#finds myself walking towards the dance center....what the hell it's worth a shot

[xianglingslesbian]

ewbts - my top moments

no i will never stop laughing at that abbreviation it’s beautiful. buckle in because this is gonna be long, and probably don’t read it unless you’ve watched/read kuroko’s basketball and like izuki lmaoooo

chapter 1: hatchling, awaken

Izuki swallows. “Why do you all think I can do this?”

Then Kiyoshi turns to him with steel in his eyes (that must be how he got nicknamed Iron Heart - he seriously never backs down!) and asks him very clearly, “Why don’t you?”

Why don’t I think I can be captain?

“Because nobody thought I could be until now.”

aka “ceru is a masochist”, exhibit 1/???. anyway lets hear it for insecurities!!

chapter 2: liftoff

Predictably, Kuroko drags him aside at practice the next day and says, “I have something to tell you, Izuki-senpai.”

Izuki smiles at him. “Is it about your five evil exes?”

Kuroko looks horrified. “My what?!”

i think im funny

chapter 3: crash landing

As Izuki walks off the court, he looks for flashing glasses and grey eyes.

He curses himself for the heavy sadness that falls over him like a blanket when he doesn’t spot them.

yay for “ceru is a masochist” exhibit 2!

Oh, he [Izuki] watched videos of Aomine, came up with strategy after strategy to corner him, but videos and strategies can only go so far. Aomine in real life is something else entirely, a flash of lightning setting the court on fire with the sheer elegance of his crazy street basketball. All one can do is sit back and watch, awed beyond belief. Nothing can curb the wild madness that is Aomine Daiki – unrestrained, gleeful insanity dancing across the court like it’s his playground.

i also rlly like this line, it has some pretty imagery and we all know im a slut for pretty imagery~

chapter 4: a broken bone grows back stronger

“All right,” Koganei says to himself, moving to stand in front of the hoop. “One more time.”

He jumps, raising the ball to just above his face and releasing it. It misses, and he lets out a cry of frustration.

Can he even do this? Is it worth the time?

Koganei bites back the wave of guilt that washes over him at the thought. Izuki, Kiyoshi, Tsuchida, Rinnosuke, Kagami, Kuroko – he’d be letting them down if he didn’t give this his best shot. They’re all so dedicated to basketball that they each have a special skill honed from years of practice and love for the sport. If he can’t bring anything of his own to the table, what will he mean to this team? Seirin makes him want to be a team player, to add his skills to theirs rather than shining on his own. The change is good, yes, but he doesn’t want to stop there – he doesn’t want to be useless.

He will not be useless.

a bit of context: in this fic, since hyuuga did not return, koga became the SG for seirin :D i think my favorite character to develop, apart from izuki, was koganei - it was so fun to imagine all the ways he could have gone!

chapter 5: spreading new wings

All too soon, the day of judgment arrives, and Seirin convenes in the gym one last time before they head off to the Winter Cup building. No one says anything; not Kagami, fresh from his training trip to America, not Izuki, not Kiyoshi or Riko. They simply stand there, breathing in the scent of cleaner and leather and something else that’s so entirely Seirin, and knowing that no matter what happens this Winter Cup, they will return to the gym different people than they were before.

Different, and better.

Then they head out and off to the opening ceremony of the Winter Cup, not looking back once as they do.

yay for more pretty words!!!

“Oh, no worries. The actual motivational part is coming. Anyway, as I was saying – Tōō was just better than us that day. It’s hard to admit, I know: far easier to blame yourself, say you didn’t give it your all, but you know; we all know. It was their day to shine, not ours. But I think we’ve worked hard enough and are in a good enough mindset to change that, today. We aren’t scared or apprehensive about Tōō and Aomine, because we’ve faced them before. We know what attitude they’ll walk into our game with, and that’s what we’re going to exploit!”

“You’re going to exploit,” corrects Tsuchida. “Unlike you, the rest of us aren’t manipulative bastards.”

That raises a bunch of cackles, which quiet down when Izuki gives his team a glare. It doesn’t work on Riko, however, who sniggers under her breath and smirks at him.

izuki highkey sucks at pep talks lmao

chapter 6: ride the storm

Kagami and Aomine were made for each other. Made for this rivalry, this intense competition that will push them to their very limits and carry them onto a plane that no ordinary human can reach. Neither can defeat the other per se - they’re destined to stand neck and neck forever. However, one has a trump card on his side; and that trump card can make all the difference in the world.

Aomine Daiki may be strong, but Kagami Taiga is just as good. And damn him if the power of Kagami’s determination coupled with Kuroko’s unshakeable support won’t overwhelm the undisputed king of basketball.

Move aside, light bulb, Izuki thinks vindictively. The tube light is here to replace you.

pretty words. gay words. i love them (aokaga + izuki being a salt man lmao).

chapter 7: eagle versus aegis

“So bitter,” he [Izuki] reflects aloud, answering Himuro’s question.

That’s the emotion in his eyes. That’s what I might have become, if I had let my anger grow.

And suddenly he isn’t seeing Himuro Tatsuya anymore, but a version of himself, a version with darkened eyes and a mocking smile and pain and rage bubbling below the surface. Immensely talented, but not able to break the last barrier. Because he’s an ordinary man, and it’s as much as an ordinary man can do.

Strong, so strong. But also so terribly, heartbreakingly weak. Weak in a way that today’s Izuki Shun will never be.

GOD where do i even start w/this scene its literally everything i’ve ever wanted to write ksjfhsfj

chapter 8: clawing through mirages

Izuki’s taken aback for a millisecond before he continues his mad dash towards Murasakibara, letting out a war cry as the center makes to simply toss the ball into the hoop.

“It wasn’t their intention,” says a quiet but familiar voice. “But, this is the result of Kiyoshi-senpai and the other upperclassmen’s tenacity.”

Izuki grins, feeling new strength fill him up.

Together, huh? Okay. Together.

“This is where it ends for you!” shouts the voice, becoming stronger.

Not one, but two hands knock the ball out of Murasakibara’s hands and onto the ground. Kuroko shimmers into vision, smiling at Izuki with all the happiness in the world, just as the final buzzer rings.

i loved writing this match tbh, yousen is super underrated!

chapter 9: catch the updraft

21 - 22, in their favour at long last. Izuki grins at Kasamatsu, who shakes his head wearily.

“Using my own advice against me. What a terrible student you are,” he says, affecting an old man’s voice.

“The true student is the one who beats the master at his own game,” Izuki says quickly, sliding back into their familiar banter. “I swore to myself, my drive would beat your drive today, kitakore.”

“When did you get so wise?” asks Kasamatsu with a sigh, ignoring his pun and receiving the ball from Kobori, who was quick to grab it once Koga scored. Izuki just laughs, not bothering to reply and instead focusing carefully on Kasamatsu’s movements.

Kasamatsu shifts his weight right, left, then right again. Izuki narrows his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell his upperclassman is doing—

But it’s far too late, as Kasamatsu successfully passes through his defence in his moment of distraction, ball clutched tightly in hand. The sound of the scoring whistle is shrill and unpleasant to Izuki’s ears, and his chest stings at the loss.

“What was that about the main course?” Kasamatsu teases, wearing an enormous grin as he comes forward to guard Izuki once more. 

izuki + kasamatsu banter is so so fun to write y’all have no idea

chapter 10: headwinds

This is your fault. If you’d been a better captain, a better point guard, a better everything, none of this would’ve happened. Seirin would have been well in the lead and controlling the game—

Izuki shakes his head violently, trying to get rid of his intrusive thoughts. He knows he’s a good captain, and doing this to himself will do no good for the rest of the team. He has to be strong for them. He has to lead them to victory, he can’t be a weak person overwhelmed by emotion. But it’s so hard to breathe, suddenly, and Izuki’s about to sink when—

“Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll take care of this match today,” says a confident and familiar voice, and a hand claps down on Izuki’s shoulder. He turns, a little surprised by the sudden contact, to find Koganei’s cat mouth set in a determined frown. “You can rest your hopes on me. I’ll be Seirin’s wings for as long as you need me to.”

kogazuki brotp feels man. kogazuki brotp feels.

chapter 11: cliff edge

Riko nods, sobering up a little. “I do know. And… I have to admit, I was a little harsh on you in the early days… I kept comparing you to Hyūga-kun.” She looks at the ground briefly, then raises her head to continue, meeting Izuki’s eyes with no hint of doubt in her own brown irises. “But then I saw how different you were. How you were never willing to give up, even if you were the worst player in the world. That’s what… that’s what made me truly believe in you.” She swallows thickly, taking a deep breath, but not averting her gaze from his.

