#Admittedly I’ve been getting that quiet little voice in the back of my mind warning me against the job offered

[inga-don-studio]

I did NOT do a good job in acting like I wanted the job I just interviewed for SFHSHFSFH.

Which is … true … but damn I really embodied “go girl give us nothing.”

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡 PART 4

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

A/n: I hate this ngl 😣 didn’t turn out that great. I swear I’ll do better

Prev. Next.

“ITS TEN PM, why the fuck are you at my hotel right now?”

Elaine gives an unbothered look at your harsh tone, which shocks you because she’s usually more reactive.

“Seriously?” You scoff. She’d been standing stupidly outside of your door for god knows how long, spamming your phone with messages you didn’t see due to Paige taking it. “You don’t even have a key to my room…what did you think you’d accomplish?”

“It’s a Saturday night, I thought I’d take you out.” She rolls her eyes. “Plus I know your teammates are partying right now. Sorry I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Well maybe I would’ve liked to be alone, since I didn’t answer the 40 texts and calls you gave me.” You say, opening the room up and stepping inside, letting her follow behind. If you were going to argue it wouldn’t be in the hallway for everyone to hear.

“Well you weren’t alone, were you?” Elaine quips with a rude tone that is foreign for you to hear from her.

“So what if I wasn’t?” You narrow your eyes. “I didn’t come to Connecticut just to see you.”

She’s immediately stung by this, and you feel bad for a split second until she retaliates. “Well you came to Storrs for me, right? Unless you were just trying to fuck Paige Bueckers and leave. You and your little fake arguments, you sure you’re not covering up for something?”

“You’re kidding.” You laugh at her, but it’s uncomfortable. “You think I’m faking my arguments to cover up some elaborate hookup? Shit, you’re crazy.”

“I’m not fucking crazy,” Elaine voice raises above yours, clearly hurt by the comment. “I don’t know why you’re all over the chick, and going out to dinner with her? It’s weird.”

“I don’t know why you care so much. That’s what’s weird.”

“I just think you should keep your distance from Paige.” She says, quieter. “The media has been all over you two, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s overwhelming.”

“Obviously not if I don’t know this already.” You raise your eyebrow. “Guess it’s been overwhelming for you though.”

Elaine is quiet for a moment, arms crossed in an attempt to comfort herself. “I’m sorry.” She says. “I guess I’ve just been jealous. You came to see me after like a year, and I kinda felt like you were more focused on Paige then me.”

At the thought of this you immediately feel awful. You hadn’t seen Elaine for a long time, and when you have been with her you were admittedly distracted.

“I’m sorry Lainey.” You sigh out. “I haven’t been here long…It’s just been a lot. We have the rest of the week.” You hold out your arms and she gladly hugs you tight.

“I’m not gonna lie,” you mumble against her “I thought you were mad about Paige for a whole other reason.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” You shake your head, brushing off the thoughts of her jealousy being a little different from how she explained. “Let’s go out. I need a drink.”

-

You tried to go out and have fun, but your mind kept wandering to earlier. Paige’s hands on your face, her mouth hovering above yours, her eyes staring through you. The memory of her knuckles white and wrapped around the steering wheel as she drove you back home, a pent up expression on her face.

You weren’t sure if she was so annoyed because your moment with her was interrupted, or because Elaine was the one who interrupted it. Despite Paige dismissing your friend, and Elaine seemingly missing your company, you knew there was something going on between them. You just weren’t sure what, and the shots you’d done didn’t help collect your thoughts.

Elaine had been with you for a bit, but eventually went off on her own to get detrimentally more drunk then you planned on getting. You were sitting at a table alone and sipping when you got a notification.

paigebueckers is going live!

You switch to a burner account before joining the live and being greeted with Paige’s straight face reading comments while KK hung out in the background. You felt pathetic watching her live anonymously, but you needed to see her.

“Someone said ‘Ain’t it too late for ya’ll?’” Paige scoffs, turning to KK

“Girl, it’s a Saturday. Who you think we are?” KK quips back, enticing a chuckle from Paige that makes your stomach flutter.

They take turns answering questions; Paige gracefully dodging the less appropriate ones and KK occasionally reading something that makes everyone go crazy. They were so funny together you almost forgot how sad it was that you were in a bar watching their live.

KK looks at the chat for a longer moment before her eyebrows raise, mouth forming an amused smirk while glancing at Paige, who is turned away from the phone and looking at something off screen.

“Aye Paige, someone said ‘u still beefin’ with (name)?’”

Paige flashes a dangerous look to KK who unsurprisingly cowers a bit, but she turns towards the camera and rubs her face sheepishly while responding. “S’ not really beef. We jus don’t get along.”

“Oh?” KK responds, this obviously being news to her.

Blue eyes finally meet the camera, and you almost feel like she’s staring right at you when she says ��and I’m tired of people comparing me to her. We are not on the same level.” Paige lets out an entitled huff. “It’s embarrassing. People think just cus we talked like twice we’re equal.”

KK nudges her quickly. “She don’t mean that ya’ll.” She says nervously.

“Nah, I do. I mean she’s not bad. She just don’t got nothing on me.” Paige shrugs. “She’s boring. No shock factor.”

“Aight ya’ll I think that’s it for tonight.” KK says curtly, eyeing Paige. The live ends in an instant, and you’re left feeling hurt, embarrassed, confused and angry. This didn’t feel like an attack on your skill as a basketball player. It was more personal, and Paige knows it.

Your mind is racing from the countless drinks, loud atmosphere and eventful live you’d just watched. You shoot Juju a text and ask her to go live with you, and she surprisingly responds in an instant. The viewers are scarily high right from the get go.

“Who came here from Paige’s live?”

“Ain’t no way she’s at a bar rn”

“Aye (name) how’s Connecticut?”

“lowk think her and Paige are hooking up”

“juju can you say hi pls”

“Hey guys.” You mutter, attempting to steady your voice. Juju raises an eyebrow at your state. “You sure you shud be on live right now?” She asks. “Who’re you even with?”

“Never mind that.” You shake your head, reading through the comments. “Hiii guys. Connecticut’s alright, Storrs is a shithole though.” You laugh.

“Missing California?” Juju asks.

Sighing, you reply “Very much so.”

“Sooo, let’s talk bout your new friend!” Juju smirks, most probably unaware of Paige’s newest comment about you.

“And who would that be?”

“Paige Bueckers, duh. Must be nice to see her in person outside of the court.” Juju says innocently, not paying attention to the increase of questions in the chat concerning Paige’s live.

“Nice isn’t quite the word I would use.” You grumble, and Juju immediately seems to regret bringing it up. She tries to save the situation by asking something else, but you interrupt her. “I think the word disappointing…or maybe shitty fits better.”

“Hah, you’re funny.” Juju attempts to seem amused, but is clearly trying to figure out how she can work in some damage control. She furiously types something out and you get a message from her a moment later

JUJU-KINS 😘

Girl get tf off of live RIGHT NOW and get yo self home and in bed. Ur so drunk.

Seen.

Ignoring the text, you continue to read questions out loud. Your body is practically on fire and you’re aware that you’re not thinking straight, but there are no intentions of stopping now. Paige certainly couldn’t have enough of talking big online, so why should you?

“‘Weren’t you just with Paige at a coffee shop yesterday?’” You read out loud. “Not intentionally.” You huff, eyebrows narrowing. “The girl can’t accept I’m tryna have a peaceful vacation. For whatever reason I keep seeing her everywhere, it’s not even funny, just fucking weird.”

“(Name) I think we should put the phone down.” Juju says quietly.

“Mm, it’s not even my problem she thinks ‘m boring anyways.” You grumble, words starting to slur. “Mayyybe I’m boring cus I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk to her n her shitty Italian restaurant.”

The chat begins to blow up at this, and it finally hits you how much damage you’ve just done. “M’kay bye.” You rush out, quickly ending the live and texting Juju back.

YOU

howw fucked am i scale of 1-10

JUJU-KINS 😘

We not even in numbers anymore atp.

Get yo ass up and go home pls. This is an issue for tmr now

Your head is starting to pound as you get up from your spot and push through people in search of Elaine, thankfully she finds you first, half stumbling-half intentionally bumping into you. She’s obviously wasted.

“Ready to go homeee?” She hiccups, accepting your hand as help to balance herself. “I’m gonna call an Uber.” You reply. “Can we wait outside?”

The two of you practically tumble out of the bar, the cold air slightly sobers you up, and clarifies your thoughts a bit. You feel yourself start to get irritated.

“Do you have to get so fuckin’ drunk every time we go out?” You huff out.

“Don’t start.” Elaine snaps. “You’re literallyyyy slurring your words.”

“At least I can walk,” you scoff. Your head is absolutely aching now, and you’re dying to be home. “You look so stupid tripping around.”

“Well you look stupid feining over Paige, goin live n shit talking her.” She retaliates.

“I’m not feining for shit.”

“You’re obsessed.” Elaine slurs. “N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

“You know way more about her then you let on.” You narrow your eyes, unsurprised when she avoids your gaze. “How’d you even know I was out with her today anyways?”

She’s quiet, you can’t tell if she’s thinking or if she’s genuinely ignoring you.

“Elaine.” You say sharply. “How the fuck did you know I was out with Paige?”

“I have her location.” She mumbles.

“What?”

“She still shares her location me.”

“She still…” you pause, attempting to understand what she’s saying. “She shares her location with you?”

“I mean, I don’t think she knows she hasn’t turned it off.” Elaine says sheepishly. “I just happened to check n’ I saw you guys together.”

“This is so fuckin’ weird.” You scoff. “What happened to you guys barely knowing each other?”

“Yeah, well that’s what I told you.” She rolls her eyes.

“And what didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” Elaine shrugs, eyes heavy.

“We used to fuck.”

The immediate regret on her face as the words leave her mouth makes you sick to your stomach, and a swirl of unintelligible emotions begin to manifest inside of you.

“And you didn’t tell me this because?”

“Didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“Why’d you try to get me to flirt with her that first day at the bar?”

She shakes laughs and her head. “Didn’t think you’d actually end up talking to her, didn’t think she’d be so interested in you either. You’re not really her type.”

Exasperated and unsure how to even articulate what you’re feeling, you simply bring your hands to your face. “Do you understand how fucking weird this is?”

“Don’t get so frustrated.” She scoffs. “You’ve talked to her for like three days, n’ you thought she was a dick before this week. Don’t tell me you’re into her now.”

“It’s not even about her at this point.” You sneer. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t know why everyone here is fucking obsessed with lying.”

When she doesn’t respond you take the opportunity to get more in, facing her now and looking down in disappointment. “I didn’t even know you liked girls, and now you’re telling me you’ve been hooking up with someone I know? God, it makes sense now why you were so quick to start insulting her the minute she showed any interest in me.”

Elaine can’t even bring herself to look at you, and the fact that she’s so drunk she might not even be digesting what you’re saying is infuriating you.

“Then you guilt trip me about not paying enough attention to you? Was that really what was bothering you, or was it the fact that she was out with me?”

Taking a deep breath, you turn your back to her and check your phone to see when your uber was coming. You also see a text message.

PAIGE

Yo

Normally you’d have ignored any message from her after today, but your mind was still racing from adrenaline and you couldn’t help but respond.

YOU

what do u want

PAIGE

Are you still at that bar?

I feel like we shud talk

YOU

you gonna tell me why you lied to my face?

i’m with Elaine rn

PAIGE

Oh uh…

I can pick both u guys up and drop her off ? If u want.

YOU

i’m not riding in the car you prolly fucked her in

bye

PAIGE

Typing…

[training4theapocalypse]

And they call me crazy (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Non-con elements - reader is drunk and a (very eager to fuck) hostage, Light bondage, Oral, P in V, Unprotected sex, Edging, Canon typical mentions of murder and violence

Summary: You're a new intern at Senator Goff's office. It's going great... that is until Vigilante abducts you after you've been out drinking, celebrating the end of your first week. (Based on this ask from anon.)

A/N: I'm fucking impatient as usual and I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this. I've added non-con to the warnings but honestly, reader is so desperate to fuck him she DOESN'T GIVE AF if it's morally questionable that she's a hostage.

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Chapter text:

Your gasp is stifled when a black glove covers your mouth and an arm wraps tight around your body. You stumble on the sidewalk, teetering back in your high heels into your assailant’s body but he holds you firmly upright.

“Don’t scream,” says a man’s muffled whisper in your ear.

Your whole body freezes up. God, you wish you were more sober. Why did you insist on walking home after those celebratory drinks? This is not the perfect ending to the first week of your internship that you’d envisioned. Is this why Senator Goff didn’t turn up for work today? They said he was sick.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you keep quiet and get in the car.”

It’s a man’s voice. Not one you recognise. But you can barely hear it anyway over how loudly your heart is beating in your chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, it seems to say, battering frantically against your rib cage.

“Nod if you understand me.”

You jerk your head forward - his tight grip doesn’t make the movement easy. 

God, why didn’t you listen to your Mom? She told you earlier to get a cab home and stay safe, you’d just dismissed her advice as usual because you knew best.

He removes his hand and pushes you into the open passenger door of a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. It all happens so fast that you don’t even think to check out the license plate. 

Shit.

The man shuts the passenger door after you and hops into the driver’s seat on the other side. 

It’s him. 

You’ve seen his masked face on the news, wanted for carrying out his own brand of retributive justice on criminals across Evergreen. You heard people talking about his latest crimes at work today. Hell, you’ve even made stupid memes about having a crush on him in your girlfriend’s group chat. 

It’s Vigilante.

You were ready to beg for your life a second ago. But now all you can do is stare. At the forefront of your admittedly inebriated mind is the fact that you’ve fantasised about the masked Vigilante of Evergreen before. But in your fantasies, you’d always been someone that he’d saved from a robbery gone wrong or some other sticky situation. Not his abductee.

And this is no fantasy. He’s here - he’s real. So intimidatingly tangible and human. You can hear his breathing through his mask, see his eyes darting around your dark surroundings checking for passersby, and you can even smell the sharp, fresh scent of his cologne when he gets close to you, reaching behind you to grab a length of rope from the back seat. 

“Put your hands out.” You swallow thickly, looking at his masked face. There’s no point in arguing. “If you make any indication to anyone we pass that you’re you’re here against your will, I will kill you.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you think I’ve done but I-”

“Hey - don’t make me gag you and put you in the trunk,” he says, finishing the knot around your wrists as your stomach does a little flip. Not out of fear. Something else. He turns his keys and starts the ignition. “Oooh, seatbelt! Sorry.”

You breathe in as he reaches across you to grab your seatbelt and clip you in. Your hands sit uncomfortably on your lap as the car drives out of the dark street and onto the main road.

He pulls out his cell phone as he drives to wherever you’re going and you hear the other end of the phone ringing in the silent car.

“What is it?” You strain your ears, listening as a woman answers aggressively.

“I’ve got Goff’s assistant. I’m on my way to the video store.”

Goff’s assistant? That’s a stretch. You’re an intern. And not even Goff’s intern. You’re his assistant’s intern.

“I’m not-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Quiet!”

“What?!” says the woman on the phone.

“Sorry, Harcourt. Not you.”

“No, I mean you did what?! Vigilante, you need to run this shit by me. You can’t bring her here.”

“I did you a favour! We’re way ahead of schedule now.”

You hear the unidentified woman grumble. “We’ve got Judomaster here, dumbass. Take her someplace else.”

Goff’s funny little bodyguard. Now you know that Vigilante and the woman on the phone are responsible for Goff’s absence. Shit, what’s he going to do when he realises you know nothing?

“Where am I supposed to take her?”

“That’s what happens when you go rogue, idiot. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. She’s your problem tonight.”

You hear the line beeping as the woman hangs up.

“Fuck!” says Vigilante and he does a U-turn. “Hey, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna have to take you to my place. I said close your eyes or-”

“Yeah, you’ll kill me. I got it,” you say resignedly. You close your eyes feeling the car turn left, straight for a while, right, left… you lose track. You have no idea where you are or how long it takes you to get there when finally you arrive at your destination.

You hear him get out of the car and still not daring to open your eyes, you feel the cool night air when the passenger door opens.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Nope.”

You feel him reach over you to unclip your seatbelt and he hoists you out of the car by your upper arm. He roughly steers you across what you guess is a parking lot by the way your high heels click on the asphalt.

His vice-like grip on your arm still doesn’t relent, even when you reach the stairs.

“Not so fast - I can’t see!” And you’re still kind of drunk.

“Shh! Not here,” he whispers urgently. But his hold on you becomes more gentle as he helps you up the stairs, more slowly now. A sliver of empathy. 

The sound of keys jingle as he unlocks a door and guides you inside. You hear him locking and bolting the door behind you. Great. 

“Can I-”

“Yeah, you can open ‘em.”

You open your eyes. The small apartment is sparsely furnished, obviously decorated by a single man. No artwork on his walls, a small dining table, a clean but worn leather couch without even so much as a throw pillow.

The screech of wood on laminate makes your arm hair stand up as he pulls over a hard wooden chair into the middle of the living room.

“Sit.”

You do as you’re told. He pulls another chair over and sits down opposite you, leaning back, with his arm resting on the back of the chair. Vigilante’s intimidating form relaxes casually in front of you. 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tells you.

“I - do what the easy way?” You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. What wouldn’t you want Vigilante to do you right now? Stop it, you scold yourself. 

“You’ve got information and I need it.”

“I really don’t have any sort of information.” 

He edges his seat closer to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. Fuck. “Hey, I get it. I was tortured for intel a few days ago and I didn’t crack either-”

“Torture?!” You panic now. “Look, I’m not lying - I’m not Goff’s assistant! If I knew anything I’d tell you.”

His eyes narrow behind the mask. He pulls out his phone, looking through it for something. “Shit.” Vigilante looks from his phone to you. “This isn’t you.” He holds up the screen and shows you a blurry picture of your boss walking out of the office. Sure you look alike - you have the same hair colour and both wear suits to work but she’s significantly older. 

You shake your head. 

“What were you doing coming out of the senator’s office?” He accuses, as if it’s your fault he’s kidnapped you.

“I’m an intern. It’s my first week.”

“So you work there? Right?” he asks desperately.

“I just get coffee and take notes, dude.”

He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Oh man, Harcourt’s gonna freak out when I tell her I fucked up again. I can’t believe I picked up the wrong hostage.”

You sit, wrists still tied together in your lap staring at him. Now what? Maybe he’ll just drop you off outside the bar where the grabbed you.

“Look, we all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us. No harm done so-”

“Stop.” He looks up at you. “You know I can’t let you go.”

You take a deep breath and look at him silently for a few seconds. “So now what? Are you gonna kill me?”

“I-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Vigilante looks at his phone, apparently confused that it isn’t the source of the music. 

“It’s mine,” you sigh, embarrassed by your choice of ringtone. You try to pick your phone out of your suit pocket with tied wrists. 

“Your ringtone is Barbie Girl?” 

You nod.

He pauses, giving you an unreadable look from behind his mask before reaching into your suit pocket. “I can’t let you have this.” He declines the call. Your phone pings as a message arrives. “Someone called Melanie says ‘Your boyfriend is on the news again’,” he reads.

Fuck. Your best friend Melanie knows all about your stupid crush on the man sitting in front of you right now.

“Hey- don’t read my messages!”

“I need to know if your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear. She’s just making a stupid joke.” 

Your phone pings again. “She’s sent you a picture - what’s your passcode?”

“I said don’t read my messages. I’m not telling you my passcode.”

Vigilante sighs and turns your phone around to face you and your Face ID unlocks it. He freezes when he opens the image.

Oh, god.

He turns the phone back towards you again and you groan. Melanie has taken a picture of the news on her TV. Vigilante is on the screen. Shit. 

“I told you, it was just a stupid joke,” you mumble, feeling your face turning scarlet. 

“I didn’t realise you were a fan,” he says, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he has a stupid grin under his mask. 

“Well, I’m definitely not a fan right now.” You hold up your wrists. 

“She can see you’ve opened it. What should I say back?”

“Hmm... say LOL…” He starts typing. “Call the police. I’m being held hostage.”

He deletes what he just typed and gives you a stern look. “Fine, I’ll just go through your messages and see what you said before.”

“No, wait! I was kidding!” You try to snatch the phone from his hands but his reflexes are too quick for your tied hands. He doesn’t have to scroll very far back through your messages to find what he’s looking for.

Vigilante laughs and starts reading aloud. “OMG, he is so fine… I’m just gonna say that again.” He sends the message and you hear the notification of Melanie responding almost immediately. He reads it aloud. “She says ‘Knew you’d appreciate it - wink emoji’.”

“Can you just kill me already?” you ask sarcastically.

He puts your phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“So what am I doing here then?”

“Waiting. For now.” You stare at each other for a few seconds. It’s hard not to feel like you’re in immediate danger. “Do you want a beer?”

Perhaps your life isn’t in danger.

You blink at him incredulously. He walks over to the refrigerator and returns with two beers. He opens yours and hands it to you.

“Can you untie me so I can drink it?” You ask, testing the waters.

“Are you gonna try and attack me and escape?”

You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. There’s no way you’d be able to win in a physical altercation with him, not with his reputation for massacring criminal gangs.

“No.”

Vigilante looks you over, and you stare up at him, waiting for his assessment. “I could take you, anyway,” he says casually and puts down his beer on the coffee table so he can untie your wrists.

You feel yourself blushing again at his words. Vigilante could take you. He means in a fight. But your mind immediately thinks of him taking you in another way.

When he unties you, you rub your wrists, feeling the sweet relief of having them free again. Vigilante kicks back on the couch and gestures to the seat next to him. You move over and perch uncertainly on the cool leather. He lifts the bottle of beer, and then realising he’d need to remove his mask to drink it, puts it back down.

“You can take it off if you want,” you suggest. 

“And let you see my face? No way. I have a secret identity.”

“Well, I bet you’re handsome under there.” 

What are you doing? 

The sensible voice at the back of your mind supposes that flirting with him might convince him to free you. Another slightly louder, drunker voice in your head suggests that flirting with him might convince him to fuck you. 

He looks away, flustered. “I dunno about that...” 

“That’s why you wear that mask, right? You’re probably so good-looking you’d be easy to spot in a line-up.”

He lifts the edge of his mask - you think for a second he’s about to reveal who he is but instead, he takes a long drink of beer. You watch his sharp jaw and exposed neck as he swallows and get a brief glance at his wet lips before he pulls the fabric back down over his face again.

“That mask doesn’t do you any favours, hiding a jawline like that.”

“Stop it, okay. I know what you’re doing.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think because you’re pretty, you can seduce me into letting you go. It’s not gonna work.”

Pretty. 

You try not to smile, to keep your expression blank. You wish you could text Melanie - she’d lose her shit right now. But you’ve laid it on a bit too thick. Even though it is true - he does have a ridiculously nice lower half of his face.

“I’m just passing the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never been abducted before.” You shrug. “So what’s the plan? Stay here until your boss on the phone tells you to kill me in the morning?”

“She’s not my boss.”

“Sounds like she is.”

“I work alone. Mostly. Or with Peacemaker.”

“So let me go then. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just release a hostage.”

You think. Hard. “What if I could get you the information you need? Then I’m an accomplice. Not a hostage.”

“I thought you just got the coffee?”

“I know where my boss keeps her laptop. And her password.”

“What kind of boss tells a brand new intern her password?”

You purse your lips, wondering how much you can safely reveal to him. “She trusts me.” 

“The way you want me to trust you?”

“It’s different… I just don’t want her to get kidnapped too.”

He tilts his head. “That could work.” He hesitates. “But I’ll need to double-check with Harcourt in the morning.” He spins his bottle of beer in his hands.

“I’ll give you the laptop’s location and password if you let me see your face.”

“Uh, no. You’re giving me the location and password in exchange for letting you go.”

“This is a hostage negotiation, right?” You give him a coy smile. “Let the hostage do some negotiating.”

“No way.” He lifts the bottom of his mask up again to take another drink.

“What if I suck your dick, will you show me your face?”

Vigilante chokes on his beer.

“Jeez! I’ve already told you that you can stop coming onto me. I’ve agreed to ask Harcourt to let you go.”

“I know. I’m just shooting my shot,” you smile, resting the beer bottle on your bottom lip. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yeah, right.” He says though you can’t help but notice the way his visor-covered eyes linger on your lips.

“Dude, you saw my messages. I’ve always wanted to bump i​​nto Vigilante. Under different circumstances, obviously.”

This intrigues him. He turns in his seat, resting on the arm of the couch to face you. “Uh, what kind of circumstances?”

“Well, if you really want to know - they’re in my texts with Melanie.”

He looks at your phone again, opens your messages and starts scrolling up. His eyes widen as he pauses, reading. “Damn…”

“Which one are you reading?”

“There’s more than one?!” His voice is higher pitched this time and you grin. “Uh… ‘I wish we’d bumped into Vigilante when those guys were harassing us leaving the club last night. He would have kicked their asses and I would have-’... Holy shit.”

He adjusts himself in his seat and you can tell he’s hard just from reading your text exchange. You tilt your beer towards him encouragingly. “You can say it.”

“...‘I would have sucked the fucking soul from his body.’ Girls say this kind of shit to each other?”

You sip your drink and say nothing.

Vigilante looks at you like you’re a piece of cake he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about eating. “It would be morally wrong for me to sleep with a hostage.” He looks into your eyes.

You edge closer to him on the couch. “Accomplice, remember? I’m not a hostage if I work with you, right?”

“Listen, you are so hot. And if I met you in real life… fuck. It would be a different story.”

“This is real life.”

“You know what I mean.”

You get on your knees and crawl over to him between his legs. He shrinks back into the corner of the couch cushions. “C’mon. I won’t tell your boss.”

He swallows nervously. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no right now.”

You run your fingers over his belt. “Say you don’t want me to and I’ll stop.” Vigilante groans. You crawl forward again and press your forehead against his masked one, looking into his visor. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick,” you whisper.

“Fuck…” He breathes. “And they call me crazy.”

“Maybe you should be more careful who you let in your car.” 

His gloved hand grabs your wrist and for a second you think he’s going to make you stop but instead, he guides your hand onto the bulge through the fabric of his pants. Vigilante leans his head back, exposing a tiny glimpse of his neck between his mask and his suit. Your tongue finds the skin there, sliding across it and you feel him shiver underneath you.

It’s like he’s at your mercy now as you slowly, agonisingly slowly, undo his belt revealing the v-shape of his lower abdominal muscles covered in a smattering of brown hair. You slide your body down between his legs and kiss the trail of hair below his belly button while your hands work, unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down.

Vigilante’s cock slaps his stomach when you release it from his boxers. Shit, you have a lot to work with. You’re already wet between your legs just from your conversation but the sight of him sprawled out in front of you - his entire body concealed with the exception of his hard cock - sends blood rushing to your pussy.

You lick your lips and the moment your tongue slides across his head, you feel his whole body tremble. 

“Holy shit,” Vigilante whispers raggedly from behind his mask. He lifts his head to watch as his length disappears into your mouth, and you look up at him with wide eyes and hollow cheeks, sucking and running your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

He grunts as you pull back to run your tongue slowly around his head again. His reaction makes your pussy ache with longing, thinking about how he’d sound with his mask off, moaning like that in your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it. Thaat’s it,” he says through gritted teeth as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. He threads his gloved hands through your hair - you think he’s going to start fucking your throat but you’re surprised when he doesn’t apply any force, letting you maintain your pace. Vigilante watches you on all fours, your ass in the air behind you as your mouth makes the wettest, sloppiest sucking sounds he’s ever heard.

Then he sees it. A glimpse of your hand under your tailored work skirt, confirming to him again that this isn’t just a ploy for early release. You’re really fucking turned on by being here, sucking his cock.

“Wait…” he whines, tugging gently at the base of your scalp. You pull back, replacing your mouth with your other hand so you can look at him. “Can I fuck you?”

You pull away and bite your lip, still pumping your hand up and down the length of his cock.

“You said you’d show me your face.” Time for your one last bargaining chip.

“I…” He hesitates, propping himself up on his elbows. “I can’t,” he pleads.

“You’ll have to cum here on your stomach then,” you grin, your wet fist picking up pace as he tenses his thighs and tries to stop his hips from jerking up into you. “If you show me your face I’ll let you cum inside me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he groans. You stop jerking him off and watch him as he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside on the coffee table. He takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and puts them on.

You stare at him in shock. You were mostly just teasing him earlier- you hadn’t actually expected him to be this good-looking. Sure, you knew from him drinking his beer earlier that he had a nice jawline. But even in your fantasies, he was faceless - he never had gorgeous green eyes and tousled curly hair.

“You’re hot?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “What the fuck!?”

He smiles. And you can see it this time. It’s beautiful. He has dimples.

The intimidation you felt before when you first saw the masked killer in front of you is nothing compared to how you feel now. You practically melt, turning into putty. Feeling lightheaded you realise you’ve been holding your breath and begin making a conscious effort to breathe again. Seconds ago you were convinced he was at your mercy but now…

“Do whatever you want to me,” you say abruptly. Your underwear is flooded thinking that this man, this ridiculously beautiful killer wants to fuck you.

“Oh… I’m gonna.” He raises his eyebrows and lunges forward, pinning you to the couch and kissing your neck. His rough exterior armour digs into your chest. Your hands wander along his shoulders, trying to find the mechanism to unclip it. He feels your movements and pushes himself off of you so he can undo them himself.

You lie back, watching him remove his suit, revealing a host of white scars and purplish-yellow welts across his toned chest and abdomen. You undo the top two buttons of your blouse. 

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tossing his under armour onto the floor. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs the opening of your shirt and rips it open, sending buttons scattering across his floor. He pushes your bra up, not bothering to take it off to suck on your tits. 

You run your fingers through his curly hair, feeling him sloppily run his tongue over your nipple. His teeth clamp down on your breast - hard - and you squeal and yank his hair.

“Ow! Not so rough!” 

He just gives you a mischievous smirk and you release your grip when he sucks the spot gently, in a sort of silent apology. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise tomorrow - a secret souvenir of your night with the masked man from the news all your friends know you have a crush on.

But Christ, what have you let yourself in for?

Vigilante moves down your body, kissing your stomach and pulling off your skirt and underwear in a single movement, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. You gasp when his mouth returns to your body and a soft, wet heat envelopes your pussy. He drags his tongue slowly, carefully along your slit.

“Oh fuck…” you whine, arching your back. “Vigilante, I- wait, fuck, what do I call you?”

“Vigilante,” he says between achingly slow licks. Every nerve ending seems to light up, sending blissful signals to your brain.

“No, I - I mean what’s your name?”

“Vigilante.” 

God damn.

You look down and lock eyes with him, his pupils blown so wide his green eyes almost look black as he stares up at you, swirling his tongue in wide circles against your swollen clit. The entire lower half of your body tightens up and the walls of your pussy clench, desperate for something to squeeze around. His fingers, his cock - anything. 

You reach down to find his large, gloved hand and tug at the fabric, trying to pull it off him. 

He pulls his mouth back and removes his glove with his teeth.

“Is this what you want, baby?” He asks, running a single finger through your slick, wet folds and over your clit.

You nod.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Vigilante.” 

He sinks two fingers deep in your cunt. 

“Is this what you fantasise about?” His questioning makes you tighten around his fingers as he draws them in and out of you. Your breathing quickens in time with his fingers pressing against that sweet spot deep inside your pelvis.

He stops abruptly and the whine that escapes you is pathetic.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you moan. “Every night.” You wriggle, trying to fuck yourself on his stationary fingers.

“Finger fucking yourself like this?” He curls his fingers up into you again.

“Mhmm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes, fuck, just like… like this.” You bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing yourself in an obscene demonstration for him as he watches from his kneeling position, one hand between your thighs.

You’re close now, you can feel your orgasm burning up inside you as your cunt starts pulsing more consistently around his digits and your breathing gets heavier. Just as your release is about to crash over you, he withdraws his hand and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your clit.

“Wha-?” You pant dazedly. “I was just about to-”

“I know,” he smirks. “Not yet.”

Fuck. He’s fucking edging you.

His lips meet yours for the first time and you moan softly into his mouth. His tongue rolls against yours and you can still taste your sweet and salty juices on him.

Then, without warning, he flips you over and you gasp wordlessly face down on the leather couch in stunned silence. He pulls your hips back and up towards him.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you choke, lifting your head up and arching your back, your brain working hard to regain awareness of its surroundings. 

The weight of his body presses down on top of you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget my face in a line-up.”

Fuck.

He takes his cock and drags it over your soaking wet entrance, flushed and swollen for him and the broken sob that escapes you is desperate.

“Please,” you beg again. “Just let me cum.”

Vigilante sinks into you with a forceful jerk of his hips and your pussy seizes up tight around him as your face is forced onto the cold leather again. You try and push yourself up onto all fours.

“Nuh-uh, I like seeing you like this,” he says with another forceful thrust, knocking you off balance. “Hands behind your back.” You huff and do what he says, his still-gloved hand pinning your wrists behind you. “I shoulda just kept you tied up, huh?”

You can’t answer, you can’t move, you can’t do anything except just take him. Sparks of electricity reignite inside you, the deepest you’ve ever felt it as he pounds into you, hitting just that right spot again. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and when you see Vigilante biting his lip in concentration your walls start pulsing and squeezing around his cock.

“Not… yet.” He grunts. “Not ‘til I say.”

He pushes down on your wrists and it feels like all the air is being knocked from your lungs with every roll of his hips. 

“Fuck, you’re such a… pretty… little… hostage,” he groans through gritted teeth, each thrust punctuated by his praise. 

