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queenshelby · 3 years

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My Friend’s Father (Part Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 2,947

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

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Cillian’s POV

Shortly after Denise got home from her rather miserable date with Jeremy, Cillian went to bed. It was only 9 o’clock but he thought that he would spend some time finishing reading the book he had started to read two nights ago.

The problem was that, even when he tried hard to focus on the content of the book, he couldn’t.

His mind was overrun with guilt about what had happened between you all so suddenly and unexpectedly and he still wasn’t so sure why he had given into you so easily. It was almost like he had lost all of his self-control in that moment.

This kind of behaviour was unusual for him. Usually, he would have been more sensible than this. After all, he was 45 and never had a one-night stand in his entire life.

Would you share this with anyone?

Probably not, he thought. He had known you for a while and you weren’t the type of woman who was actively seeking attention. You were always somewhat nerdy and a bit of loner. For years, he had known you to be sensible and he always liked that you were looking out for his daughter Denise. You were more mature than her and were always somewhat shy and reserved.

With this in mind, he was even more surprised by your actions. You seducing him the way you did seemed out of character for you which made him nervous.

Did you have feelings for him?

He certainly hoped that you didn’t. For him, this was nothing but sex and he would hate to give you the feeling that it was something more. He didn’t want to hurt you.

He should never have given into you. He knew that it was wrong and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he acted so selfishly because, in his mind, this was exactly what it was. An act of selfishness.

You were young and clearly inexperienced which made this whole thing even worse. It was obvious to Cillian that you hadn’t been with many men before and he felt as though he took advantage of you even despite the fact that you were the one who made a move on him. He should have stopped you.

The fact that he is seeing someone else in Manchester didn’t help either and, whilst it wasn’t anything serious or exclusive, it felt wrong to him to be intimate with you which, in his own mind, brought him to another dilemma all together.

Why didn’t he use protection when he slept with you?

He knew that he could have simply walked into his son’s bedroom and find what he needed. But he didn’t. Instead, he was so consumed by lust that he forgot all about the need to be play it safe. Of course, he always reminded his adult children about the importance of protection and yet, he failed to adhere to his own rules.

Whilst he knew that you didn’t have many sexual partners and any risk associated with contracting STDs was somewhat low, he worried that you weren’t on birth control.

Why on earth didn’t he at least ask you about it? Was it too late to ask you now? Why did you make him pull out?

WHAT THE FUCK HAD HE DONE???

He panicked and he knew he had to talk to you in order to ease his mind.

YOUR POV

After you listened to Denise about her date gone wrong and what an asshole Jeremy actually was, you also made your way to bed. You felt terrible for her but knew that she would meet someone else who would make her happy and treat her well.

But her date with Jeremy wasn’t the only thing you felt terrible about. Even more so, you felt terrible about sleeping with her father which you knew was wrong and yet, you tried to justify it in your head.

Why did you act so selfishly and gave into your sexual needs?

This was something you had never done before. You were rather careful when it came to getting yourself involved with guys.

You had taken a liking in your friend’s father several years ago when you were 19. But then, it was just a silly crush you thought.

When you heard about his divorce however, you began to fantasise about him in your sleep and this was simply a fantasy you had finally acted upon.

This, however, didn’t change the fact that he was your friend’s father.

Would she mind if she knew?

Maybe she wouldn’t. She might just think that you are disgusting for sleeping with her dad but, in the end of the day, you are two consenting adults.

Why couldn’t you stop even when you realised that what you were doing was wrong?

When you made the first move it was almost like you were in a trance. You were overwhelmed. You wanted every bit of it but you never experienced sex quite like this. It was intense and he certainly knew what he was doing.

Whilst Cillian was much older than you, you were extremely attracted to him. Everything about him was perfect in your mind and he felt incredible when he was inside you.

You wanted so much more and thought that, perhaps, if it was just sex, it wasn’t wrong after all.

Together Again

Just as those thoughts raced through your mind, you heard a quite knock on the door.

Thinking that it was Denise, you didn’t bother to cover up as you were sitting on the guest bed in black cotton panties and a tight cotton singlet.

To your surprise, however, it wasn’t Denise who walked into the guestroom when you called out ‘come in’. It was Cillian.

His chin dropped as soon as he saw you. For some reason, he took a liking in your rather simple but yet revealing outfit, your messy hair and your black framed reading glasses.

‘Hey’ you simply said shyly as he was standing there speechless.

‘Hey’ he responded, swallowing harshly before telling you that he needed to talk to you.

‘Sure’ you said, putting the magazine down which you were reading along with your reading glasses. Then, you scooted over on the bed and indicated to him to sit down next to you.

His scent was intoxicating. He was freshly showered and his hair was still wet but you could still smell a hint of his aftershave on him.

‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ you asked without bothering to cover up your naked skin and you could see Cillian’s mind working overtime while the tension was building.

‘About what happened between us’ he then stammered while he observed your eyes wandering towards where they shouldn’t. But, you couldn’t help it and, when you noticed that he was reacting to your presence, you bit your lips seductively.

‘What happened between us was just sex. It’s not a big deal. People have sex all the time and you can trust me Cillian. It will remain our little secret’ you said in a seductive voice while moving your hand over Cillian’s upper thigh, through the hairs on his exposed skin and then all the way towards the rim of his boxers.

‘Y/N’ he barely managed to stammer, swallowing harshly.

‘Yes Cillian?’ you then smirked, noticing the effect you were having on him and moving your hand farther up his legs and beneath his boxers where you began to stroke his cock.

‘You are so hard’ you then whispered as you received no response from him other than a groan and, just as you did, Cillian took hold of you and pushed you beneath him in one swift movement.

Without words, Cillian’s warm lips met yours in a passionate kiss. The kiss was more urgent than before and you loved the way he asserted his dominance as his tongue circled around yours.

He felt such desire for you that he thought he would explode and, whilst he was normally quite vocal, every word he tried to say and every question he was going to ask you, were caught in his throat.

Wrapping your arms round him you ran your hands up and down his firm back as your mouths ground together. Sucking on each other's lips and plunging your tongues into each other’s mouth.

You couldn’t believe how wonderful it was to be kissed in such an experienced, almost sophisticated way and Cillian was marvelling at how someone so young could have learned to kiss so well.

Within split seconds and in between heated kisses, Cillian’s t-shirt and your singlet landed on the floor.

It wasn’t long until Cillian’s mouth left yours and began to wander over your firm breasts and then all the way down to your stomach which is where they came to a halt.

He interlocked his fingers with your panties and pulled them down, letting them join the other clothes on the floor before his head gracefully disappeared in between your legs.

‘It goes without saying, but you need to be quiet’ Cillian chuckled and you barely managed to nod before you covered your own mouth with the palm of your hand as Cillian dipped his tongue straight into your wetness.

‘Oh god yes’ you whimpered quietly as the rasping roughness of his tongue slid along your velvety wetness and sent enormous tremors through you.

You had little experience of either, receiving or, giving oral sex. In your world of mainly inexperienced boys, it was hardly on the agenda as they were generally too keen to get their rocks off to worry overly about your pleasure. In any case in the usually rushed episodes in the back of cars or downstairs with parents in bed there was hardly the time let alone the opportunity for languid pussy licking or sensual cock sucking. In the world of the forty-five year-old man lying between your opened legs, however, it very much was on the agenda and he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did.

You moaned loudly as you were holding Cillian’s head in both hands as he licked the length of your pussy. He did it slowly with just the right amount of pressure making sure that the tip of his tongue fully anointed both lips and licked just inside them on that especially sensitive area.

When you moaned a little too loudly again, he reminded you to be quiet just before he sucked and kissed you again, covering every inch of the outside of your pussy before pushing the straightened tip of his tongue inside and probing upwards licking the insides as he started to tongue fuck you.

‘This feels so fucking good’ you stammered, legs shaking and quivering while Cillian held you tightly and it wasn’t long until you reached an orgasm which sent convulsions through your body.

You moaned a little too loud again as your whole body tingled and felt tender to the touch and tears of pleasure and relief, with a tinge of guilt, poured down your cheeks.

‘That was amazing’ you eventually huffed out as you slowly came down from your high and Cillian kissed his way back up your body until his lips reached yours.

‘You taste so fucking good’ he then whispered into your ear after your lips drifted apart and, just as he did, you reached in between his legs and began stroking his cock which was still rock hard.

‘I want to feel you inside me again…please…just once more’ you begged and the sound of you begging alone made Cillian groan.

‘Fuck Y/N…I want you so much’ he whispered as he pulled down his boxers and his wiggling body urged your legs to open so that his cock lay between your thighs with the bulbous end of it pressed against your lips.

‘Then take me’ you groaned marvelling at the fact your friend's dad was about to fuck you.

With the tip of his cock just slightly parting the lips of your pussy and his arms round your body with his hands gripping your taught bum he muttered something you couldn’t understand. It was obvious to you that his mind was hardly able to accept what was happening. Nonetheless, he wanted it so badly and, with a shrug of his hips, he sank his cock deep into your gorgeously tight and wonderfully welcoming pussy.

‘Oh god yes, Cillian’ you groaned as your fingernails were digging into his back.

He pushed himself in as far as it would go, eliciting more groans from you which he had to quickly silence with his lips.

You felt light-headed and deliriously happy. You also felt very filled. Cillian was bigger than the other guys you had been with and you loved the feeling of being stretched. The folds of skin that guard your clit seemed to be open and that so sensitive place felt to be exposed, so as Cillian started moving slowly up and down it was as though his cock was rubbing on it. You had never felt anything like it before. Just as you had never felt like cumming when a man's cock had only been inside you for a few moments.

Somehow, however, you managed to delay your release just a little bit longer, enjoying as Cillian thrusted into you hard and deep until, eventually, the inevitable happened.

‘Let go, there is no need to hold back’ Cillian reassured you and, just as he did, you allowed your orgasm to wash over you.

‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you shouted out and he quickly covered your mouth with his hand as he continued to thrust into and watched you lose control.

Your legs were shaking once again as you gave in and, when you finally came down, Cillian pulled out of you.

Thinking that he was done and that he wanted you to proceed as before, you scooted up but, to your surprise, Cillian pulled you on top of him instead.

‘Your turn to take what you need Y/N’ Cillian whispered and you couldn’t help but shiver at his words. He wanted you on top and that was yet another first for you.

‘You can cum again’ he then said but you couldn’t help but shake your head.

‘I don’t think I can, but I am willing to try’ you smirked. He had already given you four orgasms that day which were four more orgasms than anyone else before him had given you.

‘I bet you can’ he then winked and you nodded shyly before taking his hard cock into your hand and lining it up with your entrance.

‘I will be sore tomorrow I think’ you whispered as, with a moan, you sank down on his hard cock.

‘Yes, you will be’ Cillian chuckled as, all of a sudden, he thrusted upwards and deep into your mound, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

Once again, he covered your mouth with his hand as you began to ride him.

‘You feel so fucking good, you know that?’ Cillian groaned as you began to move up and down on his hard shaft. He certainly had become vocal now and you loved it.

‘So tight around my cock’ he then groaned as he met your thrusts and he could hear you starting to whimper.

‘Oh god…yes, fuck my pussy’ you moaned quietly, holding his hand and keeping it near your mouth while sucking on his fingers.

‘Cum inside me Cillian. I want to feel it. Fill me with your cum’ you then demanded as you began to ride his cock harder and faster and, by this point, Cillian had lost all self-control.

The dirty talk, the tightness of your pussy and the way your lips played with his fingers was too much for him.

‘Cum with me Cillian’ you then moaned as you let go and so did he.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes…fuck’ you groaned as such amazing feelings flooded your body and you felt him push into you as far as he could go.

‘Fuck Y/N’ grunted as you both climaxed simultaneously and you soared to a height of pleasure you had never previously experienced when Cillian’s cock exploded sending streams of his cum into you.

‘Oh god that was amazing’ you eventually huffed out when you both stopped moving.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian grunted almost at the same time before his eyes shot open and he saw your satisfied smile.

Carefully, you climbed off him, releasing his cock from your tight pussy before you sat down on the bed next to him.

You spread your legs and, with curious eyes, you looked down on yourself and watched some of Cillian’s cum leak from your core.

‘That feels so fucking good…so warm and wet’ you observed as you collected some of his cum with your finger and brought it to your mouth while Cillian cocked an eyebrow, wondering what you were doing.

‘Uhm…?’ Cillian chuckled, watching you almost speechlessly but yet somewhat turned on.

‘I never had a guy cum inside me but this is so fucking sexy’ you observed with a laugh before reshuffling yourself and collapsing into his arms.

‘Yeah, about that…’ Cillian went on to say…

Tag List:

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midnightsconspiracy · 3 years

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Her Knight In Shining Armour

Her Knight In Shining Armour - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: You’ve told your daughter stories of the valiant Sir Voight, but what happens when she finally meets her hero

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1518

Requested: Yes!

'Can I get a Voight and singlemom!reader? Maybe she just started working in Intelligence and she has a little girl and her daughter adores Hank? Coworkers to Lovers?'

A/N: This turned out so much better than I imagined. And thank you to the person who requested this who waited till my requests opened again for me to write this.

Masterlist

You knew the step up from being a beat cop to detective would be difficult, and not just for yourself personally with the extra workload and hours, but also for your little girl. Being away from each other was always difficult enough, and now with the longer, more unpredictable hours of intelligence, it would make it even worse. Since it was just the two of you, spending time together was so important, wanting to make sure she felt loved and cherished, despite her father leaving her to feel otherwise. But it was part of the job and this was an amazing promotional opportunity you had been given, something that you'd been working towards even before you had birthed your daughter. And you knew she would understand, being the most kind and considerate child you'd ever met, but that still didn't seem to make the ache in your heart any better. At least with the extra income you'd be earning you would finally be able to afford the dream holiday that you two had always fantasised about going on, and the smile that would grace her face would make it all worth it.

Once your first day had passed though you no longer felt the nerves you'd had previously, going home to tell Hannah all the child-friendly details you could remember. Her favourite part had been the story of all the people in the district, making up little characters out of everyone based on their positions and personalities. And just like you, her favourite character in the whole adventure seemed to be the valiant knight, Sir Hank Voight. A brave and noble man who would do anything to help protect and serve his kingdom and the people in it.

He had been the most helpful person during your transition upstairs as well, explaining anything you didn't quite understand at your own pace, without sounding rude or condescending. There were many a day where you would stay behind after everyone else had gone, getting him to help you study for the upcoming detective's exam that you were so desperate to pass the first time. And he happily did so, not caring that it ate into his evening, much rather seeing one of his member pass than spend his nights alone. He was just overall the most perfect boss that you could ask for, allowing you to fully immerse yourself into the team and avoid that awkward newbie phase that you so dreaded. And with so much time that you spend together, you hoped he would consider you more than just someone who worked under him, but rather a friend, just as much as you considered him one.

Today's workday had seemed like any other, a murder case where the victim had been no one of notoriety, but despite this, you had still solved it promptly and with the utmost reverence. And now that you were home, in your little happy bubble of playing with Hannah and telling her glamorised stories of the day you'd had, you finally felt relaxed and content with the life that you now led. Entranced in the little bubble of satisfaction you'd created, you hadn't heard the doorbell ring, only being alerted to someone else's presence after Hannah had already let them in. Looking up from your place on the floor, you spotted Hank in the hallway, conversing with an enamoured looking Hannah. Going out to join them, you learned on the pillar that connected the rooms, smiling at your daughter's reaction at meeting her hero in real life, watching as she retold the stories she'd heard a million times before. Although you were slightly angry at her for letting someone into the house without your permission, you would get over it, especially as the person was someone you both liked.

"Hannah, give the man a break will you," you piped up finally, trying to get Hannah to stop babbling and let the man get a word in edgeways. She had obviously been so overwhelmed by his arrival that she hadn't let him explain his reason for the unexpected visit.

"Sorry Mommy," she replied back, coming over to hug your legs and give her infamous puppy dog eyes, just to make sure you were angry at her. Stroking over her hair to assure her you weren't, you turned to your guest, a confused look on your face, wondering just why he'd shown up so late after hours.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your evening, I came bearing news. But, that can wait, I want to know more about Sir Voight." Looking up at you with a cheeky glint in his eye, Hannah came bounding back over to him, continuing on about the stories of the chivalrous knight.

And that's what she had done for the rest of the evening, bringing him into your living room to show him the toys she'd all named after your colleagues. It was a little embarrassing at first, sitting at a distance from the two of them, her exposing all the fables you told her over the weeks. Especially when she started talking about his one, flourishing the story a little in his favour in hopes it would make him like her more. But in reality, it just made you seem like a schoolgirl, telling everyone just how brave and handsome her crush was. Although you hadn't told Hannah those things yourself, it didn't mean you hadn't thought of it in your own head, just admiring him from afar. He was a good man and one that you truly saw yourself with especially after all the time you'd spent together. And the way he was with Hannah only exemplified this, your fantasy of a perfect little family becoming more vivid. When you really thought about it, it seemed a little creepy, imagining him as the man of your house. But in reality, it was only because of the scar Hannah's father had left behind, never allowing you the chance to have a proper family unit.

Time had flown by as you remained in your own head, looking over at the clock to see that Hannah's bedtime had been over an hour ago. Luckily for you, she was tired herself, allowing you easily excuse yourself to bring her up to bed. All the playing and excitement had worn her out completely, and as you went back downstairs to where Hank waited, you remembered why he was here in the first place, some big news.

"Sorry about her, she gets a little over-excited sometimes," you explained nervously, scared he would think of you differently now that he knew of your stories.

"No, no it's ok, it's nice seeing her happy. Plus she tells me your a very good storyteller," he replied, smiling at your nervous disposition, just happy that he was getting to spend extra time with you and finally meet the girl you had talked about so much.

"Yeah, sorry about that, she just wants to know about work sometimes and I don't know how to tell her in a child-friendly manner." Trying to reason with him, you attempted to make yourself look as normal as possible, still thinking he'd assume you were crazy for it.