The honesty and trust in her eyes is what shatters Izuki’s calm.

He steps forward, and she rises too, opening her arms. Then he hugs her tightly, murmuring, “Thank you for having faith in me.”

The “Of course. You’re family,” that she whispers back fills Izuki’s already overflowing heart even further.

Eventually, he lets her go, and she drops lightly to the ground, straightening her sweater and skirt.

“We never speak of this,” Izuki warns her, moving towards the door of the room.

Riko nods, back to her usual haughty demeanour. “Of course. No one can know we’re actually big softies who care a lot for each other.”

“To them, we’re just sarcastic jerks,” Izuki agrees. “And that’s the way it stays.”

anyone said izuriko brotp???? this fic is just platonic feels tbh

chapter 12: overcast skies

What should I do? Someone tell me! the voice cries out in Izuki’s head, a voice he hasn’t heard since the loss to Tōō. It is the same voice that whispers all his insecurities in his ear in the dead of night when no one is around to reassure him, the same voice that gave rise to all his fears and worries. It is the voice of the vulnerable and weak part of Izuki, the one that needs someone to guide him with a gentle hand, and he hates it.

It is a voice that, frankly, he never thought he would hear again. Yet, here it is, crying out for attention, screaming for someone to help.

He thought he had left it behind. It turns out he was wrong.

Izuki shoves it deep into his heart with more effort than he’s exerted all game, breathing a heavy sigh when he succeeds in locking it behind the glass wall that keeps his emotions away.

let’s hear it for “ceru is a masochist” exhibit 3~

chapter 13: nosedive

“I don’t know who you are,” Koganei completes his little speech, anger brimming in every part of his being. “But I know that my captain is Izuki Shun, not Akashi Seijūrō. The coach can bench you if she likes; we can fight without our captain, because we know he wants us to win for his sake. We’ve been fighting without him all the match, and we can continue doing so. We don’t need a player that can’t play with the same passion as us!”

Izuki looks at the ground and doesn’t respond. Somewhere within, something is stirring at Koganei’s words. Something that cries out to fill the gap inside him.

Next to speak is Kiyoshi, standing up and executing much the same move as Koga had by yanking Izuki up by his collar. However, Kiyoshi pulls Izuki into a standing position so that Izuki is half-leaning against him.

Brown eyes meet black, and Kiyoshi simply states, “I didn’t expect this from you, Shun.”

Then he rears his fist backwards and punches Izuki in the jaw.

“ceru is a masochist” exhibit 4!

chapter 14: bird of prey

“I just… I didn’t think you’d give up so easily.”

Koganei’s head shoots up. There’s fury in his eyes, and his face is white. His hands are shaking.

Izuki continues, calm and careless as he always is, “Really… after you gave me all that talk at halftime? I don’t believe this is you.”

Koganei’s jaw clenches, and he cries, “But I have done everything I can! He’s just too good—”

“And when has that ever stopped you?” Izuki keeps his voice quiet and even, but it has the gravity he intended it to - Koga falls silent immediately, eyes wide and riveted on him. “When have you ever backed down from fighting? You don’t know the meaning of giving up. You’ve never cared about whether someone’s better than you. I knew a shooting guard once, just like you, and he had the potential to be the greatest in the world. He was held back because he cared that he was worse than others. But you? You never blinked at it, just practised and practised until you could do the impossible.”

His words are getting louder with pride; he’s unable to keep it steady with the outpouring of emotion in his speech.

“Tell me, who can master Ray Allen’s form in one and a half years? Who can be such a rookie at basketball, yet be able to fight an Uncrowned King and respond to a shot that has left all its previous victims unable to move?!” Izuki leans forward and jabs a finger into Koganei’s chest demandingly. “Tell me, who the hell was that?!”

“Me,” Koga whispers timidly, looking down.

ahhhh yay for more platonic comfort and bonding. *izuki voice* yelling is the way to get ur team to get their shit tgt

chapter 15: born to soar

Izuki finds himself moving, barely thinking as he grabs the ball and bawls for an attack. He’s running faster than he ever has, flying up the court like there are wings on his legs. No one follows at his pace - they’re all too far behind.

No one but Kiyoshi.

The rhythm beats louder than ever, a heavy pulse in Izuki’s head and heart. He can feel Akashi on his heels and knows he needs to do something.

One second left—

Izuki’s hands move on their own, passing the ball to the one person he knows that he will always find.

Kiyoshi catches it and jumps.

Fortyfivethirtyfivetwentyfivefifteen—

The ball leaves his hands.

Fivezero—

The whistle blows to end the game. Kiyoshi’s shot hits the backboard and drops straight into the basket. Time stops as a shrill sound screeches into the air and the ref shouts, “124 to 123, Seirin High wins the Winter Cup!”

there we go. the most heartwrenching scene of this chapter ahhhhh

chapter 16: final flight

“We should go. Don’t want to keep them waiting too long,” Kiyoshi says, staring daggers at Hyūga, who to his credit doesn’t flinch but merely stares back.

“Let’s go, then,” Izuki agrees. He looks straight at Hyūga and allows a small, formal smile to play on his lips. Hyūga just nods, accepting the answer.

Izuki nods back, then turns around and starts walking away. But even as he moves toward the exit, something weighs heavily in his tired chest. For the first time in a long time, he isn’t confident in his decision.

Acting on impulse, he turns on his heel and yells out, “Call sometime, maybe!” before walking backwards out the door that Kiyoshi holds for him.

It’s an open-ended suggestion. Hyūga can choose to wallow and ignore it, or he can choose to pick up the phone. Izuki isn’t going to do so either way - he’ll be happy if Hyūga makes that call, but he won’t be terribly sad if he doesn't.

This time, he’s going to be the one that walks forward without looking back.

ahhh okay so this scene means a hella lot to me personally because... i had to grow, the way izuki grew. izuki’s now strong enough to sort of put the olive branch out and say, “take it or leave it,” and if it’s left he’s not gonna be upset. that’s something i really learned with a lot of difficulty and i think that that growth - in both me and him - is a lovely thing.

and there we have it! my favorite moments from each chapter of this story. *cries in a corner* god i can’t believe it’s over...

THANK YOU FOR THE JOURNEY!

[emotchalla]

Tempt You - V.

A/N: HELLO so I never thought I would finish this fucking part like I had all the ideas I just could not execute it??? I’m convinced this is still shit but I really wanted to post it, so here you are bbs! Quarantine has not given me that much inspo, unfortunately, but the sun has been out recently and I was motivated to get some writing done. ALSO, I just found out that Isiah’s name is actually Isiah and NOT Isaiah??? Like I just thought they pronounced it weird on the show bc Brummie accent but NO, that boy’s name is just Isiah. I’m so fucking shook lmao. ALSO ALSO, he’s a very hard character to write (pls be gentle!!!) because Stephen Knight literally gives us N O T H I N G and I could rant about how underutilized he is for DAYS but y’all did not come here for that! Enjoy the smut bbs! 

**All my works are written with a Black or POC reader in mind, because I am one myself, but all readers welcome!**

Pairing: Modern!Michael Gray x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Isiah, Michael’s best friend. After a night of dancing and rounds of shots at the bar, you invite Michael back to yours, and well...

