#(one of the few good things i say about this man before i go back to dragging him)

[reiderwriter]

Rumours

A/N: I'm back! I started this one literally in February and then got so distracted by my job I couldn't finish it. Employment is a curse.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Spencer is displeased about some rumours he hears about you around the office. Only the way he goes about confronting them is clumsy and downright maddening.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, misogyny, misunderstanding, Spencer is a dick for a while, violence (breaking glass etc.), penetrative sex, oral (F receiving), slapping, choking, anal fingering, general BDSM content, Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, breeding kink (tee hee), cock warming, almost exhibitionism?

Masterlist

It wasn't as if you'd made it your life's mission to be the most rumoured about person on your team at the FBI, but you weren't exactly doing anything to correct people's perception of you. Spencer may have been to jail, Emily may have faked her own death, and Luke's past was a big, fat question mark, but nothing caught the attention of the pencil pushers in the office than the string of broken hearts you'd ostensibly left behind you at Quantico.

At one point in time, you'd even promised yourself you wouldn't date anymore law enforcement officers, lawyers, detention officers or anyone even remotely adjacent, but life was short, and you had a decent appetite for a men with guns and badges. It was very convenient to say the least.

Convenient for everyone apart from Spencer Reid.

The FBI was a boys club, sure, but with all the women on your team, the most ridicule you got after a drunken escapade with a distant coworker was a few teasing remarks. The first few months on the team, you'd been able to date, fuck, and play freely without any judgement. And then Spencer Reid had come back from leave, and you suddenly began to doubt your bachelorette lifestyle.

Because fuck was he frustratingly territorial.

It wasn't as though he was interested in you. He was 13 years your senior, fresh from an FBI mandated leave of absence and false imprisonment, and absolutely used to being coddled by every member of the team. If the BAU was a family, he was absolutely the youngest child who'd returned home to find his parents had adopted a dog while he'd been gone to replace him with.

You were the dog.

Spencer took issue with your attitude, your work ethic, your professionally, and with the sheer amount of times he'd been approached by men asking for your number, home address, or if the rumors were true.

He was used to casual oversharing, of course, he'd worked with Penelope long enough to not be phased by much sexual talk. But everytime he stepped into the office - or specifically the offices male bathrooms - he'd end up stuck in the same conversational loop.

“I heard she can do this thing with her tongue…”

“... definitely likes it rough…”

“I could show her a good time…”

“....I'm definitely hitting that by the end of the year…”

He stewed in it for a few weeks before the cracks fully formed in his exterior professionalism. When he heard about how you'd definitely fucked every male member of your team, though, that's when he lost it.

“You need to be more careful,” he said one day, pulling you aside between cases in a rare private conversation.

“Oh, yeah, in the field I can definitely rush in-”

“No. You need to be more careful with men.”

The look on his face sent a flare of shame through your chest, as you found yourself suddenly out of your depth. You didn't know this man well enough for him to be giving you advice. Your body set to full alert, and your fight or flight was in full go, as he cornered you and continued.

“They talk about you in the bathrooms, and I would not like to repeat what they say, but-”

“I don't care what they say.”

“You should.”

You frowned again, as he continued, completely oblivious to your growing anger.

“You should, because now it's reflecting badly on the team, and-”

“The team? I'm sorry what had the team got to do with this?”

To his credit, Spencer at least managed to look uncomfortable after that. He was set on reprimanding you, fine, but you'd make sure he wouldn't try to get so personal again.

“They're saying that you've slept with a number of coworkers-”

“Why should I care if-”

“Including me.”

You managed a half laugh in his face as his frown deepened.

“Oh so this isn't about my reputation, it's about yours. I should be safer with men because I'm reflecting poorly on our golden boy?”

“That's not what I'm-”

“Don't worry, Spencer. I'm safe enough.”

You made sure to push past him as you walked away, and he'd not been quiet about his dislike of you ever since.

Every man on a case you interacted with got you a disapproving glare, a slight turned down lip, a questioning glance. It was like you were being watched constantly, and it felt horrendous.

It was almost worse when the knowing looks he sent you were spot on in their assumptions. If you spoke to a man you had been with, hooked up with, been on a date with, even simply flirted with for a while, you felt his eyes pricking you.

His gaze knew everything it needed to know, almost as if he'd been in the room watching you submit your body for pleasure.

You thought it would be better on cases, that he'd be focused on other things and not worry as much, but when your first case post-argument landed, it landed you uncomfortably close to your childhood home, and included a face from your past you'd hoped not to see again.

Having an ex boyfriend in the police department in the middle of nowhere Washington was helpful for the case, but on a personal level it sucked.

You managed five minutes of personal conversation before you felt his eyes on you.

“Beautiful, you're not paying attention to me anymore. And here I thought fate had sent you back into my life as a little gift for a job well done,” your ex had said, ducking in close to you at your makeshift desk but locking eyes with an approaching Spencer as he spoke.

“Y/N, can I have a word?” he asked, though his jaw was set, and his tone insistent.

“Professionally or privately?”

“Y/N,” he warned, his tone a bit lower as you rolled your eyes and stood, following him to a quiet interrogation room quickly.

“What's wrong with you this time?” you demand as soon as he has the door closed. “Panties in a twist?”

“We are on a case, Y/N. Please at least pretend to be a professional.”

“What? What am I doing that is so wrong?”

He fisted a hand in his hair quickly, closing his eyes as if it would drown out your arrogant tone.

“You can't be serious, Y/N, he was practically fucking you with his eyes in the middle of the precinct-”

“And that's a behaviour he needs to change, not me. What. Did. I. Do. Wrong?”

“What? What, you expect me to sit around here and wait for him to ask you if you can still do that thing with your tongue that makes him cum instantly? Want me to wait around for him to ask you if you're still as flexible as you were give years ago, while we have work to do?” He demanded, stepping so close you had to back up against the wall to avoid colliding with his incoming body.

“I bet you'd love to hear just about everything I can do Spencer, but if you're going to act like a jealous ass, maybe you should take a breather.”

“Jealous? You think I'm jealous?” he chuckled slightly, raising a hand slowly and pushing against the wall as he stepped, somehow, closet to you again.

“You're so obsessed with my personal life that-”

“Your personal life is not so personal when I have people asking me if I've also fucked you on a weekly basis-”

“You're being cruel. My sex life is none of your business, Spencer.”

“That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. I'm glad we finally agree.”

He was so close you could practically taste his breath, and while your mind raged at his thoughtless words, your body wanted his to press his against it and say all of that one more time with his hand wrapped around your throat this time.

“Jackass,” you said, pushing against his chest and storming out of the room quickly, before you could make any other mistakes.

Part of you wanted to stick it to Spencer after that. Part of you wanted to do something to start an even bigger rumor, something to piss him off more, something that would get him angry and bring him closer to you somehow.

Another part aggravatingly agreed with him. Your behaviour, while nowhere near as promiscuous as half of the male staff, was judged twice as hard as anyone else's. You enjoyed sex, and you wanted to unashamedly keep enjoying sex, but every man you ran into recently had that look about them. Half judgement, half possession, like they were looking at goods to consume rather than a coworker. You weren't obtuse, but you'd allowed yourself to ignore it until Spencer made you face it, which only made you resent him more.

You stopped going on dates, stopped entertaining the men in the office when they flirted with you. You put your head down, and you worked, and it frustrated you to no end.

You ended up snappy in the office, short with every single coworker and not just Reid, who was also (inexplicably) short with you. You'd done what he'd asked, and he was still not satisfied.

Emily, sensing the tension, tried to ease the situation slightly, with a mandatory team dinner, volunteering Rossi for dinner duty.

“Welcome to Casa Del Rossi, keep your hands off the pasta until I serve it, and please do not ask about the wine unless you want to be talking about it all night.”

You felt slightly uncomfortable being forced to play happy families under the watchful eye of 5 profilers and an incredibly perceptive tech support girl, but you tried to be civil over dinner.

Until you couldn't be.

“So, Y/N, any dates recently?” Emily laughed over a sip of wine, genuinely curious about your sudden lack of suitors.

“No,” you said, locking eyes with Spencer, who rolled his eyes as he looked away.

“What, not even a single hinge match?” JJ added, and you suddenly regretted not telling any of your other coworkers the root of your tension with Reid, because they were happily digging your grave.

“Come on, we all love your stories, Y/N,” Penelope laughed, prodding you with a finger as you smiled feebly.

“No, not all of us do,” Spencer mumbled under his breath, still loud enough that the room fell silent.

“Relax, Doctor Reid, I'm not going to regale you with tales of my conquests.”

“Good, I get enough of that in the male bathrooms,” he said, standing up from the table and excusing himself.

You stared slack jawed at him as he walked away, simmering anger getting ready to explode. You stood as well, and followed him, aware of every set of eyes watching you intently as you searched for Spencer.

You found him in a spare room, following him in and closing the door behind you with a thud so he would know you were there.

“What the fuck is your problem, Spencer?”

“Oh, it was Doctor Reid earlier, but now we're friends, huh?” he said, not bothering to look at you as he picked up a book and sat in a chair at the edge of the room.

“You can't just disrespect me in front of the team like that, and… and what? Slink away to read?”

He looked up at you with an annoyed glance, and you almost lunged at him. You'd probably be able to gouge out an eye before he could react if you wanted.

“You know, when we first talked about this, I was seriously worried for you. The way those men talk about you-”

“How do they talk about me? What do they say about me specifically that's any worse than usual misogynistic bathroom talk, huh?”

You stepped closer, leaning over him and poking his chest. You wanted him to react, wanted him to get angry. You wanted a fight, not for him to walk away shaking his head in resignment.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes. I'm a big girl, tell me what's so bad that has you acting like such a spoiled brat.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Putting down the book, he looked up at you, locking eyes with you as he started.

“They talk about how well you take it. How much you love cock, and how if they got the chance they'd fill you up with so much cum you'd be leaking for days. Some of them even talk about using you as a human toilet.”

“They mostly talk about your body, about how flexible you are, about how flexible they'd force you to be, how-” he had to stop to look away, clear his throat and start again.

“Mostly they talk about your lips,” he said, finally risking a look down at them before dragging his eyes back up to your own.

“My lips?” you asked, mentally scolding yourself when you hear the breathy whisper you let out.

“They talk about your lips a lot. I'm sure you can imagine.”

You take a second to think about it, reeling at how close he was, how open he was being, how….

How turned on you were hearing these words fall from his mouth. Every sentence from his mouth felt like a confession.

“I don't believe them though,” he said finally.

“What?”

“I don't believe them. I don't believe you're as good as they say you are, as they're fantasising about you being.

Your mouth opened in shock, and the indignity of the accusation had your heart beating out of your chest.

“Say that again,” you demanded, forcing him to meet your eyes again.

“You're not that good, Y/N. I'm sure of it.”

Quickly, you snaked your arm up and around his neck, grabbing him and pulling him down to meet your lips. You'd hoped to take him by surprise, to enter his mouth as he lost himself in the feel of you pressed against him. You'd hoped for the upper hand, until you realized you'd played right into his.

He kissed back immediately, hotly, insistently. His hands roamed your body for any hold of you they could find, settling on your waist and your ass as he pushed you back into the wall you stood in front of.

Frustrated by his attitude, you pushed back, twisting your bodies around until you'd switched positions, nails digging into the tender skin at his collarbone. You wanted to grab him hard enough to draw blood, you wanted to permanently scar him to remind him how good this felt.

He growled into the kiss, and you momentarily lost focus. He swung you around again, hands pushing your shirt up and roughly grabbing your boobs as he bit down on your lower lip.

With a moan, you hiked a leg up around his hips, rolling into him as he pinned you to the wall.

Your final act of defiance was pushing him away with all your strength.

Taken aback, he stumbled once or twice before hitting a dresser behind him. It shook, and with the tremors, the lamp that had been sat on it fell to the floor with a crash.

You stared at him panting as your coworkers ran to you both, opening the door with a loud bang as they assessed the situation.

You kept your eyes on him as Emily scolded you both, putting the two of you on BAU time out.

You quickly left the party after that, apologising to Rossi and tucking your tail firmly between your legs as you retreated.

Desk duty for the next two weeks was exactly the punishment you were expecting from Emily. Honestly it was what you deserved. If you couldn't play nice together, you weren't allowed to play at all.

You sat at your desk, and Spencer sat at his, and you were happy and content to ignore him for as long as physically possible.

Unfortunately, your sudden voluntary celibacy must have been driving you insane, because you couldn't stop picturing his hands on your waist, his hot lips tracing down your neck, your hips pushed so close you could practically feel his cock begging to be inside you.

Imagining.

You were sure your staring was making the man uncomfortable, or at the very least frustrated. You saw the vein in his neck jump out when he noticed you looking at him, but it didn't help too much to dispel the sudden and aggravating attraction you felt towards him.

You wanted to be angrier. Every interaction you entered needing to be angry.

Instead you found yourself somewhat softening based purely on lust, and it was eating you up.

You were not a pushover, and contrary to popular office belief, neither were you desperate or easy. One kiss with a coworker shouldn't have you trailing after him like a forlorn love struck child.

Spencer was definitely avoiding you though.

At first, he justified it to himself as giving you space, an apology of sorts after you'd been so brash before.

Then he came clean to his own conscious and realized he was afraid of another confrontation. Afraid was perhaps the wrong word, eagerly anticipating might be better, though when he tried to explain it to Penelope it didn't come out right at all.

“It's like- Okay, so we're like water and potassium, right?”

“You've lost me lover boy, I do computers not sciency science.”

“Potassium and water are both stable enough on their own. They do their job well, they work nicely.”

“Potassium is in potatoes, ergo they are in French fries. They work superbly.”

“Yes, but when you put potassium in water it has a tendency to catch on fire and explode.”

Penelope still looked at him confused, unsure what kind of avoidance excuse he was crafting in his mind.

“I'm potassium. She's water,” he said again to no avail.

“I need to avoid her so I don't explode.”

“What makes you think you're going to explode? Just talk to her nicely. Avoid topics you think are going to be more… reactive?”

Spencer just solemnly nodded and went back to avoidance.

He realized quickly that the only thing he'd ever talked to you about outside of working hours was your sex life, and that made him feel like both a creep and a pervert and also like he needed to take a long cold shower before quitting his job and moving into a cabin somewhere in the woods. But he wasn't Gideon, so he just suffered through it, leaving rooms you entered and ending work related conversations as quickly as possible, before his mouth could move quicker than his brain.

After a week of being swiftly dodged, you had the chance finally to corner him and you took it.

Watching as Spencer stood to get himself another coffee from the break room, you stood, grabbed your own mug and quietly followed him. You prayed to God that the room would be empty, but were quickly forsaken by the door when you heard two make voices inside.

“So Y/N, huh?” an unfamiliar voice asked, tone polite but playful.

“I've heard some stories about that one,” he chuckled, and even the sound of it set your hair on edge.

“She's a very hard worker,” Spencer simply answered, as you heard him preparing his own coffee.

“She certainly makes working hard,” the man slapped his back, taking a sip of coffee.

“I heard you two have been going at it in the office. Strange foreplay, but she must be into rough stuff like that, isn't that right?”

You'd heard enough men talking about you in your life to be used to it, but a flush of anger still ran through you at the man's insinuations. You almost walked in to embarrass the man when Spencer spoke up.

“I don't like your tone,” he said calmly, and continued quickly when the man tried to joke again. “I have been to prison, you work in white collar, let's see which of us comes out of the kitchen in better shape when you're done speaking.”

“You're fucking insane.”

“You're what, 35? From the looks of it, your marriage is over because you keep playing with your ring uncomfortably, probably because you're cheating, but you feel just guilty enough about it to worry about your kids. They lied by the way, your not the world's no. 1 dad. Even if such metrics could be determined, you'd rank low on the list. Is it their babysitter or their teacher you're sleeping with? Or your wife's sister, perhaps?”

“You're crossing a line, Dr Reid, I don't know how-”

“Well, I'm glad you seem to understand boundaries well enough. There are lines you cross, and ones you respect, and if I hear anything at all unprofessional from you about my coworker again, I will use the last six months of my experiences to make life difficult for you.”

You walked in quickly, hearing the change in Spencer's tone from casual to something more threatening, more desperate. The other man had two fistfuls of Spencer's shirt, though you didn't doubt Spencer would easily be able to floor the man.

“Good afternoon,” you said quickly, just loud enough to be heard above the thick tension filling the room. “I believe you were just leaving, right?”

You looked to the unfamiliar man, and the shame burned his face as you forced him out of the room. As soon as he was gone, you walked over to Spencer, finished making his coffee as he stood silently next to you, eyes refusing to meet yours.

You put the hot drink in his hand, smoothed his shirt out and whispered a quick thank you before retreating back to your desk.

After that, you didn't get closer.

You thought you would. You tried to follow him to the kitchen to actually have the talk you wanted in the days that followed, but you never quite managed it.

You'd just stand together in equitable silence making your coffees. Sometimes you'd talk about the weather. About the case. About things your coworkers did that you both found funny. About shows and books you both liked. About whatever random fact Spencer became enthusiastic about that day, or whatever noir movie he'd seen the previous day.

You didn't become closer, but you grew used to one another.

When the team finally came back, Emily patted herself on the back for a job well done for keeping the two of you grounded. You begrudgingly admitted to yourself that while Spencer lacked tact, you should've been more patient with him when he was asking you to be careful.

You'd heard him similarly chastising a handful of men since, always careful just to listen until he was done, and then clean up afterwards.

Spencer found his anger closer to the surface after prison than it had been before prison. Instead of sympathy or words, his fists always tightened into balls when anything displeased him. He wanted desperately to hit colleagues sometimes, and kept his breathing steady enough to reply with violent words rather than violent actions.

He couldn't blame his experiences in prison for everything, of course. Part of the blame was yours.

As much as he knew potassium and water weren't a safe combination, he found himself wanting to be dropped back into that pool once again. Looking at you was like setting himself on fire, remembering your bodies twinned together was like a little explosion.

He didn't know what brought him to your door, but he knew it was an inevitable reaction, one in a long chain.

“Spencer?” you asked, meeting him at your door, wrapped only in a loose robe and the too small, too flimsy sleep set you'd taken to sleeping in in the summer months.

“Hi,” he said, a little awkwardly, as if gaining the courage to knock on your door was the end of his plan, and he didn't know what the next steps were.

“Hey. Why are you…?” Here. Standing at your door looking so hot after you'd stayed obsessed with him for the last week.

“Why are you holding a bottle of wine?”

“Oh. Oh this. This is for you. To drink. Its for us to drink together, really, I… I wanted to apologise.”

You welcomed him in silently and quickly. Quickly still, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses and a bottle opener and made your way back to your sofa where Spencer was standing awkwardly still.

“Please sit down,” you said, craning your neck to look up at him as he gently handed you the bottle. He nodded and sat down next to you, both too close and too far away at once. You'd thought of Spencer as more of a silent apologiser. You'd expected him to just be happy and friendly with you from here on out instead of directly acknowledging anything had happened. You'd seen him bottle up so many emotions, what was a little more shame and sympathy?

Now that he was in front of you, you didn't know what to do.

“So, um. I'm sorry.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.”

The tension in the air was thick as you turned to pour two glasses of wine, waiting for him to continue.

“Thank you,” he said taking the glass you offered him in two hands before glancing at it quickly and then downing it.

“When I got out of prison, I was in a bad shape, and that isn't an excuse, it's just a fact. My brain was in overdrive, and I was on guard around all… all men specifically. The things I heard in prison weren't good, nothing nice as said about women in prison, and when I got out, and I still heard those things…” He stopped and looked away, taking another deep breath.

“I was overstepping. I was being overprotective, and overfamiliar, and jealous-”

“Spencer, stop,” you said, putting your glass down, and smiling at him reassuringly.

“I appreciate your apology, but really it's fine. I came in while you were gone and getting back to schedule when your entire team dynamic is off is hard, so of course you were going to be on edge around me and a little bit jealous of my bond with the team but-”

“The team?” Spencer stammered quickly, cutting you off as you tried to reassure him.

“You were… jealous of my place in the group. I was an outsider who took your place and then you were just a little shorter with me than you would've been if we were introduced in normal circumstances.”

“No, Y/N… I- Did you think this whole time I was jealous of you?”

He said it in his softest voice which almost hurt a little bit more.

“Yes. That's how you were behaving, you were always annoyed and-”

“Jealous. Yes. Not of you, because of you.”

You felt every single place on your body where the material of your clothes were touching your body. The distance between the two of you, already small, felt smaller still, like you were tipping over an edge towards one another when in reality you were as solid as a statue in your seats.

“Y/N, I want you,” Spencer whispered, almost little bit ashamed, a little bit scared of his confession. It was the kind of voice criminals used when confessing, a voice that seemed ashamed of its own actions. “I listened to every single word men said about you, and I wanted to rip their tongues out and feed them back to them so they wouldn't have the chance to taste you again. So they couldn't torture me with their knowledge of you.”

He stood up abruptly and took a step back, placing his wine glass down on the table and pacing a few more steps away.

“Y/N, why did you have to kiss me?” He said, almost defeated. “Why did you have to kiss me and then push me away?”

You stared at him for a second, unsure whether he wanted a real answer or not, his eyes round with desperation, but face turned away slightly, as if he couldn't bare the answer.

“To shut you up,” you whispered. He nodded at your answer and took a deep breath.

“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war, if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist-”

“Spencer? What-”

“I really believe he is Antichrist—I will have nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my ‘faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do?”

“Spencer, what are you doing, why are you- are you quoting something at me.

“If you want me to stop, you know an effective solution,” he said, kneeling to the floor and looking up at you, continuing after a moments pause.

Quickly sinking to your knees as well, you grabbed the man by the collar and brought your lips to his.

As quietly desperate Spencer had been moments before, he took your kiss as an act of submission and countered quickly. You'd come to him, you'd listened to his request, and now he wasn't going to let you get the upper hand anymore.

Pulling you into his lap, his to guess pushed into your mouth as he wrapped your legs around him, guiding your cunt over his bulge as he kept up his attack against your tongue.

You fought back, trying to push him down to no luck. He caught your hands quickly, and standing up on his knees with one hand holding your ass in place, pinned you to the floor, arms held above your head in one large, strong, nearly painful grip.

Your body shook at the sudden motion, robe falling open and satin spilling over your body, revealing a single pink, perked up nipple that he eagerly latched onto.

You moaned at the contact of his hot tongue, the cold air hitting you at the exact moment his tongue dipped, as you held in a moan.

You couldn't hold in the second or third. By four you were practically humping up into the air to chase the sensations of his body pressed against your cunt.

“Spencer-” you moaned, cut off by a choke from your own throat as he roughly ripped down the other side of your shirt, harshly tugging at your other nipple with his fingers.

“If I had more time, I'd make you cum just from this. I'll spend hours edging your sore little nipples, just to make you happy,” he whispered, and you moaned as if it were your job, as if you were some cheap whore he was paying to abuse for the night.

“Good girl,” he said, tugging your underwear to the side and rubbing you slowly, coating his digits with your juices before pushing two fingers fully inside you quickly.

“No complaints. Take everything nicely.” he said, changing the angle of his hand as he began fucking you hard with just his hands.

“Fuck, Spencer, fuck- no, no, no, you have to stop! Fuck, I'll-”

He stopped just as instructed quickly, and you grabbed his hands to still his fingers, still inside of you.

“I need… shit I need hard nos's quickly Y/N. Tell me what I can and can't do.”

You gathered your breath enough to speak, but it was breathy, your breath still uneven, your legs still twitching as you lay on your back, cunt exposed to Spencer's greedy eyes. He drew small, gently circles on your clit with his thumb as you recovered.

“W-Why?” You managed to squeak out, cunt twitching at every accidental contact between you both.

“Because I'm either going to slap you to shut you up, or fuck your face, and I do believe in letting the lady decide.”

You couldn't help the scoff that came from your mouth, even though it was followed by another hitched breath and moan as you melted beneath him.

“You wouldn't do that, you're not the type.”

“What? What type am I not?”

“Slapping, spitting, demeaning. You're too… Spencer to do any of that,” you said, slowly raising your hips to fuck his fingers once again, pracitically begging him to keep us all his hard work.

Until he withdraws his hand and pulls you back into his lap, arms locking you in place on either sides of your waist.

“If I was anyone else,” he said slowly and deliberately, “Or if I was me and I possessed the ability to do any of that, would you consent to it?”

His words were a whisper, his fingers wet and hot on your nipples as he pulled, prodded, and played with them quietly.

“Well… you wouldn't-” you moaned at a sudden hard pinch, your hips jolting as he continued abusing your nipples.

“Everyone else has. Why can't I?”

“Spencer-” Another sharp pinch cut you off, forcing your eyes down to where he had a hand gently brushing against your chest, before sharply pinching it again.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Spencer, p-please-”

You moan again as his other hand hooks around you to slide into your panties.

Pulls you fully onto his lap as he starts playing with your clit while tugging on your nipples, and he's waiting for you to give him permission to fuck you rougher.

“Can I do those things, Y/N?”

“Spencer….”

“Use your words to answer me, not your cunt. I know you're enjoying this.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Thank you,” he said, letting a hand trail up to your neck before kissing you gently on your lips again. The softness didn't last long as he picked up the pace with his other hand again, looming over you like a monster bent to its prey. His hand moved quickly, pushing in and out of you as you writhed on the floor, breaths shallow as he controlled where you went, where you looked, how you moved, and even how you breathed.

“S-Spencer,” you choked out, hands wrapping around his between your thighs, already twitching as your first orgasm hit you, twitching as he didn't slow down, moaning as you felt wetness seeping out of you in waves.

“Good girl. Good girl, you're doing so good for me. You want me to stop?” He asked.

“Yes, I can't- I can't do it anymore- nghhhh.”

“You can. Yes, you can, baby, you can. My little whore,” his voice was soft where his hands were hot, gripping your neck tighter as you focused only on breathing, legs shaking and twitching, squirming to get away even as you wished yourself to stay put.

“Good girl,” he said again, kissing you once again as his hand on your neck eased up. “One more time? One more right, baby?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself not to scream. With an open hand he slapped your face, just hard enough to draw a moan from your lips.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes, I can do one more,” Ayou moaned, unsure if the stars you were seeing were from the harshness of the slap or the overstimulation. “Please.”

“Good manners,” he said, fingers slipping out of your cunt as you started to grind into him again, as soon as you said yes to another orgasm. “But I don't think I want you to cum yet.”

Lifting your hips, he urged you to turn over, pulling a pillow under your hips to help you lift them, still trembling as you were. A soft blanket was put under your head as he pushed your hips up, your shorts and panties pulled down and not just to the side now as he took all of you in.

“So drippy and wet, just for me…” he mused, probing a finger at your pussy again, laughing when you twitched at the contact.

“They say it tastes better than it feels you know,” he said pulling his phone out of his pocket before snapping a photo of your pussy, dripping and ready for him. “Look at it, what do you think?”

He thrusts the photo in your face as he pulled his dick out, letting it rub against the folds of your pussy as you moaned into defeat.

“Y/N, come on, what do you think? Do you taste better, or feel better?”

He propped up the phone in front of you and opened the camera, clicking record quickly as he slapped your ass.

“Answer me,” he insisted, cock head rubbing furiously against your clit now, fingers clamped down on a nipple, nails digging into your waist.

“Should I fuck you or eat that little cunt?”

“I- I don't know, Spencer, I don't know please-”

“Yes, you do. What should I do?”

You cried out in pleasure as you came again, the pressure on your clit too much too soon.

“F-fuck me,” you said, exhausted but still excited.

“Good girl,” he said again, withdrawing his touch before laying down under you and bringing your cunt to his mouth.

You tried to hold yourself up, but you couldn't as he licked and sucked and nudged at your clit with his nose. He'd ignored you, prolonged your torture, and decided he needed to decide for himself.

“Spencer…” you moaned, but it was weak. He chuckled into your cunt and you clamped your thighs around his face as far as you could, but he didn't relent.

Running a finger through your pussy to pick up your cum, he pushed a single digit into your asshole as you moaned slowly and weakly, face completely squished into the floor.

He pushed in and out slowly at first stretching your ass as you began riding his face, fucking against his to gue as you got closer and closer to release. The sooner you came now, the sooner he would release you.

But Spencer stilled your hips, and slowed his own movements to a few kisses here and there, letting one finger become two as he fucked your asshole. Eventually, all contact stopped with your cunt as you hungrily fucked his fingers, the stretch uncomfortable but good.

“Good girl, you like that? You like being my little anal slut? Good girl.”

The words hit hard, as you came on his face. He pulled his hands away and pushed you onto your back again, rising up to your fsve again.

“Open,” he said, and you obeyed letting him spit your own cum back into your mouth. His tongue connected with your own as you tasted yourself, hot and heavy on his lips.

As you kissed, he pushed your legs up, knees spread and with a single, hard, rough push, filled you with his cock.

You screamed in pleasure as he cooed into your ear. “I'm sorry baby, I couldn't help it. Your cunt looked too delicious, it was begging for my dick.”

Another slow pull out, and again he pushed in hard, stealing the breath from your lungs without even needing a hand on your neck.

Grabbing his phone, Spencer angled it towards where you were hungrily taking him in.

“This cunt is mine now, okay?”

You nodded, and he slapped you again.

“Words, Y/N, I need words. Tell me whose cunt this is.”

“Its yours, Spencer, all yours,” you moaned as he picked up his pace, lifting to his knees so he could drop it all into you.

“Shit, say more. Tell me what I can do to this pussy?”

“Abuse my pussy, Spencer. Stretch me out, slap me, keep me full, fuck I don't care, breed me,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your chest up to his, thighs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked together behind him.

“You want me to cum in you? Want me to claim you so everyone can see?” He asked, nails digging into your thighs almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Yes!”

“Good…. fucking… slut,” he saif, and with a final thrust, he emptied his balls inside you.

You didn't move for a long time, catching your breath on the floor, a pile of limbs coated in sprsys of wetness and cum.

You started rubbing your cunt again first, as he joined in again with shallow thrusts, wincing and seething as he overstimulated himself.

You came quietly that last time and waited for him to pull out and clean you up.

He didn't. Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he awkwardly lifted the two of you to the couch and pulled your head down into his chest, letting you cockwarm him as your cum soaked into the material of the couch.

“Sleep for an hour or two. You'll wake up when it's time to go again.”

When you woke, it wasn't to Spencer starting again, but instead the ring of your phone. You tried to reach for it, to silence whatever alarm had decided to disturb you at that point, but Spencer was faster.

“Hello?” he said down the line, forgetting where he was for a second before you nestled into the crook of his neck again, fingers gently tracing his collarbone.

“Spencer?” Emily asked, confused and voice tired.

“Emily?” He asked. “We have a case?” He sat you up with him crasling you in his arms as you fully woke, your muscles objecting at this sudden movement. His cock stayed buried within you as you reoriented yourself.

“Uh, yeah. We've got an hour to get to the office and debrief, then were flying out- Spencer. This is Spencer?” she asked again, voice a muddle with confusion, tone rising by the second.

“Yes, Spencer. I'll be there.”

“And Y/N?” Emily asked. “I didn't dial the wrong number, Spencer, I have you all on speed dial. You're with Y/N?”

You sat bolt upright and took the phone from Spencer quickly, the shrill ringing of Emily's voice echoing down the line.

“We’ll be there,” you practically shouted. “We just drank together and-” you pulled the hair out of your face as you felt Spencer go rigid inside you again.

“A-and that's it. See you in an hour.”

Speedily you hung up, grabbed Spencer and pressed your lips to his again, pushing him down into the couch.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Sam Winchester cries his way through sex

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary Sam Winchester might just be the finest man you’ve ever met. Tall, handsome, with a heart of gold and a boyish smile that makes your heart melt, right along with other parts of you. After a long hunt, you decide to take him with you to your motel room. It’s supposed to be just a hook up, a night of fun. It turns into so much more. CWs Sam gets cuffed and edged and turned into a stuttering mess, the way God intended. Hook up turned sexual revelation? Plus a touch of fluff at the end. 18+. 10.9k words.

My Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ My SPN masterlist

Sam and you more stumble and fall than walk into your motel room, your jacket already hanging off one of your shoulders, his hair ruffled by your hands going through it. His lips are pecking at you, kissing you in a way you had not expected Sam Winchester to kiss you - hungry, searching. He was all coy softness and sweetness at first, but something inside him has popped and it’s like he’s been let off the leash.

“Did I already say that I don’t usually do stuff like this?” he says against your lips just as you throw the door shut behind him, and you laugh, which only makes him drag you closer.

You stop kissing him for a moment, press your chin against his as you look up into his eyes, his breath fanning over you and yours over him, as you run your hands along his sides, excited to get to what’s underneath.

“And what’s this, Sam?” you ask, mesmerized by his dark eyes that seem to be a different color depending on how the light hits them. That’s one of the first things you noticed about him, days ago, when this whole prolonged salt-and-burn, hunters-united thing started. They just look dark at the beginning, then green, then brown, sometimes even blue. Now that you finally - finally - have the chance to see them up close, you’re still not sure.

Sam’s hands wander down your body as he keeps eye contact, squeezes your ass.

“Hook up with strange women I’ve only known for a few days,” he says, some of that slight cockiness coming out of him making you bite your lips.

“We can wait if you want to,” you say, tone teasing. “I don’t want you to abandon your–” 

Sam shuts you up with a rough kiss, one you moan at. You drag at him, to get him further into the room. His hands go to your shoulders and you briefly let go of him so your jacket can drop off you, then bring your hands back to his neck, his nice, slender, strong neck before pulling back again.

“So,” you say, surveying his face, “what do you like?” 

Sam studies you as well, seems to think, which is nice to see. Lots of guys you’ve been with have been mortified at talking about the deed before doing it, which is a good litmus test to weed out anyone you probably won’t have a great time with. But then Sam leans forward, kisses your cheek, then your jaw.

“I’m good with anything,” he mumbles against you, and while you don’t doubt your own skills, you know that’s not true. It might give you reason to pause, but Sam is just too delicious of a catch to give up on him.