"I think it cute, plus Sir Voight is pretty impressive," he stated, showing you just how much he didn't mind your storytelling antics.

"I guess he is." And as much as you wanted to hide your little crush on the man, your cheeks gave you away, blushing at his confession.

"Oh and the news, I just got the email this evening, you passed the exam. Congrats Detective Y/LN."

A smile burst across your face as he revealed the good news, you hadn't even expected to pass thinking you'd failed after taking it let alone receive the good news tonight. In your excitement, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. Because of your sudden movements, he didn't react quick enough, causing you to pull away equally as quickly surprised at your own affections. Once again you'd embarrassed yourself.

"Sorry I didn't m-mean," you said, retracting your arms, making yourself as small as possible. But instead of reacting how you expected him to have, he bought you back into his arms, whispering another congratulation into your ear. At that you moved your arms to circle his neck again, getting lost in the warmth of his affection. Pulling away slightly, he stared into your gaze, a smile playing on his lips.

"You deserve this Y/N, you really do," he said, placing his hand onto your cheek and stroking comfortingly. Leaning forward he finally went to kiss you, pouring out every emotion you'd both had bottled up since you'd met. And neither of you would have stopped if it weren't for the sudden interruption, Hannah appearing at the top of the stairs, captivated that her mother and hero were kissing.

"Are you and Sir Hank finally together now?" She asked, causing both of you to laugh at her sudden question. Looking at each other to confirm the answer, you both came to an agreement, yes, yes you were.

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Taglist: @mileika @redpoodlern @chazubagi @scarletsoldierrr@cindydoll2 @anotherfan07 @one-sweet-gubler @yosoynicolexo @prettypsychoinpink @mollyc70 @maisie20

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#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagines

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ionlyjoinedforstuffilike · 3 years

Text

R & R

Pairing: Billy Russo x F!Reader

Word count: 1,100

Warnings: (18+ adult blog) Sexual tension, some dub con owning to power imbalance, employer/employee dynamic, sexual harassment, verging on dark though nothing explicit here.

Summary: You finally have a moment to unwind on your hectic business trip. You are absorbed in the beautiful surroundings yet your boss seems only interested in you.

A/N: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer's Wednesday. I'm exploring writing for different fandoms and well Billy Russo has been on my mind quiet a bit. No tag list whilst it is a new character.

The water was warm and soothing as if you were swimming in a large luxurious bath. And luxurious it was - mosaic tiles, ornate arches, the pool been made to look like a Moroccan riad. The exclusive hotel would usually be beyond your reach, but this was on the company dime and you were determined to take advantage of the little downtime you'd been gifted.

You'd spent the last few weeks globetrotting with Anvil, checking on contracts and drumming up new business. It had been a whirlwind, a different country almost every day, barely aware of your location let alone time zone. Exhausted from nonstop work, jet lag, and the inability to truly rest. Not all of your accommodation had been like this - most much more rudimentary, nothing more than a tent in a war-torn land. Now on your way back home this was your final stop, where you needed to schmooze some big wigs and convince them that Anvil was the only choice.

As a personal secretary you had little to do with arrangements or scheduling for the trip - details were all very hush hush and need to know. You definitely not significant enough to be fully informed. In fact, you were surprised you were even invited along, simply there to type minutes, bring coffee. Certainly, just for show, there to hand your boss important papers when he asked, to walk a few paces behind him and generally to inflate his sense of importance. It's all about appearance, that's how to sell it - that's what Mr Russo said.

You had arrived earlier in the day, had full and exclusive access to the boutique hotel, the other guests were not due to arrive till the following evening giving you time to refresh and some much-needed R&R. Once you'd settled in and completed some essential tasks, you couldn't wait to dive into the empty pool - no one around to bother you, no one you needed to make happy.

You floated on your back gazing up beyond the skylights, vines draped from pink stuccoed walls, creating an oasis.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Your heart lurched, ungraciously slapping and spluttering as you tried to right yourself in the water.

"Sorry Mr Russo I didn't see... I er.. you said to relax..."

"I did," your employer's lip curling to a smirk. Despite the lack of work (and the heat), he was still wearing his suit - dark grey, expensive, a deep red tie, crisp white shirt. He always looked immaculate. It didn't matter how long he had travelled, hours he'd worked, he was always so well put together. Unbuttoning his jacket, he took a chair at the side of the pool, sipped clear liquid from the crystal tumbler, "Carry on. Don't mind me."

But you did, suddenly very self-conscious in his presence. His dark eyes never left you, you're trapped, unsure of what move to make - either option (continue to laze or extracting yourself from the water) would increase the scrutiny of his gaze.

Billy Russo often unnerved you, caused a cocktail of emotions to bubble within. His charm and smile disarming, very attractive but the intensity of his stare and knowledge of his capabilities made him dangerous. His shrewd business ambition wasn't off putting, it was to be expected if one were to do well in the industry, but it was his direct interactions with you. He always looked at you as if he was privy to something you were not, like he knew what was about to happen and you were firmly in the dark.

"Anything you need?"

He shook his head, "Not that I can think of. Please." Gave a little gesture to coaxed you to continue.

You obliged by completing a couple of laps of leisurely breaststroke, his eyes fixed sipping his drink. The emptiness of the room no longer soothing, instead it was a reminder of how alone you were with a very powerful man. The handful of colleagues who had accompanied you were nowhere to be seen, even if you knew where in the hotel they were what would it matter - very much Billy's men, answering only to him and his money. Out there his dominance and respect made you feel safe, protected against the ills of the world that could easily be revealed in this line of business but in here, this gorgeous but small, isolated hotel it was disconcerting. Maybe it wasn't any of that, maybe your mind twisting things, it wasn't uncommon to think about your boss beyond a professional compacity, back in New York you would often find yourself daydreaming in the office, fantasising over the handsome brunette. For no matter how imposing Billy Russo was, he was very beautiful.

Exposed and vulnerable, no longer relaxed or lost in the glamour, you decided to get out and find sanctuary in your room. It would be far more conspicuous for him to follow you there. Your towel was on the seat next to the one he had taken, leaving you no choice but to get close to him. You chose to use the steps rather than humiliate yourself with the ungainly climb out, your wet skin instantly goose fleshed, you kept head down, arm across body as you made your way towards your boss. He grabbed towel, handed it to you and though you didn't need to reach over, you did have to get very close and he took opportunity for a closer inspection. Billy’s eyes raked over your nearly naked form, the man with the perfect face, the perfect body eyeing yours. You took the fluffy towel, dabbed your face, unfolded it to wrap around you like a cape.

Billy's hand came to you, still holding his glass his finger extended, outstretched and grazed down your stomach finishing little above your bikini briefs. Billy's gaze followed the trail and lingered.

"Are you relaxed?" he smirked.

"Uh huh," you lied.

He dipped to lower his glass to the floor before sitting straighter and placing his now free hand to your hip.

"Maybe you could help me relax a little better?"

You swallowed a lump that had formed in your increasingly dry throat, "Mr Russo I..."

He laughed, "You look terrified. I just mean a drink. You'll have a drink with me, won’t you?" His charming smile and tone hinted at sincerity though his hand still at your hip, his thumb brushing back and forth, told a different tale.

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #Writer Wednesday #the punisher

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bruhstories · 4 years

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Baby, I’ve Already got Your Heart

Summary: An accidental meeting between Armin and Y/N leads to an unhealthy obsession. Pairing: Armin Arlert x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings: stalking, language, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), oral sex (female receiving), switch!Reader, switch!Armin, rope is involved. Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: This fic is heavily inspired by this song. It is surprisingly wholesome, considering the tags xD

Armin Arlert. The purest man in the world. You accidentally met him one cold, rainy day when he entered your coffee shop for shelter and warmth. He naively talked to you, grateful for how nice you were with him, grateful for the cappuccino on the house, grateful for the towel you offered him to dry himself off. Little did Armin know, a fixation sprouted in your mind and heart, developing into the unhealthiest obsession. He was just so cute — and you just had to have him. It helped to know that you were both going to the same university, and after that, you knew everything about him: his Facebook, Instagram, email address, hell, you even knew his real address. To be fair, it was a piece of cake, the boy was absolutely clueless and whenever he 'accidentally' met you, he thought it was by pure chance. The next and most obvious step was to befriend people in his social circle, one Jean Kirstein, one Sasha Braus and one Connie Springer. Naturally, you did your homework, and you knew his best friends were Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, but they weren't easy targets. Besides, it would jeopardise your entire plan, as you found Armin was considered a genius. An oblivious genius. He didn't know it yet, but you loved him and he loved you too, right?

A text from Sasha, months after you first met the angelic man, set your plan in motion. A casual gaming night at Armin's place, and you were invited. How perfect. Poor glutton Sasha had no fucking clue how much you were using her, how you told her you want to meet a cute guy, someone nice and caring, someone smart and attentive. The girl put two and two together and decided she just had to introduce you to one of her friends, especially that he was also interested in meeting a girl like you. Unbelievable — you acted surprised, met up with Sasha and left for Armin's little gaming night. You wouldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Starting from tonight, he'd be yours. Forever.

"Armiiiiiiiiin, I brought a plus one!" Sasha barged into his house. "This is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, Armin! Oh shit, pretzels!" The brown-haired woman left the two of you in the hallway and the blond flashed you a smile.

"I feel like I've seen you before." He mused as he closed the door behind you.

"If you ever drink coffee at Rose's you might've seen me there." You smiled and removed your leather jacket, revealing a Pearl Jam t-shirt.

"No way you listen to them!" Armin blurted.

"Are you kidding me? They're my favourite!" You lied through your teeth with a sickly-sweet smile.

"Mine too! Oh, I know, you're the girl who gave me a free cappuccino months ago!"

"I remember! You were drenched in rainwater." You laughed as the two of you entered the living room. "I had to mop up the puddles you left behind."

"I'm so sorry about that..." He blushed. Your heart fluttered and you couldn't wait to get your hands on him, but for the time being, you needed to behave.

"No worries, I just hope you didn't catch a cold." You assured Armin and sympathetically placed a hand on his shoulder. There he goes, blushing again. It couldn't be... was he a virgin? Fuck. This was better than you could've imagined.

"Who's this?"

"Oh, Mikasa, Eren, this is Y/N. She's friends with Sasha."

"Nice to meet you!" Eren shook your hand. "Oh, God, you listen to Pearl Jam, too? You nerds are going to get along just fine." He joked.

The night went great, and you actually had fun with Armin and his friends, despite not intending to mingle with them too much. People started leaving around 2 am, but Eren and Mikasa stayed longer. Too fucking long — and things were boring now anyway. You and Armin kept talking about video games and books, Mikasa fell asleep on Eren who was playing fucking Farmville on his phone. They had to leave as soon as possible.

"Hey, Y/N, we can take you home." Eren suggested and you froze. Shit.

"Didn't you say you're almost out of gas?" Armin questioned his friend.

"Ah, fuck, you're right. I still don't know how that happened — I fuelled the tank yesterday!" The brunette scoffed. "Guess you're on your own, Y/N."

"It's alright, I'll take an uber." You politely smiled.

"Alright, we'll wait for you."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Truth be told, you appreciated how nice and caring Armin's friends were, but you had a different goal to accomplish.

"You really don't have to, plus I have to use the bathroom." You excused yourself. "Um, where is the bathroom exactly?"

"Upstairs, first door on the right." Armin told you while gathering plates and cups from the table. You nodded and climbed up the stairs. Your hand hovered over the bathroom doorknob for a good minute, eyes drifting to the door next to it. Armin's bedroom, by the looks of it. Surely, you could take a look, right? Fuck it. You opened the second door and at first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. LED and fairy lights encircled a corner of his room and, curiously, you walked closer to see what that was, because it didn't look like a desk. Your Y/E/C widened when you saw tens of framed photographs of yourself on the square table, objects you thought you lost and — Jesus, was that your bra? A rush of anxiety hit you, but before you could do anything, a blow to your head blurred your vision.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

Dark lashes fluttered as you opened your eyes. The sudden realisation that you were naked and restrained to a bed made you jolt. What just happened?

"Fucking finally, I thought you'd never wake up." Armin greeted you, but his voice was different, deeper and darker.

"Ar-ugh, Armin?" You groaned at the stinging sensation at the back of your head.

"You know, I was relieved you didn't leave with Sasha, otherwise you would've slipped between my fingers again."

Again?

"Ugh, and Eren and his stupid idea. 'We'll take you home.'" He mocked his best friend with a high pitch. "I've been dreaming for this moment since I walked into that shitty coffee shop."

You were at a loss for words. This was not the Armin you fantasised about, not the Armin you wanted. He was much more and much worse. And. So. Much. Better.

Alright then, you'd put up a show for him.

"P-please, Armin, please untie m-me! I'll be good, I p-promise!" You stuttered and whimpered, trying your best to sound genuine.

"Why, so you can run away?" The blond scoffed. So, he didn't know you stalked him. What a twist.

"I won't r-run, I swear!"

"Bullshit." Armin bent over your body, hands around your neck. You gasped and pretended to be startled by his touch, but in reality, your core was already burning with lust. You knew you couldn't keep up with this charade. "No, Y/N, I won't untie you. But we'll have so much fun." He sneered.

"You promise?"

"Yes. Wait—"

Your laughter filled the bedroom, genuine laughter that baffled Armin. Was this some sort of reverse psychology trick?

"Oh, Armin, even when you reveal your true colours, you're still oblivious to the reality of what's in front of you."

"Then enlighten me, what am I so oblivious to?" He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

"The fact that this was my fucking plan, too." You stretched as much as your restraints allowed you to and licked your lips. "I guess we both stalked each other without even knowing. How ridiculous."

"I think I would've known if you stalked me, Y/N."

"Really? Let me prove it, then. Your favourite food's Carbonara pasta, your favourite drink is peach and lychee iced tea, favourite movie is Interstellar, you lived on Sheena street until you were 12–"

"That's common knowledge, Sasha could've told you any of that." Armin blurted, growing impatient.

"You watch BDSM and asphyxiation porn between 10 pm and 11 pm every Tuesday, you're a virgin, you own a fleshlight–"

"Fuck, alright!" He threw his hands in the air, defeated. "So, what next?"

"You untie me and you tear me apart, Armin, that's what's next."

The blond hesitated before removing the cuffs on your ankles, still unsure about the ropes around your wrists. Clearly, you weren't making things up, but what were the chances of both of you stalking each other? For a brief moment, Armin felt guilty for hitting you and practically holding you captive, and you could see that on his face, but obsession and desire soon took over, and he reverted back to his darker self. His soft hands moved from your ankles to your knees, up your thighs and stomach, stopping above your chest, deciding it's best if you're not fully free. Armin licked his lips and climbed on top of you, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. You thought was surprisingly strong for such a thin man, but when the unbuttoned shirt revealed his chiselled abdomen, it made sense why he was strong.

"The wrists, Armin." You insisted but the blond clicked his tongue.

"I like you better when you're helpless." He pressed his lips onto yours in a hot kiss. A great kiss, you thought, your tongues wrestling for supremacy.

"Please, I want to touch you! I need to..." You trailed off, intoxicated by his smell, notes of saffron and cardamom. His hands roamed your shoulders, tickling your axilla and groping your breasts. "Please let me touch you, Armin!" You begged again, but he didn't say a word, his hot breath fanning over your oversensitive nipples, goosebumps all over your skin. His pink tongue poked out of his mouth and you watched him painstakingly slowly lick one of your nipples. It literally pained you to be unable to touch him, pull him closer to you. Alas, you had no choice, and despite yearning to be in control, it aroused you to have him control you.

"You smell so sweet." He abruptly stopped. "I bet you taste sweet, too."

"Armin..." His words made you brace yourself. While you weren't a virgin, you've never had anyone eat you out. The blond was already in between your legs, one hand resting under your thigh, the other gently touching your slick folds. Armin was so careful, like you were made of glass, and the ticklish sensation didn't help you at all. You wanted him to ram his cock inside of you and rearrange your guts, but he wanted to take his sweet time. The teasing only made you dizzy with pleasure, and you bucked your hips, trying to get him to move faster.

"You really need to learn to be patient, Y/N." Armin purred, pressing gentle kisses on your thighs. He lazily dragged his tongue across your slit, electricity shooting through your body. God, how you wanted to rip those ropes apart. Two fingers entered you and the blond gingerly licked your clit.

"Fuck– so... so good ah–" You couldn't form a sentence even if your life counted on it. Gradually, you could feel your orgasm building up and Armin sensed it, picking up the pace. His fingers thrusted harder and you arched your back, the intensity too much for you. "Armin, please! I wanna come with your cock in me!" The begging didn't stop him, he was determined to make you finish then and there. And he did — within seconds you melted under his touch, legs trembling with pleasure. Armin pulled back, his mouth messy with saliva mixed with your juices.

"You come when I want you to come." His voice was low, almost like a growl. He unbuttoned his jeans, and you watched him like a hawk, waiting to see just how big his was, and you were not disappointed.

"Please please please let me suck it, please!" You begged him, eager to taste him. He smirked and kissed you, all the while rubbing his cock.

"You want this?" Armin quirked a brow at you. The little shit, jacking off in front of you and you couldn't even do anything about it.

"Armin..."

"Say it. Say you want it."

"Armin!"

"Say it, Y/N." He groaned, precum leaking from his member. Fuck.

"I... I want it..." You eventually gave up.

"Good girl." The blond climbed back on top of you. He raised your hips and you placed your legs on his shoulder, his first thrust slow and deep. Armin couldn't help the moan escaping his lips — this was so much better than that shitty fleshlight and countless porn videos. You couldn't deny the fact that it hurt, despite your soaking cunt, but you quickly adjusted to his size. As Armin pounded you, the bed underneath the two of you started moving and screeching, and the ropes tied to the metal bedframe loosened and you felt your arms fall onto the pillows. In his frenzy, the blond didn't notice, so you took this opportunity to lower your legs and wrap them around his waist, one hand grabbing his soft locks, the other wrapping around his neck. You used his weight against him and turned him over. You were in control.