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol use, gratuitous Isiah flirting (I’m sorry; I love him!!!) NSFW content (fingering, oral [f receiving], protected sex, dirty talk, light choking), soft Dom!Michael x sub!reader, Fluff (he really likes you, so he’s sweet)

Word Count: 8.4k+ (I actually died while writing this and resurrected just to upload. You’re welcome.)

series masterlist | main masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here | listen to “tempt you (evocatio)” here | find the spotify playlist here

**GIF not mine**

The next two weeks pass as if they’ve really been no time at all, and it’s mostly due to the strides you and Michael have made in your relationship. Things aren’t official yet, and you try to not let it annoy you. You know that he’s busy; he called a few days ago to update you with the news that his client was in fact being framed, and he and the team had been able to break their witnesses just by cross-examining them. You knew he was intimidating, but this was proof on a completely different level. When you told Michael this, he told you that one of his cousins told him the only reason he’d been given his law license was because he scared the shit out of the test administrators for his LPC. You told him that said cousin was a genius, and he grumbled something about how of course you’d like fucking John, and you launched into your relentless teasing.

It was the first time the two of you had been able to do more than text since your special night. Not only was he busy with work, school was kicking your ass and your audition was right around the corner. Regardless, you both found ways to talk to each other. You kept up with the daily pictures, most of them tame, and when Michael had a spare minute away from the courtroom, you’d check in about your days. It was as normal as things could get for now, and while it sucked to not see Michael for a month, you knew the reunion would be worth it. He’d promised you as much.

It’s Friday night, Michael’s just won his case, and you’ve invited him to go dancing with Savvy and a guy she’s seeing. When Michael imagined a night with you—celebrating his big win and getting to see you for the first time in a literal month—he wasn’t imagining going out to a club and dancing the night away. Michael doesn’t dance. When he was younger, he was too busy snorting coke in the alleyways behind pubs to bother with the dance floor. He didn’t even dance at Tommy’s wedding. But Michael can’t say no to you. He tries to exercise restraint, he does, but there’s a part of him that likes giving you whatever you ask as soon as you ask for it. So dancing it is. 

He wishes that if he had to take you to a club, it could be one that John or Isiah owns. At least he knows the environment, the people. He can blend in because their clubs are full of people he knows. It’d be nothing to sneak off with you and make good use of one of the VIP rooms. In a club run by, well, anyone else…Michael has to be on his guard. He doesn’t have control of what photo snapped in a dark corner ends up in some gossip mag’s inbox come Monday morning. The media follows the Shelbys and their progeny like vultures. Michael isn’t ready to expose you to that. Not yet. So maybe he might’ve asked Isiah to spontaneously visit from Birmingham and “happen to turn up” at the same club you’ll be at tonight. If you’re up for it, he’ll introduce the two of you. He knows you’ll get on immediately. 

“Y/N, if you don’t fuck that man tonight I’ll be so disappointed,” Savvy says as she examines your reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You look so fucking good.”

You grin at her as you set the last curl in your hair. Nights that you went out were few and far between, so you tended to go all out when you had the chance. The dress you’ve chosen for the night is actually one of Savvy’s that she insisted would look better on you. It hugs you in all the right places, and your boobs look good. Some of your favorite moments with Michael so far have been ones where you’ve made him speechless, and you can’t wait to do it tonight.

“Oh I don’t know if we’ll go that far, Sav,” you shrug, barely believing yourself.

If Michael gave you the chance, you were going to take it.

“Bullshit! The man bought you lingerie and sex toys.”

“Just because he did all of that, it doesn’t mean he’s gonna wanna fuck tonight.”

“He’s absolutely going to want to fuck tonight.”

“Just because you’re always thinking about sex, doesn’t mean everyone else is!” you giggle, watching as Savvy’s jaw drops in fake indignation.

“Now listen here, bitch!”

You both giggle as you turn back to the mirror—you to finish your hair, and Savvy to apply her lipstick. The night had already started for the two of you; while visiting her sister in Paris, Savvy had gotten used to having a glass of champagne while getting ready for their nights out. She insisted that the two of you carry on the tradition. Your head is already starting to float, and a warmth has settled into your skin. Tonight will be a good night. The doorbell rings, signaling Oliver’s arrival. Oliver dances in the same ballet company that Savvy does, and they’ve started seeing each other. You like him well enough. He’s charming, good to Savvy, and incredibly fun to party with.

The club you’re going to is right around the corner from where you live, so you’re having Michael meet you there. He’s had a hell of a month, and you want tonight to be a night where he can unwind. Although he’d won the case, he had a massive pile of work waiting for him in the office, so it’d be a bit before he could join you.

“I’ll go get Oliver. You finish up in here,” Savvy says, throwing you a wink over her shoulder as she leaves the bathroom.

You nod, and return your gaze to the mirror. Maybe Savvy is right about tonight. You’re tempted to snap a picture of your outfit to send to Michael, but you decide to let him be surprised when he sees you. You plan to drive him as wild as he’ll let you. If that means all the way…well, you’re ready to make this night worth it. Savvy’s giggle comes from the living room as she laughs at some joke Oliver’s just said, and you smile to yourself. She deserves to be happy.

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror before grabbing your phone and leaving the bathroom to join Savvy and Oliver.

“There she is!” Oliver greets, giving you a warm smile as you enter the living room.

“It’s good to see you!”

You give him a quick hug before he pulls away to give you a once-over. He nods, grinning at you.

“You two didn’t come to fuck around tonight, aye? You look fantastic, Y/N.”

You giggle, knocking your shoulder with his.

“Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite person Savvy’s ever dated?”

“You tell me every time you see me, but that doesn’t mean I ever want you to stop. I love the validation.”

“You sure Savvy’s the Prima ballerina and not you?”

Oliver cracks up, and soon you’re laughing with him. Savvy rolls her eyes in fake annoyance, grumbling to herself about how much she wishes you hated Oliver, so you wouldn’t talk so much. You all know she doesn’t mean it; she couldn’t be happier that two of her favorite people are fond of one another. It makes her feel like this can really go somewhere.

“Come on,” Oliver says, turning to wrap an arm around Savvy’s waist. “Let’s get out of here while you two have control of your limbs.”

Savvy’s the one to mouth off to him this time, and you shake your head as they begin to tease each other back and forth. It’s still warm enough outside that you don’t need a jacket, but you drape one over your shoulders just in case. You chat idly with Savvy and Oliver on your walk to the club. Still, your thoughts are entirely elsewhere. You can’t wait to see Michael tonight. It’s a bit strange to have moved so quickly, but you also find it exhilarating. Michael is unlike anyone you’ve ever met, and it makes him the most interesting man in the world.

There’s already a line starting to stretch around the corner when you reach The Lilac Room. Oliver whistles under his breath.

“It’s usually never this bad. Maybe someone’s making an appearance.”

You and Savvy both shrug as you follow him toward the large black doors lined with lavender UVs. He nods toward the bouncer, who immediately smiles at him in recognition. Another perk of Savvy dating Oliver? His older brother owned a series of nightclubs all across the city. Any time the two of you wanted a night out, you had your pick of venues, free drinks, and enough security personnel who knew who you were connected to to ensure that you had a night of stress-free dancing. No creepy men trying to buy you drinks and convince you to head back to his flat for the night. Just pure, uninterrupted fun. It made you wish you had more time to actually go out.

The moment you’re inside the club, you’re itching to make a beeline for the illuminated dance floor in the center of the room. Savvy and Oliver steer you toward a VIP booth instead, where a waiter is already waiting to take your drink orders.

“Why are we sitting? We came to dance!” you whine as Savvy urges you into the booth with a nudge of her hip.

Oliver merely chuckles before leaning over to the waiter to order your first round of drinks for the night. Mojitos for you and Savvy, a finger of scotch for Oliver, and for Michael—

“What do you think your guy would like, Y/N?” Oliver asks, a slight twinkle in his eye.