“Do you like it sweet?” you say, moving and kissing his cheek in turn. “Or rough?” You move to his other cheek, nipping at it which makes Sam flinch, then grin. You take his big hands where they’re roaming your body, interlace your fingers with his.

“Do you like to be the boss?” you say, then move his hands away from you and behind his body, hugging him, which isn’t that easy with his absolute tree trunk of a torso, and makes you both giggle. “Or do you want me to take the lead?”

It’s minor, but you see the slight twitch in Sam’s gorgeous face and you squeeze his hands behind his back.

“Do we have a winner?” you ask, voice curious and low. Could you be so lucky and have run into this absolute specimen of a man, and then on top of that he likes for you to be in charge? Sam swallows.

“Is that…” he starts, “would that be something you’re into?” Instead of answering, you move your lips back to his mouth, kiss him deeply, arousal pounding away between your legs at the softness of his voice and eyes. Sam’s breathing becomes heavier at the kiss as he searches your lips out, chases them when you pull back.

“I’ve got those silver cuffs I usually use on werewolves,” you whisper against him and a stuttering breath leaves him, before the corners of his mouth twitch. He moves your hands back to your front, laying there for a second before he pushes them up with his, up to your breasts, covering them with his humongous paws and squeezing, dragging another moan from you.

“I can easily get out of those, you know,” he says and you giggle, making Sam grin before you shake your head.

“I don’t think you’re gonna want to, baby,” you answer and something in Sam’s face changes, something you’re not sure is good or bad at first, but then he dives in, kisses you hard, almost desperately. Your hands go back into that delicious mop of hair, pulling a little at the roots, which elicits something like a mixture of a groan and growl in Sam that goes straight to your pussy. He’s pawing at you, squeezing your skin and flesh all over before finally pulling back again.

“But,” he says, voice a little shaky, “but can I, can I eat you out first?” You huff, which comes out as one long, drawn out exhale, because, yeah, the boyishly handsome, tall, bulky man who has made you drip from wetness since the first moment your eyes met over an upturned grave four days ago can eat you out if he wants to, sure.

“Get your clothes off,” you pant at him, and like a good boy Sam listens, his hands shooting to his own jacket, tearing it off his shoulders as he begins undressing himself.

Meanwhile, you step back, walk over to the round table in the room where your bag is sitting after you tossed it there when the hunt was done, and all you wanted was to grab a shower before meeting up with the other hunters in a nearby bar to cheers to a job well done. You thought about Sam, there, under the hot spray of water, your hands running along your slippery skin. Hoping that exactly what is happening now would happen later.

You rummage through the bag as you hear Sam continue his undressing behind you, fabric ruffling and as much as you would prefer to watch, you really wanna find those cuffs. You do, along with the key and then you turn around, your breath catching in your throat for a moment.

Sam is just pulling off the white v-neck he’s been wearing under his shirt - a striped number that would look butt ugly on anyone else, but on Sam somehow highlights his strong, gorgeous features even more. The pulling off of the t-shirt reveals his torso, which is, to be totally honest, ridiculous. You could kind of guess at his build (and have been for the past few days), but you didn’t know it would be quite so delicious. 

Immediately you want to dip your tongue into every single divot you can reach - especially those intense v-lines leading down to his crotch. You make a mental note to spend some time on them once you have him trussed up.

“Take off the rest,” you say, making sure he knows it’s an order and not a suggestion, and the corners of his mouth twitch at it. You walk over to the bed, put the cuffs and key on the side table, briefly raising the key so Sam can see where it is. He nods. Then you begin undressing yourself.

Sam’s just unbuckling his belt but slows considerably in the process as you begin pulling up your shirt. It’s the black one that has a little row of buttons at the top, the one that makes your tits look absolutely phenomenal, and the effect hasn’t been lost on Sam as you noticed at the bar. He’s been subtle in his staring, but you caught him, once or twice. He always looked away. Maybe he really doesn’t do this a lot.

You drop the shirt on the ground, then go for your own pants, but not before raising one eyebrow and nodding at where Sam’s hands are resting on his belt.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you say. There’s no point in raising your voice - it’s low and clear. You’ve known for a long time that being in charge doesn’t lie in being aggressive, at least not the way you like it. You want the other person to be willing to submit. Oh, and Sam is willing.

He starts undoing his belt, which just on its own is gonna be an image you’ll keep in your backpocket for a rainy day. You pull down your own jeans, wiggle your ass to get out of them and it makes Sam grin. Goddamn it, he’s cute. How does he oscillate between that and scorching hot so seamlessly?

You kick your shoes off at the same time as Sam does, and by the time you reach him again, you’re both only in your underwear. You sling your arms around his neck, kiss him again while his hands land on your side and squeeze your flesh there. You feel the tension of it but no pain - he must be holding back.

You separate your lips from him, look into his eyes and Sam looks back. Without looking away, you bring your hands up to his chest, lay them flat on the warm and soft skin there, then slowly begin running them down, making sure to touch as much of him as possible on the way. Sam keeps watching you, only briefly blinking, twitching, when you reach the waistline of his briefs. 

You halt, watch him, his lips slightly moving, the anticipation making it feel like there’s electricity in the air between you two. When you push your hands in his lips part slightly, and then you find him, needing to close your eyes.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” you say when you open them again, gently running your fingers along soft skin, hardness budding underneath, “I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw you shoulder that shovel.” Sam gives a broken grin, his Adam’s apple bobbing and just because it’s right there, you move forward, press your mouth against his neck. Sam’s hands wander to the back of your head in response, holding you close. 

Eventually, Sam’s hands got your shoulders, tugging at the straps of your bra. You let go of him, drag your hands out of his underwear to bring them to your back, undo the clasp and Sam drags it off you, drops it immediately to bring his hands to your breasts. He cups them, gently, runs the pads of his thumbs over your nipples. You sigh.

He leans his head down, kisses the top of your shoulder and you begin gently pushing him backwards, towards the bed. Sam hums against your skin and it makes you smile.

The backs of his legs meet the bed and his hands leave you, disappointingly, but it’s so he can drag your panties down. He needs to lean way, way down so you push down on his shoulders, getting him to sit at the edge of the bed.

Your panties fall to the ground and Sam's eyes wander down your body. It could be your imagination, and you're not sure how much you can trust your senses anymore, but you're pretty sure his breathing picks up when they land on your pussy. He licks his lips, like a man dying from thirst seeing a glass of cool water. This boy is a miracle, you think.

You step close to him, your nakedness feeling so right, as he looks up at you from where he’s been looking. His hands go to your waist, pulling you in and then you’re standing over him, very aware of his hardening cock somewhere below your pussy, still hidden in his underwear. But Sam doesn’t even pay attention to that, instead stroking and exploring you with his calloused but gentle hands.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says and you can’t help the smile that breaks out over your face. Goddamn this man. He is hitting all the right buttons. You’ve never hooked up with anyone as earnest and sweet. He just seems to be so completely free of pretense. It could be scary. But it’s not.

You bring your hands to his face, cup it, take a second to just look at him, then nod slowly.

“Show me what you got, Sam,” you say and you just have time to see the glimmer in his eyes before Sam grabs you, presses you against him and then flips both of you around. You’re too aroused for your hunter instincts to kick in, so your back is meeting the bed with Sam over you before you know what is happening. Instead, you moan, grab his face, kiss him hard. His hands are running along your sides, almost frantic, before focusing on a single spot, like he’s trying to control himself.

His lips go to your neck, his broad chest and back heaving with his heavy breathing, and then he continues moving down, and you remember his previous request. Can I eat you out first? It nearly makes you gush, especially when Sam’s lips land on your collarbone, tongue running over the rise of it before he moves further down. Look at that, you think. A man of his word. 

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, the pressure intense, then lets go and licks over it, making you press your chest up against him. He moves to the other one, mouths at it, and you press your thighs together, roll your hips, not wanting him to stop but looking for some kind of release. 

Sam must notice, lets your nipple drop out of his mouth, then looks down your body. He turns, looks back up at your face. You must look like you’re about ready to blow, even though he’s barely done anything. He grins, the goddamn cockiest grin you’ve ever seen and one of his hands goes to your knee, travels down to the inside of your thigh and then, meanly, horribly, stops there.

“Keep your legs open,” he says, and you chuckle, both at him and how hard it is to open them up, escape the little bit of friction you were getting.

“Fucking tease,” you mutter and Sam’s grin widens. “I’m gonna get you back for that.” Sam presses his lips against the spot between your breasts, then looks up at you again.

“I’m coutin’ on it,” he says and you need to bite your lip while you file that to-do away for later. Tease him. Yeah, you can do that. You’ll do more than that. He doesn’t know what you have in store for him.

With a self-satisfied smile, you push yourself deeper into the mattress, and Sam begins kissing you again, a sensual, slow trail down your front. One kiss he lands next to your belly button and it makes you giggle. You feel his lips smile against you. Goddamn.

He shuffles around, gets into position before moving lower. You have no idea how he can be comfortably arranging his long body on the bed in this way, and then he lowers his head, his breath fanning over your pussy and you don't care anymore.

He kisses you high on your thigh, slow, lingering, where he presses his entire face against you, like he can't bear not to be as close as possible. Another one, closer to the inside, and then another one, closer yet.

You would love for him to just dive right in, but the way his slow approach makes you feel like you'll drown the poor guy down there isn't bad either. You're panting and almost shaky when his lips finally graze your own lower ones.

A small gasp leaves you as Sam explores you, kissing you there, then the tip of his tongue presses against you, softly first, then harder. Your legs are as wide open as they can be and when Sam gently sucks that little bud of nerves into his mouth, it's a good thing he slung his arms around your thighs when he made himself comfortable, because you might break his nose otherwise with how hard you press yourself up against him.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, hands shooting to his hair. It's pure instinct, to press him closer against you, look for any part of him - the strong chin, the broad nose, anything - to find more stimulation. You stop a second later. Or you would, if Sam didn't give the most exquisite low moan when you press him down.

You let up, just barely giving Sam room to talk. He uses the chance to say only one thing.

“Do it again,” he gasps, breathless. Good Lord up in heaven. Of course you'll do it again.

You press him down again, and while he presses his tongue flat against your clit, a deep, lustful groan travels up his throat, making you feel like you're vibrating right along with him. He moves his face, creating stimulation, and you can't - or almost can't - help the ways your lower body moves along to find more - more friction, more tongue, more lips, more Sam.

So you keep going. With Amazonian strength you push your head up, look down your body and curse yourself for not doing so earlier. His eyes are closed, eyelids fluttering like he's in fucking heaven. The image spurns you on so much that you begin rolling your hips more, now essentially face fucking Sam. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Oh God, so fucking good, Sam,” you pant, carding your fingers into his hair, pulling near the roots. “You're gonna make me come so fucking hard.”

Sam can't answer, for obvious reasons, but he groans again, long and loud and deep. It's all building inside of you, all coming to its inevitable conclusion, and when you see Sam's strong back heaving in lust and exhalation, reacting like this to making you come on his face, it's the last straw.

A crescendo of yes yes yes fuck yes Sam leaves you as you come, riding his face from below, hands gripping his hair so tightly you'd be surprised if they didn't come away with tufts of it. You throw your head back, moaning so loudly it almost counts as a scream, all reason and self control lost as waves and waves of delicious pleasure carrying Sam's signature wash over you.

You drop down, both from your high as well as your body against the mattress below you. You’re breathing hard, shaky and shuddery. Distantly you feel Sam has returned to kissing your thighs, but blindly you reach for his arms, try to pull him up towards you.

He understands, pushes himself up and crawls over you. He lands a few fleeting kisses on his way up, and then he’s over you, and you chuckle at seeing him. His hair is messy, which is mostly your fault, your wetness making his chin and mouth glisten. You bring a hand up, wipe it over his face and then pull him in, kiss him deeply.

Sam lays himself over you, held up by his elbows, and his weight on you is perfect. You wrap your legs around him on instinct, bring him close to you and grind yourself up against him. You’re still sensitive, but it’s worth it for the feeling of his bulge pressing against you.

In response, Sam stops kissing, pressing his forehead against your temple while he presses himself against you, moans.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he pants and you could return the compliment, but instead you bring your hand up, grabbing his jaw and making him look at you.

“Lie down on your back, right now,” you say and something comes over Sam’s face, something so vulnerable and excited and intense. You haven’t seen this expression on him yet.

He kisses you again, then pushes himself up as you unsling your legs from around him, rolls off you and lands on his back. You push yourself up and when he’s positioned himself and is looking at you, you crawl over to him, crossing the distance. It’s not a long way but you see the way it makes Sam’s breath catch in his throat.

You kneel, take a second to look at him. He’s long, you think, just everything about him, his legs, his torso and the bulge in his briefs isn’t promising anything different either. You stay like that, let your eyes roam over him until you see him shift. Then you look for another moment. Make sure he knows who’s calling the shots here.

When you see him starting to squirm you move, your own self control starting to wear thin. Without ceremony or giving Sam time to prepare, you raise your leg and swing it over him, straddling him around the waist. You’re very aware of your pussy pressing against the soft skin wrapped over the hard muscle of his abdomen. You lean forward, reach for the cuffs then settle back down.

Sam looks up at you as if you’re some kind of deity. His lips are slightly parted, beautiful, pinkish lips, roughened from kissing and licking at you. He’s breathing hard, his body raising and falling, changing the intensity of contact between your most intimate parts and his stomach. You wonder if some of your wetness has transferred to his skin. It must have.

You’re just about to ask him whether he wants his hands only tied together or cuffed to the bed, when Sam raises his arms, muscles there rippling, brings his hands up to the headboard. The thing’s perfect for tying a big, strong man to it and you lean forward. One of his wrists goes into one cuff, and you’re about to wrap the other one around the metal bar of the headboard when Sam speaks up.

“Both,” he says and you look down at him. His eyes are large and pleading and for a second, it almost throws you off. It’s not sexual, the need in his face, not exactly. It’s different. It’s all encompassing.

“Are you sure?” you ask. You’re all about exploring, but you don’t want Sam to put himself into a position where he might freak himself out. But he nods, slowly, looking into your eyes. He swallows.

“I trust you,” he says, voice calm. 

It shoots straight to your heart. He trusts you. He just had his face buried in your pussy and you’re about to ride him, but somehow that is the most intimate thing he could have said.

“Okay, Sam,” you say, no flirtiness in your tone, just clearness. You want him to understand that you get it. That you grasp the kind of vulnerability he is allowing himself.

The click of the second cuff sounds incredibly loud in the room. Sam pulls against them, just a little, just to test. Then he sighs. He sound fucking relieved.

You look down at him as you settle again and when he looks away from the cuffs and at you, you lean in to kiss him. It’s a gentle kiss, soft and caring, nothing like the frenzy energy you both had earlier. You’ll return to that and you plan to bring Sam even further, a plan now clearly forming in your head. But for now, this kiss is a pact. I’ll take care of you, it says.

While you’re still interlocked, you move a little. Just a tad, just a slight back and forth motion. It makes you press your still sensitive pussy against Sam and you make an involuntary sound in the back of your throat. Without another word, you sit up, hands resting on Sam’s sculpted chest as you begin rubbing yourself against him with purpose.

Sam looks down, watches, then looks up at your face again, his breath coming faster. He likes this, you realize, and you could scream from joy. That you are so on the same wavelength. You’re almost not touching him, not getting him off in any way, but with how his breath stutters you’d think he’s tickling the back of your throat. Later, maybe. If he’s good.

“Maybe I won’t fuck you after all,” you say, and there’s just a second of panic in Sam’s eyes, before your gazes meat again and he understands. Understands that you’re doing this for his benefit. He presses his lips together, exhaling through his nose.

“Maybe I’ll just do this,” you say, completing another delicious drag along him that does absolutely nothing for him but still makes his eyelids flutter. “Maybe I’ll just use your body and keep making myself come over and over.”

“Yes,” Sam breathes, closing his eyes. He’s squirming, just a little, shifting, but you’re not allowing him any satisfaction. 

“Would you like that, Sam?” you ask, and you’re not sure he can hear you from how absolutely blissed out he looks. “Me riding you but you never getting off. Your big cock just hard and painful and so full, but never feeling me?” 

Sam’s throat contracts, that damn Adam’s apple bobbing like crazy. He’s so beautiful. You move your hands a little, skin rubbing on skin, then gently run your fingernails over his shapely pecs. Sam groans again. Officially your new favorite sound.

“Would be a shame,” you say and Sam blinks his eyes open, watches you with rapt attention for whatever decadent punishment you have next for him. “Shame to not feel you that way.”

Without another word, you lean forward again, but this time you don’t kiss Sam, despite the way he tilts up his face towards you being immensely tempting. Instead you press your lips against his collarbone, sucking against the skin there, hard, until you know it must hurt a little and then stop. The next one goes high on his chest, with the same pressure.

To go further, you must climb lower on him, but you sure don’t mind when you move, ass bumping into the hardness in his briefs. You smile to yourself, but don’t let that steer you from your path.

You go lower, lips grazing one of his nipple before you gently nip at it, making Sam’s breathing stutter. You chuckle to yourself, then move your face to look up at him. He’s raised his head to watch you and you make eye contact with him before pushing out your tongue and running it over it once, making Sam’s mouth drop open. Then you keep going lower.

You reach his stomach, his abs, kiss them all over, run your fingertips over them gently. He really is quite the catch. You didn’t know men like this existed outside of the covers of glossy magazines. 

Just above his naval, you get a sudden urge, open your mouth and graze your teeth against him. The skin is too taut to manage to actually bite him, but it makes Sam’s cock, still in its fabric prison just underneath your chest, twitch so hard you feel it. It makes you nearly dizzy.

Then those damn v-lines. Just as you promised yourself, you run your tongue through that valley, the taste of salty skin and Sam-ness unmistakeable. God, you would just love to eat him up, you think, as the tip of your tongue tickles along the intense outline.

Sam is nearly vibrating at this point. He’s doing a good job at staying in place, but the way he’s sucking in breath, the way his muscles all over tense and then relax. It’s like watching dark clouds move quickly along the sky. He’s a natural spectacle, this guy.

You look up at him, stop touching him, when your face is above his crotch. Wait for him to catch himself enough so that he looks at you. You make sure you make eye contact before you continue.

“You’re being really good, Sam,” you say, “so let me reward you.” 

With that, you press your mouth against his clothed cock. The reaction is instantaneous, Sam pressing his head back into the pillow under him, moaning so loudly and deeply the neighboring rooms can probably hear you. Yeah, you did that. That’s your work.

You do it again and the reaction is just as intense. With deep satisfaction you see Sam wrap his hands around the metal bars of the headboard, squeezing them so hard his knuckles go white. With those damn arm muscles bulking under his skin, he could probably make true on his earlier words and break himself out of the cuffs. You’re not sure that he actually could, but you’re very satisfied that he doesn’t even try.

You bring your hand up, tired of waiting, and pull the waistband of his briefs down. His cock springs free, comes to rest against his stomach. Velvety and meaty, just like the rest of him. Like you thought earlier: specimen.

You pull the waistline a little further, let it slip under his balls, which look soft and pillowy, leave it there. You look up again, open your mouth, push out your tongue and run it once along the length of him.

A long sound leaves Sam, something like an aaah fuuu but he seems incapable of finishing the thought. You sure don’t mind. Not with how perfect he feels under your tongue. There’s one vein that you’re especially infatuated with, and you flick your tongue over it, gaining more incoherent rambling from Sam. 

Next, you push your opened mouth against his balls, suckle gently. When you look back up at Sam’s face, you see a slight sheen of sweat collecting on his deeply rippled forehead. Oh, he hasn’t seen anything yet.

“Please–” Sam stutters and you keep watching him, try to see if he’s gonna be able to vocalize what he wants. He swallows, then simply repeats himself: “P-please.”

“What, Sam?” you ask, ceasing your touching on him. “What do you want?” Sam opens his eyes, swallows again, looks at you, trying to gather himself.

“Can you…” he stutters, “with-with your mouth?” You smile a small, devilish smile.

“Inside, you mean?” you ask and Sam quickly nods. You could make him say it, not do it until he gets all the words out, but the truth is, you’re basically salivating. So this is as much for his benefit as for yours.

With gentle fingers, you take his cock in your hand, bringing it up. Lick your lips, for show as much as for smoothness. You lick a stripe along the underside and when you reach his head, wrap your lips around him.

The sound Sam makes this time is different. It sounds like he’s getting into a hot bath. It’s relief. Satisfaction.

You’d never admit to it in court, but your eyes fall shut on their own accord at the taste of him, the heft, and you moan around him. Slowly you begin bobbing your head up and down as Sam perfectly fills your mouth, like he was made for exactly this.

If Sam was responsive before, he now becomes unfettered. He keeps moaning, deep, rich sounds, voice cracking while he mutters confused words and half-phrases. Yes and fuck fuck and oh G-god and more please more. He’s a full on mess at this point, pulsing and twitching between your lips.

You pop off him, continue stroking him while you catch your breath, using the chance to look at him. He looks beautiful, undone. You feel a not insignificant rush of pride at how quickly you unraveled him.

Just then, Sam’s eyebrows go up, his hips slightly bucking as his gaze falls on you. You slowly shake your head.

“Don’t come,” you say, voice low. Sam’s breath hiccups and then he nods.

“I won’t,” he says, seemingly getting himself under control, at least somewhat. “I promise I won’t.” 

“Tell me when you get too close so I can stop,” you say and Sam nods again.

“Yes,” is all he manages because the next second you are taking him into your mouth again. Sam grunts, back to that deep, full bodied moaning while you begin taking him deeper. It’s only a minute before he speaks up again.

“O-okay, okay,” he says and you raise your head, let him drop out of your mouth. “I-I think I need a break.” 

Part of you is disappointed. You were really enjoying what you were doing. But another part of you lights up with the idea that hits you.

So you make your way back up his body, stopping at some of the previous sights, nuzzling them again. When you come up to Sam’s face, he has a soft, dreamy smile on his lips. You kiss him, deeply, then catch his lower lip between your teeth, pull a little. It makes his grin break through everything else that’s going on.

“Ready for me to keep going?” you ask, voice low. “Or are we gonna have a problem?” The corners of Sam’s mouth twitch. He seems to be a little bit back to himself and you can’t deny that the slight cockiness in his expression makes you all the more excited to drive it out of him again.

He raises his head, tries to reach your lips with his but you pull your head back, gaining a frustrated grunt from him before you finally give in, let him kiss you. You pull back just a little, stay close to him.

“You wanna fuck me, Sam?” you ask, even though it’s very clear that if anyone will be doing any fucking, it’ll be you. Details, details.

“Yes,” Sam replies, voice low, his lips ghosting over yours in an attempt to kiss you again. “Wanna feel you.”

You push yourself up again, to a sitting position, pressing your pussy against Sam’s cock in the process. You run it along him, slowly. Sam closes his eyes again, rolling his neck, before he looks up at you again.

“Feel how wet you make me?” you ask and Sam nods. 

“That feels so good,” he answers, “but I want to be inside you.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Making demands, are we?” you ask and Sam grins, boyish, wide, unguarded. He gives you what in his current state passes for a challenging look.

“Like you haven’t been imagining what my cock would feel like deep inside you?” he asks and your mouth drops open, but it turns into an excited grin, only mirrored on Sam’s face. You shake your head, press yourself against him, which makes Sam go back to groaning.

“Cheeky boy,” you say, pressing your face against the side of his, making sure he hears you. “Sounds like I’m gonna need to teach you a lesson.” You pull back again.

“Please,” Sam says, turning serious. “Please, I… I need to learn.”

It nearly knocks the air from you. His words, the way he looks at you. Maybe it’s just your horniness making you nearly obtuse, but is there something more here? This doesn’t feel like any hook-up you’ve ever had. This feels different. More concrete. More fulfilling than… well, pretty much everything else ever.

All you know is that you need Sam inside of you. That you need to know what his face looks like when he is, what he feels like. Because if your bodies fit together half as well as your brains seem to, this might be the night of your life.

“Okay, Sam,” you say. “Let me take care of you.”

His expression goes soft then, something deep and vulnerable in his eyes. He gives a final, slow nod.

You press yourself up on your knees, reach between your legs, finding Sam’s warm thickness. You lead his head to your pussy, all while he keeps looking into your eyes, barely blinking, and you can see moisture collecting over the intense palette of colors in his irises, but still he doesn’t look away. Then you lower yourself, letting him slowly slide into you.

There’s the stretch, your mouth dropping open at it, but you are wide open and ready for him. The thick head slips into you and you rock your hips gently to keep working yourself down on him. Sam takes a stuttering breath at the sensation as he stares down at where the two of you are meeting.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “fuck, your pussy feels perfect, that’s so–” He stops there, drops his head back again and you couldn’t agree more. But now that you don’t need to hold his cock anymore since he’s far enough inside of you, you use your hand to reach up, grab Sam’s jaw, turn it to you.

“Look at me,” you gasp, and you feel him nod in your hold when he does. You have a hard time keeping your own eyes open, but then you’re not the one who’s being taught a lesson.

With a deep sigh, you sink all the way down, taking all of him into you. You are so filled, like you’ve been closed off to the outside world. Just filled with Sam Sam Sam. 

He is, just as you’re thinking that, tugging at the cuffs again. You focus on him, watch him panting there below you.

“Fuck, I wanna touch you so bad,” he groans. It’s tempting, to have those big, strong hands exploring you, squeezing your flesh the way you could squeeze him inside you. Have his fingers find your clit. But that’s not what the two of you are doing.

You roll your hips, making Sam moan and you suck your lip between your teeth as you feel him move inside you, kissing your walls like you kissed his mouth.

“But you are touching me,” you say as you keep moving. “Can’t you feel it, Sam? Right there, do you feel that?”

Sam’s gaze drops back to your pussy, watching as you let part of him slip out of you only to gather him up again immediately.

“I feel it,” he says, voice cracked. “Feel… feel how warm you are. Fuck, you’re so soft.” You nod along to his words.

“And you’re–” you start, then interrupt yourself when Sam bumps into a special part of you. “Oh, right there, Sam, fuck, that’s so good.”

It’s not like Sam has any control over how he’s fucking you, but you don’t care. Especially not when he groans at your words.

“Keep going,” he begs. “Please, please, say it again.” You roll your hips harder.

“You’re going so deep, Sam,” you moan and he shudders at that. “So nice and deep and good, you know exactly what my pussy needs, don’t you?”

You keep going and a moment later, Sam presses his head back, eyes squeezing shut, lip pulling up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” he says, and you can feel it, the pulsing, his orgasm announcing itself. So you stop riding him.

For a moment you think you waited too long. Sam sort of trembles and for a moment you wonder if he did come, but it’s brief, and then he’s blinking his eyes open. You shake your head slowly.

“Did I say you were allowed to come?” you ask.

It takes a second for anything to register on Sam’s face. His lips move, like he’s trying to say something. His chest is still rising and falling and you just watch him, this beautiful, perfect man you’ve bagged. You’d think his brains were leaking out his ears with how dumbfounded he seems. Then he understands.

“I-” he says, then clears his throat. “No, you didn’t.”

“Exactly,” you say. You let your hands slip off Sam’s chest, bring them to your breasts, gently massaging, keep watching him, the hungry, no, starving look in his eyes, before you let one hand slowly wander down your front.

“So you better don’t,” you say and then your fingertips are grazing your clit.

You see Sam swallow, as if he’s steeling himself, and then he nods, almost imperceptible.

Gently, you begin petting yourself. Sam’s making you so nice and full, the pressure within you making even the soft touch feel like a hundred volt snapping though you. You keep going, a little harder, a little faster, the feeling of it so good, running from the roots of your hair to your toes.

“Yes, Sam,” you sigh. “Just like that. Just like– oh yes, oh God, fuck, baby. That’s it.” Your eyes have fallen shut but you open them again, look down at Sam. He looks concentrated, focused. You might have stopped moving, but you’re sure he can feel what your own touching is doing to you.

You continue, your other hand twisting your nipple while slowly the pleasure in you builds and builds, becoming thicker, more graspable. Your hand leaves your breast, goes behind you, resting on Sam’s leg as you lean back.

With the change in angle, Sam presses against you so perfectly that an involuntary whimper leaves you. Without meaning to, you roll your hips, Sam groaning loudly again. But you’re close. So close, it’s almost within your reach.

So you keep going, fingers quickly rubbing you as you grind down against Sam. You moan loudly, then again, as your orgasm comes barreling towards you, hits you like a brick to the head. Sam’s thickness intensifies the feeling and you can feel yourself twitching and shaking while soft, warm pleasure envelops your body.

You moan as the long release washes over you, still grinding to prolong it, so it’s lucky you hear Sam at all when he speaks.

“Shit, I’m gonna, wait, wait, wait–” he pants and you barely register it. You lean forward, plant your hands on his chest and press yourself up, letting him slip all the way out of you. That’s how you remain, pleasure still coursing through you, slight shivers making you smile softly. 

At last, you blink your eyes open, look down at Sam. His face is pressed against the side of his arm, eyes screwed shut while he’s inhaling and exhaling through his nose. You look down, quickly, at his cock lying there below you. There’s your own wetness but it doesn’t look like he came.

Still panting, you lower yourself, lay your chest on his.

“Good boy,” you press out between heavy breaths. Sam makes a sound in his throat before he turns his face, eyes slowly opening. He looks completely destroyed. He’s trembling like a leaf in the wind, you notice next.

You lean forward, kiss him, but he’s barely able to return it. The intense climb without reaching the peak must be taking it out of him. For just a moment, so close post-orgasm, you want to relieve him from the tension, let him come. But something about his face gives you pause. Something in his kiss.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask and he nods, immediately, clear on what he wants. Well, you’re not gonna talk him out of it. You push yourself up a little, both your upper and lower body, reach between you again, press Sam back into you.

He slips in so easily this time and the stimulation is just on the other side of uncomfortable. But then you move and it’s perfect, immediately intense and deep.

“Oh yes,” you sigh while Sam goddamn whimpers. The sounds coming from him are so perfect that you keep going, almost uncaring if you’re gonna carry him too far. You just need to keep hearing those noises.

You run your hands over Sam’s chest as you keep riding him and when you see his eyebrows drawing together, you slow again, nearly come to a full stop. The breath Sam takes is so deep and desperate that it shakes your body along with his. You wait for a few seconds, allow his stimulation to die down, then begin again. Sam actually grits his teeth, broad chest rising and falling so hard you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“Fuck, I can’t– I don’t– oh, please,” he starts moaning, but then you stop again, having learned what the tell tale signs of Sam about to come are: brows pulled together, upper lip pulled up, shoulders tensing. 

“Fuck!” he curses, and it comes from deep inside him. You clench down, squeeze him inside you, this delicious man-giant you’ve brought to his knees.

“You’re all mine,” you whisper, squeeze him again, making him groan. “That nice big cock inside me belongs to me now. Isn’t that right, Sam? You’re all mine?” He looks so torn up so you begin rolling your hips again, slowly, slowly.

That's when Sam’s self control snaps. If he had his hands to himself, he’d probably spin you around, pound you into the mattress until you forget your own name, until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. But he doesn’t, so he does the only thing he can.

He widens his legs, angles them up far enough to push you forward. You catch yourself with your hands on the mattress below, a surprised yelp leaving you. Sam plants his legs wide and starts thrusting up, hard and fast, fucking into you, shaking your entire body.

The stimulation is sudden and intense, and makes you moan loudly immediately. His thrusts are uncontrolled and you are caught by the way his legs are spread, keeping yours wide apart and you in place. Your eyes nearly roll up as you steady your body to meet his thrusts, and when you finally focus on him again, you look down. 

Sam is still gritting his teeth, the look on his face desperate. He’s looking at you, maybe to see if you are alright with what he is doing, and your expression must give him a clear indicator.

“F-fuck, Sam,” you moan between thrusts, the loud slapping noise of skin on skin filling the room as Sam fucks you good and deep, and then you close your eyes, another orgasm crashing into you. You whine loudly and Sam braces his legs, keeps himself pressed deep into you, and apart from the occasional muscle twitch, contains his movement as you come around his dick, moaning loudly and wantonly.

You slump forward, cheek landing on his shoulder as you keep grinding yourself against him, making Sam hiss. You press yourself against him, looking for closeness and since he can’t hold you, hug you, he presses his chin down against the top of your head. You stay like that while you try to catch your breath.

“What the fuck was that?” you ask and a broken chuckle leaves Sam.

“Just wanted you to come again,” he answers. You scoff, bring your hand up and stroke his chest.

“I could have done that,” you say, making your voice slightly petulant and you hear the smile in his voice when he speaks.

“Yeah, but I…” he starts, stops briefly. “I wanted it to be me doing it, you know?”

With all the strength you have, you push yourself up, look at Sam’s face. He looks so serious. You bring your hand to his face, pet his cheek and he briefly closes his eyes at that, making your heart flutter.

“Sam,” you say and he opens his eyes again, blinks at you. You look deep into his eyes, the rings of blue and spatters of what almost looks like gold. “Are you gonna let me take care of you now? Really this time?”

Sam presses his lips together, then nods. With that, you are moving again, rocking back and forth slowly.

You run your fingers across Sam’s skin again, look over his face, trying to take in every detail. The light stubble. He must have shaved this morning, not before going to the bar. Three moles - one next to his nose, and you can’t help but lean forward and press a gentle kiss against it. 

When you pull back, Sam’s eyebrows are pulled together, his eyes glistening, so you push yourself harder down against him, then stop. In response, he lets out a long breath.

You wait a few seconds, then begin moving again. Sam’s eyes fall shut again and you kiss his jaw, then his neck. He is moving in and out of you now as if you were made for each other, so you pick up your speed.

When you look at Sam’s face again, there’s a tear at the corner of his eye. When he opens it, it dislodges, rolls down first his cheek and then off the side of his face from the angle he’s holding himself.

You see the small panic in his face immediately at you having seen. The worry that you’re somehow gonna be put off. You’re not entirely sure what brought it on, whether it’s the orgasm you keep just out of his reach or something else.

