing when actions have been screaming something entirely different all this time, and Jon’s always been more observant than they give him credit for.

“Oh, Jon,” he whispers when the tears finally start to slow, dropping a kiss onto silver and black hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you felt that way.”

Jon pulls away and shrugs, averting his reddened eyes. Tim squeezes his elbow to prevent him from retreating entirely. They sit like that for a moment, Jon going very still and very tense under Tim’s hand, settling into the vulnerability like an open wound.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says finally, sniffing heavily. He’s aiming for his usual brusque, dry tone, but his voice is shaking, and he’s not fooling anyone. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Before Tim can stop himself, an incredulous laugh rips out of him. “Jon,” he says quickly, “We’re well beyond professional. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide from me.”

Jon flushes. “Yes, well—it was unfair for me to put this on you, as your fr—as…” His expression goes all fragile and uncertain, and Tim’s heart aches.

“It’s not unfair,” Tim corrects gently. “As your friend,” and here he pauses for emphasis, “I want to know when you’re feeling like this.”

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, then straightens and scrubs the teartracks from his cheeks. “Oh.”

Tim nods reassuringly, takes a deep breath, and makes an educated guess. “I know you’re scared, Jon. We all are. This place is...horrible, and seeing what you went through is...terrifying. I can’t imagine how that must be for you.” He lets his eyes flicker up. Jon’s still watching him, rapt, and good, good. I haven’t lost him. “I won’t deny that he’s getting along with Sasha and Martin quite well, but...but that’s not because of what he—you—went through. It’s because….right now, you’re pushing people away because you’re scared, but he’s already done that. He knows that pushing people away just means you end up alone. It doesn’t mean he’s a better person, just that he’s a little wiser.”

“But how can you be sure?” Jon asks, leaning forward, eyes big and desperate.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have become your friend if I didn’t like you,” Tim admits unashamedly.

His bold honesty is rewarded by Jon flushing and ducking his head.

“But even so,” he continues, sobering, “Even if you were the worst person on the planet—and you’re not—you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt like that, no matter what the outcome. Does that make sense?”

Jon looks thoughtful as he says, “I—yes. Yes, that makes sense.”

He can tell though, that Jon doesn’t quite believe him. That’s okay—honestly, it’s what he was expecting. Tim’s been running headfirst into the wall that is Jon’s terrible self-esteem for as long as they’ve been friends. This problem is going to take more than one half-assed pep talk.

That’s okay, though. Jon’s worth the effort.

[plutonianrising]

the waiting game n.k.

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

wc: 2.9k

description: reader has a knack for weaseling her way out of trouble but today nanami's knots are tied tight

a/n: this is incredibly self-indulgent im not sorry though

cw: f!reader, dom!namami, bratty reader, kink exploration, shibari, edgeplay, subspace, degradation, red/yellow/green light system, pwp

MINORS DNI PLS

“Your lack of impulse control is still pretty astonishing though,” Nanami cocks an eyebrow at you. “I doubt you could actually handle holding an orgasm off for 10 minutes let alone 45.”

You work to manage the urge to argue over him and prove his point. Calmly, with the most pleasant smile you could muster, you say “that’s what you’re here for. I promise to tell you when I’m close. Every time. Promise.”

He’s still skeptical of how seriously you’d take this. It’s hard to believe in you when you’re playing with your fingers behind your back and have a familiar wicked glint in your eyes. You had a knack for saying you’d listen well and then changing your mind halfway, opting to get your way just a little bit even if it meant punishment. Still, the sight of you begging for mercy is always a welcome one and the thought of it already makes his pulse jump.

“Alright. But I’m putting some precautions in place.” Nanami tells you. You purse your lips, already feeling like he’s set the game on hard mode.

“Whaaat kind of precautions?” You inquire, squinting.

“I’m restraining you so you can’t touch. This is a good time to start breaking that bad habit. Don’t you think so?” He smiles conspiratorially. It dawns on you now that you shouldn’t have come in so hot, boldly suggesting 45 minutes during your first real attempt at it. “Go ahead and sit on the bed and wait for me. I’m going to freshen up and get everything ready.”

Nanami sends you off with a searing kiss and a smack on your ass that leaves you giggling as you head to his bedroom. It’s small moments like these that you can’t help but wish for more of. The speed in which you pack your bags to sleep over whenever he has even a little bit of time off would be embarrassing if he were anyone else. But he’s Nanami and here, for your eyes only, Kento gets to fully be himself. Goofier than he’ll ever let on and a very specific brand of annoying that means he’s incredibly dependable but also eats your desserts while commenting on how they were much too sweet for him.

When he’s back in the room you’re already undressed and sitting at the edge of the bed. The perfect picture of obedience with your hands clasped in your lap as you patiently waited for his return. He’s half dressed in a tight shirt and boxer briefs that show off his toned leg muscles. In his hands is a smooth black rope. His eyes seem to glow with hunger as he takes you in.

This isn't the first time he’s used these ties on you. You can still remember the tingle of excitement that shot through you after finding out that bondage was one of his favorite kinds of play. Even outside of the sexual aspect of it, he’s making it one of yours. It’s a loving act. One full of devotion and precise calculation. There’s always complete and utter focus in his eyes as he slides the rope against your skin. His work is neat and even, with your safety at top priority. With a rope wound tight enough to bite your flesh and steal your breath if you fought too hard, you give Nanami your full trust. And once he has it, he has the power to make you feel like a masterpiece. You’re reminded of this power as he caresses his work. Rope winds around your torso with a slight emphasis on your arms. Soon enough your arms are crossed and caged against your chest. Nanami tugs the final knot at the center of it and stares into your eyes as you try to keep your composure.

“How does it feel?” He whispers and you think that he must know that it feels perfect. You curse the way he wets his lips and smirks slightly.

He must have a book hiding somewhere.

“It feels good Kento.” You whisper, wriggling around a bit as he then spreads your knees apart. Nanami hums in satisfaction.

“Relax for me.” He says, reminding you to keep you still as he presses down on your thigh, strong hands deftly moving to immobilize your left leg with the black rope in a frogtie.

“How am I supposed to do that?” You complain, still squirming as his touch warms your skin. Have his hands always been so large, his touch so insistent?

“Or don’t. But it’ll be your skin rubbed raw after. Not mine.” Nanami warns. “My best work only comes from your cooperation. Remember?”

You huff but keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead you focus on the tight muscles of Nanami’s arms rippling under his shirt. He knots your right leg, and you flush at how stretched apart you are. Your only source of modesty comes from your hands covering your chest and they flex and unflex as your head starts to catch up with what happens next. You kick yourself for agreeing to being tied up, wanting nothing more than to touch him. You take your lips between your teeth slightly as you catch his gaze raking down your figure. Nanami slowly runs a few fingers over you. He travels upward from your bare thighs past your hips and traces feather soft patterns on your stomach. You can’t help the way your legs twitch when he finally dips his fingers lower and presses against your pussy, stroking you.

“Give me a color sweetheart.”

“Green.” You whimper. “Please kiss me.” Nanami seems to consider it for a moment but removes his touch completely from you instead.

“Be good for me and you’ll get as much of me as you want.”

“Don’t you think you should start the clock before you get me all riled up?” You protest as he places the bullet vibrator and a spare pillow in between your legs, the toy nuzzled snug right against your clit. “I deserve a fair chance.”

“Oh so now you’re the only one allowed to cheat and bend rules?” He quips with a teasing smile. You have no retort for that but mostly because Kento has turned on the vibrator. Your hips buck against the toy and pillow on impulse at the abruptness and you glare at Nanami who shushes you and begins to speak over the quiet buzz.

“Since it’s your first time edging we’ll start with 25 minutes, starting now. Whenever you get close you need to tell me. And if you cum before you’ve gotten permission then that’ll just have to be it until my next off weekend.”

“Your… next weekend off?” You would’ve screamed if half of your attention wasn’t on the powerful vibrations sending pleasure ricocheting through your body. “We don’t even.. Know.. when that is.”

“I know right? I would hate to leave my love desperate for so long with no clear end in sight just because she couldn’t commit to something she asked for in the first place.” Nanami fakes a pout and you want to bite him. It was bad enough he was threatening to really make you wait so long to touch him without bringing your pride into it.

Nanami watches the way your lips part and pupils dilate as you struggle to remain in control of your reactions. Your hips jump every so often, the rope biting into the soft flesh of your legs. When your soft moans begin escalating and you look to him desperately, trying to decide for yourself if you can handle anymore, it takes more strength than he’d like to admit to not touch himself at the sight of you. He makes the decision for you, and your head lolls a bit as you try to catch your break.

The waves of your demise creep up on you quicker after that. Again and again Kento brings you right to the edge, turning up the intensity of the vibrator after each break he allows you in between.

“I can’t- Kento I’m-” You moan, your voice crescendoing and your eyes screwing shut. You can’t help the way you rock against the pillow even after the vibrator stops and the orgasm that had built within you started to fade.

“Who told you that you could hump the pillow? That’s a pretty pathetic attempt at trying to get what you want.” Nanami chides from his seat.

Your face heats in embarrassment and you avert your eyes a bit. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Doesn’t that make it worse?” He laughs cruelly and lets his eyes rake over your body. “Filthy little slut can’t even control her own body?”

Kento gets up and comes closer, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. His touch was soft, but it was a reminder of the kind of damage he could inflict.

“Stop. Moving.” He warns you coolly, dark eyes narrowing. His ever-deepening well of patience was scary at times but right now you’re grateful for the mercy, needing chance after chance to prove you could make it.

It’s gotten to the point that the lightest of touches make you feel like you’ll succumb and let all your hard work go to waste. You’re almost thankful your nipples are off the table for this play.

“Kento- Kento please I really am gonna-” You whimper, your chest heaving. You feel like any more of this and you’ll start drooling.

“You won’t.” Kento answers.

The commanding bass of his voice makes your senses jump and you panic, barely managing to yelp out another “Kento please” and feel the toy shut off before you’re sent careening off the edge. Your muscles feel tight and your skin sweaty by this point. You can’t tell if Kento is more focused on the heaving of your chest or the way your fingers flex and unflex to try and alleviate the strain of keeping your focus.

“God..how long has it-” You try to speak once it feels like you can breathe a bit again. Nanami smirks at the way your head lolls to one side and your eyes lazily work to focus on him.

“You’ve officially hit 20 minutes, sweetheart. Only 5 more to go.”

“Do you realize how fucking drenched you are baby?” He smirks, pulling your pussy apart slightly to get a better look. “Makes me want to forget all about this and make you fall apart with my tongue a few times. You’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Don’t.. Don’t say that. The rule is I can’t for another 5.” You force yourself to remember and steel your resolve. You know he’s really just testing you at this point, seeing if you’ll break under his pressure.

“Good girl” He purrs, soothing the small pout off your lips with distracting kisses on your thighs. “The more you control yourself the more I know I can trust you.”

You so badly want him to trust you. Looking down at Kento spoil you while teetering on the edge makes you dizzy. He could tell you to do anything at this point and you’d probably listen if it meant he would indulge you more. Your head swims with the possibility that he’ll treat you like this again if you do well.

Nanami moves aside the pillow and vibrator, replacing the toy with his own hand before you can get upset with him. The gasp that escapes you fills him with pride. All it takes is a slight touch to make your body completely tremble. You can’t actually tell that the alarm has gone off until he whispers how well you’ve done for him.

“See? Didn’t I tell you good girls get everything they want? Now you get to cum all over my fingers all you want.”

Your body is almost afraid to finally let go, so used to feeling coiled up tight that you feel like you might not be able to. Kento senses the struggle within you and softens his touch to bring down the intensity for you just a bit.

“You did it, you deserve this sweetheart.” He presses open-mouthed kisses up your neck, knowing full well the onslaught of praise would send you over. Sure enough, a noise from deep inside of you wells up in your throat as you’re sent crashing over the edge. You throw your head back and try to close your legs only to be stopped by Nanami’s hands, hell-bent on making you ride it out. Your hands clench borderline painfully, your arms testing your restraints. You can’t even plead with him. The pleasure erupting from you, for once, has stolen your voice.

Testing the water, Kento lets a bit of spit fall from his lips. You catch it on your tongue, staring at him lovingly with hazy, unfocused eyes and he almost loses his mind.

“There’s my sweet girl.” He purrs. Nanami knows you’ll be completely compliant now, dredging through subspace. You won’t be giving any coherent remarks outside of anything he commands of you now, all resistance and witty one-liners fading to static in your mind. “Been so good for me today that I actually get to reward you.”

You whine in appreciation. Chest swelling with pride, you bask in his praise. You initially thought it was more fun to see his eyes turn icy when you spent a half a session acting up in order to get punished into this headspace but you could get used to having Nanami painstakingly coax it out of you.

“Tell me your color, my love.” Nanami kisses your forehead, to remind you, first and foremost, that he doesn’t want anything if it doesn’t mean you and he are sharing the pleasure, even if you could only think about how good you wanted to make him feel.

“Green.. hehe..definitelyygreen.” Your words slightly slurred together as you tried to prove your focus.

“So, sweetheart, what do you want me to give you in return?” He leans down and whispers in your ear, rubbing your thighs soothingly. You have to think for a moment to actually get the words out, trying to get your brain to be more specific than Kento, Kento, Kento.

“Wantt… want to touch you.. And I… want you inside.” You strain against your ties, not even minding the slight bite of the ropes at this point if it meant he would free you faster.

Nanami lets you place ardent kisses against his skin as he undoes the restraints on your arms and you're thankful to finally, finally, get some contact with him. His skin burns with desire as you pull him onto you. He has half a mind to really pry another orgasm from you with his head between your thighs but the growing ache between his expels the thought. He hastily twists out of his clothes and back onto you. You’ve waited long enough for what’s yours.

Nanami enters you slowly, softly pulling your still-tied legs further apart. You will your eyes not to screw shut, trying to put forth some effort to meet his searing gaze. Neither of you really register the way your nails slightly dig into his forearms from the pressure. The pace Kento sets is torturous. He makes you savor every roll of his hips into yours. It almost feels like he’s squeezing the pleasure out of you. There’s nowhere to run. There’s only him.

There’s no warning when you cum again, your body completely bypassing your brain in the decision. It’s a rush of heat and an uncontrollable tremble. You can barely even recognize your own voice calling out his name. As you squeeze tighter around him, Nanami grunts and wills himself not to bend your legs forward and fuck hard into you until you’re a teary mess. There will be other times for that. Today he just wants to spoil his sweet girl for her efforts to please.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asks, like he’s not literally fucking the words right out of your brain. If you still had the energy for it you’d bite him.

“Kento please. In...inside… ” Obviously. You keep that snide bit to yourself. There’s no real desire to sass him when he’s making your body shake this badly.

Kento grabs onto your wrists like he’s anchoring himself to you. Through the haze dusting your mind you register his pace getting sloppier and the soft moans that fall from his lips as he finishes inside of you.

It took a bit for Kento’s strength to return to him and a little while longer to pry his eyes off of your blissed out expression. He whispered for you to let go of him so he could take care of you. Shushing your whines, he pries your fingers off of him so he can untie you. He still needs to run the bath and start some tea for you and if he spends any more time in your arms he would fall asleep right next to you without properly performing his duties.

Once he’s back from prepping, Nanami lifts you from the bed and begins to carry you to the bathroom, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. With your head clearing slightly, you can fully feel the effects of your win on your ego.

With hooded lids and a proud smirk plastered on your lips you say, “is it too late to add a shopping trip to my rewards?”

[martuzzio]

The idea of Ren joining the Amputees-Only club sounds so bittersweet... cuz before he knew they were having fun, but also knew that they were allowed to have a bond like that. He never expected to join them.

I can honestly imagine in his first few meetings there's a few times where Ren just cries, poor guy...

Rendog's first Amputee's Only Club Meeting (written under the cut because this one is longer than normal)

Despite what the universe seems to think, Doc is a pretty easygoing guy. Yes, he does look scary as hell and yes, he was a mob boss at one point, but that doesn’t mean he’s a violent person. Well, he’s violent when he needs to be, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. In reality, his favorite moments are all from quiet parts of his normal, boring, daily life as a hermit.

In these everyday moments, Doc likes to process things. He likes to sit in the greenhouse and watch the bio bees work alongside the robot bees. He likes to brush his fingers on the plants and let his half-robotic brain process the data into something that resembles touch. He likes to listen to Grian and Etho chat as they work.

He observes small moments like these because that’s all he really does. He takes in data and processes it. He uses the processed information to judge his surroundings and react accordingly. Sometimes this means that he uses his data to laugh at his friends who make dumb jokes. But sometimes he uses the data to run, hide, or fight back. When all you do is process data to keep yourself alive, it becomes very hard to ignore incoming information.

This is how Doc eventually locates Ren. He wasn’t planning on finding where his longtime friend wheeled off to, much less go searching for him, but Doc unfortunately decided to take a more leisurely route to the bridge and his camera eye caught the slight movement anyway. Doc has to give it to him; the man knows how to hide. The werewolf is in a lesser-used community room, curled into a dusty couch that’s been shoved into the corner. The chrome wheels of his temporary mobility aid reflect off of the window overlooking deep space. Ren has his left leg drawn up to this chest. His stump of a right leg rests on the couch cushion, shunned. Ren’s obviously hid because he doesn’t want to be found, but unluckily for him, Doc was specifically altered to notice things.

Ren’s flinch when Doc claps his hand on his shoulder is almost unnoticeable. Ren looks like he’s either been crying or had a bad allergic reaction to the dust. Doc assumes the former.