You think he and Michael will get along quite well. Sadly, you don’t know enough about Michael to know his favorites, but he told you during some late night phone call or another that on really rough days, he’d lock himself in his office and nurse a bottle of whiskey. His cousin Tommy’s, if he had it. As long as it could get him drunk, he wouldn’t complain.

“Whiskey, neat, I’m thinking,” you tell him, and Oliver’s face breaks out into a grin.

“I like him already,” he says, before turning back to the waiter.

You turn toward Savvy.

“I think he and Michael are gonna get along a little too well,” you sigh.

She nods.

“I think Ollie’s gonna like your boy more than you do.”

You share a laugh before Oliver comes back over.

“If you two want to check out the dance floor now feel free to. I’ll wait here for the drinks.”

Savvy leans over to give him a quick kiss.

“You’re the best,” she murmurs against his lips, and you don’t miss the way Oliver’s eyes sparkle when they look at her.

Savvy grabs your hand then, and you both head to the dance floor. Almost immediately, you’re surrounded by a group of other dancing bodies, and you feel the stress of the past month give way with every thump of the bass. You can lose yourself here. You and Savvy quickly fall into your usual pattern, bodies moving along to the music steadily pumping through the club’s speakers as you’re gently jostled toward the center of the dance floor. Savvy throws her arms across your shoulders as the two of you giggle and dance even closer together. It’s easy to fall into rhythm with Savvy, and you toss your head back as she twirls you around. Savvy leans in close to your face.

“There’s a guy watching you over at the bar,” she whispers, turning you around to catch the briefest glimpse of him before spinning you to face her again.

You grin and shake your head.

“How do you know he’s not watching you?”

Savvy rolls her eyes.

“Because I pay attention,” she scoffs. “Go talk to him.”

You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Michael will be here any minute.”

“And? You’re still single and you look hot tonight. I think you can flirt with a rando at a bar without him worrying about being mugged off.”

“Oh Savvy I don’t know,” you sigh. “I really like him.”

Savvy rolls her eyes.

“I know you do, Y/N, but you’ve also had a shit month and you’re wound tighter than a fucking spring! You can have fun, let the very hot guy at the bar buy you a drink, and then come back and dance with me until your sugar daddy boyfriend gets here, okay?”

“He’s not my sugar daddy Savvy,” you correct.

“Again, I call bull. But stop stalling and get your ass over to the bar.”

She gently pushes you in the bar’s general direction, and you shake your head at her antics, mustering up the courage to approach the stranger across the room whose eyes you can now see are trained on your every move. There’s something familiar about him almost immediately, but you can’t place it. He smirks as he watches you approach, leaning back into the bar with an ease that’s natural. He moves like Michael does, you think. He moves like he owns the place. You’d believe he did, if you didn’t know Oliver’s brother personally. As you get closer to the stranger, you watch his eyes widen at the sight of you. You take a seat at the bar, leaving enough distance between you and him that if he wants to talk, he’ll have to come over to you. You glance at him over your shoulder before motioning toward the bartender, hoping the stranger will take the hint.

“Ice water, please,” you ask the bartender.

You want to keep your wits about you.

“Are you here with anyone?”

You turn toward the voice that’s warmer than you expected. The stranger smiles at you, full lips stretching across white teeth, and your stomach does somersaults. He’s gorgeous in the way that models are, and has the warmest brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I-I am, yeah. Well, waiting for someone,” you stammer, a bit taken aback.

He frowns, but gives you a small nod.

“Can’t say I’m pleased to hear it, though it’s what I expected,” he drawls, luring you in almost immediately.

Woah. His voice is like honey—warm and smooth, and a bit dark too—and you instantly know that this man knows what he’s doing. To prove it, he smirks at you as the next words tumble from his mouth.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous so of course you’ve got someone. Although I will say, he seems like a pretty shit guy to leave a girl like you alone tonight.”

Chatty, too, you think to yourself, amused by him already. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he leans across the bar to extend his hand.

“I’m Isiah.”

“Y/N,” you say, taking his hand to shake it. “I’m surprised you let me get a word in.”

Isiah laughs loud enough for the whole bar to hear, and sure enough, some patrons turn to glance your way before going back to their own business. If Michael shows up to the club before you’ve made it back to Savvy, you hope he won’t get the wrong idea.

“It’s a shame you are seeing someone,” he chuckles. “It’s not often you find a girl that’s both good to look at and to talk to.”

From the cheeky glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s just chatting, but you don’t resist the urge to take the bait and light him up a bit.

“Well maybe if you weren’t an ass that only approached girls because you liked the look of them, you’d find that most of us are able to hold a conversation.”

You wink at him as the bartender brings over your water, and reaches to replace Isiah’s glass of whiskey. Isiah turns toward you, a soft smile on his lips.

“You’re right. That was a bit of a dick thing to say. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

You roll your eyes playfully at his question. Quite the charmer, this one.

“I did tell you I was waiting for someone,” you tease.

“I know,” he says. “I just want to buy you a drink. Promise.”

You take a minute to get a good look at him. He’s a beautiful man, you’ve gathered that already. Smooth, warm brown skin and even browner, sparkling eyes. He might be one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen.

“Sure,” you say. “I’ll take a mojito.”

He grins at you before giving you a quick nod and placing your order with the bartender. Put anything she orders on my tab, you hear him say, and you marvel at the gesture. It’s a shame that you can’t actually flirt with him like you’d really like to.

“So where’re you from?” he asks.

“The States. Chicago. I moved here for grad school. What about you?”

“Birmingham,” he answers, and your eyes light with recognition.

“I thought I recognized your accent.”

Isiah stares back at you, incredulous. How would you know his accent?

“You been there before?”

“No,” you begin, shaking your head. “My boyf—er, friend’s from there.”

Did you just slip up and almost call Michael your boyfriend? Shit. You’re in this deeper than you thought. Isiah nods.

“Ah, well he’s got good taste.”

“In what?”

“Girls and hometowns.”

His goofiness surprises you, and you let a giggle slip from your lips. Isiah’s eyes light at the sound.

“What a pretty laugh,” he sighs.

You thank him sweetly, and he mutters under his breath about how unfair it is that you’re basically spoken for, because you’re fucking perfect. The bartender brings your drinks, and when Isiah hands you your glass, goosebumps rise on your skin as your fingertips graze his. You take the opportunity to gaze at him while you sip your drink, watching as he loses himself in your eyes. It’s good to know that he feels it too. This pull—magnetic, almost. Instinctively, he leans closer, and your breath catches in your throat. Before either of you can do anything you’ll eventually regret, you feel an arm wrap around your waist.

“There you are.”

Michael. Thankfully, Isiah registers his presence before Michael notices that he’s been flirting with you.

“I should’ve known she was your girl,” Isiah chuckles, shaking his head.

“I should’ve known the two of you would find each other without me having to introduce you.”

Your eyes widen as you look back and forth between the two of them.

“You know each other?”

They both laugh, nodding at you. Michael’s eyes are bright as he looks down to give you a soft smile.

“Isiah’s my best mate, basically my brother. We’ve been friends since we were teens,” he says. “He’s also the only person I know, besides my cousin John, that’s cheekier than you.”

You roll your eyes at the last bit, which only makes him laugh.

“You’re lucky I’ve missed you, you ass.”

He chuckles and pulls you close to press a kiss to your temple.

“Mm, I’ve missed you too,” he hums, giving your waist a quick squeeze before pulling away to turn to his friend. “Do you mind if I stay and chat to Isiah for a bit? You can head back to Savvy if you’d like, I’ll join you soon.”

You nod, and turn to Isiah.

“It was really great to meet you. Thank you for the drink! It’s good to know Michael actually has friends,” you quip, offering him a sweet smile.

He grins.

“It was great to meet you too, Y/N. I’ll see you ‘round, yeah?”

You nod, and give him a small wave goodbye before heading over to Savvy and Oliver who have made themselves comfortable in the booth you’ve been given for the night.

