#which turned out not to be so quick. or dirty. in fact i refined so much my hand is numb now

[citree]

I just want to start a flame in your heart~ 🔥🧡🔥

[babbushka]

A Valentine's Surprise

Jacques LeGris x F!Reader; Regency AU

7.7k, NSFW (PIV sex, carriage sex, dirty talk, possessive smut, marking/biting)

Available on AO3

A/N: This is a belated Valentine's Day gift for my dear friend @safarigirlsp!! I know it's very different from what I've normally written, as you all know Jacques is not a character I enjoy. But this is for my friend, who I know loooves him lol! I hope that you all enjoy this smutty romantic oneshot!

Rain, steady and sure, pours outside the large estate one February evening. The loud thrum of it cannot be heard with ease, as music and splendid conversation fills the air instead, and yet, it is undeniably there; a tension that comes along with the atmospheric pressure. Everyone at this ball is holding their breath, feeding into that tension, growing it, making it stronger.

You try your best not to give in to the whispers and excited gossip, you attempt to keep the rumors that a certain gentleman with royal connections arriving from the North, from sending you into a tizzy...just as it had every eligible young woman in attendance. You were better than that, you were more refined than that -- even if the quickening of your pulse secretly proved otherwise.

Despite your best efforts, you cannot help the way your eyes dart across the glittering ballroom, a hundred pretty girls wearing pretty dresses being spun by pretty-faced boys; hoping to catch a glimpse of the recently knighted foreign Duke. Of course, no one knew what he looked like for sure, this Frenchman had so many different accounts circulating about him, that you scarcely knew what to believe. But you recognized everyone in attendance, so all you needed was to find the odd one out. And if there were anyone better than you at noticing an unfamiliar face, it was your dear friend the Duchess.

“Might I have this dance?” Speak of the devil, you think with a sly smile, as the Duchess’ husband offers you a friendly bow and an open palm.

“Flip,” Regarding him with endearment, you curtsy as customary and take his hand with ease. It was decidedly not customary to regard him with such a nickname, but you knew you could get away with it here in his home. “Where is your wife? Surely she would fancy a turn about the ballroom with your company more so than I.”

Signaling for some champagne or other such bubbly drink, Flip lights a cigarette and fills the air around him with a cloudy blue haze. A servant with a silver tray filled with champagne flutes that have cut up strawberries floating inside them, seems to appear out of nowhere for him, and he hands you one of the flutes, taking another for himself.

“The Lady is resting her feet after a most rousing dance indeed.” He smiles in the direction of his wife, who is happily chatting away with some of the guests who have been enjoying her ball. Almost as if she could feel Flip’s gaze on her, she looks over to you and gives you a dazzling grin, which you return with a small gesture of your glass, as if to toast her and her party. Flip chuckles, “In fact it was she who instructed me to come check on you.”

“Whatever for?” You wonder, clinking the glass against Flip’s, the both of you taking a sip that tickles your tongue.

Abandoning the drinks on the same silver tray from which they came, Flip leads you onto the dance floor, a beautiful marble design that you have always thought looks like a chess board, with its black and white tiling.

The music is quick, a folksy sort of piece that the orchestra happily charms the guests with. It is not easy to talk whilst dancing to this sort of tune, and as such, your curiosity grows as you weave in and out with the other ladies, circling around the standing gentlemen, your feet making quick work of the steps.

On one turn, leaning in close to your ear so that only you might hear, Flip murmurs, “She has spotted the Frenchman.”

At once, you smack his shoulder and roll your eyes, making him scoff in mock-offense. And then, you are off again, dancing and holding hands with the other ladies, who laugh and try to maintain conversations with their own gentlemen.

“Do not tease me.” You threaten him with a playful finger pointed at his chest the moment that you are together again, “No one has seen him, I believe there would be quite the uproar if he were here, and you know it.”

Flip holds onto you as the two of you quickly hop around the dance floor in a large circle with the other pairs, and in all the dizzying movement, you think you see the blur of a man, tall and wide, with long dark hair and a goatee.

Just as quickly as you see him, he is gone, as Flip has whisked you away to the other side of the floor.

Around and around you both go, and each time you skip and dance across the floor you cast a glance to the sidelines, looking for him. Had you truly seen him? Or was it a trick of your imagination? How would your imagination even know what to conjure -- a hopeful manifestation perhaps? You try your best to be subtle, but Flip can tell exactly what you’re doing, and he smirks over your efforts in a way that is going to get him smacked, and he knows it.

“As much as you like to torment me with such jests, I promise that this is the truth.” Flip puts his hands up in surrender, his cigarette held between his teeth with a dramatic plume of smoke as he chuckles on the exhale, continuing, “And as this is my ball, I can ensure that you are the first of the ladies introduced to him... If that is something that you wish.”

“Don’t be daft, Flip, of course it is!” Smacking him again, you draw attention to yourself ever so slightly with the volume of your voice, suddenly growing hot in the face.

Calming yourself, you try to compose your features to the picture perfect definition of neutrality. If the Frenchman were here, this Knight, this Duke, whatever title he would have -- if he were indeed here, perhaps he could see you already, perhaps he was watching to see if you too would fall into the trap of over-sensationalized gossip. Well, you think as you smooth out the front of your ball gown as the music ends, you won’t give him that satisfaction.

“When is he going to make his grand reveal? He’s driving the ton wild with his delayed appearance.” You ask Flip, everyone applauding the orchestra for their wonderful performance.

It was wholly improper, whatever this Frenchman was playing at. If the invitation said to arrive at six, then one arrived at six. Why, it had to be nearing midnight already, a dozen songs come and gone -- and now is when this man decides to show up? You could scoff under your breath at the idea, but Flip would only think you impatient.

“His Grace has a flair for the theatrics, something that I’m sure you will take much amusement in. My wife is sure that he will be announced at any moment.” Flip says.

Almost as if the Duchess could truly predict the future, a bright trumpeted fanfare sounds, grabbing the attention of everyone in the ballroom. A large pair of double doors -- the same double doors which you had entered through -- are opened by a footman on either side, revealing the very man whom you had seen glimpses of during your dance with Flip.

Materializing from nowhere, your good friend the Duchess slides her arm through yours, a pleased smile on her face. You have no time to say anything to her, before she is tugging you through the crowd to the entrance of the ballroom, followed closely by Flip.

“Presenting the Knighted Lord, Sir Jacques LeGris, Duke of Normandy.” The footman announces, and if it were tense before his official announcement, now you were certain that if a pin dropped, all would be able to hear.

There he was, Sir LeGris. Every bit as broad and imposing as the rumors had said. His hair was far longer than any man’s in attendance, neatly brushed and tied in the back with a ribbon. His facial hair was well groomed, which too was a stark contrast from the clean-shaven gentlemen around you. His clothing was more similar than different, the Napoleonic cut of his jacket and trousers not so far removed from the Georgian clothing you were accustomed to.

But more than anything, the only thing that you could truly notice, was his expression, his eyes. They were dark and sinister, a deep set scowl tugging his brows down, lips pressed thinly with the clench of his jaw. You understood the rumors of murders most foul, he was surrounded by an air of intensity. It made the hairs on your arms, on the back of your neck stand up in a most exciting way.

“Your Grace, how good of you to come.” As the host, Flip must begin the introductions, and the moment that he does the entire crowd seems to buzz with an excited energy, hoping that they might be so lucky as to secure a greeting with this mysterious man. “May I present my wife, the Duchess of York.”

The Duchess curtsies deeply, and you wonder how she manages such a feat with her delicate condition the way it is, her gown custom made to accommodate her growing stomach. Had news of Sir LeGris’ arrival not taken over the ton, you were certain that news of the Duke and Duchess’ first child making its debut was to be the talk of the season. And for good reason, their romance had been a fairy-tale.

Flip watches carefully at the way Sir LeGris approaches his wife, watches protectively.

“Exquisite.” Sir LeGris gently takes the Duchess’ hand in his, and presses it to his lips as a sign of respect. She blushes as if she does not know how beautiful she is, which makes you bite back a smile, because of course she does, she simply loves hearing it.

“And a dear friend, Lady (L/N), daughter of the Marquess of Bath.” Flip then gestures to you, although Sir LeGris is already looking in your direction, admiring you.

“It is a pleasure.” You greet him with an elegant curtsy, feeling the very same sense of pride in your appearance.

You of course knew how gorgeous you were, as you had been declared the Incomparable of the season on your debut. Declining four and twenty proposals at your whim, you knew just how desirable you were to the ton. Unfortunately for them, none of the gentlemen in your circle had ever been worthy of your affections, or your attention for that matter. This only left them chomping at the bit ever more fervently as each season went on -- and with the way Sir LeGris is looking at you, you can only imagine the seething jealousy these gentlemen must be feeling.

Especially as Sir LeGris pulls you up to standing, presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles, and doesn’t let go of your hand when he has removed his lips.

“No, the pleasure is mine, truly.” Sir LeGris’ accent is thick, but he is perfectly understandable as he clears his throat, “I have never been to Bath, but I have heard its landscape is unparalleled.”

“I would be honored to accompany you, at your convenience.” You hold yourself with elegance and grace, drawing him in with your charms as you open your fan and air your face for a moment. “There are a great many sights to see, natural wonders of the world.”

“Perhaps you might tell me of some, over the course of a dance.” Sir LeGris does not ask, he simply states, and you find yourself attracted to that level of confidence; one that could only be truly afforded by the likes of a Duke such as himself.

You could refuse him, could make him wait much in the same manner that you made the other gentlemen wait over the course of many seasons. Unlike all the gentlemen here at the ball, LeGris was not a Duke from a long prestigious family; he had been granted the title by Napoleon only within the last five years. Truly, you held a higher standing than he.

“Of course, your Grace.” Despite all that, you find yourself not wanting to make this man wait at all.

Flip leads Sir LeGris down the line of all the other guests of importance, and the moment that you and he are parted, you have this strange sensation in your stomach; one akin to butterflies. How odd.

“Is he not everything you hoped he would be?” The Duchess, Lady Zimmerman grasps your hand and grins with all of her teeth, the picture of sheer excitement. It was unbecoming of a duchess to be so bold, but your friend was young and rich and always more or less got away with what she wanted. Certainly in her own home she could act how she pleased.

“He is very impressive.” You don’t want to be so candid, knowing that he was within earshot. If the rumors of Sir LeGris’ appearance were true, then surely the rumors of his enormous ego were too. He would have every right to an ego, much like you did, much like the Zimmermans did.

“How wonderful would it be for us to both be duchesses! And you in France, oh I have always wanted to spend more time there.” Lady Zimmerman begins chatting away, the way she is so wont to do, “I wonder how they’re getting along with the new government. Can you imagine a monarchy being so toppled? Only to be replaced with an Empire no less! How silly. Though the revolt was rather impressive, if I do say so myself. Puts everything into perspective, doesn’t it? We should do well to avoid a guillotine of our own.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, the Duke might find me utterly intolerable after our first dance.” You shake your head with a fond sort of exasperation at Lady Zimmerman, who merely scoffs and snaps her fan open to punctuate the gesture.

“He could never! No man with eyes could.” She shakes her head, the pearls in her blonde hair clicking together in harmony. “You look radiant and everyone here knows it.”

“For the first ball of the season, how could I possibly look anything less.” You smooth down the front of your dress, a beautiful red ball gown that compliments your skin and hair nicely.

It was a handmade gown, custom to you. You had splurged on the most popular fashion of the times, ironically enough, this meant a French silhouette in the finest of fabrics with all the trimmings. As the daughter of a Marquee you were in a position to afford such luxury. In fact, you were often second only to the Duchess herself, as the laws required. If you were to become a Duchess in your own right, you would have access to even more beautiful things, and the thought does not simply go over your head.

“Do you think that this will be the year you allow someone to court you?” Lady Zimmerman seems to read your expression, and in turn you can see the gears beginning to spin as she continues, “You must tell me, I will be able to arrange everything.”

“We shall see how the evening goes, but if all goes well, then perhaps, yes.” You take a flute of champagne as a servant walks past with a tray, and hum around a sip.

“I will ensure that it does.” Pleased with this news, Lady Zimmerman shoos you away playfully, instructing you to, “Now go mingle, I will send Sir LeGris after you the moment Flip has finished the important introductions.”

It is not a very long wait, and you’re sure that she has something to do with the hastening of LeGris’ arrival, because only a few minutes pass before the Frenchman is standing with his broad shoulders squared and his chin raised high in a display of his build in front of you. The small group of ladies you have been keeping company with in the meantime, all look him up and down, but he only has eyes for you.

“Your Grace, have you come for your dance?” You curtsy. He bows in response, and with his eyes averted in a show of respect, he clears his throat.

“I have, if this song pleases you.” That accent of his is so endearing, you think with a hint of a smile. How otherworldly, so different compared to the stuffy English droll.

“I daresay it does, although I would gladly waltz with you to any piece of music.” You offer him your hand.

The men and ladies around you are jealous, you can practically feel it radiating from them. What fun that brings you, knowing they are all reveling in the delight of your beauty, your status, your charm. Of course LeGris would want to be with you above all else in the ton, and of course you should be with the best of the best -- not that you can let him know that.

“Your flattery is very appreciated.” LeGris’ voice is deep, you can feel it in your chest, the way his baritone rumbles.

“It is not mere flattery, the men here are not very inclined to participate in the slow dances, I believe they grow bored after a while. So it is very refreshing to have a partner who does not give up halfway through.” You check his ego, the words like silver on your tongue, quick and sharp.

“If there is one thing you should know about me, it is that I do not give up on anything.” LeGris stands before you on the dance floor where he had led you, bowing as customary practice for the beginning of a waltz.

You glance over at Lord and Lady Zimmerman who are not too far away on the dance floor, and she winks at you, likely having secured a slow waltz for your benefit. The folk dances were good fun, but too lively and over far too soon. No, a waltz like this would last for nearly half an hour, and with far fewer partner changes; time could be spent being close to LeGris instead of dancing around and away from him.

“Is that so?” Your mind returns to the conversation at hand, as Sir LeGris leads the dance, “I must confess, you have shocked the ton by your arrival today. There are many here who doubted you actually would. May I ask what it is that brought you to our quiet countryside?”

Sir LeGris looks you up and down, his brown eyes sparkling in the low orange glow of the steadily burning candlesticks, such candles that were once full, and now merely flickering pools of wax that would surely go out soon. You cannot tell what his thoughts are, though they are swimming in those eyes of his. He is strangely difficult to read, and you consider yourself a very good judge of character.

“A breath of fresh air.” Eventually he replies softly, his cheeks crinkling into a dimpled smile, one that is gone just as quickly as it had arrived.

What a different it makes, a smile! He could very well have been a different person entirely, his crooked teeth peeking between his lush parted lips.

“I should think you’ll be quite pleased here then.” You respond, for the first time allowing yourself to feel excited by the prospect that he will be in York for the entire season, if not longer.

“As should I.” He grins, before spinning you around, the conversation coming to a pause.

One by one, couples join the waltz now that the Dukes and Duchess have had their first round across the floor. This was always your favorite part, seeing the unity of the guests, the ballroom still rife with energy even so late into the evening. You were a creature who enjoyed the night more than the day, and so balls were far and away your favorite of the functions during the season.

This dance was electrifying, though perhaps one might not notice it if they were not on the dance floor. Something about LeGris’ hand settled on the small of your back, your hand resting on his shoulder, the sheer amount of eye contact! Why you had never looked into the eyes of another man as much as you did during this dance. And what a pair of eyes they were -- deep, soulful, experienced. You wonder where Sir LeGris learned these English dances, wonder how different they are from the ones back home, and if he is as proficient in those as he is now.

Sir LeGris moves surely and with confidence, never once stepping on your feet. It is a shame almost, because you’re having a very hard time finding a fault in him, and that is a dangerous predicament indeed. How ever are you to give him a hard time, if there is nothing to tease? There are of course, things that you could bring up, and perhaps you will just to see how he reacts to the pressure.

But until then, you find yourself wrapped up in his presence. He smells like a dark, woodsy sort of cologne, and he is warm, so warm that you can feel it pressing through his clothing, even through your gloved hand. The way that he stands taller than you makes you feel surrounded by him in the best way, and when the music's over, you can’t help but feel disappointed when he steps back and bows again.

“You are a marvelous dancer, Lady (L/N), would it be terribly uncouth of me to ask for another?” Sir LeGris asks in that accent of his, and you decide to surprise him.

“You may have me all night, if you wish.” Speaking in French, you respond to LeGris in such a manner that does indeed surprise him.

His eyebrows shoot up for a moment, simmering on what you’ve just said to him -- the innuendo that you have let slip.

“I might just take you up on that offer.” He replies in his mother tongue, waiting on the dance floor beside you as the orchestra readies themselves for another long waltz, shuffling about members so that the tired musicians can have a break.

“Are you always this suave, or have I simply awoken something in you?” You ask with a bit of a smirk, wanting him to know that you’re smarter than simply being wooed into submission.

“You certainly have, and more things than just one.” Jacque’s hand trails down the bare skin of your arm, it feels as though you have been electrified.

You can not remember the last time you were touched like this, with reverence. A woman of your age and status had experienced the more...carnal pleasures of life, sure, but this? This sweet caress? That was as foreign to you as this man.

He removes his hand suddenly, dropping it like he has been burned, and for a moment you wonder if your face has betrayed you in some way, giving him an impression that you wanted him to stop.

“What is it?” You ask quickly, quietly, before once again positioning yourself in the beginning pose of the next waltz, the music starting up again.

“Everyone is staring at us.” Sir LeGris continues to speak in French, and you follow his lead, not wanting to be so easily overheard. Knowing more than one language was all but essential for the charming debutantes of the ton, but their ears would not be listening for it here at an English ball.

“Yes, simple minded people tend to get excited over the smallest things. And a Duke is a rather ...large thing indeed.” You reply, your eyes flitting down boldly to glance down at his trousers.

There was one thing, above all else that had prevented you from ever agreeing to a proposal, and that had been in the department of lovemaking. It would seem that much like their brains, the vast majority of the gentlemen of the ton were small; and the gossip from the brothel houses insinuated there was much to be desired indeed.

Marriages were a matter of compromise, yes, but If there was one thing you would not forgo in a marriage, it was your own satisfaction. To know that LeGris had it all, the wealth, status, charm, and possibly the body...well. You begin to wonder how much time is left in the ball so that you might ‘retire’ for the evening.

“Indeed.” LeGris picks up on the hint, and confirms a suspicion that you are glad to hear.

“In fact, your arrival has provided a much needed influx of gossip to keep the nosy mothers busy. The rumors that have been wrapped around you are truly extraordinary, I do believe they’ve outdone themselves this time.” Filing away that piece of information for later on in the evening, you enchant him with a smile, and allow him to spin you round and round on the dance floor.

“I must know one such rumor.” LeGris muses with a curious sparkle in his eye, but you shake your head.

“Oh no I couldn’t, they’re far too vicious for a Duke to hear, you would be offended.”

“Humor me.” He insists, and you purse your lips thinking of one that could easily be laughed off as preposterous.

“There are rumors of a violent duel which took place illegally some weeks ago, that you are fleeing the charges from. There is another that you committed treason against the crown before the rise of Bonaparte, and are in exile. There is another still that you have bedded two dozen women, and half of them carry your children. I find that one to be the most preposterous, for surely you wouldn’t have a title to your name after all the money spent caring for the bastards.”

As expected, LeGris laughs loudly at the allegations, drawing more attention than ever before. Waltzes were a reserved affair, not one for boisterous chortling like what is coming out of LeGris’ strong lungs. This too was unusual, laughter of such kind was deemed low class, but thankfully, most everyone in attendance was too drunk to care. Some women laughed along, not knowing what was so funny, but merely wanting to be included.

“Two dozen women you say? I should be so lucky!” He composes himself with a few parting chuckles, and lets out a sigh.

“Your Grace.” You get his attention with a pointed stare, something relatively difficult to do whilst twirling, and LeGris takes it seriously.

“If you are at all curious, I am not a traitor, nor am I a serial father.” He murmurs with a shake of his head, but his words pique your interest.

“The duel then.” You whisper, feeling a swirling mix of adrenaline and nerves in your stomach, the sensation growing as he hesitates to reply.

It had been the talk of the country, this duel. Rather famous in nature, word of these illegal fights to the death spread far and wide when one was highly publicized the way LeGris’ had been. Something about a woman’s accusations. You knew not if she were telling the truth or if it had all been a ruse, but the outcome meant no one would ever know: LeGris had won, the woman and her husband had died, and now, whether he was fleeing or simply taking a vacation, he was in England.

In England, where such a thing was scandalous beyond repair. You look at Lady Zimmerman, who meets your eye and smiles, hoping that you’re enjoying his company. Your reputation would be tarnished forever in London society...but then again, if you were in France, you would never have to see the ton again. Lord and Lady Zimmerman though, would they come to visit you? Would they risk their reputation for your friendship?

The wistful and loyal look on Lady Zimmerman’s face says yes, they would.

“The duel is true.” LeGris whispers in your ear, capturing your attention yet again as he rushes to say, “But I am not fleeing any charges; the edicts banning fights to the death were burned alongside the monarchy. In fact, the Emperor granted me permission himself, why should he come after me?”

“How shocking.” Your eyebrows raise, for this changes everything! If the Emperor indeed gave his permission, then there was no danger, something that fills you with relief. Still, you look around at the nosy busybodies around you and whisper, “Let us not tell the ton that, for they will surely lose their heads about it.”

“You seem rather level.” LeGris says, lifting you up in time with the waltz as the music swells.

“Yes, but I am far less excitable than some of the simpering young ladies present.” You grin, the swooping feeling of being so easily lifted makes you feel lighter than air.

“I certainly hope that I can excite you at least a small amount, during the course of the evening.” As he says this, he dips you down low, so low that you have to reflexively cling to the lapels of his jacket so that you do not go falling to the floor.

“The night is still young, I’m sure you’ll manage.” Looking into his eyes, you hold your breath.

There is a moment, a split second where you believe he is leaning in to kiss you. It is as if the entire ballroom fades away, leaving none on the dance floor other than yourself and this man. You could pull away -- you should pull away, but you don’t want to. His hands are warm and large as they support you, you imagine them spreading across the bare flesh of your body, imagine the way they would pleasure you...

Gasping ever so subtly, reality comes crashing down around you as the guests applaud the orchestra once more. Sir LeGris notices a shift in your demeanor though, and is good enough to offer, “Shall I fetch us something to drink?”

“Yes please, my most sincere apologies, it’s just...so warm in the ballroom.” You lie, the beating of your pulse thrumming in your ears, as you lick your lips. Parched, you could say, you’re parched, just not for champagne.

“I believe the rain has slowed, let us go onto the balcony where we can cool off?” Sir LeGris asks, but he asks in such a way that you can tell his intentions are not innocent.

The rain has not slowed, not one bit, but that was good, it meant that no one would be outside, no one would be looking for you. Your reputation could withstand much, being so rich and powerful, but it could not withstand being spotted doing what you are so hoping to do.

“I’ll go first, we mustn’t let anyone see. These English-types are prone to propriety.” Whispering, you lead Sir LeGris through the ballroom, as he flags down a servant who has something other than alcohol to drink. You hiss, “It wouldn’t do to be seen together without a chaperone.”

“I understand.” Sir LeGris nods as if you’ve just given him a battle command, and the way he responds makes you wonder how good he must have looked on the battlefield.

Having been to the Zimmermans’ estate many times before on social visits, you knew that there was a back corridor that would lead from the ballroom to the carriage house, built in the event of needing a quick getaway. Such a corridor would be perfect to slip through, leaving the room without the chance of getting rained on.

“You go first, I’ll follow shortly after. That way it’s not suspicious.” You instruct him, and he takes this order well too, at once leaving to ask which way the restroom is, and then promptly getting ‘lost’.

You mill about the floor for a moment or two, wanting to give the drunken guests time to ignore the departure of the famed Frenchman, before you put your glass down on a passing silver tray, and make a round about the ballroom, heading in the opposite direction before circling back. As you do, you meet the eyes of Lady Zimmerman, and for a moment, you think she’s going to disapprove her such debauchery about to take place in her home. But she merely winks again, and turns to Flip and the group of nobility around her, taking all the attention so that you can slip around the corner and down the hall.

Sir LeGris did not get very far down the corridor, before he rounds on you, his mouth pressing against yours with an urgent desperation, pushing you against the stone wall. It is cool against your overheated body, and you welcome him with a hushed gasp, your mouth parting for his to drink you up.

“Not here,” Your senses get the better of you, and you shove his face away from yours, his lips already growing reddish and plump from being kissed. You want to bite at them, to turn them even more ruddy.

“I want you Lady (Y/N) -- ” He growls, with that deep dark baritone of his that makes your stomach flutter again.

“And you’ll have me, but not out in this hall like a whore.” You hiss, ducking out of his grip and walking briskly down the corridor, “You’re going to fuck me somewhere I can lie down.”

He grabs your wrist as he suddenly has an idea, stopping you in your tracks.

“My carriage, let me take you to my carriage.” He says with a great smug grin, “There is more than enough space, you will find it most accommodating.”

“Then make haste, your Grace.” The idea is agreeable, if the carriage is indeed large enough.

With quick feet, Sir LeGris follows your lead through the winding corridor to the carriage house, the pouring rain slamming down against the cobblestone outside. Now and again, you get sprayed with some of the water that bounces off the open window sills -- this truly must be a forgotten part of the estate for the windows to be left open, you think.

Inside the carriage house are a half dozen beautiful coaches. All the guests had been dropped off by their valets, their coaches nestled safely in their own estates, which meant that the coaches here belonged to the Lord and Lady -- aside from one, which was indeed large and beautifully ornamented. Black polished wood with gold gilding in traditionally French floral design, the coach stood proud and tall. You could easily imagine it pulled by a team of stallions, with how impressive it looked.

Sir LeGris wastes little time opening the door for you and giving you a hand to help you inside, where he promptly begins to grasp at your clothes like a wild animal. You make out fervently, his mouth on yours, the both of you gasping and panting against one another as he begins to unclasp hooks.

You find yourself grateful then, that this had not been even ten years earlier, for your layers would have been triple that of what you wear now. As it was, Sir LeGris made quick work of your ball gown, petticoat, and stays, leaving you in your chemise and stockings before abandoning the removal of your clothing for his own.

His jacket comes off with ease, his cravat pulled loose and thrown aside, landing in the pool of garments that your clothing made. His shirt flies over his head revealing a beautifully sculpted chest that your hands immediately are glued to, feeling the thick muscle. He could not pull his trousers all the way down without removing his boots, so he settles for shucking them down as far as they’ll go, and finally, finally pulling his cock out through his drawers, holding it in his hand as if to show you, wanting your approval.

“Large, indeed.” You grin, adrenaline pounding in your ears.

With a wicked smirk, LeGris pushes up your chemise around your hips and presses you down so that you are lying more comfortably among the cushions of the carriage’s interior. It is plush and velvety, much in the same way as his mouth as he kisses your inner thigh, your hands tugging the ribbon free from his hair and tangling your fingers in the tresses.

Moaning at the first touch of his deft and large fingers as they rub and thrust inside you, your legs relax, giving him all he needs to position himself so that the head of his cock nudges against your already wet cunt.

“Oh! Yes, fuck that’s it, right there your Grace.” You sigh, amazed that on the first try he thrusts himself as far into you as he can go, his cock fitting so well, filling you amazingly full. He seems to find that spot inside of you nearly straight away, the spot that makes your hands fly out to brace yourself against the carriage walls, as LeGris drapes himself over your body, mouth seeking yours.

“Jacques, call me Jacques.” Grunting, LeGris -- no, Jacques -- slides his tongue against yours, as he begins a rhythm that is steady, rhythmic, “I beg.”

“That doesn’t sound like begging.” You find the frame of mind to tease him, even as your eyes roll back into your head, his hips picking up speed as his dick grinds deeply into you.

“Perhaps you’ll demonstrate for me then, so I may better do it in the future.” Jacques swallows around a lump in his throat and begins to worry your neck, his goatee scratching your delicate skin there, the sensation sending sparks down to your clit, your thighs already trembling.

You grasp his hair and pull it tightly, trying to guide his mouth away from skin that would show signs of bruising and marks, instead directing those hungry teeth and lips to your chest, where your breasts are practically spilling out of your chemise. Jacques gets the hint and begins to squeeze and knead at your chest, sucking on a nipple that is so overstimulated you accidentally kick the side door of the carriage.

“Yes! Yes -- oh God, that’s good.” Throwing your head back against the cushion, you push your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust, the panting moaning groaning is fogging up the windows, making the carriage steam from the inside, smelling entirely like sex.

“Your pussy is delicious, I could take you like this all night long.” Jacques grunts as he speeds himself up, stamina and strength of an army in the way he holds himself above you, how his voice doesn’t waver even as he fucks you, “Tell me how good it feels.”

“Better than any man I’ve ever had, your cock fills me so well! More!” You slap his back, which makes him shudder and moan, “Faster -- yes!”

He gives you exactly what you desire, your pussy clenching and throbbing as he fucks you hard enough to shake the carriage, the shocks squeaking from the rocking of the coach, and though you know it must be loud, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Do not silence yourself chérie, let them all hear how good I fuck you.” He must read your thoughts, as he grabs your chin with his large palm, forcing your mouth open by sticking two fingers into it and sliding it along your tongue, “They’ll know it’s me, and I’ll be proud of it.”

“Fuck!” You shout, wild and with reckless abandon, your legs spreading, chest heaving, stars beginning to dance in front of your eyes as you moan and shout wantonly, “I’m so close, harder, I’m not a wilting flower Jacques take me harder!”

You yank on his hair again, and he growls out a guttural, “I’m going to come.”

“Don’t you dare pull out -- you’re mine now.” You don’t know what comes over you to be so possessive, but once the words are out, there’s no taking them back.

Jacques reacts beautifully to the sentiment, and he speeds his hips impossibly faster, angling himself just so that he can rub against that spot that makes you cry out with pleasure, and his face pinches as he fucks you fast rough dirty, shaking the carriage, his hand slapping up against the window to hold himself steady, the steam wiping away in the print of his palm as he moans loudly, “Merde!”

You come at the same time, when his hand drops down to rub at your clit, your body jolting from your scalp to your toes with electric pleasure, your eyes rolling back into your head, toes curling, limbs shaking from the sheer thrill of it all as he fucks you through your orgasm.

And then -- he collapses on top of you, breathing heavily, crushing you under the weight of his broad shoulders. His muscles are all flexing, he’s sweat slick and glorious in his utter masculinity. You revel in the feeling, this dreamlike sensation as you float in your mind, sucking down large gulps of steamed breath there in his carriage.

“You are every bit as exciting as I had hoped you’d be.” Jacques begins to hum thoughtfully, a warm finger traveling along your exposed collarbone.

“You thought of me?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you allow a small blip of vulnerability to leak through your confidence, stretching out underneath him like a cat that got the cream.

“For days. In truth, my desire to come to England was to meet you. Lord and Lady Zimmerman speak so highly of you, I had to know if the words were just words. But now I see that they were correct.” Jacques kisses you slowly, presses them into your skin, along your throat, the line of your jaw.

“To know that you hold me in high regard is very humbling, your Grace.” You muse softly, your voice raw from all your passionate exclamations.

“Call me Jacques.” He reminds you, and you grin.

Pushing him across the footwell onto the other cushion that hasn’t been defiled, you fix your chemise and your stockings so they are not so rumpled, and drape yourself across his sweaty chest. He welcomes you happily, that brief dimpled smile returning to his face.

“You’ll have to marry me now, you know.” You announce approps of anything.

Jacques snorts out a laugh, but you shoot him an icy glare, and he rolls his eyes as if to say he is only laughing in jest.

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to give the proposal.” He pointed out, and you shrug.

“I mean to say, I will not be one pearl on your strings of many women. I am the last woman.” You impart the seriousness of your intentions, making it very plain and clear that if the two of you were to become a couple, there would be no extramarital affairs; “The only woman.”

“What if I were to say no?” Jacques wonders aloud, and your answer is all too swift:

“Then I’d kill you.”

Jacques looks at you, and you look at him, each of you leveling the other with an appraisal. You know not what it is he is looking for in you, but you find all the qualities of the man you have been after, in him; strong, quick witted, rich, cultured, mysterious, and above all, passionate.

“We will have quite the life together, Lady (L/N).” Jacques pinches your chin in his thumb and forefinger, and brings you in for a kiss that you happily give to him.

“I expect to be courted, properly courted.” Resting your head back against his chest, you smile freely in the comfort where he can’t see, thrilled at the prospect. Lady (L/N) finally choosing a gentleman, it will surely make for an interesting season.

“Of course.” Jacques takes a deep breath, and you can tell he’s tired. You’re tired too, despite loving the evening time.

“Lady Zimmerman will tell you how it’s done here.” Yawning, you wave your hand around absentmindedly, already knowing how much of a deal your friend is going to make of this. All the excitement could very well put her into labor.

A bell, rings in the distance, and you try in your post-bliss haze to figure out where the hell it’s coming from. It dawns on you, that the carriage house is close to the bell tower, and the bells only ring on the hour. Listening to the count, you put two and two together.

“What was that?” Jacques asks, half asleep in his carriage.

“Midnight.” You let out a small laugh through your nose, and that earns you a peeking glance out of Jacques left eye.

“What is so funny about midnight?”

“Nothing, just that...” You shrug, “Well, it’s the fourteenth.”

“Ah I see.” Jacques says, as if he is thinking about something very difficult, complicated, something that is using up all of his brainpower, before eventually shrugging too in the same manner that you had and saying, “Well then, I suppose there’s only one question left to ask this evening.”