You lean forward. The tear is gone from your reach, has landed somewhere in the pillow below him, but you press your lips against the wet trail of it, pick the wetness up with your tongue. Sam’s breathing stutters, so much so that you almost get worried, but instead of looking at him, you kiss his cheek again. Only then you pull back.

The way he looks at you is difficult to interpret. A mix of unsure and something else, something like deep, helpless lust. You push yourself up higher and begin riding Sam again. 

You go faster this time, rolling your hips, letting him slip out of you then pushing him back in, your movement smooth and quick, filled to the brim over and over. Sam keeps watching you while you do, picking up your speed even further.

“You feel so amazing, Sam,” you breathe, and it’s the truth, but you’re not just talking about what’s happening between your legs, but in your chest as well. “You feel so beautiful.”

Sam whimpers, his lips trembling, but you don’t let up. He feels as comfortable and right inside of you as anyone ever has. You go faster yet again.

“I want you to come inside me,” you moan. “God, I want you, Sam.”

Sam makes a noise you can’t quite read, then his nostrils flare.

“Please,” he says again, his voice thick. “Please, just please.”

You don’t know what he’s begging for exactly, but there’s only one thing you can still give him. You ride him harder, faster, Sam clenching his jaw at what at this point must be overstimulation. You can see he’s approaching that edge again and then it’s like something inside him breaks, a sob leaves him, and another one, another tear dislodges.

He probably expects you to stop again, but you don’t. Instead you whine through your own intense feelings as you keep riding him. 

His own orgasm surprises him, because Sam widens his eyes and then presses them shut, sounds unlike anything you’ve ever heard leaving him, his noises traveling through you. He’s gasping for air, muscles twitching and he presses his hips up, searching more of you out just as you feel him spill inside of you.

Sam’s chest is heaving and you watch him, run your hands over him to try and help him find his way back to himself. But it doesn’t stop, it’s not dying down and just as you begin wondering if something is seriously wrong, his eyes fly open, focusing on you.

“Get me out of this,” he says, wrists rattling in the cuffs. 

You do it immediately, hand going to the table, grabbing the small key. You open the first one and Sam slips his hand out, the skin red where he pulled against it, and you just have time to curse at yourself for not putting in any padding as you unlock the second one, and then Sam suddenly has his arms around you and is moving you. 

You think for a second he’s trying to get you off of him, but instead he turns the both of you, your back landing on the mattress, Sam still over you, never having slipped out of you.

In the next second, he's kissing you. Harder and needier and lovelier than you’ve ever been kissed before. His palms are fluttering all over you, like butterflies unsure where to land, he can’t pick a part of you to hold first. You taste the salt of his tears on his lips and bring your legs up, wrap them around him.

Sam pulls his face back, looks into your eyes and then, to your utter shock, begins fucking you again. He just came, but you can still feel him hard inside you, and on top of that, his hand shoots into the small space between your bodies and he finds your clit, begins rubbing it quickly.

Your head drops back at the sudden and exquisite pleasure, and Sam presses his face against your neck. His kisses against your skin aren’t gentle, he’s sucking the skin so hard it’s painful, but it’s perfect. You manage to moan his name and feel his lips move when he speaks against you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants. “What the fuck��did you just do?” You card your hands into his hair again, drag his face away from your neck so you can bring your head back up again. You want to look into his face when you come.

It doesn’t take long. In what feels like seconds, hot pleasure is building inside you again and you just have time to say his name again before Sam fucks you into a deep and violent orgasm.

He’s not far behind you. You don’t know how he’s able to do it again, but you know that he presses his mouth against yours while you both moan for and because of each other, as you explode as two but become one.

When you come back from the bathroom, wearing your sleep shirt, Sam’s head shoots up. To your disappointment, you see that he has put on his briefs and t-shirt. You stop a few feet from him, hands going behind your back.

“Are you leaving?” you ask. Sam shifts where he’s sitting at the end of the bed, elbows on knees, arms crossed in front of his body like he’s trying to protect himself.

“I didn’t know if maybe you wanted to be alone,” he says, avoiding your gaze again. He’s been doing that since he pushed himself out of you. You have no idea what happened, but if you had to guess, you probably saw something he didn’t want you to see. Maybe the tears, maybe the desperation with which he fucked you. You’re not sure. Whatever it is, you didn’t mind it. 

You step closer to him, careful not to breach his personal space but wanting to make it clear that you want to be close to him. You press one sock-clad foot forwards, into Sam’s periphery.

“What do you want, Sam?” you ask, voice gentle. He continues staring down at the floor, where your foot is.

“It’s just that one person typically leaves,” he mumbles. You can’t help the smile that comes into your voice.

“I thought you didn’t do this kind of thing a lot,” you reply. This time, Sam looks up. His face looks open, like he’s just torn his heart out of his chest and asked you what you think of it.

“I don’t,” he says, voice cracking a little. 

“Well, this is just what I personally think,” you say, slowly kneeling. Sam blinks in surprise but then you are there before him. This way you can fully see him and he you. “But this wasn’t exactly my usual kind of hook-up.”

Sam swallows, maybe unsure what you mean.

“It was,” you continue, deciding to simply take the plunge, “much, much more than that.” Sam’s features soften.

“For me too,” he says, voice low. You nod.

“Good that we’re on the same page,” you continue and you think you see the slightest twitch of a smile on his lips. You move your hand up, cup his face. He doesn’t flinch away, instead presses his face against your palm, closes his eyes, as if the touch is both pain and balm at the same time.

“Come to bed with me, Sam;” you whisper. “Stay.” Sam nods against your hand.

You stand, your hand going away from Sam’s face and instead going to his hand, holding it. When you tug on it, he follows you, stands as well.  You walk him to the side of the bed, let him climb in first. He elects to lie on his back, one hand resting on his chest as he looks up at the ceiling. You lie on your side, watch him. It seems like he’s waiting for something but doesn’t have it in him to ask.

“I always sleep much better,” you say and Sam turns his head to you, listening intently, “when I get some cuddles after I’ve been fucked stupid.” Sam blinks again in that absolutely adorable way he does, then a wide smile breaks out over his face. You tilt down your face, look up at him playfully. “Think you could stand to have me stick to you like a barnacle sticks to a rock for a little bit?”

Wild joy and warmth spreads through your chest when Sam actually chuckles. He rolls on his side too and you scoot closer to him. His arm goes around you, pulling you in and against his chest, so all you have to worry about is getting your arms around him too. You don’t manage to wrap him all the way up, but you’re nicely intertwined by the time both of you are done shuffling around.

You can hear Sam’s heartbeat where you are pressed against his chest. Good, strong. You close your eyes, sure you’ll drift off any second.

“I feel like I should explain what happened back there,” Sam says and you open your eyes, look up, seeing mostly heroic chin and jaw before he looks down at you, dark eyes worried.

“There’s nothing to explain,” you reply. “Just looks like maybe we tapped into something intense?” Sam nods slowly, sniffs.

“Yeah,” he says, looking into the room again.

“Is there something you want to explain to me?” you ask and Sam looks at you again. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He seems to be thinking for a moment.

“I felt really safe with you,” he answers finally, voice low like he’s afraid someone will hear him. “I don’t… that’s not always the case.”

Your heart breaks for him, but you try not to let it show. Instead you bring your hand up, brush a strand of hair out of his face.

“I’m glad you felt safe,” you say. “I did too. And I also felt really, really good.” Sam gives you a soft, lopsided smile.

“Good,” he says. He looks at you for a moment, then his arms tighten around you again and you press your face against his chest. 

Sleep comes quickly.

You’re woken by the horrible sound of a phone ringing. You sigh, wonder for exactly a second at the mop of soft hair pressed against you before you realize it’s Sam. He moves, disentangles himself from you which you only comment on with a complaining groan, sits up.

The good news is that the ringing stops. It must be Sam answering because he grunts something into the phone, and then says: “Yeah, I’m up, I’m up.” 

You turn, look at him. He’s sitting at the side of the bed, one hand laid over his eyes, rubbing, in what you can only guess is an attempt to get the sleep out of them.

“Yeah,” he says again, “yeah, no, I got it. Yeah, I’m… I’m in her room.” With that, he turns around, looks at you. He smiles when he sees you’re awake and you smile back at him, trying not to worry what your hair looks like. Sam turns back around and then, and your heart drops a little at that, stands up, begins rushing through the room, collecting his clothes.

“No, I–” he says, then presses his lips together. “Shut up, Dean.” Despite the disappointment that Sam is clearly getting ready to leave, you can’t help but giggle a little at what you guess is Sam’s brother teasing him.

Sam closes the phone with a snap, turns to you, his jeans in one hand.

“Hey,” he says as you sit up, arms going around your knees.

“Hey yourself,” you reply. Sam grins, then looks apologetic.

“That was my brother, he… we got a case, he’s outside, apparently,” he explains and you nod.

“No rest for the wicked,” you say and Sam nods, chuckles a little. He steps into his jeans, pulls them up. Shoving his phone into one of the pockets before going for his socks and shoes, needing to hop a little to get into them. You watch him with a smile on your face.

Sam is pulling his shirt over his shoulders, shrugging it on and then buttoning it, almost seeming shy, when he speaks again.

“I had a great time,” he says, looking up at you through his bangs, like he doesn’t absolutely deserve to be locked up for looking at you that way when he’s about to head out the door. “A really great time.” You purse your lips.

“So did I,” you say and then Sam reaches for his jacket, shrugs that on as well, before his hands awkwardly go to his side.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” he says and you nod, let your eyes graze over him again. He turns, walks towards the door and opens it just a bit before he stops, turns around again.

“Hey,” he says, and you think he’s trying to act casual, “do you think I could, you know, get your number? Just in case…” He shrugs and your heart beats a little faster at his awkwardness. 

Without answering, you get up, still only wearing your sleep shirt that barely goes over your ass, as well as your socks. You look at Sam’s face as you walk towards him, keep your gaze there and his smile slowly disappears as you come closer, his expression becoming more intense. You reach one hand into your bag on the table, then drag out the sharpie you keep stored next to your notebook.

With that, you cross the rest of the distance to Sam, stand close to him. You can just see past Sam out the door, his brother’s car idling right outside, but you don’t really care if Dean sees you.

You take Sam’s hand, uncap the sharpie with your teeth and quickly write your number on the back of his hand. He watches you and then you close the pen, look up at him, into those gorgeous eyes.

“Don’t lose it,” you say. “I’m expecting you to call.” Sam’s eyes go over your face and then without saying another word he wraps his arms around you, pulls you in and kisses you deeply. You return the kiss, one arm going up to get a final feel of Sam’s thick hair between your fingers. 

At last, he lets go of you, his face staying close while he looks deep into your eyes, then grins awkwardly.

“I gotta go,” he says and you nod. He tears himself away, just so, his hands seeming almost reluctant to leave you and it makes you smile. He clears his throat, hands running over his sides, before he nods, then chuckles. You can’t help but grin along.

“Alright,” he says, throwing one more look at your face, then turns, moves out of the door. You take a step forward, lean against the doorframe, look after him.

You watch as Sam walks over to the car, gets in, needing to almost fold himself in half to fit, big boy that he is. He shifts in place for a second after closing the door. Dean is looking past him right at you, so you raise one hand in greeting. Dean raises his eyebrows, then turns to Sam, says something. Sam just rolls his eyes, but then, just as Dean starts the engine, Sam turns back to you. Watches you, your eyes meeting over the distance, and then, way too soon, the car is moving away.

You keep standing there until it’s off the parking lot, waiting for a moment for a break in the cars passing and when it does, you finally turn and walk back inside, let the door shut behind you. You grab your phone off the ground where it fell out of your jeans when you discarded them last night, let yourself drop down on the bed.

There’s a message from an old lead, telling you about a potential case two states from here. A friend checking in. Then the phone buzzes and you open the new message from an unknown number.

Took me everything not to walk back in with you standing there like that. Let me know when you’re available. I don’t mind the ride :) S.

You actually laugh before rolling on your side, getting comfortable. You read the message a few more times, eyes going over every single letter, especially the S. at the end. You notice you’re grinning like a fool.

With a sweet giddiness in your chest, you hit Reply and start typing.

[lilhughesy]

Maple Lattes and Cheese Croissants. | Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

warnings! none!

summary: it’s hard to not fall in love with your friend when he treats you so well and does little things like paying for your coffee.

a/n: sorry super rushed and not my best work!

It came out of the blue, you and Quinn’s friendship. He was new to Vancouver and you’ve grown up on the island but had visited the popular city multiple times before. After high school, you decided to move to the mainland to experience real city living and he was drafted to the Vancouver Canucks.

He had ran straight into you on the sidewalk, causing a movie-like collision with your purse, phone, and keys going flying up in the air and you nearly falling — before his hands caught your waist. You had apologized multiple times, as did he. Before the two of you laughed it off and quickly became friends.

The two do you were miraculously the same age and still getting to know the city — so why not do it with a friend?

And within the past few years, the two of you had grown quite fond of each other. His schedule was packed with practices, training, and meetings while yours was busy with work. Nonetheless, the two of you allocated time for one another; whether it be trying a new restaurant for lunch, a new coffee shop, or a hidden bookstore for you two to pick up a new read. The two of you cherished your time spent with one another as it was like an escape from your realities.

Time together was comfortable and easygoing. You two seemed to understand each other like the back of your hands. He felt like home away from home. He was your shoulder to cry on, a person you could rant to when work got stressful, and he would always come pick you up after your night out with your girls. Quinn never failed to make you smile and he always knew how to bring up your mood — often bringing you takeout on nights you were too exhausted to cook, or buying you your favourite flowers because he knew how much you loved a pop of colour in your kitchen.

Some may think that you two were a couple, which you always had to deny. Although at times you wished that you were something more with the Canucks captain. You found it harder and harder to find a man to be with, as they never treated you as well as Quinn did. At some point you seriously wondered if it was even possible to find a man who would treat you better than Quinn.

“Hey! How was practice?” You greeted the hockey player as he approached you. He pulled you into an embrace the second he reached you,

“Tiring as always,” He chuckled, before the two of you started walking together, “How was your day?”

You shrugged, adjusting your jacket slightly, “I called my mom earlier about plans for Thanksgiving and just went to work… You know, the usual.”

“How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s good, she seems to be doing well!” You beamed as you guided him towards your destination, “So my coworker told me about this cafe, she says that the croissants and the cinnamon sugar donuts are really good.”

He nodded before opening the door for you, “After you.”

You smiled at the boy before entering the cafe. The warm smell of coffee and buttery-sweetness of the baked goods surrounded you like a blanket. There was quiet chatter amongst the other people sitting in the cafe alongside the hum of the coffee machines.

Quinn stuffed his hands into the pocket of his joggers, standing right behind you as the both of you took time to read the menu.

“What are you thinking of getting?” You asked him, turning your head slightly to look at his face.

He hummed, “Probably just a coffee and maybe a ham and cheese croissant, that sounds pretty good.”

“Yeah that does sound good,” You replied before approaching the cashier, “Hi, how are you?”

“Good afternoon! I’m good, thanks! What can I get for you?”

“That’s good to hear! I’ll get the maple latte and a cinnamon sugar donut please.”

She nodded while typing your order into the tablet, “For sure! Anything else?”

“No, that’ll-”

“Yeah a medium coffee and a ham cheese croissant too.” Quinn objected before tapping his card on the machine.

“They’ll be ready for you just over there by the window!”

“Quinn, you know you didn’t have to pay for my food.” You sighed, leaning a shoulder against the wall as the two of you waited for your order.

He chuckled, adjusting his Yankees cap on his head, “Yeah, but I wanted to.”

“Thank you,” You offered him a smile which he returned before nudging you with his shoulder lightly.

When your order was called, Quinn went to retrieve the bag of food and the cardboard drink holder and motioned towards the door. The two of you walked at a comfortable pace in the direction of his apartment, making easy conversations as always. Whether it be his ongoing hockey season or drama at your work, it always flowed with ease.

You two settled into his living room, Quinn at one end of the couch whilst you on the opposite side. You cradled your coffee near your chest as you giggled at whatever joke Quinn had cracked.

He looked peaceful, comfortably lounging into the corner. His navy hoodie hugged him perfectly in a slightly oversized fit which made Quinn seem so cozy. He had one arm relaxed on the back of the couch while his other held his own coffee. His legs were in their typical manspread position as his neck extended back as he laughed.

“Luke said that?” You repeated, eyes still slightly widened while you tucked your knees towards your chest.

He nodded, “Yeah, Mom had to correct him super fast after that one. He’s lucky he didn’t say that in front of any other woman.”

“That’s so funny,” You laughed before taking another sip, “I hope I can meet your family one day, they sound amazing.”

Quinn smiled softly, his eyes glancing between your cuddles up figure and his drink, “Yeah, I hope you can meet them too. ‘Though, you’d probably be the first woman I introduce them too.”

“Oh really?” You questioned, your hands getting slightly clammy, “You’ve never introduced your girlfriends to your family?”

He only shrugged, “Never had a serious relationship before. Just a few flings or hook ups here and there.”

You hesitated before saying your next words, cautious of what may come next, “Have you ever fallen in love before?”

Quinn caught your eye, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob and the air in his throat hitch slightly, “Yeah, every time I look at you.” He breathed out.

Your stomach flipped, “Really?”

“How can I not?” He chuckled as the rosy colour spread across his facial features, “You’re everything I could ever ask for in a woman. You’re smart, strong, kind, beautiful, and yo- you’re breathtaking.”

A smile crawled up onto your face as you watched Quinn rub his jaw with his free hand. You placed your drink on his coffee table before moving closer to sit right next to him. Your legs curled underneath you as your hand played with the sleeve of his hoodie, “I think I fall in love with you more every time I see you too.”

His eyes softened more at your words, as he put down his own drink — not looking away from you. One of Quinn’s hands cupped your shoulder gently, “Yeah?”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

His focus bounced between your eyes and your glossy lips, “Can I kiss you then?”

Your hands moved to cup his face as you brought him closer to yours. Your lips melted with his as he eagerly kissed you back. His hands pulling your body to be pressed against his. Quinn’s strong arms wrapped around your waist as your hands danced in his soft hair.

You pulled away slightly, your foreheads touching, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, Quinn Hughes.”

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” He chuckled before kissing you again, “Now that I’ve kissed you, I don’t know if I ever want to stop.”

You beamed at his words, “Good. I feel the exact same way.”

His hands softly ran up and down your sides, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Of course, Q.”

Quinn grinned before pressing a kiss to your neck. You giggled as the feeling of his hair tickling your skin and you hugged him close. You didn’t have to worry about finding someone who would treat you better than Quinn, because he was finally yours. Your chest swelled with love and adoration for the man as he adjusted your bodies to be cuddled up in the couch, where the two of you would spend the rest of the afternoon together. The light patter of the Vancouver rain on the window and whatever movie the two of you chose to watch playing on his TV. You were so content to be wrapped up in his arms, even though the maple latte and cheese croissant were forgotten on the table.

[elliesglock]

ice live analysis part l | before pazzi cuddle

this live man. can we first of all talk about the implications of this live? literally TRANSFORMED belief in pazzi and fed a whole nation i must say. so ice starts the live off on insta and we kinda just gotta bear w her for the rest of the way cause it's rocky. maybe subconsciously she knew she was launching pazzi the night cause she had us going through WAR to watch this damn thing. also uconn wifi is literally ball sack ass hairs so. from the beginning of the live, we get a pretty good picture to who is already turnt (paige) and to who is getting there (azzi). paige keeps dancing in the shot and she's just in party p mode so you know she's already gone to the world. ice shows azzi and ofc she's looking absolutely stellar and perfect. i know paige was peeing her pants looking at her. i think that's why she gets so feral later on in this live oop but we'll get into that. it starts off pretty normal but in the beginning we hear kayla talking about something that will have a pretty big significance later on in my analysis. it sounds like she's talking to everyone around her about her little shi. it honestly sounds like whoever this is is questioning whether she's at a bar and mad at her for it. ice says, "just tell him ur at the gym doing shots." tryna get her to make a cover story. and ice again is like "what even is a ted you're not there!!" okay wing woman ice literal FARM in this live cause she also gives us one of the biggest pazzi moments ever while also helping kayla tame her little yeah. also tf is going on at ted's we got mfs behind the bar (carol) handing out shots for everyone like she's the bartender. girl your friends are actively launching on main and here she come w the jell-o shots? please give me a break. now atp we see azzi's a tad turnt, especially after we hear caroline handing out shots, she looks ice's camera dead in the face and says do u want a drink do you wanna a drink not even realizing. then in the background she's like OF WATER OF WATER. mind u this girl not even supposed to be drinking but shit azzi ig let's take a shot. the camera eventually gets to paige and girl can't even stand. these two together are the main reason they got caught let's be real, ice just had the camera and was accidentally messy. but paige is dancing like shit and you can tell she's wasted. and she lowkey starts getting very cuddly when she's drunk and the energy around her just seems so flirty and like she's waiting for the minute she can go over and go touch azzi and cuddle up with her. we get a good display of how paige is when she's drunk and for me it really 100% points to her being touchy and craving azzi no matter what. her eyes are low, she's lingering around, she's dancing and smiling like a goof. she's having fun but i know once she gets over there to az she's gonna be begging to hit that bathroom if ykwim. AND OMG tell me why she grins, looks behind her to wear azzi is, and basically power walks over there. ice looks behind her and gives her guilty little smile like she always does. my theory is they were kissing and carrying on this whole live. every time we don't see paige we also don't see azzi just putting that out there. i think they probs disappeared a few times to.....lets just say make out in the bathroom and take some shots. they kinda remain in that corner for a second because ice keeps looking back almost to make sure they don't accidentally come into her shot. she seems very on edge which makes me feel like they def were kissing/making out and she was worried they were too drunk to not accidentally walk into the camera shot. i like to say during all of this everyone legit has no reaction and keeps going on about their own things and it really says to me this is a very normal thing at ted's.

during this next part, im not really a believer of the whole "come make out with me" cause listening with headphones multiple times i legit hear two people talking about wings. there's one beside ice saying "who ordered buffalo wings?" and then off in the distance you hear someone say we ordered wings. this is the person who's often misinterpreted as paige telling azzi to come make out with her. not that she wasn't asking her (she def was) but it wasn't in this moment. sorry yall 🥀.

during pazzi cuddle:

alright this next part needs its own fucking section CAUSE ISUNEH BRADY!!!! u just won us the lottery girly pop. there's a fated comment that starts this whole mess that says "show us da team" and ice not realizing what's happening behind her (poor girl) does a spin of the people behind her. it's very quick and honestly the people who say they can't tell what's happening are liars. it's very obviously paige and azzi are pushed back into the corner and paige has her hand on azzi's waist and azzi has her hand on paige's face and they're smiling. it's seriously the cutest thing ever and they seem so in love idk why people made it seem like it was such a bad thing. i understand the privacy aspect but to deny it when it's obv VERY ROMANTIC body language is insane to me but whatever ig. against popular belief, i don't think they were kissing. i think they just got done kissing. and they were still in the stance for it. paige's hand kinda slowly comes up from azzi's hip which says to me they were just making out and paige was grabbing what is rightfully hers i won't even lie. but at that moment ice turns the camera, they're not. them smiling at each other is so freaking cute they seem very honeymoonish newly wed kinda happy. and to be frank, i find it so beautiful that they are literally surrounded by people their age and their friends, and could be partying and dancing but they're near one another lost in each other. that is the biggest thing the ice live showed me truthfully. that they legit only see each other and no matter how much fun they're having nothings more fun than hanging out with each other and looking into each others eyes and loving on one another. IM SO FUCKING OVER IT PAZZI. now i wanna talk about the implications of this moment because it's huge. first of all, nobody even bats an eye. if they were just friends this whole conversation and closeness would be something everyone's staring at/laughing at, but nobody looks even the slightest bit of surprised. jana's literally looking away and at ice's screen when she's standing right beside them. caroline's holding a whole convo w azzi while paige is actively looking for another kiss from her and getting closer?? that's not normal friend behavior im sorry....also ices reaction. not normal at all either. seeing them in a weird stance like that if they were just friends she wouldn't rip the camera away from them, she'd be like what are yall doing and laugh. just like how she shows A BUNCH of people hanging on paige and eachother and doesn't move the camera. she moves the camera this live when she's showing something she's not supposed to. especially with how wide her eyes get, she knows she's not supposed to be showing this. and she gets all weird and on edge again after this. she knew she just showed fans a couple kissing and cuddling when they weren't out. THATS why she reacts the way she does not because of anything anybody else says. and no don't blame ice for anything she didn't mean too, I'll stab u if u do thank you.

[misskingshit]

I hate u (but not really)

summary: She’s impulsive. He’s impossible. Teamed up on missions and constantly at each other’s throats, they’d rather fight than cooperate.

note: Im telling u, this is gonna be a series, and it’s gonna be THE BEST, ok maybe not but still kinda good. (plus, i had to edit this in my phone so if titles or shit like that are not aligned or well situated it’s bc I cannot make it any better on my phone, sorry!).xoxo

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV

Too young, too bitter (chapter I)

mission gone wrong, obviously his fault

“You want me to follow him?” you ask, deadpan, staring at the glowing mission tablet in your hands. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Natasha replies without looking up from her gear bag. “You’re on recon with Barnes. Sam and I take the northern perimeter. Steve’s running point with Wanda.”

You glance across the hangar. Bucky stands at the Quinjet, arms crossed, looking like someone just asked him to eat a salad for breakfast.

“Can’t I just—switch with Sam or something?” you plead. “I’d rather spend two hours listening to Tony explain quantum physics in Klingon than spend one more minute with his cranky ass.”

From across the hangar, Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You know I can hear you, right?”

You don’t even flinch. “Good.”

He scoffs and turns back to the Quinjet. You groan.

Later, high above the city skyline, the two of you move through the crumbling remains of an abandoned HYDRA base. You’re nimble, fast, clearing rooms ahead of him like a blur.

“You going to keep rushing ahead like a toddler on Red Bull?” Bucky mutters through comms.

“You going to keep walking like your hips are made of rust and regret?” you shoot back.

“Maybe if someone followed the damn plan—”

“Maybe if someone updated their attitude post-WWII—”

“Guys,” Natasha cuts in over comms. “Shut up.”

You both go silent.

But it doesn’t last.

In one of the darker corridors, a security turret snaps to life.

You dodge. Bucky shoots. It barely misses your shoulder.

“Are you trying to kill me?” you snap, panting behind cover.

“You jumped in front of my shot!”

“I moved like a normal person. You aimed like my grandma.”

His voice comes through low and annoyed: “If you’d stop acting like a reckless kid—”

“And if you’d stop acting like every decision is life or death, maybe we wouldn’t be stuck in this eternal pissing contest!”

There’s a pause.

“Is that what this is? A contest?” he says, dryly.

“No,��� you reply, stepping out from cover, voice icy. “Because I’m already winning.”

cold war (a.k.a the pettiest show on Earth)

Back at the tower, your feud reaches a level of childish few Avengers have witnessed before.

The thermostat war begins Monday.

You like the lounge at a cool 21°C. Bucky, the 106-year-old relic of a man, insists on setting it to an unholy 25. You start changing it every time he leaves the room. He starts locking the settings.

You hack it.

He disconnects it from the Wi-Fi.

You tape a printed photo of yourself next to the controls flipping the bird with a sticky note: "This war is mine."

Tuesday, you label everything in the fridge.

Not just your food. Everything.

"YOGURT — NOT BUCKY'S"

"JUICE — MINE. NOT GRUMPY GHOST VETERAN'S."

"LEFTOVER PASTA — TOUCHED BY ME. HOPE YOU LIKE GERMS."

The next day, your stash is replaced with MREs and a Post-it that just says “Try being less annoying.”

You leave his arm polish in the freezer.

He doesn’t speak to you for two days.

things (almost) gets physical

You’re sparring in the gym. Steve pairs you up intentionally, everyone in the tower Stark can’t take anymore you two fighting and failing on missions all the time.

You glare at Bucky from across the mat. He rolls his eyes.

"You know, we could skip this,” he mutters, rolling his shoulder.

“What, afraid I’ll kick your ass?” you ask sweetly.

“I’m afraid I’ll say something you’ll cry about for three hours.”

You lunge. He blocks. You spin and catch him with a leg sweep, sending him stumbling.

He recovers fast, grabs your arm, and flips you—hard. You hit the mat with a dull thud.

“Oops,” he says, smirking.

“You’re such a child,” you hiss, wiping blood from your lip.

“Says the one who labeled her yogurt.”

You go at him again, and this time, your fight looks more like a bar brawl than training. Steve has to physically step between you, catching your wrist mid-swing.

“Okay!” he says, laughing nervously. “Let’s dial it back.”

Bucky huffs and storms off.

You’re left breathless, heart pounding—not just from the fight.

There was a moment in there.

A second where he was above you on the mat, hands gripping your wrists, your faces inches apart, and your pulse jumped for a completely different reason.

You haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

white flag

It’s a week later when you find Bucky alone on the balcony during one of Tony’s ridiculous rooftop parties. Everyone else is drinking and dancing under string lights. He’s nursing a beer, watching the city.

You don’t say anything at first. Just lean next to him, close enough to feel his presence but not close enough to be soft.

He glances at you.

You both sigh at the same time.

“I still think you’re too bitter for your own good,” you say eventually.

He chuckles. “And you’re still an immature pain in my ass.”

You clink your glass against his bottle.

“Glad we understand each other.”

He glances sideways at you, and for the first time, there’s no venom in it.

Just something... complicated.

“You’re not that bad,” he says.

You smirk. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

You stand in silence again, this time comfortably. Maybe this cold war isn’t over. But you’ve both stopped firing missiles.

For now.

Would you like a follow-up chapter where all this tension explodes into something more intimate (or romantic), or maybe a scene where they have to pretend to get along during a mission undercover as a couple?

[moth-murdock]

I want her to know (he don't have it all) [Frank castle x pregnant!wife!reader]

A/n: sorry it took so long to get this out 🫣

Genre: fluff

Summary: his reaction!

Warnings: none

Other tags: Max mentioned again :D

Word count: 1.7K

My masterlist | Series masterlist

"I'm... I'm pregnant, Frank."

He freezes. The silence is deafening. But he hasn't let you go, so that must be a good sign, right?

"You serious?" He asks as he pulls back, his tone carefully neutral

You nod, holding out the positive test in your hands

"This is the third one I've taken..." You mumble nervously, still unsure of his reaction

He takes the test from you, staring at the two pink lines. There are many things that flash through his eyes, and you can tell he's at least worried, if not upset. He can't help but remember when Maria told him she was pregnant, and all the joy her and their kids brought him. And of course, the mourning and loss of all three of them.

You swallow hard, still feeling a greasy cocktail of nervous, anxious, uneasy, and scared. You go to open your mouth to speak, he doesn't give you the chance before he's pulling you into another, tighter hug. He buried your face in his chest, which you take as a bad sign.

You start to cry again, and he doesn't notice until he feels your tears soaking his shirt and your shoulders shaking with your shuddering breaths. He quickly pulls away, seeing the tears (and the bit of snot) running down your face.

"Woah, hey, whyre you cryin?"

"You're-... Gonna-... Leave me-..." You hiccup between breaths

"Who said anything about that? I'm stayin, baby. I'm not goin anywhere."

"Y-youre not?"

"Not a damn chance."

You cry even harder, now for a much better reason. He just shakes his head and holds you close again, his broad hands running up and down your back to soothe you.

After crying for a sufficiently miserable amount of time, you finally pull back from Frank's (milkers) chest to grab a tissue to blow your nose with, and he just smiles softly at how miserable you were for no reason. Before either of you can say anything, his stomach growls loudly.

"Nuff said, I think." He chuckles, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before reaching for the pizza box.

"Yeah... Sounds like something's trying to claw its way out of you..." You laugh

He opens the pizza box and pauses when he sees what's inside. You ordered his favorite pizza. The exact way he likes it.

"Woman, I'm gonna marry you all over again" he murmurs before grabbing a slice, letting out a pleased groan when he bites into it

"Yeah... Figured you'd appreciate that no matter your reaction..." You explain

"Even if I was mad, which I'm not, I wouldn't be anymore with this."

"Well, Bruce Springsteen isn't touring, so this is the next best thing I could think of..."

The smile he gives at that is... Soft. Sad, almost. You immediately think you fucked up, and he can tell by the way you tense up again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"All good. You didn't do nothin wrong."

You think for a moment how to word the question in your head, but he swallows his pizza and responds. He sits you down, and he tells you about how Maria bought them tickets while he was deployed. You nod along while eating the pizza, appreciating that he trusts you enough to tell you all of this. You feel overwhelming love for him and how despite being a man of few words, he clearly loves so deeply by how he tells a few more stories about Maria and the kids to you. And in your heart and your whole being, you know.

You are going to be the happiest little family.

***

And God damn it, you are. Whenever you're stressed about literally anything, Frank is there to help you. He was with Maria while she was pregnant, so he knows a few things. But that's not to say he isn't reading every article and book and shred of help and information.

You're about 12 weeks along now, and you both love and hate it. Sure, you're nauseous and your boobs are sore, but your baby is growing and both Frank and Max can't get enough of your little bump. Max can definitely tell that you're pregnant, as he's become very protective of you. Because if you ask Max, Frank is apparently too weak to protect you from the water monster in the shower. Or the unknown evil in that one specific throw pillow.

And Frank? Well, if you thought he was cuddly before, that was nothing. He always has a hand on your stomach. Loves to hear any update at all about the baby. He won't let you lift a finger. And if you two are disagreeing on something, he will definitely pull the experience card.

"Sorry, who's the one who's had two kids already? Yeah, thought so. It's not a good idea."

"Frank, I just want to sleep face down. The baby is the size of a lime, I don't think I'll hurt them."

"Don't risk it, sweetheart. You never know."

"Are you gonna make me Google this right now?"

"Two kids, doll. Two of em."

"And I quote, 'it is generally safe to sleep on your stomach during the first trimester of pregnancy, up to about 12 weeks'. See?"

"Nuh uh, you're at 12."

"Which means I can still sleep on my stomach this week."

After some deliberation, he finally gives as long as you promise that you won't sleep on your stomach past this week. You're just happy to sleep comfortably one last time.