“Holy shit Sav,” you gush, as soon as you’re within earshot. “So that was Michael’s best friend.”

Savvy’s eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of her skull.

“What??” she asks, incredulous.

“I didn’t know it until Michael came over and actually introduced us, but yeah. God, I’m a little embarrassed. I need another drink.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raise at that.

“Shots?”

You nod quickly.

“Hell yes. Shots.”

He smirks at you. How Savvy managed to find a boyfriend that’s essentially your carbon copy is something you’ll never figure out, but you don’t even mind. Thank the universe for Oliver.

“I’ll head over to the bar now then.”

“You’re my favorite person. You know that, right?”

“It gets better every time you tell me!”

You both giggle at yourselves, and Savvy rolls her eyes.

“You two are obnoxious,” she whines.

“We know,” Oliver says, leaning over to press a sweet kiss to her mouth.

He grabs the glass of whiskey you ordered for Michael and heads toward the bar. As soon as he’s gone, Savvy turns toward you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Spill.”

“You’re such a gossip, you know that Sav?”

“Stop stalling!”

You sigh, glancing over at the bar to see Oliver engaged in lively conversation with Michael and Isiah, and you smile to yourself.

“He was really, really nice,” you begin. “And funny, and sweet, and basically if I wasn’t already somewhat-dating his best friend I would’ve had no problem letting him take me home tonight.”

Savvy’s jaw drops.

“Shut up.”

“I know.”

“You weren’t even over there for that long!”

You nod in agreement.

“That’s why it’s so bizarre. I don’t know, Sav, it just felt…good to talk to him. Comfortable, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Savvy muses. “You could always date them both.”

“Savvy!”

“You could! It’s 2020, Y/N.”

“I know I can, smartass,” you say, rolling your eyes. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not Michael’s thing.”

You can see the wheels turning in her drama obsessed brain.

“Threesome?”

“Savvy!”

You can’t control the laugh that escapes your mouth, and soon Savvy is laughing with you. When Michael and Oliver return to your booth—a round of shots for each of you in their hands—you’re still recovering from the fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Oliver asks, and you and Savvy quickly shake your heads.

“Oh it’s nothing, babe! Just being silly,” she says, reaching for one of the shots in his hand.

Michael slides into the booth next to you, setting the drinks down on the table. When he turns toward you, you feel the heat of his gaze immediately.

“Hi,” he breathes, leaning forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His hand lingers on your skin, fingers ghosting along the back of your neck. He resists the urge to tug you toward him and press a kiss to your lips, mostly because he can’t kiss you the way he’d like to in public. Not while he’s still this sober, anyway.

“Hi,” you echo, leaning into his touch.

“You don’t know how good it is to see you after the month I’ve had.”

“Hmm, you should show me then, Gray,” you smirk, reaching for the shot glasses.

“Trouble,” he murmurs, accepting the shot you offer him.

Savvy and Oliver turn toward you then, and the four of you toast glasses before tossing back your shots. Tequila. It burns your throat on the way down, and you shake your head as your body adjusts to the sting. Michael slides a glass of water your way, and you give him a grateful smile before taking a sip.

“We’re going to go dance!” Savvy announces, tugging on Oliver’s hand.

As she leads him out of the booth, she turns to give you and Michael a quick wink over her shoulder. Michael chuckles as you shake your head at Savvy’s antics.

“I, for one, am incredibly grateful for your roommate,” he says, sliding closer to you.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” you ask bemusedly.

A slow grin spreads across Michaels lips as he leans forward to cup the back of your head. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Because now I get to do this,” he purrs, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is softer than you expected, and you sigh into Michael’s mouth as he keeps his kisses slow. His fingers curl along your jaw to pull you closer.

“Michael,” you sigh against his mouth, fully leaning into his touch.

His other hand presses against your waist—and as your kisses quicken, Michael’s thumb rubs gentle circles into the bit of exposed skin at your stomach.

“I really like this dress,” he murmurs, allowing the tip of his thumb to graze the underside of your breast.

He runs his tongue along your bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth. Your hands tangle in his hair, and soon, you completely forget your surroundings. It’s definitely been too long since you’ve last kissed him, and if his actions tonight have been any indication: Michael feels the same way.

“We should go dance, you know,” you whisper against his lips, making no move to actually pull away.

“We’ll get there, eventually,” he counters, kissing you again.

You don’t protest when he slips his tongue in your mouth. His fingers trace your jaw, then your collarbone before finally coming to rest against your throat. He doesn’t apply pressure, but they rest there, and you feel a knot beginning to build in your stomach. Michael pulls away to look into your eyes then, fingers still pressed to your neck.

“I’m so tempted to say fuck it and let’s head back to mine, but I think Savvy’d have my head for that.”

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or Michael himself, but your head’s already buzzing. You nod, giving him a timid smile before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“She definitely would.”

“You’re a giddy drunk,” he teases, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest.

“I’m not drunk, yet,” you quip. “I’m just happy to see you. And maybe slightly tipsy.”

“Mmm,” he hums. “I’m happy to see you too. So happy, in fact, that I brought you a present.”

“Michael,” you start to protest.

“You’ll like this one, Y/N. I promise.”

He pulls away from you to pull something out of his jacket, and you try not to frown at the loss of contact. He hands you a plain white envelope. You look back at him, and urges you to open it. You recognize the print of the ticket stubs immediately. Shakespeare’s Globe. Titus Andronicus. Standing tickets. So he had listened to your rant about the best way to experience a show there. The smile on your face is likely enormous and stupid, but you can’t be bothered to care. You turn toward him to find him already grinning back at you.

“Did you go to my job and buy tickets for a show?”

He nods.

“I promised you that I’d let you take me to one.”

“I could have probably gotten them for free, you know?”

“I know,” he says. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see that look on your face.”

You lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. He gasps against your mouth, and you wrap an arm around the back of his neck to pull him closer. It’s unbelievably sweet of him to have thought of you and your job, especially amidst his own responsibilities. You’ve managed to catch him off guard by kissing him first, and Michael groans low in his throat as you card your fingers through his hair.

“Let’s go dance,” you whisper hotly against his mouth. “And then, I want you to take me home.”

Around shot four or five, Savvy suggests body shots. You’re beyond tipsy at this point—solidly drunk is more like it— and any idea that comes out of her mouth sounds like a good one in this state. At any rate, it’ll give Michael even more of an excuse to touch you. You’ve returned to your booth for a slight break from dancing. Michael holds his liquor much better than you do, but even he’s considerably under the influence. He’s taken off his jacket, and he watches as your fingers idly trace the buttons that line his torso. You’ve been glued to one another all night. Michael expected to hate dancing, but quickly found that it’s hard to hate anything that gives him an excuse to press your body to his in public. You’re a good dancer too. 

Savvy and Oliver return to the table with a plate of limes and a pair of salt shakers, and Michael’s eyes darken with an idea. You watch him, curiously, as he reaches toward one of the shot glasses. 

“Grab a lime, Y/N,” he instructs, reaching for the salt. 

You do as he says, watching him with bright eyes. 

“Now put it between those pretty lips of yours.”

You don’t miss the suggestive nature of his tone, and you smirk at him as you raise the lime slice to your mouth. You part your lips slightly, watching as Michael’s eyes zero in on them. 

“Y/N,” he warns.

“Relax. I’m putting it in my mouth right now,” you tease, laughing at your own cheek before popping the lime slice between your lips.

Michael rolls his eyes but leans his face close to whisper in your ear.

“Tilt you head back, and stay still for me, yeah?” 

You nod, before doing what he asks. Michael leans forward to press a kiss to your throat. You gasp, and as your body starts to lurch forward Michael’s hand is firm at your back.

“Easy,” he murmurs. 

He trails kisses from your neck to your collarbone, coming to rest at the slight peaks of your breasts exposed by your dress. Michael doesn’t hesitate to lick a stripe of skin, and cold air touches your skin for only a moment before you feel the sprinkle of salt. A hand cups the back of your head and tilts you forward to meet Michael’s dark, green eyes. 