Propping yourself up onto his chest to look at him, you try not to hold your breath when you ask, “Oh? And what might that be?”

“Will you do me the honor of being my Valentine?” He cups your cheek with his calloused palm, and you grin.

Out there, beyond the walls of the coach and the carriage house, down the corridor and around the corner, out on the ballroom floor, you just know Lady Zimmerman can sense a shift in the air, much as all the other guests can. And in the privacy and comfort of your own mind, as Jacques begins to fall asleep and you use his large pec as a pillow, you allow yourself to dream of all the finery you’ll enjoy, when you’re a Duchess.

Jacque puts a hand on your back and holds you close, and you can tell that he’s smiling even in his sleep, because you know that he’s dreaming of it too. A wonderful life together, indeed.

I don't have a taglist as this isn't a character I don't normally write, so I'm tagging some of my Kylo folks. No worries at all if this isn't your taste!

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[oftenderweapons]

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.

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 11:

Gif Credit: @dudeitiskarev

A/N: I told you shit was going to kick tf off! Poor Hotch is not having a good day today.

Warnings: Explicit details of injury, strong language. 

———

“Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant. Usually, when it will have the greatest impact on our lives.” - Nadia Scrieva

———

‘Fitzgerald House’ sits in white letters on an antique black board at the gateway entrance. Hotch turns over the engine and peers over at the notebook in McCall’s hand, squinting at the gated estate in front of him. 

They’re buzzed in by a security guard, and as they drive up, the estate expands. A pillared terrace is framed by dark brick, neatly trimmed shrubs line the circle driveway and encase a grand fountain. Behind it, a set of antique double doors are framed by more huge pillars and blossom trees umbrella the pathway. 

“Are you sure this is the right address, Aaron?” Mccall asks.

He nods. “Fitzgerald House. This is it.”

They step out of the car simultaneously, looking around them, the estate more intimidating up close. There’s something cold about this place, a familiarity he identifies with all too well. 

“This seem like the kind of place a twenty-something lives in?” McCall asks in disbelief. 

Hotch scoffs, air leaving his nose in an exhale. “Senator Fitzgerald’s twenty-something.” 

Hotch is light on his feet, feels as though he’s dirtying the kept tile pathway just by walking on it. Truth is, he’d grown up in a home like this - or spent his summers there at least. He’d felt just as uncomfortable then as he does now. He knows what kind of people are on the other side of those doors, and knows the kind of people that live here. Cold, calculating, drenched in privilege, toxicity and unbearable expectations. 

Borderline abusive. 

He was raised by them. 

He pulls his credentials from his inside pocket and reaches for the doorbell. They take a minute or so and when there’s no answer, he makes a fist and bangs on the door with the side of it. 

“Open up, FBI.” 

A woman finally pulls open one of the double doors, straining almost with the weight of it, the oak creaking. She’s around 40 years old, stands at 5’4 and she’s thin, dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, greying slightly towards her hairline. A black and white apron completes her uniform.

“FBI? Can I help you?” She speaks with an accent, a thick lilt to her words. Eastern European, maybe, Hotch thinks. 

“I’m Agent Hotchner, this is Agent McCall. We’re with the FBI.” They flip their credentials to show the lady, her eyes squint to read the writing on them. “And you are?” 

“I’m the housekeeper. Carolina.” She says. 

“Hello, Carolina. We’re looking for a Jordan Fitzgerald?” Hotch inquires with a smile. 

“Oh.” She stutters and glances behind her, frozen in place. 

“May we come in?”

“Yes, yes, sorry. Please, come in, I think Mr. Fitzgerald is still in bed. Just a second.” 

They step into the foyer of the home, taking in the room - it’s bright and airy, a white marble staircase leading up and off into both directions sits in the middle, framed by a dark bannister. The refined marble floor, and white walls make the both of them feel uncomfortable, uneasy. Tight-lipped family portraits and oil paintings of numerous well to do ancestors line the walls, casting a disapproving eye.

To the right, is a drawing room, where Carolina seats the two men, plush leather sofas are carefully placed in front of a massive window with a view of the front garden. An oversized antique ceramic vase sits in the corner of the room, perfectly polished and buffed.

Hotch swallows uneasily, his eyes scanning the room. 

They both sit tentatively, careful not to scuff the antique rug that lays below them. McCall glances at his watch and mutters to Hotch, taking care to look around so nobody hears him. 

“Bed? It’s noon.” 

Hotch scoffs, raising his eyebrows sarcastically. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, sees some missed calls from Haley that he skips over, shooting off a quick text to you. 

Hey. Good luck with your dad today. 

Talking to you is fast becoming one of the best parts of his day - he feels a little like a teenager again. His phone buzzes and he hopes it’s your name on the screen, he has a spring in his step whenever he’s on duty and he doesn’t have as much trouble waking up in the morning, knowing that you’re waiting for him. 

He’s suddenly ripped from his thoughts when giggles erupt from the top of the stairs, and two sets of footsteps approach. Hotch cranes his head in unison with McCall as a blonde woman with dishevelled blonde hair and smudged eyeliner stumbles down the stairs, shirt buttons done unevenly and skirt askew. 

She carries her shoes in her hands and has a purse tucked under her arm - Hotch concludes that she was probably drunk last night, the effects of which she’s still feeling now if her stumbling is any indication. 

Who he assumes is Jordan, trails behind her with a grin on his face. He’s undressed with only a pair of boxer shorts covering him and a dressing gown that lays open. Hotch and McCall shoot each other a wordless look and Aaron has to fight to stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

Jordan surprisingly has the decency to walk his unnamed friend to the front door, who turns and plants what looks like a messy and unpleasant kiss on his mouth. 

This is Jordan? 

Nice.

He’s tall but still stands a couple of inches shorter than Hotch, he’s broad with brown hair and matching eyes and has a tattoo across his clavicle, which he covers up when he pulls his dressing gown closed. McCall clears his throat when the unnamed friend releases herself from Jordan’s grip and turns to leaves after having Jordan swat her ass crudely. 

Jordan turns his attention then to the agents in his drawing room, padding towards them as they both stand in unison to introduce themselves. He glances at Hotch, eyes narrow, a miniscule flash of recognition appearing on his face. He subconsciously squares his shoulders and stands up a little straighter, gaze falling to the FBI badge Hotch has pinned on his lapel. 

“Mr. Fitzgerald? We’re with the FBI.” McCall tells him with an outstretched hand. 

Jordan takes it warmly, plastering a smile on his face. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

McCall tells him that they’re here in connection with an ongoing case regarding you, to which Jordan has surprisingly little reaction, Hotch notes. 

Instead, he turns his attention to Hotch. “FBI huh?” He places his hands in his hips, an obvious attempt at trying to assert his dominance, and Hotch sees right through him. “Impressive,” he continues. “How old are you anyway, man?” His words drip with sarcasm and do nothing to veil the obvious insecurity he feels. 

He unsuccessfully tries to level with Hotch, subtly tiptoeing. 

Hotch’s jaw clenches as he looks down at Jordan. “24.” 

He repeats Hotch’s words slowly, ignoring McCall - who finds himself frozen in place, uneasy with the almost confrontational atmosphere between his partner and Jordan. 

“Wow. Someone’s ambitious. Got a lot to prove-” he flicks his badge. “Hotchner?” 

Hotch finds the words on the tip of his tongue, wants to chew this asshole out for being a sleazy piece of shit, difficult and lazy. But the thing that really bothers him, the thing that makes Hotch want to give him a black eye, is the fact that at one point, you were his - and his own actions sent you running back into Jordan’s arms. 

That thought makes his stomach drop, because it’s a feeling he’s wholly unfamiliar with. 

Jealousy. 

And he finds that most disconcerting of all. 

He’s used to being able to do his job with a degree of separation and compartmentalisation, to keep his emotions in check - but he finds himself in a predicament now, one that’s becoming alarmingly clear. The lines are blurred and he knows it, no matter how hard he tries to push it down. 

But he tries anyway. 

He takes a deep breath and goes on. “You mind putting some clothes on, bud? We have some questions for you?” His tone is biting, condescension masked with amiability, similar to the way he would speak to a child. He tacks on the ‘Bud’ to purposely get a rise out of Jordan. 

If there’s one thing he learned from his parents growing up, it was how to get under people’s skin with a smile plastered on his face, and he knew people like Jordan. 

He used to be a Jordan.

Jordan steps towards Hotch, his eyes narrow, a slew of expletives on the tip of his tongue no doubt until McCall subtly steps between them. He stops in his tracks, eyes still focused on Hotch standing behind McCall. 

His demeanour changes completely and suddenly, the animosity melting away to make way for his initial warm manner. 

He takes a deep breath and plasters an unnerving smile on his face. 

With a tilt of his head, he says, “I actually have back to back appointments today, may I come into your offices tomorrow?” His cadence sounds eloquent, polite, the way Hotch knows he was probably raised to speak. 

He frowns at the rapid 180. 

McCall subsequently agrees to let Jordan come into the office to keep the peace but Hotch knows better. The only appointments he would have would be with a few lines of coke and a bottle of scotch if his jaw movements and body odour were anything to go by. 

Still, Ben hands him a business card and tells him to come by at around 3pm for a few questions and bids him a quick goodbye. 

Hotch’s phone buzzes on his way out, a message from you telling him that you’re on your way to your father’s with Emily. 

‘Oh and like three MPD officers.’’ You add. ‘One’s new I think? How’s it going with Jordan?’ 

A small smile creeps its way onto his face while his attention is diverted and his eyes are glued to his phone. 

Jordan watches Hotch and McCall walk back down the pathway and into the car. His eyes narrow from the doorway as he gives a cursory glance to the business card he holds between his index and middle finger, and he flicks it onto the ground outside. 

McCall clears his throat once they’re in the car, but Hotch’s attention is still directed at his phone. He clears his throat again, a little louder this time.

Hotch’s eyes dart up as he looks at McCall. “What?” He asks innocently, slipping the phone into the centre console. 

“That who I think it is?” 

“Yeah, I just checked in to see if everything was alright.” He rubs the back of his neck, a dead giveaway gesture to anyone who knew him well enough.  

“Yeah? Then why do you look like that?”

“Like what-”

Without warning, McCall reaches over and pulls down the driver’s seat visor, sliding the mirror cover over. Hotch’s face is flushed, a ghost of a smile on his face, akin to a smug teenager. His guilty reflection stares back at him and stops him in his tracks. He didn’t realise he looked like that when he was thinking about you and he’s alarmed at how transparent he is. 

No, he thinks. So what? It’s warm, it’s even warmer in this car. 

It’s fine.

Still, he sighs, rolls his eyes. “What?” Hotch says, insistent as he turns a little in his seat. 

McCall sighs deeply next to him, hesitant. “Just. Be careful.” He says, head tilting to motion to his phone. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know what I’m talking about, Aaron.” He says, his voice low. “I see the way you look at her. And what about that little display inside? Why were you so confrontational with Fitzgerald?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Oh come on. You gotta be kidding me! You saw the way he was antagonising me-”

“-Yeah and your job is to stay calm no matter what. You’re not supposed to let people get a rise out of you, especially not if you want a place at the BAU one day. Gideon got word of you, he thinks you’re good. Prove him right.”  

He sounds like an older brother lecturing him, but he has a point, Hotch thinks. Why was he so bothered by Jordan? 

He knows why. He doesn’t know how much longer he can deny it.

The feelings he’d tried so hard to bury deep inside were quickly rising to the surface, faster than even he could get a handle on them. Maybe all he could do at this point was to relax his body and let the water carry him - sink or swim. The possibility of what could be, maybe it was too big to keep fighting. 

He has feelings for you. 

He has feelings for you despite the numerous conflicts of interest, despite the moral implications and the danger to your investigation. 

He swallows dryly. 

“You have feelings for her.” McCall says, mirroring his conscience. 

He doesn’t know what to say back, but he certainly can’t bring himself to deny it. He’s not that good of a liar. Yet. 

He just stares back at McCall whose face is etched in concern for his partner. 

He has feelings for you. 

———

It’s dark when you hug your father goodbye. You hadn’t realised just how homesick you’d been for him until you’d visited today, more so now as you’re about to leave. 

You stand in the dreary rain and apologise again for not telling him about the restaurant incident, reassuringly rubbing his hand as you tell him you’re going to be okay. 

“Really, truly.” You tell him over the patter of the rain. “I’m going to be absolutely fine. I have Emily watching over me now.” 

He nods and places a kiss on your forehead. “Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still worry.” He sighs. “Bye, baby.” 

You wave to him one last time, pulling your coat closer to your body before you and Emily drive away, MPD leading the way. You glare at her, watching her avoid your looks. She grips the wheel a little tighter, and keeps glancing in the rear view mirror despite there being nothing there. 

After a minute or so, she grits between her teeth, “What? I can feel you staring at me.” 

“You told Dad?” You hiss. “I specifically told you not to, and you still told him?” 

“I’m sorry! He asked me outright if anything had happened, what was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“Yes!” You squeal. “Yes! You’re supposed to lie if I ask you to!”

“Come on, that’s bullshit and you know it. He deserves to know that you’re okay. Think about it, what if it had been him? You’d wanna know.” 

In your attempts to not worry him, you’d forgotten that you were all he had, too. Maybe he was right for holding on so tight. 

“I am sorry, though. I should’ve let you tell him.” Emily whispers, glancing at you. 

“No.” You shake your head and apologise too. “You were right.” 

“Does he fly out tomorrow?” 

“Uh, no. Tonight. Some trip that’s been scheduled for months,” you reply distracted, watching the officers in front of you. 

The MPD car turns its hazard lights on, signalling to pull over on the side of the quiet road. You peer at the vehicle in front of you, confused, checking with Emily who shrugs. A text from one of the officers reads, 

‘Reports of a disturbance ahead, assessing alternate route.’ 

“Better settle in.” You show Emily the text and relax into your seat a little better now, leaning your head against the headrest and resting your eyes as the heater runs in the background. The rain slows to a drizzle now. 

She unbuckles her seatbelt to turn her seat. “Can I ask you a question?” Emily says after a while. 

“Sure.” You reply, eyes remaining closed. 

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” She whispers.

“Who?” You frown. 

“Hotch.”

You all but jump out of your skin. “What?!” You squeak.

Emily rolls her eyes now, embarrassed that you’re even trying to deny it. “Come on. It’s me. Don’t lie.”

Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words but your cheeks burn. It’s not entirely unexpected, Emily’s always been somewhat of an inner voice, a mirror that holds you accountable but you’d been quietly trying to work out your issues, the feelings you’d been having for Hotch, internally. 

Had you made it that obvious? Had you made yourself look stupid and naive, pining after a guy who was so much older and settled in life? 

“No of course I don’t, where is this coming from?” Your cheeks grow even hotter and you try to keep your voice even. 

She rolls her eyes. “Everyone can see it.”

“See what? There’s nothing to see!” 

You groan and bury your face in your hands in mortification. If everyone could see it, that meant that Hotch could too, he was on his way to being a profiler for God’s sake. He was probably just humouring you, sparing your feelings.

Oh God. 

“I mean the way you look at him?” Emily says.

“-Please stop, this is so embarrassing-” 

“-The way he looks at you?”

You freeze. “What?” You turn to look at her now and you find her smirking. 

“Come on, you’re seriously telling me you haven’t noticed? I noticed the day I met him, so you’re either blind or in denial, and I know you’re not blind. Even McCall knows it.” 

“What? No. He has a girlfriend and he wouldn’t-”

“Yeah that might be true, and I can’t speak to that. But it doesn’t change the way he looks at you. Even the way he held you that day? You don’t hold a friend like that.” 

Your chest feels fuzzy, warmth spreading to your bones, stomach flipping. 

“So?” Emily laughs next to you as she watches your expression. You try your best to stop the smile making its way onto your face. “I’ll take that as a yes,” She pauses. “He does too, y’know?” 

“What?”

“Have feelings for you.” She replies coyly. 

“Shut up.” You reply, rolling your eyes. 

Your smile reaches your ears now, cheeks aching from the strain. Still, you shake your head, and blow her off, instead turning your attention to the other side of the road. You chew on the inside of your lip, mulling over whether to let what you just heard go ignored or if you wanted to act on it. 

You turn back to confide in Emily but before you can, you see her squinting in the rear view mirror. 

“What the hell?” She mutters. You follow her gaze and see a car with beaming headlights, driving towards you, showing no signs of slowing down as it approaches. She sits up straight in her seat suddenly, as the car increases its speed and barrels towards you. 

The colour on her face drains as she fumbles with the gear stick and pedal, panic taking over as she attempts to move out of the way. You both flinch when the MPD car’s tail lights switch on, the engine revving and reversing. 

Both of your faces fall. “Emily...” You pant. 

“Oh God.”

It’s over in a couple of seconds. 

The headlights get closer and brighter, both cars barrelling towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourselves for impact, your hand clasping hers as both cars ram into you, the seatbelt searing the neck of your skin. The airbags pummel your body from the front and side and your insides feel like they're turning upside down. 

Your neck snaps forward with the impact, glass shattering and piercing the skin on your face and arms as the blood pools slowly from your forehead. A high-pitched whine penetrates your skull as you look over to a barely conscious Emily, and then to the side mirror, a dark silhouette approaching the car. Your breathing is rapid, chest rising and falling as you hyperventilate before you finally black out with the taste of metal in your mouth. 

———

Hotch throws his keys haphazardly on to the table that sits next to the front door, loosens his tie and shrugs his blazer off. He finally breathes a sigh of semi-relief, feeling exhausted. He doesn’t bother calling out to the empty space to let Haley know he’s home, instead decides to just make his way upstairs and get a shower before turning in for the night. 

His shirt is unbuttoned and his socks are in his hands when he turns his attention towards the laundry basket in the corner of their bedroom. He goes to throw them in the hamper when he frowns, some stray fabric catching his attention behind the basket. 

Haley strolls into the room then, rubbing lotion into her hands as Hotch moves the basket to get a better view of the fabric behind it. She double takes when her eyes fall to what he’s doing, spotting what he’s reaching for. The colour drains from her face. 

She’s too late. 

Hotch pinches the fabric between his index finger and thumb and inspects it in front of him, frowning, Haley swallows dryly, going lightheaded.

A pair of boxers.

He frowns. They’re not his, but he swears he’s seen some like them before. 

“Hey, where did these-”

He barely gets through the whole sentence before Haley’s face gives her away entirely. Her lips are pursed and she’s breathing hard, wringing her hands. 

His face falls and he blinks at her, stuck in denial. 

Surely not. She couldn’t have- 

She averts her gaze, looking instead at the carpet on the floor, cheeks hot when the boxers are thrown at her feet. She flinches. 

“Explain.” He demands. 

She opens her mouth but no words come, her head hangs in shame.

“How long?” He asks. “How. Long?!” His voice booms.

“It happened when I left for those two weeks.” Her voice barely registers above a whisper. 

Anger bubbles in his chest when he does the math, “You’ve been cheating on me for two months? Two months?! Was that him this morning?” His nostrils are flared and he knows he’s getting louder now, but he doesn’t care. 

She nods. 

“Use your words, was it him?” He hisses. 

She sobs, “Yes.” 

His mind runs rampant with fury and humiliation, he’d spent the last four months trying to make sure he put her first, had tried to balance his personal and work life and instead of meeting him in the middle, she had betrayed him in such a humiliating way. 

He paces the length of their bedroom now, head scrambling at the proverbial slap he’s just received . The cold familiarity of where he’d seen the fabric before suddenly dawns on him, creeping up his spine.

He stops dead in his tracks, turning to face her, asking the question he doesn’t want the answer to. “What’s his name?” He asks evenly. 

“Jordan - Fitzgerald.” 

He’d always thought the phrase, blood turning to ice, was just a saying but when Haley says those two words, he feels as though the floor has been pulled out from under him and his stomach sinks. He tries to piece together all of the moving parts, tries to connect the dots - he knows what this is, but his brain is still playing catch up. 

He’s in a daze when he answers a call from McCall, his voice even. “I’m on my way to you, there’s been an accident.”

“An accident?” That pulls him out of his daze, a cold harsh push back into reality. Haley’s head whips up when she hears the words, tears streaming down her face. “Where?” He asks. 

McCall pauses. “It’s her.” 

Hotch can already feel what’s coming next, dread settling into his bones, his stomach churning when he remembers you’d planned to have dinner with your father. A violent shiver runs down his spine and he swallows down the bile that threatens to spill out. 

“Status?” He whispers.

“Missing.”

———

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[sassycassie-s-writing]

Movie Night, Pillow Fight [Version 2]

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-13/T (maybe pushing M? but there’s still nothing super explicit. this is just a lot dirtier than I usually write holy cannoli. Heavy kissing, a little bit of suggestive dialogue and narration, minor swearing?)

Original Idea: This (V1 follows this idea a lot more than this one, which I spun off of about halfway through and did my own thing)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I didn’t think this would be as long as Version 1. I was wrong. This one is ~200 words longer, at 3,491. Version 1 here. They start the exact same but change about halfway through. I wrote both of these two over the course of 1 day by the way, and refuse to pick a favorite. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“No, Bruce,” Jason said sharply into his phone as he grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “I’ve already told you a hundred times: Tuesdays are my day off. Unless it’s a Court-of-Owls-attacking-All-Hands-On-Deck emergency, I’m not going on patrol. I’m allowed one night off per week. And I have plans. It’s weekly movie night with a friend of mine. We’ve been doing movie night since college and I refuse to disappoint her. You know why I chose Tuesdays? Because Gotham’s crime rate is lowest. You’ll be fine without me.” He hung up before Bruce could reply.

—

I opened the door. “You’re late,” I said.

“Yeah. I had to go to two different stores to find your popcorn because they were out at the first one,” Jason replied, letting himself in and dropping his motorcycle helmet on my couch. “Let me go change into my sweats.” He pulled his grey sweatpants out of his backpack, two microwave popcorn bags falling out.

I grabbed them. “Thanks Jay,” I said playfully.

He gave me a brief hug before stepping past me to my bathroom. “The things I do for you,” he teased with a sigh.

“Get out of those jeans. You know they aren’t allowed,” I retorted before going over to the microwave. My bathroom door shut loudly. I boosted myself onto the counter and watched the popcorn spin in the microwave.

By the time Jason emerged from the bathroom, only one bag was done. He leaned against the counter next to me, arms folded, and joined my staring.

“So what movie did you bring?” I asked. “You said in your text it was one of your favorites.”

He beamed at me. “Well, my friend, we are watching the very first ever made Frankenstein. From nineteen-thirty-one.” He fixed me with a stare as my shoulders slouched. “Don’t you start moaning in complaint. You put me through watching that awful musical last week—”

“Excuse you, Phantom of the Opera is also a classic.”

“It’s basic.”

“You’re basic.”

“Maybe so, but after going through that ordeal, you promised we could watch one of my favorites. I managed not to fall asleep last week, so it’s my turn.” He stuck his tongue out at me, then shook his head. “I really need to refine your taste in theatre. Remind me to convince Bruce to give me his season tickets to the real opera. He never uses them anyway. Doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

Given Bruce’s parents were shot after leaving the opera, I imagined there was some childhood trauma there. I didn’t bring it up with Jason. We didn’t talk about family besides passing comments on movie nights.

When the second bag of popcorn was finished popping and put in its own large bowl—I had quite the collection of popcorn bowls, usually given to me—we went to my room.

Ever since we’d graduated college—two years ago—we’d had movie night in my bed, rather than on the couch, like we’d done in my dorm. The bed was comfier and gave us more room to spread out. I can’t even remember who suggested it, but it was probably me one week when I was sick or something and we’d just stayed that way ever since.

I’d always hosted too. In college it was because my roommate was never there, and now Jason just liked the escape from his family. They didn’t know where I lived, so the one time he hosted and they interrupted by coming over, he and I agreed we’d just have it at my place. I liked his brothers and sister well enough, but they’d ruined that movie night. I doubted Wayne Manor movie nights ever involved any movies no one had seen before—because everyone talked and yelled at each other too much to actually pay attention to the movie.

Jason put the DVD in the player in my room. “Prepare to be wowed,” he said.

“I’m prepared, trust me,” I replied flatly.

—

“Heeey,” Jason’s voice said softly. “Wake up, doofus.”

I blinked my eyes open blearily. “Wha…?”

He started chuckling. “You fell asleep about halfway through.”

“Duh. It was boring. What did you expect for a casual movie fan from this century watching something from nineteen-thirty-one?”

“Well, all that means is that we get to rewatch it—from the beginning—next week!” Jason declared. I frowned. “Don’t you pout at me. Those have been the official movie night rules since our freshman year of college.”

“That’s not true,” I said, pulling out my phone. I dug deep into the Google Docs on my phone for Movie Night Rules from our freshman year of college. Six years was a long way to scroll through, but eventually I found it. I opened the doc and scanned the rules. “Oh, buzz off,” I muttered, poking Jason in the side.

“No poking!” He lurched away. Jason was selectively ticklish. Sometimes I would poke him in the side and he’d jump, other times he wouldn’t even notice I touched him. And he swapped between the two randomly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up like two minutes after I fell asleep?”

Jason pursed his lips, trying not to smile. “I thought about it. But you looked so cute—” He pinched my cheek and I was reminded of the fact that he had the personality traits of an eighty-year-old grandmother. “—with your hair all messy and your cheeks all squished that I just couldn’t.” He laughed as I batted his hand away from my face. I poked him again. “No poking!”

“Then don’t tease.”

“I have a right to tease you. Look at my shirt! You drooled all over it.”

I grabbed the hem of it and pulled it up. “Let me throw it in the wash, then.”

I expected him to smack my hand away and shove the shirt back down over his torso, but to my surprise, he helped me take it off. I’d seen him shirtless too many times to bother staring at his remarkably muscular torso. I just climbed out of my bed and went to the small closet out in the hall that held my tiny washer and dryer. I threw his shirt in the washer, dumped a bit of detergent in, and got it started before going back to my room.

“Take that off! You’ll stretch it out!” I snapped.

Jason struggled to get one of my—much smaller—T-shirts from college off. I scoffed and helped him yank it over his head before throwing one my pajama shirts at him. I wore my dad’s old T-shirts to sleep in, so it was even big on Jason. “You could have just asked for a replacement and I’d have handed you this.”

“That’s not as fun as surprising you,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes and perched back on the bed. “Fine. Next week, we rewatch Frankenstein. I won’t fall asleep. But you’re bringing snacks again.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t forget the popcorn.”

“Doofus, if I forgot the popcorn, you wouldn’t let me through the door.”

I snickered. “True enough.”

Jason leaned over to set his popcorn bowl on the bedside table closest to him. “Maybe next week we should try this on the couch. I always feel bad about getting popcorn on your sheets—and then you won’t be so comfortable that you fall asleep.”

I grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the chest. His expression turned affronted.

“Did you just initiate a pillow fight?” he demanded.

“No,” I retorted. “I got payback for you insulting me.” I whacked him again. “That was me initiating a pillow fight.” I started flinging the pillow at him again and again.

“Hey! Not fair!” Jason protested. “I’m unarmed!”

I ignored him and kept up my pillow smacking.

He laughed. “Well, if you’re going to play dirty, I will too.” He reached out as my pillow hit him again and he wrangled it from me. “A-ha! Look at that! Got your ammo. How does it feel, to be attacked by your own pillow?”

Jason started smacking me with it. I squealed and blocked him as best I could with my arms. We were both laughing as I tried to reach around him to the pillow he’d been using to brace his back against my headboard. He grabbed my wrist with one hand and hit me with the pillow using the other. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not going easy on you just because you’re adorable.”

I laughed as he nearly hit me hard enough to knock me off the bed.

So, I switched tactics.

Getting inside his much longer reach was the hard part. Once I managed to duck around his arms and wrench my wrist free, I started tickling him. Tonight was a ticklish night. He squirmed away from me.

Jason yowled—and I hoped my neighbors weren’t home—in laughter. “Stop it—stop tickling!”

I didn’t. I ran my wiggling fingers up his sides and across his neck. He tried to catch my hands, but I was quick enough to evade him.

For a few moments anyway.

“No. No!” His protests didn’t work on me. “Oh you’re as bad as my brothers. Stop it—stop it.” His voice went firm, all traces of laughter gone. With one quick movement, the pillow we’d attacked each other with was discarded on the floor. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me so I was lying flat in the center of the bed.

Jason straddled my waist, trapping my lower legs with his ankles and pinning both my hands above my head on the mattress. He was breathing hard. We both were.

He smiled. “There. Not so feisty now, are you? Hands pinned above your head, lying beneath me all… helpless.” He chuckled and licked his lower lip, his smile turning both playful and wicked. “I could have… any kind of revenge I want.” He bent his elbows, lowering himself over me. My breathing grew shorter and blood roared in my ears. “I can have any…” He paused, eyes flicking from mine to where my necklace charm had fallen down one side and landed on the mattress. His eyes widened, as if he seemed to just barely realize how close we were. “This is…” His elbows straightened, pushing him higher above me. “I’m… sorry.” He started to gently pick his way off of me. “I’m gonna let you go now.”

He released his grip on my wrists. I rolled them and flexed my hands to get some feeling back into them.

He swung his leg to get off me and used it to step off the bed. “I should go,” he said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll grab my T-shirt next week.” He strode to the door of my bedroom while I sat on the bed, dumbfounded, jaw hanging open.

As he opened the door, I bounded off the bed.

I caught him before he could reach for his stuff on my couch, grabbing his wrist. “What was that about?” I demanded. He refused to turn and look at me.

“Just… let it go,” he said, shaking his head. He tried to pull his wrist out of my hand, but I grabbed it with my other one to hold him in both.

“No! What the hell is going on with you?”

“Leave it alone,” he growled out.

“I can’t! What happened in there that made you shut down? What did I do wrong?”

He whirled. “It’s nothing to do with you. It’s me!”

“Then tell me what it is!” I shouted.

Jason grabbed me by the shoulders, wrenching out of my grip so hard my fingers ached. He spun me around and pinned me by the shoulders against my front door. A muscle worked in his jaw as he clenched it before fixing me with a crystal blue stare. “It’s just… seeing you beneath me—all flushed pink and panting, your eyes hooded and staring up at me… seeing you like that… I just felt myself fall in love with you!”

If he hadn’t pinned me against the door I probably would have fallen over from shock. My mouth definitely fell open. “Jay… I…” I breathed.

Still holding my shoulders, he spun me around so I was away from the front door and moved to shove his jeans into his backpack.

Before he could, I threw reservation to the wind.

I grabbed his shoulders, forced him to turn and face me, moved my hands to the back of his head, and pulled him down to kiss me.

Our mouths crashed together hard enough to make my front teeth ache, but I didn’t care. My heart leapt into my throat and I almost melted as his arms circled my waist, pulling me closer, so our torsos were pressed against each other. My eyelids closed as I sighed. We were both breathing hard, air from our noses warm against each other’s skin. Holding my waist in both arms, he turned and pinned my back against the door again.

“Oh, God…” Jason breathed against my lips. He kissed me again and I moaned. He reached one hand up and tangled it in my hair. He could palm the back of my skull as though it were a basketball. His fingers were warm against my scalp.

When he pulled his lips away from me, I groaned quietly in complaint.

“We—we should not be doing this,” he whispered, shaking his head. The white streak at the front of his hairline flopped back and forth with the movement. I wanted to reach my fingers up and twist that streak between them. But I didn’t.

“Why not?” I replied, just as breathless.

“We’re friends. This isn’t us.”

“You just said that you just barely fell in love with me.”

“I did. But I’m not willing to ruin the good thing we’ve had going on here for six years.” He panted, shoulders heaving up and down, as he reached up and took my hands away from his face, gently dragging them by the wrists. “You’ve been the best friend I’ve been able to keep longer than a year or two. I can’t… I can’t just… this isn’t about what I want.”

“I’m the one who kissed you,” I pointed out. “What does that say about what I want?”

“It’s not just about wants,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Us being together is dangerous? To whom?”

“To you.”

“Why would it be dangerous for me?” I pushed.

He let me go and spun away from me. He looked like he wanted to shout and rage—maybe throw something—but he just clenched his fists and panted.

When he finally turned back to face me, he’d calmed down a little. “It’s dangerous… because… I… oh, Bruce is gonna kill me…” he whispered, shaking his head again. “Because I… am… the Red Hood.”

Two big confessions in one night. I felt a little dizzy and remembered to breathe.

“Red Hood. As in… the vigilante. And… the crime boss.”

“Vigilante, yes. Crime boss days are behind me. I was newly-back-from-the-dead and not in a stable mindset when I became a crime boss.” I decided not to ask about that. He huffed and sat on my coffee table, instead of the sofa, rubbing his temples. “And I wasn’t going to tell you about it, by the way. You’re the only normal friend I have right now. But it’s too dangerous for us to be together. If any of the rogues in this city knew I had someone I cared about as much as I care about—as much as I love you… you would not survive to the end of the year.”

I crossed from the front door to the sofa and sat on the sofa cushion closest to him, setting my hand on his knee. “Jay, I… I’m willing to risk it. To be with you. We just need to be careful—”

“I’m not willing to lose you. I would have been terrified before tonight if someone worse than me caught you. Knew you were just a friend. Now, though? Now, I don’t know what I’d do if you were captured, and that scares me even more. I saw you under me in that bedroom and I saw a future that was good—for the first time in the nine years since I was resurrected—but I can’t let that be my future. For your sake.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from shouting. But I did tighten my grip on his knee hard and snap, “Get over yourself, Todd. You’re not the only one who gets to make this decision.”

“No, but apparently I’m the only one who can see things objectively enough to make the wise decision.”