Armin was taken aback by this, but the feeling of your fingers squeezing his throat only turned him on more. You bounced up and down, throwing your head back and groaning. He gripped your hips tightly, thrusting his own hips against yours.

"F-fuck me harder, Y/N!" He begged and you sped up. You felt like a queen — no, a goddess — when he asked you to fuck him, the feeling of him inside of you so addictive. He was your drug, and your rehab, your poison, and your antidote. And you were his and his only. His cock was twitching in your cunt and knew he was close but you didn't want to risk it. Swiftly, you got off of him and wrapped your lips around his dick, bobbing your head up and down. It didn't take long for him to finish, hot liquid shooting down your throat with one final grunt. You swallowed it all and threw yourself next to him. It was breaking dawn already, but you weren't tired. Physically, yes, both of you were exhausted, but mentally it felt like you discovered a hidden gem.

"What the fuck did we just do?" Armin calmly caressed your hair as you nuzzled his neck.

"Are we talking about the obsessively stalking each other part or the part where you hit me in the head? Or the fucking?"

"The everything." He explained. "This is wrong."

"Did it feel wrong?" You asked him, your fingers idly tracing circles over his chest.

"Well, no..."

"Then it's not wrong." You shrugged. "Am... am I yours?"

"Yes." The blond instantly replied without a trace of hesitation in his voice. "Am I?"

"You've been mine the moment you set foot in that shitty coffee shop." You laughed.

"And what are we going to tell the others?"

"That we ended up talking all night and I stayed over?"

"Sounds like a plan." Armin kissed your forehead.

"By the way, I really don't like Pearl Jam." You admitted.

He laughed and it filled your heart with warmth. You have no idea why you and Armin were like that, or how things would be from now on, but you had a good feeling about it. Things were okay. You two were okay.

#armin arlert x reader #armin x reader #snk smut #snk x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #armin arlert smut #aot smut #aot x reader #attack on titan #armin arlert

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fific7 · 3 years

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Cold Day in Hell - Part 1

Logan Delos x Reader

A/N: This does not completely follow canon, it’s mainly lemon zest 🍋 because the world needs more Logan Delos.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in future chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

Logan Delos was bored. Mind-numbingly, screamingly, terminally bored. He was rapping out an irritated drum solo on the arm of his chair with his long fingers. He was shifting in his seat, constantly crossing and un-crossing his long legs. He was moving the papers on the conference table in front of him from side to side, then backwards and forwards.

The businessman who was talking through the main presentation had a voice that was flatter than roadkill and had only one tone... monotone.

Logan leant forward and propped his elbows on the conference table in front of him, using his fingers to physically hold open his eyelids as they kept closing of their own accord. He felt a yawn coming on and fought to stop his mouth opening to accommodate it... but failed.

He was aware of the door to the conference room opening behind him but didn’t even have the energy to turn and see who it was. This asshole is draining the fucking will to live out of me, he thought. He vaguely heard said asshole saying something about his colleague talking through the next section of the presentation.

Logan sat right up in his seat as he spotted a beautiful - no, stunning - woman making her way to the front of the room. She was dressed in ‘business smart’ but even those sensible items couldn’t hide her curves. Her hair was pinned up, and he had already started fantasising about loosening it and running his hands through it. He wished he’d paid attention when Asshole had said her name. Or had he said her name? Logan had no idea.

He heard her starting to speak, a melodic voice... he had to know her name! Logan tutted and picked up the meeting agenda, riffling back and forth through the pages to get to the correct one, but wasn’t even sure what page he should be on. Suddenly the folder tumbled from his hands and clattered onto the floor. The talking stopped and he became aware of everyone’s eyes on him, including hers. In fact, she was kind of glaring at him.

He gave an apologetic wave to the room in general as he retrieved the folder from the floor. She began speaking again, and he resumed his page-riffling. Finally he found the current one, and there was her name in black and white. A melodic name to match her voice, he thought.

He started paying attention to what she was actually saying.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d just started your part of the presentation when some asshole dropped his agenda folder, the sharp noise bringing you to a screeching halt. When you saw a hand waving around in the air, your eye followed the arm down to its owner and noted that he was in fact a very good-looking asshole. But he was still an asshole.

You cleared your throat, trying to collect your thoughts and then launched back into your presentation. The asshole was now staring at you relentlessly; every single time your eyes swept the room, his dark eyes were on you. Like... always on you. Not like the others, who were at least glancing down at the handouts occasionally.

The section you were presenting drew to a close, and you now took an empty seat at the table. It was diagonally opposite the handsome asshole. Who was still staring at you.

Now that you were much closer, you could see that his eyes were a dark chocolate brown, with a wicked gleam in them. They matched his shining dark hair, which was immaculately swept back from his forehead. You boldly met his stare for a while, before breaking eye contact to listen to your colleague Craig deliver the final part.

At the end of the presentation there were a few questions which were duly answered, and then everyone was gathering up their paperwork and milling around prior to leaving the conference room. As you tucked your folders away in your document bag, in your peripheral vision you became aware of a pair of long legs making their way to you. You knew who it was bound to be so you didn’t bother looking up. A throat cleared next to you but you continued packing away your items, and then you heard your first name being spoken in a low, husky voice. This time you did look up - it would be rude not to - and yup, it was Handsome Asshole. A hand was proffered to you and by reflex you took it, your hand being crushed in a strong grip. “Logan Delos,” said that suave voice, “...it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” you scoffed, “...how original!” while thinking, oh... so this is the infamous Logan Delos, whose name you’d heard all the time in connection with the projects but never actually met before. He had a reputation of being a bit of a diva. You heard him give a deep chuckle. “Yeah, that’s me - an original. Unique, in fact I’d say.” “Well, you’re super confident, that’s for sure!” You picked up your document bag and headed for the door, saying “Nice to meet you, Mr Delos,” as you started to leave. His tall frame scooted round in front of you before you could reach it, “Oh, not so fast.... I can’t let you leave before you agree to have dinner with me.” You tried to sidestep him but he blocked your way, and then a little ‘step to the right, step to the left’ dance ensued. Finally, exasperated, you stood still and put your hands on your hips. “Mister Delos! Will you please let me past!” He copied your stance, “Not until you say you’ll have dinner with me. Or lunch. Or.... breakfast, if you prefer?!” wiggling his eyebrows at you. You huffed, “I don’t date business partners!” He still stood in front of you, seemingly immovable, “We’re not business partners - technically speaking. Boring Asshole is my business partner, not you.” Your mouth dropped open but before you could stop it, laughter bubbled out.

You hastily silenced it, saying, “I admit, Craig may not be the most inspiring public speaker, but he really knows his stuff,” trying to cover your somewhat indiscreet reaction and save your colleague’s honour at the same time. “But that’s beside the point, Mr Delos, because we are business partners despite what you’re trying to say.” Logan had moved slightly aside while you were speaking and you took this opportunity to brush past him, calling out, “Goodbye, Mr Delos,” with the emphasis on the goodbye as you went.

If you’d bothered to look back, you would’ve seen Logan Delos watching you go, a very determined expression on his face.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Juliet looked up from her laptop as Logan breezed into her lounge, tossing his car keys onto the coffee table and throwing himself onto the sofa, long legs spreading out in front of him as he did so.

“Good meeting?” she asked, seeing that his head had gone back onto the cushions and he was staring up at the ceiling. He hummed, “Good and bad. The presentation was the single most boring thing I’ve ever heard in my life, but on the other hand one of their staffers.... wow! It was like an angel came down from heaven and found her way into that conference room.” She sighed, “Logan... by all that’s holy... do not try to screw one of our business partners for god’s sake! Dad will go ballistic if you mess up our working relationship with them.” Logan looked offended, “Who says I’d mess it up?” Jules gave a big sigh and shrugged, “Me, for one. Dear brother, I love you with all my heart but you’re fucking awful at relationships. You’d just fuck her and drop her like a hot potato. Who is it that caught your roving eye this time anyway?” Logan said her name in a dreamy tone and Jules rolled her eyes heavenwards, “Oh, no, no, no!... no way, Logan. I know her, she’s a lovely person and also does a fantastic job - she’s one of their top software engineers, specialising in middleware.”

Logan smirked, “She can engineer my middleware anytime she likes.” “Oh, shut up and get your mind out of your pants, Logan. Stay away, okay?!!” He huffed, “Hey! You can’t tell me who to pursue or otherwise, Jules!” “But that’s it, right there - you’ll chase her, catch her, bang her and drop her! I really like her as well as respecting her work, so you better just be damn careful!”

Logan sighed. He loved his sister but god, she was a king-size pain in the ass sometimes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

A week or so later, and you’d almost forgotten about that handsome asshole at the presentation. You couldn’t deny that he’d popped in and out of your thoughts since, but you’d googled him the day after you’d met him and had also made some discreet enquiries amongst those colleagues who’d worked with him before on projects. What you’d discovered had not endeared him to you.

He was a world-class player, that was obvious - and not fussy about which gender he played around with either. Not that that put you off, it was just the sheer volume of men and women he was pictured out on the town with. And alcohol and substance abuse had been there in the mix too, with some stays in rehab mentioned although the last one had been over a year ago. So no... you’d decided you wouldn’t be entertaining any further thoughts of the undeniably attractive Mr Delos.

You turned your thoughts back to the current middleware solution you were constructing, in fact it was for Delos Corporation, involving various scenarios for their Westworld hosts. You were immersed in code and structure when your phone rang, and you saw your boss’s extension number on the caller ID. Hmmm... what could she want? She usually gave you free reign when you working on a project, catching up with you every couple of days at team meetings. Answering it, you heard her assertive voice asking you to pop along to her office and so you set off on the short walk there. You knocked on her door and heard her say ‘come in’, so in you sailed and then came to an abrupt halt. Logan Delos was sitting opposite your boss; he was half-turned towards you with a somewhat triumphant smirk on his face. Your boss indicated the chair next to Logan and you quickly sat down, wondering what this was about and why Logan looked so smug.

Your boss launched into a mini-summary of what you were currently working on, and all you could do was nod. Eventually she finished up with, “So all your current projects are for Delos.” It was a statement not a question, so you just nodded. “Mr Delos here...” she levelled a hand towards Logan, “....has come up with a suggestion, and I happen to think it’s a good one.” She smiled at Logan, before looking back at you and continuing, “He thought it would be beneficial to have the person working on most of his projects - that’s you, just to clarify - to be based at Delos Destinations for the next three months, to facilitate progress.” You knew you were looking completely dumbfounded as she hurried on, “Obviously I’d like your input on this, but I’m sure you can see that it’d be very helpful for you to be on-site with our partners while you’re working through the projects?” Meanwhile you were desperately trying to come up with reasons to remain in your own office, but truthfully you couldn’t. It would be helpful to have instant access to their engineers when you needed an answer on something, you couldn’t deny that. Reluctantly you nodded, “Yes...I can appreciate that. But couldn’t we just have me spend maybe one or two days a week over there rather than be actually based in their offices?”

Logan spoke for the first time, his expression business-like now, “That wouldn’t really fulfill the brief though, would it? Because we’d be back to having a slight delay in receiving and giving responses for the time you weren’t at our offices. And I’d ... we’d... make you very welcome. There’s an office waiting for you... right next to mine.” He couldn’t stop that smirk reappearing as he finished speaking. You forced a smile, “Well, I can’t really refuse an offer like that, can I Mr Delos?” You looked back to your boss, “I guess that’s agreed then. When does this take effect?” Your boss beamed at you, “Excellent! I don’t see any reason for it not to commence immediately, do you? How about as of tomorrow?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan walked onto his office the next morning, whistling a happy little tune. He’d had a small glass of wine the night before at Juliet’s place when he’d dropped in on his way home, knowing he had to break the news to her that evening about the cunning plan he’d come up with. He was happy for two reasons; firstly, visiting Jules and his niece Emily and not having to see William’s stupid damn face any longer would never get old, and secondly, his little scheme to get closer to that gorgeous woman was coming together. As Jules worked partly from home and partly at the office, he had to let her know that a new face would be around for at least the next three months. It would give him a much better chance to persuade her to go out with him - she wouldn’t really be able to escape him given that she’d be right next door to him every day. Predictably, Juliet had issued a stern warning about what would happen to certain parts of his anatomy should he overstep, but had reluctantly accepted that it was a fait accompli. (Privately, she was looking forward to working more closely with her and also warning her about the usual antics of her beloved brother, that’s if she wasn’t already well aware of them).

He’d been racking his brains for ideas on how best to pursue her ever since she’d turned him down flat at that conference. Logan wasn’t used to being turned down. He’d had a brainwave a couple of days later and had checked into who was handling the Delos projects at her company - after all, surely she wouldn’t be at the conference in the first place if she wasn’t involved somehow? He’d been overjoyed to find out that she was handling just about all of the current open projects (so why on earth had they allowed Boring Asshole to give the majority of the presentation?! he’d thought incredulously) and had then begun to put together a plan to somehow get her into his close orbit. He was really quite proud of what he’d come up with.

His secretary knocked on his doorframe and announced that his visitor had arrived. A big smile appeared on Logan’s face.

Here I go! he thought, the thrill of the chase coursing through his veins.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The secretary smiled at you over her shoulder as she leaned against Logan’s office doorframe, “Please, go right in,” before stepping aside so you could enter.

The man himself was lounging back in his fancy office chair, which to you looked more like the type of padded seat you’d get on a private jet, waving you into the office before getting up and striding over to you. He held out his hand which you took but instead of shaking it as you expected, he pulled you towards him and kissed your cheek very softly. A waft of delicious and no doubt expensive cologne reached your nostrils before he stepped back, “Welcome on board!” he said, “...I’m so glad you’re joining us here at Delos Destinations.” You smiled, “Thank you, Mr Delos.” “Logan!” he said immediately, waving his hand and saying your first name. “Logan,” you said dutifully, “yes, thank you for the welcome ....of course I do still work for my own company.” He smiled at you, still holding onto your hand and beginning to lead you to the door, “Well, for now you do. I’ve a mind to steal you away for myself, you know. Or, sorry... for Delos Destinations, I should of course say.”

OK... seems like he’s still interested, even if that wouldn’t last longer than a heartbeat once you’d gone out (and especially if you slept) with him. You knew this secondment was going to be trouble, you thought. Three whole months of trying to resist Mr Player of the Decade. But you were convinced that you could do it.

As he lead you from his office to what was going to be yours, you were suddenly very aware of his tall figure beside you, your hand in his (he still hadn’t let go of it) and a hint of that beautiful cologne of his again. He looked across at you, dark eyes gazing into yours and gave you a mischievous grin. Annoyingly, your stomach did a little flip.

Yeah, really convinced.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Not my GIF - credit to owner)

#logan delos x reader #logan delos #ben barnes #westworld #logan delos fanfic #logan delos imagine #logan delos fan fiction

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

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just let me hold you [request]

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Younger Reader. Warnings: Swearing, Death of an animal. Summary: After Maggie took you in from the sanctuary, life seemed to be going smoothly until you were confronted by your feelings. A/N: This was my first request, I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it. I took inspiration from Hostage & I love you by Billie Eilish to write this, ahaha.

It had been a few weeks since Maggie took you in after Rick had captured Negan. You couldn’t believe your luck. They took care of you, they didn’t expect you to work yourself to the bone for a drop of water. You had helped out where you could but Maggie saw it fit that you’d learn how to hunt. You couldn’t exactly disagree, in fact you were thankful for the opportunity. Your grandfather used to take you on hunting trips when you were young, he said it would teach you patience and how to work for what you needed in life. Though he never actually let you shoot a gun he’d make you watch.

After tightening the laces on your boots you made your way towards the gates to meet with Daryl. You were there when he declined to take you out for a hunt, claiming you’d only slow him down but despite all the arguing, he eventually gave in like he owed Maggie something and he was in no position to say no to her. You saw him waiting by the gate, his bike propped up near the gate as he spoke to one of the blacksmiths. As you approached him, kicking the gravel under your feet, chewing the corner of your mouth waiting for him to finish his conversation. When you caught his eye you shot him a sarcastic smile as you pushed your hands into the back pocket of your jeans. His response was to roll his eyes and climb onto his bike.

“Cm’on” he shouted behind him and like that you straddled the back of his bike and wrapped your arms around his waist for security.

Once you reached your destination, you didn’t waste any time getting off the bike waiting for him to lead the way. “Don’t be buggin’ me. Don’t be touchin’ stuff.” Your eyes rolled at the sound of his groans.

“Anythin’ else, Grandpa” you mocked accordingly, his eyes staring a hole into your soul.

“Keep close” he snarled before leading the way into the forest. You kept quiet, watching the way he tracked, every so often he’d ask you what you could see and you’d respond with obvious signs of an animal or a walker. Keeping to the right tracks you finally spotted a Deer, it wasn’t very big but it was enough. You watched Daryl stalk the deer for a while before sending an arrow straight through its skull. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed by the archer. They way all of this came to him like second nature.

On your way back to the bike after skinning the animal, cutting and wrapping up various lumps of meat. You couldn’t help but let your thoughts wonder. Of course Daryl was twice your age, if not more but you couldn’t deny his rugged good looks . You admired the way he walked for a moment, how he held a sort of swagger with each step. Your eyes are wondering now to his butt, tight! Pleasantly surprised with what you saw, you allowed a small laugh pass your lips as you reached the bike. You stood docile, waiting for his cue to get on the bike. As he straddled the bike, he chewed down on the corner of his lip, nodding slightly. “Nice work out there.” He spoke simply, you shot him a genuine, yet surprised smile.

“Thanks gramps” again with the mocking, Daryl’s eyes rolled before you climbed onto the bike.

“Stop callin’ me that!” he’s words seemed forceful, which only made your brow cock slightly before he kicked the bike into gear and headed back to Hilltop.