“I should probably take that shot,” you hear him say, but you’re still focused on his eyes. 

Michael takes the shot without even wincing. When he leans forward to lick at the salt on your chest, he holds your eyes. He trails kisses up your neck until you can feel his breath along your jaw. Your breath catches as he leans forward to pluck the lime from your lips. When you grab at his shirt and pull him back in to kiss you, you can taste the tequila still on his tongue. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you remember that you aren’t entirely alone, so you don’t kiss Michael like you’d like to. Instead, you pull away to look into his eyes.

“I want to go home.”

He nods. 

“Okay. Let’s go, then.” 

You make quick work of saying goodbye to Savvy and Oliver, who plan on staying out “just a bit longer.” Michael makes a call, and then the two of you make your way toward the exit. The night is quiet outside of The Lilac Room, and as the two of you stumble toward your apartment, you’re grateful for the fresh air. Michael holds your hand as you make the short walk back to your apartment, listening to you chat idly about your upcoming audition and a recent conversation you’d had with one of your professors. He waits until you’re both inside your apartment to pull you close, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“I missed you so much,” he sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know it’s odd, seeing as we haven’t known each other long at all, but I did. I really did.” 

You smile at him, reaching up to cup one of his cheeks. 

“I missed you too, Michael.”

“Can I kiss you, gorgeous?”

“You know you can, Mr. Gray.”

“My cheeky girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours. 

This kiss is needier than you expected, but you lean into Michael’s touch. You stumble back toward your bedroom, tugging at his shirt to keep his lips pressed to yours. Thankfully, you left your door open before heading out, so you and Michael easily slip inside your room. He takes a second to pull away and shut the door behind you before leading you over to your bed. He kisses you again, and you let his hands guide you to lay back onto your bed. Michael follows your body, coming to settle between your thighs. You hook your legs around his waist, and Michael chuckles, pulling his mouth from yours.

“Not tonight, Y/N.”

You frown, looking up at him. 

“Why not?”

“Don’t pout,” he chides. “We’ve both been drinking. I don’t think either of us have got a clear enough head to be making that decision.”

“Fuck, why are you so nice?” you whine, flopping back onto your pillows. 

Michael chuckles and rolls off of you. He sits up to kick off his shoes, then reaches forward to unstrap your heels. 

“‘M only nice to you,” he insists.

You sit up onto your elbows and look at him.

“Help me out of this dress?”

He nods and offers a hand to you. 

“Come ‘ere.”

Michael helps you off of the bed and turns you around to get the zipper at your back. You slip the dress off of your shoulders, and Michael hands you the oversized t-shirt you have thrown at the foot of your bed. You slip it over your head and instruct Michael to check in your drawers for a set of sweat pants that would probably fit him. You head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and give him time to change, being sure to grab a bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet before heading back to your room. Michael smiles at you when you come in, arms reaching to pull you close. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he hums drowsily, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You crawl under your covers, feeling Michael’s body follow close behind. He cradles you in his arms, pressing your back to his chest. He leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder before settling into your pillows. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he mumbles, already drifting to sleep. 

You smile as you close your eyes, relaxing against his chest. 

“Goodnight Michael.” 

You’re a goddess first thing in the morning, Michael thinks. He hasn’t always been an early bird, but he’s grown so used to mornings in court that it’s become a second nature. What he isn’t used to, is waking up in someone else’s bed. Sleeping next to a woman he hasn’t fucked. It’s odd how at home he feels with an arm slung around your waist and your cheek pressed to his chest. He keeps his breathing light, not want to disturb your sleep, not yet. He’d rather just hold you close while he ignores the headache starting to creep in at his temples. A quick glance over to your bedside table reminds him of the bottle of painkillers you set out before the two of you headed to bed, and Michael thanks the heavens that you’re bloody brilliant. He needs water though, and you will too when you wake. 

Slowly, he eases out from under you, waiting until you’ve settled against the pillows before he climbs out of your bed and heads toward the kitchen. There’s no sign of Savvy or Oliver, and he makes quick work of finding two glasses. He runs the tap until it’s cold, then fills up a cup for each of you before heading back to your room. He finds you splayed out against the pillows, starfish style. Cute, he thinks, ambling toward your nightstand. He’s careful to keep the bottle still, so the rattling of the pills inside don’t wake you up. Michael fishes two ibuprofen for both of you before setting the bottle back on the table and climbing into bed. Gently, he wraps an arm around your shoulder to shake you awake. You feel the soft press of lips against your temples, and smile in your sleepy haze.

“Wake up, pretty girl,” Michael coos, chuckling as you curl further into his chest.

“Mmm, don’t wanna,” you mumble, shaking your head.

“Come on, Y/N,” he laughs. “I wanna see your eyes. Please?”

His hands trace up and down your back as he presses slow kisses to your neck. Your body is certainly awake now, but you keep your eyes closed to draw out Michael’s teasing. He kisses his way up your neck and across your jaw, until his mouth reaches your earlobe.

“Wake up, Y/N,” he grunts, nibbling at your ear with his teeth.

Your eyes shoot open as a soft gasp leaves your lips, and Michael settles over you.

“There she is,” he hums, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

You smile against his mouth as you kiss him back, pulling him closer with a hand at the nape of his neck. Michael’s hips settle in between your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist. Just like last night, you think. You can’t believe this is finally happening. 

“Wait wait,” Michael breathes, pulling away to sit back on his legs.

“Again?” you groan, sitting up to glare at him.

Michael smirks at you as he leans over toward your nightstand, reaching for a glass of water and the painkillers you set out last night. He pushes them into your hands before grabbing some of his own. Michael downs the medicine and the water before setting the glass down. His hands find your thighs, and his thumbs rub slow circles on your skin as he looks into your eyes.

“Take those and drink the entire glass, and I’ll make you feel good,” he whispers, voice low.

You don’t miss the heat in his eyes. Michael watches as you take the medicine and drink all of your water, thumbs  continuing to stroke the insides of your thighs. As soon as you finish, Michael leans forward to wrap an arm around your back. He takes the glass from your hand and sets it down. His hands trail up from your thighs and catch the hem of your t-shirt. He lifts it over your head before tossing it over his shoulder.

“Lean back onto your pillows,” he instructs, following your body with his. 

Michael slots his lips over yours, immediately dipping his tongue into your mouth. Eager to have his lips on yours again, you curl your fingers into his hair to keep his mouth close. Michael’s hands grip your waist, as you raise your hips to wrap your legs around his waist, caging him in once again. Michael smirks against your mouth.

“I’m starting to get the hint that this is a favorite position of yours,” he hums, hands sliding down to massage the globes of your ass.

“Michael,” you sigh, leaning your head back as his kisses trail toward your neck.

“I can’t wait to taste you, pretty girl,” he whispers against your skin, hands trailing up to tug your panties over your ass and down your legs.

Michael pulls away briefly to admire the sight of you naked before him. 

“You look perfect,” he sighs, reaching down to palm himself through his sweats.

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper.

Michael grins at you, reaching forward to cup your cheek in his palm. 

“You gonna be good for me?”

You nod quickly, back arching when you feel one of his hands slip between your legs. He groans low in his throat when he feels you practically dripping for him already. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, watching through lidded eyes as he slides one finger into your slick heat. “You’re fucking wet.”

He peppers hot kisses against the base of your throat as he slowly works his finger, thumb coming up to rub soft circles on your clit. 

“Sh-Shit,” you whimper, as Michael sucks a mark onto your collarbone.

“Tell me how it feels,” he mumbles, adding another finger. 

“So good,” you gasp. “Fuck, Michael!”

He fucks you slow with his fingers, curling them slightly to reach even deeper before dragging them out again. His tongue laps at the mark he’s made, dark eyes watching you as you struggle to collect your words.

“It feels good,” you whine.

It’s all you can manage.

