#they moved weirdly and would lock and twitch as if i was possessed by a demon

[halinski]

.

[smutsonian]

Can we get some dark, kinky Clint Barton up in here? There’s not nearly enough of him on tumblr and I think he could be one kinky, dark mofo

babysitting

Warning/s: DARK CLINT, age gap, SMUT, non/dub-con, drugging, creepy Clint, breeding kink, nOT pRooFrEad, PLEASE BE WARNED

A/N: This is my first time writing for Clint so expect the disappointment ;) I also don’t know how to write kinky shit so expect another disappointment! ;)) Hopefully, this ‘drabble’ suffices. It got longer than expected… again. I suck at writing SHORT drabbles. HAH!

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Requests are open!

——————

The Hawkeye has a lot of secrets. Like… a lot. He’s also really good at keeping his secrets away from the limelight. 

The spy is fun to be around when you’re considered as his friend. His jokes are distinctively witty and his remarks are humorous. His persona around his friends and his teammates are the complete opposite when he’s with you.

His demeanor is nothing but gloaming. His protectiveness and possessiveness are to an extent which terrifies you. You envied those who he treats differently but he would always tell you that you’re special and that you deserve the special treatment.

He wasn’t always like that but nonetheless, he was creepy. Even from the start. His creepiness just got progressively worse when he and his wife got a divorce. You were their babysitter and whenever you would babysit their kids, he would always watch you like a hawk. Ironic.

He would shamelessly scan your body and it would always make you feel uneasy. Yes, he might be attractive. Aging has been treating him well, you have to admit. His training also did his body wondrous deeds. He’s an attractive man but the way that his aura changes instantly whenever he finds his way alone in a room with you stray you away from his good looks.

After the divorce, you were still called in to babysit. It’s not the same as before because Laura, his wife, is no longer in the picture. The kids would be sent to her house at scheduled dates and vice versa for Clint. Weirdly enough, Clint would still call you in even though he would be at home the whole day for the kids. He would say that he needed help with taming the little rascals and would compliment you at how good you are with your job. That’s another thing that you’ve noticed. He’s become more outspoken to you. He never really talked to you before. Mostly, it was Laura who speaks to you. 

Little did you know, that was the start of something much worse.

You should’ve seen it coming. You should’ve known that he would manage to trick you. And that’s what he did. You’re currently in his abode, sitting on the sofa and wondering why the house lacks the sound of children. It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

He’s in the kitchen making you a cup of hot chocolate that he insisted upon your arrival. Your tense posture faltered when your phone dinged as a message popped up on your lock screen.

‘You coming later?’ 

Clint walked up to you with a cup of beverage and smiled at you as you took a sip of the sweet liquid. His attention strayed from your face to your phone when it dinged once again.

‘Come on, baby. It wouldn’t be fun without you ;)’

Clint cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he gave you a cheeky smile. “I apologize for forgetting. I should’ve texted you that the kids will be at Laura’s today.” 

“Oh…” you turned to him with a surprised look but offered him a forced smile. “It’s no problem.” Another ding sounded.

‘Come on babyy’

“I could just leave” you made a move to stand up but Clint moved towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep you seated.

“I’m getting too old to remember things…” he chuckled to himself, giving you a look that made you gulp in panic. His hand traveled from your shoulder to your cheek, rubbing his thumb softly on it. 

“Clint, wh-what are you-” you got cut off by him forcefully shoving his lips onto yours and invading your mouth with his tongue. You sat frozen in surprise and it took you a few seconds to comprehend what was happening but when you did, you pushed on his chest as hard as you could but it was to no avail. Your phone gave out another ding. And then another. And another…

‘Are you ignoring me?’

‘You playing hard to get, baby?’

‘Come on. Don’t be such a bitch’

Clint roughly pulled away from you and snatched the phone from the table, ignoring your attempts at getting it back and scrolling through the text messages. You regretted not putting a lock on it now.

Clint’s face sported a scowl as the phone lit up half of his face. He turned to look at you and gave you a false smile. 

“Is this your boyfriend?” He threw the phone away, crawling towards you with a sinister look on his face. You felt your stomach churn in anticipation and it frightened you. The way that your body is reacting to this man disturbed you.

You let out a shaky breath as he positioned himself on top of you, leaning his body closer to yours but never giving your body the satisfaction of his touch. 

“You’re starting to feel it now, huh?”

He ignored the questioning look you gave him along with your terrified expression. Sweat started to dribble down your face and you just now noticed how your breathing started to speed up.

He hiked up the skirt you were wearing, revealing your damped panties to himself like a treasure box. 

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart? Wanna drink some more of that hot chocolate?”

Then it hit you. The thought and whatever the fuck he put in that hot chocolate. 

“Put something there so you can be more compliant. I need to be able to control something, sweetheart. It just so happen to be you.” he smirks at you when you tried to grind your lower half against his with a desperate whine.

He chided you as he clicked his tongue. “Not yet, sweetheart.” he leaned down, barely brushing his lips against yours as you whined. It’s almost painful to have him so close yet so far. You find yourself missing his rough kiss from earlier.

“First things first. Who’s texting you? Is he your boyfriend?” he continued to tease you by getting too close but never enough to be touching. You almost moaned when he touched your shoulder to push you down the sofa, away from his body. 

“You have to answer me first, sweetheart. Can you do that?”

Clint smiled. Like a real genuine smile when he saw you finally submitting to him with a determined nod.

“Th-That’s Mike texting. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy who keeps asking me out…” you breathed a shaky breath as he grinds his hips down your panties for each question you just answered.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing good…” you couldn’t help but feel proud that you were able to please him just by answering his questions. All the thoughts about him being creepy left your mind. He let out a melodic moan when he grinds his crotch against yours once again, earning a whimper from your desperate state of mind.

“You want to be a good girl for me, sweetheart?” Clint didn’t spare another second once you gave him a nod. With skillful movements, he managed to position your body where your legs are hanging off the back of the sofa and your head just on the edge of the seat, your vision turning upside down.

“Open wide, sweetheart.” he cooed and immediately snatched his cock out of his leather pants and shoving it on your mouth. You gagged as he pushed it deeper down your throat. The sight of his cock bulging through your neck made him groan and rub himself through your neck with his thumb. Your gagging only added to his pleasure as he felt the vibration around his cock.

You felt his cock twitch inside your mouth and you expected him to cum down your throat but it never happened because he pulled out before he could even cum. You felt disappointed at yourself for missing the feeling of his cock down your throat.

“As much as I love your mouth around my cock, I have to feel your pretty cunt around it.” He grabbed your upper body with less struggle and laid your back down the sofa once again, spreading your legs apart with his arms. He tore your panties apart and pocketed it. His eyes gleamed when he studied your womanhood.

He towered over you and lined his cock against your slit, sliding it up and down in a teasing manner. You whined and bucked your hips up to satisfy yourself but he wasn’t having any of that. He chuckled as you let out a cry when he pulled his cock away from you, shaking his head in a condescending way.

“Please” you whined once more.

He reached a hand towards your face, brushing away stray hairs as softly as he can with his calloused palm. “What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me.” He looked at you tauntingly. He teased your entrance once more when you refused to answer him. 

“I-I want you inside of me, please!” you cried out in desperation and disappointment for yourself. You’ve never been so needy. The hell with that hot chocolate.

Clint seemingly over with waiting, didn’t miss a beat as he forced his cock into your slit, groaning when your walls made it hard for him to enter you. Your back rubbed against the sofa as he slammed into you in a rhythmic pattern. You learned that Clint is very vocal during sex and it only spurred your appetite. Hearing his melodious moans made you wetter as he rammed into you like an animal.

“Mmm, sweetheart. Fuck!” you watched him tilt his head back, his face holding a pleasured frown as he jerked his hips against yours. His thrusts started to become sloppy as you felt his cock twitch against your walls. 