“Yes…” you whine because it’s all you can manage to say. It’s all you can think. That one singular confirmation repeating over and over again in your head - it’s all you want to be for him. Fuck, you’d happily spend the rest of your life locked in his apartment, letting him use you like this every time he came home after a night of murdering criminals.

Your eyes roll back in your head, fireworks rocketing and exploding into a million bright pieces. If there’s a heaven, it would look like this - a beaten-up leather couch in a shitty apartment in downtown Evergreen.

His other hand that’s free of his glove and not pinning you down reaches round and starts working your clit with rough, calloused fingertips. You squeeze your eyes shut, not realising they’ve been watering. Real tears leak from the corners, leaving your face a wet mess on the leather seat. You choke out a sob, not sure how much longer you can fight against your orgasm.

“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, baby. You can cum. Let it all out for me.”

And you do.

Everything goes dark and you’re lost in the pleasure that takes over your body, your climax wiping your mind blank of all thoughts except Vigilante. Your pussy clamps down hard like a vice around his cock as you squirm on his fingers. It’s only when you feel him shudder and collapse on top of you that you realise he’s come undone too.

You both lie there for a second, feeling the warmth of your combined mess leaking out and the sound of him panting, exhausted.

“Vigilante…” you say in a strained voice, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he exhales and takes another gulp of air.

“You’re crushing me.”

“Oh.” He hoists himself off of you. “Let me get you a towel.”

With difficulty, you sit back upright to wipe your eyes and fix your hair. Vigilante returns with a towel and you sit on it, grateful for the barrier between you and the wet, sticky couch cushion.

He throws himself back down beside you. “Whoo, I’m beat!” he says cheerfully. “What do you wanna do now?”

You look at him uncertainly and glance at your watch. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Right, cool. Do you wanna sleep on the couch or-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Who’s phoning you this late? 

He picks up both of your phones from the coffee table. “It’s mine,” he says and accepts the call. “Hello?”

Wait - his ringtone is Barbie Girl too?

“It’s me,” says the same voice of the woman who called him earlier. “Have you dealt with the hostage yet?”

Vigilante looks at you and hesitates. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s done.”

“So she accepted the bribe? You’ve got the laptop?”

His eyes widen. “The bribe? Oh! Yeah, sure! The bribe...”

“Vij, you didn’t kill her, did you?”

“What?” He lets out a maniacal laugh. “You’re crazy, Harcourt, of course I didn’t kill her. What’s the, uh, budget again?” He winks at you and makes an ‘ok’ sign with his thumb and forefinger. He’s insane, you think.

“I dunno, like five grand?”

“Phew! Then yes, it is all dealt with. Done and dusted. I will get that laptop.”

“You don’t have the laptop yet!? Vigilante, you need to get the laptop before you hand over the money, idiot.”

“Copy that,” he grins.

“Vigilante, what the f-”

He hangs up, cutting her off and tosses his phone aside.

“Good news. I can let you go once you give me the laptop.”

“And the five grand?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Wait, you heard that?!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well not until you give me the laptop.”

“I can get it tonight if you need it? We just need to swing by my boss’s house before you drop me off.”

He frowns. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. I need to… need to take you home.”

You tilt your head to one side and look at him fondly. You fix his messy curls and he closes his eyes at your touch. “Or… I could stay here tonight? Pick up the laptop tomorrow morning once you’ve fixed me some breakfast?”

He perks up. “I could do that! …You’re one hundred per cent sure you can get it though, right?”

You sigh and extend your hand. “Give me my phone.” He does and watches you go through your contacts.

The line rings and a familiar but slightly croaky voice answers.

“Honey, it’s one in the morning. Is everything alright? Did you get home okay?”

“Hey Mom, I’m fine. Listen, I think I forgot to send an email before I left the office and I can’t sleep worrying about it. Can I pick up your laptop first thing tomorrow?”

She yawns. “Sure thing. Don’t get stressed about it. Just go get some sleep.”

“Thanks, boss. I love you.”

“Goodnight sweetie. I love you too.”

You grin as Vigilante gapes at you.

“Goff’s assistant… she’s your-?”

“Yup. Now c’mon, show me where your bedroom is.” You stand up and reach your hands out, waiting for him to guide you. You step on one of your shirt buttons as he leads you towards the hallway. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”

“I just made you five grand. Use that to buy a new shirt,” he says, opening the bedroom door.

“Hey, what happened to the hostage negotiation? These are the terms of my release.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he smirks, shutting the door behind you.

[kinninggojo]

FIREPLACES | HJP / YOU

you start to think your friend harry potter is quite attractive.

a/n • idk what the fuck this is! my first time writing in about 5 years and i’ve also never written for hp characters despite loving harry from the age of 5.

theme • angsty and fluffy, i don’t write smut (for now!!!)

warnings • mentions of death, grieving harry, violence

word count is 4.1k, i wrote this in one sitting.

you weren’t exactly irrelevant, your name was at least recognised, however you were also perfectly and plainly ordinary. you didn’t have a huge number of friends at hogwarts, however you were lucky to be well acquainted with harry potter. you weren’t close enough with him to spill your deepest and innermost thoughts, but you enjoyed laughing with him on the way to dinner most evenings; you greeted each other warmly whenever you passed him in the corridor and even offered to help him with his homework on the odd occasion. it was a simple friendship - nice. your conversations never got much deeper than, “hello”, “how are you?”, “have you handed your essay on werewolves in yet?”, but they were pleasant nevertheless. the most you knew about him was that he had triumphed against voldemort (but who didn’t) and lived in an awfully dull neighbourhood called little whinging, but he never went into any detail about his encounters, you assumed that he saved those stories for his best friends ron and hermione. in fact, the more you considered it, you realised that harry was actually a very private, quiet boy, who said as little as he could get away with. sometimes when you said “hello” you felt as though you’d bothered him, he always seemed to have a sad look in his eyes, even when he was laughing his hardest.

you never really took much time to consider finding harry attractive, until you overheard two gryffindor girls oggling over his photo in the daily prophet on the way to your lesson one morning. you revised the idea in your head, and admittedly agreed that his eyes were really gorgeous, and recalled the times you’d caught his cold eyes in class. most of the time it was because he was deep in thought, staring at the wall past you and you happened to be looking in his direction.

professor slughorn was in the middle of teaching potions. you weren’t completely invested in the lesson because you couldn’t concentrate. your mind kept distractingly returning to the idea that harry’s eyes were infact really pretty. you turned discreetly to your right and saw him sat there. to your startled dismay his blue eyes were staring right at you. you weren’t good at things like this and sat there stiffening, knuckles turning white as you gripped the edges of your desk at your attempt to hide the fact that you’d been oggling at him like all of the other girls in your year.

when the lesson had come to an end, you heard harry’s soft voice call after you, because you’d been trying to hurry out amongst the rest of the bustling students to escape the embarrassment of the escapade at the beginning of the hour. as much as you’d wanted to, you couldn’t ignore him, you were supposed to be good friends, so you paused whilst teetering out of the arched doorway and turned on heel.

“hey harry.”

he seemed even more troubled than usual, and you immediately felt your stomach lurch. “slughorn’s loving you these days, isn’t he?” you continued whilst the conversation remained in the archway of the classroom even as the other students dispersed back to their common rooms.

harry nodded before slowly presenting you with his potions book. you were confused until he opened it to the blank page prefacing the table of contents.

this book is property of the half-blood prince.

“i’m not quite sure what this means.” you followed dryly, screwing your eyebrows together at the peculiar text, it seemed to have been inked in by a student.

harry hadn’t talked much yet aside from calling your name. his thin lips pressed into a frown and he shook his head too, “me neither. this book is the reason i’ve been coming out on top of the class”, your eyes found his whilst he spoke, “hermione would tell me to hand it over to slughorn, and ron might get jealous, so i thought i would show you. you’re easy-going.” your lips curled up at the compliment he had just paid you. for the first time, he’d confided in you before either of his best friends, and it gave you butterflies for some reason.

—

ever since your conversation with harry after potions, you two had been meeting regularly in the library. you had asked harry if you could copy the notes from the strange book into your own for academic purposes, and unbeknownst to you harry had agreed because he found your company oddly comforting.

this particular evening was unlike any other until harry broke the silence in a way that was strikingly unfamiliar to you. he started venting.

“being the chosen one isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” he sighed with comedic, adolescent frustration and pressed his cheek against a stack of books on the desk. he was watching your quill scribble away and fought back the urge to yawn. he was grumpy a lot of the time, he’d become a very temperamental boy in the recent stages of his teen-hood - it made you giggle. you put your quill down, and entertained his complaint by asking him “why?”.

he rolled his eyes and pointed at two fourth year girls sat in the corner of the library, “i haven’t gone a day this year without some girl coming up to flirt with me,” he consciously tugged the hood of his jumper closer around his neck, ”i think i preferred it when everybody hated me last year, to be honest.” you managed a laugh and put your hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

“i can picture your frustration. i don’t blame them though.” you immediately bit your tongue, you hadn’t meant to insinuate anything, but luckily harry thought nothing of what you’d said and shrugged, still visibly annoyed. it was also uncommon for you and harry to engage in any skinship whatsoever and, realising this, you quickly withdrew your hand from his shoulder, pretending to tuck a tuft of hair back behind your ear.

by the time you and harry were ready to leave for bed that night, you’d long been finished taking notes, but you enjoyed small talk with harry beside the candlelight, and he enjoyed it too. by habit of his escapist nature, he’d been enjoying your company more than anyone else’s for the past two or three weeks because there was nothing complicated to your friendship, and he never gave you any indication of struggling so you never asked. harry liked that. he had a feeling that you probably knew he had his personal impediments being “the chosen one”, but you accepted them blindly with a kind smile, and treated him indifferently. it was all very convenient and comfortable. he was also starting to consider the idea that you had very nice eyes too.

—

and the school year continued just like that. you and harry grew closer than ever; you revelled in eachother’s company; you spent your evenings together in the library; you spent your mornings together in the great hall revising. most crucially, you were best friends denying the presence of anything more because you were both too shy. harry also didn’t want to risk overcomplicating one of the few relationships in his life that took his mind off voldemort.

in his time away from you throughout the year, he continued to carry out dumbledore’s endeavours and courted slughorn into revealing his vices. in the month leading up to this, harry had been distancing himself from you. although he thought it better to keep you at arm’s length from his business with dumbledore, he hadn’t been intentionally trying to avoid you, he was just so very busy. he felt guilty nonetheless.

you took harry’s absence on the chin, you knew he dealt with a lot of things, things he didn’t disclose in casual conversations with you because that would spoil the light-heartedness of the time you spent together. you took it as an opportunity to resume the studies you’d fallen behind on, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit… lonely. you hadn’t been on your own like this since harry had called for you after that one potions lesson.

reminiscently, you opened your potions book on the notes you had taken when you were with harry, and smiled fondly. but then your heart sank. it wasn’t abnormal to miss your friends, but what you felt was beyond yearning, you just kept it hidden from harry and the other students, not that harry had the time to notice these days. at most, he managed a quick “hello” as he passed in and out of the common room, until one morning he had disappeared altogether.

you attended breakfast alone. you attended your first class of the day alone. you felt so miffed that you decided not to attend your defence against the dark art’s class, in fact you were truant for the rest of the school day. the fact that you hadn’t seen harry at all today worried you immensely, even when he was busy he was always loitering somewhere about the grounds. yesterday he’d returned from hagrid’s fairly late, you guessed that maybe he was tired and sleeping it off, but a dark hunch that you had implied otherwise.

that night, your intuition summoned you to the astronomy tower, one of few places you visited for undisrupted pondering. your chest felt clogged with an indescribable feeling, it felt almost like a sixth sense, or something similar to unease. the sky foreshadowed a storm, you felt it in the humid air too. usually you would feel lost without harry, but for some reason the fear inspired an unusual confidence in you, and you balled your hands into two determined fists as you stared out over the grounds. it all felt nostalgic, the sweep of grey trees in the distance reminded you of the life that had inhabited the school when you were a little girl. you couldn’t decide why you were crying exactly. maybe you missed harry. maybe you just hated being alone. you soaked it up with the sleeve of your school jumper and turned to leave, and you would have done if not for the indistinct sound of footsteps.

you took off down the stairs and uttered a soft “lumos” to your wand, illuminating a pair of blue eyes, but they weren’t harry’s. your eyes winced at the mop of silver-blonde hair infront of you. the male you recognised easily as malfoy pinned you suddenly to the wall with his forearm and despite looking fairly scrawny, his forearm was bigger than you anticipated - you couldn’t move.

“what are you doing up here”, he asked bluntly, yet whispered at the same time. malfoy’s clothes carried a smell that you likened to an old cupboard, or dusty furniture. he was someone that you knew to be unpleasant, due to harry’s recollection of their quarrellings, but you had exchanged few words with him during your time at school. you weren’t aware of harry’s extra-curricular activities, and even less aware of harry’s speculations about malfoy. your expressionless face mocked draco’s attempt to scare you, you raised a cocky eyebrow and retorted, repeating the same question he had asked you.

“it’s none of your business.” his voice quivered briefly, you recognised this as fear, but ignored it when you heard the sound of someone apparating into the castle, soon followed by the sound of harry’s voice. draco’s head turned almost as quickly as yours. his plans had not accommodated harry. it was hard to say who was more staggered by this. the inches between you and draco were quickly severed when the blonde boy pulled out his wand and took up the stairs. you immediately thought it best to stay hidden beneath the floorboards, you didn’t think harry would take kindly to finding out that you were there, even though it was highly unintentional, he liked to keep you separate from his dealings. plus, it was late. malfoy was joined by a few unrecognisable characters dressed anonymously in black, and snape. breath hitched, you crouched behind one of the pillars and eavesdropped on the conversation happening above you, and it didn’t take you long to understand that it wasn’t going to be a friendly encounter, however it sounded unlike any of the altercations harry had previously described to you. you knew malfoy to be a snobby, sneering sod, but you hadn’t thought of him as an accomplice until you heard snape strain “avada kedavra” discernibly above the conflict.

you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle a staggered, gagging cry. you felt as though you couldn’t breathe. you supposed this is what grief felt like, but it had all happened so quickly, you’d hardly processed the events you’d just heard before you felt it curdle with rage in your gut. harry was long gone, judging by his outburst you assumed he was chasing after snape. before he fled after the teacher, harry’s tone had become unrecognisably cruel, a tone that had never occurred to you in all the years you’d known the bright boy. it made you shiver.

you could still hear malfoy’s discordant sobs on top of the tower, so you confronted him quickly, casting bereaved spells at him with your wand. if harry knew you were involving yourself…

it didn’t matter.

“STUPEFY!”

he looked reluctant to engage in this duel with you, but that didn’t stop him from disarming you. your wand flew from your hand and you inelegantly dived after it. malfoy dived after your wand, simultaneously, and as you both landed on the floor with a thud, you raised your palm to his pale cheek and slapped him. it was so harsh that you felt your palm stinging too, but the pain didn’t phase you as you wrestled your wand from the slytherin boy’s puny hand. flecks of spit from draco’s mouth landed on your face because he was gritting his teeth so angrily, he portrayed a level of fury you thought was impossible for a 16 year old boy to feel. he stopped resisting you, there was something heartbreakingly defeated about the cowardly slytherin. you led slumped against a pillar opposite him, panting in a deathly silence.

—

harry couldn’t hear anything, besides the sound of blood gushing in his ears and a slight pulse. he recalled how snape’s cloak had coiled back and swept over harry’s exhausted body before the gaunt-looking man accompanied a cloaked woman into the dark forest.

coward.

he knelt honourably beside dumbledore’s lifeless body, caressing the man’s silver beard with his fingertips. it was inconsolable, his pain. harry only knew loss. everybody that he held close seemed to die and slowly the amount of people that he could trust seemed to be growing smaller, and smaller. with every loss, he felt a small part of the excited 11 year old boy he once was die too. he was too young to feel this way, it was excruciating, but even though he felt this way, he remained nonchalant and concealed what few tears fell down his cheeks.

you stood with the rest of the grieving students, but you felt scared stepping forward to comfort harry, it had been a good few weeks since you had felt close to the boy. he had his back to the crowd, it confirmed the trauma you had only guessed at for years every time you looked into his shy, blue eyes across the classroom. your heart ached.

you waded quietly past the others students as they held their illuminated wands to the sky above and lowered to your knees beside harry, his eyes didn’t meet yours. all magic aside, your held your friends’ hand with a human understanding of his agony and set your wand aside, squeezing his hand weakly with what strength you had left. he was never very open about his trauma, but he didn’t need to be at that moment, you collected his soft, soft sobs in your shoulder as you pulled him in against your chest and held him. you could feel how badly he was hurting. you wished you could take it all away.

and you stayed there holding him late into the night, long after the other students had cleared and returned to their dormitories. professor mcgonagall stayed with dumbledore too.

—

two weeks had passed since dumbledore’s passing. your friendship with harry wasn’t quite the same. it was common knowledge that you had been there on the astronomy tower, you’d also told him about your brawl with malfoy. you didn’t talk about much else after airing that, harry was reluctant to talk about what had happened, mostly because it was too painful, but also because then he would have no choice but to accept the events as factual. that also meant accepting that hogwarts would never be the same, accepting that everything had irreversibly changed.

conversations were duller than ever. harry had become even more temperamental. you often heard him lashing out late at night, when he was alone in his dormitory, or heard his footsteps on the cold floor in the common room when he went to sit by the fire to relieve himself of a nightmare or a terror. you recognised them as harry’s footsteps because you too stayed awake all night, and noticed that you never heard his footsteps returning to bed, and often found him sat there the next morning staring bitterly into the fire wearing the same damp pyjamas that he had soaked that night.

one memorable night, you were pulled aside before bed by hermione granger. you knew she was one of harry’s best friends, though you’d never spoken to her. you hadn’t anything against her, and you hoped the feeling was mutual, even greater than that you hoped she didn’t sense you as a threat to her long-lasting friendship with him. you weren’t like that.

you pulled your dressing gown robe around your body and tied it at the front as she began to murmur, “i’m sure you know harry’s in an awful way.” you nodded silently. “he’s never been keen on relying on people, you know. the whole time i’ve known him i’ve never seen him ask somebody for help. except maybe dumbledore…” she trailed off cautiously, even she treated dumbledore as a delicate topic of conversation since he had passed away.

she pulled her curls back into a ponytail and frowned. “but i also don’t think he would be so against relying on you.” you couldn’t help but feel as though hermione was suggesting you hadn’t been there for harry as much as you could have been. perhaps you’d neglected him through fear of seeming like you were prying when all he really needed was for you to try and persist. get through to him. you also guessed at the very obvious hint hermione had dropped that sounded as though both you and harry had feelings for the other that were unspoken for. you thanked hermione sincerely, and rushed down to the common room in your nightwear. you didn’t have any socks on, the stone castle floor was freezing.

you knew harry would be down soon, he came and sat by the fire every night without fail. you sat there too, melting into the sofa, hoping it would eat you alive because the anxiety was gnawing away at you. what if harry snapped at you? told you you were being troublesome or bothering him? when you saw his face descend down from the stairs to the boy’s dormitories, you regretted your instinct to come downstairs entirely. harry didn’t look bothered yet though.

he sat beside you quietly and sighed, pulling the collar of his pyjamas shirt away from his neck. it was damp from where he had been sweating already. without much thought, you stopped his trembling hand from tugging at the fabric and held yours clasped over his before opening your mouth, “i’m sorry, harry.”

he didn’t say anything. he looked like someone who’d heard sorry too many times in the past two weeks.

“we used to have fun together…” you started, unsure of where you were actually going with this. “i’m not here to pity you, like most of the others. i do understand, you know. not quite as fully as you, i haven’t been through nearly as much, but when i see you crying, harry, i…”

you brought his hand down from his neck and held it firmly in your lap, “i can’t watch you in pain and-“ you breathed and reticent as you were said very plainly, “i don’t mean that as a friend either, harry.”

you met harry’s blue eyes. they seemed surprised, although you weren’t sure why. he was brilliant, you wish he saw that. not brilliant because he was “the chosen one”, or because he was somewhat of a celebrity, but because of how brave and exceedingly kind he was.

“i don’t understand, y/n.”

“yes, you do.”

harry knew he’d understood you as well. but he hadn’t expected your friendship to take so much of a dark turn so quickly, he wanted to keep you away from that. and he didn’t like you seeing the vulnerable side of him either, despite however pleasantly intimate it was to have you comfort him. maybe this was enough, though. maybe this was close enough.

you were sat inches from eachother on the sofa before the fire. but you were close enough that he could smell your perfume. it made him smile. it wasn’t a big smile at all, unlike the huge grins that practically stretched to his ears when he was a little boy. but it was a smile nevertheless. he also decided against fighting the urge to smile because your determination made you that much prettier.

eyes straying, harry made a confession of his own, “do you know what i could smell when slughorn took the lid off of the amortentia in potions?”

“what?”

“something a bit like honeysuckle”, he paused, smiling into the fire, “i didn’t recognise it until you held me two weeks ago. i’d never gotten close enough to notice that you smell like that.”

your mouth fell open slightly but conscious that you were catching flies, you quickly shut it and smile too. this conversation suddenly felt nice, unlike the tension that had been brewing between you previously. you felt warm again, just like you had done when you shared your evenings together in the library.

“i’ve liked you for a long time, harry, but i didn’t want you to think i was taking advantage of you.”

“why would i think that?” suddenly his bushy, black eyebrows were knotted together above his nose.

“all that talk of you being “the chosen one”, i didn’t want you to think that’s the only reason i took any interest. especially when you despised other girls for that very reason.”

he scoffed, you were right, those girls had been awfully annoying. he turned his head slightly, commanding a shy pink colour to creep into your cheeks. even when you and harry had been at your closest, you became bashful when he held eye contact with you, it felt very intense. without giving any thought to his actions, he cupped your face with one hand and brought you in for a kiss.

it was a very slow kiss, his thin lips slotted in gently against yours. you’d never contemplated what harry was like as a kisser but he exceeded all of the expectations. it was a nice feeling. warm. your pining hands reached for his pyjama shirt and tugged longingly at the fabric, not in a suggestive manner but as a means of saying that you had waited so long to feel harry surrender like this. it didn’t last for very long, he pulled away with a sigh and pressed his forehead to yours, glasses falling further down the slope of his nose. harry felt like a normal teenage boy and for a moment failed to remember that he was really a wizard and his life was really about to change for the worst now that dumbledore was gone and voldemort was back. you were still forehead-to-forehead, breathing florally against his mouth when he realised that soon he would have to confront his new reality.

for now, harry wanted to remain ignorant for a while longer.

[doodles-bi-tea]

how you met the love of your life, benny miller

pairing: benny miller x bartender reader [second person, no y/n]

warnings: mentions + consumption of alcohol. that’s really it. flirting?? idk

word count: 2,116

a/n: heyyy I’ve been really inactive (at least in terms of posting) but I’ve opened up requests recently! this isn’t a request but thought I’d write something just for fun and to get back into writing. here’s the post where I talked abt the requests, feel free to send something in!! also sorry I kind of weirdly switched time perspectives closer to the end so uhhh hope you don’t mind it just felt weird trying to fix it so I didn’t. but yeah I’ve been hella obsessed with benny miller from triple frontier so figured I’d write smth for him 🤗 honestly not entirely sure I like this oneshot that much but yeah whatever if you enjoy feel free to lmk <3

The bar was quiet, to say the least. It was a Saturday night, which typically meant that many of your usuals would be there, as well as other strangers looking to unwind after the work week. But, fortunately for you, it was mostly empty, save for most of the aforementioned usuals. This was an empty shift no one else wanted to take, and you didn’t have plans so you just decided to take it on a whim. You wiped off a glass and set it on the counter next to a few others, hearing the bell on the door ring again.

Glancing up, you saw a group of four [hot] men come in, talking and smiling with each other. You watched them as they made their way over to a booth closer to the back. They got settled in as you continued to dry different beer and cocktail glasses behind the counter.

Since it wasn’t busy, you spent most of your time just doing mundane tasks to clean and fix different things around the bar and in the back. Eventually, one of the men came from the booth and up to the bar to grab drinks. He wore a dark red t-shirt and beige pants, with a navy baseball cap atop his head and aviators covering his eyes.

He asked for four beers, which you then handed to him. He nodded in acknowledgment, and was turning to leave with the bottles, but paused.

“Hey, by the way-“ he turned again to face you. “-my friend over there thinks you’re cute.”

You were admittedly a little stunned to hear that, but you let your eyes drift over to the booth where his friends sat. Also to your surprise, two of the other three were looking back at you. The one wearing a blue button up over a white tee and a backwards green baseball cap put his hand up with a grin and winked.

“What’s his name?” You waved back, albeit more hesitant.

“Benny. I would’ve sent him over but didn’t know if you’d like that.” He put the beers down on the counter as he leaned against it.

“Tell him he can come over if he wants, I don’t mind. Oh, but what’s your name?”

“Just call me Frankie.” He stuck his hand out and you shook it. “Let me know if he starts harassing you or something, I’ll beat ‘im up.”

You smiled and chuckled quietly. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but thank you.”

He nodded before grabbing the beers and heading back to the booth. You saw him put the bottles down on the table before sitting down and saying something to the rest of the group. It probably had something to do with what you said about Benny, seeing as he stood up suddenly and began [nearly] bounding over, beer in hand, like a golden retriever with a stick in its mouth.

“Hey.” You greeted him as he sat on one of the barstools and leaned against the counter.

“Hey,” He smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling upwards like his lips. “I’m Ben, or you can call me Benny.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his voice when he first spoke. It was deep and smooth, with a hint of a southern drawl, like music to your ears or honey for your tea.

“Yeah, Frankie over there told me.” You nodded over in the direction of the booth he had just come from. “Said you thought I was cute?”

Benny chuckled, letting his head tilt downwards as if to look at his shirt or shoes bashfully. It was a wonderful sound. “Yeah, yeah, I still do.”

You suddenly became aware of the fact that you were feeling warm all over, and a little nervous. You’d have your fair share of people hitting on you, but Benny seemed different for once. He seemed very genuine.

You weren’t sure what it was. Maybe the way his dark dirty blonde hair peeked out from the edges of his backwards baseball cap. Maybe the way his eyelashes were so thick and dark that you could practically see them from a mile away. Maybe the way his voice had your stomach doing somersaults any time he spoke. Anyway, you weren’t sure what it was.

“Well thank you then, hon.” You smiled back at him. “I think you’re pretty cute too.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled again, before taking a sip of his beer.

That noise. You would never get enough of it. It was deep, slightly raspy, and had a bit of a stutter to it. Your knees nearly buckled underneath you when he looked back up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

“So,” Benny started, setting his bottle down on the counter and crossing his arms. “Could I get to know you a little better?”

The once-boring evening turns into something much more enjoyable from that point on. You continue serving the customers that are already there and the ones that come in later. Benny sits at the counter, talking to you about each of your likes and dislikes, daily life, stuff like that. He asks you about the bar, you ask him about his fights and training. It’s nice and calm, and he’s very easy to talk to. He makes a joke about every other sentence, but you can tell he’s not trying too hard, it’s just something that comes naturally to him.

You ask him a couple times if he needs to get back to his friends, who are still nursing their beers and talking amongst themselves, but he smiles and waves the notion away.

“I’d much rather talk to you, honey.”

This man was going to be the death of you, with his stupid pretty blue eyes and fluffy hair and soft jaw defined by that barely-there stubble.

The night continues on. You and Benny end up talking until closing, long after his first and only beer is gone, when you realize that it’s only you two and his friends left in the building.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I talked your ear off all night. I should start closing up.” You apologize, wiping the counter with a rag one last time for the night.

Benny smiles at you gently. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it. I had fun, even if all we were doing was talkin’.”

“Me too.”

There’s a bit of silence as you finish cleaning and putting some things away, before you decide to speak again.

“Hey, I hope it isn’t too forward of me, but could I get your number?” You’re not sure where the sudden confidence comes from, but it appears and you welcome it.

“Honey,” Benny grins a little wider this time. “You can never be too forward with me. Here, hand me your phone real quick.”

You feel your cheeks warm up again as you hand it to him, waiting as he creates a contact for himself. He hands you the phone back a moment later. “Benny Miller,” the contact reads.

“Thanks, Miller.”

“No problem. Make sure to text me later. I’ll be waitin’ for it.” He winks.

You can only chuckle in response, feeling almost giddy as you notice his friends make their way over to the bar behind Benny.

One of them, not Frankie, though, came up next to Benny. He was slightly shorter than Benny if he were standing, but looked somewhat like him, instead with shorter hair of a similar dark blonde hue, and more grown out facial hair. He shared Benny’s striking blue eyes.

“Hey, we’re heading out now.” He told Benny, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You wanna leave with me or do you need the keys to the truck? I can leave with Frankie and Santi if you need to stay longer.”

Ah, so that’s the name of the other man next to Frankie. All four of them were very attractive, now that you get a nice up-close look at them. You give a little wave to Frankie as he talks with “Santi.” He smiles and waves back, not breaking their discussion.

“Oh, uh…” Benny trailed off, before looking back at you. “Did you need a ride?”

As much as you would have liked that, you had your own car to take home. Damn, the one time you choose not to get an Uber.

“No, I have my own car, it’s fine. And I need to just close up anyways, I’ve cleaned up most of the stuff already.”

“Okay,” He grinned at you before turning back to the other man. “I’ll take the keys, thanks.”

The man nodded and fished them out of his pocket, along with his wallet. He placed a $20 and a $5 bill on the counter and slid it over to you.

“I’m Will,” Like Frankie, he holds his hand out for you to shake, which you take. “Thanks for the beers. Let me know if you need anything.” He says that last part to Benny, before nodding again at you in acknowledgment and then turning to leave with Frankie and Santi—who you didn’t get to talk to, unfortunately.

He seemed fun, though, as he yelled out to Benny as they began opening the door. “See you later, tonto!” [“See you later, silly!”]

You giggle a little as the door swings closed and Benny scoffs under his breath. “They sound like a fun group.”

“Yeah, they can be. A bit of a handful, though.”

“Present company excluded?” You tilt your head slightly and raise an eyebrow.

“You’ll just have to find that out when we go on a real date, honey.” He flashes you a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he does so. “Could I walk you out when you’re done here?”

For nearly the tenth time tonight butterflies arise in your stomach at his antics. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Let me go in the back real quick and then we can go.”

He nods and checks his phone as you head behind the doors to the storage rooms and kitchen area, just doing a check-up to make sure everything’s locked and secured. You finish that up quickly and turn off all the lights in the rooms before coming back out behind the bar counter to face Benny.

He looks up from his phone and gives you a sweet smile as he turns it off and slides it back into his back pocket. “Everything good?”

“Yep,” You reach into a cabinet behind you to grab your bag and coat. “Ready to go.”

You finish putting on your coat as you come out from behind the bar to stand next to Benny, who gets up from his seat before pushing in the stool.

“Shall we?” He holds his bent arm out to you as if you two were about to go out on a walk in a fancy flower garden.

You chuckle quietly at the motion, before going to hook your arm with his. “We shall.”

And so the two of you walk out—you locking up before you leave, of course—and he leads you to your car.

“Thanks for walking me out.” You smile at him under the mixture of the glow of the moon and the shine of the streetlights. “You’re real sweet, you know that?”

“It’s no problem. Just been raised that way,” Benny grins back. “Gotta make sure you get home safe.”

You hum in agreement, tracing his features with your eyes for the last time that night. Your ears almost don’t hear what he says because you’re so enthralled with just studying his face. “Real pretty too, Benny.”

His smile drops for a moment, out of shock, you think, before he just looks down again at the ground, cheeks flushed. He almost looks embarrassed, and for a moment you’re afraid you’ve said something wrong. You open your mouth to speak but he says something first.

“I think that’s the best compliment a man like me could get, honey.” He brings his gaze back up to make eye contact with you, his voice smooth and deep. “Thank you. You’re real pretty too.”

Even as you head home alone, driving along the dark and near-empty streets, you can’t stop thinking about him. About how pretty he looked under the moonlight in the latest hours of night, the early hours of the morning, in that barren parking lot. About how easy it was to talk to him and how interested he was in the things you had to say. The dark was unsettling, but his presence made everything a bit brighter.

You would definitely have to find a way to thank Frankie for introducing you later.

[cosmos-coma]

The Curses That Bind Us- Part 6

A/N: Good Gods, has it really been 2 months already??? My bad! I'm happy to have this (admittedly lightly edited) chapter out though! Only one more left and maybe an epilogue which I'm determined to get done THIS MONTH.

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: 1512

Summary: You and Eskel discuss where you go from here and Eskel makes an urgent visit to the Witch who cursed you in an effort to solve this once and for all.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (final)

_________

Your breath came out shallow, but steady as you laid back against the bedrolls. Eskel had insisted that you take his as well, and you were far too tired to argue. The curse's black tendrils moved their way up your neck now, reaching toward your face with a concerning hunger. From the looks of it you had maybe a few weeks left… or just one more chance at breaking this.

With careful hands Eskel made the most comfortable spot he could for you, making sure you were sat up enough to see him clearly, “I know you’re tired, I know… it’s been a long ride, but you can rest now. I’ll take care of camp, okay?” He assured.

After the failed attempt at freeing yourself from this leech, you had been fading in and out of sleep and struggling to adapt to this new normal. But between Eskel’s rush to get you out of town and the growing Redanian voices, it was hard to find rest. Now, finally, hours out of town and a few hours to the next, Eskel finally felt safe enough to stop and set up camp for the night.

You watched through half-lidded eyes as his hands sparked forth life into the campfire. A comforting warmth bloomed on your skin as the fire fully caught, engulfing the logs. Guilt gnawed at you as you watched him get dinner ready alone, your fingers itched to help fetch water or even just stir something- but the new ache in your bones warned you otherwise. 