“Just good?” he hums. “Sounds like I should make it even better, yeah?”

You nod, watching as he trails his kisses down the center of your chest, over your stomach and upper thighs before coming to rest at their apex. He leans down to rest on his elbows, face to face with his fingers sliding in and out of you. 

“Can I have a taste?” he asks, licking his bottom lip as his eyes zero in on your wetness.

“Please, Sir,” you beg, hands already finding their place in his hair.

Michael flattens his tongue against you before licking a long stripe up your clit, pulling a beautiful moan from your lips. He laps at the pool of wetness that has started to gather on his fingers, and gazes up at you to watch you begin to unravel at his touch. There’s a pressure building in the pit of your stomach, and as Michael curls his fingers to brush against that spot, you start to see stars. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine as he wraps his lips around your clit.

Michael sucks, hard, pulling a squeal from your lips.

“Such pretty noises, baby,” he moans, watching you in awe.

You’ve never seen someone look at you with equal parts lust and admiration, but Michael gazes up at you as if you’re something divine. You feel yourself start to clench around his fingers, and Michael groans against you. He keeps his free hand at your hip, anchoring himself as he gets lost in you. He closes his eyes as he sucks harder, fingers pumping at a steady rhythm to bring you closer to the edge. You can feel your legs beginning to shake, and you tug at Michael’s hair.

“Sir, please,” you gasp, back arching as Michael curls his fingers again.

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum.”

“Go ahead,” he grunts, closing his lips around your clit again.

Your resolve snaps, and you gasp Michael’s name as you cum on his fingers. He slips his fingers out of you only to replace them with his tongue, fucking you slowly through your orgasm. You open your eyes to see him smiling up at you, mouth slick with your release. Michael presses soft kisses to your clit as your body settles from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He kisses up your body until he’s face to face with you, eyes lighting at your flushed cheeks. 

“I’ve been waiting entirely too long to do that,” is the first thing he says, and you’re too blissed out to come up with one of your usual witty comebacks.

Instead, you reach for his wrist and pull his fingers—still wet with your cum—and slip them into your mouth. Michael groans as you slip your tongue in between them, keeping your eyes on his.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispers, unable to look away from your plump lips as his fingers slip in and out and in and out.

He growls when your teeth graze his skin. One of Michael’s hands curls beneath your jaw, and he pulls you forward to straddle his hips. You let go of his fingers with an audible pop, staring into his lust-blown eyes.

“Are you gonna fuck me now, Mr. Gray?” you ask sweetly, trailing a hand down his chest to slip into his sweatpants.

He’s hard and heavy in your hand, and you give him a few gentle strokes as you watch his resolve begin to break. A muscle ticks in Michael’s jaw, and his hand on your jaw slides down to wrap gently around your throat. 

“I am,” he growls, wrapping his other hand around your wrist to stop your movements. 

He instructs you to lay back, standing up to slip his sweats and boxers off of his hips and down his legs. You direct him over to the box of condoms nestled in a drawer under your bedside table, and you watch with hungry eyes as he slips the latex over his length. He’s bigger than you expected, and you watch him smirk as he registers the surprise in your eyes. Before you can start to genuinely ask him if he’ll actually fit, Michael covers his mouth with yours. One of his hands directs your arms above your head, and he latches onto your wrists to hold them there. 

“Please fuck me,” you whimper against his lips.

“Easy,” he chuckles, trailing a hand to the inside of your thigh to spread your legs wider for him. “I’ve got you.”

He takes himself in his hand, rubbing the head of his cock against your folds. You whine, bucking your hips toward the touch, desperate for friction. 

“Please,” you sigh.

“You can have whatever you want when you beg me like that,” Michael groans, pushing himself forward to slip inside of you.

He takes his time to make sure you feel him inch by inch, sucking on your bottom lip with his tongue. He stills when he finally bottoms out, groaning low in his throat as you clench around his cock.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmurs.

“So do you,” you sigh, tossing your head back as he begins to move his hips. 

Michael keeps his thrusts slow, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist to pull him in deeper. His hand slips between the two of you to rub slow circles at your clit, and Michael lifts his mouth from yours to look into your eyes. 

“You’re squeezing the shit out of my cock, baby,” he groans as he continues his lazy thrusts, face falling to the crook of your neck.

Michael places hot, open-mouthed kisses to your skin as he continues to work you open, spurred on by the soft moans leaving your lips with every thrust of his hips. It’s slow, sleepy morning sex, and you lose yourself in the feeling of Michael getting to know your body for the first time. It feels delicious, the pleasure he’s bringing you, and as he brings you closer toward your release you find yourself getting lost even further in his touch. You start to work your hips against his, and Michael’s hands grip your ass to pull you even closer.

“Fuck baby, look at you,” he coos. “Fucking your perfect little pussy on my cock. You’re such a good girl.”

His hand at your clit rubs the slightest bit faster, and you gasp as one of Michael’s hands returns to your throat. 

“I’m-I’m gonna—” your breath hitches in your throat, but Michael nods, understanding. 

He gives your throat a gentle squeeze as he feels your body tense, signaling the approach of your climax.

“Cum for me sweet girl,” he murmurs, staring hungrily at you as your body begins to unravel.

“Oh my god,” you whine as your orgasm takes you by surprise, gazing wide-eyed at Michael as he continues to fuck you through it.

“Shit, that feels good,” he hums, pistoning his hips a bit faster to chase his own release.

Your hands scrape along his back as you feel yourself on the edge of another, smaller orgasm, and you clench around Michael’s cock as his hips stutter. He’s close. 

“Come on my cock, Y/N,” he hisses, burying his face into the pillow behind you.

You let go. Michael’s body freezes as he’s struck with his own orgasm, and your name falls from his lips as he feels you squeeze him again. Absolutely perfect, he whispers into your skin, soft kiss after soft kiss up and down the column of your neck. He’s gorgeous in his post-orgasm glow, and you card your fingers through his hair as he catches his breath. You whine when he pulls his hips from yours, but he settles back onto the pillows to pull you onto his chest. 

“You’re everything I have ever wanted,” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Hmm, everything?” you sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his mouth before pulling away to look into his eyes.

“Everything,” he confirms, brushing his fingers across your cheek.

“Well thank you,” you say, surprised at his sudden tenderness.

Michael gazes at you softly as you look down at him, green eyes shining with a fondness you suspect he’s reserved only for you.

“Can I ask you something?”

He breaks eye contact, staring down at his hands. 

“What is it, Michael?”

He takes a breath before looking up at you again, determination in his eyes.

“I don’t want to rush you, especially since last night was technically only our second date, but I was thinking, and wondering if maybe you’d like to—”

“Yes,” you interrupt, watching as the smile builds on Michael’s face.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” he smirks, leaning forward to touch his forehead to yours.

“Didn’t need to,” you hum. “I’ve been waiting too long for you to ask me out, officially, Gray.”

He’ll never get tired of that mouth of yours.

“Oh you have, hm?” he asks, pressing a hot kiss to your lips.

You can feel him beginning to stir again between your legs, and you smirk against his mouth. 

“I have. You sure took your time.”

He chuckles and kisses you again, slipping his arms around you to cradle to close to his chest. 

“Let’s go take a shower,” he suggests, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. 

His head lolls lazily on his shoulders as he gazes up to look at you, running his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“And then we can come back to bed so I can really fuck you like you’re mine.”

“You’re on, Mr. Gray,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you from the bed and carries you toward the bathroom. 

His, you muse. You could get used to this.

reblogging later with tags. wanna be tagged in this fic? click the link above! (do not send me an ask! click the link!)

[uncannygarco-blog]

GIANT SIZED GOTHAM IS BURNING 5: Part Two

•

Jonathan, although meek in his countenance and unassuming with his attire, is not taken by surprise. He maneuvers to his side just enough that Reginald missed completely, and with his right hand, pulls dust out from the marble beneath him.

Reginald crashes directly into a pillar, but rebounds almost instantly and lunges again before even hitting the ground.