A few weeks had gone by without any issues, you had done a fair amount of hunting with Daryl, he even let you actually shoot an animal despite telling you the entire time that you were doing it wrong. You’d both grown to appreciate each other's company, the sly remarks and teasing never left but became more of a staple. You’d go as far as to say you were friends. Though you wouldn’t admit it, there was something there between you both, you got butterflies every time his skin touched yours or when he’d look into your eyes. You’d find yourself fantasising about him sometimes but you’d shake the thoughts from your head almost immediately. Today was another day and that’s what you focused on, going on a hunt and trying to get through it without slipping up or god forbid, falling for the guy because you just couldn’t handle the way he looked at you.

While out there in the forest, just you and Daryl, you found yourself taking a back seat when it came to the tracking, not that there was much to track. As the sun went down, you started to shiver a little as the cold night air made its first appearance. This caught Daryl’s attention and without thinking, he pulled off his vest and propped it around your shoulders. He was waiting for you to make some sort of sarcastic remark about how it wouldn’t be of any help without the sleeves but you didn’t, you just smiled at him. You couldn’t, the way he put your well being before his own sent the butterflies crazy. Shit! You watched as he made a clearing, somewhere for you to sit for a moment. You had been walking all day after all.

Sitting down beside him, biting down on your lip avoiding any sort of contact with him. You didn’t know but Daryl could tell something was off with you, he watched you for a moment with a puzzled look before giving you a slight nudge with his elbow. “Wha’s up, run out of sarky shit to say?” he sniggered at you but you didn’t respond. Fuck! You couldn’t help yourself now, your head felt like mush a little as you held onto his vest, your cheeks turning a light pink shade. Fuck, I really like this guy. “Seriously, s’goin on?” He questioned you much more seriously this time. You just shook your head as you turned towards him, your eyes clearly avoiding his. “Nah, ain’t nothin’, wha is it?” You just hoped he’d stop pestering you before he forced you to say something you’d regret.

“Seriously?” Your brow cocked, as you gave him a look. “Just a stupid boy, that’s all!” you snapped, your leg shaking a little. Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at your words as he started to pick at a twig he had found on the ground beneath him.

“Now why you lettin’ a boy mess wi ya head?” he laughed but you just ignored him, God you felt so stupid, he’s so much more older than you. Like hell he’d ever even look at you in that way. “So, who’s the lucky fella?” He questioned but you felt like a deer in headlights, lying to everyone else was one thing but to lie to Daryl? Could you even do it?

Daryl, despite being a tracker had never really been great at reading signs. As you stared at him with a lost look on your face, he just shook his head slightly, waiting for you to reply. Great, he was really going to make you say it. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you let your eyes meet the ground. “You.” You whispered, hoping that he didn’t hear you but he did. As he sat frozen in spot, you let out a frustrated sigh, shaking your head. “Don’t even start, I know how it sounds” you snapped in his direction, not letting your eyes meet his. “It's wrong, I know but when I'm with you, it just feels...” Daryl instantly stood up, cutting you off. Shaking his head as he paced around you.

“Na, Na!” he repeated himself for a moment, “Don’t say it!” he pleaded.

“right.” You had to say it, Your eyes now slightly welling up at the stupidity of your vulnerability right now. “I don’t want to but I like you Daryl” you finally spat out, your cold shakes became slightly more aggressive now. You just watched as Daryl shook his head.

You didn’t know this but Daryl had, had thoughts of you recently but it made him feel awkward with you being so much younger than him but god he couldn’t get you out of his head. His hands now planting firmly onto his hips as he attempted to understand the conversation, nervously chewing on his lips. You sighed softly, running your fingers through your hair. “I'm sorry” your voice was soft now as you glanced over at him for a second, the embarrassment increasing with every moment.

“Just forget I ever said anything, just go back to normal.” Your words held so much pain and regret, instantly snapping Daryl out of his trance.

“Nah” he spoke, soft this time. You looked at him, confused by his words but by the time your eyes met with his, he was making his way towards you. His swagger he once held, still there but you could sense he was nervous. Just like that his hand’s engulfed your face as he pulled you in, planting his lips against yours hungrily. You didn’t fight it, you leaned into it, Your hands lightly pressing against his elbows. All the worries and doubts seemed to wash away as his mouth explored yours. Nothing else mattered to you in this moment as you sank into his body, his hands now wrapping around your shoulders. As he pulled his lips away, you kept your eyes closed for a moment still wrapped in his arms.

“this feels right” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his chin as he squeezed you a little.

“jus’ let me hold ya” he matched your whisper as he closed his eyes, pulling you in closer to his chest. You had no idea where this was going to go, if it was going anywhere at all but you soaked up the feeling of his arms wrapped around you and thanked god you were able to share this moment with him, even if it was going to be the only one.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x younger reader #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd fanfiction

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vampiresuns · 3 years

Text

Interlude 1: Do Not Stand Over My Grave And Weep, Part 2

⟡ PART 2: FRIENDS ARE THE FAMILY YOU CHOOSE ⟡

2.2k words. In which Anatole’s friends start uncovering the mystery of his death and sudden reappearance.

CW: Death and discussions of it.

What to catch up with Anatole’s Apprentice series? You can do that here.

He had met him at University. He had been his friend since he was 18 years old. Anatole and Medea had been Leonore’s first lasting friends, the first people who outside of his family, had taught him permanence was not entrapment. They had filled his life with growth and laughter; he had suffered their woes, he had celebrated their triumphs, he had followed them into Vesuvia despite his original wish to travel the world.

He still travelled, but he always came back to them. Medea and Anatole weren’t just friends: they were family now. When Leonore closed his eyes he could see them holding hands and jumping into the water one summer evening in Prakra. He could see Medea using his thigh as a pillow under a tree. He could see Anatole dancing. He could see Medea and Anatole dressed to the nines for their new Court jobs.

He would know them anywhere. He would know them by the way their steps sounded alone.

It took Leonore some moments to remember where he was, Octavia gently nudging him. Sabine, who he didn’t realise had gone, announced themselves again, saying they had lost Anatole’s doppelgänger in the crowd.

Only it hadn’t been a doppelgänger. Leonore knew his best friend, he knew Anatole when he saw him.

“No,” he said at last. “No, that’s him. That’s him, Octavia. That was him, and I need to find him.”

“Leonore, wait! Anatole’s dead.”

They began bickering about it, Octavia trying to stop Leonore from head diving into a wild goose chase, not realising Selasi, the Baker, was listening to them.

“Excuse me, forgive me for overhearing, but are you talking about Anatole Radošević? The magician from Moonstone and Jasmine?”

“Yes! His aunt owned that shop,” Leonore said, jumping to talk to Selasi, who inspected him with a careful eye.

“I don’t know what prank you’re playing, but he’s alive as can be. I opened a little after the plague subsided and he and Asra have been getting bread from me for three years, almost. They’re attached at the hip, so if you know Asra—“

Leonore leaped to shake his hand. “I do know, Asra! Thank you, thank you so much.”

Selasi tried to tell him Asra wasn’t around, that he was on a journey, but that he could tell him where to find Anatole if he promised he was a friend, but Leonore sprinted towards the shop without letting him finish. Sabine set off to follow Leonore as Octavia called to both of them, which left her standing alone with Selasi. She made some apologies, and Selasi told her not to worry.

“Where did you say you knew him?”

“Leonore went to University with him,” she said, thinking the least she could do was to assure the man they were Anatole’s friends, not some random people with weird motivations. “I know him through his cousin.”

The baker hummed. “I didn’t know Anatole had any family besides his late Aunt and Asra.”

Something about the way he said it, the casual certainty of it, gave Octavia a chill. She thanked him, and tried to catch up with Sabine and Leonore, not wanting to say anything Selasi might not know. She risked him stopping them, or worse, telling Anatole, which she didn’t think would be a good idea. Octavia just had a bad feeling about it: she didn’t expect people to just know who Anatole was, or had been, that could be conceited. Anatole himself hated being anticipated by his job, wanting to have the opportunity to present himself and do the best he could do.

Yet from there to the sureness Selasi had had when he said he didn’t know Anatole had any family besides Paris and Asra? It was weird. The Radošević-Cassano weren’t meant to be separated; if Octavia knew anything about them from Milenko, it was that they were very close knit. The only people in their families that Octavia could think of as not being regarded ever, were Matilda and Krešmir, Vlad’s and Valerius’ late parents, who hadn’t even raised the siblings. All she knew about them was that they were neglectful and Matilda had the idle ennui of someone who was too used to having everything, and was used to using cruelty for fun.

Milenko had only talked about them a couple of times, and she had never heard the Consul even mention them, let alone Vlad, Anatole’s father. One way or another, the Cassano didn’t detach themselves from their family, nor did the Radošević, and Anatole had only ever been extremely proud of the people who had raised him. That had been their way since the days of Cassano Arianamenzi, the first of them, and she could testify that legacy had not washed away with time. If anything, it had become stronger. So why would Anatole not speak of it?

Unless he didn’t remember them. She had read about such a thing once, doing research for one of her most early plays. A shiver went down her back, making her hug her arms around herself and walk faster.

When Octavia reached the Moonstone Leonore and Sabine were talking to a tall man who seemed to guard the shop. None of them had seen him before, but he seemed to know them; he called them ‘people from before’.

“You used to give Anatole clementines, which he doesn’t like—” he said. He was tall, covered in a cloak, and had moss green eyes, though they were barely visible.

“He says they taste fake,” Leonore completed.

“So he gave them to me, before— it doesn’t matter. You won’t find him here.”

The only thing stranger than the stranger was that none of them could remember him as they tried to piece their afternoon together. However, Octavia had heard Selasi say Anatole was occupied in the Palace, and perhaps they could try their luck there.

“Then let’s go,” Leonore said, already standing up. “Maybe Medea knows something we don’t.”

Medea Pryce was the daughter of two archaeologists and the granddaughter of another one. Both her father’s and her mother’s family had settled in Vesuvia some generations ago because its cultural diversity and rich history was good for the archaeological craft. Anatole wasn’t the first Radošević-Cassano she had met — her Grandmother was acquainted with Bastiste Cassano, one of the Cassano elders, and thus with Consul Valerius, whom Batiste called her spoiled grandnephew. Medea’s parents, on the other hand, were acquainted with Atanasie Radošević and Aurora Tesfaye, uncle and mother of Anatole’s cousin Milenko.

So when she met him at University, which she had begun in Prakra, just as he had done, the surname called to her immediately. Discovering they would course the exact same program, even if they had different aspirations and goals, another pleasant surprise. It would be nice to have someone to know, as Medea liked making friends.

What a friend she had made of him and Leonore, who shared housing with them. Anatole was one of those people who had the energy of a handsome stranger one shared enlightening conversation with, yet then never saw again. Debonair and hopeful, he was passionate and inspiring, a devoted friend and nothing if not extraordinary. He had his shortcomings, like everyone, but that wasn’t the way one measured their friends.

Seasons came and time passed. They both studied and apprenticed in Balkovia for six months, and then they moved on into Vesuvia, Leonore following them, to their surprise. They laughed and hurt, they fell in love with their own people, they held each other, and Medea and Anatole drafted their plans for the future. It would be a great future, they were sure of it. Anatole’s self-introductory speech for the Vesuvian Court was a gem, Medea believed it so. They liked to fantasise about one day becoming Consul and Head of Staff, with all the things they thought they could help with, working together for the people of their City.

No matter the crashes and reality checks, the hardships or how many times Medea had seen Anatole stand up to the Count and the new Courtiers, they held hands through it and continued onwards: The World and it’s calling of completion met its perfect match in Anatole’s Ace of Swords coloured Strength.

Then the Plague came and Anatole died, and Medea was left with all their plans, and no one to implement them with.

After his death, things only got worse. She could tell something was going on with the Consul, but she wasn’t close enough to him to know what. She was somewhat closer to Councilwoman Cassiopeia, but she didn’t seem to know what was going on with her cousin either. The Courtiers hadn’t done anything of value for the City in three years, and all that Valerius ever seemed to do was to keep it afloat. The Court was destroyed, and with the Countess as lost as they all were, Medea didn’t know where they would end.

When she heard the Countess had found a new advisor she was thrilled. Fresh air was what the Court needed, and by the first weeks of this advisor around the Countess, it was clear they were doing her good, even if she had heard the advisor had had a rocky introduction with the Court. It seemed like it, because she knew from first hand experience that the Consul had come in furious to his office, refusing to speak to anyone, except to Cassiopeia, whom Medea was sure forced him to speak rather than him wilfully giving her any information.

He had only said something about something in poor taste, and how had he let the Countess know he would not tolerate it, but he didn’t say anything else.

Her turn to meet the advisor came the next morning. It happened by accident, when she was delivering some documents to the Council of Vesuvia. Meet was a lax word for it, ‘seeing’ him, was much more appropiate: with his light golden blond hair, and bespoke clothes. The same unmistakable black eyes and the scar across the bridge of his nose. The same stride, the same height, the same face, the same looks.

Her friend, her own dearest Aelius Anatole had walked into the Consul’s office seeking for an explanation about the way he had been received in Court. From there on, the morning was mayhem, absolute mayhem, and only now that Medea was sitting alone she could finally process it.

“Anatole” had introduced himself fully, his name the right name, but the Consul wouldn’t hear it, immediately throwing himself at the throat of the “second-rate witch” for daring to use that name. Anatole continued to insist that was his name. The more the argument extended, it was clear to everyone involved that that was Anatole, even to the headstrong Consul — his panicked eyes gave him away.

Medea knew her friend, her friend had always had a presence, even if he wasn’t always aware of it. He still had it, he still stood in the same way the Consul did, he still turned his eyebrows in the same way, and the way he spoke.

What he spoke of, too.

The breaking point came when the Consul grabbed him from the shoulders, demanding to know what he wanted from him. Then, Medea saw him do something he hadn’t done in years: she heard the Consul speak Balkovian in public. Medea’s grasp with the language was enough to know he asked two things, two crucial things, that anyone who wasn’t Anatole couldn’t answer.

Anatole answered the first one, something about a sword’s name, in his perfectly native Balkovian, looking pale and sickly-greenish. Cassiopeia tried to interject, but the Consul wouldn’t listen to anyone. Then the Consul asked his second question, something about ‘what was the tree’, or ‘what was the name of the tree’, and nothing else. Medea wasn’t sure.

Anatole replied both of the questions: His first reply being ‘grapevine’, followed by a choked up ‘cult of Dionysus’; the second reply was ‘a beech tree’, looking like he was about to vomit after the words left his mouth.

“Valeriy?” He said, as the Consul looked at him in horror, still holding him by the shoulders. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Anatole did pass out, and the Consul, blushing cherry red as he realised the whole scene had been in front of half the Court office at his care, yelled at them to know what the hell were they doing, if not call for someone to take this boy to a bed. After it, the Consul stormed off, Cassiopeia power-walking behind him as she demanded an explanation from her cousin, an explanation the Consul refused to give, waving dismissively at her.

“Don’t you wave like that at me, Valeriy, unlike you, I know my own damn nephew when I see him.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“Valeriy Radošević, I will call you however I damn please! Come back here!”

Medea didn’t stay to watch the rest. The Court was in unrest, it was so much that it had stirred the four other weirdos into watching and making the oddest commentary for anyone to hear. Medea didn’t need an in with them to know they knew something they all didn’t, and simply thought of the Court Staff too inconsequential for them to spare them half a thought.

As if possessed by a thunderbolt, Medea stood up from where she was sitting as she ruminated. She needed answers, and she needed to talk about this to someone. She had an idea: if anyone she was close enough knew a considerable amount of death and ghosts, it was Amparo Cassano, but first she needed to talk to Leonore. They had supported each other in these 4 years Anatole had been dead, or presumed as much. Anything she did, it would be with Leonore.

As she turned around after grabbing her coat, Leonore was calling her name.

“Sabine is waiting for us at our place, they wanted to ask some questions first so I ran here. Octavia is trying to find Amparo, or anyone really. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Good,” she said, as she grabbed his arm and began walking out of the Palace, “so do I, but not here. The Courtiers are around, and they cannot be trusted.”

#the arcana #my writing #the arcana oc #apprentice anatole #anatole's apprentice rewrites #aelius anatole #selasi the baker #leonore #medea #octavia rei #sabine rei #the radosevic-cassano #beautiful powerful and stubborn as a ram #consul valerius

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spacedancer1701 · 4 years

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Only a Call Away (on Valentine’s Day)

A Star Trek Fic

Fandoms: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (AOS) Pairing: McCoy x Original Female Character (Dr. Jennifer Hope) Characters: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy, Jenny Hope Rating/Warnings: Explicit (M) Tags: Romance, Love, Smut and Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content Word Count: 2,798

Read it on AO3: Only a Call Away (on Valentine’s Day)

Summary:

McCoy is away at a conference on Valentine's Day, but Hope won't let that stop them from having an unforgettable and very intimate evening nevertheless.

Or simply put: another (missing) Hope and McCoy smut scene.

(Although you don’t have to be familiar with my other Hope/McCoy stories to enjoy this little one-shot.)

************

Jenny cast a loving glance at the beautiful red roses on her desk, before leaving her office to get ready for the surprise she’d planned for Leonard. Today was Valentine’s Day on Earth, and the Enterprise was buzzing with people preparing for cosy dinners or poring over mysterious cards and messages.

Unfortunately, Leonard was away at a conference, hence the roses and a lovely card promising to make it up to her. So typical of the doctor. As if being away on Valentine’s Day had been his choice. Or his fault. But Jenny was going to make sure that it would be an unforgettable Valentine’s Day for both of them nevertheless.

Changing out of her uniform and stepping into the shower, she felt heat rise to her cheeks just thinking about what she had planned. She couldn't remember the last time seeing Leonard had made her nervous, but tonight, it certainly did. Because tonight, she intended to fulfil one of his secret desires. At least she hoped so.

And with him being so far away this Valentine’s Day, it was the perfect opportunity to get over herself and make this particular dream come true for him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Hi there, love,” McCoy smiled, sitting on the bed in his hotel room, his back comfortably propped against the headboard, as he transferred the call to the bigger screen on the wall, then did a classic double take. “Oh, wow, you look stunning! Are you expecting company?”