“Thank you…” you murmured, “for everything-“ 

“No…” Eskel interrupted, his voice a little harsher than intended as he shook his head. “Don’t thank me for that, I… I’ve only made you feel worse…” he looked down at the pot of dinner, stirring idly. He had failed contracts before- hell, he had failed them without the second chance that he has now- but never before had his stomach twisted with such guilt and worry because of it. He wished he could say he didn’t know why- but he wasn’t stupid. 

Between your stubborn, yet compassionate nature and your eyes which shone with glints of burning fire, the witcher knew it was only a matter of time before he began growing all too attached. But now he really was attached- to your smile, to the warm brush of your skin against his as you slept, even to the long bouts of comfortable and easy silence you shared as the sun would finally set on your long days. 

“Now, if we’re lucky, we only have one chance left to break this and If we fail…” he dwelled for a moment, but it was your turn to interrupt him now.

“We won’t fail…” You assured him, reaching out with aching knuckles to give his arm a surprisingly strong squeeze, “And this wasn’t your fault, Eskel… I really thought you were right- I really thought it would work…” you sighed as you assured him, “ but I knew this was a risk- the curse warns as much. We’ll just have to think harder about it next time-“

“-Next time?” He interjected, surprised, “You still want to try again…?”

“Of course,” you replied, there was no question in your mind, “I told you I wouldn’t stop, Eskel, not until I take my last breaths….” The camp was quiet for a moment as your declaration hung in the air until the Witcher nodded slowly.

“Okay…” he said, a faint smile about him as he rested his hand over yours, “next time we’ll think harder, next time we’ll be more careful…” 

___

It was early in the morning when Eskel left. Leaving behind a quick note and a bit of breakfast for you, he made his way toward the Witch’s cottage. It was a hard decision to leave you behind, but with the way the curse had progressed in the last few hours, the last thing he wanted to do was stress you out more or make you lose sleep.

Protective sigils scattered around the camp, taught to him by various sorceresses over the years, were the only things that gave him peace of mind as he rode off to run what would hopefully just be a quick errand. 

The journey was short by witcher standards, and soon the outskirts of the next town was coming into view. He wandered somewhat aimlessly, your directions having been rather vague from wandering upon it yourself, though soon enough a run-down-looking cottage came into view. Set up on a small hill there was nothing special looking about the small house- it looked much like any other; thatched roof, a few basic flowers painted around the doorway, and a few bundles of dried herbs hanging in the shaded window. What did stand out, however, was the vibrant garden positioned right beside it. There stood the most lush flowers he’d ever seen, still gleaming with morning dew despite the midday sun overhead. A few vibrant red apples hung from the nearby tree, and bright red, orange, and green vegetables dangled from their stems and called out to be eaten. 

He’d never seen something more obviously enchanted- though for what purpose he couldn’t exactly say. But with the all too perfect garden, and the constant- yet gentle- hum of his medallion, he had no doubts about it.

Though as he craned his neck to look more, he did have to admit- for someone unknowing, desperate, or hungry enough, he’s sure the thought of an enchanted garden would probably never even occur. 

He took slow, yet sure steps as he approached the door, eyes scanning his surroundings as he approached in his most non-threatening manner. ‘Nothing more than a snake and a few birds,’ he noted, ‘pretty bare.’ He knocked heavily on the wooden door as he stepped up, trying what he could to stay in the good graces of this woman he rather desperately needed help from. 

But no one answered, not even a rustle of fabric or a creaking floorboard to prove anyone was home.

But Eskel wasn’t going to turn around now, and he was not above a little humility. So holding his hands up, away from his swords as he moved around, “I’ve heard you’re the Village Witch…” Eskel called out into the open area, footsteps carrying him to each window to peek inside, “I’ve come to ask for your help,” He peered inside, seeing nothing but a pair of worn shoes by the door and an unmade bed. “There is a curse I cannot seem to break and I’ve been told that this is something you have… a profound amount of skill in…” he spoke truthfully, “I am at my wit's end and I am running out of time….” 

Still, silence rang around him, only the rustling of leaves and the slither of the snake through the grass to answer him. 

He could feel his medallions hum ebb and flow, as If an invisible stronger magic was coming in and out of range. 

She had to be here. 

And she had to be nearby…. 

With no willing answer, Eskel turned to his next tactic. He wandered through her garden, invading her space, until he came beneath the apple tree.

If she would not approach him on kind terms, then maybe he could force her out with unkind terms- but he would not go back empty-handed. 

Looking around he grabbed an apple. His medallion hummed just a bit stronger. At least he had her attention. “I just want to talk… I don’t have to do this” he assured, though with the threat of her harvest now at hand.

Still no answer.

So Eskel nodded, his decision resolved for him, as he took a large bite from the apple…

His medallion hummed even stronger, nearly vibrating off his chest now, there was still no response. 

The Witcher sighed as he dropped the apple, its form beginning to brown and rot as soon as soon as it hit the ground. 

As much as it pained him to admit it, he wasn’t going to find answers here. He’d have to come up with some other way to glean more information, maybe even speak to the townspeople….

 His walk was slow as he made his way toward Scorpion, the optimist in him- little as it may be- was still holding out hope that some clue may yet come to him. But it seems such optimism was not well-founded.

As Eskel mounted his horse he once again heard the slither of scales through grass. He raised the reins and turned to leave, Scorpion taking his first few steps before the smallest, venom-laced voice came from the tall grass.

“No, Sssssympathy for an Executioner…” 

The voice drew out its words in a telltale hiss, its anger as evident as its forked tongue. The witcher paused, his head just tilted to the side as he considered what he heard, but he did not turn around. He did not need to; Instead, he only fought back a smile as he once again urged Scorpion forward.

________

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[rainbows-ampersand-sunshine]

I’ve got you

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha

Warnings: Emotional fluff. Some soft smut, 18+ only

Summary: Lives are lost on a mission and Nat can’t handle the pain she feels, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. But Wanda is there, she will always be there for her.

1,757 words

A/N: This is mostly just supportive, emotional fluff with some smut at the end, though not super explicit. Still trying to get myself into the zone so I can pick back up my long fic (though admittedly still PWP which is why I ghosted cuz I suck at plot) on ao3 so please enjoy this soft Wandanat short little one-shot that I wrote instead of working. I also wrote this in 2 hours with all the crazy emotions I’m currently experiencing so if it sucks I’m sorry.

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Shaking. Non-stop shaking. Her hands, her fingers. She could see it. She could feel her teeth chattering in that way that told her she was going to break down soon. But she was on the quinjet. She couldn’t do that in front of these people. Her family. She felt light headed, floating away into the melancholy that had taken over the tight space as the team flew back to the compound.

They hadn’t been able to save everyone, they never were guaranteed to, but the screams that came from the orphanage as it caved in was still one of the most painful things Natasha had ever heard. Wanda had managed to get most of them out, but she was too busy holding a collapsing bridge together when the explosion happened to stop all of the damage.

There were always going to be casualties when an evil villain was intent on blowing up a city to get the attention of the Avengers, but it hurt Nat that it always felt like the most innocent always got hurt. With every child Steve pulled from the rubble that Wanda had levitated off the ground, Nat saw a familiar face. Each one a widow, alone in the world just like her.

Except she wasn’t alone. Her hands suddenly stopped shaking. They were gently forced into her lap and an invisible warmth filled them. Her fingers were interlaced with soft red magic that stroked and tickled her palm in the familiar way Nat had come to rely on. The redhead lifted her eyes from the mesmerizing sight and locked eyes with the witch herself.

"It’s okay baby, you’re okay. We’ll be home soon."

The soft words whispered into her mind washed over Natasha. Her lips lifted only slightly as she stared into those beautiful green eyes. They were so full of love and comfort, the intensity would’ve knocked the spy over if she wasn’t already seated.

All Natasha could do was nod as she felt her eyes well up. She squeezed them shut to stop the inevitable, but one tear made its way down her face and she was mortified. This was not the place. She couldn’t do this here.

But the sensation of the wet trail on her cheek abruptly vanished. The Russian blinked her eyes open again, surprised more tears didn’t fall with the action. 

"I’ve got you baby. Just close your eyes. I promise I’ve got you my Natasha."

Of course it was Wanda. Of course she knew exactly how she was feeling. Nat kept quiet and let her eyes shut, giving into the sensation of Wanda’s hands in hers. Those invisible hands that were also pushing the fly-aways from her braid behind her ear. And lightly massaging her traps to get her to relax her shoulders from her ears.

The magic turned into a soft pressure all over her body, like a weighted blanket that engulfed her entire being. Natasha let the magic pull her in further, let Wanda’s soft voice tell her everything was okay.

But her brain couldn’t stop the image of those little kids. The girl with the short blonde curls who wailed for her brother. The smell of smoke. The feeling of complete and utter despair.

Wanda felt what she was feeling too, Nat could feel her presence in her mind. Like a quiet observer, trying to gently coax Nat into a state of relaxation. Nat had long ago welcomed the witch in, something that surprised both of them.

"Please."

Natasha’s broken plea in her mind made Wanda want to cry. She hated to see Nat hurting, but she was so proud of her for asking for help. Wanda remembered Lagos, the first time Nat had shown her that comfort. The start to them.

"I’ve got you Natty, let me show you okay?"

The redhead kept her eyes closed but Wanda felt and saw her acceptance. The image in Nat’s mind morphed into what she was really seeing in that little girl’s eyes. Yelena. Wanda was projecting her own memory. Her forehead pressed to her sister’s, their tears falling as they clung to each other. Natasha could feel the warmth on her own forehead, could hear her own whispered words that it was real to her too.

Memories filtered through of fun times with Yelena since their reunion. Of Yelena meeting Wanda. Fanny bowling over the witch and while Yelena tried to tackle Nat to the ground. Yelena with Kate at Clint’s farmhouse, laughing and teasing Nat but then later drunkenly crying to Nat about how grateful she was to have been accepted into Nat’s family.

Wanda felt Nat’s mind fighting her, wanting to draw to the surface memories from the Red Room. Of Yelena being ripped away from her. But the witch was too powerful. She let those thoughts dissipate and replaced them with one of her favorite memories. The two of them strolling through Central Park, hand in hand, giggling in the comfort of their new relationship. Nat insisted on buying Wanda ice cream and making her sit on a bench to people-watch and be as cliche as possible. Wanda felt her cheeks heat up at the conjured memory of Nat teasing her about being embarrassed to be seen with her, how Wanda had responded that her nerves were not embarrassment in any way and Nat had then captured her lips in a cold, sweet kiss. How they broke their kiss when a little girl had tapped Nat on the knee, her toothy smile causing both women to laugh as they pulled apart.

The little girl’s voice rang in both of their minds as she asked Natasha if she was the Black Widow.

”She sure is,” Wanda responded proudly.

“I knew it! No one is as pretty as you!”

Wanda laughed at the little girl’s response, whole-heartedly agreeing.

“What’s your name sweet girl?”

“My name is Nellie and she saved my mom!”

“I did what?” Natasha asked.

“When the aliens attacked. You saved my mama, I saw! You jumped out of the sky and kicked the scary alien right in the head!”

“Oh,” was all Natasha had been able to say.

“You were awesome! And so cool. And so pretty! And I was scared, mama had hit her head when the building was falling, but she told me it was okay because you were our personal hero and you would never let anything bad happen to us. She said you guys did your best and saved so many people that day. Did you save other girls mamas?”

“She sure did, Nellie. She saved as many people as she could, just like she always does.”

Wanda stopped the memory as she felt the quinjet land. She gently brought Natasha back to reality, cooing in her mind to go slowly, that they could be the last off the plane if she pretended to be asleep.

Natasha listened and waited until everyone else quietly filtered away. Her eyes opened to see her Wanda right in front of her. Her real, warm hands cupping her cheek.

“Come on baby, I got you. Let’s head inside.”

The redhead choked on her words. She felt so much. Pain and despair mixed with love and gratitude. She wanted to sink into the ground, but also wanted to sink into Wanda. To let Wanda take over her mind and make her hers.

“Need you.” The words rasped out of Natasha’s mouth, her eyes desperately trying to make Wanda understand what she meant. But of course Wanda knew. She always knew.

“I know sweetheart. I’m right here okay? Hold onto me.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around Natasha and lifted her from her seat. Air swirled around them and suddenly they were no longer on the jet but instead in their shared room in the compound.

“New trick I’ve been working on,” the witch answered the unasked question. “This one too.” And with that Natasha’s suit vanished along with Wanda’s. Their skin was pressed together as Wanda gathered Nat back into her before leading her to the bed.

The witch laid Natasha down, taking a second to admire her breathtaking beauty before lowering herself down on top of her. She pressed their foreheads together, feeling the shudder that ran through Nat’s body at the contact.

“My baby,” Wanda whispered against Nat’s lips. “You’re so good baby. So so good. Let me show you, okay?”

All Natasha could do was nod, more tears threatening to spill over as she was overcome with emotion. Her lips were captured by Wanda, slow and wet, hypnotizing her. Magic fingers were tracing her entire body, making her feel the warmth Wanda desperately wanted her to.

Images flooded Natasha’s head again as the witch’s mouth moved down her neck to that sweet spot only she knew about where her neck met her shoulder. All she could do was moan and writhe against her girlfriend’s body as it pinned her down, the images the witch was projecting were all of the other times they had done this. Had found comfort in each other.

“My baby.”

“My good girl.”

“My Natalia.”

Wanda’s praises and claims overwhelmed Natasha as she felt her talented fingers travel down to where she needed them the most. Wanda’s hot moan into her own mouth when she found how wet the spy was made Natasha want to crawl into the other woman and never leave.

“Good girl, Natty. Show me what a good girl you are for me. Please baby.”

Wanda was begging her to show her how good she made her feel. Nothing was better to her than watching Natasha give into her own pleasure. To accept that she deserved this pleasure, this love.

Their soft moans were being drowned out by the wet sounds of Wanda’s fingers moving in and out of Natasha in that perfect, slow way she loved. Her thumb came up to rub at her clit, drinking in the gasp that Nat let out at the contact.

“Wands.” Her name was a cry on Natasha’s lips. Wanda couldn’t take her eyes off of her girlfriend’s shining ones. No more memory projection, just them. Their foreheads pressed almost painfully together, their wet lips sliding against each other’s in between mewls and whines.

“Let go for me baby. I love you so much my girl.”

With her declaration of love, a curl of her fingers, and a look of sheer love and adoration, Natasha let go. She let Wanda take her. Let her take care of her in every way. Her Wanda. Always.

[ohsolonelyghosts]

I'll do it for you then.

Characters: Modern AU Businessman!Kylo Ren x reader

Word Count: 3,665

Note: Welcome to my first Tumblr fic! I felt it was finally time to pursue writing on this website, and who better to start it off with than Mr. Kylo Ren? This is a bit longer than I actually intended, and I just got carried away! I actually really love how this turned out.

Contents/Warnings: NSFW, degradation, some choking, some orgasm denial, ever-so-slight daddy kink, unprotected sex

Kylo worked late into the evening. Usually, it didn’t bother you much, you quite enjoyed having your shared apartment to yourself in the evenings. You didn’t have to hear about what show your boyfriend wanted to watch, always managing to steal the remote from you when you were super into a show or movie. So, what was the issue with you tonight? The two of you had a pretty basic agreement, you weren’t always affectionate to each other all the time. A bit of cuddling at night in bed, a kiss in the morning before the two of you went on your ways, and that was enough to satisfy the both of you. If you were sick, he would manage to let down a little more of the manly wall he portrayed, always climbing into bed with you and staying with you the entire day if he could.

The one time you both were helplessly attached at the hip was in the bedroom, unable to ever get enough of each other. Breathless and coated in layers of sweat, Kylo’s shoulders glistening in the dim room. You could feel your lower half starting to work itself just as hard as your head was. Leaning your head back against the couch cushions, you could no longer focus on the show you were oh-so-excited to watch when you arrived home. You slipped a hand between your thighs, resting on your clothed crotch. Thoughts overtook you, rubbing small circles to tease yourself, holding back whimpers. That must have been why you were pondering when the hell he would be arriving home. You were hungry for him.

“Doll?” A voice called out from the other room. It snapped you out of your thoughts of being pounded into from behind from an animalistic Kylo Ren.

Clearing your throat, you called out, “I’m in here!”

You looked past the couch, seeing your lover waltz into the kitchen, setting his bag on the counter. You pulled your hand from yourself, as if nothing was happening before you heard his voice. Rising from your seat, you mosied your way into the kitchen to join him.

“Hi, my love,” you greeted, a soft tone in your words. He gave you a half-nod, it was his way of a silent greeting. A lot of the communication between you two had happened to be silent. He was oddly quiet, usually he would be going off about his day by now, interrupting you. You looked at him as his bag was unzipped, fiddling with his things. He must have had a long day. Your eyes moved to his hands, admiring them quietly. You loved the way they curled around your jaw, your throat as you begged him to fuck you senseless.

Feeling a glare piercing through your body, your eyes wandered up to his face. Kylo had some sort of puzzled look playing upon his face as tilted his head to look at you.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He asked quietly, zipping his bag back up and pushing it away from the two of you. Kylo let out a breath, you were still halfway in your thoughts, trying to think of a way to muster up some sort of statement as to why you were just watching him.

“You’re handsome,” you mused back at him, innocently batting your eyelashes. You were going to try to play your cards right so that he would catch on to what you were trying to get him to do. Kylo huffed out a laugh, bringing a hand to your cheek. His thumb roamed over your cheekbone, a small smirk on his lips.

“Real cute, doll,” Kylo nodded back at you, removing his hand from your cheek. The fire in your veins was threatening to make you combust. You nearly whined at the loss of contact from him, coughing it out. This earned yet another puzzled look from him. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was messing with you or not. Could he not see how desperate you were needing his touch? For him to strip every item of clothing off of you right there and fuck you into oblivion?

“I had an incredibly long day at work today,” he mentions. There he was, back to fiddling with that stupid work bag. “Trying to close this deal with another company, I’ve been bargaining as much as I could, but they don’t like Pryde.”

Pryde was his business partner and he had become pretty close with the guy. They were a dangerous pair, Kylo did most of the talking to clients, trying to set up endless deals with them. Pryde did most of the emails and got the meetings set up in the first place.

Kylo continued to go on about his day, but something about him was making it so you could not focus one bit. He enjoyed that you were a good listener, always wanting to hear what he had to say. You instead were focusing on the way his torso looked in that shirt he was wearing. It was one of your favorites, you even picked it out for him. You nodded along when you could pull yourself out of your thoughts long enough to pretend you were paying attention.

“Why don’t they want to work with Pryde, dear?” You asked him softly, raising your eyebrows. Even if you didn’t necessarily hear what he was saying all the way through, it was important you asked him questions when he fell silent. You heard a chuckle, followed by the word “pathetic” and your heart dropped out of your chest.

Once again, Kylo’s hand was on your face, angling your jaw to look up at him. His eyes scanned your face, the forced eye contact always put you under pressure. Ren’s mouth opened as if he was going to say something to you, and shook his head as he let you go.

“If you paid attention to anything I had just said, you would know why. I explained the whole thing to you. What else could you possibly have been thinking about?”

That was the next thing about Kylo, he had such a temper, it was hard for you sometimes. If you misheard one thing on a bad day, it could send him over the edge. In a way, it did get you all flustered, he was hot, and when he was grumpy or upset it made him ten times as hot.

“I’m sorry, Kylo, I don’t know how I didn’t manage to hear it,” you breathed out, looking at a mildly grumpy version of your boyfriend. He once again asked you to spit out what you were drifting off to think about. Shaking your head, you refused to let out those thoughts that got you so worked up.

“Doll, I’m going to ask you one more time,” Ren practically growled out. His voice was an octave lower than it usually was. He was so stern, and you loved every bit of his current attitude. “What is it that’s distracting you so fucking bad?”

This was it, you couldn’t get away with it past this. Your next words could either end the night in a ruthless fight, or some incredibly rough sex. You cleared your throat, and thoughts. Eyes meeting a very unenthused Kylo.

“Well,” you trailed off, looking away from him. You could never stand it when he would make you speak your mind, especially when it was about something dirty. The way you were acting should have been enough to make him know what you were on about. “Thinking about the way you fucked me last night. The way you made me see stars and the way I couldn’t walk afterwards.”

That had to be enough pleasing words for him to fuck you now, shouldn’t they have been? Kylo should have now known what you wanted tonight.

You’re met with a stifled laugh, and then his warm lips crashing on yours. He mumbles something into your mouth that sounds like the word “cute” as he bites gently at your lower lip. You move both of your hands up to either side of his face, deepening your kiss. Moaning softly at his tongue entering your mouth, his hands find their way to your hips. Kylo lifts you from underneath your thighs, moving you up on top of the island.

“Why not be open about it, doll? Do you get off on making daddy mad? Get off on any sort of punishment, because it’s attention?” His words became mumbles as he trailed kisses all around your jaw and neck. You became practically helpless under his touch as shuddering from his fingers moving under your shirt.

“No sir, I just was thinking about it and wanted to listen to you speak,” you mumbled out pathetically, watching him pull away from your neck. You whined a bit at him for loss of contact once again. His hands are placed on either side of you on the island. Even if you wanted to escape, there was not an exit you could take. The way Kylo looked at you, you knew he wanted to laugh in your face.

“You’re so fucking stupid when you look at me like that, all pathetic. Wipe that face off of your head,” he growled at you. You sucked in a breath, looking down at the ground. He loved talking down at you, especially when you wouldn’t listen to him. Admittedly, you loved it more than you could ever say to him.

You didn’t say anything in retort to him, you were terrified of what he could do to punish you. He looked extremely sexy, all worked up, lips slightly swollen in an ever-so-slight smirk. Kylo’s lips returned to your neck, biting and sucking at the skin, making their way up to your earlobe. He nipped gently at your ear, causing you to moan softly out to him. He tugged slightly, kissing below your ear and moving his way back down to your jaw, then back to your neck.

“Let’s get this off, should we?” He asked, it was a rhetorical question, but you desperately wondered what would happen if you had said no. You swallowed hard, playing on the consequences for a moment.

“What if I don’t?”

Your words rang out, your boyfriend’s face contorting once again to that confusion he first met you with earlier. He wasn’t used to being told no, you always did everything you could for him. He drank in your words, you could practically see the gears turning so he could process it.

Kylo nodded once, and stayed silent. He swooped you up almost effortlessly, taking long strides to the shared bedroom between you two. Your boyfriend dropped you on your bed, a hand to your neck as he pushed you backwards. He squeezed just enough for your hand to move up and grip his wrist, digging your nails into him. It was his turn to suck in a breath at the slight pain. You were sure you could draw blood if it got really catty between you two tonight.

“If you don’t want to do it,” Kylo’s voice finally rang out to you after all this time. He leaned down to your ear, his breath warm. “I’ll just have to do it for you.”

Without a second thought, he moved your arms above your head, making sure to rip off your shirt. He threw it onto the ground, letting it pool at his feet.

“I have a hard day at work, I look forward to coming home to be with my little girl, and she leads on that she wants me back, just to be a little bitch when I want to fuck her the way she wants.”

He sounds irritated with you, but you know he’s just playing it off. You know Kylo cannot resist the way you look when he tugs your shorts down your legs, letting them end up like your shirt. He looked over to your bedside table, back to you, and then opened it. You watched him rummage around before pulling out your vibrator. Your eyes widened a bit at him, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Dear, what’re you doing with that?” You questioned, squeezing your thighs together. You knew, or at least had a very good idea of what his plan for you was tonight, and you started to regret telling him you wouldn’t take your shirt off. Knowing what he was capable of, your mind fought with you over what would be happening if you had obliged.

Once again, snapped out of your thoughts as you hear a familiar buzzing noise. You gasped out, body jolting upwards as it hit your clothed clit. Kylo pressed your hips back down harshly, turning up the vibrator one more level. You cried out for him, unable to help squirming, attempting to get out of his grasp.

“This is what bad whores get. Take it,” he growled, eyes glaring at you. You tried to squeeze your thighs together, hips bucking up to him. Ren didn’t seem to enjoy your movements, and he wasn’t going to let up on you.

“Stop moving, or I’m going to make this a lot worse.”

His words rang out again, and this time you tried to calm your body down. The sensations on your clit were nearly too powerful, and as if he read your mind, he turned it up to the highest setting. You knew that he wanted you to squirm so that he could make it even harder on you.

You felt two of his long fingers slip into you, curling them upwards as your moans got louder for him. You wanted to arch up your back for him, show him you could take him like a good girl. You could feel his eyes peering into you, waiting for you to make one wrong move.

“Kylo, I’m really-” you stammered out, breath becoming rapid. Your chest heaved as your eyes met his. A smirk played upon his lips as he started to pump his fingers into you at a rough speed. Kylo pressed the vibrator against you even harder. He wanted you to cum, he wanted you to let loose of everything and go back to thrashing around for him.

“You want to cum? You wanna cum all over my fingers like a pathetic little slut? You’re so wet for me doll, go on, cum.”

That was all you needed, you became utterly undone as he egged you on. You practically sobbed as you came, your body almost becoming uncontrollable. He milked your orgasm, watching you as you blissfully came down. He let go of you, vibrator still buzzing in his hand.

“That was beautiful, sweet girl, but there’s something that didn’t happen,” he said, tongue peeking out and licking his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed together once again, moving yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“You didn’t get to cum?” You asked in response, biting your lip at him. Kylo shrugged a bit, huffing a laugh out. He finally shook his head, leaving you wondering what on earth you could be missing.

He pushed you back once more, chuckling. “You didn’t stay still the whole time, doll.”

Your eyes widened once more as you shook your head in apology. “Kylo, I’m sorry, what can I do to make it better? I’ll do anything.”

“I know, my love, of course you’ll do anything,” he mentioned, dropping the vibrator on the bed next to your body. He seemed oddly innocent for the act he was just playing up not even five minutes ago. You heard his belt unbuckle and hit the floor, followed by his shirt and pants hitting the floor. This left him in his boxers only as you trembled in anticipation for what he was going to do to you.

“You’re going to take all of me like a good little whore.”

He hovered above you, his shadow nearly covering all of you. He ran the tip of his cock against your folds, pushing into you agonizingly slow. You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering shut as he got fully inside of you. You moved your hands to his shoulders, one hand to his neck to bring him down to press his lips to yours.

Kylo bit harder at your lower lip than he had before, pulling it out a bit as he began a tantalizingly slow pace inside of you. You dug your nails into his back, almost to tell him to speed the hell up. He let out a barely audible groan as he took both of your wrists off of him in one hand. Pushing them above your head harshly, restraining you to the bed. He continued with his slow, rough thrusts. He was driving you mad, helpless whines leaving your lips as his hips bucked into you.

“Kylo, faster,” you breathed out quietly, and thank god he obeyed your request. It must have been getting old quickly for him as well. Without much other warning, he began to fuck into you at an expeditious pace now. The sounds of you two moaning and groaning quickly filled the room. His free hand moved to wrap your legs around his waist, giving him a better angle to fuck you at.

You dug your nails into your palms, sobbing out for him. Tears welled in your eyes every time he met your weeping cunt. You were basking in him causing you nothing but precious unrelenting pleasure, until you felt the familiar sensation on your clit.

The vibrator.

As soon as it had touched you, you arched your back up quickly. “Fuck!” You wept out, eyes rolling back into your head. Already dangerously close to your second orgasm, you whined out for him to let him know. You heard a chuckle, just as you were on edge and about to go over it.

He stops.

He stills inside of you, he removes the vibrator from your clit. You rip your wrists away from his grasp, shooting up to his level. Your chest heaving as you unfortunately come down from whatever high you were chasing after.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Kylo?” You spat at him, just irritated that he would do that to you. It felt like he was leading you on. He looks devious, a snide smile staring back at you.

“Yeah, you didn’t think I’d actually let you cum now, did you? You didn’t obey the one very simple order I gave you earlier. So now you’ll wait until I’m ready for you to cum.”

You practically wanted to cry at that statement. He was right, you moved a ton during your first orgasm. However, in your defense he should have reminded you to keep still. Once you were sure your high was gone, that’s when he began once again, an unrelenting pace back inside of you. The buzzing sensation returned to your clit, making you tense up and arch again.

You were close again all ready, but you wondered how long your body would let you ride out pure pleasure. You didn’t want him to stop you again, so you didn’t bother mentioning just how close you were. Your strings of swears and moans once again returned to the room, hands moving to Kylo’s shoulders.

He knows just how to make you crazy, and he’s incredible at doing it. He leans down to your ear, whispering what a good whore you are for him, taking the entirety of his cock like it’s nothing. You clenched around him, which elicited a groan from his throat.

“What a good little bitch, look at you, you want me to cum inside of you? Let you take all of my cum inside that worthless cunt?” He bit at your neck, leaving marks in his trail. He groaned against your neck, pace picking up more, when you weren’t even sure you could take more.

You tightened your legs around his hips, trapping him. You could tell he was getting dangerously close, he moved back up, his hand returning to where it once was on your throat. Your nails dug at his shoulders, and you could not wait to see the scratches on his back when you two were finished.

You finally knew he was close, and you were as well. This time, you let him know, in hopes that he would finally let you come undone once again. He kept his steady pace, nodding down at you. You were both coated in sweat, bodies both glistening. Something about it made you both edge even closer.

“Go on, doll. Cum for me.”

Those were the only words you needed before your soul practically leaving your body. You screamed out for him, the waves crashing onto you so powerfully you saw stars. You could have sworn you early blacked out, your cunt clenching around your boyfriend’s cock as your road at your orgasm. Before you knew it, he was cumming too. You could feel his thick ropes coating the inside of you, Kylo letting out delicious moans as he rocked his hips into you. He almost collapsed on top of you, both of your chests heaving as you both came down from pure bliss. He pulled out of you, grabbing the shirt he dropped on the ground earlier. Kylo cleaned you both up, hearing you scoff about using a shirt instead of a towel.

“Are you seriously going to complain some more?” Kylo asked as he raised his eyebrows at you. “You should be thanking me for what I just did for you.”

You rolled your eyes as you moved up in your bed, pulling the covers on top of yourself. Kylo climbed in beside you, pulling you into his chest. You took a deep breath, kissing at his neck gently. He pressed his lips to your forehead, holding you and making sure you fell asleep before he dozed off himself.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Sparrow

Prince!Satoru Gojo x assassin!reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, suggestive themes, dubious themes, blood

A/N: request numero dos is done! It’s kinda silly, but I think it’s pretty fun! I think it can be read as pretty lighthearted, even if it gets a little violent! it’s a little different that what was originally requested! I had the elements for a sword fight set up, but it wasn’t working out the way I wanted it to, so I took a slightly different route! theres still fighting though! I hope you like it!

It’s been a long journey to get where you are now, silently scaling the castle towers towards the prince’s bed chambers. An extra long journey, considering how many royal guards have been posted on top of kingdom rooftops. Like a shadow in the night, using nothing but the black elements to mask your presence, you’ve managed to slip by them, as well as the gatehouse soldiers, undetected, leaving only four men incapacitated, and not a vestige of your presence. All this sneaking around has been a trying job thus far, but it’s almost over now. You’re about to finish what you came to do.

Light as a feather, quiet as a dormouse, you swing your body up and over the limestone-clad palace window. The room is adorned with priceless artwork watched over by gilded ceiling paintings. Framing the biggest bed you’ve ever seen is a corona with royal blue drapery that hangs down to each corner. In the center of the bed lies the sleeping and wonderfully unaware prince.

His body is lopsided, and only partially covered by silk sheets. One of his feet hangs off the bed. Tousled white hair sticks out in every direction while still managing to frame his admittedly attractive face. Long white eyelashes. Peaceful and full lips. He’s young, you think, although you’ve been aware. But seeing him in the flesh solidifies the thought: you are about to be the end of his short life.

However, this mission comes with little remorse. There have been rumors that the Royal Gojo Family has been dabbling in alchemy for over a century now. To you, there is nothing more disgusting than the use of the unnatural sciences. It’s ungodly. And even then, this kill shouldn’t matter much since you can call it what it is: a job. This is what you do. Do as your master commands, kill without question, leave no trace, get paid, repeat. It helps that there have been rumors specifically centered around your charge; rumors that Prince Satoru is a complete and utter womanizer.

Well, not for long.

The bed doesn’t shake the least bit as you climb on top of him. The prince sleeps soundlessly and doesn’t stir when you situate your thighs over his firm hips. Normally, you’d simply slit your target’s throat, quick and easy, but since there are those rumors about the use of alchemy, you need to work a little differently tonight. To kill an alchemist user, one will have to pierce them directly in the heart with a silver blade. You don’t particularly believe that the prince is a user; his focus has primarily been on balls and parties and other social events, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. So, your primed weapon of choice, a silverlined dagger, slides up your sleeve and into the palm of your hand. You grasp its hilt, then line it parallel to his heart, pull up, and plunge it in.

Rather, you would be plunging it in, if it hadn’t been for the swift-acting hand wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“Drop it.” The low, sleep-crackled utterance sends shivers up your spine. Acting fast, you use your free hand to push on the hilt, your strength against his, but it doesn’t budge a centimeter, and instead, both of your wrists are captured by the prince. His grip tightens, squeezing you so harshly that you feel the tips of your fingers tingle, but you don’t relinquish your weapon.

Vibrant blue eyes blink up at you, narrowing into a scowl. You try pushing harder, ignoring the fact that his eyes seem to glow in the darkness, ignoring the fact that they are the prettiest eyes that have ever gazed at you, ignoring the fact that those pretty eyes are now trailing down your body. Your skin burns at the attention. You can’t let yourself believe that he’s checking you out in a life or death situation, but then you figure it’s in your head when he says, “if you wish to keep your wrists intact, you will drop. Your. Dagger.”