It was my turn to want to throw something. “Jason. Peter. Todd. I don’t care about the danger. And I know you do. But do you know what it’d do to me, knowing that you love me and I feel the same, but you won’t let me be yours? Do you know what it would do to you? I know what it would do to me. It would eat me up inside day in and day out. I would sit here dying for you, waiting for you to come to your senses and carry me back into that bedroom to stay in there all night. But you never would. And I would just wait. I’d never date anyone else. If I tried, all I’d be doing was wishing they were you.

“You and I are cut from the same cloth. Some people are just born to sacrifice. To give up what they want—what they need—for the sake of other people. It’s the only choice we’re ever given, so it’s the choice we make over and over and over again. Sometimes people will split others into Givers and Takers. Those of us born to sacrifice are a step beyond even Givers. We’re the ones who give up everything for others. I’ve done it with my family my entire life. Everyone else always wanted so strongly that my only option was to give up my own. You’re the same, I see it every time I see you with your brothers.

“Jason, it’s time for us to Take. It’s time to let life give us something. This is the moment to be selfish. To put aside Batman and his zealous crusade for one damn moment and let yourself be happy.” I dug my fingernails into his knee through his sweats. “Be selfish for once, Jason.”

He finally looked up at me, eyes meeting mine. “I can’t,” he said.

I clamped my mouth shut and sighed loudly through them. “Yes, you can. If you’re waiting for my consent, you’ve more than got it. I’m telling you now to give yourself consent to want. To take. Get over this hold out that a double life has on you and—mmph!”

He cut me off by slamming his lips against mine, surging off the coffee table and straddling me on the sofa. I moaned and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me to one side, sitting on the sofa and guiding me to straddle himself. His hands were splayed over my shoulder blades. I twisted his white streak through my fingers. Our breath shuddered in and out of our lungs. I parted my lips slightly and ran the tip of my tongue over the seam of his lips.

They opened immediately and let me in. I sighed out my nose. “Please ruin our friendship,” I breathed into his lips. “This is so much better.”

He snickered out his nose, smiling. “Does your consent to let me want you include me carrying you back into that bedroom and neither of us leaving until dawn?” He nodded toward my room.

My body shivered. Not from cold. Excitement. Electricity.

“Definitely,” I said breathlessly.

His hands slid from my shoulder blades and down to my legs. He held them and stood up. I hooked my ankles around his back, locking my arms’ grip around his neck.

He carried me to my room, kicked the door shut, and laid me gently on the messed-up bedsheets and disarrayed pillows. On all fours above me, my legs around his waist, he kissed me. Gently, at first, but he quickly grew hungry. His hands worked their way under my shirt, callused palms scraping slightly against my skin.

“Still okay with this?” His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Oh yeah,” I breathed, unable to even speak loud enough to be heard from inches away.

He smiled. Wicked delight flickering on his face. “Well, get ready for me to call you mine. Because I am all yours.”

I smiled. “I’m yours, Jason.”

[closedafterdark]

Double Trouble

Kang Hyewon & Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader

11613 words

categories: smut, oral, threesome, mommy kink

Read on AFF

Darkness falls upon another day in Seoul. Today in particular was very stressful: hours wasted being stuck in meetings, signing/organizing piles of papers on your desk that blocked your view of the outside world, and a boss who was seemingly never happy with whatever you did, even if done following their specifications. You were happy to finally be at home in your bed, relaxing.

Just then, a phone on the nightstand dings. The bright screen comes to life showing a new email has been received. You reach for it, easily able to unlock the phone with a simple flick of your thumb.

Good evening Ms. Kang,

Please look over the files I have sent you for tomorrow’s meeting. It is crucial our investors are impressed with the pitch of topics we have planned in order for us to receive bonus funding. You are also in charge of meeting minutes. Get a good night’s rest and I’ll see you in the morning.

Regards,

Kwon Eunbi, IZ*ONE Company Senior Chief of Marketing

You let out a deep sigh. The company you are working for had some major projects lined up, it really was crucial that the investors be impressed with the fiscal year sales pitch. For the past month, you and your coworkers have been pulling almost 12 hour shifts all 5 business days. Everyone in your department was determined to make it a success, but morale was slowly dwindling from the ridiculous workload and high expectations set by Chief Kwon.

"Who is it, babe?” your coworker Kang Hyewon asks you as she releases your saliva covered cock from her mouth with a loud pop. Your eyes momentarily break away from the phone, seeing her stroke you with her delicate hand while sticking her tongue out to give your balls quick, repeated licks. Her tongue running along your scrotum tickled, you had to compose yourself before answering.

“Boss wants you to go over the materials for tomorrow’s big meeting. She says you’re in charge of meeting minutes too”

Hyewon plants more wet kisses on your balls, a thin string of saliva connecting them both whenever she pulled away. She giggles at the sight, slicing through it with her finger before continuing on with her task. Her nose brushes along the base of your shaft while doing so.

“Tell that busty vixen I’m too busy sucking your dick to read her stupid proposals right now” Hyewon finally replies as she strokes your cock. You end up replying to your boss with her phone by using one of the automated responses. Hyewon opens her mouth again once more and engulfs your shaft. You groan, spreading your legs and running your hands through her freshly dyed chestnut hair. Her saliva dripped down onto your silk bedsheets, staining the fresh set you had placed this morning.

Kang Hyewon and you started at the company pretty much at the same time. The application process was fierce: 96 applicants applied for 2 open positions. The two vacant spots were for a 13 member marketing division.  When you both first started, others around you referred to you both as the awkward, quiet new recruits. With time, everyone got to know both of your personalities through company retreats and other personal gatherings. Hyewon became your drinking and karaoke partner, through the combination of sheer dumb luck and your other coworkers pairing off before you had a chance to ask anyone else.

Nowadays, you and Hyewon were no longer rookies. Two years have passed since then. The past few projects have proven to be successful with the general public. The higher ups in corporate are hoping tomorrow’s investor meeting further propels the momentum your division earned and establishes the company as one of the most profitable in Seoul.

Your professional working relationship soon changed one random weeknight last year. Everyone else on your floor had gone home for the night, leaving only you and Hyewon. The cleaning lady was running the vacuum through the carpet, politely asking if you two could leave for a little bit and that it shouldn’t take long. Frustrated and not wanting to be at work any longer, Hyewon goes to you and says it would be best to call it a night. You agree, tiring yourself out only for the workload to increase in the morning wouldn’t produce good results. After wishing the cleaning lady a goodnight, you both get into your car and head to a destination Hyewon inputs in the car’s navigation system. Arriving at the restaurant was the last thing you remember: a blur of grilled meat, soju bombs and clothes flashes through your head until you are woken up by the sun’s rays burning your face, signaling morning has come.

You rub your eyes, wiping off the crust that has built up and place your hand on your head. It was still pounding from the large amounts of alcohol you consumed. You gather what little excuse of strength you have left, only to find yourself being pulled back down. Uncovering your blanket, you discover Hyewon's naked body cuddling you.

"Hyewon, wake up" you say, shaking her shoulder.

"Mmm, it's so early. Let's sleep in babe, it's the weekend" she replies, nuzzling her face on your chest.

Hyewon's eyes immediately open after she realizes what she just said. She screams, covering up her body with the blanket.

And so began your physical relationship with Hyewon. At first it was purely physical, no emotions - just sex. Over time however, something changed between you two. Hyewon would spend the night more and you'd wake up to the delightful smells of her cooking breakfast in her panties and your dress shirts. The two of you would take turns alternating which person's house to stay at. You would also carpool to the company together, with mainly you driving as Hyewon loathed it. This raised a bit of suspicion and gossip from coworkers on your floor as well as the various other departments, but it was honestly more curiosity than being nosy. Hyewon would sneak in kisses with you whenever she could, mainly in the staircases or employee outdoor relaxation area. While you were both strictly professional in the workplace, Hyewon would occasionally have a slip of the tongue and call you babe or oppa when trying to get your attention for something. She would look around to see if anyone noticed, but thankfully everyone would be focused on their work. You would give each other finger hearts discreetly. Sometimes, Hyewon would ask you to look over a file she was about to hand to Chief Kwon. Upon opening it, you find she has placed various colored sticky notes telling you where to meet her. Most of these brief rendezvous would consist of making out or Hyewon satisfying her cravings for your dick.

"Babe, you know I can't say that. Plus that she devil already hates me enough as it is" you reply after the automated message is sent. After closing the email app you smile, seeing Hyewon's home screen background: an adorable selfie of the two of you during an outing to see the cherry blossoms bloom. You were grinning holding the phone while Hyewon kisses you on the cheek.

Hyewon licked your shaft from base to tip, impatient you weren't giving her all of your attention. How she was sucking your tip was different than usual: she usually took her time to lick, suck and lather you with passion but it seemed like she wanted to blow off some steam tonight. You didn't mind, it was a nice change of pace from the usual good girl act she put on at work. Trying to ease her irritation, you grab onto her left cheek and pull it softly.

"Please keep sucking, Hyewon" She giggles at your request and nods.

"I'm telling you, that bitch needs to get some dick. Then she won't be so shrill and high maintenance all the time" She says, kissing your tip with such passion before engulfing you in her mouth once more.

Hyewon was a different person in the bedroom. Sometimes, it felt like she had an insatiable libido. During your first few intimate encounters, she wanted to do it anywhere and everywhere. She would completely drain you. She loved talking dirty and was sassy whenever you brought up work conversations that include other females while she was pleasuring you. A rough pounding was usually all it took for her to forget why she would be annoyed at you.

Seeing that you returned her phone on the nightstand, Hyewon let out a very cute squeal of excitement before spitting on your cock. She generously applied it all over, licking up your precum leaking from your slit. You couldn't contain your moans, the loud volume of it being heard from how good she was making you feel.

"That feels so good" you groaned, both hands gripping Hyewon's head. You let her still be in control, as her tongue made waves on your frenulum. Hyewon's technique and talent for giving head became refined over time. She knew the exact anatomy of your penis, where to suck and lick to get the most pleasure drawn out of you. Hyewon has made you blow your load quickly several times before, but usually relished in the fact that she had full control over you whenever she wanted to tease.

Tonight was definitely one of those nights she wanted you to burst quickly. Probably to prepare you for the rest of the evening. Hyewon loved playing with your tip just as much as she loved deepthroating. It wasn't out of the norm for her to spend long periods of time licking every square inch, she would ask her nail lady to give her a few more inches on her nails so she could scratch your tip and balls to tease you.

"You're not as loud as usual" Hyewon states, releasing you from her mouth with another sexy pop. She gives several long lips along your shaft.

"Sorry Hyewon, I'm just really nervous about tomorrow. Chief Kwon will never let us hear the end of it if things go wrong"

"Awh babe. Don't worry, I'll take extra good care of you" Hyewon's encouraging words betray her naughty actions as she strokes you in an aggressive jackhammer like motion with her hand. Loud squelchy sounds accompanied the action, it always sounded so satisfying to you. "You feel so hard in my hand, but even better inside me”

Hyewon strokes your throbbing shaft several more times before getting up and spreading her legs, holding onto your cock as she aligns it with her lips. You both groan as your tip enters her. Inch by inch enters her agonizingly slow until she is fully impaled on you. No matter how many times you’ve entered her, Hyewon was always painfully tight.

"We have the whole night ahead of us. I'm gonna ride this dick until you empty everything inside me. I won’t be satisfied if I don’t feel sore tomorrow”

The dreaded morning has arrived. You wake up before the alarms, gently removing Hyewon's arm from your body as you got out of bed and went to the balcony. You breathe in the fine dust and sigh, another stressful day awaited you. Turning down Hyewon's invitation to go another round in the shower, you sip on a freshly brewed cup of coffee, scrolling through your phone looking at the day's news.

"What're you looking at?" You turn your head slightly to see Hyewon looking at your phone. Her body was wrapped neatly by a towel, showing off the slightest hint of cleavage. She used another towel to dry off her hair. It took everything in you not to fuck her.

"Just the most beautiful woman in the world" you reply, smiling sweetly at her.

"Ugh, stop babe. You're lucky I like you" she pretends to vomit, giving you a quick kiss on the lips before pushing your face away.

After the early morning rush hour bumper to bumper traffic that also had Hyewon yelling at various drivers loudly even though the windows weren't open, you two finally arrive at the company. The two of you scan your ID tags before approaching the elevator. Hyewon wore a very professional outfit today - different from her usual short skirts and body hugging barely buttoned tops that she preferred. Though she did in fact end up wearing a tight fitting top, she complimented it with a matching pair of red colored slacks and blazer, ending the outfit with white heels. Hyewon twirled her neatly brushed let down chestnut brown hair with her finger as she began telling you an embarrassing story of how she used her friend's iPad as a tablemat for a meal. The elevator finally dings, signaling it has now reached the lobby from whatever floor it was previously at. Upon entering, you find that you had the lift all to yourselves. Pressing the button for the 12th floor, Hyewon tiptoes and gives you a quick kiss as the elevator doors begin to close.

"Wait! Please wait!"

The voice causes you two to break the kiss as you pressed the door open button. A hand squirms its way through similar to a zombie film, startling Hyewon slightly. As the door opens you both see who it belongs to.

“Ms. Kang, Oppa. Ohayo" the woman says in a very obvious Japanese accent.

Miyawaki Sakura, the social butterfly of your department. She was one of three members who were reassigned from the Japanese branch. Hailing from the Kagoshima prefecture, she was instantly popular among the various departments in the company. While most of the initial talk was about how attractive she is, many found her even more appealing since she was an avid gamer. After having a short bob haircut for the longest time, Sakura finally let her hair grow out. As if she needed a reason to be even more beautiful.

You both bow to her.

"I take it you spent the night at oppa's, Ms. Kang?” She asks Hyewon.

"How did you know?" She replies, flustered.

“Well, you have the same tie and bag from yesterday" Sakura says, her eyes looking down at Hyewon's designer handbag.

Sakura was the only person who knew of your relationship with Hyewon after finding out by accident. Hyewon dragged you into what she thought was an empty restroom, not knowing Sakura was in the stall next to yours. After hearing everything you two did, you were greeted by her mischievous grin the moment you opened the stall door. She promised to keep it a secret, granted you send her a video of yourselves for her... research as she called it.

“Oppa, I’m sure you didn’t forget my request?” Sakura cheekily says to you.

“Yes, Sakura. Hyewon and I recorded last night’s session… I still find it weird you want to watch a video of us having sex” you sigh, shaking your head at her.

“It’s two good looking people fucking, what’s not to like?”

Answering your prayers the elevator finally dings, indicating you have finally reached the 12th floor. The three of you get out and enter the main conference room. You’ve grown to hate this place having spent more time here than in your actual home. The bright sunlight from the room’s full sized windows shine through, eliminating the need for the overhead lights to be on.

“Oppa!”

You look around to see the owner of the voice and find Ahn Yujin waving her hand frantically to get your attention. She is one of the youngest members of the department joining at least a year before you and Hyewon. You considered her as a little sister, getting her snacks and drinks to cheer her up or listening whenever she needed to vent. Yujin was extremely positive and energetic, you realized you never saw her without a smile on her face.

“Goodmorning, Yujin. Ready for today’s meeting?” You ask her as she hands you, Sakura and Hyewon each a cup of coffee.

“Of course! We’re gonna crush it” She replies, raising a fist to show she is determined before asking you for a fist bump. You take the open seat next to her while Hyewon and Sakura sit across from you both.

Most people in other departments were jealous that you were the only male in an all female department. Most of them asked if you slept with anyone, even before your unofficial relationship with Hyewon. What they don’t realize is how boring it is to not have another male to talk to. Yes, you do work with attractive women but once they get together and have their girl talk you sit there, unable to follow along.

The door opens once more and two extremely tall men enter the room along with a smaller statured woman. Chief Kwon has finally entered with the investors. Everyone else in the room stands up and bows. Once the men take their places, Chief Kwon sits at the front seat, you and Hyewon on either side of her.

“Let’s get this meeting started, shall we?” Chief Kwon was pure business from the very beginning. Her outfit was similar to what Hyewon would usually wear: a skirt that was a bit too short you thought for the chief of marketing, a black blazer that seemed one size over and a simple tucked in white blouse with black accents. Her hair was tied into a lazily made ponytail. As she leaned over to read the notes on her clipboard, you noticed her breasts were firmly resting on the table. The lanyard of her ID was being pushed forward because of this. Both men and women talked about her body: The men being usual perverts who talked about her tits or ass and how they wanted to sleep with her, the women more so the same but out of envy since many believed it was unreal how Chief Kwon was very fit yet it seemed like no bra could contain her chest.

“Ever since Director Ahn Joonyoung’s rigging scandal to overcharge consumers on the products we sell, our company took a very large hit financially. However, we have been able to win back the general public through community outreach and environmentally friend PSA’s. So far, responses have been good. But we have to do more if we want to secure IZ*ONE’s status as a top company”

As you stare at her chest and wonder how genetics were able to create such a wonderful specimen, Chief Kwon’s next words immediately grab your attention.

“Ms. Kang, why don’t you and your partner explain to everyone what you and your team have come up with” She says sternly.

You and Hyewon slowly stand up, Chief Kwon’s eyes never breaking contact with yours as you both nervously reach the front of the screen. With deep breaths, you click the pointer and begin the presentation.

“As Chief Kwon has mentioned, the company took a major hit when it was revealed to the public that Director Ahn had overcharged consumers and possessed a hidden slush fund he planned on using when moving over to Dreamcatcher Company” you begin. “Our stocks nosedived and we were in the red for several months. But once more information was released, the general response was supportive and empathetic about our situation”

“Ms. Miyawaki’s proposals about community outreach and informative PSA videos were essential in turning public perception around. Although the company was losing a lot of money, donating our time to help the less fortunate and raising awareness to certain topics made us appear more human to consumers” Hyewon continues.

“It’s safe to say we should continue with community service and the PSA videos. They’ve proven to be effective and by continuing it, we won’t been seen as having done it just to earn sympathy. Which brings us to our the future of IZ*ONE company”

Throughout the meeting, Chief Kwon’s expression remains the same: blank. She taps her pen on the clipboard, seemingly unimpressed with whatever you and Hyewon were saying. The investors on the other hand, gave you both their undivided attention. They occasionally whisper to one other during the presentation.

The presentation finally ends after what feels like a year. Upon reaching the end, everyone claps at you and Hyewon. Everyone, except Chief Kwon. She was the first to leave the room immediately after the presentation ends. You and Hyewon give each other a warm smile, relief washing over the two of you. After the two of you exchange pleasantries with the investors, you see Sakura and Yujin approaching.

“Unnie, oppa that was amazing! The investors were so impressed with you two!” Yujin beams.

“Goodjob, oppa” Sakura says as she fist bumps you. “As expected of the department couple"

Hyewon hits Sakura on the shoulder playfully, blushing slightly.

"Why don't the four of us get lunch? I want to try the new cafe that opened up" Yujin jumps up and down in excitement.

As everyone files out of the room for lunch, you softly grab onto Hyewon's wrist.

"Why don't you guys go ahead? I need to talk to Ms. Kang about something, alone" you say.

"Oh I get it... a "personal" talk. Have fun, you two" Sakura says as she winks at you both. "Make sure you don't pull out" she whispers in your ear. Your body shivers at her words.

"What are they going to talk about?" Yujin curiously asks as Sakura links arms with her and they leave the room.

Now only you and Hyewon remained. She approaches the closed door and locks it.

"Babe, we have to be quick. The room's going to be used again in an hour" Hyewon says as she approaches you, unbuttoning her blouse.

"Stop, Hyewon. That wasn't a code for sex, I really do want to talk to you alone" you reply, removing her hands from your chest.

Ms. Kang, your hair is so pretty today

"Oh... What did you say? You have my attention" Hyewon's tone reflects the mood in the room, serious. She grabs your hand and you both sit where she and Sakura were during the meeting.

"There's something that's been on my mind for awhile now. What exactly are we? Are we dating or not? Am I your boyfriend?" You manage to say, nervousness heard in your voice.

"So many questions at once. Why the sudden interest though? You've never brought it up before" she says as she takes your hand in hers.

"What we have going is great. It's just... I need to know. Where you and I stand, what exactly is all this. I can't let this continue until we address things. What am I to you?"

"Babe" Hyewon replies, rubbing your hand gently with her thumb. "I'll admit, after the first time we slept together I wanted to keep things casual. We'd be each other's booty call and nothing more. After a few months though, I began to miss you. Whenever I came home from work, I realized I had no one to go home to. You were always so sweet whenever you stayed over, cleaning the apartment or taking care of me even though we were both so tired from work. Usually, you and I would have sex and then one of us would leave the other's place after it was over. But that one time I told you I was too tired to go home, I was lying. I wanted to cuddle with you and experience how it feels to spend time with the person you love"

Hyewon places her other hand on yours before continuing. "Luckily that week I would be spending four days at your place. Since we hadn't started carpooling together, I was able to have overnight bags in the trunk. I kinda didn't ask for your permission if I could leave things in your house. Sorry about that by the way. Anyways, after awhile I had enough stuff in your house that it felt like we were living together. You got used to me staying over and cooking you breakfast. I know I'm not the greatest cook, but I'm thankful you pretended to like it for me. That time I got to spend the whole week at your place was amazing. Even if several of the days consisted of us being lazy and spending the entire day in bed, I felt truly in love. What I'm trying to say is, I never really brought up asking if we were official because to me, we are. You've always been my boyfriend. My drooling, stinky butt boyfriend. I love you" Hyewon poured her heart out. You were unable to say anything, choosing instead to pull her into a hug.

"I love you too my 4D princess"

Hyewon hits your shoulder softly as she tiptoes to give you a kiss. You lean down and smile at her, puffing her cheeks together as she pouts. You both laugh as you exit the conference room.

"Hopefully the others are still having lunch. I'm starving" Hyewon says as you two are approaching the elevator.

"Oppa! Unnie! There you guys are!" You feel a tap on your shoulder as you see a young girl smiling when you both turn around.

"Hi, Wonyoung. You're back from lunch so early! What's up?" You reply.

"Chief Kwon said she wants to see you in her office"

"Did she say why?" You asked.

"Nope. You know how she is, she just asked me where you were and that she wants you to report to her office as soon as possible"

You sigh heavily, rubbing the back of your head.

"Have a good lunch with the girls. Tell them something came up when they ask where I am" you say to Hyewon.

She nods, squeezing your hand as the elevator doors open. "Be careful" she says, nodding to you and Wonyoung before the doors close. You give her a somewhat reassuring smile to calm her nerves. The last thing she sees is Wonyoung asking you how the both of you are doing.

You knock timidly on the large black doors.

“Come in”

Chief Kwon’s office was large enough that a person would be able to live in it. As you approach the black couches near the door, you see her hard at work, reviewing a stack of files on her desk. Her office was very minimalistic, with only the most essential office items and her various awards hanging on the walls. Her table proved to be an even better support for her breasts, the image of them still in your mind from this morning’s meeting.

“Do you know why I called you in here?”

“N-no, boss. I’m afraid I don’t”

“You see, it’s time for our annual mid year evaluation. To see if the work you do facilitates the need to implement increases in pay grades” Chief Kwon says. “And I plan on doing a thorough evaluation on you”

“I’m sorry?”

“Have a girlfriend? Wife?”

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question to ask me at work, boss” you reply.

“Kim Minji. 26 years old. Born in Daejeon. Current President of Dreamcatcher Company” Chief Kwon says as she brings her clipboard and begins reading off it. She sits on the sofa across you and continues.

“Son Seungwan. Also 26 years old. Director of SM Entertainment’s Red Velvet Division. An old flame of yours from your days in Canada, first girlfriend I’m assuming? After graduating college and returning to Korea you would eventually date one of her company’s singers”

“That being Miss Kim Yerim.  21 years old. Seoul born. You both gradually became distant due to work. Your nickname for her was Squirtle. Most people believed it was because her face is cute and she resembled the Pokemon, but the main reason was she was quite the squirter in the bedroom. More of an open relationship this time, you would have brief sexual encounters with Bae Joohyun and Kim Hyunyi”

What kind of background check is this thorough? Chief Kwon is insane!

“Shin Jiwon. 24 years old. Born in Bundanggu, Seongnam. I must say, it’s impressive how you manage to upgrade girlfriends each time. That is some body she has on her. I’ll make a note of it to reach out to her company and see if she’d be interested in being the model for our lingerie line”

“Ma’am is there a reason why you just recited my entire dating history out loud? Better yet, how do you know about some of those things?”

“Last but not least, Kang Hyewon. 21 years old. Born in Yangsan. IZ*ONE Company Marketing Team Leader and your current girlfriend” Chief Kwon says, her face mere inches from yours. Your face has begun to turn red from the close proximity.

“Do you want to know why you’re the only male in this department? It’s because I made it that way. When going through the list of potential employees, yours was approved by the entire selection committee. But ultimately, I have final say. So, I did some research on you. And the results were astounding”

“It’s not surprising that you and that slut Kang Hyewon got together. Again, I was behind everything. I hired you two together. During our team dinners and company outings, I made sure to pair off everyone so you two would have no choice but to be partners. Who ended up having to do the most work and be the last two to leave work? That’s right, you and Hyewon”

“You are crazy”

“What?” She replies, briefly caught off guard.

“I said you are crazy. There is no way anyone can be that much of a psycho to pull off something like that. For everything to happen in that specific list of sequences…”

“Trust me, it’s real. And I’m not just talking about my breasts. Speaking of which, I see you ogling over them and my ass whenever I walk by your desk. I bet you’ve thought about what it would be like to fuck me. Sorry to say, I’m not an easy girl like Hyewon is” she says, blowing a gentle puff of air into your face.

Turning around with loud clicks of her heels, Chief Kwon slowly removes her blazer. Her blouse did a poor job of hiding the outline of her bra. She turns around once more and looks at you, a mischievous smirk on her face as she gently begins to unbutton her shirt.

“I bet you’ve fantasized about how my big, soft tits would feel in your hand. Or putting your hard cock in between them” Her voice oozing seduction with every word. You were getting turned on at the sight of each button being undone.

"How-how did you find out about Hyewon and I?" You ask, your erection beginning to grow from the sight of Chief Kwon teasing you.

"Chaeyeon saw you two having sex in the conference room. You really should lock the door before doing such inappropriate acts in the workplace" she replies, going to her own door and locking it. "Like so"

“Chief Kwon…”

“Shh” Chief Kwon puts her index finger on your lips. She kicks off her heels and straddles your lap.

“When we are alone you will either address me as Eunbi or mommy. Understood?” Her breaths began getting heavier.

“Yes, I understand”

“Yes what?”

Yes, I understand. Mommy”

“That’s a good boy. Now be a dear and help mommy remove this blouse”

You oblige, nervously grabbing onto the her blouse and removing it from her skirt. Eunbi had already removed the first two buttons, giving you a view of her perfect cleavage. You were salivating at the thought of tasting her breasts. Her purple silk bra was not enough to contain them, practically spilling out. While unbuttoning the third button, your hand gently brushes against her breast. She giggles while you look away in embarrassment. All it took was Eunbi sitting on your lap to make you forget you were mad at her for her very personal background check on you. You eventually managed to unbutton her blouse, Eunbi forming a T pose with her arms as you remove the blouse. She grabs it from you and tosses it to another side of the room.

“Holy shit” you exclaim as her breasts are now in full view. They were even bigger now that her blouse was off.

“Like what you see, baby?” Eunbi asks.

“Yes mommy, they’re wonderful” you reply, instantly fondling her right breast. She moans in response. You begin to plant a trail of soft pecks down to her collarbone.

“I know what you’re thinking. I just told you I’m not easy like Hyewon is. But the truth is, I love dick. My last boyfriend called me a sex freak from how often I wanted to do it. You may have heard of him, he’s the younger brother of Lia from Itzy. I planned on sleeping with you first, but that whore Hyewon beat me”

You wrapped your arms around Eunbi until you are able to unhook her bra. In one swift motion, her breasts are finally exposed. You resume your kisses from her collarbone, doing your best to make sure every square inch of her chest was kissed.

Eunbi removes your shirt and tie, licking her lips at the sight of your now exposed chest. She reaches down and slowly unbuckles your belt, taking it off before removing the button and zipper on your slacks. You kick your shoes off, doing the impossible task of removing your socks with just your feet. Eunbi hovers above you slightly to lower your slacks to your ankles. She was now sitting on your thighs, grabbing onto your boxers and reaching inside.

“Tell me, baby. What have you thought about doing to my body?” Eunbi asks, gliding her thumb across your cheek while her other hand begins to stroke you. “Choose your words carefully”

You never were good at expressing yourself. All the women you’ve been with were the ones to express their feelings for you first. And almost all of them involved alcohol induced one night stands that developed into a relationship.

“I thought about spending days in bed with you having slow, passionate sex” you reply, sticking a finger inside her already wet crotch. Eunbi moans once again, squatting temporarily so that she could remove your boxers and slacks before removing the last remaining article of clothing on either of your bodies: her panties.

You lay down fully on the couch as Eunbi’s body is on top of yours. She cups your face, her warm delicate hands giving you a sense of relief. Her gentle breaths cause a tickling sensation on your lips, the aroma of cool mint lingering in the air. She grabs onto her ponytail and removes the scrunchie holding onto it, her voluminous hair covering you both as she silently pushed her body against yours, grinding both of your crotches together.

“Have you and Hyewon… been using protection?”

“No” you reply. “Hyewon hates condoms and I prefer to have raw sex anyways”

Eunbi’s mouth quivers as she wants to moan again, feeling your erection on her butt. She licks her lips before speaking again.

“Good. I hate condoms too, if I’m going to get fucked, I want to feel all of it in me. Bonus points if we get to cum simultaneously”

“So you just want a boy toy?” You asked, lightly brushing your lips against hers.

“It looks that way doesn’t it? I do want a boyfriend, but with how the company’s been lately, there’s not enough time to be dating. Casual sex makes things easier”

Eunbi brings you in for another light kiss, using this to her advantage to switch your positions so that you were now on top of her. She wraps her legs around your hips, pulling you closer to her.

“Is Hyewon prettier than I am?” She whispers quietly.

“You’re the prettiest, Mommy” You say into her ear.

“Ah~” she weakly says as you kiss her a bit harder this time, gently sucking on her neck.

“She’s so lucky… getting to feel these big, heavy balls unload inside her constantly” Eunbi’s hand made her way down, cupping your sack as you tease her.

You both look at each other face-to-face, her eyes carrying all of the emotions she has been harboring. She wrapped you around her body, you were powerless but at the same time embraced by her warmth. Perhaps it was because she was a bit more emotional than Hyewon. Eunbi’s body was on par with Jiwon’s as both were in the top two of sexual partner’s you’ve seen naked.

While she was patiently waiting for you to answer, you chose to instead smile at her. You kissed her slowly, sensually. Your tongues brushed against each other as she resumed grinding both of you together.

“Now, it’s mommy’s turn” you said, pressing your forehead against hers as your breaths started to become more shallow. You slowly began to run your fingers from her chest down to her stomach.

Eunbi moaned softly as your hand went down further and inserted a finger inside her. “Are you just going to tease mommy?” She asks in a serious tone.

“No” you reply, planting a kiss on her lips. “If you really want to do this, I’ll help you”

“Baby…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re crazy… wanting to fuck your boss in the workplace”

“It’s not like I haven’t had sex in the workplace before. Plus who wouldn’t, with a body like yours” you said, fixing a strand of her that fell over her beautiful face before kissing her again.

Eunbi deepened the kiss, soft little moans could be heard escaping her mouth as she placed her hand on top of yours which was at her core. She held onto another finger and inserted it.

“Mommy is so wet” you said after briefly disconnecting your mouths from each other.

“You made me this way. Do you know how wet I got reviewing the footage of you fucking that slut?” She said while breathing heavily. “I was so turned on, imagining it was me in that position instead of her”

You used your fingers and gave several, short shallow strokes as you spread her wetness in a circular motion. Her body reacted by slightly arching upwards. You smile at her, pecking her lips and continuing to move your fingers back and forth.

“Are you sure you won’t regret this?” You asked her.

“I could never. Mommy gets what mommy wants, and right now mommy wants you to fuck her” she replied as her walls began sucking your fingers in. You continued to finger her slowly, rubbing the bottom of her clit with your palm. Eunbi moaned louder as she managed to find your cock and began to stroke it.

“You’re so hard for mommy” she says, squirming as your fingers moved in and out repeatedly. Eunbi was beginning to struggle to keep her eyes open.

“There’s one thing I do regret though” you say to her.

“What is it?” She asked, rubbing her thumb along your tip.

“W-what do you regret, baby?” She pleaded as you finally remove your fingers from inside her. The cool air from the air conditioner hitting the surface of your skin which was now coated with her juices.

“I get turned on when a woman takes control” you whispered, putting your fingers into your mouth.

Eunbi moaned quietly, immediately grabbing hold of your body and turning you around, pushing you roughly into the couch. You were briefly surprised by her abruptness, but even more turned on knowing what was about to happen. Her lips collided with yours violently, sucking on almost every part of your mouth. Her gaze changed, she looked like a rabid predator feasting its eyes on their prey. You thought she was about to rip you apart with how focused she was.

Her body hovered above yours as she was still on top of you, her thighs cradling the sides of your hips. You were trapped in her spell, and Eunbi knew this. The sweet smell of her strawberry lotion was causing you to go crazy. Her stare was dangerously seductive, piercing your soul with invisible daggers.

“This will feel good… for both of us” she said. Your hands make their way down to her hips, sliding underneath her as you squeeze her butt, causing her to yelp.

Eunbi stroked your cock several more times before lining it up with her pussy. She slowly lowers herself, slipping your cock inside her. She moaned heavily, as she sunk herself gradually deeper.

“Fuck…” you both say.

“That feels so good, mommy” you said once your cock is fully inside Eunbi.