He was joking, of course, but couldn't deny actually feeling a tiny twinge of jealousy, seeing Hope wearing nothing but a flimsy see-through nightie without him there on Valentine’s Day. What if someone came to see her in their quarters? Had she even remembered to lock the door?

“All just for you, Leonard,” she laughed, giving a little twirl showing off her alluring body, before draping herself seductively across their bed. “It is Valentine’s Day after all.”

“Are you trying to kill me, love?” he groaned, desire and lust pooling in his groin at the incredible sight before him, his uniform pants suddenly seeming painfully tight.

“Actually, this is part of my Valentine’s gift to you,” she giggled, doing a teasing little shimmy into the camera.

The doctor couldn't suppress a low grunt, almost exploding with desire and the frustration of not being able to touch her. Hope knew exactly the effect she had on him, and she was obviously enjoying this.

“Why don’t you get a little more comfortable?” she suggested, innocently batting her eyelashes at him. “Maybe get rid of all those constricting clothes?”

“Stop the teasing, woman,” McCoy growled as he shrugged off his shirt and removed his pants, then settled back on the bed, satisfied to see the longing he felt mirrored in her eyes now, too.

“Do you remember when you were at this symposium a few months back?” Hope asked, her voice deep and sultry.

“How could I not?” he responded, a little damp patch forming on his briefs as he felt his manhood twitching excitedly at the memory. “It was the hottest night I’ve ever spent away from you.”

Hope gave him a smouldering look, her lips curling into a naughty little smile.

“Is that what this is about, love?” it suddenly hit him, a bout of intense yearning surging through him. “Would you like me to talk to you like that again? I knew you secretly loved it, even though you wouldn’t admit it, acting all coy and bashful. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how much it turned you on? Or that I’d forget how many times I made you come just with my words that night?”

“Not just your words, Leonard,” Hope added softly, her adorable blush and shy little smile setting his nether regions on fire. “You know exactly what your voice does to me.”

“My voice, you say?” McCoy drawled, savouring the way she closed her eyes, her body gently writhing on the bed. “So you wouldn’t mind listening to me for a while now?”

“I certainly wouldn’t,” she smirked, “but I was actually thinking of going first today. The other part of my Valentine’s gift, so to speak.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

“You mean, you…” the doctor left the sentence unfinished, his eyes growing wide and a soft moan escaping him as his hand moved down his body where Jenny couldn't see it anymore.

I’ve managed to surprise him all right, Jenny thought giddily, her own desire growing as she noticed his breathing pick up and his eyes flutter shut.

“Oh my God,” McCoy gasped, the longing and eagerness in his voice going straight to her core, “you sure?”

“Only if you’d like it, of course,” Jenny smiled, trying not to let her insecurity show.

“Like it?” he chuckled, opening his eyes again and looking at her with a tenderness that melted her heart. “Good God, girl! I’ve been dreaming about this ever since our very first night. Nothing hotter than you talking dirty!”

The doctor let out a groan that sent a wave of burning need from between Jenny’s legs up to her chest.

“Jesus, remember that café where we had breakfast the morning after?” McCoy went on breathlessly. “You said something like ‘make-up sex is supposed to be the best’, and that was all it took to make me want to rip your clothes off and take you again right there and then. It’s driving me crazy just thinking about it now.”

“Then you’d better buckle up,” Jenny grinned mischievously, “because I sure hope that with you as my teacher, my skills have improved a little since then.”

Up to that moment, she hadn’t been sure if her plan to surprise Leonard with dirty talk was really a good idea. Much as she loved to hear it from him, she’d always felt silly talking like that herself. It just didn’t come naturally to her. But seeing his eager reaction, she felt much more confident now.

-x-x-x-x-x-

McCoy squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips tightly together, frantically trying to quell his arousal before he lost control. Just hearing Hope talk about dirty talk did it for him, and he definitely didn’t want to tumble over the edge just yet. She’d just offered to do what he’d been fantasising about for the longest time, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to spoil her – and his – fun.

God, she was a never-ending well of surprises. The sweetest, hottest, most amazing woman a man could wish for. He’d felt so guilty and sad for abandoning her on Valentine’s Day, but Hope wouldn’t be Hope if she hadn’t found a way to turn what he considered a disappointment into a memorable occasion.

“Keep your eyes closed, Leonard,” her voice, soft and low, brought him back to the present. “Can you feel my lips on yours? Kissing down your chin, tracing your jawline, nibbling down your throat, your chest? Mmmmmmh, my fingers softly playing with the hair on your chest while my teeth and tongue gently tease your nipples? The left one first, then the right one?”

The doctor moaned and hummed, almost feeling her lips and teeth and tongue on his skin. Wondering when Hope had gone from someone too shy to talk dirty to someone nearly making him shoot his load at the first word.

“Feel me tenderly kiss my way further down your stomach, your belly…” she went on, her voice getting huskier as her own arousal seemed to increase along with his.

He had to reach down and firmly grip the base of his rock-hard member, which was straining painfully against his briefs, hoping to stave off his fast building orgasm.

“You’ll have to be my hands now, Leonard,” Hope told him, her melodic voice reaching him through a haze of unbridled lust and burning desire. “Help me strip you of your briefs, so that I can see you in your full glory and touch you the way I know you love.”

McCoy clasped his erection, almost bursting with need and desire, Hope’s voice edging him on and nearly driving him out of his mind.

“Feel my hands where you want them most, gently playing with your balls, firmly stroking up and down your shaft. Up and down, ever so slowly, while my tongue starts circling your crown. Lightly, exploringly. Mmmmmh… you’re oozing desire, and I love how you taste.”

“Easy, Jenny,” the doctor ground out. “I’m getting too close.”

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked abruptly, sounding a little embarrassed, and the doctor felt immediately bad for interrupting her while at the same time grateful to feel his arousal abate a little.

“I just need you to go easy, love,” he explained, trying to catch his breath. “Unfortunately, unlike you, I can’t come twenty times in half as many minutes, and I don’t want this to be over too soon.”

“I’m doing all right then?” Hope giggled happily, and he felt his heart swell with overwhelming tenderness at the joyful pride in her voice.

“All right is definitely not the term I’d use,” he chuckled. “More like phenomenal. Just like everything else you do.”

She was so incredibly sweet. He knew how shy she was when it came to dirty talk. Or rather sexy talk in her case – nothing dirty about it. While she would open herself up to him in every other way, give herself to him completely, she’d always been uncomfortable putting her feelings during sex, her wishes and desires, into words.

And yet, she’d done it for him today. Even though he knew she’d much rather do all those things to him than talk about them in such detail. The things she did to make him happy. He’d never understand why she’d chosen to love him of all people, but he thanked the powers that be every single day for being so blessed.

Hope had really just got into the swing of things when he’d stopped her, and he could hear her struggling to find the right words to get back to it now.

“Want me to take over?” he asked, taking pity on her, and almost laughed out loud at the sheer relief on her face, as she tried to casually nod and shrug.

No matter how much her ‘dirty talk’ had turned him on, it had nothing on the way his heart filled with love at simply watching Hope being Hope.

“All right, then,” McCoy smiled, “lie back down, close your eyes, and I’ll tell you what I’d like us to do next.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Okay,” Jenny agreed a little hesitantly.

She’d really wanted tonight to be all about him. But seeing as she’d brought him to the edge in practically no time, and feeling mighty proud about it, she understood that he wanted to draw out the experience as long as he could.

Besides, she couldn't deny feeling a little relieved to let him continue. What was so intensely stimulating coming from him, still sounded a little awkward coming out of her mouth.

“I wish you knew how much I love you, Jenny,” the doctor broke into her thoughts, and she could feel the warmth of his affection even across the distance. “Every time I think I couldn't love you more, you go and prove me wrong.”

“I feel exactly the same, Leonard,” she smiled, “and I can’t wait to have you back here and feel you for real.”

“Well, let’s make the most of it until then,” he replied softly, and she could practically hear the naughty grin spreading across his face without even looking up. “After what you just made me feel, let’s see, if I’ve still got it, too!”

Of course, he’d still got it, no doubt about that, Jenny thought fondly, feeling her panties growing damp just with the thrill of anticipation.

“Normally, I’d love to go down on you now,” McCoy drawled, and Jenny immediately felt her juices starting to flow and drench her panties, “savouring the taste of your wetness, exploring every little fold and crevice with my tongue, finding your little jewel and spending a looong time caressing it with just the tip of my tongue, nibbling on it, gently sucking on it with my lips, maybe carefully tease it a little with my teeth, before licking you to your first climax. The first of maaany.”

Jenny was rapidly losing all sense of time and space, her fingers frenziedly trying to put Leonard’s words into action, if only in a poor imitation of what the real thing would have felt like, the doctor’s erotic voice and the way he drew out his vowels exciting her no end.

“But,” McCoy continued softly, clearly enjoying teasing her, but audibly turned on immensely now, too, “I’m still teetering on the edge you’ve just put me on, and I honestly don’t know how much longer I can last. In fact, I’ll have to find some way to actively block out this memory after tonight, or I’ll have to spend the rest of the symposium in permanent arousal.”

That did it. The idea of her words having aroused him so helplessly sent her freefalling into her first, tremendous orgasm of the night, gasping and moaning, her body spasming in delicious release, Leonard’s flushed face, scrunched up as he tried not to follow her over the edge just yet, somewhere at the periphery of her lust-clouded vision.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Watching Hope tumbling over the edge like that was beyond words. There was no greater turn-on than knowing he had the power to ‘pleasure her to pieces’, an expression she had once used in an attempt to try and describe what his touch was doing to her, and which had struck him as exactly what he wanted to do.

McCoy was usually quite good at keeping his own arousal at bay to give Hope as much pleasure as possible. But after how she’d set him on fire earlier, his endurance was weakened, and his desire overwhelming. There was no way he could last much longer, he was already fit to burst.

So the doctor waited just long enough for Hope to recover a little, then asked, “What would you like me to do now, love? I’m pretty sure I’m going to join you the next time already.”

That elicited a wicked grin from her, the idea of having aroused him beyond control seeming quite a turn-on.

“If you were here, I think I’d really love to feel you inside me, now, Leonard,” she breathed, her cheeks glowing as she looked at him from lowered lids.

“And how exactly would you go about that?” he wanted to know, feeling a new pool of lust forming in his groin.

“I’d straddle you,” she replied softly, indulging his wish to coax some more dirty-talk out of her, “push my panties a little to the side, and slowly rub myself against your hardness while softly nibbling on your neck.”

Hearing her words, the doctor involuntarily started to grind his hips, the movement as well as his breathing growing erratic when Hope teasingly added, “You know, that little spot right behind your ear, that makes you break out in goose bumps and gets you mewling.”

Dear God, she’s good! McCoy thought, feeling the big O building at warp speed, powerless to delay his climax any longer.

“I’m so wet and ready for you,” Hope moaned, and seeing her fingering herself as frenziedly as he was jerking off now, was almost more than he could take.

“Nearly there,” the doctor gasped.

And when Hope whimpered, “Grab my hips, bury your face between my breasts, and let me ride you to the most spectacular orgasm you ever had,” her body arching and spasming as her own climax rippled through her, it only took one more thrust into his hand for him to explode into easily one of the most spectacular orgasms of his life, just as Hope had wanted him to.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Three days later, McCoy was finally back on the Enterprise, lying in bed and tenderly holding his darling Hope, fast asleep in his arms after reliving their Valentine’s fantasy for real.

The doctor was under no illusion that her talking dirty would become a regular thing between them. And that was all right. It just wasn’t her. Besides, it wasn’t important. Making love to her was beyond compare even without. But she’d indulge him again every now and then, he knew her that well. And those rare occasions would be infinitely sweet.

************ Disclaimer: Nothing of or associated with Star Trek is mine – it all belongs to Paramount / ViacomCBS (or whoever else is currently holding the rights). This is a work of fanfiction, no infringement intended.

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secret-rendezvous1d · 3 years

Note

Just a little angsty thought about MGG or Spencer having a thing for the reader but she doesn’t know it? And she’s sort of seeing this guy but it falls through and she’s devistated but he’s there and kind of confesses his feelings? Oof I’d eat it UP

Okay, damn... lovesick Spencer has me weak-

He hated it.

Before YN came into his life, starting off as a technical intern for Garcia before working her way up to being a much loved member of the team, he never ever considered there to be an opportunity to pine after a girl. As someone who liked his own space and had his own routine and feared over germs and dirt and had been found to wash his hands after every greeting, he never imagined himself to thrive and fantasise over the thought of a relationship and being so loved-up and intimate with someone in a situation that threw him out of his comfort zone. Yet, YN seemed to change his perspective.

Love was something he craved and he never thought he’d tell himself that. The idea of waking up in the morning beside the girl he adored made his heart swell, the idea of getting to spoil the girl he loved made him quiver, knowing he got to kiss and cuddle and hold the girl he was enamoured over made him fall deeper and deeper into the hole of romance.

Love was something he wanted to have but her love was something he craved.

Just knowing that he could spend the rest of his life with someone who he had captured his heart, right from the start, was warming to him and he only wished he had that attitude before it was too late... because it really was too late when she brought her date into work, one Monday morning, to show him the ropes of the job she felt proud of be a part of, of the job she felt privileged by and the job she got to do on a daily basis.

Being fake and feigning happiness was never Spencer’s strong suit but he had to put on a brave face for YN and at least try to be happy because she was; it wasn’t her fault that he was too cowardly to ask her on a date, to ask her to be his girlfriend, to grow up a little bit more and become a partner she felt proud to have. Watching a tall, six-foot man hold the hand of the woman he longed to hold the hand of as she showed him around the office made him green in the face... watching the brunette bloke kiss the woman he dreamed of kissing goodbye made his stomach churn... watching the muscles hold her tight when all he wanted to do was hold her all day made him yearn to say something... it was hard to ignore and he felt guilty for wishing destruction upon the two of them when all he longed for was to see her smile and laugh.

And, in Spencer’s vocabulary, hate was a strong word.

But he really hated seeing how happy she was with another man when he could have made her even happier.

Not once did he think he was the one to console her.

She had Garcia down the road from her apartment, she had JJ to help her with her problems and Emily knew how to make someone feel special again. Of all of her friends outside of work and the girlfriends she had from school, she had so many comforting places to stay and so many people that would take her in and hold her until she was ready to be on her own again. So, he never assumed he was the top of her list when it came to a shoulder to cry on and spout off her problems because she needed someone to listen to her.

“I thought he was the one, you know?”

After months of seeing her happy and loved up with bloke he felt jealous over, Spencer hated seeing her sad as much as he had hated seeing her happy. He wouldn’t have made her feel like that, he wouldn’t have let her walk out of his life with the click of a finger, he wouldn’t have said vulgar things to her to belittle her and he wouldn’t have treated her as poorly as she was treated because she was someone who deserved so much more than that.

“He said he loved me then he ghosted me, Spencer. Who does that?”

Spencer shrugs and he watches her cautiously as she takes a sip of her coffee and sets the mug back on a coater on his coffee table, both sets of eyes set on the steam that filtered from the rim and evaporated into the air, the deep smell of caffeine making his home smell warm and homely.

“I gave him everything, I showed him my favourite places and took him to my favourite restaurants, I let him stay at my house because he was having trouble with his flat,” she lets out a shaky breath and looks over in Spencer’s direction with an expression that broke his heart and released anger through his body that should never have been aimed at YN, “I don’t know what I did wrong but why did he do that? Who does that? Seriously, what bloke does that?”

“An asshole,” he states, and the disgust and upset and the anger he felt was in his voice as clear as day, “that’s who does that, YN. A pretentious asshole who thinks he can wiggle a woman round his finger and do anything he wanted to her because he knows she won’t leave him.”

YN’s eyebrows furrow and the ache in her heart hurt more than before; why was he blaming her for being a victim to heartache? Where did this anger come from? For thinking she found the right guy? For going through a tough time? It confused her and, as much as she wanted to ask and have a conversation that probably needed to be had by people with clear minds, she hated how he was speaking to her.

“Spencer-”

“YN-”

“No,” she hisses to shush him from speaking further, her eyes stinging as she stared at him with a longing gaze. A streak of tears running down both cheeks, her nose damp beneath her nostrils, her lips pink and her bottom lip bitten raw, her fingers picking at the skin around her thumbnails, “you don’t get to blame me, Spencer. You don’t know anything about relationships. You’ve never had the chance to experience one. You’ve never have had. You don’t get to tell me it’s my own fault for what happened when he made me believe he wanted me.”

“I’m not-”

She scoffs heavily and shakes her head at him.

“You did! Spencer, you called me naive and you basically called me needy and hinted that I fall for any bloke who smiles at me,” she shakes her head and her eyes bore holes into the top of his head, his own eyes staring at the floor beside his socked feet, “I thought you could have made me feel better, make me smile like you used to-”

“I could have treated you better.”

The heaviness in his voice, the finger pointing adamantly into his chest and the way his head snapped back up to look at her caught her in her place. His face was stern, his lips set in a tense line and his jaw looked rigid and his knuckles were white as he released the tight grip he had upon his trousers.

“You spent months with him when you could have had me. You were treated so poorly and you weren’t loved and you were touched by someone who didn’t deserve to touch you and he never deserved your love. You could have had me all along. I could have loved you like you deserved, kissed you like you wanted to be kissed, held you so tightly,” he gulps thickly and stands to his feet, “and you can still have that. With me.”

She shakes her head and runs her fingers through her hair.

“I can’t-”

“You can,” he whispers, taking a step towards her only for her to turn her back to him, letting her feet take her to the front door of his apartment. Her bag hung heavy on her shoulder, her shoes weren’t even tied properly and the doorknob felt cold and uninviting as she opened the door to let herself out, “YN-”

“Spencer, I can’t.” xx

#spencer reid chats #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagines

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ebaeschnbliah · 4 years

Photo

Creator of a legend .....

Suddenly touched by fame - joy and sorrow of an aspiring author

Outtake of NRH Halifax

Last time Dr Watson had visited The Strand, his publisher gave him some useful advice regarding the stories he wanted to write about Sherlock Holmes, the extraordinary detective with whom he shares lodgings at Baker Street 221b (Advice at The Strand).