Surrendering is not an option. It’s either kill or be killed, because even when you choose to not kill, your termination will be absolute. You will be tried by the king with his son at his right side, then you will be hanged for your crimes. So with shaking hands, you attempt to exert more pressure, trying to keep your breath steady to not raise a commotion.

Surprisingly, the prince chuckles. “Has a little sparrow flown through my window to try to kill me?”

In one fell swoop, Satoru manages to flip you onto your back, his hands bringing your wrists down on the side of the bed, forcing you to drop the dagger to the floor. He eyes you speculatively for a moment, then his mouth turns up into a half-grin.

“A woman, no less.” He muses incredulously. Then his eyes dart back down your body, and by the way his grin widens, you’re sure he actually is checking you out. “Are you supposed to be some kind of peace offering?”

What an odd man. Although you've just made an attempt on his life, he’s smiling down at you like you’re some kind of acquaintance—no, friend.

“I mean…sending a beautiful woman to my bedchambers says a lot, wouldn’t you agree?” Prince Satoru asks after taking in your dumbfounded expression. “Not much for words?” He asks. “That’s okay, little sparrow. We don’t need to talk.”

You gasp when he begins to lean down, eyes trained on your lips. Without a second’s hesitation, your feet meet his bare chest, and with all of your might, you kick off, throwing him back a couple meters. You flip back onto the floor and attack him with throwing knives while you search for your dagger. If he is in fact an alchemist, your other weapons won’t do much damage, but could slow him down if you could manage to hit him.

“You’re strong,” Satoru gleefully appraises, dodging another one of your throwing knives, and catching the other. He throws it back at you, but you manage to duck behind the corona curtain at just the right time. “And fast.”

The dagger is under the bed. You grab it, gulp some air, then use the curtain as a distraction before charging at the prince, using the same swiping technique your master has taught you. Your blade cuts through the air with one swipe, and another. You’re barely missing him, and it’s frustrating because that goofy grin stays plastered to his dumb, pretty face!

In a moment’s notice, he grabs your outstretched arm, pushing down on a pressure point that has your limb lock up. “But you’re messy and unrefined,” he says as a hand slides up your arm. Now behind you, he places his free hand on your waist, moving you into a stance similar to what your master has shown you. “Don’t you fret, little sparrow. It’s nothing a little polishing won’t fix.”

His breath is hot and fanning your ear. Your stomach knots when he squeezes your waist, and to your utter horror, his lips graze down to your neck, tongue sliding over your skin. “Mmm…sweet.”

“What! Are you—?!” Bouncing away from him, you cover your slick neck with one hand while the other continues to point the dagger outwards. What’s even worse is that he doesn’t look the least bit jaded!

He laughs. “Even your voice is cute!” In the dim light of the room, you can see pink beginning to bloom across his cheeks. “Won’t you speak more? Say my name, pretty please.”

“Prick,” you hiss, once again charging forward.

“Do you kiss your master with that mouth?” Satoru begins using his arms to block and redirect your attacks, until he’s twirling you around as if you’re dancing and not trying to kill him! You fume, hating the fact that the prince knows you have a master to begin with. “I should hope not. The only person I’d have you kiss is me!”

He dips you down low, your dagger somehow tucked between the junction of your arm, and very smoothly places his lips against yours. You’ve been kissed before, but never in such a way that made you feel like floating. Like gravity ceased to exist. Like you were falling into a black hole that you didn’t want to claw out of. Prince Satoru Gojo’s kiss is different. It’s light and it’s heavy. It’s heaven and it’s earth. It’s a blessing and a curse.

He hums into you, making the knot in your belly tighten. For a moment, you don’t struggle. Instead, your lips part, and you allow the prince to cup your face to pull you in deeper, tasting you, relishing you. You wind your fingers through the soft strands of his starry hair, and lose yourself in the moment. When he breaks the kiss, pulling away with an expression you can only call beguiled, his thumb moves along the bottom of your lip. Your mind is the fog that clouds the streets at night. It doesn’t mean anything to you when you kiss the tip of his thumb, but when that grin you hate so much comes back, your body erupts in blusterous rage.

Realizing what you just allowed to happen, you snap at his hand. He pulls it away just in time for you to reach for your weapon and slice it across his chest. You push him back, only allowing yourself a second to collect yourself before aiming the dagger at his heart. He catches your wrist before it makes contact.

“So passionate,” he says with a smile, but through gritted teeth. “I must admit, this has been the most fun I’ve had in my bedchambers in a very long time. You might even be spoiling all the fun that the future entails as well. And I don’t even know your name yet. How sad.”

Satoru throws you against the wall, pinning your dagger-wielding arm against one of his extravagant paintings. He nods towards your weapon. “Throw that away.”

“You scared, alchemist?” You bite back.

“I’m only afraid you might hurt yourself, little sparrow. Sharp objects are dangerous, you know. Wouldn't want to clip your wings.” He winks. “And you should be referring to me as your royal highness. I am a prince, afterall.”

“With the dark craft that you and the royal family use, you’re no higher than me.”

Satoru chuckles. “Won’t you please tell me your name? Or at least join me in bed before you insist that I need to be killed.”

“This is not on my insistence.” It’s a slip, but it’s a big one. You’d cover your mouth if your hands were free.

“So, who sent you?” The prince prompts. “It can’t be a scorned lover. Hmmm. The Fushiguro clan? Pshh. No. They’d do it in person.” He flashes his teeth, omniscience glowing in his beautiful blue eyes. “Master Suguru Getou?”

You suck in a breath and he reads it all too well.

“I already know,” he purrs, lips brushing against yours. “Your fighting style is very similar to his. I’m just surprised he sent somebody with so little experience. It certainly proves how much of a coward he is.”

Your blood boils. How dare he insult your master to your face! Satoru Gojo, the sleazy prince and a lowly alchemist. He is scum compared to Master Getou.

You ram your head into the prince’s. Pain shoots down your spine, but you ignore it and thrust your dagger forward. Satoru grabs your arm and pushes it down, and soon, you scream after hearing a tearing sound, and feel a very sharp stinging at your side. Sticky warm fluid seep through your fingers at your side. It’s not a deep cut, but it’s just enough to make you bleed.

“Oh no,” Prince Satoru says in earnest. “Oh, this was my mistake. Dear sparrow, that was a reflex of mine. I didn’t mean to—“

There’s a knock on the prince’s chamber doors, followed by someone’s low voice asking, “your highness, are you well? I heard screaming.”

Shit. This is it. You’re dead. Sure, the prince wants to play with you, but anyone else will have your head in a heartbeat if they see what you’re doing. You should say your prayers now and kiss the world goodbye. You’re sending a silent apology to Master Getou when Satoru lifts you up and carries you to his bed.

“Sir Nanami?” The prince calls while he throws the sheets over both you and him. He climbs on top, pressing his chest into yours. The side that’s injured seers with pain, so you let out a little whimper the moment you hear footsteps enter the room.

“Don’t tell me you have a woman in here,” the man groans. “You know the king has forbidden any partner of yours from walking through these palace doors until further notice.”

“She flew in through my window, actually,” Satoru slyly admits. “But she’s no ordinary woman. She’s very special to me.”

Both you and the knight scoff at the same time, though you hope he doesn’t hear you. If he can believe this charade, perhaps you can get on with your night. And once you kill the prince, there will be a knight who will think that his murder is nothing but a lover’s quarrel gone wrong.

“I see.”

You’re staring at Satoru’s chest, and you realize that his wound from earlier is nearly healed. If you had any doubts about the Gojo family using alchemy, they’re out the window now. You run a fine finger across the red line that contrasts against his ivory chest, feeling the smooth bump where you’d cut him. Will it scar? you think. Disappear completely?

The prince squirms and grabs your hand. “That tickles!” He exclaims, bringing your hand up to his mouth to pepper kisses all over it. Even though the attention burns the back of your neck, you let him, since it’ll only convince the knight that the two of you are in fact being intimate.

Finally, Satoru says, “did you need something, Sir Nanami, or are you ready to confess your voyeuristic sins?”

Sir Nanami sighs, but you hear him back up a few paces. “Then, nobody’s hurt, your highness?”

“No,” Satoru says dubiously, “however, if you could fetch the healing medicines, that would be appreciated. She’s a little feisty!”

You slap his chest and he yips playfully back at you. It would be good fun if the two of you weren’t enemies.

Once the knight leaves, you’re quick to slink out of the bed, albeit wobbly. Dots of blood line his sheets, the sight making you feel a bit dizzy, but it doesn’t stop you from picking up your weapon.

“You don’t tire, do you?” Satoru asks impishly. “As admirable as that is, I simply cannot allow you to try to kill me anymore! You’ll get more hurt!”

“You’re nothing but a dirty alchemist.” You weakly thrust the dagger forward, nearing the window.

“Well, and a dashing prince, but that’s besides the point.” Satoru steps forward and you step back, your legs hitting the window’s wall. “Your master is no better.”

You bare your teeth at him. “Don’t you dare say a word to me about my master!”

“Please, little sparrow, you’re injured. Step away from the window and let’s bandage you up.” He reaches a hand out, and you swipe through the air, splicing his palm. More blood falls to the floor. Unafflicted, Satoru says, “you can’t hurt me.”

“Then let me leave, so that when I return, I can hurt you!”

There’s a purse on his lips. A pensive pause. Then the prince raises both of his hands, one of which is already healed, in defeat.

“There’s a medicine man who lives south-east from the gatehouse,” he says. “His name is Kiyotaka Ijichi. He’ll be asleep by now, but he’s a bit of a pushover and a sucker for a lady in distress. If you wail a bit outside his house, he’ll come out to offer you aid.”

“I don’t need anybody’s help,” you spit as you begin climbing out the window. You half-expect him to push you then. It’s a wonderful opportunity, one that you would seize if you were in his position. But the prince just watches you begin your descent.

“Do try to not bleed on any of the garden flowers,” he calls.

You wordlessly growl back at him.

“Oh, and little sparrow! Should you return here tomorrow evening, or perhaps the next night, or even a week or a month from now, shall I prepare red or white wine for you?” Prince Satoru offers you a charming smile. “And would you like there to be a violinist present? Anything to set the mood?”

Once you’re on your feet, you glare up at the beaming prince. He’s far too confident, but you make a mental promise to ruin that confidence someday, somehow. You don’t answer him, like you’re sure he doesn’t expect, but you allow him to watch you disappear into the black from whence you came.

[elysiadjarin]

Sword and Shield 10

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Part 9: Shatter

Warnings: very much 18+, minors DNI you have been warned, TW for trauma and PTSD, PIV unprotected sex (irl please be safe and use protection), everything is consensual, overstimulation, oral, cockwarming, dom/sub interactions, choking, subspace mentions, poly relationship. Also I swear Wrecker will get a chapter too, don’t come at me!!

I know it’s been a while but I hope this long chapter makes up for it!

10: Recover, Relive

Two more smaller missions later, the Bad Batch had been given a break. You’d pushed through the healing and the expected night of nightmares just fine thanks to being able to curl up to the warmth of Tech and Wrecker. The entire team had been pretty careful with you for the past couple of days, letting you have your space to recover while you continued to work alongside them for missions.

Crosshair hadn’t said anything, really, but his willingness to just let you quietly sit in his presence or in the back of his mind and polish your Rifle form was his way of showing support that you appreciated.

You'd been relieved for the break, knowing that you needed a moment to reset and devote everything to recovering. While you'd started to get over the worst nightmares and the last of your injuries had completely healed, you were still struggling with flashbacks and keeping your focus.

Sitting curled up on Hunter's bunk, you leaned your chin against your knees pulled up to your chest and sighed. Everytime you closed your eyes, you could see Skarla's maniacal eyes and bloodstained grin as she reached into your body and reveled in your pain. You could still hear your own screams echoing through your memories. You'd buried them so deep, the inhibitor chips having contributed to the suppression, and now... well, it was coming back and demanding to be dealt with.

The 501st had already helped you deal with so much of your past. But not everything. And this... these memories had been ones that you’d barely disclosed to even them.

“Shiv.”

You looked up to see Hunter standing in front of the bunk, carefully sitting down on the edge. “Oh... hi.” You smiled faintly.

He observed you carefully. “Are you doing okay?”

For a moment, the temptation to just say “I’m fine” hovered on your lips. But you remembered how disappointed all your Vod’ika had been when they discovered you’d been suffering and hadn’t told them. And the Bad Batch... the ones you loved, deserved better. You knew that.

So you looked down at your knees, then back up at him. “A memory for a memory?” you offered.

Surprise flickered through his eyes, then he scooted backward and leaned against the wall. “I guess that’s fair,” he admitted. Eyebrows furrowing, he thought for a minute before finally answering. “There was one mission,” he said slowly. “It was pretty early on. Everything... almost went wrong to the point of failure. In the end, it was my fault that I didn’t listen and got Tech nearly killed.” His chest heaved with a sigh, his head shaking. “It taught me a valuable lesson, and made me a better leader. Tech forgave me. But sometimes... I still hate myself for it.” Bitterness laced his tone. “I can still hear him screaming in pain, and remember how I felt when I realized what I’d done. I’ll never forget how my own stupidity and pride allowed me to fail the team. In some ways... what happened to you on our first mission reminded me of that.”

You sat in silence for a minute, mulling over his story. In retrospect, it would make sense why Hunter had seemed to loathe himself overmuch and take too much blame for your injury on that mission. Still, you knew that most of it had been your own fault for getting distracted and allowing yourself to get sidetracked from the mission.

“Skarla,” you said abruptly. You felt his surprise over the Bond before it faded away. “She...” Your lips twisted. “She is who she is for a reason. But she’s also... extremely cruel. I... I can survive and heal from wounds that most can’t, because of what I am,” you said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “So my wounds sometimes— they seem a lot worse to others than to me because my scale of survival is different. Skarla has... well,” you said, shifting, “she’s well aware of that fact. Every time I would fail to defeat the Guardian, she would be allowed to punish me for fifteen minutes in whatever way she pleased.”

Fifteen minutes of Nine Corellian Hells. Fifteen minutes of begging for death.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve been torn open, ribs cracked, my guts rearranged,” you said, exhaustion lining your voice. “Honestly, I’ve forgotten a lot of it. My brain... couldn’t handle keeping the memories and still staying sane, I was told. I guess it’s better I don’t. What I do still remember... it haunts me. Just the memory of the pain, wishing for death. Staring up at the ceiling of the chamber and hearing my own blood splatter against the walls, hearing myself scream like a stranger. They’re some of my worst memories. Being back there... it was hard but...” You looked down thoughtfully at your hands.

“As hard as it was... it wasn’t unbearable. Not anymore. Knowing that- that all of you were there, and that— that you believed in me, trusted me... Even Tech: he trusted me. It gave me a strength to face not just my past but my nightmares and memories now because... because I have all of you.” You gave Hunter a small but genuine smile. “Being able to feel that strength... it helped me to defeat my past.”

Hunter met your gaze with a softness in his eyes that warmed you. He held out his hand, and you took it gratefully. “We’re here for you, Shiv. In whatever way you need.”

You nodded, then scooted closer to him and leaned into his side. “I’m here, too. I want... I want to return the strength you’ve given me.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “You do already. In more ways than you know.”

Despite yourself, you had to duck your head as heat rose to your face. Your mind wouldn’t stop supplying you with memories of Hunter thrusting into you, his hands gripped around your waist and siding down your back, pulling you into his hips. His face buried between your legs, fingers sliding into you— Crosshair’s lithe fingers wrapping around your throat as Hunter came inside you, moaning—

Hunter let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, did you remember something else in particular, Shiv?”

Thoroughly embarrassed, you buried your face in your hands with a whimper, knowing he could feel the heat coming from you and probably even smell you at this point. But for some reason... the memories wouldn’t stop. You.... wanted it. Wanted him.

Hunter’s mouth brushed against your throat, even as he pulled you back and into his chest. “If you want to make new memories, I’d be glad to help with that.”

You whined, biting your lips. “I...”

He kissed your neck, sliding up to your jaw. His hand reached up and gently tilted your chin to his face. “Is this what you want, Shiv?” he asked it in a low, husky tone, his dark eyes darting down to your mouth with a flare of desire.

You swallowed, then nodded. Yes. You wanted Hunter.

He bent and kissed you. His kiss this time was a bit different. Maybe because this time you were alone, you didn’t know, but... there was something about his kiss that was more tender, more... slow, as though he were savoring you, memorizing the feel of your lips against his.

“Come here,” Hunter rasped, turning you towards himself. Reaching up, he pulled his shirt off and dragged you close again, his hands sliding down your back as he kissed you. His mouth was hungry, his hands taking yours and placing them against his chest. His fingers gently slid under your top, and he pulled back for a moment.

“Can I?”

You nodded shyly, letting him slide your shirt and bra off. His hands slid up, cupping your breasts in his hands and admiring them for a moment.

“Can’t blame Tech for being obsessed,” Hunter admitted after a moment, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

You whimpered, shivering under the touch as you bit your lip. His calloused hands were warm and firm, and the deft confidence in the way he touched you brought back memories of his hands effortlessly wielding you as a blaster. Hunter’s touch was one of a leader, confident and respectful of the power he held, knowing its limits and its capacities and treating it accordingly.

“So you feel that, too,” Hunter murmured, making you realize that his Bond with you was alight with shared sensation.

His hand moved down, splaying over your bared stomach. He paused, his eyes curious as he simply gazed at his fingers, his palm covering your navel. Your chest heaved with breath as you wondered what he was thinking. A little embarrassed at the intensity that had crept into his gaze, your fingers twitched on the waist of his trousers.

Hunter bent forward, then, and caught your mouth in a long, languid kiss that brimmed with appreciation. His hands swept down to your waist, settling on your hips. “You’re beautiful, Shiv,” he murmured against your mouth.

A little surprised, you pulled back to blink up at him. Hunter had never really struck you as one to pay attention to that sort of thing, so his soft, earnest comment surprised you.

He reached up, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know all of us love all of you, and admittedly some of us might be especially appreciative of specific things. But whenever I see you, all I think of is... you,” he said slowly, eyes trailing over your face. “Watching you interact with the team, seeing you get excited when you’re successful in Transference, or even just... sitting on a bunk somewhere. I think just your astral form is enough for me to know it’s you, mesh’la.” He leaned his forehead against yours.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to smile and close your eyes. The warmth curled in you, and you let your happiness spill over the Bond.

“Mm. Although I do think that you’re a different kind of pretty when you’re clearly enjoying getting fucked,” Hunter chuckled, his voice deepening as he leaned closer to your ear.

The filthy words accompanied by the way Hunter’s hands sensually trailed up your front made you bite your lip and flush, looking down. Despite yourself, a thought popped into your head and you suddenly giggled, reaching up to press your fingers against your lips.

“Something funny?” Hunter asked, amusement lacing his own voice.

“My Vod’ika,” you giggled. “They’d all be losing their minds if they knew that I—“ you burst into a fresh wave of laughter, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Maker, Kix is protective enough, he’d want to kill all of you- and Fives, oh, Fives—“ Tears of laughter welled in your eyes as you thought about it. Fives wouldn’t know whether to tease you or want to fight the Bad Batch. Hawk and Dogma would be in shock that you were with four people.

Hunter laughed with you, shaking his head. “Not sure if I should laugh or be offended that you’re thinking of other men while I’m touching you,” he teased.

You suppressed your laughter, grinning up at him. “Sorry, Hunter,” you managed. “I promise I’m paying attention to you.” You lifted his hand to your face, leaning your cheek into his palm with a smile.

His eyes darkened, and he tipped you back. Catching you gently, he lowered you onto the bunk and pulled the pillow under your head. Shifting himself above you, he bent to kiss you and pull your body against his. His fingers played against your shorts, and you had to squirm a little at the way your body sparked at the friction. Letting out a little noise into his mouth, you canted your hips up as he ground against you.

Hunter let out a quiet grunt into your mouth, nipping at your lips. “You want these off, mesh’la?” His hands tugged at your shorts.

You lifted your hips, letting him slide them off. To your vague surprise, he left your underwear on. He started to kiss down your neck and chest. His fingers slid around the thin underwear, and he grunted as he felt how slick you’d already gotten. His fingers found barely any friction as they slid into your core.

You gasped, back arching as he pressed his fingers up into you. He worked you in a way that had you whining, entirely at his mercy as he proved how diligent he’d been in exploring your body and leaning your curves and edges. He traveled down your body, kissing your thigh as he continued to work his fingers and stretch you. The way he stared at your drooling core sent a flush of heat through you.

Then his thumb pushed aside more of the underwear, and his face lowered.

You let out a strangled gasp, back arching as your hands flew down and found purchase in his hair. His breath was hot against your core, his tongue dizzyingly familiar with your body. He grunted as your fingers tightened and twisted in his hair, his fingers finding that spot that had you arching into his mouth with a moan.

“Hunter,” you moaned, trembling against him as you felt that coil tighten in your abdomen.

After one last, long lick, Hunter lifted his mouth and licked you off of his lips with a satisfied look. Shifting himself back up your body, he slid his fingers out of you and instead brought them to your mouth.

You let him slide his fingers between your lips, the flavor bursting in your mouth. His fingers pushed against your tongue, and he surveyed you with dark eyes and a lazy smile. After a moment, he pulled his hand away and slid his trousers off, bending to kiss you again. He settled himself between your legs, his cock resting heavily against your core and up your lower belly. Something slick dripped onto your skin, warm and thick.

“Is this okay, Shiv?” Hunter asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, reaching up to slide your hands up his shoulders. Over the Bond, you could feel the way his utter desperation to be inside you heightened. His mind, as he lost control of the Bond, kept focusing on the way your body melted into his hands, the way his body burned as he pressed against you, the way he gravitated towards you. He let out a quiet gasp as his cock slipped against you, his eyes squeezing shut above you.

He slowly, ever so slowly, eased into you. Every inch earned you another low groan, and you had to stare up at his face in awe. Hunter’s face twisted in pleasure, his jaw clenched and his eyelashes fluttering.

“Maker, mesh’la,” he choked, shuddering above you as he completely bottomed out, buried deep inside you. “I can’t— you’re so kriffing tight.” His eyes, when he opened them to stare down at you, looked practically drugged.

You abruptly remembered Hunter’s enhanced senses, especially as a wave came over his side of the Bond of his overwhelmed pleasure. Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands, trying to make sure he wouldn’t overdo himself.

“Just relax,” you whispered, feeling the way he trembled against you. You knew that the moment he started moving you’d be dangerously close to the edge thanks to his own pleasure he was sharing across the Bond. Not to mention the way Hunter was practically collapsed on top of you, his body pressed against yours, his low groans spilling into your ear as his mouth pressed against your skin. His arms braced himself on either side of you, your legs propped up against his hips.

“Gonna— gonna move,” he hissed, slowly pulling back out so only his tip stayed in you. “Kriff,” he mumbled under his breath.

You were already making sloppy sounds, and you whimpered as he pushed back into you. The way his movements were so precise and sure, the way his mouth pressed against yours with a burning need made that tightness in you start to snap. You whined, already so close to coming.

“You gonna cum, Shiv?” Hunter chuckled, his voice raspy. “You’re so kriffing wet around me.”

You moaned, eyes fluttering as he started to thrust, pitching into you smoothly. His hand reached down between you, and his thumb found your clit.

“You feel so good, so hot and wet and tight,” he murmured, beginning to praise you even as his hips started to stutter. “Kriff, mesh’la, you take me so well. So pretty, under me like this.”

You whimpered, reveling in the soft praises and touches that he showered on you. You could feel him starting to get close himself, his movements a little more erratic as he lost control.

“So lucky to have you, that you love us,” Hunter rasped against your neck, his kiss almost reverent. “Gonna— gonna cum, mesh’la—“

His finger twitched against your clit and you were arching, crying out his name as the heat washed through you, white hot. Pleasure burst behind your eyelids as you came, just as he slammed into you and ground, groaning your name. He spilled into you, filling you up, then shuddered and collapsed against you. His body leaned against yours, his face burying into the crook of your shoulder.

The heat that pooled in your belly as Hunter kept you plugged made your eyelashes flutter. Letting out a soft sigh of contentment, you reached up and gently drew your fingers through his hair.

His chest heaved for breath, and his hands ran down your sides appreciatively. “I love you, so much,” he whispered, his voice getting heavy.

You reached up and pressed a shy kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you too, Hunter. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He fell asleep rather quickly, though you guessed it was in part due to the overstimulation. You waited until he was asleep before carefully sliding out from underneath him. You quickly adjusted your underwear to catch Hunter’s cum starting to run down your leg. You needed to make it to the fresher, but had to lean against the wall halfway there as your knees almost gave out.

You finally managed to go get yourself cleaned up, and went to go change underwear and fetch your bra. You made rounds to collect laundry, putting in a load and blowing out a breath. Pushing hair away from your face, you went to the common area to go find a T-shirt you knew you’d left in there.

Looking around, you finally caught sight of the large shirt and perked up, going to go grab it and slide it over yourself. Tech was the only other one in the common room, and you made a quick decision as you walked over to him.

“Tech?” you asked softly.

He looked up at you, blinking owlishly as he registered your presence. “Ah, Shiv.” He readjusted his goggles. “Can I assist you with something?”

You tilted your head, clasping the edge of the shirt in your fingers. “If... if you’re not busy, can I— can I talk with you?” you asked, suddenly a bit nervous.

He turned fully toward you. “Sure, Shiv. I was just working on a few odds and ends anyway.”

You glanced down at his legs. “Um, can I— can I sit?”

Some confusion flickered across his face. “Of course-“

You got closer to him and slid into his lap, facing him with your legs on either side of him and your hands twisted in the hem of your shirt. He let out a small noise of surprise, his hands coming up to your hips to steady you.

“I wanted to thank you,” you said softly, still not looking up at his face.

“Thank me? For what, Shiv?” Tech asked curiously. His hands tugged at you, bringing you a little closer to him.

“I know I said it before, but— but I really wanted to thank you properly,” you said, scrambling for words. “For how you trusted me, back during the... the ritual.” You made a little, nervous gesture. “I mean— it means more to me than I think you realize. It’s— the ritual is one that’s... that’s fueled by blood, whether yourself or your Champion. Skarla— she’s always been very powerful and- and she... she was very cruel to me, a long time ago. Going back there was...” your face twisted in misery as you looked down. “It was really difficult, and I— it brought back a lot of fear.”

Taking a breath, you made yourself look up at him. “But you trusted me, believed in me. You didn’t even question me when I led you towards dangerous places, and did everything I asked without hesitating. You trusted me to the point that when faced with something unusual... you readily gave your blood for me.” Your heart was in your throat even as you said it. “It— it meant so much to me, Tech,” your voice wavered, your eyes welling with tears. “The only reason I actually won that match... is because of you.” You met his eyes, trying to convey how much it truly meant.

Tech’s eyes widened as he gazed at you with surprise, his fingers tightening around your waist.

“You gave me the strength I needed to push through, and the way you believed in me...” You reached up and wiped away the grateful tears that had sprang to your eyes. “I fought a battle against my fear and the memories of my failure, too,” you whispered. “But your faith in me was what really gave me the power to win. And I wanted— I needed to thank you. So you know... know what it means to me.”

Tech leaned forward. Your eyes widened as he kissed you, taken a bit aback by the suddenness. But it felt so good, the way his mouth pressed against yours and the way his emotions started to spill over the Bond to you. Tech was... his kiss always made you lean into him, eyes fluttering closed as you melted into the gentle, desperate affection. His precise, clinical nature softened whenever he kissed and touched you.

“I am glad that you are all right,” Tech said, his voice quiet and earnest. “It was... frightening, to see you fight alone. I am pleased to know that I could give you strength in any way I could.”

You leaned forwards and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Tech.”

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he murmured back. He let out a sigh as you shifted, his hands gripping around your hips. “Shiv— could I ask a favor?”

You blinked, pulling back to look up at him.

He glanced down at the hem of your shirt, and an image flashed across the Bond. You, leaning against Wrecker’s chest, fast asleep, Wrecker’s thick cock buried inside you as your chest rose and fell with breath and your face flushed with the arousal. Color crept up Tech’s neck.

“I— um—“

You looked up at him with a shy smile, a bit embarrassed but also flattered that he seemed to be so enamored with your body as well. Leaning down, you grasped his hand and brought it up to the hem of your shirt, pushing his fingers up under it.

Tech swallowed, his hand trailing upward, sliding to the edge of your bra. He glanced at you for permission, and you answered by reaching down and unzipping his trousers. His breath hitched as you began to slowly pump him, your fingers playing a little with his tip. His hand slid under your bra, brushing over your nipple as you bit your lips at the stimulation. Your body was still a little sensitive after Hunter, and you were starting to feel the tiredness pluck at your eyelids.

Tech slid his fingers around your underwear, only to feel you dripping wet and still leaking a bit of Hunter. He brought his fingers up and didn’t seem to be surprised at the white, simply sticking it in his mouth.

“Shiv,” Tech murmured, bending to press a kiss to your throat.

You scooted forwards, letting him guide himself into you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you had to let out a soft moan as he sank fully into you, stuffing you so perfectly. Tech really was the perfect girth for this, you thought dizzily. He just hit every spot inside you as he stuffed you full and kept you sitting still on his cock. It almost made you feel torn between wanting to move and wanting it to stay there, resting perfectly inside you, lighting you up in the best way possible.

He let out a groan against your ear, his hands keeping your hips pressed against his, keeping you completely pressed into his chest, every curve of your body melting against his. Letting out a shuddering breath, he shifted and scooted forwards, beginning to resume his work.

Despite yourself, you had to open your mouth against the crook of his neck and shoulder, biting down gently and beginning to absently suckle. His skin had a hint of salt, but just the warmth of his skin comforted you, your eyes fluttering closed as you suckled a mark into his neck.

Eventually you fell asleep, happily cradled against him and stuffed completely full.

~

“Oh, hey, there’s Shiv! I was wondering where she was.”

Stirring, you started to wake up. Reaching up, you rubbed at your eye and felt the yawn build in your mouth.

“You woke her up, Wrecker,” Tech sounded a bit morose.

“Huh? Oh— sorry, Shiv.” Wrecker’s voice sounded closer.

You sat up a little, arms still flung across Tech’s shoulders. Stretching, you let the yawn stretch your mouth and your eyes flutter open. Sleep still sticking in your eyes, you blinked up at Wrecker, lips parted.

Wrecker grinned. “Did you have a good nap?”

You nodded belatedly, reaching up to rub the sleep out of your eyes. For a moment, you just blankly stared at Tech’s collar as you woke up more fully. Then shaking your head, you looked up at his face. He gazed back down at you, his hand lightly resting on your thigh. He brushed his thumb across your skin, and you suddenly realized why your lower body felt warm with a pulsing heat. He was still buried hilt deep inside you, his cock thick and hard as it pressed up inside you.

“You’ve been asleep for a chron,” Tech said, his voice surprisingly even.

Your mind fizzled for a moment. He hadn’t moved for a whole chron? He hadn’t cum, obviously, so... Then your lips parted, and you tilted your head at him. But your breath caught in your throat, and you instead shivered and looked down, your face blooming with warmth. Reaching up, you pressed the back of your hand against your mouth to suppress your whimper.

“Ah— th-thank you, I— I think I needed that nap,” you admitted, trying to scrape yourself together. “Um-“ You glanced up to see Tech’s knowing, little smile that he gave you. His hand slid down to your inner thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin. His eyes glittered with the knowledge that at the moment, the T-shirt was the only thing hiding the way your body was clenching around him, making a wet spot against his trousers, drooling all over him, coating your thighs in slick. Every time he pulsed, you felt his cock press up against your g-spot.

“Wrecker, can you hand Shiv her datapad? I think it’s still on the table,” Tech said, his voice still frustratingly calm considering how clearly desperate his body was.

You glanced up at him in a bit of despair, wondering if he was really going to still not move. Though it didn’t surprise you that Tech’s patience and endurance were so high, still. This was on the verge of being cruel. Your body clearly had been frustrated this whole time you’d been asleep, denied movement and friction.

Wrecker handed you the datapad, and you took it with a weak smile. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Tech’s hand squeezed a handful of your thigh. Stay still for me, cyar’ika. And because it was Tech, somehow the order was still coated with that enamored desperation that made you want to obey, just to give him whatever he wanted.

Leaning forward again, you rested your chin against Tech’s shoulder and propped your arms over his shoulders, opening up the datapad. You also realized that Tech had taken off your bra, though you wondered where he’d put it. Not that you cared, particularly. He leaned forward a little as well, reaching for a tool, and pressed your breasts against his chest.

You whined across the Bond, pouting at how mean he was.

He just chuckled, the loving affection pouring across the Bond a satisfactory compensation.

Wrecker sat across from you, beginning to chatter about how he’d been training. You listened, humming and nodding as you pulled up the schematics that Tech had uploaded to your datapad for Wrecker’s combat gloves. You’d been studying and modifying them so that hopefully Wrecker would be able to have them by the next mission.

Just then, Crosshair strolled in. “Hunter says there’s a bit of turbulence ahead,” he drawled, just as the ship jolted.

You let out a choked gasp as it made you rise a little and slam back down on Tech’s cock. Eyes widening, you tried to keep your composure as you gripped onto your datapad. Tech’s grunt had been lost, but the way he throbbedinside you was a sweet sort of revenge.

“Whoa.” Wrecker grabbed onto his seat. “What is it?”

“Asteroid belt,” Cross said, grabbing onto the nearest steady surface. “We have to manually fly through some of it.”