Frank is such a loving husband that you almost forget that he's the Punisher. But there are a few reminders, especially when he cleans his guns every so often. He has this face when he does it, like he's angry. And honestly? You can't help but think youre in trouble or something. Once his teeth hurt from clenching his jaw so tight, he puts it all down and takes a step back. He has to remind himself that he's not going out. He's just doing maintenance. So he asks you to sit with him. Because nothing calms him down like you do.

You ask him questions in a soft voice as he works, and that also helps ground him.

"What kind of gun is that?"

"What's that piece called?"

"That one looks brand new, have you even used it?"

You sit with him at the table for a while, and you can just tell that this is bringing up memories. Memories of Maria, memories of the kids. You can tell because he stopped answering your questions, his eyes stormy and troubled as he loses himself in his thoughts again. And when his eyes flick over to you, you know you're both thinking the same unfortunate thought.

What if it happens again?

You hold each other's gaze for a moment before you reach over and place your hand over his. He turns his palm up, entwining his fingers with yours before bringing the back of your hand to his lips. His beard and mustache prickle at your skin, and he mumbles against your soft skin

"I love you."

***

You kiss Frank goodbye for work despite his protests that you need to go back to sleep and rest for the baby.

"I'm up anyway, just let me do this..."

"You both need to go back to bed."

"We'll be fine. Can I please kiss my husband goodbye now?"

He rolls his eyes dramatically but leans in anyway. He tastes like mint, and you taste like you haven't brushed your teeth yet. He doesn't say anything. He gives Max a few pats on his way out, closing the door softly. You go back to bed, since it is still really early. And you have work later, so extra sleep is appreciated.

You go about your usual routine, but right as you're about to leave, you get a call from one of Frank's coworkers. Some kid that Frank gets along with for whatever reason.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mrs. Castiglione?"

"I've told you not to call me that," you chuckle "makes me feel old."

"Right, sorry. Um, I just wanted to call to ask you about Pete?"

"Is he in a mood?"

"That... Is a good question. He uh... He didn't show up today and I was just worried, y'know? Not like him to disappear."

He's technically right. Pete Castiglione isn't the type of person to disappear. But Frank Castle is.

"Oh, I see..." You sigh, knowing that you can't make an excuse this time because you already confirmed that he left the house

"I don't know where he is, but I'll tell him your worried, okay?"

"Yeah, just let him know he's missed on the team today. Maybe that'll help him feel better about whatever's going on with him."

"Will do. Have a good day."

"You too, ma'am." He teases

"That's even worse!" You laugh before he hangs up.

Your laughter barely lasts a second longer after hearing the tone indicating the call has ended, and you immediately call Frank.

Straight to voicemail.

Okay, you think. Maybe he's just taking a day for himself or something. It'll be fine.

So you go to work, get your hours in, come back home. Frank is still gone. Okay. You take Max out for a walk and come back. Still not gone. All good. You take Max into the bathroom and painstakingly give him a bath while you still can. And when you come out?

Frank is still gone.

Maybe he's taking the weekend off?

But he would've told you.

Maybe he needed to go get something in a place that doesn't have service?

Everywhere has service, you guys have a very good phone plan.

The only thing left that you haven't done is to go to the safehouse. It's the only place he would be when he goes radio silent.

You make the drive to the safehouse, opening the door with the key Frank gave you. There's clear signs that he's been here, and very recently too. But he's not here. So you go over your options. Do you wait for him so you can talk to him? Or do you go home since he obviously needs some time away from you for whatever reason?

You wait. You wait for hours. You know he knows you're here, But he doesn't show. So you take the hint and go back home. You have no idea what's going on, but you trust Frank's judgement. You wouldn't have married him otherwise.

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽️

VERSION XIV.

(a/n: since uh when did this man become so relatable ☝️jk he always was, one of my fav cutie pies. tyy and enjoy 🫶)

Warning-none

wc: 0,9k

also: @ttheggrimrreaper @irethepotato @ohagiyo ❤️

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

"Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number...

...96, Kurona Ranze.”

Looking at his profile from the screens above made you release a sigh. He looked gentle enough with that cute hairstyle, immediately making you think that he has to be a nice person, or at least someone who won’t scream your head off for being his incompetent manager.

You, filled with hope, calmly walked towards the managers’ room, collecting your things from Anri as she bid you good luck, giving instructions on how to find the player on your own.

On the way to the field, you quickly scanned through his profile, finding nothing worthy enough to worry about, a state of peace slowly washing over you.

Imagine being Kurona Ranze’s manager.

——————

Kurona Ranze who you spot on a nearby bench, playing with the bangs that cover his dark pink eyes. You quietly contemplate on how you should greet him, talking to yourself without realizing it—until he slowly turns around to see you intensely watching him while muttering. Embarrassed, he quickly looks away, causing you to snap back to reality.

Great, did you scare him? Walking to the bench he was sitting on, you gave him a 90-degree bow before apologizing for your obvious staring by telling your name along with your mission of being his manager. He nods twice, reluctantly giving you his hand while introducing himself as well.

Your thoughts of getting a scary player vanished after this interaction, relived that you somehow ended up with a very introverted softie.

——————

•Kurona who you think is genuinely talented for the amount of hours he can go without saying a word—spending the first few days with him in complete silence, only you talking and asking questions every two minutes to check if a certain task is alright with him or not in hopes of breaking the awkward silence.

•Slowly, I mean very slowly he’ll open up to you, thanks to your patience being an everlasting ocean, waiting for him to talk to you first. And when he finally does, you learn how he tends to repeat some words twice, clearly self-conscious of this habit, but when you reassure him that it’s really cute, something in his chest blooms.

•You two begin to socialize more, conversations going easier than before and during casual talks, he makes you realize just how many common things you share with him. Super relatable and he absolutely looooves sharks.

•You always make sure Kurona never arrives late for practice, and he swear he tries but—mornings are just not for him. Needs at least 5 alarm clocks and an additional 10 minutes of him being able to stare into nothing while pacing out at 7 am.

•Quite organized which makes you happy, and his habit of making his bed before the first match of the day always earns him a thumbs up from you.

•BRAIDS BRAIDS BRAIDS. You always complimented his side braid, and after getting closer to him, Kurona offered to do your hair as well.

•While braiding his own in the morning, he’ll carefully do yours too on the way to practice so you two can match every day. People give you ‘the ones with the braids’ title, and he wears it like a badge of honor—absolutely loves this nickname.

•Training usually goes normally, with him effortlessly doing the drills, always training his skills more than necessary, and sometimes even rolling his eyes in secret when others are slacking off.

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Since Kurona was observing from the sidelines, studying each of the players’ moves with precision, he learned quite a lot even without playing on the field.

•Probably chose the best team for himself since meeting with Isagi had a great impact on his overall performance, and played a big role in his improvement as well, making you thank the other boy for his unintentional help.

•He likes to train even more than before now. New players? Being a duo with Isagi? Getting to play under the watchful eyes of Noel Noa? He doesn’t disappoint, and when you get his weekly results back, you two celebrate by eating ice cream on the field. (in secret ofc so sssshhh)

•His favorite thing in the world is when you give him head pats after an exhausting match causing a shy smile to appear on his face at your act of affection that boosts his confidence a lot.

•Yet, when you scold him for something, his usual smile turns upside down, eyes looking at you like guilty goldfish. (what’s wrong with my writing help)

•Loves to yap about sharks to you—sharing his fascination with the animal—and will randomly tell you facts about them during mealtime or night practices. Has a bunch of shark-themed things and gives you one as a gift as well.

•Tutoring Kurona is funny because he refuses to touch a single textbook, and will disgustingly glare at the ones in front of him for minutes, keeping a clear distance, showing you just how much he actually hates studying.

•Only enjoys it when you use football terms, or watch Gurdians of the Galaxy in different languages with him.

•Monitors himself very strictly, and takes a big part in analyzing his plays in previous matches.

•However, on some days all he does is make you wear his sweaters as he lazily lays on your lap, letting you play with his hair while explaining that day’s overall performance.

•Bonus—tells you stories about his pet hedgehogs and promises to show you Pocari one day. (Pocari is the second hedgehog that’s alive if I’m correct)

[pompillar]

Surprise I didn't need anyone to ask for it I love pegging and sharing my opinions! So here's wonderwall the ghouls individually with pegging!

(Minors dni plz y'all, respect the boundaries) This can be read as x reader or MC bc I love our girl and she deserves to enjoy herself too

Frostheim

❄️ Jin ❄️

Disaster man. Good fucking luck pal, and by that I mean getting into his room. Have fun arguing with him before he finally gives up and asks you what the fuck you want... wait what??

He's definitely a bit skeptical. It sounds like a lot of work for something he's not actually interested in... but! If you mention that after the set up he doesn't have to do anything and you'll take the lead he might be more inclined.

Man's a bit shaken by how easily you take charge. Dragging him back to his bed and pushing him down. He's been pushed around by a few ladies before who wanted him. He hated it. But... something about the way you're doing it has him feeling something a little different. If you rip the buttons off his shirt when removing it he's going to be flustered, too flustered to even tell you you better replace that.

Jump his fucking bones. Once you finally slip into his well prepped hole he's trying to cover his mouth and keep from making any noise because he wasn't expecting it to feel that good... I think he's very unaware how powerful the prostate is and I wanna see this man get knocked off his pedestal and humbled.

Blushing down to his chest (that pale complexion makes it so easy to see how much he's affected by what you're doing) Also whines so loud when you call him pretty or praise him. If you know how to work your hips you might be able to make him cum hands free. He would be so embarrassed if he did. And you'd have to tell him it's okay, it's hot, it's cute.

Wait you called him cute? *blushing again* He miiiiight hit you up for this another time when he feels like doing the prep again... Let's be real. He's definitely hitting you up again.

♟️ Tohma ♟️

Augh this guy, what's his fucking angle? Not the time for me to mention how irritating I find him on a personal level. You have to track him down before you can ask him anything. That's going to be half the battle at this point. Just text him to meet up in the vault for tea don't waste your time.

What did you need from him? Oh? You wanna peg him? You'll need to tell him way ahead of time. He's a busy man with a very full schedule and a house full of ghouls that should all be on leashes for different reasons.

The definition of topping from the bottom. I'm pretty sure if he's not in control he'll combust. Handles all the prep ahead of time, still taking your clothes off like he's planning to be the one inside you. Does a little strip tease for you when you call him on it. He's sorry, maybe his tantalizing skin will be enough for you to forgive him?

He has one request of you, use one of the toys that has an insertable piece on your end too. He says it's more fun that way but he will 100% activate his stigma when you least expect it to make that thing vibrate like it's a racecar. Snarky bastard just smirks at you when you realize what's happening. Hopefully you can focus on pounding into his tight ass while that thing is buzzing like crazy.

He's also not very loud but he definitely gives you directions, harder, faster, a little more to the left. Very bossy, very smarmy, very rewarding when you finally get him to the breaking point and he has a hard time getting his words together. Oh once he cums he's trying to pull himself together as quickly as possible but you catch the little slip ups in his speech. Bitch you can't hide yourself forever in there, come out of the mental box you're in by choice.

If he's been thoroughly fucked he won't even have the energy to go have a smoke. Let him rest for a while before he has to go back to being the jack of all trades around Frostheim. You will definitely be doing this again if he has any say in it (he has all the say)

⚔️ Lucas ⚔️

This boy... I wasn't expecting to enjoy his so much but he's a sleeper hit.

Luca is a true gentleman, as soon as he hears you have a question for him he's setting aside time just for you. He is nervous as all hell when you mention it, like okay he knows what it is it's not uncommon in England. Has he ever done it? No! I mean not that he's opposed its just not... something he's ever thought of having done to him.

You'd have to guide him with prep and hold his hand through what you'll be doing to him. Even if he thinks it's embarrassing I think he would want you close for every step. He needs someone to be steady as he loses his sense of control.

It's your room hands down, he wouldn't be comfortable at his dorm. Also Kaito would lose his shit if he saw you going into Luca's room at night. Speaking of Luca looks so cute and proper sitting on your bed. Definitely undressing himself to help you. He's not buff but he's muscular for sure. His body is so pretty and you can't help but touch and praise him for it. You know he worked hard for it.

Open him up on your fingers and he will be a whimpering mess. Gripping the sheets and trying to bite his lips to shut himself up. You have to remind him that your dorm is pretty far from prying ears. He won't listen to that, he's too focused on your fingers. Once you slide home inside him though oh my god he's gone. You are hearing the most porn star moans you've ever heard a man make. Rail him. He's such a good pliant boy, you're almost convinced he has hearts in his eyes.

He'll come hard as fuck the first time, head tossed back and gasping for air. Hold him down as he twitches and whines from overstimulation. With how out of it he is it's admirable that he still wants to try and give you your happy ending too. What a sweetheart.

Tells you next time he'll be better prepared and build up a tolerance so he won't cum so fast. Wait, next time? He turns red when you mention it. You'll have to poke and prod him until he tells you he really really liked it. ❤️ Please have him again ma'am.

🏹 Kaito 🏹

You already know this man is down bad. Take him back to your dorm because his ass is not gonna do anything inside that ice castle. Too many chances for embarrassment. Instant over the top reaction, red to the tips of his ears down to his neck. Boy is so chronically online that he genuinely thought most people treated pegging as a joke. Not a chance blondie, get your ass over here.

Sooooo embarrassed he wants to die, refuses help for prepping because he doesn't want you to see that. As if you aren't gonna fuck him stupid anyway. Let him know you're still open to helping if he needs it *wink* Okay don't kill him before you get him to bend over for you!

Very self conscious about his body as he undresses. He's thin, he's not very tall, he's got freckles and let's be honest probably stress acne. Boy is shaking before you even touch him.

Please reassure his nervous ass, he might hyperventilate just seeing your strap. Use a smaller one since he's not gonna be able to handle it the first time. You need to move slow and steady with him. Rub his shoulders and give him kisses and hickies. He needs to know this isn't some weird thing and that you want him because he's Kaito not because he's agreeing to be fucked by you.

As soon as you're in he's sobbing like a baby, not because it hurts, no you made sure it didn't. You fingered him really good. He's just overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. Kaito starts begging you to move, he can't handle the intensity of you sitting still. And he needs you to start fucking him before he goes crazy.

He is sooooooo loud! Like he can't hold back any noise whatsoever. His voice goes so high pitched and whiny. It's so fucking cute. Will pass out after he cums, his vision probably whited out and everything. Take care of him will you?

Just wait a while, he'll come to you like a nervous little bunny asking for it again. You can probably also get him to dress up for you. Kaito is putty in your hands.

Vagastrom

🥊 Alan 🥊

Alaaaaan, ugh, he's so good. You don't have to worry about him being turned off by it. He's open to anything for you. Though he's defintely a little embarrassed by the whole prep deal. He wouldn't tell you he's nervous or anything though. Just grin and bear it. Which is a bad habit of his. You'll need to break that later.

He does come to you with one issue though, he's not small like the other ghouls, he's not pretty like Leo or lean like Sho. Man is worried he isn't the type of guy this activity is made for... oh please prove him wrong.

Your place again, his place has a snooping threat. That's the last thing either of you need. This maaaaan, even kissing he's super careful. Get his gorgeous body out of those clothes and run your hands all over it. He won't let you finger him though... shame, it would have been fun.

Probably won't be able to get him to ride you because he doesn't wanna crush you. But you can absolutely put him in a mating press. Holy fuck this guy is shook. It feels like this? Does it feel like this for you? Does he make you feel this good? He's fighting the raging thoughts running through his pleasure addled brain. So you'll just have to wreck him to turn those pesky thoughts off.

Compliment him the whole time, he's pretty, he's cute, he looks so fucking hot like this. His little choked off moans are adorable. Once he's been fucked to the point he stops trying to control himself you're being treated to the hottest deep throaty noises. (not like a bj guys quit giggling) Make him cry out and beg for more. He's still going to avoid grabbing you despite how much he needs something to hold as he reaches his peak.

Out of it but still wants to make you feel good. His fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever you want to use to get off. He's all yours. Those words alone might be enough to get you there.

He's going to come to you again when he's gotten too stressed and pent up. Not the usual type he has but super over the boiling point. He needs you to man handle him and make him feel like he's not untouchable or unloveable. Expect this man to be ultra whipped for your strap.

🏍️ Sho 🏍️

Ngggh, this guy is a wild one. Not gonna lie I do love me a biker boy. And a guy who can cook. So anyway! Catch him after the food truck is closed. He'll look amused before you even ask the question, what's he so smug for? Bitch.

Pegging? Alright he's down. Yes it's that easy. Not his first rodeo either. He will tease you and dirty talk your ear off about it though. Senpai~ you want to see him get all cock drunk riding a big strap? Naughty~ Never would have expected you to be so perverted.

You already know he's either coming to yours or getting an R&R permit to take you out to a nice hotel. Somewhere Leo can't follow you and listen in on everything. And you know he would. He'd probably sit outside your window jacking off to it. The creep.

Once you get to the hotel and shower he's back to his usual flirting and teasing. Oh? What are you staring at his chest so hard for? You're surprisingly dirty. Trying to take his towel away with your mind? You just had to ask stupid. *chuckle*

Shut him up with your tongue while you get him stretched, and maybe give his cute ass a few playful swats. He has a very nice ass. It's a shame he rarely shows it off to be honest. If you tug on his hair he'll warn you not to be too rough, can't damage his pretty mane. But give it a nice gentle pull close to his scalp and he'll moan like a slut.

He is absolutely getting on top. Sorry but he likes to ride. He might let you fuck him in other positions but cowboy is definitely his favorite. He's the rider for a reason. And god does he do it well. Rolling his hips like he's on a mechanical bull. His cock bouncing as he whines and moans whenever the strap hits his prostate. Oh but he looks anything but desperate for it, it's slow and sensual until he gets closer.

This show is almost enough to get you off without being touched. It's erotic as hell and you wonder if you should be paying for this. But once he's finished he's eating you out. No ifs ands or buts, you are getting yours too.

He's probably one of the top 5 who come back and ask for you to do it again. Slides you your food and a napkin that says what time and how big of a strap to bring. Winks at you as you walk away.

📱 Leo 📱

Bitch, he's such a bitch, creepy little snoop. What a dick. I just want to see him break and have to live with the fact that an NPC can make him a fucking mess. Tracking him down's not hard. It's the isolating him to ask about it.

You're getting laughed at first and foremost, what makes you think he'd let you anywhere near his ass with a strap on when he doesn't know how well you can use it? He's actually super turned on just thinking about it though. That doesn't mean he won't give you hell over it. He knows he's beautiful and it's hard to resist him but you really are forward. But grab him by the tie and you're shutting him up instantly.

Takes foreverrrrr to prep himself. He's such a diva. Usually set up doesn't take ten hours Leo! Once you have him back with you it's game on. He's all talk and it shows, a single finger is enough for him to start whimpering. Loud, loud loud loud! King whiner. No other ghoul can outwhine him. And it sounds so good.

Make him take it face down ass up, he's going to scream if you use a really big one. (even his screams sound good fuck this guy) But trust, he's not letting you use a small one. He is begging you to fuck him like you mean it with that thick strap. The size queen demands it fast and hard and really big.

You better praise him, he's not doing this for himself! (liar) Oh the second you start calling him pretty or good boy he's grinding back and mewling like a bitch. At this point you might need to muzzle him. He 100% screams when he cums. If you edge him he's gonna call you a whore, I'm sorry, he's not.

Even if he's an asshole you should still clean him up and give him water afterwards. He's already trying to go back to being bitchy. Typical Leo.

You'll be getting a few passive aggressive texts insinuating that you clearly want to do this again. Bonus: if you set up a camera and show the footage to him later he'll actually be speechless and fully hard in under a minute.

Jabberwock

🐰 Haru 🐰

I wanna love him so bad but I have trust issues with characters that have those always closed eyes... Another good luck situation, have fun getting him alone, no Peekaboo, and when he's not busy. On the bright side he's all ears about what you wanted to ask him.

This man? You wanna peg this bean sprout? The one obssessed with ass and overworking himself and ass? Huh. I mean he won't deny he's intrigued. He does love a good ass and he has a pretty decent one if he says so himself. And he does. Anyway! He'll do the hard part of prep first. And find someone to watch the animals properly (Towa... Ren... *i'm watching you gesture*)

Take him back to your dorm to avoid scarring anyone, or sowing jealously into the other Jabberwock boys. (It's okay guys your turn is next!)

As soon as you get him in bed he's doing everything he can to please you. And that's not where this is going sir, sorry. You will have to force him onto his back and tell him that you're in charge tonight and that he needs to just lay back, relax, and enjoy.

Squirms so much because he can't be still. Put his acrobat body to good use and fold him in half, his legs quite literally go up to his ears. It's impressive to be honest. You can also tease him with his own prosthetic arm, he'll be getting overheated and that usually stays fairly cool. Make him jack himself off while you fuck him like a rabbit. The temperature difference will leave him dizzy.

Oh he's also loud, he can't help it. You're treating him so good, making his head go blank, calling him nice things and rearranging his guts. He might be in love after seeing the reverent face you're making at him. Twitches a lot when he cums, and it's a lot too. Probably nails himself in the chin with it.

Clean him up and put him under the covers. He's yours. Expect to wake up being the big spoon, dressed in yours pjs and him in his, him holding Peekaboo. (Bastard went back late last night because he couldn't handle one night without his round boy) This will probably be a lot of your mornings after this kind of night with him. Just know he's going to be your cute little service top/service bottom/service anything you want from now on. Call him any time!

🌻 Towa 🌻

Fairy prince ass, goat eyed brat. What a demonic little angel. He's so difficult to write well. Hopefully this is good for the Towa girlies.

This is a tough one to be honest. Clearly you have to talk to him about it at night or somewhere dark. Because humming and grumbling aren't going to cut it for this discussion. Once you explain it's something you want to do to show him how much you love him he's sold.

Make sure you explain things have to be done first before you get into this. Otherwise he's going to try and do it right now. Pouts but listens to you. He's also down to do it anywhere. Literally anywhere. Does not care what animal gets an eyeful. You decide it's best to take him to your dorm.

He does need help getting himself prepped, or so he says. You think it's just an excuse to watch your concentrated face as you finger him while he whines and bucks his hips against your hand. Also kissing you every five seconds. It's hard to avoid getting into a liplock with this guy. He's also very give and take so expect to get fingered yourself as he's being stretched.

You will be facing each other. He won't have it any other way. He needs eye contact and easy access to kiss you. Play with his dick while you fuck him nice and slow and he'll make pretty little melodic noises. Likes to trap you against him by locking his legs behind you.

Playing with you the whole time, groping your ass to bring you closer? Yup. Massaging your tits and rolling your nipples? Absolutely. If you get close enough it's quite literally an 'awful brave for someone within kissing distance' situation.

He will try to make you cum with him. Whatever it takes. If you don't he's going to handle you instantly after he cums. Pouts during clean up because you aren't cuddling yet. Cuddles are inevitable, goodbye to anything you planned to do later.

Dandelion play with him again soon! Teach him more things he can do to show you his love! ❤️

🎮 Ren 🎮

Ah, angry tsundere, classic flavor, love it every time. You're getting an earful. All of which is just Ren spitting venom because he's scared. He hates intimacy as is and you want to what?! You want to put a fake dick in his ass. Does he look like a little twitch streamer femboy with an onlyfans?! Not gonna happen!

You have to build some trust before going into this. He's emotionally compromised. Man has had some shit happen to him to become such a reclusive jumpy little wet cat of a man. After some gentle convincing and persuation you find out he's actually been researching it himself. He may or may not have already prepped... shut up he's not cute for being smart about it! He isn't blushing!

Once you herd this porcupine into bed he's way more nervous. He seems like he'll sprint away the second he gets spooked. But he's being good for you, don't tease him or he might actually run. Kiss him and give him lots of praise. He'll be red in the face the entire time.

His body is cute, lanky but actually pretty well maintained. Will tell you to stop staring and get on with it. Okay spiky relax, and breathe out while you push into his stretched hole.

Oh he's biting his lip raw trying to stay quiet as you fuck him. It wasn't supposed to be this good. You keep dragging your strap over that spot that makes him see stars. His eyes are watering and he tries to avoid eye contact.

He's crying once you speed up and give it to him harder. But you know it's not pain. No he's just getting the fucking of a lifetime. Whiny whiny whimpering whiner. If he's still able to speak it's insults. Just answer them with praise and he'll shut up quick. He gets really loud the closer to his orgasm he gets, full on ahegao face. Of course he would have one. Fucking nerd.

Aftercare is a movie and cuddling in his bed. He's still blushing hours later unable to believe he just let you do that. That being said... when are you free next? No he just wants to show you a new movie series! Quit grinning you perv!

Sinostra

🎲 Taiga 🎲

Not gonna lie this bastard is who I downloaded the game for... his appearance is so my type. It's unfortunate that his personality repelled me like bug spray. But I still find him a neat little weirdo.

First off, I commend you for your bravery. This jackass depends entirely on mood. I say this with all the love in my heart but he's the cats on my cat from hell that couldn't be helped in human form... humanish... anywho!

He's impressed you have the guts to ask him this. Sure! Could be fun if you're any good at it. If you aren't... well he's probably going to shoot you. So make it worth his while kitty cat!

You have no idea if he even understands how to do prep work. Not one of the questions he answered. Hopefully he does his due diligence. He will act like it was such a pain though. So you really have to perform to a high degree here. He's already a little annoyed by the fuss of it and you have a brain to keep from being splattered on the wall.

You don't have to do much, he's already naked and lazily jacking off when you arrive. Grumbles that it took you long enough and to hurry up and get over here. It's like less than three minutes before you sink your strap into him and he groans in relief.

Do him rough, up against the wall, face down on his bed, hell you could fuck him on the probably expensive fur rug on the floor, he'll be for it. If you manage to do something he doesn't like he'll let you know. Immediately.

Will push you into the torture chair and ride you while cackling. If he's feeling generous he might have a dildo you could ride while he rides you. You will be bitten. Position be damned you will be bitten so fucking much. You'll look like a school of cookie cutter sharks attacked you.

His eyes roll back when he cums, and boy is it a hell of a peak. Still giggling like he's drunk off pleasure as he comes down. You aren't getting away from being his pillow after giving him a good time. Just be prepared to explain who you are in the morning. Probably wanna put your name in his phone as kitty cat so he knows who to text when he wants to have fun again.

🪞 Romeo 🪞

Oh mister high and mighty of noble birthings. I flipflop between wanting this man to choke and wanting to choke him personally. So how does he take the question? About as well as he takes anything with his insanely high blood pressure. Who do you think you are you BB?! You aren't anywhere near important enough to handle him like that! This will launch into his usual acronym infused tirade so take a seat and wait it out. He'll get tired eventually.

That being said I have a feeling he's used to prep work and keeps himself clean frequently. I mean he's got to be ready for anything and that means whatever he gets up to with Hyde. Oh and don't bother bringing anything, after you mentioned it he got a custom leather harness made for you. He has designer dildos, toys and lube already. Take your pick and see if he approves.

If you have the guts to ask he might even wear some pretty high end lingerie. Wine colored lace looks sooooo good on his skin tone and he knows it. He even puts on a little make up to match it. The picture of perfection and sin sprawled out on his uber expensive sheets when you show up.

You're late, quit wasting his time. If you don't give him a good time he will be pissed. Insults are thrown as per usual so time to show Romeo that Juilet is in charge here. And oh is he down for that. He's a pillow prince. Why should he have to do any of the work? He's already prepped himself and given you the opportunity to fuck him.

He's pretty sensitive though, it doesn't take much to get him going, I mean he was already half hard when you showed up. Flip him on his stomach and you see why, a cute gemstone that matches his eyes is nestled between his cheeks. He is actively taking some of the fun out of it. But the sounds he makes when you slowly pull the plug out are worth it. His well stretched hole is on display and ready for the taking. Yells at you to quit gawking and get on with it! You defintely see his neck is red from embarrassment.

Once you get the, actually super comfy, harness on and pick a toy to use it's game over. Have him on his back so you can see his face, grab his wrists and hold them close to your body. He's already moaning like it's the best thing he's ever had. Work your hips fast and make him beg for more. He's loud but it's actually a very pretty sound now.

If he cums on his expensive lingerie expect complaints. But that's only his cover to hide how blissed out and affected he is. He's a sweaty mess so you're absoluttely setting a bath for him. It better have bubbles too. And wine. Pamper him properly afterwards and he'll be calling you over at night pretty frequently. Bonus: You should ask to fuck him in the cage in his auction hall. The prettiest birds deserve the best cages right?

⚖️ Ritsu ⚖️

Jeez, okay this guy is something else. I have a hard time choosing for him. He's adorkable but his lawyer passion is just beyond me most days. Regardless, he probably doesn't know what you're talking about. Will ask you to give him time to research what you're asking him for. You get several texts later to the effect of '?????? Did you misspeak? Is this spelled differently? Hello?????' It's okay you can laugh now before you see him again. Don't laugh at his flushed face when you do see him. It's going to make him second guess himself.

That being said you should absolutely tease him by asking about how his research went. He informs you while his cheeks are red that he thoroughly checked the term and it's origins etc. Including videos... you should 100% ask to watch the ones he found later on. He agrees but you have to sign this pape- smooch him to avoid signing an NDA. He'll be quiet for a bit and tell you that he does need some time still and will give you a date and time for your after hours leisure time...

On the afformentioned day and time he will show up to your room looking cool as a cucumber despite how nervous he is. He's going into this like he's in charge. Helping you undress and folding his clothes to the side like a cute little house hubby. He's still trying to be the dominant one but his face turns very red again when he sees the toy and harness.

Time to show him who's actually in charge here. Be gentle working him open with your fingers, he's going to burst from embarrassment. (Or use Acimo and make it impossible to do anything further) Unsure what he's meant to do at this point and too embarrassed to ask. You need to tell him to relax and enjoy it.

Once you get your strap in you see the absurd calculations going on behind his wide eyes and red face. Please don't let him start on whatever wild theory he's about to extrapolate. Roll your hips slow and watch his thoughts disappear as he grabs onto your shoulders and gasps like he's been scandalized. He has to lean back and let you do the work because he's feeling too good. This was expected from his research but experiencing it is a totally different thing.

Whimpering so loud when he cums. Another one who is very duty bound and wants to give you an orgasm too. But he's too far out of it. I think he might honestly be in sub space after that. Clean him up and cuddle him close to your chest. (Personally I think he has mommy issues so he needs to be cradled in your bosom)

You'll be hearing from him again, it's going to be the most awkward proposal for sex you've ever heard but it's cute how he's trying to not show how badly he wants it again.

Hotarubi

🪭 Subaru 🪭

Delicious dichotomy man. Oh he's a fun character to pick apart. Concerning but still draws you in. There's so many variables... so many different interpretations... I digress there's so many ways I could write this one. But here we go!

Instantly flustered, covering his mouth and glancing away. Stammering nervously about how improper that would be. Secretly he's thrilled to bits that you've asked him such a thing. If he's getting hard under the tea table there's no outward proof on his perfectly tuned face. If you're to the point where you can see past it just tell him to think on it and you'll be back another day.

You defintely need to ask Zenji and Haku to clear out. Zenji because he could just wander in and Haku... I don't put voyeurism past him. Man's a bit depraved ya know. Anyway once that's taken care of find Subaru waiting in the secluded tea room for you. You've been talking over text about this because it gave Subaru the confidence (cough cough the freedom to openly grin and giggle like a sicko /affectionate cough cough) and agree.

He's waiting in a beautiful white kimono with pastel hydrangea patterns, something gorgeous and innocent looking. What's underneath is anything but, he's only wearing a cock ring that's made to mimic a strand of pearls. As he slowly leans back and unties the kimono to show you his little ensemble his blushing face is cracking a bit. He's too into it already, his mask is crumbling enough to show the curve of a grin on his lips.

Devour him. Absolutely debauch this man, leave hickies all down his neck and collarbones. He'll get to see all the flithy things you want to do with him as soon as he so much as grazes your skin. Gasping and letting out pretty breathy sounds as you work your hand on his equally pretty cock. But that's not what you're here for right now. No it's lower, you'll find he's already slick with lube and stretched quite well. Purr into his ear about how good he is or how dirty he is and he'll whine. He likes praise but also being degraded a bit? Pervert.

Take him against the tatami or the wall, hell bend him over the tea table. Subaru is into it, feeling you rut into him like you've never been this turned on before. Mark him up with your hands, your mouth, dig your nails into his hips and listen to him moan like a whore. He needs the reminders for later when he's alone again. Not that he'll be forgetting this anytime soon but tangible marks are hotter.

Cries out like he's singing when you finally remove the cock ring and let him cum. It's an angelic sound but you know he's not even close. He is definitely in need of a rest after that fucking. Laze about on the tatami with him. He'll try to recover soon and bring you tea and snacks. Keyword try. You'll probably need to be the one to get the refreshments. His hips are sore and he's half hard already from the way his hole aches.

This guy is fiending for it immediately. Obssessed with your strap game. Expect to be seeing a lot of the Subaru behind the mask. He needs you to ruin him more and more. Please mistress?

📿 Haku 📿

Ohohoho I've been waiting to get to him. Pervert. Fucking degenerate. Slut. He's perfect. He's a disaster. Can he keep it in his pants? Do we want him to? He will 100% flip it on you the second you bring it up. Pegging? Oh princess you like a little give and take? Color him intrigued. If you need pointers on the technique he can give you a lesson on the best ways to thrust your hips. Oh but you would be on the receiving end of that. Hopefully that still works to teach you?

Give him a day or two to get himself ready, he's teasing you the whole time though. Texting you about how much work this is for you but he doesn't mind if you promise you'll take good care of him. Might send you a pic of some of his own personal toy collection asking which one you want to use on him. I will not lie some of them are fairly large. And a few of them are less than human... Haku why do you have a knotted dildo... Whore.