“Ahh… it feels so good baby”

Her warm walls squeezed you tightly as she held onto your chest, slowly rocking her body back and forth.

“Your pussy feels amazing, mommy” you said, watching as her breasts bounced hypnotically, jiggling each time she went down your shaft.

“Do you like them?” She moaned, closing her eyes. “Do you like watching my tits bounce as I ride you?”

“I love them, I want to play with them everyday”

“Babe!” She giggled, hitting your chest softly. “If you fuck me every night, they’re all yours” she said, swallowing hard.

You were quite happy having Hyewon as your girlfriend, but the thought of being able to fuck Eunbi everyday turned you on even more. You began to fuck Eunbi harder, thrusting upward. She screamed loudly, spreading her legs wider as you tried your best to go inside her as deep as you could go.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder, baby!” She cried repeatedly.

You grabbed her hands and removed them from your chest, intertwining her fingers with yours as you returned control of her riding you.

“You feel so much tighter than Hyewon, mommy”

Eunbi removes her hands from yours as she places them back on your chest, fucking you faster than before, moaning incoherent words.

“Oops” you were trying to tease her, but Eunbi impaling herself on your cock was proving to be too much. “Is mommy upset I mentioned Hyewon’s name?”

She ignores you as the sounds of your pelvis hitting her ass filled up the room. It was strangely satisfying, her loud moans mixed with the all too familiar squelching sounds of intercourse.

“You’re riding me so rough, mommy. Is that all I have to do to turn you on? Mention my own girlfriend’s name?”

“Shut up” she said, slapping your face.

"Oh my god-"

You roughly held onto her hips, embracing the feeling of being inside her. She dipped her head back, anticipating what was next.

Just then the phone on Eunbi's desk rings, causing both of you to stop and look at it. You pout at her as she giggles, pecking you on the lips before getting off. You both moan, immediately missing the feeling of being inside her.

She composed herself, regulating her breathing before answering.

"Yes?"

"Boss, Ms. Kang has just returned from her lunch. Should I send her in?"

“Right away, please” Eunbi replies, still a bit out of breath.

She removes her finger from the buzzer and looks back at you with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Hyewon’s coming here? I have to leave!” You exclaim, quickly getting up and looking for your scattered clothes on the ground.

“You’re not going anywhere. I still haven’t made you cum” Eunbi growls, her voice laced with anger.

“But boss-“

A slap across the face is what greets you. “I told you to call me mommy when we are alone”

Eunbi kneels down and you tilt your head back as you feel her lips wrapping themselves around your cock. She moaned as she took all of you in her mouth.

“M-mommy, please” you groaned. “That feels so good… so, so good…”

She continued sucking your cock furiously, gripping onto your thighs for support while her tongue was twirling around your shaft. You could feel yourself reaching your limit. The orgasm was building inside you, ready to explode at any moment.

“I’m going to cum soon, mommy” you say to her, running your fingers delicately through her hair.

“Cum in my mouth” was all she says to you.

“It’s c-coming. I can’t hold it” you moaned loudly as she jerked you off roughly while wrapping her lips once more onto your cock.

You both fail to hear the door being opened.

“You wanted to see me, boss-“

Your vision went blurry. All you could see and feel was Eunbi sucking the cum out of you as you exploded into her mouth with long pulses, each sending an indescribable sensation that could be felt from your head to your toes.

“Oh my god…” you weakly blurt out, feeling like Eunbi just took your life force.

You held onto her head, bobbing it several more times. She opened her mouth and showed your creamy white present for her. With a twinkle in her eyes, she tilted her head upwards slightly and swallowed it all in two gulps, opening her mouth up once more to show you nothing was left. She licked up every possible remaining drop.

“That was hot, right?” She asked you as she stroked your cock several more times. “I told you casual sex makes everything easier”

“Oppa?”

You froze, knowing all too well whose voice it belonged to. Timidly, you turn around and find Hyewon looking at you both in shock.

“Hi love, I was just taking your dear boyfriend here out for a test run” Eunbi says to her with a warm smile. You don’t know how she could be so brazen after what you two just did.

“Is this true oppa?” Hyewon’s words making you feel guilty about what you have just done.

“Hyewon, I-“

“Unnie, you promised you’d stay away from him! This isn’t the first time you’ve taken a man away from me”

Not the first time? You wonder.

“Oh please, that manwhore you used to date just wanted to get his dick wet. He didn’t even fuck good” Eunbi replies.

“How was she, oppa?” Hyewon asks.

“What?”

“How was Eunbi unnie? Was she better than I am?”

Both pairs of eyes are now looking at you.

“Well, there’s only one way to settle this” Eunbi chimes in. “Both of us are going to have sex with him”

“What?” “Unnie!”

“What? One of the conditions you requested was there be a man in our department. I hired one and did everything in my power to make sure you two would end up together. Although I wanted to sleep with him first…” Eunbi trails off.

“Is this true, babe? You want us to have a threesome with our boss?” You asked Hyewon, her face turning a strawberry shade of red as she hides behind your naked body.

“Your girlfriend is not as innocent as she looks…”

You kiss Hyewon softly on the lips, the sweet taste of cake still lingering on her skin.

“Wait, why are you kissing her?” Eunbi pulls you away from Hyewon, smacking her butt while doing so.

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?”

“She was my girlfriend before you” Eunbi replies as she strips off all of Hyewon’s clothing, leaving her in only a matching set of black bra and panties. She reaches inside Hyewon’s panties and gently rubs her clit, causing her to moan immediately. “See how wet she is for me?”

Hyewon shook her head at you. “Baby… I’m not…”

“Tsk, tsk. You know better than to lie to your sweet boyfriend. I’m going to prove to him how much of a slut you are…” she replied, kissing Hyewon sweetly from her neck to her shoulder.

“I-I’m not… ahh”

“You keep saying you aren’t and yet here you are, dripping wet. Slut”

“S-stop, please. I really like him unnie”

Eunbi smirks at you and lets go of her hold on Hyewon, pushing her back to you.

“Wonyoung, please clear my schedule for the whole day. A client of ours wants to discuss something important and it seems like it’ll take up a lot of my time” Eunbi says.

“Yes, boss”

Eunbi looks up and smiles, seeing you and Hyewon crash your lips into each other. Hyewon was grabbing onto your face fiercely, pulling you into her as if she was trying to suck your soul away.

“I love you, babe. I love you so, so much, you know that right?” She whimpers weakly to you.

“Are you two going to keep sucking faces or are we going to fuck?” Eunbi says in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Let’s show her how good you fuck me” Hyewon says, pecking you on the lips once more.

You go back to the couch and lay down. Eunbi helps Hyewon remove her bra and panties before they go to the couch and pounce on you.

Eunbi’s lips reconnect with yours. The ever so subtle taste of mint was still in her mouth, even after swallowing your cum. Her lips were less plump than Hyewon’s. The pink lip gloss she had freshly applied before the meeting was now on your cock, though you had to admit you enjoyed her thinner, slightly firmer lips. You had lusted after your boss for so long and now here she was, seemingly throwing herself at you.

Hyewon on the other hand, snuck underneath you both and was now between your legs. “Babe, you’re so fucking hard… You’re so hard for Eunbi unnie”

“N-no, I’m hard for you” you said, breaking free from Eunbi’s lips momentarily.

Hyewon smiled and slowly started to stroke you.

“It’s okay honey, you don’t have to lie. I would be hard for unnie too. Look at her body”

“Are you not going to touch mommy? Hyewon has you everyday, you can touch her whenever you want” Eunbi said, a hint of desperation and jealousy in her voice.

“Ugh, you’re doing the whole mommy thing again? Unnie, not every guy has a mommy kink” Hyewon said as she spit on your cock.

“Kwon Eunbi is my mommy”

Both of them stop what they are doing and stare at you. Eunbi was very pleased to hear this, while Hyewon was continuing to stroke you with a confused look on her face.

“Well then let me show you how your mommy likes to be touched” Hyewon gets up and tilts Eunbi’s head capturing her lips from behind. She grabs a handful of her tits, causing Eunbi to moan in Hyewon’s mouth. With her other hand, she gently caresses her back until she reaches Eunbi’s butt and squeezing it.

“Now it’s your turn” Hyewon said, winking at you as she sits on one side of the couch observing the both of you.

Eunbi looked at you with such a seductive gaze, biting her lips at the thought of being touched by you.

“Come on, baby” she said, guiding your hand to her breast. “Show your girlfriend how much you appreciate mommy’s body”

You squeeze both of her breasts, flicking her sensitive nipples before grabbing onto her hips. You part Eunbi’s legs, kissing her inner thighs before carefully making your way towards the center. Eunbi was beginning to leak from how aroused you were making her.

“I’m so wet right now…” she moans, holding onto your hair.

You hold onto her thighs for support as you gently swirl your tongue up and down the creases of her thighs. You finally make your way to her crotch after being satisfied teasing her, pressing your face against it and feeling the warmth of her lips. Eunbi holds onto your hair and pushes you into her pussy roughly. You inhaled her sweet, intoxicating aroma.

“Mommy smells so good” you breathe onto her.

You rub the outline of her pussy with your tongue, feeling the folds of her lips. You pucker your lips over her clit, kissing it sensually.

“Ahh…”

You continue kissing her pussy. Eunbi became needier, gripping onto your hair roughly. “Oh my god, baby…” she opens her legs wider and starts grinding her pussy against your mouth in a circular motion.

“I can’t let unnie have all the fun” Hyewon said, not wanting Eunbi to show her up in front of her own boyfriend.

“Hyewon, his mouth feels so good” Eunbi moaned above you, continuing to rub her pussy lips back and forth. If you were to die right now from eating Eunbi’s pussy, well that would be one of the best ways to go out you thought to yourself.

“Fuck…” you moaned due to your mouth being stuffed.

Your body was starting to go numb, lightheaded from pleasure coursing through your body as you soon realize that while Eunbi was riding your face, Hyewon’s mouth was tugging on your cock below.

“Touch me” Eunbi moaned, grabbing both of your hands and forcing them onto her ridiculously soft breasts.

“And you called me the slut” Hyewon said in a not too loud whisper, jerking you.

“What can I say, we have good taste in men”

“We?”

“Yes, we. He may be your boyfriend but he wouldn’t have been if I didn’t hire him. He deserves to be my boyfriend just as much as yours”

“Holy shit, he feels so good…” Eunbi exclaims as she guides your hands on her breasts. “He really knows how to use his mouth”

You continued to lick and suck her folds, savoring the unique taste of a pussy that wasn’t Hyewon’s. Eunbi squirmed above you, moaning loudly without any real substance. Eventually her body tired out, dropping all of her weight on your face. Her pussy began overflowing in your mouth.

“Mmm… mmm…” she cried, holding onto the sofa for support. You regretfully remove your hands from her tits and place them back onto her waist, slurping up her delicious juices, occasionally blowing cold air into her pussy lips.

“Why does this feel so good” she moaned.

“You’re such a slut, unnie. Suffocating my boyfriend with your used pussy” Hyewon said to her after releasing your saliva covered shaft from her mouth.

“You’re one to talk! I’m not the one who fucked four guys in the restroom”

“I only fucked two of them! The other two came in my mouth when I was giving head”

Eunbi finally removes herself from your face, giving you a rather aggressive kiss as a thank you for pleasing her. She goes next to Hyewon and pulls her in, making Hyewon taste her juices. The two of them then use their tongues as they being sliding up and down your length repeatedly. Both of them giggle while making eye contact with you.

Eunbi and Hyewon formed a tag team, taking turns sucking your cock while the other would suck your balls and vice versa. Them doing so at the same time allowed you to observe the differences: while Eunbi was rough and messy, Hyewon was sensual and soft.

“He would’ve cum by now, especially since it’s now two mouths pleasuring him” Hyewon whined.

“He came in my mouth when you first entered, remember? What can I say, mommy has that effect on people. You should know, you’ve eaten mommy out several times” Eunbi replied. “ Although I will say I’ve never swallowed that much cum before”

Your eyes were closed at this point but you immediately knew who it was when you felt a pair of lips sucking you faster and faster - Eunbi. You reached down and managed to find her head, gripping onto it as you pushed her down. Eunbi loved you ravaging her mouth, gargling on your cock inside her throat while Hyewon was sucking on your balls, gently.

The two of them orally assaulting you was proving to be too much, you could feel yourself ready to burst.

“He’s about to cum” Hyewon said as she released her suction grip on your balls. “You better not swallow this load”

Eunbi’s body was already tense, she began rubbing her clit in excitement. “I can feel my own orgasm too”

Hyewon tries removing Eunbi from your cock but it becomes futile as your orgasm finally arrives. You push Eunbi’s head down as you thrust upwards. This triggers Eunbi’s own orgasm, her love nectar spilling all over the sofa.

“Unnie you selfish whore! You’ve swallowed his cum twice now!”

“And his loads were yummy. Thanks for making mommy feel good, baby” Eunbi says to you as she kisses your cock.

Hyewon sulked and turned around, her back facing you and Eunbi.

“Babe, are you mad?” You asked her.

Hyewon ignored you and sighed deeply, getting up and looking for her clothes. You got up and grabbed onto her wrist gently.

“Babe…”

“Let go of me” she replied, pushing you away from her.

“Awh, is my little kwangbae sad mommy swallowed her boyfriend’s load?” Eunbi teased from behind. “Don’t mind her, baby. She’s always mad whenever she tells you to do something and you don’t listen. I never mind it though, she’s hot when she’s mad”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I heard you say she shouldn’t swallow my load. But her blowjob was so good…”

“So she sucks your dick better than I do?” Hyewon replies.

“What I meant to say was-“

“Calm down you whore. Just because you’re good at fucking doesn’t mean you’re good at everything. That’s now two of your boyfriends who said I give better head”

“Psh, whatever. Just cause your tits can engulf his dick better than mine can”

“Show mommy how your boyfriend likes to get fucked, Kwangbae. I’ll put these big tits to good use and smother him”

Hyewon’s head dipped backwards slightly as Eunbi inserted her fingers into her pussy. “Look at how wet you are for mommy”

“Mommy, ah- please”

Eunbi began sliding her fingers inside rather aggressively as she took Hyewon’s mouth into her own. “You’re pretending to be mad at us and yet you’re practically soaked. Stop being petty that you’re not the best at giving blowjobs. Just cause I can use my mouth better and get your boyfriend off when I suck his cock doesn’t automatically mean I’m a better fuck. Even though I am”

“Ahh… shut up, unnie”

“You whore. Are you wet at me touching you? Or the thought of knowing your boyfriend likes when I suck his dick”

“Baby, make this whore’s ego feel better and fuck her please? Show her just how much of a slut she is while she eats my pussy”

You pull on Hyewon’s folds gently, brushing the surface of it with your tongue across her clit at a slow, agonizing pace. She moans, wanting to push your face into her.

You get up and kneel behind her, doing your best to clear your thoughts as you position yourself. You push the head of your cock in, Hyewon was so drenched that you had no difficulty slipping inside her.

“Babe, your pussy is squeezing my cock so hard” You said, smacking her ass.

“Ahhh!” Hyewon moaned.

You began to pump her deep, her walls painfully continuing their death grip on your cock. Her pussy sucked you in like she was using her mouth instead. You wondered how it was possible to be even tighter than usual. Was it because you were both sharing the experience with someone else? After several thrusts, you got used to her walls and were able to effortlessly move inside, burying your cock inside her warm cavern.

“Oh god…” Eunbi moaned loudly as Hyewon’s face was now buried in her pussy. Eunbi spread her legs apart widely, moaning from Hyewon tongefucking her clit. She grabbed onto the wonderful chestnut brown hair, pushing her face deeper.

You held onto Hyewon’s ass, fondling it for several seconds as you watch it jiggle back and forth with each smack of your hand. Her butt was smaller than Eunbi’s but that didn’t bother you at all. You wanted to taste Eunbi again, but Hyewon’s tight pussy wrapping around your cock was too good to pull out of. Small streams of her juices began to leak out, staining both of your thighs and dripping onto your balls with each thrust. Hyewon continued to stifle out muffled moans as you increased the frequency of each slap on her ass.

“Fuck that slutty pussy, baby” Eunbi yelled. “Show this whore how you felt when mommy rode you”

“Stop talking” you reply to her “You’re both whores who need to be punished”

“Then prove it, baby. Prove to us why we’re whores for your cock. Show us why we don’t need any other man”

You thrust into Hyewon several more times before finally pulling out. Hyewon removes her face from Eunbi’s pussy, looking back at you and pouting. You pay no attention to her and flip Eunbi’s body over. You are now greeted with both women on all fours in front of you.

You take Eunbi’s words of advice and bury your cock inside her. You go on alternating between the two, both women screaming in pleasure as you fuck both of them.

“Just admit you like fucking mommy’s pussy, baby. I told you you’d get to fuck me every night if you do” Eunbi yelled, her voice shaking from how roughly you were thrusting into her.

You pay no attention to her as you fuck each woman from behind. You were a sweaty mess from how long you and Eunbi had been going at it, the air conditioner was useless at cooling the steamy environment in her office. While you were able to observe the difference in their blowjob techniques earlier, now you made notes of their bodies. Hyewon’s body and pussy were tighter, her ass and tits were noticeably smaller than Eunbi’s. Where Eunbi was lacking in having a tight pussy, she more than made up for with her chest and meaty thighs, visually pleasing to the eye. There was just something about Eunbi’s body that made you prefer it more than Hyewon’s. You thought about being able to fuck Eunbi every single day for the rest of your life, never pulling out and planting your seed inside her body.

“I take it you chose mommy instead of this whore?” Eunbi asked after a high pitched scream.

“Shut the fuck up, slut. Just take the pounding and be quiet!” Hyewon cried, her voice cracking slightly.

“Mommy wasn’t asking you!” Eunbi replied, kissing Hyewon roughly.

You continued thrusting into Eunbi fast and hard, causing her to scream in such a loud volume that it echoed throughout the office. Hopefully no one is nearby to hear.

“Answer me!” Eunbi yelled, squeezing her tits as she continued to moan.

“Don’t! Just cum inside one of us and that’ll be your-ah-answer!” Hyewon moaned while gripping onto the sofa.

“You just want him to cum inside you, whore! Baby, you better cum inside mommy. Who knows how many loads of yours have already been inside her!”

You were currently inside Hyewon, slowly removing yourself from her in order to enter Eunbi once more. Hyewon pushed her body backwards onto your cock. “No! Don’t fuck that slut yet, keep fucking me”

“You bitch!” Eunbi yelled as she squeezed Hyewon’s tits so hard my body reacted to it.

You really wanted to pull out and cum inside Eunbi, but listened to your girlfriend and kept going.

“Fuck! That feels so good… so good…”

“Whore” Eunbi snarled.

You spanked Eunbi as hard as you could, immediately pulling out of Hyewon and entering her. She was surprised by the sudden intrusion as you continued slapping her ass.

“Stop calling my girlfriend a whore, you slut” You growled.

“Bab-“

You slapped her ass again. And then slapped it again.

“Your whore pussy feels so good” you yelled.

“Baby!” Hyewon and Eunbi yell at the same time.

You grabbed onto Eunbi’s hair, yanking it roughly as you continue fucking her from behind. Your other hand fondles her tits as they clap from your violent thrusts. Hyewon got up and began rubbing Eunbi’s clit, her hands occasionally brushing against the underside of your cock. A symphony of screams and moans rang through your ears as Eunbi’s orgasm arrived: her walls constricting your cock as she groaned through the pleasure.

Hyewon captured Eunbi’s lips, both of them moaning in each other’s mouths as their tongues fought for control over the other.

It was too late to announce that your orgasm arrived, but Eunbi knew. She felt your cock swell inside her as you released your seed. You throbbed, thrusting several times as what little cum you had left was deposited into Eunbi.

Hyewon breaks the kiss and removes Eunbi from your body. All three of you are breathing heavily. Eunbi’s breasts rose up as she struggled to catch her breath, her body drenched in sweat.

“Babe” Hyewon asked, crawling upwards before laying down next to you. “Did you cum inside her?”

“Yeah” you replied, giving her a kiss. “Are you mad?”

“Of course not. I could never be mad at you. I’m glad you did, she’s been stressed for awhile” she said, giving you a sweet smile before pulling you in for another kiss.

“That was so crazy” You replied, still trying to catch your breath. “Who knew threesomes could be so intense”

“Don’t get too used to it, baby. You are my boyfriend after all. But I will allow you to fuck Eunbi unnie whenever you or her want” Hyewon laughed.

You kiss her one more time as her fingers wrapped themselves around your cock, trying to get you back to full erection. You both hear a noise and look over to see that Eunbi has fallen asleep, exhausted from the activities that just took place.

“I have to get back to work. But keep fucking her brains out when she wakes up”

A young woman is walking home after an extremely long day at her company. The alleyway to her apartment was dimly lit, the overhead light burned out a few weeks ago and the city has yet to come by and fix it. As she approaches the front lobby, a bag is draped over her head as three men grab her and toss her into an unmarked van, driving away.

A new morning has arrived and you are heading to the elevator as Hyewon clings onto your arm. You hold onto her coffee as she fixes her bow before giving you a kiss. When the elevator finally reaches your floor, you’re immediately greeted by Sakura’s mischievous smirk. Word spread quickly about your afternoon meeting with Chief Kwon and Hyewon. Everyone else in the room had the same expression as Sakura, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment and Hyewon hiding behind you. Eunbi enters and quickly captures your lips in front of everyone. She pulls away and does the same to Hyewon.

“I trust you both are well rested after yesterday’s… meeting?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, we are… mommy” you replied into her ear.

She laughs as she hits your chest playfully.

“Oppa, there’s a letter addressed to you” Wonyoung said.

“Who’s it from?”

“No clue. Just that it was shipped priority”

“I wonder where Yujin is, she’s never late to work you” thought to yourself.

The three of you reach your desk and find the mysterious letter. It was a plain white envelope, only containing IZ*ONE Company’s address and that it be delivered to the only male in the marketing division, that being you.

You open it and examine the letter.

If you want to see Ahn Yujin alive again come to the abandoned tower across town tonight. Alone. If you call the police, she dies. If anyone else comes besides you, she dies.

Your hands shake while holding the piece of paper. Hyewon and Eunbi’s eyes widen as they read the letter. The rest of your coworkers have worried expressions on their faces from seeing how the three of you reacted.

“What do we do?” Hyewon asks.

“Get a hold of the police. Hurry!” Eunbi yells.

Everyone quickly gathers around Hyewon and Eunbi as they read the letter. The peaceful morning a few minutes ago has now become chaotic. You try to compose yourself, your hands shaking even more with each press of the button.

Come on, come on. You mutter to yourself.

After three agonizingly long rings, the call connects.

“Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, Starship Precinct. This is Kim Jiyeon, how may I help you?”

[sweetjekyll]

Leave Your Pretty Dress On — KJI/Kai

pairing: Kim Jongin x Reader

genre: smut, one-shot, established relationship, Mafia AU inspired but it’s entirely smut without plot rating: 18+ . IF you are not of legal adult age, please do not under any circumstances read this work as it is not meant for underage readers. warnings: shameless smut, porn without plot (it could have the tiniest allusion to what could be a mafia au plot if you squint very hard), explicit sexual content, slight choking kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!!), degradation kink, pet names, implied consumption of alcohol, drunk sex, consensual. (Please read carefully the warning tags in the masterlist and those at the beginning of each work to avoid any unpleasant misunderstandings.) count: 1.8k

Requested by anonymous: keyword “undress” + sentence “If we both stick to the story, they can’t prove anything.” from this writing game post.

Masterlist

A/N: to the anon who sent just the keyword and the dialogue, I hope you enjoy this surprise member very much! I couldn’t help myself when you told me to have fun with these two combos. I’ve never ever written smut like this before, so this is quite a step for me in terms of writing sexually explicit content. I edited this pic too, there’s just something so powerful about Jongin’s eyes here that makes me go crazy oof

To my dear readers: feedback is highly encouraged and important! as it gives me motivation to write with more passion, knowing that you like what you are reading. My askbox is always open for questions or to chat ❤

Enjoy! ❤

His breath was ragged and fanning hungrily over that sweet spot below your left ear, you could smell the scent of refined wine as Jongin covered your skin with dark love bites. Both of you were in such an inebriated state after a full bottle, yet your brain could still picture the deep burgundy color of the nectar you consumed, filling your flaring nostrils as you too struggled for a deep breath, shameless moans were rolling off your tongue while his whole body was pressed against your back.

“Jongin,” you drawled his name with such desperation in your voice it made his eyes snap open immediately and focus on your hazed expression. Your back arched as you further pressed your bottom to his hardened manhood, constricted by his tight clothes. His left hand quickly moved from your hip and he brought it up to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him over your shoulder.

There it was: that look of utter devotion and unadulterated lust in your dilated pupils, illuminated by the lamp on his work-desk as he further pressed your legs against it, slightly parting them with his knees despite the skirt of your silk cocktail dress restraining your movements. His devilish smirk graced his face once more as Jongin attacked your parted lips with a sloppy kiss, uncaring of the way the once rich color of your rouge lipstick was smeared and faded around the corners of you mouth.

“My gorgeous goddess,” he mused in a deep, sultry tone after your swollen lips parted. “I’m so close… So close to taking everything that is rightfully mine.” Jongin purred in your ear as he rubbed his aching erection against your clothed ass, earning a delighted gasp from you.

“I don’t want them to take you away from me…” You softly confessed your worries to him, but he kissed your cheek reassuringly. He did it so lovingly that you almost forgot in your inebriated mind how much you wanted Jongin to just bend you over the desk and finally fuck you into oblivion.

“No one’s going to take me away from you.” Jongin felt a slight ache in his chest, almost as if something was about to melt in his ribcage, knowing you loved him despite all the cruel things he was capable of as a man with too much money and power in his hands. “If we both stick to the story, they can’t prove anything.”

A cunning smile finally graced that beautiful face of yours and you kissed him with such hunger and passion that your attention immediately shifted onto one thing only before you got lost in your drunken thoughts again. “Make love to me, but fuck me like a whore.”

“I’ll give you anything you wish for, Baby Doll.” The deep chocolate of Jongin’s eyes appeared to catch on fire under the only light illuminating the home studio, his golden skin was starting to glisten with sweat from anticipation of what he was about to do. He finally let go of your jaw and, with his right hand pressed against the exposed skin of your back, he pushed your chest towards the surface of the desk and then did quick work of hiking up the skirt of the dress. You whined as he barely grazed your butt cheeks with his slender fingers, goosebumps making you shiver in sweet yearning for him to just touch you where you most needed him. A loud smack echoed in the room along with a surprised moan from your lips, your body jolted forward on the desk while your hands gripped the edges of the desk. “I have barely touched you and you’re already a mess, Y/N.” Jongin chuckled as he massaged your right butt cheek to soothe away the sting caused by the palm of his hand. “How bad do you want me, sweetheart?” He asked you as he pressed his clothed hips to you once again and gave you other butt cheek the same treatment her twin received. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip when you whimpered, meanwhile Jongin reached up with his hands to get rid of the blazer of his suit and undid the tie around his neck, both discarded on the floor behind him.

“So bad, baby…” You whined while trying to get any sort of friction by rubbing your ass up and down his crotch. Jongin thrived off your need and desire for him, you knew that so well that you took as much pleasure in making him feel needed and special like no other man had ever been to you. Jongin loved being dominant in bed with you and you gladly fed his ego when you weren’t teasing him back like a spoiled brat, because you would rather die than give yourself like that to any other man who wasn’t him. “I want you so bad right now… I want you to grab my hair and fuck me like a bitch in heat.”

Jongin laughed softly in satisfaction and felt himself throb in his trousers, his body was desperate to finally be inside of you, yet he took his time working on undoing his belt, so torturously slow, until he finally pushed down the layers of fabrics which then pooled around his feet. His erection slapped against your skin making you look back at him over your shoulder, patiently waiting as his fingers hooked around the soaked fabric of your lingerie and pulled it to the side.

Your eyes met as he aligned himself with your dripping entrance and you held onto your breath. “God, I love it when you know exactly what you want me to do with you.” Your brain didn’t have enough time to elaborate his words, because as soon as he said that, he eased himself inside of you and took a fistful of your hair, making you look forward while your body arched painful against the flat surface of the desk. With a long, drawn out moan mixed with incomprehensible curses and chants of Jongin’s name rolling off your tongue, he immediately set a harsh pace as he pounded into you mercilessly, just like you asked. Your core was so slick and wet that your body immediately adjusted to his gifted size, your walls were clenching and constricting around his length he wasn’t sure he could hold on for much longer, not when he was still affected by the wine you had both consumed earlier.

He slowed his harsh thrusts until he came to a halt still buried deep inside of you. Sweat glazed your back and his face while both of your breathings were labored, but you still forced yourself to speak— no, beg. “Please, please baby don’t stop!”

Jongin found adorable the way you cried out for him to give you more. “Turn around, Baby Doll,” he instructed you as he bent to kiss between your shoulder blades, then you found yourself empty of his girth. You weren’t sure if you would be able to turn around on your heels as your knees were wobbling out of pleasure coursing through your veins, but Jongin’s hands never left your body as he helped you sit on the desk and then hastily made you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You’re still too clothed for my liking.” You growled as you slid your fingers between the two layers of fabric of his shirt and tore it open; the buttons that once used to hold the piece of clothing together bounced off the surface of the desk and onto the floor, rolling away as your hands roamed your lover’s body without a care for anything else but him.

Jongin slid the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders and down your arms, revealing your breasts to the cool air of the room. You shivered under his intense gaze but his attention was diverted to one of your perky nipples, which he took between his plump lips and licked with so much care that your head lulled back and your eyes closed, moaning soft praised and asking for more.

You bucked your hips and urged him to fill you up once again and he complied, leaving wet kisses and dark marks on your chest and neck until he reached your lips, kissing you with such fierceness you forgot how to breathe... or maybe it was he fact that his lips had been replaced by one of his hands, squeezing ever so softly as he fucked you on top of his desk like an animal in heat, raw and desperate for a sweet release.

“Such a good girl.” Jongin panted against your bruised lips, feeling you clench around him, chasing your high yet you hadn’t even touched yourself yet. “Are you going to cum on my cock and make a mess?” He whispered against your ear, nibbling on it just above your diamond earring.

“Y-Yes...” You stuttered out a breathless reply. “Yes, I’m so close—“ You met his lustful eyes once again and he placed his forehead against yours, completely focused on only you and nothing else.

“Then come for me, you little slut,” Jongin growled as he slowed down slightly just to push your back down against the hard surface of the desk, then he hooked his arms under your knees and resumed his pace from a new angle. “Scream my name so loud that even the guards outside of the house know exactly the only man you belong to.”

More curses followed from your pretty lips; there you were half undressed on a wooden desk as the love of your life made you feel so good and wanted like nobody else did. You slipped your fingers between your thighs and rubbed circles against your wet bundle of nerves, until you felt the knot tighten in your belly and then came the sweet release that rocked your body. You were chanting Jongin’s name like a mantra while your walls clenched around him, a devilish smile graced his sculpted face as he watched you unravel in his arms. Fast paced thrusts became sloppier as he helped you ride out your high, but he still hit all the way inside you with loud smacks. You were so beautiful in your fucked out state that he couldn’t help himself from spilling all of his juices inside you with a deep groan of your name, both your moans mixing like a sinful melody.

Jongin bent forward while keeping still inside of you, satisfied smiles on your hazy expressions and you snaked your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer for a chaste kiss, as if you weren’t screaming profanities just moment before and begged him to go harder and faster. “You should wear this pretty dress more often,” he whispered against your lips as he ran his hands down your body, latching his fingers around the silk of your dress wrapped around your abdomen. “It drives me crazy.”

[dontshootmespence]

Shattered Breaths

Summary: After running into two alphas in the middle of the night, you, an Omega, find yourself falling for the elder Winchester brother, but for reasons unspoken, neither of you will act on it.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 6,312

Warnings: Angst. Lots of angst. Mutual pining. Two morons that won’t admit their feelings for one another. Canon compliant death. ABO dynamics. Smut. P in v with knotting and claiming. Some cockwarming. Some quick and dirty oral sex both ways if you squint. All very desperate.

A/N: For those of you 18 and over! This fulfills my omegaverse square for @spnkinkbingo. There’s a TON of build up and it all goes in order from around the beginning of season 7 to after Dean returns from Purgatory.

Beta’d by: The always lovely @stusbunker​. Cannot thank you enough! <3

Blood pulsed quickly through your veins as you ran through the desolate forest, low growls from behind pushing you forward at breakneck speed despite the fact that your muscles were on fire. So tired. You were so tired of this.

Moonlight streamed through the trees, lighting a sliver of a path between them that you took without hesitation. Each thud of your feet against the cold ground sent shockwaves through your body, muscles threatening to tear themselves from your bones. 

As the growling got closer, you felt a shiver run up your spine and prayed to anyone that was listening to give you a reprieve. Trees surrounded you, light barely hitting your sweat-slick skin through the canopy overhead. 

After locking yourself inside for days on end, you ventured outside to feel the sun on your skin. You knew you could be tracked by alphas, especially during your heat, but after days spent underground in an abandoned house, you’d been desperate - and sloppy. 

Glancing behind you, you saw a glint of the alpha werewolves’ eyes and pushed your body as hard as you were physically able, running straight into the arms of a tall, well-built man. “Where is it?” He asked, his hands wrapping around your wrists to steady you. 

“Them, there’s two of them!” You whispered.

“Stay between me and my brother.” Turning around, you saw an even taller man with his gun drawn and sandwiched yourselves between them. 