Your mind was already short circuiting. Tech had somehow gotten bigger inside of you, and you were almost on the verge of tears thanks to the way he was pressing into all your sensitive spots. At this point, you were just desperately trying to hold still while your body clamped down on his cock and inched so much closer to the edge. Tech’s hand on your lower back still somehow kept you grounded, reminding you not to move. You didn’t want to disobey. You wanted to make Tech happy.

“Hey Shiv, what’re you working on?” Wrecker asked, turning to you. The ship still dipped and swerved once in a while.

You fumbled with your datapad, connecting it to the holoscreen and transferring the data. “Your- your gloves,” you managed, trying to keep yourself at least coherent. But it was so hard when Tech’s warmth was engulfing you, his hand sweeping down your back, across your thigh, pressing your chest into his.

“I’m trying to modify them before our next mission,” you continued, highlighting the list of mods you’d created off to the side of the schematic. “These are the ones that have already been done, and these are the ones that I’d like to try to do-“

The ship jolted, taking a sharp turn up before coming straight back down and banking. This time, you barely managed to keep yourself from letting out a filthy, desperate moan. Tech had slid his hand down as though to brace you, but his thumb slid under the hem of the shirt and instead slicked up your clit.

You’re doing very well, Shiv, Tech’s voice puddled in your mind. You already came twice while you were asleep. You were so good for Hunter, do you think you could be good for me just a little longer?

So you bit back your sob and instead sank your teeth into your lip so hard you swore you’d leave a mark. You weren’t surprised that Tech knew about you and Hunter’s earlier session: Hunter always projected unconsciously once he was on sensory overload.

“That looks super cool, Shiv! I can’t wait to test it out.” Wrecker was grinning.

“Ah— sorry, Shiv. I need to grab this for a moment,” Tech said, just before moving forward and pressing his hand against your lower back. He grabbed something, then leaned back again and trailed his hand up your back.

Crosshair met your gaze across the room, his lips tilting up in a knowing smirk. His eyes swept over you, a hint of appreciation buried in his dark eyes. He said nothing, but you knew that he’d figured out exactly what was happening. You were past the point of embarrassment. Not only because your body was desperate, but also because the boys all quite clearly appreciated the projections over the Bonds and the sight of you being made a mess over and over.

The final jolt back into hyperspace proved to be too much for you. The way it pressed you wholly into Tech’s front and caused your clit to grind against his hip. The way your body clenched even wrenched a grunt from him.

The datapad fell from your weak fingers, clattering to the floor. Your head dropped down, your breaths quick and shallow as your entire face flushed, eyes fluttering closed. Lips parted, you peeled open drugged and teary eyes.

“Shiv? You okay?” Wrecker asked, looking at you in some surprise.

“Cruel, Tech,” Hunter’s amused voice came from the doorway. He jerked his head. “I’m going to go get some more shut-eye. Take care of her.” He disappeared down the hall.

“Huh?” Wrecker looked thoroughly confused.

Crosshair rolled his eyes. “Wrecker, she’s been sitting there for over a chron.”

Tech turned the chair to give Wrecker the full view. His hand slid up your thigh, bringing the edge of the shirt up as his hand traveled further up your hip and waist. “She’s been cockwarming me,” Tech said almost casually. “I wanted to see how sensitive she could get. A... pleasant experiment, if you will.”

You were shivering at that point, your mouth watering as tears slipped down your cheeks. The overstimulation was a pleasure you simultaneously wished would end and yet never stop. Your entire body felt like you were trying to completely melt into Tech, legs trembling.

Wrecker laughed, eyes lighting up. “Whoa Tech, I guess you really must have wanted it. A whole chron?” He shook his head, but his eyes trailed over you. “I mean, Shiv does look really pretty like that, though,” he admitted.

Crosshair approached, bending to tilt your chin up to his face with his finger. “Well, it looks like our little kitten is rather happy about your experiment. But also getting... desperate.” A smirk curled the corner of his lips as he stared at you through half-lidded eyes. “How... appealing.” He brushed a tear off of your chin, then straightened and walked back toward the door. “Take care of her, Tech. I’ll be back to talk to her once she’s... available.”

“Good luck, Shiv. I’m gonna go get a snack,” Wrecker said cheerfully, following Cross out the door with a wave.

“It seems as though we all liked the results of this experiment,” Tech remarked, sounding satisfied.

Your fingers curled in his shirt, nails scraping across his back. Lips parting, you breathed his name in a soft, half-drunk voice that dripped with pleasure. You wanted to cum, yes, but more than that, you wanted the satisfaction of hearing Tech praise you for not moving, for being good. Just his hand on your back and the steady affection that poured over the Bond was enough to make you seek more, whatever the means.

Tech shivered under you at the sound of his name spilling from your lips, and his fingers tightened on your waist. “You’ve done so well, cyar’ika,” he murmured, kissing your ear. “Thank you for being patient. Can I make it up to you, now?”

Your mouth watered at the idea, and you pulled back a little to be able to look up at his face. You knew you were a wreck, lips trembling and tear streaks down your face, but you wanted it. Wanted to ask.

“Can I-“ You swallowed thickly, feeling your face flush. “Can you...” You licked your lips. “In my mouth?”

Surprise flickered in his eyes for a moment, then he reached forward and cupped your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tear-tracks, and his eyes softened. “If that’s what you want, of course. But I’d like to make you feel good, first.”

Your mind fuzzed with confusion. Make you feel good? But that’s literally all you’d been feeling the whole time, wasn’t it? He was the one that hadn’t cum yet.

All remaining coherent thought flew out of your head the moment Tech’s fingers found your clit. He leaned forward, drawing you into a tender kiss that sharply contrasted the way he dragged his fingers against you. His hips snapped up into you once, and you broke.

You wailed.

The pent-up release that had been building as he edged you over and over had you seeing stars, fireworks, whole galaxies. It burst inside you with a heat that washed over you and stole your breath, searing into your bones and wrenching a shattered sob from your mouth. You hardly registered that Tech’s name was spilling from your lips in a litany of prayer, too wrecked to even remember your own name.

You slowly wound down from the devastating high, trembling, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body sparked and shuddered, humming in the aftermath in a way that left a glowing ember of satisfied warmth deep inside you. Coming undone had never so intensely walked the line of pleasure just this side of pain.

Tech’s arms were wrapping around your waist, one hand coming up to cup your face as he pulled you to lean against him. You started to register his steady stream of praise as he kissed your cheek and trailed his lips down your neck and shoulder.

“You did so well, cyar’ika. You deserve to feel good. So pretty, cumming for me.”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you slowly recovered, your body all but boneless against his chest. Snuggling into him, you tucked your face into his neck and sighed softly. You just... wanted a moment. To just press against Tech and feel his presence, his hands gently skimming over you, soothing you.

“Are you okay?” Tech checked, his voice low and inquisitive.

You hummed and nodded against his shoulder, basking in the glow of the high. “Thank you, Tech,” you murmured shyly.

He coaxed your head back so he could press a soft kiss to your lips. “For what? You’re the one who had to put up with my experiment.” The words were half-teasing, but his thumb stroked over your cheek with a tenderness that showed his mild concern.

You shook your head, reaching up to delicately brush your fingers across his face, peering up from under your lashes. “You take really good care of me, even though you’re feeling it a lot too...”

He had to be almost on the verge of pain. The way he was still buried inside you at the moment gave you an acute knowledge of how much his cock was throbbing, straining inside you.

His breath came out a bit shaky. “You come first, cyar’ika.”

Reaching up, you pulled him into a grateful kiss. Before the 501st, and even then rarely, no one had ever put you first in anything. The way the Bad Batch had taken care of you even in the middle of war had been a first in so many ways. And even now, Tech had put your wellbeing and comfort first, before his own. You wanted to return the favor.

Tech leaned into the kiss, clearly growing desperate for relief. Still, the kiss was tender for all its hunger, and his hands smoothed over your waist gently.

Pulling back, you slid out of his lap and all but puddled to the floor, your knees completely weak after the force of your orgasm. Still, that’s all you needed. Scooting forward a little, you reached out and brushed your fingers against the swollen, almost purpled head of his weeping cock. He was straining, and he let out a hiss as your fingers dragged across him. A thought struck you, and you tilted your head.

“What do you want, Tech?” you asked, your fingers smearing with your own slick coating his cock. You looked up at him, wanting to please him in the way he wanted.

He lurched forward a little, then looked down at you and panted. “I— wh-what... I...”

You paused in your stroking, your thumb rubbing on the underside. “I want you to feel good, too.”

Before he could quite help himself or stop it, a thought rocketed across the Bond. Color burst in his neck, creeping up to the tips of his ears. Despite yourself, you had to stifle a giggle and instead smile a little, wholly unsurprised even if his reaction did amuse you.

Shuffling forward, you pulled your shirt up and over your head. You had to think about it for a moment, but you decided to just give it your best shot regardless of the potential awkwardness. For Tech... you’d try your best. You pushed yourself closer to his lap, letting his straining cock fall between your breasts. Reaching up, you pushed your chest together and felt the slick slide against your skin.

Tech let out a low, tortured groan that made your already-battered body pulse with appreciation. He shuddered, eyes squeezing shut as pure pleasure flashed across his face. His eyes peeled open in time to see you kitten lick the tip of his cock just peeking from between your breasts.

Readjusting yourself, you found a position that let you move a little bit while still having access for your mouth. Sliding lower, you took the whole head into your mouth. It had swollen to the point that it was almost a struggle to get it in your mouth. The moment the heat of your mouth hit his cock, he let out a strangled moan and lurched, shuddering.

“I’m not— not going to last, Shiv,” he gasped, his whole body starting to tremble.

You lifted your mouth. “S’okay, Tech,” you said shyly. “You can use me.”

You knew that he was close, but you really had underestimated the effect the visual was having on him. You’d just stretched your mouth open around him again when he let out a half-choked cry. It took you by surprise, not expecting it that quickly.

Taken off guard, the first burst into your mouth made you squeak. Every spurt of his cum kept gathering in your mouth faster than you could swallow, and soon your mouth was completely full. It started to trickle out of the corners of your mouth, while you braced yourself for balance by splaying your palm against Tech’s stomach. His hand reached down and tangled in your hair, twitching weakly as he groaned.

He was gasping for breath by the time he rode out his high. His fingers loosened, and your mouth popped off of his cock as you fell back onto the floor. Mouth still full, you whined in protest as it started to drip out of your mouth. Some splashed onto your chest, and you lifted your fingers to your lips as you swallowed. You still hadn’t swallowed all of it by the time you opened your mouth for breath, so more of it ended up on your chest.

You pouted a little, wishing you hadn’t wasted so much. Tech’s cum, for some reason, was just enough of that tangy-sweet flavor with a hint of salt to make you not hate it. Besides, now you’d have to clean yourself off more than you’d normally have to otherwise. Looking down, you smeared a bit over your chest with your slick fingers, sticking them in your mouth.

Tech had slumped over in his chair, getting his breath back.

You crawled up closer to him again, getting his attention. “Are you okay, Tech?” you asked, a little concerned.

Tech looked at you, and his eyes riveted on your mouth, trailing down to your chest. Swallowing thickly, he nodded. “Maker, yes,” he murmured, dragging a hand through his hair.

You smiled up at him. “I’m glad.” Looking back down at yourself, you hummed. “I should go clean up again...”

“Sorry,” Tech blurted.

You looked up, surprised. “F-for what?”

“I— I made a mess...” He glanced down at you. “Didn’t get to warn you.”

You giggled. “It’s okay, Tech. I don’t mind.” You gave him a smile, standing slowly to make sure your knees would get you to the fresher. Scooping up the T-shirt, you headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”

You cleaned up, pulling the T-shirt back over yourself before heading back to the common area. Finding your poor datapad, you picked it up from where you’d dropped it. Tech came up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you, Shiv. I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

You nodded back, giving him a smile. Turning back to your datapad, you decided to resume a bit of work you’d been doing. Taking a break from Wrecker’s gloves, you pulled up a series of footage you’d meant to assess from a recent mission. Hooking up the datapad to the holoscreen, you started to scrutinize the footage.

You’d wanted to see if you could better understand Crosshair’s personal preferences as far as vantage point and strengths went in order to better accommodate for him. Though you did know a few of his tells as a sniper, you still felt a little in the dark when it came to any patterns he had. You wanted to try to see if you could learn anything more, also wanting to see how he handled you as a weapon from an outsider’s perspective. Sometimes, it helped you adjust better.

As usual, you lost yourself in the familiar work and completely lost track of your surroundings. Hands wrapped around your waist, settling on your hips and bringing you out of your focused haze.

“Well, it looks like I found our little kitten doing something interesting,” a voice hummed into your ear, low and smooth.

Color leaped into your face as you gasped, pulled back into his chest. “O-oh, Crosshair...”

One hand anchoring your hip to him, his other hand started to trail up your front. “And what exactly were you doing, Shiv?” he drawled, lazy but not displeased.

You swallowed. “I— I was trying to analyze footage a little more,” you answered, voice pitching a little higher. “I just— I feel like I don’t know your preferences enough, and- and I wanted to see if I could do— do better for you—“

Crosshair’s fingers came up to your neck, tracing the side of your throat down to your shoulder. “Is that right? Don’t you think we should be the ones analyzing you a little more?”

The comment had something.... else to it. An edge that made you pause, tilting your head to look up into his face. Was he upset about something?

A soft sigh blew over your skin, the only way you even knew he’d done it at all. “We stood by and watched as you fought the Guardian and weren’t able to do anything. Didn’t even know you could fight like that. What’s the point in having you be our weapon if we don’t even know anything about you?”

You closed your eyes. “It’s not your fault if I didn’t tell you,” you pointed out quietly. “And I... I should have, I know. That’s on me, not you.”

Cross grunted. “You blame yourself too much,” he grumbled.

You gasped as his teeth sank into the crook of your neck, not hard enough to bruise but definitely enough for you to feel it. Your back arched automatically, though his fingers tightened around your throat and held your head back and neck accessible.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers grappled against his trousers for some sort of stability. Everything seemed to be spinning, Crosshair’s mouth hot against your skin. His hand on your hip pulled you into him, and he ground against your ass in a way that left you squirming on the verge of embarrassment. He chuckled.

“Is my little kitten going to be good for me?” A hint of stubble rasped against your neck, leaving you shuddering.

“Yes,” you whimpered, already trembling. Cross may not have been physically as large or intimidating as Wrecker, but the lithe strength in his arms and the deft confidence of his thin, calloused fingers did something to you that left you utterly weak.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, voice slick. His hand slid under the oversized T-shirt, trailing up your hip. His fingers hooked on your underwear, playing with the fabric. His mouth moved lazily over the back of your neck as he tilted your head forward a little for access.

“Next time we make a stop, I think we’re going to have go get you some... things, hmm?” he remarked casually, just as his hand twisted.

The underwear snapped, slipping off of your hips and leaving you feeling oddly... vulnerable. You trusted Crosshair with your life, of course. But somehow... you felt so much more self-conscious around him than the others. Maybe it was the way you couldn’t read him as easily as the others? Or just the way he tended to not be as expressive as the others toward you? What was it that made you cherish his affection in such a different way compared to the others?

Crosshair nudged you forward, letting your hands land against the holotable for support. His other hand let go of your hip, only to slide your shirt up over your back before reaching back to unzip his trousers.

“You seemed to enjoy Tech’s experiments,” he noted, fingers sliding around your hip. His fingers spread you open, revealing how slick you were already. “And do you think you can take me too?”

You nodded faintly, then gasped as his cock slid against you. “I don’t think I heard you, kitten,” he drawled.

“Y-yes, I-I can,” you stammered, already shivering. Your body felt hypersensitive, both from your previous session with Tech as well as the way Cross somehow knew exactly how to touch you in every sensitive spot. Had he really observed you that much-?

He slid two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them as he kept a vise-like grip on your jaw. The movement was simple, but the way it made you feel so completely controlled, trapped between him and the table, made you go pliant. He handled your body as confidently as he did your Rifle form, tracing over you with a sort of muted reverence that you began to recognize as your memory drew parallels. The confidence was reassuring, as though he were subconsciously saying that you could trust him, that he knew how to handle you expertly, that you could leave it in his capable hands.

You whimpered around his fingers as your mind fully leaned into the reassurance, leaving you open and pliant to him.

“That’s right, Shiv.” Crosshair’s voice slid around you, through you. “Bend over.”

You obeyed almost without thinking, sliding down onto your elbows and then completely collapsing against the table. The cool metal pressed against your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed as your breath shallowed. Your lips parted in a soft moan as you felt Cross start to slide into you.

For a moment, he only kept the tip in you, letting you flutter around him and adjust. Then he reached down and pulled both of your legs up, pushing them up on the table so you looked like you were in a sitting position, your legs both on one side and pulled against his hip. His fingers wrapped around your ankle like a vise, just as he thrust up into you.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table as you choked.

It was the first time Cross had actually penetrated you, and it was already about to drive you over the edge. His cock was long, and while not as thick as Tech, it definitely stretched you in different ways. He pressed up inside you in depths you didn’t know were possible. You swore you could taste him in your throat, he was so far inside you.

Bending over you, Cross started to mercilessly fuck up into you, barely giving you a moment to breathe. The way he had your legs together and bent up put a pressure on your clit that spiked every time he bottomed out; and at the pace he’d set, you could feel yourself careening closer to the edge. He grunted, his iron grasp on your hips definitely about to leave bruises littered over your skin.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling so he could lower his mouth back onto your throat. Every other thrust was punctuated with a sloppy kiss to your neck, a contrast that only made you moan louder. Your body rocked with the brutal pace, and you could swear that Cross was molding you around his cock.

Somewhere in the jumble of your mind, his name managed to slur off of your tongue. You weren’t sure how or why, but your mind was starting to blur and fuzz, focusing solely on the way Crosshair’s body was hunched over yours, his hands controlling you so deftly, taking control over your body, your pleasure. Everything else faded into the background, until all you knew was him, and the way his fingers wrapped around your throat as he fucked you into the table.

You weren’t sure how long you drifted in the haze, but when you managed to focus, you found yourself gazing up into Crosshair’s dark eyes. His thin lips tilted in a smug smile as he noticed.

“Looks like someone’s back.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well then. How about you cum for me, hmm?” a hint of amused indulgence laced his tone. “You want it Shiv, don’t you? To cum all over me like the cock-dumb kitten you are?”

You whined, the pressure around your throat grounding you just enough to keep you present. The pleasure kept flowing through your body like a steady, unrelenting stream, smothering you. You did want it. Wanted to please him.

He leaned closer, not letting up his pace as his hips continued to snap up into you. “Such a good kitten,” he murmured, “with my fingers wrapped around your pretty little throat. Cum for me, Shiv. Show me how good I make you feel.”

It drove you off the cliff. Your orgasm seemed to burst from inside you, rippling up through your veins, your limbs, arching your body. It sent a wave of white heat washing through you, leaving you weak and completely lax in its wake. A sob spilled weakly from your lips as you opened tear-filled eyes to focus on him through the pleasure.

Crosshair let go of your throat, his jaw clenching as he stared down at your face. His hips started to stutter, his chest heaving with breath.

Swallowing thickly, you reached up and traced the tattoo that ringed his eye and trailed down his cheek. “Please, Cross,” you murmured dreamily. “Please, cum inside me.”

His shoulders locked as he snapped his hips into you one last time. A low groan hissed between his gritted teeth as he came, still buried deep inside you.

The liquid heat pooled inside you, and your eyelashes fluttered with contentment.

Crosshair's breath washed over your ear. "You're ours, Shiv," he murmured, voice husky with the high.

"Yours," you repeated obediently, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt. Sleepiness plucked heavily at your eyes, the aftermath of three sessions tugging insistently at your consciousness.

"Mmm, fresher first, kitten," Cross chided. His arms slid around you, lifting you up as he slid out of you.

You whined in protest, leaning against his shoulder, even though you knew he was right. Everything was too comfortable, the sleepiness heavy and warm.

"I'll take you to Wrecker's bunk once you're done. Clean up." Cross stayed unmovable, his voice dry as he set you down on your feet in front of the fresher.

But you still clung to his shirt for another moment, looking up at his angled face and dark eyes. A wistfulness flitted through you as you wished that you could stay with him for a little while longer. But you didn't want to ask, didn't want to bother him.

He raised an eyebrow, his hand on your waist steadying your weak legs. "Unless you want to start dripping everywhere, Shiv," he glanced pointedly down at you, "though I wouldn't complain." He smirked.

You swallowed, then looked down. "O-okay," you mumbled, shuffling into the fresher. Even as you sluggishly cleaned yourself though, you had to swallow back a few tears. You weren't entirely sure why, but something in you so desperately craved to be near Cross, to just receive some form of quiet reassurance from him through just a touch or word that he... he cared.

Shaking your head and smearing away the tears, you sucked in a steadying breath and walked back out of the fresher. You'd slowly lost some article of clothing to each of them along the way, so now all you had was the oversized T-shirt. Wobbling back out, you found yourself a bit startled to see Cross still standing there by the doorway, a toothpick clenched between his teeth.

He jacked himself off of the wall and approached you. Bending a little, he picked you up effortlessly and began walking down the hallway of the ship. Ducking into a room, he walked over to the bed.

Wrecker looked up in surprise. "Oh, Cross, Shiv." He grinned. His head tilted as he observed you. "You alright, Shiv?"

You nodded faintly, not trusting your voice not to break. Cross set you down on the bed, while Wrecker shifted over to make room. Then Cross rolled his eyes.

"Move, Wrecker."

"Alright, alright, I'm moving," Wrecker whined, shuffling to the back of his bunk. Lying down next to you, he reached out and gently pulled your back to his chest, wrapping his large arm around your waist. His warmth pressed up behind you, easing some of the pain that curled in your chest.

Then, to your surprise, Crosshair slid into the bunk in front of you. Wordlessly, eyes half-lidded, he scooted closer and ran his hand down your side.

Hesitantly, you squirmed closer, tangling your fingers in the chest of his shirt again. You could feel the warmth of his body under your fingertips, and you bit your lip and glanced up at him tentatively.

Something flickered through his eyes as he gazed down at you, his hand gripping your thigh. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Your eyes widened, and you immediately shook your head adamantly. "No!" you blurted, your face crumpling despite yourself. "No-" your voice cracked.

Cross sighed, his thumb stroking over your bare skin. "You seem hesitant around me."

Tears welled in your eyes. "No— I-I'm just never sure if... if I'm bothering you, and-" You sniffled, the ache in your chest deepening. "I—I look up to you so much, Cross," you confessed. "Every time you let me Transfer with you and- and I can be near you or with you, I... it makes me feel so safe. I just-" your shoulders hitched, "I want to make you happy, but I feel like... like I never know if it's okay to get close to you. I don't want to bother you..."

Crosshair pulled you closer, tucking your leg up over his hip so you fit against him like a puzzle piece. "You don't bother me, Shiv," he said, voice low. "We've all been... worried about you."

You nodded, pushing your face into his chest. You decided to take the risk and reached out over the Bond, asking for attention. The Bond lit with acknowledgement, more subdued than the others' but still undeniably there. Crosshair's attention was quietly intense, making up for its more subtle nature.

Shyly, you pushed across your feelings. The way you felt safe around him, the way you looked up to his stern concentration of his craft, his diligence in working, his attention to keeping his teammates safe. The way whenever his lithe fingers handled you, whether weapon or body, it soothed and comforted you regardless of what was happening. The way you wanted his approval, his attention.

Cheeks flushing, you peeked up at him from where you'd buried your face into his chest. A hint of a smile crossed his thin lips, and his dark eyes softened as they observed you.

Reaching up, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. "Good girl, cod'ika," he murmured.

Relief burst through you as he accepted your feelings. Even though all you felt over the Bond was a soft pulse of acknowledgement and a hint of pleased affection, it was more than enough. Cross didn't need to say much to make his point, and you realized better than before that every word he spoke to you was deliberate, honest. None of his words even in the heat of pleasure were idle or empty. You clung to the knowledge, soothed with the reassurance that Cross did care, in his own unique way.

"Thank you," you whispered shyly, knowing that he didn't have to reassure you. But he cared enough about you to listen, to answer.

Wrecker grumbled behind you, scooting forward so he pressed more tightly against your back. "Share a little, Cross," he groaned, "Shiv is soft and warm and I wanna feel."

Cross rolled his eyes, the moment broken. "Selfish."

"Hey!" Wrecker protested, leaning his chin against the top of your head. "You're the selfish one here-"

You giggled, tugging at Wrecker's hand to drape over both you and Crosshair. "Let me take a nap, Wrecker, and then I'll let you cuddle more," you promised. Letting out a wide yawn, you snuggled into both of them. "Love you," you murmured sleepily.

"Love you too, Shiv!" Wrecker squeezed you.

"Kar'taylir darasuum, cod'ika," Crosshair murmured in your ear.

You fell asleep to warmth, content.

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[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 18

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: language, period typical misogyny, description of violence, smut (18+ only)

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Honeyholt was a solitary, quiet thing. It was almost too quiet and allotted for far too much time to think. The more you thought about it all, the more you realized how rash and impulsive your decision was. Oberyn would be furious; but he would understand, right? He had to - you were doing this to help avenge him. Admittedly, your plan wasn’t even fully formed at this point, half formed at best - all you knew was that you had to give your family a piece of your mind. You’d lived your whole life getting pushed around and left in the shadows, and you weren’t willing to do it any longer. Oberyn and the Martells - Dorne - were your family now, and you would be cold and in your own grave before you’d let something happen to them.

You weren’t exactly sure what you would do when you made your arrival back at your childhood home; that much you still had to figure out. Improvisation would have to be your friend, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that you would be able to pull something off. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure yet. But it would be something; the sins of your family would not go unpunished. 

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered to yourself as you slowly approached Honeyholt. You offered your mare a few gentle pets as she slowed her trotting; she made a small sound almost as if trying to convince you that your actions were foolish. Too bad you’d already known that, “I know, girl. But I have to do something, anything. Oberyn would do the same for me. He will understand - if not now, eventually he will.”

The soft, sweet scents of the region soon reached you as you took in a breath of fresh air. All the best of your childhood suddenly reached you, and you realized just how much you truly loved the Reach, especially Honeyholt. It was a beautiful, lush land, covered with lots of greenery and flowers and animals. Almost magical in some ways; so different from your current home, but that did not take away from the beauty of Dorne either. Two places that managed to be amazing in their own ways, coexisting in peace. Just like you hoped your families would. 

But it was too late for that now. Your brother had made sure of that. 

“This is as much for him as it is for me,” you explained quietly, almost as if you hoped she would speak back to you. Maybe it was the tiredness or delusion from traveling for the past two days on horseback by yourself. Maybe it was the need for reassurance that your actions weren’t completely off the mark. Maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that what you were doing was justified, “I have to protect him at any cost.”

As you approached the castle, one that looked so welcoming and warming if one didn’t know better, your stomach started to churn. There had been so many years of happiness here, when your father was alive and lord of the place, but it had quickly turned so much darker once he passed and power transferred to your brother. Maybe it wasn’t the place itself that provided happiness, but the people in it that made it a home. That’s what it was - it wasn’t the castle or Honeyholt that was home, it had been your father, and the other kind people that had lived there. Just like Dorne - sure, it was home, but it was Oberyn and the rest of the family that made it warm and inviting. 

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you heard soft, gentle buzzing in the distance. A tell-tale sign that you were in Honeyholt - the bees that the region was famous for were hard at work producing their delicious honey. You’d grown up with the sounds and smells, and in a way, it set your soul at ease. This was familiar - comfortable. 

Once the path narrowed and you were within walking distance from the castle, you slowly slid off your mare and took her reins in hand, letting her walk next to your side. After so much riding, your legs felt like jelly, and you almost stumbled over your own feet. Petting her muzzle, you offered her a kiss to the side of her head as she followed you closely behind. The familiar sounds of people working around the castle reached your ears as you walked towards the main entrance. But before you could go further, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you realized that any chance for a quiet entrance was officially ruined. As soon as one person was aware of your presence, word spread around like a wildfire. There was no hiding anything in this type of circumstance; your whole family would know you were here. 

Turning your around, your golden cape swirled behind you as you plastered on the best smile you could muster up. Sarvon approached you as he wiped off his hands on a rag he quickly tossed over his shoulder. A sense of regret ran through you; he was a few years older than you and had always been nothing kind - you’d always considered him a friend. He was handsome in a typical sense, tall and lanky, with a kind smile and fair hair and eyes, so different from what you were used to these days. 

“Well, well, well, look who came back to see us all,” he held out his hand to you, which you eagerly shook you. If it was possible at all, a bit of your nerves seemed to settle down, “Lady Martell. How are you doing?”

“Sarvon,” you smiled fondly at him, “I’m...well. How are you faring? You look well - I trust everything is much the same?”

“Just the same as ever,” he agreed with a small smile, “but there are some good news - I am to be married within the year! You remember Yennefer? I’ve been courting her and she’s agreed to be my wife!”

“That is most exciting indeed,” you threw your arms around him, feeling a true sense of happiness. He had always been kind and gentle, and he deserved the happiness of a new marriage, “she’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’ll make a most wonderful wife. Someone to finally keep you in check!” 

“That she will,” he agreed as a light flush rose up in his cheeks, “can I take her for and get her to the stables? What brings you back to Honeyholt, if I may ask?”

“Of course, and thank you,” you held out the reins to him, “I just...wanted to see my brothers, and my mother. I couldn’t stand being away from them for another moment.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you too,” he agreed, “it’s always a welcome surprise to see you. Dare I ask you if you come to bring us good news?”

“Oh,” your smile faltered for just a moment as you knew exactly what he was hinting at, “I’m afraid not. I suppose I just missed my family!”

“Of course,” he agreed, starting to lead your mare away, “I’ll announce your arrival. I believe Lord Beesbury is in his study.”

“Thank you, Sarvon,” you offered him a small nod, “you’ve been most helpful as always.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked towards the entrance, walking in under the large stone arches. This was it; whatever plan you were going to concoct, you needed to come with it fast. 

A few more people excitedly greeted you, surprised by your very sudden and unannounced arrival. It was still early in the morning, and you were positive you were positive that you looked as disheveled and tired as you felt. Deciding not to indulge any of them in conversation, you gave them curt nods, marching through your former home towards the study that had once been your father’s sanctuary. Even as you approached it now, it felt different; more cold and uninviting than it ever had. What was once filled with light and laughter was now quiet and daunting.

But nonetheless, you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you were a strong, independent woman, and that this was what you needed to do. The dagger strapped to your thigh suddenly felt like it was made of ice rather than steel, a million pounds heavy as it weighed you down. 

When you reached the heavy doors, you didn’t even bother to knock or announce your presence, instead pushing them open and barging in. Your brother dropped the scrolls he was reading as he looked up in shock and awe at the sudden intrusion. His face seemed to shift through a hundred different emotions as he tried to figure out why you were possibly there. Eaton let out a long breath as he leaned back in his chair and a smirk grew on his face. You knew exactly why it was there; it was the same reason you were there. 

“My dear, lovely sister,” his voice was laced with venom as you walked up to his bureau, already seething with anger, “what a surprise, although I can’t say it’s a pleasant one. I’m shocked to see your face again...I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘if I ever see you again, it will be on your deathbed.’ And yet...here you are.”

“You know why I’m here,” you spat at him, “you vile, foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

“There’s that attitude that we all love so very much,” he laughed lightly, but there was no happiness to it, “and look at you know. I see you’ve taken to Dorne well, dressing and acting just like those savages. Sending you there was the best decision we’ve ever made.”

“You dare to speak of my home - my people - in such a manner?” your eyes narrowed as you shook your head at him. He would never change, “you have some nerve for a pathetic excuse of a man that won’t even tend to his people and remains in his study all day. You are worth nothing, you are a shame and a disgrace to our father - our name. At least my husband - “

“Your husband,” he spat as you felt your blood pump, “yes, your weak, pathetic fool of a husband. I had the pleasure of meeting him as you well know. He’s about what you deserve, old, foolish, a whore of a man that will never love you. I’m sure things are going quite well - he can’t even get you with child from the looks of it. What a shame; it seemed to work for all his bastards. Perhaps it’s just you. How absolutely tragic - just what you always deserved-”

“Stop speaking,” your anger and gusto had quickly turned to a feeling of deep remorse, muddled with anger, “y-you have no clue what you speak of. You know nothing-”

“I did try to do you a favor, baby sister,” his lips were curled in a snarl as his wicked grin displayed his full teeth, just like a predator ready to take down his prey, “I did try to kill him. And I would have done it too, if it hadn't been for his little right hand man. He had to stop me just before I could finish him off. You know, part of me was glad he survived; I figured he would die a more slow and painful death at your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I heard that Prince Oberyn, the savage beast of Dorne, survived.”

“He barely survived,” your eyes were burning with the tears you were struggling to hold back, “he was on the verge of death - i-it took everything possible to keep alive, Eaton. I was never more scared...I thought I had lost him.”

“And you should have been happy.”

“I would rather die than to live a day without him,” you practically shouted at him, your voice crackling with each word, “he is my husband and I love him. He is everything to me!”

“Love? You are such a silly, pathetic little child,” his dark laughter reverberated off the stone walls, “you have learned nothing - you will never know anything. Life isn’t about love-”

“Yes,” you interrupted him, “love is everything. Father knew that too; it’s a shame you never learned that. I love Oberyn Martell, he is my husband, my family, my home. And I will never let you do anything to him, or any other part of my family.”

