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oftenderweapons · 3 years

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Dirty ABCs | Namjoon and Vixen

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen (OC)

Wordcount: 2.1k

Genre: headcanons

Rating: 18+. Minors, do not interact.

This just me having a little bit of fun in between collabs and commissions with an NSFW alphabet, so I can also get to know my characters better (yes, they're just characters. Do not assume the boys like/dislike any of the things I mention). A new drabble should be out soon, but just in case you missed it, here's Jimin's post-Soowoozoo smut! Please, read the trigger warnings carefully 🥺💖

Here's my masterlist! enjoy!!!! 💜✨

Trigger warnings: cumshots, cumeating, creampie, marking, unprotected sex, switch!vixen, switch!joon, daddy!joon, DDLG, lapdance, stripping, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, roleplay, homework within a professorxstudent roleplay, positions (doggy, missionary, reverse cowgirl, bend over), intimacy kink (?), bondage (hands tied, gags), impact play, oral sex, oral fixation, biting, casual mention of foot fetish, food play, choking kink, erotic massage, jealousy (kink), sapiosexuality, size kink, mention of infidelity and sharing partners, mention of outdoor sex, sex toys (dildo, vibrator, manacles, cockring, paddle, buttplug), edging, orgasm denial, orgasm control, overstimulation, BDSM club, uhm...bicuriosity ig?, thickdick!Namjoon, bubblebutt!Vixen impressive sex drive (?)

Aftercare: Namjoon is the kind of guy who’d gladly collapse in bed after some good, nasty fucking. He puts plenty of energy in it and he isn’t content until he’s barely alive before calling it a night. Yes, both him and Vixen need to force the other into heading to the bathroom and cleaning up before falling asleep. When he goes especially hard on her, aftercare becomes a way to relax for both of them: he needs to pamper her to even things out, and she in return likes spoiling him, giving him cuddles, letting him fall asleep with his head on her chest while she strokes his hair. Yes, his favourite cuddle is her touching his hair and chatting about how they felt during sex.

Body part: He most definitely has a thing for legs, hips and ass. Vixen is all about his chest and arms — but, truth is she’s absolutely crazy about his neck.

Cum: He either cums inside or on Vixen’s ass. No other alternatives for him. He hates cumming in her mouth, mostly because her cunt is soooo much better to him; and then again, that means he can eat her out right after — or mark her up and shove his cum back inside. Vixen is a fan of him cumming inside, she’s pretty much traditional about this.

Dirty secret: Namjoon loves when Vixen doms him. He’d never admit that out loud but he’s praying for her to tie him up and strip for him before performing a lapdance and fucking herself with that glass dildo he bought her… He’ll just wait… hopefully… Vixen wants Namjoon to give her homework on some impossible topic and then punish her for every mistake she makes while he’s dressed in a suit and glasses.

Experience: We know all about Joon’s and Vixen’s bodycount. Joon had four, possibly five partners, one of which broke his heart. He wasn’t entirely vanilla with them, but Vixen is most definitely the spiciest he’s been with — and the most rewarding. Vixen had two partners before Namjoon and her first boyfriend was way more experienced than Namjoon is, but that is not an issue to her. She knows if she ever asked him, they could try out pretty much anything.

Favourite position: Namjoon is mostly about doggy and missionary. Doggy for enthusiastic fucking with that teenage eagerness that characterises them both. Missionary when he needs to make love to her slow and steady — though he admits Vixen on top of him in reverse cowgirl is also a hot topic for him. Vixen likes good old missionary since she likes Namjoon’s body shielding hers. She also enjoys bending over for him — especially on the back of the sofa.

Goofy: neither of them is that goofy when it comes to sex. For them is a moment to get rid of tension and gain more intimacy. It’s a moment of communication and connection, and a very spiritual one at that. There might be little giggles and laughs here and there when they’re in a playful mood, but even then they’re more happy than goofy.

Hair: Namjoon trims his hair slightly, just to keep things neat and tidy. Vixen used to shave at the beginning of their relationship. She waxed a few times, to try something different and to feel Namjoon’s tongue better when he goes down on her. She switched to trimming when she found out Namjoon enjoyed a more natural look.

Intimacy: Nothing isn’t intimate between these two. Brushing their teeth together before going to bed? Religion. Getting dinner ready? A ritual. Making love? Therapy. Fucking like gorillas? Relief. These two share one single soul. They’re each other’s temple, and their bedroom is their church.

Jack off: These two? Masturbation galore. They’re the literal proof that being in a relationship should never stop you from taking care of yourself. They masturbate together while they watch porn, they masturbate to the sight of the other one doing it or just watching them. Namjoon is a huge fan of watching Vixen touch herself. He can do it with his hands tied, untied, or stroking his cock. He really doesn’t care as long as he can watch. Plus the fact that the wall dividing his bedroom from the shower is made of glass really gives him the best view when he has morning wood and Vixen is washing herself. And that goes both ways. She likes watching him while she showers, putting on a bit of a show. Vixen also likes watching Namjoon masturbate, though she prefers putting her hands on him. And Namjoon prefers her hands to his own, especially since she’s so fucking good at that.

Kink: We all know these two are the resident DDLG freaks. Other than that Namjoon suffers from a pretty severe case of voyeurism. On the side, all giving, we have oral fixation, impact play, marking, biting, cumplay and cumeating, and a very mild, very experimental foot fetish. He’s also into roleplay, especially regarding school/university environments. To that, we need to add on Vixen’s end exhibitionism and food play, and then, all giving, choking kink, exhibitionism, bondage and gags, erotic massage.

Location: these two need someplace private, since they can’t get in the mood unless they’re 200% sure they can take their time and relax and be as loud as possible. Namjoon would never stand the idea of them getting caught: he needs to protect Vixen. And Vixen would never try something in public. She knows he’d be too focused on the possible dangers to properly enjoy the experience. That doesn’t mean that they don’t tease each other in public. Vixen likes when they talk dirty in public so once they get home Namjoon rips her clothes off her.

Motivation: Namjoon gets turned on whenever Vixen looks incredibly refined and elegant, completely out of his league. Pair that up with someone flirting with her and he goes out of his way to remind her why she got his ring on her finger ten months after they first met. He also gets hot under the collar when he’s reminded of how fucking smart she is; that makes him both proud and horny. On a baser level, she just needs to grind against his thigh, rub her ass on his crotch, kiss his neck or suck his fingers to make him instantly hard. Vixen gets horny very easily when she sees him exercise power — which happens pretty often with him being the leader. Also watching him tower over someone who isn’t her makes her a little volatile — that’s her daddy, he’s her protector.

No: easy. Sharing. Even simply her moans being overheard by someone would make him nervous. Once he used to share everything about his sex life with his friends, but after he and Vixen got engaged, everything involving her without clothes on became a 100% restricted topic. He still happens to talk about sex with his friends, but he must be in need of desperate help in order to share details. Vixen agrees on sharing being a hard no. She also thinks doing stuff in public is absolutely a hard no: she’s far too attached to her job to risk a scandal ruining it. And of course she would never stand Namjoon’s career and reputation going downhill.

Oral: Both fans, Namjoon both on the giving and receiving side, though he prefers giving by far. Vixen is also a fan of receiving. If Namjoon weren’t so damn intimidating, she would enjoy giving more, too.

Pace: depends on the mood. Playful or angry? Then he’s fucking her like she’s nothing but a cocksleeve, straight up jackhammering his way in. Loving and emotional? Then they’re going slow and steady so they can feel every inch of their flesh meeting and parting and squeezing and squelching and sliding.

Quickie: yes, but not excessively. Vixen can only consider a quickie as a form of foreplay. There’s no way to satisfy her unless at least two rounds are involved. Namjoon is more than happy to take his time with her. If they don’t have that much time, they prefer masturbating together — quick, efficient, delectable.

Risk: No? The only risk he would take would be fucking her out in the open, but someplace where the possibility of getting caught is lower than 0.1%. He’d book super secluded villas for their holidays and fuck her until she’s begging him to give her a break.

Stamina: Namjoon hasn’t got too much stamina and Vixen doesn’t either, they just deprive and tease each other when they want to make it super special, otherwise they would be lazy and take naps in between a round and another. And they can truly deal with that brilliantly since they are great at foreplay and that makes up for their rather weak stamina.

Toy: These two are shameless about their toys. Vixen has a thing for dildos, and Namjoon loves spoiling her with those. She has a couple vibrators too, but she’s not that much of a fan: she has a practical one, when she needs things done quick and easy and another one that looked way too cute for her not to have it. In addition to that, they have manacles, a cockring, a paddle and a quite interesting plug.

Unfair: Being with Namjoon is all about the pleasure. He’d much rather overstimulate Vixen rather than deny her. Also because he has very poor control over his instincts and he can’t deny himself. He would tease, edge or deny Vixen only to punish her and make sure that she actually reads that as a punishment and not as some sick way for her to get exactly what she wants (aka spanks). Vixen is more on the teasing side, and she enjoys controlling Namjoon’s orgasms, but she’s very fair. They like to play dirty, but they make sure everyone gets what they need.

Volume: Namjoon is all about low and deep. His moans, groans, growls and grunts all come in a very quiet, although very eloquent way. He prefers keeping it quiet so it feels more intimate. Vixen on the other hand is very vocal, especially when Namjoon goes down on her or is trying to overstimulate her. She’s still considerate about the people living next door, but at the same time, she has a thing for doing it in the studio so she can be as loud as she wants, much to Namjoon’s — and his private tracks’ — chagrin.

Wild card: if it weren’t for his jealousy and his position, Namjoon would love to fuck Vixen in a room full of strangers, just to show how good he can make her feel, and to enjoy just how deranged she would get once adrenaline started kicking in. Claiming her in a semi-public context would help him sate his possessiveness for a good while. Vixen instead would love to go to a BDSM club with Namjoon and watch scenes from other people — maybe, potentially, join? — she most definitely wishes she had done stuff with a girl before getting with Namjoon.

X-Ray: Namjoon is packed. Length is not exceedingly more than average. But match that with more than impressive girth? That’s a wild ride. It most definitely takes a stretch. Vixen has rather small boobs — but she’s more than stubborn to make up with a full, round bubble butt.

Yearning: at the beginning they go pretty wild. Vixen is used to getting at least an orgasm before falling asleep — every night. Of course that tones down once she gets with Namjoon, especially since she learns to prefer quality over quantity and he refuses to get stuff done in ten minutes. She easily slips into a two to three times a week regimen, but deprive her for longer than ten days and she’ll feel neglected. Of course she’d take care of herself, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t start drifting away as she’d feel emotionally neglected too. Namjoon considers himself happy as long as he can have a full weekend of fucking: he tends to cram all the sex in days where he can relax since during the week he’s often too tense to initiate anything sexual. But he wouldn’t deny it if the fancy struck him.

Zzz: He falls asleep like a bear. He goes positively lethargic the moment he hits the bed after cleaning up. Vixen finds it extremely endearing. She usually takes longer, but not too much. She likes cuddling him while he’s sleeping.

#Namjoon x vixen #namjoon headcanons #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon alphabet #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon scenarios #namjoon x yn #bts headcanons #bts headcanon

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jay-and-dean · 4 years

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Don’t look down, Baby Part 1/3

Dean x reader

Summary : Dean told her to ignore the “thing” between them and to jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but him.

When we think of a guy our Y/n could be with, longing for Dean, it’s usually a nice dude, a little boring, right ? Because who can compete with Dean ? Now, what if this guy was as badass as Dean ?

Characters : Dean Winchesters, Sam Winchester, Reader, Abraham Hale (OC)

Warnings : Angst, jealous Dean, Smut (unprotected sex -you’re smarter than this !-, oral, also kinda lame sex if it’s a warning), cheating, swearing, smoking, drinking... More warnings in the second part.

Wordcount : 6k (yes, just the part one... now you get why I cut it.)

Note : So for the Aestetic, I used the face of Jax Teller from Sons Of Anarchy, and you have to know, even if Abraham Hale looks like him, he is totally an OC.

This is writen both in Reader and Dean’s Pov. Dean’s thought are in italic.

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89

Jay’s Masterlist

September 16, 10:33pm

Dean’s POV

I always thought that when Y/n finds a guy, it would be the perfect douche I wanted for her. Some nice dude named Robert, a cop maybe, or a realtor with a friendly family.

He would annoy me to death with his stories about growing up in a farm, and call her Pumpkin. He would worry a little when she goes out with us because he thinks we drink too much when we’re together.

He would tear her from me and I would hate him for that. She would skip a hunt to meet his parents, another to spend a few days in the cabin he rented… But even if it breaks my heart, it would be exactly what I want for her, so I would let her go.

I had it all planned.

But, of course, she didn’t play by the rules.

And that guy is no Robert…

His loud manly laugh tears me from my thoughts. His tattooed hand wraps around his whiskey glass and I turn my head to that waitress that always gives me warm smiles, she’s staring at him now, with the sweetness that was once for me.

Abe.

Ex-gang member, Abe. Bad guy turned good. Raised by the widow of a gang member, in a violent environment, he already had a criminal record at fourteen, started selling guns before he was officially allowed to drink, ended up in prison at Twenty-two.

Sweet smile Abe. Reformed bad boy with an attitude. Became a hunter after he met a vampire gang and slew them to the last. Now defender of the good citizen, he found his fight, and the hunters talk about him as one of the bests.

Afraid of nothing and ready to fight, charismatic, alpha Abe. His muscular arm in the back of my girl, his long blond hair falling on his face when he lights up a cigarette in a grunt of content while she touches his neck.

Abe. My new nemesis.

“So Dean” he says with his deep voice hoarse from smoking too much. “How did you meet my girl ?”

I met her on a hunt, invited her to my room and took her on that wall. Do you remember, Y/n ? Don’t look down baby, look at me.

“On a hunt.”

“That’s how I met her too” he smiles and kisses her temple. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”

“Looks like we do” I state.

Her eyes darken and she turns her head, I know how to read her, she is pissed, and I don’t even know why. I did nothing, I said nothing, and her rock-and-roll version of prince charming is worshiping her, so what causes that bitterness ?

What is it, baby ? Am I missing something ?

“So I heard your brother and you have this fucking palace ?” he gives me a corner smile, smoke coming out of his nose.

“Who told you that ?” I grunt.

What is the point of a secret bunker if it is as secret as a freaking tweet ?

He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey, not answering.

Abe never answers all the questions he is asked, maybe it is some cool thing for guys like him, maybe it is his way of look mysterious or powerful. What is sure is, as annoying as it is, it freaking works. But each time he smirks with his eyes lost in the bottom of his glass in a little huff instead of speaking, I get closer to losing it and smashing his pretty face on the table.

“I told him” she says almost coldly. “Like you did all your friends, Abe is my boyfriend, Dean.”

I nod. What can I say, she’s right after all. She’s always right…

She was right about that cop being the bad guy the first time we hunted together, right about the fact that my so-called bond with Amara would fade the second she gets whatever she wanted. She was right about Jack being a good kid but dangerous enough to need to be watched and educated instead of pushed away. Right about Mary hurting me more than I admitted…

She was right when she said I was wrong. The day I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again, that she should just ignore that thing between us and jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but me…

I really say that : any of them. I did.

Did you choose Abe just to annoy me, baby ? To prove a point ? You had to bring a guy who would beat me at my own grumpy-loner-badass-crap-drink-too-much game, right ?

“That place sounds sure awesome, because Y/n keeps coming back to it” he states, not letting me know the true meaning he puts in that sentence, his piercing blue eyes free of any emotions on the surface.

“Well it’s home for her” I say, and that bastard chuckles. “Is it funny ?”

“Not at all !” he says with a warm and kind laugh, and a friendly tap on my shoulder. “You should relax Dean, you look like the bar is full of demons !”

I stay stern, I know I should probably look friendly, but I rarely hated someone nice that much.

He gets up and kisses her head before he walks away, his manly way to move catching women’s attention, and some men’s too. One of his hand goes through his blond hair while he walks to the bathroom with the other hand deep in his jeans’ pocket.

“So… Abe, huh ?” I ask, the second he’s gone.

I should be more coherent, I know. I want her gone, but I want her for me. I was sure I was ready to see her with someone else, it’s been three years. Three years ! After we only made love six times. She is not mine, she never was.

And I thought calling her Baby in my head would make me strong. It’s a weird feeling, like I could let her be happy, but still feel special. I would have been the passion of her youth, the one that died young and of which she would think a little when she rocks her baby in her pretty house…

I had somehow romanticized my heartbreak.

But that doesn’t feel romantic at all. And all I can think of is that he is passion too, I’m not dead, and I just have to see him touch her and imagine them at night…

“Yes” she says, still with that bitterness in her voice. “You could make an effort, Dean. He has been nothing but nice, and you act like he’s an enemy.”

“I haven’t decided if he is one yet.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.

I recognize hurt. My Y/n, when she’s hurt, she gets angry. Always. And I made her angry so often. Her irritation is growing, I can see it in her burning eyes.

“You can’t do that” she says low. “You can’t treat him like that, no one gives you the right.”

“And him ?” I dare asking, staring at her reddened face. “Does he treat you right ?”

Her eyes fills with tears again and her jaw clenches.

“Better than you did, you mean ?” her words feel like a stab in my heart.

Reader’s POV

I didn’t want to say that, it came out by itself.

I’m thin-skinned lately. I feel like I could cry or scream any moment, all the time. My emotions have always been loud, my sensibility overwhelming, but for a few weeks I’m drowning.

The fact that I decided to try to get over Dean Winchester probably caused that.

A long time ago, I thought living with Dean without ever having him would be the worst, then I saw him with other women and was convinced I was mistaking before : the worst was definitely that. How wrong was I ?

The worst is having had him. Not once, but several times, each time a little more intimate. More kisses, more touches, more suspended seconds watching in each other’s eyes… Until we spent that night together, that last night, and he fell asleep against me for the first time.

It was over. It was too much for Dean, and not enough for me.

Dean Winchester can’t belong to anyone, not again. He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want me to be his girl ; who am I to insist ?

“Well, that’s a minimum” he answers in a soft groan after a little while, and my heart breaks because I just did what I swore I would never do : Reproach him for any of it.

“I’m sorry” I sigh, thinking of those weeks after the last night, when I had to hide the worst pain I ever felt because I didn’t want him to feel bad about not wanting me.

I still do... -feel that pain and try to hide- because Abe or not, I still live with Dean and he doesn’t deserve to carry my pain on top of the world on his shoulders.

“Can you at least try ?” I beg, low, seeing my boyfriend getting out of the restroom but stopping next to the door to talk to someone he obviously knows.

“Yes” Dean answers. “I’m just… He’s a hunter and…”

“He’s a good man” I assure him, looking at Abe walking toward us above Dean’s shoulder. “He comes from a dark place, like us, but he is a good man.”

September 21, 08:12pm

“That place is crazy !” Abe says, sitting at the table of the library. “I have never seen anything like this.”

While Sam tells him a little more about the bunker, I look at my boyfriend.

I stare at him, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable impression, that feeling screaming that he doesn’t belong here ; because if he doesn’t belong in the bunker, then he probably just has nothing to do in my life.

A lot of memories cross my mind, like it happens a lot lately.

The memory of entering the bunker for the first time and deeply knowing that, as long as I am welcome here, this would be my home. Because it just feels right and because, even if I’m not the granddaughter of Henri Winchester, he trusted me with this place, as much as he trusted his family. That man actually welcomed me like Mary never really did, like I was just as legit as blood.

At his frank smile, the memory of meeting Abe crosses me too. I was alone in this hunter bar, trying to get information for a case. I hadn’t told Sam and Dean that I would go there, because I know how much uncomfortable the hunter community makes them. And I was introduced to him : Abraham Hale. I found him so beautiful, with his mischievous smile that seemed to mock the entire world, his wheat blond hair and his tattoos. Something felt so safe about him, not because he looked like a bad boy, but because he was light and happy, laughing at everything and taking nothing seriously… All that Dean wasn’t.

I loved his wild energy right away. Abe was like the drums in a rock song, like summer wind. In his arms, I forgot about Dean for a few seconds a day during the first weeks. We spent days sleeping and having sex behind the curtains of that motel room, hiding from summer heat, and nights drinking and listen to rock music...

But now I look at him, his bright blue eyes seem pale next to the deep green looking back, and his beauty is bland.

“Thank you for showing me your home, Treasure” he says, putting a tender hand on my back like he always does.

And my eyes cross Dean’s.

I know what he’s thinking, he’s cringing at the nickname, and that reminds me why I am with Abe : Dean never gave me a nickname, he never called me anything else than my name, he will never and even when others do, he thinks it’s lame and cheesy.

Dean’s POV

That hurt on her face again.

Baby, you can’t look at me like that each time he calls you Treasure . I don’t like it, but you’re supposed to do.

This is much harder than I thought, and I was aware it would be impossible.

Each and every one of his actions makes me face my own contradictions : The more loving he is, the more I want to push him away from her. But the more she seems distant and to have her head in the clouds, the more it eases the pain. Am I selfish enough to hate her happiness even though I love her ?

I was in control, during those three years not touching her, my heart was aching with craving and my soul was screaming at me to make her love me. But as much as the heartbreak was constant, I had chosen it. I was in control.

I never realize that it was only bearable because she was still here, my partner, my best friend, my roommate. Mine.

Now she took it back. She raised her middle finger right in my face and decided she wouldn’t be mine anymore.

And that is a whole new level of pain.

I don’t sleep when she’s not home, and sometimes food just won’t let me eat it. She texts during our movie nights and wears that pendant he gave her. I hate that pendant because it reminds me I never gave her a present. Not once in all those years.

“Another drink ?” Y/n asks him with the bottle in her hand.

“Don’t you drive ?” I cut him before he answers and I see her eyes shoot me with imaginary bullets.

I’m sorry Baby but it’s movie night tonight, can’t he just leave already ?

“He’s right” she says giving me a little hope that she will ask him to leave soon. “You should stay for the night.”

My breathing gets stuck in my lungs.

No Baby, don’t do that to me. Please.

“With pleasure !” he smiles.

September 21, 11:49pm

Reader’s Pov

He grabs my thigh to lift it a little and grunt in my ear. His kisses are hot on my neck, his heavy body moving cautiously on top of me.