For a moment, the forest stood still, breath catching in the air as your eyes darted all around. Seemingly out of nowhere, one of the alphas that had been chasing you swiped at the taller of the two brothers, knocking him down and leaving you vulnerable. Turning, you saw the man you’d run into get tackled to the ground by the other alpha.

A gunshot went off, piercing the werewolf in the heart before it collapsed on top of the shorter brother. Quickly, both of you turned your attention to the other man, who was still pinned to the ground, fighting off swipe after swipe of the werewolf’s piercing claws. 

Before you could run to help him, the other man rushed past you, screaming his brother’s name.“Sam!” 

But the moment he made contact with the werewolf, the unnamed man was thrown backward into a tree.

These men had stopped to help you. You couldn’t turn away now. As your fangs descended, a chest-deep growl emanated from within you, talking the alpha off guard long enough for you to get him away from Sam. 

“Now you stand and fight? You stupid, omega bitch.” 

He pinned you up against a tree and ran his nose up the side of your neck, inhaling your scent. You felt your claws extend from your fingertips but before you could do anything the unidentified man called for him. “Hey!”

The minute the werewolf’s attention was diverted, the man fired a shot that landed directly between your assailant’s eyes. 

When he fell to the floor, you heard Sam call for his brother, Dean, who immediately ran toward him to make sure he was okay. Both had a few nicks and bruises, but they would survive. As soon as they assured the other was safe, their attention turned to you. 

“Stay away!” You growled, more for their benefit than yours. “I need a minute.”

They both held their hands up and tried to impress upon you that they weren’t about to hurt you. They’d stopped to help and put themselves in great danger to do so, so you trusted them, but you didn’t trust yourself. Whenever you let yourself tap into the feral side of yourself, you needed time to come down.

“You’re pretty tough for an omega,” Dean said, injecting a little levity into his voice. 

Eyes closed, you took deep breaths and noted the lightness in his tone. 

“When you’ve been on your own since you presented at 16, you kind of have no other choice.” With each breath, you managed to slow your heart rate and finally felt your claws retract. “You’re hunters.”

Sam nodded and stepped forward, catching you as your shaky legs gave way underneath you. “We are. You okay?”

“I will be. Thank you, Sam. Dean, thank you.”

The brothers guided you out of the forest and toward their car. “Nice ride,” you said, impressed. 

“This is my Baby,” Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed, opening the door for you. “Can we give you a ride somewhere?”

“We’re definitely giving you a ride somewhere,” Dean echoed. “I’m not about to leave an in-heat Omega out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.”

“Much appreciated, boys. But I’ve got nowhere to go.” More than 15 years had passed since you’d had a place to call home. 

“We don’t either.” Sam shrugged. “We travel all over to hunt. You have any money?”

Shaking your head, you retreated into yourself, realizing for the first time since you ran that you were well and truly fucked. “No, actually. I did. But I ran as soon as the werewolves spotted me.” 

Dean shot you a pitiful look. “Why don’t you stay with us?”

Running from two alphas into the arms of two others? Was that wise? Probably not. But you’d never been one for the wise. At least they were human, and hunters.

                                                          -------

Shortly after joining Sam and Dean on their continuous cross-country trek, you had to distance yourself from them, if only by a few motel rooms; your heat had triggered their ruts. Even though they were both amazing looking guys, you weren’t about to jeopardize your newfound camaraderie by begging one of them to fuck you senseless. No matter how good looking they were. Out of pure need to not screw up the first home you’d ever had, you made a habit of keeping to yourself during your heats and asked them to do the same whenever biology kicked into overdrive.

They taught you everything they knew. You’d come across werewolves and vamps, but that was about it, and there was so much more to this big scary world than you’d originally thought. Leviathans were apparently a thing, and they couldn’t die. At least they hadn’t figured out a way yet. Whenever the boys thought they’d killed one, the same one showed their ugly face again. None of their usual methods worked, so that was fun.

Sam schooled you on the lore, loading you up with facts about any and every creature he knew of whenever he could, much to Dean’s feigned dismay; you could tell in his eyes how proud he was of his brother. He also taught you self defense, which was harder than you thought. Sure, you’d defended yourself a thousand times before but that had been feral swiping and growling and hoping for the best, mixed with a healthy dose of luck. Sam was able to refine your ferocity into swift and pointed movements. After a while, you could even defend yourself against Sam.

Dean, on the other hand, taught you how to handle a knife and how to shoot. For some reason, learning to handle the knife had been easy, but shooting was another story all together. “This is fucking hopeless,” you muttered as your arm fell to your side in defeat.

“A’right, ‘mega,” he said, gathering his arms around you, his hands splaying over your own. A delicious shiver crawled up your spine at the sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue. Only Dean called you Omega; Sam just used your name. 

“Relax your shoulders,” he said, his deep, gravely voice rolling through you. It’s a good thing you weren’t in heat, you thought to yourself as you swallowed hard, because not jumping his bones was hard enough under the best of circumstances. “You want to keep your arms extended, but not locked.”

“K, Alpha. Now what? Because I suck at this.” 

He chuckled at your back and placed his hands on your hips, moving you into a good standing position. “Like this.” He tapped your leg with his left hand. He was

making this easy.

“Fake it ‘til you make it,” he continued, sending your mind in a completely different direction than the one he intended. Which really wasn’t all that hard to do considering your mind was in the gutter already. 

“You make it sound so simple,” you huffed. “You’ve been doing this since you were practically in diapers.” You lost yourself in the thought for a moment; he deserved so much more than that.

“You want to pretend that you know exactly what you’re doing, because it’ll feel more natural, and when it feels more natural, you’re in the better position to hit your target. Pick one.”

Picking one of his empty whiskey bottles that he’d placed in the middle of the area ahead, you leaned forward slightly. 

“What made you lean forward?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Instinct, I guess? I figure my body should be pitched forward a little bit to counteract the kick of the gun.”

“See, you’re a fuckin natural,” Dean said proudly. “Grab the grip tight and aim.”

When he let go of your arms, you felt cold and off your game again. You didn’t like to admit how much he steadied you. Something about Dean was comforting, like that first sip of whiskey - warm and inviting. You wavered and his arms returned to where they were. 

“You’re questioning your aim,” he said softly. “You had it. Have faith in yourself and follow through on your target.” Stepping back, he pulled out his other gun and hit the furthest bottle back without any problem. 

With a deep breath, you playfully growled at him, frustrated at how good he was and how good he looked doing it. “So all I need to do is fake it?”

“Yup. Keep in mind everything I just said, and fake it. Don’t go for the one in the back, go for that one,” he replied, pointing to a dark blue bottle toward the front, maybe 15 to 20 feet away from you. 

Turning your attention back toward the bottles, you shook out your nerves, breathed in through your nose, out through your mouth, and applied steady pressure on the trigger, feeling a bit of kickback as the bottle shattered into a thousand pieces. 

“See!” Dean said, smiling wide. “I told you!”

You put the gun down and danced around. Sure, you needed consistency, but at least you were making progress. “Now I just have to get my own gun. One similar to this. Because I don’t wanna get used to this and then have to handle something else entirely.”

Dean swallowed hard and picked the gun up, letting it slip through his fingers effortlessly as the grip was turned toward you. “Take this.”

“Dean, this is your gun. Your trusty gun. I couldn’t.” Besides Sam, Cas and Baby, this gun had to be one of the constants in his life.

Gripping the barrel firmly, he extended it toward you again. “Take this one.”

“Exactly, it’s never failed me. And if I can’t be there, it won’t fail you either.” His strong hand glided over yours and opened your palm before laying the gun down. “Besides Sam and Cas, you’re all I’ve got, ‘Mega.”

Pride gave way to sadness before her eyes. She could see the cogs turning, wanting to know more than anything what made him tick. When he closed the gap between you, you leaned into his embrace and closed your eyes as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

                                                          -------

“You okay?”

With a strained laugh, you grabbed Dean by the wrist and pushed him into the motel room. “Me? Am I okay? Dean, what the hell were you thinking?”

If he wasn’t already in pain you’d kick the ever-living shit out of him. As it was, you were about to rip him a new asshole. 

“He was -” 

“Sam, shut up!” You snapped before turning to Dean, whose mouth you knew was open despite having your back turned to him. “And you! Don’t even! I had that werewolf no problem, and because you had to come out and be Mr. Hero and shove me out of the way, you got hurt.”

Your heart was racing a mile a minute. When the wolf’s claws had slashed through the fabric of Dean’s henley and the skin underneath, your heart nearly stopped. His scream of agony still echoed through your head. 

“Sam, are you okay?” You asked, peeling back the blood-stained material of Dean’s shirt. Thankfully, the marks weren’t too deep, but he still scared you half to death.

“Yea, I’m fine. There anything I can do?”

“No, I’ve got this,” you replied. “We have no food and he’s not about to go grab a meal like this though.”

Sam nodded in understanding and ducked out of the motel room quickly. You made a mental note to apologize for snapping at him.

“Can I talk?” Dean asked, testing where you were on the anger scale. 

Huffing, you poured some alcohol onto a rag to clean out his wounds. “Depends. You plan on making excuses for getting yourself hurt? Or do you plan on apologizing? Because I’ll only accept one of those as a reason to open your mouth.”

With pursed lips, he mumbled. “You’re a little bossy, Omega.”

“Get used to it. What the hell were you thinking?” Crouching before him, you wiped his wounds clean as he hissed at the pain. 

Dean’s hand slipped underneath your chin, tipping your head up so you’d look at him. “I saw you when we first met; scared. I saw your death flash before my eyes, so I jumped without thinking.” 

His thumb caressed the side of your cheek. Your instinct was to lean into it, but you were so angry with him. “Fuckin’ hell, Dean. That’s the problem. Fucking think!”

He flinched at your outburst. You were so mad. But it was more than that. “Dean, I’m scared every time we go out. I’m scared of monsters. I’m scared of alphas that don’t know how to take no for an answer. I’m always scared. But I do shit anyway because it’s either do something or die and I really don’t feel like dying. D’ya know what scares me more than anything though?”

When he shook his head, you tried to speak, but felt the words catch in your throat. Your lip began to tremble, all of the fear and adrenaline finally steadying out. “Losing you.”

Swallowing back the bile rising in your throat, you continued. “I ran from my father, an abusive alpha. I was so afraid of being hurt again that I stayed away from anyone and everyone. Until I ran into you. Even when I lived with my father, I never really had a home. And now I do,” you said softly, a tear falling down your cheek. “Do you know what it would do to me to lose you? Not only to lose you, but realize I lost you because of me?”

“I don’t wanna die, but if I die protecting you; I’ll consider it a good death,” he replied. “But I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you to handle it. Because you could’ve and you were going to. I just...I wasn’t thinking.”

Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you bandaged up Dean’s wounds and sat on the crappy motel bed beside him. “Start thinking,” you commanded, your hand cradling the back of his neck. 

Without any thought for the consequences or the implications, you pressed your lips to his, memorizing the scent of musk and evergreen that floated off his body. He smelled like home. Wherever he was, you were home. “Please, start thinking. Don’t make me lose you, Alpha.”

Dean nuzzled his forehead into yours and whispered. “I’m sorry, ‘Mega.”

                                                          -------

Whenever you weren’t hunting or isolating yourselves during heats and ruts, you, Dean and Sam indulged in cheap booze, cheaper food and bad movies. “If I don’t get food, I might kill one of you.”

Dean popped up from his seat like he’d just been yelled at and forced to go to his room. “I’ll grab some then,” he laughed, an easy-going smile dancing across his face. 

Smiling excitedly, you clasped your hands together and brought them up by the side of your face. “Bacon cheeseburger and fries, please. And pie?”

“What kind?”

“Whatever you get.”

“What makes you think I’m getting pie?”

“Your name is Dean.”

“Touche, ‘Mega,” he said with a laugh. Sam ordered a wildly boring salad with a fruit cup for dessert. You could swear it actually pained Dean to hear such an order. “I’ll be back in 30.”

As he closed the door, you ran into the bathroom and changed into your pajamas before picking out your movie for the night on one of the on-demand channels. “This cool, Sam? The Gingerbread Man starring Gary Busey.”

Looking up, he nodded quickly, clearly not registering what you’d just said, as you were sure he’d have some snarky remark. “Yea, that’s fine by me. Y/N, can I ask you a question?”

You bristled at the frankness in his voice. “Sure, Sam. What is it?”

A little chuckle put you more at ease as he spoke. “Why don’t you and Dean just fuck already?”

A very undignified snort escaped you. It made no sense to try and dissuade him of his opinion. It was obvious you and Dean liked each other, wanted each other. “It’s too complicated, Sam.”

He shot you an ‘are-you-serious’ look, which spurred you on. “Dean wouldn’t want a needy Omega at home that he felt beholden too. Plus, I’m not just gonna sit home and raise pups, as much as I’d like them. I need an identity outside of that. And that would come with it’s own host of issues, because I’m assuming he would be ‘just a tad’ overprotective. And-”

“As opposed to how he already is,” Sam interjected, leaning forward to place his head in his propped up hands. “But go on.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Sam. What we have here is good. The three of us. I have a home. If something were to fuck that up by, like oh, I don’t know, fucking Dean and it not working out? I would lose the only home I’ve ever really known. As much as I love Dean, and you know I do, I’m too afraid to risk it.”

Sam looked at you sadly, hoping that maybe you’d all met in a different life. “I understand that. More than you know.”

A comfortable silence hung between you for a moment, and you thought that was the end of it. “Dean loves you, too, you know? If anyone could get my brother to settle down and have pups, it’d be you. Yea, he’d be an overprotective pain-in-the-ass, but he knows he can’t control you. I’m not saying you have to say anything to him. But I think you should. I think you guys are more on the same page than you think.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to drift off into thoughts of what a life with Dean might be like. Kickass hunters with a family of pups to raise. Happy. Together. It made your heart swell, but then you saw the picture shatter before your eyes and the realization hit you like a truck. The reason you were too afraid to pursue things with Dean wasn’t because it could screw up the home you’d managed to find. In this life, a hunter’s life, you rarely got a happy ending, and if you lost Dean after being claimed by him? The man you loved more than anything?

There would be no coming back from that.

You’d shatter.

------

After your brief fast food, crappy B-movie respite, you finally formulated a decent enough plan to kill Dick Roman. If by formulated, you mean Sam and Dean trusting Crowley, relying on the new and improved bee-loving Castiel, all while watching the boys crumble at the loss of Bobby for a second time, then yes, a plan had been formulated. “This is so, so very stupid,” you muttered. “A bone from a righteous nun bathed in the blood of an angel, head Daddy vamp, and possibly Crowley if he didn’t fuck us royally, and we’re about to walk right in.”

“You got a better idea?” Dean asked. 

“Not a one. Ready to go?”

“That’s my girl.”

Speeding down the highway, you chuckled to yourself at the stupidity of this. Dean, Sam, Cas, Ghost Bobby, even Meg had said you could sit this one out, but you weren’t about to let the boys go in by themselves. Maybe you couldn’t do anything that they wouldn’t have already tried. But if they were gonna die, you were gonna bite the bullet with them. You wouldn’t be left alone again.

You split up into teams of two. Dean needed Cas to identify the real, fake Dick, which left you and Sam to search for Kevin and get the hell out of there, all while using Meg as a distraction. Each footstep felt like a bomb going off underneath your feet; you were bound to get caught. But as you snuck through hallway after sanitized, boring-ass hallway, picking the locks of every door in your wake, you finally found Kevin. Who, of course, had to throw another wrench in the already shaky, we’re-absolutely-gonna-get-ourselves-killed plan. 

“We have to blow up the lab,” Kevin said desperately, looking every inch a scared child making the decisions of a man.

More than anything, you and Sam wanted to get him out, but you knew he was right. With enough Borax on you to clean the entirety of insert-large-monument-of--choice-here, you doused every leviathan in your path before finally making it to the lab in one piece, if slightly covered in leviathan goo.

With the traps set, you began the search for Dean, Cas and Dick, only to find the head leviathan with the bone sticking through his throat. A wretched sound emanated from the slimy creature’s throat before his limbs began to twitch. “We need to go!” You screamed over the shockwaves building in the small room. “Guys, we have to go now!”

But before they had even taken a step, Dick Roman exploded, flinging his remnants all over the room, and when you could finally see again, Cas and Dean were gone. Sam spun toward you, eyes darting around the room, mouth agape.

“Where are they? You cried, grasping Sam’s jacket in your hands. “What happened to them?”

“I-I-”

“Hello, Sam. Y/N,” Crowley touted upon his entrance.

Sam held you back as you lunged toward the demon without a care for what he might do to you. “What happened to Dean? Where is Cas?”

With a click of his fingers, two of his henchmen had Kevin in their grasp. And with the next, they were gone.

“That bone had a bit of a kick,” he replied with a sickly smug smile on his face. “God weapons often do. Looks like you two are well and truly alone.”

Another snap and Crowley was gone. 

Dean was gone.

“We have to find Dean,” you said meekly, numbness lapping at your toes like a wave on the shore. 

Off in the distance, other Leviathan approached. 

“We have to get out of here,” Sam said. 

But you couldn’t move. Your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and a black hole of despair that was devouring you from the inside out. “We have to find Dean,” you whispered.

“We have to go!” Sam picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. 

In your grief, you tried to fight him off - you begged him to put you down and go find Dean and Cas, but he refused. “I’m not leaving!” You punched his back with your fist with every ounce of strength you had, screaming until your throat hurt.

“I’m not letting you die, too,” he said, voice ragged as he carried you through the hallways.

“Die too.” The words rolled through your mind like a bullet. “He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead.”

Sam threw you into the Impala and slipped the key into the starter, panicking when the engine sputtered to life. As it finally kicked into drive, the monstrous squealing of the Impala’s damaged engine was drowned out by the screech of your anguished cries.

-----

You were caged. 

Within these walls. Within this world. Within your skin.

As you trembled, the overwhelming ache between your thighs spread outward to your entire body. You sobbed into the mattress. After losing Dean, you’d done anything and everything you could think of to find him, but to no avail. And then your heat hit. 

Despite the medication that Sam had found to help you through them, the stress and desolate sadness somehow made this heat even worse. Pain overwhelmed you, every nerve on fire, boiling like lava. You tried everything to alleviate the pain, even touching yourself in the hopes that an orgasm would lessen the effects, but it did nothing physically, leaving you emotionally worse for the wear. 

When your hands slipped across your sweat-slick, nerve-wracked skin you thought of Dean. The way he made you laugh. The way he smiled when he watched terrible horror movies. The way his green eyes saw through your tough exterior into the softness beneath. The way his muscled arms gathered around you, allowing you to find a home in the most unlikely of places. In that moment, there was a brief respite, your heart lightening every so slightly at the thought of home, only to be jerked back to reality when you realized he was gone. All you wanted was for the pain to subside. To feel okay again.

A heavy knock on the motel room door alerted you to Sam’s presence. “Y/N, it’s me. I have more medication and some food for you.” 

Grunting in agony, you called for him to come in, noticing the softness in his eyes as he touched your head with the back of his hand. ‘I’m fine, Sam. You can just leave the stuff on the table.”

“You’re burning up,” he said, running to the bathroom to grab some water so that you could take your pills.

He placed the pills into your quaking hands and watched you take them, your eyes numb and forward-facing. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I can’t do this,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What?”

“The pain!” You snapped through clenched teeth. “It’s even worse now, I can’t, I-” Lifting your head, you saw the sorrow in your soul reflected in his eyes. “Sam, help me. Please.”

He knew what you were asking and he shook his head, standing up quickly from his place at your side and pacing across the room. “No, Y/N, I can’t.”

With every ounce of strength you had, you crawled to the end of the bed, begging. “Sam, this pain is overwhelming. I don’t trust anyone else, and I can’t do this anymore. I trust you. Please, Sam. Please.”

You gasped as Sam wrapped his arms around you, his cock straining against his jeans. 

“You’re Dean’s,” he said matter-of-factly, almost more for himself than for you. “I can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” you said as you sobbed into his chest. You repeat yourself over and over again, hoping it would absolve you of the overwhelming guilt that blanketed you - mind, body and soul. 

----

After you threw yourself at Sam, he started distancing himself. Of course he came to check on you multiple times a week, he helped you find a legitimate job, ensured you had enough food and money and medication to survive your heightened heats, but that was it. Whether it was because of what you’d done or how he felt about you, you weren’t sure. You hadn’t the strength or desire to ask, figuring it didn’t truly matter either way. 

Each day was an exercise in strength, with you going through the motions despite the desire to let go. A year passed.

Then one morning, you woke up with the knowledge that your heat was, in fact, here again. Even though it continued to come every three months as it always had, you could swear you were constantly in the throes of it. Your body hurt, muscles heavy, nerves always on fire to some degree. It never ended. Nor did your thoughts of Dean. Essentially, you remained because you were too scared to die. That and hope. There was a sliver of it still lingering, even though its presence tore you to shreds day in and day out. 

At your desk job, you clamped your legs together, wishing that someone out there could satiate your hunger. The medication had done a bit to tamp down your physical pain, enough where you could work without much interruption, but the sexual aspect of your heat still remained in full force. 

You made it through another day and began to walk back to your motel room, but it was just a room. Home had evaporated when Dean had been taken from you. As you walked down the street, passing playing children and the occasional speeding car, you inhaled the cool air in the hopes that it would refresh you - bring you back to the land of the living - only to be hit with the scent of musk and evergreen.

A warmth spread over you and a smile returned to your face for the first time in months. It smelled so much like Dean, like being wrapped in his arms all those years ago when he first taught you how to shoot. The feeling of peace quickly left you and you cursed the gods for their inequity, tears running down your cheeks as you stormed through your motel room door. 

Collapsing into the bed, you pulled the matted pillow toward your head and sunk into the overly-used mattress, praying that the memory of the scent would stop torturing you when you awoke next. 

-----

Hours later, as the sun began to set, varying hues of pink and orange dabbling the dusky sky, you woke to the comforting yet torturing scent. But you were all cried out and instead attempted to move through it, as you had with most things for the past year. 

A knock on the door startled you. For a moment, you contemplated not answering. You really weren’t in the mood to talk to Sam right now. You’d text him later to let him know you were okay. With another thud, you swung the door open, ready to yell. “Dean?” You cracked. “Am I alive? Did I die in my sleep?”

Tired eyes smiled at you, happiness overtaking the misery that had filled them for so long. “You’re alive. It’s me, ‘Mega.”

“How?” 

“Do you really want to know right now?”

With a disbelieving chuckle, you replied. “No.” 

Reaching out, you grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him toward you, lips hungrily finding his without hesitation or thought. He sunk into your kiss, practically collapsing into you as he crossed the threshold into the room and kicked the door closed behind him. “‘Mega, I need you.”

In an instant, you were home again, arching into his hurried kisses. Frantic hands grabbed at the hem of your t-shirt and slipped it over your head before snaking his fingers underneath the straps of your bra. 

“You have me, Alpha.”

You jumped into his embrace and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling at the material of his shirt like someone starved of all sustenance. When your fingers found his muscled chest, you moaned at the feel of him underneath your fingertips. He’d been gone for more than a year, but here he was, in the flesh; he was real. 

Dean walked you toward the bed and tripped into it, falling onto the mattress with you pinned beneath him. He let out a breathy laugh and collapsed into the side of the bed, kneeling before you as he peeled your pants and panties down your legs and threw them to the floor. “You were my last thought before closing my eyes,” he said, biting and sucking patches on your inner thighs. “My first thought in the morning. You kept me going, ‘Mega.”

Whining, you bucked up into his mouth and grasped his hair, pulling him closer to your heated sex. With every swipe of his tongue up your slit, you felt yourself melt into his embrace - a stillness overcoming you despite your desperation for his touch. “Alpha,” you breathed.

You shimmied yourself off the bed before him. “Need your knot. Need to taste you.” 

“Oh fuck,” he choked out as you licked your lips and slipped them over his swollen cock. “‘Mega, ‘M, not-” He braced himself, his grip white-hot against the sheets as he towered over you.

“Don’t care.” You hastily tugged his jeans and boxers down just far enough to grab his cock. Hungrily, you slid your hands up and down in tandem with your mouth. Each pass left trails of spit dripping down your chin and onto the floor. But you didn’t care. Looking up, you saw Dean at peace for the first time in years, mouth agape, muscles taut, unthinking. 

When you moaned around his length and reached your hand between your legs, he couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted you up onto the bed and crawled up the length of your body, laying hungry open-mouthed kisses along your pliant flesh as he kicked off the remainder of his clothing. You managed to lift your head to find his mouth again, whimpering at the sight of the dark flesh of his knot. How he came back, what he did when he was gone, what you’d gone through in his absence, none of it mattered - not when it came down to it. He was yours and you were his, scars and all. 

Climbing onto the bed, he moved your head toward the headboard and up against the pillow, placing his cock at your entrance before effortlessly slipping inside. 

“Fuck, Alpha. I need you. Need you to knot me.”

Dean chokes out an incoherent word or two, groaning as he hastily slides his hand into your hair. Teeth scrape along the side of your neck as he pumps into you, his knot swelling with each thrust. There’s no grace in either of your movements as he fucks into you, bucking into each other as if your lives depend on it. 

As his knot rolled into you, connecting you both, you cried out and bit down on his shoulder, only to scream out again when his teeth found a spot on your neck just below your ear. Whenever you’d heard of omegas and their alphas before, about the connection between them and the wholeness they felt being claimed, you’d never understood it - but you did now. 

Every atom in your body felt connected with his. It was deeper than anything you’d ever felt before. “Alpha!” You cried into his waiting mouth. 

Thick, hot streams of come filled your insides as he trembled above you, lips finding yours in a desperate attempt to make this last forever. To stay in this moment.

When his eyes found yours, he let out a strangled laugh, thumb rubbing over the spot where he’d claimed you. “‘Mega, I’m not the same man I was.” Already, he was trying to run. But you wouldn’t allow it.

“I know,” you said softly before kissing his forehead. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Where were you? What happened?”

He fell to your side and gathered you close, slipping himself back into your slick heat, needing the closeness. To stay here for just a moment more. Relaxing your head against his chest, you listened as he told you what happened after Dick Roman’s death. Strained words and shattered breaths made you realize he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he was saying what he could, and for now, that was enough.

Purgatory. He was in Purgatory. Surrounded by monsters every day.

“Thing is…” He started, trailing off almost immediately.

“What is it?” You asked, clenching your walls around his cock. Anything to take his mind off the horrors he’d witnessed. “Dean, you can tell me.”

“Thing is, there was a peace in it. Fighting day in and day out. The routine of it. I-I liked it. The killing. What does that make me?” 

You tipped your head up to kiss the underside of his chin, finding the salty taste of his tears. “It makes you human. It makes you a hunter, Alpha.” Dean dipped his head to kiss the mark he’d given you, massaging your breasts as you spoke. “There is something I want you to know though.”

“What is it?” He asked. 

“After you died, I thought you were gone forever. And the stress of it all made my heats so much worse than they ever had been. And I-” You broke, a sob bubbling in your throat.

“It’s okay, ‘Mega. I promise, it’s okay.”

“Nothing happened between us, but I threw myself at Sam. It’s been eating at me ever since it happened. I love Sam, but I love him like my brother and I never wanted it to happen. He turned me down, because I’ve always been yours,” you said quickly, trying to get it all out and breathe at the same time. “I was just so desperate and so alone and-” 

Grasping your chin, Dean turned your head toward his and cut you off with a searing kiss. “We have some guilt to deal with, I guess,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He slid his hands down your arms, fingers entwined with yours. “Together?”

Whisper soft, you replied. “Together.”

[stormspe]

The Battle Café

Summary: Café Partenaire is a modest little battle café run by the Kalos Pokédex holders. Their specialty? Giving customers a fun and exciting Multi Battle experience. Today, it's just business as usual at the café - but the first two Trainers who order battles are certainly going to make the routine a little more interesting.

Length: 5,159 words

Notes: This was written as part of a collab with Koi (@altevolantt​) and Aero (@pk-freezer-burnt​)! The two of them worked together to create the gorgeous art that accompanies this fic. And as it's still his birthday in my timezone, I'd like to wish X a very happy birthday!

If you’d prefer: [Read on Ao3] [Read on FFN]

Convincing X to start a battle café with her may have been one of the best decisions of Y’s life.

She’d come up with the idea after visiting one of Lumiose City’s famous battle cafés and being disappointed by the lack of enthusiasm the staff had for their craft. They were so focused on delivering the highest-quality food and a refined dining experience fitting of the number of “stars” their restaurant held that the battles themselves were stuffy and bland. Y wanted to give people a fun and exciting battle experience on top of delicious food, and who better to help her with that than her battle-savvy best friend?

Y loves running the café with X. They’ve got a good system going – X busses tables and prepares the food and drinks while Y does the waitressing. Emma helps X out in the kitchen and takes over as waitress while X and Y are battling customers. The café gets busy sometimes, but Y finds that busyness to be part of the fun. She challenges herself to get to know every one of their customers personally – everyone’s got their own story to tell, and Y loves to hear them.

X, on the other hand, isn’t a huge fan of the work or the people, but for him the battles more than make up for it. He enjoys getting to battle casual Trainers in low-stakes battles, where no one is watching him and judging his every move. He likes getting to learn from other Trainers, too. Everyone has their own unique battle style, and X looks for the interesting and effective elements of each opponent’s style and incorporates them into his own battling.

The café is located on the outskirts of Lumiose City, so they get a lot of tourist traffic – which means a wide variety of people for Y to meet and X to learn from. It’s always exciting to see people from all over the world grace their humble little battle café. There’s never a dull moment in a place where Kalosians are serving Kantonians, Hoennians, Unovans, and Galarians all under one roof.

“Hey, X, when you’ve got a minute, table 4 needs to be cleared,” Y calls as she picks up a round of smoothies from the order window. “And we’ve got one new order!”

“But still no battles?”

“Still no battles.” Y sighs. “Even I’m itching for a fight at this point. What a slow day.”

“If it were a slow day, I wouldn’t need you to tell me which tables are in need of bussing,” X grunts, appearing at the kitchen entrance with a washcloth and bin for dirty dishes. He heads for table 4 while Y brings her tray of smoothies to the customers at table 1.

Just then, the front doorbell jingles and a teenager around her age walks in. Y doesn’t recognize him and he just stops in the doorway, so he must be a new customer. “Hi, welcome!” she calls, waving at him with one hand while balancing the tray of drinks on the other. “Grab a menu off the podium there, have a seat, and I’ll be with you in a minute!”

The teen grins and gives her a little wave back. Y smiles and gets back to work, delivering the smoothies to table 1 and asking the group if they need anything else. When they decline, she heads back to the kitchen to drop off the empty tray. Then she’s off to the freshly cleared table 4, where the teen has taken a seat.

As she approaches the table, she pulls out a pen, her notepad, and an exuberant smile. “Welcome to Café Partenaire! First time here?”

The teen looks up from the menu and grins sheepishly. “Yeah. Was I that obvious?”

“I’ve got a good memory for my customers, and you didn’t look like you knew what you needed to do when you came in,” Y says. “Sounds like you’re not from around here, either. Galarian?”

“Spot on!” the teen exclaims, eyes widening. “You’re really good at this, mate!”

“Call me Y,” she says. “And I’ve had a lot of practice. Usually I can even distinguish between North and South Galarian accents, but…yours is a bit harder to pin down.”

The teen nods thoughtfully. “I’m from Postwick, in south Galar. But my big bro’s lived in Wyndon most my life, and I’ve got friends all over. So I don’t have a really strong South Galarian accent.”

“Oh, interesting,” Y says. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“I’m Hop!”

“Nice to meet you, Hop. What can I get for you?” she asks, readying her notepad.

“I’ll take the café special!” Hop declares, slapping his menu down on the table with a little more force than necessary.

Y’s smile grows, and she tucks her notepad back into her pocket. It’s about time. She collects payment up front, as usual, and informs Hop that the café special comes with a complimentary beverage. He orders a Soda Pop, and she tells him it’ll be right out.

“Soda Pop for table 4!” Y announces, striding into the kitchen.

X perks up at that; there’s a gleam in his eye when he turns away from the fryer. “Watch these,” he orders, pointing to the currently cooking basket of fries. Y nods. X grabs a bottle of Soda Pop from the refrigerator and heads out into the dining room.

Offering a complimentary beverage with the café special was one of X’s best ideas. Its purpose is threefold. One, it ensures that the customer is properly hydrated before their battle. (For the same reason, Y intends to make sure X drinks something when he gets back.) Two, it gives X the opportunity to meet the customer and get an idea of their skill level. Three, it gives the customer something to do while they wait for someone else to order the café special. They don’t want to make their customers wait too long for a battle, but it’s far more fun when two customers order the special around the same time.

The fries have cooked to a nice golden brown by the time X returns to the kitchen. “So? Your thoughts?” Y asks.

“He’s friendly,” X says. “Maybe a little too friendly. I asked him how long he’d been a Trainer, not for his whole life story.”

“Aw, I wanted to hear his whole life story. I bet it’s fascinating .”

“Really? I didn’t realize you had a thing for foreign boys. Or is it just Galarian ones?”

“Jealous, are we?” Y smirks. She throws her arms around X’s neck. “Don’t worry, you don’t have anything to fear from foreign boys like Hop.” She leans closer so she can whisper in his ear. “It’s only the cute ones that you need to worry about.”

“Please get a room.”

Y yelps and stumbles backwards, letting go of X. He grabs onto her arm to steady her. “Emma! How long have you been standing there?”

“Since I realized you had stopped paying attention to the fries and were letting them burn,” she says in her usual quiet, matter-of-fact way. “Don’t you have customers to be serving?”

“Oh, uh – right,” Y stammers. She turns back to X, gives him a quick peck on the cheek, and hurries back out to the dining room.