Last text and pic you get before you see him is him tugging his uniform shirt to the side to show off a peek of red rope with this, "ready when you are princess" When you get your hands on him, oooooh boy! That tease is in for it. Rip that shirt right off of him and admire the beautiful intricate ropework he managed to tie himself into. Nothing that would restrict him from moving but it's very fashion statement the way it's done.

Kiss him hard, bruise, bite and suck on his bottom lip until he's holding himself back from humping your thigh. Steal his breath away by marking him up around the ropes, tease and bite his nipples. (headcanon that he has them pierced) He moans so much when you tug the bars between your teeth. He's a bit of a masochist.

Another one who's plugged and ready for you. His plug is a bit longer though, one with the tapered spheres. He shivers as you slowly remove the toy and berate him for taking away the joy of working him open yourself. He chuckles and says next time he'll let you have the honor. Oh he isn't ready for how hard you decide to fuck him. Put the first dildo you like the looks of in the harness and go to town on his ass. He's loud, so fucking loud you need to shove your fingers in his mouth to quiet him. Haku sucks on your fingers like it's a cock, laving his tongue all over them. Tease.

You can fuck him however you want. He takes it like a champ and archs his back like a professional whore. When he cums it's not a lot, probably due to the rope that winds around the base of his cock and balls but it's just enough to keep him partially hard. It's multiple rounds for sure. Wreck him.

Aftercare is bringing him out of sub space and untying the rope. There's so many marks from it you're going to be rubbing ointment into his red skin for a while. He's defintely not letting you use it on any hickies or bites you left. He wants those as trophies for surviving the devouring princess. You swat his ass for the remark and watch his body shiver... Oh he's doomed, the look on his face tells you he knows it and you grin.

Regular texts from him asking you to come mess him up. Always ready when you arrive. Maybe you should start calling him princess...

📜 Zenji 📜

King of poetry, feminism and big dick energy. Yes I'm using the usual cop out of he's corporeal sorry I am not trying to figure out how to peg a ghost today that's more mental skill than I have right now. This guy is yours for the taking doll. Pegging has been around a long time and he's no stranger to the term. He will admit he's not really thought about it being done to him though he's willing to give it a try for you.

Benefits of ghosthood: No need to do any cleaning of the self! Downside of ghosthood with Zenji: He still has a schedule to keep for his writing and his videos. Who'd have thought he would be this active beyond the grave? You'll have to give him a time to get down so it doesn't conflict with his creative flow. I mean other than that he's free whenever you are.

Heading back to the secluded tea house because his dear little brother doll can't hear this! He's waiting there with a pen and paper, dropping everything when you show up to do his usual exuberant greeting. Despite knowing what's happening he's oozing confidence. You had hoped to see him a little nervous but he's so happy to please you it doesn't phase him. As soon as you start undressing he just poofs his clothes gone. Ghost powers are so annoyingly convenient. And wow the big dick energy was not wrong.

You'll be lazily touching and kissing on the floor for a while. Long drawn out foreplay is the only way Zenji likes to do it. It should be sensual and loving. Slow handjobs and his fingers playing with you. Wait don't get swept up in his easy loving, you have something to do here.

Minimal stretching required to be honest, probably ghost stuff. But he's singing your praises the whole time, telling you how that felt good, higher, a little bit to the right, no dear his right. Tells you how beautiful you look as you put on your harness and push into him, it definitely makes him groan halfway through his words. Pulling you impossibly closer as you slowly rock into him.

He thinks you look dashing like this, taking control, using him in a way he didn't think of. Kissing and touching you the entire time. You guys aren't going fast until you get closer. Then he starts to make noise instead of running his pretty mouth. Moaning, whining, that lovely voice of his is low and melodic. Damn you might cum without needing to touch yourself if he keeps singing for you like this.

When he comes it's loud and he's clinging to you like a lifeline. So many kisses and so much babbling about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. God he's so sweet. He's also immediately onboard to get you off. Which doesn't take long for him and those skilled fingers and that crooning voice begging you to tip over the edge. This man is dangerous with a capital D.

Expect to be lounging around with him after the fact for a while, lazy kisses and dozing off to the sound of the rain while he grabs his pen and paper to begin writing with his new found inspiration. You'll be doing this again for sure.

Obscuary

⚰️ Edward ⚰️

Damn this man, he's a mess. Literally. This guy is a pain to deal with normally but this is gonna be a whole other story. He's gonna throw out a bunch of bullshit the second you approach him about it. What are you talking about, love? He's old you have to spell it out for him. Hmm? You know staking is supposed to be to the heart right? He's infuriating, just tell him to be ready next time you show up.

That said you should give Rui and Lyca a heads up to clear out for the night. Rui might be clenching his fists but he's dragging Lyca away for you, he gets it. Lyca not so much. It's okay, Rui has your back. You should have the whole dorm to yourselves for the night.

When you arrive he's where he always is. Laying in bed with his laptop. Fuck that thing. You pause that video and shut it. He looks sad for a split second before you descend upon him and kiss his stupid pretty face. He hums into your kisses, caressing your neck as he pulls your body over his own. You'll get lost in the process of undressing him and yourself with all the heady kisses. Why is this guy a vampire and not an incubus?

Apparently because of his diet he doesn't need to clean himself either. But the prep and stretching is harder. You know, lack of blood makes the body work less than optimal. Sorry not sorry, you're going to be working his ass open for a while. The whole time he's staring into your soul or nipping at your ear. Husky voice whispering sugary words. Asking if he can have just a taste of your blood. Not tonight Satan.

Man's not a pillow prince. He's a whole pillow king. You will be doing all the work. Which is fine. You expected this. I mean look at who you're fucking. You knew. Speaking of he lets you hear his moans openly and without any hint of embarrassment. Fucking into him slow and steady has every little breath ending with a gasp or a groan. His voice sounds so much better when it's just crying out for you.

You could probably try to change position but he prefers seeing your face. He would make it impossible to move his body if you did anything he didn't want to do. His only movements look choreographed to be honest. Like he could star in a triple A budget porn film the way he sounds and rolls his body. The years of experience do him well.

When he cums it's very little, liquid is too precious for them to waste there. He's biting you, you're going to kill him... as soon as your body stops cumming. As you try to yell he quiets you and tells you he isn't turning you, he just needed to top up what he lost in your little tryst. Unless you wanted to be like him. He could arrange that. Smack him wherever you see fit he's just going to laugh.

He'll send you emoji filled texts later about how he would love to have you on top of him again soon. Don't keep him waiting too long dear. He's an old man remember?

🧤 Rui 🧤

Oh Rui, sweet darling Rui. (As per one of my theories this will reflect the idea that the kyklos is strong enough to repel or nullify other curses (ie. oui c'est bon) and thusforth Rui can touch us without his curse affecting us.) This man is king of being touch starved. One of the top three for sure. He's already elated and just so grateful he can even hug us at this point. Hand holding? Smooches? This is his dream come true. Sure it only works on us but right now that's enough for him. A break from having to be guarded at all times. Being touched by someone is something he's missed so so so bad.

Turn the tables when you breach this topic, he'll blush if you hook your finger into the ring shaped pendant he usually wears and tug him close. A bit startled by you asking for sure, he didn't think you'd be into that. No he's not saying he won't do it. Just surprised. His favorite girl is naughtier than he thought. Give him a night and he'll get everything ready for you. Do you have the supplies? Does he need to bring something? Just ask!

Next time you see him he's opted to come to you. He used to be in Clementia after all, the cathedral is his old haunt. Plays it so cool the whole time but he's practically vibrating with excitement. Has an overnight bag and everything. Uses your bathroom to freshen up before he joins you on the bed and falls into making out as easy as breathing.

God he missed kissing. But you make it better. Drawing gasps and grunts from him when you palm his body through the four layers he wears. Stripping him feels like opening a matryoska. But he looks so handsome shirtless, and slightly out of place. You can see he's not used to it anymore. Wearing all those layers has made him a bit shy without them. Worship his chest and remind him that he's gorgeous. Oh his nipples are sensitive. 100% moaning so loud when you suck on them.

By the time you get him undressed he's completely red and panting, cock hard and throbbing, leaning towards his stomach with how aroused he is. It's been a while okay? Give him a break. And break him. Make him sob with pleasure as you finger his loosened hole and watch him thrust his hips against you. Damn you might get him to cum with just your fingers at the rate he's going.

Watches you with loving eyes as you get your strap on and cage him in with your arms. He cums as soon as you put it in. When you try pulling out he stops you with a grip on both wrists. You can't be satisfied yet right? Come on. Keep going. Fuck him like you mean it. His dirty mouth earns him a rough thrust and he throws his head back with a moan.

He asked for it so he has to deal with it. Fucking him into full blown overstim mode, tears at the corners of his eyes as he whimpers and wails for more even though he's cum once already. You'll get at least three out of him. He's a flustered red mess by the third one but he's nothing if not a pleaser. Grabs you by the hips, despite his shaky hands, tugs off your harness and makes you sit on his face. He's gasping for air still as he eats you out in a dizzy haze. Might try to get multiple out of you too.

Once you're both satisfied he's thanking you in a low, almost reverent tone like you're his goddess who bestowed blessings upon him. Remind him with kisses and cuddles that you're not doing this for him, but because you want him too. He'll be on speed dial any time you wanna do this again. And he's down for anything so don't be afraid to tie him up or dress him up or spank him. He's down bad y'all he will thank you for literally ANYTHING you do to him.

🌕 Lyca 🌕

Prepare for the confusion first and foremost. Super eager to learn what it is that you want. When you explain he looks like a dog with its' hackles raised. Wide eyes, ears and tail out, going back and forth between turning red and going pale in the face. Gaping like a fish, the whole nine yards. Man is shooketh. Home boy out here calling this an affront against nature. Can't even stop himself from saying that won't make babies.

You will need to damage control, if he goes to Subaru you will never live this down. If he goes to Rui you'll absolutely never live it down for a whole other reason. So time to soothe the beast and hunker down in your room with some library books and get to teaching him that sex isn't just for reproduction. This will be several sessions and weeks after first confrontation before he finally warms up to the idea.

If he weren't such an I'm tough and fuzzy type of guy he'd be a shaking leaf in your room once it's time. Speaking of you had to walk him through clean up and prep so he's already a little frazzled from that. Be extra gentle with him. Start soft and kiss him sweetly. His tail is wagging... don't call attention to it or he'll pout.

Once you've got him comfortable again you can take the plunge into stretching him. He whimpers, whimperer supreme over here. Bluntly tells you it feels like a sh- Lyca shh! That's not appropriate for sexy time. He's going to hide his face as much as possible.

Getting your gear on is where you see him second guessing again. Take a short break to remind him that it's okay. You just wanna try this. If he doesn't like it then you'll stop. He loves that about you. That you take his feelings into consideration. Cuddle for a bit before you get back into it.

He will lift his hips and wiggle them when you ask if it's okay to fuck him now. It's not fair how cute it looks with his tail wagging but how sexy it is with the way his cock sways. Sliding in has him shivering, give him a minute to figure out how he feels. It'll surprise you when he starts grinding back and panting, gruffly begging you to move.

Fuck him slow but hard and you'll have a tamed werewolf boy in no time. When he realizes he's making all these noises he's going to bite your pillow. I'm sorry say goodbye to that one it's done for. If he can't get a hold of a pillow or your sheets he's going to bite his lips bloody. Closer to him cumming you're going to notice his tongue hanging out and cries of your name. It's so cute, you'll have to pamper him after he comes down.

Pet his hair and tell him what a good boy he was. He's stealing your blankets and pouting for a bit. Bring him a snack and some water and then he'll beg for cuddles. Kiss his nose and tell him how proud you are of him. Try not to spit your drink out when Rui mentions how interesting Lyca's new full moon strategy of having you hold him down all night is...

Mortkranken

💉 Yuri 💉

Yessssss I have been waiting for this little brat. (/loving) He's soooo... pathetic wet cat, but also very holier than thou. This is an interesting flavor of tsundere that is a personal favorite of mine. So diving right in. Screeching. Instant halt to everything he's doing and screeching about wh-wh-wh-wh-what are you saying?!?!?!?!?!? Are you insane?!?! How dare you even think about doing such a thing with him!!!! He's so red it makes his hair look florescent. Remind your brilliant doctor that it's not that far from a prostate exam and that he shouldn't neglect his own health. Get out of his lab you worm! -Screamed with all the command of a tiny angry kitten.

Guess who texts you later in the day with a time and day and haughty tone to his words? One Dr. Isami of course. It might not be until later in the week but you have it. He is a very busy man after all. Take the opportunity to plan how to take him apart.

The night comes sooner than you expected and you get treated to a very special house call. He's red in the face before you even let him in the door. Drag him in by the tie and push him onto your soft clean bed. He'll sputter and try to argue until you drop into his lap and start attacking his lips and jaw and ears and neck. He gets overwhelmed by the frantic pace and babbles between kisses. It's easy to tell that he's already hard just from that.

Strip him down and watch the blush go down to his chest, the shivering nervous wreck of a man before you is the total opposite of his usual self assured persona. Praise him for how pretty he looks, trying to hide his erection with his hands. Push those away before you get tempted to tie them up.

Slipping into your harness and putting the strap on into it you see his eyes follow your every move. Fear and something much hotter hiding in those teal eyes. Don't expect high energy positions from him. You do have to take the lead here or nothing will happen. Man handle him into whatever position you want and work yourself into him. He's gasping and grabbing your shoulders, pulling you close as he bites his lip.

Please kiss him a lot while he adjusts to the intrusion. Distract him and mark his collarbone with your teeth and tongue. He'll be halfway to drooling before you even fuck him. And when you do oh boy. Breathy little noises are being punched out of him with every thrust, he refuses to let you move away, his body curled around yours desperately.

Yuri will be crying, full on sobs. You know it's not pain so you just need to keep fucking him until he pops. He's loud loud, man is moaning and crying and gasping when he cums like it's the most earth shattering orgasm he's ever had. It probably is actually, his toes are curled and everything. Exhausted, he is not gonna be able to help you. But that's okay. If anything you know he'll be getting a solid night's sleep now. Tuck him into your bed with you and hold him close until morning.

Don't worry about the schedule you get after a week, giving you days and times to meet him, calculated perfectly for an optimized amount of sleep for him. (He needs you to ruin his pretty hole again he just won't admit it) ❤️

🩻 Jiro 🩻

MY MAIN MAN!!! Woo!!! (also finish line in sight aaaaaa) Lanky tin man ass. Love him so much. Now it's so simple with Jiro. He clearly thinks about it for a minute before agreeing. But you have to get Yuri to allow you to steal his vice captain for a night. His medication has to be taken around whatever plans you're trying to make. The last thing you need is to call Yuri over in the middle of it because of a flare up in his condition.

Talk to Yuri later, it's suspiciously easy to get him to lend you Jiro. He also seems to be avoiding direct eye contact. Jiro said something he didn't need to you're sure of it. Anyway, your plans are made and it's time to get to it.

Jiro is a medical professional. He cleaned and prepped himself thoroughly, and if asked he will tell you with all the technical terms included. You think you see a slight smirk as he watches the look on your face change into slight disturbance. When you get him to the bed it's easy to push him down. Undress him yourself unless you want it to take forever. Take special care of his glasses as you set them aside. He'll comment that it's hard to see like this. It's okay, you have him.

Trace his scars and kiss them as you go, he'll shiver and ask you why you think that's necessary. Hush Jiro, it's foreplay and you're hot. Grunts a lot as you continue worshipping his body and stealing his oxygen with your kisses. He wonders when you'll get on with it. Alright you pushy fiend. Time to strap on and strap in.

As soon as you push in he's got an arm around you, keeping you close enough to kiss. With how tall he is it means you've got his legs pushed up, hopefully his body can handle it for a bit. It can, and he isn't about to let you go. Grunts and lets out hot little breathy noises more than anything. If he didn't rock back against you you'd be unsure if he was actually enjoying this or not. Oh trust he's into it. He doesn't really like being in control so this is perfect for him.

That being said he won't do nothing and let you have all the fun. He's still trying to keep kissing you and tugging you down to nip at your lips. Seems like fucking him has made him more outwardly affectionate. He'll probably tell you that it was some hormonal state later. Whatever you say beautiful. Just keep moaning for me.

Jerk him off in time to your hips and you'll have him cumming in no time. His o-face is so pretty you'll want to see it again and again. But not something you're able to do right now. As you go to clean him up he'll exhert some energy you didn't know he had to pull you in and finger you until you cum. Those long fingers are so dexterous and he knows all the spots he needs to hit.

And now you're trapped in the bear hug. Post coital Jiro wants one thing and one thing only and that's skin to skin contact with you. When you wake up he's gone back to Mortkranken for his medicine but he sent you a text about how he enjoyed it and Yuri says his vitals are looking nice this morning. So you'll have to run this experiment again soon to see if these results are related or not. You just know he had that little smile on his face when he constructed that excuse to get you to rail him again.

---

PS pouring one out for @kykloss who inspired me to finish this but deactivated a few days ago, you would have loved this shit my dear.

[daydreamgoddess14]

💫 For Your Consideration - Act 4 Pt 2 💫

actor!Bucky x fem!actress!Reader (no use of y/n, l/n, reader is not described in any great detail. I save that for the gowns 💃)

Warnings: Hollywood AU, language, internet nasties, flirty!Bucky, a little power imbalance, age-gap (Bucky is around 40, actress reader is closer to 30 or younger if you prefer 🤭)... more to be added later.

Bucky Barnes, the suave and talented leading man of the 'Winter Soldier' movie series, finds himself on the red carpet circuit during awards season with his latest film 'The Howling Commandos'. But the season takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a mesmerizing newcomer - the actress who has become the talk of Tinseltown with her captivating performance in her most recent film. Sparks fly as they navigate silly season in Hollywood, with a spotlight on their every move will their chemistry ignite a real life romance?

Word Count: just over 8k (sorry!)

Notes: Rating going UP in this chapter. Warnings for smut, p-in-v, oral (f receiving), fluff, romance, all that good stuff 😄. Really, really hope you like this one 💕

< Prev Act | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Next Act >

DECEMBER 2025 - Part 2

You kicked off your heels the second you closed the hotel room door, letting them clatter to the floor.  

Your skin still buzzed with leftover adrenaline - the noise of the party, the paparazzi, the champagne.

And him. 

God, him.

The heat of his hands on you, the feel of his mouth against yours.

You could still feel the weight of him pressed against you, the way the world had blurred and faded until he was the only thing you could focus on.

You knew you were in trouble when he’d crossed the room to speak to you. 

Confident, his suit impeccably fitted, and just a flash of something in his eyes when he’d greeted Steve.

The thought made you feel giddy.

He’d sensed your impatience as soon as poor Steve had started talking about the new Maximoff musical, the rhythmic tap of your jewellery against the champagne flute, the very slight rise up onto the balls of your feet - sore from standing still for too long.

You replayed every second, from the light touch of his hand on your wrist to the bruising grip of his fingers at your hips.

You probably hadn’t needed to leave the corridor. 

The voice had made you both tense up, but relief had quickly flooded Bucky’s face as he realised it had been Sam. 

But you had needed to gain back some semblance of control of the situation, you needed to think about something other than how his hands would feel peeling off your dress and setting you alight.

You barely had time to process any of it before your phone buzzed.  

You grabbed it instantly. Not thinking, not hesitating. Just hoping.

His name on the screen made you feel lightheaded.

Where’d you go? 

You sighed. You’d looked for him - as much as you could. Your hands had still been trembling and you were still breathless when your director, Bruce, had run into you only a second after you’d slipped back into the main room.

“C’mon, we’re heading to meet up with some more folks from the studio - they want to hear your plans for the next few months!”

Your heart twisted as he took your arm eagerly.

By the time that conversation was done, there was another one, and another.

You’d seen Bucky come back in, just a few minutes after you, but every time you’d looked in his direction, his attention had been elsewhere, and by the time he'd turned to look at you, you’d looked away.

And then someone had told you there was another event that it was imperative you and Steve went to.

“I need to say goodbye to someone -” you’d started quickly, but Steve placed a gentle hand on your back and guided you to the door.

“Barnes? He’s probably long gone, he hates these things.”    

You sat on the edge of the bed, typing back quickly. 

The three dots of his reply appeared almost immediately.  

Paused.  

Vanished.

You bit your lip, staring at the screen like you could will him into answering.  

You could picture him, sitting somewhere just like you, staring at his screen, working himself up to type whatever he said next.  

One message turned into two.  

Then three.  

The kind of back-and-forth that started carefully, almost shy... then quickened.  

A spark catching fire.  

Your thumbs tripped over each other, heart racing, as he asked to see you after the photoshoot.

The photoshoot was still over a day away.

You weren’t entirely sure what made you offer to go to him. 

You knew you should have suggested somewhere neutral - somewhere public even - attention and paparazzi be damned, at least that way you’d be in control.

You’d be able to stop your eyes from wandering... your hands, your mouth.

You dropped the phone onto the bed like it burned your hands.

You couldn’t sit around waiting for a response to your daring suggestion.

Was it too late to walk it back?

Did you even want to?

Your dress clung to your flushed skin, you reached to pull the zip down your back, letting the fabric pooling at your feet.  

(You could hear Becka’s voice clear as a bell: Pick that up, it’s Versace, for fuck’s sake.)  

You laughed under your breath, hanging it carefully over the door.

The girls were probably still awake, a few rooms down.  

You tugged on a t-shirt and a pair of soft shorts, padding barefoot into the hallway.  

Your knuckles barely brushed the door before it swung open.

“She’s here!” Dani called into the room, like she’d been waiting.

Inside, Lulu killed the TV and tossed the remote aside.  

“Well?”

You climbed onto the first bed, trying to smother the yawn that snuck up now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

“I need to sleep,” you mumbled.

“You need to take your makeup off,” Lulu corrected, lobbing a pack of cotton pads at you.

You caught them half-heartedly, ignoring the pointed look she shot your way until she gave up, soaked a pad herself, and started dabbing gently at your face.

“Lipstick lasted well,” she said under her breath, but stopped when she caught the slow smile pulling at your mouth.

“Or... didn’t it?” she guessed, eyes narrowing.

“No, it did," you said, the tiny grin you couldn’t bite back threatened to overtake your whole face, "it lasted better than you might think. All things considered."

“All things -" Lulu glanced over at Dani, who lowered her phone, sensing something.  

“What things?” they demanded together.

You let the silence stretch for a moment longer, just to torture them, before you said it:

“He kissed me."

There was a second of silence. A breath.

Then…

“Shut the fuck up,” Lulu gasped, lurching upright so fast she nearly kneed you in the ribs.

Dani sat bolt upright next to you in the bed. “Are you joking?! When?!”

“The party, he came over while I was talking with Steve, then he suggested we get a drink at the bar and then…”

Dani grabbed a pillow and hit you with it. “And then?”

“We went into this quiet little corridor bit, away from the party. He asked me to go with him, and I did.”

Lulu narrowed her eyes. “And was it good?”

You tried to play it cool but failed instantly. 

“Oh god Lu… it was… Jesus.” You hid behind your hands. “He backed me into a doorway like he was in a movie and he was just looking at me like he couldn’t not do it.”

Dani groaned into the duvet. “You are living my dreams right now. I hope you know that.”

“And then we heard someone and… I just… left,” you finished, flopping back on the bed like you could sink straight into the mattress. “Like a complete lunatic.”

“You didn’t want to look too eager,” Lulu reasoned, tugging your arm until you sat up again, already plotting next steps.

“You want him to chase you,” Dani added, with a knowing grin as she shoved a pillow behind her back. “You did the right thing. Very main character of you.”

You weren’t sure that was true. If anything, you felt like a side character in your own story. Clumsy, caught off guard, and wildly underprepared for the heat in Bucky Barnes’s eyes. But it was comforting to pretend. To imagine it had all been intentional.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, rubbing your eyes. “Maybe I should’ve stayed.”

“Maybe,” Lulu allowed. “But the disappearing act was hot.”

“Was it?” you asked, unsure. “I think it might’ve been just… confusing.”

“And confusing is sexy,” Dani said confidently. “Men love a bit of mystery. Keeps ‘em from getting lazy.”

“And now what?” Lulu asked, already half under the covers, practically vibrating with curiosity. “Has he said anything? Have you?”

“I had to leave the party,” you said, fiddling with the edge of the cotton pad in your hand. “Steve and Bruce were trying to drum up some final campaign buzz. They think we might be able to get a couple of Oscar nominations next month.”

“Ok but Barnes,” Dani reminded you, throwing a pillow at your legs.

“I’m gonna shove that pillow somewhere in a minute,” you warned her with a halfhearted glare. “He messaged. Asked where I went.”

“And?”

You hesitated. “I told him I’d looked for him.”

A satisfied hum moved through the room.

“But you’re going to see him again, right?” Lulu pressed. “I mean, obviously you’ll run into each other publicly -”

“It’s complicated,” you said, and the room quieted a little. “I like him. But we all know what the headlines would do with it. If it got out.”

“Yeah but like -” Dani leaned in, eyes wide. “Is that gonna stop you?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

“Just promise us if you do see him again… we get a full debrief,” Lulu insisted, sliding further down under the duvet. “Like full.”

“Detailed timestamps,” Dani echoed, already typing something into her phone that she definitely intended to bring up later.

“Eyewitness testimony,” Lulu added, yawning.

“Screenshots,” Dani chimed again, grinning now.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

Eventually, the room began to quiet. One by one, they dozed off, lulled by the late hour and the hazy kind of excitement that lingered after a less than standard night.

You tried to follow.

You really did.

While Dani snored softly beside you, and Lulu kicked at the blankets in the next bed, you stayed awake. Quiet. Thinking.

Thinking about the way his hands felt on your waist.  

The low rasp of his voice when he said later.

Your body was buzzing, too keyed up to rest.  

That kiss still haunted your skin. You wished there had been a later.  

But the image of Bucky. His mouth, his voice, that fucking look… it all kept looping through your mind.

And your phone, inches from your hand, taunted you.  

What if he was awake too?

God, you were losing your mind.

But beneath the nerves, the confusion, the anticipation… there was something steadier. Something low and warm in your chest. 

He wanted to see you again. He’d said it plainly. No games, no hesitation. 

It made your breath catch and your thighs press together.

You gave it another ten minutes.  

Then you reached for your phone.

Before you could open the message thread, a new notification popped up on the screen.

You’d both gotten bolder under the cover of darkness and the weight of sleeplessness.  

A few hours ago you’d been tucked between your best friends, laughing about the absurdity of it all, basking in their unfiltered hype. Now, your fingers hovered over your phone, skin tingling, your heart skittering against your ribs with every buzz.  

You bit your knuckle to keep the sound in.  

Dani shifted beside you. Still asleep. Lulu let out a soft sigh in the next bed.  

But you were wide awake.  

Because every word from him was laced with something heavier than flirtation. 

It was want.

Bare, hungry, and unguarded.

You meant every reply. Every playful nudge wrapped in heat. Every pause where your breath caught and you had to roll to your side, your legs squeezing together like that might help.  

It didn’t.  

And God help you, you were already counting the hours until you could see him again.  

Every inhale between his messages felt like a teasing graze of his fingers.  

You could picture him so clearly, one hand behind his head, the other still cradling his phone, eyes dark and wicked, mouth curled in that slow grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You let the silence stretch a little after your last message. 

Maybe you could sleep now.

Just drift off, warm and aching and smiling like an idiot.  

But then he sent one more. One line.  

And it unraveled you.

I haven’t even gotten to the good part.

The rush of heat was instant. Your spine arched, breath catching, fingers tightening around your phone.  

You buried your face in your pillow, stifling the soft sound you couldn’t help.  

You should have stayed in your own room.  

Let yourself fall into that fantasy alone, free to writhe against the mattress and whisper his name like a confession.  

Pictured his mouth, his hands, the press of his chest, the way he might’ve looked between your thighs.

But instead, you rolled back over and stared at the ceiling, letting the ache simmer.  

You’d put a pin in it. For now.

Because sleep finally came - slow and sweet - with his voice in your head and his name still buzzing at your fingertips.

He tossed the phone onto the couch and immediately regretted it, snatching it back up like it might disappear.

Read the last message again. And again.

You're dangerous, Barnes.

God.

He was.

Or maybe she was.

Because nothing had ever felt quite like this.

The kind of hum that settled in his bloodstream, impossible to shake. Like she was under his skin now.

He could still smell her perfume on his skin, hear the catch of her breath against his throat, the way she’d pulled back too soon… and then the look she gave him before she slipped away back to the party.

He hadn’t stopped replaying it since.

The previous night had just about ruined him.

He thought it might fade overnight, that the clear daylight and some decent coffee would help him get a grip. But she was everywhere.

His timeline. His feed. His explore page.

Her face in every frame, her voice in every interview clip, every behind-the-scenes snippet of the junket footage.

Name checking him on E!

He groaned, raking a hand through his hair.

“This has to be illegal,” he muttered to the empty room. “She’s haunting my goddamn algorithm.”

Then his phone buzzed again.

And just like that, everything tightened.

Because it might be her.

It wasn't, it was Sam reminding him that he too had a job, and that he too had studio commitments to meet.

He wanted to message her back. Wish her good morning and then wanted to push it, drag her right into whatever came after that message - the “good part,” as he’d stupidly teased - but she was working.

He was working.

And she'd gone quiet. Smart girl.

He wondered if she knew she was driving him insane.

The rest of the day was hell.

“Still stalking the hashtag?”

Sam didn’t even bother pretending not to notice.

Bucky didn’t look up from his phone. “Not stalking.”

“Sure.”

“She’s everywhere,” he muttered, scrolling past a slowed-down reel of her laughing on some carpet, hair falling over one shoulder. “My whole feed is just… her.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So what I’m hearing is: your phone’s in love.”

“Shut up.”

“She messaged you, right?”

“We're gonna meet tomorrow after her shoot.”

The shrug was forced, but Sam had known him long enough to see through it.

“Where are you gonna take her that isn't going to end up all over the internet, your hotel room?”

“Get out.”

“Just sayin’. If this is just some quick and dirty hook up then I need to know so it doesn't damage your chances in March.”

Bucky didn’t answer.

Because it wasn’t that.

He barely knew her and yet somehow he knew it wasn’t even close to that.

At no point from the minute he'd nearly knocked her over in Toronto could he have considered this - whatever this was - as casual.

He looked down at his phone again. Her name still sat at the top of his DMs, nothing new since last night.

The “seen” stamp mocking him.

He didn’t need a reply.

He just wanted her to know he meant it.

Every word. Every look. Every line he was toeing.

And if she showed up tomorrow… if she still wanted this, whatever this was… He didn’t think he’d be able to hold back this time.

He barely slept.  

He woke up tense and wired, immediately checking his phone like a man possessed.  

A message. 

Sent at 2.03am.

so that was the longest day of my life. 

if you still want to see me… I'd like that.

I'll let you know when I finish tomorrow?

His own day was stacked: a Critics Choice brunch, back-to-back interviews, some last-minute reshoots on the campaign video for awards season, and then a late afternoon drinks reception with the studio. 

He thought about messaging her back.

Good luck today.

Thinking about you.

… but stopped himself each time.  

She knew.  

She had to know.

He hadn’t expected to see her there.

He hadn't even realised she was invited until he turned from the coffee station and caught her across the room, backlit by the huge window, laughing at something Dani said. 

The fact that he recognised Dani mostly from her Instagram profile wasn't lost on him. 

She spotted him a second later. A blink, a pause, and then a smile that nearly floored him. 

She mouthed “hi” and he turned to look behind him, feigning confusion before smiling widely back at her. It was worth it to hear her laugh from across the room. 

And then, as if guided by fate or some vengeful god who liked watching him suffer, she drifted closer.

“Bucky Barnes,” she greeted lightly, stepping just into his orbit. “Didn’t know you were coming to this one.”

He cleared his throat. “Likewise.”

“Lucky me.”

Their smiles stayed on, bright and camera-ready, plenty of press milling around. No one watching would think twice. But underneath it…

“How've you been? Did you have fun at the Globes thing?”

“It was great, thank you. I haven’t been sleeping too well the last couple of nights, though,” she said, politely nodding and smiling at a passing producer.

He sniggered into his coffee. “Maybe your bed isn’t comfortable enough.”

“I did think that,” she replied, almost too casually. “Wonder if I should try another one.”

His gaze flicked to her mouth. Just for a second. She bit her lip, half looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her up for making such a blatant suggestion. 

“Could help,” he shrugged, stepping sideways as someone passed between them. “Change of scenery. New sheets.”

“You got any suggestions, I am new in town after all?”

“I stay at the Mondrian. It's got a great rooftop bar. You can see the whole city.”

“Sounds perfect. Maybe I'll look it up later,” she smiled. 

Before he could fire back another line, someone from the studio swept in to claim her, a publicist with a tight smile and a tighter grip on the schedule. She gave him one last look over her shoulder, eyes warm and knowing.

He watched her go, heart pounding, his coffee long forgotten.

The rest of the brunch passed in a blur of polite conversation and meaningless small talk, but all Bucky could feel was the echo of her voice, still teasing. 

He should have been focusing. 

He checked his phone in the car. Nothing. Just a message from Sam telling him not to be late to the studio drinks.

The rooftop bar line had been a risk, too on-the-nose, maybe. But she’d played along. She’d smiled.

Now it was nearly six, and he was still stuck at the studio drinks that were supposed to be over by five. He wanted to chew glass. A glass of whiskey sweated in his hand, while he watched the clock.

And then his phone buzzed.

He glanced down, more out of habit than hope, and froze.

The feed refreshed as soon as he opened the app, her latest post zooming straight to the top. 

On her knees, curves like question marks. His thumb paused, he held his breath. Double tapped. Worry came later.  

The comment came first.

You’re trouble.

It wasn’t subtle. He didn’t want it to be.

He waited for her to reply. She didn’t.

Instead, Dani’s comment popped up underneath his, throwing gasoline on the fire.  

Sam leaned in behind him between speeches, whispering, “She’s not texting you in the middle of a photoshoot, man.”

“I’m not checking for her,” Bucky lied, turning his phone screen face down like that might help.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, it buzzed.  

Just wrapped. I think I survived.

He read it three times before responding to let her know he was stuck.  