My eyes are on the ceiling, my hands on his sweaty muscular back and I wait.

Damn, what is happening ? He’s close, I am going to fake it ? I swore I would never fake, I swore if the guy can’t get me there, he should know, but… Abe is not the problem, I am.

I just watch the ceiling wondering what is wrong with me. He did everything right, nice foreplays and those love words he always has for me. But nothing seems to turn me on anymore, and without the need and the pleasure, his thrusts are just uncomfortable and I feel weird.

Come already.

I sigh. I know what is making this impossible. Dean. This fucker is the last I had in my own bed, the only one in fact. And everything reminds me that Abe is not Dean fucking Winchester !

“You okay Treasure ?” he pants in my ear, nibbling at it.

I’m not a freaking snack, what is it with his mouth and teeth always ?

“Yes” I fake a moan. “I’m close Abe, come.”

Just don’t be loud, that would be so awkward.

When he loses rhythm, I close my eyes at the relief, it won’t be long now, make it stop. He shakes a little and grunt loud, filling the condom inside of me ; and, to make my fake moans credible, I clench my walls around him one time or two, rolling my eyes at his proud groan.

Sex with Abe used to be so much more than this. I'm getting frustrated. Did I break something in me ? Why can't I enjoy anything anymore ?

He rolls on my side, panting, and smiles tenderly at me. He’s beautiful, I have to admit that, and he’s nice and loving.

“You’re amazing” he hums. “I guess I can’t smoke in your bedroom ?”

“I don’t mind” I answer sincerely. “The air co is magical, just, don’t smoke more than one.”

He sits on the bed to get his pants, his beautiful tattooed back on me. The smoke flies in pretty wreath. I put my hand on the lion tattooed on his back. It suits him, with his solar attitude and his confidence, his beautiful blond hair…

Yet I keep longing for my wolf.

Dean’s Pov

Now I know I could kill him. And now I know what the limit amount of pain I can take is.

I pace my room like a crazy man. He is taking her, my Baby. He is sinking inside of her and stealing pleasure. Does she wrap her legs around him like she always did with me ? To push me deeper. Is she as responsive ? As lost in pleasure as she was ? With that way only she has too beg for more with her entire body, voice strangled and arms caging me the best she can…

Is she…

“F-fuck…” I whine, holding my heart.

I think I just felt it break.

Baby…

Breathing is painful now, I feel like I’m drowning.

Baby… Why did you have to do that to me ? I know I hurt you but your revenge is unbearable.

I sit on my bed, still holding my chest.

I can’t take it, you know.

“Shit” I grunt.

How can this kind of familiar panic attack be back ? How can this hurt so much ? It’s not Hell, it’s not Purgatory…

“It is Hell” I say out loud.

Loosing you, Baby. It’s Hell. Do you love him ? Because…

“Fuck, I love her” I whine.

September 28, 06:05pm

Sitting in my “Fortress of Deanitude”, I wait. The tray with snacks is there, beers too, and Netflix is ready for our next episode of Stanger Things.

But there is a big chance she won’t come. Our movie nights are getting rarer and rarer, like our time together in general. And this place is slowly becoming a Fortress of Solitude…

You never know how much you need something until you lost it, right ? I was stupid enough to think I could be stronger than the need for her and now look at me, alone in that big empty room in a bigger emptier bunker.

All I can think of is how much each day pulls her closer to him and further from me. They are building memories in which I’m not, they are building an intimacy that I lost three years ago. She will forget me and he will have her, maybe even make her change a little, until one day she is among those people who talk about their personal tastes by saying “we”. “We prefer red wine”.

Ew.

Is he going to change my girl, for real ? Make her love Led Zeppelin a little less, make her a little less her, make her want other things, another life, need me less ? Our things will become unimportant and be replaced by all kind of other things I have no idea about.

I take a long sip of my glass. It’s not like I had my word to say anyway. I lost her. I lost her in the worst way possible : willingly.

But just when I’m about to get up and go put the snacks away, she opens the door, panting a little, like she had ran.

“Dean” she says entering the room. “I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road and the traffic was disturbed.”

You were at his place, Baby, and you ran to me ?

A little smile lights up my face when her presence revive my heart.

“It’s okay” I say.

“I’m late, but I have…” she takes her hand out of her purse. “Giant skittles !”

“You found them ?” I smile, sitting straighter when she hands me a bag.

Our things are not all gone. And she still cares about me and about our time together.

“Yup ! I made Abe stop in every shop yesterday.”

So you think of me when you’re with him, Baby ? Have you ever thought of me while he was inside of you ?

“Sit” I pat the armchair next to mine. “Let’s find out if Dusty’s girlfriend exists !”

“I really hope !” she exclaims, taking off her jacket.

I try not to look at her, but when she quickly takes off her jeans to slip in her pajamas pants, I swallow hard. Those thighs could have been for me, and I could have watched the show while holding her.

She sits with her knees up against her chest in the big chair next to me, and takes a beer. My eyes are glued to her, looking for anything unusual, and fearing it more than anything in the same time.

“What ?” she calls me out of my thoughts.

“Nothing, I…” have no idea how to finish this sentence.

“I’m still okay you know ?” she says without looking at me, playing with the label of her beer bottle. “You always stare at me like something had happened to me. I know what you think of Abraham, but he doesn’t treat me bad.”

Reader’s Pov

“I’m sorry” he sighs. “You know how protective I can get. Especially with you…”

A chuckle escapes me and I know he doesn’t like it, but protective with me ? He broke my heart. He ripped it and threw it on the floor because I had said those words.

“Yeah…” I nod, nibbling at my lip. “You won’t find bruises on me.”

He doesn’t answer.

When did we become like this ?

After a silence, he hands me candies and presses play. But, chewing on sugar and my eyes on the screen, I keep my full attention on him.

I have everything any girl would want : A lover with hot blood, beauty and a heart of gold. But I'm not any girl, and the only thing I want is Dean Winchester. The genius who thinks he's dumb, the scared little boy who lost his mom, the leader, the victim of his fate, the killer, the loyal friend, the rebel, the torturer, the perfect brother, the wary hunter, the crappy dancer ; grumpy Dean, childish Dean, stubborn Dean, all of Dean...

I look at him and my eyes travel down his neck, his beard is fighting to grow back there but I know he won't let it. The slow movements of his chest are mesmerizing. My eyes go down, to his thighs and crotch...

I really shouldn't let myself look there but his smell and aura are like a mermaid song and I'm drowning. His strength is radiating of him and I feel myself respond to it in everyone of my heartbeats.

He could make me scream. He always did, so easily. Dean made me cry of pleasure more than once, sometimes without any effort, the brushes of his fingers, the burning of his kisses... And when he finally buried himself inside of me, it was like a firework in Heaven. He never had to do anything really special...

And now I wonder : Is something broken about me ? Abe is passionate and loving, we used to work great, he was easy as whiskey. And he loves me. Why am I unable to enjoy any of it lately ?

My eyes trace the bump in Dean’s pants and I remember the simple ecstasy of feeling his cock twitch for me. Dean... I bite my lip to hold back the moan hanging on my tongue. His thigh moves a little, strong muscles hidden in his jeans, and I think of his stomach contracting that time he came on my tongue. I…

“I see you” his deep serious voice hits the air like thunder.

I look up to meet his eyes and realize I have been staring at his crotch, licking my lips and probably visibly holding back moans.

“Do you need something ?” he asks with a proud aura on his face.

I want to punch that expression off of his perfect features.

I look down and sigh. Yes, I do. I need him, not only want like I would like to think, but need indeed. I need him to feel my body, to make it alive, and to hear my soul breathe again.

“Dean…” I just say.

Like it was an answer or reproach but of course, he hears it for what it is.

A call.

So he gets up, suddenly so tall that he eclipses the TV, the light and my will. He comes in front of me, standing there, making me look up timidly through my lashes. His strong hand lands cautiously on my cheek, gently holding my face while I lean on his touch.

I can resist him. I can.

I think of Abe's sweet smile, of his deep voice and his arms around me. I think of this night he told me about jail and I tried all I could to make him feel safe again, that was a beautiful moment... We are something beautiful Abe and me. We are going to make it right, to make it count. Right ?

As my heart fights itself, playing all the love songs I know at once in my head in a deafening dim of emotions, my eyes fill with tears. I know what is going to happen, and the cruel god writing my story can stop there, the end is already obvious.

I can't resist Dean. I just can't.

And Abe will cry, right ? He trusts me. He will take his bag and yell maybe, the sun inside of him will get clouded, he will drive away. Then I will let my body slide on the door frame, unable to hold my weight up, because I will have broken the only man that ever truly loved me.

I look down to hide the pain from Dean, but he knows me better.

"I can leave" he says.

But it's the last thing I want because I miss him, I miss him like a part of me died years ago and I still feel empty and cold... I miss him when I'm alone, and even more when I'm not.

When he's about to move, take a step back to leave me alone, I grab his belt and hold him in place firmly. I have no plan, no solid thought, but I know I can't be away from him for now. He smells both like the most familiar home and the wildest dream.

My other hand grazes the fabric of his jeans on his thigh, I close my eyes for a second and a little whimper escapes me. I started touching Dean less than a day after meeting him, and it seems I can't be around him without having my hands on his body.

He hums, staring down at me, bow legs slightly parted like he needed balance, like he was gripping the floor for both of us. Dean had always been my anchor. His shoulders look wider from down here and I want nothing more than letting my hands grab his butt to rub my cheek on his crotch like a cat marking its territory.

"Touch me like you need it, Baby" he murmurs and a little sob escapes me unexpectedly.

He never ever called me Baby.

He never gave me any nickname like he never gave me the place I thought I could take in his heart. And Abe, he calls me Treasure. He welcomed me in his heart...

"What's wrong ?" Dean asks like he didn't know.

Dean Winchester is the world's greatest hero, saved basically everyone's life without any reward, and for this he is a saint ; and still, he's the one that is going to be the end of me. Hero or not, he's my villain.

"Everything is wrong, Dean" I answer in a broken voice. "Everything."

He squats in front of me and my hand panics at losing my grip on his belt so it grasps his flannel like my life depends on it.

"Not everything" he whispers, bending to let his poisonous lips graze my skin.

My treacherous mouth opens in reflex at the proximity of his, making him respond by biting my lower lip. I whimper again and pull him closer.

"I got you" he states, letting his burning lips trace down my chin and my neck followed by his thumb, scratching my skin with his short nail. And I catch fire.

I let my head falls back and I surrender totally.

That's how bad he is for me : I could let him break my heart again without an hesitation, after it took me years to recover just enough to just function. And oh, I will. I will shatter the heart of the man that trusts me just to let Dean selfishly remind me how much I love him.

His breath is burning my skin, spreading in the fabric of my t-shirt when he buries his face on my chest, opening his mouth wide to pretend to bite my breast, hand cupping my sides like he had missed me for real. I let go of the plaid fabric to grip the short strand of his hair like I can.

"Dean..." the moan I have been holding comes out, filling the room with sin and the echo of future lies.

"I got you" he repeats.

His hungry hands seize my jeans and tear it open, fighting the metallic button's resistance brutally. The fabric hurts my lower back in a last resistance but is ripped off of me the second after, taking my panties in its way.

And before I can sit straighter now that I'm on the edge of the chair, before I can talk, think or breath. Dean's anaconda arms grab my thighs firmly and his burning breath is on my folds.

"Wh-" I start but what can I say now.

He kisses my folds like no men ever did : like he was in love with that part of me. An open mouth kiss, tongue eagerly lapping my juice from my entrance to my clit.

"AH !" I scream, arching my back but Dean doesn't take a second to breathe, burying his face on me.

I squirm, licking my lips like I was kissing him back but the place he is devouring can only respond with throbs and getting soaked, which is does.

I'm panting, I'm being eaten by the flames of that indescribable pleasure that is back. My stomach is shaking, my temples are beating so loud. I suck a breath when he sucks at my clit, moist hand gripping the leather of the chair.

"Dean" I moan again in the subdued light of the warm room.

He answers with a hum, and his nimble tongue pushes at my entrance, making my thighs shake violently in the vise grip of his arms.

I can't escape what Dean does to me so I let go.

My whole body falls backward when I come, harder than I have in years, holding his hair so tight it might hurt him, legs shaken by electricity, back arching and chest fighting itself to breath. My sensible clit seems to have nerves in my whole body and I fall silent, covered in sweat, suffocated by a forbidden crushing orgasm.

I whimper desperately, limp and lost, panting in the chair like I didn't realize yet what just hit me. But Dean knows what he's doing, he knows where this goes.

He opens his jeans, I can feel it even though I don't see him, my head still back, moaning at the caresses of his tongue on my neck. I bite my lip hard, hand moving from the arm of the chair to his, to feel his eagerness.

And he grabs my thighs harshly, making me fall on the floor with him and holds my back when I can't, keeping me against him.

"So wrong..." I whisper in a dying echo of my disgrace.

His hand grasps my face firmly and makes me look at him. His eyes have this fire in them, he clenches his jaw when I roll my lips a little, wetting his craved cock on me, dying of being finally filled by him.

"Keep your eyes on me" he groans, grabbing his length to guide it at my throbbing entrance.

"Dean..." I moan, fingers reaching his stomach under his clothes to feel it tremble.

"Eyes on me baby" he repeats low.

Dean's Pov

She can't think of him. Not now. I need her with me, I need her for me.

Feel me, baby.

I smile slightly when she dives her unfocused pupils in my eyes. She's perfect and I love her ; but I must say when she seems to surrender so completely to my touch, that's when forgot why I asked her to stay away.

When I enter her, her phone lights up once again in her back, on the floor. I groan loud as she wraps me like only she can, like she was trying to suck me inside her core. She's shaking, she's fighting to keep her eyes on me and I'm fighting that urge to grab her phone and shatter it in a million pieces against the wall.

She gasps, her body threatening to fall back so I hold her.

That's it baby, stay with me, feel me, let me take you like I used to when you were mine.

My hand fists her hair and my mouth gets attracted to her pulse point so I bend to suck at it, barely thrusting for now, just enjoying to be inside of her, feeling her pulsating with desire, the concrete hard floor digging in my knees.

Her arms wrap around me, she cling to me and I try to ignore my jealousy shouting at me.

Baby, you try to ignore me but can he do that to you ? Can he turn you into a purring cat like that ?

"Dean" she moans, clenching around me, her thighs trying to get herself even closer so she takes me impossibly deeper.

"Say you want me" I murmur against her skin in a voice I barely recognize.

"I want you" she gives in, exhaling in my ear.

Behind her, her phone lights up one more time with a text : "I found us a case in California, Treasure."

=> PART 2

FEEDBACK IS GOLD

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks @mrspeacem1nusone @stylesismyhubs @deanwanddamons @jawritter @peridottea91 @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart @vicmc624 @teresa-67 @jessie-michael @doctor-hp-mcu @hawkerz12 @mariaenchanted @hobby27

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 4- Your Disco Needs You.

Intro: Paul adjusts to life at home post the shooting.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+) A heap of angst and feelings. He’s a soft, lil bean…

Word Count: 8k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 3

Three weeks. He'd been home three weeks and with each hour that passed Paul felt less like himself. He was frustrated, angry, irritated and irritable. Upon his discharge from the hospital, his attending physician explained that the road ahead wasn't going to be easy and so far that had proved correct. He'd spent eight days in ICU, not to mention the few after in the recovery ward, and according to the medical team at his disposal, each day spent there in ICU was a full week of added recovery at home. Eight fucking weeks. He wasn’t even half way through. Physically, bar his vocal chords, there had been little lasting damage. Something he should be grateful for, apparently. The wound in his neck had healed well so far, leaving an angry raised pink scar behind, but other than that, to look at, there was no physical signs he’d been moments from death at all. Emotionally, however, well, he was a wreck. If it weren't the continued nightmares as his mind rehashed the horror inflicted in the line of duty, it was the constant desperation to be himself inside and out, to feel like he was HER Disco. For the first two weeks post the shooting, he'd been reduced to writing things on a notepad for Y/N and others as he couldn't speak more than a word or two and at a faint whisper or angry rasp. Over the last week, it had improved a little but still, holding a prolonged conversation was painful and he often as a result found himself reaching for that fucking notepad as a means to an end when it simply became too damned much to bear.

He hated it.

Not only was socialising his forte, but his and Y/N’s relationship usually operated with a lot of conversation as they would talk over dinner, joke when watching TV, chat or whisper to each other when laying in bed at night. And not being able to indulge in those simple things properly with his fiancée was killing him. And don't even get him going on his thoughts and anguish over the way they'd not been their usual intimate selves. From touches and sweet kisses, to sex and general intimacy, there had been none, not due to anything she'd done, but all down to him, and how he viewed himself, felt about himself. He pulled open the fridge, reaching in for the eggs and bacon before he moved to the stove, coffee brewing in the pot to the side. As he set about making them breakfast, he lost himself momentarily, concentrating on whisking the eggs ready to scramble before he heard the bedroom door click open as Y/N shuffled out into the bathroom. A few minutes later he heard her footsteps hit that squeaky board in the small hallway as she headed down to their kitchen. Soon he felt her arms around his waist, hands hooking over his chest and shoulders. Her lips pressed to the back of his shoulder. "I can take over." Quickly, Paul twisted out of her hold and raspilly said, "I can manage." She stepped back from him, and he was immediately crushed with guilt as he took in the look on her face. The way her eyes were downcast and how hard she swallowed. He watched as she blinked hard, moved her lips to say something and then she simply sighed, her shoulders dropping as she turned and left, back the way she came, down the hall and back into the bathroom. When he heard the slam of the door echo across their small apartment, Diskant threw the wooden spoon across the counter and leaned against its edge, a silent curse across his lips as let out a deep sigh.

For the last three weeks, this was how their days had started and ultimately set the tone for the hours to follow. He didn't know where to begin to try and as for Y/N, well, she couldn't try any harder.

**** The door shut behind you with a little more force than you’d meant, having slammed it by accident in your haste to escape quickly before the tears of frustration and hurt spilt from your eyes. You were trying to rationalise his behaviour, you knew he was frustrated at how his recovery was progressing, more so because physically he looked okay. But he wasn’t. He was weak, sleeping a lot. He struggled to talk for more than a few minutes at a time and the simplest of tasks seemed to leave him drained. But you could cope with that, hell, you expected it. What you hadn’t expected however, was what hurt you the most- the fact he seemed to be shutting you out. Your relationship had always thrived on the fact you had no secrets, there wasn’t a thing the pair of you couldn’t talk about but now, it was like he’d put up a wall to keep you out. And it hurt.

You turned on the shower and whilst you waited for the water to warm, you stripped off your pyjamas and made sure to pile your hair out of the way to avoid it getting wet. Once it was at the right temperature you stepped into the cubicle, closing the glass screen door behind you and tipped your face up to greet the warm spray as the water washed away your silent tears… The day had finally come and he was going home. Things were set and the car was running and waiting. He'd been able to dress in a pair of sweats, his trainers and a button down shirt, sighing as he couldn't just walk out but had to be rolled out. Words were few, and very soft, a stark difference to his typical boisterous laugh and toothy grin. But you were all thankful, thankful he was alive, thankful he was okay and healing. His parents offered to take you both home, yours and Barnes waiting for you to arrive back at the apartment. Your parents had worked diligently at deep cleaning for you, taking one less thing off your list to do, knowing the first few days home would been an adjustment period, learning how to move with one another and go about a new routine from at home therapy to outside appointments, no doubt eventually a steady stream of visitors. You honestly were fine with whatever Paul had wanted. In reality, he hadn't said much or written much on his pad of paper all morning. But you went along with it anyway. The nurse wheeled him out and you walked along his side, the feeling of relief washing over you as you stepped over the threshold of the hospital entrance and watched him breathe in his first breath of fresh air in ten days. You held back tears, thankful for your Wayfarers covering your eyes. But you didn't miss his, the way he was desperately trying to keep himself together around everyone else. He gave a nod in thanks to the nurse and slowly sat down in the back seat of his parents' SUV whilst you moved around to the other side to settle yourself in. Nothing was said, it didn't need to be, but you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as Big Jim pulled away from the curb and headed towards home. When you went to move your hand away, he gripped it tightly, looking at you with those deep pools of blue.. You wanted to reach out to him, touch him on the one place you knew comforted him, made him melt, tell him he'd be okay, reassure him, but he was to your right, therefore his sutures and bandages were along the left of his neck and you couldn't touch him there, it was still painful, raw and frail. So you let him grip your hand the whole way home, the top of it reaching his lips a few times, just so, you thought at least, that he knew you were there, reminding him he was going to be okay. That he had you. As the four of you made your way into the apartment, you remembered that Barnes, your parents and by now no doubt Sam were there waiting for you all. Sure as you'd guessed, a thundering cheer and smiles came from the living room and filtered into your kitchen. The one bedroom, small space at capacity with guests. It was not the time for a 'Welcome Home' party. As Paul gathered a moment to himself, he looked to you and signalled he needed to write something down, so you grabbed the nearest note pad and a pen, the items you always had on the coffee table that collected your lists for groceries and to do items. His 'Honey Do' list as he liked to call it. He scribbled hastily and practically shoved the pad back at you. 'Can't do this. Need time.' "Okay," you looked at him after reading, "okay." You ushered over to Big Jim and Dotty, gently telling them that he was asking for some space, and they quickly understood, saying their goodbyes as you made the rounds, hoping neither of you looked like assholes in asking everyone to leave. With deep understanding, everyone left, allowing the two of you time together. You went to the kitchen to get water for you both, sighing as you saw the fridge stocked full and a freezer full of meals. Dotty and your mother, no doubt having done all that. When you returned to the living room, just a dozen steps away, Paul was sitting on the couch, hands on his thighs, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, I should have stepped in and said it was better to have people see you when you were ready. I didn't think...." A deep sigh interrupted you and what was an empty hand was now jotting a note again. He turned the notepad in his lap. 'I just need you.' Your lip quickly quivered and you gently leaned in to kiss his lips softly. "I'm right here." He gave you a small smile as you sat beside him.