Hop and the triplets at table 1 are still right where she left them, but Selphy from table 2 and Kiri from table 3 have both finished their food and headed out. In addition, there’s a new customer standing at the entrance, flipping disinterestedly through a menu. Like Hop, he’s a teenage boy who appears to be around her age. Unlike Hop, he has rather guarded body language and a serious expression on his face.

“Hi there! Sorry for the wait,” Y says, rushing over to table 2. “Let me clear off this table for you–”

“I’m here for a battle,” the teen interrupts, looking up from the menu.

Y blinks. No one’s ordered the café special all day, and now they have two requests for it in a row? She’s not complaining, but it’s an odd coincidence. “Excellent! I’ll finish clearing off this table so you can have a seat, and–”

“I don’t need a seat,” he says, leveling a glare at her. “I’m not here to eat. I just want a battle.”

Y takes a deep breath in and lets it out. They get these kinds of customers from time to time – the ones who are either too impatient or too arrogant to listen to her and follow the standard procedure for battling. They get on her nerves every time, but in the interest of professionalism, she tries not to let it show.

“Here at Café Partenaire, we provide full sit-down service to our customers,” she says. “If you’d like to order the café special, you’ll need to have a seat first.”

“That’s stupid! You can’t fight a battle sitting down.”

Y grits her teeth. “You won’t be sitting down for the battle. But there’s things that have to be done before you can battle–”

“Skip those, then. I want to get to the battle.”

“–including payment ,” Y says forcefully. “We don’t offer battles for free, you know.”

The teen at least has the decency to look a little abashed at that.

“Just sit down, mate!” Hop yells. “The longer you argue with her, the longer it’s gonna take for you to get your battle.”

The teen side-eyes Hop, but with an exaggerated huff, relents. Y finishes clearing off the table, he has a seat, and she gets his payment and drink order.

She doesn’t immediately take the order back to the kitchen, though. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I know we didn’t start off on the right foot, but I do like to get to know all my customers. My name is Y. What’s yours?”

He glances at her, glare still on his face. On closer inspection, though, she realizes that there doesn’t seem to be any real heat behind the look; maybe that intense gaze is just a neutral expression for him.

“Hugh,” he says.

“Where are you from, Hugh?” she asks. She can tell by his accent that he’s from Unova, but Unovan accents vary even more than Galarian ones, and her Unovan geography is a little rusty.

“Aspertia City. Unova,” he says. Her lack of recognition must be evident on her face, because he adds without prompting, “Southwest Unova.”

“Ooh, I see. I’m from Vaniville Town, right here in Central Kalos,” Y says. “It’s nice to meet you! My partner will be back with your drink in a moment.”

Y heads back to the kitchen and finds X and Emma engrossed in a game of pick-up sticks using burnt fries. “Lemonade for table 2!” she declares. “Also, X, table 3 needs bussing. C’mon, pick up the slack!”

“Another special already?” X says, straightening up. “That was fast.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s great!” Y grins. “Now hurry up and bring the new customer his drink so we can get to the battle!”

After X leaves, Emma starts tallying up her and X’s scores. Y leaves her to it, pouring a new basket of fries and putting them in the fryer. But Emma quickly takes over that, shooing Y back out to the dining room. That’s fair; Emma doesn’t need a new set of pick-up sticks to play with.

Speaking of which – “Who won the game?”

“I did.”

“Good for you!”

When Y returns to the dining room, she’s disappointed to find that the triplets have left, killing her chances of catching up on the latest news from Striaton City. However, that’s made up for by the fact that Trevor has dropped by the café on his lunch break. She greets him with a big hug and listens as he emphatically describes the new experiment that he and Professor Sycamore are conducting. Once she notices X has returned to the kitchen, though, she has to end the conversation and get back to work.

“So, battle meister, what’s your final assessment?” Y asks as soon as she enters the kitchen.

“They’re both experienced Trainers,” X reports. “Hugh’s been battling longer, but Hop has more competitive battling experience. They’ll both make interesting opponents.”

“Awesome!” Y exclaims. “Feels like it’s been ages since we last had a tough opponent. This is gonna be so much fun!”

~

Once Hugh and Hop have both finished their drinks, it’s finally time for the battle. Y volunteers to escort Hop up to the battlefield, which leaves X to escort Hugh.

“Hey, sorry about the wait!” Y says as she approaches table 4.

Hop’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “Is it time for the battle?”

“You bet! Follow me!”

She leads Hop to the staircase on the side of the café. “Oh, so the battlefield is on the second floor?” he asks.

“Even better!” Y replies.

She opens the door at the top of the staircase and walks out onto the roof. Hop gasps behind her. “Welcome to the official battlefield of Café Partenaire!” she exclaims, spreading her arms.

The battlefield itself isn’t terribly impressive, just a bunch of white lines painted on the concrete roof. However, the view from up here of Parterre Way’s gardens and perfectly trimmed hedge mazes with Lumiose City in the distance is gorgeous.

“Um, isn’t it a little dangerous to be battling on top of a roof with no guardrails or anything?” Hop asks.

Y laughs. “And Pokémon battles aren’t dangerous? Don’t worry,” she says, patting him on the shoulder. “The battlefield’s nowhere near the edge of the roof, so we’re not in any danger of falling off!”

“Right,” Hop says, but he still doesn’t look convinced. “So…where’s my opponent?”

“He’ll be up in a minute,” Y says.

A few moments later, X emerges onto the roof with Hugh following close behind. Hugh doesn’t spend much time observing the battlefield, instead staring immediately at Y and Hop. He narrows his eyes as they approach. “I have to fight him ?” he asks.

“Nope!” Y responds cheerfully, clapping Hop on the shoulder and pushing him closer to Hugh. “He’s your partner!”

“Partner!?” both boys exclaim simultaneously.

“Y’see, the thing about Café Partenaire that makes it a little different from the battle cafés you’ll find in Lumiose is that we specialize in Multi Battles,” Y explains with a wink. “When two Trainers both order the café special, they’ll have to work together to defeat our staff if they want to earn the special prize!”

“So who do we have to fight?” Hugh demands.

Y grins, taking a few steps back from the customers. She glances to her right, where X has moved to stand next to her. He gives her a curt nod, and she nods back. Then, moving in sync, they both untie their aprons from their waists and fling them aside.

“You’ll be battling us!”

Y always loves seeing the look of shock on customers’ faces when they realize they’re going to be battling the people who were just serving them moments before. Hugh’s eyes only widen for a moment before returning to their usual intense stare, but Hop gapes at them like a Magikarp out of water.

“You – you’re serious? You guys are the super-tough opponents that we’re supposed to battle?” Hop exclaims.

“Never judge a Trainer’s skill by their appearance,” Hugh says. He folds his arms and looks Hop up and down. “You don’t look like you’re all that yourself, but you must be a strong Trainer or you wouldn’t be here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I look weak!?” Hop shouts, intruding in Hugh’s personal space. He’s only a few inches taller, but standing that close to Hugh makes it look like Hop towers over the other boy.

“I’m not saying you look strong,” Hugh says coldly, glaring up at him.

Y glances at X with a hint of concern. Throwing strangers into a battle together is a little risky because they don’t always get along, but they don’t usually get this openly hostile towards each other before the battle’s even started. She definitely didn’t expect this much hostility from Hop – he’d been so friendly and nice with her. If they clash this much outside of battle, she can already tell that the battle itself will be a disaster. “Should we do something?” she whispers.

X shrugs. “If they really want to battle us, they’ll figure it out.”

Hop finally leans back and folds his hands behind his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter whose accomplishments as a Trainer are better or whatever,” he says. “We’re not fighting each other. So you’ll see just how skilled I am when we’re fighting them” – he points at X and Y – “on the battlefield.”

“The best place to evaluate a Trainer’s skill,” Hugh agrees with a curt nod of the head.

“Then let’s do this together and win that special prize!” Hop declares, holding out his hand. “The name’s Hop, by the way.”

“Hugh,” Hugh says, shaking it.

“Sounds like you’re ready to battle!” Y says with a relieved smile. “Let’s get in position, shall we?”

The four Trainers take their places on the battlefield – Hop and Hugh on the side closest to the stairs, X and Y on the far side. Once everyone’s in position, Y explains the rules: a two-on-two Multi Battle, with each Trainer only being allowed a single Pokémon. Whichever team manages to knock out both of the opposing team’s Pokémon is declared the winner.

“I’m counting on you, Veevee!”

“Let’s do this, Kanga.”

“Go, Flygon!”

“Corviknight, let’s go!”

Y quickly assesses the type matchups in her head. Veevee has the advantage against Flygon but the disadvantage against Corviknight. Kanga’s at a type disadvantage against Corviknight as well, but she has moves that’ll allow her to hit both Pokémon super effectively. That still makes Corviknight the bigger threat.

“Double team Corviknight?” she mutters under her breath.

X shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “Support me. See what they can do.”

Y dips her head, pretending to adjust her necktie. “You guys ready?” she calls across the battlefield. Hop gives her a thumbs-up. “Then let’s get this battle started! Veevee, Misty Terrain!”

Veevee closes her eyes and lifts her head. A cloud of pink mist begins to emanate from her body, swirling around her and Kanga’s legs. It quickly spreads across the whole battlefield, but Corviknight and Flygon hover just above the mist.

Hugh scowls. “That was a waste of a move. Misty Terrain won’t affect our Pokémon!”

“Their Pokémon can still benefit from it,” Hop points out. “But let’s not give ’em a reason to! Corviknight, Steel Wing on Sylveon!”

“Flygon, use Rock Slide!” Hugh commands.

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Hop cries, but Flygon is already executing the order.

“Dodge it!” X and Y command simultaneously.

“Corviknight, fall back!” Hop exclaims. Corviknight pulls its head back to stop its charge just before it reaches the torrent of boulders that Flygon is raining down on Kanga and Veevee.

Veevee is nimble enough to dodge most of them, but Kanga isn’t so lucky, taking a decent amount of damage. “Shake it off, Kanga,” X says. “We’re just getting started.”

“What the heck was that, mate?” Hop shouts, glaring at Hugh. “Are you trying to sabotage me!?”

“Sabotage!? I was doing us a favor by attacking both our opponents at once!” Hugh snaps.

“You nearly took Corviknight out with that Rock Slide!”

“I figured you were capable of making sure your Pokemon didn’t get hit by the attack. Which you were. So I don’t see what the big deal is!”

“The big deal is that Corviknight couldn’t attack at all because you decided you wanted to attack both of them at once!”

While they continue arguing, Y glances at X. “Should we, uh, let them finish, or…?”

“Let’s get their attention back here,” X says. “Kanga, use Thunderbolt on Corviknight.”

“Works for me,” Y grins. “Veevee, Moonblast on Flygon!”

Kanga’s body begins to crackle with electricity while Veevee glows with bluish-pink energy. They launch their attacks simultaneously, knocking both Flygon and Corviknight to the ground. That’s finally enough to catch Hugh and Hop’s attention.

“Flygon, are you alright?” Hugh asks. His Pokemon picks itself up and flaps its wings a couple of times to prove that it’s still full of energy. He nods with satisfaction and then levels a glare at Hop. “Look what you’ve done. If you hadn’t started that argument–”

“I wouldn’t have started it if you hadn’t given me a reason to!” Hop shoots back. Then he shakes his head. “Look, we can’t keep arguing like this if we want to win this battle. We’re s’posed to be fighting them , not each other. So let’s each focus on one opponent so we don’t keep getting in each other’s way. Fair?”

“Alright,” Hugh says, turning his intense stare back to X and Y. “I’ll take Kangaskhan, you take Sylveon.”

Hop grins. “I can work with that.”

“Flygon, use Superpower!”

“Corviknight, Steel Wing on Sylveon, let’s go!”

Corviknight and Flygon flap their wings and shoot across the battlefield. They’re both on the opposite side from their intended targets, though, and their trajectories put them directly on a collision course with each other. Fortunately for them, a quick command from Hugh to slightly adjust Flygon’s direction saves them from colliding.

But Y’s not just going to roll over and let them get in a free attack just because they finally figured out that they need to cooperate. “Veevee, Baby-Doll Eyes!” she commands.

Veevee bats her eyes cutely at Corviknight. It slows down a bit but doesn’t stop completely, so it’s still able to land a solid hit. Veevee stumbles back a few paces but remains standing. “Way to hang in there, Veevee! Retaliate with Draining Kiss!”

As Veevee kisses away some of Corviknight’s vitality, Y chances a look over at X and Kanga. Flygon landed a direct hit on Kanga, but now that it’s at close range, she’s grabbed onto its arms to hold it in place.

“Use Outrage!” X orders. Kanga glows with a faint red aura and punches Flygon in the stomach, then flings it away. Y winces.

“Hey! Your opponent’s over here!” Hop calls, waving and grinning cheekily. “Corviknight, keep up the Steel Wings!”

“Dodge it, Veevee!” Y shouts. Veevee does her best to avoid the strikes from Corviknight’s wings, but she’s slowly being pushed into the corner of the battlefield and once she’s there, she’ll have nowhere to go. If only there was some way they could get past Corviknight without giving it time to land a hit…

Flygon and Kanga are still locked in close-quarters combat in the center of the field, and suddenly Y has an idea. “Veevee, use Quick Attack! Aim for Flygon!”

Veevee twists in midair to avoid Corviknight’s wings and lands on the ground in a crouch. It only takes her a moment to pinpoint Flygon’s location. She darts forward. Corviknight can’t move fast enough. Veevee slips under its wings easily, racing towards Flygon. But she realizes at the same time as Y that she won’t be able to attack Flygon without risking hitting Kanga as well, so she stops once she’s gotten a safe distance away from Corviknight.

“Good work, Veevee! Now, give Corviknight a Moonblast!”

Corviknight only has time to turn around before Veevee’s Moonblast is hitting it head-on. But when the dust settles, it shakes its head, barely fazed by the attack. “Nice move,” Hop says to Y. “But it’ll take a lot more than that to defeat a Pokemon with a type advantage!”

“Don’t get too confident! We’re just getting started!” Y replies with a smirk.

“ What!? ”

Hugh’s indignant cry draws Y’s attention back to Flygon and Kanga. Kanga is a little hunched over and breathing heavily, but she still looks much better off than Flygon; it’s lying on the ground, fainted.

“How could Outrage have done that much damage!? Dragon-type moves have their power halved on Misty Terrain!” Hugh exclaims.

“Yes, but Misty Terrain only affects Pokémon that are on the ground,” X says. “Since Flygon has Levitate, it’s not protected by the mist. Dragon-type moves used on it don’t have their power reduced, while Dragon-type moves used by it do – as long as the Pokémon it’s attacking is grounded, like Kanga.”

“ That’s how Misty Terrain works?” Hugh folds his arms, a contemplative look on his face. “But the other terrains boost the power of the user’s moves…”

“Yeah, so Misty Terrain protects Pokémon on the field instead of powering them up,” Hop says. “You really didn’t know that, mate? What happened to that whole ‘graduating at the top of your class’ thing that you were bragging about earlier?”

“Terrain was just being introduced to battles when I was in school,” Hugh says defensively. “They didn’t teach us about it. I had to learn about it from my own research and battles.”

“Well, there’s the trick. You shouldn’t learn just from the battles that you take part in. You can learn a lot by watching other people battle, too. Keep that up, and you’ll be practically unbeatable!” Hop grins.

Hugh looks at Hop for a moment as if studying him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. He returns Flygon and sticks his hands in his pockets. “You’re on your own now. Don’t screw this up.”

“Right…no pressure,” Hop says with a nervous chuckle. He closes his eyes and slaps his hands on his cheeks twice before opening them, a new determination blazing in his eyes. “Let’s do this, Corviknight!”

Corviknight spreads its wings and raises its head high, letting out a shrill cry. Sunlight glints off its metal feathers. Its large wingspan makes it look twice as big as normal – a massive, menacing black figure that towers over Y even though she’s standing several feet away. It flaps its wings to take off, blowing a gust of air strong enough to dislodge the hair tucked behind Y’s ears. Even injured, Corviknight exudes a dominating aura. They can’t let their guard down if they want to defeat it.

As Corviknight moves back to Hop’s side of the battlefield, Y glances over at X. “Looks like we’re gonna get to double team Corviknight after all,” she says with a grin.

“Looks like it,” he agrees.

“Veevee, Draining Kiss!”

“Kanga, Mega Punch!”

As the two Pokemon charge at Corviknight together, Hop commands, “Corviknight, fly as low to the ground as possible and meet them with Steel Wing!”

Corviknight flaps its wings, gaining some height, and then dives down to the ground. It pulls out of the dive just before it hits the ground, letting its momentum propel it towards Kanga and Veevee.

“Veevee, jump over it!” Y shouts.

Veevee leaps into the air just before Corviknight reaches her so it passes right underneath her. Kanga, on the other hand, is far less agile. Corviknight’s wing slams into Kanga’s legs, stopping their motion while her upper body continues to move forward. She slams into the ground while Corviknight slows to a halt in front of X and Y, completely unscathed.

“Quick, before it gets up – Drill Peck on Kangaskhan!” Hop orders.

Corviknight turns around and flies at Kanga again, this time tucking its wings close to its body and rotating itself like a drill. Kanga is struggling to her feet, but she’s not going to have time to get up and move out of Corviknight’s way.

“Now, Veevee, Quick Attack!”

Veevee darts at Corviknight and rams into it. She’s thrown to the ground by the rotation of Corviknight’s body, but the force is enough to knock Corviknight off course. Instead of hitting Kanga, Corviknight crashes into the ground. Meanwhile, Kanga gets to her feet, ready to attack.

“Let’s finish this off,” X says.

“Sounds good to me!”

“Thunderbolt!”

“Moonblast!”

Corviknight barely has time to pick itself up off the ground before it’s being hit by the combined force of Kanga and Veevee’s attacks. It collapses, wings splayed out, unmoving.

“Looks like Corviknight can’t battle anymore,” Y says. “Which means…me and X win!” She turns to X, and they share a quick kiss. “Lovely battling with you, as always.”

“Same to you,” he says, smiling softly. “You fought well.”

She and X return their Pokémon and jog to the other side of the field, where Hop has returned his Corviknight and stands facing Hugh.

Hop lowers his head. “I’m sorry. You were counting on Corviknight and I to win the battle, and we couldn’t do it. It’s my fault we lost…”

Hugh sighs. “You wouldn’t have been in that situation if Flygon hadn’t gotten knocked out first. I should’ve been stronger.”

“No,” X interrupts. “You’re missing the root of the problem. The reason you lost isn’t because either of you were too weak – it’s obvious you’re both skilled Trainers. But you weren’t working as a team, and teamwork is crucial to winning a Multi Battle.”

Hop and Hugh stare at X and then look at each other. Hop sighs and folds his hands behind his head. “You’re right about that, mate. We weren’t working together at all. I was so focused on proving my own strength that I didn’t think about anything other than my Pokémon.”

“I did the same thing,” Hugh admits. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and glances at Hop. “You did pretty well taking on both of them by yourself, though. Having Corviknight fly close to the ground like that to trip them up was clever.”

“You think?” Hop grins, his cheeks tinged a faint pink. “Uh, I can’t really take credit for it. It’s a trick I picked up from my bro.”

Hugh turns to face Hop fully now, an inquisitive look on his face. “You have a brother? Older or younger?”

“Older,” Hop says with a chuckle. “By quite a bit.”

“Oh. I’ve got a younger sister,” Hugh says by way of explanation. “She’s a Trainer, too, but…she’s never had much interest in battling.”

“Really? I can’t imagine what that’s like. I think I inherited my love of battling from my brother,” Hop says, grinning widely.

“Must be nice, having a sibling who actually wants to battle with you.”

“Oh, I wish. By the time I became a Trainer, Lee was already leagues better than me, and he was hardly ever around anyways…”

The two boys head to the stairs, chatting about their siblings like old friends catching up after a long time. Hop pauses to wave goodbye and thank them for the battle. Then the pair head downstairs together, leaving X and Y alone on the roof.

X picks up the aprons off the ground and hands Y hers. She takes it with a smile and ties it back around her waist. Of all the things she loves about running the battle café, this has to be her favorite – getting to bring other Trainers closer together.

Note: This is a work of fiction. The opinions on the cuteness of certain rival characters expressed in this fic are wholly Y’s and do not reflect the views of the creator.

[rainydawgradioblog]

RDR Essentials - Hip-Hop/R&B (4/21)

RDR Essentials is a weekly newsletter of alternating genres that outlines key releases of the past month, upcoming events around Seattle and happenings in the specified music genre.

Made in collaboration between Rainy Dawg DJs and the Music Director.

Releases:

Armand Hammer & The Alchemist - Haram

New York rap duo Armand Hammer have become known for their dreary, dense, and thought-provoking poetry, often paired with gloomy instrumentation and symbolic storytelling. Haram, the duo’s newest full-length album, marks billy woods and Elucid’s first collaboration with one producer for an entire record. The Alchemist lends his ear to the pair on this album, providing an eerie, haunting and emotive soundscape that still sounds like nothing the legendary producer has made in the past, pushing his own boundaries and proving that he is capable of evolution even after a career spanning two decades. Tracks like “Indian Summer” are laced with a menacing energy, while “Falling out the Sky” sounds almost summer-esque, like the sun peeking through an otherwise dark place, beginning with an abstract verse from Earl Sweatshirt, centered around mentions of the sky, space, and supernovas. This track starts a three-song run of the record’s only rap features, as well: “Wishing Bad” contains a furious verse from Curly Castro, transitioning with a more than menacing audio sample that forebodes in an echoing fashion: “There’s a lot of blood early on here”. This next track,“Chicharrones”, is one of the most fear-inducing beats the Alchemist has concocted thus far, and acts as an anger-fueled climax of the record. Quelle Chris delivers a seething verse, focusing on police brutality, not from a perspective of fear or sadness, but rather unrestrained rage, rife with references to George Orwell’s seminal Animal Farm but grounded in a clear disdain for the police. “If you off the pig/ Is you offin' pigs or offerin' figs?/ Oh, you big and bad?/ Blowin' hay and sticks, huffin' bricks” Quelle Chris chides in the chorus: “off the pig” likely refers to not eating pork as a convertee to Islam, in reference to the album’s title, “haram”, meaning “forbidden”, and the record’s stomach-churning cover art. The chorus seems to call out those who claim solidarity and yet “offer figs”, a phrase with roots in the biblical tale of Adam and Eve, who, in shame for their behavior, cover their genitals with fig leaves.

These guest features reinforce the record’s themes of drug abuse, class theory, racism, and the cultural ramifications of the “forbidden” in all its forms. Those who use the forbidden to cope, those who are able to get away with doing the forbidden, and everything in between seems to manifest within the record’s walls. As with every Armand Hammer release, however, it is the energy and poetry of these two MCs, seemingly almost psychically connected, that makes their staggeringly dense words so potent. At every turn, the two seem interlaced. Elucid brings invigoration to his verses, combined with sung choruses that sound as raw as can be, like on the solo track “Roaches Don’t Fly”, with soaring guitar riffs carrying an explosive verse (“My new name, colonizer’s can’t pronounce”) swelling to an enormous sung mantra: “You don’t gotta be here if you don’t wanna.” Elucid’s unique style of delivery often sees him, as many have noted, emphasizing unexpected syllables in his words, leaving his performances consistently engaging. Billy woods’ signature vignette-style storytelling and dry, dark humor are intact once again as well. The first verse of “Indian Summer” sees woods start a track as menacingly as one can (“I swore vengeance in the seventh grade/ Not on one man, the whole human race”), leading to a chilling tale of a man’s past in drug sales using a job cutting grass as cover, with detail to spare, painting a clear scene of “the stink of gas in the evening” and “the intoxication of counting cash in secret.” Highlight “Squeegee”, too, sees woods providing an unbelievable lesson in telling a full story in a short amount of time, chronicling a man’s attempt to turn his life around: eating healthy, working out before dawn, and barely smoking weed. Ultimately it’s all for naught, as paranoia takes over. He wonders if someone will follow him home, he wonders what his neighbors are doing, and it seems that old habits creep their way back in: ‘The taste in his mouth just like before.” It’s a chilling vignette, and undoubtedly one of woods’ best verses to date.

The album ends on an emotive high note; if “Chicharrones'' was the angry climax, “Stonefruit” is the album’s explosive and heart-wrenching finale. Elucid’s sorrowful chorus makes clear a turn inward, after an album focused so heavily on societal ills. “I don’t want to lose control” he repeats: “I’ve got so much left to undo.” Finally, billy woods delivers the album's most painful and emotive verse. Woods seemingly chronicles a rocky relationship perhaps interrupted by a sudden passing, a relationship filled with strife (“Said ‘OK’ to save face, but she never forgave”) that is yet anchored by an irrefutable love. The beautiful instrumental turns into a droning, and the euphoric emotional climax is once again drowned out by the ills it is surrounded by. This album is dense, difficult, and often a hard listen. But if one chooses to give it the attention it asks, it is more than rewarding enough, and once again proves billy woods, Elucid, and The Alchemist as three of the best artists we’ve ever seen.

- Casey Chamberlain

Kenny Mason - Angelic Hoodrat Supercut

Atlanta artist Kenny Mason is beginning to make a name for himself. After his impressive Angelic Hoodrat last year and a standout feature on Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats’ UNLOCKED 1.5 remix album, the 26 year old is back with a sequel project, Supercut, and continues to impress with his astounding mix of rock and rap. The project is a tightrope act that balances the genres, bringing trap beats, triplet flows, and bedroom guitar passages in equal measure. Rap cuts like the excellent “A+” featuring Denzel Curry see Kenny bringing technical flows and quick wit to the table, alongside standout “Much Money” which sees Freddie Gibbs making an appearance, bringing his signature swagger and Instagram-story quotables.

However, the most impressive aspects of the record are where things begin to change up, seeing Kenny swing more into rock and indie territory. “Play Ball” feels like a teenage anthem, accompanied by driving guitar riffs and bouncy drums and vocal mixing more reminiscent of a live performance at a house show than a recording booth. Opener “43”, too, immediately sets the tone, with a powerful sung chorus and heavy guitar rhythm and booming drums. Perhaps the biggest highlight, however, is the two-part “Pup”, which sees a low-key first half blend into a spacey and introspective second half. Not only is the production here at perhaps its most interesting of the record, combining gritty guitar and a pulsing trap beat, but Kenny’s songwriting stands out as well, with a strong emotive performance and personal lyrics highlighting insecurities. If there’s any critique to be had of this record, it would be that it most certainly feels like a part two of the first Angelic Hoodrat (in fact, the record’s title even makes it sound more like a deluxe than a separate album). Yet, Kenny’s style is most certainly exciting, reminiscent in equal measure of contemporaries across the musical spectrum, from Jean Dawson to JID. If refining his sound means putting out music as impressive as this, then Kenny Mason is on the right track, and is one to watch.

- Casey Chamberlain

Benny the Butcher & Harry Fraud - The Plugs I Met 2

Benny The Butcher has rocketed to heights previously unknown in the last year, with his full length project with Hit-Boy, Burden of Proof, being his biggest project yet, and seeing him steer into different sonic territory, moving away from the grimy Daringer and Alchemist production he had become known for on projects like Tana Talk 3. 2019’s The Plugs I Met was the epitome of that sound, and it’s perhaps inevitable that Benny would move past it at some point. Plugs I Met 2, however, feels like a marriage of those two sounds, sounding like a true sequel to the first project while still pushing into new territory and incorporating bigger features. There’s nothing as grimy here as the first album’s “Sunday School” or “Dirty Harry”, but tracks like “When Tony Met Sosa” and “Plug Talk” carry that same energy.

Highlights include “Overall” featuring Chinx, where the production feels like a brilliant mix of the street sounds and the lavish flashiness of Benny’s wordplay, alongside heavy drum kicks and incredibly dense production. Harry Fraud produced every track on the project, and this consistency shines. Each track sounds different from the last, but they fit neatly together. Even the tracks that tone down the energy feel just as lyrically impressive, such as “Live By It.” The features are mostly standout as well, with guest verse from 2 Chainz, Rick Hyde, and more. Overall, this is a solid project and logical sequel to the first Plugs I Met. Those who miss Benny’s grimy, TT3-era sound may be disappointed not to hear it return on every track here, but for those who remain impressed by Benny’s newfound flexibility, Plugs I Met 2 will no doubt remain a worthwhile addition to the Griselda catalog.

- Casey Chamberlain

Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats - UNLOCKED 1.5

Not content with waiting for the already-announced sequel to release, Kenny Beats and Denzel Curry return with a batch of remixes of tracks from last year’s excellent UNLOCKED with UNLOCKED 1.5. Featuring guest production and verses, this collection feels less like a full project on its own and more of a playful invitation to collaborators to make something brand new out of an already energetic album. The original UNLOCKED made clear its influence from MF DOOM, Madlib, and a host of others, seeing Kenny Beats branch out into new, cartoony territory and seeing Denzel Curry flex his lyrical prowess on a non-stop barrage of high-octane tracks. 1.5, in comparison, takes many of those rambunctious verses and places them over entirely new production. Standout “So.Incredible.pkg”, with production by the great Robert Glasper brings a jazzy and laid back energy, where Denzel still feels right at home, followed by an excellent and sly verse from Smino. “Cosmic.m4a [The Alchemist Version]” brings in the legendary producer for a brand new beat with beating drums and piano passages, alongside a vengeful, if not far too short, verse from Joey Bada$$. “Pyro” sees bouncy new production from Sango, with a witty and childlike feature from Kenny Mason. The highlight, however, has to be “DIET_” which, as the standout of the original project, with Denzel’s ferocious and guttural delivery inspired by the late DMX now enhanced by an effortless verse from Benny the Butcher, marking an unlikely but incredibly fulfilling appearance. The original UNLOCKED was a lighthearted project that showcased the talent of Denzel and Kenny Beats. 1.5, while not necessarily a fulfilling EP taken on its own, is something of a victory lap for the duo and their friends, a fun counterpart to the original project and a flexing of creative muscles.

- Casey Chamberlain

AG Club - Fuck Your Expectations PT. 1

When AG Club titled this album “Fuck Your Expectations”, they meant it. Fans, like me, who became hooked on AG Club after their debut melodic rap masterpiece Halfway Off the Porch, have been patiently awaiting a completed “Fuck Your Expectations” since its anticipated debut date in the summer of 2020. After months of waiting, with a few eclectic singles sprinkled in, AG Club decided to fuck our expectations once again by only giving fans part one, released April 2nd, with part two expected (I’m hesitant to use this word) on April 30th. Although it’s not the drop fans were expecting, it’s more than enough to tide us over. AG Club, now only composed of Jody Fontaine and Baby Boy on vocals, brings a fresh and exciting energy on this album that is more comparable to their early singles, like “Holy Shit” or “Ay, G”, than it is to their last full release. Tracks like “NOHO”, composed solely of bass and percussion, and “Columbia”, which features a blaring horn like they just brought the cavalry out, are the album’s “bangers”. AG Club hasn’t settled - they still have chips on their shoulders - and these songs prove that. To round the album out and further their pattern of genre-warping, tracks like “HOT PINK” and “A Bitch Curious” mix R&B, indie pop and rap to produce a completely new sound for the group. And just when you thought your expectations were certifiably fucked, the “A Bitch Curious” instrumental suddenly morphs into an EDM beat around three minutes in. Although it’s filled with an absurd amount of interludes for a nine track album, this project will still leave you saying: “Thank you AG Club, may I have another?”

- Charlie Darnall

BROCKHAMPTON - ROADRUNNER: NEW LIGHT, NEW MACHINE

The visuals for BROCKHAMPTON’s latest record say a lot about it. The video for “BUZZCUT”, the album’s opener, is a glorious clusterfuck of outdated animation and strobing color. On Spotify, every song is accompanied by a video of each vocalist’s face slowly morphing into the next. The self-proclaimed boy band’s visuals, although abrasive at first, are full of depth; every scene in a video or clip has spot on color pallets, an energy that accurately mirrors the song and an attention grabbing theme. And ROADRUNNER is equally as dense. Sonically, the album can range from the aggressive, east coast rap inspired “BANKROLL” to the all acapella, gospel inspired “DEAR LORD”. Between these polar opposites, lie eleven eclectic, constantly morphing tracks. “WINDOWS” is an eerie, acoustic laced song about all the boys being “outside your window” (oh no!) Following it, however, is the accessible and breezy R&B/pop track “I’LL TAKE YOU ON” featuring the legendary Charlie Wilson. “DON’T SHOOT UP THE PARTY” contrasts a beat that could send an Ibiza nightclub into a frenzy with passionate lyrics about racial injustice and the media and government’s inability to condemn white mass shooters. In the spirit of a “new light”, BROCKHAMPTON decided to include features on this album - a first time for the boy band. In both popularity and sound, these features are equally as eclectic. Features range from industry titans, like A$AP Rocky, to smaller, indie pop artists like Baird. Amongst the album’s themes of religion, hedonism and new beginnings, you will find density, both instrumentally and lyrically. 

- Charlie Darnall

Young Stoner Life - Slime Language 2

The second installment of Young Thug’s Slime Language series is undeniably essential. Young Thug and Gunna together are arguably two of the biggest figures in rap right now. Do you have a cousin or sibling in middle or high school? What about a friend in a fraternity? I’ll bet you $100 they’ve both heard a Young Thug or Gunna song in the past week. Both these Atlanta artists have transcended your average rap fan; their songs might be on your dad’s favorite radio station. And I think they’ve realized that. Out of the many things this album succeeds in, its greatest accomplishment is playing into the popularity its creators have achieved. Features include Drake, Lil Baby, Lil Uzi Vert, Travi$ Scott, Skepta, Kid Cudi and even the controversial YNW Melly. The beats are accessible and lend themselves to millions of streams. Tracks such as “I Like” and “Trance” model the more melodic side of Travi$ Scott’s sound with a low tempo and spacey synths. “That Go!” sounds like Playboi Carti had a beat to spare after finishing Whole Lotta Red. In terms of lyrics, there isn’t much to say. Gunna and Young Thug are still two of the biggest rappers alive, they’re still quite wealthy and they’ve made sure to mention that, although their lines seem to prioritize memorability. Every song is either hard enough to make a JV basketball team go nuts, melodic enough for late night drive or bouncy enough to make your mom go “oh, this is fun!” The album plays on many established themes and styles, but I asked myself two questions after I first listened and these are the answers I came to: Is it trying to be popular? Yes. Is that necessarily a bad thing? No.