“Cub was working on your new parts earlier today. They look pretty sick,” he ventures.

Ren looks like he has the entire universe on his shoulders. “That’s wonderful,” he mumbles. He opens his mouth as if to say more, but instead sighs and slides his eyes shut.

Doc plops down on the couch and slings his arm over the back of the rest. The action makes Ren recoil again, this time more visibly, and Doc pointedly ignores it. Instead, he says, “As much as I want you to come see what Cub is making, you will go to him when you feel like it. There is nothing you need to do right now besides heal.”

Ren barks out a wet laugh. “Bro, I appreciate you so much, but how can stumps heal?”

Doc’s cybernetic hand twitches in sympathy. “You know what I mean, man, and we both know it.” Doc replies. He looks down at the sliver of space between his leg and Ren’s and chews his words. Ren shifts his gaze to Doc’s arm, then to gaze directly at the creeper’s face.

Doc feels uncomfortable in a way he’s never felt before. All of the other amputee hermits were already amputees when they joined the crew. They had time to heal, be angry, and let go in their own ways. He did, too. But now, with Ren sitting next to him, suffering through the same kind of anguish Doc felt when he first woke up from being operated on, Doc suddenly doesn’t know how to act. How do you comfort someone who literally lost a third of their body? As much as Doc knows what that feels like and as much as he wants to help his friend, he might not be able to. He might not ever be able to.

It’s the single most heartbreaking thing that Doc’s realized in a long, long time.

This revelation causes the duo to sit in silence for a long while. Then, Doc gets an idea. His eye shifts to look at his friend. Ren narrows his eyes tiredly but waits anyway.

“The Amputees-Only Club meeting is in a few minutes.” Doc murmurs. Ren is silent, but he plows on. “I think you should come,” he pleads. “I think everyone would be very happy to see you.”

Ren’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I’m sure they would.”

“I would be very happy to see you.”

Ren’s eyelids squeeze together. “I know you would.”

“Then let’s go,” Doc insists as he pushes himself to his feet. He turns around and smiles as much as he can at his friend, still curled up on the couch. Ren gazes exhaustedly back. “I think it would be a good idea.” He wishes his smile weren’t so frightening.

Ren moves to rub his eyes with his hands but remembers he’s missing one of his arms a little too late. The resulting crumpled expression immediately burns into Doc’s deep storage memory. “I don’t know, Doc.” The werewolf manages after a long moment. “I appreciate you trying to help, but…”

Doc understands. Of course he does. When he first joined the hermits, the idea of a weekly club meeting exclusively for amputees sounded farfetched at best and belittling at worst. Hell, he didn’t even think there were enough amputees on the team to warrant a club. Imagine his surprise when three other people showed up to his first session, all excited he was there to hang out with them.

With this in mind, all he can do is repeat, “I think it would be a good idea.”

Ren stares up at him, and in that moment, he looks as old as Xisuma. But then he gently closes his eyes, inhales slowly and shallowly, and motions for Doc to drag his mobility aid closer. Doc complies immediately.

The journey to the meeting room, like every other journey on the Hermit Craft, is long. It’s made even longer because of Ren’s inexperience with his aid, but Doc doesn’t dare to offer his help. They eventually end up in front of the elevator that Doc remotely called beforehand with his brain chip. When the doors open, Doc lets Ren wheel in first.

Ren is silent in the elevator. Doc tries to catch his expression, but his friend’s unruly hair blocks his vision. “We’re playing cards tonight.” He mentions.

“That’s what you do at every Amputee-Only Club meeting.”

Doc shifts his eye back to the elevator door. “…Correct.”

Ren doesn’t reply.

When the duo finally reaches the Club meeting room, Doc pauses outside for a moment instead of directing his brain to open the door like normal. He glances down at Ren again and murmurs, “if you don’t want to go back, or to your room or something, that’s—”

“It’s fine,” Ren interrupts. He sounds defeated. “We walked all the way here, so we may as well go.”

Doc activates the door without another thought.

The door slides open and reveals the club room. It’s small, smaller than the average community space on the Hermit Craft, but it feels warm. The soft yellow color painted on the walls matches pleasantly with the yellow of the couch cushions. Joe definitely was the one to orchestrate that. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner that’s set up to have nice views of outer space. Various game tables fill the rest of the room, a few surrounded by five chairs. Doc wonders if Ren will notice the new chair addition. Maybe he already had.

The most interesting part of the space, though, is the people within it. TFC is bundled up on the couch, snoring pleasantly and covered in at least ten blankets. His usual plate of cookies is already half eaten. Iskall is standing at the kitchen counter, fiddling with a teacup filled with a mysterious bright pink liquid. His outfit has a few suspicious-looking singe marks at the hem. Finally, Scar is sat at the poker table in the middle of the room, crossed legs resting on an adjacent chair. He’s sorting through a pile of yellow and orange chips. To Doc’s continued wonder, the stack of bright blue cards resting near Scar’s elbow have miraculously not been knocked onto the floor yet.

When the doors open, Scar and Iskall look over. Ren immediately shifts at Doc’s elbow. Doc waits a moment to let Ren speak if he wants to, but when his shorter friend remains silent, he clears his throat in a grinding noise and announces, unnecessarily, “We’re here.”

Scar is so excited that his eyes have turned into little slivers of green. “Ren, I’m so happy you decided to tag along!” He kicks one of the chairs out from the table and clonks his foot on it for emphasis. The blue cards wobble on the edge of the table but still refuse to fall. “Sit down! Iskall can get you something to drink. Have you ever played poker?” He leans forward with the question. “It’s difficult, but I think it’s fun!”

“Uh, I haven’t.” Ren replies awkwardly, still at the door alongside Doc. “I’ve never even heard of it before.”

“Yeah, I would be surprised if you knew about it. It’s one of those old-timey games from TFC’s era.” Iskall says from across the room. He is now by the couch and is gently patting TFC’s fluffy hair to wake him. “Don’t worry that you don’t know. We’ll teach you.”

Ren tries and fails to make a pointed noise of interest, but he still seems intrigued. Doc feels the knot in his chest loosen a little. He rolls his shoulders to relieve some tension and moves to sit down. By the time he turns his head to look back, Ren is already wheeling forward to join him but looks lost as to where he should sit.

“Howdy, Ren. Sit next to me so I can teach you, but I’ll only teach if you’re willing to listen.” TFC, now awake, grumbles good-naturedly as he heaves himself off the couch. With his large frame still wrapped in a dozen blankets, he looks like a huge bear compared to Iskall. Which is impressive, Doc thinks, since Iskall is nowhere near frail. TFC’s metal prosthetic clonks on the floor as he walks over to the poker table. As he sits down across from Scar, he says, “There’s no point in just sitting there and gawking at us. Grab a seat.” He uses his leg to nudge the chair to his left.

Ren blinks and maneuvers his aid to let him sit down next to the astronaut. TFC procures a blanket from his pile and offers one to him. Ren, after slowly settling in his chair, accepts the pink fuzzy blanket. Doc accepts a purple one.

TFC lances over to Ren as he saves the blue cards from the edge of the table. “Poker’s good fun. You’ll get it in no time.” He snorts and flicks his gaze to Scar, who is busy stacking the chips into a pyramid. “This one always makes sure we have a great, long game.”

Scar looks up and winces minutely in a false apology. “Sorry about that.”

TFC chuckles. “Boy, I’ve never had better games than when I play with you.”

Scar’s grin almost sparkles. TFC and Doc grin back and Iskall hides his laugh in his shoulder.

“Anyway, ready for your first game with us amputees?” TFC brings the conversation back to Ren, who suddenly looks a lot more uncomfortable.

“I,” he begins, his eyes flicking to TFC, then Doc, before looking down. “I, well, uh…”

The table is silent. Iskall is staring at the table with his hands in his lap. TFC sighs and begins shuffling the cards. Doc, as much as he wants to clear the air somehow, can’t seem to find a way to do so. Scar just looks sad. He looks right at Ren, almost through him.

Ren stares back, eyes wide.

“You don’t want to be here.” Scar says quietly, finally. It’s not a question. Ren’s choked response makes the ex-convex smile slightly. “You can say so, Ren. You’re not going to hurt our feelings. None of us want to be here. But, as much as we may want to, we can’t change what happened to us.” He falls silent again as he looks at a particularly twisted scar on the back of his left hand. He rubs at it harshly with the pad of his thumb before Iskall stops him. “This might be selfish,” Scar continues, softly, “but I’m happy that I at least don’t have to sit in here alone.”

For a long moment, the table is silent. Then, with a rush of noise, Ren makes a sound like he’s dying. In a certain way, Doc thinks, he is.

“I don’t want to be here,” Ren confesses as his open mouth contorts and tears roll down his face. “I don’t want to be here.”

All Doc can do is wrap his arms around everyone else, encasing Ren and his other amputee friends in his embrace, and wish he could do more.

[gavin-plz-call-me]

i saw you did an nsfw alphabet for wannabe challenge so i was wondering if you could do one for tears of themis? i'd love to see one for artem

Hell yeah, alphabets are the only nsfw stuff I'm good at writing

AO3

Artem NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

-Stills inside/beside you for a moment while you both catch your breath, then he’s combing through your hair, peppering your body with loving kisses.

-Has wet wipes/tissues to help clean you up at arm's length, so if let’s be honest, when you whine about not wanting to leave his side just yet, he can help you clean up.

-If you’re still clingy after a while, this man will carry you to the bathroom to get the rest of the way cleaned up.

-If you find yourself in a more dominant role in the bedroom sub Artem? It’s more likely than you think be prepared to pepper that man with so much love and care.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-His favorite body part of himself is his eyes. They’re a nice color, but I don’t think he thinks about his appearance too much.

-As for you, would it be cliche to say your brain?

-While your beauty was what attracted him first, your mind is what really sealed the deal.

-Your mouth is a close second, because it helps you voice your thoughts in that beautiful voice of yours and, I mean, if you wanted to give him a blow job too he wouldn’t be complaining…

-Is an ass man.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

-Is hesitant on deciding where to cum.

-He thinks cumming anywhere in/on you would not be a very pleasant experience for you.

-But in the heat of the moment, he’ll probably end up cumming inside you if he’s wearing protection, or on your thighs/ass if he’s not.

-When he cums, whether it be in you or on you, he’s grabbing you a tissue when he comes down from his high to clean you up.

-If you swallow his cum he’ll be a little disgusted, but a lot turned on.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-Has masturbated in his office after you’ve left on multiple occasions.

-Sometimes the perfume you were wearing was extra enticing, sometimes what you were wearing made you look extra hot, and sometimes your presence alone is enough to get him hot and excited.

-Is mostly ashamed about the times he did it before you two were dating because it felt like an intrusion of your privacy.

-Once Celestine came to his office right after he finished and he was so mortified that she’d somehow be able to tell that he did something. She knew something was up because of how much he was blushing, but she didn’t know what exactly

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

-Big old virgin

-I’m not even saying that to be mean plus being a virgin isn’t bad it’s just true.

-Sure, his lack of experience may be a bit of a hindrance at first, but he’s a clean slate.

-He’s not gonna be doing some weird thing with your clit because a girl he was with before liked that.

-Train him to perfectly pleasure you, and, trust me, he’s a fast learner.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

-Your first few times together he only did missionary, because, while he knew there were other options, he didn’t know how to initiate them.

-As he got more experience, however, he grew to absolutely love doggy style.

-Loves your ass, so it’s an obvious choice. Plus, if he’s extra flustered, he can easily hide it.

-Grips your ass extra hard while kissing your neck and back. If he’s feeling extra brave, expect a few whispers about how good you feel.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

-He has his goofy moments, but most of the time he’s 100% serious.

-Whether it be because he’s concentrating on learning how to pleasure you correctly, or, when he’s gained a bit of experience, just concentrating on both of your pleasure.

-I feel like as you guys get closer, however, an awkward moment may turn into a brief bout of giggles shared between the two of you before continuing.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

-Shaved himself completely when you two started dating.

-Was convinced you’d be disgusted by any hair down there. My poor insecure baby

-When he gets more comfortable around you, he’ll let it grow out, but he still trims it to keep it neat.

-Carpets match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

-Is a whore for a sexy, romantic atmosphere.

-I’m talking rose petals, candles, and a couple of glasses of non-alcoholic wine.

-Wanna have the most romantic love-making session imaginable? Set all of that up for him instead of the other way around.

-He’ll be so in love with you at that moment he’ll have no choice but to give you the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

-Before meeting you, he jacked off maybe once or twice a week, and it was more of something he had to do than something he wanted to do.

-When he met you, he thought you were the most attractive person he’d ever seen, so his sex drive and, naturally, his masturbation sessions increased.

-Increased to every other day, maybe every day. He tried to not think of you during these times as he felt it was an invasion of privacy emphasis on tried.

-After finally getting together with you, his sessions have decreased back down to once or twice a week.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

-Likes having sex in his office, but that’s the most public space he’ll do it in.

-Also loves it when you’re slightly dominant on him.

-Doesn’t want to do any of the more kinky stuff, tying him or you, depending on his mood with a tie is about as far as he’ll go.

-But just take charge, he loves it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

-Can’t go wrong with the good old fucking in bed. It’s easy, comfortable, and you guys can take as long as you want.

-Get him riled up at work by wearing something that beautifully shows of your ass, or make sure he knows you’re wearing that pair of panties you know he loves or, fuck it, no panties at all he’ll polietly ask you into his office so he can fuck your brains out.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

-Loves when you assert yourself, especially at work.

-Get all confident during a trial because you know you’re going to win? That’s all the motivation he needs.

-Does not help his productivity at all, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Expect to fuck after a trial, extra hard if you won.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-No threesomes/group sex.

-It’s not even because he’ll get jealous okay maybe a bit of that but you were his first and only. Everything he’s learned about sex has been about specifically pleasuring you, he wouldn’t know where to begin when having sex with other people.

-He’s more than content with you being his one and only.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

-Not skilled at the beginning like all things sexual, but he’s a fast learner.

-Good communication is key here, as it is in all aspects of sex with Artem. Guide him to where you want to be pleasured, praise him when you really like what he’s doing, and give him some delicious moans and he’ll be a pro at fucking you with his tounge alone in no time.

-Is too shy to ask for you to go down on him, and will insist you don’t have to when you try to initiate it.

-Ignore him and do it, the noises you draw from him are absolutely worth it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

-Starts off at a weird middle ground sort of pace, not fast and not slow.

-Is fond of slow and sensual when he grows more experienced, but will occasionally get rough with you.

-That usually happens when he gets a bit too jealous of a guy who got a bit too close to you for your liking.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

- doesn’t really have a choice in the matter at the beginning, mr. 30 seconds (sorry Artem)

-For real, he prefers longer love-making sessions, but if you’re teasing him in the office a quickie will ensue.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

-Grows more confident the more the two of you have sex.

-He does like fucking in his office, so he likes a bit of risk, but there being too many people in the office, or the chance of Celestine walking in at anytime, Artem would much rather feign working on a case and take you home.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

-At first, like most virgin boys, his stamina is basically nonexistent.

-Let him take his time, he’ll get to fucking you until the sun rises in no time at all.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

-Has never thought about getting one for himself when his hand does the job well enough.

-Is very open to using toys on you in the bedroom, especially when he’s feeling insecure about his ability to please you which happens often, scream his name and make him forget those insecurities.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-Not a teaser in the slightest.

-You want something specific in the bedroom? He’s already doing it, you barely have to ask.

-On the flip side, sort of loves it when you’re unfair to him.

-Just barely touch him and stop at the brink of his orgasm, he gets a sick sort of pleasure from that.

-It also helps him gain more control over himself in the bedroom, so it’s a win-win.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

-May try to stay quiet, after all, in all the porn he’s watched which isn’t a lot because I feel like watching it makes him feel uncomfortable the man is always basically silent.

-That does not work out for him, though. He gets so overwhelmed with pleasure that he can’t control what his vocal cords are doing.

-Gains a bit more control over it over time, but he realizes you like his moans, so he stops trying to keep them at bay.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

-Is a total switch.

-Can be pretty dominant at some times see his atmospheric card

-But I can totally see him wanting you to dom him sometimes. Loves seeing you dominate the court, if you bring that energy to bed, oh boy is he like putty in your hands.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

-He’s of average girth and slightly above average length. Has a nice, thick vein that runs the length of his penis.

-Uncut.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

-Has a very active imagination how else would he become such a great lawyer?

-And while that helps him out in his work, anything about you can really set him off.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-Is out like a light

-Especially the first few times, his body doesn’t know what hit him.

-But even after a while, he works so hard that the moment he has the chance to fall asleep, his body is taking that chance.

-Make sures to stay up long enough to get cleaned off and help you clean yourself up.

[dickwheelie]

Touching 18, squishing the other's cheeks, for Jmart?

this one kinda got away from me, ended up longer than intended, but whaddayagonnado. hope you enjoy oran!

______________

The first thing Martin does when they finish unpacking is make tea, which doesn't surprise Jon. He sits on the worn sofa and watches Martin plug in the kettle, drop tea bags into the mugs, portion out the sugar. He watches Martin watch the water boil.

Jon doesn't particularly want tea. He's never particularly wanted tea; it's never been his favorite. But when he'd come in for his second day as head archivist, there had been a steaming mug sitting on his desk along with a note that said, Really sorry about yesterday. Hope this helps make up for it. --Martin B. And so Jon had drank the tea, and he kept drinking it every time Martin brought some. He's never known why he didn't just tell Martin he didn't like tea very much. Martin would have understood. He probably would have just asked if Jon would prefer coffee instead.