“Do you want to shower? Eat? Sleep?" Paul frowned deeply at each of your asks. He shook his hands at you, trying to tell you to slow down. Then, you sat in silence. He slowly stood after a long stretch of nothing between you and headed down the hall to the bathroom, albeit a bit wobbly at first and when you rose to help steady him, he shrugged you off. You gave him his space, but worried about him on his own. Then you heard the click of the door and the shower running… A knock on the bathroom door dragged you from your thoughts and knowing it could only be Paul, you turned the shower off for a moment so he didn’t have to shout. “Yeah?” You cleared your throat and listened carefully. “Breakfast is waiting when you’re done.” His voice was croaky, but you picked up his words easily enough through the thin door. “Okay, give me a moment. Be right out.” You called back, no longer wondering why he didn't open the door anymore or why he locked it when he was inside. You turned the shower back on, quickly lathered up your gel before washing and stepping out, towelling down before you slipped on a lightweight robe and opened the door.

*****

He waited for her at their small kitchenette, their places set, food already plated. He admired her, how she was dressed in her robe but as his eyes moved to hers, he noticed those beautiful orbs that he loved waking up to each and every day were red and puffy, despite her shower. He watched as she moved her food around her plate, eyes cast downward at the yellow scrambled eggs, slightly runny just the way she liked them. He tried to clear his throat but it stung so he reached over the tiny table-top and touched her hand. When her eyes met his, he spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” The words died in his throat as his voice gave out and he gave an exasperated gesture mouth, a frustrated noise escaping from his nose. "It's okay," she replied, her own words catching in her throat. His chest heaved with a heavy breath and his hand flexed into a fist, redirecting his frustration to have more control of his feelings, a shake of his head. It wasn't okay. None of this was okay.

She didn't speak, she just slowly popped a shoulder with a shrug and tilted her head to the right to meet it. He could tell she was grinding her teeth, that flex in her jaw evident. She cleared her throat and shook her head, "I can't eat right now." She scooted away from the table and took her plate with her, setting it in the fridge and escaping to their room. When that door shut, Diskant rubbed his hands over his face. Things weren't going to improve between them if he didn't try to get his words out but it was fucking near impossible. And God damn it he was downright exhausted at writing it all down. He had so much to say, so much he wanted to be able to tell her but he didn't want to waste the ink. He wanted his life back. The dishes were done before they'd sat down to eat, so, wanting to give himself time and continue to give Y/N her space, he slipped into the bathroom for his own shower.

Taking a moment to figure out what exactly he was doing, Paul sighed. Shower, then figure it out with Y/N. They needed to talk, properly, even if it made him hoarse. Three weeks of struggling to just.... live and move on were enough. He brought his eyes to the mirror as his stood with his palms flat against the basin, his scar peeking out the top collar of his white tee.

He'd grown to looking in the mirror more often than when he'd first come home. His reflection made him feel somewhat of a beast, a man no longer what he once was but something of fright. The scar by no means was earth shatteringly grotesque, and Paul wasn't naturally a man of conceitedness, however, it was still a shock to see.

Not for the first him he'd wondered how it looked to Y/N. It was hideous in his mind, and he was afraid she was grossed out because of it too. The bullet had pierced through one of the places on his body where he simply relished her touch. From the friendly and tender tickle on the couch as they watched TV to the desperate way she would cling to it as she lay under him, it was just something they had shared since the start and now he held a million worries. It might hurt, maybe her touch would have lost the ability to drag the reactions it normally did, that he would have lost that special place that she only she knew about and could use to make him melt.

He was scared of his own girl’s touch, and while it was an absolute ridiculous notion, it flat out petrified him. It petrified him for the very fact that he couldn't feel ANYTHING there. Not the water that touched it, the feel of his own fingers ghosting over it or the bite of a pinch he'd given himself just to test the nerves.

He felt nothing.

He stared at his reflection, running a hand over the month long beard that had grown as of late. He wasn't supposed to shave, having been on blood thinners since his surgery, but those ran out a few days ago. Turning his head to the right, and then to the left, he sighed. Maybe he'd feel a bit better if he did…more like himself.

With a sigh he pulled the trimmers from under the sink and plugged them into the outlet. Then he started filling the sink with lukewarm water, preparing a fresh razor for use. Stripping down to his boxer briefs, he took a good look at himself, eyes burning into the mirror as he took in his pale colour, his sad eyes, the dark circles under them, no doubt result of the nightmares waking both he and Y/N in the night, and then that ugly line. He sighed as his mind travelled back to their first night home from the hospital… He hadn’t meant to push everyone away but it was overwhelming. He just wanted her. His second chance at life was handed to him and all he wanted was her, time with her. Everyone and everything else could wait. He was a little unsteady on his feet, a weak wobble really that would surely pass the more he moved but he wasn't his entirely strong self either. He felt weak, looked pale and was sporting a near two week stubble that was itchy, but there was nothing he could do about it. More pressing than the ever increasing facial hair, however, was the fact he was craving a shower. Having suffered the indignity of nothing but sponge baths and body washes in the hospital, he simply wanted nothing more than to stand under the steam of their surprisingly powerful shower, in their little bathroom and clean himself off, wash away the clinical smell of the hospital that seemed to cling to his skin.

He turned the water on first, the sound of it spraying from the shower head a joyful sound. He knew he'd have to go slow, take it easy and be gentle on himself. Paul slipped his sweats down over his narrow hips, the material pooling at his feet and he kicked them away to the corner of the space. Then, with trembling fingers, he started on his button down, swallowing back a nervous knot painfully in his throat.

By the time he was stripped down to his boxer briefs, there was a covering of steam on the mirror and he swiped at it with his hand. Then gently, ever so gently, he began to peel back the medical tape holding the gauze to his neck, knowing he’d have to replace the dressing once he’d showered. Not that it mattered, he’d been sent home with what felt like enough gauze, dressings and surgical tape to patch up a fucking army.

What he saw was not his own skin. Gone was his St. Christopher medallion on his favourite chain, one his parents had gotten him when he graduated from the Police Academy, and near where the chain would lay against his collarbone and neck was the repair hours of surgery and a week and a half in the hospital had caused him. Still, he was alive. When all was said and done, a chain could be replaced and his wound would heal.

With a final glance at his wound he carefully stepped into the hot water, and a soft moan escaped his mouth as he relished the way it felt on his skin, searing the back of his legs, his ass and lower back. He took a half step back and the water moved up to just under his shoulder blades. As the water beat down on him, he grabbed a bottle of his favoured shower gel and lathered a good amount all over himself, before rinsing and repeating the motion several times. Then, with a movement that was more reflex than conscious, he picked up Y/N's gel and turned the cap, taking a long inhale of the scent that comforted him. He felt his throat tighten and he started to panic, but quickly realized he was swallowing down a cry rather than there being a problem with his wound. He placed the gel back and turned his face into the stream of water, blinking fiercely as the tears welled and bled from his screwed up eyes, mingling with the steady droplets that hit his cheeks from the shower.

He leaned into the stream farther, allowing it to wash over his head, literally drowning out the sound of everything around him. His palms rested flat against the tile, a stretch and pull from his muscles that had atrophied during his stay. Awakening muscles and tendons that were mangled and manipulated to heal.

How long he was in there, he had no idea, but eventually, he felt the temperature starting to drop a little, signalling he'd been in there far longer than he'd intended. Reaching out, he turned the shower off and then stepped out, grabbing a towel which he ran over his head, almost snorting when he remembered his hair was no longer as short as it had been, realising that Y/N had never really seen him with hair as such before.

Because yeah, that’s what she was going to be looking at. His hair, not the huge three inch gash on his neck that made him look like some kind of fucking Frankenstein monster.

With a roll of his eyes, Paul wrapped his lower half in a towel and opened the door to the bathroom, stepping across the hall. When he entered the bedroom, he found Y/N sitting in the edge of their bed, a familiar necklace in her hands like a rosary, her knees bouncing up and down. He noted how cautiously she lifted her eyes to look at his, and didn't miss the way they quickly flicked to his wound and back to his. He felt that painful lump in his throat for again. She rose to her feet and took a step toward him.

“The chain, well... they had to cut it.” She said quietly, holding out her hand where the necklace sat. “So I got you a new one.” She held it out to him and he paused, his hand reaching towards the chain “The pendant was fine so...”

He reached out to take it, his fingers softly brushing her palm as he clasped the metal in his hands. He turned the small, silver disk over and gave her a small smile before he placed it on his nightstand.

“Do you want me to put it on?” She asked, moving to pick it up. “I can-"

With a movement that was a little harsher than he’d meant he reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it still a few inches away from the chain. She turned to look at him, a combination of shock and puzzlement on her face as he hastily shook his head.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Paul ran his hand over his face and shook his head at her. “S’okay.” Were the only words he could manage to rasp out. His eyes bored into her as he desperately tried to make her understand he wasn’t angry at her.

"I'll uh... You start getting dressed and I'll grab the bag from the hospital."

“Bag?” He half spoke, half mouthed at her, his brow creasing in puzzlement.

"The one with the bandages."

He shook his head, waving his hands. “I can-“ his voice broke and she smiled.

“Paul, it’s fine, let me...”

He once more shook his head.

“Baby...”

At that his fist slammed on the nightstand and making her jump.

Her breath was shaky and her lip quivered, her eyes instantly watering. He knew for a fact he'd scared Y/N for he'd never reacted like that in any situation with her.

Backing away from him, she held her hands up defensively and shrugged, "Okay, I'll just go get it for you."

As he recalled the memory, his head hung in disgrace, much the same as it had that evening when she’d left the room, tears in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to push her away like he had, but since that first time he’d continued to do so. And the more he did, the harder it was to stop. And she took it, never biting back or losing her patience. She accepted the fact that he showed her less affection, took everything he threw at her and then some, because she loved him. And damned it, he loved her, he loved her so fucking much it truly, physically hurt. And the thought that he was hurting her because of his inability to sort the jumbled mess in his head was killing him.

Taking a deep breath, he set out on the task he'd started. A shave and a shower. The vibration of the trimmers hummed against his cheeks and neck, trimming away the longer hairs, creating a stubble he then fully removed with his cream and razor. Then, he showered, taking his time, losing himself in his thoughts and playing back the last month in his mind. It was no walk in the park and a frustration and anger bubbled just beneath the surface, it was like he'd recognized he wasn't the same. And was fighting a never ending battle with himself to pull out of the darkness that had overcome him so he could let her light shine in. Fuck it, he needed to do it. He needed to rip the proverbial fucking band aid off and own up to his shit. Because losing her, that was absolutely not an option.

But how? Would she be willing? After all he'd put her through. He was still scared, and he knew his own limits were still there. But they had to start connecting or he was going to lose her. He felt it.

Towelling off, he disposed of his laundry in the dirty hamper and wrapped his towel around him. He looked in the mirror and again wiped off the condensation. He nodded at his reflection. Now he looked like Diskant. HER Disco. He smiled a little to himself and left the bathroom, feeling a lot different than when he'd entered.

When she wasn't in their room, he dressed in jeans and a tee, flip flops on his feet and headed down their small hall. He saw her tucked into the couch, a slouched long sleeve over her taught frame, denim shorts on those hips and legs that made his mouth dry. He could see the smoothness of them and his fingers tingle to touch them. Deep red painted toes balanced on the edge of the coffee table as she read the book she'd started recently.

He sat down next to her, garnering her attention. She looked at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. Those eyes that make him weak. Make him purr and melt and feel like he can conquer the world all at once. Those eyes that make him feel like a man above himself.

At the risk of losing his voice entirely, he began with, "I feel cooped up and it's driving me crazy. Can we go somewhere?"

A smile so genuine spread across her lips that it twisted his gut and sped up his heart. "Yeah, okay. Any idea where?"

He shook his head, "I just want to go. I want us to get out of here." He made sure emphasize the us in that reply, even if it didn't sound as so.

"Okay, let's go," she tossed her book on the coffee table and stood, grabbing her bag by the door and slipping into flip flops of her own.

****

You humoured his request, just to go for a drive. And you drove for hours, all over the place. But little did you realize where you'd end up eventually.

It was late in the day and the parking lot was emptying out. You'd pulled into a spot and turned to him, the Ferris wheel and various stands along the pier behind you. His eyes were covered by his own Wayfarers but his smile was soft and sweet.

"I'm kinda hungry, are you hungry?" You said to him, a humorous tone to your voice. Your words echoing ones he'd spoken to you so long ago, words that had become an inside joke between you.

He chuckled lightly, softly and replied with a nod as the two of you exited the car. You waited for him to meet you on your side. The second he joined you, he took your hand in his and together you walked the bike path until the steps up to the pier were accessible.

He stood at the railing, about halfway down, as you ordered two beers, two hot dogs and fries to share. The sun was just at the horizon, painting the sky in watercolour sherbet, and Paul's silhouette stood out against it. He saw you approach and grabbed his dog and beer from you, lightening your load. The two of you shacked up at a table near the games, almost the same table the two of you sat at on your first date.

“You know, I was suckered into a first date here? Guy was a total swindler, stalker too."

He swallowed his bite of food and washed it down with beer before he smiled and rasply said, "you were willing to go with me. I didn't sucker you."

“You totally trapped me.”

"You needed help, I offered," he pointed to himself, then to you and smiled, "willing participant."

"However you spin it so you can sleep at night," you sighed. "I'm just glad I fell for it."

Paul nodded, "me too." He perched his sunglasses on top of his head. "I love you, so much." He took your beer from your hand and set it on the table top, whilst pulling both of your hands into his.

You couldn't hide the obvious hitch in your chest at the outward affection. The lump in your throat hurt to swallow as your eyes welled up. "I know, I love you, too. More than anything." You fought the emotion in your words, the way they were starting to make your voice quiver.

He sighed at your emotion and shook a deep breath. “This isn't easy." He stalled, allowing his voice rest a second in order to keep trying to get his words out. "I'm not easy." He paused again. "I’m sorry.”

"It's okay," you shook your head.

"It's not." His voice was starting to give way again and you saw the frustration on his face.

“Hey...” you squeezed his hand, “I’d rather you did take it out in me than bottle it all up. I don’t like it when you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.” It broke you to watch him struggle, each and every day it broke you. And you were at the end of your rope, frayed and tired of keeping it together. You sighed. “Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Text me for Christ's sake!”

He chortled a bit and shook his head, "it's not the same." He brought your hands to his lips and you closed your eyes at the feeling it gave you.

You shook your head, if he wasn't going to make the first move then you needed to try. "Do you trust me?"

He frowned and nodded. “Always.”

Without words, you leaned forward, scooting yourself onto the edge of his seat bench and leaned the forearm to your left arm against his right shoulder. Your fingers scratching behind his ear. Gently you brought your right hand up his chest, slowly, delicately, over his shoulder and he flinched away from you. "Paul, please," you whispered. You could see the way his body started to shake, his breathing laboured. "It's just me, baby."

The closer your fingers got, the more his hands twitched to pull you away. You didn't know for certain what was going on on the inside, but you had a pretty good idea. On the outside, his eyes shone back at you with fear as he tried to just breathe. Then your fingertips brushed the raised pink skin that just peeked over the edge of his tee…

The pads of her fingers felt like red, hot needles the way his skin was reacting. But that was nothing compared to what was firing in his brain.

He clenched his teeth together, tried to keep his breathing calm and regular as those gentle fingers that could make him purr and sing moved delicately over the raised edges of his scar, her eyes never once leaving his. Quickly, the feeling of red hot needles dissipated and he felt nothing but a relief that washed over him from his scar to his toes. He could just feel her and that was monumental.

A deep, shaky breath rumbled his chest as he painfully swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing it all twitched under her touch. It felt the same. Nothing had changed, that familiar tingle he usually felt at her touch sparked something deep inside. The involuntary little shudder he always emitted when she hit that little sweet spot, shot up and down his spine and he felt his lips curl up on a smile as his girl beamed at him.

“See.” She whispered.

“How...” his voice croaked and the words died as he took a deep breath, giving himself a moment. “How did you know that was...” another pause before he shook his head, gesturing to his mouth.

“Because, Paul Christopher Diskant, I know you inside out.” She delicately touched him still, her nails just at that spot that made him quiver. "This doesn't change anything. Not now, not ever."

He let out a strained sob, pulling her close, his lips harshly on hers.

“Tell me about it, Stud.” She smiled against his lips.

"Let's go home," he managed before his voice cut out again.

“Is that an order or a request?” She teased.

He grinned and popped a shoulder in response.

The drive from Santa Monica to home was the most comfortable you'd been in weeks, and you could tell Paul was too. As you drove, he couldn't stop smiling, like this weight had been lifted and the fog between you cleared. His eyes didn't leave your profile, his fingers entwined between yours, never letting go.

****

His hand never left yours as you walked the short path from the garage to your little one bedroom shack, even single-handed unlocking and opening the door. You couldn't even step through the threshold before his lips were on yours, soft and slow, gentle, his tongue gliding through the opening you gave him. A kiss so deep you were sure the two of you were ethereally floating. You tossed your bag on the couch as you passed it by, toeing off your sandals as Paul gently tugged on your hand, an instruction to follow him.

Down the narrow hall you went, directly to your bedroom tucked off in the right corner at the end of it. Again, his lips are on yours and if you didn't know any better, you'd detected a slight tremble in his touch as his hands came to hold your face close to his. Your hands rested against his chest as he kissed you breathless. There was no rush or desperation behind his kiss, if anything a wanton need crept through the both of you but you weren't going to push him, no. You knew Paul needed to set the pace, for whilst you could read him like a book, this terrain was new and navigating his new emotions and fears needed to be on his time and terms.

You were just happy he was touching you again, allowing you to touch him. You missed him, missed the way the two of you were. This had by far been the longest the two of you had been intimately separated since your beginning.

His hands left your cheeks and gently gripped at the bottom of your top. You stepped back a little, raising your arms so he could pull it straight over your head. You watched his eyes soften as he looked at you, almost like he was seeing you for the first time again. You reached for the hem of his own shirt, but he took a half step back, freezing you.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, “if you’re not ready, leave it on or... it can wait, we can wait.”

He swallowed hard and quickly his hand gripped the back of his collar, pulling the tee over his head. You took care to keep your eyes locked on his, knowing exactly what was making him nervous- his scars. As his eyes searched yours, your face broke into a smile and then he was back on you, his hands on your hips, pulling you close as his mouth claimed yours. His hands felt warm on your skin as they travelled up your sides, only letting go to move to your jaw and neck. His thumbs across your cheek, his fingers splayed around your neck and into your hair.

He kissed you with all tongue, his lips massaging against yours as he changed the position of his head, tilting it the opposite way. And for a moment he pulled away, his hands still on you, the burn of his eyes lustfully blown as they bore into yours. Then, he moved in on you again, his nose bumping against yours as his thick, flat tongue filled your mouth fully, yours submitting against it, allowing him to devour you. It was as if he was opening up your soul, tasting feeling and seeing every colour of the rainbow. You felt as if your body was going to explode with the feeling sheer desire and love flooding hours state, but above it all, happiness that he was kissing you like this again.

It left you breathless and wanting more. You actively fought the urge to rip his belt buckle open and shove his jeans down, trying hard to leave him to set the pace. But, as always, he could read you like the pages of a well-worn novel and that maddeningly smug, cheeky school-boy grin crossed his face. It twisted your insides and made your skin tingle.

His fingers wound through your hair as he backed you towards the mattress. As the crook of your knees hit the side of the bed, he kissed you again, his fingers moving to the button of your denim shorts. Your mind was excited, your body fully responding to his touch, his movements. You’d missed this. His fingertips touched your tummy and you shivered, the denim quickly falling away as you fell onto the mattress.

You watched as he undid his button and flies, the zipper echoing in the stillness of your room, bouncing off the exposed brick and vibrating in your ears. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his denims, strong thighs, arms and taught abs flexing as he crawled over you, his hands planting either side of your head. The muscles of his shoulders twitched as he lowered himself over you, his lips claiming yours in a slow dance, his tongue leisurely tangling with yours, a soft sigh escaping him.

You continued to resist the urge to touch him where you have always shown him you're there with him, that part of him that makes him sing and shiver. That spot that only you know of that makes him melt against you, submit to his lust and desires for you. Instead, as his tongue felt every part of yours, his hands caging himself over you, you tilted your hips, your hands grazing the underside of his biceps, curling around the raised skin of his tattoos. At the feel of your pelvis bumping his, he gave a little grunt, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing to yours as he returned the gesture, his own grinding into yours, the hardness of his arousal unmistakable through his boxer briefs as it brushed against the thin cotton and lace of your panties. His words hit your ears, "need you, Sugar, so bad." You practically purred as you heard your nickname clearly and for the first time in weeks, not strangled by pain, or muted by frustration. His voice was his own once again and it caused a sting in your eyes. Your hands moved along his torso, from his ribs down to his hips, the waistband of his boxers bent by your fingertips. All whilst his lips moved over your jaw, behind your ear where you gasped before he moved down your neck, nestling soft kisses against the tops of your breasts. “You got me, Stud. Always.” At that, he crashed his lips to yours in an attempt to hide the sob you could faintly feel against your own lips.

Your hands gently cupped his jaw, holding his face to yours as the kiss grew desperate, his hips rolling into yours again. Suddenly, he moved back, kneeling between your legs as his hands hooked into the waistband of your panties. “Off.” His voice was raspy once more as he issued the instruction, yet the undercurrent of desire was unmistakable. Obliging to his instruction, you raised your hips off the bed and allowed him to pull them down, his body shuffling along the bed as he glided the garment down over your legs. His heavy hands caressed up your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles over your skin. God, did your skin burn in delight at his touch, you had to wonder and think if he felt the same. There was no denying he did, or you wouldn't be here, you'd still be at the pier, figuring out how to navigate his feelings, his fears. His body led over you, your sex and his barely touching, but yet twitching and pulsing with deep desires of need. His hand pulled down the cup of your bra, his mouth taking gentle nips against your breast as his mouth moved to your nipple, where he gently rolled it between his lips before his tongue swirled the sensitive nub. Your back arched in pleasure, one hand twisting in his hair, the other fisting in the sheets besides you. His free hand slipping behind your back to expertly unclasp your bra, allowing it to loosen around your arms. "Paul...." you moaned. His free hand reached for yours that was fisted in the sheets, pulling your fingers apart and taking your palm against his, entwining your fingers. You were more than ready for him. Like he needed you, you just needed him too. It took one rock, one hip thrust and he slid right inside. "Oh fuck," you both let out, his a good rasp and yours a whimper. It felt so good, beyond good, the way he filled you, stretched you. You wasted no time in flicking your hips up towards his as he thrust down. Your insides fluttered as you joined together each time. God, did it feel... so... fucking... good. Again and again he rocked into you, his movements needy but not harsh, as a desperate need filled you both. You lightly nudged him with a knee and together you rolled, him to his back and you over his hips, still with him settled inside you. Tossing your bra to the floor with the rest of your clothes, you rocked against him whilst he reached up and held your bouncing breasts in his hands, a gentle tweak of each nipple. The sensation sent ripples to your middle, warmth pooling at your core and you gave a soft moan of delight before you bent forward, your lips on his. The kiss was sloppy, his hips still rocking up into you as your pelvis rolled against his. You were close, you knew he could feel you twitching around him. Your lips were covering his as you slowly bounced and rocked on top of him, a pressure to your clit that was blissfully crippling.