He stops for a second to put your right leg on his left shoulder, getting more access and stroking much deeper into you which sparks something inside of you. He feels your walls clench around him, alerting him that you’re close to coming as he is. He doubled his efforts, thrusting slowly yet deeply into your cunt. His hand fount its way to your clit, rubbing furiously on it until you’re a crying mess under him.

“You have to wait for me, sweetheart.” he moans as he speeds up, the sound of skin slapping each other fills the living room.

“Okay sweetheart. Come for me, baby.” he groans loudly as your walls clench tightly around him, crying out cutely as your body spasms under him.

“Fuck” he groans loudly as he buries himself inside of you, cock twitching as it spills cum inside of you. He stays inside you as he held you in his arms, breathing heavily as he buries his head on the side of your neck, whispering sweet nothings.

After a while, he still hasn’t pulled out from you but he repositioned the both of you so your back was against his chest now as he stroked your hair softly. He leaned down to kiss the side of your head as he whispered,

“You take such good care of the kids and myself, sweetheart. Let me take care of you this time around.”

The Hawkeye has a lot of secrets. Like… a lot. He’s also really good at keeping his secrets away from the limelight. 

It just so happens that you are one of his secrets.

——————

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[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 34)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33

Part 35: here

.

A dismissive hand is waved in Vivi’s direction, “I swear sometimes it’s like listening to a broken record with you people. Why do you think yelling commands at me will do anything? What’s in it for me?”

“Is he okay?” Lewis interrupts what was sure to be a longwinded spiel of thinly veiled insults aimed at Vivi and humanity in general. If there’s one thing Arthur understands about the entity controlling him, it’s that its opinion of humans is damn low.

“Who?” The demon taunts, attention moving off Vivi to Lewis, grinning, sounding several times more patronising than usual.

‘No. I’m not okay…nothing is okay.’ Arthur answers quietly, staring longingly at Lewis’s profile.

Lewis clenches his jaw and Arthur can almost hear his teeth grinding together.

“Arthur. Is Arthur okay?”

“OHHH. That ‘he,’” An exaggerated eye role follows, and Arthur feels a creeping disgust directed towards Lewis’s display of concern. “You should be more specific.”

The demon leans forward, putting pressure on the knife, smile falling, “I’d worry more about yourself. Arthur’s not the one with a knife in his side.”

Lewis winces, shying away as much as the knife allows, eyes shining with worry and slight fear. Arthur watches helplessly, wishing Lewis were anywhere else. They’d been so close to just running away and leaving this all behind.

‘Why are you here? Lewis why?’ He can’t kill Lewis. Not again.

“Is…is Arthur still there?” Lewis continues, freezing when knife twitches as the demon inches in closer. A warning growl from Mystery has the bastard hesitating, pulling back again, licking its lips in frustration. The nervous tick must be from a previous host because it’s not one of Arthur’s habits.

Addressing both Mystery and Lewis, the demon raises its free hand to make a loose ‘calm down’ motion accompanied by a disarming smile.

“Whoa. Hey. Chill. I’ve done nothing…Yet. Nothing at all. Me and Arthur? We’ve been getting along swimmingly. The best of friends.”

Disbelief is reflected across everyone’s face, even Mystery looks unimpressed.

“You expect me to believe that crap after stabbing my boyfriend!” Vivi yells in indignation, “You’re the one that attacked Uncle Lance, aren’t you.” Her expression darkens with visible rage, eyes narrow.

“You possessed that leather-wearing, biker-weirdo and threatened Arthur for…” She hesitates, “…some reason, I don’t know why, but you’re the reason he’s been nervous and jumpy recently. Then you got tired of waiting for whatever, and you attacked Uncle Lance and jumped into Arthur when he came to check up on him. After that, you tried to kill both your previous hosts.”

The accusation elicits a spark of surprise which is one part his own and one part the demon's. For someone Arthur assumed to be entirely in the dark, she is surprisingly accurate. An edge of wariness creeps in amongst the surprise which is accompanied by a more appraising once over. The demon’s focus moves entirely off Lewis.

“Viv, can I call you Viv?”

“No.” Vivi snaps, glaring.

“Viv it is!… You’re more right than you think and also waaayy off the mark,” A smirk is thrown at Mystery, “I’ll admit, I did do a bit of jumping around before landing in Arthur here, and there are some very interesting circumcises surrounding that. However, I’ve only been around these parts for a day or two at most so any odd behaviour before that can’t have been me now can it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Psh. Why would I lie now of all times? And if I'm not lying, it begs the question…Why was Arthur acting so strangely?”

The demon is searching for something, Arthur realises as it scans Vivi, taking in how she falters ever so briefly. Whatever it wants, it’s probably nothing good. ‘Leave her alone!’ He tries interrupting, and only gets the barest of acknowledgements, leaving him to anxiously watch.

“Don’t you want to know why Arthur’s been acting so out of character? Like someone’s flipped a switch on his personality… Like he’s not quite himself…forgetful even. Because now is the only chance you’ll get to discover the truth.”

“You do want to know why, right?”

Lightning forks through the clouds, closer now. A light wind is beginning to kick up swirls of dust. That storm they’d left behind back at Kingsman Mechanics is catching up to them. Vivi’s hesitation transitions into disquiet, and she squints at Arthur. He can see her processing the information, analysing it. Arthur’s not sure what she already knows, but going off how easily she’d taken the whole ‘possession’ thing, it’s probably something substantial. He has no idea how, but she does. It is such a classic Vivi thing. She just has this habit of figuring things out, attracting information and fitting clues together. That’s what he loves about her, even if he wishes that, right now, she wouldn’t.

It takes Vivi a second as she struggles against her blatant curiosity, but eventually, her expression clears.

“No. I don’t.” Vivi declares, pointing with great vigour, “Not from you, you parasite. Arthur, he’s been a bit odd…but he’s still Arthur, and I trust Arthur more than I trust you. Until I hear it from him, I’m going to continue thinking that. So how about you get out of my friend before I exorcise the crap out of you!”

Arthur aches at her words. Why’d she have to go and say that? It makes him feel even worse for lying and not telling her the truth right away.

“A shame,” Some of the demon’s interest fades to exasperation, and it nods to Lewis instead, “What about you big guy? Do you want to know why your best friend is terrified by your mere presence? Last chance to find out.”

Lewis, who has been mostly still, trying to examine Arthur, takes a short breath. For a second Arthur can see the need in his eyes before a quick glance at Vivi seems to snap him out of it.

“Arthur.” Lewis says deliberately, “If you can hear me. It’s okay. I don’t care what secrets you’ve been keeping. You can fight this.”

‘No. I can’t.’  

“Oh, please.” Arthur doesn’t like how dark and hateful his voice turns, lowing to become more threatening. “What do you think pathetic Artie’s been doing all this time? Honestly, I think you should let the girl talk. All this Lewis hype I’ve suffered through being stuck in his head, and you’re a complete letdown. I should do us both a favour and kill you now. In fact, I think I will.”

Lewis recoils and, for a horrible second, Arthur thinks the demon is going to go through with the threat.

/Enough!/

The sharp command echoes about Arthur’s head, made magically loud, ringing comfortably in his ears. He’s never heard Mystery that angry. Not that he’d had too many conversations with Mystery in the original time-line as the dog has always made a point of keeping himself reserved and distant. Right now, the telepathic voice is cold, brittle with contained rage. Mystery’s eyes flare when he speaks, and the air hums with latent supernatural power, prickling along their skin. Of course, the demon doesn’t share in Arthur’s gut fear reaction, even if it remains apprehensive.

“Finally. I was beginning to think you’d just let this shit show go on forever. No offence,” A glance at Vivi, “You're fun to mess with, but I’ve got places to be.”

/Be quiet. Abomination. Your words are poison. /

“How about you make me, mutt. Go on. I dare you.”

The wide-eyed, confused expressions being shared by Lewis and Vivi tells Arthur that it is only him and the demon who are hearing Mystery’s voice. To Lewis and Vivi, it probably looks like Arthur is having a one-sided conversation with thin air.