But Jon's never said anything. And now, staring at Martin stare at the steeping tea bags, his hair ruffled from travel and the corner of his lip red from anxious biting, his eyes so, so tired, Jon thinks he knows why.

Martin blinks, and apparently deciding that he's stared for long enough, removes the tea bags and brings the mugs over to the sofa. Jon lets him set his on the end table, but doesn't reach for it. Martin sits on the sofa's far corner, just out of Jon's reach. It isn't on purpose, Jon knows. It's just what Martin is used to, now.

"Thank you," Jon says.

"Sure," Martin says. He smiles at him, over the lip of the mug, and Jon wants to rub away the bags under his eyes. "You should have some before it gets cold."

Jon finally reaches for his mug and takes a few sips. It's just the way he likes it, which is to say perfectly serviceable, but nothing Jon would get excited about. It doesn't matter what it tastes like, really. It's never mattered. It was never about the tea, anyway.

"It's good," Jon says.

"Good," Martin says, nodding.

Martin drinks his tea. Jon can't stop staring at him. Martin keeps glancing up and meeting Jon's eyes, shooting him awkward little half-smiles before looking quickly away again. Jon doesn't blame him; he knows he's acting weird. This is weird. But he doesn't know how to stop. It isn't the Eye. It's just Jon's momentary inability to look away from Martin's hands curling around his mug, so wide that they cover its surface entirely, or the practiced little sips he takes to avoid burning the roof of his mouth, or the way his lashes hide his eyes from view when he stares down at his lap.

By the time Martin's finished his tea, Jon's is almost untouched and gone cold. He holds it, inert, in his hands, as he stares at Martin's hands tapping patterns on his empty mug.

Martin must notice his cold tea, because he says, "Didn't like it much, huh?"

His tone isn't accusatory or sarcastic, just melancholy. A pang of guilt goes through Jon. "N-No, it's good. I'm just not in the mood, I suppose."

"Oh." Martin laughs, but it's hollow. "Didn't know it was possible for someone to not be in the mood for tea."

Jon laughs too, trying to make Martin feel better. "Yeah. Guess it's just been a . . . weird day."

"Yeah." Martin keeps staring down at his empty mug. Jon could stretch out his legs across the sofa and touch his thigh. He could put them in Martin's lap, easily. But Jon remains pressed to his side of the sofa. "Well, if you want me to make a fresh cup, just say so."

I don't, Jon thinks. More tea isn't what I want.

But he doesn't say no when, later that night as the sun goes down and the temperature drops, Martin offers to make him a nice hot cuppa. Once again, Jon watches from the sofa, a blanket around his shoulders, not wanting tea. Martin's hands are so practiced in their movements. He's done this so, so many times. He knows exactly how much sugar Jon takes. Jon wants nothing more than to reach out and still his hands. I don't want it, he thinks, staring at Martin's thumb as he wipes a drop of tea from the countertop.

Martin carries the mug to him in both hands, one on the handle and one under the mug, keeping it steady. This time Jon reaches for it. He's not done that many times, he realizes. Usually it's placed on his desk before he gets the chance to reach out. But now his hands slide over Martin's, which are pliable and warm, and achingly familiar, though they've never held hands. Jon's hands itch when Martin pulls away, leaving him holding only the piping hot mug of tea that Jon doesn't want.

Jon is about to take an obligatory sip, but then for whatever reason, Martin lingers by the sofa, standing over Jon, just inches away. They stare at one another. Very slowly, Jon lowers the mug from his lips, and sets it gently aside, on the end table. Martin's eyes follow it, and his expression twitches with confusion, and he opens his mouth to ask a question, but before he can make a sound Jon is sitting up, pulling his knees up onto the sofa to lean over the armrest so he can reach up towards Martin, placing his hands on his shoulders and then on either side of his face, gently tugging him closer, and Martin follows, leans down to meet Jon's gaze, bracing his hands on the armrest on either side of Jon's elbows. Jon pulls their faces close, their foreheads nearly touching, and seeing Martin's still-puzzled expression, Jon tightens his grip on his freckled, chubby cheeks, which fill his palms perfectly, and squeezes. It's a gentle but insistent action, a kind of impulsive affection that Jon doesn't know how else to express. Martin blinks at him, his face distorted a bit comically with his cheeks pressed inwards by Jon's hands, but he huffs a laugh and doesn't pull away, and Jon thinks he might be beginning to understand. So keeping his grip on his cheeks Jon pulls him closer, closes his eyes as he taps their foreheads together, and their noses follow suit, squishing against one another almost painfully. Jon doesn't know what to do after that. All he wants is to get closer to Martin, but they're at an awkward angle, and he can do nothing except raise himself up further from the sofa and nudge their faces closer together.

His heart leaps when, a moment later, Jon feels Martin's hands slowly come up to hold either side of his face in turn, his broad palms so gentle as he pulls Jon further up towards him, supporting his weight as Jon kneels up on the armrest and throws his arms around Martin's neck. Yes, Jon thinks, sinking into Martin's soft, assuring weight, this is what I want. Martin's hands and chest are warmer than any cup of tea Jon's ever had.

"I don't like tea," Jon tells him then, leaning back slightly so they can look each other in the eye.

"I--what?" Martin's completely thrown. His hair is ruffled, and his cheeks are still rosy from Jon's hands on them.

"I mean, I don't hate it, it's alright," Jon says. "It's just not one of my favorites."

"But you . . . you like my tea."

"Not really, no. You make very good tea, Martin, I don't think that's disputable. But I just . . . don't like tea very much."

"I--" Martin still looks utterly confused. "But you drink my tea. You always drink it. Until today, apparently."

"I don't like tea. But I like you." Jon bumps their noses together for emphasis. "I didn't want you to think I didn't. And for a while your tea was all I had of you. And it is good tea. But today I guess I just . . . I guess I realized there was no reason to pretend anymore. Because now you're here, we're both here, and we know how we feel about each other, so . . ." Jon drifts off, some of his steam lost, but judging by the look in his eyes he thinks Martin understands.

"You like me, huh?" Martin says, and there's a twinkle in his eye that Jon has missed of late. "Could've made it more obvious."

Jon, who is clinging to Martin like a lifeline, huffs. "I thought I was being obvious."

"Jon," Martin laughs, and he says nothing more, just holds him close as Jon's tea, forgotten on the end table, gets colder and colder.

[gallavictorious]

Gallavich Week Day 7: Meet-Ugly

And for my final trick: have 1,084 words of post-S11 bickering husbands and introspection, with a tiny sprinkle of angst and fluff.

Read below or on AO3.

---

What Those Assholes Know

It takes effort not to slam the cupboard door. It takes effort to pour a glass of water and drink it slowly. It takes effort to turn around, calmly, and look at Mickey rather than, says, storm past him and sulk on the balcony.

”What?” Mickey asks.

He's leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and staring at Ian with eyebrows raised.

It takes effort to just grit his teeth a little and to keep his voice steady. ”Think maybe you could stop doing that?”

”Do what?” Mickey asks.

It takes effort not to snarl you think you're playing dumb but you really are a fucking idiot, you asshole.

Ian closes his eyes for a moment, counts to three. They're adults. They're married. They need to talk about this stuff, and he won't let Mickey goad him into having a fight (likely to end in angry fucking) instead of discussing it like responsible, mature people.

He opens his eyes again and fixes them on his husband. ”Telling people that you used to steal shit from the store where I worked and that I got pissy when you punched my boss and took his gun and when I came to take it back you pounded the hell out of me and then I pounded the hell out of you, 'if you know what I mean'.”

”Least I leave out the part where you were fifteen and sleeping with your married boss.”

He does, and Ian supposes he should be thankful for small favours, but he doesn't feel like being thankful. He feels like throwing his empty glass at Mickey because he knows that Mickey is doing this shit on purpose. Mickey might not give a damn about what people think but he knows that Ian cares, at least a little, and Mickey isn't actually stupid so he knows how people react when he tells them stuff like that too.

And still he keeps doing it, whenever any of their new neighbors or the guys from their pilates class or one of the other security teams running weed asks about how him and Ian met. This time it had been the couple living two doors down; last week it was bartender at the pub they'd started hanging out at when they couldn't be bothered to make it over to the South Side and the Alibi.

”I don't know what the big deal is,” Mickey insists, with dogged casualness. ”I mean, it's the truth.”

”Yeah, but so is we met through my sister, she and Ian are best friends, and that doesn't make people feel so uncomfortable they start avoiding us.”

”No one's avoiding us, man.”

”No? What about Mrs. Jensen on the third floor? She practically threw herself down the stairs yesterday when she saw us coming.”

Mickey scrunches up his face. ”That old bat? You really wanna talk to her?”

And no, not really, since she yaps on endlessly about her dead dog and seems like she's secretly a racist, but: ”That's not the point. We–

”Isn't it?” Mickey interrupts. ”Listen man, if they can't deal with the way we got together, they ain't gonna like us in the long run anyway. Isn't it better to weed out the losers straight away than to waste time playing nice with people ain't ever gonna accept us for who we are?”

Oh. Ian blinks, because put like that...

”I mean,” Mickey presses on, ”unless you're fucking ashamed of it or something.”

He still sounds perfectly disinterested, like the topic doesn't concern him in the slightest, but he's suddenly avoiding Ian's gaze and rubbing at his eyebrow.

Oh, Ian thinks again. Okay, maybe he should have seen this coming.

”No,” he says carefully and with great emphasis as he takes a step closer to Mickey and tries to catch his husband's eyes. ”I'm not ashamed, Mickey.”

Not of how they started and not of anything that they are.

Not of Mickey, not ever.

”Just figured it might be easier for us here if we don't go out of our way to tell everyone how different we are,” he continues as he reaches out to put a tentative hand on Mickey's neck and run his thumb over the back of his head.

Mickey still doesn't look at him but he doesn't shy away from the touch either.

”Like, we don't have to be friends with anyone, but it would it really be so bad to be friendly with them? Make them less likely to complain to Melaine when we fuck too loud.”

Maybe it's cheap and sneaky to use that as an argument, but it seems to do the trick – or maybe Mickey's just reassured by Ian's professed lack of shame – because Mickey makes a face, but moves a bit closer so that Ian can wrap his arms around him and put his chin on top of his head.

”I guess,” he mutters into Ian's shoulder – but after a moment he pulls back to stare up at Ian with an intent look on his face. ”But you really think it's worth pretending to be some normal fucking Joe just so assholes you don't give two shoots about don't look at you funny?”

Ian frowns. There's no trace of feigned nonchalance in Mickey's voice now; there's no attempts to avoid Ian's stare. His husband is completely serious, and it occurs to Ian that maybe this isn't just about Mickey and Mickey's insecurities, but about Ian, too, and Mickey's concern for him.

Mickey's concern for Ian, who has tendency to conform to expectations of others, sometimes to the point of losing sight of his own wants and needs.

For Ian, whom Mickey never wants to see make himself small and bland and anything less than himself.

Letting go of a long sigh, Ian smiles, though the shape of it tastes bittersweet in his mouth, and he pulls his arms tighter around his husband and drops a kiss on his hair.

”I guess not,” he allows. ”But maybe we find some sort of middle way? A compromise?”

”Yeah? Like what?”

”I don't know. But we can think about it, maybe?”

”Yeah, okay.” Mickey sounds decidedly put-upon, but that's just Mickey. He makes no move to break away from the embrace.

Ian smiles and runs a hand through his husband's hair and loves him and it takes no effort at all.

---

HEY I MADE IT! One thing for each day of Gallavich Week DONE! There were quite a few times when I really, truly doubted that I’d make it, but here we are! I’m exhausted and delighted and I will be having champagne to celebrate now!

(I had thought to play this theme straight, btw, because I love meet-uglies and they work SO WELL for Ian and Mickey, buuuut... )

Massive thanks to @gallavichthings for putting this together yet again!  The effort you put in to make this happen for the fandom is much appreciated; you are a star! I'm extremely eager to catch up on all the exciting stuff I haven't had time to look at properly yet because I was busy writing my own little ficlets. To-read list is looking great. XD

[clairenatural]

destiel, 2k. mafia!Cas/Kingergarten teacher!Dean from an anon prompt for mafia!dean or Cas protecting the other at all costs. I’m not entirely sure what this turned into but it was fun to write so I hope it’s also fun to read :) it references stuff that happens in 12x10, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Castiel sighs. His five least favorite words. He glances up, frowning at Inias. “What kind of problem?” He doesn’t add that it had better be important to justify the younger man barging into his office like this, but it’s implied.

Inias takes a deep breath before stepping fully into the room, letting Castiel’s glass office door shut behind him. “The DA’s office is refusing to back down on the Ishim case.”

“And you paid them the standard amount?”

“Yes, sir. But one of the DDAs refused it.”

“Refused it.”

“He’s new. He doesn’t understand our arrangement.”

“Hm.” Castiel closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, considering both the situation and the man in front of him. They hadn’t had a problem with the DA in years—at least, not since Castiel had taken over. Their messes were less messy and they paid more generously for silence. “How much does he need to understand?”

“That’s the problem, sir. I don’t think he will.”

Castiel scoffs. “Anyone in power can be bought off,” he replies, because in all his years he’d never met someone who couldn’t be. Power corrupts, after all.

Inias shifts uneasily, and Castiel can tell he isn’t going to like how this ends.

“We’ve received word that he’s begun investigating independently.”

Castiel groans at this, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But don’t worry!” Inias continues quickly, hurridly. “We can put our best men on the assignment, have him taken care of by tonight—”

“Wait,” Castiel cuts him off with a sigh. He forces his eyes back open. “I’m not mad,” he says before anything else, because Inias looks like a deer in the headlights and even after all this time his employees still need occasional reminding that he is not his brothers.

When he’d taken over for Michael he’d promised himself—he’d promised everyone—less bloodshed. He swore to defend his family, business, and territory from Crowley and his cronies, but he’d been determined to stop ending innocent lives. For some reason, though, innocents just love getting in the way. He sighs again. “What’s his name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

And, well. That certainly complicates things. He’d known when Sam announced he was going into criminal law that this was a possibility—in some ways, he thinks he should have expected this.

“Sir?” Inias asks, and Castiel realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at him. “Are you…do you know him?”

Castiel blinks back to reality and glares at him. “Call them off,” he orders, and cuts Inias off when he tries to protest. “Call them all off, Inias. Now.”

“But, sir, what about—”

“I’ll deal with Sam Winchester myself. Nobody else is to touch him.” Then, just for emphasis, “Until I say otherwise, consider him under my protection.”

Inias is still staring at him, baffled, but after a moment he nods, and Castiel is thankful that he’s decided not to argue. “Alright, I—yes. Understood.” He nods again before leaving the office and Castiel sinks deep into his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into both eyes.

His phone buzzes and Castiel watches as a text message lights up the screen, revealing the photo from his wedding he has set as his background. It’s a message from Dean, because of course it is, asking him what he wants for dinner and if he wants wine with it.

Castiel looks around his office, awarded to him based on his surname but paid for in blood, and he’s never hated it more.  

————————————————————-

They get half an hour into the low-budget western Dean had insisted in watching before his husband sighs, pauses the movie, and sets his wine glass down on the coffee table.  “What’s going on with you?”

Castiel frowns up at him from where he’s lying on the couch, cheek against Dean’s thigh, his own wine glass barely touched. All things considered, Castiel thinks he’s been doing a great job acting like everything is fine. He forgets, sometimes, how easily Dean can read him.

“Work was…long,” he answers, and it isn’t a lie. Then, because Dean is looking at him like he doesn’t believe him, he follows up with “How’s Sam?”

It’s both a deflection and an answer to Dean’s question, but Dean doesn’t know that. Dean thinks he manages a hedge fund. Which he does. Technically. Legally, at least.

Dean knows he’s changing the subject but he doesn’t press it, and his face lights up the way it always does when someone asks about his brother. Castiel loves him for it. Dean starts on about Sam, how he’s doing with Eileen, how they just moved into a bigger house because they want to start a family. Castiel isn’t paying attention, not really, because Dean’s fingers are playing with his hair and he doesn’t really want to think about anything else.

“—I said I’d help him out, though.”

That catches his attention. “What? Why?” he asks, a bit too quickly, because even though he’s missed most of the context he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Come on, babe. I never get to use my degree anymore.” He shrugs. “And it sounds fun, you know? Helping my baby brother take down a corrupt criminal justice system. I feel like Serpico.”

“No.” It comes out more forcefully than he had intended and he sits up, turning fully to face Dean. “No, Dean, you need to stay out of it.”

Dean blinks at his husband, and Castiel immediately backtracks. “I mean, um. You don’t—you don’t have any evidence.”

“That’s the point of me helping,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I know I chose teaching five-year-olds over working in cybersecurity, but I still know my way around.”

“You’re going to hack into the DA’s office?”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that.”

“It is bad.” Castiel knows he’s being too insistent, is pushing too hard, but Dean can’t get involved, too. He can’t. “It’s dangerous. You don’t know who else could be involved.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You should. You just don’t understand—”

“Understand what, Cas?” Dean snaps, and now it’s the fight Castiel didn’t want to have. “What could I possibly not understand that you do? A kid is dead and the DA is trying to cover it up and just maybe I can help figure out why.”

“There are things you don’t—” Castiel is already halfway through his next argument when the second half of Dean’s sentence catches up with him, and he stops. “Did you say a kid?”

Dean scoffs. “You weren’t even listening, right? Great. Yeah, some asshole killed his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend and her kid and the DA is refusing to press charges. Says there isn’t enough evidence. Sam thinks they were paid off.”