He blamed the whiskey for suggesting that they skip the bar altogether. 

Actually… You could come here.

To the hotel. I mean… If you want.

He hesitated, wondering if he’d overstepped. He wanted to follow up to say “no pressure.”

He started typing, then deleted it and waited. 

Because maybe he wanted her to know exactly what he meant.

A heart popped up next to the suggestion and he sat back, and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. 

His hands tapped restlessly against the arms of the chair. The drinks reception blurred in the background.

He messaged the front desk at the hotel.  

Told them to let her up if she got there before he did.

He didn't dare think about if she changed her mind.

What if this was too fast, too messy, too much?

But then he remembered the way she’d looked at him before she left the hallway after their kiss. The way she’d said his name, and the way she’d replied to his messages in the dark, like she’d wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

That had to mean something.

Enough to hold onto. 

So he did.

Paced the room. Checked the time. Checked it again.

He’d barely been back twenty minutes when the phone rang. The concierge confirmed she’d arrived.

He hung up.

His chest went tight. 

How long should it take to get from the lobby to his room? He had no idea.

He'd had no reason to time it before. But now, every second felt like a lifetime. He wondered how busy it was in the bar, should they go up there after all? 

It had taken too long, surely? Had she changed her mind? Stood in the elevator unable to press the button for his floor? Turned and fled?

His mind went through every scenario possible until he heard the faint tap on his door. 

You weren't sure you'd even knocked.

Just raised your hand, breath caught halfway to your lungs…

And then the door opened.

The top couple of buttons of his shirt undone, the collar crooked from where he'd pulled off his tie. That look in his eyes.

No hello. No hesitation, just a small smile of what you thought might have been relief.

The silence that filled the space between you wasn’t awkward. It was loaded. Full to the brim. You stepped into the small space he'd left, and closed the door behind you with a soft click that sounded louder than it should have.

His eyes dropped to your mouth.

And that was it.

The air shifted.

“Hi,” you managed. Barely.

He shook his head once.

Like hi wasn’t nearly enough for what this was.

Then his hands were on you, firm. Not impatient, just sure, resting on the curve of your waist.

You felt it in your chest. In your fingertips. In the backs of your knees.

And you were already answering him with your whole body before either of you said another word, leaning into him.

His forehead tipped against yours, the heat of his body warming you.

You could feel the tight, controlled tension vibrating through him, it showed in the clench of his jaw, the sharp inhale of your perfume.

He dragged his hand up your sides, slowly and carefully, like he was checking you were really there.

And then, finally, he kissed you.

Soft at first. Testing.

But when you melted into him, drunk on his touch, he groaned low in his throat and deepened it, sliding his hand up into your hair and pulling you closer.

His mouth didn’t crash into yours.

It wasn’t clumsy. It wasn’t rushed.

It was worse than that.

It was slow and deliberate.

The kind of kiss that made your knees go. That took its time, like he was determined to make sure you'd remember it, like he’d waited long enough and wasn’t about to waste a second.

The press of him, hot and solid, crowded your back against the door.

But it wasn't just you responding to the kiss, it wasn't just your knees going weak and barely holding you upright.

You felt his breath catch when your fingers tangled in his hair.

You felt the way his body shuddered when you tilted your hips, just slightly, just enough.

His hands were everywhere, your waist, your spine, dragging you in. Like he couldn’t get you close enough.

His knee found its way between yours, lifting a little but nowhere near close enough to where you really needed. The whine in the back of your throat made him pause, letting you catch your breath.

“Hi,” he said at last.

You smiled shyly. “Hi.”

He was grinning. That lopsided, stupidly handsome grin that made it impossible to think straight.

“You always gonna make that sound when you see me?” he teased, his voice low and his eyes dragging a slow and sinful path down your body.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Shut up.”

But he just laughed, his nose bumping yours, nudging your lips back up towards his. “You’re the one making bedroom noises against a hotel door, sweetheart.”

You smacked his chest, he caught your wrist with warm, gentle fingers. “Last chance for rooftop cocktails,” he murmured.

You shook your head.

He smiled against your skin, his lips finding the spot just below your jaw, “didn’t think so.”

He brushed his nose down the column of your neck and kissed the hollow of your throat.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, gripping it in your fist.

You turned your head, lips brushing against the stubble on his jaw.

“Are you planning to keep me trapped against the door all night, or…?”

His breath tickled your ear as he laughed.

“Depends. You trying to escape?”

“Not even a little,” you whispered.

Still, he eased back just enough to let you move, one hand trailing down your side as you stepped into the room properly with your cheeks flushed and your pulse racing. You already missed the press of him.

He stayed by the door, watching you turn on the spot and survey the room.

Finally you turned just enough to look at him over your shoulder.

“What?”

Bucky shook his head. “You look good, did you eat?”

“Yep, and I stayed hydrated like a good girl,” you smiled, but his concern didn't go unnoticed, and made you nearly as dizzy as his kiss.

He stalked closer, his smirk playful and teasing.

“‘Cos… it's a marathon, not a sprint y’know?”

“Are we talking… life, awards season... anything in particular?”

His hands slipped beneath your jacket, easing it down your arms, fingers brushing bare skin at your shoulders. Goosebumps bloomed in his wake.

“How about I let you know if something specific comes to mind?” He put the jacket over the chair and held out his hand, you took it and stepped out of your heels, sighing as your poor feet sank into the plush carpet.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured, pulling you into him. “You. This.”

You nodded, your heart rattling against your ribs.

“I know,” you whispered. “Me too.”

You walked backwards, towards the bed, drawing him with you.

Bucky followed without hesitation, like you were gravity and couldn't stand to not be in your orbit, his hands on your waist again to keep you close.

You reached for the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers, and he caught your wrist to stop you.

“Patience,” he teased.

His hands dropped to your hips, guiding you to turn around.

You held your breath at the first sounds of the zip of your dress being drawn down, your skin prickled under his mouth as he placed a kiss between your shoulder blades.

Inch by inch the zip came down, your breath catching each time.

You'd lost count of the number of people who'd seen you in your underwear in the last year, on set, in wardrobe fittings, adjusting hidden microphones, dresses and costumes with daring necklines... It had become the norm.

Hell, he'd already seen you in your underwear on screen in the film.

But this was something else entirely.

The zip reached its resting point at your lower back.

“That picture from earlier,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, his hand warm against your bare skin. “Mine.” He finished, punctuating with a kiss.

You stayed with your back to him, heart thundering as you let your head tip back against his shoulder.

His hand slid up your spine, fingers tracing the bare skin left behind by the dress

He took his time peeling it from your shoulders, dragging it down your arms.

The fabric pooled at your waist, and then slowly, he eased it further down, over your hips, until it dropped silently to the floor.

He exhaled slowly, and you felt the way it ghosted over your skin.

You turned in his arms, nerves pooling in your belly.

You could feel his eyes on you, tracing every curve, every inch.

It felt terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure that he couldn’t stop looking.

“You’re taking your time.” You murmured, your voice trembled with anticipation, with nerves, you weren't exactly sure which. Probably both.

“I’ve been waiting for this. You don’t get rushed now. I can always slow down some more?” He teased.

You arched an eyebrow, your confidence slowly catching up to your pulse.

“Well I hope you're ready for me to do the same, fair’s fair, right?” Your fingers hooked into his shirt to bring him closer, forcing his eyes back up to yours.

He laughed, and then his mouth was on yours again, hungrier now, less careful but no less slow and measured.

You tugged at the buttons of his shirt, impatient and clumsy, but he didn’t seem to care. His hands were everywhere again, warm and possessive, mapping you out like he was making his travel plans for the evening.

You kissed him back harder. Bit his lower lip, just a little, and when his breath stuttered and the low growl that took root in the back of his throat caught your ears, you knew there was nothing you wouldn't do to hear that sound again.

He gave as good as he got, tongue sliding against yours with an aching kind of precision that made your knees buckle. He caught you, arms banding around your waist, holding you to him like you - or he - would fall apart if he let go.

He dragged his mouth along your jaw, down your throat, tasting you.

You were both breathing hard, your hands roaming beneath the fabric of his undershirt, nails grazing the hard lines of his ribs, the hot skin of his lower back.

He groaned against your collarbone and you felt victorious, invincible.

Then he eased you down onto the bed, still not rushed, not rough. Just with purpose, like he’d waited long enough.

“Tell me if this is too much.”

“It’s not enough,” you insisted, nipping his jaw, “you don’t have to be careful.”

“I’m not being careful. I’m being thorough,” he muttered, touching you like he already knew exactly how.

You arched into him when he sucked a mark onto your throat, your legs parting instinctively, welcoming the heat of him between them.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“Don't do that, how am I going to hide that tomorrow?” You chided lightly.

He pulled back just far enough to meet your eyes, pupils blown wide, chest rising with every ragged breath.

You pulled again but he caught your wrist, bringing your hand down between you both, letting you feel exactly what you were doing to him.

“I’ve been like this since the party,” he murmured, dragging your hand lower. “Since I got one fucking taste of you and couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

You flicked the clasp of his pants and pulled his undershirt up, ignoring his growl of frustration when you pulled it over his head and separated you from him.

He took the chance to change direction and ducked down to press his mouth to the swell of your breast, dragging the lace of your bra down with his teeth.

The gasp that left your mouth was shamefully loud. His grin was feral.

“You’re gonna be loud for me?” he murmured, kissing across to your other breast, thumbs stroking slow circles along your ribs.

“You gonna give me a reason?” you fired back, threading your fingers into his hair.

He cut you off quickly, making you gasp as his mouth closed over your breast, warm and wet and perfect.

His tongue flicked over your nipple before sucking it into the heat of his mouth, and your back arched off the bed.

Your hands tangled in his hair again, nails scratching his scalp, drawing out that same low sound from his chest that made your hips cant up towards his.

“Jesus, Bucky -” you moaned, every inch of you aching for the weight of his mouth and hands.

He shifted, dragging his teeth along your skin as he moved lower, fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear now, eyes dark and focused and utterly fixed on you. “You good?” He asked hoarsely.

You could only nod.

He dragged his fingers up the inside of your thigh and back to your waistband, eyes on yours the entire time.

“You’re shaking,” he said, almost smiling. “That for me?” He shifted further down and kissed the inside of your thigh, slowly and reverently. “I’ve thought about this. Exactly this.” He murmured.

And then there was no more teasing, only the delicious scratch of his stubble on your inner thigh, quickly soothed by his hot mouth determined to mark you where no one else would see but him.

You jolted when his tongue finally touched your core, slowly, confidently, maddeningly. He didn't rush, didn't chase your whimpers with anything but more measured pressure, drawing out each reaction like he wanted to catalogue it, memorising what made you tremble. Your hand flew to his hair, anchoring yourself as he worked, and when he groaned, deep and low, like he could taste how badly you needed this, you felt it reverberate straight through you.

He paused only long enough to say, “You taste just like I thought you would. Better, actually.” Then he dipped again, with a new kind of intent. Hungrier.

Your thighs tightened around him, involuntarily, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything, it made him smile against you. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he murmured, voice rough with heat.

His correctly placed confidence made you whimper again and at the sound of the quieter, broken gasp, he looked up at you.

His hands hooked around your thighs, holding them open, you'd linked your fingers with his, clutching his hands desperately while each slick drag of his tongue tightened the coil in your belly and had you mumbling his name over and over.

“Look at me. Please.” He pleaded. You looked down as the coil snapped.

“Oh f-fuck, Bucky, I -” your voice cracked, your thighs tensed.

You didn’t even know if your eyes stayed open.

The rush was too much - white-hot and unstoppable, like your whole body had folded in on itself and burst. He didn’t stop. He held you through it, his mouth never letting up, his hands steady and grounding as your hips jerked beneath him.

When the aftershocks had you twitching and gasping, he finally eased back, kissing the inside of your thigh like he was proud of the mess he'd made. One kiss. Then another, higher this time, like a thank you.

Your chest was heaving, fingers still tangled in his. You let go as he sat up, slinging your arm over your eyes, hiding just a little. He looked up, cheekily wiping the corners of his mouth, eyes full of something you couldn’t name, but felt in every inch of you.

“Still breathing?” he teased, voice rough and utterly wrecked.

You nodded weakly but whispered, “no.”

He laughed quietly.

“Good,” he said, crawling up your body with a lazy grin. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

You felt the weight of him settle over you, solid and warm, his mouth brushing the edge of your jaw as his hand gently lifted yours from your face.

“You okay?” he murmured, nose nudging your cheek.

You gave a quiet hum, turned your face to his and kissed him, slow and deep. A thank you. A yes. More. Please.

He sighed into your mouth like he needed it just as badly, then tucked his face into your neck. You felt the press of his smile against your skin.

“Can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” he whispered.

You tilted your head, letting your fingers slide into his hair again, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. “Might’ve let you sooner if I knew this was the good part you were talking about.”

“Oh yeah?” he drawled, eyes half-lidded but wicked. “Knew I should've found you after that party.”

You leaned in close like you were going to kiss him, lips brushing just shy of his.

“Well,” you murmured, “you found me now.”

And then you moved.

With a shift of your weight and a little push, you rolled both of you easily. His body gave way beneath you like he’d been waiting for it, like he loved it. His hands fell to your hips, greedy and eager. His eyes widened just a little as you settled above him, strong thighs bracketing his hips, fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.

“Still breathing?” you echoed back, with a glint in your eye.

Bucky huffed a laugh, breathless this time. “Barely.”

From your new vantage point you could see how underdressed you were. Or how overdressed he was.

“How do you still have pants on and I only have this left?” You asked, running your hands over the black lace of your bra.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours.

“Uhuh, no rush, remember?”

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth, then lower, jaw, throat, collarbone, while his hands roamed helplessly along your back, unhooking your bra and pulling it down your arms. But you didn’t let him lead this time.

You kissed lower, tasting the salt of his skin, the warmth of him under your tongue.

You sat up just enough to straddle him again, fingers trailing down his stomach to the waistband of his pants.

“Think I should take over?” you asked, voice low, teasing.

He nodded like he’d stopped knowing how to speak.

You made quick work of the zip, dragging the fabric down and away with a victorious smile that made his head fall back into the pillows.

You hovered above him, the tips of your fingers tracing the lines of his hips, your confidence flickering just a little.

“Umm -” you started, your voice a little softer and far less certain, “I didn’t… I wasn’t sure how far this would go. Did you -?”

He reached behind him, into the drawer, and held up a foil square with an easy smile. “Like I was gonna risk not being ready for you.”

Relief flushed through you, quickly followed by a surge of want.

You took it from his hand, leaned down to kiss him, slow and deep, letting your hips roll once against his as you tore it open.

“Good,” you giggled. “Because I’d really hate to stop now.”

His laugh was half groan, half worship. “Remind me never to underestimate you.”

You rolled the condom on with a steady hand and a wicked look.

“Wasn’t going to give you the chance.”

“You're sure about this?” He asked, sitting up to take hold of your wrist as you rose up onto your knees. You nodded firmly but he didn't let go, only raised his eyebrow.

“Bucky, I'm sure,” you smiled, twisting your hand within his grip and catching his instead. You guided his hand down between your trembling thighs. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just you. This,” he breathed.

You guided him into place with a slow, deliberate motion, your breath catching as you sank down onto him. The stretch stole the air from your lungs, your lip caught tightly between your teeth. His fingers dug into your hips, head tipping back with a low groan.

You braced your hands on his chest, feeling his heart pound under your palms as you rolled your hips gently, adjusting to the depth.

“Ohh… god, Bucky,” you whispered, finally releasing the bruising hold your teeth had on your lip.

“Jesus,” he groaned. “You feel like… fuck, sweetheart, you feel perfect.”

You canted your hips again, searching for a rhythm, but every movement had you seeing stars.

He slid one hand up your back, the other gripping your thigh to anchor you as you moved, the muscles in your legs tensing under his hand. The quiet gasp that left his lips when you found the right angle made your whole body tighten with need.

“There?” he asked, voice ragged.

You nodded, unable to form words, and pressed your forehead to his. Your breath tangled between you as you moved, slowly at first, like neither of you wanted to miss a single second.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders, leaving crescent moons on his skin, and your rhythm found its place, steady and deep, every rise and fall, every roll of your hips, wringing a new sound from his lips.

It crept up on you this time, the angle, the depth, the warm slide of his mouth dragging from the hollow of your throat to wrap around your pebbled nipple.

He felt it before you did, sensed it coming, and knew that it was going to take you by surprise.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured, replacing his mouth with his hand, thumb sweeping in slow circles over your nipple while his other hand held tight to your hip. “That’s it… just like that.”

You couldn’t do anything but cling to him, the pressure building too fast, the way your body clenched around him as the rhythm slipped and faltered.

He watched your face, felt the stutter in your hips, and his voice dropped even lower. “I’ve got you, doll.”

Your head fell forward into the crook of his neck, breath ragged. You whimpered something, but it barely made it past your lips.

“Let go for me,” he coaxed, guiding your hips with a firm roll upward. “Wanna feel you lose it, sweetheart.”

And then it hit, sharp and hot and all-consuming.

Your voice cracked as you wailed his name.

He held you flush against him, managing to keep you both upright.

“How did you -” you whispered, still stunned.

He grinned, breath ragged as he kissed your throat, your jaw, your cheek.

And then he shifted his hips beneath you, deeper, harder, and your breath hitched all over again.

“Still with me?” he rasped.

You nodded, dizzy, already moving with him, already needing more.

“Good,” he muttered, catching your mouth in a kiss, one hand tangled in your hair, the other guiding your hips faster. “I know you're not done.”

Your rhythm slipping into something hungry and headlong. No finesse, just heat and instinct and the heady push-pull of both of you unraveling together.

He met you thrust for thrust, hands guiding your movements, eyes locked on yours like he couldn’t bear to miss a single second.

“Come on, baby, just like that,” he groaned, voice ragged. “You feel so good, so fuckin’ good -”

Your thighs burned with effort, your knees spread wide so he could fill you completely

You leaned forward, mouths brushing, breath mingling, forehead to forehead. “I - I’m -”

“I know,” he whispered, tilting his hips just right. “I’ve got you. Let go, sweetheart.”

The way he said it, desperate and pleading was what finally tipped you over. Your whole body seized around him with a cry you couldn’t hold back.

He held you through it again, groaning as your body clenched around him, his own release catching up in a sudden, sharp rush. He cursed into your neck, holding you so tight it felt like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Fuck, fuck sweetheart,” he hissed, pulsing inside you.

You let him guide you both down onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and panting breaths, your head resting against his shoulder.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, still trembling.

Bucky laughed, a low, warm rumble that vibrated through his chest. “Yeah, you're not wrong.”

And then, quietly, he whispered, “Told you I’d kiss you again.”

“Kiss me? I think you mean kill me?”

He grinned against your shoulder. “Not yet. I was gonna order room service first.”

He kissed your bare shoulder before dragging himself to the room service menu like it was a sacred mission, slinging the condom in the bin on his way. You watched him climb back up the bed, back up your body, leaving kisses in his wake.

“We’re getting everything. Don’t argue.”

“Who’s arguing?” you yawned, stretching like a cat against him.

In the thirty minutes waiting for room service, you let the hot shower soothe your aching muscles, his hands roaming over your soapy skin until they once again found your bruised hips and he dropped to his knees. You braced your back against the cool tiles, one leg draped over his shoulder, your moans echoing through the bathroom.

You emerged flushed and tangled in towels, breathless from both the heat and him, just in time to hear the knock on the door.

You hid while he accepted the tray of burgers and fries in just his boxers, his hair damp from the shower and pulled from your hands threading through it.

He fed you a fry, then licked the salt off your lips, not bothering to wait before trailing more kisses down your neck.

“Midnight snack round one,” he murmured into your skin. “I’ve got other courses in mind.”

You stole a bite of his burger. “Why, did you order dessert?” You grinned.

He grinned, slow and wolfish. “Full tasting menu, actually.”

The plates were forgotten and pushed aside, he dragged you beneath him again.

When you woke up, the room was still dark.

“Don’t move,” he murmured, voice gravelly, his breath warm between your shoulder blades.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

You'd slept mostly on your stomach, his body right behind you pressed into you from head to toe. His knee wedged between yours, your back as his pillow.

He pulled you against him, reaching around to open you up to him and pushed into you, your breathless moan muffled by the pillow. His body covered yours, pressing you into the mattress with each lazy thrust. You came quickly with a quiet cry and he followed, burying himself into you and biting your shoulder.

You lay contented and sated for a minute before you rolled onto your side and found him watching you, hair a mess, smile soft, eyes heavy with affection.

“Morning,” you croaked, throat dry, body still deliciously sore. “Love the new alarm clock.”

“Hmm, same time every morning?” He smiled sleepily. “Still alive?”

“Debatable.” You stretched, then winced. “You’re a menace.”

He kissed your forehead. “You love it.”

You buried your face in his chest. “Unfortunately.”

The phone buzzed on the nightstand, a calendar reminder, messages from the girls, the studio. Reality calling.

He stretched, one arm behind his head, “when do you fly out?”

Your heart sank a little. “Tomorrow night. Straight after the Critics Choice holiday thing.”

His brow furrowed. “Wait, that’s… you're going straight to the airport from there?”

You nodded, “red-eye to Heathrow. My dad will kill me if I’m not home by the 23rd.”

A thoughtful silence fell between you.

“Want to sneak into my carry-on?” You asked softly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Neither of you wanted to move too fast and break the spell. But eventually, you both knew: time was up.

He reached over, pulling you into him. “Ok. So we do the event. I try not to stare like an idiot. And then… January?”

“January,” you repeated, the promise soft and certain, “I'll be back here.”

He leaned in, kissed your cheek, then your jaw.

“You’d better be,” he murmured, brushing his lips to your temple.

You stayed like that, your head on his shoulder, then he whispered, “January can’t come fast enough.”

[starmocha]

horny zayne thoughts:

he's obsessed with mc's entire body but there's just something about her breasts that makes him lose it. he loses his mind when she's riding him and he's sucking her nipples, alternating between one and the other.

he loves when she's about to get her period and her nipples are extra sensitive. she's the one who begs him to suck on them and she trusts him to apply just the right amount of pressure and be completely in tune with the way her body responds. he knows exactly what hiss means keep going, it hurts so fucking good and what hiss means too much. when it's the latter he chooses to run his tongue on them and she melts all the same.

countless lunch breaks have been spent locked inside his office, with her stradling his leg, riding his thigh while he's got her shirt up, sucking on her very sensitive breasts while she's jerking him off. they don't have time to do more than that sometimes but it's one of his favorite things. he always makes sure she comes first, flexing the muscles on his thigh as she rides it faster, suckling on her nipples like the devoted man he is. when she comes, she falls onto him for a few seconds, just to catch her breath and then she slides down between his legs to swallow him whole and let him finish inside her mouth (it has to be this way, she reasons, when they're in his office. he comes a lot and always makes a mess, they still have work, can't risk him shooting his load on her face and having it drip, ruining her clothes. or his. but he does keep spare clothes for them both in his office, just in case they get carried away.)

another thought is that, during traffic, he really loves squeezing her thigh. sometimes it's just really innocent, she'll feed him snacks at a red light while he holds her hand and right before he needs to move again, he lets go of her hand and squeezes her thigh playfully.

other times, especially during road trips while they're on a highway, his large hand is back on her thigh and it stays there until he needs to either stop or make a turn or change gears. when she wants him, she holds his wrist, gives it a squeeze too. he lets her guide his hand, always with a smirk on his face. he always warns her to behave, especially when she decides to run her hand on him too. there's no better euphoria then when she palms him through his pants, feeling how hard he is, watching the way his breath hitches and how he closes his eyes for just one tiny second. and he's a patient man, sure, but he never fails to take the first chance he gets to find a secluded spot to park the car and have her there.

it's like he falls in love all over again when she climbs on him giggling and giving him quick, noisy kisses while he says she's going to drive him insane. she counters with a "you can punish me later" and he really loses it. 💕

Thank you, I was starved and this was absolutely delicious and hitting all of my fetishes especially the titties tlc 😩

[hungarianshinobi]

Red flag? I'm colorblind - Fushiguro Toji x F!Reader

-Chapter 1

https://www.tumblr.com/hungarianshinobi/781641513633562624/red-flag-im-colorblind-fushiguro-toji-x?source=share

-Chapter 2

https://www.tumblr.com/hungarianshinobi/782361707629740032/red-flag-im-colorblind-fushiguro-toji-x?source=share

Chapter 3

(Y/n)'s POV:

All the while for the next couple of minutes Anna tried to convince me to go and talk to that man. Sometimes he would steal a glance at me, immediately smirking when he sees me looking back at him.

"Come on, just go and talk to him." My friend tried to convince me again. Though I didn't want to ruin our girly night, besides I was a coward.

That guy clearly seems to be the type who could have any woman he wanted, so why would he be interested in me anyway?

The front door of the bar opened and I looked towards it, seeing another man entering. The stranger who saved me on the train also looked to the source of the voice and soon when the new guest reached him, they bumped fists. They clearly knew each other.

At least Anna will leave me alone with her nudging...

"Aw, too bad." She spoke from beside me, understanding the situation.

And so we rather paid attention to each other just as we originally planned. Telling stories, talking about the past when we were smaller and such.

I remember that we used to build forts out of all of the cushions and pillows that were in the house, drawing and coloring everything we could imagine in them. Our parents didn't mind it at all. Even when any of them found us with markers all over our skin they just shook their head and chuckled. We have so many photos of those memories. There was a certain one though which was my favourite. One day, we drew a half heart on each other's thumbs and when we put our thumbs together next to each other, it became a whole one. We decided to make it a tattoo a few years later when we saw that photo of us, and right before Anna moved to Tokyo, we actually went to a salon to have it done after we both became 18 years old.

Whenever I would look at my thumb till this day it makes me smile and recall all those memories. We are best friends and always will be.

Grabbing my glass, I wanted to take a sip from my drink only to notice that it's empty. "Ah, I ran out of (fav non alcoholic drink)." I whined.

Anna just finished her own drink as well. "Me too."

"Let me get new ones. This round is on me." I grinned at her. The previous round was paid by her and we always did this anyway.

"Sounds good to me." She grinned back, so I grabbed our glasses and stood up from my seat. She called out to me one last time thohgh. "Don't forget to talk to that guy~" she chuckled mischeviously.

I rolled my eyes. "Anna... You never change." Flashing one last smile at her I turned away from her, approaching the bar, my heels clicking on the floor. I leaned on the counter and waved for the bartender, telling him I want to order another round of the same stuff. He took the two glasses and I watched him working.

Then I heard a low chuckle from the left. "Aren't you too old to order that kind of stuff, young lady?" He chuckled again. Nor me, nor Anna drank any alcohol. It was not our thing.

I turned my head to the side to look at the giant man beside me, raising a brow at him. "Excuse me? I can order whatever I want."

He rose his hands as if he was surrendering before speaking again with the grin still present on his lips. "Calm down, I was just asking you, I didn't say it as an insult. You have taken it as one, but it wasn't my intention." He said leaning onto the bar more.

"Me and my friend just like these drinks. It's a memory for us, that's all. It's very delicious, you should try it someday instead of drinking umm..." I pointed at his glass. "...whatever it is."

"It's whisky. Ever tried it? If not you should try it someday." he copied my answer taking a sip of his alcohol while looking towards the table whereas I came from.

I smiled a bit. "No, I didn't. Perhaps I might try it someday, but only if you will try my drink too." I smirked and took the two glasses which the bartender handed me since he finished preparing them. "Now if you excuse me. My friend is waiting for me."

However his words made me halt to a stop. "Then it's a date?" He took a sip, closing his eyes while waiting for me to answer his question. "I'm Fushiguro Toji by the way. If you prefer not to be strangers." he then looked at his friend and then back at me. "Also one more thing. This young man here..." he pointed at the man beside himself. "...is crushing on your friend. Mind if he goes there for a few minutes to introduce himself to her?"

I paused for a second. I didn't mean it that way. I didn't mean to 'date him' or whatever his mind made up because of my answer.

And I also remembered all of a sudden that Anna remarked how good-looking his friend is. So I answered, having no idea why I said the next few words. "W-why not. I guess... My name is (L/n) (y/n)." I glanced at the other man, still having no idea why am I letting myself getting dragged into this.

Girly night is over...

"About my friend... Umm, he can go there I guess. But she's a bit shy, I don't know if she would happily talk to a stranger." I informed Toji.

Toji looked over at his friend, nodding with his head after he received a positive answer from me.

What... the... fuck... am... I... doing...

"Take a seat, (y/n). Take his seat in fact since he will steal yours right now." he said, ordering another glass of alcohol for himself right after. "So when should our date start? Now or some other time?"

I glanced at Anna first, hesitating to answer Toji till I would see her agreeing to that man sitting down. It seemed that things are probably going to be okay, so I looked back at the man beside myself. "Well, we can call this a quick date then I guess. Unless you want to beat up a bunch of guys like on the train today." I joked.

"Ah so you do remember me like I remember you. For a second I thought I could be wrong but I didn't miss your gorgeous features." he grinned.

A hint of a blush appeared on my cheeks for a brief second. "Thank you." I mumbled, smiling to myself a bit.

Toji looked at my drink, sliding his own towards me. "So...trading? I try that... whatever that drink is and you try whisky. If you like it I will order you another one."

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea...

"A promise is a promise." I said and gave my drink to Toji, grabbing the glass of whiskey I got from him. I raised the glass to my nose, smelling it. "God, this must be a strong one. But it's scent is nice I must admit."

Toji looked at the glass and then at me, the grin still present on his lips. "Maybe you should've warned me first with how good your alcohol tolerance is. Because if its bad I don't think you will make it with one glass only." he said, grabbing my glass of (fav non alcoholic drink).

I took a sip from the whiskey which burned my throat even after I swallowed it. Indeed it was a very strong one and I was not used to strong drinks. "Well I don't really drink alcohol, let alone strong ones so I guess one glass of this is enough. Besides, I promised. Now it's your turn to try my drink." I pointed at it and waited for him to drink from it.

Toji took the straw out of the glass and threw it away randomly on the ground. He took a sip and then showed a disgusted face. "Ugh... This is shit."

I raised my brows in surprisement. "Why?" The previous one I drank was quite good so I had no idea what's his problem with it.

"Because it's not whisky. There is nothing special about this stuff. It's crap. Here you go taste it if you would like. There's no way I'm going to drink the rest." he gave it back to me.

"Crap? Well what did I expect from someone like you..." It might sound as an insult but it's not. It's just clear that he prefers alcohol rather than anything that's non-alcoholic.

"Someone like me? Well isn't that insulting..." he chuckled and took his glass back, licking the part where my lipstick left a mark before taking a sip of the strong whisky.

"Ah, no I didn't mean to insult you." I took my drink to have a small break from the embarassment I felt. Looking back at Toji I noticed something red on his lips, so I stole a glance at his glass and noticed that he intentionally drank from that part. "Umm... My lipstick... It's visible on your lips..."

Toji rose his eyebrows, using his thumb to clean his lips to see if its really true. After seeing my lipstick on his finger he licked it off just like his lips and leaned closer to me. "Would you like to leave more of it?" He asked with a smug smirk.

I became flustered all of a sudden by his closeness, his cologne mixed with the scent of the whiskey he drinks reaching my nose. "W-what? What do you mean?" I honestly didn't understand where he was getting at, because the whisky I drank earlier started to hit my head and I didn't even notice that he ordered a new glass for me.

"What do you think I mean? Lipstick on someone else's lips, now how do you do that hm?" He leaned back and ordered another glass for himself. It might be the third or four glass he had now as I counted, but it still didn't make him drunk. Or he was playing it well.

Finally it dropped to me what he meant and I averted my gaze from his, my face turning into a deep shade of red. The alcohol put more into it now that I have finished 2 glasses and my head started spinning. "Oh, so that was your plan all along huh? You want to kiss me?" I slurred a bit on my words, touching his shoulder with my hand.

"Not really but...a kiss would be nice yes." he leaned again towards me. "But. Are you sure you want a stranger to steal your first kiss? Because there will be no returning back in this. It doesn't count as first kiss when you kiss someone after that." He chuckled.

I widened my eyes. "Why are you so sure that it would be my first kiss? Who said that? You couldn't know." I giggled in a somewhat seducing way.

What am I doing again...

He's right, but he doesn't have to know that. The alcohol he made me drink clouded my mind and my judgement. At this point I didn't really care about the consequences. That would last till morning when I would wake up sober.

"Well you had your first alcoholic drink and judging by the reaction you had when you saw your lipstick on my lips and me licking it off I figured you might be a virgin in many ways." he would look back at me and then down at my body, eventually looking back in my eyes. "Correct me if I'm wrong."

Shit, I'm starting to see him in two...

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

End of Chapter 3

Comments and feedbacks are always appreciated! ❤️ Don't forget to follow for further updates!

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-Hungarian Shinobi

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Praise You

Vinnie Hacker x plus size! Y/N - Drabble - 2K WC NSFW 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: slight angst, hurt/comfort, negative self talk from reader, Vinnie being sweet, lust, SMUT, i really cooked with this one guys, cock warming, spit, slight cum play, female reader, praise like a mf because you deserve it bb girl, moaning, absolutely pathetic man - just the way I like them, L bombs, curve worship

---------------------------------------------

You threw off your top which landed on the floor with all the other clothes you had been trying on for the last hour. “Fuck!” you said in frustration. You sat on the edge of your bed looking at all the discarded clothing, Vinnie was supposed to be here soon and all you had done was shower and catastrophize. You hadn't been together for long, but the last 8 months had been something completely new to you. He was… perfect. In every way. It got in your head and made you wonder if you deserved it? How long would it last? Could he see all the things in you that you hoped to hide from him? You stood up and walked towards the full length mirror you had. Your skin itself felt all too tight, all you wanted was to do was not have a body for a little while. Everything felt wrong on you. Your thighs felt too big, your waist wasn’t small enough, have you always had this many scars and stretch marks all over? You could feel your mind starting to race with all sorts of horribly negative self deprecating thoughts as you grabbed at your skin, wanting to be free of it. 