In a sudden exertion of strength, Paul sat up and his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close to his chest, his lips moving over your collar bone and down your sternum. He was as deep inside you as he could go, bottoming out as the angle changed and he was clearly hitting a new spot that erupted your insides like a volcano. Your body shook as your orgasm boiled at its peak, with each jut of his hips against you. With one hand around you, the other moving hair away from your eyes and keeping it back by his fingers, his nose rubbed against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he brought your lips to his. You were going to come and it was going to be absolutely amazing. Deepening your kiss, your fingers scratched at the back of his neck, just at the nape of his hairline and you started to feel him quiver. There he was, right there, like always. Your lips broke free from his and nipped at his strong jaw before kissing at the joint where it met his ear. You were careful now, despite the throws of your own orgasm starting to crash around you, to weigh your moves with precise care as you gently, delicately kissed down his neck. Your lips hit that pinkish-red raised mark and your world exploded. The blood surged to your ears, deafening you as you came, hard. Your eyes fluttered closed but the noise he made broke through clear as day, and they flew open again. Those beautiful blues were locked into your gaze as his broken whimper of your name blew into a loud groan as he clung to you, his hips stilling, his eyes fluttering shut. His noise died down, catching in his throat, his chest heaving as you felt him twitch inside of you, the after-throws of both your orgasms pulsing together. Tenderly, your hands slid up to cup his face as you kissed him softly, feeling him sag a little, and you gently pushed on his chest. You didn’t want him to release his hold but you knew he was going to be exhausted. He didn’t take much persuasion, his body boneless as he sank onto the soft mattress behind him. You went with him, your head tucking under his chin as the pair of you recovered, the only sound in the room the dying pants as you both eagerly drew breath.

His hand slipped into your hair, cradling the back of your head as you shifted and pressed your lips to his jaw.

“You okay?” You asked.

He nodded, swallowing hard as his other arm ran up and down your spine, fingers gently tracing a path along your still touch sensitive body. His lips pressed to the crown of your head.

When you'd regained the feeling of life back into to your body, you sat up, rolling off of Paul's hips, garnering a look of confusion from him. He loved when you would keep him inside you, and continue to feel the warmth of one another's bodies. You smiled softly at him, sleepily. You saw the look on his face, the look of contentment but of need and seeking comfort. It was a look you'd come to memorize as his 'I'm tired' look. Soft features, heavy eyes. Blissed out from love making or not, Paul was exhausted and you read every hint of it you memorized over the years.

"C'mere," you now rasped, your voice rattled by emotion and dry from moaning.

His lazy smirk crossed his lips and he knew that tone. He knew what was coming next. He rolled to his left and pressed his lips to yours gently before laying his head on your chest. You traced your first two fingers gently up and down his neck, along his shoulder and back up, a repeated pattern you only you had the map to.

A combination of a contented sigh with a little hum left his throat as his weight over you grew heavier, like the comfort of a weighted blanket. You blinked back the tears, because although you'd heard it time and time again, right then, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever made.

**** Part 5

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #Paul Diskant #paul diskant fan fiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #street kings fan fic

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

Wary Hearts

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: Harvey and Dowling finds out Saul is dating a student and worries about the dynamic in the relationship. So does reader’s friends (OC characters). So, they all decide to follow them hidden by magic but as they watch Saul and reader, they can’t help but be proven wrong. Anonymous

A/N There were a lot of details in the request so I shortened the summary down so as not to give everything away. I hope it’s what you had in mind, my darling anon 💛 Also, I just want to make a disclaimer because I haven’t done that in a while. The reader will always be of age in the fics involving Saul (or any older characters) and the teacher/student relationship is purely fiction 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi

Perhaps if you were more alert, you’d notice the two people following you to the East Wing where you know Saul is waiting for you. There’s really no excuse for you considering you’re a mind fairy and can literally feel their feelings. You’re too caught up with getting to your destination though to notice them. Your powers are focused on reaching out and sensing Saul’s mind. Nothing offers you peace the way he does.

If you were more alert, you might notice the group of fairies watching from a distance as you go to hug Saul but Kiera has used her light magic to hide them from being seen. Both you and Saul remain oblivion to the many people watching your secret date unfold. Farah and Harvey watching worried about the dynamic between a teacher and a student and whether it’s actually real or perhaps a relationship created to benefit one part without the other part knowing. In short, they’re worried about their friend. The scandal of dating a student will be bad enough but what if this was all for show. What if you truly didn’t care for him but instead thought this would be a good way to ensure passing your graduation. Dowling didn’t want to think like that but she couldn’t help herself. Saul was one of her oldest friends and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to make a mistake.

In the other corner, Kiera, Adelaide and Max stood watching for any signs that it was the other way around. They worried that Saul might take advantage of you. Even if you were old enough to make your own decisions, it could still be hard to say no when an older man approached you. They needed to see your relationship first hand to check if they needed to intervene.

Perhaps you would’ve noticed them spotting each other and having a whisper battle as to what they were both doing spying on the two of you. But you were caught up in your conversation with Saul and didn’t notice the world around you. He was talking about a hunt he’d done once going after a Burned One and while you hated knowing the danger he’d put himself in, you really enjoyed listening to his stories. He had this passion in his eyes when he spoke of hunts and missions that you just loved. The exact same way, he loved seeing the spark in your eyes when you got to talking about Earth music. You could talk for hours and only cover the greatest hits of the 90′s. Both of you didn’t really care much for the topics but seeing each other light up with passion meant everything.

“So, I run after Karan yelling for him to stop. But he’s not listening and he almost runs right into the Burned One. I had to drag him back and the Burned One missed him by inches.” Absentmindedly, Saul is playing with the rings on your fingers spinning them around. It’s a habit he’s picked up when he has nothing to occupy his hands with. He feels foreign without a sword in his hand like a fish out of water so you don’t have the heart to move your hands. Besides, you love having him touch you.

“What happened then?” you ask instead of listening in on the conversation happening not even 20 feet away. The two groups agree to an alliance both watching over you to make sure you’re both happy.

“I saved his life. Killed the Burned One,” Saul smirks acting all tough before adding: “I did have the help of five other specialists, but the details aren’t that important.”

“Of course,” you agree with a laugh. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you as he pulls out sandwiches that he definitely didn’t make himself.

“It’s not much but I didn’t really have much warning for this impromptu date, did I?” he teases. You’ve been studying like crazy for the exams and you haven’t been able to settle on dates before the actual date. Today, you’d texted him twenty minutes before the date to let him know that you were going to be there. He’d been more than patient with your school work and you had a suspicion that he actually found it to be a little of a turn on just how serious you took school. There’d been times where the tables had been turned and he had been the one not being able to commit due to meetings and missions. There was a mutual respect for each other’s careers that you really appreciated. You wanted to be able to make your own decisions in life and not worry that he felt threatened by your success or like you had to take a backseat so he could thrive. There was room for both of you and you loved him for that.

“I think it’s perfect,” you say digging into the sandwiches. You spend the evening enjoying each other exchanging kisses every once in a while and never letting go of each other. Either you have your hand on his thigh or he intertwines his fingers with yours. It’s very obvious that your love language is physical touch.

“I finished that book you gave me,” you inform him with a smile. He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I gave it to you a week ago.” You shrug your shoulders thinking back to have you speed-read the book to make sure you had time next to your studies.

“Well, you did promise me something for when I finished it.” You crawl into his lap and kiss the spot right below his ear. You never would’ve done this if you knew that your best friends as well as your teachers were watching, but it’s what they need to see to realise just how madly in love the two of you are.

“I really missed you this week,” you admit continuing your trail of kisses down his jawline and then passing over his lips.

“If this is the way you greet me after a week, we’ll have to do this more often.” You chuckle kissing him once more.

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.” You’re carefully unbuttoning his shirt which seems to be your audience’s cue to leave and quickly. None of them want to see what transpires next. They don’t stay long enough to hear the “I love you’s” said afterwards but seeing the two of you together so naturally and intimate says it all. You really are just two people who fell madly in love with each other.

You don’t hear the discussion once they’re out of earshot regarding what they just witnessed. You don’t hear them admitting that they were definitely wrong to worry something indecent was going on. When they part that night, they’ve all agreed to keep their mouths shut. No one will speak of this until you and Saul decide it’s time to share the news. And when you finally do share it with them, they all act surprised and happy for the two of you. It’s not necessary to say out loud that they’ll never ever admit to their wary hearts when they first found out about you and the worries they had. All they say is congratulations because their best friends are finally happy. They can’t ask for more.

#saul silva imagine #saul silva gif #saul silva blurb #saul silva x reader #saul silva #winx saul #winx saul silva #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #winx saga #fate winx club #winx club #fate winx #fate netflix #fate #ftws blurb #ftws imagine #ftws

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Note

For F: “That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.”

thank you V for the prompt!! this definitely got away from me, but I hope it works!

author’s note: thank you for the request, @hunnybadgerv. i hope this does your prompt justice and sorry for the length, all the intimacy feels got away from me (and i have to give a lot of inspiration credit to @gavcowles). this is very soft, the smut really plays a secondary role to the intimacy and respect for the boundaries of an aspec partner. *just fyi: my enby detective harley uses she/they pronouns and is aspec. hope you all enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – felix hauville x nb!detective (harley bishop) rating/warnings: 18+; ns*w smut noted between the 🔥⚡ and ❄💧 icons (minors dni) based on/prompt: nsfw dialogue prompts // 73. “That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.” (in bold) word count: 1.7k summary: felix learns harley’s boundaries and encourages them to be intimate on their terms.

on their terms

felix balances a pile of thick, heavy books on one arm while reaching up toward a shelf above his head. he realizes he underestimated the ladder rung that would get him the closest and it’s too late now to change course, given how he’s already balancing on one leg, the other extended behind him.

he very much looks like a ballerina-in-training.

in his haste, he accidentally grabs a few thin volumes stacked closely next to each other and leaps down to the ground. he glances at the one on top, the smallest of the bunch by far, and his eyebrows rise in surprise and curiosity.

he drops the rest of the books so he can flip through his new discovery, wincing at the sound of heavy texts crashing to the floor in a heap. he knows he’ll get an earful from nat for leaving them there, but he’s too excited and runs off to harley’s room.

they’re reading through some reports when he bursts in and climbs into the bed to sit next to them.

“look what i found in the library! nat’s been holding out on us,” felix grins, showing them the cover. “i am definitely not letting her live this down.”

harley raises an eyebrow in surprise at the title: sex positions through the ages.

“why are you assuming it’s nat’s?” they ask curiously, putting aside the reports and curling into his side as he wraps an arm around them.

this is one of his favorite (although everything about harley is his favorite) things to do with hayley – hold them and be held by them with the feeling of complete and utter belonging blanketing them both.

he flips through the pages quickly, taking in all the various illustrations the book offers. harley hums in agreement every few poses, until felix comes across one that makes him pause.

“that position looks impossible enough, let’s try it,” he suggests, moving the book over so harley can get a better look.

the position in question requires quite a bit of maneuvering, flexibility, and strength – none of which are “impossible” for him per se. but it’s still one that he hasn’t ever tried before, and felix is usually up for trying anything at least once.

he draws circles above harley’s hip, slipping his hand underneath their shirt carefully, watching their reaction out of the corner of his eye. they’ve been together long enough that he’s learned to read the subtle tells of their moods most of the time, but he still tries to encourage them to speak up more often.

harley remains still but he can feel their heartbeat against his ribcage. their hand hasn’t moved from its spot on his chest. he removes his hand from under their shirt and pulls it gently back down to cover their exposed skin.

if anything happens tonight, it has to be on their terms. even if harley hasn’t quite articulated their terms exactly – and he wishes they would soon so he could always know what lines must never be crossed – he’s still getting a feel for their boundaries.

his intuition hasn’t let him down yet.

he closes the book and leans down to kiss their hair softly, gently tucking his arm under their knees to pull them into his lap.

“thank you,” they murmur against his neck.

“of course, babe. i hope you never feel like you have to pretend with me,” felix responds as they pull back to look at him. “whatever we do, i always want it to be on your terms, okay?”

and he’s pretty sure the smile they give him could sustain him for the rest of his life.

“shower with me?” they ask suddenly and before he can respond, they’re pulling him out of bed and toward the bathroom.

their back is to him as they undress and step into the shower, adjusting the settings to the lukewarm temperature they know is at the upper limit of his tolerance and he follows suit, an ear-to-ear grin on his face at the sheer happiness filling his chest at the sight of them – comfortable and allowing him to see them this way.

the water gently flows over their bodies while they reach for the soap and he adjusts the showerhead pressure, grinding his teeth slightly at how extreme the adjustment feels until he gets used to it, standing behind harley with his hand on their hips and space between them as they finish washing their body.

his gaze moves up as they reach for their shampoo and he places his hand on theirs.

“let me,” felix murmurs quietly, grabbing the bottle and squeezing out a palm-sized amount onto his hand.

he knows, through observation but also trial-and-error, how much shampoo and conditioner to use for harley’s long, color-treated hair. and there’s something about how they let him gently massage their scalp (especially after the first few times when he was too eager and rough) and weave the products slowly down the length of their locks that makes his heart soar.

the bright blue color dulls a bit under the weight of the water and conditioner, but that’s how he knows he’s used enough. that, plus the quiet sighs of contentment leaving harley’s mouth sending a warmth blooming across his chest.

he shifts so that the stream of water hits their head directly, continuing his gentle massages as he rinses the products out of their hair. he carefully weaves his fingers through their tresses, untangling any knots that he can find as best he can without pulling at the roots – and he can tell, because their head jerks a centimeter back whenever that happens.

after a few minutes, the water runs clear down their back and he gently wrings their hair out, placing it over their shoulder. he reaches for the loofah before hayley stops him and turns to face him.

🔥⚡ 🔥⚡

they pull him forward a step so the water hits his back before placing their hands on his hips, tiptoeing up to kiss him softly before kissing down his jaw and neck. their hands mirror the movement, inching down his thighs as their lips reach his collarbone. he sucks in a breath at their hands moving to the inside of his thighs, trailing their fingers upward as their lips continue their journey down his chest.

felix shudders, and it’s not from the hammering pain of the water pressure on his sensitive skin.

no, that’s faded to a numb rhythm in the background as harley takes him in hand and begins to stroke him slowly.

his cock stiffens under their touch and he makes an effort to open his eyes and look at them, mouth parted and ready to make sure they know he’s not expecting or needing them to do anything and they—

“i love how responsive you are to me. i love knowing that i do this to you,” they murmur against his stomach, lips fluttering against the hair they find there and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

their eyes are teasing and serious at the same time and he wants to—oh, his brain stops processing for a moment as their strokes quicken, hands alternating and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. they continue kissing down his happy path but he stops them with a gentle stroke of their jaw with his thumb.

they look up at him questioningly and he returns with a suggestive smirk of his own, reaching up to grab the curtain rod and lifting himself up so his hips are at their shoulder-level (he is very thankful that the agency installed reinforced rods directly into the walls as a precaution against the “activities” that some of the team is known for getting into).

the look in their eyes shift from confusion to adoration to gratitude to eagerness and oh, what he wouldn’t do to capture those expressions forever.

“this way, you’re not on your knees,” he says softly, his breath ending in a moan as they move his legs to rest over their shoulders and wrap their lips around his cock.

that feeling alone makes him want to explode right then and there—

but he holds on, because it’s harley and them together.

he vaguely senses that his body is shivering despite the warm steam from the shower but he is too preoccupied with how hayley is moving their head up and down his cock, the position allowing their hands to freely play with his balls. he tightens his grip on the curtain rod, reminding himself the last thing he wants is to fall on top of hayley.

felix glances down and they’re gazing right back at him, as though he’s been spilling all of his inner thoughts out loud, and maybe he is – he’s not sure and can’t be bothered to recall in the moment. not with them hollowing out their cheeks and taking him deeper into the back of their throat, pushing him all the way to the edge until he can’t hold back anymore.

and then he lets go, making an effort to move away but they hold him tightly against their mouth, swallowing eagerly without breaking eye contact. and for him, knowing hayley is giving as much as they are willing to give and on their own terms—

it’s everything.

“geez, harley,” he breathes out their name, a deep, throaty groan that synchronizes with their final swallow as they move off him and gently bring his legs back to the floor. he holds their face in his hands and kisses them deeply, the smile on both their faces making it so their lips don’t quite fit.

❄💧 ❄💧

felix steps out and reaches for a towel, holding it wide open as he turns back to them. they tilt their head at him curiously.

“your turn,” he says warmly, eyes soft and heart full.

harley steps out of the shower and into the towel he wraps carefully around them, their eyes never leaving his face.

“i love you,” they whisper as felix carefully dries every part of their body before handing them the robe hanging on the back of the door.

harley slips the robe on while felix wraps their hair up with a smaller towel.

“i love you more,” he replies, kissing their cheek and leading them back into the bedroom so they can cuddle.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @gloynporslen; @writer-ish; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @ambrosykim; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart;

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lowkeyorloki · 4 years

Note

You're generally thought of to have really good characterization of Loki in this fandom (I'd say that's what you're known for???), so I was wondering if you could give some tips on how to write Loki? And maybe some general tips on writing imagines/x readers?

Hi there anon! First, thank you very much for such a high compliment. I think any fanfiction author would agree when I say being told we get our muse’s characterization correct is one of the highest compliments we can be given, so THANK YOU!

I would be happy to give you some advice, but keep in mind, this is just my interpretation of Loki. You, and any other author, are allowed to take creative control and do with his character what you will. This is just what works for me!

For Imagines/X Reader Fics

This is my third imagines blog, so I have been doing x readers for a long time. If you’re looking to expand your following, I would start out doing preferences. This is when you take a group of people from the same piece of media (in Marvel, a good example would be the whole team of The Avengers) and basically write a little drabble for each of them in one post. This will allow you to use multiple character tags, which means your posts are more likely to circulate. From there, you can totally branch off and have an emphasis on one character, or create a whole new sideblog for one character that people from your already-established following can find. I used this method twice and it worked really well- it also lets people see you can write for different types of characters, which is always a plus.

Tags! Use as many tags as you can, because that’s how people find your work. Make sure to use some with your muse’s first name, and some with their first and last. For imagines specifically, I would always make sure you have “(name) x reader”, “(name) x you”, and “(name) imagine”, because those are what people usually search for.

Avoid physical descriptions. “Reader” is just that: the reader. Not everyone has blue eyes, not everyone has long hair, not everyone is white, etc. etc. If you really want to write a character with specific physical traits, then you should develop an OC. It rips your readers out of your fics when they’re described in a way that doesn’t fit them, and can also really harm their confidence- the only descriptions of someone’s appearance I’ve ever seen in x readers are features that are considered conventionally attractive, so it’s important to be mindful of any implicit biases you may have.

...You also have to keep the reader as a character somewhat neutral, because they are supposed to be whoever is consuming your fic. If you’re going to give them character traits, justify them with your story. You want your reader to be trained in hand-to-hand combat? They took martial arts as a kid. You want your reader to be the smartest in their field? Give them a backstory that made them that way. It’s personality traits you have to look out for, because if someone’s personality doesn’t match with “y/n’s”, that person isn’t going to be able to read your works.

Speaking of y/n, I would suggest not using it at all. I’ve recently stopped using it due to my own experience and feedback from my followers. Most people don’t see y/n and replace it with their name, it just becomes a reminder they’re reading something. Your goal is to immerse your readers in your fics, and I’ve found this often has the opposite effect. There are a lot of ways to avoid y/n, such as pet names (darling, baby, love) or creative phrasing (”your name passed over his lips, whispered softly like he had never heard it before”). It can be a challenge, but writing always is!

If possible, keep your reader gender neutral. This sounds a lot harder than it is. Especially in the Loki fandom, there are a lot more male readers than you think, and there are people who don’t conform to either gender. Not assigning pronouns makes your reading more accessible (which also means more exposure!!!) and also allows everyone to find a place in fandom. The only times it becomes a problem is when other characters are talking about the reader behind their back, or when writing smut. In my case, I do my best avoid the first option and, until I find a solution, I do use gender and everything associated with it in smut. However, if none of these appeal to you, you can also copy and paste your fics to have different pronouns.

Strategically place that “keep reading”, it’s a good way to get readers hooked!

For Loki’s Character

In my opinion, Loki is all about a balance of vulnerability. We all love to see him be loving and open and intimately intwined with someone, but it would take a lot of time to get there with him. For that reason, if you’re wanting to write that side of the Trickster, I would make your fic an established relationship or slow burn. If that doesn’t sound like something you want to do, a lot of faults in writing can be forgiven if you call them out yourself. Does something feel too random? Say it was sudden or unexpected. This shifts blame from you and actually becomes a characterization choice: now, instead of you possibly misinterpreting Loki’s character, he and the reader have so much chemistry with each other they’re acting differently than they normally would.