Vivi voices her confusion, raising a hand. “Ah? Who are you…” She gets cut off.

“Hey. Don’t interrupt. Mum and dad are talking.” The demon orders, keeping its attention on Mystery’s angry glowing eyes, “Kids, so needy amiright.”

Mystery growls again, and the sound is lost when thunder rolls through the clouds overhead. Arthur’s teeth rattle. The fur along the dog’s back stands on end, also beginning to radiate red energy.

/Release Lewis unharmed, and I will see that you are sealed painlessly so that you may sleep away the rest of your unnatural existence./

“You’re a bit rusty at this whole bargaining thing, aren’t you? Why the hell would I give up one of my best chips for a dud deal like that?” A scoff.

/If you do not accept I will do my very best to rip you into so many pieces, that you’ll have barely the strength to possess a fly./

“Big words from the dog, but can you back them up?”

There is an elongated pause after the taunt. Vivi has fallen uncharacteristically silent. With his eyes locked onto Mystery, Arthur can’t see either of his friend’s expressions but he’s sure it’s nothing good. Way past the point of panic, all he can do is sit, frozen into a tight ball of wound up tension, like any move he makes might get Lewis killed.

“I didn’t think so,” The demon sneers when Mystery doesn’t respond, “You guardian spirits, you talk a big game but when one of your wards is threatened you go all soft. So weirdly attached. It makes you weak.” That feeling of disgust returns.

“How about I make a counter deal. Obviously, my original night’s itinerary isn’t going to fly right now so how about this: You keep the big idiot and the girl, and I pop on off, bide my time, and attempt to kill you all later. I’ll call it a reschedule.”

/Unacceptable./

“OOORRR! I kill Lewis right now, and you’ll what, exorcise me? Seal me up?  You’d have to extract me first. That would be a lot of soul digging because I’m pretty much settled now. Poor pathetic Artie wouldn’t survive it,” A dark grin, “I’d make sure of it.”

The dull red glow outlining Mystery intensifies, shimmering like water. Arthur wonders why he hasn’t transformed yet. It definitely looks like he wants to.

“Two out of three humans is pretty generous in my books.”

One part frustrated, one part scared, Arthur churns anxiously. Yes. Take the deal. Let him go. He isn’t worth all this. Honestly, just the fact that Lewis and his family might survive the night is good enough for him. The silence flowing stretches, broken by another low rumble of thunder further off in the distance. Come on Mystery. Take the deal

/What are the terms./ Mystery finally spits to Arthur’s immense relief and the demon’s satisfaction.

“I have till sunrise to get as far away from here as possible. No pursuit. I won’t take any action to harm a human for the same duration, excluding possession of course.”

“NO!”

The shout draws their attention to Vivi who lunges forward. Mystery snaps at her legs, baring his teeth.

/Stay back Vivi!/ The dog orders and Vivi stumbles, alarmed. Her alarm shifts quickly into a scowl, obviously having heard Mystery's voice that time.

“What are you doing! You can’t let this thing go!” She tries to argue, voice strained, but Mystery has already swung his head back around to stare at the demon again.

“Clocks ticking…” The demon prompts, jerking the knife in an abrupt movement. Lewis gasps, almost doubling over, his eyes closed in obvious pain. He is pale, and Arthur can now see red blood seeping through his shirt, darkening the cloth.

/I accept, on the condition that I can talk to Arthur first. /

“Ha! Deal!"

An odd jolt of something akin to electricity shoots through Arthur's chest, constricting above his heart. The demon shakes the unpleasant sensation off with a practised ease, motioning impatiently.

"Well, hurry up, I’ll give you a minute. I’ve wasted enough time tonight.”

Mystery shoots the demon another furious glare before his expression softens marginally. Arthur, still a frozen ball of anxiety, waits, wondering what the next step of this is going to be. Is he going to be put back in control? Arthur’s not even sure if he wants it now. Not in front of Lewis and Vivi looking equal parts angry, scare and horrified. He’d probably just start crying or something equally embarrassing. Uncertainly, he shifts about, testing the metaphysical walls around him.

/Arthur?/ Mystery’s voice tickles the edge of the barrier separating him from his body, causing odd waves to ripple out towards him. When Arthur looks out to meet the dog’s gaze, it’s like Mystery is seeing past the demon and staring right at him.

‘Yes?’ Arthur tries. About him, he feels the demon’s idle amusement as it watches.

‘You can hear me?’

There is a definite tone of relief in Mystery’s next sentence. / You are still there. Thank goodness. I feared the worst./

It throws Arthur for a second. Why does Mystery sound so relieved? In this time-line, Arthur’s never treated him as anything but a dog, so there’s not really a reason for Mystery to sound so worried and upset.

/I know this may be confusing, but understand that I am profoundly sorry and I will do everything in my power to come for you.../

‘No!’ Arthur interrupts sharply. If Mystery comes after him then Vivi would as well. ‘Don’t. Just protect Vivi and Lewis and keep them as far away from me as possible.’

/ Arthur…/ Mystery tries to continue, more confused now.

‘Tell Vivi and Lewis I’m sorry,’ Arthur rushes to get through all the stuff he will probably never get to say, ‘I’m sorry for lying and hiding stuff. I’m sorry for worrying them. I’m sorry for all the trouble. Tell them it’s not their fault, and I’ll be fine.’ There he said it.

/You can tell them yourself. I will come for you Arthur. Do not give up hope./

‘It’s better this way,’ He says softly.

The connection is cut, and Arthur barely pays attention to the demon as it speaks out loud, “There you go. I told you we were the best of friends.”

/I will rip you apart. /

“You’re welcome to try dog breath. Just…not tonight,” A sly wink.

/There will be no hole on this earth deep enough for you to hide in./

“You can’t…” Lewis starts to protest, and the demon rips the knife out, cutting him off. The lager man groans and falls to one knee, reaching back to put a hand on the wound for pressure.

An energetic wave of farewell is directed at Vivi, “It’s been fun, but I think I’ll be on my way…” They step out of the torchlight and into the night so the dark folds in on them. Slowly, still facing the furiously snarling Mystery, they inch away from the Pepper Diner.

Vivi rushes forward to Lewis the moment Mystery lets her, helping to support his weight, checking his side. She rips the scarf from her neck and proceeds to wrap it around Lewis’s torso. 

“I’m fine,” Arthur hears Lewis pant, “Stop Arthur.” But Mystery has repositioned, blocking the way for both of them. Good.

It is almost a clean getaway. But, before the dark can fully envelop them, a harsh third voice interrupts the retreat.

“THINK AGAIN ASSHOLE…”

The unexpected shout has everyone jerking. 

“YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE.”

The demon snaps Arthur’s head around so fast he feels his neck crack.

“Nobody move!”

Arthur stares at the bedraggled man limping out from behind the building, shot-gun raised pointed right at him. It takes a second, but Arthur recognises the scowly face of Micky. One of the supernatural hunters to threaten him way back when he had first arrived in this time-line. That seems so long along now. A lifetime away.

Irritation and annoyance overtake the demon’s smug satisfaction, turning to anger. There is recognition and Arthur realises that the shot-gun is his Uncle’s. Well, that explains one mystery. By this point in the evening, Arthur is too worn-out and frazzled to figure out why and how Micky is here of all places, but the man’s sudden appearance has drawn the demon’s full and undivided attention. For the first time since the start of this nightmare, Arthur finds himself completely free of surveillance.  

.

NOTE: The gangs all here. Time for tense standoff no.2.

Also, sorry this took so long to complete, I’m getting my ass kicked by the education system.. Anyway, the next part is gonna take another 2-3 weeks so apologies in advance for the wait. I can say the next part is planned to be a Lewis POV. 

Part 35: here

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (Part 10)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Do you guys ever read your own fic summaries that you wrote when you only had chapter one written and cringe a bit? Because I do. Writing summaries and coming up with titles are weirdly difficult things, which I find funny since we all write so many words with little issue (sometimes lol).