“No,” he says, quietly, because no. The daughter was never supposed to—that’s not what happened. He had been told that’s not what happened.

“What do you mean, no?” There’s less heat in Dean’s words, and Castiel thinks it’s because he himself has completely deflated.

He stares at his husband—the love of his life, the beautiful, generous, selfless man he doesn’t deserve—and realizes he’s never going to be able to talk Dean down from this. If he could, he wouldn’t be Dean.

He thinks about all he’s done to keep this part of his life safely tucked away. He cultivated a reclusive public image to keep Dean safe from being the husband of Castiel Novak, manager of the Novak Group. He expanded their territory to encompass the school Dean works at, something his family still holds against him as a waste of resources, to protect him from being the husband of Castiel Novak, leader of the crime syndacate. He’s hidden his marriage from nearly the entire family, labeling anything to do with Dean as the most privileged of information.

The only reason he’s still doing this at all, really, is Dean. He could have jumped ship when Michael died, when Gabriel left, when Lucifer took the fall and was sentenced to life, but that meant giving everything to Raphael, who promised to hunt both him and Dean down if he left. So he took the reins instead and he’s tried his best to keep his family safe while managing the business—both the above and underground aspects.

And now, despite all that, both Dean and his brother have somehow gotten themselves involved.

Dean is still staring at him, brows furrowed, and he doesn’t move away when Castiel reaches out to take both of his hands into his own. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and Dean looks taken aback but he doesn’t break the eye contact. “I love you. I don’t want you to end up in trouble.”

Something in Dean’s eyes softens. “Hey,” He squeezes Castiel’s hands lightly. “Come on. Have a little faith in me.”

And all Castiel can do, just like any time Dean looks at him like that, is smile back. And nod. And lean forward to kiss him, just once, softly.

“I do, Dean. I always do.”

Dean leans their foreheads together and Castiel can tell he’s still concerned, but he doesn’t want there to be any more yelling tonight, so instead he pulls back to lie down in Dean’s lap again. He hears Dean sigh before picking up the remote with the hand not still intertwined with Castiel’s, and then he restarts the movie, and Castiel tries not to think for the rest of the night.

 ————————————————————-

The next morning, though, he’s storming into his office, ready to lay into anyone involved with lying to him. He doesn’t get far—Naomi is sitting in his chair. At his desk. For a brief moment, he sees red.

“That’s my chair.”

His aunt regards him, cool as ever. “Is it?” she asks, and she stands, but only to walk around the desk and into his space. “And who gave it to you?” In her heels she’s taller than him but he glares anyway, refusing to be intimidated. He doesn’t respond.

“Why are you protecting Sam Winchester?” she asks after a moment of silence, still standing just as close.

“Why did you lie to me about the incident with Ishim?”

Naomi’s expression doesn’t change, but something close to surprise flickers across her eyes and she backs off to lean against his desk. “I suspect the answer to both of those questions is the same.”

“May Sunder was never supposed to die,” he presses, not backing down, and Naomi looks at him as if he’s being an unruly child.

“Yes, but her mother threatened to go to the police. Come now, Castiel, you’re old enough to understand these things.”

“I never authorized that.”

Naomi stands again. “You think you have to?”

This, of all things, catches him off-guard. “I—yes?”

His aunt steps forward, crowding him again, and he hates himself for taking a step back. “You’re a figurehead, Castiel. You’re in power because you’re Michael’s brother, people like you, and we thought you’d at least be loyal.”

“I am loyal,” he retorts, and she sighs.

“I’m not the only one who’s begun to question your sympathies, Castiel. Who are you loyal to?”

“My family.”

“Does that mean us? Or Dean Winchester?”

Castiel freezes, stunned. “How—”

Naomi cuts him off with a smile. “You think we don’t know? We’ve been letting you play house because it kept you distracted. Now, it seems, it’s making you weak. If you don’t fix this, I’ll have no choice but to cure you of that weakness.”

At last she steps away and turns towards the door. “You have an army here, Castiel. Don’t lose it for one man.”

And then she leaves.

And then, Castiel makes a decision.

In the next few hours, he makes several more—and then he’s driving home with all his family’s secrets copied onto a hard drive, the few items from his office that he actually cares about, and a plan forming on how to take the whole system down.

It’s almost funny, he thinks, the decision Naomi expected him to make—that she’d expected him to choose the family over Dean. That she’d expected him to choose anything over Dean.

She has no idea what’s coming. 

[13uswntimagines]

Instincts and Media Day: What a Terrible Combination (Alpha Kelley x Omega!Reader)

Request: R goes into heat and Kelley has to contain herself so she doesn’t pounce on R, but also so she doesn’t fight another alpha if they come near her girl. So, throughout it all, she becomes more possessive and protective, especially since they are having a busy media day where R has to be around other alphas for shoots and videos.

Authors note: Hey dudes, I hope you Enjoy! Hit me up with Comments, Questions or Requests! 

You groaned lightly, burying your face as far into your alpha’s neck as you could get, taking in her soothing scent. Her strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you tightly, trying to alleviate some of the pre-heat aches you were experiencing. You whimpered as another round of cramping hit your lower belly, soothed slightly by Kelley’s hands rubbing circles into your back. 

“I know baby, I know, just a few hours,” She murmured into your hair, kissing your ear and pulling you ever closer (which was difficult because you had already taken up residence on her lap). She would much rather be cuddled up in bed with you, but you had media obligations before the Olympics that you couldn’t get out of. 

You whined into her neck, pawing at her shirt collar in an attempt to expose more skin for you to nuzzle into. It wasn’t a behavior that she typically allowed, but these were special circumstances. You were in pre-heat and surrounded by about a million alphas who could no doubt smell your pheromones despite the heavy blockers the medical staff had given you.

“She ok Kell,” Alex asked, rubbing your back as she approached the two of you, careful not to touch any skin that wasn’t covered by your t-shirt. You weren’t usually this clingy, always trying to break out of the mold of what society thought omegas should be. You must be feeling it if you were this pliant, but then again, there were no cameras in you yet. It was kinda nice to see you and Kelley this soft. 

“She’s in pre-heat and the blockers are giving her cramps,” Kelley replied softly, her fingers coming up to rub the back of your neck, just barely brushing your mating mark. Reassuring you that she was there, and scent marking you so everyone else knew that you were hers. You sighed into her, kissing the skin under her chin. 

“Poor baby,” Alex mumbled with sympathy, dramatically pouting her lip. 

“Mm not a baby,” You huffed into Kelley’s neck, peeking out just enough to stick your tongue out at the forward, before returning to your favorite hiding spot. 

“I know baby girl, Alex is just messing with you,” Kelley murmured, shooting a glare towards Alex and scratching your scalp. Alex quirked her eyebrows up at the alpha. Had it been any other day, you probably would have chased her down and tackled her. It was troublesome to see you so subdued. 

“why can Alex mess with short stuff in pre-heat but I can’t?” Tobin smirked towards Kelley and wrapped her arms around her omega. Alex leaned back into her arms. 

“That sounds like an alpha problem to me,” Kelley growled at Tobin in warning. She was grateful that the alpha hadn’t tried to get closer to her mate, but the teasing was not appreciated. Not with so many other alphas around. 

“Speaking of alpha problems Worms has got one,” Alex laughed, gesturing towards the very obvious bump in Kelley’s shorts, despite her compression underwear. It was another unfortunate side effect of your pre-heat pheromones. A low growl ripped from your throat. Yes, it was just Alex, but all the hormones rushing through your veins were making you a bit territorial. Kelley’s growl joined your own as she pulled you tighter to her, unhappy with the feelings flittering through your bond. 

“Leave her alone hot stuff,” Tobin said, eyeing the two of you cautiously. Gently pulling Alex back two steps, hoping that the space between the four of you would calm the situation down a little bit. You and Alex were best friends and shared a very particular omega bond, but heat made everyone a little anxious. 

“They want Baby bear for the photos first,” Christen hummed, joining her two mates and watching the way you cuddled further into Kelley with worry. 

Kelley sent her fellow Stanford alpha a stiff nod and began to try and untangle you from her. “Let’s go baby girl,” She murmured softly, rubbing your back as she coaxed you out of her neck. 

“Don’t wanna, you’re warm, and you smell so good,” You whined, finally giving in to the insistent hands, shooting your alpha an unamused glare. 

She leaned in and ran her nose over your scent gland, before placing a kiss on your mating mark. This was no easier for you than it was for her. She wasn’t usually this possessive, but with the scents you were releasing, she just couldn’t seem to help herself. 

“I’ll be there the whole time,” she reassured gently against your skin, standing the two of you up. It would be alright, at least you hoped so.

******

You and Kelley trudged over to the first room, her hand placed firmly on your back to guide you. You didn’t usually like your alpha acting so… alpha? But your inner omega was purring at the action. 

Kelley glared at the woman who handed you your kit, unhappy with the number of dominant pheromones she was releasing. You rolled your eyes slightly, changing into the required clothing without incident, and cuddling back up to Kelley the second you could. 

The photographer watched you with furrowed brows, keeping a large distance between the two of you, more for you alpha than for you. Kelley sent him a grateful smile. 

“Alright Y/n, if you would stand right there please,” He directed softly, gesturing towards a spot marked with an x in front of the camera. You nodded hesitantly, pushing off your alpha (who may or may not have smacked your butt) and heading towards the marked spot. You warningly eyed the other man standing behind said spot, unsure of why he was positioned like that. 

You allowed the beta woman with the photographer to position you, and show you the requested pose, all well laughing lightly at the silly faces Kelley was making at you. 

That was until the man behind the mark laid down, enclosing your feet with his legs. The smile melted from your face, and a rush of nervous scents rolling off of you in waves. Kelley’s response was swift, striding up to the alpha photographer and tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Why is there a guy laying between her legs?” She hissed at the man. 

“He’s just the mister,” the photographer shrugged, hoping that nonchalance would help to show her that this wasn’t a big deal.

“I don’t like the view he has,” 

“Damn you smell good,” The man on the floor mumbled, painfully unaware that this was not the right thing to say. 

“Kell,” Your voice neared panic, your eyes were wide and a bright blush tinted your cheeks. It was one thing for Kelley to tell you how good you smelled and another for a random person to do so. You weren’t naive and you hated the view some people had of omega, thinking that a pass like that was acceptable. 

“Mario will behave himself right?” The photographer glared at the young man, shaking his head, 

Kelley growled back low and dangerous, like a warning siren. Any more unprofessionalism from the man would result in some extreme consequences. It wasn’t that she didn’t think you could handle yourself, but her instincts demanded that she protect you, that she tell others that you were hers. 

The man on the floor shrunk, holding up his spray bottle like a shield and praying that his mistake hadn’t just set the delicate situation over the edge. He hadn’t meant to say it, and he knew you were the other alphas, but he just couldn’t seem to help himself. 

“Kelley, just a few shots,” the photographer pleaded, and you sent him a very slight nod. Kelley met your eyes and nodded in return. 

“Fine…” she huffed, and the photographer’s shoulders relaxed. If you could handle it, so could she. “but I don’t like this,” she finished softly, glaring at the floor. You sighed in support of her sentiment before returning your attention to the photographer. The quicker you started, the quicker you would be finished. 

*****

Kelley’s protective instincts were being pushed to the limit. You had been shuffled around from interview to interview, with each respective reporter asking more invasive questions than the last. You were becoming increasingly uncomfortable and your heat symptoms were continuing to become more prominent. 

You only had a few stops left before you could go back to your hotel room and hopefully ride out the rest of your heat in peace before the opening game of the Olympics. 

“If you’ll step this way Ms. Y/l/n, I just have a few questions for you,” the sleezy alpha interviewer gestured towards a spot next to him in front of the camera. You kissed Kelley’s cheek before taking the requested spot. You inner omega crying out for the alpha, and growling at the distance between the two of you. 

The man shot a look at your alpha before queuing the camera. The conversation started normally, asking questions about how you felt being a left side forward and the connections in the midfield, but then everything seemed to shift. 

“So what’s it like being an omega on the national team,” He asked, stepping a little bit closer to you. 

You took a small step back, smiling into the camera. “It’s great, we are all treated as equals and the girls are amazing!”. You gestured wildly as you spoke, always happy to highlight the team's emphasis on equality and not allowing an individual's bearing to impact the team's view of them. 

Yes, the team was a little protective of the omegas, but then again half of the countries you faced were not as progressive in their views of omega roles as the US. They always made sure they weren’t overstepping. They never wanted you to feel like you were lesser or subservient to the alphas on the team, and they would kill anyone who made you feel that way. 

The reporter frowned at your answer, gritting his teeth just a little. Why did you little omegas have to be so difficult?

“That’s not what I meant.” The reporter growled lowly, taking another step closer to you, “Do you ever use the other alphas attraction to you to your advantage,” He tilted his head so your faces were mere inches apart.

“There’s only one alpha I care about so no…” You mumbled, leaning away from the man and trying to remain calm. Your eyes met your alpha’s, and she tilted her head slightly. She didn’t like where this was going. 

“But couldn’t your beauty be helpful on the field,” He pressed, again trying to close the distance. You put your hands up to stop him. 

“I think she tries to rely more on her skills,” Kelley interjected, her lips a thin line in disapproval, and her attempt to not strangle this man. 

“Of course, my bad,” His eyes snapped to hers and he brought his hands up in innocence, but didn’t move away from you. You sent Kelley help me eyes, releasing a light wave of distressed signals. He leaned closer to you, either oblivious or uncaring towards your uncomfortableness. 

“Can you take a step back please?” Kelley growled, releasing her own dominant scent. The man’s nose twitched as he turned to face her, his hand grabbing your shoulder to prevent you from escaping. Tobin shot you a concerned look, stepping towards the situation. 

“No need to get overprotective,” He smirked as though he was the one in control of this situation, the cockyness oozing off of him in waves. 

Kelley bearing her teeth was the only warning you and the teammates who were watching you had before she lunged at the man, entirely fed up with his caviler attitude towards you. 

“Whoa Kelley, relax,” Tobin yelled, wrapping an arm around the smaller alpha’s waist, pulling her away from the situation. The reporter dropped your arm in shock. The USWNT was known for its impeccable control. It was incredibly rare for an alpha to lose it, but Kelley had been pushed too far. 

“You do not disrespect her!” She roared, fighting Tobin, Christen, and JJ’s attempts to restrain her. Alex, Sam, and Mal all moved to stand between you and the sleezy reporter, hoping that a wall of teammates would help to calm Kelley down. 

“Kelley, chill,” Christen grunted when an elbow came very close to her face. Nothing would calm her down right now besides you. 

“Kel,” You said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, and the alpha froze. She turned her head towards you, her inner alpha screaming for her to go to you, so she did. The team let her pass and she wrapped you up in her arms, your face buried into her neck, soothing your frayed nerves and appeasing your instincts. 

“I don't like this,” she hissed into your ear, her nose pressing sinfully against your scent gland, marking you as her own. You whined pitifully into her neck, a sweat breaking out across your forehead and a low ake settling in your lower belly. 

The team formed a protective cocoon around the two of you (leaving a wide radius as to not trigger Kelley’s instincts further) to give you some privacy from all of the cameras. Vlatko quickly made his way towards the hoard of players, deciding that having you and Kelley present was not a priority at the minute. He could smell the heat pheromones rolling off of you, a distinct shift from the pre-heat symptoms you were experiencing before. Keeping you here would just be begging for trouble, A fact he wasn’t naïve to. 

“Take her back to the hotel, and… take care of her,” He ordered carefully from a respectable distance. The team was a family (a very protective family) and he was the newcomer. Getting too close to the team (who were already in protective mode) was a very bad idea. 

Kelley glanced up from your neck to salute him “You got it, boss,” before picking you up bridal style. You were in no condition to walk, and your omega preened under the alphas display of strength. You purred into her chest, nuzzling the skin exposed by her neckline. 

“What about my interview,” the reporter huffed, receiving several glares from Kelley and the rest of the alphas on the team. How fucking dare he. While they couldn’t deny him outright, they always had a special punishment for disrespectful assholes. 

“I’ll finish it, you’ve perved on enough omegas today,” Tobin smirked evilly in his direction, too many teeth showing in her smile to be kind. Christen sent a nod in your direction as if to say that the team would deal with the situation so Kelley could attend to you. She sent the forward a grateful smile before leaning down to kiss your head. 

“Let’s go my darling,” she murmured, walking towards the door, all of her alpha bravado gone now that you were safe in her arms. Now that she could devote her full attention to making you feel good and loved instead of fending off other alphas. Maybe she had lost her impeccable control, but it was worth it if it kept you safe. 

[kindahoping4forever]

Watch Me Bloom: A Few Hours Ago // Ashton Irwin

Here we are at the final installment! This section was honestly the driving force behind me deciding to write this whole thing - the night of the album release I was so inspired I told a handful of people about both this section and the fic as a whole, without knowing if I would ever follow through on it. I ended up writing it just to see if I could, unsure if I would even end up posting it. I’m glad I did and I hope you are too!

Thank you to everyone who has read and/or given feedback on the first two chapters - it really does mean a lot. Thank you to @ashtonangst for the real time reaction messages that are as equally entertaining as they are helpful. And like basically all of my work, this entire 10k+ monster of self-indulgence wouldn’t have been possible without the guidance, cheerleading and wisdom of @cal-puddies

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash in fluffy, contemplative (and obviously smutty) situations. Weed smoking, oral sex performed on both a male and a female (perhaps simultaneously oop), unprotected sex within an established relationship

Word Count: 3534

Watch Me Bloom Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

You knew Ashton had been wanting to do something to commemorate the album release but you were still shocked to wake up to the sound of him hauling your suitcase out of the closet.