Loki (and Thor’s) way of speaking is a HUGE factor of any fics with him. Loki has a different colloquial than we do, and thanks to Tom Hiddleston’s really sexy voice, it’s something closely associated with the character. So, we have to walk a line of Loki’s words being formal, but not being out of touch. He was able to assimilate easily (that’s part of the reason he was such a threat in Avengers), and is super clever and picks up on a lot of things. Therefore, Loki is more likely to address Tony as “Stark” rather than “Man of Iron”, and I think it’s fair to say he knows the name “Coulson” doesn’t refer to the SHIELD agent’s lineage (he’s probably not going to call him “Son of Coul”). But phrasing is also a part of this. I try to avoid contractions coming out of his mouth, so “you are” instead of “you’re”, “he is” instead of “he’s”, etc. etc.

Loki also isn’t going to say things we normally would: As humans, we tend to exclaim “Oh my god!” or something along those lines. But Loki was brought being told he was a god, so that isn’t going to be in his vocabulary. It’s little things like this I keep an eye on when I’m writing for him.

A good way to accomplish Loki’s speech is just... adding words the modern world has deemed unnecessary. A recent example of mine is in one of my fics, Loki is asking the reader what a group of characters want from her. Originally, I had him saying “What do they want?”, and while editing, I changed it to “What is it that they want?.” It’s subtle, but when this is how most of the Loki’s sentences are structured, it calls back to the Loki we saw in earlier Thor films (regardless of your opinion on Ragnarak, the Shakespearean-esque language is gone by the film) and creates a simulation of sorts that makes your reader feel more in tune with your story. Not to keep using this word, but it’s a technique that immerses your reader.

Make sure your style matches Loki! I have a very dramatic and articulate style, lots commas, lots of (carefully placed) repetition, and paragraph breaks. This works for Loki because he’s such an emotional and complex character, and my style compliments and emphasizes that.

Readers respond well to your style correlating with your character: Compare my fics Aftermath or Wounds to A Mortal Occurance. Aftermath and Wounds are written in the style I described above, and are approaching 500 and 400 notes respectively; whereas I tried a more domestic and conversational style in A Mortal Occurance, which has yet to reach even 150 notes. While there’s definitely something to be said about people subscribing to you for one specific form of writing, it would be impossible for me to deny one style is not only more true to me, but more true and realistic to Loki. Think of if I wrote in my style for Ant-Man or Sam Wilson. It wouldn’t really work because their characters aren’t as high-stakes as Loki.

I hope this all helps! Remember this is just my opinion and is what has worked for me. You’re free to take all this to heart or completely reject it. I’m honored you came to me in the first place <3

#ask #loki #loki laufeyson #writing help #i guess? saying it helped may be a stretch lmao #imagine #imagines #x reader #writing advice #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #this is probably a #delete later

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angelliev · 4 years

Text

Lover Boy - JJ Maybank x OC - Part Two - Cherry Popping

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: Aria learns a little more about the differences between the social classes of the Outer Banks and is exhilarated to see JJ once again. The chemistry between the two teenagers increases and so does their burning passion for each other.

Warnings: Smut, some cursing, unprotected sex. (Don’t be a fool, cover your tool) ;)

A/N: GIF is not mine. Belongs to the rightful owner. I don’t own the show or any of the characters. Hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your time. :)

Lover Boy Series Masterlist

The universe is definitely a mystery to me. I tend not to believe in fate, but that seemed to change when today took a surprising turn. It started out with having brunch with my family at the country club with the Camerons. Normally I wouldn’t mind going, but I my skin is still decorated with hickeys. For the past few days I had to cover ALL of them with makeup. Damn you JJ. He’s all I’ve been thinking about ever since the sleepover. I want to see him again. Just thinking about him makes my heart skip a beat and my cheeks turn red. Part of me wonders what he would do to me if we were to see each other again. God the things I’d let him do to me are absolutely sinful.

A snap of someone’s fingers displayed in front of my statue face pulls me back into reality and away from my forbidden fantasy. I turn to the young woman sitting next to me with a confused look. She nods towards the waiter who is waiting for my order. “Forgive me. May I please have your pesto mushroom crepe? Thank you.” I can practically feel the burning gaze from the young woman sitting beside me. My dear older sister.

Jennifer Prescott. My father’s picture-perfect daughter. Intelligent, graceful, pretty and popular. That’s how my parents see her, me on the other hand, I know her true nature. She can be mean, materialistic and manipulative. We’re always getting on each other’s nerves. She’s quite the party animal too, but my parents trust her too much to think that she would go out and do stuff like that. Even if they did now, they probably wouldn’t mind. After all, they seem to adore her matching picture-perfect asshole of a boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. When he’s not hanging out with his friends or doing business, he’s cheating on my sister and doing cocaine. Sitting on the other side of me is Sarah who whispers discreetly into my ear, “I still can’t believe they’re back together. They fight more than the kooks and pogues combined.” I nod in agreement. Sarah excuses herself to go to the bathroom and I sit while listening to the agonizing grown up talk that bores me to death. That was until a rather impolite conversation was brought to the table.

“Would it kill for these people to hurry up with our order? I swear all they do all day is sit around like sloths.” I felt ashamed to hear those words come out of my father’s mouth. I felt even angrier to hear what Rafe said next. “I understand sir. Those pogues are an absolute nuisance, they cause nothing but trouble.” I glare at Rafe. “They’ve worked more than you ever have.” I squeezed my way into the conversation, everyone turns their attention to me. “Excuse me?” Rafe asked astonished. “You heard me. They’ve worked harder than you ever have. They have grit. They’re determined. They accomplish things. What have you done besides waste your money and,”

“Aria!” My dad interrupt. “That was uncalled for.” “So are you and Rafe talking down to people like they’re worthless.” I can practically see the steam erupting from both my dad and sister. “You guys don’t know shit about them. What gives you the right to say such things?” I continue.

“Stop it Aria! This is embarrassing.” Jennifer says in a hushed tone, not wanting to attract more curious stares. “So is being related to you Jennifer.” Her jaw drops. With my anger over flowing within in me, I stand up and gather my belongings. “And where the hell do you think you’re going?” My dad questions me. “Anywhere but here.” I march away despite my father’s protest. I let out a frustrated sigh as I enter my home.

Maybe I should’ve waited for the food to arrive before stomping out. Now I’m hungry. I scan the fridge only to see that we barely have anything. I suppose now would be a good time to order some groceries. Thank god for Heyward, the lord and keeper of all the holy groceries. (Lmao sorry I love him) While I wait, I decide to scroll through the channels on the tv, finally coming to a decision.

I practically sprint to the door when I hear the bell ring, stomach growling. What I definitely wasn’t expecting was a particular handsome blonde hair blue eyed guy to be standing in front of me. “JJ?” I pause for a moment. I couldn’t believe I was gazing upon him again. “Nice to see you beautiful.” He smirks as he can see he still has an effect on me.

“Likewise, please come in.” I take a few bags from him. My hand brushed against his. “Nice place you got. What do your parents do again?” He asked looking around the luxurious home. It’s too much in my opinion. “My dad is a CEO of this pharmaceutical company and my mom is a physician.” “And what do you want to do?” “I don’t know yet. What about you?” He just huffs. “Don’t know. Something that doesn’t require college. Military probably.” I watch him help put groceries away, I can’t help but gaze at his beautiful body, with the way you can see the veins in his arms or his toned abdomen under his shirt. His fit to join the military.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again.” I say. “Awe, did I leave insatiable?” His eyes burn into mine. I’d be the biggest liar if I said no. “Perhaps. Couldn’t get enough of you I guess.” I decide to play along with his game of flirtation. “Oh? Is that so? And just what would your parents think if they knew their daughter was getting hot and heavy with some pogue?” He says backing me up towards the counter. “Don’t know. Wasn’t planning on telling them. I figured this,” I close the distance between us and gently bite down on his earlobe. “Could be our dirty little secret.” This seems to rile him up a little. He looks me up and down. “I like the sound of that.”

He finally closes the distance between us, lips crashing together. Hands exploring every curve and muscle of each other’s body. God, I missed this. His hands on my waist. Tongue caressing mine. Being so close and intimate. This whole thing felt scandalous. Me sitting on the kitchen counter making out with the hot delivery boy. I can’t even imagine what would happen if my parents found out. Who knew fate would bring us together again?

I want it to last forever, but the sound of the front door opening makes us both jump back. “Aria?” My mother calls for me until she finds me in the kitchen. She was taken by surprise to see JJ.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting any guests.” “Sorry, I ordered some groceries. This is JJ.” I apologize. She just smiles. “No need to apologize. And it’s a pleasure to meet you JJ. I’m Elaine, Aria’s mother.” She offers a hand shake which he takes. “Nice to meet you too ma’am.” He flashes her a smile. She pays him and tips him nicely before handing him a cold-water bottle.

“Take some water with you love. It’s hot out there. You need to stay hydrated, especially if you’re being active.” This took JJ by surprise. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” “My pleasure love, and take this with you. You must be burning so many calories after working all day.” She hands him a zip lock bag of some of the leftover sandwiches we made last night. “Oh, that’s fine Mrs. Prescott. You really don’t have to do that.” JJ attempts to decline. “Nope I insist.” She ignores his protests. He finally gives in. “Thank you again. That’s very kind of you.” “I’ll walk you out.” I say. When we’re out of her hearing distance he says, “Your mom seems really nice. Looks I’ll have to deliver here more often.” “Speaking of that when can I see you again?” “There’s this kegger party tonight. What do you think?” “Sure. I’ll see you tonight lover boy. “Better.” He winks before strutting off.

I enter the kitchen to see my mom preparing to make dinner. “He’s a sweet kid.” She compliments. “Yeah, he is.” I was a confused to say the least. I thought that she would bring up the incident at the club. “You’re not mad at me?” She simply looks up with confused eyes. “If you’re referring to what happened at brunch, no I’m not mad. You did nothing wrong.” Well that’s not what I was expecting. “I doubt that dad feels the same way.” She just chuckles.

“You’re right about that, but he had absolutely no right to be so disrespectful and neither did Rafe. If anything, it surprised me that your father and Rafe would say such thing in front of Mr. and Mrs. Cameron.” “Why’s that?” My curiosity gets the best of me. “Because they’re actually from the cut.” That came as a shock. “I’m sorry if I overreacted, but I just didn’t think that was fair of them.” She looks at me with nothing but care in her motherly eyes. “Don’t every apologize for speaking up against something that’s wrong. I gave your father a piece of my mind before he went golfing with Mr. Cameron.” “Thanks mom, for understanding.” She simply smiles. “Of course. Now enough with that. You go enjoy the rest of your day.”

And that I did. My leg was bouncing the whole way there. It didn’t take much to convince Charis and Sarah to come. “Trying to impress someone?” Asked Charis referring to my rather revealing short sundress and hair down. “Can’t a girl feel pretty once in a while?” I hope JJ likes what he sees, and boy did he. I was satisfied to see that he was impressed. His predator like eyes roamed every inch of my body. He licks his bottom lip, making me weak in the knees. The night went on with JJ staring me down. Watching my every move. Most likely fantasizing about what he’d do to me if he had me alone.

I take a seat next to him by the fire. My naked leg brushed against his. Sending a shiver up our spines. “Wanna get out of here?” His hot breath, that smells like weed, mint and booze, whispers into my ear. I didn’t hesitate to say yes. That’s all he needed before taking my hand and leading me towards this cute fish shack by the marsh. I didn’t have time to say anything when he slammed the door shut and pushed me against the wall.

His lips attack mine like he’s been holding back all day. My hands go straight for his hair, pulling at the ends. “You have no idea what that dress does to me babygirl.” “I thought you’d like it.” My eyes flicker into his lustful ones that seemed to grow a shade darker. This time he kisses me a lot slower than the last one. It was gentler, like he wanted to take his sweet time with me. His hands clutch onto my ass. Making me gasp and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue past my now swollen red lips. When we pull away to breathe, something in me finally awakened. Like a hidden voice that I’ve been holding back for so long. Something only he was able to awaken. “I want you JJ. I want all of you.”

He waste no time to scoop me up in his arms and begin to walk towards what I assume is his bedroom. He throws me on the bed before crawling on top of me, our lips connect again in a passionate kiss. I tug at his shirt, which he gladly takes off, along with my dress that he throws across the room. He takes his time to soak in the girl in front of him. I didn’t bother to wear a bra, which seemed to take him by surprise.

He begins to play with the harden buds, the feeling of his rings making my breath hitch. “So fucking beautiful.” His words make me blush, all the insecurities that seemed to cloud my mind vanish. Even when he pulled down my panties. My hesitation disappears when I unbuckle his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers, his erection no longer hiding. I silently gulp as I look upon the member.

“Jay?” His eyes flicker to mine. “I’ve never um,” I can’t seem to find the right words, but judging from the look on his face, he already knew. “We can stop if you want.” “No. I want this. I want it to be with you.” This makes him smile, I can practically see a spark in his baby blue ocean eyes. “I’ll be gentle. I promise. We’ll go at your pace.” His hands hold my legs open as he aligns himself at my entrance. I watch as he begins to disappear inch by inch until bottoming out. I focus on my breathing, hoping that it would distract me from the discomfort.

When I look up at him, his jaw is clenched, resisting the urge to plunge deep into my smooth folds. He leans down to litter kisses on my face as an attempt to distract me from the pain. “Just relax. It’ll start to feel better soon.” Who knew he had such a sweet side? My walls finally begin to adjust to him. The discomfort begins to fade. I move my hips and am introduced to a pleasurable sensation resulting in me letting out a surprised moan. It increases as he pulls out only to plunge back in, almost knocking the wind out of me.

He finds a rhythm that I was comfortable with. The speed of his thrusts increase as the volume of my moans grow louder. The sound of skin slapping, raspy breaths and pornographic moans fill the room. Our bodies fit perfectly together, like puzzle pieces, as if we were made for each other. He smiles at how well I’m taking him.

The sight above me was breath taking. His biceps flexing every so often along with his abdomen tightening. His skin practically glowing. Hair messy and falling in front of face. Head thrown back, mouth agape and a vein on the verge of popping. The heavenly sound of his occasional moans and grunts, a pleasing melody.

Wanting more, I pull him down so our chests meet and wrap my legs around his waist, creating a new angle that reaches the sweet spot that lurks deep inside me making me moan louder. He once again bites down on that particular spot located on my neck. This action causes a tight feeling to form in my stomach. “Mmm JJ. I’m so close.” “Cum for me babygirl. I’m right behind you.” His thrusts become faster and sloppy. With him grunting against my ear and thumb rubbing against my sensitive clit, it doesn’t take much for me to reach my peak. My eyes roll to the back of my head, which is thrown back against the pillow, and a wave of euphoria rushes through my body like electricity.

“Fuck.” The feeling of my walls gripping around him even harder was enough for him to find his own release. He stills inside me, his seed coating my what was once pure and innocent walls, and are now tainted and marked by him. The rest of his body goes limp as he lays against me trying to catch his breath. The two of us lay there, our bodies slick with sweat, taking in the warm air. A whimper escapes my lips at the lost feeling when he pulls out, some of his cum leaking out of me. Neither of us say a word. Our naked bodies tangle together under the sheets and he turns the light out. I let the rhythmic sound of his beating heart guide me into a deep and peaceful sleep.

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj x reader #outer banks #obx netflix

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

“Carpe Diem” - Domesticated Sequel

F/M Pairing: Felix x OC (original character)

Genre: Strangers to Lovers AU; Sequel

Warnings: mild language; but it’s mostly fluff again!

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Felix loves his brother, and he loves his brother’s wife as well. But there are times when he feels left out and lonely when he watches their interactions together, and maybe he’d like to experience love for himself with the right girl...

Thalia: the goddess of festivity

Felix really didn’t like the idea of a monogamous relationship. Because they often demanded too much of his time, and those commitments restricted his preference for one-night stands after picking up a pretty girl from the bar.

But perhaps Felix should reconsider his entire philosophy (after all, he does have a masters degree in the subject) because standing in the middle of the modest lobby of Y/N’s office building, Felix couldn’t help but wonder why he had ever believed such stupid things.

“I’ll call you later,” Thalia promised him with a gentle kiss - the current subject of his most intimate fantasies.

Felix smiled against her lips since he was apparently whipped for one girl (and one girl only) despite his past decisions. “I already miss you,” Felix replied, and he was grateful that Thalia found his cheesiness funny.

They had already been on several dates together (even though Felix couldn’t understand why she kept agreeing because he was so unbelievably shy and awkward), and Felix was growing more and more enamored with the concept of a long-term romance with flowers falling in the background while swelling music crescendos when they kiss for the thousandth time.

It was the perfect description for their relationship, and he met Thalia at one of the bars he frequented, and she instantly caught his attention with her flirtatious smile and infectious laugh. She also looked beautiful while wearing tight skinny jeans and a low-cut blouse that left very little to the imagination. They wound up together in the sketchy bathroom behind the building, and Felix had never been with someone who managed to unravel him from head to toe in such a short amount of time.

It was the first occasion where he had ever asked for the other girl’s number, and she had stolen his wrist and scribbled the numbers on the back of his hand before kissing the daylights out of him.

When he got home that night, he immediately questioned Chan on the topic of dating, asking him a thousand questions on how best to impress a girl: “Did you pay on your date with Y/N or did you split the bill?”

But Chan had looked at him like he had grown another head, and Felix realized that he would have to put in a lot of effort to make an impression.

Because Thalia was worth it, and she was just so pure like one of his favorite Greek mythology characters come to life!

“Be good for me,” Thalia said, pulling him out of his memories and back to the present moment.

Apparently, Thalia was meeting someone who worked in this enormous office building - the same one where Y/N suffered under the direction of Seo Changbin, but that was a story for another time.

“My sister-in-law works here,” Felix remarked.

“Oh?” Thalia grinned as she examined the space around them. “What a coincidence.”

“But I also enjoyed our lunch together,” Felix said, and he was suddenly crowding Thalia against the elevators despite the onlookers observing their interaction.

“Thank you for walking me here,” Thalia said, and Felix watched with a heart full of affection as she waved at him before the elevator doors closed on them.

And Felix was on cloud-nine for the rest of the day, checking his phone repeatedly as he waited for Thalia to contact him again.

“Are you waiting for the new PlayStation trailer?” Chan eventually interrupted his obsession, ruffling his hair before joining him on the couch.

“No!” Felix protested, and he shoved his phone away before reaching out for one of the controllers. “You wanna play?”

“Sure,” Chan said. “I’m not on call tonight.”

“Good,” Felix said. “I can kick your ass in Fortnite.”

“Whatever,” Chan scoffed, and he started jabbing his thumbs into the buttons while doing whatever he could to avoid Felix’s attacks. “You’ve had more practice than me!”

“You just suck,” Felix informed him bluntly, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he focused on the screen.

It was actually nice to spend some time with his brother and keep his mind off the persistent question of whether or not Thalia might call him before the end of the night.

“You two are so loud!” Y/N complained when she walked into the living room.

“It’s called intense focus,” Felix replied, chuckling when he managed to hit Chan’s character yet again.

“Hey!” Chan exclaimed, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she said, tossing a towel over her shoulder before leaving the room and muttering something about boys and their games.

But just when Felix was about to win another round, his phone started going off, and he immediately hit the pause button so that he could look at the screen with a gasp. “Oi,” Chan shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”

“This is important!” Felix insisted, and his eyes drank in every word of Thalia’s message:

FROM T:

T: Would you be interested in having dinner with me and my step-brother tomorrow night? I really want you to meet him!

There was a series of X’s and O’s at the end that had Felix’s heart spiraling out of control. “Oh!” Chan grinned. “Is that your secret admirer?”

“Chan!” Felix whined. “She wants me to have dinner with at her brother’s house,” Felix said. “Holy shit! That means this is serious, right?”

“Congratulations, mate,” Chan said while slapping him on the shoulder. “I think you’ve got yourself a serious relationship!”

“Who, Felix?” Y/N scoffed when she re-entered the room. “I couldn’t help but overhear everything, but I’m having a hard time believing it.”

“She’s amazing,” Felix swooned. “I’m a total romantic now!”

“Felix settling down for one girl?” Y/N questioned. “I never thought I’d see the day!��

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Felix frowned.

“Nothing,” Y/N song-songed, and she invited them into the dining room where Felix played around with his food while he thought about his impending date.

“But what should I do about her brother?” Felix asked, looking back and forth between Y/N and Chan. “He might hate me!”

“Nobody could hate you Felix,” Chan said. “Just be yourself.”

“But with better manners,” Y/N inserted. “And maybe a nicer attitude-”

“Okay, I get it,” Felix huffed. “I need a lot of work.”

“We can practice right now,” Y/N suggested. “The table is set, and we can pretend like I’m Thalia and Chan is her brother.”

“What, like role-playing?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Y/N said. “That’s step number one.”

But Felix had the impression that this might take most of the night, and since he was more determined than ever to sweep Thalia off her feet, he allowed his brother and Y/N to teach him everything there was to know concerning the complicated art of being a model citizen and a top-tier boyfriend.

But despite the practice, Felix was a ball of nerves as he paced outside of Thalia’s apartment. His mind was focused on too many things at once: Did he look okay? Was he supposed to bring something? What if her step-brother was some kind of wrestler who could beat the hell out of him?

Yet, Felix could’ve never foreseen in his craziest dreams the unforgettable moments proceeding his gentle knock on the door when Thalia answered with someone standing next to her:

“Felix?”

“Changbin!” Felix squealed, and Thalia shot them both a confused look as she stood next to the entrance.

Oh, god, the wrestler would’ve been better!

“Do you two know each other?”

“Yeah,” Changbin said with narrowed eyes. “We do.”

“There’s...some history,” Felix said, and Thalia didn’t seem certain of how to address this sudden development.

“Well, you can come inside,” she said, and Felix flinched when she offered him a chaste kiss because Changbin was eyeballing the fuck out of him and Felix could barely remain standing. “I’m just finishing up in the kitchen! Make yourselves comfortable in the dining room.”

Felix nodded, but he watched her walk away with a feeling of dread. “I can’t say that I saw this coming,” Changbin said. “Tell me, Felix, what are your intentions with my sister?”

“Uhhh...” Felix couldn’t believe that his brain was failing him in that moment, but the shock of seeing Changbin had rendered him nothing more than a blabbering idiot. “She’s really cool.”

“Right,” Changbin snorted, and Felix quickly darted around him in the direction of the dining room because this was not what he rehearsed last night in the dozens of scenarios he practiced with Chan and Y/N.