Anyways, I know you guys are excited about this chapter, and I feel like I should tell you that rating definitely applies here. :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

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“Did you forget something in California?”

Emma’s standing in front of him with wet hair falling down her back and the brightest smile on her face. He’s not sure if it’s the color of her t-shirt or the smile on her face, but her eyes have never been so green. And she’s never been this beautiful. God, he’s missed her in a way that he’s never missed anyone, not at all caring how much of a sentimental fool that makes him.

He is one. Definitely.

“Hi,” Emma sighs, her shoulders slumping in relaxation as she moves toward him and wraps her arms around his waist as he does the same to her, the mug falling to the ground and clanking against the concrete. She’s warm against him and her hair smells strongly of the vanilla of her shampoo and body wash. He missed that, too, his sheets losing the scent after he washed them two days after her departure. He pulls her in a little closer, burying his head into her neck and kissing the skin there, and he simply savors this moment. He felt like he was never going to be here, the days and weeks seemingly stretching on longer than physically possible, but he is here. He’s here. They’re here.

“Hello, love,” he whispers into her neck before pulling back and releasing her to cup her cheeks, her skin as warm and as soft as her lips when he dips his head and bends his knees to slant his lips over hers. Yeah, he’s missed this too. He’s pretty much missed everything, but as she moves against him, her hands threading into his hair while the tempo of the kiss changes from soft and sweet to harsh and passionate, he knows that they’re not going to be wasting any time.

Emma pulls back from him when his tongue runs across the seam of her lips, but she doesn’t go far, resting her forehead against his while their breaths intermingle. “My poor swan mug has been abused since December. I hope you know that.”

“Oi, you were supposed to bring it back with you after your visit.”

“Only because you stole it.”

“Eh, that’s questionable. You did invite me into your apartment on the night we first met.”

“Speaking of,” Emma chuckles, pressing up on her toes and quickly sliding her lips over his, “do you want to come inside, KJ?”

“Absolutely.”

She pulls back from him then, the loss of heat immediate, but then she’s bending down and grabbing her mug and his bag before walking inside, her hips swaying in a way that he knows is intentional. Bloody minx.

He follows her inside, stepping out of the cool Boston air and into the warmth of Emma’s apartment. He remembers it well, even in his brief night here, but he can tell the subtle differences. It’s definitely cleaner, and he chuckles to himself thinking of how she’s likely spent the entire weekend before straightening up. There are some new pillows on her couch, a new coffee table without stains and scuff marks, and she definitely painted. He’s pretty sure the walls were an unfortunate beige last time where they’re now a light mint green.

But the kitchen is still tucked into the corner of the room, more like a kitchen alcove than anything, and it smells of cinnamon from a candle that’s lit on the kitchen counter. He shuts the door behind him, realizing he’s left it open far too long, and twists her locks, making sure to get each bolt and chain. Emma’s standing in the kitchen alcove, rinsing off her mug as if she doesn’t think he did that before boarding his flight, and he shakes his head and walks over to her.

“I washed that, you know.” He wraps his arms around her waist, only the slightest bit of hesitance despite how they greeted each other. But she relaxes into his arms, leaning back against him and looking up at him with a cheeky smile before bringing her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I don’t know where you’ve been. This has been out of my possession for a long time.”

“Again,” he hums, taking the mug out of her hand and grabbing her left wrist before kissing the small dot that resides there, “that is only partially my fault. You had an opportunity, and you missed it, Swan.”

“And I’ve gone without coffee for so long without my favorite mug.”

He quirks an eyebrow as she turns in his embrace and wraps her arms around his neck. He’s very aware of how real this is, of how she’s actually here with him again, but he keeps waiting to wake up from a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened in the past few months. So his hands snake up underneath her t-shirt, feeling the warmth that’s radiating off of her soft skin and firm muscles, and he knows this is real.

Definitely.

“That is a lie, Swan.”

“Definitely a lie.”

Emma leans forward a swiftly brushes her lips over his, once, twice, three times, before he tugs her impossibly closer and runs his hands up and down her sides, feeling her lack of a bra and groaning into her mouth while his thumbs brush the underside of her breasts. Her breath is warm when she gasps into his mouth after he finds her nipples, feeling them pebble the slightest bit under his touch, and he smiles into the kiss, their teeth clanking together as their heads turn.

“I totally intended to talk to you and spend time with you and, like, just watch TV and eat dinner or something, but I’m kind of thinking that’d be a bad plan right now, KJ.”

“How so?”

Instead of answering his question, which was stupid on his part, she slides her mouth over his and tangles their tongues together in a slick, warm slide, his breath escaping him with every movement. He feels his body come to life slowly as they move together. He thought it would be faster than this, harsher, and more desperate, but it’s slow as their tongues dance together and his hands continue to run up and down her sides and her back while her hands stay firmly planted in his hair, tugging on the strands to keep them in place, occasionally bringing him closer.

So maybe she answers his question without any words. He never really needed the words anyways. Emma’s hands leave his hair and trail down his chest to begin tugging on his shirt, trying to get it off but with no success while his grip stays against her hips and his body stays melded into hers. She huffs, whines almost, and he laughs against her lips before kissing against her jaw, trailing along her jawline until he gets to her ear, nibbling the slightest bit, and he hears her moan the sweetest of sounds that nearly cause all of the blood to rush away from his brain.

He doesn’t need that anyways.

“You need to take – to take off your shirt.” “An eye for an eye, Swan.”

“You mean a shirt for a shirt?”

“Aye, and then maybe we’ll do everything else.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“Oh, God,” he laughs, nipping at her ear one more time before pulling back and stepping out of her embrace, grabbing his t-shirt at the nape of his neck and pulling it off while Emma watches him with her bottom lip in between her teeth and with her eyes trained on all of the skin he’s now exposing. He feels his cock twitch in his jeans, tenseness in his spine building, and he’s honestly not sure how they managed to take it at this pace…not that it’s been entirely slow. “There, darling, I’m shirtless. Are you happy?”

“Very.” She quickly lifts her own t-shirt over her head, her bare breasts coming into view while her wet hair falls against her skin, gooseflesh immediately rising. “Shit,” she whines, quickly taking the shirt and squeezing out her hair in an attempt to dry her locks, “my hair is still far too cold and wet for this, hold on.”

God, he loves her so damn much, and watching her bounce around her kitchen half naked while attempting to dry her hair with her t-shirt is now one of his favorite things in the world, especially with the way she’s muttering curses under her breath and desperately twisting and pulling at her hair.

“Just pull it up, love.”

“I know, I know. It’s the principle of the thing. You could have shown up, like five minutes later, and I’d have had it mostly dry.”

“Oh, okay,” he chuckles, taking a step toward her front door, “so I’ll just step outside and wait five minutes, okay?”

“No,” Emma groans, grapping his wrist and tugging him back to her so that he’s following her out of the kitchen alcove and down the hall to her bedroom, “that’s not necessary in the slightest. I’ll just get pneumonia from my wet hair or something.”

“A very solid choice.”

Emma turns and enters her room before he does, immediately stripping down and out of her leggings and socks while he undoes his belt and slings it off before unzipping his jeans, struggling to get them down over his boots until he manages to kick those off as well. He leaves his boxers on as he stalks over to Emma, threading his hands through her damp, pulled up hair and kissing her while gently pushing her back on the bed, attempting not to knee her stomach or crush her with his weight. They keep with the same pace as earlier, but he can feel nearly every inch of Emma’s skin against his, their hips rutting together in a slow rhythm, and he thinks he might lose himself right then and there if they don’t stop. Forty or so days doesn’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things, but when you’ve just started something only to have it ripped away, it may as well be a lifetime.  

Or maybe he just desperately needs to be with her.