“Oh good, you’re up!” He giggles. “Think you can be ready to take off for a few days by the time I’m done with my interviews?”

You stare blankly at him for a moment or two and he offers another round of giggles before quickly explaining the arrangements he’d made for a desert retreat to thank everyone who helped him put his album together; he’s talking a mile a minute, describing the Airbnb he’d booked, the safety precautions he’d asked everyone to take, the plans he had for activities once everyone got there.

It’d be a lot to take in even if you hadn’t just woken up but you love when he’s excited like this, so animated and bright, you can practically feel the joy radiating from him. You promise to be ready after lunch and with a quick kiss, he’s rushing downstairs for a Zoom appointment.

The drive to Joshua Tree flies by, the two of you singing, chatting and generally thrilled to get out of town for the first time since lockdown started. Once you arrive at the rental, he practically yanks you out of the car to enthusiastically show you around the expansive property.

After briefly teasing him that of course he chose a getaway destination that offers a ‘hammock circle’ as an amenity, you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight. “It’s perfect, babe. I’m glad you’re gonna get a chance to unwind after all this, you deserve it.” You tilt up and he pecks your lips. “When do the others get here?” You ask, starting to pull him back towards the house.

Ash grins and pulls on your arm, bringing you back into him. “Friday.” For the second time today, you look at him in utter bafflement. He kisses your knuckles and earnestly explains, “I know I haven’t been very present for you and this whole thing couldn’t have been easy for you to deal with so I thought we could use a couple days together to kind of reset and reconnect.”

“Ash,” you pout, unsure of what to say. You’re overwhelmingly touched and all you can think to do is to throw your arms around his neck and hold him tight. He chuckles and wraps around you as well, the two of you swaying together for a moment.

The next couple hours are spent exploring the grounds, arranging for grocery delivery and unpacking your bags. After a quiet dinner, you follow him out to the patio to relax and enjoy the idyllic desert landscape. He pulls his long hair back into a bun as he settles in on a couch.

You get comfortable, sitting cross-legged next to him, while he unzips his backpack at the foot of the couch and retrieves a glass stash jar, a small grinder and a pack of rolling papers; he turns to you, raising his eyebrows and you nod enthusiastically.

He grabs the acoustic guitar sitting by the couch, flipping it over to lay in his lap as a makeshift table. You realize for a relaxing retreat, he hasn’t really sat still since you arrived and you decide to check in.

“So,” you start, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “Couple days from now, people everywhere are gonna get to enjoy all your hard work. Hear everything you poured yourself into. How are you feeling?”

Ashton is focused on grinding the weed and his reply is brief and distracted. "I feel good, I feel ready. Probably the best I’ve felt about a release."

You’re unsatisfied with his easy answer so you press further. “Why’s that? Because there’s less pressure without the label? Or because it all belongs to just you?” You twirl your finger in the curls at the base of his neck, the ones he missed scooping into his bun.

He pauses, contemplating this time. “I mean, all of that feels great but I think I’m really just pleased with it because it was made with pure artistic intent… like, I’m not gonna gain anything from this. I didn’t have to make it but I needed to, you know?” He looks over at you expectantly to see if his point was made.

You nod and smile softly at him. Happy to be understood, he turns back to his task. You watch intently as he sprinkles the weed onto the paper, brow furrowing as he meticulously loads it with just the right amount. You always love watching him work and this was no different.

"I get what you're saying, babe… and I’m happy you’re feeling good about it,” you beam. “I’m so proud of you, Ash.”

He looks over and shoots you a toothy grin. You intended to continue, to keep him talking but you've become distracted by the way his long fingers look as he rolls the newly forming joint back and forth between them. When his tongue darts out to drag across the paper to seal it, you find yourself biting your lip, fascinated.

His voice interrupts your enraptured silence. “We can talk about something else if you want, you’ve been hearing about this non-stop for months now," he laughs, feeling around his pockets for a lighter.

“I like hearing your thoughts on things you’re passionate about,” you shrug, handing him the lighter off the coffee table. "Plus, it’s the reason why we’re here.”

Ash shakes his head as he turns the stick over the lighter's flame. “No, the album is the reason why everyone else is going to be here,” he insists. “The reason we’re here is different.” He lifts the lit joint to his mouth and takes a long drag.

“Right. Reconnecting. Resetting,” you parrot his earlier words breezily, watching the smoke pour from his mouth.

He scowls at your tone of voice. “I’m serious,” he says firmly, passing it to you. “This year has obviously been a lot but you really got the short end of the stick, having to deal with me.”

You look at him, puzzled. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” you comment, taking a couple hits. “Parts of the year have been good, parts have been shit but the silver lining to it all is that I’ve gotten to spend so much of it with you.”

He reaches over and rubs your thigh. “I invited you to live with me for the lockdown and then barricaded myself in a studio all day everyday. Going to bed by yourself every night, waking up alone, seeing me at meals only if Matt forced me to take a break that day. And you also had to put up with me during the CALM disaster and the tour getting cancelled… it’s been me, me, me. All the time,” he points out.

“Oh, you don’t think I’m used to that by now?” You joke, giggling at his mock-offended gasp. He lightly smacks your thigh in protest and snatches the joint back. “Seriously, babe. I didn’t put up with those things, I went through them with you. It’s hard for me to see you frustrated or upset about situations that can’t be changed. When you’re disappointed, I’m disappointed. So to see you be so excited about something? Your joy brings me joy. I wouldn’t trade that for all the late night cuddles in the world.”

“Baby,” he breathes quietly, pulling you in to rest at his side. You’re both quiet for a few moments, thinking about each other’s words, feeling each other’s presence. “I hope you know how sincerely I mean it when I say I would not have been able to do this without you. This album belongs to you too.”

“Oh yeah?” You look up at him with a twinkle in your eye. “So what’s my percentage, how much of a cut am I getting, Mr. Label Man?” You laugh at your joke, pulling from the joint he’s just handed back to you.

Ashton laughs heartily and scoffs, “Why do you think I started growing my own vegetables? We’re fuckin’ broke now, sweetheart.” He giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.

“Well, you’re broke and out of work, I am currently still employed,” you playfully boast, gesturing with the cigarette for emphasis.

“Ohhh, that’s how it’s gonna be now?” He jabs over and over at your side and you dramatically yelp. “Do I gotta start calling you ‘Daddy’ now?”

You offer him a devilish smile and carefully get on your knees to straddle him. “Do you prefer the term ‘sugar baby’ or ‘kept man’?” You tease, placing the joint in his mouth before he can reply.

He runs his hands over your ass while he puffs away; holding the hit in his mouth, he moves a hand up to guide your face towards his. He presses his lips against yours and you open your mouth, allowing the smoke to transfer from his mouth to yours. You grind in his lap a little and he groans as he watches you tilt your head back and slowly let the smoke trickle out of your mouth.

After a few more shotguns back and forth, Ash quickly sets what’s left in the ashtray on the coffee table and buries his hands in your hair, crashing his lips into yours. You moan as he kisses you with an almost unreal intensity; his tongue feels like it’s melting into yours, his lips have never tasted softer or sweeter. His hands have slipped under the back of your shirt and his fingers are either icy cold or burning hot - you’re undecided but it feels incredible - as they trace tantalizing designs on your skin.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been making out - it could’ve been 10 minutes, it could’ve been 40 - when he states in a gravelly voice, “We need to get you inside and naked for me.”

You reply with a pleased sigh and attach your lips to his jaw, just below his ear; your face bumping against the coolness of his earring both distracts and delights you. You don’t realize you’ve been rocking relentlessly against his growing hardness until he firmly grabs your hips and rasps your name as a stern warning.

He lifts you off his lap and stands up from the couch. You don’t know whether to laugh or moan at the spectacle: eyes glassy from both arousal and blazing, lips swollen from slotting with yours, skin littered with your bitemarks. His hair is pulled halfway out of the bun, his shirt is unbuttoned all the way and the silk pants he’s wearing aren’t even trying to hide the tent that’s formed in them.

He pulls you up from the couch and right back onto his lips; you stand there on the patio for several more minutes, slightly swaying as you devour each other. You can’t remember the last time you felt this hungry for him; smoking together usually gets you both hot but this is next level.

By the time you finally pull away and breathlessly declare, “God, I swear I could fuckin’ cum like this right here,” he's got you down to your bra and panties and you’ve got one hand in his hair and one down his pants.

He nips at your neck a bit longer before separating from you and turning you towards the house. “Bed,” he commands, starting to gather up his things. You continue to linger and he swats at your ass to get you moving.

You set the mood when you get to the bedroom: opening the windows to bring in the cool night air, dimming the lamps, lighting some candles. You know he brought incense but you’re not sure where he unpacked it. Ashton slinks up behind you while you’re digging through a drawer and wraps himself around you.

“Why. Aren’t. You. Naked. Yet.” He complains, leaving wet kisses across your neck. You shiver as his fingers trail down your back before unhooking your bra and pushing it down your arms. You giggle as he tugs your panties down your legs right where you stand.

You step out of the underwear and let the bra fall from your arms, turning to him completely bare. “Your turn,” you lilt, lightly backing him up towards the bed, incense quest long forgotten. You laugh at how quickly he whips off his shirt before he lets himself fall onto his back on the mattress. You crawl next to him and as soon as you’re near enough, his hands are instantly playing with your tits; you take his pants down, licking your lips as his hard cock springs up against his stomach with a satisfying smack.

You stroke it where it lays, using just your thumb and index finger, finding yourself hypnotized as you watch your hand move, hear his breath get heavier, watch the first drops of precum appear at the head. His hand has made its way between your spread knees and he lazily drags his fingers through your folds, occasionally tapping against your clit; he’s barely using any pressure but in this moment, it feels incredible and you rock against him.

After a few minutes of mindlessly playing with each other, he reaches for your arm and gently pulls, wanting you to come closer to him; you lean in and even with his eyes half-closed, you note the fondness swimming in them. He cups your face with his hands and murmurs, “Love you,” just before he presses your lips to his. The noise of your sloppy kisses sounds almost musical to your stoned mind.

Ash moves his hand back to your center as you lean to peck down his chest, relishing the feeling of his skin shivering underneath you as you move down his torso. Again, you leave his cock on his stomach, giving the shaft a few sloppy kisses before taking his balls in your mouth.

“Baby… here,” he breathily directs you, gesturing for you to lay on your side while he turns onto his. He lifts your outer leg and rests his head on your other one; he sets your leg back down on the bed, bent at the knee, effectively creating a triangle of space allowing him access to your pussy. He moves closer and licks a stripe through your wetness to test, the resulting moan from you letting him know he’s spot on with his positioning.

You scoot closer to his crotch, reaching for his cock that’s now facing you, giving it a few strokes before guiding it to your mouth. You’re now deep in your weed and lust fueled haze so it takes you a few moments to wrap your head around giving a blowjob at this angle. The work he’s doing between your legs isn’t doing your concentration any favors so you buy yourself some time and stick your tongue out, tapping his cock on it before kitten licking over the head; you suckle at the tip while your fingers tease his shaft and you moan when you taste precum.

Ashton’s tongue darts in and out of your folds and he thinks to himself he should tell you that you’ve never tasted better but decides not to because he doesn’t want you off his mouth for even a second. He teases the tip of his tongue at your entrance and the way you jerk against him leaves him groaning; the vibration against you feels like tiny electric sparks shooting through your pussy.

You grip his ass, using it for leverage as you start to bob your head up and down on his cock; you move cautiously at first, still trying to navigate the position, but as you continue taking him, you realize how much you’re enjoying the slow pace. You swirl your tongue around him as you move, your heightened state making you appreciate every detail: the weight of him, the details of the veins and ridges on his skin.

You pull off with a pop and rub the tip over your lips before doing the same down his shaft; when you come back up, your tongue’s attention focuses on fluttering around the underside of the head. You feel Ash pull away from you and hear a “Just like that, baby,” muffled against your thigh as you take him down again.

He collects himself and dives back in, promptly sucking your clit between his lips. You whimper around his cock a few times before you have to let him slip out. Your brain tells you that you should let him know you’re getting close but your senses are so overwhelmed, you can’t find the words.

Ash knows your body and even his foggy mind can read the signs that you’re nearly there. He wraps his arm around your hip, trying to steady your unruly movements as he slows his work on your clit, edging you slightly.

You whine his name and even your own ears are surprised by how needy it sounds. You try to resume sucking him but your pleasure center feels like it’s in overdrive and you can’t make yourself focus. You rock your hips against his mouth, breathlessly conceding, “Gotta cum, babe… oh god, Ash, please."

His fingers dig into your thigh as he holds on while you writhe against him; his tongue ramps up on your clit, skillfully fluttering back and forth with voracity. Your legs shake around his head and your breath comes out in labored gasps as you climax; your pre-existing high melts into your orgasmic high and you lose yourself in it, unable to believe how many waves of sensation you’re feeling.

He licks at you until your tremors stop and then he’s carefully untangling himself and turning around so he can lay facing you. Your eyes flutter open when you feel him stroking your hair and you giggle at how adorably sinful he looks: curls askew, goofy yet lusty smile curling at his lips, face damp and shiny from your release.

You give him a soft kiss and then in what feels like one swift motion, you push him onto his back, lay yourself on top of him and slip him inside you. You unhurriedly move yourself on him, chest pressed against his, alternately pecking at or mumbling sweet nothings into his skin.

Ashton pulls you into a deep kiss and hugs you tightly to him, arms wrapping around you. He runs his hands over any skin he can reach, taking advantage of your closeness to create a tactile heaven for himself. He wonders if your pussy has ever felt so tight or warm around him; as if you can read his mind, you clench and he groans loud and long, hands moving to your ass.

His large hands grip your cheeks and you rhythmically rock against him as he lazily fucks up into you. The two of you murmur and moan at each other, neither of you particularly trying to express anything other than the total pleasure you’re feeling. Finally, his noises take on a different, more urgent tone, his hips begin to stutter and he whines your name as he cums inside you.

You lay in silence for what feels like hours but in reality can’t be more than a minute. He kisses the top of your head and carefully moves you to the side of him; he reaches over to the bedside table for some tissues and you watch reverently as he cleans the both of you up.

“I fucking love you,” you dreamily state, unprompted.

He giggles blissfully at your outburst as he settles back on the bed, opting to lay perpendicular, resting his head on your stomach. “Well, I fucking love you,” he beams, closing his eyes as you finger brush his hair. “You know, this is exactly what I pictured when I planned this whole thing.”

“The trip or the album?” You joke, stifling a laugh. “You know you didn’t have to make a whole ass album if you wanted to take me to the desert for a nice stone and bone, you could’ve just asked.”

Ash snorts and sits up to blow a raspberry on your bare skin. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeahhhh, I guess,” you tease. There’s a long silence before you muse, “I feel incredibly lucky to be with you during all this.”

“The trip or the album?” He laughs hard at his quip, crawling up your body once he sees the amused pout on your face. “Aww, baby, I’m the lucky one. Thank you for being here with me. For everything this year, not just the stuff worth celebrating.”

You offer a satisfied hum as he kisses you sweetly. He pulls back and raises an eyebrow to ask, “Have I made up for all those nights you were sleepin’ on the couch yet?”

"God… my back hurts just thinking about it,” you exaggeratedly grumble. He pokes at you and you snuggle into him. "Maybe you should light up the rest of that joint and persuade me a little more."

Ashton looks at you, eyes gleaming with admiration and amusement. "Deal."

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

@mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower​ @pxrxmoore @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @feliznavidaddycal  

@castaway-cashton @ashtonlftv @cashtonasfuck @megz1985 @ashdork-irwin @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o @youngbloodchild  @irwinsbetch @everyscarisahealingplace

@wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands​  @realisticnotes​  @makeamovehemmings​ @golden166​ @burstintocolor​ 

@mfartzzz​ @babyoria​ @petunias-pet​ @youngblood199456​ @notinthesameguey​ @seanna313​  @zhangyixingxing1​ @stardust-galaxies​  @zackoid​

@lovelybonesetc​ @xsongxbirdx​ @justhereforcalum​

@laura66sos​ @calumrose​ @karajaynetoday​  @pilunb​ @jazzyangel242​ @babylon-corgis​  @heyheyhaleyd​ @calmsweetcreature​ 

@spicycal​ @talkfastromance4​  @holystxne​ 

@meetmedowntown​ @myloverboyash​

@irwindoll​ @cheekysos​ @carrielfisher​ @lukedorkyhemmings​ @creampiecashton​ @lovelywordsblog​

@trix-arent-for-kids​ @uh-huhh-honey​ @tobefalling​ @aladyofalbion​ @likehuhdude​

@curlycalums​  @cxddlyash​  @reddesert-healourblues​

@fedorable-killjoys​  @iamcalumswhore​   @i-like-5sos​   @Too-et-moi215

@photochic18  @kouska901 @Indermeow

[internalsealpanic]

Thorn pt3

Summary: Three is a crowd, isn’t it?

a/n: I have no excuse for how horny this got  aside from @littleredwing89 gave me  way too many ideas. Thanks to my wifey, @catxsnow, and @lucy-roo for proof reading to see if it was horny enough. 

warnings: The kinks I recall putting: degredation, praise kink, threesome, gloves, gun kink,  face fucking, double penetration, spanking, sex pollen (dub con on that), brief thigh riding, bondage, anal, fingering,  voyeurism, still semi public sex, overstimulation, and probably something I forgot

“March, you’ve been requested,” Anthony says, giving you a strange weary look. The faint cocktail of pity and worry edging into his amicable features makes your stomach do somersaults. Your insides curl into an ugly shape as you fall into step with him. Anthony holds his arm out to you as he always does when he escorts you. You take it. You cling to him cautiously. You catalog Anthony’s vitals and gestures. There’s a tightness in his jaw that unsettles you.  Anthony puts a comforting hand on your arm and you can feel the thin film of sweat layering it.  In all your months of working here at the Thorn, this was the tensest Anthony had been. 