“I made your favorite, Felix,” Thalia said when she brought out a tray from the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Felix said, and his tone was barely more than a whisper when he caught Changbin’s glare from across the table.

“I’m so glad we could do this,” Thalia said, and she sat down at the head of the table to look between them. “So, you must tell me how you met.”

“College,” Felix said, and he knew that was a vague answer, but Changbin was more than willing to pick up the pieces.

“You remember that girl I dated Freshman year, T?” Changbin asked, and he spooned himself a generous portion of food.

“Of course,” Thalia said and she rolled her eyes while looking in Felix’s direction. “It was so sad, babe. Changbin was dating this girl he liked and another man stole her away!”

“That’s not true!” Felix exclaimed, and Thalia startled at his harsh tone.

“Felix?” she murmured. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Felix said as he held tightly to his fork. “I just remember things a bit differently.”

“I bet you do,” Changbin retorted before turning to Thalia again. “Bang Chan is Felix’s brother.”

Thalia’s eyes immediately widened at the revelation. “Oh, so that means...”

“Yeah,” Changbin growled. “His sister-in-law is Y/N.”

Felix could feel his heart thundering inside his chest, and the table was silent thereafter, but Felix couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Y/N had meant by “worst possible scenario.”

Felix was certain that the universe was playing some sort of practical joke on him, but he never liked being the punchline.

After he left Thalia’s apartment, she called him to apologize for everything that happened. “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other for a few days,” she said, and Felix had felt his heart break in half.

But he respected Thalia’s opinion, even if Y/N was growing tired of his dejected behavior as he lazed around on the couch. He had explained everything to Y/N and Chan, and they were both shocked at the revelation of Changbin being Thalia’s step-brother. “What are the chances?” Y/N said. “It must’ve happened after we stopped dating.”

“Well, everything’s ruined,” Felix said, and he didn’t bother to change his poor attitude because he had never felt this sad before over losing another girl.

“You care a lot, Lix,” Chan had tried to explain to him. “You really liked her.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, but words weren’t enough to help him.

But actions always spoke louder, and Felix never anticipated seeing Changbin on the other side of the door when Y/N demanded that he greet their unexpected visitor. “Perfect,” Changbin said, and he pushed Felix inside so that he could shut the door.

“Felix, who was it?” Y/N asked, and she paused in the middle of the foyer when she noticed Changbin standing there. “Changbin?!”

“Glad we’re all on the same page,” Changbin said, and he glanced at Y/N for a moment before looking at Felix. “My sister isn’t one of your playthings, Felix.”

“I know,” Felix growled, but he wasn’t able to say anything else because Chan had wandered into the room, and he was immediately confrontational as he sneered down at Changbin.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to give Felix a warning,” Changbin said. “He needs to stay away from my sister!

“Isn’t that funny? It’s all come full circle right, Seo?” Chan snarled. “I’m married to your ex-girlfriend while my little brother is sleeping with your sister.”

“Well, we’ve only slept together once..” Felix said, but both Changbin and Chan shot him a glare.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Y/N intervened. “Changbin, you and I were never going to stay together! And our personal history shouldn’t have any impact on what you think of Felix and Thalia being together.”

“It doesn’t,” Changbin said. “But I remember what Felix was like in college.”

“What? He can’t change?” Y/N retorted.

“He’s too immature!” Changbin insisted, and Felix crossed his arms over his chest because he just about tired of Seo Changbin’s interference.

“Listen to me,” Felix said. “I like your sister a lot, Changbin, and I would never do anything to hurt her! She means more to me than those bad decisions I made in the past, and I’m not about to let you ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

Felix took a deep breath following his exclamation, and he was proud of himself when Changbin averted his gaze. “I still don’t like it,” Changbin muttered.

“Well, it’s not your decision to make,” Felix said. “I’m coming to meet your sister tomorrow, and she’ll decide where we stand!”

It was a fierce declaration, and Felix had never felt more assured that he was finally doing the right thing.

FROM T:

We can meet in Changbin’s office building.

Felix received the message a few hours after he had sent a heartfelt plea to finally have a chance to speak to Thalia again. He really missed her company, and Felix was determined to fix everything and return their relationship to how it was before the drama with Changbin. And he was willing to meet her on whatever grounds she requested, even if that meant Changbin’s office building.

He arrived early because he was nervous, but Y/N offered him a few words of encouragement while he waited around her desk. Thankfully, Thalia didn’t keep him waiting for long, and she walked down the hallway with a glaring Changbin glued to her side. “Felix,” Changbin said, and he was still looking at Felix like he was the worst person in the world.

“Can Thalia and I talk alone?”

“What gives you the right?”

“Changbin,” Thalia inserted, and she gave her brother a knowing look.

And Felix raised a suggestive eyebrow at Changbin who scoffed and returned to his office while muttering about his misfortunes.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Felix said, and he guided them both to a pair of futons next to the windows.

“Well, I really missed you,” Thalia said, and Felix couldn’t stop his smile after hearing her sincere sentiment.

“The break is really hurting me,” Felix said. “I just want to be with you, Thalia, and I don’t want a past that doesn’t even belong to us get in the way.”

“I know,” Thalia agreed softly, and she finally leaned in to offer him a gentle kiss. “I guess this is our first test as a couple.”

“It won’t always be perfect,” Felix said. “But I feel like I’m willing to endure anything if it means being with you.”

Thalia giggled at his sweet words. “Let’s keep going, then, and see where this takes us.”

“I like the sound of that,” Felix agreed, and their next kiss was far more passionate - a solemn promise that cemented their status and invited a future full of endless possibilities.

#stayverse #skzwriternet #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #felix x oc #skz felix fanfic #lee felix fanfic #lee felix imagine #lee felix scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #mostlycompetent #requested

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diaryofanavengersfan · 5 years

Text

Comethru (Part 2 of Fantasy)

Fantasy Part 1

Electric Part 3

Characters: Steve Rogers x OC

Warnings: Some smut, a lot of fluff, angst

Word Count: 3,911 words.

A/N: So here is part 2! The third and final part will be updated this week! If you would like to be tagged, please send me an ask!

“All you ever say is, "Come and see me for once Come and see me for once You don't ever come to me, yeah You don't ever come, why you never come? Will you ever come? Come and see me for once” (SZA Comethru/TWOAM)

Just as Y/N hoped, her relationship with Steve reached new heights from the platonic level that it was before. As friends they started hanging out more often: morning jogs, coffee runs, movie nights with the rest of the avengers. What Y/N was still trying to process was the intense physical intimacy between them since the time at her sail boat. They didn’t have actual sex (well not yet) but it mostly consisted of fingering Y/N on the compound kitchen counter in the middle of the night when they couldn’t sleep or Y/N stroking him or going down on him when they went swimming in the sea a few times. As much as she enjoyed being a little more physical with Steve, she felt a pang of guilt or hurt in her chest every time Steve walk away after a small cuddle session “post, giving the best possible orgasm to Y/N” What made it worse was that she didn’t even know if Steve loved her, or had some deep feelings for her beyond friendship. She knew that she has fallen deeper for him, deeper than ever yet she was afraid to break it to him, afraid that she’ll not only lose the chance of being with him but also losing him as a friend. Every time she thinks of this, she always regretted the moment she didn’t say anything when they first got really intimate.

She clearly remembered that afternoon when they laid on the dock with him spooning her from behind and no one dared to break the silence. When the wind started getting chillier, Y/N started shivering and was hugging herself, “It’s getting a little cold, we should head back” she muttered silently without looking back at him. She then turned around and he had an expressionless look on his face but simply nodded at her suggestion. She quickly released from his embrace and slipped on her shorts and was about to wear her blouse, but Steve handed his blue hoodie to her. She had a small frown on her face, but he gave her a small smile “take it, that blouse is not gonna make you feel any warmer.” Giving him a thankful smile, she muttered thanks and prepared the sail to go back after slipping it on. The ride back was quiet, and Y/N felt it was pointless creating any small talk, by the time they reached back, and she anchored the sailboat back. Steve and Y/N stepped out of the boat and gazed at each other, unsure of what to say. A few minutes later Steve leaned in giving her a peck on her cheek and gave her a hug “Thank you Y/N for sharing that experience with me, it was priceless.” He whispered into her ear, she smiled and returned the hug. He gave one last dimpled smile after breaking from the hug and turned to walk back to the compound. “Steve” Y/N called without thinking, he stopped and turned back to her. She wanted to say she loved him, it was right there on the tip of her tongue but instead she asked, “Can this be our little secret?” He nodded and replied softly “of course doll. I’ll see you later Y/N” and turned to walk back to the compound.

She felt so deflated when she replayed that memory in her head, she released a sigh of defeat when she was walking back to the compound after swimming an estimate of 50 laps, trying to occupy her mind. As she stepped into the kitchen, she saw Bucky, Wanda, Nat and Steve gathered at the kitchen counter having a small casual talk. Bucky was the first to notice her presence and greeted her “hey Y/N! Swimming this late?” he asked, making everyone look toward her direction. Giving a small nervous smile, Y/N shrugged and sighed “Yeah just couldn’t sleep” Nat lightly frowned “all okay?” she asked, and Y/N’s heartbeat quickened seeing the slight concerned look on everyone’s faces, and it didn’t help seeing the worry in Steve’s eyes. Y/N took a deep breath “Yeah, it’s just my boat needs a bit of a fix up and just thinking a lot about how and when to get it done” she lamely explained. “Well if you need help with anything, just let us know” Bucky kindly offered. She thanked Bucky and headed to the fridge to grab a chilled bottle of water. She said goodnight to the group, but her heart dropped seeing the look on two people: one was Steve whose eyes were following her movement and also had an intense gaze and the other was Wanda. Unlike Steve, her eyes showed worry and also sympathy, which meant that she knew. Y/N cursed under her breath making a mental note about explaining everything to Wanda some other day, but at that moment she just wanted to take a quick shower and crash into bed.

Y/N let out a relaxed sigh as she stepped out of her bathroom after taking a warm shower. She was in the middle of drying her hair with a towel, that when she looked up she was surprised to see another presence in her room. All the relaxation faded away and brought back the anxiety, when she saw Steve Rogers sitting at the edge of her bed, his muscular arms hanging loosely between his legs and some of his fingers interlacing together. She hated yet loved how comfortable he was looking in his fitted light blue shirt and navy-blue sweatpants and it didn’t really help how his puppy dog eyes were looking at her with worry. Y/N stopped drying her hair and muttered a small hey, plopping the towel on her chair and then went to her dressing table and grabbed her body lotion before walking to the other edge of the bed. Steve walked to her side and sat next to her, took the lotion from her hand, placed her leg on his lap and started applying the lotion on her leg. Even the lightest touch of his fingertips on her legs was starting to make Y/N wet. “Are you sure it’s about the boat, because you looked like a lot more was going in ur head” Steve finally spoke, while lightly glanced at her when he switched legs. Y/N thought for a moment but sighed and nodded “it’s definitely the boat” she confirmed and did realize that the engine was getting slightly rusted.

As she was looking at how Steve was gently smoothing the lotion on her legs, how delicate his fingers yet firm at certain places. She noted on how he has changed so much, when she first met Steve he was very much reserved and was extremely chivalrous, spoke to women with such shyness and always maintained a decent distance. She thought it was cute when she noted how flustered he got when women used the opportunity to touch his arm or his hand. He confessed to her that Y/N was the first woman he hugged when they became really close friends. Things did start to change when he started seeing Sharon, even though she never saw them kissing but it was the way they were physically close to each other even in public. She knew that it was something more. Yet he was still the same Steve Rogers, sharing and using his old quirky ways she loved. She broke away from her thoughts when she saw Steve’s face inches away from her, his eyes constantly glancing from her eyes to her lips. Before she could say or think anything, he pressed his lips against hers. She breathed through her nose and she closed her eyes regretting yet loving the feeling at the same time. He slowly traced her lips with his tongue making her moan and allowing his tongue to enter her mouth. As the kiss deepened he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist and un cautiously ran her fingers through his locks. Y/N sighed deeply as she felt Steve traced kisses from her jawline to her neck and giving her a few love bites. As much as she was enjoying this moment and falling into a trance, she opened her eyes when she felt Steve’s light fingers over her torso. She opened her eyes and stiffened a little at his touch, but Steve didn't seem to be bothered by her movement and continued to place open mouthed kisses all over her neck, she sighed but controlled herself.

“Steve” she whispered, he hummed in acknowledgement looking up to her, then pecked her lips “Everything okay?” He asked. She took a deep breath and gave a few small nods, “I’m just really tired, and I have a long day tomorrow, so I want some sleep.” He nodded slowly “ohhh, okay” and he looked down avoiding eye contact. He looked back up with a thin smile, he breathed out “well.. good night!” She slowly moved away from his lap and bit her lip as she looked at Steve leaving. As he was making his way out of bed, he felt Y/N tug his arm. He looked back at his arm and her slightly concerned. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but she looked back at him and gave a small smile “You can sleep here tonight, if you want” Y/N murmured softly. However, Steve heard her loud and clear as within seconds he was tucked underneath the bed covers and pulled Y/N with him and cuddling with her making her giggle at his childish behavior. He kissed her cheek and murmured a good night against her neck before succumbing into sleep. Y/N on the other hand, did not get a blink of sleep, her thoughts all over the place about her relationship with Steve. She looked back at his sleeping face, released a heavy sight and placed her head against the pillow, trying to get some sleep.

The next few days Y/N was thankful she got some space from Steve as he got wrapped up with a few missions and some important errands. Additionally, she also got busy with her own things as well. She was trying to find a new engine for her boat as well getting a few upgrades. Later that day she spotted Steve and the rest of the Avengers huddled at the lounge together. Tony noticed her presence “Ah! Y/N you’re here great! So, as I was saying, Pepper and I are planning a party because well we never got a proper wedding party after the whole Thanos shebang happened, so we wanted to lighten up the mood a bit, so this Friday, y’all can bring friends, any plus ones you got and yeah just look good” Everyone exclaimed in excitement and even Y/N smiled, a party was a good idea to let all the tension loose that was still hanging. As she glanced around the lounge, seeing all the craziness, but she stopped smiling when she spotted Steve and Sharon leaning against the kitchen counter and talking very closely to each other. He had a small smile on his face listening intently to what Sharon was saying as she traced her finger over his chest.

“Hey Y/N” she turned her attention to Bucky, she smiled back trying to act normal “Hey Buck, what’s up?” She found it cute when he got nervous bu scratching the back of his head “So I was wondering if you wanna go to Tony’s party together, I mean not as a date unless you want to” while Bucky was nervously rambling she quickly glanced at Steve who was still immersed in a conversation with Sharon, she thought fuck it, and turned back to Bucky. “Sure buck, I’d love to.” He stopped talking and exclaimed “really?” He asked. “Yeah” she confirmed “And as a date,” she added. His grin got wider “great, wow great! I'll pick you up outside your place, so we can walk together” she giggled at his cute behavior and nodded agreeing to his suggestion, before giving him a small hug. On her way back to her room, she felt the tightness in her chest loosen a little and she was deciding what to wear for the party. What she didn’t realize was that Steve noticed her interaction with Bucky and how she was smiling throughout.

Within a few days, the house and the back lawn was occupied and busy with preparations for the party, later everyone was informed with the memo that it was a white themed party. Finally, at the Friday night of the party, Y/N was still in her room applying a little blush and final touch ups for her look. She sighed as she gave a final glance of her look: she had straightened her hair but decided to curl them into one side. She had a white sleeveless flowy top reaching her midriff and white flared pants. She had simple makeup: a simple cat liner and also white eyeliner on her bottom lids and a matte nude lipstick. She wanted to wear her favorite pair of large hoops, however she only found one out of the pair but decided to wear it anyway. When she heard a knock on her door, she yelled “just a second” before she smoothed her pants, grabbed her phone and headed for the door. She met with Bucky who was donned in a short-sleeved collar shirt and white trousers, his hair was tied in a loose bun and Y/N had to admit for someone that wore dark colors, Bucky looked really good in white. “Hi” she muttered as he gazed at her from top to bottom, “Wow” he breathed, “you……. you look amazing” he finally spoke. Y/N blushed and nervously curled some of her hair behind her ear. “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself” she teased. He chuckled “I gotta tell you these are the only white clothes I own” which made both of them laugh. He then linked his arm with hers, “shall we?” he asked, and she gave a smile and nodded then headed to the party outside.

Y/N felt a little nervous as she stepped out with Bucky, as she suddenly felt that all of the attention was on her, but she was glad Bucky was by her side as he was creating small talk and then she suddenly met with Shuri and Carol next to the pool. She did feel a bit better as she hasn’t bumped into Steve yet and was hoping to dodge him throughout the rest of the party, she wasn’t sure how she was planning to do that but was grateful that Bucky was distracting her from the stress. As she was talking to the girls, she did spot Steve at the other side of the pool, a drink in his hand standing extremely close to Sharon, smiling at whatever she was saying to him. She lightly nipped her lip, making note of his outfit: a white full sleeve buttoned shirt and tucked in his dark blue jeans, but the sleeves were folded till his elbows. She was starting to dread coming to the party, but Bucky walked to the group, carrying his and Y/N’s drink and joined in their conversation. As soon as she got immersed into the conversation, she didn’t realize that Steve spotted her, he took a double glance not believing it was Y/N and that too with Bucky. While Y/N kept ignoring Steve, he couldn’t stop looking at her throughout the whole night, he didn’t know why but he didn’t like how Bucky was really close to Y/N. There were a few moments that made his blood boil and teeth grit including the time when Bucky placed a flower behind her empty ear. Or even the time when he asked her to dance and infuriated him, when Bucky pulled her close to his body and had his hands on her hips. To Y/N it was nothing intimate, but just trying to have a good time with her friend. As the party started to die down, some people still stayed back by the pool, including Y/N, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Carol, Steve and Sharon. After laughing at something Sam said, it died down to the group talking amongst each other. Steve was ignoring what Sharon or Sam were talking about and had his whole focus on what Y/N and Bucky were talking about. Steve rolled his eyes and bit his cheek trying to stop gritting his teeth when Y/N giggled at Bucky’s comment. Soon everyone started dispersing and bidding goodnight, including Y/N and Bucky but Steve decided to stay back. He took a final swig of his beer as he saw Y/N and Bucky laughing while walking back inside. He sighed and closed his eyes, imagining the way Y/N looked tonight, even though she wasn’t wearing a dress, the way her pants showed the curves of her hips and butt especially when she was dancing with Bucky. Fuck how he wished it was him and not Bucky, yet he didn’t know why he was feeling this way about Y/N. He was her best friend yet still why did his blood boil when she was laughing and being so close to Bucky? Why did he had the urge to kiss Y/N and be so physically intimate with her, a feeling of possessiveness spread over him, he didn’t wanna share Y/N with anyone. He shook his head, thinking he had a little too much to drink (a lame excuse for a super soldier) and decided to head back to the compound.

As he was making his way to his room, she heard some murmurs and giggles from across the hall. He followed the noise and spotted Y/N and Bucky talking outside her room. “Well I hope you had fun, and I hope I was a good date” Bucky spoke. She chuckled and nodded “yeah you were good Buck, I was impressed” she teased. There was a pregnant silence between them as they smiled at each other, before Bucky leaned closer and slipped the flower from her ear and gave it to her. Then he did something that Y/N nor Steve was expecting when Bucky gave her a peck on her cheek. He softly smiled as Y/N looked at him with a surprised look and Steve glaring daggers from the back. “Goodnight Y/N” Bucky whispered, and Y/N replies a goodnight before they parted ways and Y/N entered her room.

She had a small smile on her face as she placed the flower on her dressing table and started to remove her jewelry, until she heard a knock on her door. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows wondering who it could be at such a late hour. As soon as she opened the door, she was pushed to the back of the door and her arms pinned of her head. She was shocked to see Steve glaring down at her, “Steve?” She breathed out, and she stiffened when he brushed his nose along her cheek and down her jawline, inhaling her scent from her neck, giving a light peck “So when did you and Buck get so close?” he murmured against her neck littering it with light pecks. “Whatya mean? Steve we just went as friends.” She explained, which was the truth, not understanding what his problem was. He looked up from her neck, gazing directly into her eyes with a dark intense look, she saw his jaw tighten when he said “Friends? Since when do friends dance so intimately together, staying to close together the whole night or kissing good night. Since when do friends go on a date?” Pressing that word, while leaning closer to her, his nose brushing against hers. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down, this wasn’t fair he couldn’t be a hypocrite about being so close with Sharon and him being upset of being a little close to Bucky which absolutely meant nothing. So, she took a deep breath, and decided it was now or never, “Steve do you love me?” she asked, opening her eyes and looking at him. The look on his face turned from anger to curiosity “What?” he asked, loosening the grip on her wrists. “I asked if you love me” she repeated, while he let go of her wrists, allowing them to drop by her sides. He swallowed and nodded “Yeah, as my best friend” he causally replied while sitting on the edge of her bed. “Why, are you like in love with me?” he chuckled joking with her. “Yeah” she murmured, making him freeze, he stopped chuckling and slowly looked at Y/N, “what?” he asked. She pushed herself off the door and slowly walked closer to him, “I’ve been in love with you, I thought it was a crush when we started working but then it wasn’t going away, and I was feeling something deep for you.” “Then you told me about Peggy and then things between you and Sharon, so I decided to bury those feelings, because I thought it would be best if stay friends, rather than me confessing my feelings to you and losing you as a friend.” She waited for him to say something, ideally, she imagined that he would lift her off her feet, kiss her and tell her that he loved her too. But all she got was silence and also her answer when she saw the look of regret in his eyes. He didn’t love her like she loved him, “I just, I just don’t know what to say” he confessed, “I didn’t know you feel that way about me.” She hated how he was looking at her with such regret and sadness, she didn’t need his pity, which made her heart crack deeper. She walked to the window, hiding the tears that were pooling in her eyes “Steve, I think you should go, I’m tired” she croaked. “Y/N I—” “Just go, please” she pleaded. Steve sighed heavily, “I’m sorry” he whispered before he walked out of her room and slowly closed the door behind him.