“They’re not your family-”

“They are more my family than you ever will be,” you insisted, “all Oberyn did was try to come here and make amends, to try to instill a sense of peace for everyone - for me. Because he loves me and cares about me. He held no ill intent for you, and still doesn’t - he wants to do nothing to you, despite what you had done to him. He just wants peace, and you couldn’t even give him that much.”

“You think he has your best interests in mind?” he scoffed, “he doesn’t care about you! He only wants to make himself look good. He will never love you - no one will ever love you!

"He loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" you were both yelling at each other but by this point, "Waylar never did either. But look what you did to him, you caused his death and for what? Your feelings? And you almost did the same to your husband. You need to learn that love isn't a real thing and that in this game you survive and adapt or die."

"You are so hateful," you slowly reached for the dagger, ready to pull it out and wield it at him, "your heart has turned to stone. What a shame; we grew up with a lot of love from father but you never learned. I know it's real - not fake - and I will make sure everyone knows. I will make sure my husband knows how much I love him, my children, my family - everyone. I will never end up like you and I couldn't be more thankful than that."

"You will live and die a fool-"

"And you will die as a hateful, spiteful man," you pulled out the dagger and displayed it to him, watching as his eyes grew wide in worry. You had sneaked incredibly close to him and the dagger was mere inches from his throat. It would have been easy to end it all then and there, "you recognize this, don't you?"

"Where did you get that?" he swallowed and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "it belongs to me!"

“No,” you insisted with a wicked smile of your own, “it doesn’t. It’s mine, by rightful inheritance. Father gave it to me several years ago before he died.”

“It has belonged to every head of this family for centuries!”

“Until now,” you reminded him, letting the beautiful steel glint brilliantly in the morning light, “now it’s mine. And it stays with me - and I promise you one more thing, dear brother. This blade will be the last thing on your mind as I kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” his eyes were wide with worry as you kept the blade drawn and ready to strike at any second as you walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Pressing the blade into his flesh, you dug it in just enough to draw a thick trickle of blood, “you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” you insisted, making your voice sticky sweet with honey, “I’m not making a mistake at all. It’s not so funny when it’s the other way around, is it Lord Beesbury? Imagine how it felt for Oberyn as you stabbed him, as you inflicted would be deadly wounds. Don’t you think he felt the same way? And what did he do to you? Nothing. He didn’t deserve any of this. But you? You deserve this because you have done horrible things, Eaton. You don’t deserve compassion or mercy.”

“When they find what you’ve done, they’ll have you too flayed like the Boltons would.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “I won’t be caught for this. And even if it was discovered to be me, they would thank me.”

“You are a horrible, insistent bitch-”

“You almost took my husband from me - the one man that has loved me unconditionally. The man that would do anything for me - my family. I will be damned if I let you ever harm so much as a hair on his head. You will never harm him, my children, my family, any one I care about ever again. You’ve set up your own downfall, and I will be your executioner. You know the best part of all? I don’t regret a single thing.”

Slowly dragging the blade down the column of his throat, you let it stop just at his heart. It was so close, just within reach. All you had to do was plunge it into his chest and he would be dead. Just like he had wanted Oberyn to be. 

So close, almost there...all you need to do was sink it into this flesh. You felt wild, almost like a mad woman - but everything you had been wanting was right in front of you. 

Just a little further, a little harder and it would all be done...

"Stop!" the familiar voice pulled you out of your daze as your chest rose and fell in a hectic, chaotic pattern. Nothing made sense right now - only vengeance and redemption - blood, "don't do this. You will regret it every single day of your life. And I can't let you live like that."

The two of you turned and found Oberyn Martell standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you with the most neutral expression you had ever seen; a true and collected negotiator. Your surprise turned to shock as you stared at your husband. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to know about this. The dagger shook in your hand for a moment as Eaton swallowed thickly. 

“O-Oberyn,” you were between a rock and a hard place; you could easily have plunged the dagger and ended this, giving yourself a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But if you did so, you would directly be going against Oberyn’s wishes. He didn’t want this but you did...you were almost positive of it. A strangled cry left your lips as you found yourself between a rock and a hard place, “you’re not supposed to be here!”

“And neither are you,” he took a few steps closer as he regarded the two of you curiously. He was very pointedly trying to keep the situation calm and diffused, “you don’t belong here, my love. This isn’t your home - come with me and we’ll go home. You don’t need to do this, he isn’t worth it.”

“Oberyn, he tried to kill you! He would have done it if he’d gotten the chance - he hoped you would die a slow painful death after you escaped. He loathes you, and for what?! You have done nothing but be kind and he’s a horrible, vile person! He doesn’t deserve my mercy or anything,” tears were running down your cheeks as you tried to rationalize everything to yourself, “what if he had taken you from me? I-I-I won’t let anything happen to you, ever, Oberyn. He deserves this!”

“That may be so, but you should not be his executioner,” he had come closer and closer until he was standing next to you, a hand tentatively wrapping around your wrist, “you do not deserve to live with such a thing on your conscience. Fate will be his undoing. Not you.”

“What if…”

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, as your brother looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was going on, but very aware that any wrong move, accidental or intended, would kill him, “you will never forgive yourself. Anything you would do to him would be too kind. But please, spare yourself the heartbreak and let him go. I’m right here, I’m okay - nothing will ever happen to me or take me from you. Not in this life or the next.”

“Oberyn,” his name was but a shaky whisper off your lips as you met his soft, brown eyes, “I-I just...I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, more than anything,” he slowly started to pull your wrist and dagger away from Eaton's throat, “that’s why I’m here - why I’m insisting you don’t do this. Please don't do this - for my sake and your sake. Just stop and come home with me. To our home - our family."

"Oberyn…"

"Come on, my Sunshine. Its not worth it. He is not worth a lifetime of regret," without even thinking about it, you let him pull your hand away as he carefully pulled the dagger out of your hand, "its okay, my love. It's okay."

Turning your attention away from Eaton's face, you looked at Oberyn and saw that he was just as emotional as you. He tucked the dagger into his waist belt before putting his hands on your face and wiping your tears away, "I-I'm sorry, my love. I thought...I thought this was the right thing to do."

"I know," he promised as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to weep into his chest without abandon, "its okay."

Eaton watched the two of you with confusion on his face; whatever was going on, he knew he was safe for now. Clutching at his throat, he wiped away the blood that had oozed down his neck. A small sound of surprise escaped his lips at the burn. 

"You," Oberyn turned to your brother with a look of disgust etched into his features, "you will say nothing of this to anyone, or I will personally finish what she started. You will never contact her again, and she will never contact you again. This is over - it ends now. And if I get even so much as a whiff of you in Dorne or anywhere near us, I will make sure you suffer. The Boltons aren’t the only ones who know how to flay a body. Do I make myself clear, boy?”

Eaton was so stunned, stunned into silence as he merely nodded at the Dornish Prince. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fell short of words and watched in silence as Oneryn took your hand and slowly led you out of the study. The young lord hissed slightly at the burning sensation on the delicate flesh of his throat. It had all seemed like a fever dream; but the scar that your actions had been sure to leave were most definitely a reality. He collapsed in his stiff wooden chair, a faux throne for a great pretender, and held his head in his hands. Maybe he should have reconsidered crossing the Red Viper - and you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn remained silent as he tightly clutched onto your hand and led you out of the castle. Only a few rushed words were said, but no one dared to approach either of you. If word of your arrival had gotten around, either no one cared enough to greet you, or they were all scared. But Oberyn was fast on his feet and had the two of you out of there before you could protest or make any sort of comment. Tears were liberally rolling down your cheeks in thick, fat droplets and splattering onto your gown and all the over the ground. 

He must have gotten there in a rush and quickly put the pieces together as his steed was wildly saddled just outside the gates. You saw Sarvon rush over with your own mare, almost as if he had been roped into aiding the Prince. Silently, he took the reins to the small mare and helped you to climb onto her back before repeating the same to his stead. 

Quietly thanking the young man for his assistance, he said nothing to you before reaching into the saddlebags and handing you a flask of water and some fruit. At least the man was smart enough to know you’d be starving and parched. You took them with quiet ease, too embarrassed and confounded to say anything. 

He led the way in silence for some time, still checking to make sure you were closely following him. The tension settling between the two of you was thick and palpable; it wasn't angry per se, but it certainly wasn't good. A few times you had wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but found yourself unable. Instead, you remained silent and studied the back of Oberyn’s head to try and get a read on him. It didn’t work; the Prince was good at hiding his true feelings when he needed to. 

“There’s a tavern a few miles ahead,” he said quietly after a long bout of silent; it had been morning you’d left Honeyholt and now dusk was starting to fall, “we’ll stay there for the evening and then continue on tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” was the only response you could muster up. He hadn’t even turned to look at you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The tavern was a small, quiet place, quaint and warm, and if you hadn’t been worried about the nerves churning out butterflies in your stomach, you would have been excited to rest there. Oberyn had handled business while you made your way to your temporary lodgings. As soon as you’d entered the room, a low sigh escaped your lips. Turning to the aged looking glass, you could see that you were an absolute sight to behold; hair wild and mussed, tired, bloodshot eyes, and ragged looking clothes. Luckily, there was a tub waiting with hot water in the adjoining room and you were halfway to slipping off your clothes when Oberyn came back into the room. 

He offered you a nod of acknowledgment before sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely, his arms crossing over his broad chest. 

“Go on,” he offered up, raising an eyebrow before looking between you and the wooden tub. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stripped the remainder of your clothes before sinking into the warm water and letting out a long sigh at the feel of the warm water against your skin. It was the most relief you’d left in days, “better?”

“Yes,” you admitted as you grabbed a cloth to start washing your tired body, "thank you.”

“I brought clean clothes,” he continued; his voice was so slow and neutral, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, “and they will bring up some food. I presume you might be tired and hungry,”

“Mhmm,” his calm demeanor was almost more unnerving than anything else, and you wished he would yell at you. At least then you would know his true feelings. 

It was silent for some time before anything happened as the two of you had just stared at one another. Oberyn ended up stripping off his own outer robe and remained only in his trousers as he washed his face in a small basin. Finding it impossible to complete even the simple task of washing your hair, you finally gave in and broke down, “Oberyn? Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I thought I had been.”

“You know what I mean,” you made swift work of washing the soap from your body before wringing your hair, “you’ve hardly said more than a few words to me. It isn’t like you.”

“What do you want me to say?” his hands found his hips as he looked at you in question, You were taken aback at his short, snappy response, but at least it was something other than complete emptiness. 

“Say you’re angry with me, that you’ll never forgive me or...something.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said as you reached for the towel as you stood up and wrapped it around your now clean form, “I am beyond livid - furious - do you have any clue as to what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any clue as to how worried sick I was? Every horrible, wicked thought possible went through my mind!”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“It’s not up to me to forgive you...the question is whether you forgive yourself,” with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the bed and you timidly walked over to him, “you could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t…”

“Luckily - this time,” he cut you off sharply as your lips formed a thin line and you willed yourself not to argue back, “but it was still a huge risk - a very uncalculated risk! One wrong move and you could have been hurt, or worse - killed. And what good would that have been? It would have been for naught.”

“I had to do something! You were going to do nothing!” you insisted, unable to keep your silence. While your husband may have had valid points, you wanted him to know you felt just as strongly about your own views, “Oberyn, he is a foul, horrible person! He wanted to kill you, he hoped you would die, and the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret anything. He laughed about, made a mockery out of you and myself. He deserved everything he got and worse!”

��Would you have done it?” how he managed to keep calm was beyond you. He simply looked at you, his breathing even and his eyes full of curiosity as you stood in front of him, wildly flailing while wrapped up in your towel, “would you have killed him?”

“I...I…” his simple question felt like it had punched the air out of your lungs as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “I would…”

“Do you really think you could have plunged that dagger into his heart, through skin and muscle and bone, and killed him? Do you think you could have watched the life leave his eyes as he took his last breath?”

“I…”

“Killing is not as simple as you think, you sweet, innocent girl. It takes a lot to end someone’s life,” he explained as you stared at your feet, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, “it is not something to take lightly - I have never taken it likely. I have killed many men, but only those who have deserved it.”

“He deserved it.”

“That may be so, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Oberyn let out a long sigh as he held out his hand to you, “you do not deserve to be left with such a thing on your conscience. You are much too good for something like that; do not let one man, however terrible he may be, take away your light. He will get what he deserves, everyone always does, and it will be much crueler than anything you could do. Leave him to fate, to the gods, to the universe. He is not a part of your life any longer - you will never have to see or speak to him again. He has built his own bed and he will reap what he sows. But you? You are too kind, too pure, too innocent for such darkness. You are of a different kind than he is; do not let him drag you down to his level for a few moments of the idea of vengeance. It will not be worth it. Never.”

“The things he said...they were horrible, my love,” you took his hand, and let him pull you towards him, so you were standing in front of him. Oberyn stroked the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly as you ran your free hand through his curls, “I have never heard such horrid, loathsome things before - against me, you, our family. He...he said you didn’t love me, that you would never love me. It was all a lie and that I was just meant to go to you and give you children.”

“You know absolutely none of that is true,” he insisted as you nodded, letting a few tears run down your cheeks, “and he knows he is wrong. He says these things because he is jealous, because he will never have them. He is cold as steel and has closed off his heart, and he will never love or learn to be loved. But that does not mean what we have isn’t real. I love you more than you will ever know. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you, every day.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as he stood up and pulled you into his body, wiping away your tears, “I know what we have is real...it’s just...I don’t know. I was acting rashly, and I just couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting you, hurting the one person I love the most, and getting away with it.”

“You will never lose me,” he whispered as he traced over your features, “it’s because of you I’m still alive; you stood by my side every minute of every hour for days. Without you, I don’t think I could have made it. You must know that I’m not the only one with the world to lose. When Asha told me of your plans, I thought I was going to lose everything, I was worried. Yes, I am mad - mad that you directly defied what I asked of you, you lied and sneaked out of Sunspear, you went completely and held a knife to a man’s throat.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Truthfully?’

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are still so young, with so much to learn,” he put a finger to your lips before you could say anything else, “I will teach everything I can, you will learn, in time. But sometimes you must learn to trust others - me. I would never do anything to hold you back, or do anything that wasn’t in your best interest. You know that right?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I suppose I was so caught up with the idea that if I had to suffer, so did he…”

“What a world it would be if everyone thought like that, no?”

“Is that why you’re a Prince, my love? Because you’re so wise and smart?”

“Because I was born lucky. The rest I’ve learned over the years, as you will,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “it takes time, but you will get there, and I will be there every step of the way.”

“I love you,” was all you managed to whisper as you stared back into his eyes, “Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he repeated, “don’t ever do anything like this again, okay? Next time I might not be there, or things can go very differently. It’s not worth it.”

“I promise,” you agreed as he gently kissed your lips, “never again. I'm sorry I worried you, just...please don't ever leave me. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," he nodded at you, and you felt a warmth pool in your belly at the way he observed you - with reverence, devotion, and adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

Unable to stop yourself, you brought a hand to the top of your towel where it was barely hanging on. Undoing the weak knot, you let it fall to the wooden floor with a delicate thought as you stared at him. Your whole body flushed under his intent gaze, but it was only mere seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch warm and brazen on your bare skin. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fervent intensity that he easily matched. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, it was a rushed tangle of tongue and teeth as you battled for dominance. But you were no match for Oberyn, a man experienced in life and love, as gripped the back of your neck and held you close to his lips.

Your hands went to the waistband of his trousers as you tried to rip them off as quickly as possible. You wanted and needed him now. His hands found yours as he helped you to undo the trousers and push them to the ground. Oberyn's lips barely left yours as he stepped out of them and he reached for you again. His hands found your bum as he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel him smirking against your lips.

"Oberyn," his name was a reverent whisper off your lips as he kissed along your jaw and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat as he did his best to ensure that there would be marks for everyone to see, "please...need you."

"Mhmm," he backed you up against the wall, gently so you didn't hit your back or head too hard. Warm, calloused but gentle hands roamed your body as he touched over every part of you he could reach. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them and rolling your pert nipples as you tried not to completely lose it - not just yet. 

You kissed every part of him you could reach, relishing in his soft, golden skin. He snaked  hand between your bodies and down to your core, where he started to circle your clit after running his fingers through your soaked folds. It hadn't taken much to get ready for him today.

"All for me?" he rasped in your ear as all you could do was nod and bite on your lip to keep from crying out. He kept touching you, working you up and slowly inserting two fingers, expertly curling them and causing you to see stars. Burying your face into his shoulder, your legs started to feel weak and shaky as you almost reached your high. But before he went any further, he ceased all his ministrations and pulled his hand away. 

"Oberyn!" you huffed at him as he bought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. That was enough to silence you completely as you watched him in awe, "oh."

"Sweeter than the finest fruit," he smirked before taking his cock in his hand and stroking his length a few times, "my sweet girl, you drive me wild with worry and wonder sometimes."

"Only because I love you," you instinctively spread your legs slightly to make room for him. Lining himself up at your entrance, it was a few seconds before he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly as he took the opportunity to kiss you.

He wasted no time in thrusting into you, slowly at first, but then quickly setting a brutal pace as he tightly gripped your hips. It was almost as though something inside him had snapped he needed you desperately. Soon, the room was filled with nothing but your combined moans, the lewd sounds of skin on skin, and your back lightly hitting the wall. You were almost positive that anyone near you would be able to hear but was going on but it didn't stop either of you.

Before too long, your walls started to clench around him as his cock twitched within you. Unable to form proper words, you came with a cry around him and he offered you a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside of you. 

He held you pinned against the wall for a few moments as you both came down from your highs. You pushed a stray curl from his forehead before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I love you," you offered up as a sort of all encompassing apology as you studied your husband's face.

"I know," he agreed as he touched your cheek, "I love you. Now, let's get some rest, Sunshine. We still have a lot to talk about later."

Maybe you'd made a rash and horrible decision; but at least you knew his love for you was truly unconditional.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[bubblegumbeech]

Homemade

Day 2 Dannymay: Home

Clockwork made cookies, they were a special blend he’d invented through countless trial and error to get just right. For a ghost, they'd have enough concentrated ectoplasm to provide energy and enough positive emotion to make them enjoyable, and for a human child, he focused on getting the right flavors and physical ingredients to make them actually edible.

 He set the plate down in front of Danny. The young half-ghost had been working really hard at his homework lately and Clockwork wanted to do something small to reward him for it.

 “Are- did you make cookies?” Danny asked, looking up at him in confusion.

 Clockwork smiled and gently ruffled his hair. “Will you tell me how they taste?”

 Most ghosts lost the ability to taste early on, along with their sense of smell. Clockwork never had either though, only had glimpses into different futures with different recipes and Danny’s own reactions to them.

 “Please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve made cookies…” Danny made a face, uncertain.

 Clockwork rolled his eyes and grabbed the plate again, “you don’t have to eat them-“

 “I’ll eat them!” Danny grabbed the plate from Clockwork’s hands, a splash of green decorating his cheeks and forming a stark contrast against his starlit freckles.

 Braced as if for impact, Danny quickly shoved one of the still warm cookies into his mouth and began to chew. Slowly his features softened into enjoyment and Clockwork got to watch as he grabbed another and then another until the entire plate was clean.

 He was glowing slightly, the oven-baked ectoplasm doing wonders for his energy levels. Existing so long on ambient ectoplasm alone wouldn’t have been nearly enough for a young ghost like Danny, so it was nice to see him properly fed for once.

 “Clockwork, these are amazing! How did you make them?” Danny asked, his eyes shining slightly.

 “That’s a secret,” Clockwork lied. He didn’t want to admit it took him over a thousand tries to actually make something edible to a human pallet, and he had enough of a mysterious air about him that he’d get away with it.

 Danny didn’t seem to mind though, he just grabbed the plate and flew over to the kitchen so he could wash it. “Okay, what do I have to bribe you with to get those again?”

 Clockwork’s core hummed in satisfaction, it was almost a primal instinct to care for one’s child and it was always nice to be appreciated. “Finished homework would be a nice start.”

 Danny scoffed, a small smile on his face. “I think you need to lower your standards. I mean, I’m passing history now right?” The single dish was cleaned, dried, and put away in less than a moment.

 “Thank you Daniel,” Clockwork said. Danny didn’t get nearly enough appreciation from those around him, it never hurt to give him a little when he could.

 A light green blush built on Danny’s cheeks and he looked away in an attempt to hide his reaction. “Yeah well, you make cookies like that again and I’ll clean your whole clock tower.”

 Clockwork smirked, lifting an eyebrow. “The infinite spirals of my clock tower and the unending trails of time that exist ever moving inside of it would certainly appreciate a touch up.”

 Danny balked, “uh… maybe I can do a room at a time?”

 “You don’t have to clean anything for cookies Daniel. I’d rather you eat than not.”

 Relieved, Danny rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. “Thanks Clockwork.” He sighed and dropped his hand, looking over at the window to the realms outside. “Ugh, I don’t wanna go to school tomorrow.”

 There wasn’t much to say, so Clockwork didn’t. He didn’t particularly care about Danny’s academics or whether or not he succeeded in school, but he knew intimately how much it mattered to Danny. It was tied to his two obsessions after all.

   He had to go to school so he could both make his family happy and be there to protect the other students, he had to succeed if he ever wanted to fulfill his dreams of working at NASA, the human space program. At the thought of absolute failure he would stress, shut down, and grow apart from those close to him. It would put strain on his obsessions and could lead to internal core damage. It was better for now, that Clockwork simply gave him time and the chance to try and keep up.

 “You’re always welcome to visit if you need more time,” he offered.

 “I know. I’ve uh, still got homework to finish…”

 “By all means.” Clockwork followed Danny out of the kitchen and watched as he sat back down to finish his homework, content with the healthy glow the cookies gave Danny.

 He turned back to his own work and watched for anything that didn’t fit or was causing trouble, but his mind was on the next recipe he wanted to try.

       The next recipe ended up being a casserole.

 Cliche to be sure, but decidedly more filling and sufficient than just a plate of cookies, and this time when Clockwork set it down in front of his young ward he was met with more enthusiasm than suspicion. Despite the bright pink color and the more… mobile parts of the dish. It was difficult to make something that met all the necessary requirements to properly nourish a halfa      and     have it look appealing so Clockwork had hardly tried.

 Danny dug in.

 “This is the most amazing casserole I’ve ever had in my life and that includes any and all ecto-contaminated food I’ve ever snuck out of the fridge without my parents noticing how did you do that?” Danny asked, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.

 Clockwork purred at the praise, and was glad to see Danny’s glow get even brighter. It was so pale before, barely even there in a way it never should have been with Danny’s obsession and power. “I suppose the difference would be that I was doing it intentionally.”

 Danny nodded. “Makes sense.” He took a moment to pause from devouring his food to look up over at Clockwork sitting across the table from him. “Are you going to eat anything?”

 How thoughtful. He should have probably prepared for that but, well. “I’m afraid trying to eat something with that much physical matter from the human world would go poorly for me. If you’re uncomfortable I can make some tea?”

 “Oh,” Danny looked at his half finished meal, realizing something and unable to react properly to it. “Yeah, tea sounds nice, can I have some too?”

 “Of course,” Clockwork agreed easily. He would be using a delicate mixture of herbs and spices from different parts of the infinite realms that Sojourn liked to gift him whenever he bothered to visit. None of them should have any adverse effects on the boy, and if he chose the right mixture, it might actually help him to calm down slightly.

 By the time the tea was finished and cooled enough to drink, Danny had finished his meal and cleaned up so that the two could sit and enjoy their tea together.

 Danny spent a moment too long staring into his cup, the swirling neon blue of the forgoent leaves—a small blue plant native to some of the darker forest realms, similar to the mortal realm’s forget-me-nots. Clockwork didn’t know what he was thinking, couldn’t see a timeline where he actually spoke his thoughts out loud. He sighed and took a drink of his own cup, the tea’s soothing blend serving to take off the slight edge of his anxiety. It was difficult caring for a child, even with his power.

 “Thanks for the tea Clockwork,” Danny said, “and uh, the casserole too.”

 His voice was quiet, but sincere and Clockwork accepted his thanks with a small nod of his head. The rest of the evening went on like that, mostly silent but not unpleasant in each other's company. When Danny left to go back to the mortal realm he paused at the clock tower’s door and quickly turned back to Clockwork, pulling him into a quick, tight hug that had him almost freezing time instinctually before Danny pulled away and quickly flew off.

 Clockwork stayed there, floating in the entryway to his lair and felt his core practically screaming at him in delight.

 He needed a way to distract himself, maybe he could start working on another recipe?

     Pie was unnecessarily difficult, Clockwork decided, despite its place as the most popular fairy-tale dish ever mentioned. He’d made no less than three thousand six hundred and four different variations of the damned recipe and not a single one had even stayed together, much less been even remotely edible.

 He sighed. At this rate, even freezing time wouldn’t help him accomplish this before Danny arrived. He was admittedly impatient for an immortal entity with all of time under his control, and he wanted to actually be able to spend time with his ward rather than an eternity trying, and failing, to bake something.

 Which is exactly how Danny had caught him taking a failed experiment out of the oven, having arrived while Clockwork was distracted.

 “Is that a pie?” he asked, excitedly reaching for it.

 Clockwork quickly held it out of the young halfa’s reach, unwilling to allow him near his utter failure.

 Danny blinked, his face drooping into an exaggerated pout, “I can’t have some?” Clockwork felt his core ache a little. Maybe he should have stopped time until he got it right?

 “It’s not fit for consumption at the moment,” he said, carefully floating it out of reach and towards the end of the counter. He didn’t have anything resembling a human trash can, it was uncomfortable to keep waste in one’s lair afterall, so he’d have to leave it on the counter for now. He could dispose of it properly later, maybe as fertilizer for his garden.

 “Oh don’t be like that,” Danny said, floating around Clockwork and completely ignoring his very valid warning. “I’m sure it’s fine, everything else you’ve made has been delicious.”

 Well yes, everything else he’d made had been very much intended to be delicious. This one was a failure. However, Clockwork wasn’t going to admit to the amount of effort that had gone into each and every piece of food he’d made for his young ward. It would be uncomfortable at best for Danny and horridly embarrassing for Clockwork.

 “I’ll make another one for next time, please-” Clockwork didn’t even finish his sentence before Danny was grabbing a piece of the crust and shoving it into his mouth. “Daniel!”

 Danny smiled. “Yeah okay not your best work, but it’s edible for sure.” He grabbed another piece and ate that as well and Clockwork didn’t really know what to do. On one hand, he was right: it was certainly edible, there would be no adverse effects caused by Danny eating the food, and it would be just as nourishing as the other meals Clockwork provided. But on the other hand, it could not have tasted pleasant. All of the futures where he tried serving this to Danny as normal were met with disappointment at best.

 So why was he content to eat it like this?

 “I knew you couldn’t be perfect,” Danny snickered. He grabbed a fork and a plate from their places in the kitchen and then floated over to the table, pie-adjacent pastry in hand. “Are you gonna make tea again?”

 “Yes,” Clockwork answered, glaring at the pie. The horrid pie that Danny was eating because not every single meal needed to be perfect and Clockwork, as always, had been over-complicating everything.

 The atmosphere at the table was soft and comfortable. It was certainly something Clockwork was unused to, enjoying company for company’s sake. And to think they wouldn’t be here as they were, had Clockwork succeeded fully with his task. It brings up a question, actually thousands of different, related, questions, about failure and success and the weight of either.

 Danny smiled at him from over the half eaten pie. Clockwork smiled back.

 An alarm went off and Danny shoved one last bite into his mouth before flying off towards the main room of the clocktower. “Shoot, I forgot I promised Jazz to let her help with my english homework.”

 There was a flurry of papers while Danny tried to gather all of his things. Pencils shoved precariously into his bag and folders of half finished homework assignments quickly followed. The half finished pie on the kitchen table was completely ignored, as it should have been to start with.

 “You seem to be in a rush,” Clockwork said, watching amusedly. Either Danny had forgotten Clockwork’s particular powerset in his haste, or he hadn’t thought to ask for a medallion. Either way Clockwork found it too amusing to offer his aide unless Danny thought to ask.

 “Yeah, yeah,” Danny tried to say over the strap of the backpack he held in his mouth in lieu of his busy hands. “I’ll be back home s-”

 Danny blushed and stuttered out something awkward and intended to drag attention away from the slip of his tongue. But Clockwork just smiled, watching the boy finally gather his things and quickly make his exit promising to come back tomorrow for dinner.

 Wasn’t there a human saying about home and food?

[n00dl3gal]

Like Old Times (Father-Son Bonding AU)

A direct sequel to the “Expiration Date” fic, which I’ll link in a reblog. I’ve also posted all my fics in this AU to AO3!! Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for their help and just generally being a cool dude, and the Scoutsune Discord server for indulging my brainrot

No warnings beyond family schmoop!

Less than an hour after the bread monster incident, the Administrator called for a ceasefire. “Only while your base is repaired,” she said over the TV screen. “BLU is quite disappointed in this negligence- as am I. Regardless, you may use these three days as you see fit. Go home, stay here- whatever you do, no more bread monsters.” The screen turned off with a click. 

Scout exhaled through his nose. He was thankful there was no mention of him or Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

Spy decloaked behind him. “Less time than I wanted, but c’est la vie.” Scout looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m meeting with an old contact during our break,” Spy said in Italian. “Would you like to come along? It’ll be like old times.” 

Scout’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. At least this way, he’d get out of helping Engie and Heavy with repairs. And possibly meeting Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

“Excellent. Our flight is at 7 AM tomorrow.” 

“We’re flying commercial?” Scout asked, also in (more hesitant) Italian. 

“Our destination is continental. We’ll leave the base by 5:30.” Scout groaned as Spy started to leave. But- wait, he hadn’t- 

“Oi, where are we going, anyway?” he called back in English. 

Spy paused to look at him and smile. “Boston.” 

“Why do we always get the ass-crack-of-dawn flights?” Jeremy asked groggily, reclining his seat.

“They are the ones with first-class seats available,” Raphael replied. He took a sip from his mimosa. 

“Yeah, cuz God forbid you fly coach for once.” Jeremy shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Hey. Have I ever been to Boston before?”

Raphael didn’t answer immediately. His lip sucked in, as if in thought. “Yes. When you were very, very young. You wouldn’t remember.” 

Jeremy nodded. He wanted to ask more, there was something Raphael wasn’t saying but… well, he was never a morning person. He fell asleep before the plane even took off. 

. . .

It was mid-afternoon by the time they landed in Boston. Jeremy was never fond of long flights; having his legs cramped like that for extended periods of time was murder. He was half tempted to take a jog around Logan International. Raphael, on the other hand, was ushering them both to the car rental. “Can’t even get a stretch in, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we are expected by 4, and I would hate to keep my contact waiting,” Raphael explained in French, accepting the keys from the girl at the counter. “She’s not a very patient woman, in some regards.” 

Jeremy huffed but didn’t argue. He just followed his father to the rental, tossing his suitcase in the backseat. “Y’know, the girl at the counter-” 

“We will not have time for you to go out on a date, Jeremy.” 

“No! No, it was- her accent’s kinda like mine, it’s weird,” Jeremy said. Raphael started the car. “Cuz I’ve only been here as a baby, and I got mine from TV and shit. It’s just… really strange, is all.” 

Raphael made a quiet noise of agreement. “Some of the shows you watched as a child were filmed here. It’s not as complex as you think it is.” 

“Yeah, probably not…” 

The pair lapsed into silence as Raphael drove. Storefronts and high rises morphed into houses. It had been a while since they were in a residential area. RED, for understandable reasons, kept away from civilians. 

Raphael took the roads with practiced experience. Sure, it had been implied he knew the area. If he had a contact here- one with a house, presumably- he must’ve spent time here. But this- this was far too familiar. A bit suspicious, actually. 

Eventually, Raphael slowed in front of a more rundown Brownstone. Still quite nice, just needed a little work. It felt… welcoming, in a way Jeremy couldn’t name.

“Lotta cars,” he observed as Raphael parallel parked. “Must be a party going on somewhere.” 

“Hmm, perhaps,” Raphael said, turning the car off. “Would you mind ringing the doorbell for me? I need to grab something from the trunk. Ask for Sara Jane.” 

OK, now Jeremy knew something was up. He was never the one to make the first contact, that was always Dad’s job. Jeremy might be a full-grown adult, but there were some things that didn’t change. This was one of them. 

Still, he nodded. He climbed up the front steps and ringed the doorbell. He heard- multiple voices from inside, predominantly male, but they quickly silenced themselves. A TV, perhaps? They really ought to get that flower box on the second story window fixed- 

The woman who opened the door was a bit shorter than him, though not by much. She was wearing a simple dress, hoop earrings, and flats. Her hair was dark, curved to her chin. But her nose and earlobes felt… achingly familiar. Like Jeremy saw them all the time. 

“Um, hi, I’m looking for Sara Jane? My name’s-” The rest of his speech was knocked out of him as the woman launched herself at him. Jeremy braced for an attack, but quickly realized she was… hugging him. 

She was hugging him, sobbing, and choked out the word “Jeremy.” 

Wait. He knew that voice. He had only heard it a few times in his life, few enough he could count them on one hand, but he knew it. “M-Ma?” he whispered. 

The woman- Sara Jane- Ma looked up at him, still crying. Her hands found his face as she observed him. “Y-yeah, sweetie, it’s me, it’s-it’s your ma,” she said. 

“Ma!” he laughed, tears of his own dancing down his cheeks. He hugged her back, practically lifting her off her feet. “Oh my God, Ma! I-I never thought I’d-” 

“Oh Jeremy, sweetie, look how tall you’ve gotten! Last I saw you, you fit in my arms! My baby, my handsome baby,” she spoke over him. She rubbed circles into his back as they embraced. It felt so, so right. 