 You roll your shoulders. You shake your head and chide yourself for over-analyzing the situation.  “Tony, you’re acting like you’re handing me off to the mafia,” you laugh lightly into his side. You feel Anthony’s whole body stiffen and you feel apprehension cascade over you. He breathes for a second but doesn’t stop walking. 

 “No, it’s the client that worries me.” 

 You snort. It was an ugly sound but it made a smile twitch onto Anthony’s lips. The lines of his eyes soften when he looks at you and you feel your smile broaden. “Is Mr.Wilson in a bad mood?” you joke, settling your head against his shoulder in casual affection. That asshole always seems to be in a good mood when he’s teasing you. He did get rough with you when he was in a bad mood but it was nothing you couldn’t handle or enjoy. You trail your hands over your jaw and your pulse where he likes to leave marks

 “About that… you have a different client today.”

This makes you pause. Your mind stalls. 

A different client?

 You repeat the words til they sink in. The thing about your weeks working in the Thorn was that you’ve never been requested by anyone but your favorite pirate. You’re not sure whether it’s  due to the lack of demand or through Slade’s machinations.  It was likely the latter.  The man was possessive. The man would use hickeys to spell out his name on your skin if he wasn’t too busy making you scream it over and over. 

 “A new client?” you stammer out unable to hide your surprise. You walk beside his falling a little behind as your step falters. You shrink into yourself, smoothing over your panic. 

 “March, you’ll need to behave yourself,” Anthony scolds halfheartedly. 

 You pout at him. “I always do.”

 Anthony laughs, an easy sound that makes your stomach twist into the correct shape. 

 “But seriously, this client is a wealthy businessman who doesn’t like to hear no. Please don’t test his patience.’”

 “You’ve just described most of our clients. Tony babe, please be more specific,” you say sharply leaning against his shoulder. He gives you a secret smile. 

 “Fair point,” he laughs into his gloved hand. His posture shifts, relaxing ever so slightly, “Unfortunately for you, this is one of the wealthier ones that the bossman would like to keep.”

 “That so?”

 “The thing is he’s actually been requesting you for weeks now.”

 For the second time that day, your heart stalls. Your mind reels, scraping over the information. “He’s been requesting me?” And somehow, you’re only hearing about this now? You decide to leave that part out knowing you wouldn’t like the answer. You’re not even sure if you’d like the answer to the former either. 

 “This gentleman has been requesting you for weeks,” he repeats slowly as if the problem with his statement had been its pace. He clearly meant for it to clarify things but … it didn’t. You tell him as much with a raise of your manicured brow. You blink dumbly at him for emphasis. Anthony volleys it with his own confused look before explaining further.  

 "Approval just came in last minute from Mr. Wilson."

 Ah. Of course,  that slugfucker had something to do with this. You should have known something was up when he'd given a call this morning. 

 "I have something for you, kitten."

 Your skin heats up, you're suddenly all too aware of what you're wearing.  Slade had been generous enough to send you a special lingerie set as a gift with instructions for you to wear it that night. Wrapped in delicate chiffon was a set of black lacy lingerie with black crotchless panties attached to black stockings.  You wanted to scream. Your skin flushes. 

"All the requests for you have to be approved by Mr. Wilson," Anthony says like it was obvious. 

 Oh, because, of course, he can.  You feel your irritation overtake your shyness. 

 "Can I please get a name for my mystery gentleman?" 

 Anthony shakes his head at your poor attempt at puppy dog eyes. "Sorry, darling, he'd said a regular detective like you would  like the mystery." You try your best to keep the fear and surprise off of your face. That meant whoever this  was knew you outside the club. 

 This was not good. 

 You bite your cheek, trying to dampen your panic. You close your eyes trying to remember the client list you'd read all those weeks ago but you can't seem to recall anyone who would know your civilian identity. 

 “Ladies first,” Anthony says, waving you in. You snort quietly, stepping in and folding your body into something remotely seductive. You would think you’d learned to be seductive by now but apparently, the fidgety type is more their taste. Luckily for you, you are naturally fidgety. 

 On the plush couch is Roman Sionis. 

 Whatever oxygen is left in your lungs is knocked out of you.

 The feeling occupying your stomach at that moment was the same feeling you get when your car careens into the wrong part of the road because of some idiot on the road. The most obvious emotion at the moment was a mix of fear and shock but if you have time to dissect the feeling, you will find a well of anger. You manifest this anger through a confused look you give both Anthony and Slade. 

 “Kitten,” Slade greets smoothly, tipping his glass towards you. 

 You fix Slade with a caustic look, your mouth gaping like a fish. He shrugs at you. He takes another sip of his scotch and winks at you. Your mouth wires shut into a frown. 

 “Now look, kitten, my associate here wants to play with you,” Slade says tipping his glass to Roman who looked smug enough to make you contemplate punching him. “I’ve allowed it on one condition,” your breath hitches, “I watch.”

 You open your mouth to protest. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, kitten,” Slade purrs. You bristle or maybe shiver. You can’t tell but you’re pretty sure you’re pissed. 

 "You're a little tense, Sweetheart," Roman drawls, raising a flute of champagne. You scowl at him with the same venomous intensity as you directed at Slade.  Your eyes flick between him and the glass. You sigh. You can't be sober for this. You just can't. You grab the flute from his hand and quietly note the smug satisfaction on his face. You shake your head and down the bottle. 

 Blearily, you hear Slade dismiss Anthony. Why was your head suddenly swimming? Your ears are ringing. Your skin's too hot. Your breathing's fast. Your skin prickles. You need to be touched. You want someone to touch you. 

 "What did you give me?" you ask, legs wobbling. 

 Roman shifts in his seat, leaning forward. His hands wave in a wish-washy kind of motion that normally would irritate you but your mind is occupied with his fingers and how well they could fill you up-

 "What did you give me?" you pant out rather than bark. Your voice is so breathy and desperate. 

 "Just something to help you loosen up, Doll." This causes you to take stock of your body. You're hot. Unbearably so. You're sensitive. Your core is aching. You're so horny. 

 You force in a deep breath before speaking. "Sex pollen?"

 "Bingo!" Roman claps. "You really are a regular sherlock aren't you, sweetheart?" You snarl but the bite is taken out of it by the shiver induced by the pet name. You flick your eyes to Slade who seems mildly surprised but unopposed to the turn of events. 

 "Do you like Isleys' newest formula? She said it was one of her most potent batches and I knew I just had to test it out." 

 "You could have just tested it on yourself, asshat." 

 "Now, what would be the fun in that?" You shudder at the low playful tone of his voice. He sneers, leaning back. His posture is open as if to say you were no threat to him. With the wobbling of your limbs, you doubt you could be even if you wanted to.  As he leans back, he pats his knee. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

 You clench and unclench your fist and wire your jaw shut. Your mouth is watering at the thought of how he would use you but the modicum of pride you had left insisted that you don’t scramble towards him on your hands and knees. You place a hand on your hip cocking your head to the side as you slowly walk towards him. You feel Slade’s intense gaze following the sway of your hips. You can feel the coil in your stomach grow tighter. Your walls clench on nothing. The clicking of your heels is loud enough to make your heart stutter every other beat. You see Roman’s brow tick with every click. He likely was not expecting this much control from you. You allow yourself a smirk before dropping to your knees. 

 Slade’s eye follows you as you sink down to the floor. You knead Roman’s thighs the way Slade usually liked it, your skilled hands massaging and loosening the muscles. Your effort earns you a pleased rumble from Roman and a severe look from Slade. If he’s planning to be a voyeur, you’re planning to give him a show. 

 Roman leans forward, running a gloved thumb over your lips, smearing your lip gloss. “Wilson here says you’re a good girl, Sweetheart.” The hungry look in his eyes causes a shiver to run down your spine, ravaging your body. “Let’s see if he’s right.” 

 Roman pulls back and you push forward, sliding hands over his dress pants. Your nimble fingers make quick work of Roman’s belt and zipper when something cold presses against your forehead. Your heart races at the telltale click of the safety being released and you freeze. The cold muzzle of the gun slides down your forehead to your nose before settling against your glossy lips. Self-preservation coils around your spine telling you to pull back and kick the gun away. You take a deep breath dampening the urge which isn’t too difficult considering the unbearable heat shooting through your core. 

 “You know what to do, baby.”

 Tentatively, you open your lips letting Roman slide the barrel of the gun into your mouth. It’s the contrast in temperature that hits you first. Cold metal presses against your hot tongue. Then it’s the odd, hard angles that has your tongue fluttering uselessly against the strange object. The scent of metal overwhelms you when you open your mouth wide enough to let the gun press against the back of your throat. The combination of sensations have your eyes stinging with tears. This isn’t the biggest you’ve had to take in your mouth- your eyes flick briefly to Slade- but it’s an entirely different kind of experience and you're not entirely sure you would call it unpleasant. You pant around the metal, saliva dribbling down your chin. You close your lips around the gun sucking on it and making an odd slurping sound around it as your lips work to massage the gun. Roman smiles down at you and begins fucking the gun in and out of your mouth like he would using his cock. 

 The thought of his cock makes your eyes flutter and your walls tighten. You suck at it and rock your hips in rhythm with the gun. Your cheeks are hot whether from the embarrassment, the pollen, or your own arousal. There’s a pressure against your bare pussy that has you shaking. It’s leathery and it takes your mind all but two seconds to realize it’s Roman’s shoe pressing against your core. You moan around the gun as you grind down on his shoe chasing your own high. 

 “What a good little slut,” he sneers, fucking your mouth roughly, “Wilson’s got you well trained.” The pressure against your crotch has you keening around the gun. 

 In your periphery, you hear a pleased hum from Slade. The single-minded focus both men have on you has you moaning and humping against Roman’s shoe. Drool streaks down your chin drawing attention to your already glistening chest. Roman fucks the gun roughly in and out of your mouth, the trigger clipping your bottom lip as he takes it out. There’s a damp spot on his crotch and you’re panting wanting to chase your own high but your hips slow their movement, patiently waiting for further instruction. Your mind is too hazy to deal with how out of character this was. A slow smile spreads across Roman’s features as he runs his hands through his hair. He presses his shoe against your sopping cunt. “Go on, sweetheart. Daddy wants to see you cum.” You rock your needy pussy against his shoe as you get lost in the pleasure. You cum, drenching his shoe with your desire. 

 The world falls into place again as you lean against Roman’s leg. 

 “I told you that mouth of hers was worth the price of admission,” Slade says smugly as he takes another sip of his whiskey. 

 “Hmmm, I’m not convinced,” Roman grunts, gripping your chin, roughly. “Get up, sweetheart.” You follow his instructions and slide yourself onto his lap. You settle yourself on one of his thighs, the thick muscle pressing against you. You bite your lip to hold back any obscene sounds. You begin to rock your hips-

 “Your bra,” he says, loosening his tie. You unhook your bra, sliding it off and tossing it to the side all the while undulating your hips against him. Roman whistles appreciatively at your chest. “You are one fine piece of work.” You flush, fidgeting your hands at your sides. He eyes them, grabbing his belt. “Hands behind your back, baby.” He winds the belt tightly around your wrists and when he’s sure you can’t get out of your binds, he takes his tie and blindfolds you. Your skin prickles, the world growing dark. Your breath hitches, all your other sense sharpening. Roman kisses you roughly, biting your lip. You grind your body against his, his rough touches driving you insane. 

 The world goes sideways when he tosses you roughly onto the couch. You let out a small ‘oof’ which quickly reshapes itself into a groan when a gloved hand kneads your breast, pinching your nipple. “Let’s see how well that pretty mouth of yours can take a thick cock,” Roman says, voice thick with lust. Your breath picks up in anticipation. The cool head of a cock presses against your lips. He rumbles a ‘good girl’ as you open your mouth to accommodate him. 

 The couch dips as large hands caress your sides.  You feel the bristle of Slade’s beard against your thigh as he kisses up and down your inner thigh. He hefts your legs over his shoulders, hooking his hands loosely under your thigh. Your sensitive skin prickles as you feel the pads of his fingers through your stockings. He grins against your pussy, blowing air gently over your clit, watching you buck wildly, desperate for friction. “You just can’t control yourself can you, kitten?” You answer by squeezing your thighs tightly around his neck, Roman’s cock deep in your throat stopping you from forming a snarky reply.

 Slade eats you out like a man starved, eagerness obvious with every stroke of his tongue. He must have gotten impatient waiting to touch you.  You scream around Roman’s cock. “That mouth of yours looks better being used up by my cock,” Roman rasps thrusting into your throat.  Your breathing is heavy as he fucks your throat raw. Roman cums down your throat with a growl. You cum on Slade’s mouth, whimpering as Roman pulls out of your mouth. Slade greedily laps up your juices while humming against your shivering core. 

 Slade climbs up to face you, his lips and beard wet from your juices. He dips his head against yours kissing you deeply. Pulling back, he kisses along your neck.  “Can you taste how much of a slut you’ve been?”Slade asks, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one is long and languid, giving you a good taste of yourself. 

 “Now, Kitten, remember your manners,” Slade says, nipping at your jaw. You swallow and in a breathy whisper you say “Thank you, sir.”

 “Good,” Slade murmurs against your throat, kissing at the warm pulse there.  Roman laughs, sharp and derisive. You breathe deep. Your throat feels so raw. You relax against Slade.  You close your eyes uselessly as you soak up the comfort. You move to wrap your arms around his as you arch your back against his body. You curse lowly remembering the restraints.

  Your body suddenly feels cold, not feeling Slade against you. Roman flips you over on to your stomach.

 "Ass up, Sweetheart." 

 You obey, raising your ass up, eager for his attention. His fingers dip into your folds, curling. You cry out with a loud high pitched keen. "Tch, I'm not even inside you yet." 

 You shift your hips trying your best to press against Roman’s fingers. Your aching pussy was begging for him to stretch it. Roman tuts, taking his fingers out and stilling your hips with the same hand painting your hip with your own wetness. You feel cold metal scraping against the divet of your spine. Your wet saliva dripping from the cold metal of the gun onto your hot back. 

 "Are you that desperate for my cock, sweetheart?" Roman whispers against the shell of your ear, his thick cock sliding torturously against your folds. The sensation makes you sob into the plush cushions. You pant and roll your hips against his hold. "Mr. Sionis, please. Please. God, please," you sob, rutting your hips against Roman’s cock. You wanted anything. Anything to relieve the aching in your core. You were desperate. You made no effort to hide this. 

 "Sweetheart, you look so much better like this, sobbing and panting for my cock," Roman rasps, cock twitching against your folds, hand rubbing light circles against your clit which was raw from Slade’s tongue. "If I'd known you were such a cockslut, I would have given that slutty little ass of yours the thrashing it deserves a long time ago." Roman’s hand lands an impressive blow on your ass. You yelp. Another slap lands on your ass. The sound of skin against skin mixes with the depraved moans falling from your lips. 

 Slap after slap lands on your ass until it was red and raw. You can feel the flesh of your ass stinging and your juices flow down your legs. 

 "Please, Mr. Sionis. Please, sir. Please, make me cum on your thick cock." 

 You can feel Roman smirking against the small of your back. "Wilson, I don't know how you could ever refuse such a polite request."  The grip on your hips tightens as Roman rolls his hips against yours. 

 "I try my best," Slade says nonchalantly. His voice sounds strained from breathing. He's panting you realize. 

 You squirm trying to get his blindfold off. You want to see him. You want to watch his face twist in pleasure.

 Your efforts are halted when the head of Roman’s cock rubs against your folds. The heat pooling in your stomach reignites. "Pay attention, sweetheart." 

 You cry from relief when his girth stretches your velvety walls. He bottoms out with a soft grunt. You feel your walls wrapping around him. You buck your hips slightly begging him to move. Thankfully, he does. He pulls out slowly until only the head of his cock is rubbing against your entrance. He slams himself back in earning him a sharp cry. He gives you a contented grunt as he begins to slam his cock violently into you, using your bound hands as leverage. Over and over again. 

 You're getting lost in the pleasure when Roman’s voice cuts through the haze. "Can you hear him, sweetheart? Can you feel him watching as I fuck you stupid?" Roman says, heavy breaths fanning against the shell of your ear. 

 Your ears strain. 

 Pap pap pap

 You can hear Slade's strained breath. You can hear soft grunts against a closed fist. There's the wet sound of him fisting his cock. From the sound of it, he's practically strangling it. You want to watch him pleasure himself as he watches Roman use you to cum.

  Roman continues to rut against you. He watches as your ass jiggles as he fucks into you. Roman puts a hand on one of your ass cheeks to watch his cock get swallowed by your sopping cunt. Grunting and groaning, Roman rocking his hips against you breeding you like a bitch. 

 You cum, going limp against the cushions. You breathe heavy against the couch and press your face against the cushions. You came but it wasn't enough. The coil in your stomach curls in you. Your skin prickles and you're hot all over again. You shift your hips, moving to fuck yourself on his cock. Roman chuckles looking down at you as he stills your hips. You whine when he pulls out. He grips your ass cheeks roughly when you try to move again. 