As soon as she heard the door clicked, she collapsed against her bed and curled her knees to her chest sobbing quietly, letting the tears fall down her cheeks. A few minutes later, she calmed down letting all the frustration out when she heard her phone ding and she fished for it from her bed. Once she saw a text from an old friend, she immediately opened it. She raised her eyebrows seeing what she sent her, The Velux Ocean 5 race is happening again this year! I think this is our year Y/N! Y/N read the text a few times and thought about it, maybe it was a sign for her to move on, maybe spending a few months away from here, away from Steve will help dissipate her feelings for him and help her move on. She sighed and immediately texted her friend back saying that they should get the team together and should start preparing soon. Y/N wasn’t sure running away was the best option but she also felt it was the only option.

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clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Choice ― II.i. The Prestige Waltz

PAIRING: OC x OC x OC (Valdas x Isseya x Cynbel) RATING: Mature (reader discretion advised)

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Choice ⥽

Before there were Clans and Councils, before the fate of the world rested in certain hands, before the rise and fall of a Shadow King ― there was the Trinity. Three souls intertwined in the early hands of the universe who came to define the concept of eternity together. Because that was how they began and how they hoped to end; together. For over 2,000 years Valdas, Cynbel, and Isseya have walked through histories both mortal and supernatural. But in the early years of the 20th century something happened―something terrible. Their story has a beginning, and this is the end.

Bound by Choice and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Choice is the only book in the series not based on an existing Choices story. It is set in the Bloodbound universe and features many canon characters.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Choice/series tag list!

⥼ PART II ⥽

— Paris, 1582. Vampires across Europe gather beneath the bones of Paris for merriment, reverence, and to honor the lives lost in a holy war. But some see this not as meace, but as an opportunity to decimate the enemy ranks no matter the price. And, as Serafine Dupont comes to learn, other's lives are a sacrifice the Trinity is willing to make.

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Beneath the streets of Paris the dead dwell restless. They take up masks and dance through the night. They celebrate freedom and life. And do so, unknowingly, for the last time.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Paris, 1582

She’s a breathtaking thing on his arm. Of course in this the age of beautiful things she still glows radiant; the star that outshines the moon.

As she always has. As she always will.

Long fingers wind through Cynbel’s golden locks absent and curious. She leaves it up to him to solve the labyrinth of the dead and instead finds herself contented in gazing upon him.

“You haven’t worn your hair this long since Venice.”

“Kind of you to notice.”

“I like it.”

“I should hope so. You spend countless hours in my company, darling mine. If you found me repulsive I can’t imagine what I would do with myself.”

Not a heartbeat passes and Isseya’s grip grows violent; feral. Nails digging into his scalp and a sudden tickling warmth on the back of his neck where blood drips down and threatens to stain his collar.

“Really, Iss’,” his sigh is long-suffering, yet he does not decline her apology of handkerchief dabbing away the mess, “do try and keep civil tonight. You know how important the evening is to me.”

Yet he knows her too well not to feel the falter in her footsteps. The way her mockery of breathing stills and leaves them as permanent and dust-covered as the rest of the catacombs through which they wander with purpose.

“Indeed.”

He would ask if she was having second thoughts about the whole affair but what would that change? Nothing.

What’s done is done. And by the end of the night he will reap what has been sown with a madman’s delight.

Up ahead the darkness gives way to shadows dancing in ritual abreast of the walls of stone and bone. Before they get too close Cynbel stops them; pulls his darling girl against him — allows himself to be pinned against the tunnel and knows her natural desires of dominance will placate her.

Even now.

And she falls into the role as easily as he gives it. Pulling his arms up, up against the linen of his sleeves catching on the stone, to hold him in place. She inhales harsh against the confines of her corset and he, too, feels suddenly tight in the chest.

“You know what this reminds me of?” she practically sings into his neck — has him sofuckingglad he decided to forgo that awful stiff collar and luckily she doesn’t mind that he can’t possibly form words right then.

“London,” Isseya answers her own question in bites across his throat, “and the rack Our Beloved had brought from the Tower… how you stretched and begged for it to end.”

Glad though he is that the attempt at distracting her with delightful things has worked Cynbel can’t help but wonder what price he’s about to pay for it. Not that he isn’t stiff in his hose — but they do have to make an appearance at some point in the night.

And Valdas will start to get worried if they do not show their faces soon.

She pulls back with eyes dark and greedy. Not too far, though, when he snaps blunted teeth forward to claim her lower lip for his own. Watching, transfixed, the way it comes back to her shining wet under the distant candlelight.

“Because I wasn’t tall enough already?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Cynbel snakes an arm around his lover’s waist and, all teasing aside, claims her in a familiar kiss. Familiar in that they have explored one another so intimately and so often that their bodies are one in the same; that the fabric and flesh between them no more than a false reality.

They part; trade lips for foreheads, and breathe in the silence together. As one.

“Should this night be our last night…”

He stops her there. A finger to her lips that curls to lift her chin. She is a proud creature, his darling Isseya; her head simply demands to be held high.

“Stop. You think me so foolish—nay—so weak? This is merely another night, one of many passed and many to come.”

“You cannot control everything.”

“Watch me.”

He has every confidence that they will survive the trials soon to come. They have weathered every storm, every war, every plague. This, too, they will overcome.

The masques they take from their hips to fasten are as rich as they are detailed. Perfectly carved to their features and even now he gazes upon her with a reverence. Such beauty, and to be seen beautiful by it, was worth living for.

She takes his offered hand and with it some of the fire in his eyes. No words between them, they move as one to round the last steps before the tunnel opens outward and upward into splendor.

The vaulted ceilings are a surprise; as far down beneath the earth as they are. A promise of life and freedom that the world above could never truly give them not even in the nighttime. Chandeliers hang high overhead with candles deep in their flames.

Across the ballroom — they are not the last to arrive. Similarly decorated vampires coming alone and with companions at two doorways just as open and inviting. From all corners of Paris they flock here tonight.

He looks and finds Isseya surveying him warily. So much for distraction.

“A bit cramped in here, wouldn’t you say?” There are more attendees than you assumed.

“We’re under the greatest city in the world my love. I’m sure we’ll find the room.” Then we improvise. Nothing has changed.

Nothing has. If anything their chances of living through the things to come have only grown higher.

Even in the crowd their hearts yearn for who they know stands within. Can feel themselves drawn to him, pulled along by a force more powerful than their understanding.

Yet in crossing the length of the room they are seen; more than that they are witnessed. The status their masques signify earns them collective gasps and bows alike; lesser hoping to placate what they only understand to be more than they are. More than they ever will be; for some tonight.

There are always casualties in war.

Together Cynbel and Isseya come across the only masque that could earn their respect; the only thing older than they. Would bow together anyway, would dirty the hems and knees of their finery if that was what he asked of them. Because that is the proper way to treat a god.

That is the proper way to treat their god.

Valdas looks them over with warmth that quickly ignites hot, passionate. He has always appreciated the beauty of his beloveds but this night there is a sense of urgency and finality with every action in which they partake. The greater the risk the greater the reward.

Hungry is their god — who cannot wait even for Cynbel to come up from his bow of respect before grabbing onto the man’s doublet to pull their mouths together. A kiss met with equal fervor and delight, and no less devoted when shared to their darling.

Those old enough enough to remember the days before reservation and propriety, few and far between though they are, say nothing. Those left avert their gaze and know better than to challenge masques so revealing.

“I was starting to worry you’d lost your way.” Valdas glances between his lovers; their mischief not lost on him.

“We simply took a scenic path.”

“And did it suit you?”

“As only death could.”

When they turn out to observe the party so far it is as they do everything — together as one. His gods touch finds its way into his hair and Cynbel pays no thought to it. It is sacrament, after all.

“Were the rumors true?” asks Isseya in a low breath. It earns the pair of them a heavy sigh.

“Indeed.”

“Then we should away.”

Cynbel stifles a derisive snort. “Absolutely not.”

“What you have set in motion is all the more reason.” When she speaks it is earnest and out of love. They know this. But equally she knows they are warriors first. That they crave blood for sport as well as feast.

“While the idea of the Godmaker’s head on one of their silver blades is enough to send me into a passionate heat —”

“Cynbel.”

“We’re among alike company, Valdas.”

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“Really,” the taller man scans the crowd with a knowing eye, “I do.”

A hush falls over the crowded ballroom — dashes away Isseya’s idle fancies of fleeing before they are found. None other than the man himself could garner such a reaction.

Between them the Made-God grows tense. His lovers share arms around him on instinct — natural and without hesitation.

They enter in deadly beauty, arms lain together with an air of presentation. See us, it says, and know your place under our heel. The response it draws is immediate. None dare allow themselves to be in the way of the King and Queen of Vampires.

And they bask in the attention like gluttons. The Bloodqueen smiles much in the same way as when they last had met — the sultry curve of lips that keeps the viewer in a trance only so that they cannot gaze up to see how it does not reach her eyes. And him — he smiles because he means it. Because he need not ask for respect from the masses, not anymore.

They stop in the middle of the floor and are given a wide berth. Gaius tightens his grip on the handle of his masque before he lets it fall from his face; the only one who could dare to pull off such an outrageous act in present company.

“Friends, subjects, loyalists;” he addresses the gathering with pride already swollen in his chest, “your welcome to this our finest achievement has been a gracious one. To see you all gathered here, to see so many of our kind in one place and pridefully so, is a gift the value of I could never have imagined.”

“Always the wordsmith, Gaius mon chér.”

She emerges from the adoring crowd a vision in red. Velvet gown swept up in dainty hand as she comes up on Cynbel’s open side without so much as a glance. The filigree of her masque dazzles in the firelight; intimate gold that frames the upper half of her face to both conceal and reveal.

A bold choice none but the hostess of the evening could aspire to.

She greets Kamilah as an old friend; takes their hands together and presses delicate Parisian kisses on either cheek. Knows the eyes of nearly every vampire in Europe are upon her as she gives a flourishing curtsy with the kiss she bestows on Gaius’ ring.

“I cannot tell you how pleased I am you could attend us tonight,” continues she, “though I will admit I was near to giving up — what with my last five invitations all met with refusal.”

Something flashes in Kamilah’s eye. Has her hand back on that of her King quickly — in restraint.

“Not refusal, Serafine. We were merely indisposed.”

And she understands. “You shall have to regale me the tales.”

“Shall we now?” asks Gaius with a raised brow. It earns him a coy smirk from the Lady Serafine.

“I insist. But now is the time for revelry! Continuer, mes amis!” On her signal the musicians resume their tune, tentative conversation growing strong once again.

To hide would be a fool’s notion. And the Trinity have been called many things, but fools not a word among them.

Demons and the Devil himself. Bloodthirsty pagans. Hellish temptations.

But never fools. The world knows better than that.

The Godmaker and his firstborn share a long look even as heads in their decorated masques and boisterous dress weave between them. Kamilah’s stare goes hard at the sight of him and for that Cynbel cannot help but feel accomplished in some way.

And because he’s in such a delightfully cheery mood — because he knows — he grins and dares a cheeky wink.

Dares only in that the sudden sting of Isseya’s claws on his upper arm is so very very worth it.

They know what must be done, now. At their god’s back the lovers stand as they approach.

“Valdemaras,” Gaius says as he offers his ring in the same way. And without hesitation—he knows better by now, they all do; this tenuous arrangement of theirs—Valdas bestows his kiss.

“Augustine.”

Nothing could ruin the Golden Son’s jubilance. Nothing.

“Little lotus,” he croons to Kamilah even as her mouth turns downward, “you’re looking in good health.”

Whatever she wants to say, she doesn’t. Bites her tongue enough for the brightest flash of copper to make the tip of his nose twitch.

Their darling goes still as stone when the Godmaker bows to her; nothing reverent but more of a courtly finesse. But as he waits she comes to realize it is her he waits upon; offers up the back of her hand clutching her fan in pale knuckles for him to kiss.

See, we can be civil. Now you must be, too.

Palpable tension such as theirs isn’t lost on the other guests, though, especially on one so close as their hostess. Who takes everyone by surprise when she dares speak of it.

“Ah, c'est intéressant,” as a loose curl falls in the eyeline of her masque, “the stories those looks could tell. Friends of yours, Kamilah chérie?”

She hesitates, as if deciding whether or not to answer.

“I believe you know of them by reputation,” — obviously, as Isseya made quite sure of that upon their arrival earlier that season — “what is that silly name of yours again, Cynbel?”

Lucky his masque hides the curl of his upper lip.

“If we’re to speak of silly things —”

“I present my lovers; Cynbel and Isseya,” Valdas interrupts, probably best for them all, and takes both of their hands in offering to the Lady, “you may call me Valdas.”

A flash of recognition in the Frenchwoman’s calculating gaze.

“Ah… Les Trois Amants.”

Isseya’s chin raises with pride. “And you can be no other than tonight’s hostess, no? Mademoiselle Dupont.”

“Please, call me Serafine.”

“Such informality…”

“It breeds a certain… intimacy, non?”

Her lovers need not worry of her — but what they know and what they do are different things. None in their little circle miss the way Valdas’ hand tightens over hers and the angle of Cynbel’s body as if to cover her from such intimate eyes. Instinct for them both; to claim and be claimed by one another for all to see.

Thankfully the pleasantries are made to end there. The soft tunes of conversation dying on instrumental lips as the concert prepares to begin playing for the first dance of the midnight hour.

“Mademoiselle, may I have he honor of your prestige?”

Even Gaius has a hard time concealing his surprise when Serafine’s hand comes out in offering to Isseya. Objectively they all understand — know the worth of a millennia by virtue of living it. But some things just simply aren’t fucking done.

Isseya knows this and still accepts. Takes their hands with a sparkle of mischief in her eye before they away to take up positions within the circle gathering on the dance floor.

Paranoia only begins to breed when Cynbel watches the Godmaker’s hand fall on the middle of Valdas’ lower back. “My prestige is yours, Valdemaras.” Not that he is given the choice — is already being led to follow.

Which leaves…

“No.”

Cynbel’s eyebrows barely raise in surprise. Not that he’s entirely inclined to do so with her, either, but they seem to have little say in the matter.

“You would rather take the first dance with someone so mundane?” He sweeps a lazy gesture across the floor. “You know none save our companions are even close enough in age.”

Kamilah’s eyes narrow; she scans the floor for those left unpartnered as though someone will spring miraculous from the stone with enough years under their belt to not serve as a grave insult to her.

He doesn’t have to look. No one else will do.

“I doubt one dance will be the end of you, little lotus.” Offering his hand in defeat for them both.

“You give yourself too much credit.”

“Luckily ‘tis not my credit you need, but my prestige.”

They slide in together, hand in hand, moments before the waltz begins. No effort made on behalf of either to keep the disdain from bleeding through their garb to stain the floor at their feet.

This is simply the way things are done in polite society. They know this. Both of them helped shape it in their own way. They’ve certainly had the time to.

With their betters paired off it was simply the only way to save face. For either of them to dance with one of the lesser attendees would have been tantamount to suicide of status. No other vampire in attendance could have been over a millennium—not even the Lady Serafine. But being a hostess had its perks, and Cynbel could attest… his darling Isseya was so very worth it.

One of the violinists drags the first note out; a true delight to perform for an audience with hearing unsurpassed.

Cynbel lays his hand on the cusp of her waist. Kamilah squeezes his hand hard enough to grind bone. Good, he would expect nothing less than resistance.

Humans held court to catch a glimpse of their betters. For their kind it was this — La Valse de Prestige, the Prestige Waltz. Faces trained on their partners all around but eyes unable to help themselves in how they wander.

There is no slow build. There is only the abrupt beginning, and the flurry of the dance.

Here lay the ability—nay the obligation—to pass judgment on one another. On who danced with whom; on what masque partnered with another. For many it was a matter of life and death. For the likes of the Trinity, of the Godmaker and his Queen it was a chance to see a new breed of blooded potential. For the rest; a fruitless attempt to climb the staircase.

Only it wasn’t so much a staircase as a sheer cliff dropping off into an abyss.

Even in the confines of her dress Kamilah’s movements are limber and fluid. He hardly has to guide her at all.

“You look well.”

“If you are attempting to make me falter —”

“Which would look terrible on behalf of us both. Can I not give a simple compliment?”

“No, you cannot.”

Hands joined they follow the motions; fling themselves outward with faces turned away. Cynbel sees Isseya in almost direct opposite. Their eyes meet and as one they see their beloved focused on his own movements on the far curve of the room.

And they pity him. Know firsthand how beautifully he can dance… but in the hands of the Godmaker he is made mortal again — if only for a short while.

His exact argument against coming tonight, and why they had never ventured to the crypts with their beautiful promises of community before.

If they were lucky, perhaps the events of the night would change that.

What was the phrase, ah yes. To kill two birds with one stone.

“For a man so craven to violence, you feign deep thought quite well.”

Blue eyes unfix themselves from a rapidly-changing distance to lay on the Bloodqueen. “Was that you asking what my mind wanders to?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why say anything at all?”

Of course he knows why; the din of hushed conversation is all around them. Attuned ears catch the familiar bell of Isseya’s laughter. A couple at his back carry on a hissed debate over Cynbel and Kamilah’s statuses — why their masques are so revealing and embellished.

They are a gaping void of silence in comparison. But he’d rather she say it.

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Very well,” clicking his tongue—he dares to be civil with the woman who nearly left him to join the ashes that littered Pompeii, “when did you and the Godmaker set sights on Paris?”

“France has been home to our court for several decades now.”

Our court. Two words that drag his sights along the room. Surely not this court, not with the surprise at his attendance as there had been. “And before that?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“I’m writing a memoir.”

“Of course you are. Always such a learned thing you were, preferring the company of books over bloodshed.”

Rouged lips tick in her effort not to smirk. Personally he finds her wit humorless and dry.

“If you must know… we only recently came up from the Mediterranean. There was rumor out of Venice that sent us into hiding; a hunter who had felled the great Bloodqueen.”

She is strong but still so young. What a difference two thousand years makes; in the eyes and in the mind, in the control of the body. But there is still a mystery that can render even the oldest of their line a prisoner to their impulses.

He knows it well.

He lets their eyes meet; holds her captive with the light stroke of his thumb along the outside of her index finger. A direct touch; a private one. But enough to release the sudden grasp of iron at his words.

There is a part of Cynbel that relishes in her silent suffering. Because even the sight of her reminds him of Rome, of his Lord taking a knee to keep his lovers alive.

And then there is a part that feels her pain as his own. Who remembers the howl of his own bleeding lungs at the sight of the sword that nearly came down on Isseya’s neck. Too soon, too soon.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” is all he says. And he hopes that, even if for the rest of their dance, she believes him.

The music ends as abrupt as it began. Almost as if the musicians were taken in the middle of the piece — but they all know better. The Prestige Waltz is a symbol as much as it is a dance. And are they not all to be ended with a swift act of a cruel fate?

Around them bows and curtsies of thanks. The orchestra starts up a far more leisurely tune. The formalities are done.

Cynbel gently pries himself from the little lotus’ grasp. Kisses the back of her hand and risks everything to whisper against her skin.

“I would not be displeased if you survived tonight.”

Kamilah tugs her hand back and the inevitable question that he will not answer is poised on her lips — but the return of his lovers is reason enough for Cynbel to take a more permanent leave of her.

“I like her.”

He snaps a look to Isseya, very nearly alarmed, before the realization that she stares at Serafine with delight edging on desire.

“She certainly knows how to throw a party.”

They both linger in a half-silence; so familiar now that a voice should follow but it does not. And has them turning, in sync, to Valdas’ silence with curiosity.

They comfort him as only they can; her touch on a cheek, his hand at a waist. Giving him only the praise and adoration their Made-God deserves even when he looks as he does now — when he looks as though he does not.

Such times are when he needs it most.

When Valdas finally speaks it is with crimson eyes. Once following the Godmaker’s eyes move across the floor now given just as intensely to Cynbel much to his surprise.

“Your amusement for tonight must be postponed.”

Surely he speaks madness. “Not even your divinity could do such, darling.”

“Do whatever you must — but none shall come upon us tonight.”

So foreign is how Valdas pulls from his lovers’ touches that they are left, for a moment, unmoored.

“It cannot be done.” Cynbel repeats in fewer words. Harder, clipped.

“It must.”

“It. cannot.”

The hand Valdas runs over his own face trembles with the weight of him. “Then we are all doomed.”

He tries all he can; reaches out but finds his touch rejected — outright rejected. Tries to speak but the words simply never ring right in his ears. Companionship for as long as they have had comes with its share of arguments but this…

Something so small, so inconsequential. Yet the disappointment brimming from his Love and Light is… rattling to say the least.

Yet the answer is as plain as day.

“Does he know?”

Here in their secrecy they dare not chance a look. Cynbel has already risked enough saying what he has to his consort.

It’s a relief to them all when Valdas shakes his head. “Not quite. But that means so little. And with him here… they could never hope to win anyway.”

“It isn’t my intent to let them win. And should he fall prey to their righteous hands… well all the better.”

Not for the first time Valdas silences him with a kiss. Bruising and harsh; holding his jaw in place because he is commanded to accept such a gift. As if he could do anything less.

“Cynbel, my Golden Son…” They pull from one another with obvious reluctance. Foreheads resting as their blind hands search and find sanctuary in that of their third.

He isn’t prepared to hear the crack in his love’s voice. It wounds him far worse than a stake ever could.

“Please. Save your appetite for another night.”

“What is done cannot be undone.”

Isseya steps between them. Steals a kiss in offering from them both. The temple of her always demanding more, more, more that they give her without hesitation.

“You cannot fault him for that.” Because she knows her strengths Isseya punctuates her words with a forlorn twinkle of the eye. Squeezes Cynbel’s hand behind her and he knows — knows even gods are made pliable under such a gaze.

The music picks back up before Valdas can speak. All around them the cacophony of merriment and delight and they cannot let their worries cut through such a veil lest they be discovered… something even their Maker knows.

“On your head be it.”

His dismissal is clear. And something Cynbel will not take lightly. He takes that benevolent hand up to his lips for a kiss. “Trust that I will keep you safe, my Light, my Love. As I always have.” He dares to look upwards and is met with tragedy in dark eyes. “As I always will.”

A shock of red pulls from the dancing crowd towards them and the Trinity pull from one another — close but not uneasily so.