Jeremy laughed even harder. “Are you kiddin’? I got it from you, you’re beautiful, Ma!” He stared at her, trying to commit every mole and wrinkle and perfect flaw to memory. “I can’t believe- oh my God, I’m actually meeting you!” 

“It was long overdue,” another voice said, as Raphael joined them on the front stoop. “I had put it off for safety reasons, but considering our current, ah, situation… I felt it was worth the risk.” 

Sara Jane squealed, pulling Raphael into the hug as well. “You’ve been taking good care of my boy, you promise me, Raphael?” 

“Don’t worry Ma, he’s the best dad I could ask for, considering,” Jeremy teased. 

“Oh, don’t I know it. Called me up last night and told me to get the whole motley crew together. Even managed to get Melvin to bring his twin daughters, bless his wife’s heart,” she explained. 

Jeremy blinked. “Uh- Melvin? Daughters?”

Sara Jane laughed. It sounded so much like Jeremy’s it practically hurt. This was his mother. Lord, he’s finally seeing her. “Melvin’s your older brother, sweetie. Eh, sixth oldest. Bobby’s the oldest.” 

“I have a brother?”

“Oh honey, you’re the youngest of eight,” Sara Jane said plainly. 

“...fuck,” Jeremy whispered. 

. . .

He didn’t just have seven brothers. He had seven brothers, four of which brought their wives, one who brought his boyfriend, and three who brought their kids. And the kids totaled to an additional six, counting the babies. 

It was… an admittedly tight squeeze in the living room. 

Sara Jane introduced Jeremy. Jeremy had been expecting to be treated like a stranger. He had vanished when he was a baby, after all, and his younger-older brothers probably wouldn’t remember him at all. 

And yet, it was like he knew them all his life. 

They teased him and punched him playfully and acted so friendly, so familial it nearly made Jeremy break down. He was still crying from meeting Ma, but being dogpiled with so much affection was suffocating. In a good way. He had seen on sitcoms the intrinsic bond between family, and while he felt it with Dad, they also risked their lives nearly daily. But it was real, it was here, and it was wrapping him in a warm blanket. 

Despite the chaos and the sheer number of people, Jeremy didn’t feel overwhelmed. He laughed and played along with their jokes, cracking some back when he could get a word in. Scott ragged on his dog tags, he countered by pointing out the hole in his pants. Michael told him he was still a shortass, he replied with “it takes one to know one.” Elliot and Ricky were the closest to actually getting hurt, and that was only because Jeremy elbowed them both so hard they nearly fell over. 

For the first time in 25 years, Jeremy understood what “home” meant. 

The kids were especially curious, eager to meet their uncle and step-grandfather. Within seconds, young Rebecca- only four years old- was challenging Jeremy to a race around the house. “I’m the fastest kid in the world,” she bragged, puffing out her chest. 

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy asked. “That a fact?”

“You wanna test me? I beat Johnny Three-Legs at running, and he’s got three legs!” Jeremy laughed and stood from the couch, letting her lead him outside. “On the count of three, OK?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jeremy teased.

“Onetwothree GO!” Rebecca yelled, taking off in a sprint. Jeremy knew that, by all accounts, he should beat her. His legs were longer, she didn’t have the proper running stance, and it was his job to be fast. That’s what he got paid to do. But some small voice was telling him to let her win, so he did. “Ha! I told ya!” 

“Ya sure did,” he replied, mock panting. “Look at you, a freaking blur on the green. You’re goin’ to the Olympics, kid.” 

Rebecca beamed and hugged his leg. “Promise, Uncle Jeremy?” He nodded because, after that display, there was no way he could speak without squeaking like a chew toy. 

Rebecca skipped back inside, past Raphael, who was watching on the stoop. “You’re a natural with children,” he observed. “I used to do the same thing when you were that age.” 

“Wait- wait, really? You sure fooled me,” Jeremy said. 

Raphael rolled his eyes. “What’s my job again, mon lapin?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jeremy leaned against the railing, watching Raphael’s cigarette smoke in the wind. “Hey. Uh… thanks for arranging all of this. You really didn’t need to.”

“But I did. I meant it when I said this was overdue. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to the rest of the family for a while, but have been unable. Then that whole ordeal with the supposed tumors, and-” Raphael exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you if you died without knowing them. I would’ve never forgiven myself.” 

Jeremy punched his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, pops. It all worked out, we’re still kicking, and that roast chicken Ma’s making smells incredible. Everything’s perfect.” 

Raphael finished his cigarette and smiled. “Oui. It is.” 

. . .

While Sara Jane had been able to get the rest of the family here, it was a school night. Kids needed to be tucked in by 9:30, so most of Jeremy’s brothers were gone by 8. Elliot was staying overnight, as was his boyfriend. Otherwise, the house quickly went from bustling to barren. 

It gave Jeremy a chance to explore his would-be childhood home.

He made his way upstairs, pushing open one of the doors. It led- to little surprise- to a bedroom. It was set up like a nursery, with a crib in one corner and a toddler bed in the other. Toys were scattered about across the floor. 

He heard Sara Jane sigh behind him. “This was your room, you know.” Jeremy turned to look at her as she flipped the light switch. “That crib… I had put you to bed the night your father planned to fake his death. I was in on the whole plan, naturally. He wanted to hold you one last time, so I said OK. When I woke up the next morning… you were both gone.” She exhaled slowly, grabbing onto his shoulder. “I wrote both of you off as dead, but I knew what had happened. Honestly, should’ve figured it out before then. You hadn’t woken me up crying,” she joked. Her eyes were watering. 

Jeremy hugged her, pulling her close. “You never took the crib down?” 

“By the time I was ready, Bobby’s wife was pregnant, so I kept it up for my grandbabies. I knew- I knew you were out there, sweetie. Both of you.” She kissed his cheek, squeezing him.

“I-I never got to be a normal kid, really,” he confessed. “I mean, Dad did his best, gave me comic books and board games and stuff, but-but I never went to school or made friends or anything like that. I-I didn’t even know I had a family. It took me forever to even realize I had a Ma. An-and everything I did-” The tears were flowing again, more freely than earlier. “Ya missed me losing my first tooth, and potty trainin’, and all that stuff parents should know about. I-I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Sara Jane wiped his cheek dry. “Don’t apologize for what your father did, Jeremy. And definitely don’t apologize for me not potty training another kid. Besides… hold on, I’ll be right back.” She made her way down the hallway. Jeremy didn’t follow, instead deciding to examine the crib. This was where he grew up. It was a simple crib, obviously well-used. Not worn-down, mind, just… used. It had a history. A history that Jeremy wanted to decode, but unlike his dad’s ciphers, he didn’t have the key. 

“Took me a second to find it,” Sara Jane said. She handed him what appeared to be a scrapbook. “Raphael- he wrote when he can. Taught me some basic codes, would send out letters whenever you’d leave a town. Never left a return address, but…” Jeremy flipped through the pages, moving to sit on the small bed. The letters were all coded but appeared to be about how much Raphael missed Sara Jane. Updates on Jeremy’s growth. Letters from a father to his lover and son’s mother. 

One page jumped out to him, though. “I remember this,” he said, running his fingers against the paper. It was a simple drawing of a young boy, holding a catcher’s mitt, and a taller man next to him. “I drew this after Dad took me to my first baseball game, for my eighth birthday. I thought I lost the drawing after we skipped town, but- he sent them to you?”

Sara Jane nodded. “And I kept them all. Oh, honey, the day I first heard your voice on the phone- Mikey can tell you, I damn near fell over. You sounded so happy, and even if I couldn’t see you, that’s all a mother wants.” Jeremy leaned against her and she shut the book. “That’s all a mother wants, sweetie. To see her kids be safe and happy.” 

“I am, Ma,” he assured her. “I promise.” 

They sat like that for a while, with Sara Jane commenting on various letters and drawings in the scrapbook. Apparently, Raphael sent her money when he could- more frequently now that Mann Co. paid so well. She also had a rough idea of their current occupations. “I figure, if you and your father are working for the same company- with his skills, there’s gotta be a whole lot of nonsense going on out in that desert.” Jeremy laughed at that because she wasn’t wrong. “But I also figure since he raised you right, he’ll keep the both of you safe.” 

“I keep him safe too, don’t worry,” Jeremy added. “Uh- listen, it’s touching and all you kept the crib, but I don’t have to sleep in it, right?” 

They both had a good chuckle over that. Their laughs were in perfect harmony. 

. . .

The next two days were a mix of learning the family history and exploring Boston. It was the offseason, so there weren’t any games going on at Fenway, but Jeremy still got a picture in front of the park. Sara Jane took the pair to a restaurant that served “the best damn clam chowder in the contiguous United States.” Which, incidentally, led them to discover Jeremy was allergic to clams. Thankfully they didn’t have to go to the hospital- he just sort of immediately got sick before it passed- but it did suck.

It was damn good chowder, though. 

They went down to the harbor where the Boston Tea Party happened. It was crowded with people, resulting in them not staying long. Jeremy was a bit better with crowds than Raphael, but neither was great with them. Came with the job. Getting overpriced memorabilia from a nearby gift shop, though, went over much more smoothly. 

When not out on the town, Sara Jane dug out more scrapbooks and photo albums, catching Raphael up on what his stepsons had been up to. She showed Jeremy pictures from Ricky’s first school play to Scott opening up his butcher shop. Graduation pictures, wedding pictures, baby pictures- it was all there, and Jeremy devoured it. He wanted to know these people. He wanted to know his family. And he did. He learned about Michael’s stint in the Navy, Melvin meeting his wife, how Bobby’s son could dribble a basketball for twenty minutes straight. He learned about how his parents met. How Raphael loved each of Sara Jane’s children, even if they weren’t biologically his. How Jeremy wasn’t planned- few of the kids were - but they were both so, so happy to realize he was coming. 

He also learned that, while diner food would remain the undisputed king, homemade meatloaf came pretty close. 

. . .

The only problem came when it was time to leave. It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t want to return to work, or leave his Ma behind. Sara Jane wasn’t even torn up over losing her son and lover again. It just felt like there was so much left to say, to do. There was uncertainty as to when they’d be able to return. “We get time off for Smissmas, I know that’s months away but I’ll be here, I promise,” Jeremy swore, hugging Sara Jane for the eighth time. 

“You better,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You have 25 years worth of gifts to catch up on, not to mention birthday gifts-”

“Ma, you don’t have to go that far,” he whined. He was touched, sure, but the thought of that much luggage was truly frightening. Oh God, he was going to have to get gifts for everybody, wasn’t he? What do kids even want for Smissmas? 

“Hush, let me spoil my baby,” Sara Jane told him, kissing his cheek. “Oh, Jeremy…” 

Jeremy nodded. “I know, but I’ll call. I’ll write, too. Send pictures if I can.” 

“I’ll make sure he does,” Raphael assured her. Sara Jane stood to kiss his lips, with Jeremy looking away pointedly. “You have my word, ma petite chou-fleur.” 

“Alright, alright- now get going, I don’t want you two missing your flight. That boss of yours sounds like she’ll tear you both a new one if you’re late,” Sara Jane said, shooing them away. “Love you boys!” 

“I love you too, Ma!” Jeremy shouted back, for the very first time. 

The drive back to the airport was quiet. Jeremy stared out the window, watching his hometown- he had a hometown- pass by. “Hey, dad?” he asked, still looking outside. Raphael grunted to acknowledge he was listening. “One of these days, our contracts with Mann Co. are gonna expire. We’re gonna have to find new jobs.” 

“Yes, that’s correct,” Raphael said. He tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel. 

“And-and I was thinking when that time comes… maybe we could come back to Boston. Find some gigs out here,” Jeremy suggested. 

Raphael sighed. “Unfortunately, being a spy means that you don’t have the option of retiring, Jeremy. Not until you’re unable to complete your job. At that point, though, you’ve probably died a dozen times over,” he explained. “Even if I could retire, settling down somewhere so close to people I care about- I would still have enemies.” 

“Right. ‘Course,” Jeremy said. “It’s OK.” 

“That being said,” Raphael continued, “you have the luxury of youth and not being tied down to such a career. If you want to find a job in Boston after we finish with RED, there’s nothing stopping you.” 

“But people will still be after me, since I’m your son. And you wouldn’t be around.”

“Every child leaves their parents someday. And you’re strong, Jeremy. You can protect yourself and your family.” Raphael smiled. “I don’t believe Sara Jane needs much protecting, but I do worry.” 

Jeremy laughed. “I mean, did ya see the muscles on Scott and Michael? Guys can probably bench press a tractor!” 

They both chuckled before settling into quietude. Eventually, though, Jeremy had to break the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, mon lapin.”

“...so your nickname for Ma is fucking ‘little cauliflower?’ What the hell, Dad?” 

[lxvislxdy]

Shotgun Kisses pt.2 | Bakugou K.

Links: Bakugou x stoner!reader au & Shotgun Kisses (Read these first!!)

Notes: Firstly, I want to thank you all for the positive feedback my work has been receiving! I’m extremely thankful for ya’ll!! I also want to apologize for the delay in my posting; I’ve been traveling this week, and on top of that, dealing with the gas shortage on the east coast (it’s been HELL). But hopefully things will start picking up again soon! As always, my requests are open, so feel free to send in your requests or questions!

Summary: After apologizing to you, Bakugou is still struggling to get over his mistrust of your coworker, Shinsou. When you invite Shinsou to hang with everyone, Bakugou thinks it will be his final straw. That is, until Shinsou makes a move on someone unexpected. And suddenly, everything makes much more sense, and Bakugou looks completely oblivious. 

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warning(s): 18+!! drug use, language (if you are underage, this fic is not for you!)

Bakugou was trying. 

He really, really was. 

He trusted you, and he hated fighting with you (especially when it was his fault, and he had to apologize), but damnit, that purple haired bastard wasn’t making it easy on him. Still, Bakugou was making an effort, and that meant he was visiting you at work, even though Shinsou was there, too. 

“Hello,” Shinsou drawled, a lazy, but definitely teasing, grin spread across his lips. He was leaned up against the counter, half of his purple hair tied back in a knot at the back of his head. “How can I help you?”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath in like Kirishima had taught him. His hands were wound into fists, shoved into his jacket pockets. “Just my regular.”

Shinsou hummed in response, turning to shout over his shoulder, “Y/n! Your loverboy is here!”

Bakugou grit his teeth, willing himself not to snap back at him. Technically, he wasn’t wrong. But he hated the teasing lilt to the other man’s voice. 

As per usual, his anger melted away - mostly - when you popped your head around the corner, from the storage room, smiling brightly. “’Suki!”

As much as Bakugou hated your job, you did look cute in your apron, and he was admittedly fond of the free coffee. 

You bounced over to him, definitely hyped up on too much caffeine, and wrapped your arms around him. “Hi.” You said, looking up at him. 

He squeezed you against him, pulling you in for a kiss, to your surprise. Normally, Bakugou was hesitant when it came to PDA. Of course, the cafe was almost empty, and it wasn’t much of a secret that Bakugou was turning up the heat in front of Shinsou. 

“You want your usual?” You ask sweetly, when he pulls away, dopey grin on your face. 

Shinsou, who had slipped away during the kiss, calls over his shoulder, “Already on it!”

“Try not to spit in it.” Bakugou says, lowly. 

Shinsou lets out a low chuckle, “I’ll try to contain myself.”

Apparently, this banter is friendly enough, because you laugh along with him. 

“You mind if I take my break now, ‘Toshi?”

Bakugou swallows down the burst of jealousy at the nickname, fists tightening in his pocket. 

“Yeah, no problem,” Shinsou tells you, as he sets the coffee down on the counter. “There you go. One coffee, hazelnut cream, no sugar. Extra bitter, just like you.”

Bakugou sneers at him, snatching the coffee from the counter and grabbing your hand to pull you along behind him. The two of you end up in the alleyway behind the shop, sneaking through the ‘employees only’ door. Bakugou sips the coffee, wishing it wasn’t so good. But damn, if Shinsou didn’t know his coffee. As far as Bakugou was concerned, that was the only thing the guy was good at. (Of course, he didn’t really know him that well, at all).

“You’re very broody today.” You say softly, looking over at him from where you leaned against the brick wall. “Something on your mind?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, sipping his coffee again. “M’fine. Just... tired, that’s all.”

You hum, fumbling with one of your bracelets. You gaze up at him, grinning, “Do I need to call Kirishima to get it out of you?”

“Tch,” He scoffed, marching over to where you stood and leaning down over you. “Smartass.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You both taste like coffee, and Bakugou recognizes the faint, bitter taste of marijuana on your tongue too. He pulls away, raising a brow. 

“What, rolling up before work, you delinquent?”

You giggled, shoving his shoulder playfully, though it’s not enough to move him away from you. “Maybe. Gonna rat me out?”

“Hm,” His lips barely brush against yours, bumping his nose against yours. “I’m sure you could convince me not to.”

“Yeah? That easy, hm?” You say, leaning forward to kiss him again, but he pulls just out of your reach. You pout, and he laughs lowly. 

“I never said it would be easy.” He answers, smirking. 

You feel your breath hitch again, and his lips are back on yours. 

“Mm, Kats, love you, but I need to get back to work.” You mumble in between kisses.

Bakugou nips your bottom lip, but concedes, pulling away with a sigh. “Sure I can’t keep you occupied just a little while longer?”

“And people say I’m the bad influence.” You tease, laughing. “Sorry, babe. Can’t. Besides, I know you’re supposed to be getting lunch with the guys, and I’m not gonna be responsible for making you late.”

“Screw ‘em.” He says, planting another kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

You smile up at him, shaking your head. “What am I gonna do with you, Bakgou Katsuki?”

“Keep me, I hope.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but it came out much more serious than he’d meant. Thankfully, you don’t press him on it.

“Yeah, and what’s in it for me?” You tease, poking his stomach. You stretch up on your tiptoes to place another kiss on his jaw, voice softer than before, “I’m here till you don’t want me, Katsuki.”

Bakugou kisses the top of your head, “That’ll never happen.”

You turn to go back inside, stopping in the doorway to look back at him. “You coming to Sero and Denki’s tonight?”

“We’ll see.” Bakugou grunts.

“Mhm,” You grin. “I’ll see you there, then. Bye, Kats!”

...

By the time Bakugou shows up, he’s the last one there. Even Jirou, infamous for showing up fashionably late to their hangouts, was already inside, sitting with you and Mina on the floor. The three of you were deep in conversation, clearly already more than buzzed - your giggles and half-lidded eyes gave you away.

Bakugou felt the tug of a smile on his lips, watching you. He was glad the day was over. Finally, he could just relax.

And thats when he saw him.

Shinsou Hitoshi was sitting on the couch, leaning over a wide-eyed Denki to get the lighter off the table. 

Bakugou tried. He was trying. But even still, his hands shook with anger. 

Kirishima met his gaze, shaking his head, and he didn’t have to speak out loud for Bakugou to hear his usual, ‘Breathe, man. Everything’s fine. Deep breaths. It’s not worth it.’

“Bakugou!” Mina shrieked, “You made it! I told you he’d be here, Sero, you owe me $5!”

Bakugou scowled. “You bet against me?”

Sero shrugs sheepishly. 

You grin up at him from your spot by the girls, and Bakugou quickly crossed the room to sit by your side, ignoring the intruder on the couch. As he took a seat, he pulled you close to lean against his shoulder, and you instinctively reached for his hand without stopping your conversation.

“C’mon, Jirou, you should invite Yoamomo next time!” You were saying, “How will you ever get to know her if you don’t talk to her?”

Jirou, uncharacteristically flustered, shook her head. “No way. Absolutely not. Momo doesn’t seem the type to... ya know, any of this. We aren’t really her crowd.”

“So? She likes you doesn’t she?” Mina offers, puffing smoke.

Jirou’s cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink, and she slouches down more. “I dunno... Pass it here, Min.”

“I’m sure we could behave ourselves enough for a night.” You tease, grinning, “We could have a movie night! Totally sober, if that’s what you’re worried about, Kyo.”

A loud groan cuts into their conversation, from across the room, “Yeah, speak for yourself.” Denki says.

“As if you could get through a movie night totally sober, y/n.” Sero snickers. 

“Hey!” You shout back, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“He might have a point, man,” Shinsou cuts in. He’d been so quiet, Bakugou had almost forgotten he was there. Of course, his luck ran out. “Y/n can’t even make it through a shift sober.”

The room erupts into laughter, though Bakugou stays quiet, rolling his eyes. 

“Not true!” You say, blushing as you lower your voice, “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

Shinsou’s laugh is apparently contagious, as he says, “Are you kidding?!” He breaks into an eerily accurate impression of you, “Hey, man, what can I get for ya? Aw, totally, nice choice! Have you tried the muffins, man, they’re sooo good.”

You burry your head in your hands as everyone joins in on the joke, leaning back into Bakugou to hide. “Fuck you, dude! Fuck you!”

“Holy shit!” Denki and Sero are gasping for breath, “How are you so good at that, man?” 

Shinsou grins slyly, reminding Bakugou of the cheshire cat (another reason he doesn’t trust the asshole). “Hey, a man can’t give away all his secrets, huh?”

Bakugou tightens his hold around your waist, mouth downturned into an unhappy scowl. 

“I think a movie night would be nice,” Kirishima changes the subject, and Bakugou sends him a small smile in thanks. “I’m sure we’d all like to meet Momo, and if she’s as sweet as you say she is, she’ll totally go for it!”

“Yeah,” Mina says, wrapping an arm lazily around Jirou, “Besides, you’re a total catch, babe! She’ll love you!”

“Thanks guys,” Jirou responds quietly, passing the joint to you. “I’ll think about it.”

You take a few drags, offering to Bakugou, who shakes his head. You don’t push it, blowing the smoke away from the two of you. 

“Man, and here I was, thinking you might finally relax some, Bakugou.” Shinsou comments.

Across the room, Denki has slouched against the other man’s shoulder, his feet propped up in Sero’s lap. 

“The fuck did you say?” Bakugou snaps, glaring. 

Shinsou chuckles, “Relax, dude, I’m kidding.”

“Yeah?” Bakugou growls, snatching the joint from between your fingers. “Fucking whatever.”

He takes a long drag, face red as he resists the urge to cough out of spite. Shinsou raises a brow, mouth twitching into a smirk. His fingers are in Denki’s hair, scratching lightly at his head, and the blonde looks like he could fall asleep any minute, a sleepy smile on his face. Bakugou feels an odd surge of jealousy, and frustration. These are his friends. You’re his girl. What the fuck is this guy playing at?

As Bakugou goes quiet, eyebrows furrowed and face drawn into a fierce scowl, and shoot Shinsou a look. He sighs, rolling his eyes, but silently agrees to lay off. 

“You okay?” You ask, leaning back and placing a light kiss on Bakugou’s jaw.

He yanks you into his lap with a huff, pouting. 

It takes everything in you not to giggle at him when he’s like this (it’s cute, okay?) but you knew that would only irritate him more. 

“’Suki.” You coo, quiet so no one else can hear you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He mutters, frown deepening. 

“But-”

“I said it’s nothing, y/n.”

You sigh, giving up and leaning back against his chest. Why did he have to be so stubborn? 

Besides, you aren’t stupid. You know he’s unhappy because Shinsou is here. And, by all means, Shinsou is being an asshole. But he’s your friend, and a really good friend (only a friend). You just want the two to get along, and you want to show your boyfriend that he has nothing to worry about! But, as per usual, both boys are being... difficult, to say the least.

After a few minutes it becomes clear that Bakugou’s mood isn’t going to improve, so you go back to your conversation with Mina and Jirou, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. Eventually, he starts to relax, but remains quiet. He’s too stubborn to admit that you know how to calm him down, after all. And, besides, he can’t risk the guys telling him he’s going ‘soft’ (his words, not yours).

As your high reaches its peak, you forget about the exchange almost completely. You’ve moved to lay your head in Bakugou’s lap, staring up at him. You reach for his hand, bringing it to rest on your head and he rolls his eyes, fingers gently scratching your scalp. You smile up at him lazily, blowing him a kiss. 

With his hands in your hair, you feel yourself begin to drift off, the conversations around you fading into a low buzz in the background. 

Suddenly, Bakugou’s hands stop.

“Kats,” You whine, one eye cracking open to see what was wrong.

Bakugou’s mouth is agape, brows raised, and face red.

“Kats? You okay?” 

He doesn’t answer, and you follow his gaze to the couch, where Denki has climbed into Shinsou’s lap. The blonde’s fingers are threaded into his hair, Shinsou’s firmly gripping his waist, and they’re kissing. You sit up, a laugh bubbling in your throat.

“See, bubs?” You plant a small, teasing kiss to his lips. “Told ya you have nothing to worry about.”

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte xi (no longer canon)

NOTE: Chapters X and XI are not longer considered canon in Lavender Latte.

....

(explicit, r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

|| series masterlist  ||

word count: ~6.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks (thank u!! 💕)

heat in two ways 

warnings: spicy content, a little bit of overstimulation. enjoy, loves ;^)

...

a/n: a little recap from last chapter, because its been awhile! keigo and reader ‘nested’ together after that nasty little panic attack from a few chapters ago. and now? guess you gotta see find out!! ;^) enjoy my loves!!!!

Things felt calmer, later. Your combined world had settled into the sheets with slumber. 

Thank god. 

When you both awoke, the sun was just beginning to set. 

The light that filtered in from the cracks in the curtains was amber, painting orange streaks across your dark bedroom.

The two of you had shifted, somewhat, perhaps falling even deeper into the nest you’d made, the softness of it forming to the contours and curves of your snuggled-up bodies. 

It was cozy, burrowing your face into Keigo’s chest, hardly awake and vaguely aware of the way his hands pressed wide against your lower back. 

You felt melted in the best way. 

“Comfy,” The word slipped from your lips without much thought, snuggling closer.

Your skull was no longer throbbing, neither was your hand or foot. 

It just felt calm, the only sensations Keigo’s breath and heart, and the ambient hum of the rest of the world. 

“Am I now?” Keigo chuckled from above you, voice crackling with sleep. “I have to say the same about you.”

You made a high sound in the back of your throat, shifting the slightest bit to drag your lips along his throat, bearing into the flesh with the barest drags of your teeth.  

He shuddered, squeezing the fat around your hips.

Maybe it was that your mind was still somewhat raw, but you were feeling particularly gooey. 

Maybe, it was that your mind didn’t have the will or the way to be too guarded, not when you felt so safe, especially in contrast to the hellish mindscape you’d been in hours before.

Not that you remembered it all that well— and good, you didn’t want to.

Your only bits of lucidity were in the present.

And god, did that feel good.

 Keigo tended to wake up quickly.  

It was just how he ticked, as tired as he was at any given time, he could always pull himself to wakefulness so quickly. 

With you, all warm and fucking perfect against his side, it was both a blessing and a curse.

Sure, he could’ve gotten to sleepily awaken with you, if his body hadn’t startled him from REM sleep the moment you shifted and whined against him. 

Though, being awake meant he got to watch you wake, and that in and of itself was a privilege he coveted.

It was new, even with the few ‘sleepovers’ the two of you had shared, all that sleepy peace was nearly untouched. The stillness and natural slowness of it was something that Keigo had come to crave.

He traced shapes against your ribs, leaning into the feel of you.

“How are you feeling?” His words were muffled into the top of your hair. 

“Good.”

“Very descriptive.”

“‘M sleepy,” You truly whined, twisting your legs with his own. “Don’t wanna think right now, Kei’.”

He suppressed a shiver at the little nickname on your lips. 

“That can be arranged,” Keigo hummed, pulling a blanket higher on your shoulders. “Do you want to keep sleeping? I can run out and grab some food?”

There was a moment of silence before you sniffled, burrowing your face into his neck.

Still so fragile.

“D-don’t leave yet, okay? Just a little more, please,” Your voice was pitched up with sleep, wobbling as Keigo felt the smallest tears begin to wet his sleep shirt.

His heart sank.

 “I’m not leaving, not unless you ask me to,” He murmured into your hair. “I’ll keep telling you that as long as I need to.”

The multiple meanings of his words mostly went over your head, yet you felt overwhelming and instant relief of knowing that Keigo wouldn’t be leaving your nest on his own volition anytime soon.

The assurance made your heart swell, even if your tired mind couldn’t swim in the depths of his tone.

All the same, you sucked in a breath before pulling him down into a needy kiss. 

It was reminiscent of the kind that you’d shared earlier. All desperate and clawing for grounding and stability in touch. 

Keigo gave it freely in the same way you gave it without knowing.

He nipped at your bottom lip, relishing the high keen that pulled from the back of your throat.

You’d done this all before, heated kisses and much-needed touches, but there had always been a line to stay away from. Especially on such an intense day, the last thing Keigo wanted to do was push your limits. 

 But, maybe you wanted to.

You tugged at Keigo’s waves, snuggling closer in time with the way you kitten-licked into his mouth. 

He groaned, shifting against you. You moved with him, craving him in any way you could get.

His leg shifted between your thighs. Immediately, you squeezed around it, feeling his own tight, lean muscle.

You’d gotten good at repressing your desire for his touch, barring yourself from any contact that could push past your threshold toward overstimulated disaster. Maybe, you had been overcautious, but it seemed better than scaring Keigo away with your potential shortcomings.

Wound together in the heat of your ‘nest’, though? 

Your quirk and mind had already detonated and didn’t have anything left in you besides fumes. All that burned in your gut was the swell of want and heat. 

You ground against him, barely, whining against his lips. 

Your heart panged a bit when Keigo pulled back, lips wet and pupils wide. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you carefully rolled your hips against, the hardening bulge in his joggers pressing against your navel.

“I want to feel you,” It slipped out desperate and sticky as you locked your hands around the back of his neck.

 It was more than okay, better than okay.

 “I promise, I’ll stop us if anything gets to be too much,” You told him, a little more sheepish as Keigo stared up at you, wide-eyed. 

His lips parted as his words got lost between his mind and mouth. His hands stayed still at his sides by sheer power of will. 

“I just...” Your voice wobbled as you rubbed at your eyes. “Is this okay?”

 You were too soft for too much, but Keigo didn’t mind; he never did. 

“Very.”

He pulled you down by the collar of your shirt to show you how ‘okay’ it was. 

Admittedly, he was needy with his touches. His palms cupped your ass, squeezing and massaging over your shorts. Keigo had been holding himself back in the weeks prior without issue, but getting more of you, in any way was intoxicating.

That was not to say that he didn’t keep in mind your fragile state, no, he just made sure his touch was firmer, and his breath ran hotter.

Sensation served as a gentle reminder that ‘Keigo was right there, and he wasn’t letting you go. 

 You kept a tight grip on his sweater as he flipped the two of you, nudging your booted-leg to splay out comfortably. 

“Fank’ you,” You mumbled against his lips, chasing them for a moment as he drew away.

“Of course,” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, trailing lower to nip at your neck.

You whimpered when he reached a particularly sensitive patch

“This okay?” Keigo hummed.

“V-Very,” You replied, playing with the hem of his cropped sweater. “Please keep going.”

 (Like you had to ask.)

 You kept an eye on your fragile state, but with how little there was left in you and the quiet of the surroundings, there wasn’t much to watch. All you could feel was the roll and heat of each other’s bodies. There was nothing else to ring loudly in your skull.

Just Keigo and you, twisted up in each other and the bedding of your nest.

Perfect. 

You snuck your hands up the back of his sweater, running your nails down his back, just barely teasing at the roots of his outstretched wings. Teasing him was easier than you’d thought it’d be, considering you knew how gooey he got any time you even got close to his wings.

The shudder he gave you was confirmation of that.

“Careful there,” Keigo warned with a chuckle. Despite his laughter, you could feel the way his breath stutter with each sweet touch. 

“Why? Whatcha gonna do about it, Kei’?” You grinned back, smitten, as he stilled around your collarbones. 

“There’s plenty I could do,” It was a warning, one that enticed you to no end. 

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.,” You challenged. 

“I think you’d like that too much,” Keigo chuckled against your neck. “Seems you’re pretty excited already too, hm?”  

A few of his fingers teased at the waistband of your shorts. 

He wasn’t wrong.

(At all.)

You scraped your nails along the base of his wings and much to your joy, Keigo’s spine arched and he practically whimpered. 

“Cute,” You snorted, rolling your hips up into his. “You’re not so tough, either.” 

Something like a growl rumbled from the back of his throat.

“Hush, dove,” Keigo cooed, far too sweetly for how his hands were dipping underneath your shirt. “Neither are you.” 

Both of you were so damn doughy for the other, the banter fell away. There was plenty of time for teasing, but both of you were thinking of a very different kind. 

Before you could quip back, Keigo was palming at your breast, teasing your pebbled nipple. You bit your lip to suppress a whine, shots of pleasure turning you even gooier and pliant. 

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of soft points,” Keigo sounded all too pleased with himself as he hovered his face over yours. He gave a few slow blinks, pupils blown wide. “And I cannot fucking wait to find them all.”

...

If you hadn't soaked through your panties before, you certainly had now. 

Keigo could do anything to you, you decided. Having him over you, all sleep golds and heat was warming your insides in the best ways.

And you wanted more. 

You stared up at him, wide-eyed, and quickly melted as your shirt was pushed higher and higher. Every piece of you, raw and needy, wanted Keigo, needed him close, even closer— 

And Keigo fed the flames your mutually hot desire without shame.

“I’ve really wanted to learn you like this,” His fingers slowly traced over your side, taking his time to watch you squirm. His voice slowed to drawl, “All the ways I can get you fucked off my touch.”

Oh, what a prospect.