 Roman rubs his wet cock against your ass, pressing lightly, teasing. He hums contemplatively as he smiles down at your whimpering form. "Hey Wilson, how well do you think your little slut can take two cocks?" You go completely still at that. Your heart is racing. Your blood is pounding in your ears. Your mouth waters at the thought. God, you wanted this. You needed this. 

 A hand wraps tightly around your neck. He pulls you up against him. His hand shifts in front of you squeezing until you could feel the rings on his fingers bite into the flesh of your neck. You hear a body shift and the slight creak of the floor due to a weight pressing down. You swallow in anticipation as Slade sits in front of you, hands undoing the belt on your wrist with remarkable efficiency. 

 "Let's find out," Slade says as he pulls the blindfold off. You blink, eyes adjusting to the low light of the room. Slade takes the moment of confusion to grab your face roughly with his large hand. Slade presses his lips against yours, nipping and licking at your lips. You run your hands over his muscular chest. Teeth graze against your oversensitive skin. 

 You scream as Slade sinks his cock into your folds and Roman sinks his into your ass. Slade thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He tastes strongly of whiskey. Your tongues dance as they begin to rock their cocks into you, hitting all the right places. 

 You both pull up for air. You lean back against Roman’s and rest your head against his shoulder, panting softly against his neck. Roman grabs your wrist, kissing it before biting it leaving an angry red mark. Slade does the same with your other wrist albeit more gently. 

 Roman winds both your arms around him. He pulls you into a rough kiss while Slade kisses down your neck, nipping and lapping at your flesh.  You don't even have to look to know he's leaving marks. You can tell from the possessive way he's holding your hips. Roman's gloved hands knead your breast roughly making you whimper into the kiss. 

 They switch places. Roman's hands grip your hips with bruising intensity while one of Slade’s hands kneads at your breast and pinches your nipple. Slade's mouth latches on to your other nipple. The man knew how to use his mouth just as much as he knew how to use yours.

  They hold your hips still, putting you at the mercy of their animalistic pace. They jackhammer into you with wild abandon seemingly ignoring your cries. But you know they're drinking up every little noise you make. 

 "Your tight little holes are taking our cocks so well, Kitten," Slade whispers against your skin. “I think you deserve a bit of a reward, “ He says pressing his thumb against your clit. With a whimper, you come. Your walls tighten around them and they follow soon after. Roman fills your ass with his seed and Slade pulls out letting ropes of cum splash against your chest. 

 You let your eyes slide close as they pull out of you. Your breathing is heavy even as it steadies to a less erratic rhythm. Roman pulls away from you and your body rests against Slade. 

 For a moment, everything is quiet. You revel in the strange even rhythm of life thrumming through your veins. A hand forces you to lay down flat on your back. You open your eyes, watching Slade unbutton his shirt. You swallow, eyes tracing the movement. 

 “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Roman asks condescendingly as he sits back comfortably in a lounge chair with a glass of scotch in hand.  “We’re only just getting started, Sweetheart.” 

 Slade sinks into you and you cry out. 

You’re in a haze. The heat from the sex pollen waning giving way to exhaustion as Slades rips another orgasm from you.  Slade pulls out, pumping his cock until thick ropes of cum cover your stomach and chest. Roman pulls his cock out of your throat before tucking himself back into his pants. 

 “If you want a better gig, sweetheart, I’ve got a place where your slutty little ass could make a killing,” he says, tossing you a business card as he walks away. 

As soon as Roman is out of sight, Slade’s disposition shifts into something softer. He pulls you close, making you lay against his chest. He plants tender kisses all over your face before moving down towards your jaw then your chest. “You ok, Kitten?” You mumble your answer into his chest. A chuckle rumbles through his chest.  You glare at him, pouting against his chest. 

 “You think that was enough time for your partner to get all the information he needed?”

 “I hope so,” you say, shrugging. "Did this idea of yours have to involve me getting fucked?"

 Slade gives you a shit-eating grin. You snarl and swat at his chest. "You shit bag."

 "Dunno, kitten, you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

 "It might have been the pollen," you snip, "what the hell, Wilson?" 

 "To be fair, I wasn't told. Although... I will have to ask him where he got those."

 "What? You gonna use it on yourself?"

 "Darling, we both know you wouldn't survive if I did."

 "Watch me."

 Slade takes out a bottle and shakes it. "Let's find out shall we." Your eyes widen as he pops one of the pills into his mouth. He tilts your chin, rubbing circles against it with his thumb. 

 “Open up, Kitten.”

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

Thanks for reading! There will probably be a part 4 I just have to learn to write something. 

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[hwrryscherry]

The one where Harry and Model Y/N miss their christmas flight and have a little fun on their detour.

blurb: It's the most wonderful time of the year so Harry & Model Y/ N rented a holiday house on the French Alps to celebrate Christmas with their families. It's finally the day to go and Harry is the one to blame when they lose their flight to meet their families in the Alps. Spoiler: Model Y/N gets furious at Harry's calm behavior.

warnings: fluff. They left Los Angeles on December 20th and arrived in the Alps on December 21st in case you guyst get confused.

word count: 7.1K

author's note: HIIIIIII guyyys! It's officially CHRISTMAS week and it's my favorite holiday ever sooo I imagined what Model Y/N and Harry would do on their holiday trip and I guess I'll post a blurb everyday with Christmas theme. AND i'll be suggesting a christmas song in every blurb. Enjoy and Merry Christmas♥️♥️♥️♥️

christmas song of the day: Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande.

December 19th, 2020 - 11PM

    It was a very cold night in Los Angeles for you to be walking around in your pajamas with no shoes on, a face mask on your face and wet hair that left small water drops through the closet floor as you continued to walk between your clothes and your suitcase that was settled in the floor. You wanted to be laid down in bed, in your cozy and warm bed because you were so tired and a good night of sleep were everything you actually desired.

    As you tried to decide on the coats that you were going to take to your Christmas holiday in the French Alps. You felt a gaze directed to you, what made you bring your head up so you could see Harry stopped at the door frame. He looked very calm. Otherwise, you looked desperate; your flight was scheduled to 6:45 AM. You had to sleep as it was already late and you haven't even packed your stuff but at least you could do it with just some minutes unlike Harry. Anyway, Harry had his grey sweatpants on with a TPKW merch hoddie, his hair, unlike yours, was already completely dry. You probably have to stop washing your hair so late at night but now wasn't the moment to think about this.

— God, why didn't I pack earlier? — You asked rhetorically as you sighed taking some of your favorite pants and folding them right before putting them in the suitcase.

— Exactly! I told ya to do it earlier today but you said you still had time. — Harry said on a convincing way as he drank a sip of his water that he held in a bottle. You just rolled your eyes at him. You hated being stressed and you hated even more when you were stressing over something and Harry says something like "I told you so." You hate conflict and specially when it's with Harry and now was definitely not the moment, so you just shrugged it off.

— By the way, which suitcase are you taking? Because I found yours up in the shelf. — You said, never taking your eyes away from the clothes you were putting on the floor as you created combinations and outfits for you to have an idea before putting it in the suitcase; you were on your knees as you decided to which clothes you'd take with you.

   Harry went completely silent at the moment he heard you. This was the time he realized that with all the things you both were setting up for the trip today, he completely forgot of packing his stuff. Harry froze, he felt it through all his body. He knew how much you were stressed over all the things you both did today to get prepared for the trip, and he'd swear to god that you'd completely lost it at the moment he'd tell you he forgot about it.

   You looked over at him because of his silence and his expression said everything his mouth didn't. You stopped moving your hands immediately and kept a straight face at him literally praying he was only joking, but he wasn't.

— Are you for real? — You'd ask resting your hands over your thighs as you only received silence as a response — Harry, I can't believe you! — You'd say sounding extremely frustrated. You'd pass your hands over your face trying to wake you up more because truly, you were so sleepy right now. You'd feel your cold hands pass through your wet strands of hair before looking at him getting more into the closet now.

— Love, I'm so sorry! — Harry'd say entering the room and bend down next to you avoiding touching your clothes on the floor — It's just... I went all the way today resolving all the other stuff for the trip and I completely forgot about it! — Harry would say with puppy eyes, he actually felt kinda ashamed for just saying to you that he told you to pack before when he didn't even remembered to do it himself.

— I know, I know — You said getting more relaxed on the floor now crossing your legs — It's just, you take so long to do it everytime and we need to grab some sleep tonight — You'd say making an emphasis on the "so long" making Harry sigh. He instantly stand up after you finished talking, walking directly towards the shelf to grab his own suitcase putting it on the floor as he opened it too.

— No, I won't take too much time! I'll just grab some stuff. I'll show you and you tell me what you think! — Harry said as he opened his part of the closet immediately looking through the pants, the many pants he had actually — It's okay! — He'd say, probably trying to convince himself more than actually you. You have no idea why but whenever Harry had to pack his suitcase he'd take hours to do it, he would just take hours to decide on each outfit and then he'd decide when to wear it and if he was actually going to wear it, so yes, it would literally take hours.

   Later, Harry'd think about it all while he contemplated you from the bed. He was lying on his side, propping his head on his hand, so he could get a more proper look at you.

   It took both of you two hours to pack Harry’s suitcase and it was around 1AM now. You don’t think he knows what ‘'It’ll be fast’’ actually means. You were now in front of the mirror. You used the comb to brush your now dry hair while looking in the mirror. You have had long nights at work before and you've been very tired several times but this time, it felt different.

   This is the first time that you and Harry have decided what to do for Christmas and thank God there would be no hosting; but even so it's difficult to organize things for so many people. Harry has been so helpful, and you can't complain. Even though he was tired of being on set, he always donated his time to talk about Christmas, but how could he avoid it? He loved it. He loved being able to get together with his family and spend a good and happy time. Harry remembers the first Christmas you spent together. It was 2018 and you guys went to Holmes Chapel to celebrate. That was also the first Christmas of your life where you wouldn't spend it with your mother because, well, you didn't want to abuse it and take her to Anne's house. Harry realized how sad it had made you and surprised you on Christmas Eve afternoon when he came home from an alleged "supermarket drive" with your mother. He remembers how happy you were, your genuine smile that you just couldn't get off your face, and he remembers how much he fell ten times more in love with you that day. There was not even a year that you were together, god, as time flies.

   You have finished brushing your hair and put the comb in the first drawer of the counter. You left the bathroom to walk to your bed feeling Harry's gaze on you making you frown and smile at him as you lay on the bed covering yourself with the covers.

— Why are you looking at me like this? — You ask taking the covers up to your neck while turning to be able to face the boy's face, who was now accompanied by a tender smile.

— Nothing much, just memories! — Harry said as he watched the yellow light from his lamp reflect in your eyes —You're so beautiful it makes me angry sometimes. — Harry said pulling a chuckle from you. God, how he loved that sound. He then extended his arm to turn off the lamp leaving the room in total darkness, then going deeper under the covers as well.

— Oh, you're just saying that! — You responded by making him chuckled now with your fake modest — You set the alarm clock, right? — You asked him softly, trying your best to keep your eyes open even though they insisted on wanting to close.

— I did! — Harry said approaching you, feeling your body heat under the covers. He brought his right hand to your waist and pulled you closer to his chest, taking the opportunity to kiss your temple. — Let's sleep now okay? I love you! — Harry said feeling you nod and whisper a soft '' I love you too ''. It was a combination of you to say you love each other every night before going to sleep; you did it even when you fought, but in these cases I love you's usually came with "but I'm really mad at you."

December 20th, 2020 — 6:00 AM.

      You were in such a deep sleep, you two were. The truth is: this instability was not your thing. At one day you were in London, the next in NYC, the next in LA, then in Palm Springs and now back in Los Angeles, the hard part would believe you wouldn't be tired of it. And it's precisely because of tiredness that neither you nor Harry heard the four times that the alarm went off, but let's agree that having gone to sleep after one in the morning packing Harry's suitcase was a big factor to consider.

   5:00 AM, 5:20 AM, 5:30 AM, 5:45 AM... Nothing, you didn't even move, well, you did move to pull the covers next to you. For some reason your eyes slowly opened. You stared at the light coming from the curtains content with yourself for waking up even before the clock woke up, little did you know.

   You stretched and took your hands to rub your sleepy eyes then using one of them to get your phone that was powering on the nightstand next to the bed. When you unlock the phone screen and face the hours, you felt your heart beat faster. You blinked briefly to see if you were seeing the right time and got out of bed in a heart beat.

— HARRY! — You said basically screaming. Harry woke up quickly, his heart racing as he sat on the bed and watched you standing, putting on your slippers quickly. He watched you take a hair tie from the drawer of your nightstand and quickly tie your long strands of hair into a ponytail.

— What...What happened? — Harry said using his hands to rub his eyes as he slowly got up from the bed.

— It's already six in the morning, the alarm didn't go off! — You said quickly what surprised Harry, since normally you spoke even slowly — Come on, get up! We have 45 minutes to get to the airport, and it's a 35 minute drive. We need to start getting ready quickly. — You walked directly to the bathroom counter, pouring liquid facial soap into your hands and washing your face. You couldn't see it, but you heard the noise of Harry changing clothes in the room. You absolutely hated leaving the house in the morning without taking a shower, but you wouldn't have any time for that.

   You chose not to wear any makeup, as always in fact. You just put sunscreen on your face and loosened your ponytail feeling your long strands of hair fall over your shoulders as you retreated from the suite bathroom and spotted Harry wearing jeans and an oversized black sweatshirt walking past you to use the bathroom himself now. You opened your part of the wardrobe by grabbing yourself a black jan bell pants, a black t-shirt too and a pink sweatshirt over it in which you dressed up fastly, and put your white sneakers as well. 

— Have you finished? — You said putting your cell phone, charger, wallet and other essentials in your handbag as you approached the bathroom door observing Harry dry his hands on the towel and then saying a brief "Yes" after putting on his rings on his fingers. He turned off the bathroom light and turned to you while the two of you started walking towards the stairs, where you went down with your suitcases in hand. The original plan was to call a car to take you to the airport but clearly, there was no time for that, so you guys would go in Harry's car, which would be picked up at the airport by Jeff who had promised Harry that he would take him back to the house.

   The sun was still cold, that cold early morning sun where the sky still has that lilac color mixed with orange. You left your suitcase in front of the trunk and walked to the passenger seat next to the driver where you sat down and installed the belt instantly while Harry just put both suitcases in the trunk, then closed it and walked to the front of the car as well, and right after sitting in the driver's seat putting on the seat belt, he started the engine and starting to drive as well.

   The drive to the airport was quiet. There was little traffic, nothing compared to LA traffic but there was still a little. Harry prayed it didn't have any fans at the airport, not because he didn't want to see them, but because you were so late and he knew that neither of you would ignore your fans and just keep walking. When Harry parked the car, you might notice some paparazzi's outside, nothing too crowded actually. In less than two minutes, you were already out of the car with your bags on a cart walking, let's say, very quickly until the airport check-in. You were a little impatient to see that there was a line of about five people before you. You looked at the time on your cell phone and sighed, turning the screen to Harry showing that it was now 6:47 AM and there were still three more people in front of you. You had a frustrated and worried look, just the thought that maybe you can't make it to your destination and Harry realized that, he always perceives the smallest things in and about you; let it be a different sigh to a different gleam in the eye. He perceives everything, even though you're wearing a mask now.

   Harry wrapped you in his arms, hugging you tight and kissing your hairline as a form of affection. Your head was between Harry’s neck where you could perfectly smell his scent, and the comforting warmth he emanated; you could have sworn that nothing and no one could get you out of that moment, but then your turn came in line and a man called you.

— Good Morning ma'am! May I help you? — The man said trying to sound sympathetic. You were hoping that Harry could resolve this but apparently, the guy asked you and not him. You put a few strands of your hair behind your ears, and you formed the phrases in your head.

— Good Morning! — You said first, feeling Harry touching the ends of your hair behing your back — So, we had two tickets for the flight of 6:45 AM for Paris but, unfortunately we couldn’t make it in time. Is there any way that you could get us new tickets? Anything would be amazing!  — You said, while mentally praying that there was at least one flight that would take you there. The plan was that you were going to make a scale in Paris and then taking the train to the French Alps which would be a 5-hour train ride, but as you were counting on a direct flight to Paris, it wouldn’t be a problem to stay on a train for five hours.

— Look, ma'am. — The guy sighed looking a little frustrated. Harry touched your shoulders and squeezed a little feeling how hard your shoulders muscle were from tension — I do have a flight for Paris! — In the moment he said it you and Harry let out a deep breath relieved — But, it's going to scale in New York and London!

— And how many hours of traveling? — Harry asked getting a little closer to the counter putting his glove covered hand over the counter as well.

— Around 18 or 20 hours — The man answered and you and Harry sighed. You would be there in the morning on the LA time, and on the French Alps time it will probably be 6:30 AM too. You let out a long breath, and Harry looked at you attentively looking for any sign of giving up; he wanted to go, of course, but if you said it would be better to stay, he would be without a second thought.

— Well, we have to go, right? — You said softly to Harry and then redirected your gaze to the man and nodded. — Okay, we’ll keep the tickets.

—They’re economic tickets, all right? I see here that you had executive tickets — The man asked and you can't hesitate to drop a light chuckle.

— No problems! — Harry replied, and then he returned to finishing to configure the informations of your new tickets.