Dr Watson revised his story .... and it got published.

TBC below the cut (with a lot of pics and all the spoilers) …

Fierce knocking at his door and loud voices interrupt John, while he is drafting another story for The Strand.

His flatmate Sherlock Holmes and his landlady Mrs Hudson demand entry ... rather forcefully. A very angry Sherlock thrusts a newspaper under John’s nose. ‘Was it you? Did you do this? How dare you?’ Sherlock wants to know and without further ado he pushes the puzzled doctor aside and walks up to the window. Mrs Hudson watches but remains alarmingly silent.

Looking for help, John turns to his landlady and wants to know what has happended. ‘You’ve been touched by fame, doctor. Look out of the window’, she tells him calmly .... too calmly for his liking.

As it turns out, a crowd of people has gathered unter the doctor’s window. The moment Sherlock looks out, they start shouting his name enthusiastically. Some of them are waving newspapers in their hands. Outraged Sherlock shouts back at them ‘What do you want? Go away! These are all fantasies, lies! Leave immediately or I’ll call the police! Go away!’ ... without any success.

‘What are you writing, Doctor?!’ Sherlock demands to know furiously as he turns again to his flatmate. ’You can fantasise as much as you want. You can write about how you dissect frogs. But do not suck me and Mrs Hudson into this abomination! Do not, I repeat, do not write the exact address!’

Then, as quick as Sherlock had rushed into John’s room, he’s out of the door again ... the doctor’s boxing gloves tucked under his arm. Before he reaches his own chamber, Sherlock turns on his heels again and calls John a ‘filthy hack writer’.

Desperate John trys to calm the waves somewhat. He turns once more to Mrs Hudson and assures her that he never meant to insult anybody. Not the best idea, as he finds out immediately. ‘Really? Is that why you described me as an ancient granny?’ Mrs Hudson spits at him angrily.

John has barely recovered from his shock before a still fuming Sherlock comes at him again and continues his rant. The doctor has hardly a chance to get a word in and Sherlock doesn’t listen to him anyway. He is convinced that his flatmate needs to be punished.

‘I’m going to teach you a lesson’ Sherlock announces emphatically. John stays calm and tries to withstand that storm of anger. Only when Sherlock hints at a payment of ‘thirty in silver’ and calls John’s pseudonym ‘foppish’, the doctor's patience comes to an end. Apparently a boxing match can’t be avoided.

(My humble guess .... that ‘foppish’ pseudonym is Arthur Conan Doyle :)))

John has exceptional fighting skills. Compared to him, Sherlock is less than an amateur. One can safely say that the clever detective is quite talent free in all matters of martial arts. But then, Sherlock knows this very well ....

Calmly John puts on the first boxing glove and the next moment he throws it away with a cry of pain. ‘Well? How does it feel?’ Sherlock asks, both pleased and intrigued, while Mrs Hudson starts screeming in horror. ‘That’s exactly how Mrs Hudson and I feel right now!’, he adds with satisfaction. John is at a loss for words and examines his tormented hand.

Sherlock carefully gathers his eight legged pet animal and vanishes inside his room ... once more he calls John’s literary activity ‘an absolute abomination’.

Meanwhile Mrs Hudson has regained her composure, but she’s still a far way from being pacified, as Dr Watson soon learns. ‘You paid for the flat until the end of this month. So you’ll have plenty of time to find yourself new lodgings.’ she tells John and rushes downstairs without a further word.

With a deep sigh of frustration John returns to his own room. He takes the newspaper with his ‘offending’ story with him. After risking a cautious look out of the window, John sits down and starts reading ...

The satisfied look on his face seems to indicate that Dr Watson ... alias ACD ... is very pleased with his first published story .... ‘A Study in Scarlet’.

The atmosphere of piece and quiet doesn’t last long though before Sherlock calls for his flatmate in a loud voice again. Stay or go .... that’s the question.

Eventually John decides to follow Sherlock’s call. He opens the door to his flatmate’s room consciously .... and is immediately summoned for a new intriguing case. Sherlock’s rage and anger have dissolved into nothingness.

But this aren’t the only ripples John’s newly published story causes. While Sherlock works on the case and eagerly searches a dark tunnel for possible traces, Inspector Lestrade uses the time to exchange some words with Dr Watson. It becomes a somewhat one-sided conversation .....

‘Wherever you go, poets are everywhere .....’, Lestrade utters cryptically. John has no idea what the Inspector is driving at. Not yet ... but he feels a bit uneasy .... watching Lestrade fingering his gun in thoughts.

'It’s just me going to work and I don’t write any poems there’, the Inspector continues. And John’s uneasiness increases when Lestrade wants to know how much a writer gets payed for a line.

Finally the Inspector comes to the point: ‘By the way. Why don’t you write about us? About us simple folk, who guard your peace every day? It’s true, we’re not angles, we’re the same common people who, sadly have to do with criminals, with murderers and with offenders. And there you are, writing some filth about us. For ten pence ...’

Thankfully John is spared the answer because by now Sherlock has finshed his investigations inside the tunnel and interrupts Lestrade’s outpourings. A change of location is necessary.

But John is not yet off Lestrade’s hook. At the next best opportunity the Inspector grills the doctor a little bit more.

John tries to enjoy his meal while Sherlock is experimenting and Lestrade continues reading the doctor’s first published story. “Across this bare space there was scrawled in blood-red letters a single word - RACHE” .... ‘You sure can exaggerate’, comments the Inspector. And later he asks sceptically: ‘The murderers are masons?’ John is still at a loss for words.

Luckily the trio has to change the location again. Then the case reaches its peak and there is no time for expressing literary opinions anymore.

The next day comes. The case is solved. Inspector Lestrade thanks Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson for their commitment. He also adds a stern warning - mainly directed at John - if anything regarding that case should find its way to the newspapers.

Inspector Lestrade is in a hurry then, because he has to welcome an apparently special and rather distinctive guest at the Yard. A tall, lean man steps out of a carriage. He wears an Inverness Cape and a deerstalker cap and he smokes a pipe while greeting the Inspector gravely.

Watching the scene, Sherlock has a sudden and quite unexpected proposal for his flatmate. ‘In your stories, John, if you still plan on writing them ... describe me as him.’

John clearly is very pleasantly surprised. Who would have predicted such an outcome after Sherlock’s fit of rage only a short time ago. John has already ideas .....

And he really can call himself a very lucky man, because Mrs Hudson’s wrath has subsides as well by now. :)

HALIFAX part one part two

A big thank you to @spiritcc and everyone who made it possible to watch and understand this wonderful Sherlock Holmes adaptation.

Links to watch the series can be found HERE

January, 2021

#new russian holmes #nrh #halifax #episode six #creater of a legend #dr watson #suddenly touched by fame

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derinxfam · 4 years

Text

Match Made In Heaven

♡ AU: Devil! Taehyung x Angel! Reader

♡ Genre: mostly smut, tiny angst and fluff

♡ Word Count: 3.6 K

♡ Warnings: edging, teasing, nipple kink, lactation, oral sex (female receiving), praise kink, corruption kink, purity kink, mentions of rape, big dick Tae, light bdsm, light spanking, daddy kink

♡ Synopsis: Every year, an angel falls to Hell ever since the Devil and God made a contract. Every angel gets tested. The angel with the lowest score gets sent to Hell as a sacrifice. Despite her top position, Xan, an archangel, volunteers due to personal reasons. The Devil, Taehyung, hurts her - in the best way.

♡ A/N: crossposted on AO3. inspired by btsracket and their story on AO3, “Smutty Fanfic In The Time Of Covid”, especially chapter 37. Please tell me if I should continue this and give me feedback! likes, comments, all appreciated.

Archangels aren’t supposed to question. Archangels aren’t supposed to be flawed. Archangels aren’t supposed to disobey and they’re certainly not supposed to yearn for a touch. God created them meticulously. Archangels strive for perfection. Humans hinge on them.

So why has God planted this grotesque behaviour inside you? You don’t feel or act utmost. Your attitude steered away from what’s expected, no, what’s imposed on you.

“Lola. Xanders. Avonne! Don’t tell me you’re daydreaming again!” Minzy tears your peace away from you.

“Zee, I just lost someone dear to me a week ago. Let me grieve. God gave us grief for a reason,” you demand that she empathises instead of pestering, which doesn’t work.

“Xan, look, I loved that kid. What was his name? Andy?”

“Abby,” you interrupt.

“Right, Abby. I loved him, you know? He gave you a reason to wake up in the morning. But he’s dead, Xan. God wanted his soul here.”

You inevitably roll your eyes at that. Like you’ve done something, anything other than contemplating why God took his soul. Worse yet, he took it and put it in hell. The worst thing Abby had ever done was scoffing at a friend or side eyeing his parents. You committed more menacing deeds than he did, and you were carved from gold and purity itself. Nothing could help you wrap your head around it. The computing didn’t prove right. Abby deserved to be here with you, his guardian angel, in heaven.

“Yeah, you’re right, Zee,” you agree. She must have weeded out the surrendering timbre of your voice. The next gesture she wears is raising her eyebrows. She’s in obvious disbelief. You don’t care.

“Xan, look, the annual sacrifice is in two days. Don’t be this year’s unfortune,” she dishes out with a matter-of-fact stance. A deep sigh bubbles in your lungs, which you swallow. Deep down, you don’t doubt that her heart is in a good place. But yours isn’t anymore.

Studying for the exam was no different than a walk in the park for you. Of course you got the maximum grade. You couldn’t keep count of how many times you’ve been congratulated. You suppressed a grimace each time. You reflexively faked a smile just for this situation.

After an ego boosting week, square one welcomed you with open arms again. Your unfiltered thoughts portrayed a miserable image. Day by day, sinning appeased you. Abby was still a dead, and a so called, sinful man. It didn’t add up. He wasn’t even 20. He had not one addiction. Worse souls have entered the heaven. All of it urged you to yell at God for the first time. You’ve always been a peculiarly top notch archangel. Always kind, considerate and soft headed, your exemplary behaviour levered you to the top. God even sent you a handwritten letter of appreciation. You were the big deal. If only they knew how rotten and infuriated you felt… How dare you question God and his motives? How dare you read a book about the Devil?

Your mind, however, was made up. You would volunteer for the annual sacrifice. You were in for a treat. From what you’ve gathered, the Devil was called Taehyung. Even uttering his name counted as a sin here, the biggest blasphemy. He was as old as time, and a fallen angel. The parallels you observed during your reading would make you gulp in panic. He rebelled against the god, for he believed humans aren’t to be worshipped. From then on, he fell into the hell and has been running the fiery place ever since. The deal he and God made stipulated that he would choose one angel each year, and keep her. Nobody knew what he did with them for sure, but it was speculated that he would use them for his evil deeds. Some angels would become his playthings, endlessly pleasuring him. Each year there would be an exam and the angel with the lowest grade would be sacrificed. Nobody has ever stepped forward to replace them.

You were about to change that.

The day you dread has come. It agitates you that you must leave for good, leaving everyone behind. The worst part is, they don’t even know. Would they even bat an eye if they did? You suspect that. Hell doesn’t house archangels, at least it wasn’t created to do so. The stories you’ve heard from your friends about the sacrificed angels that communicated with heaven always send shivers down your spine. You feel small. So small. You wonder if that’s how Abby felt. However, you double down. Cowardice is not a trait you obtain. You can fall as a heroine, or live here like a liar. You pick the latter.

Once everyone has gathered, the Council showed up. All the angels got lined up and bowed down. One of the women cleared her throat and addressed the crowd.

“Welcome, the blessed ones! We’ve gathered here to choose the annual sacrifice. First, let’s congratulate the consecutive winner, Lola Xanders Avonne. This is her 6th year at the top, a round of applause and a standing ovation, please.”

Well – this will certainly make it harder for you to volunteer. You stand there awkwardly. One last time, the rest of the angels stroke your ego. You’ll miss bathing in praise, but you miss Abby more. The applauses simmer down, and disappear just like he did.

“Now, as you all know, the angel at the bottom of the exam results list is Rokita Nmurtiq Laya. We all will dearly miss you, Rokita. Please say your-“

“No, you won’t.”

Everyone has their eyes on me. Again. It unnerves me. I know I have to step up, though, if it’s the last thing I do.

“I… volunteer. As a sacrifice,” you step forward. Everyone’s jaw drops.

“Xan, you’re the-“

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it. I’ve mustered enough courage to fall at my own will. I want everyone to remember me as a brave angel, as someone who has left a mark. Nothing more. If I fail at that, if you don’t give me the chance, you’ll be robbing me of this opportunity. I beg of you to let me be brave,” you confess. They see the look in your eyes. You’re adamant, unstoppable and foxy.

“Nobody’s ever done it before,” she reminds you.

“Then let me pioneer the others.”

The Council keeps their stern looks on you, but know you have the last word. You're allowed to fall.

You enter the hell once you’ve packed. It has a creepy vibe to it, sure, but it’s nowhere near the fantasised version. No flames to be seen, none that catches your eye. The temperature is higher than that of hell, but not enough to make you uncomfortable. A beige hallway leads you to the help desk, where you see a tall woman. She must be a fallen angel like you. Females aren’t born as demons, they become them. It's what your fate awaits, too.

“Hello there, darling, you must be the new sacrifice. Now, Taehyung’s been waiting for you! We’ve all heard about your decision to volunteer, what a brave soul,” she welcomes.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Xan. They must have sent you my files, surely you know my full name,” you lightly joke and add, “ so what’s yours?”

“Sowamic, but call me Wam, darling. We’ll have a whole eternity to get to know each other,“ she deadpans, making you second guess yourself. She must have noticed.

“Oh, no, don’t worry, dear. I know they feed you lies there but, most of us are happy here. You’ll like it in hell, I assure you. Now, let’s see our main guy. He’ll be frantic if he waits any longer.”

A semi-genuine smile curves your lips. In a short while, she stops in front of a big black door and knocks. A deep voice signals them to come in.

“Sir, here’s the new angel, Xan. The only archangel to fall here.”

“Thank you, Wam. You can leave,” he instructs. She obeys, and promptly walks out.

“Well, Xan, welcome to hell!”

You’re stomped. Is he the Devil or is he cosplaying? The stranger you’re conversing with looks too young and nice to be the Devil, and frankly, too handsome. Black eyes, his hair black also, a mole under his right eye and on his nose, flat but wide lips… He was ethereal.

“I-uhm… I didn’t expect this place to be…”

“This cosy?” he mocks.

“Yeah. It’s cosy. You-you don’t look like the Devil,” you challenge him.

“Did you expect an uglier, older and meaner version with less sense of fashion? Sorry, I don’t age, torture or mistreat. Plus, we have a Gucci store here, what did you take me for?”

Now you’re even more confused.

“Don’t you torture or rape people? How is this hell, people pay for their sins here! You, aren’t you..” You can’t finish the phrase.

“I am truly offended, Xan. Torturing and raping? I’m not a monster! I only make sinners get the karma they deserve, I don’t personally hurt anyone. That’s their own minds. And raping? I knew the old white guy up there was nuts but this shit is defamation on my behalf,” he scoffs. The audacity to frame him as a felon!

“I didn’t kn-“

“Of course you didn’t. Now you do.”

You lower your head in embarrassment. You really have a knack for ruining things before they start, huh?

“I’m not offended, angel, just upset a bit," he admits.

“I could… Make you feel better?” your mouth acts before your mind. To be fair, you have been getting these urges. He’s rumoured to be seductive and sinister, but is he really? You could have mistaken him for a male angel (which, granted, don’t exist) if it hadn’t been for the dark aura. He was unique, charming, kind and captivating, even. Maybe he was also a witch that bewitched you. Either way, you were enchanted. His smile exacerbated the said enchantment.

“How are you planning to do that, Xan?”

“Doll. Call me doll.”

He resists. He can play hard to get for you.

“Why should I?”

“Because I was conceived to serve you as such,” you rebuttle.

“Don’t tempt me, Xan. You don’t have to. Not everyone here is employed to satisfy me.”

You know that. You also know that you desire him. You exhibit it with a passionate kiss. His tongue is warm unlike the rest of his body. He pulls back.

“Xan, are you-“

“Yes, goddammit, I am sure. Do you not wanna fuck me?” you retort.

“I wanna fuck the innocence out of you, doll. How could I not? Look at you.” he purrs. His aura shines exquisitely, taking its toll on you. Whatever falls from his lips is honey, your favourite poison. The way he finally addresses you as you wish ignites your flames. He finally rids you of your clothes, your top and shorts pool on the ground.

“I wanna demonstrate how holy I can make you feel in hell. Will you behave and be my good doll?”

“Taehyung, please, I’m soaking wet for you, please do something! I’m at my wit’s end,” you plead with a small voice. He smirks, proud of and empowered by his effect on you. His doll couldn’t afford to wait more, could she?

“Open up, doll, let me taste you. Let me devour your angelic essence. I’ve been dying to try it.” Determined not to make him repeat it, your legs spread open like the beautiful petals of a flower. His cold fingers trace circles on your upper thighs, thoroughly teasing you. On your wrists is the sensation of a pair of handcuffs. He must have read your mind – good dolls don’t move after all. You love restraints.

“Are all archangels this attractive or is it just you, doll? Because I’ve never been this hard this easily. Your scent, it fucking destroys me. So tell me, are you the exception or the rule?” he inquires. You mutter an “I don’t know” between your rapid pants. When his tongue – finally – glides over your pussy, you lose your breath.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he chuckles, “don’t you want me to have a taste of my favourite dessert? You’re doing so good for me, if you keep this up, I might.” His unorthodox expressions only further rile you up. The ropes encasing your limbs immobilise you. His attacks on your tiny, untainted body grow like an avalanche of pleasure and come in tenfold. Then, a jolt of pain races through your body. He lightly slapped your bum.

“When I ask you a question, doll, you don’t ignore it. You answer me. You beg me to use your pure body, to ruin it and paint it with sin. Understand?” He leaves you no room for discussion.