- Charlie Darnall

Upcoming Releases:

MIKE- Disco! (6/21)

New York rapper MIKE has released a steady stream of incredible, personal, and beautiful records over the past few years, and it seems he is gearing up to release another project, titled Disco! this June. The rapper’s raw delivery and soulful production has brought him to the forefront of the burgeoning abstract hip-hop scene, and projects like 2019’s Tears of Joy and the seminal May God Bless Your Hustle have garnered not only critical acclaim but a fanbase of passionate fans. The lead single for the project, “Evil Eye” provides a gorgeous sample and instrumentation and a short but sweet verse, and is a perfect taste of what is sure to be another personal and important record from one of the best rappers currently working. Disco! arrives June 21st on MIKE’s label 10k.

- Casey Chamberlain

Paris Texas - “BOY ANONYMOUS” (5/14)

Compton-based duo Paris Texas have announced their debut EP, BOY ANONYMOUS. The group has made a splash with the project’s lead singles after dropping the explosive “HEAVY METAL” earlier this year. The group mixes rock and rap, and brings a ferocious energy to their music while staying introspective. The group’s name comes from the 1984 movie of the same title, often cited as Kurt Cobain’s favorite film. The duo has released two other tracks prior to the project’s release, “FORCE OF HABIT” and “SITUATIONS.” The eight-track EP is out May 14th.

- Casey Chamberlain

[hecohansen31]

It Was Fun Till It Lasted

Duncan Shepherd x F1 Pilot Female! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I have been a bit silent the latest weeks, but I just got hit by the inspiration train as of lately (even more after all the F1 glory we have been getting) and I just thought about a small drabble, about Duncan in the race car universe.

Not as a driver, but more like a sponsor.

This is very PWP, even for my sentimental ass, so I do hope that you’ll like it, even though it isn’t the most perfect thing ever (just to warn you).

Also I just wanted to give @guiltyfiend a big shoutout because she has been a constant source of inspiration for me with various fics (‘Quid Pro Quo’ has been the main reason why for the existence of this drabble) so do check out her lovely fics!

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Galas can be annoying things, but when an handsome fellow accidentally drenches you in champagne there are many ways your night might change.

WORDS: 5,4 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Sexism, Misogyny, Harassment On The Workplace, Inaccurate Portrayal of The F1 World, Inaccurate Way Of Cleaning Champagne From Clothes, Sex, Slight Dirty Talk, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Sex Between Strangers.

You sipped slowly from the flute of champagne you had managed to steal, meanwhile your boss wasn’t looking, since you had been instructed to avoid getting yourself drunk till you got the trophy in your hand, to avoid replacing the ‘drunk Kimi meme’ in the F1 world.

But it was difficult for you, an introvert, to feel at ease in a room full of different people.

A few of them were gladly ignoring you, but more were looking at you like you were some kind of freak in a costume, which was probably the best description for being one pilot of the only all-female team existing in F1.

You had grown up with the myths of Ayrton Senna and Niki Lauda, thanks to your grandfather and his the passion for fast cars and elegant ones, raising you as some kind of substitute to him, who had never been able to race, having had various problematics with his own health.

An heartattack at seventy had taken him away, just as you signed your first contract with the F2.

You had been partnered with a male pilot, and although the car wasn’t the fastest, you had managed to become much better than your partner, eventually getting yourself fired because females, in a place like F1, couldn’t raise to fame, throwing you in a depression that had brought you almost on the verge…

… but then your newest F1 stable had brought you back, giving you a car that wasn’t definitely one of the best you could have gotten but it had gotten you through a nice first season, and you had actually arrived at the sixth position in the constructors’ championship, alongside your partner…

… who, right now, didn’t look less bothered than you, at this fancy party.

But Abigail could definitely hold the curious gazes better than you.

You might have needed something more than champagne to get through a night like this.

You had begged your stable director to just bring Abigail, the social butterfly out of the two of you, but he had just insisted that ‘having two beauties on his arm would have done him and the stable more good than just one’.

And aside from the blatantly sexist part of the comment, you knew he was right.

Sponsors had been rushing to you this season because the media had focused much attention on the importance of new female figures in races, but now that the novelty was rushing off a few had decided to let you go, so you had to grab a few new ones, convincing them through either the use of your talk and your feminine charm.

‘… I had almost thought that he’d ask us to sleep with the sponsors to get them to stay’ had commented Abigail, as you both set yourself up for the night, the elegant rented dresses waiting for you on the comfortable bed of the expensive suite of the hotel ‘… it was this close to becoming an episode of ‘Law & Order: SVU’.

And now Abigail was being her usual chatty with a few sponsors fawning around her, as you tried to down the flute of champagne almost as if it was a full bottle of vodka, something that you honestly missed and stared at the expensive drink in the glass.

If only your glare could turn it in something that would give you more liquid courage.

A few of the rookies had been tried to talk with you and you had been extremely happy to have someone approach you, but soon the chat had diffused itself and all the drivers had been called back by their own director, and you had found yourself alone, again, and with annoying stares upon you.

Many of the pilots from the other stables had tried to get you in bed with them, and you knew that there were various bets going on about getting you or Abigail to finally relent your ‘haughty pretenses’, not to talk about the fact that the entire media platform and magazines had been set up on you and Abigail, waiting for any false step of yours.

You had been dubbed ‘the sole chance for feminism to raise’ and everyone was waiting for you to fall.

To prove that F1 wasn’t female territory.

So, you had been rigorously swearing off any coupling with the other drivers.

The fact that you found it already quite difficult to combine your training and the various galas you had to attend with an healthy social life, certainly did help with the whole ‘chastity promise’ thing.

And you never regretted such a choice during the race season.

The ‘no sex’ rule helped you during the competition, keeping your mind in the game, but now that the driving season was ended and you were finally enjoying your well-deserved holiday, you couldn’t help but hate thoroughly the situation you had landed yourself in, only able to rely on your hand and a few interesting toys.

But otherwise, utterly frustrated.

And yet unable to come up with a solution on such a short notice.

Dicks didn’t grow up on trees, these days.

You just bumped in them, apparently.

Because, as you were halfway through having your second drink of the night, counting on the fact that the director of your stable was halfway through a successful talk with some well-dressed older gentlemen, hence making him quite busy already and unable to check up on you, you clashed against a wall.

A wall of muscles, at a second glance.

A breathing wall of muscles, at third glance.

But you were far more interested by the fact that the bump-in had just made you spill your entire drink on your Givenchy rented dress, the one that costed more than your apartment rent, something that made a loud ‘shit’ leave your mouth and making the ‘wall of muscles’ raise his head towards you, as he noticed the stain.

And then, when you noticed that ‘wall of musclea’ had a pretty face and an even prettier body, a softer ‘shit’ left your mouth.

What a way to make an impression.

“Oh Gosh, I am sorry!” American accent, no British accent.

That was probably where Mother Nature had drawn in blessing him with all the ‘fucking handsome man’ gifts.

His handsome face was elegantly touched up by high cheekbones and feature that had something of roguish matched with elegant traits and darker colors, making him stand out as someone who wasn’t definitely a pilot or a journalist.

Which was ideal for you.

Such an refined face was matched with an elegant tailored body, the suit definitely made for him and him solely, knowing perfectly how to highlight each and every trait of a body that was obtained through attentive work, a careful one that was meant to impose itself or pump his muscles with no aim, but to give him a lean appearance of power.

That definitely worked with you.

“… oh” brain to Earth, brain to Earth, (Y/N), say something intelligent ‘… it was an accident’.

Tell that to the lady that will want the dress back.

But for now, that wasn’t your main concern.

Which was the handsome man in front of you.

But you couldn’t just hump him right there, not only because you were pretty sure that it would have been described as ‘sexual harassment’, but all the spotlight was set up on you, hence all the cameras were focused on every little small mistake you could have done, intensifying them in a way that didn’t happen with men.

You had to be perfect, but even more than that.

You had to be the male everyone thought you were, although you lacked of the attributes.

So, flirting was considered a hellish sin.

“Gosh, I am… extremely sorry” he repeated again, as his eyes shared a quick glance with yours, and you just nodded your head as if you had to confirm to him that you had heard him clearly the first time, before ducking to the restroom, hoping to be able to scrub away the stain, at least to avoid its yellowish color on the stark white of your dress.

But before you could start raising the dress off your legs, where the stain was more evident, you were followed inside by the man, and before you could utter any protest, he caught the ones in your eyes.

“I swear I am not a creeper” he raised his hands as if to reinforce this “… I just… you shouldn’t scrub on silk, it’ll just ruin the fabric, just ran the water and then wait for it to dry, some alcohol and a bit of bleach might also help, the stain will come out, with a single wash… I swear”.

You had a million questions for the stranger, unsure if you shouldn’t have already screamed at him for having entered the ladies restroom, but you just assumed that he was the first handsome guy ever to come with a cute personality.

And good domestic knowledge.

That was meant to always do something to a lady.

“… thank you” you settled on uttering, comforted by the fact that the guy turned around to leave you some privacy, but you couldn’t just let go such an opportunity, even more when you were in some kind of secluded area, and he didn’t look like the type that had a secret go-pro camera under his clothes.

Some girl that you had once met in a bathroom at one of the races had turned out to have one, as she egged on commenting some shit over Abigail.

Unluckily for her, Abigail was in the other stall and she had flushed in the noisiest way the water, before appearing with some kind of triumphant aura around her.

“… can you please stay?” ‘people will probably doubt you on your “abilities” if you come out after five minutes’ you almost wanted to utter, as a test to know if he looked just like a sex god or he fucking was, although with the way his cheeks blushed of a light red, you simply bit down on your tongue “… just to help me get the stain off, properly… you seem to know much more than me about it”.

“Things happen in college” he commented, as if it was an explanation.

What kind of parties had he been in college?

You just remembered the rush to grabbing the cheapest and most efficient alcohol.

He reached out as kindly as he could to start on the farthest part of your dress, where it wasn’t straight up skin tight, gently dabbing it with a piece of paper you had handed him, the fabric destroying itself on the dress, but the stain became a bit less prominent.

Enough to pass as some kind of enrichment the stylist had done on the dress at the last minute.

You hoped you could make the lady that had rented it to you buy this shit off too.

Because you either managed to get the stain out or get yourself a sponsor for the new year, or you’d have had to probably start living on the road, with only a few shining trophies for losers, such as the one you were supposed to grab tonight, for ‘best promising team’.

As if there was some kind of competition, between your small team and various established ones…

“… what are you doing at such a party?” you knew that conversation during this kind of thing would have gotten it to seem less sexual than it truly was, and although you were as good at small talk as you were at handling a crowd, you did your best to sound as relaxed as you could be.

But your question still sounded like one out of a police interrogation.

“Friend of a friend” it was more like meaning ‘none of your business’ but kinder, and you couldn’t deny his own right to privacy “… by the way, I do think that I should give you my name… in case you want someone to curse for the dress, I am Duncan”.

“I am (Y/N)” you were glad when no light of recognition shone in his eyes, just as his hand lightly grabbed the back of your upper thigh, to make the dress adhere perfectly to your skin and dab the stain more properly, a light shiver at the touch made you understand how truly touch-starved you had been “… and you look as out of place as me in this fucking gown”.

“Don’t tell anybody, but…” and he lightly leaned in closer to you, enough that you could feel the strong but comforting perfume of his cologne, something that smelt extremely male and yet, you couldn’t detect a trace of toxic masculinity in it “… I have never seen a single race of F1 in my life”.

Just what you needed.

“… oh tell me about it” you played coy, as his hands raised up from your legs skillfully avoided your ass, instead choosing to grip on the outer part of your hip, handling you with care but a sureness that made you want to relent the whole ‘male image’ you had created around you.

What would you have given for a night in which you didn’t have to be the one in control, constantly checking every detail!

“… neither a fan of the whole race panorama?” he asked, as his eyes trained themselves on your stomach, barely covered by the white of the dress, showing him a bit of skin behind it, exactly as the absence of your panties, a crazed decision of Abigail, who had thrown away your seamless granny pants.

‘They might be protective when we race, but these are shit’.

You knew you shouldn’t have lied to him about not belonging in the racing setting, but you just wanted to have one night in which you weren’t the prodigy, the promise, ‘the sole chance for freedom to raise’.

You just wanted to be (Y/N).

“Definitely not”.

“Brought here by a boyfriend?” now he was scanning his own ground, and he had a small break from his cleaning duties, as you caught a glimpse of that damned profile, the kind of thing you saw on expensive old coins.

He was definitely some kind of emperor in his own right.

“Nope” you mumbled, before you gave him back his own same coin “… just brought here by a friend of a friend”.

He smirked at his words being spit back at him and you smiled almost foolishly.

You even let out a soft giggle.

How fucking long had it been since you had giggled?

And done it because you honestly wanted.

And not because you were forced in front of journalists or potential sponsors.

His hands were now on the side of your chest, against the slight hill of your bra (you could have forsaken panties, but you needed that support), his hands lightly tracing the ridge of the silicone part where the bra stood attached to your skin, sweaty due to the fact that you had been wearing the whole thing for five hours, before of the event.

“… and you had an idiot spill a drink over it, in the span of an hour” the words were meant for self-deprecation, but the smile that accompanied him was utterly confident.

Had you had panties, they would have definitely hit the ground soundly in that moment.

“… it could have been worse” you mumbled, just as your eyes twinkled with secret meaning.

‘You could have been a complete twat or old enough to be my grandpa’

“… you couldn’t have known how to get out champagne stains” you joked, settling up on a more PG-13 comment, unsure of what to do, since it had been quite some time since you had last flirted, and although his hand told you a story, you weren’t exactly sure if he had gotten all the clues of the game.

He laughed so brilliantly that also a light blush joined your soft giggle.

“Gosh, that would have been awful” his tone was joking, but his eyes were onto you, as they searched some kind of confirm in yours, and you just had to lean in to sign the deal, leaning down to kiss him.

You had never been one for one-night-stands and neither for quick fucks in a restroom, but with the way he lightly gripped you, making sure to position you on top of the elegant porcelain sink, careful to avoid the water: it wouldn’t have been neither.

And you were completely swept away.

He definitely passed the ‘kiss’ test.

His hand went through your hair perfectly, but careful of the small updo you had done, his fingertips lightly scraping the baby hair on your upper neck, in a way that kept you grounded, just as his lips lightly bit onto your upper lips, leaving you wanting for more, just as he backed away with a cunning smirk.

One that spoke of that technique never failing.

And before he could perform again that cocky enchantment, you kissed him.

Releasing on him entire months of sexual frustration.

And you had to say that you surprised him, enough that you were worried that your suddenness would have scared him, but he just needed to regain the control, before his hand without any care went to mess up your updo, in a way that instead of grounding and relaxing you, made you tense up, just as his hand splayed your knees wide onto the sink to have him come up between them.

And after the passionate kiss you had been sharing, you found yourself quickly locked, with one that gripped you by the hair against the cold mirror and another one splayed on your knee

The fabric of your silk dress lightly caressed the skin of your inner thigh, right as his elegant and expensive pants did the same with your core, making you feel that you shouldn’t have seriously worried about the ‘five minutes thing’, or at least you hoped.

But the package seemed fucking good.

“… so, would you like to have a bit more of help?” the way he pronounced the word ‘help’ sounded downright sinful and how could a girl deny him, as your own hands moved to gently tap on his sharp cheeks, the scratchiness of a cleanly shaved beard making you feel like this was all real.

“Just don’t get my dress dirty” it was a whisper, but your eyes played with the dominance you wanted to relent to him, and he just looked intrigued.

“Then spread your legs properly, little one” and as if under a spell they opened properly and let him adjust himself against them as his hands lightly raised up to collect the dress away from your legs, stopping right up on your hips and leaving a bit of dress to cover you, as if he had to leave you some modesty “… good girl”.

You purred at that, leaning in the light petting of his grip having become less pronounced as a grip and more a caress.

“…  I saw you out there in the crowd and I wanted to buy you a drink, because you looked at unease as me, I thought that you could use that” he commented as his face lightly moved down to the crook of your neck, his nose making a teasing trail down your profile, just as his beard lightly scratched your skin, making it redden simply for his lips, before he covered it of purplish bruises “… I thought I had done the worst thing ever since with pouring a drink over you”.

“… couldn’t stay mad when you fucking looked like a sex god” you muttered unable to deny the truth, your body arching right against his as his hands, gently dragged he strap of your dress down your shoulders, revealing the awful skin-like bra, but he just seemed focused on your collarbones, his hand working slowly to ease the bra away from you, eventually dropping it onto the small tissues box over both of your heads, so it wouldn’t get on the ground.

An attentive gesture, exactly as the way he gripped tightly your breast, making sure that your nipples were lightly caressed by his thumb, right as he bit down on the softer flesh of your neck.

“I am glad that my good looks were of some use” he joked, and gently looked up at you “… and let me tell you, I have a tongue that will make you forget all about my clumsiness”.

“I do think that I deserve an apology” you muttered, as your eyes met again, your lashes cornering perfectly your hazy eyes, breathy and soft “… a vocal apology”.

And he simply smirked down at you, falling on his knees with a sound thud, as you pushed yourself further down the sink you were on, till you felt the painful dig of the faucet in your back, enough to make you moan in protest, but soon the look of wonder on his face as he unveiled the secret underneath your dress was definitely a relief against the uncomfortable position.

“… didn’t know that you were one of those girls that go without panties” he pushed a knee up on you to spread you further to him, as he took in the proper masterpiece that had been revealed to him down there, and his kisses moved up on your inner thigh “… look like the pretty girl turned out to be a bad bad girl, no wonder I am about to fuck you like a fucking bitch in heat in a restroom”.

And you blushed at the profane words.

But it was just more endearing for you as he pushed himself to properly settle against the nest between your legs, already oozing soft milk and sweet honey, his lips lightly pushing against your own, as he dragged the same beard you had felt on your cheeks against your cunt, the sensation making you hiss, right as again your lips came to soothe your ache.

The plumpness of his lips made you unable to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your eyes closing just as he delivered a slap to your thigh, a silent warning to keep your eyes trained on him and you did, as his lips sucked your softest piece in his mouth.

His tongue was instead a blessing inside of you and this time you were the one delving a bit of pain to him, as you grabbed strongly his hair, some kind of relief to keep you grounded as your body became like a cloud, weighted down just by the tension in your whole muscles.

“Fuck, you do know how to have fun” he mumbled tightly, as he released your cunt, something that made you protest loudly “… when was the last time somebody fucked you this good, (Y/N)”.

And before you could properly reply, his finger slipped inside you, making you hiss out at the feeling of being full, so unlike the stretch of your own fingers, so slight that now you needed a minute to calm yourself from everything, as you waited to answer his reply.

And he gave you a moment to breath, before his finger lightly probed further, reaching inside with a wayward gesture that made you choke up on your own words, as your back arched against the mirror and the hand that wasn’t in his hair gripped so tightly the sink that you were sure you had left an acrylic nail there.

“… a long time for sure” he smirked so devilishly that it broke you thoroughly.

And then his tongue matched his finger and before you knew it your floating was interrupted by your skyrocketing to the ground in a pleasurable trail that brought you back to all the earthly pleasure you could ask for, leaving you numb and tensed, your eyes rolling back as you lost sight of what was going on with you.

And then as you regained, your legs were slack over Duncan’s sides, his lips teasing again the skin of your neck, but no intention to punish you with any pain or tease you, instead there was a desperate soothing in his gestures, as you slowly came back to reality.

Fuck, you honestly should do this more.

Sadly, half of the guys that wanted a hook-up wouldn’t have ever done anything like what Duncan just did with you.

And would probably last five minutes, indeed.

“… was that enough of an apology?” he asked as soon as he saw that you had regained some semblance of calmness.

“Definitely yes” not that you could reply with much more.

Your fingers spoke louder as they went to his belt, undoing it with a bit of problem since you were slightly trembling, but he tried his best to let you do it, but before you could lower the pants, he gently grabbed your hands, something soft in his eyes, as he made you look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this…”.

“Oh, c’mon…” you mumbled, but his question was sincere and you couldn’t help but blush lightly “… I am pretty sure I want to do this”.

He mumbled softly, as he grabbed something from his back pocket, as you lightly lowered pants and boxers in one move,

And you weren’t disappointed,

He was definitely a big guy.

Larger than longer, with a light curve that made you painfully ache for having him inside of you, already half-hard, and your hand gently moved up and down on him, in a gentle foreplay that was completely uninterested about the knocking on the door, eventually dissipating in curses.

“… gotta be quiet baby” he commented, as he pushed his wallet on the side of the sink, getting a condom out of it, something for which you were thankful, because although you were on birth control, he was a complete stranger to you, and although the thrill of it just made it all just more daring, you would have preferred avoiding anything that might have given you an awful month “… I don’t know if you will, since I’ll make you feel fucking good”.

You just smirked at him, with a smile that told him ‘I can take it, sweetheart’.

And he just silenced it with pushing himself inside of you.

The penetration gave you an unpleasant stretch, and you needed a minute, as your whole body shifted against him, completely pushing himself in your arms, and to his credit he didn’t do much more than steady you, as he gave you the time to adjust yourself on him, till your whole body relaxed but your own insides.

Gripping him tighter.

Goading him closer and deeper.

And he gently set up a slow rhythm, making you feel each inch of him, till you were hypnotized with the way his hips moved against you, his upper body lightly stroking your clit, as wetness oozed down him, lubing him up, as he took up more speed and you found your back pushed against the mirror with such intensity that you were sure it would have been broken soon.

But you couldn’t give a fuck.

He gently pushed you in another position turning you around, so that you could face the mirror, meanwhile he took you from behind, the angle being deeper and the slight curve of his cock hitting the perfect spot.

And the fact that you could see yourself being fucked by him was only a bonus.

The way his face became so deformed by pleasure gave it all some kind of dreamish state, as the pleasure intensified desperately and you were there just on the right spot, but not enough stimulation was there for you, till he brought a finger in your mouth, and you sucked him inside, looking at the wanton expression on your face, before you closed your eyes.

And pleasure overtook you.

It didn’t take him too much time for him to finish alongside you, as his hand lightly went in your hair again, pushing as a way to grip on reality for a last time and your muscles spasmed around you, desperately and tightly in a way that almost made you wonder how it would have felt to have his seed on you.

And not in a plastic wrapper.

But for now that was all you could do.

Your legs trembled but he steadied you, something that definitely gave him more credit than you thought, expecting him to simply tug himself back in and disappear, maybe stand a bit next to you, to wash himself, but to his credit he gently  handled you better, till you were again seated against the sink, the facet now digging painfully in you.

But you were definitely sore in more pleasurable places.

He gently got you back in your dress, adjusting your bra on your sweaty skin, too sensitive for the powerful orgasms you had felt, his silken touch making goosebumps appear on your skin, as your nipples lightly peaked and he couldn’t stop himself from gently sucking one after the other in his mouth, as you moaned almost as a protest.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish” you warned him, as his eyes twinkled with teasing happiness.

“… I would… but I do think that people need this restroom” and he was right, since you felt somebody halfway through calling the security and you shouted out calmly a soft ‘sorry, I just stained my dress and I am trying to get the stain away’ “… but if you want, I can… leave you my number, for more fun…”.

Which you were tempted to take, honestly.

He was handsome, he had a good dick game and he was definitely respectful of boundaries.

But you knew these things always got too complex for you.

First of all because had you given him your number, you would have to admit the truth and secondly as much as you were free right now a partner that was repeated a few more times was dangerous, because feelings might be developed.

“… I…” but how could you let down a guy like this.

“… you aren’t the type” a sad smile appeared on the man’s face, no hard feelings for sure, but definitely uncomfortable at your rejection and you couldn’t help but simply nod “… got it, well it was fun till it lasted”.

And to his merit he didn’t do anything that might have been rough against you, choosing to instead smile politely as he cleaned himself a bit, before he exited with one last look at you, as if to check if you had changed your mind, but you simply stood painfully uncomfortable off the sink as you dabbed a bit more the stain.

“… thank you for the suggestion and…” ‘…the fucking amazing sex’.

“You are welcome”.

And with that he disappeared from the restroom, as you thought he’d disappear from your life.

The only trace of him was the faint stain on your dress and the slight blush on your cheeks as you joined Abigail again.

‘… somebody got lucky’ she simply muttered, as she twirled her glass, another one in your hands, as your eyes searched for Duncan, he joined a few of the investors, but your eyes diverted immediately from that sight, worried the connection might be seen and questioned ‘… at least one of us got laid tonight’.

You simply elbowed her, as you smiled lovingly at the sponsors.

But you definitely felt rebirthed after the restroom session.

Maybe you were wrong about not seeing him again.

Not that you hadn’t to wait much to meet him again.

That morning you had been asked to take part at a reunion of the stable, alongside a few sponsors that you had found at the latest event, it was a way to get them to know the ‘talents’ they’d fund, and as you expected old and older people to approach you, you were surprised to find Duncan standing there.

Hadn’t he been a complete stranger to the F1 platform?

And as your grew nervous and more nervous, your stable director came up to you and Abigail, slinging an arm over you both as he moved to get you and present you to him, making you blush as much as he did, but he was extremely professional.

You couldn’t, when you discovered he was your newest sponsor.

‘Girls let me introduce to you both our latest sponsor’ your boss commented softly ‘Duncan Shepherd’.

And he was Duncan fucking Shepherd.

The heir to the Shepherd foundation.

What the fuck had you done?

---

Duncan Shepherd (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx​, @melodylangdon, @avocodys​, @ahsbitch​, @littlegirlsdontplaynice​, @accio-rogers​

[wallgirl]

Introducing the brothers to your parents, pt. 1

Lucifer

Your parents are probably introduced to Lucifer for the first time at some sort of school event, like a festival or school production

Naturally, as a member of the student council, Lucifer will be in some sort of position in charge of the event, which scores points immediately with your parents

His manners are also very refined and polished for someone so young they think and they come away very impressed at first.

He’s very much looking forward to having dinner with your parents, as he considers it an important milestone.

Brings an expensive bottle of fine wine as his contribution to dinner, or, alternatively, a gourmet dessert platter.

Very formal and polite, knows his way around the small talk and an expert at saying what people like to hear.

However, despite his efforts, there’s just something about him that never quite puts your parents at ease... And the more time around him they spend, the worse it gets.

Even his best efforts can’t dispel that intimidating aura of domination and strong demonic energy

However, he checks off every box your parents might have - smart, polite, rich, and well-intentioned, so they probably won’t say anything against him to you.

Despite this, expect to see your parents inexplicably tense up any time he comes over

Mammon

Oh boy, this is an uphill battle for multiple reasons

He’s the boy every parent secretly hopes their kid will NOT date

His first introduction to them is probably in the form of them catching him trying to sneak you out at night or making out in his car when he’s dropping you off.

After that, your parents will probably insist on meeting him formally to put the fear of God in him

You’ll probably have to convince Mammon to actually come, because you both have a good idea of what’s coming and even Mammon knows most parents wouldn’t be pleased at the situation they caught you two in.

The meeting begins with a firm handshake, probably much firmer on your parents’ end then it needs to be, and even though it’s obviously not going to do anything to a demon like Mammon, he still gets the gist and starts sweating bullets.

The grilling starts as soon as you sit down - where does he work? (nowhere) How are his grades? (deplorable) What does he plan to do after graduation? (get rich quick somehow) What about you drew him in? (”your smokin’ looks” he quips, only to be met with frigid silence)

After they release him to go home and scream into his pillow with relief, they’ll definitely corner you and tell you in no uncertain terms that they do NOT approve and that he’s probably just trying to get you in bed (if this has already happened, now is NOT the time to inform them)

Of course, none of this will stop the two of you from seeing each other and sneaking around despite curfews and threats of grounding

Eventually, he’ll earn their respect by being there for you and visiting often when a rough patch or tragedy strikes, and although they’ll never really like him, they’ll understand that his feelings for you are genuine

Leviathan

The moment he’s been dreading has finally arrived

He will flat out scream and throw a mini tantrum at the news that your parents want to officially meet the mysterious shut-in that you’ve been seeing

He knows it’s a bad idea, you know it’s a bad idea, but it’s a hurdle that has to be crossed eventually, so after much huffing and promises that you’ll do a video game marathon with him afterwards, he relents

Up until the moment you walk in the door, he’ll be sweating buckets and muttering about how much they’ll disapprove. You do your best to discourage these thoughts and reassure him, but c’mon those fears aren’t entirely unfounded

Your parents drop any air of aggression pretty quickly after seeing the cowering young man with a shaky voice for the first time. They are polite enough to refrain from wiping their hand off after shaking his sweaty hand.

Dinner consists largely of you trying to put him at ease and your parents trying to coax an answer longer than two words out of him.

Things just get worse when they ask him about his hobbies, and he squeaks out that his interests lean mostly towards... foreign media. You thought he might actually pass out from nerves.

As a last ditch effort, you get a brilliant idea and bring up TSL, which your parents have recently begun watching.

It’s not long before Levi has calmed down enough to start gushing over the series, and while your parents are surprised at his... affinity for it, they’re relieved to see him finally talking and holding a lengthy conversation instead of looking like he might vomit at any second.

Afterwards, your parents will probably ask you if you’re sure... And you’ll explain to them how Levi is a great guy, just really awkward in social situations. They’ll take your word for it, as they can tell he’s not malicious, and will be all “Whelp, if he makes you happy...”

Things aren’t quite as calm back at Levi’s, where he spends a good hour sobbing into his body pillow that he’s ruined things irrevocably. He comes out of it eventually when you shower him with praise for making it through dinner without dying of fright and remind him of your promise to game with him.

Satan

Without a doubt, the easiest one to introduce

That charming smile, his well-put together appearance, good grades, calm demeanor... They’ll be smitten almost as much as you.

He’s glad to meet your parents, as he knows it means that you’re very serious about your relationship.

Gets along very well with your parents as, just like Lucifer, he knows what to say and has impeccable manners. Your parents will end up genuinely enjoy talking with him, and urge you to bring him over more often.

You might end up teasing them that he’s replaced you as the favorite child.

“When’s the wedding?” they ask sooner than later, leaving you flustered and him delighted.

When they learn he’s brothers with Lucifer, they express surprise at how much alike the two are. That’s probably the only time he comes close to losing his demeanor in front of them, and they see wrath flicker in his eyes just for a moment before smiling and joking it off. They’re confused for a moment, then shrug it off, blaming it on a trick of the light.

Asmodeus

Oh this will be interesting

He actually ends up being rather quick to ask when he’ll get to meet your darling parents, with that mischievous smile of his.

Luckily, your parents had been asking about him too, so a dinner meeting is quickly arranged.

He brings a lovely cherry pie he baked himself as a contribution, which pleases them. Good thing they don’t know that it’s a joke that he was the one to pop the cherry in your pie, as he cheerfully informed you the night before while laying on the crust.

He’s very cheerful and talkative, swapping skincare tips and sharing the recipe for the pie, which turned out surprisingly well.

In fact, the only one sweating here is you, because you know at some point he won’t be able to resist making an innuendo, and when that time comes, Lord have mercy if your parents catch on.

And his dirty nature does, inevitably, rear its head when your parents ask him if he does baking regularly.

“Not often, but I was hoping to try a cream pie tonight,” he beams.

You almost choke on your wine, and while he’s patting you on the back wearing that same innocent smile, you’re kicking him under the table.

Fortunately, your parents are seemingly not up-to-date on sex slang, so they just smile and offer up their own tips on baking.

You still can’t believe he actually get away with something that brazen, though.

Afterwards, they shake hands warmly and invite him to come over again.

The moment he’s out the door, they turn to you stone-faced and say that the next time he talks about cumming in you, he’ll be going home with an ice pack.

Asmo just finds this absolutely hilarious, and laughs his head off about it, even as you blush furiously and protest that it isn’t funny it was a lil funny

Fortunately for your sake, he reins it in, and the cream pie incident is never brought up again.

Whenever he brings food in the future, however, your parents give him a death stare, as if just daring him to joke about jizzing in their child again.

[pocket-void]

Care to tell us what's swimming around with the Suits AU, like what are the powers that are unique to each suit? Queens vs Kings?

Boy oh boy, I sure would! O///o Any AU I make will always be on an infinite “ask and you shall receive” basis lmao- >///< (Except Church Stop, which I plan on continuing when things settle down) You sent this ask at like a wild time but I finally wrote some stuff for ya so I hope it makes sense. o///o The Sleight of Hand AU is really heavy on worldbuilding so it may take some extra work.

So, here’s vaguely how the suit courts are organized and what each rank kind of entails (I say vaguely, but you know it’s going to be wildly long):

Diamonds - The Regal Suit

The Diamond court is known, or would like to be known, throughout the land as true royalty. They are opulent, noble, and unbelievably full of themselves. Their powers stem from their manipulation of worldly elements, able to craft their own visions of beauty into their surroundings. However they are also skilled in cunning and slightly underhanded methods to get their way. They are determined and headstrong folk who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, which may explain why they are in fact the origin of curses in this universe. They are crafty and have keen eyes that are able to very efficiently determine things about someone’s character, and make excellent negotiators.