“Honey?” you heard Vinnie say from behind you softly.

You turned to face him while trying to cover yourself up despite still being in your pajama pants and a bra. 

“Hey, baby… what’s wrong? You look like you’re about to cry?” he said with concern. He wanted to go to you, wrap you up in his arms but the way you were holding yourself confused him. You looked sad but also disgusted. 

You sniffled, quickly wiping away the few tears that had collected on your waterline but hadn’t spilled over yet. “I’m fine… just getting dressed.” you said, picking up a massive hoodie from the ground and slipping it on before you swiftly started picking up the clothes strewn about. 

“Honey…” he said, gently grabbing your arm to get you to stop and look at him. His eyes were big and soft, wanting to understand.

You dropped the clothes, “I just… wish I didn’t look like this.” you sighed, covering your face with your hands.

You felt Vinnie’s palms rub up and down the backs of your thighs soothingly. You peeked through your fingers, he was on his knees before you. Tracing his hands up and down the backs of your legs while his lips rested against your stomach. His eyes were still big and round, looking at you like you were the sun, moon, and stars all wrapped up in one. “Like what?”

Your lip quivered and the lump in your throat refused to move. All you could do was look away from him.

Vinnie took your wrists one by one, kissing them before returning his hands to your legs. Letting them run up and down before they climbed to your hips and rubbed soft circles into them with his thumbs. “God… you’re so fucking pretty…” he said, kissing over your stomach to each hip. He let his hands slide under the hem of your sweatshirt, feeling your warm skin against his hands. He groaned softly at the contact. “Let me show you just how pretty you are, let me make you feel good?” he asked, his words muffled between kisses to your thighs. 

You turned slightly, letting yourself sit on the edge of the bed but also allowing Vinne to keep his hands on you. Seeing him beneath you like this, staring up at you, wanting to do nothing but good to you - it stirred something inside you. Beneath all the insecurities and doubt, something hot and sweet started to flow into your veins. You let a hand fall into his hair, entangling his curls between your fingers. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as he savored the feeling of you. “Please…” he begged, kissing your palm. 

You nodded curtly, not sure what he was planning on doing. 

He hooked his fingers into the hem of your pants, “Can I take these off?” he asked.

You lifted your hips in response, pushing them down slightly before letting Vinnie slide them off the rest of the way. He left quick kisses down your thigh before kissing his way back up. You could feel his breaths against your underwear, making you want to squirm. He placed his mouth over your clothed pussy, enjoying you just how he normally would. The added friction of the fabric had you tugging at his roots and moaning uncontrollably. Your thighs resting on his shoulders while his hands gripped your plush hips.

“The noises you make…” he groaned, “you sound so sweet for me, so good.” he couldn’t help himself, he pulled your panties to the side finally able to taste you. He indulged like a man starved.

As did you; pulling him in closer to ride his face, throwing your legs over his shoulders so he couldn’t escape. You let your free hand travel under your hoodie unconsciously seeking out your breasts to tease the pert nipples that were growing ever so sensitive. 

Vinnie moaned at the sight, “That's it baby, give in to yourself. Enjoy every sensation…” 

You could feel your back arching as the warmth you felt in your body earlier flood your every atom. Completely consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. 

Vinnie slowed as he could see and feel the twitches of overstimulation he was giving you. He instead occupied himself with kissing the inside of your thigh, his thumbs once again rubbing soft circles into your hips. “Fuck… I love everything about you… I’m obsessed…” he whispered. 

You sat up on your elbows to look at him. The scene before you made your head spin. Vincent Hacker - down on his knees, feeling over you in any way he could, kissing the insides of your thighs, looking at you with wholesome pure want, with your cum dripping down his chin.

“Vinnie…” you said, letting your hand fall from his hair, words slightly slurred from the intensity of pleasure you felt moments ago.

His eyes flicked to yours as he placed a final kiss to the inside of your thigh, climbing on top of you so he could plant kisses on your chest. Giving you his full attention. 

“Thank you…” you whispered.

His eyebrows drew together, “You don’t have to thank me for anything. I didn’t do you a favor. You deserve the care. You deserve the pleasure. All of it. I want nothing more than to kiss the ground you walk on for as long as you’ll have me. I love you and everything about you. Especially this perfect body…” he said, sliding his hands under your sweatshirt to brush his fingers against the swell of your breasts. “And if I have to show you everyday I will. On my knees. Worshipping you. Right where I want to be.” 

His eyes still looking up at you is what got you. He had been doing the most sinful things, all the while keeping his gentle eyes on you. Devouring you in his own way. You moved to sit up further, finally coming face to face with Vinnie. His breaths fanning over your lips. You watched as his eyes looked between yours and your lips, hungry for you still. You leaned in, the taste of yourself still on his lips. You slid your hand to his waistband but stopped when he grabbed your hand. You looked at him, slightly confused. 

He chuckled slightly, ghosting his hand over your face to move stray pieces of hair. “Do you think I didn’t get off?” 

Your eyes widened slightly - he got off watching you?

He pecked your cheeks, still chuckling at your stunned face. “The noises you make, the way your body reacts…” he moved to your neck, sucking and biting little bruises into the supple skin between words. “Writhing beneath me, moaning for me… how could I not cum? You’re amazing…”

You let out a shaky breath, “I love you…” you said, responding in kind to what he had said earlier. The fog of pleasure almost letting his profound words slip your mind. 

He leaned back slightly, searching your eyes. A shy smirk and blush spread across his face. You chuckled, “Now you’re shy?” You looked over his face, his shoulders, the muscles of his back, the way the ink of the tattoos sat on them. Your eyes starting to glaze over with lust again.

His eyes darkened slightly, “I can feel your heartbeat baby… you’re insatiable…” he smiled, starting to kiss over the budding bruises he’d left behind. 

You sat up all the way, looking up at Vinnie for the first time tonight. You placed a kiss on each of his hips. His fingers found their way into your hair, tugging your roots to tilt your head back.

“You’re so beautiful…” he said, his words thick with desire. “How do you want it?” he whispered, his free hand going to cradle your cheek.  

You stood up, taking his hands and pushing him down onto the nearby couch. “Take those off…” you said, pointing at his sweatpants.

He obeyed, liking how you dominate him with your newfound confidence. He slipped his tank top off as well, figuring it would come off at some point anyways. He was stunning, like a Renaissance painting come to life.

“I love you…” you said, straddling his lap. “I love you…” you said again as you spit on the head of his cock. “I love you…” you moaned as you took him until you were completely flush against Vinnies lap.

His breathing stuttered, his hands flying to your hips. Gripping so hard you were sure there would be bruises in the morning. You didn’t mind, you enjoyed being marked as his. 

You started rocking against him, letting out little pants as the pleasure you felt started to spread from in between your legs to the rest of your body. Vinnie slowly guided your hips to match the pace you had set. 

“All mine…” he moaned, moving one hand to massage your tit before he leaned forward and attached his lips to your perked nipple.

You threw your head back in pleasure, you could feel your erratic heartbeat in your ears. Your body was overwhelmed with him in the most delicious way. You felt his fingers on your clit and instantly started writhing on top of him.

He started bucking his hips, fucking you senseless. Your eyes rolled back as you gasped for air. Finally coming apart on his hand, his cock. You kept riding him, wanting to feel him cum inside you.

With one final thrust he came apart, leaning his forehead against your chest trying to catch his breath. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling his head back so you could kiss him softly as you slumped against him. The afterglow relaxes your body into his. His muscles against your soft body felt glorious. 

“You’re always such a good girl for me…” he said, hugging your waist to keep you close to him and cock inside you.

You sighed, getting off him after a few moments. You slipped your pair of baggy sweatpants on and tossed your hoodie to the floor. 

“I always have loved this look on you.” he said in a honeyed tone, his eyes glazed over with satisfaction.

You smiled, tossing him his boxers. You straddled his lap once more, “Wanna watch a movie?” you asked, kissing his cheeks, his forehead and chin, the corners of his lips, before planting a gentle kiss to his lips which he deepend, putting his hand to your neck to pull you in slightly. 

“We can fuck again in a bit yeah?” he smiled at you.

You bit your lip, nodding slightly. Your cheeks felt warm as you admitted how much you wanted him. 

He kissed you once more - you couldn’t get enough of him, you were insatiable. 

And he lived to serve you, to love you.

-------------------------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Not gonna lie, this EATS. I am super cooked up right now so obviously I had to write some filthy shit. I hope ya'll are well. Sorry for the mini hiatus work is stressful and depression is a real bitch. I'll do my best to get back at writing on my free time, I just feel exhausted a lot :( any ways - TTYLXOX XOXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!!!!

[ranmarruuu]

The jealous and the liar

leo x mc hc

Trigger warning: grammatical and typographical errors.

Haxs

Hmm. No, I don’t hear them here. But I’m sure I saw them walking this way… tsk! That himbo really doesn’t want me to get involved, huh?

It’s just a matter of—

Leo furrowed his brows as he heard a muffled sound. He thought it was Alan and Tohma, but as he followed the source of the sound, he heard a female voice that was too familiar to miss.

Tsk, so it’s just honor roll.

As he was about to turn away, he heard another voice.

“W…was it your first kiss?”

?!

That voice just now, it belongs to that washed-up star… doesn’t it?

“Huh? Ah… I— yes.”

Tsk!

So they really kissed?! That honor roll, of all people you’re going to kiss, and you did it with that good-for-nothing national treasure wannabe!

Leo clicked his tongue, grabbed his phone, and searched for Honor Roll’s inbox, messaging her, “Hey, Honor Roll.”

Her phone made a sound, a sound Leo knew very well. After all, he’s the one who customized her ringtones for general notifications, messages, calls, and even her phone’s alarm system.

“Your phone…”

“Oh— ah, Leo messaged me.”

“Aren’t you going to respond? It must be important.”

“I’ll respond later. Leo would call me if it’s an urgent matter.”

“Oh… he must—

Did she just ignore me?

Leo gritted his teeth and dialed her number, which she accepted.

“Where are you?”

“Huh?”

“I said, where are you?”

“I’m… why? Is there an emergency? What can I help you with?”

“Can you just say where you are and who you are with?”

MC paused for a moment before responding.

“I’m on my way to Clementia dorm. Why?”

“Are you walking alone?”

“Yes… well, actually I’m wi—

He cut the call immediately and stomped away.

Liar

It’s been days since Leo’s been in a foul mood, and Sho knows better than to provoke him. Plus, other than his short temper, he’s been awfully quiet, which is better than it is bad. This version of him is less annoying than his usual self, and Alan couldn’t agree more. So both of them just let him be.

Another day had passed, and MC just got back from a mission with Hotarubi. She went straight to The Pit looking for Leo. Alan told her he was in his room and suggested she should just come back the next day since it was already late.

But since she’ll have to teach Lyca tomorrow, she insisted on seeing the man.

.

Leo heard familiar footsteps coming from outside, stopping in front of his door. But before she could even knock, he opened his door.

“What?” He looked at her, remembering that night. “Are you done playing house with that little kabuki prince?”

“What—

“What are you doing here?”

“I… you called me a few days ago, and I haven’t had the chance to ask you what it was for since… you ended it so abruptly…”

“It’s nothing. There. Are we done?”

“Why does it feel like I have done something wrong?”

“Oho? If you feel that way, care to think about what you might have done wrong?”

“So, I did something wrong?”

“Tsk. It’s getting late; I’m sleeping.” Leo turned away and left MC and the door open. “Close the door for me, will you? Goodnight”

MC watched him as he got on his bed. Psh.

“You know what? I’m not leaving here unless you tell me what’s wrong.” She entered his room and closed the door.

“Suit yourself then.”

“What is wrong with you?! I don’t understand why you’re acting like I’ve done something wrong yet refuse to tell me what it is. You’re so frustrating!”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

“No, you’re not sleeping. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong,” she said firmly, crossing her arms and watching Leo as he sat up.

“I’m trying to sleep. If you want to disturb someone, go and visit that washed-up star.”

“You…

“Tsk, it’s inappropriate to go to another man’s room, you know? The last thing I want to get involved in is infidelity.”

“What—

“Rumors spread like wildfires, you know? I wouldn’t want that lame Hotarubi captain coming after me first thing in the morning.”

“Wait… you talk as if I’m in a relationship with Subaru—

“Weren’t you, though? You two even kissed.”

“It was accidental! And how did you“—

“Never mind… I’m tired. Honor Roll, can you please just turn off the lights for me?”

“So you were there! But you called… me… when I told you I was alone; is that the reason why you’re angry at me?”

“Tsk! I’m not angry, okay? Plus, why should I be? Honor Roll, your head is getting bigger thinking that I liked you—

“So you like me…? you’re jealous of Subaru, and that’s what all this is about.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, NPC.”

“Then why don’t you look at me right now and listen to me?”

“If you’re not turning the lights off, just say so. Tch.” Leo got up on his feet and walked toward the door where the light switch was placed.

Click

“Subaru and I are just friends. He walked me back to the Clementia dorm that night, and I stumbled on something. When I was about to fall, he tried to help me, but I ended up pulling him with me, and we accidentally kissed. Then you called…”

“And then you lied.”

“But I didn’t mean to!”

Sigh.

“Plus, it was never even a real kiss… well at least in my perception of kiss.”

“Let’s end this useless conversation; I’m freaking sleepy. I haven’t slept for days. Can we call it a night and sleep?”

Clunk.

MC never knew he was this stubborn; all she managed to do was sigh in defeat.

And when she was about to walk out, she felt his hands on her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Out. To Clementia. To my bed. To sleep.”

“It’s not safe for you to walk at this hour. Sleep here.”

Where?

Leo gently guides her through the dark. As they reach the bathroom, he turns on its light.

“Wait, I’m going to get you something to wear.” He caressed her wrist and let go. She doesn’t know what to react to and what to think; all she just did was watch him disappear in the dark as she waited for him.

He may be harsh, especially in their first few months knowing each other, but she notices how slowly he becomes less demanding and harsh.

She has seen many sides of him already, but this is new. Never in her life had she thought of witnessing a jealous Leo. Lucky for him, she likes him, or else—

“Finally,” he said rather to himself when she came out of the bathroom. She thought he’d be sleeping already when she finished, but why is he still up? “Don’t just look at me there; come here and let’s sleep.”

“Where am I sleeping? ”

“Where do you think?” He sarcastically said before giving her space next to him, patting it. “Just get here.”

“You could’ve just said we’re sharing the bed, you know.” He intentionally ignored her words and turned his phone off, placing it on the bedside table.

And a moment later, he felt her settle next to him and slip under the blanket. He could smell his shampoo and soap in her, and it’s not helping him to sleep.

Minutes have passed, but for some reason they couldn't sleep. Both of them just stayed silent, and all Leo could hear was the abnormal rhythm of heartbeats. Whose did it belong to? His? or hers? he’s not sure of.

.

I don’t know what I’m thinking writing this lmao. It’s not proofread so bear with my writing.

[aspen78]

Chapter 5: How it all Byrnes

<<prev chp>>

-- Midnight City was an odd place. 

If you associate odd with cities plunged into eternal darkness induced by some weird magical dude--places lit up by neon lights rather than the sun, too stubborn to die but too malnourished to live--then yeah, odd was the right descriptor.

It used to be different.

That's what the old-timers said, anyway.

Back before the darkness set in. Before heroes started dying. Before the city stopped pretending it could be saved. 

No one could. Few tried. Fewer were still trying.  

--

A quiet buzz of electricity barged into the loud, loud scene of Midnight City… well, I guess the quote, unquote nicer outskirts of Midnight City.

But even on the outskirts, no one here wanted to be here. Especially not the one that phased in with the blue electricity.

A heavy huff filled the rain dense air.

Though, much like the weird blue flash of a teleportation beam and the scarred-face man who materialized from it, it blended into the city static. Weird things go unnoticed--ignored in weird cities.

And just like that, he stepped into the metropolitan traffic, falling in step with the steps of all other Midnight City dwellers--the Nocturnals. 

He wrinkled his nose at it all. 

Streetlights flickered overhead, casting sickly halos over the cracked sidewalk. Neon signs blinked half-heartedly in the distance. Somewhere, someone screamed. Somewhere else, a siren wailed, getting swallowed by the sprawling dark.

It smelled like wet concrete and the definition of bad out here.

All reasons he didn’t “visit” often.

Not that he needed to; it was in capable hands.

He didn’t look around.

Didn’t need to.

He only looked dead ahead at a particular black umbrella in the sea of its clones. Tracking its movements as it tried to get lost. 

He treaded faster after its owner, following her pace. Fast. Purposeful. Not running. Not hiding, either. 

It curbed the corner. So did he.

It zipped into an alley. So did he. 

He closed the distance slowly, methodically, until he was half a step behind it. Close enough to speak without raising his voice. Close enough that its owner couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard him.

"You're getting sloppy," Cecil said, his voice cutting through the static of the city like a clean knife.

The black umbrella finally stilled with an annoyed sigh. 

“Says you,” (Y/n) shot back with a scoff. 

Moving under the shelter of a fire escape, she cleanly pulled the umbrella shut. “Saw you beam in. You really thought I’d walk into an alley in this city for no reason?”

Cecil walked into place next to her. “I meant letting yourself be found.”

She snorted, “Wow. Congrats. You found Midnight’s favorite photo op. You want an award or something?” She glanced at him. “You found me because I let you.”

"You always were sharp," he said, his voice carrying that dry, clipped tone that--for him--could be catergorized as amused. "Sharp enough to know I don’t make social calls."

Her eyes narrowed at him. “What, Stedman?” she asked, but it came out more as a demand.

"You’re needed."

A beat. 

Two breaths.

One from the non-Nocturnal adjusting to the cold. The other from the Nocturnal calculating risk.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, mist ghosting from her mouth. "By who?" she asked, slowly. "For what?"

Cecil smiled a grim, knowing smile.

The kind that promised nothing good.

"You’ll want to hear this one," he said. "And you’ll want to say no."

He tucked his hands into his pockets, like he had all the time in the world.

"But you won't."

(Y/n) watched him, unimpressed.

Midnight City had a way of breeding out curiosity. It left behind cynicism, and a bone-deep suspicion that anything "important" was probably a death sentence with a nicer jacket.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Her fingers flexed slightly at her sides--like she was debating just fleeing right then and there. Cecil caught the movement, the calculation behind her stillness. He didn't push. He never did--not with her. He just waited, like a man watching dominoes he’d already knocked over.

“Talk fast, I have a board meeting,” she spat out. “And I’m already regretting letting you catch up.” 

He didn’t flinch at the jab. Just kept watching her unsettling calm and snark.

“It’s the new Guardians’ move-in day,” he said. “I didn’t see you at try-outs, but you could still make the team.”

(Y/n)’s expression didn’t change, but something in her jaw clicked. A barely-there twitch.

She stared at him like he’d just offered her a lit match and a room full of gasoline.

Then she laughed. Not a true one. One more so reserved for horrible jokes.

“Right,” she said, dry as sand. “I hope you didn’t crawl into this shithole for that pitch. Waste of tax money, Stedman.”

The scarred man glared at her with his mouth pressed into a thin line.

That made her laugh again--shorter this time. Meaner. “Jesus. You did.”

(Y/n) tipped her head back against the brick, eyes closed for a half-second longer than necessary. She looked exhausted. Not in the physical way. In the soul-deep kind of way. Like someone who kept waking up in a life they didn’t ask for.

She sighed and then pushed off from the brick wall, shaking her head like the whole conversation was a bad punchline she’d already heard too many times. 

“Appreciate the laugh, Stedman,” she scoffed as she stepped out from under the fire escape. 

She didn’t get far. Just a few steps into feeling droplets of rain hit the top of her head before he spoke.

“You’re not actually laughing, Byrnes,” Cecil sighed in return.

(Y/n) slowed--but didn’t stop.  

“Yeah,” she called back, not turning. “I do that sometimes. Makes it easier to stomach the truly dumb shit I’ve witnessed rolled out like it’s genius.”

“This isn’t dumb shit,” he said, flat but steady. “And you know it.”

She paused. Boots scraped to a halt on the wet pavement. Shoulders squared, back still to him. The kind of pause that wasn’t surrender, just... restraint. Barely.

“Doesn’t mean I want to be part of it.”

“I do not fit in a team,” she stressed out every syllable. “And me? A Guardian? Even more fucking hilarious.” 

She glared back at him with eyes that didn’t blink anymore, not after everything. “In case you forgot, Stedman? You’re asking me to be part of the Guardians of the Globe. Emphasis on ‘the Globe.’ I have no powers. I can’t fly around saving continents. I can’t punch holes in dimensions. I’m not even fucking bulletproof.”

“And I am not going to be your Darkwing replacement, Stedman.” (Y/n) stepped closer, just half a step, but it was enough to make her presence press into the space between them like a weight. “He was smart, but not smart enough to see how stupid it was to play superhero with actual superheroes.”

Cecil didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

He just looked at her with that same dispassionate calm he wore to the Guardian’s crime scene, funeral, and replacement tryouts.

“He wasn’t stupid. He was necessary,” Cecil said simply. “So are you.”

His gaze didn’t change.

“You’re right. You’re not bulletproof. You’re not faster than light. You can’t fly.”

A beat.

“But you’re still standing.”

He dropped his hand with a low sigh, like he was tired of saying the same things to people who should already know better.

"You think I’m here offering you a gold star and a locker room pep talk?" he said.

"Grow up, Byrnes."

(Y/n) stiffened, just barely.

"You’re not here to be the heavy hitter. Or the mascot. Or the damn symbol," he continued, voice cold, measured. "You're here because the big ones--the ones who can punch planets--don’t know what to do when the punches don’t work."

He stepped forward now, matching her half-step with one of his own, until the rain-drenched alley felt a little too small for the two of them.

"You know what it’s like when powers don't save you. You know how to think small. How to think dirty. How to survive when surviving looks like losing."

Cecil let the words hang there--like that was enough. Like that was the pitch.

(Y/n)’s expression didn’t crack, but her silence did.

She took a slow step forward, just enough to make her voice feel closer than it was. “Is that what this is to you?” she asked, tone tight. “Some poetic tragedy you can use to fill another team roster?”

Cecil didn’t answer.

So she gave him one anyway.

"You want me to lead them because I’ve seen the worst. Because I know what happened." Her voice was quiet now, but shaking--not with fear. With fury held under her skin like pressure behind glass.

She took a breath, sharp through her nose.

“You say I know what it’s like when powers don’t save people?” She shook her head, bitter. “You don’t get to say that to me. Not you.”

Cecil’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

(Y/n) kept going, her voice rising like something clawing its way out.

“Because where the hell were you when they needed saving? Where the hell were you when he was crushed?”

She glowered at him as if the words ‘fuck’ and ‘you’ weren’t enough. “You talk big game for someone who couldn’t save any of them.”

Cecil’s jaw twitched. The first real crack in his composure all night.

For a heartbeat, he just stared at her--like he was weighing whether it was even worth answering.

Then, quietly, in that voice meant for graveside conversations and closed casket briefings, he said, "I know."

No defense. No excuses.

Just the truth, laid out in the wet, ugly dark

"You don't want the job? Fine." He shrugged, careless as a man throwing a match on an already-burning house. "Walk away. Go back to fighting junkies and thugs in the gutters until one of 'em gets lucky."

A pause. The rain filled the cracks.

"But if you’re half the stubborn little shit I think you are, you’ll show up when it matters. Whether you like it or not."

She shook her head, a short, vicious thing.

"You think I'm some fallback option?" she said, voice sharpening. "Some charity case you can guilt into babysitting the next batch of corpses?"

“You think whatever you want," he said finally, low and even. "It doesn’t change what’s coming."

(Y/n) opened her mouth--to argue, to tear him apart--but something in his tone made her hesitate. Not a threat. Not a plea. 

Just fact.

The kind of truth you couldn’t punch or out-think or outrun.

“What’s coming?” she asked, and it was less a question than a challenge. A challenge to finally say it out loud.

Cecil’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smile, if the world on the line.

“You know,” he said, squinting at her for any glint of actually knowing.

(Y/n) stared at him, her knuckles turned white around her briefcase handle.

And for a second--a real second--something in her expression cracked.

Not much. Not enough that anyone else would’ve noticed.

But Cecil did. He saw the flicker of recognition. Of fear. Of memory.

Because she did know.

He let out the deep breath he’d been holding since he touched the streets of this grimy city.

“The new Guardians--they’re good, but most of them are still kids. They think powers and potential are enough. I came to you because you’re the only one with experience this close to the edge.”

"You know what it looks like when the world doesn’t get saved," Cecil added, voice lowering like he was speaking an ugly truth they both already carried. "You know what it looks like when gods bleed."

Her mouth fell into a line so thin it barely existed.

"They’ll follow you," he said, taking a step closer, keeping his voice even. "Even if they don't know it yet. They’ll need you."

(Y/n) shook her head, a tight, almost imperceptible movement. “No. They’ll resent me.”

A mirthless chuckle scraped out of her throat. “Or worse. They'll pity me.”

She stared at him like she could will him into breaking first. Into backing off. Into realizing how stupid, how cruel, this was--to ask her to crawl out of the wreckage and be a shield.

Cecil didn't waver.

He absorbed her glare like a wall--unyielding, unfeeling, permanent.

“Let them,” he shrugged again, unbothered. “Doesn’t change what they’ll need when it all goes sideways.”

She breathed out slow through her nose, a rain droplet tracking every exhausted line of her face.

“This isn’t a recruitment speech, Stedman. This is a death sentence dressed up in cheap patriotism. This is a convoluted set up that ends with me as red paste.”

Her hands clenched uselessly at her sides, itching to hit something, anything, even him.

But she didn’t.

She knew he was right.

That was the worst part.

She was the leftover. The proof you didn’t need powers to still be a weapon. The proof that surviving took a hell of a lot more than amped up DNA.

(Y/n) turned away from him, raking a hand through her damp hair and gripping the back of her neck like she could physically hold herself together.

The city's endless buzz filled the space between them. Neon signs bleeding in puddles. Tires splashing through streets that hadn't been truly clean in years.

She could walk away. She could easily evade Cecil. She could just continue on like she always had. She could go to that meeting that had already started. She could.

But she was a stubborn little shit.

Then, with a quick, sharp flick of her wrist, she reopened the black umbrella and started back toward the current of the city without another word. 

“Are you in?” his dry voice echoed in the rainy alley.

(Y/n) set her jaw, felt the crackle of tension in her spine, the sharp, electric edge of a decision being made whether she wanted it to be or not. But she didn’t stop.

She didn’t look at him.

But her voice carried back, clean and hard.

“No.”

Her answer rang out as Cecil widened his eyes, holding himself back from teleporting her with him to the HQ anyway.

“But I’ll meet them.” She looked back with bored eyes. “They need to at least meet their contingency plan.”

Cecil huffed once through his nose, almost a laugh, almost relief. But the tension around his shoulders loosened just enough to tell her he was satisfied.

Before she stepped back into the Nocturnal stream, she flickered back into the one they knew. Not the little asshole mouthing off at him. Not the one he needed for the new kids. The Byrnes one.

Posture corrected. Coat collar readjusted. Small, charming smile plastered. Eyes glinted. 

The version trained to be untouchable. To captivate.

To fool.

“I need two minutes to cancel the meeting and grab some things at the pharmacy,” she sighed back at him as if he was doing her a disservice… he was. 

“Two minutes,” he said, voice dry, unimpressed. “I’m timing you.”

(Y/n) flashed him a grin that didn’t touch her eyes. It was the kind of grin that belonged in boardrooms and funeral parlors--polished, professional, a little predatory.

She tossed a different kind of bird over her shoulder as she slipped back into the crowd. He tugged the collar of his coat up against the rain, muttering something half-formed under his breath--something that sounded suspiciously like "goddamn kids"--and finally tapped the device at his wrist.

--

“Welcome to our new digs, baby.”

Wanna take a guess at who said that?

Six figures walked off the cat walk onto the central stage. Like new acts following the old acts. The new Guardians replacing old Guardians.

Whispers of awe and wonder filled the once gruesome scene.

A familiar blip of blue light brought Cecil, and thus, the Midnight City rain to--well--rain on their parade.

“Pick up your jaws,” their technical boss zapped in with. “You’re not tourists. This isn’t a holy site.”

“This is your job,” he practically stomped up to Robot, prodding a finger at his metal plates. “The sooner you get up to speed, the sooner people stop dying.”

“Hey, Cecil,” Rex butted in. He took a few bold, naive steps toward the two and then pointed past them. “Uh… you missed a spot?

Cecil turned, already unamused.

And then he glanced what Rex was pointing at. Everyone did.

It was the blotch of Guardian HQ. 

A red stain. 

Dark, dried, and still not washed away. Where it streaked above the floor their predecessors fell on. Where the silence had been loudest.

No one spoke.

Even Rex, mouth usually faster than his brain, kept it shut.

The stain wasn’t just red. It was memory. It was weight. It was proof.

Monster Girl's gaze hardened. Robot’s optics adjusted minutely--like he was analyzing it, cataloguing the remnants. Dupli-Kate looked away. Black Samson stiffened. Even Shrinking Rae stepped back, like the floor had grown teeth.

“Left that one there as a reminder.” Cecil’s voice cut through the stillness. Sharp. Final. “When you prove yourselves worthy of the heroes who came before you, it’ll get cleaned off.”

His steely eyes scrutinized the new team in front of him. “Until then, stare at it whenever you think you’re hot shit.”

No one responded.

Not immediately. 

The stain glared up at them like an open wound that hadn’t stopped bleeding--just dried into something uglier. Something permanent.

They all felt it.

Guilt, maybe. Pressure, definitely. 

Only until another blip interrupted their pity party.

This one softer. Quieter.

A second blue flash near the perimeter of the room--far from the stain.

She appeared in its wake.

Briefcase in hand. Coat drawn closed. Hair down, rain-slicked. Cheap sunglasses shielding half-lidded eyes. Black mask obscuring the rest of who she was. Dressed not like a vigilante, not like the heir to an empire--but like someone who’d just stepped out of the rain and still hadn’t dried off.

Cecil didn’t turn to greet her. He didn’t have to.

The team clocked her at once. She stepped forward slowly, like she was already regretting every step she took.

The almost nonexistent squeak of her wet boots against the polished floor echoed louder than it should have in a space this size. She didn’t try to fill the silence. She didn’t need to.

“Took you longer than two minutes.”

A huff of bored humor muffled under the mask. “Didn’t want to rush your pep talk.”

She stopped just short of the bloodstain, gaze sweeping over the six fresh faces assembled at the center of the stage. No introduction. No name tag.

They looked back, expressions ranging from wary curiosity to thinly veiled judgement. A couple exchanged glances, clearly unsure of who she was--or why someone who didn’t wear spandex, metal, or insignias just strolled into their HQ like a funeral had called.

One loud, boisterous voice cut into this staring contest. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

Her head tilted slightly at the question, like she was considering how much effort the answer was worth.

Then, with a lazy drag of her fingers, she pulled off the sunglasses and tangled it into her hair. The black mask stayed on.

Rex--predictably--sized her up the way guys like him always did when they met someone they couldn't immediately categorize.

“I saved your ass twice now, you would think that would get me recognition,” she replied, voice low behind the mask. 

Rex blinked, thrown off just enough to be dangerous. “Wait, you’re-”

He squinted, pointing. “Murderbird?”

A pause. Just long enough for everyone to feel it. Followed by a “You’re a girl?”

She slowly blinked at the sheer awkwardness from that ask. “You’re observant. That must be exhausting.” (Y/n) shot back, sweet and short.

Monster Girl let out a sharp breath, like a laugh, if a laugh could sound like a slap.

Rex bristled, but covered it with a smirk. “How was I supposed to know you look like this when you looked like that?”

A brow angled up. “You weren’t. That was kind of the point.”

Monster Girl stepped forward slightly, arms crossed. She studied (Y/n) with a mix of curiosity and approval, her tone level but sharp. “You always this charming, or just when you’re masked up?”

(Y/n) tilted her head again, just slightly. The gesture was birdlike--intentional. The mask gave nothing, but her tone? Her tone smiled.

“Depends. Are you always this suspicious, or just when someone isn’t trying to impress you?”

The younger-looking girl paused and then a smile grew on her face. “I’m Amanda.”

(Y/n) gave a small nod--acknowledgment, not friendliness. “Vireo. Or, if you ask Stedman--your contingency plan.”

“And you’re… with us?” Kate asked.

The word “with” didn’t quite fit.

“I’m not with you,” (Y/n) said carefully. “I’m near you. For now. Until someone does something stupid.”

Robot finally spoke, his voice crisp, objective. “Cecil has authorized a shadow adjunct to observe and evaluate team protocol. You will treat her presence as operational necessity, not personal intrigue.”

Kate tilted her head toward Robot. “So she’s, what, auditing us?”

“Correct. Her assignment is strictly observational. Input limited to intervention during protocol failure or immediate risk of team compromise,” he explained in place of her.

Rex crossed his arms, huffing. “That’s just government-speak for watching us fuck up.”

“Yeah, because the last time half of you got near a battlefield, someone had to pull your dumbasses out of the rubble,” Cecil countered, rolling his eyes. “You don’t need to like her. But you’ll listen to her.”

(Y/n) looked back at the red behind her. “And it’s because you will fuck up.”

Black Samson, standing off to the side with his arms folded, frowned slightly.

“You really are Darkwing’s kid,” he scorned. “Are you even cleared for combat?”

“No,” she shrugged as if you’re asking if that’s supposed to stop her. “But I’m better at it than most people who are.”

It wasn’t bravado. It was just fact.

The kind of fact that made half the team uncomfortable.

The kind of fact that made the other half more derisive.

Samson's frown deepened, but he didn’t press. Not yet.

“Let’s get something straight,” she continued. “I’m not here to be one of you. I’m not even here because I want to be. I’m here so you know who to call when shit hits the fan. Because you’re not here because you’re ready. You’re here because there’s no one left.”

Her gaze swept over them again, clinical now. The kind of look people only gave to situations they’d already solved in their heads. She didn’t see potential.