  It didn't really take long, a few minutes and you already had the new tickets in hand. As you both walked to find a place to sit, you remembered that with all the running from the morning none of you had breakfast. You checked your bags on the conveyor belt and went up the escalators at the big LAX Airport looking for a small restaurant to buy something. You chose the Urth Caffé & Bar because you were used to eating in there whenever you had to travel. It was a very cute and cozy place with a yellow lighting, wood tables and chairs that gave a whole charm to it. You both ordered a coffee; you ordered a latte and Harry ordered a black coffee, and to eat you both ordered bagels sandwiches. There were some fans in there this time. They were all pretty respectful and nice when they came over asking for pictures. You both took the pics and talked with them for a while until you had to leave which honestly made your heart aches. You loved when you could meet and talk to your fans, to create that connection it's so important to you but you couldn't risk missing another flight.

   As you were already settled up on your seats, you re-checked your seat bell probably five times in a row while the "In case of emergency" video passed on the little screen in front of you. Harry noticed you checking it again, and he used his hands to hold yours as a sign to stop you.

— Hey, you already did that... — Harry said looking directly into your eyes — Five times, love!

— Oh... — You whispered then redirecting yourself on your seat. The truth is, you're a model, you date a singer and you're probably more in a plane than in your own house, but you are terrified of it. You've always been, just the thought of being on a plane scares you. And we don't even have to say about whenever a turbulence would occurs. Harry knew that, and he took it as a responsibility of his to keep you calm whenever you were on a plane together.

— Oh, let's watch something together! — Harry said getting his upper body closer to you looking at your little screen — We can choose the same thing and watch it!

— Sure, something on your mind? — You asked as you grabbed the ear plunges of the plane trying to turn it on as Harry now were turning his phone off.

— I don't know! Since we finished watching Bly Manor, I have no idea what we should watch next — Harry said putting his phone on his pocket, and then grabbing himself his ear plunge.

— Oh god, and how good was it? — You said having a fan girl moment. Literally, you were such a fan of The Haunting series and all about it. You and Harry binged watching The Haunting of Bly Manor in like a day. — But.. — You turned on your screen and started to look through the christmas movies, yes you also loved them. Both of you do, who doesn't like christmas movies? — Oh, let's watch Princess Switch 2? We didn't have time to watch it! — You clicked on the movie, so you could read the synopsis to have an idea what would be about. You and Harry watched the first one back in 2018 and you guys really liked it so this could be cool. It's actually kinda crazy all of the stuffs you've watched together. It's crazy how you guys can watch a really serious and heavy movie and then watch all of Barbies movies on the same day.

— Alright, let's watch it! — Harry agreed as he searched for the movie himself — I saw in the trailer that there's a third twin on this movie.

— Love, they're not twins!— You'd say getting your movie ready to be started.

 — They're not? Of course they are! If they're not, then what are they? — Harry said putting his ear plunges on and getting the covers that the airplane company use to put on the seats for the passagers. You actually think it's cute that Harry has this thing on being under the covers and cuddled up whenever he was watching to a movie, and with the weather like this, it would be perfect. I mean, it's cold in LA with 46 F°, as you lived in NYC before you could only imagine how the weather was in there with 32F°. But anyway, you kinda missed NYC a little bit. It's honestly kinda messed up now because you haven't officially moved to LA from New York, but the last time you were in NY was probably in early May, before your birthday because you both celebrated your birthday in Holmes Chapel with Anne and Gemma.

— I don't know — You'd chuckle to answer his question feeling him spread the covers on both of you and snuggle himself on your chest — I think they're relatives in some point, but they're not twins! — You'd hear a soft "oh" from Harry as you put the ear plunges yourself and clicked the movie to play. In general, you watched the movie commenting on the scenes and you both really liked it, it was funny and not tiring at all. And then after it, you both bing watched The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, I know it seems crazy but you've been so obsessed with it lately and anytime you were obsessed with something you'd usually make Harry get obsessed too. And I mean, it was a 5-hour long flight and you both could catch up with some housewives drama. The flight ended, and you both arrived in NYC, you'd have a 1 hour and a half stop and you managed to think you both could actually do something in this hour, obviously nothing to far away from the airport, you wouldn't take any risks. So you'd chose one of your favorite places in New York ever aka the M&M's Store. God, you loved this place, and you loved M&M's, and so did Harry.

   There were some paparazzi on the street, but this is NY and it's just a daily basis thing. You both walked around the store buying some really cool chocolates when you saw a cute one with marshmallows and you showed it to Harry getting a disgusted face from him.

— No, I'm so allergic to marshmallow! — Harry would say grabbing some kind of M&M's to see and you rolled your eyes recalling the number of times you both had this conversation before. You turned around getting right on Harry's front and looking into his eyes.

—  You’re not allergic to mashmallows! You’re allergic to one of the ingredients in it, if you do the homemade one you can eat it normally, oh my god! — You said trying your best to show your sassy side and Harry actually only continue saying this because he knows you'll react like this and he think it's cute, so he'd just get closer to your face and give a peck to your lips.

— I know, sorry! — He'd say smirking a little and fixing his beanie on his head with his left hand — I love the ones you make, by the way.

— I know, I'm such a master chef that's how I made you fall in love with me! — You'd answer him with a smirk on your face when you turn around to look more over the chocolates.

— And who said I love ye’, miss? — Harry said mocking you and you’d immediately turn to stare at his face with the most realistic offended expression you could create now.

— Um, excuse me? — You’d say with your righthand touching your chest with raised eye browns — If that’s how you feel I'm just gonna go over there look for Brad Pitt! — You’d say with your sassy tone starting to walk away from him but you were stopped by him when he grabbed your empty hand bringing you closer to him 

— Oh so you're overlapping me for Brad Pitt? — Harry said making you roll your eyes with a playful smile in your mask covered lips.

— Well, take it as a revenge for overlapping me for Mitch every day! — You'd say making him let out a loud laugh — But, I'll consider letting this go if we go to Victoria Secrets right now and you buy me my favorite fragrance!

— Oh, you're such a blackmailer! — Harry would say shaking his head slowly and crossing his arms close to his body watching you put your best puppy eyes on display — Alright, just because I probably love that fragrance more than you! — He said making you give him a big smile that he could notice by the way your eyes got smaller. This is actually a joke because it was pretty rare for having you ask Harry to buy you anything, you'd always tell him that you "didn't need anything", and specially when he comes home with those really expensive Gucci merch. Honestly, all the expensive things that you have, like, Chanel, Versace, Gucci were usually gifts from the brand and a few from Harry because you're much of a economizer thinking that these are actually pretty expensive things and you don't actually need. Why would you go around with a 3 thousand dollars Gucci bag when you can buy a super cute bag for 50 dollars? Yep, Harry didn't understand that on the many times he got you something expensive so then, now he rarely does it because he knows that the way for your heart it's probably the most simple and genuine he can be.

 In the VS shop, you were looking through the fragrances for you favorite one that was Bare Vanilla, it's probably the best. And you've been using it for years now, literally since you were a teenager. When you finally found your Bare Vanilla Kit, you were actually surprised by Harry behind you holding a set of lingerie on the color of pearl with some baby blue lace details. You looked at it and then later at the lingerie and then at him again with a "what is that?" expression on your face.

— Love, I know ye' came here to buy the fragrance but this would look so good in you! — Harry said making a louder voice while pronouncing the "so good" making you touch the fabric with your hands in silence thinking about it as you looked, yes it was really pretty. What can you do? Your man does have a good taste. — Ok I'll buy it as your christmas gift! — You said taking the lingerie carefully from his hand.

— For me? I was thinking more of you in it, but I can wear it if you want. I bet it will define all of my sexy curves — Harry said putting a hand on his own waist making a pose making you laugh out loud of his words, it's the sass for me.

— No, oh my god! I'll be the present. This could be the gift paper — You'd say winking on an eye at him as you tried to control your laugh seeing the smirk on his face, this little promiscuous guy.

   On your way back to the airport you noticed very similar words on a wall beside you and you couldn't hold your emotion when you saw it. It was a black wall written "Do You Know Who You Are?", as in Lights Up. When you showed Harry he got so smiley and blushed at the same time, it's just the shyness in him. You took a quick picture of it before actually entering the airport again. Right on time.

  You were about to face another flight with a six hour and 40 minutes of duration and god, in this cold weather, with covers, hoddies, M&M's, movies and your love made everywhere feels cozy and warm. On this flight, you agreed to watch The Notebook with Harry, and you liked it very much, not as much as he did, but you liked it.  You had taken your sneakers off staying with your socks only, you had also let your hair loose as you leaned your head on Harry's shoulder this time, fixing your covered legs under the cover and feeling the warm sensation coming from his body heat, it wasn't much until Harry realised that you were completely asleep when he tried to talk to you about how Ellie's mom had such an attitude when she decided to hide Noah's letter from Ellie all those years but instead, he saw your sleeping face on his shoulder and his heart melted at the vision so he just decided to let you sleep because he really thought you deserved to, and also, after the movie ended he did sleep as well.

   Your flight arrived in London by 7:28 PM on Los Angeles time. By London's time it was already 5:28 AM, and it had a 44 F° weather. You had a smaller scale time this time. It was a 35 minutes scale, thank god. You both took your time to walk inside the airport. You loved London. You really did. You loved the weather and the beautiful places to visit in here, oh and the cute british accents, you loved it.

   You both walked through the airport observing everything. The people, the christmas lights and the stores. Harry had one of his arms over your shoulders as you walked through it. As you entered the stores session, you'd spot World Duty Free store and look at Harry. — Let's go to World Duty Free and buy colorful highlighters so you can use it on christmas eve! — You say while stopped walking when you got in front of the referred store. Harry looked at the big illuminated sign with the store's name and then back at you.

— A colorful one? D' you think it'll look good? Maybe a gold one, no? — He said pushing you into the illuminated store. You loved that Harry knew this stuff and how sometimes when you'd have nothing to do he would let you put some makeup on his face because he knew you didn't like putting it on your face often.

— Yeah, a gold one would be better! I'll go find one, try looking for other stuff — You'd say getting out of his embrace and walking to the other corner of the store. You looked through the makeup wall in front of you as you searched for a gold highlight.

— Hello, may I help you? — A very young lady came to you with the store's uniform. You looked at her smiling tenderly and shook your head. — Oh no, thank you! I was just looking for a highlighter, but I already found it! — You said showing her the little package in your hand and she smiled back at you saying that if you needed anything else you could call her and you thanked. You would keep looking through the wall to see if you wanted anything else when you noticed a tall man coming over you. You looked at him because well, he was staring you.

— Hm... Hi, I'm Ryan! — He said shyly to you. You just stayed there looking at him with no moves — Hm, I just wanted to say that your American accent it's really cute and... Would you mind giving me your number? — He'd say nervously, and you let out a chuckle as you closed your eyes for a moment.

— I’m really flattered, but I’m here with my boyfriend, I’m sorry — You said softly as you could see Harry coming over to you guys with a very straight face. — There he is! — You pointed at Harry that quickened his pace a little when he saw you pointing at him.

— Oh, I apologize! Anyway, merry christmas! — He said with a tender smile as he walked away from you when you murmured a "Merry Christmas". Harry finally got to you and frowned his eyebrows a little looking at the guy’s back and then back at you.

— Who was it? — Harry softly asked containing his jealousy. Whenever Harry would say in interviews that he was an easily jealous person, he wasn’t joking. But he learned to contain it now because this was the biggest discussion maker on the beginning of your relationship.

— It was this guy Ryan trying to hit on me — You’d say with a smirk on your face because you knew this would tease him — He politely asked me for my number, and then I told him that I was here with my boyfriend.

—You should’ve told him you were here with your handsome and sexy boyfriend — Harry said with joking tone and you raised your eyebrows at him as you started to walk towards the cashier.

— No, I think just ''boyfriend'', is enough!  — You’d say mocking him before you paid your bill. And walked back to the departuring space for Paris.

   You confess that coming back to Paris made you a little nervous. The last time you were here was in February and it was quite...peculiar. But it would be just a scale and things would occur right.

   The flight for Paris were definetely the the fastest one as it lasted only an hour and fifteen minutes. You both had dinner in the plane while binge watching The Real Housewives of Bervely Hills, a little obssesed maybe? Harry had already warned Anne about both of you being late as you all scheduled to get there maybe 6 or 7 hours ago, but as the iconic Queen of Genovia said once ‘’A queen is never late, anybody else is just earlier’’. Oh, you both could’ve watched The Princess Diaries today, damn it.

— As we’re here, we have to admit it... It was quite an adventure, wasn’t it? Three cities in a day — Harry would say taking the ends of your hair between his fingers.

— It was, but I kinda wished we had a little bit more of time in London so we could go to the London Eye — You’d say causing Harry to happily agree with you as it was one of his favorite attractions to go in London.

— All I know is that when we get in there I’ll sleep for as long as I can.

— How can ye’ be sleepy? You slept all the flight from New York to London and I know it! — You’d ask really curiously about his answer because it actually made you surprised on how easily he could sleep. He could be sitting on the most uncomfortable chair in the world but if he closes his eyes, he’ll easily fall asleep.

— It’s my natural talent! Did you think that I could only sing? — He asked rhetorically with a very convincin' tone.

— I’m sorry then Mr.Sleepy! — You would say mocking him as you turned your phone on to answer your missed texts. Gemma has already sent you tons of texts about the house and how’s the climate in there. She told you that you both better be all wrapped up or instead she’ll push your face, oh the good old family love.

    When the plane landed, you and Harry grabbed your suitcases as fast as you could so you could get a cab to the train station and finally arrive on the Alps. You loved Paris in the winter. You loved Paris by the night, and that hasn’t changed. There weren’t paparazzi which contributed to keep you calm but there were maybe some fans spotting you guys and asking for pictures. They’d ask if you both were going to celebrate Christmas in Paris and you’d tell them that it’s just a scale. You were calm but Harry wasn’t. Since the prank in Paris from February, Harry has been incredibly more protective than he already was, and getting back in Paris actually remembered him of that night and that he wouldn’t let it happen again.

   But it all turned out good, the train ride actually felt so relaxing and that made you wonder why in the world none of you have ever traveled together by train. Neither of you slept, though, you both talked. Talked for hours nonstop. You talked about your jobs, your experiences, what you like and what you don’t. You talked about what you wished for 2021 and you even chuckled a bit when Harry said he was looking foward to put ring on your finger in 2021; bullshit, you'd think. But anyway, you'd talk on how in some way you both were grateful for having each other during the hard times we’re all living, getting to know each other better while there was nobody on the streets because actually, if the world was ending you both wouldn’t want to spend it anywhere else and with anyone else.

   The train ride was so calm, so great, so both of you. You were not the kind of couple that needed all luxury, that needed to go out every weekend to have dinner on a fancy restaurant, that needed to buy each other expensive gifts and needed to share every detail of what you did. You were simple. You were comfortable discovering a new world and experiencing things together on your own way and your own time. Neither of you needed all of those stuff. You only needed each other. You needed to feel the warm of each others body, you needed to be graced by the sound of each others laugh and voice, you needed to see the smile on each others faces and to know that even when times get hard you’d always have each other. Your relationship wasn’t perfect, none are. But in the end of the day love always win and if you love each other and it’s meant to be the rest will be history.

   As the sun was starting to rise, you leaned your back in Harry’s chest so you could both see the view from the big glass window. You had your hair loosened on his chest as he envolved you on his arms hugging you from behind supporting his chin by the top of your head. The light yellow sun made the snow even whiter and more resuscitating by touching it with its rays. The sky had this lilac and orange colors, and it seemed to have a breeze air, you couldn’t confirm it though as the train was warmed by a heater. You’d start murmuring to the song Turning Page by Sleeping at Last which caused Harry to smile tenderly. He knew you were doing it by a reflex and actually didn’t think he was going to listen to it, but he did. And he smiled because this had been you guys song for almost three years now. 

—Your love’s my turning page, where only the sweetest words remain — Harry would start singing really close to your ears. Really close and really softly, causing you to smile now but never taking your eyes of the view of the window — Every kiss is a cursive line. Every touch is a redefining place — You’d close your eyes caressing his arm around you and then opening your eyes again, messing with his rings that covered the fingers on his strong hands.

— I surrender who I’ve been, for who you are — You’d complement the song lycris with your eyes closed, feeling nothing more than peace.

— For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart — Harry kept singing holding you tight, because he never would want to let you slip away of his embrace — If I had only felt how it feels to be yours, I would’ve known what I’ve been living for.

— What I’ve been living for! — You complemented. There’s no other place either of you would want to be now. Of course this wasn’t the trip that you both planned, but it was better. It was different, funny and relaxing, and that’s the one thing for you.

   You both got out of that train feeling nothing more than peace, and that’s the spirit of the holidays, isn’t it? The cold sharp of air hitted your face immidietely and you both rushed to get a car that could take you to the holiday house. Gemma would probably kills both of you for not being properly wrapped up but she actually didn’t, thank god for her to be sleeping.

   When you both arrived at the house you struggled a bit to unlock it with the keys but it worked and you came across a beautiful Christmas decoration with a huge christmas tree with a lot of lights and some other cute decorations too. It almost felt like North Pole but it would probably be ten times colder than it was here. You both left your bags on the living room floor and went to take a small tour on the house, when you arrived at the kitchen there were a plate full of brownies and a small note.

    Harry & Y/N,

we couldn’t wait for you to arrive because we were so sleepy but we did those brownies for you guys. Eat it, you must be hungry! We love you and we're looking foward to see you in the morning

                                           — love, Anne.

— Your mother is the best person on the entire universe! —  You’d say showing the note to Harry and grabbing yourself a piece of brownie as he took the small paper on his hands to read it himself as you took a bite from one brownie—  And those brownies are the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

     TO BE CONTINUED.... Christmas special part 1