The common folk of Diamonds are a lot less uppity and posh, but they do have a semi-upper class feel to them. Not because they’re all well off or anything, the land they reside in is just very rich in resources and well maintained in appearance, and it’s within their culture to be on the more refined side of things. They’re skilled in crafting and producing various luxuries, with tailoring being a rather appreciated activity. Art is a huge part of their society, whether it be painting, sculpting, music, even things like landscaping and interior design, etc.

Spades - The Intellect Suit

The Spade court is full of the world’s greatest mages and scholars. They’re always on the search for higher power, and are deathly efficient at their jobs. It is a solid meritocracy in the Spades court, but it is also brutally unforgiving. Spades are proud folk, not of their status, but of their abilities. The work one must go through to reach the top is almost unimaginable by others, and so it has slowly grown corrupt by those unwilling to relinquish their position and admit they’ve been outdone. The Spade court is a terrifying force to be reckoned with, as they wield the most destructive types of magics connected to the forces of nature. They are rather intimating diplomats that take things very seriously.

Spades tend to be natural quick learners, and they adapt to changes in their environment rather easily. Though the enclosed space that is the higher courts have impeded this ability in some. The common folk of Spades are actually very open minded, although unfortunately are also heavily influenced by the court. Many take interest in sciences, research, invention, various types of craftsmanship, innovation, and more. They are knowledge loving and respectable people who seek to learn new things when they can. People good at multitasking or jack of all trades types tend to be Spades.

Hearts - The Angel Suit

The Heart court is full of healers and judges. They are considered the arbiters of justice and peace. Over the years however they have grown perhaps overly defensive, and the armor once used to protect themselves have now grown thorns to harm others. People of the Heart court have witnessed brutality and war, and their reactions have turned away from peace and instead towards shutting others out of their territory to protect only themselves. Harboring another suit is considered a high crime, and you will most likely be jailed and questioned for it if caught. Interlopers deemed spies likely face execution, but that is standard in most courts nowadays...

The people of Hearts are kind and genuine. They hold much empathy in their cores, and most citizens are somewhat attuned to the emotions of others. The idea of “soul mates” originated and was popularized by Hearts! Citizens here are down to earth and know the value of a hard day’s work. They respect labor and jobs that benefit the community, and as such farmers, medical workers, local guardsmen, and various others are very well liked. “Soul Smithing” is actually something invented by the people of Hearts; an amazing technique that has found a way to heal broken cores. Not everyone can perform it, but the people who can are basically invaluable.

Clovers - The Warrior Suit

The Clover court is full of people will strong wills and even stronger resolves. They will do the things they set their minds to, and their beliefs only compliment their strength. They are determined, persistent, and relentless in their quests to do what they think is the right thing. Unfortunately that belief has now been directed towards war efforts, and they’re stubbornness has done little but blind them to the suffering of common folk for the sake of the “greater good”. Perhaps they have become misguided, and they’re confidence prevents them from admitting they are wrong.

The citizens of Clover are free spirited and independent. They’re hard working and very self reliant, living mostly solitary but rather impressive lives. Clovers are natural warriors at heart, willing to fight for the things they believe in and the people they care about. The people here hold magic that serve to empower themselves, and it’s said that their cores glow the brightest in times of peril. There is a myth about the “Four Leaf Clover”, which is a story about a legendary hero who possessed strength beyond strength. Half of the legend has been forcefully erased by the court, but its original ending claims that the four leaves were not symbolic of the Clover’s lone strength at all, but rather how powerful the hero felt they came together with their companions to triumph over all.

*Quick note! The generalizations of the citizens of each court are of course very generalized and does not perfectly apply to every citizen. ^///^

Now on to Ranks! This is already kind of long so I’ll simplify a bit for this section. >///<

Every citizen is born with two things at birth: A core and a rank. Cores, which determines your suit, are determined by your parents and general ancestry. It is very rare for couples of different suits to be together, especially in the current times with tensions so high. Instead of hearts, the people of this world just have cores in their chests. They do a few things under select circumstances but I’m not going into that right now snsjbksjf, for all intents and purposes they are basically “souls”. How one determines rank is decided at around age 5-7, because it’s a more innate sense. You yourself will know what rank you are, 

JOKER - Highest possible rank. A myth amongst the populace, since nobody’s actually heard of anyone with this rank. It’s said that JOKERs possess qualities and abilities of all suits. It is currently used as a symbol of revolution in the hopes of reuniting all the suits by an organization of the same name. All members identify as JOKER in solidarity to set aside their differences for the common good.

King - Highest rank in society. Kings are one’s with immense power and magic, said to be able to manipulate reality itself. They are incredibly rare, but those with this rank are seen as natural leaders, and will surely accomplish unthinkable things.

Queen - Queens are a diverse group of powerful mages, and are basically the ceiling for power level for each suit specific magic type. They have a very impressive and respectable amount of power, and tend to highly specialize in one to three skills/magics. 

Jack - Typically high ranking generals or soldiers. Jacks are hardy and very durable, with cores as strong as their wills. They tend to be more physically impressive rather than magic oriented, but it’s not uncommon for Jacks to wield magic alongside their weapons.

10-2 - Are considered “citizens”. It doesn’t mean they’re just completely powerless, and yes the numbers do kind of dictate specific things you may be more attuned to, but in general these are the people who populate the land the most. The higher the number, the more likely you are to be naturally gifted in some way at some kind of specific thing, but that doesn’t mean lower numbers can’t be better than you at something. There are special meanings attached to some numbers, like how 7s are lucky or how 4s tend to be more grounded, but these are kind of more like your zodiac than anything.

Ace - The trick up one’s sleeve. Aces have long been the wildcard of society. They usually end up being really good at one thing, but in a way that nobody else had thought of. They tend to be much more closely related to the magic of their own suit, while also having some sort of spin to their magic. It’s a little difficult to describe exactly, but Aces are comparable to “geniuses” who are incredible in one aspect, but lacking in what many people consider more “common”.

I suppose that’s all I’ve got for now. o///o

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Pivitol~

[As Promised, here is the first chapter of the Overhaul Fanfic I was supposed to be working on once a week. I hope I can do a good enough job. I haven’t written a fanfic since my Wattpad days. I still get notifications from my Ticci Toby x Clockwork book XD]

Summary: The move to the city has been hectic so far. You’re new here and feeling very much alone, but you aren’t scared! People around here seem to be fairly nice to you, yet there were still mysterious people lurking here and there. So what do you think happens when you go get laundry done a block away? It can either be good or bad, but it will never be boring!

Chapter: 1

Warnings: None

“Thank you!” You cheerfully waved at the moving men when they left the last of your furniture in the living room. They were off to the next objective and you were free to unpack and unwind to enjoy your new city life. The move has been hectic you agree, but the overwhelming feeling of starting life anew was welcoming and overtly optimistic. You smiled to yourself as you sat on the plushy carpet of the living room and sifted through a box labelled ‘wall art’. Sure you were jumping ahead by trying to decorate before unpacking everything, but you just couldn’t wait to make the new apartment feel homier. Suddenly you heard a soft knocking at the door. You opened it and looked down to see a VERY short elderly woman holding a small present while a small dog was leashed next to her side. “Good evening dear. I’m the landlord at this establishment and I just wanted to take the time to give you the old welcome chat that I’ve given to all of my tenants since I started in this business. My name is Mrs. Yumine. You may call me Ms. Yumi for short. This here is my furry baby Fitch.” She said as she pointed at the cute dog next to her. “Here, these are for you dear.” She reached up and handed you the box with her short arms. You smiled and gently took the box, opening it to reveal fresh baked cookies. “Thank you so much Ms. Yumi! Also, thank you for allowing me to take up residence at this apartment complex. I have the feeling that I’m going to like living here!” You said cheerfully. The elderly woman smiled widely, her wrinkles pulling to show the cheerfulness of her face over time. “My dear if you need anything then please come see me on the first floor in apartment #6. If you can’t see me for whatever reason then please call me at either number I’ve written on the bottom of that box. Have a good evening!” You nodded and went to put the box away once the landlord had left to finish walking her pup. Eventually all your hard work paid off and you were almost finished unpacking/moving things around. You had all of the essentials unpacked save for a few items amongst the unnecessary. The only issue now was:

1.) What are you going to have for dinner

2.) What are you going to wear to bed? (unless you sleep in the nude, to which this isn’t a problem)

You sighed and looked over at the stack of dirty clothes you didn’t wash before moving here. Unfortunately you looked around and realized the apartment had no washer or dryer hookup. After some quick searching on your phone However, you were able to locate a laundromat just a block away from the apartment. “Score!” You quickly got up from your lounging spot on the couch and gathered the clothes into a basket. You made space for detergent and grabbed the keys to lock the apartment behind yourself. Walking just down the block, you managed to make it to the laundromat in just fine condition. With this section of the city being as large as it was, the crime here was moderate rather than slim. Yet you still moved here due to job opportunity. You smiled to yourself at the near empty laundromat. It was becoming evening time very soon, and eventually it would shift into night by the time you finished washing and drying your clothes. The crowd here was barren due to the time of day. It was just you, a busy mother of 2 folding her laundry by a table, and an old man snoozing in the chairs by the large window. You began to load clothing into the washer when suddenly you heard the ding of the door opening. You looked up and saw 3 rather handsome men standing empty handed as they entered. One on the right had odd silver hair in the shape of arrows that framed his handsome face ever so delicately. His eyes thin and focused, his jawline carved by God himself. Although he was dressed in a simple white hoodie, he could’ve easily passed as a model. The man on the left had a more refined look to him. His hair was a short blonde combed neatly upon his head. His glasses adorned his rather slender face perfectly. He was dressed semi casual with a tie and everything. He was the type of man you’d see in a bank somewhere. Finally your attention turned to the man in the middle. His hair was a cropped, darkened chestnut/auburn color. Three golden piercings attached to one of his ears, and a simple black medical mask covered the lower half of his face. His outfit was semi casual while formal at the same time. He wore a clack suit jacket with a dark grey button up underneath, unbuttoned at the top just a bit. There was no tie, and the slacks fit his lower form perfectly, showing off the very slightly thickened thighs. 

Perhaps the most entrancing thing about his appearance was his piercing golden eyes and his long lower eyelashes. 

Their eyes began scanning the scene, and when the man in the middle locked eyes with you then you quickly turned your attention to the laundry in front of you. His stare was burning into you, and you felt as if you were being watched since he looked at you. You nervously shifted eyes to the busy mother and noticed how she discreetly pushed her children behind her back. She then quickly proceeded to fold all of her laundry and rush out the door past the men. By now the elderly man had woken up from the sound of his washing machine beeping to signal his clothes were complete. He noticed the 3 men by the door and quickly gathered his wet clothes, tossing them into the nearest dryer, paying the change, and moving to sit on the other end of the laundromat. Apparently these men carried an aura to them that you just couldn’t put your hands on. Still, you were here to do your laundry, so you decided not to focus too hard on them...no matter how handsome and shady they may have seemed. You settled your clothing into the washing machine and inserted the change. Then you went to sit at the window where the old man originally sat. You glanced at him from the other end of the laundromat and his eyes held a certain shock or fear. Perhaps it was remorse, or maybe a warning. It was as if he was mentally trying to tell you to leave, or to sit over by him instead of being near the men. You ignored the ominous message and pulled your phone out to scroll through the notifications. You couldn’t help but to overhear some of the conversation they began to engage in. 

“I shouldn’t have to be in such a filthy area such as this. How does this pertain to the deal in any way, Kurono?” The golden eyed man asked the arrow hair. “I don’t know, but Hojo spoke of the rival gang being not too far from here. This is a good spot because it’s not expected. Just in case negotiations break down and-” 

“Shhh...I think we’re being monitored.” The glasses guy spoke to Kurono. The 3 men looked over their shoulder at you but you kept your eyes to the screen. “C’mon Nemouto, she/he/they aren’t even paying attention to us. Anyway, the deal shouldn’t take too long Overhaul.” Kurono then spoke to the golden eyed man...Overhaul. Suddenly his phone rang. He answered it, mumbling something lowly and then hung up. “Boss you stay here. Me and Nemouto are going to handle the exchange.” Then Kurono and Nemouto left the laundromat, leaving Overhaul to stand there rather awkwardly (yet still calm at the same time). After a while, you began to feel that feeling of being watched carrying on far too long. You peeked up and saw him standing closer, staring down at you intently. “Uh...hello?” You chuckled nervously. You were met with intense silence for a moment. As soon as you were about to look at your phone again, you heard him utter a small ‘hello’. You offered him a seat next to you but he hesitated at first. Ultimately he decided to have a seat, leaving an empty chair between you two for space you presumed. He also hadn’t sat until he took out a wipe and cleaned the empty seat. Then he sat down. “Pardon my curiosity for a moment, but you seem like a new face around here..” He started small talk with you. “Oh yeah, I just moved here actually! I heard there were good job opportunities here that didn’t really heavily center on the usage of quirks. Job hunting seems harder these days when you’re qurikless.” His eyebrow raised at your words. You successfully peaked his interests. “Oh, quirkless? How rare in this society. What is your name if you don’t mind me asking.” 

“It’s Y/N...Y/N L/N. What about you?” You reached out to shake his hand. He stared at your hand and looked back up at you. “You may call me Overhaul. Oh, I don’t shake hands. Too much risk involved with bacteria and such.” He said shortly. “Ah, sorry. I guess I should’ve assumed that since you’re wearing those gloves and all.” Suddenly the washer went off to signal your clothing completing it’s cycle. You excused yourself and went to load the clothes into the dryer. The issue arose when you dropped a quarter and it rolled under the machines. “Oh no! Aw man!” You sighed in defeat. You were mentally preparing for your walk back to the apartment to retrieve a quarter when you heard a clinking sound and the dryer starting up. You looked up and saw Overhaul standing there. “Thank you so much! Ugh, I’m such an idiot for bringing exact change with me. I should’ve been prepared.” You bullied yourself a bit. “it’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with being precise most of the time. Your problem just now wasn’t that you brought exact change, but the fact that you clumsily dropped it.” You laughed at his seriousness and he tilted his head. “Was something I said funny?”

“No, it’s just that you seem like the type of person to lead a group of people less serious than you are.”

“You have no idea...” He sighed and you giggled at him. Before you knew it, the men returned to retrieve him and your clothes were down drying. “Goodbye Y/N. I do hope there’s a chance we can meet again soon enough.” He bid you farewell as you folded your dry clothing. For some reason, he left your heart afloat and curiosity coupled with the need to chat with him some more had overtaken you.

“Overhaul...”

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

TIp Jar: https://cash.app/$YuTakeyama

[ts-unsolved]

The night we met

((i got carried away imagining this scenario, so here’s the conversation that lead to dee joining aboard the Investigation Station))

Summary: On principle, Dee tries to not let his major life choices be ruled by what happens over highly-priced drinks in crummy bars, but flying too close to the sun that was his old college rival had never been part of the equation before.  

Aka: Roman tries one last time to convince Dee to hunt ghosts with him, and he finally says yes. (Aka^2: can you believe Dee has been pining for two whole years? lmao get it together boi).

Content Warnings: Drinking, mentions of smoking, allusions to drug-dealing and generally shady/unsafe atmospheres, mild swearing, references to fights/stabbing/being killed, food descriptions/eating.

Word count: 2.4k – I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met –

[February, 2015. Los Angeles, CA.]

With a languid roll of his wrist, Dee swirled the peach-colored liquid around his glass for what felt like the hundredth time since he had sat down at the round rickety table. Blame it on his keen intuition for arduous conversations, but he had not managed to settle his nerves since he and his companion had entered the dim and dusty bar, and something about the location they had found themselves in was only lending itself to his growing headache.

It wasn’t a secret that Roman’s family was loaded; Dee knew this for a fact, and yet out of all of the establishments in the city they could have gone to, the man had chosen such a lowkey place for them to meet. Perhaps in his mind the discrete look of the place was appropriate for a supposedly momentous conversation, although whatever grand idea Roman had of a ‘private business discussion’ definitely didn’t match the reality of what was going on in the shady establishment, all of which spoke of illegal activities with the subtlety of a glowing neon sign. From what he had already managed to discern from a quick glance, there were hands dealing under the tables, side-glances from couples locked in suspiciously hushed exchanges, not to mention the laundering scheme this place seemed to operate as a front for, barely even camouflaged under the displeasingly unkempt storefront with furniture that looked like it dated back to the 60′s and the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke to match.

Dee suppressed a grimace as he forced his attention away from surveying the landscape of the bar and back to the man sitting opposite him. By all means, this was the exact kind of place he would choose to hang out in if he were to catch up with some of his old high school friends, and yet being here with Roman Kingsley of all people somehow made him want to reevaluate the decisions that lead him to being in this clearly cursed timeline, because there had to have been a horribly wrong turn made somewhere.

As if sensing himself being at the center of Dee’s thoughts, Roman looked up from where he had been prodding at his unusually soggy plate of nachos (“…I was hungry, though I’m not so sure I am anymore.”), and shot Dee an unguarded twist of a smile. It was the kind of expression Roman clearly wasn’t used to wearing; which was to say that it was less of his usual brand of over-compensated arrogance and more hopeful uncertainty. Dee stared blankly back, being struck with a realization as he took in the figure that was bathed under the terrible lighting of the bar:

‘Ah. One way or another, this guy is going to be the death of me.’

Surprisingly, the thought didn’t perturb him as much as it should have. Sure, being mugged and/or stabbed in the alley out back because he had willingly accompanied this walking hotspot of disaster to one of the more dangerous parts of the city wasn’t exactly ideal, but in all honestly it didn’t feel like it would be much of a surprise for him to meet his end in such a dumb and grisly way. Of course, with his baby snake waiting for him back home he was hardly looking for trouble, and especially not at the expense of somebody he didn’t even send Christmas cards to. Even so, his gut told him that dead or alive, he wouldn’t be walking out of this bar without a semblance of trouble following him; a prospect he wasn’t sure if he found exhilarating or exhausting.

And so there the situation currently was, in an uneasy limbo. With a sigh, he pushed his nagging thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment and took a sip of his drink, finding brief refuge in the sugary film that coated his mouth and the back of his throat.

Roman tracked the glass with his eyes as it was set against the table and quirked his lips in that infuriatingly smug expression only the two of them could truly pull off. “I didn’t take you for a mocktail kind of guy. Lost your edge over the years?”

Dee simply raised an eyebrow in response. It wasn’t a surprise that Roman remembered his delinquent past, what was a surprise was how this was apparently not a determining factor in eliminating Dee as a potential co-worker given the goody-two-shoes friends the other loved to hang around. “What can I say? In my wise age, I’ve learned to value substance over a cheap high. I’d have assumed you’d have shared that viewpoint given our similar tastes for the unconventional, and yet...” He gestured to the very stereotypically masculine pint that sat in front of Roman, not untouched and yet not being attended to either. Roman scowled in response, more at the menu than at him.

“Normally I’d agree with you, but despite what you think, I don’t actually have the money to drop on overcharged garbage like some kind of idiot. I mean, look: the Merlot is $50 here, Dee. $50. For Merlot. That is borderline criminal!”

For a moment, the air in the bar stilled. Dee soon realized that Roman’s voice had gotten a tad too loud and wow he really did not want to get beaten up because this pipsqueak couldn’t figure out what the exchange of dirty money looked like even when it was staring him in the face. Time to move the subject along to something less contentious, because he really did not like the way the dead-eyed look the bartender was giving them.

“Please, you only have yourself to blame for your poor judgement calls. We’re not here to have a lovely evening out though, are we? Let’s just cut to the chase already.”

Roman simmered down with a click of his tongue, pausing to pick up a tortilla chip and eat it, only to look disappointed by the lack of crunch. Nevertheless, as asked, he dropped all pretenses of small talk. 

“You read my text, then? Have you thought your decision though any more?”

There it was, the million dollar question. While he had been acting nonchalant about the matter ever since Roman had first approached him with his offer, the truth was that he had been weighing the pros and cons of this decision for days now, to no end. Remus, that absolute bastard that he was, was probably having a real laugh at his expense right now, knowing fully well the position he had put his old pal in by pointing Roman's attention his way. Perhaps a little payback on Remus’ end was warranted for their less-than-stellar parting conversation, although Dee couldn’t help his ire at his friend (ex-friend? frenemy?) for setting him up for this infuriating no-win scenario. Years ago he, young and foolish, had hoped that Roman would have dropped his inane obsession with the paranormal by college graduation, but given his current predicament it seemed he had underestimated the tenacity of Remus’ brother. Time to test the waters of that commitment, he supposed.

“About the wacky little ghost show you’ve been raving about since the dawn of time? Can’t say you’ve really sold me on it. I am a rather busy guy, you know; I can’t just drop everything for a show pitch I’m not even convinced on.”

This was a slight twist of the truth. He had been between jobs for months, a lack of inspiration and not being able to stand his bosses and coworkers being the reason he just can’t seem to stick to one place. He had long-since given up on his dream of going into show business, so for a long time he had settled on just doing what he could to maintain a living. It wasn’t a fulfilling way to live, but he was surviving, and that was all that mattered.

Nevertheless, Roman was not thrown by the negative response and instead puffed out his chest in a show of indignation. Clearly he would not be taking no for an answer without a fair fight, which likely spelled bad news for how this evening was going to go. “It’s not ‘wacky’, it’s a serious show for serious investigations! I’m really trying to prove the existence of ghosts here.”

“Right…” Dee squinted his eyes skeptically. “And you are aware that I don’t believe in ghosts, yes?”

“Obviously. Did you think I missed the three years of you being a dick about it?”

Ah, memories. Dee didn’t bother to hide his amusement at Roman’s grumbling. “My my, you’re still holding a grudge about that? Here I thought my depiction of Hamlet’s father was enough to wipe the slate clean. Didn’t it please you to see your greatest enemy play one of the spooky creatures you like so much?”

Rather delightfully, frustration gave way and the corners Roman’s eyes crinkled with the beginnings of mirth before he quickly hid the expression away by shoving another chip into his mouth. It was the kind of reaction Dee was still growing used to seeing from their back-and-forths, not quite being sure when their exchanges of teasing remarks had crossed the line into something more friendly. That said, it was certainly not an unpleasant development; in some senses, it felt rather rewarding to catch a glimpse of something less refined behind a curtain of perfectionism, much like seeing the behind-the-scenes of a broadway production. 

“Oh don’t get me wrong, you really did give an excellent performance. I can still remember act one scene five like it was yesterday. 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, a serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark is by a forged process of my death’!” Roman dramatically reenacted the performance, hand pressed to his heart, and Dee preened under the praise.

“Why thank you. The dull lead was quite a letdown, though we certainly outdid ourselves in spite of the poor casting, didn’t we? Still, I can’t say that flattery will convince me to hunt ghosts with you or... whatever it is you were hoping for. The point still stands that it’s not exactly the sort of thing I’ve ever pictured putting on my resume.”

Roman’s smile faltered and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Without the comfort of dancing around their thoughts with friendly banter, things got uncomfortably serious a tad too quickly, it seemed. 

“I get that it’s... not ideal to you, considering how you always had high aspirations for your career, and a webshow is probably too low on the radar for your pompous-self. Heh... To be honest, I’m not sure why Remus thought you’d be a good candidate for the job,” Wow, rude. “But he did, and I’m kind of out of options here.”

Roman paused, the buzz of bar filling the silence between them as he clearly struggled to speak what was on his mind.

“Actually, the more I think about it, I can’t come up with anyone else I’d like to join more than you. You’d be a great host! You’re good at talking to crowds when you want to, you know how to improv, you’re one of the funniest people from our class, and as much as I hate to admit it, I always enjoyed acting with you on stage-”

At some point during Roman’s rant, Dee’s brain short-circuited with the words, and even as he tried to process they just kept on coming, to his absolute befuddlement.

“-And I guess I feel like you’d co- ...Hey, phantom of the opera, are you even listening to me?! I’m pretty much singing your praises here, which let me tell you, is rare for me, and you’re staring off into space! If you’re that disinterested, you should just say so.”

“Sorry. I was paying attention, I just...”

Dee scrunched his eyes shut as he tried to work through what Roman had said. Maybe it shouldn’t be such a shock to hear the compliments coming from someone he regarded as being an equal in terms of talent, yet part of him still screamed at him that it was only empty flattery to sway his decision. Sure enough, while it may be true that his cynicism had never failed him in the past, he still yearned to ignore the knee-jerk judgment and choose the better option, the one which meant that he was considered the first choice for something and his presence was wanted. Unbelievably, even to himself, he found himself tempted, if only by the warmth that came from such a thought. Perhaps if he was without the greater knowledge that he had, he would have jumped at the opportunity in a heartbeat, however the fact still remained that he was tired and worn from years of strife. At this point in his life, self-preservation was the only thing keeping him going, and so the idea of leaving the peaceful bubble he had built up itched like nothing else. But then, his thoughts drifted back to what could happen, of letting down Remus who had obviously entrusted him in this, despite everything they had gone through.

He truly must be growing soft, if he was willingly jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

(And was that so bad, to try to feel some warmth again?)

Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes to Roman’s concerned face. 

“...Alright. Perhaps flattery does get you some places. With such a compelling argument, how could I possibly say no?” He drawled, as nonchalantly as he could possibly muster.

Already flustered by his decision to agree so readily, he picked up his overly-sugary drink as a means to avoid eye-contact, though when seconds passed with no audible response, his focus still ended up being drawn to the other man for his reaction. Roman’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates and simultaneously filled with joy; despite the muddy brown of the lighting that had washed out his features into a pool of shadows, they looked as if they were sparkling.

Dee felt the wind knocked out of him at having that expression pointed towards him. It seemed like it had been so long since somebody had been brought that much happiness because of something he did. This...wasn’t a terrible feeling, he decided in that moment.

“That wasn’t sarcasm, was it? You really want to join?!” Roman just about yelled, drawing back the eyes of a few of the other patrons. Dee chuckled nervously, wondering how he could get them out of the building as swiftly as possible without causing further ruckus. If they would be working together, the last thing they needed was to get into a fist-fight, after all.

“I do. Please don’t make me regret my decision.”

In return, he was given a beaming smile, one that equally eased his uncertainties and spoke of future trouble.

“You won’t, I promise.”

[goldlightsaber]

what moffat and gatiss thought i wanted to see: dracula outwitting everyone and being sherlock holmes 2.0.

what i actually wanted to see: dracula hissing at the artificial light of ipads and iphones and it taking a week before he tentatively picks up the one in his cell and then grimaces when he sees his ancient reflection in the black mirror. the medical facility giving him organic, ethically-sourced blood donations and for the first time ever, dracula is faced with the moral question of...could he now drink blood without taking lives? and...what the hell will that do to him? his entire way of being? 

it plagues him, that for the first time in his so-called “life,” he can drop the fight or flight instinct. he can just...be. because he’s fed. and he has to kill no one. Immortality is just...handed to him now. and like any evolutionary instinct that becomes unnecessary with growing societal advancements, what will he do with all that pent-up energy? now that he doesn’t have to hunt and kill? i want to see dracula rotting in his cell, beside himself. anxious, desperate, angry. i want to see everyone not understanding why he seems to be deteriorating despite being the best-fed prisoner anywhere -- type O and A and B AB, and the most intelligent people, too. and zoe knowing. “you have nothing to live for now, do you? you’re not a feral animal anymore, scavenging and looking for prey. you’re what you always were. human. and humans can’t live without purpose. what’s yours?” and he doesn’t know. he’s so morally corrupt, so withered away in any sense of thinking of anyone beside himself that he doesn’t know. he can’t remember. he had a life once, too, before he was bitten. but that memory is as good as anyone’s memory of when they were first born. he doesn’t remember his birth, or what came before it. 

he’s haunted by the face of agatha and realizes, beyond an admiration for the cleverness of the women in her blood line, that he feels...something. he thinks he’s not being well fed enough first, because a hunger arises in him. but he’s fed in gallons every day. and still something stirs in him. chips away at him. but then he feels it especially when zoe shows her face. a surge in his own pulse. he aches, and he doesn’t know why. 

she visits more rarely as time passes. the other doctors are running the tests on him now, investigating him. but he stops being a novelty, to her and everyone else, and zoe’s purpose goes beyond this facility, as he finds out. she’s a soldier of sorts, in his limited understanding of this world. (oh, he really overslept, and it angers him, that he doesn’t have an advantage over these people. that he’s got more blood than ever yet he feels slower than the humans. he’s never slept that long.) they say she serves an organization called MI6. runs investigations. it makes his lip twitch, thinking she’s off in other places, other countries, investigating...what? they don’t tell him. “matters of a supernatural nature” is the most he gets out of a doctor who takes his blood sample. she took it the first few times, now she has her servants do it for her. and she sneers when he calls her associates that. ”they’ve got PhDs and more knowledge than you’ve absorbed in all your lifetimes.” 

still, he sees them for what they are. people doing her bidding because she’s the one who really runs this place. makes the calls for when to draw his blood, what books he can have access to. he pretends not to be eager, but oh, the literature he’s missed -- he’s immortal and has nothing to do but he’s drowning in the sense he won’t have time for it all. she decides when to feed him. when to feed him. strange, getting his food handpicked, like a mother shoving a plate of vegetables to a child who would rather eat nothing but. he can’t complain. the selections are satisfactory. he gets a taste for the new lingo quickly enough, though he can’t attach much meaning to it without the experience. knows what a movie theatre is but no tactile memories of his own to show for it. 

she knows him, picking the right blood. she knows him like agatha knew him. they are different, to be sure -- zoe is more reserved, doesn’t raise her voice, always with the crossed arms (it doesn’t forcefully push him back but there is a sense of discomfort in that sort of cross, too). and she attends to him like he is a dirty job she has to do, like cleaning out a chicken pen. agatha was enthusiastic, wanted to solve him -- the myths, the legends, what was true and what was false. but zoe -- she could hardly give a damn. he’s a contagion in her eyes. a fact of life she must attend to. he isn’t bothered, not really. if it only it wasn’t so confusing seeing the ghost of agatha in her. sometimes, the way she looks at him, it feels like agatha’s disapproval. and that couldn’t be right. agatha -- well, there were no hard feelings there, were there? she thought she beat him, after all. they had fun. he let her last, for pity’s sake! and she had descendants, which was more than he could say for himself. a happy ending after all.

but that’s not how zoe looked at him. anger rumbling in her eyes. at first he thought it was the cancer, but no, she very pointedly was angry at him. one thing she and agatha shared -- they were not privy to being seduced. an iron will -- nothing he could offer to make them do the un-noble thing. he couldn’t cure zoe’s cancer, either, if there was something to bribe her with, it had to be that. but he was much interested in doing science as much as simply watching it happen. but the humans haven’t advanced there yet. 

he’s been rereading the five books they gave him a week. he meant to tell zoe to bring him more, he’s been re-reading then twice and thrice over. but she hasn’t stopped by in a month. and has she read these herself? what did the think of them? they she pick them because she liked them -- in which case she had refined taste? or did she pick them because she knew he would? and again, circling back to the flattering possibility that she knew him. maybe there was some curiosity she had for him. he had to know. 

so he asks. he must see dr. van helsing on an urgent matter. doctor van helsing. she had one of those PhDs too. he’s well fed, yet that hunger again, something licking at his groin, the intelligence he could smell from close proximity, not quite agatha’s sure-fire wit - or maybe zoe was holding out on him. she seemed to have a stiff upper lip reserved especially for him. but still, a quick mind. suited for danger, fast on her feet. suited for him. it makes him uncomfortable, sitting exposed by the glass walls of his cell, turning her over and over in his mind like that, the way he would with his victims, except he wasn’t hungry. he couldn’t be. yet thinking of her made him pull at the collar of his shirt, as though it were tight. he feels...hot. as though he’s alive and pulsing like the rest of them. complains about the ventilation to anyone that passes. they don’t listen. either that, or he is sick. and feeling sick, he had to see her.

he dozes in and out of sleep. in his coma he did not dream, but with the shorter rests,he does, now that they’ve moved a patch of his soil into the cell to sleep in. it’s her he sees most often. he remembers when agatha pulled back her shirt -- never has there been a nun so keen to expose herself. the hollows of her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, flesh, ripe for the taking, offering herself to him like she wanted it. how could he resist? in his dream, he lunges for her. when he wakes up, he’s sweating all the way through his shirt, gasping for breath. the press of his breeches is unmistakable. he groans. oh heaven’s, no. blood pulses through him but rarely there. 

when he had banged on the glass calling, “hello? where is dr. helsing?”, the mercenary had looked straight ahead, indifferent. so he waited for the usual doctor, a man by the name of wellington. he’s eaten a wellington once or twice before. commoners. he jokes around as such, you’re not my first, but the doctor has an impassive face. no one laughs around here. 

he taps his foot impatiently, sitting as the doctor draws blood, pokes and prods at his eyes, tongue, skin with tools and instruments, the daily checkup. he asks, “when is she coming?”

 “dr. van helsing is busy. she’ll come when she can.” 

“when she can?” dracula chuckles. “does she not run this facility?” i mean, where was her sense of responsibility? neglecting a job like this. neglecting him.

“she trusts us to run it when she’s away.”

“yes, yes. you’re her servants. but shouldn’t a master reside in their manor?”

“this isn’t her home.” home. he tries to picture it, but it’s all smoke. it’s infuriating, not just having her at his disposal to taste her and find out. he tries to conjure up a memory from when he’s had her blood, but he can’t. it’s humiliating, but he has to mutter out the question. 

“where is her home, then?”

“far from here.” he doesn’t miss the sense of disdain. not the doctor’s, but hers, passed on. what he meant to say was far from him.