She saw future liabilities.

“You want to make this work? Fine. You want to be heroes? Sure. Just understand, you weren’t chosen. You were available.”

That one landed. You could see it. A slow ripple through the group--subtle straightening of spines, barely-there flinches behind practiced faces. Truth rarely hit like thunder in rooms like this.

It settled in like cold.

Only Robot broke the silence. “Efficiency increases when clarity is present. Consider her remarks motivational.”

“Great,” Rex mumbled, dripping with sarcasm. “So our motivational speaker’s a nihilist in a trench coat. Loooove that for us.”

(Y/n) didn’t even look at him. “Better a nihilist than a narcissist who keeps a body count.”

Rex’s smirk faltered just slightly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Amanda snickered as Rae muttered something under her breath that might have been “Damn.”

Rex rolled his shoulders like he was trying to shrug the sting off, but the silence afterward said enough. He wasn’t used to losing the verbal high ground--and definitely not to someone who hadn’t even given her real name--or face yet.

A series of quiet beeps sounded out in the comm in her ear. She side eyed the man who brought her here in the first place as if asking if this was enough.

Cecil gave a miniscule nod, and then finally stepped forward. “All right, enough meet-and-greet. We both have a thing. Settle in. We’ll talk later.”

And, just like that? The two fizzled out of the room in the same blue glow that brought them there. 

The room held its breath for a few seconds after the light blinked out.

Then someone finally exhaled.

Rex blew out a low breath. “So... we’re all just okay with her lurking in the shadows now?”

Amanda bounced her shoulders in dismissal. “Better to have her in the shadows with us than waiting outside them.”

Rae joined up, resting her arm around smaller girl’s shoulders with a small smirk. “Speak for yourself. I kinda like knowing there's a murderbird out there at all times.”

“She is a contingency asset,” Robot restated. “And statistically, the highest performing unregistered combatant from the last three urban-level threats.”

Rex gaped at all of them, but mostly the bot. “That’s not comforting, Robot. That’s like saying the fire extinguisher has better aim than we do.”

The chatter carried on, but Samson wasn’t listening anymore.

He stared at the stain.

Old blood dried into metal. Still shaped like failure. 

They were talking about Vireo like she was just another wildcard in the deck.

Like she hadn’t been trained by the only man in the last generation who knew how to fight gods without being one.

He knew Darkwing. He knew how he thought. He knew how he was.

She was there to make sure they don’t become a sequel. 

--

Blue light sparked off dry pavement and bounced between the houses of a quiet, cookie-cutter neighborhood.

Cecil and (Y/n) stepped out of the beam in silence.

The buzz faded, leaving only the faint hum of suburban air--sprinklers, cicadas, someone’s TV two doors down. The kind of place that hid cracks beneath flower beds and picket fences. Too normal to trust. 

(Y/n) pushed her sunglasses back on. The rain from Midnight City still clung to her coat. It didn’t belong here. Neither did she.

“Um, excuse me,” she groaned at the lack of familiarity of their surroundings. “What the fuck?”

Cecil adjusted his collar, glancing at the front door across the street. “I have business here.”

She rolled her shoulders like the teleport hadn't quite settled in her bones. Or maybe the ache wasn’t from the travel.

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” 

Cecil didn’t answer right away. He just started walking--calm, casual, like this wasn’t the kind of street that got taped off after something broke through a window in the middle of the night.

(Y/n) didn’t follow.

Not yet.

“Yes, you do.” 

She shot him a look from behind her sunglasses, mouth twitching with something half between a scoff and suspicion.

“You're not my handler. Or my father. So what exactly am I doing here?”

Cecil finally turned to look at her. “Seems like our favorite newbie took the night off. And I need to talk to his dad.”

He paused. Her eyes squinted at him as if trying to squeeze his next words out of him.

“So I need someone to take care of the alert I know you got.”

(Y/n)’s jaw tensed behind the mask. She didn’t look at her wrist, but the soft pulse of red blinking against her sleeve was answer enough. She did drag a frustrated hand across her covered face.

“Of course he took the night off. What seventeen year old hero wouldn’t.” She snorted, and then deadpanned with a hidden look at her non-boss. “Oh, wait. I know one.”

Cecil didn’t rise to the bait. He never did. Just gave her that tired, unreadable glance--the kind that said yes, and you’re still going to do it.

“You know the area. Handle the perimeter. Something’s setting off the motion grids near the city center. Could be nothing. Could be worse. Either way, you’ll get there faster than I will.”

She stared down the street like she had been trapped in a Wes Anderson movie. The porch lights. The welcome mats. The plastic flamingos that hadn’t been ironic in decades. 

“What? Because I run at light-speed now?”

He hit back with a “Because I’m about to sit down with a man who can kill a planet, and I’d like to be on time.”

(Y/n)’s smirk dropped, her mouth twisting into something closer to a grimace. Her voice lowered. “You’re really going to talk to him?”

Cecil finally stopped walking and looked back over his shoulder.

“He asked for me.”

“That usually ends well.”

Cecil gave a faint grunt--neither agreement nor denial. Just acknowledgment. He adjusted his coat and turned again, this time with the full intent of leaving her behind.

“You’re exhausting…” she groaned under her breath. “Don’t say I didn’t show up.”

(Y/n) peeled off in the opposite direction, muttering a curse under her breath as she disappeared down the sidewalk like a bad idea sneaking out past curfew.

She didn’t go far. Just far enough.

A forgotten sliver of park behind a crumbling community center caught her eye--dark, empty, overgrown enough to feel honest. She slipped through the broken gate and vanished into the overgrown shade.

Kneeling in the hollow between a rusted swing set and a half-dead tree, she unclipped her briefcase with a soft click. The shadows swallowed her like an old habit. She shrugged off her coat and the cheap pharmacy disguise she pulled on because suiting up for the guardians was pointless.

“If this is another Flaxan blip, I’m going to lose my shit.”

--

Crowds hummed beneath swaying string lights and food truck music. Neon signs reflected off wet pavement. The air buzzed with laughter, spilled beer, and the sound of someone aggressively trying to win a plush with a claw machine. It was almost peaceful.

Just a few streets away, something else buzzed.

Something wrong.

Mark Grayson walked beside Amber Bennett, smiling more than he had in days. She was teasing him about his complete inability to choose between dumplings and tacos, and he was losing the argument gracefully. 

“You’re the worst kind of indecisive,” Amber laughed. “It’s food. You eat both.”

“Hey! I just don’t want to regret not committing, okay? That’s maturity.” He grinned in response, just slightly too wide. A little too aware of himself.

He was trying.

It was going well. Really well.

Until the lights flickered.

And one of the generators behind a dumpling stand exploded with a violent yellow snap, throwing sparks across the market. A couple screamed. The crowd rippled, then scattered.

Amber turned, eyes wide. “What the hell was that?!”

“I-uh-I don’t know. Probably just a-uh, power thing?”

She gave him a really? kind of look.

Another bright pulse snapped across the alley, shattering a transformer box with a concussive crack. Streetlights went out one by one like dominos.

The air warped--charged with static.

And then came the voice.

It didn’t come from a speaker. Not from the panicked vendors or the disoriented crowd.

It came from everywhere. And nowhere.

Low. Mechanical. Filtered through something that didn’t quite sound human.

“Clever trick, but that doesn’t change anything stupid American.”

Kursk.

Not subtle. 

Not smart. 

But charged up like a walking generator with a grudge.

Mark’s eyes darted around, searching for whoever the electric thug was talking to.

Amber pulled Mark back to earth with a grab of his arm. “We should go. Now.”

He hesitated--already looking for somewhere to change, to switch to the other him. 

He didn’t get the chance.

Because before he could move, someone else did.

A smoke bomb was thrown down from beyond the chaos. And a blur moved through the smog. A glint of dark metal. A cape, maybe--no, wings. Something feather-like. Something fast.

Vireo started herding stray civilians out of harm’s way under the cover of the temporary gray. She didn’t answer him. She just moved. 

Mark blinked into the fog, trying to track the blur that cut through the crowd with surgical efficiency.

Amber pulled at his arm again, harder this time. “Mark. Seriously. We need to go.”

He nodded, mouth open to make some excuse--any excuse--but the ground shook before he could.

His gaze flickered back to see Vireo duck under the wild arcs of electricity Kursk flung toward her. The smoke had dissipated now--enough to for Kursk and Mark to see her now. 

Another crackling bolt shot across the scene--louder, brighter. It hit a food truck sign and sent the metal fixture spinning into the street like a flaming pinwheel.

A flaming pinwheel headed right toward Amber. 

Mark moved to intercept--but Vireo beat him to it. 

She caught the edge of the falling sign with her longsword, redirected it mid-air with a shower of sparks, and landed in a crouch as the metal skidded harmlessly into a recycling bin.

Someone watching gasped. Amber did too.

“Who the hell is that?” she whispered, almost shell-shocked.

As her cape finally caught up to her split-second movement, Vireo let out a breath and a curse, low under the mask. She dropped her sword tip to the pavement for a second, letting the tech core in the hilt flicker as it cooled down. Steam hissed off the metal. Her knees flexed like she was weighing the next move before she’d even finished the last one.

Her eyes glared back up behind dark lenses, hearing the human lightning bolt cut through the chaos with a voice drenched in static. 

“Coward. You hide behind smoke and swords like dumb magician.”

He stormed forward, electricity building on his arms in pulsing white lines. “You think only you who knows tricks? See how many volts to fry bird.”

Vireo rose smoothly, sword recharged, mask angled toward him with something unreadable. Unflinching.

“Try it.”

She moved. 

The fight was a blur of light and dark. 

Vireo darted low as Kursk flung two more arcs of wild current. One hit a lamppost, which sparked and burst. The other she absorbed through her kinetic barrier--now glowing faintly around her frame in a pulse of green and yellow. 

With him still looking at the place she was, she popped up behind him. Just enough time to press a device to the base of his neck. 

Then, she backed away. Fast.

It beeped.

“What did you-?” Kursk hissed. 

The device popped, discharging an altered, short-range EMP right into his system.

Anything remotely electric in the vicinity died instantly. Just like his violent yellow glow. 

Kursk groaned and hit the pavement hard, limbs twitching from the shock. His head thudded against concrete. He was still breathing. Still alive.

But not getting back up anytime soon.

Vireo heaved the breaths she was holding back through the entire exchange. She stumbled a few more steps back before kneeling on the ground. 

Each inhale rasped against the mask filter, fogging her lenses for a second. The sound emitting becoming less and less robotic. The faint green-yellow glow around her frame flickered. Then died.

Because her suit ran on electricity too.

She sank onto her back, lying on the pavement to stare at the sky. Her fingers hovered over the failsafe switch on her belt, already prepping for a manual reboot. She didn’t press it yet. Not until she had to.

Her unaltered voice whispered into the air, “Dumb move. Should’ve recalibrated the charge field before flinging the EMP…”

She wiped a smear of something off her mask--ash, maybe. Or soot. Or blood. She wasn’t checking yet.

The voices were getting louder now. People were stepping closer again. Cell phones raised. Flashlights flickering in the dark. That low murmur of “who are they?” threading through the crowd like smoke.

She hated that part.

A pair of teenage girls whispered near the food truck.

“They just--took him down. Alone.”

“I thought they were a myth.”

She let her hand drop to her belt. Thumb brushed the manual override.

Three seconds. That’s all it would take.

One… two…

“Are you okay?”

A face--that was getting more and more familiar by the months--intruded on her stargazing. Her eyes snapped toward it behind the fogging visor.

He was kneeling beside her now, face pinched with worry, scanning her for injuries like he didn’t know if she bled under the armor. 

Then, a sharp jolt coursed through her suit--minor, expected. Like CPR for tech. The visor’s interface blinked twice, then steadied. The filter hissed back to life. 

Her limbs jerked slightly from the reboot.

His face grew more concerned seeing her twitch on the ground. And, she groaned, this time through the modulator. Mechanical again. 

Vireo’s head turned slightly, mask glinting under the broken light above. “I’m rebooting. Not dying. Relax.”

“Wha- what happened? It’s like you just killed his battery. And your’s,” he spluttered.

“EMP. Collateral damage. I knew what I was doing,” she sighed, slowly pushing herself back up. 

He moved to help, but she waved him off. 

“I’m fine,” Vireo dismissed any hint of his worry. She glanced behind him, seeing the girl he was with earlier. “Go back to your date.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Don’t make this a thing.” She straightened herself out and grabbed her sword off the ground. “Go before the questions start overflowing her pretty little head.”

Mark glanced over his shoulder. Amber was still half-hidden behind a market stall, wide-eyed, staring at both of them like they were pieces in a game she didn’t know she was playing.

When he looked back, Vireo was already stepping back toward the incapacitated villain, tossing another device onto his dim body.

“...You saved her,” Mark whispered before she fully left. “Thank you.”

Vireo paused. Just for a second. Pretending that she was just waiting for the field around Kursk to activate. 

The device beeped once. A soft hum vibrated off the concrete as the localized stasis field activated--locking Kursk’s twitching form in place like he’d been pinned under invisible ice.

But she didn’t move yet.

Didn’t look back.

She just shrugged. 

“She seems nice.”

--

<<next chp??

<3 -> @jiyeons-closet @heiankyonoeiyuukun

[cakerybakery]

Just an image idea I had of Adam falling from his death. Less a solid story and more the scenes in my mind.

-

As a fallen angel Adam still has his powers, just with a hellish twist.

He's a threat to Lucifer, even if Lucifer would easily win a fight, as Adam could destroy a lot in the meanwhile. It's easier to come to an understanding than to brawl.

Adam knows he's not getting back to heaven anytime soon, and he'd enjoy a little petty revenge, so he demands to live in the lap of luxury, tended to by Lucifer's clones.

Easily done.

Lucifer pops in from time to time, making sure his clones are doing a good job of keeping Adam busy and happy, hidden away in a long forgotten mountain castle.

After a few months, Adam seems to grow bored. Lucifer's clones are dressed up. Costumed in maid outfits, or like butlers, there's even a couple mock angelic versions of himself roaming around the grounds.

The gardens overgrow with plants and beasts for Adam to hunt. The flora creeping up onto the castle over time.

Lucifer started to notice something was different about his clones when he visited, but he's not sure what.

It's the crying out from the throne room that alerts Lucifer one visit. He throws up the doors to find Adam, lounging about like an Edenistic king in Lucifer's old throne, a version of himself riding Adam's cock doing the screaming as he cums.

That when Lucifer notices the other dozen or so clones naked and satisfied or eagerly waiting their turn on their wild king's cock, more so, Lucifer realizes the state of them, pregnant.

He burns, but even Lucifer isn't sure if it's from humiliation or jealousy. Still it sparks within him.

Of course none of his clones can actually get pregnant, but Adam chose to have them look that way. Just as he had them dress up, or let the ground run wild so he could hunt in it.

Adam remembers the first time he fucked one of Lucifer's clones. He'd been ordering them about at first.

Making them do stupid shit. Be his cup holder, his foot rest. He had them cooking and cleaning, he'd make a mess just to watch Lucifer have to clean it up. He grew comfortable with them seeing him naked as he bathed, slept, walked the grounds. They weren't real after all. They did as they were ordered and nothing more or less.

He grew bored of a dozen or so of identical Lucifer's. Their outfits changed based on their jobs. Or if they were entertaining him.

Adam had made himself at home on the throne. Watching tv until he was realized it was mostly porn. It was hot but uncomfortable. No matter how many times removed, sinners still came from his nuts and it was uncomfortable seeing them having the sex he desired to say the least. But he also couldn't get off on imagination alone.

Lucifer in a dress bent over and Adam had the maid stand there like that as he jerked himself off under the simple cloth he'd taken to wearing.

Two of his maids making out was pretty hot. Their lips and moans, the touching.

He wished they really talked instead of just parroting back things he made them say.

"Adam." Still sounded pretty good as a maid fingered her pussy.

He took that one to his bed. Left her in a pile on the bed, cum dripping from every hole. Then had his way with another. Adam was the first man. There was no limits on his turn around time.

Soon he was spending half his day in some clone's hole, cycling through fantasies he'd always had.

Currently, Adam was going through a phase of fucking his haram and having them fat with his children. Heaven should have given him a dozen of women like Lilith and Eve to be his. If it had been real, Adam might be enjoying it more.

Another of his toys cried out like he was a sex god and he was already growing bored of their fake orgasms.

Adam blinked at the light in the darkened plant covered room and the clone standing before him. It was still dressed like Lucifer. He must have missed one. Perhaps he sent it away to do a task and had just returned?

Whatever.

Didn't matter.

He'd fuck this one too.

"Come here."

He orders the clone and it looked, surprised?

Odd.

It comes as it's bided to anyway.

"Strip down."

The clone's face is bright and Adam wonders if he ordered this one to be shy. He'd done something like that months ago. Making them show different emotions or act a certain way to entertain himself.

Still the clone does as he's ordered and Adam is unsure about the cock jutted out from the clone. Definitely missed one. But that is something he hasn't done. Something new to help with the boredom.

He spreads his legs and orders the clone to prep him. Adam moans around the tongue inside him. He'd needed to do this more often.

Adam allows himself to be opened and the clone's cock to enter him.

"Fuck, that's nice." He moans. Adam had heard about how it could be good. Didn't think it would be this good though. He didn't need to touch his cock and he was leaking.

Without being told the clone picked up speed, fucking him until Adam was ready to burst on his own.

"Fuck, you're tight, Adam." The clone swore.

Adam had just enough time to connect the dots before Lucifer's cock tipped him over the edge and he came.

One by one the clones disappeared.

"If you wanted to fuck, Adam, you just had to ask." Lucifer laughed and he pulled out. Adam could feel the cum leaking out of him. "Maybe, I even would have let you knock me up."

Lucifer shoved his dick back into Adam and Adam cried out in pleasure, his cock ready to go again.

His legs were pressed to his chest and Lucifer leaned over him. "But since you seem to have such a fetish for it. This time, I'll be breeding you."

Adam whimpered as Lucifer's cock assaulted his ass in a swift pounding. His dick betraying how turned on he was for the idea.

"Breed me." He panted. "Make me your whore and breed me."

Anything was better than ultimately being trapped up in the cell of his choosing.

"You want to be mine?" Lucifer put all the magic he could into the spell forming inside of him.

"Yes." Adam might regret it tomorrow, but today it was exactly what he needed. "Forever."

His stomach burned a little and Adam hissed in pain. He could see the brand on his stomach, he was bent so much. The pentagram and Lucifer's sigil, the bit of heavenly writing he knew, and hadn't used in centuries failing him, but he could guess what it meant.

Adam dragged Lucifer to his bed, Lucifer's own old chambers.

Lucifer hardly recognized it.

Here too the plants had been allowed to overrun the room, the walls that Lucifer could see were covered by the skins of the beasts Adam had killed. The floor was lined with more soft hides. The round bed was the only thing left that Lucifer recognized. The gauzy drapes held open by branches of the plants and the light spells illuminating the bed as they stumbled in, hands still on each other.

It's hot seeing the brand on Adam's stomach, marking him as Lucifer's concubine and allowing for Adam to get pregnant and give birth.

Perhaps it had been hasty, but when Adam called him up to the throne, Lucifer wanted nothing more than to make that king his.

Lilith was gone and Lucifer still married, but there were no laws stopping him making Adam his. And if there were, he was king of hell, fuck the law.

Dawn and the bed broke before they did.

The light of day did nothing to change Adam's mind, and well Lucifer had stayed far longer than he planned, it pleased him greatly still to feel the flicker of life within Adam.

He returned more often and Adam had a new spark about him. Preferring still the wildness of the castle's overgrowth to neatness and order.

Lucifer could appreciate how Adam draped himself in cloth, pinned together by jewels, and furs of his kills. How he often found the man in that throne, tended to by clones now dressed as hedonistically as Adam was.

Sinking a hand into his clones hair, Lucifer pushed it's mouth all the way down on Adam's cock, then captured his concubine's lips with his own.

"How's my wild king today?"

Adam groped his ass and pushed the clone away in order to pull Lucifer into his lap.

"Heavy with our child and horny."

The child in question kicked and Lucifer took the clone's spot to please his kingly concubine. Tasting that heavy cock until he tasted Adam's cum.

Satisfied at last, Lucifer walked Adam around the grounds. A trail of hims following close behind. "I'll be gone longer this time."

"You'll miss the birth." They both knew Lucifer was likely to never make it to begin with.

"Yes."

Adam did not mind. He had no particular love for Lucifer. The child within him, though, that was his little flower in this new Eden of his. He already planned to birth many of Lucifer's seed.

Grow his wild kingdom more. His garden had recently started to spread out of the grounds. Within a few years the mountain would be his as well. A wild realm none could enter save his master.

He was looking forward to it.

Lucifer was indeed away when their daughter was born. Adam sent a clone to tell him and it would be another week still before Lucifer would look in on them.

The child was praised and he was asked if he was ready to be bred again.

"Be patient, king of hell. I yet bleed." Adam gestured to the stains upon his garments covering only his nethers. "Your clones make the work light, but so long as she drinks from my tits I'll be barren by choice."

Like all children the girl grew. Adam taught her to hunt and upon her second year she successfully strung her sire up as he walked into the castle. That night, Adam allowed Lucifer to bred him again.

The children clung to his robes when their sire visited once more. Adam was heavy with their third child.

"I have news." Lucifer smiled and patted Dahlia's head.

"Father." She greeted him with little affection in her voice. That she bothered to speak to him at all spoke of her reverence for the man. She was a quiet child, with little interest in things she deemed nonsense.

Callum reached for Lucifer from Adam's arms and was rewarded by being taken. He was the definition of nonsense and could not be more different from his stoic older sister. His every thought vocalized, Adam had hopes for the boy to take an interest music for he was already eager to entertain.

Taking Adam's arm, Lucifer lead them to one of the few rooms Adam kept the plants from overtaking, a seating room off the large foyer. Once used for guests, now just a room Adam used for entertaining his small master before the children went to sleep and he took Lucifer to bed.

"I'm managed to wrangle a divorce from Lilith."

Adam tilted his head, the earrings he'd given himself in boredom many years ago twinkling as the golden links and jewels touched.

He hadn't been aware that Lucifer was seeking a divorce from the queen of hell.

Interesting news for most, but not him.

"The position is open then?" Might as well entertain the man that filled his belly full of food and children.

Clones brought out tea and hors d'oeuvres, they sat and played games with the children as Lucifer and Adam lounged.

"If you desire it." Lucifer stirred far more sugar into his tea than Adam thought any one person should have.

Adam wasn't sure what Lucifer meant by that, and asked.

"If you wish to fill it, it is yours, if not," he shrugged, "then I'm not looking. After Charlie, Dahlia is next in line for my throne. I'd rather avoid having to explain to a second wife why I have a concubine hidden up in the mountains and why I have a child in line for the throne before any she bares for me."

"I'll think about it."

That night as Lucifer lay with him, and as he slept as well, Adam thought about it.

He thought about it still as his third babe drank from his tits a few months later.

"Would anyone know?" He at last asked as Lucifer visited once more. Shaking a rattle for the baby and gushing at her.

"Huh?" Lucifer asked, looking away from Wren.

"If I married you. Would anyone know?" Adam didn't want the attention, but securing his children's futures was appealing. They would grow beyond his mountain one day.

"Ah. No. Not if you don't desire it." Lucifer had no more particular affection for Adam than Adam did for him, but he did wish to spend more time with his children.

Charlie didn't need him much anymore. She was grown and had found her footing.

So if Adam had no interest in a public marriage, that was fine. Owning the wild king had lost its appeal as Lucifer's attentions shifted to their children. His once burning jealousy at his clones tempered by time.

"Then I'll take the job."

Adam donned his best cloth, swooping up and over one shoulder. The fur of the largest beast he'd slayed on his other, like a great cape. He ordained his ears with the finest of jewels from the treasury long forgotten by Lucifer.

Under the largest oak, they were wed.

Lucifer vowed to not hinder the wild king in his affairs and Adam vowed his loyalty.

The brand upon Adam stomach shift, no longer was he property of the king of hell, but an equal.

With little else to keep him in the main of hell, Lucifer moved to the mountain castle.

It was strange at first, to have a Lucifer around that wasn't a servant. The children were pleased to see him more than they had been.

Adam watched from the balcony above the foyer as his husband played with the older children, Wren still a babe on his tit.

Dahlia smiled and Adam was thrilled. Such a rare sight. It was turning out to be good for her to spend time with her sire.

Callum rode on Lucifer's shoulders howling with laughter as they raced from Dahlia's foam sword.

Even Wren seemed to perk up more when Lucifer was around, as though she could sense her sire nearby.

The children in bed that night, Adam purred into Lucifer's ear the first words of affection he'd ever said. "You've made the children happy being around."

He couldn't pretend it didn't spark his heart to see Lucifer being affectionate with the kids.

Adam hadn't been bored or empty hearted since he first bound himself to Lucifer. But this feeling of romantic love starting to beat within him was the first since he lived. It made his husband more attractive.

Lucifer was a little dumbfounded. His wild king served him breakfast and took his hand to hold.

The kisses weren't just lusty but sweet. He was struggling to understand it.

He finished a game of cards with Dahlia and Adam scooped him up, a clone took his place for a few rounds as Adam rode his cock until they were both seeing heaven.

Adam proudly dropped a boar upon the table during a tea party and a bloody hand stained his hair while Adam pressed their lips together.

The meat fed them for days and Adam turned the hide into a heavy cape for Lucifer.

It took longer than it should have, about when their fourth was attempting to kick Adam to death from the inside before Lucifer realized Adam was showing him affection the best way he knew how. Sex and violence. They'd had the sex for years, plenty of little feet running around the castle to prove it, but his wild king apologized one difficult day for not bringing him something new and Lucifer realized Adam was hunting for him.

That night was the first time he made love to Adam.

He wanted to cage a beast, to tame a wild king, it was letting Adam be free that brought them together in the end.



[serensama]

A word with friends

Thank you to @hedwigoprah for creating this game and to @jenn2d2 for assisting in her stead and coming up with this wonderful prompt this week! Love you both ❤️

This week's word is Perspicacious:

Definition:

Quick in noticing, understanding, or judging things accurately or of acute mental vision or discernment.

Also Perspicaciously, Perspicaciousness , or Perspicacity.

This week’s is longer because I missed last week’s redolent which I also slipped in :D

How long will I be able to keep up this prompt driven fic? We shall see! (The ongoing fic/document will be updated in my masterlist in case anyone wants to read the whole thing hehe) ^_^

———

Lilya hated when he did this. Acted like he was a hurt or offended older brother after he ascended to Fifth Talon. She was no longer a fledgling under his wing but someone he had trusted to shield him, to be his blade and confidante. But no, in one fell swoop she felt like their history had been wiped clean and he was just that Crow who checked in on her from time to time to see if she’d been killed yet.

The man hissed as he sat down, rubbing his leg under the table - something he only ever did in her or Teia’s presence- taking his time to collect his thoughts. She did not dare to move or breathe too heavily in case it seemed like she was too affected by his reaction to Illario, lest he find reason to go back out and strike his cane upon him again like he was her whipping boy. Not that she was worried about him. Viago wouldn’t seriously hurt him, he respected Caterina too much, and as much of an idiot as Illario was, he was still a well trained Crow. It would take more than a few hits with a stick to break him.

Knowing Illario he was probably already at the Diamond, charming some pretty noble with stories about his injuries, that they were from rescuing a child from a runaway horse, or perhaps from fulfilling a contract killing a rival assassin to save the King of Antiva. Some bullshit. Illario was always good at spinning fanciful tales that for some reason only she could see through. How that was possible was a mystery to her, for he was such a terrible liar.

The silence stretched on between them, Viago drumming his fingers against the polished blackwood of his desk, absentmindedly pushing his writing pad to the correct angle, fixing his slightly askew quill in its holder. Oh, was he waiting for her to say something first? Not bloody likely.

The last time that happened the two of them got into such a heated argument, she hastily accepted a contract that was too dangerous for her to do alone, but she was so stubborn and angry that she went off and did it anyway.

When she came back home, no worse for wear, in less time than the mission had allotted for- Viago didn’t talk to her for a week. He looked so furious at her she truly did think he was going to poison her.

Lilya had gone to Teia at a loss at what to do, the Seventh Talon only laughed and told her to allow the man to stew and he’d get over it in time. The older woman then drew her into a hug and whispered that he hadn’t slept well for days after her departure, for fear a messenger would come with news of her death. She had to resort to drugging him- which he was furious about and ended things with her for betraying his trust, which lasted a total of four days before she found him slipping between her sheets once again. Give him time, she soothed, he was scared. The idiot’s never been that scared before.

Viago glared up at her and still said nothing, only throwing something at her. Lilya quietly swore as she tried to catch it, fumbling a couple of times before it settled in her grip. The Crow flashed him a flat stare, not willing to add any heat in her gaze in case he decided to piff something else at her head when she wasn’t paying attention.

“Tell me what you see,” he instructed plainly, leaning further into his seat, the air still thick with tension as he waited for her response.

Lilya turned the bottle in her hands a couple of times and inspected the ornate crystal atomiser in her hand, the dark indigo of the bottle reflecting beautifully in the light.

“It is a bottle of perfume”, she replied, unsure of what he was expecting from her. She could already hear Viago in her head, the man never missed an opportunity to lecture her over doing anything he deemed stupid. ‘You’re too smart to be this dumb, Lilya!’ was by far her favourite backhanded compliment he gave her.

Viago waited for her to elaborate, only to be met with more dumbfounded silence. He groaned and shook his head in dismay, his eyes piercing her with such an intense stare she almost wanted to call down a fiery meteor to squash and cremate her just to escape his ire.

“Really? Is that it? Is that damned boy that good in bed for my Little Bird to completely lose her perspicacious nature?” he challenged, “Is a fuck all it takes for you to lose your head these days?”

He knew how much his needling affected her. Even before he rose to Talon, his remarks always cut the deepest and she would do whatever she could to earn back his favour. She didn’t know how he held this power over her or when it came about, but in truth she wasn’t even upset about it, because she knew that even if they argued constantly, even with their confusing, tangled mess of a relationship- Viago always had her back. Just like she had his. That level of trust was impossible to find in life, let alone within the Crows.

Lilya huffed and went back to re-examining the beautiful bottle in her hand. Taking a step closer to the nearest candle, she rotated it and found an etching in a fancy flowing script on the metal rim of the pump her eyes hadn’t picked up earlier, D A. She recognised it, embarrassment quickly colouring her cheeks from her initial oversight.

“It’s a perfume by Doña Abella.”

“And?”

“It is in her crystal atomiser, meaning whoever purchased it was someone with a lot of money.”

“Anything else?”

“It is in her signature bottle, meaning it is a personalised scent she crafted and not made by one of her master perfumers. Whoever commissioned this spent a lot of time and a lot more coin on this, whoever they were. Doña Abella rarely makes new perfumes and if she does, that particular scent only belongs to that customer alone- it is what makes her work so exclusive. Whoever this person is must be important or has very close ties to someone very important.”

Viago let his hand fall onto the desk, his annoyed expression fading into a proud smirk at her assessment. He knew that she’d know that much just by seeing it, and at the very least, the knowledge he imparted about art and beauty had not fallen on deaf ears- even if his other more pertinent teachings remained unheeded.

“Correct. It is a bespoke scent crafted by Doña Abella herself. Reportedly it took months to create, the client was very particular, never happy until they captured the scent perfectly for their intended recipient.” He watched as Lilya’s brows rose just a little, clearly impressed by the dedication of the customer.

“Is it safe to smell, to spray?” she asked, a part of her practically preening at how the Talon's gaze softened with approval at her question, waiting until he silently permitted her to do so with a simple wave of his hand. With a measured squeeze of the pump, she was greeted with a light but moreish fragrance. She knew instantly why the perfumes were in such high demand, barely half a pump of it and the entire room was redolent with the aroma of iris, pink pepper and a warm salty musk she couldn’t quite place but she knew she wanted to bathe in the scent if she could. “That is… wow. That’s amazing. Whoever this was for sure is loved for someone to go through all this trouble.”

“…Quite. And yes, a remarkable scent to be sure.”

“So, what’s the deal with it? Are you sending me to handle the customer or the person they were hoping to give it to? Oh, please don’t tell me we have to kill Doña Abella… She's a national treasure. So many dream of purchasing a bottle if they ever have enough money. One fledging I trained with in the capital said she was going to buy a bottle when she became a Crow… pity she didn’t make it out of training.”

The Fifth Talon’s smirk faded.

“No, your contract has nothing to do with this. A full dossier will be sent to your room, you’ll be expected to leave by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“Then why did you ask me about the perfume?” Lilya frowned, questioning the obscure impromptu lesson in observation from her Talon… unless… oh Maker. Did he create that for… her?! Was that what his rage was about? His disappointment? Was he really trying to get back together with her? Hadn’t they gone over this? Wasn’t he madly in love with Teia anyway?

Viago’s stare hardened again like he could read her mind, his disapproval bubbling over once more.

“Because Illario gave me that. Instructed me to give it to you. Tell me, Lilya, why is the man that you previously claimed was just a dalliance to pass time, giving you such a gift if all you are is a mere tumble in the sack?”

Lilya paled.

Okay. At least he didn’t want to get back together.

“You said it yourself. The recipient of such a gift is surely loved. If it were only a matter of coin, it wouldn't cause me any concern. But the Dellamorte spent time. Effort. No man does that for someone he does not intend for more.”

She didn’t know. Couldn’t know. She had to speak to Illario. To clear the whole mess up before it got too out of hand and-

“The harmless sex in the alleyways, hotel getaways and missions you took together I could have forgiven. All Crows indulge in that. But the moment you took him here, into our - my! - House? You both crossed a line that people in our positions cannot do. Not without blood spilling for you both. What have you gotten us into, Little Bird? How am I supposed to save you from this?”

———

Softly tagging: @rookamell @hightowerqueen @himluv @thedissonantverses @gingervitus @introvertedfangrl @trash-nerd @davrinsleftpectoral @eiluned @kabsey @serstolas @cocoboots in case you wanted to play ^_^