His lips trail away from Emma’s, tracing down the skin of her jaw and her neck, worrying the beginnings of a mark into her collarbone, only moving away so as not to actually leave a mark. He lets instinct lead him, listening to where Emma gasps and groans to know what he’s doing right for her. They’ve only been together for a few times, all in one night, so he still has to discover the ins and outs of what brings her pleasure. But as he runs his tongue around the perimeter of a nipple, he knows he’s found a sweet spot.

“Oh fuck,” she moans, bucking her hips up and harshly threading her fingers into his hair. “Do that again.”

So he does, tracing her skin with his tongue before kissing the pert nipple, sucking and teasing all while his hand teases the neglected breast, Emma’s heart beating wildly within her chest while sounds of pleasure escape her mouth. When her fingers become even tighter in his hair, almost hard enough to pull his hair out, he bites down for a brief moment, pulling away and standing up while Emma blinks up at him.

“What’s wrong?” she questions, curling in on herself.

“Nothing,” he groans, pulling his boxers down and freeing his cock from its restraints. “Absolutely nothing is wrong, but you are driving me insane.”

“Oh.” Her eyes trace him up and down, and he smirks, stroking himself the slightest bit while she watches, her tongue flickering out over her bottom lip. “Well, um, condoms are in the drawer.” “That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Swan.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, sitting up and crawling over to her bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a box, ripping the package open before carefully tearing a foil package off of the strip.

“A new box, love. You keep proving that someone thought she was going to get lucky.”

“You are awfully cheeky for someone who’s going to get blue balls if I change my mind.”

“Right then,” he laughs, stepping over to her and sitting down on the edge of the mattress, reaching to take the condom out of Emma’s hand only for her to deftly roll it down over his length, her hands nearly as light as a feather, though that doesn’t keep every touch from driving him mad.

“Lie back.”

He does as she asks, maneuvering around and resting his head against the pillows while Emma follows him, kissing up his thighs and then straddling them, taking him in hand and teasing his tip between her folds until she slowly sinks down onto him, her walls encasing him in their heat. His hands find her hips even as his breath leaves him, but Emma doesn’t need him to steady her. She takes control, swiveling her hips up and down in slow, deep motions that make his eyes roll back.

She feels bloody fucking fantastic, every move of her body and bounce of her breasts driving him insane, and he tells her so through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw while his thumbs rub circles into her hips and her fingernails trace up and down his chest, tugging at the hair. When her movements start to falter, her legs shaking the slightest bit, he gently stops her movements, encouraging her to move off of him and lie on her back. She does so, her hair falling out of its loose band while she moves, and he takes but a moment to hover over her and cage her in, easily sliding back into her while her legs wrap around his arse. He begins to control the movements, the pleasure in the base of his spine nearly ready to burst with every thrust.

“Shit,” she whispers against his lips when he begins to swivel his hips, brushing her clit with the movements. “I’ve gotta – you’ve gotta…”

“Aye,” he responds, sliding his lips over hers and snaking his hand down between them, curling his fingers where they’re joined and spreading her arousal while he rubs circles around her bundle of nerves, making her gasp and bite down on his upper lip. “You are bloody brilliant,” he grunts when he knows that she’s getting close, every movement of his hips and his thumb driving her just as mad as him. “I have missed you, missed this, missed the way you feel wrapped around me, so tight and wet.”

Her eyes shut then, tightly, and he can see the sweat beading at her forehead, can feel the sweat on his, and she falls apart on a stuttered breath that nearly steals his. He tries to work her through it, pushing into her and finding his own pleasure while her hands continue to curl into his shoulders, holding on tightly even as her eyes open and a smile graces her lips.

“Hi,” she sighs, but he can’t respond to it, burying his face in her neck and whispering her name over and over again while he falls apart, nearly collapsing on top of her as his legs shake.

“Oh my god,” he groans, his body coming back to itself for enough time to brush his lips over hers, once, twice, three times, before pulling out of her and standing on shaky legs to get ready to dispose of the condom.

“Emma will do.”

He turns to look at her, his lips gaping open all while he carefully ties off the condom. “That was by far the worst joke you’ve ever made.”

“You don’t even know, bud.”

Later after they’ve cleaned themselves up, Killian slipping back into his jeans instead of bothering to get his suitcase from the other room and Emma pulling her oversized t-shirt back on, Emma tucks herself into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his stomach while he pulls her closer, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her left wrist. He’s content to sit like this for hours, until his limbs fall asleep and he has to suffer through that awful, painful buzzing that occurs when the blood flow has been stilted. After so little time together and so long apart, he wondered if they’d fall back into this sense of comfort or if things between them would be stilted, unsure. He’s never done this before, never been with someone who doesn’t live in the same city as him, so this is all new, uncharted territory.

He thinks they’re doing pretty well.

Emma’s fingers start tracing patterns in the skin on his chest, her nails parting the matted, sweaty hair and causing him to shiver at her touch. “Did you have a good flight?”

“W-what?”

“Did you have a good flight? I didn’t ask, and I feel like that’s something I should have asked about.”

“What’d you do? Make a list of small talk conversations for us to have. The weather outside is delightful, love. I think it’s a balmy sixty five, which is good for my hair. The humidity and all.”

“Shut up,” she giggles, the sound sweet even as she slaps his chest. “You know what I mean. I always have weird stuff happen to me on flights. I figured you might too.”

“Aye,” he answers, lifting her wrist and kissing her skin, “all of the time, but this time I simply boarded the plane, put my headphones in, and caught up on a lot of the shows I’ve missed while filming. Oh, and I ate any entire bag of salt and vinegar chips without my tongue breaking out. That was pretty exciting.”

“Wow, you are living the life, KJ.”

He scrunches up his nose as he dips his head and captures Emma’s lips with his before she can say anything else, smiling into the kiss when she gasps at the contact. He feels something inside of him twist, which is definitely not biologically possible but happening all the same.

“Hush, love. You’re just lucky I brushed my teeth again before I got here.”

“Wow, and you made fun of me for expecting to get lucky.”

“Well, maybe I just brushed my teeth because I really care about dental hygiene. It had absolutely nothing to do with you or making sure that I don’t absolutely repulse you.”

“Too late for that.”

She squirms away from him them, surprisingly quick on her feet as she moves to the other side of the bed, stretching out and reaching toward the end table when he grabs her waist and holds her back, leaning down and kissing up her thighs while she laughs, kicking her feet at him.

“Killian, st-stop,” she groans, reaching back while he continues to rub his chin into the back of her thigh, scruff leaving faint red marks, “I’m trying to get my phone. It keeps buzzing.”

“That’s my phone.” “Well, then, I’m trying to get your phone.” He lets her go, Emma scooting forward enough to grab his phone off the table. “You have a hell of a lot of missed texts from Elsa. Also, is this your girlfriend in your photo? She’s super hot.”

“She’s my lover actually,” he laughs, holding his hand out for his phone, “and I agree. Smoking hot. What’s Elsa saying?”

“Um, I don’t know. I don’t know your passcode.”

“050886.”

She quirks an eyebrow, folding her legs up underneath her and pulling her t-shirt down over her thighs. “KJ, is your phone password your own birthday?”

“Possibly.”

“That’s so predictable.”

“It’s easy to remember.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Emma types the numbers into the phone, swiping her finger and presumably going through Elsa’s texts, her facial expression neutral the entire time. “Oh man, are you in deep water with your sister-in-law.”

“What? Let me see.”

“No, no. You, my friend,” Emma laughs, untucking her feet from underneath her and standing on the bed, somehow not at all concerned how close she is to the running ceiling fan, “have forgotten to tell your family that you safely traveled across the country, and they are having a meltdown.”

Oh shit. He really did forget to text someone, anyone, and let them know he landed, and that does not fly with Elsa or Liam. Hell, even Will freaks out on him sometimes.

“Shit, let me text her.”

“What are you going to say? You forgot because you were having sex?”

“Exactly,” he smirks, shaking his head a bit and leaning forward to grab Emma’s ankle, running his fingers over the bones there while she continues to sway back and forth above him. “Elsa’s an adult. She understands.”