“Y-yes, Taehyung, please, ah, have a taste,” you invite him meekly. His sinful lips dive deeper into your cunt, cherishing the hot, wet cave it’s digging. The precise and sharp movements of his tongue elicit the most wanton moan. He looks like a mad man eating for the first time, like a man with insatiable hunger for what he’s feasting on. No wonder, the devil does feed off of your essence. It’s his fuel. His hands don’t remain idle for too long, and soon grab your breasts. He’s squeezing them, feeling how fistful they are. He would kill a mortal or two for them. God molded you perfectly, and your plump breasts are no exception. The way they hang on your chest like two perfect droplets of water cements the sight to see before the Devil’s dark orbs. Your pert nipples, however, override your tits. If your tits take a slice, your nipples take the entire cake. The rosy buds erect under his touch, the colour and sensitivity permeating his most carnal desires. He grazes his teeth over your hardened, bubblegum coloured nipple. The other gets a pinch. The Devil drools over them, mesmerised. Your heavenly chants, half lidded eyes, pink cheeks and dark, long hair paint the most beautiful scene he’s ever behold in his life. Your beauty enchants like it was designed to. He’s busy getting drunk on it when something oozes from your nipples.

“Angel… You’re lactating. Fuck, are you trying to kill me? God, look at you, so wicked yet innocent… Fuck, doll, I can hardly restrain myself from ravishing you.”

A broken sob pops out of your mouth. He gravitates towards you, your left nipple now between his cold lips. You shriek at the coldness but he soothes you. Sucking your milk from one nipple, the devil’s advances oscillate between pinching and twisting the other. Your milk must taste divine to the devil, affirmed by his pleased moans around the swollen bud. Your tits feel sore, albeit less. When your left tit is emptied, he switches to the other one, now teasing the vacant nipple. He takes his time. When you’re all out of milk, he lifts his head to meet your antsy gaze.

“Doll, your milk tasted so savory, thick and sweet. But I’m going back to my second home now, so spread your legs wide open. I’m gonna taste your sherbet,” he commands. You wilfully obey, and his jet black locks block the view of your angelhood when he kneels down between your legs. Your fresh taste coats his tongue, giving a shower to his tastebuds. You’ve already leaked more than enough to make him dizzy, yet who is he to refuse more of your love potion? His slurping never relents, only causing you to drip more. However, you both acquire enough biology knowledge. Your most delicate spot hasn’t been caressed yet. It’s out of its hood, winking at Taehyung. He doesn’t ignore it for too long. Tender kisses to your pearl crescendo into unforgiving sucks. His lips encapture your sensitive bud. The harsh sucks and the slight graze of his teeth spike a euphoric moment, and you swear your soul left your body for a second there. You’re a mere slave to his ministrations. The edge pulls you in, one more step, one more suck and you’re at the top, and then… The suction vanishes. You moan in desperation, to no avail. The fire in your stomach extinguishes while your sanity crumbles into pieces.

“Ssshh, doll, be good and ride that edge. Show me that you can suffer for me beautifully, so I know you deserve your reward. That’s it, take it nice and slow. Don’t make me gag you, doll,” he exhorts. Your whimpers dim down, now the only audible sound in the room is his sucking. Before you get to the edge again, he halts. You don’t dare to meet his eyes. He flips you on the bed, your hands still tied behind but now your face is buried into the sheets. A ruffling sound echoes, signalling him getting out of his jeans and boxers. His cock remains out of your vision, nevertheless you feel it when the head teases your clit. His precum leaves a burning sensation on your pearl. The devil rams his monster of a cock inside you, easing in slowly to facilitate the process and decrease your pain.

“Fucking shit, g-god, I’ve fucked so many mortals and demons, doll, but your tightness can’t compare. No wonder why archangels are renowned for having the best pussies. You’re squeezing my cock so well, fuck.”

The stretch steals your breath from you right on the spot. He was extremely thick, widening your welcoming walls with no shame, but he was also long. At least 12 inches, from what you could feel. It was throbbing inside you hotly. The devil lost himself in your angelic bliss, he couldn’t help it. Archangels were created by god himself to be the most seductive to the devil, and Taehyung couldn’t resist his own nature. Your shining, ablaze skin, mixing with his honey one; your innocence and white wings, your gloomy, porcelain aura that purifies his dark one, your cunt that clenched around his fat cock… His aggresive pounds drilled into your hot, velvety walls at a fast pace. Your clenches brought him to the edge quickly, but he couldn’t afford to cum just yet.

You, on the other hand, are filled to the brim. Experiencing your hole being this full levitates you. You pride yourself in the thought of him being this hard because of you. His little doll he treasures. His cock is red, throbbing, swollen. You feel the blood flow of the primary vein that cascaded under it. All his pleasure, love, and cock; it’s all yours. He’s all yours and you’re all his.

“Do you know what happens when I cum?” he raises the question. You nod.

“Your-your cum… Fuck, it, uh, makes me, makes me faint because m-my pure body cannot process your sin-ful seed,” you explain in a rush.

“That’s my doll, beautiful and clever,” he praises. His index finger hovers above your clit, lightly teasing it. When it lands on it eventually, he draws circles and eights on it, accompanied by soft pinches. It drives you up to wall. Your moans fuel his ego more, he knows you’re close. So is he. Fascinated and tantalised by his engorged cock, your heavenly pussy clenches. Your clenches and tightness torturously suck the soul out of him. He’s being milked to the last drop. Your cunt is greedy. Since he won’t be able to endure your sweet torment for too long, he enacts. One finger on your left nipple, the other on your pearl, he plays your body like an instrument, and he happens to be a virtuoso. Your pleasure threshold soars high, as if the devil bewitched you. Maybe he did. You wouldn’t mind.

“Do you like it when I taint you? Make you commit a sin? Do you love being my precious little doll?” he entices.

The fact is, you do. Being surrounded by his sinful and worshipping embrace paves a way to your core. If God hadn’t wanted you to sin, he should have admonished harder. Instead, he amplified the Devil.

“I do, I love it when you praise me, wanna be a good, desperate doll for you. I want you to wreck me to the ground and then build me up again, please, Taehyung-“ His vicious chuckle overshadows your pleas.

“Your wish is my command, doll. You’ve been so good for me. You deserve it. Are you close?” his voice rumbles in his chest. You nod, too spent to talk. The precum leaking from his slit already has you light-headed.

“Then cum, cum for me and wash my cock with your holiness like the angel you are. Let your little heaven squeeze me as I rip it to shreds” he implores. That’s all it takes.

Sobs ring in the background. Your cunt spasms around him, strangulating his length and blessing him. He feels your juice lubricate his cock even more. Your eternal grace guards you even amongst the throes of passion. You barely catch your breath when he comes with a deep grunt. Your vision fades into darkness and the semen decorating your heaven makes you pass out. His harsh thrusts cease to exist. The devil eyes the unconscious angel under him, swooning. Even in her state, she carries her grace and majesty. His now flaccid dick leaves the safety and warmth of her walls that encase it. He shivers at the sensation.

Five minutes later, the angel is untied, cleaned up and resting on his bed. The smitten devil is playing with her black hair, and giving her temple kisses when the urge kicks in. She would gain consciousness a few hours later, and still hold her holiness like he adored.

#bts #bts smut #kim taehyung #bulletproof boy scouts #bangtansonyeondan #bangtan #bangtan boys #bts v x reader #bts v #angel x demon #smut #kpop #kpop smut #방탄소년단 #방탄소년단 김태형 #김태형 #bts taehyung #taehyung #bts x reader

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

Bonding Session

Summary: The kiss scenes in the dramas you watched never left you truly satisfied. Sharing that knowledge with your new housemate ended with taking a turn that definitely changed your view on how someone should kiss.

Pairing: Do Kyungsoo x reader

Genre: roommate au / flirty fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 1547

“Kiss him! Kiss!” you chanted, hands clutching at your thighs as you leaned forward towards the screen. “Oh, ohhh!”

The couple who you were berating for taking so long to inch their lips together stepped close enough to do so, your heart now fluttering with anticipation. The feelings had been built within them – and within you – and finally, finally you would get your long overdue kiss scene in episode 10.

Their lips met and instantly you deflated, throwing yourself back into the couch, slapping your leg with your hand in annoyance. “That’s not a god damn kiss, that’s a lip press!”

You didn’t know how many Korean dramas you had watched now. Hundreds no doubt. You knew all the formulas and you were certain of what to expect in most storylines. Still, even though most kiss scenes were a letdown in your books, you loved the cliché romance and the build up of it all. You enjoyed the surprising times where actors like Ji Chang Wook gave it his all and you wished nothing more than to be kissed like that. Heck, with some actors, you’d even be inclined to lip press with them. And yet, it annoyed you that they threw away a good opportunity to kiss properly.

Each and every time.

“I swear someone needs to go there and teach them how to kiss!”

“I suppose you assume that should be you?” your roommate Kyungsoo calmly stated, and for a moment, you tore your eyes away from the screen, blinking slowly in recognising he was still there. Of course, he was. You had begged Kyungsoo to watch this drama with you, calling it a bonding session since you had been living together now for two months. You were still learning all about him and this was a great way for him to get insight into who you were as well. However, in reality, it was mostly just you screeching about the happenings on the screen and him quietly observing both you and the drama. You weren’t even sure he was enjoying himself.

You let out a small laugh. “Well, at least I’d kiss them properly. That scene was so steamy and then they dropped it with simply pressing their lips into each other. What a shame!”

“Do you even know what a steamy scene is? You’re watching a show that is entirely unrealistic. How does any of this happen in real life?” Kyungsoo mused, shooting you a side glance. He then shook his head. “I’m concerned you don’t know what real romance is if you sit here and swoon over things like this.”

Gaping incredulously, you shifted along the couch on your knees to poke Kyungsoo in the chest. “Excuse me?!”

He smirked. “I’m only stating the truth, Y/N. What boss is going to fall in love with someone that ridiculous?”

“I’m… I’m like her!”

Kyungsoo shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t go fantasising about your boss anytime soon.”

“Oh my God,” you breathed, pushing him again with annoyance. “You know nothing about romance!”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because they clearly have a bond and it’s obvious they like each other!”

“Despite how he treats her? Come on, even I had hoped you’d have higher standards than letting a man that infuriating into your heart.”

“He has some redeeming qualities,” you bartered and Kyungsoo scoffed.

“His abs, right?”

“Hey, I like arms!” you blurted out and pouted when you were done. You decided you would stop watching the show with Kyungsoo after this episode. You didn’t need him bashing your cliché romances. Nor did you need to defend your love for them. You already knew they weren’t realistic.

That was the point. If all that was shown on TV was like real life, you wouldn’t need to watch it. Being able to escape into another world was worth it to you. It meant you could enjoy the emotional rollercoaster ride that came with someone else’s love life.

Since yours was nonexistent.

Moving back to your side of the couch, you reached for the remote to stop Netflix from rolling onto the next episode. Kyungsoo flicked his attention to your face and you could see the ghost of his smile still tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Why did you stop it?”

“It’s clear we like different shows,” you announced glumly and sighed. “You don’t have to watch it with me anymore.”

“I don’t?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to bore you any further.”

“Who said I was bored? If I didn’t want to watch it, would I have sit through the last ten episodes?”

He had you there. Still, you shot him a look. “You made fun of the story.”

“You did too. You were annoyed that they didn’t kiss properly,” he pointed out and you nodded whilst throwing your hands up exasperatedly.

“Well, they didn’t! That isn’t a real kiss.”

“So what is then?”

“What do you mean?” you questioned warily, watching as he moistened his plump heart-shaped lips. You blinked again, wondering if that was a forewarning to another speech about your lack of realistic romantic notions or if he was thinking along other lines.

Coughing awkwardly, you reached forward to gulp down some of your drink from the coffee table, washing away the brief image you had. Kyungsoo cocked his head to the side, resting back into the couch and watched you intensely. “You seem so full of opinions about kissing yet where is the proof?”

“How can I give you proof?” you chuckled weakly, shaking your head. “I’m just generalising. You could go there yourself and kiss her better than he did too!”

Kyungsoo smiled with immense satisfaction. “So you did just think about me kissing, huh?”

“What?! No!”

“Then why did you grow embarrassed and reach out for your drink hastily?”

You cursed him inwardly for being so observant. “I was thirsty.”

“I bet you were.”

“Okay, I’m going to start the next episode now!” you announced, thumbing the remote control buttons quickly and turned your attention back to the television screen. You cringed; the other thing that annoyed you about Korean dramas sometimes was the replay from the last scene at the start of a new episode. You were acutely aware of your heart thumping away in your chest and this time, it wasn’t because you anticipated their lacklustre kiss.

Kyungsoo moved swiftly, shifting across the couch so fast that you didn’t even have a chance to react until you felt his lips upon yours. He didn’t move them immediately and you almost laughed against his mouth at the fact that he was mimicking the couple onscreen. When he was certain you weren’t about to baulk on him, he started kissing you properly.

Your eyes fluttered shut, responding to his earnest approach with equal measures. You reached out to wrap your arms around his neck, a hand threading through the strands of his hair as you breathed him in.

Now this, this was a kiss. It took your breath away and had you begging for more. The temperature between you rose and you were soon flush against him, his chest heaving along with yours. You vaguely heard the characters behind you talking to one another yet it didn’t trigger you to stop.

You were too wrapped up in your own kiss scene.

When you finally separated from the kiss that truly trumped all kisses you had ever witnessed, you watched Kyungsoo closely. His eyes were blown with lust, though you could see that some of his boldness had overwhelmed him. He retreated a little, still touching you, just not fully pressing you into the couch anymore.

He cleared his throat noisily. “So uh, how was that?”

“Hm?”

“You know, for a kiss. Does it match up to your scale?” You shook your head, smiling softly. “No.”

“Oh.”

Leaning into his space, Kyungsoo caught you easily, his hand encircling your wrist as your palm pressed into his chest. “It exceeded it.”

“Really? I thought you lived for these dramas?”

“Oh I do, but I never said they could kiss well. That moment we just had though, I’m sure would rival even the best actors in the industry.”

Kyungsoo chuckled. “As long as it gave you all the feelings you were hoping for then it was good enough.”

“Should we turn off the drama or?” Glancing at the screen and feeling disconnected from the characters now that you had your own potential love interest sitting next to you, Kyungsoo shook his head. You frowned and then gasped when you came to a hasty conclusion. “You didn’t just do all that to tease me, right?”

“I’m not that cruel. But let’s keep watching. According to your statistics, there will be more kisses before they start hugging instead of passionately embracing each other, right?”

“Well, yeah…”

Kyungsoo took your hand away from his chest, instead linking his fingers with yours, knowing that you had exclaimed earlier on how that was one of your weaknesses in these shows. He shot you a smirk. “We have some kisses coming up to watch out for, since we need to outdo them, right?”

You grinned. Maybe watching dramas with Kyungsoo was a good way to bond with him after all.

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idyllicstarker · 4 years

Note

Hello :) I was thinking of something where Peter sits on the rooftops near Stark Tower a lot. Spying and keeping an eye on things, and if you wanted to make it explicit, he could see Tony “doing things” through the window, or for a softer direction, maybe Tony catches him and invites him in for dinner. 😊🖤 or a mix of both 👀

Heya!! Thank you for the prompt. It was my first time writing something like this, I guess smut without much smut. But it was fun! I was going to do a mix of both, but since I wasn’t too sure, I kept it short for now. But I hope you like it anyway. 💖💖

Warnings: Sexual content, some foul language

It is explicitly mentioned that Peter is eighteen!!!

Being your friendly neighbourhood spiderman wasn’t all that exciting. Peter knew that all too well. Although that’s probably because he was the only friendly neighbourhood spiderman.

But either way, despite the fact that Peter loved his self-proclaimed job of protecting New York, there wasn’t a lot to protect. He helped ‘return’ a stolen bicycle. Well, he returned it the best he could - he couldn’t find the owner so he just left a note. And he helped the lost Domican lady… she was really nice, and bought him a churro. He’d even been recognised a couple of times, deemed “that spider guy!” It was not quite the alias he was going for but hey, it was a work in progress. Just a very, very slow progress.

Peter was tired of it, to say the least. He wanted to do something big. He couldn’t say he was a superhero when he wasn’t doing any superhero things. Petty crimes, that weren’t even crimes, wasn’t really exhausting Peter’s talents. He could do so much, he knew he could, but nothing happened in New York.

There was one thing, he did like about there not being much to do, however. It was probably a little creepy, but he liked to call it patrolling. Being high up gave him an advantage when it came to watching over the streets. The rooftops near Stark Tower gave him the perfect opportunity to do just that (and maybe stalk his idol too.)

It’s no lie that if Peter positioned himself in just the right place on that one certain building (he’d never taken the time to figure out what it was for), he could see into the windows on that side of the Tower pretty much perfectly. And it just so happened that one of the middle windows (cough fifteen up, four across cough) was Tony Stark’s bedroom. Peter couldn’t and would never deny the fact that he looked up to Tony. He was a powerful and intelligent man, and Peter admired his work. There was also the fact that he was THE iron man, and if Peter could get on his side, he was sure that his job of being New York’s protector would be a hell of a lot more exciting. But Tony would never see Peter, let alone Spiderman, he’d probably never heard of him too and why would he want a highschooler from Queens in his team? Peter had already come to terms with the fact that Tony was never going to notice him, which meant the fact that he was madly in love with him would be a lot easier. Peter found the older man more attractive than anyone he’d ever laid eyes on, and he was sure no one around him compared to the sexiness that was Mr. Stark. He was also certain that nothing would compare to how the man could probably make him cum his brains out in one session but that’s something Peter fantasised about and no one would ever know.

The point was, finding this rooftop space was one of the best things to happen in Peter’s life. And trust me when I say, he used it to his advantage.

Most days you’d find him there after school, eyes flicking between the windows of the tower hoping to catch a glimpse of the man and the streets below hoping to catch a glimpse of an actual job to do. Unfortunately neither came often, but Peter held onto hope, especially for the former.