The thought of Keigo wrecking you was only a smidge daunting. It was easy to forget any potential unease when you let your relax against his touch, imagining all of the things he could do to you. 

God, did you want him to have his way. 

“You’re welcome to t-try,” You gently challenged as Keigo hiked your shirt over your tits, teeth scraping over the skin of your neck once more. 

With a chuckle, he lapped at your pulse point, “Gladly.”

Despite his confidence and your waning will, you weren’t to be outdone.

You wound your fingers into the small, fluffy feathers at the base of his wings, teasing the roots with the pads of your thumbs. 

In the earlier weeks, you’d found Keigo to be surprisingly sensitive. He joked occasionally about touch-starvation, but you knew there was a fair amount of truth to it. There had to be, with how his breath hitched with even your lightest touch.

His wings were the culmination of that thrumming need and craving for contact, and you were more than willing to exploit this knowledge. 

Keigo moaned against your neck with the stroke of your fingers, cursing under his breath. Your light massaging only seemed to spur him on, nails digging lightly into the soft flesh of your chest.

Despite the pricklings of pain, you still felt so soft. 

You were too weak for him, all wound up in the softness of the bedding and him, in every sensory sense, to put up too much of your own front. He felt too good not to invite and urge closer.

You tugged him up by the hair on the back of his head, pressing your lips together and stroking your thumbs down his cheeks. 

 Keigo kept his hips mostly still but was very aware of his own ragingly hard cock. Maybe, he was leaking into his boxer. 

Maybe.

You gasped against his lips, all breathy and sweet, “F-fuck, Keigo.” 

His mind ran blank, white-hot from the pleasure of mere words. 

He mentally repeated your words a few times, in your perfect cadence. The way your breath stuttered in your chest, the heat of your surrounding him, the softness of your body and the break in your voice— 

No one had ever said his name like that before and God, did he want more of it. 

He’d pull it from his lips as long as you’d let him. 

You pulled away only to meet his eyes with your blown pupils and upturned lips.

He calmed himself at the sight, reminding himself carefully that the last thing he would want to do is push you over your invisible edge of overstimulation. 

“You okay?” Keigo asked instinctively, running a hand through your hair to soothe any potential ills.

“I-I am, very okay,” You swallowed, “Two things, though.”

“Shoot.”

“One, can you lose this?” You fiddled with the hem of his sweater. “I’m not... sure how to get it off with your wings.” 

Yes, yes, yes. Holy fuck. 

Maybe, Keigo was acting a bit too needy, but he couldn’t make himself care. With the sweetness on your face and the insistence in your touch, you were right there with him.

Keigo immediately sat up over your hips, tugging his shirt from around the base of his wings.

He swore his heart was going to burst as he took in the absolutely love-drunk look in your eyes. Your throat bobbed as you took him in, 

You reached up to run a hand along his navel, visibly swallowing, “Keigo... you’re so gorgeous— it’s kinda overwhelming sometimes. In a good way.”

Fuck his ego being ‘boosted’, more like inflated.

Maybe ego wasn’t the right word. His chest felt too full for it to just be some superficial sense of pride. It all felt too raw and sweet to just be some baseless confidence. 

It was that earnestness of yours again, lighting him up from the inside out.

“Sweetness,” The name rolled off his tongue, new and comfortable. “You’re too kind, really. But, I gotta know, what was that second thing you mentioned?”

You blinked back your stupor, shaking your head.

“Uh, fuck, it made more sense before, sorry, it’s alright.”

Keigo frowned, lowering himself back down to brace his arms on either side of your head. 

“Nah, tell me, dove. I want to know.”

You bit your lip, turning your head and gaze away. Keigo tapped your chin back to center, nuzzling into your nose with his own.

“You sure?” You asked softly, hand trailing up and behind his shoulders.

“Of course.”

“Earlier it just seemed like you were... uh—” You averted your gaze again. “Holding back is all. On my neck. You don’t need to.” 

Keigo cocked his head to the side, “What do you mean?” 

“Like...” You were struggling to get the words out, face heating up. “I would really like it if you marked me up a bit, you know. In that sense. You know?”

 The gears turned in his mind, something burning deep in his chest.

If his cock wasn’t rock hard before, it was now.

The thought of marking you, his sweet, somewhat injured partner (mate), up in the comfort of the nest the two of you made together made something stir in his gut and mind. 

And fuck, if he wasn’t going to act on it. 

Keigo fully slipped your shirt off, trying to take in as much of you with his eyes before his hands and mouth got their turn. 

Hungrily, he wound a hand into the hair on the side of your head, pulling to bear your neck shoulder full to him. With a growl, his teeth raked over your neck, hard enough that your moans cracked as they fell.

Without thought, Keigo spoke, earnest and hushed, “You have no fucking idea how much I want to wreck you, do you?” 

You swallowed, “Show me then.”

...

That honesty was going to be the death of him and you, he was sure of it.

Keigo held nothing back as he sucked and bit along your neck and shoulders, leaving bruises and marks in his wake wherever he could. 

The little glimpses of red and purple had him scalding under his skin. 

 Much the same for you, notably.

“Fuck, Keigo!” You gasped when he sucked a bruise onto the underside of your breast, lips moving to the bud of your nipple later to massage and suck and tease and generally make you undone.

Your cunt physically ached with the need to be touched, the little bit of friction you could manage from grinding against Keigo pelvis was something, sure, but hardly enough.

Not to mention you wanted to feel more of him too.

“C-Can I touch you? Please?” You asked, breathless and pushed yourself up on your elbows. 

Keigo pulled your shirt up and over your tits, panting.

Idly, he traced over the hickeys and bites he’d left.

“How do you want to touch me, dove?” 

He left the question open, eyeing you with a half-lidded, nearly black gaze.

You swallowed down any fears you might’ve had, body thrumming, but quirk sufficiently dormant.

You slid your hand between the two of your bodies, cupping Keigo’s cock over his sweats.

“However makes you feel good.”

Keigo’s expression nearly broke, but he retained his composure, barely between his ragged breaths and hungry eyes.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

 Keigo couldn’t hold back the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

You, begging for his cock, bruised and bitten all for him with the sweetest whine to your voice.

“P-please, dove, please.”

Oh, to hear Keigo beg for your mouth, for your touch— for you. 

You obliged eagerly. 

Keigo slipped off his joggers, palming himself through his boxer as he kneeled in the bedding. His wings had assembled themselves more fully, the red plumage outstretched and almost rippling with the heat of the room.

You knelt below him, mouth watering.

“You sure, sweetness?” Keigo asked, giving you a last chance.

“Very, please, let me make you feel good,” Your voice nearly broke. 

It was all the confirmation you needed.

 Nimble fingers pulled down the front of his boxers, cock springing up, pearly and wet on the head.

He was curved and thick, darker in the head with a bit of well-groomed blond trimming patched around the base. His balls were fattened, swelling with need and hot to the touch.

Part of you wanted to make a joke, crack some line about how ‘excited’ Keigo was, but your bodily reaction was far louder.

You thumbed at the head of his cock, biting your lip as Keigo tossed his head back, cursing under his breath. 

You wanted to hear more of him breathing your touch, you had to.

Leaning forward, you licked away the preek before spitting back onto his cock.

 Keigo had to be fucking dreaming because his cock was in your mouth and you were doing so well.

He babbled out sweet praises as you swallowed around him, twisting your wrist and the base and bobbing your head. You always felt so good, but this was a new kind of good, the kind that made his balls tighten and head light.

“W-woah, dove,” He could feel how close he was as he buried a hand in your hair. “Slow down—” 

You pulled off his cock was a pop, looking up at him with tear-pricked eyes, “Don’t you wanna come down my throat, Kei’?”

He audibly whined, stroking a finger down the softness of your cheek with a slow nod. 

Like that, you were licking up the underside of his cock, pulling him back into your mouth.

His hands tangled into your hair, not pulling too much or too hard, only bracing himself on you as you dragged him closer and closer to the edge. 

Keigo reached a gasping end as your nose brushed against his navel, painting your throat white in ecstasy and god, did you let him. His wings stretched and puffed outwards, shuddering and twitching with his high as he choked out a moan against his clenched fist. 

Your nails left crescent indents on his hips as he pulled you off his cock, drool and spittle dripping from him and off of your own chin.

You were certain you looked fucked out and fuck, did you feel it.

Blinking up at him with teary eyes, you cracked a wide smile. 

“Dove, you’re so good,” Keigo dropped from his knees to smother you in the best possible way. “So, so good.”

He meant it.

He peppered your face with kisses, wiping and licking away any spare spit that stickied your chin. There was so much care in his actions, considering how fucked out he was and filthy the two of you were.

Not that either of you minded.

Keigo had you on your back again, surrounded by softness, as a brief reprieve.  

“How was that?” You asked cheekily. “Feeling good?”

“So good, dove,” Keigo sighed, lowering himself against you. “That being said, could I help make you feel good?

You swallowed, assessing yourself. 

Your panties were soaked, thighs sticky beneath your shorts. You knew you were ambiently squirming for a fucking crumb to satisfying your craving and need for touch, for him.

“Y-yes,” You stuttered, something akin to relief rushing through you. “Please.” 

 Keigo didn’t need to be told twice.

His head spun, pleasantly love-drunk in all the best ways. With you splayed out below him, heat singing in your cheeks and heat at the surface of your skin wherever his fingertips drifted.

“Get comfy, dove,” Keigo pushed lightly on your sternum, encouraging you back into the plushness of the nest. He allowed himself a moment to compose himself, trying to calm the tremble in his hands.

Maybe he was a little... nervous. 

Not for any good reason. He knew his own prowess, and he was confident that he could easily make you come undone in any number of ways.

The anxiety tied up in his gut and his own perked up arousal made his palms go clammy.

The source of it all was also splayed out before him.

It was you, and that made this feel a hell of a lot more important than any of his previous trysts. 

He was stumbling. 

 You noticed.

Keigo’s jaw tightened visibly, and he chewed at his lip— 

All he needs is a little push.

 An idea formed in your head. 

“Hey, Keigo? Can we try something?”

“Anything,” His gaze refocused, alight and rewarming. 

And, God, was his voice fucking desperate and dripping with something hot and infectious.

You stopped your hand at the waistband of your sleep shorts, sinfully soft and thin. 

With a shaking breath, you cracked “I-I know I could get overwhelmed, but I trust you, you know? I love you.”

Your breaths hitched in time with each other. 

“I love you too,” Keigo’s exhale matched yours, hands finding their home on your hips, “So much.”

The words had a lot in them for how new they were, and you only wanted more held in each syllable.

And preferably, something stuffing your cunt. 

You bit your lip, sliding your hand closer to your aching sex, silently praying you’d get your words right.

“Tell me what to do.”

There was a moment of quiet as you tore your gaze from Keigo and you immediately cursed yourself.

“I-I mean–” You tried to backpedal. 

Keigo was quick to hush you with a kiss, something deep that made you shudder. 

“Elaborate,” As he pulled away, he stayed close, thumbing at your burning cheeks, “How far do you want me to take that statement, dove?”

“Like...” You kept your confidence as strong as you could. “Tell me how to touch myself.”

Keigo was silent for a moment, a shaking breath dripping from his lips as his feathers in all their places practically writhed. 

“Gladly.” 

 Keigo pulled himself together, despite how weak-kneed he felt. His breath out over the back of your neck, his words curling against your ears as he watched your hand linger near your neglected cunt.

Pity.

“First, shorts off.”

You nodded, wiggling out of the soft fabric with Keigo’s help, though he made sure to keep your panties on. Ideas were spinning in his skull, too many, probably, but it wasn’t too hard to narrow down particular pleasures that you obviously needed.

The vulnerability of it all made your insides twist.

How long had it been since you were this bare with another person...

A while.

You had to be gentle with yourself.

And Keigo needed to be soft with you. 

He pulled you from your thoughts with a coo, tracing little nonsense shapes on your stomach from between your parted thighs. 

“Dove,” Keigo dripped something that made your insides boil. “Touch yourself a little for me. Just over your panties, tease yourself. I want to see you .”

You keened in the back of your throat, going to mush in his arms as two of your fingers traced over the wet patch on your panties. 

(Keigo mentally stored that you got off on being told what to do, suppressing the way his eyes wanted to roll back into his skull and ignoring the way his dick switched..)

One of his broad hands ran over your hips, squeezing the fat of your thighs as he coaxed you onto your back. 

It was more vulnerable for you like this, almost entirely exposed to him, but in the lowlight and softness of the room, it wasn’t nearly so intimidating.

It helped that within moments, your lips caught his, a moan muffled into his mouth.

As you broke apart, Keigo tugged at the elastic of your panties, “You’ve already gotten these pretty messy, hm? Let’s get them off.”

They followed your shorts onto the floor. 

Keigo let his wings do as they pleased as he took you in, watching your expressions, feeling your breath and heartbeat with each twitch of your body. 

It was like putting together some divinely crafted puzzle.

He meant it, ‘learning you’, and your suggestion of guiding your own getting off was the perfect time to sample your pleasures, mutually.

 You pulled Keigo from his thoughts with a kiss, snaking out a hand to grab his, and pressing it between your thighs.

“Oh? You want me to show you now?” Keigo murmured against your lips, tracing patterns on your thighs.

“P-please.”

Keigo clicked his tongue, eye half-lidded, “You know, I could get used to you begging.” 

Any retort died on your lips as he slid two fingers up and down your slit, stopping to roll and circle your clit.

Pleasure burned across your insides in the best way.

You’d craved his touch in this way for so long, why had it taken so long to let him touch you like this?

Maybe, the barest bits of your quirk activated as he rose from your side to slide down your body, little kisses and touches in your wake. Your mouth filled with sweet cream and cinnamon as you caught his gaze, burning and doughy all at the same time.

One of his fingers crooked into your cunt and you swore you saw stars and sweet fruits from that alone.

“Oh, good, dove, let it out,” Keigo’s voice felt too sweet, perfectly, as he kissed your thighs, heating you through and through. 

It was all so tender, you could feel stray tears leaking down over your temples. 

When was the last time someone touched you like this?

(Never.)

Keigo was supposed to be fast and frizzy, but nothing about the way he licked your cunt was even close to that. He was supposed to be flighty, but with the way he laid between your thighs, sucking at your clit and stretching you on his fingers, he was anything but. 

Your hand buried in his hair, your ground against his face, thighs squeezing his cheeks. The heat of it all burned you in the best way, singed you with syrupy fire that you’d wholly let consume you. 

“K-Keigo!” Your voice shattered as he massaged at your insides in time with the stroking of his tongue. 

You’d thought he’d tease, but he was enjoying this as much as you were, wrapped up in it all.

With your eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t see the way his wings wrapped around and hid the two of you from the world. You couldn’t see how he’d shift his gaze to your slack jaw and watery eyes, all fucked out and open-mouth. 

Each sensation of you around him, in the comfort of the little nest you’d made together, made him wild.

Keigo had wondered briefly, how love worked, considering he didn’t know much about it. Not beyond what he’d seen in movies and books, or the fragments of it from his own upbringings. None of his old flings ever held anything close to how he felt towards you. 

Love was different than all of what he knew, which is probably what made it so easy. 

He had a blank slate to etch with you, and god, if he wasn’t excited.

And only a piece of that was the way he fucked his fingers into your cunt, the wet sounds mingling in his ears with your high moans and little pleads. He could feel you fluttering around his fingers, practically pouring into his mouth.

He drank each drop of you down.

 It was all so good—

Too good. 

Each touch was like sweet flames, pouring down your throat to your toes and cunt, stirring you up and never letting you settle. Keigo’s tongue and touch were heaven, sweet relief and addicting in every way.

Except when the embers became too hot, burning you instead of warming you. The honey in your mouth went stale and the cinnamon singed like broken glass.

You’d passed over your threshold.

It happened so suddenly, you felt like you were drowning. Your moans choked in your throat, stuffed with wet wool. You grappled with sensation, eyes going wide as your chest began to heave. Burning and floating, you threw your arm over your eyes.

You tried to take a deep breath, but all of the sensation flowing through your fried body weighed too heavily to be fought through. 

“W-wait, stop.”

...

Everything had already gone still.

Keigo was far too perceptive and sensitive to let you slip too far.

“You’re okay, we can stop, whatever you need,” Keigo rose, pulling a stray blanket over you as he scrambled for other ways to comfort you.

 You reached down, shaky and teary, “N-no more, please, can I hold you?”

Any sort of barriers of shame or reluctance were gone, now that you were fried through and through. 

Keigo was at your side in a moment, carefully tucking you into his side after some insistent tugging at his biceps. 

“I’ve got you,” He hushed you, pressing his wet lips over your damp crown. “Big breaths.”

“Uh-huh,” You clung to his words, sucking down his scent of sweat and comforting spices. “Big breaths. 

Keigo rubbed your back and shoulders as firmly as felt right, resting his chin over your head as you shook against him.

“I promise, I don’t get overstimulated this much,” You whispered in his chest. “This is ridiculous.

“You’ve had a long day, dove,” Keigo reminded you with a laugh. “The fact that you almost came is impressive.”

“... You could tell I was close?”

“Of course. I love you, dove, you know?” Keigo breathed, almost soundless, mostly to himself. “I gotta know that kind of stuff. 

But, the room was too quiet and far too still for the words to not to be noticed. 

“I love you too,” You kissed the underside of his chin, the stubble still sticky with you. Maybe it was a bit gross, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. With your own light giggle, you shook your head. “I can’t believe my quirk edged me.”

Keigo’s chest rumbled for a moment before he squeezed you, hard, busting into a full fit of laughter that you couldn’t help but join. 

And it felt so good.

The last spinnings of your quirk faded as you caught your breaths, Keigo’s airy giggles tickling your nose and sending trailing touches at the base of your spine. 

As you caught a glimpse of his bare, dewy chest rising and falling and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen stretched across his lips, you decided you’d do anything to keep it there whenever you could.

A mission of goodness, as pure and idealistic as it was. 

Neither of you minded. 

You both rested, for however many moments, until you both were able to shift, still leaning into each other, but rising up in your nest. 

You wore a sheepish smile as you tucked a bit of Keigo’s unruly waves from his face, “Wanna try that again sometime?” 

He went literally soft, leaning into you. 

“Anytime,” Keigo kissed your wrist. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“So you say.”

“And I’ll keep saying it—” 

Keigo’s hands squeezed your thighs as he pounced, pushing you back into the sheets, pressing kiss after kiss to your salty cheeks, wings fluttering above the two of you.

It was all perfect, truthfully and truly.

The way you spent the rest of the night held by each other, not as heated as before, but still, just as safely and comfortably. Over a bit of takeout, an endless amount of banter and laughter, and a goodnight’s sleep, you were both feeling miles better than the days and hours before.

It was all as perfect as it could get, between the two of you. 

(But, perhaps, the inevitable details would come into play. Perhaps.)

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Keigo felt refreshed for the first time in months when he arrived at his agency the next morning.

He’d gotten to wake with you slowly for once, what a fucking treat, he was sure he’d never tire of it with you pressed again him. After some rolling, early morning kisses, he packed up his things and tucked you back into the nest of sheets to rest as much as you needed.

You’d been quick to drift off, a few of his stray feathers staying close by even in your slumber. 

Despite how energized he was, he was sipped on the canned coffee (had it always tasted this bad?) and preparing for his office day. 

He waved to his interns, smiling something real with a pep in his step as he entered his seldom used office. 

As Keigo organized himself, he practically had to dust off his far-too professional looking desk before setting his bag down, and starting up his computer.

The door clicked open moments later, and a ruffled-looking Akane gave him a stern look from the doorway.

“Hello, Hawks. I need to talk to you—” 

“Paperwork will be done by noon, don’t you worry about that,” Keigo laughed off her oblivious irritation as he clicked into his desktop. “I know taking a personal day isn’t really my thing— “

“It isn’t, and this isn’t about your paperwork.”

She reached behind her to click the lock in place.

Keigo’s gaze drifted to the diamond insignia on her breast pocket, almost twin to the one he wore on his bodysuit.

Both wards of the same beast, one could say.

When he was younger, still being trained so ruthlessly, they assigned him ‘handlers’, like some sort of animal. Once he’d gotten his own agency, he’d been assigned Akane, raised and trained in a similar way he had been. Another product of a failed system and an opportunistic, greedy power structure.

They understood each other in that way. 

“I said I needed to talk to you two days ago and I meant it,” Akane sighed, shaking her head and approached his desk. “I’ve managed to cover you so far, but I need an answer.”

“...About?”

It wasn’t like her to be cryptic.

Akane fished around in her side bag for a tablet, clicking it to unlock and tapping.

“I know there are things you do that the bosses don’t even tell me about, and that’s how I justified all of this, continually.”

She placed the tablet in front of Keigo, an image displayed and glowing. 

His eyes went wide when he saw the picture.

It was him, flying to your balcony. It was late, the warm glow of the nearby streetlights half-illuminating his face, even from far away.

Akane scrolled to another picture, much the same, except taken in daylight. 

Keigo bit the inside of his lip to keep on his plastic smile as Akane scrolled through picture after picture, all of him coming and going from your apartment.

A pit was growing in his stomach. 

“We’ve been paying tabloids off, blacklisting folks. I know you’ve had a lot on your plate and have been particularly distracted, so I put it on work we aren’t allowed to know about. Still, I wanted some confirmation.”

Keigo’s heart dropped like lead slick with mercury in his chest, a poison feeling spreading over his gut— 

“It didn’t seem right though. And then I got some confirmation with this one— “

The next picture made him burn. 

“It’s  from yesterday morning.”

Yesterday morning.

From the balcony window, the early light was perfect to see directly and clearly into your apartment.

It captured Keigo kneeling on the floor, wings slack and resting on the floor, softened with a concerned quirk in his lips. 

He held your forearm in his, pressing an obvious kiss to the back of your bandaged hand. 

And then there was you.

You.

Teary-eyed, even in the photo, haggard and tired, but still obviously looking at him with love that made Keigo break in his ribs. 

“We caught this one last night. Your publicist is pissed, but I covered for you. That being said, I need an answer. I’m not blind.”

His mouth went dry.

“Who the hell is that, Hawks?”

...

The two of you hadn’t talked about this yet.

The publicity of your relationship, if and when, was something that had been alluded to, but never deeply conversed about. There was too much glowing new love and healing being done to worry about the details.

But now, the details were staring him in the face.

Thank god for his training, and his ability to keep his expression even.

“Sorry about all that!” He laughed, leaning back and propping up his feet. He pushed away the tablet with the toe of his boot. “Just some work and play for a mission. It’s been getting a little... interpersonal, if you know what I mean.”

He wiggled an eyebrow to really sell himself.

 Akane met his express with a dry glare. 

“... And you took a personal day for that?”

An incongruence. 

Keigo kept on his sickly smile as Akane sized him up.

“Had to be nonchalant, right?”

He was coming to hate lying, after being so intimately around your candor. 

The feeling of illness in his chest grew.

Sentiment was terrifying.

“... Right,” Akane ran a hand through her hair before taking back the tablet. “I won’t say anything, and I’ll tell your publicist to keep doing what she’s doing. Just try to be less obvious about all of this... ‘interpersonal work’.”

She wasn’t convinced.

Maybe Keigo had become a shittier actor, or maybe Akane had just come to know him too well.

Akane fished around in her bag, pulling forth a small piece of folded paper. She placed it on his desk, and slid it until it bumped his boot.

“Just in case you’re interested, these are the names of the photographers responsible. Do with that what you will.”

She gave him a darkened look as he sat up, unfolding the note and taking in the names.

They wouldn’t be hard to find, if needed. 

“Thank you, Akane. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

She turned to leave, but paused, hand hovering over the door handle.

“Hawks?” Her voice went more gentle than he was used to. “I mean it, I won’t say anything. To anyone. Just... whoever they are to you, be careful, alright?”

Akane’s gaze drifted back to his, a sharpness there that she’d been hiding. 

Knowingness.

Despite the smile he still managed to wear, his must’ve looked quite grim as Akane left his office, leaving him in the almost silence with plenty to stew over. 

+++++

💕 tipjar 💕

+++++

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@thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce   @yee-fxcking-haw  @call-me-rhee @peach-buns-unicorns @amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidsomewhereelse @themusingsofmany @mariiloei @hecatve @assassinslittlesister  @thepuckishrogue  @sleepylittlebarista @cathy8taffy @heydae20 @crapimahuman @indecisivehusky @levawks @hawkscumslutt

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[sunmoonandeddie]

oh, captain, my captain

pairing: professor!steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,090

summary: Steve Rogers got bored in his retirement, so he picked up the hobby of teaching art. But he still feels restless until his missing piece comes along.

warnings: swearing, little bit of smutty smut, dub-con, drinking, manipulation, steve is a little dark but reader is into it in the end

a/n: This is... a little darker than what most people expect from me. But I wrote this for a dear friend, so I really, really hope you all enjoy it!! Also, please read the warnings. I'm not responsible for your media consumption <3

Life after the Avengers was mundane.

Not that Steve didn’t like the quiet days, where he knew he wasn’t going to be running off and risking his life at any moment, mind you. In fact, he was finding that retirement rather suited him.

Except for the fact that he was bored.

Bucky and Sam were always busy on some kind of mission together, saving the world and splitting their time between Brooklyn, Washington D.C., and New Orleans. Or NOLA, as Buck liked to call it now.

Perhaps the boredom was why he took up art again. He did go to art school, after all, and had even graduated. It was after his first official professional art show that the university contacted him.

They wanted him to teach young minds how to make art.

It was the perfect solution to his boredom problem.

Of course, he should’ve realized that getting a new job wouldn’t make him feel complete. No, unfortunately, he hasn’t found the missing piece in his hundred years.

At least until you walked into his classroom on the first day.

Steve’s eyes focused on you immediately, enamored by the curve of your legs and the Cupid’s bow of your upper lip. “Hello, you,” he mumbled softly under his breath as he watched you sit down to what appeared to be a friend of yours. He scrolled through his attendance on the school supplied computer in front of him, raising his brows as he found the name next to your university ID picture.

A perfect name for a perfect girl.

Suddenly he felt the need to have a few figure drawing classes. Privately. With you. With your clothes off.

And maybe his clothes would be off, too.

He stood up as the clock finally hit one in the afternoon, holding his laptop. “Alright, please let me know if you’re here as I call your names,” he said, before going through the roster quickly.

When he called your name, and you responded with a soft, “Here!” he almost fucking came in his pants.

“Alright. In this class, as with many art classes, we’re going to get very… personal,” he said as he started to walk through the easels and those sitting in front of them. “So on the first day, rather than reading through the syllabus that’s readily available on your phone, I like to do some ice breakers.” He couldn’t help but grin at the collective groan that rang through the class. “I know, I know. But like I said, this class is going to get very personal. So come on, let’s all get in a little closer.”

“Do you mind?” You asked quietly as you scooted her stool in between two others that he couldn’t remember the names of. You gave them a blinding smile as they made room, perching in your seat like a little angel.

His little angel.

Everything seemed to be a blur as he led them in a series of questions, but he barely retained any information from anyone except you. At least he had his phone secretly recording in his pocket so he could go back and relisten later (even if it was mostly just to hear your voice.)

Favorite color?

“Green.”

Favorite holiday?

“New Year’s Eve.”

Favorite artist?

“Marilyn Minter.”

That was interesting to him. That showed that you had a naughty side.

A side he so desperately wanted to get to know.

The only issue was that he needed to find a way to get you alone, and that was going to take trust built up over time.

He was truthfully, absolutely amazed that it only took a few weeks before you were coming to him with wonder-filled eyes, asking him if you could please schedule some time during his office hours to go over some of your portfolio.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Hey, you made it,” he said when you walked in after a light knock on the door, your portfolio in hand. Steve stood and immediately pulled out the chair for you like a proper gentleman. Subtly, he took in a deep breath as the cloud of your perfume enveloped him like a warm hug.

It was something classy. Something you had clearly splurged on.

Perhaps Gucci or Valentino or something.

“I’m sorry for being late,” you said as Steve glanced at the clock.

You were maybe three minutes late at the most.

“The subway was delayed, and unfortunately, I can’t control when the subway stops and goes,” you continued, letting out a nervous laugh as you opened up your portfolio. “Did you get my email with my previous pieces?”

“Yes, I did!” He said as he sat back down at his desk. “And honestly, I haven’t been this impressed in a long, long time. I would love to possibly mentor you? Of course, that means a lot more hours spent with an old man like me.” Eyes crinkling, he couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed.

He was sure that he almost had you right where he wanted you. The corner you were backing yourself into was almost too perfect.

You seemed… amazed. Absolutely flabbergasted by his offer. “Really?” You breathed out, leaning closer, elbows resting on your knees. “You’d really do that? That would be… I… Thank you.” Shaking your head, you scooted your chair a little closer. “How much should I pay you? I’ve never had a personal mentor before.”

And there it was. The corner he wanted you in.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about money,” he insisted as he looked deep into your eyes. It would be so easy to just get lost in them… “But, I do need assistance with something.”

“Of course!” You were like a doe-eyed little fawn, chasing him—the magnificent stag—through a field of wildflowers. “Whatever you want!”

Steve put on the most bashful, boy next door look he could muster. “Well… I’ve been trying to get back into figure drawing, but you’d be surprised at how hard it is finding a class to take that won’t freak out that I’m… you know. Steve Rogers.”

The look on you face let him know immediately there was no way you were going to say no. Hell, you were looking at him like he was the last puppy on the side of the road in a box that had ‘FREE’ written on the side.

In the rain.

“When do we start?”

Steve got everything set up in his home studio that night, only to sit until Friday night, when he’d planned for you to come over. Admittedly, he may have gone a little overboard with the mood lighting and the bottle of red wine that he’d left open on the counter to breathe, two crystal wine glasses resting next to it.

The good crystal.

He practically ran to the door when he heard the doorbell. “Hey, I was a little worried you would have trouble finding it,” he said as he guided you inside, a large hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

“Oh, I just Ubered,” you said, ducking your head as you let him lead you into his large home. “I don’t have a car. It’s too expensive and there’s no point when I live in the city. Though, the drive out here was absolutely gorgeous. I can see why you got a place a little bit upstate.”

Steve grinned, fighting the urge to say that it could also be your place. But that was for the future. “Yeah, the views and the quiet is worth the forty-five minutes or so I commute everyday.” He opened up the door to his home studio, all the windows wide open.

You wandered around the room, looking at the various art supplies and canvases scattered haphazardly around the room. In the very center was a chaise lounge with a blanket draped across it. “This is amazing… God, if I had my own art studio at home, I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

He poured out two glasses of wine, gently pressing one into your hands. “Well, you can always use this one. I have more space than I could probably ever use.” He sipped at his own wine, watching the way the glass pressed to your lips, watching the way you swallowed down the sweet liquid.

He couldn’t get drunk, but you certainly could.

It was around your third glass that he finally got to the point of why you were there. “So, I really want to paint you lying on this chaise,” he said as he guided you back. “But… Would it be possible for you to pose in the nude? You have just… the most natural beauty. I want to be able to only focus on that.”

“Oh my god, yeah!” You said as you set your glass of wine on the little table. With your inhibitions lowered, there was no hesitation as you stripped out of your clothing, tossing it all to the side. “You just move me how you want me.”

Oh, he would.

His own wine glass was set to the side before he moved closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?” He guided you to lie down on the bed, letting his fingers drift over your soft skin. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous… Could just look at you forever…” His thumb brushed over one of your hard nipples, teasing the little peak as his cock ached inside his sweats. “I could never paint anything else except for you… and I’d die the happiest man in the world.” Carefully, gently, he moved your legs so one of your knees was bent, your legs spread wide for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your skin feeling flushed from the wine and the excitement of this god-like man touching you. “Mmm… Professor…”

Steve’s eyes were locked in on the prize, that blooming flower between your thighs, glistening with sweet nectar. “I always love a hands on approach,” he cooed as he ran a single finger through your folds, gathering up your slick.

The taste was exquisite.

Pretty moans fell from your lips, your back arching as your legs instinctively spread wider for him. “Please…”

He knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It was fate, you walking into his class.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby girl?” He asked, loving the purr that rumbled in your chest as he found your swollen clit. “So needy… When’s the last time your pretty little kitty got so much attention, angel? You’ve been neglecting her, haven’t you?”

At your nod, you tried sitting up a bit, lip caught between your teeth. “Y-Yes. Please… Please.”

Steve quickly realized you didn’t even know what you were asking for.

“So innocent. So sweet,” he said as he wrapped his hands around your waist to pull you to the edge of the chaise. He leaned in and took in a deep breath, groaning. “I wanna be able to smell you for days.” At the first lick of his tongue, he knew he had you wrapped around his fingers.

And when you finally orgasmed, soaking his beard with your juices? Fuck. He was even more of a goner than he was before.

Steve loved the way that you laid limbless on the chaise, foot lazily bouncing as you dozed. It was easily a sight that he could get very, very used to very quickly. This was going to be so much easier than he thought it was going to be.

While he knew he was the right one for you, being able to know that you weren’t going to fight him gave him an amazing sense of relief.

The next week, he stood at his desk, making notes on his laptop. At five minutes to one, the door opened as the first student to arrive entered.

Immediately looking up, his heart sank. It wasn’t you.

Did you panic after you left his place the next morning? Nothing more had happened that night. Surely getting an orgasm wouldn’t freak you out, right?

His hands were starting to tremble when the door opened again, and he felt someone standing right next to him.

“Professor Rogers?”

His head snapped up, relief flooding him when he saw you. “H-Hello. How can I help you?”

A mischievous smile spread across your face, even though you were clearly trying to contain it. “Is there any possible way you have some free time during your office hours for me to swing by? I’d love to schedule our next figure painting session.”