“Elsa is very much an adult who has sex with your brother.”

“Swan,” he groans, throwing his free arm over his eyes and trying to get that image out of his head, “why would you point that out?”

“Just to mess with you.” Emma squats down and quickly glides her lips over his before handing over his phone. “Why don’t you call her back? I’m going to go get some water. You want some?”

“Sure, darling.” Emma gets off the bed, gently hopping down onto the floor without so much as a stumble, and walks out of the room, her curly, tangled hair bouncing with every step.

He takes the moment to scroll through his phone, a few texts from Will and Robin having gone unread, but he mostly sees all of the texts from Elsa, each of them increasingly more worried about his whereabouts. The last one even uses Aiden to guilt him, a picture of the poor lad crying all while the caption reads I’m having a meltdown because my uncle won’t text my mom back. He shakes his head in disbelief over he sneaky tactics, just a little dramatic there, El. He presses her name, letting the dial ring until her voice sounds on the other end.

“Well, it looks like you’re alive,” Elsa groans into the phone, her displeasure with him even clearer than it was in the texts.

“Hi, El. Nice to talk to you too. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit dramatic?”

“Only Anna. And that’s just when I used to get mad at her for stealing my clothes. But seriously. You can’t just not tell any of us you’ve landed.”

He reaches up and runs his hand through his hair, knowing that it’s likely a disaster from the flight and the exertion with Emma. “I’m sorry. It slipped my mind, but I promise I wasn’t going to let you think I was dead. I’d have sent proof of life at some point.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m sure you would have eventually remembered us as you traipse off to go visit your girlfriend.”

Almost as if she knew Elsa had referenced her, Emma walks back in her bedroom then, holding a glass of water while she sips on the other one, placing his on the table next to him before crawling back into bed beside him.

“I would have, El. I would never forget the little people.” “God, you’re corny,” Emma groans, shaking her head back and forth before taking another sip.

“Oooh, is that her, Killian? Is that Emma?”

He can practically imagine Elsa sitting at home bouncing up and down on the couch while Liam stoically sits on the other end reading one of his many war strategy books, the oddball.  

“Aye.”

“Can I talk to her?”

Emma’s cheeks go red, obviously hearing Elsa’s words. “Do you want to?” he mouths to Emma, trying to read her emotions.

“Sure, put her on speaker.”

So he does, hitting the button and hoping that this is not some kind of disaster. If he were one to wish on stars, he’d wish that these next two weeks go without any hiccups. “Um, Els, this is Emma. Emma, Elsa. I’ve got no bloody clue why you want to talk to her, but here you go.”

“I just wanted to ask her to make sure you stay safe, you know? And that you come back home. Anna is coming into town for your birthday, and let me tell you, she has been plotting out cakes for you like you haven’t eaten a carb in years. Are you coming, Emma?”

Okay, so there’s hiccup number one. Emma’s eyes go wide, her lips parting, and he watches as she works through her words, noticing the way she nearly bites her bottom lip twice before speaking.

“Oh, um, I can’t. It’s in the middle of the week, and I have work. Maybe the weekend after though. I’m sure you guys will have a great time bringing Killian into old age.”

“Oi, I’m turning thirty-three, love.” He reaches over and pinches her side, even as she swats him away. “I’m not old.”

“You are pretty old, Killian.”

“You’re older than me, El.”

“Semantics. I don’t think that really matters here. You definitely have more wrinkles than me,” Elsa laughs, her voice carefree. She obviously wasn’t too worried about him not making it to Boston if she’s in this good of a mood after just a few minutes. “Emma, it’s so nice to meet you, or hear your voice really. Maybe one day you’ll come back to California, and I can meet you in person. I promise you I’ll be much nicer than my husband was. Sorry about that by the way.” “Well, he doesn’t exactly leave room for competition, but that sounds wonderful, Elsa. I’ll have to figure something out.”

“Sounds perfect. Be good and be safe, Killian. Don’t be a stranger. Love you.”

“I love you, too. Give Aiden a hug for me. Maybe toss one in there for Liam.”

The moment he hangs up the phone, he shuts it down and places it on the bedside table, picking up the glass of water and taking a sip, not realizing how dehydrated he is until he downs the entire thing in one continuous gulp, his throat soothed the more cool water trickles down. When he looks over at Emma, she’s picking at imaginary lint of her shirt, her hair falling down and covering her face while her long, tan legs stretch out over the sheets. He reaches over and tucks her hair behind her ear, thumbing at her chin so she looks at him.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing.”

“Swan, we are so far past lying to each other. Tell me. I won’t judge even if it’s something like wanting to hang clown paintings up on your ceiling.”

He entire face scrunches up, the very obvious disgust at the idea evident on every inch of her skin. “While I appreciate your vague The Good Place reference, both Elanor and I, and any sane person, do not want clowns everywhere…anywhere.”

“What then?”

“I feel bad.”

He scoots his foot over toward hers, knocking them together and wiggling his toes. “About?”

“I’m going to miss your birthday. Your family is apparently having a party, your friends are going to be there, and what? I’m going to be sitting in my office eight thousand miles away? Is that how this is going to be? We just miss all of these big moments?”

“Emma,” he sighs, leaning over and thumbing at her chin again so she looks at him, her eyelashes fluttering down before she actually looks at him, “it’s fine. I’ve had quite a few birthdays, and this one isn’t anything special. Don’t get yourself worked up over it or freaked out.”

“But – ”

“But what? It’s just a day, and I’m leaving here, like, three days beforehand. There’s absolutely no need for you to waste a vacation day when you’ll spend all of it on a flight, maybe get to eat a piece of cake, and then get back on a plane again.”

“I hear the cake selection will be good though, might make it worth it.”

“Swan.”

She groans, throwing her entire body back against the bed. “I kind of hate that you’re being logical about this.”

“Well, someone in this relationship has to be the smart one.” He leans over and kisses the corner of her lips. “Now let’s go get something to eat. Is there going to be anything in the kitchen or do I have to put a shirt on for us to go out?”

“Who says you have to wear a shirt to go out?”

When he wanders into Emma’s kitchen, opening up the cabinets in search of food, he’s genuinely surprised to see it completely stocked and organized. This is not the Emma he knows, and his earlier thought of her cleaning before he arrived rings true. She did not have to do that, but he appreciates the effort, grabbing the bag of bread and figuring a sandwich will be fine. Emma jokingly protests, claiming she got better food at his house, before getting up and fixing her own food, the two of them eating standing in the kitchen, not even bothering to go sit down.

He eventually gets his suitcase from where Emma dropped it, rolling it into her room and opening it up so he can find some of his sweatpants, his jeans beginning to rub into his waist after wearing them all day. But before he even gets the chance to change, Emma grabs onto his belt loops, pulling him toward her and back to the bed, every intent that she has evident in her eyes. It’s much faster than the first time, the desperation they both felt at their separation finally coming to head (and to bed if he’s honest with himself) as they move together in quick, harsh movements, the only sounds in the room their harsh pants and their skin slapping together. Faintly, he thinks he can hear the busyness outside, cars speeding by, horns blaring, and a curse or two from Emma’s neighbors. But he doesn’t care about anything out there.

Not at all.

He must have fallen asleep without knowing it because when he wakes, it’s to the sound of the shower running. Emma’s side of the bed is cold, the sheets cool to the touch when he reaches out for her in an attempt to recreate the way she’d curled around him before he fell asleep. He groans as he twists to the side, his body a bit sore from last night, and fumbles for his phone, unplugging it from the wall. Emma must have done that as he definitely didn’t, and he smiles a bit until his phone displays the time of 3:14 in the morning.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, looking over and checking Emma’s phone as well, hers showing 6:14. “Fucking time change.” He shouldn’t have any issue with it, his sleep already screwed from filming, but he feels like he’s been hit by a truck. Literally. Not at all figuratively.