The dust twirling around Jonathan's fingertips arranges itself neatly into a vertebral column, then four legged skeleton until, almost out of thin air, a wooly mammoth is raised from the dead to meet his attack head on.

Reginald slams into the beast's thick hide and, to both their surprises, forces it backward just an inch. The surprise throws more than Reginald's attention off; the shock cuts into his anger and quells the strength and speed that had been gestating. "Where in the fuck did you get a wooly mammoth?" He asks.

"Give this up, turn yourself in," Jonathan says, walking alongside the brooding Mastodon. "I have every creature that has ever died here at my disposal."

"Turn myself in for what?! You people kill my friend, harass me on a train, and you want me to go to jail for it?" Reginald screams, making no attempt to lift himself off of the ground while underneath those monstrous tusks.

Jonathan broods himself over the question, and responds, "it isn't that simple. There are malevolent forces...dangerous people out there. Some of them need guidance, some of them need to be eliminated."

"Yeah," Reginald says, his body responding to tantamount to the distress he is feeling. "You're one of them." He lunges upward from his seated position; the mammoth responds by driving its tusks forward, but Reginald grabs hold of one, swings himself around it and dropkicks Jonathan backward into the metallic Thomas Jefferson behind him. The mammoth shouts a grizzly, trumpet-like scream as it bursts into a cloud of dust and dissipates, while Jonathan briefly loses consciousness.

He wrestles himself onto a knee. "You're a talented kid. Why don't you use these powers for something useful?" He ushers forth clouds of dust again, undoubtedly preparing another attack.

"I'm a political science major at Howard!" Reginald shouts in response. "I'm literally studying policy and activism so that I can make a difference on the national scale for people like me. Elijah was studying civil engineering...he had plans to build community centers where we could safely use our abilities. The only person here misusing their gift is you!" Reginald marches forward, evolving now into a more nimble, yet hulking version of himself. "You always claimed to represent the best of the powered community. Used your famous family's name to get weasel your way into civil service."

"That's not true," Jonathan responds, suddenly feeling the pressure of the conflicting promises he had made to himself, his family, his community, and to his employers.

"It is true!" Reginald states. "I pay attention! I rooted for you, like every other weird kid who was born with green skin or uneven limbs did."

"One, I have bills to pay," Jonathan says in return. "Two, this is bigger than anything you or I can fix."

Although he is deeply emotional and overflowing with tears, not out of anger, but being so far out of control, Reginald's voice neither shakes nor cracks in his discourse. "At least I'm trying," he yells in return. "Elijah was trying too." He wipes the tears from his face and lunges again, but suddenly the unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierces the air.

Reginald is diverted midair into another pillar, into which he crashes uncontrollably. Jonathan turns to find Agent Broadus, trailed by two dozen police officers, including Wilhelm F., and a smoking military grade shotgun. "Nice work," Agent Broadus calls out from afar.

"You...followed me and you...shot him?" Jonathan says in disbelief.

Agent Broadus approaches Jonathan and for the first time in his career, reaches a hand out to help him from the ground. "Would you prefer I let him destroy our memorial and kill you? You actually did your job, distracting him for us." He waves the other officers in, who run up to Reginald with cuffs and restraints. The boy's body is still, face down and unresponsive.

"He was studying to be a politician," Jonathan recounts, his eyes affixed onto the body.

"Then it looks like we killed two birds with one stone," Agent Broadus states coldly.

Jonathan is entranced by these words, though he tries not to show it. He tries so often not to show anything; a result if being surrounded by more of the dead than the living, but he cannot shake the feeling that he has made a grave mistake.

He watches in silence as those government officers, who made the same promise he had, prod the boy's body with batons and sensors as if he was just an animal. Agent Broadus watches with a grin stretched across his entire face.

"This isn't what I wanted," Jonathan utters to himself, still kneeling underneath the inscription, [I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.]

"Say what?" Agent Broadus asks, only halfway paying attention.

"He's alive, sir," one of the officers calls out. "Do we take him in or take him out?"

Jonathan, beaten and near the point of exhaustion himself, has heard enough. "No," he says in as loudly a voice as he can muster. "This ends now."

That dust that had yet to settle amidst floating in and through the pillars - it dances to the rhythm of Jonathan's fingertips, it finds its legs on the marble flooring beneath these men, and out from the ashes of the Earth, forty-four long dead men reclaim their places among the living.

The officers are all shocked, frightened - they have seen many strange things before, but this is not merely a display of the uncanny. These men are brittle, yet strong all at once. They stand like warriors who have been subjugated by their inferiors. They are all one color, and they had died there because of it. They are angry.

"What is this," Agent Broadus demands to know. "Jonathan what the hell are you doing."

"Standing up for something....for once," Jonathan says as he rises to his feet. He then addresses the forty-four dead men and orders, "Kill everyone here lighter than me."

Immediately, those dead men begin shouting, ripping and tearing into the officers around them. The officers fire their weapons and fight back, but those men have been dead before. They do not fight with the same level of ferocity; those dead men have longed for this moment all their natural lives.

A dead man in chains tears the arm out of an officer's socket. Another gouges the eyes out of a defending officer's head. A tall, slender man, who probably carried the marble to the memorial himself, drives his entire arm through the gaping mouth of a shouting officer.

Those among them who can, flee into the cherry blossoms to escape the undead attackers. Those who remain are slaughtered - picked apart like wishbones.

Agent Broadus fights back. "You fucking traitor," he shouts in between blows. He turns his attention toward Reginald, unconscious and bleeding on the ground. He knows that, although these dead men are focused on all the other officers, they will not allow him to murder Jonathan. So he chooses to take a life that is firmly in his grasp.

He cocks his weapon.

He aims it at the young man, who bares reminders of countenance and power to his father, and prepares to let loose his bottled up rage. However, someone stands in his way.

Having walked into his line of sight, Elijah stands silently amidst the chaotic atmosphere. "Move! Kid move!!!" Agent Broadus shouts.

Elijah does not. He turns toward Reginald and says with more conviction than any of those dead men could muster, "Get up."

Reginald inhales forcefully; that voice is a stark reminder of all the promises he had made. He tears his shirt open and sees his torso covered in blood, but apparently, the severity of his rage and density of his muscles when shot has protected him from any serious internal damage.

"No! Dammit, no," Agent Broadus shouts as he lets loose another round into Elijah.

Elijah's right shoulder is blown off, but he is unphased. "You shouldn't have done that," he says.

Without a moment of contemplation, Reginald jumps upward from behind Elijah, rebounds downward from the ceiling, then crashes directly into Agent Broadus with the full force of gravity. "Please don't shoot my friends," he taunts, mocking Elijah's unearthly tone. He then takes in the scene around him; the only people left standing are Jonathan's dolls. The shattered bodies of Broadus' officers lie dead at their feet. Reginald looks toward Jonathan, who is just now able to stand again.

"You were right. I should have found better ways to help people like you," Jonathan says as he limps toward the pair. "People like us."

"I didn't tell you to kill everyone, but thanks," Reginald says. By now, the distant cry of sirens is growing and the eyes of fearful mortals can be seen peeking through the cherry blossoms in the rising sun. "Where do we go from here? I'll be blamed for all of this..."

Jonathan looks off onto the horizon. He sighs deeply, as if agreeing to something he had been rejecting. "I... may know of a few people who can help. I can't promise you your life back, but there is a good chance they can give you something else worth fighting for. That is, if you still want to make a difference."

Reginald turns his eyes toward Elijah's. "More than anything," he says.

Jonathan looks at him as well and says, "I'm sure you understand that there isn't much space between life and death for me; however, I'm going to need you to say goodbye to your friend for a little while."

Reginald nods. He pulls his friend's mangled body in and hugs him for what feels like the last time. "Love you Elijah," he says, for the first time. Elijah doesn't respond. He returns the embrace and squeezes tightly as the wind carries every particle of his body off into the sunrise.