When the Lady Serafine takes them in her mirth wavers for the briefest moment. Something that cannot be helped — something about them has always roused suspicion even in the merriest of souls.

They are close; closer than can be defined with words in any language, closer than anyone can understand. That kind of devotion creates a wall between them and the world.

It is meant to.

“I had hope to pull you into the revelry… but perhaps it would be out of turn of me.” Even with half of her face hidden her hesitance is transparent.

Valdas steps forward — one breath quicker than his lovers — and offers their hostess his arm.

“We would be the ones out of turn to decline the lady her dance.” He muses; smiles down as she takes his upper arm softly, tugs him towards the mingling array.

The look he throws back to his lovers is a reassuring one.

Enjoy the night while you can.

The intent is to take the hands of the next partner — something the rest of the circle does with ease.

Yet as Cynbel looks down… down… down until he rests his eyes on his would-be partner he stops and finds himself unsure.

How is he to proceed when his partner is…

“Are you well, monsieur?” Yet even when the child asks it is clear he has no intention of letting the taller vampire get away so easily. Grasps Cynbel’s hands with his own and the comparison in size is almost astounding enough to trip his feet. As it is — he’s now more conscious of every step than ever.

“Quite.” Not as smooth of a save as he would prefer, but better than none.

A familiar trilling laughter whirls his head to the sight of Isseya with an unfamiliar man. Her eyes, as ever, fixated on her golden lover. Much to her partner’s obvious chagrin.

The child whirls the pair of them wild and free and with all the abandon of youth.

“The pleasure is all mine!”

“Indeed.”

Help me, his silent cry to Valdas; who has taken up with a slim woman obscured fully by her masque. His act of generosity for the night.

As predicted the moment his lover pulls himself from her grasp she is flocked by other, less prestigious attendees eager to bask in the attention given by someone so old.

He approaches them calmly — calmer than Cynbel would like but appearance is everything even at the eleventh hour — and easily slides his lover from the young man’s embrace.

“Forgive me, Marcel,” he muses to the child, “but I find myself wilting without my beloved’s touch.”

Marcel, with an air of familiarity Cynbel doesn’t quite understand, coos at the pair of them before skipping off to a different part of the room. His boisterous demeanor seems equally repulsive to his chosen victim; a surly man with a surlier masque in armor that doesn’t quite shine like it should.

He keeps note of that. The only one adequately prepared for what is to come.

“I know that look.”

A crooked finger under his chin draws Cynbel’s attention away and to the center of his world. To the hesitance he sees still but not without its own resignation. That his god humors him still is a blessing without compare.

“What look?” He’s always feigned innocence terribly.

He interrupts the purse of Valdas’ lips with a kiss. Tangles his fingers in dark hair like staining himself with shadow and cares little for anyone who might be watching. Their kind may try to keep up with the social niceties of humanity but they will never be ruled by it.

“You are not the only soldier here, my Golden One.”

“Good, then they may stand a fighting chance.”

“And will you rally them?”

“Hardly. This is between Baltasar and myself; another battle in our seemingly endless war.”

He continues even when a hand claps over his mouth. Even when his god’s eyes bleed red and chance hasty looks to assure they are unheard.

To utter such a name in present company may very well doom them all.

“Relax, my divine love — I would not speak were I worried of discovery.”

“I doubt that.”

“You doubt me?”

“Only in that I know your desire for bloodshed is enough to fill the Seine to brimming.”

The smile such a compliment earns is, obviously, not meant for so. Yet even at the pout of Valdas’ bottom lip Cynbel cannot help but feel proud to be known as such.

He gathers his Maker close with one arm; protects him from the world as he always has. As he always will. “Everything I do, I do for you and Isseya.” Peppering kisses across his tanned throat just shy of the stiff collar. “Even now it may seem petty or trifling, but when we are free of their wretched hounds at our heels you will understand.”

It takes longer than he’s used to but eventually the inevitable comes — eventually Valdas does yield to each touch. Though not without a sigh of his own; his own way of saying he does not approve, but he will not stand in the way.

It is a middle ground to which they have grown familiar.

He is always forgiven.

It is a break in the heavy clouds which have hung over the vampires of Paris for too long. A brief flicker of moonlight which they bathe in, frolic through not unlike the pagans of old. There are even a few times in which — only to be certain there is no suspicion to be found — Cynbel looks to see true enjoyment on the Godmaker’s carved features.

A sight that makes him ill.

Following a dance that certainly could have been performed with the entirety of her ensemble but was much better enjoyed in nothing but her underclothes, Isseya drapes herself over the back of the chair both her lovers occupy. Not a space to fit two grown men but like everything they make it work.

She leans forward expectantly and devoted as they are the men comply; showering her throat with kisses and bites worthy of the envy the less prestigious among their kind have thrown their way all evening.

“Do you think they might begin to grow suspicious?” she asks idle; winding her clutches at the backs of their heads as possessive as they are thoughtless. An act of instinct.

Cynbel flicks the tip of his tongue over the shell of her ear. “Why would they?”

“We’ve a reputation for abandoning these affairs for our own.”

“They should be honored by our continued presence.”

“And yet whispers abound.”

He pulls back to watch his lovers where their temples touch. To bask in the glow they create together. Almost seems a shame to ruin an evening of their radiance but… no.

That’s just a little seed of doubt. Something to carve out of him like fleshrot.

“That my heart —” thumb brushing over Isseya’s lips, “— and my soul —” other hand cupping the strong angle of Valdas’ jaw, “— continue to doubt me so is insult enough. Lest they forget that I do this for them and the pleasure I take from it is not solely selfish in nature.”

Walking away from them is a difficult thing; always has been, always will be. But difficult things are merely difficult — not impossible. And one more word from them against him may just be the spark that ignites his smothered temper.

He hears them call out but resists the impulse to turn back. Leaves the merriment through one of the few doorways and casts off his masque as he does. Prestige, masques; he could care less for the things that can be bought and bribed into.

Let them meet him across a battlefield with naught but their hands as fists and see, then, that he will always win. Such is the way of the soldier, of the hunter. Of the primordial creatures they are yet seem to have forgotten.

He throws a fist in a fit of rage. Watches it collide with the wall of bone with a sickeningly delighted crunch that breaks the face of a skull off into little pieces. So fragile, so withering.

So fucking satisfying to see.

“At what point do they cease to become faces?”

Without her masque she is of the same beauty, though perhaps with more emotion about her now no longer hidden.

Serafine’s fingertips trail along the rows of foreheads; some still with places for the eyes and jawbones and some not unlike the poor victim of Cynbel’s rage.

Dirt and bone dust gathers on the heavy fabric at the train of her dress. She doesn’t seem to mind.

He holds her gaze as he reaches out to an almost perfectly preserved skull. Caresses the voided eyes with his fingertips and hooks his thumb through a gap in the teeth. All it takes is the slightest twitch of muscle — no longer preserved almost or not.

Serafine flinches; a telling thing he does not miss.

“I would assume when I do that.”

“I mean the faces behind the bone. To whom these lonely heads once belonged.”

He regards her with a glint in his eye. “I heard tell of the far-reaching influence of the Mademoiselle Dupont but I had no idea she knew so many.”

The coy smile that tugs at her lips is forced. An easy thing — the hallmark of a woman used to the machinations of courtly intrigue. She could learn a thing or two from his darling girl; she does so without tell.

But the silence between them echoes. Hard and bright. It makes him sigh.

“If one sees a sea of bones and plucks them by identity, they will do so regardless of whether they are alive or dead.”

A bold thing to admit. There is power in truth but when the truth is soaked in the blood of ages…

“I am sorry if this is not the answer you were looking for.”

“Non, no… I would rather the reality than a beautiful lie. We carry such lies enough, do we not?” Cynbel raises an eyebrow; there is no vanity in the way she tucks a lock of curls behind her ear. “You and I would be no different than these bones, were our bodies to show the years. Yet we remain beautiful well into eternity.”

“Some more than others.”

“Indeed.”

But that isn’t the reason the hostess abandoned her own affair. Now is it?

When she looks from one dead thing to another Serafine is met with expectant eyes. She has the decency to feign a flush.

“Forgive me—but what sort of hostess would I be were I not to entertain all of my guests?”

“You have entertained us enough.”

“‘Us?’”

Cynbel stills his exploratory hand. “My lovers and I.”

Us — we — always a unity. Together even when they are apart.

The woman nods. “Ah, oui. I count myself among the lucky few to have been graced with their prestige this night. But not yet from you. It leaves a woman to wonder why.”

“I doubt it has escaped your keen notice, Mademoiselle Dupont, that my social skills are lackluster in comparison to my better selves.”

“And you would not stray from such notions even for the sake of propriety?”

It makes him snort a laugh — a noise that takes his companion by surprise. Brings an easily-detectable pity to his eyes.

“Now it is I who must be forgiven.”

“For what, monsieur?”

“For in any way giving you the impression that I am proper.”

Laughable, really. A joke he will think of fondly for years to come when all this is done.

And should she have any doubts in his words he would have those cast aside, too. Closing the gap between them in a single stride. Escape through such narrow corridors more than a fleeting whimsy as he leans against the burial wall to take her in.

Cynbel would be lying if he said the minute trembling of her under the touch of his thumb was not exciting.

There is a different fear in their kind than that of humans. Humans are always afraid. But vampires… no no. Vampires fear with reason, cause; knowledge. They fear things that deserve to be feared. Things that have earned it.

And he has earned it so.

“A room full of admirers, the progenitor of our lineage, the prestige of the Bloodqueen—of Les Trois Amants, or two of three anyway, tucked beneath your skirts…”

With thumb and forefinger Cynbel raises her chin; easily tilted upwards to his unabashed amusement, “I find it hard to believe a hostess with such pretty achievements to crown herself with would willingly follow a single solemn soul because of something as silly as duty.”

The change under his hand is equally a delight. How Serafine steels herself; hardened eyes and a clenched jaw and command dripping from painted lips.

“Believe me, or do not. That is —”

“I do not believe you, no. I believe someone sent you out here to me. A little lotus, perhaps?”

Regret, like a shooting star in the endless sky. There one moment and gone in a flash; burned behind the eyelids but never to be seen again.

He should not have told her.

Inconsequential.

“You would do well to back. away.”

The chance to answer—or act—never comes. Not when the ground rumbles over their heads and noises foreign to all but the valiant begin to trail in on the same chord as the silenced orchestra. Then the thundering boom of a cannon, of doors blown from their hinges and the singing opera of swords torn from their sheaths.

“Finally…” Cynbel exhales like ecstasy; picturesque like the trembling waif on her wedding night.

The armies of the faithful have arrived.

#bloodbound #bloodbound fanfiction #choices fanfiction #gaius augustine #kamilah sayeed #serafine dupont #oc: cynbel #oc: valdas #oc: isseya #oblv: bound by choice #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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kapow-magneta · 4 years

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Shipping interview!

Multi, single, or fewship?

Multi ship my dudes. I think it’s fun to explore different character interactions and how a relationship whether its platonic or romantic can develop. Plus I just like shipping so I tend to lean towards multi because iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii like shippppinnng stuff.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

I like to think I’m flexible when it comes to shipping content. I like the fluffy things and I like the darker things. Now, I tend to stay from topics considered too taboo, but that definition changes from person to person. I am fine with most romantic concepts and all the fluffy duff stuff. I am fine with manipulation, toxic relationship and some unrequited elements. It’s a work of fiction. I, of course, do not condone these darker topics in a true relationship.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

This is the question to end all questions. Honestly, I’m pretty alright with age gaps. I largely think it depends on the character the person is portraying that contributes to it a lot. The ultimate no for me is if the character is a minor. I’m not gonna mess with age gaps there because that’s just...no thanks.

Are you selective when shipping?

I meeeeeaann I like to think I am but at the same time I really like to ship? Like not just romantic stuff but relationships in general. To be that and rp goes hand in hand. Developing connections and relationships between characters. Again, I’m not just talking about romantic shipping. I like romantic shipping lots (trust me) but I am really interested in how characters mesh together and connect in all styles of ships. When it comes to romantic shipping, I like to see development from both characters and really see a nice story come from it. Nothing gets me more blaah than when a ship is too dependent on one party. I tend to ship romantic based off potential and chemistry. I jus want everyone involved to have a good time ya know?

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered nsfw?

If they gots the clothes off and/or there’s touching of intimate areas then I would consider that nsfw. Also mentioning of nsfw elements, I would consider that as well but not as heavily.

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

Yes please. The DMs are always open for business so do not be afraid to ask. The worst I’ll say is no thanks. I promise I’m not gonna turn around and be rude. Just run it by and discuss it with me! I think it’s fun that way! Get to plot some stuff out and have a general idea of things. I do this with all my shipping partners before getting into the actual ship.

How often do you like to ship? non romantic ships?

How often to I ship in general? All the time. Like I said earlier, character relationships and connections go hand in hand with rp for me. Enemies, friends, partners, lovers, whatever- I like to write how characters interact and grow off of each other. It’s just something I find to be fun.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

Uuuuuhhhm I suddenly can’t read all of sudden...in most fandoms I’ve been in, I really haven’t shipped any canon x canon character unless it was actually canon I guess? Idk why but I typically just don’t. I don’t rp as canon characters (too intimidating) so this question is a bit harder for me to answer. I like OC x OC ships because my partner and I kind of get to write the story and development from the ground up? It’s characters that we created and know so it just feels a bit easier and natural to develop relationships.

Tagged by: @hxwk-eyes because they dared people to take it and I didn’t wanna be a coward so yolo I guess

Tagging: @planetaryphenomenon @friedsewerrat

#- a minkster in disguise - [mun]

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giranswife · 5 years

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A Relaxing Bath

Summary: Ash is in need of a relaxing bath, but the idea sounds a lot more fun when she considers inviting her husband to join her. After all, he could use the break.

Warning(s): suggestive, fluff, self-insert x canon

Disclaimer: This includes a self insert/oc shipped with a canon character. The self insert is my own, and created after myself

A bath sounded like an extremely good idea at the time. All week had my nerves pretty high, and since tomorrow I had nothing on my plate, a nice bath before bed sounded nice. I would be dead to the world come tomorrow, hoping to sleep as much as possible.

Thankfully our apartment had such a nice, large bathtub for me to stretch out in. I used to not like baths so much, until I moved in with Giran and had to do a nice warm soak to relax my acing muscles after a mission. Ever since I’ve taken a bath at least every so often just to relax.

Giran has recently gifted me with tons of bath products just because. He spoils me a bit too much, but he won’t ever let me tell him to stop. But if it makes him happy, then who am I to tell him how to spend his money? It’s rather sweet, given that no one has ever spoiled me this much ever.

Tonight, though, the idea of bathing alone just didn’t sound right. Besides, I had seen just how tired he was earlier when I went to bring him dinner. He’s been taking calls pretty much all day and stuck inside his office. Days like this are pretty lonely for me, especially if I too am pretty busy. Usually it’s just getting ready for missions or having to bounce between home and the hideout.

Anything else would probably tire me out much faster. I’m just so god damn lazy. Giran teases me constantly about being a coach potato, because I’m always in the same spot every time he comes home. Either that or I’m in bed asleep. But a wolf’s gotta get her rest in sometime.

Now that I had a full stomach from dinner, all I wanted was to soak in some bubbles and lie in the soft sheets of our bed. Preferably cuddling him. It’s the time that I get the most, even though one or both of us are asleep pretty fast. Tonight I had the perfect excuse to get him into bed faster.

He couldn’t turn down a nice bath with me. Especially not if I come strolling in with just my robe. It was getting late anyway, and I really needed some attention. He pretty much knows that after a certain time I’ll come get him no matter what. I’m like the clock he never knew he needed.

Leaning against the doorframe, I listening to his voice and smirked a little. Sometimes I’ll sit in on the couch in the corner and take naps while he’s busy. Other times I’ll just be in the living room playing video games or whatever the fuck I feel like doing.

It’s actually kind of entertaining sometimes. Other times it’s just boring. He usually laughs at me when I tell him that.

Biting my bottom lip, I took the opportunity to slide inside when he wasn’t paying attention. I could tell he was just about done, and I slipped into his field of view just in time to see the curl of his lips.

“One second, Princess. Almost done here.”

I tiled my head a bit, chuckling at how quickly he understood from my body language. Plus it was getting rather late, and I typically bother him more the later it gets.

I waited patiently, fiddling with the tie on my robe. It was a bright and fluffy purple color, and was softer than anything I’ve ever worn before. Another gift from him that I didn’t expect or even knew I wanted.

My cheeks were a little warm as he reached out to grasp my hip, pulling me closer. Exactly what I expected him to do, and I didn’t even hesitate to sit down on his knee. If I didn’t already have a mission at the moment, I would’ve ravaged his neck that was visible to me from the open part of his shirt.

But I resisted the urge, tossing my hair behind my shoulder and listening to him finishing up his call.

“I was wondering when you’d come and sit your pretty little self down,” He said, tossing the one phone he was using on the table in front of him.

“And I was wondering when I’d see your face.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry Princess, but I’m all yours now.”

Biting my lip, I blushed at the smirk that he gave me and readjusted myself in his lap. He smelled so nice, and after being alone most of the day, his touch was extremely comforting.

But I still had a task at hand, which meant that I couldn’t get distracted. We’d have plenty of time for that in a minute. Because if I get too distracted, he’ll catch me off guard and that’ll be that. Not that I would complain either way.

“So I was gonna take a bath,” I said, fiddling with the tie on my robe, “If you wanted to come and join me.”

“Oh yeah? That so?”

I nodded, untying the knot and letting the air hit my exposed skin.

His hand grasped my sides underneath my robe, thumbs grazing against my skin. With his eyes raking my body, I knew that I pretty much convinced him already. But I like to give him at least a little hint of what’s waiting for him.

Be a good little tease like I know he likes.

“You look tired. A bath might be nice,” I said, with a playful smile on my face.

“How can I say no to that face?”

Blushing brighter, I felt a giggle slip past my lips and leaned down to suppress the sound between his own. The few kisses that I lingered were meant to just set the tone, but I ended up leaning in for a few more.

When I pulled away, I huffed a small sigh and grasped the back of his neck with my palms. The smile on my face was a lot bigger than I expected, but I was extremely happy. Sometimes I forget that I’m able to smile like this. That I deserve to be this happy.

“C’mon,” I said, jumping off of his lap and holding my robe closed, “I’ll draw the bath.”

“I’ll meet yah in there, baby girl. Make sure it’s warm.”

“Make sure it’s cold, sure!”

I smirked wickedly, slipping out of the door and trotting into the bathroom.

My baths are a tad bit different than my showers. I can take pretty steamy showers, but I don’t like my baths to be too hot. Giran, on the other hand, prefers both. But he compromises with me most of the time, thank god.

Turning on the water, I cycled through all of my bath products in my drawer. There were a couple scents that I liked better than others, but I settled for something soft and that would be pretty relaxing. Giran isn’t typically one for overwhelming scents, but he wouldn’t mind either way if I’m picking.

Once I had everything ready, I took off my robe and checked the temperature of the water one last time. “Baby! Come see if it’s okay, because I don’t want another rerun of last time,” I shouted, turning around to see him standing in the doorway.

“I’m right here, Princess. No need to shout.”

I narrowed my eyes, choosing to ignore the smart ass comment.

But he smirked regardless, unbuttoning his shirt and trailing his eyes down my figure. I wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of the water that made my face red or his look in general. But I imagine I was going to be red for a bit.

“Sure it’s fine. I trust yah.”

“Bad decision, but alright.”

My smirk returned, and I felt his hand grasp the back of my neck to pull me in for another kiss. Leave it to him to start off with the gesture that makes me weak.

Pulling away, I started to tie my hair up into a bun to keep it from getting wet. The action takes at least a couple seconds considering how much hair I have. I constantly go through hair ties, because they break within a few uses.

Which is also why washing it is something I have to prepare for. It takes too god damn long, and tonight I just wanted to relax and go to bed.

The water felt so nice on my skin once I got in, and I was extremely thankful that our tub was also pretty deep. Which meant I could submerge myself and actually soothe my muscles. This should become a routine before and after missions, because shifting takes a lot out of me.

Once Giran was finally in too, I leaned against his chest and finally relaxed. Times like this I find it rather difficult not to fall asleep in the bath, because not only am I warm as hell but I’m also leaning against my lover. Just the perfect end to the night.

“This is sooo nice,” I said with a smile on my face, feeling my ears twitch a bit happily.

Giran chuckled, shifting a few stray hairs and touching my chin rather lovingly.

“Thanks for joining me... I love this.”

“‘Course, Princess. How can I turn this down.”

I giggled again, nuzzling against his neck and feeling his hand brushing against my shoulder. Having him close to me in such an intimate way. It’s a lot different when there’s soft touching and just enjoying being with each other.

Giran kissed my forehead, but tilted my chin to kiss my lips rather softly. I kissed back, slipping my fingers through his hair. A smile curled at my lips between kisses, and I giggled softly with happiness.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Love you too, Princess.”

He continued to touch my skin, and I let him scrub my back a little bit. Even though half the time he kept whispering sweet things to me and making my face heat up. Things would’ve turned spicier, if the two of us weren’t pretty tired from today. The bath just actually made me more tired.

But it was relaxing, which was my main goal. Get him to stop working and spend some time with me.

By the time we were done, the sound of slipping into bed and sleeping was actually more than convincing. I changed into one of his shirts and ran a brush through my hair. With every yawn I felt my body getting heavier and heavier.

“Hope you don’t mind I took another one of your shirts,” I said when Giran came back into the room.

“Do I ever fuckin’ mind?”

“No, but... figured I’d let you know. In case you look for it.”

“It’s an old one. You can have it. I’ll just buy a new one.”

I rolled my eyes, crawling one the bed beside him. Slipping underneath the sheets, I stole a couple more kisses and left a few more on his own forehead. As payback for all the times he does the same for me.

Though I was tired, I couldn’t help but wrap myself around him and keep the kissing for at least a bit longer. After all, I had missed him for most of the day. And like I said this was typically the time that I get to spend with him.

And after I start, it’s really hard to get me to stop. But at least I know he doesn’t mind.

#self ship #ship: you drive me crazy (and i hate it)#self insert #my writing #suggestive

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