He makes a futile attempt to fall back asleep, but then he hears the water in the shower turn off, Emma coming out into her bedroom five minutes later wrapped up in a towel, her hair completely dry and pulled up into a bun.

“Hey, did I wake you?”

“No, just woke up. I think my sleep schedule is going to be screwed up for awhile, until I get used to normal living, at least.”

“Okay, well,” she walks over to her dresser, shuffling through the drawers and pulling on her underwear before dropping the towel, her body almost completely exposed to his gaze while her hips move as she dresses, his mind replaying images of just a few hours ago, “I have to be at work at eight thirty. I was thinking of going in early to try to get off earlier, but if you want to get up and take a shower, we can go out and get breakfast.”

Groaning, he rubs his eyes before throwing the covers off, already trying to think himself down as if that would work. “Yeah, I think I’m going to need a cold shower after that little show you just put on, so that sounds like a brilliant plan.”

“You,” she looks back at him over her bare shoulder, her neck infuriatingly long, and winks, “are disgustingly insatiable, but I’ve already showered so that’s not happening.”

“That’s the point of the shower, darling.”

“No, that’s because you smell like sweat.”

He pinches Emma’s thigh on his way over to his suitcase, shuffling through for some clothes before he heads into the bathroom and takes a quick, cold shower. He didn’t remember to bring his own body wash in here, so he uses Emma’s, not at all minding that he’s going to smell like vanilla for the rest of the day. Before he knows it, Emma’s ready for work, he’s dressed, and she’s leading him out of her building, wandering down the cramped alleyways outside. He’s not familiar with Boston’s layout, but Emma obviously is, navigating the small roads and alternating busy streets with ease.

She leads them to a small coffee shop, the lights dim inside and the patrons quiet, and he appreciates it as he tugs his baseball cap further down on her forehead and keeps his sunglasses on until the last minute.

“I’m going to order while you get a table. There’s a really cool table upstairs that’s inside of an old bank safe. No one ever sits in it because the wifi is bad.” “That sounds dangerous.”

“The door doesn’t close, KJ,” she laughs, reaching back and squeezing his hand. “You want anything specific besides your coffee?”

“The blueberry muffin that’s sitting at the top of the display case.”

“Gotcha.”

He heads up the stairs, steps creaking and groaning under his weight, and finds the room Emma was talking about. Sure enough, it’s a small, empty section that looks to be within an old bank safe. It’s actually pretty inventive, though he does wonder why this place has a safe on the second floor and how exactly someone decided to change an abandoned bank into a coffee house. Emma joins him five minutes later, two to-go cups and a paper bag in her hand. She practically downs her entire drink in one sitting, the heat somehow not burning her, before shoveling her croissant in her mouth. The entire time he’s waiting for his coffee to cool, staring her down and slowly picking at his muffin.

“What?” she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.

“You are inhaling your food. How have you not burned your mouth?”

“My creamer and stuff cooled it down, and old habits die hard. I’m usually eating breakfast while getting ready or while driving. And we walked here, which means I’m going to walk to work, so we really only have, like, twenty minutes.”

“It’s been three.”

“Oh,” she laughs, shaking her head while his coffee cools and his affection for Emma warms. Indefinitely, he thinks. “Sorry.”

“Tis nothing, love. I was just watching a modern medical marvel take place.”

She sticks out her tongue, showing the maturity of the twenty-eight-year-old that she is, and he barks out a laugh, throwing his head back and being thankful that he wasn’t drinking his coffee. He eventually does eat, sipping on his coffee even after they leave to walk toward Emma’s office, and despite the fact that it’s still before five in the morning for him, he’s glad to be awake.

He realizes that he’s never actually been to Emma’s actual office, only having gone to the museum for the gala, so as he follows her up several sets of stairs, the lighting dim within the corridors, he takes in the surroundings, trying to put together all of the things he’s imagined while talking to her on the phone. The actual office is a bit brighter than he imagined, large murals obviously painted by children coating the walls, and when Emma turns the corner into a small room, he knows it’s her office simply by the fact that she has a shelf of coffee mugs to the side of the room.

“For someone who made a big fuss about the damn swan mug, you seem to have quite the collection of other options.”

“Oh,” she gasps, almost as if she had forgotten he was behind her or that the mugs were there, “I don’t actually drink out of those. We have a Valentine’s Day party with a lot of the kids every year. Some of them hate it, which is understandable, but for the younger ones, they draw something and we get the picture put on a mug later on. I’ve just kind of collected them.” She shrugs, putting her purse down behind her desk. “They make me happy.”

That thing within him that twisted yesterday, the one he is sure is biologically impossible, twists again, his face heating as his lips stretch into a wide grin. Emma is incredible, in more ways than one, and he shakes his head back in forth in disbelief that she wants to be with him of all people.

“You make me happy.”

“Wow, cheesy.”

He shakes his head again, walking over to Emma and placing his cup on her desk before resting his hands on her hips, thumbs running circles on the skin under her shirt. She’s looking up at him with a bit of disbelief, and he understands. That’s how he looks at her sometimes.

“I’m serious, Emma. You do make me happy.”

Emma’s hands reach up to caress the apple of his cheek, tilting his hat up the slightest bit before speaking on a slightly shaken breath, “You make me happy too, Killian. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

[halloweenen]

Waltz Ch.1

[lixmyg]

rough anal & pet names—yuwin

THIS WAS A DIFFERENT SHIP BEFORE SO SORRY IF THE CHARACTERS DON’T FIT AS MUCH

→ angst, fluff, smut, dom sub relationship, praise kink, pet name kink?, slight kitten kink, slight hyung kink, slight edgeplay

description: yuta’s in love with sicheng when he doesn’t want to be. sicheng’s really touchy with their friends and it gets on yuta’s nerves, being the possessive fellow he is, but he never acts on it. one day, sicheng gets home seemingly drunk. yuta takes care him and it’s later realized--through some yelling and maybe a make out session--that sicheng isn’t actually drunk but just wants yuta to take care of him and pay attention to him like when they first started living together. sex ensues.

yuta and sicheng have lived with each other for three years so far. the first year, yuta treated sicheng like his baby and god did he love it. but after awhile, yuta distanced himself. he was grouchy whenever they hung out with the guys and when it was just them, he was easily irritable and hated when sicheng touched him.

sicheng thought yuta had started to hate him. doyoung and taeyong assured him that wasn’t it, but sometimes it really gets to him. he missed when yuta would take care of him. soon, sicheng acted grouchy right back to yuta. not mean and not pushing him away, just sassy and snarky. jisung once commented that they were like a old married couple, to which the both snapped at.

so here they were, yuta, lucas, jungwoo, taeil, and sicheng sitting in lucas and jungwoo’s shared apartment. yuta, lucas and jungwoo were on the long couch in front of the tv while sicheng and taeil were cuddled on the love seat to the right of the couch. they were watching some show yuta didn’t bother to care about, only watching the two on the love seat giggle and whisper to each other. the roommates made eye contact, sicheng starting to glare over taeil’s shoulder before focusing his attention back to the ravenette.

yuta silently fumed, deciding it was better to leave than sit though this, “i think i’m gonna head home. maybe get a headstart on cleaning since you know who doesn’t clean.”

it was a lie, the apartment was oddly clean for the fact two young guys lived there. sicheng recognised that, and yes was a bit worried on why, but only waved bye with the rest of the group.