Tony was a busy man with a busy life, and thus finding him actually in his bedroom was a very rare sight. The other rooms were unidentifiable to Peter, but seeing him in there regardless was also a rare occurrence. He guessed it didn’t help that he was never there too long after dark because May got worried, and he figured looking into the man’s window of whom he’d love to get dicked down by (even if he was a billionaire) wasn't exactly a valid excuse.

But either way, Peter remained there.

“Yeah but did you see the guy in the red shirt, he was totally angry. He even-”

Friday evening, and Peter found himself in his favourite spot in probably the whole of New York. Mask off, spread eagle on his back, staring up at the slowly darkening sky, he engaged in casual conversation with Ned over the phone. He had to admit, sometimes being up here was lonely so he tried to occupy himself in various ways, including phoning Ned. Until, something caught his eyes, and slowly he began to sit up, looking around in confusion. At first he considered it to be a bird, before he realised a light had come on, and it was that which he’d noticed. It was the light to Tony’s room.

Peter’s mouth went dry. He’s always swore to himself that if Tony ever did show up, he’d stay to simply catch a glimpse and leave. Being the only building near, tall enough for Peter to actually look into, it seemed wrong to invade his privacy in such a way. But Tony was there. There! And Peter’s promise to himself seemed like a punishment when he was so infatuated with the man.

“Hey, uh, listen man, can i call you back?”, he said slowly, eyes trained on the window as he tried to figure out what he was doing. No one in their sane mind went to sleep with their curtains open and it was practically still daylight, the setting sun casting an orange glow around the city.

Ned seemed to get all too excited over the phone. Peter could practically see the amazed expression on his face despite Peter having not given any reason to why he was hanging up so abruptly.

“Is there something happening?! Is it another stolen bike? Are you actually going to get to do something?”, he questioned, voice high and bubbly. Peter of course appreciated the support of his best friend, the only one that knew the truth; just not right now.

“No Ned.. it isn’t”, he began, eyes squinting slowly as he watched Tony approach the window. For a moment he feared he could see him, but surely he wasn’t looking so hard to notice him there. And even if he did, he could play it off as if he actually was patrolling. Not stalking… not at all. And it didn’t matter that, if Tony could see his face, he was in the spider suit, he must know all about made up identities and whatever.

“There is something exciting happening”, Ned gasped, “So are you gonna like fight some bad guys? What about…”

“Look man, I’ve really gotta go, I’ll fill you in later”, Peter said quickly, as he hung up the phone and placed it in his backpack.

He dared to crawl closer to the edge of the roof to get a better look, breath shaky as he bit down on his lip. “What is he doing?”, he muttered to himself.

Upon a closer inspection Peter realised the man was pantless. He was still in a button up shirt, probably from the suit he’d been wearing. But the first two buttons were undone, he’d seemed to have ditched a tie, and he was standing leant against the window in his boxers. Peter’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, freezing as he tried to figure out what the best thing to do in this situation was.

The part of him that lusted after the man was telling him to stay. But the moral part was telling him to swing down from there. He’d got his glimpse, but this was a total breach of privacy.

As Peter thought, Tony shifted. Now unless Peter’s sharp eyesight was failing him, those boxers seemed a little too tight. He licked at his lips, before wildly shaking his head. “No, no this is wrong”, he hissed, but despite the conflict in his mind, he still seemed to sit back on his heels, gaze trained on the window.

It happened in such an aggravating slowness. And yet Peter couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, get his gaze away from Tony.

Reaching into his boxers, the man pulled out one of the biggest, thickest shafts, Peter had ever seen. Porn couldn’t even do it justice. That belonged to some kind of god, or at least the man must have done some kind of deal with the devil to get it.

In that moment, Peter knew he should leave. He was doing something wrong, and let’s face it, illegal, but at the sight of something so delicious, Peter knew he couldn’t leave, letting out one of the most needy whimpers. He didn’t even know he was capable of such a sound. The things he’d do to get that inside him, or at the very least in his mouth. It began to water at the thought, the delicious pain of being stretched to that extent was a far away fantasy.

Squinted eyes, Peter gaped watching Tony close a fist around himself. At first he seemed almost stoic, as if he was simply standing there jacking off for the hell of it. But Peter soon realised that the relief that washed over Tony’s shoulders as he began gave it a small squeeze (he watched the veins in his arms pop as he did) painted a far different picture. The man had clearly needed this, probably all day. Peter watched the way his shoulders sagged and he held onto the glass with his palm to steady himself. Peter watched the way his eyes closed, as if nothing else mattered in the world right now apart from chasing his own orgasm as he began to move his hand in slow strokes.

Peter couldn’t take his eyes away. It wasn’t his yearn to be filled, bent over a table. No, it was how beautiful the man looked like that. So at peace.

His thighs began to tremble and Peter mewled, his body leaning forward as he watched, and he waited. Tony’s lips were parted, and Peter could only wish to hear the sinful sounds he was probably making. Moans and grunts of pure bliss filling the room. Or maybe he was quiet. Maybe the sensation of it was too much, and Tony could only let out heavy breaths.

His biceps flexed as his hand worked - Peter could just make out the way his thumb brushed over his slit. He wondered if it was leaking, begging for release.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting here watching. But it felt like a lifetime. All he knew was that Tony stroked himself firm and slow. Feeling the length and savouring the feeling. It was almost torturous, so much so that Peter was impatient on Tony’s behalf. Pleasure came easy, but total ecstasy clearly didn’t, or rather, Tony didn’t let it come quick. Either way, the man had stamina. Peter feared that nightfall was too close, and he’d stayed this long, he wanted, no he needed to see the end.

It did come, or rather Tony did. Almost as if it had got too much, Tony began to pump his cock like he’d die otherwise. Stripping it sensually. There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that if he wasn’t verbal before, he definitely was now. The way his mouth moved, loud unfs, was unmissable, his back arching forward as his body trembled.

Peter counted four final strokes before a desperate cry was definitely yelled. Tony toppled forward, eyes squeezed closed, his legs giving away underneath him as he panted, hips shaking, barely having time to move his shirt out of the way, before he was spurting thick ropes of cum against the glass.

He fell back, in a chair Peter hadn’t even noticed, the hard shaft falling limp against his stomach as it dribbled the very last release against his skin.

Peter shook, Tony’s lips forming a curse as Peter fell back on his bottom. The front of his suit was sticky with desperation and much too tight. It was then when the reality of what he’d just done hit him. He felt dirty. He felt as if he’d committed an unforgivable act. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d just seen, but he knew it turned him on, but it shouldn't have even watched. He stumbled to grab his backpack, shoving the mask inside. He chanced a last glance at the window but Tony was gone. How he’d gotten up so quick Peter wasn’t sure, but he knew he’d already overstayed his welcome, not like he was welcome in the first place.

He swung down from the building into an alleyway. In a moment's decision he knew he couldn’t be swinging around with the air against his crotch like this, and so pulled off the suit, ignoring the way his cock begged for attention and pulled on his shirt and jeans. He sighed, finally taking a moment to catch his breath. A cold shower, that’s what he needed.

“What the hell is wrong with you man”, he muttered to himself as he began to leave the alley.

“Well I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. In fact I quite enjoyed the audience, don;t think I’ve had an orgasm like that in a long time.”

Peter’s eyes widened, before he clenched his jaw, refusing to look at the man that appeared beside him.

“What? Did I say too much?” Tony asked, his voice low and gruff, clearly still tight from the effects of his little fun he’d just had.

“You knew I was there?”, Peter asked, voice timid and small, still refusing to look, because he wouldn’t believe it even if he did.

“I knew you go there most afternoons. I didn’t know you were that at that moment until about half way in. But you didn’t seem to mind.”

“Mr Stark I’m so sorry, I know it was wrong of me, Please don’t go to the police”, Peter begged, big eyes finally turning to look up at the man. He honestly looked terrified. Tony was still in his shirt, although he now had pants on. He’d clearly come down as soon as he’d caught his breath.

“I’m not gonna go to the police kid”, he laughed, shaking his head, “I mean, we both know you liked what you saw”, he hummed, gesturing to the bulge at the front of Peter’s jeans. The younger gasped, moving to cover it as he bit down on his lip.

“I’m sorry. You just looked so, so hot, And I love you… I mean I love your work. But I guess I do love you too, You’re so attractive, and you make me feel so… and...”, he began to ramble, but Tony silenced him simply by lifting his hand.

“I’m gonna need a bit of help getting it up again, but I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with that”, he said, a smirk on his lips as he gestured for Peter to follow him.

He seemed confused for a moment, but instantly scampered after him in a way that can only be described as adorable. “I-I uhhh… what?”, he began to question, the want in his eyes clear, but it was mirrored in Tony’s too which only confused him more,

Tony, well the boy had caught his eye a while ago. With a bit of help from Happy. He’d managed to identify him, find out where he went to school, and find out he was eighteen. It took a bit of googling to find out who the spider boy was, but he found a video on YouTube saying “call me Spider-Man” and Tony was curious.

The attraction to him was undeniable. But Tony knew deep down it was wrong. He’d always been planning to approach him at one point, to recruit him as spider-man, in a way. But after today, and seeing him gawk over him through the window. Tony knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off him even if he tried. So he figured he wouldn;t even try.

As the two made their way into the tower, he rested a hand on the small of Pete’s back which only sank lower and lower as they made their way into the lift. As soon as the doors closed he gave his perk ass a rough squeeze, groaning at the sweet sinful moan Peter let out at that alone.

“We’ll discuss spider-man later over dinner. But for now I want Peter on his knees. It’s not gonna get hard itself”, he said lowly.

The grin on his face as Peter scrambled eagerly to obey, was much too wide to miss.

| Part two || Part three |

#starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #skylars asks #skylar writes

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misssquidtracy · 4 years

Text

Laundry Duty

A short piece of Virgil-centric fluff for @fictivekaleidoscope to help her feel better after her op. I find Virg a challenge to write, so this took longer than the 10 minutes I originally promised XD.

Please excuse me while I scamper back to Gordon’s corner with my tail between my legs. Writing anything other than him is a bit like learning a foreign language for me.

Genre: Humour & fluff.

Characters: Virgil, Scott & John, with young Gordon and Alan in the background.

Summary: Virgil is the domestic househusband we all fantasise about, but with a dark twist...XD.

-x-

Virgil was not amused.

At all.

As if a solid week of back-to-back rescues garnished with a healthy amount of sleep deprivation hadn’t been enough, the massive pile of dirty laundry that was taking up two thirds of the floor was yet another nail in his green coffin.

Thunderbird Two’s pilot was flabbergasted at Scott and John’s laziness. Sure, he was guilty of not pulling as much weight as he usually did, but he was on his first day off in two weeks. Scott was into his fourth day of not being deployed and John had left EOS in charge of Five while he was planetside. Last time Virgil had checked, both brothers were perfectly healthy and as a result, more than capable of laundering their own clothes.

Scott had shrugged when Virgil had confronted him on the issue, not understanding why he couldn’t chuck all his dirty clothes into a pile and offload them onto Grandma. When John had suggested that he might do the same thing, Virgil had capitulated and very grudgingly offered to toss their clothes into the washer with his own. The embarrassment of one of his brothers getting deployed in an unwashed uniform for the entire world to see (and smell) would be enough to send him to an early grave.

Except, what had seemed like a good compromise an hour ago didn’t seem quite so good when it became apparent just how many items needed washing. There were the regular and spare iR suits, plus six days and five bodies worth of jeans, shirts, socks, pyjamas, t-shirts, swimwear…

Virgil scowled and resisted the urge to stamp on a particularly filthy looking shirt of Gordons. He was no househusband, but even he could tell that it would take at least six, possibly seven loads to get through this infernal pile. And considering each cycle took an hour and fifteen minutes to run, plus the fact that he’d probably have to pre-soak all of Gordon’s contaminated items, he was looking at between seven and ten hours of laundry on what was supposed to be his day off.

No way. Absolutely no way.

Anger completely overtaking logical thinking, Virgil grabbed an armful of clothes (instantly wishing he’d pegged his nose beforehand) and dumped them haphazardly into the nearest washer. Not pausing to consider material, colour or degree of dirtiness, he shoved everything in together. When the first tub was stuffed to capacity, he rummaged through the remainder of the pile and pulled out his own clothes before depositing them in the second washer. Heaven forbid he throw all his good shirts in with Gordon’s bright green swim trunks.

John’s white polo shirt was a different story.

Satisfied that the first washer was suitably stuffed (probably to the point where none of the clothes would actually get cleaned), Virgil double checked to make sure none of his own items were mingling with Gordon’s trunks and Scott’s socks. After finishing his inspection, he opened one of the cabinets and pondered over the choice of detergents.

Virgil quickly realised why laundry duty was the least favoured chore amongst his brothers – there must have been at least ten different types of detergent staring back at him. Scented dryer sheets, stuff for sensitive skin, perfume pearls, organic this and that, et cetera, et cetera…

Deciding to indulge in some petty revenge, Virgil selected the most ostentatious, sickeningly feminine detergent he could see; a bright pink bottle with a picture of a cloud on the front labelled ‘Sunset Marshmallow’. He popped the cap, inhaled deeply and nearly gagged at the cloying scent that assaulted his nose. It smelt like something a unicorn had vomited up.

Thunderbird Two’s pilot upended the bottle and tipped most of the contents into the washer containing his brother’s clothes. As the cherry on top, he also dumped in an entire container of scented pearls in the fragrance ‘Dusky Rose’, before slamming the lid shut and hitting the start button with an air of flourish. His mood rose considerably at the thought of his lazy ass brothers stinking like a garden.

Virgil’s own clothes were treated to a modest amount of regular lemon scented detergent and no fragrance pearls. Heaven forbid that he be caught smelling like a pre-teen girl.

Leaving both washers happily humming away, Virgil breezed out the door and allowed himself a small snicker of amusement.

‘Lazy suckers.’

-x-

Virgil didn’t know why, but somehow all his revenge attempts always ended up boomeranging back to bite him on the ass.

After his brother’s hideously perfumed clothes had finished their wash cycle and been tossed in the dryer with some more scented pearls for an extra dose of revenge, Scott and John had arrived to sort through and collect what belonged to them. Virgil, who had been fishing his own freshly scented (but not too freshly scented) laundry out of the second dryer had noticed some raised eyebrows and grimacing faces as the combined scents of Sunset Marshmallow and Dusky Rose hit both Scott and John square in the face (and nose).

All had seemed reasonably well up until that point. Scott and John had quickly caught wind of Virgil’s revenge act, but were both smart enough to realise that they had nothing to throw back at him. They had left their dirty laundry at his mercy, and now they (and John’s green polo shirt) were paying the price.

Virgil had insisted that they all eat lunch together before commencing their afternoon chores. Not willing to pass up the opportunity of free food, his brothers had agreed and were now sat around the kitchen island. Gordon was busy doodling on the sofa with a sandwich in his lap and Alan was taking a nap in Scott’s room.

What started as a fairly civilised family gathering began to disintegrate when John started to sniff and rub at his nose. Several minutes later, a light rash broke out on his neck and along his forearms. Several more minutes later, he was folded in half as a series of violent sneezes shook his frame.

“What – ACHOO– was – AH– in that – AH– stuff you put – AH– in our laundry? ACHOO!”

Virgil shrugged and resumed eating, “Don’t know. Price you pay for being lazy though.”

John wiped a tear from his eye as another sneeze took hold, “ACHOOOO!”

Scott grimaced as John directed a particularly powerful sneeze over his sandwich, “Argh, John! That’s disgusting! Cover your nose for god’s sake!”

“Virg,” John wheezed, doubling over into a flurry of slightly smaller, but no less violent sneezes, “Help me! ACHOO! Please! I – AH– can’t – ACHOO– stop! ACHOO!”

Virgil sighed and stood up from the table. He disappeared into John’s room and ferreted around in his brother’s ensuite before locating some foil wrapped tablets. Upon returning to the kitchen, he was mildly shocked to see the redhead tearing his shirt off and throwing it to the floor.

Virgil didn’t say anything, opting instead to hand John his tablets with a fresh glass of water. The medication disappeared down the middle brother’s throat in the blink of an eye, quickly followed by a large glug of water.

“How many of these do I have left?” John croaked, motioning to the wrapper in his hand before succumbing to another sneeze.

“That’s the last packet I could see,” Virgil replied, retaking his seat at the table, “Do you have some spares?”

John groaned and shook his head, “I’ll need to take – ACHOO– some more in about an hour – ACHOO– to get rid of the worst of it – ACHOO!”

Virgil sighed and dropped his head into waiting hands. He’d have to pick John up a fresh batch of antihistamines before the middle brother gave himself a nosebleed. The engineer kicked himself mentally, not out of guilt, but out of disappointment at his own stupidity. It was a well-known family fact that John was allergic to just about every damn thing on the planet. Peanuts, chamomile, celery, most types of pollen, kiwis, cinnamon and juniper to name a few. He’d even been allergic to the formula Alan had been given as a baby. Virgil had found that particular incident hilarious, but had retracted his humour after being informed that the redhead was honourably discharged from babysitting duty due being literally allergic to Alan.

‘Bad call, Virgil. You should have just shrunk all his clothes instead.’

Depositing his plate by the sink, Virgil picked up his phone and made for the hanger stairwell, “I’ll be half an hour, Scott. The closest mainland pharmacy is right on the Australian coast.”

Gordon hastily crammed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before jumping up from the sofa and sprinting over, “Virg! Can I come with you? Please? I promise I’ll behave!”

Virgil didn’t have the energy to protest, “Fine, but don’t you dare wander where I can’t see you.”

Crumbs sprayed out of the little blonde’s mouth as he bounced up and down excitedly, “I promise! Let’s go!”

Scott snorted as Gordon rocketed out the door.

“Only half an hour, you say?”

In the background, John let out an exotic profanity as blood started to stream from his nose.

Virgil set his jaw.

“Half an hour.”

Revenge. Boomerang. Ass. Him.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds tag #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy

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