“text us when you get home.” jungwoo said. yuta nodded and headed out, walking to his apartment which was only ten minutes away.

yuta was pretty pissed. he felt like he had no right to be but god was he absolutely pissed. it was almost as if sicheng was teasing him, hoping to just get him to his breaking point. and god did that make yuta want to put him in his place.

but he can’t. cause sicheng doesn’t like him like that. so he has to stop himself from getting too attached. not that anything’s really helped, yuta’s still as head over heels as when he first developed his crush on sicheng. heart still flutters at his smile, breath still hitches when too much of his beautiful pale skin is on display.

maybe it's a bit much to cut sicheng off, but the other seemed to be as rash yuta.

that much was clear when the younger was knocking and kicking the front door of the apartment, shouting through the door, “yuta! yuuu better open the damn door! i’m flippin--”

“cheng, jesus, be quiet. are you drunk or something?”

the boy in questions cheeks were read and he looked a little dazed, yuta’s accusation was totally justified. but in actuality, sicheng had planned to burst through the door and make yuta explain to him why he’s become such an asshole and maybe lay a sweet kiss on him.

yuta’s look of worry and concern completely ridded that plan out the window, sicheng nodding slowly.

the older hefted the younger up quickly moving him to the couch, kicking the front door closed and locking it. he ran to get some water, not knowing how to handle drunkenness. he doesn’t drink all that often.

so for the next hour yuta just nurtured sicheng as if he were a kid. he sat with him on the couch and got anything he asked for. all yuta was really waiting for was for him to fall asleep.

weirdly, unlike most drunks, sicheng didn’t fall asleep after laying down for a while. he didn’t even slur his speech, he spoke in clear unwavering sentences. when yuta thought about it, sicheng may not even be drunk. he didn’t even smell the slightest bit of alcohol on his breath.

“sicheng, are you even drunk?”

“what?” sicheng’s heart dropped. he was enjoying the nice moment with yuta, but he was scared yuta would get mad if he wasn’t.

“are. you. drunk.” he accentuated each word. the other didn’t reply.

“seriously, hyuk.” yuta huffed, getting up, “stop with these annoying ass games already.”

sicheng scoffed, “yeh, like you’re one to talk. you think i’m playing annoying ass games? what about you asshole, is it fun to push your best friend away or something? huh?”

yuta stopped heading to his room, biting the inside of cheek and turning back to face sicheng, “i am not pushing you away.”

“bullshit!” sicheng laughed sarcastically, taking steps toward yuta, “just tell me, what the fuck is it? if you don’t like me just tell me--”

“that's not it,” yuta's voice wavered, fists clenching at his sides, getting frustrated with the obviously upset sicheng.

“well then isn’t there something you’d like to share with me, yuty poo.” the other pushed, now right infront of his hyung.

yuta rolled his eyes, “it's not that i don't like you, its that i do. in a way you don’t.”

“why the fuck do you think i don’t?”

sicheng looked like he wanted to rip his hair out and yuta looked like his whole world twisted.

“you--you--”

“you’re so fucking slow! yes i like you too! and yes i want you to fuck me too! it’s been obvious since we moved in with each other! why do you think i’m all over taeil in front of you!” hyuk continued rambling about all the things that made it so obvious that yuta liked him and that he liked him back and how slow yuta was.

after the younger finished ranting and was breathing heavily, yuta spoke slowly.

“you, you like me?”

sicheng let out a small chuckle of disbelief. he simply pulled the other into a kiss. heavy and sweet, a wide hand slowly sweeping from the small of sicheng’s back into his hair, tugging lightly.

“yeh, i do dipshit.”

yuta grinned, “and i can fuck you?”

“god, please do.” sicheng whined, slipping his thigh between yutas, who only raised an eyebrow, pulling on the tuft of hair he had a hold on, sicheng dropping his leg quickly.

“it hasn’t even been a minute and you’re already so desperate, huh?” yuta whispered against sicheng’s jaw nibbling and kissing here and there, “want me to fuck you that bad?”

“jesus fuck, yes! please, i’ll be good i promise.”

“your room or mine, pretty boy?” yuta asked, sicheng keening at the pet name.

“m-mine.”

the younger jumped and wrapped his legs around the older, being carried to his room, lips connected.

sicheng was placed gently on the bed, yuta grabbing his chin, making him look each other in the eye, “are you sure you want this baby? we can stop--”

“no, no, i want this. please, wanted it for so long.”

yuta nodded, comfortable with his sicheng’s consent, “strip then. where’s your lube?”

sicheng flushed, taken a bit aback with his shirt caught over his head.

“there’s literally a strawberry vibrator on your bedside table, babe.” yuta chuckled helping the boy with his shirt, noticing the bottle of lube next to the toy.

“strawberry kiwi? do you have a thing for strawberries, sicheng?” he teased, grabbing the bottle and striding over to his pretty partner.

sicheng’s clothes were scattered on the floor, completely bare naked on his sheets with yuta blatantly admiring the skinny, pale, beautiful boy.

“god you’re so pretty baby,” yuta praised, sicheng’s dick visibly twitching at the words.

a hand crawled up the tan boy’s thighs, feeling around till they hovered over where sicheng needed it most, “you like being called pretty? like being praised and told what a good boy you are?”

sicheng nodded, whining at the lack of contact, “please hyung! please, w-wanna come.”

“i haven’t even touched you yet, kitten.” yuta ignored the twitch of the youngers dick, coting two fingers in lube and sticking them in slowly. as expected, they slipped in easily.

“a-ah, don’t need it. just need you, hyung, please. i’m already--” yuta suddenly started rubbing against the inside of sicheng’s velvety walls, searching and finding his sensitive places. especially that particular bundle of nerves hyuk’s fingers were never long enough to reach.

“god fuck! yuta gonna cu--”

“don’t.”

sicheng could’ve cum right then and there if it weren’t for yuta pulling his fingers out quickly, replacing the tight coil in his stomach with an empty wonton feeling.

“yuta, what the fu--”

yuta only stared, as if telling sicheng to shut up or else.

“i thought you were gonna be a good boy for me kitten? or do you just wanna cum? are you my good boy or are you just a brat?”

the younger shook his head quickly, “i’m a good boy. your good boy.”

“what a good baby,” yuta muttered, kissing his way up from sicheng’s pelvis bone to his collarbone where he littered hickey’s and left sicheng to grind up into the roughness of his jeans to get off.

sicheng rutted up onto the others clothed thigh with so much desperation he almost came in a matter of minutes, yuta playing with his nipples and suckling at his pulse not helping.

“y-yuta.” he stuttered out in warning, his ruts more feverish until they were cut off completely, yuta and his stupid big hands holding his hips to the bed and preventing hyuk from any friction.

sicheng wanted to cry. he’s never been deprived of an orgasam, let alone twice buy the same guy with the same cocky smirk.

“please please yuta i’ve been good,” sicheng all but begged, “please fuck me, please.”

it pissed sicheng off but god was he turned on. he laid completely naked, vulnerable to everything yuta did. yuta was fully clothed too, using sicheng like a pretty toy, with pretty names like good boy, and baby, and best of all kitten. he wanted yuta to fuck him raw, rough, but not forgetting to call him kitten.

and that's exactly what yuta did. he lowered his trousers just enough whip out his dick, sicheng giddy at the sight, incoherent “please” and “fuck, yes” spilling from his lips as yuta lined up, entering slowly to sicheng’s dismay.

once yuta bottomed out, he shot sicheng a shit eating grin as he pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, thrusting hard and quick, hitting all the sensitive spots he’d found before with his fingers.

sicheng withered beneath him, clawing at yutas shoulder blades as he let out porn worthy moans, his breath hitching when yuta hit his prostate and hips stuttered when the coil in his stomach quickly unwound in white stripes against yutas clothed stomach.

“you did so well kitten,” yuta kissed the top of sicheng’s head, “you’ll be a good boy and let hyung finish, right kitten?”

“y-yes.” he managed through the overstimulation, thighs shaking and lips constantly parted with a silent beautiful moan.

the visual stimulation of sicheng’s fucked out face, shining with sweat and the afterglow of sex was enough for him to come, pulling out and stroking himself to orgasm, coming all over sicheng’s chest.

the two took a moment to catch their breaths, silent before sicheng spoke.

“i didn’t know you were so kinky, kitten.”

“i had a feeling about you though, hyung.”

“seriously though, a strawberry vibrator? c-can i see you use it?”

“let's save that for next time.”